E4Pref
Preface — Part IV
Latin
(not aligned in this witness)
English (Elwes 1883)
Human infirmity in moderating and checking the emotions I name bondage: for, when a man is a prey to his emotions, he is not his own master, but lies at the mercy of fortune: so much so, that he is often compelled, while seeing that which is better for him, to follow that which is worse. Why this is so, and what is good or evil in the emotions, I propose to show in this part of my treatise. But, before I begin, it would be well to make a few prefatory observations on perfection and imperfection, good and evil.
When a man has purposed to make a given thing, and has brought it to perfection, his work will be pronounced perfect, not only by himself, but by everyone who rightly knows, or thinks that he knows, the intention and aim of its author. For instance, suppose anyone sees a work (which I assume to be not yet completed), and knows that the aim of the author of that work is to build a house, he will call the work imperfect; he will, on the other hand, call it perfect, as soon as he sees that it is carried through to the end, which its author had purposed for it. But if a man sees a work, the like whereof he has never seen before, and if he knows not the intention of the artificer, he plainly cannot know, whether that work be perfect or imperfect. Such seems to be the primary meaning of these terms.
But, after men began to form general ideas, to think out types of houses, buildings, towers, &c., and to prefer certain types to others, it came about, that each man called perfect that which he saw agree with the general idea he had formed of the thing in question, and called imperfect that which he saw agree less with his own preconceived type, even though it had evidently been completed in accordance with the idea of its artificer. This seems to be the only reason for calling natural phenomena, which, indeed, are not made with human hands, perfect or imperfect: for men are wont to form general ideas of things natural, no less than of things artificial, and such ideas they hold as types, believing that Nature (who they think does nothing without an object) has them in view, and has set them as types before herself. Therefore, when they behold something in Nature, which does not wholly conform to the preconceived type which they have formed of the thing in question, they say that Nature has fallen short or has blundered, and has left her work incomplete. Thus we see that men are wont to style natural phenomena perfect or imperfect rather from their own prejudices, than from true knowledge of what they pronounce upon.
Now we showed in the Appendix to Part I., that Nature does not work with an end in view. For the eternal and infinite Being, which we call God or Nature, acts by the same necessity as that whereby it exists. For we have shown, that by the same necessity of its nature, whereby it exists, it likewise works (I. xvi.). The reason or cause why God or Nature exists, and the reason why he acts, are one and the same. Therefore, as he does not exist for the sake of an end, so neither does he act for the sake of an end; of his existence and of his action there is neither origin nor end. Wherefore, a cause which is called final is nothing else but human desire, in so far as it is considered as the origin or cause of anything. For example, when we say that to be inhabited is the final cause of this or that house, we mean nothing more than that a man, conceiving the conveniences of household life, had a desire to build a house. Wherefore, the being inhabited, in so far as it is regarded as a final cause, is nothing else but this particular desire, which is really the efficient cause; it is regarded as the primary cause, because men are generally ignorant of the causes of their desires. They are, as I have often said already, conscious of their own actions and appetites, but ignorant of the causes whereby they are determined to any particular desire. Therefore, the common saying that Nature sometimes falls short, or blunders, and produces things which are imperfect, I set down among the glosses treated of in the Appendix to Part I. Perfection and imperfection, then, are in reality merely modes of thinking, or notions which we form from a comparison among one another of individuals of the same species; hence I said above (II. Def. vi.), that by reality and perfection I mean the same thing. For we are wont to refer all the individual things in nature to one genus, which is called the highest genus, namely, to the category of Being, whereto absolutely all individuals in nature belong. Thus, in so far as we refer the individuals in nature to this category, and comparing them one with another, find that some possess more of being or reality than others, we, to this extent, say that some are more perfect than others. Again, in so far as we attribute to them anything implying negation--as term, end, infirmity, etc., we, to this extent, call them imperfect, because they do not affect our mind so much as the things which we call perfect, not because they have any intrinsic deficiency, or because Nature has blundered. For nothing lies within the scope of a thing's nature, save that which follows from the necessity of the nature of its efficient cause, and whatsoever follows from the necessity of the nature of its efficient cause necessarily comes to pass.
As for the terms good and bad, they indicate no positive quality in things regarded in themselves, but are merely modes of thinking, or notions which we form from the comparison of things one with another. Thus one and the same thing can be at the same time good, bad, and indifferent. For instance, music is good for him that is melancholy, bad for him that mourns; for him that is deaf, it is neither good nor bad.
Nevertheless, though this be so, the terms should still be retained. For, inasmuch as we desire to form an idea of man as a type of human nature which we may hold in view, it will be useful for us to retain the terms in question, in the sense I have indicated.
In what follows, then, I shall mean by, "good" that, which we certainly know to be a means of approaching more nearly to the type of human nature, which we have set before ourselves; by "bad," that which we certainly know to be a hindrance to us in approaching the said type. Again, we shall that men are more perfect, or more imperfect, in proportion as they approach more or less nearly to the said type. For it must be specially remarked that, when I say that a man passes from a lesser to a greater perfection, or vice versa, I do not mean that he is changed from one essence or reality to another; for instance, a horse would be as completely destroyed by being changed into a man, as by being changed into an insect. What I mean is, that we conceive the thing's power of action, in so far as this is understood by its nature, to be increased or diminished. Lastly, by perfection in general I shall, as I have said, mean reality--in other words, each thing's essence, in so far as it exists, and operates in a particular manner, and without paying any regard to its duration. For no given thing can be said to be more perfect, because it has passed a longer time in existence. The duration of things cannot be determined by their essence, for the essence of things involves no fixed and definite period of existence; but everything, whether it be more perfect or less perfect, will always be able to persist in existence with the same force wherewith it began to exist; wherefore, in this respect, all things are equal.
