fered not a little from the highly abstruse
and technical form in which the _Ethics_ is written. Some, who are not
inured to the hardships of philosophy, quite naturally jump to the
conclusion that its formidable geometry contains only the most
inscrutable of philosophic mysteries; and a wise humility persuades them
to forego the unexampled enlightenment a mastery of the difficulties
would yield. Others, who are devoutly wedded to what they consider the
unreservedly empirical character of modern (that is, true) philosophy,
avoid the _Ethics_ because they are convinced, on general principles,
that only a mind hopelessly lost in the dark night of medieval
speculation could conceive of philosophy in such ultra-deductive
fashion. Reason was for so long servile to idle theology, it is not at
all surprising that a work exemplifying reason to such high degree as
does the _Ethics_, should receive scant respect from intrepid
empiricists. It is so easy to confuse the rationalizations of reason
with the nature of reason itself.

Spinoza did not, however, choose the geometrical order because he
thought his philosophy too profound for ordinary exposition; nor did he
choose it because he was enmeshed in medieval philosophic speculation.
He chose it because his fundamental philosophic aim was to establish
ethics on a thoroughly tested, scientific foundation; and geometry, an
exemplar of all mathematical science, most completely embodied, at that
time, the highest scientific ideal. Man, Spinoza held, is a part of
Nature, and Nature is governed by eternal and immutable laws. It must be
just as possible, therefore, to apply the mathematical method to man, as
it is to apply it to matter. It must be possible to determine, with the
certitude obtainable in the exact sciences, what things are good for man
and what means he has for attaining them.

Spinoza's belief in the self-sufficing, lawful order of Nature, and the
adequacy of the natural powers of our mind to understand the mysteries
(popularly so appraised) of heaven and earth, the singular expository
style of the _Ethics_ emphasizes in unmistakable fashion. Even for our
understanding of God's own nature, Divine Revelation, as commonly
interpreted in Spinoza's day and our own, is wholly unnecessary. We need
only the revelation afforded by the natural powers of reason operative
in us. In geometry, we do not blindly accept conclusions on faith, nor
do we reject them by authority. We are g