tion of it; and many of his metaphysical ideas are simply taken from Spinoza. Hegel said, "You are much of a Spinozist or no philosopher at all." In like manner Schelling said that no one could arrive at philosophical truth who had not once at least plunged into the depths of Spinozism. Novalis, Schleiermacher, Heine, and many others have spoken of Spinoza in words of enthusiastic praise. There is in Germany a whole recent literature of exposition and discussion about him, which is fast increasing, and to give an account of which would itself need a monograph.
In France the prevailing tone of philosophy has not been one that accords well with Spinoza; but he has met there with keen and intelligent criticism, which is the next best thing to intelligent admiration; and the beautiful address lately delivered by M. Renan at the Hague (besides the serious attention given to the subject by M. Paul Janet and others) is a sufficient proof that Spinoza has now at least found a response in the highest thought of France.
In England Coleridge, in this as in other things the advanced guard of the peaceful invasion of German culture and philosophy, spread the name of Spinoza, and much of his ideas, among the friends whom he delighted by his conversation. He used to say that the three great works since the introduction of Christianity were Bacon's "Novum Organum," Spinoza's "Ethics," and Kant's "Kritik" Coleridge's own position as to Spinoza was something like Jacobi's; he admired and honored him without accepting his teaching. It may well be that some part of the nature-worship of Wordsworth's poetry, which has been a most important element in our later English literature, was derived through Coleridge from Spinoza. But we must come down many years later before we find any certain manifestation of this part of Coleridge's influence. Those who have spoken of Spinoza to English readers as he deserves to be spoken of are still among us and working for us. We have Mr. G. H. Lewes's various articles and writings on Spinoza, to which he has given a finished form in his "History of Philosophy."' We have Mr. Froude's essay on Spinoza, perhaps the best general account of his doctrine which has been given in our language for those who do not make philosophy their special study. There is Mr. Matthew Arnold's admirable monograph on the "Tractatus Theologico-Politicus," whose only fault is that he has not completed it by a companion piece on the "Ethics." There are Mr. Huxley's contributions to pure philosophy, which do not treat of Spinoza directly, but have done much to put Spinoza's fundamental ideas into shapes adapted to the present state of our knowledge. The same may be said of Mr. G. H. Lewes's most recent work in "Problems of Life and Mind." Nor are other signs wanting of an active and increasing interest in Spinoza both at home and abroad.
It has been said of Spinoza by an able and not unfair critic (M. Saisset), that his theory was after all but a system, which has passed away like all other systems, never to come back. It is true that Spinoza did not found a school, and had few or no disciples in the proper sense. It would be difficult to name any one who ever formally accepted his system as a whole. But the worth of a philosopher to the world is measured not by the number of people who accept his system, or by the failure of criticism to detect logical flaws in it, but by the life and strength of the ideas he sets stirring in men's minds. Systems are the perishable body of philosophy, ideas are the living soul. Judged by this test, Spinoza stands on a height of eminence such as very few other thinkers have attained.
The countess paused and turned her marble-like face towards her husband.
"Your word is sufficient," she gasped, "I have your promise to comply with both conditions?"
"My promise to comply with both, Vally!" cried the count bitterly, "but, with this promise, my hatred and contempt for this boundless abuse of your power."
She nodded again, as if in assent, and said gently: "The money shall be ready on Wednesday." Then she turned away, and leaning on her son's arm walked slowly out of the door, while the count
- ↑ Copyright 1877, by Littell & Gay.