Modern English
I call human impotence in moderating and restraining the affects "bondage." For when a person is subject to affects, he is not his own master but under the governance of fortune, so much so that he is often compelled — though he sees what is better for him — to follow what is worse. I have proposed to demonstrate in this Part what the cause of this is, and what further the affects have that is good or bad. But before I begin, a few prefatory remarks on perfection and imperfection, and on good and bad, are in order.
When someone sets out to make a thing and completes it, he will call that thing perfect — and so will anyone who rightly knows, or believes he knows, the intention and aim of its maker. If, for example, someone sees a piece of work (which I assume to be not yet finished) and knows that the maker's aim is to build a house, he will call it imperfect; and he will call it perfect as soon as the work is brought to the end its maker intended for it. But if someone sees a work the like of which he has never seen before, and does not know the maker's intention, he plainly cannot know whether it is perfect or imperfect. Such seems to have been the original meaning of these words. But once people began to form universal ideas and to imagine models of houses, buildings, towers, and so on — preferring some to others — each person came to call perfect whatever he saw to agree with the universal idea he had formed of that kind of thing, and imperfect whatever agreed less with his own preconceived model, even if in the maker's view it had been fully completed. No other reason seems to account for why people commonly call natural things — things not made by human hands — perfect or imperfect. For people are accustomed to form universal ideas of natural things no less than of artificial ones; these ideas they hold as models, and they believe that nature (which they suppose acts only for some end) looks to these models and sets them before itself. Thus when they see something in nature that does not quite agree with the model they have formed of that kind of thing, they believe that nature has fallen short or erred and has left the thing incomplete. So we see that people have grown accustomed to call natural things perfect or imperfect more from prejudice than from true knowledge of them. For we showed in the Appendix to Part I (E1App) that nature acts for no end; that eternal and infinite being we call God or Nature acts by the same necessity by which it exists. We showed (E1P16) that it acts by the same necessity of nature by which it exists. The reason or cause, therefore, why God or Nature acts and why it exists is one and the same. As it exists for no end, so it acts for no end; it has neither origin nor terminus of existing or of acting. What is called a final cause is nothing but human appetite considered as the primary cause of some thing. When we say, for example, that habitation was the final cause of this or that house, we mean nothing more than that a person, having imagined the comforts of domestic life, had an appetite to build a house. Habitation, then, considered as a final cause, is nothing but this particular appetite, which is in reality the efficient cause — and is considered primary because people generally do not know the causes of their appetites. For, as I have often said, they are conscious of their own actions and appetites but ignorant of the causes that determine them to desire anything. As for the common saying that nature sometimes falls short or errs and produces imperfect things — I count that among the fictions I dealt with in the Appendix to Part I. Perfection and imperfection are therefore, in reality, only modes of thinking — notions we are accustomed to form because we compare individuals of the same species or genus with one another. This is why I said above (E2D6) that by reality and perfection I mean the same thing. For we are accustomed to refer all individuals in nature to one genus, called the most general, namely to the notion of being, which belongs absolutely to all individuals in nature. Insofar as we refer nature's individuals to this genus, compare them with one another, and find that some have more entity or reality than others, we say that some are more perfect than others. And insofar as we attribute to them something that involves negation — such as limit, end, impotence — we call them imperfect, because they do not affect our mind equally with those we call perfect, not because something that belongs to them is lacking or because nature has erred. For nothing belongs to the nature of a thing except what follows from the necessity of the nature of its efficient cause, and whatever follows from the necessity of the nature of its efficient cause necessarily comes to pass.
As for good and bad: these terms indicate nothing positive in things considered in themselves; they are nothing but modes of thinking, or notions we form from comparing things with one another. One and the same thing can at the same time be good and bad and also indifferent. Music, for example, is good for the melancholy, bad for one in mourning, and neither good nor bad for the deaf. Yet though matters stand this way, we must retain these words. Since we want to form an idea of a human being as a model of human nature to keep before us, it will be useful to retain these words in the sense I have indicated. By "good" in what follows I shall mean what we know with certainty to be a means of approaching ever more closely to the model of human nature we set before ourselves. By "bad" I shall mean what we know with certainty to stand in the way of our realizing that same model. We shall also say that people are more or less perfect insofar as they approach more or less closely to this model. For it is above all to be noted that when I say someone passes from a lesser to a greater perfection, or the reverse, I do not mean that he is changed from one essence or form to another — a horse, for example, is just as completely destroyed by being changed into a man as by being changed into an insect — but that we conceive his power of acting, insofar as it is understood through his own nature, to be increased or diminished. By perfection in general I shall, as I said, mean reality — that is, the essence of any thing insofar as it exists and operates in a certain way, with no regard to its duration. For no individual thing can be called more perfect because it has persisted longer in existence; duration cannot be determined from the essence of things, since things' essence involves no fixed and determinate time of existing. Rather, any thing whatsoever — whether more or less perfect — will always be able to persist in existing with the same force with which it began to exist, so that all things are equal in this respect.