Christia Mercer

Love plays a central role in the radical proposals of the seventeenth-century English philosopher, Anne Conway (1631–1679). Because God, as first substance, shares its infectious “vital” love with all creatures, each loves all the others. Love is the primary motivating force and connective glue among the infinity of the world’s creatures and so guarantees the world’s ultimate perfectibility. An examination of love’s role in Conway’s metaphysics not only uncovers unnoticed features of her philosophy, it also reveals the unique place her thought occupies in love’s history. Her philosophy, as it turns out, is more radical and original than has been previously understood.

The concept of sympathy plays an increasingly important role in philosophy over the course of the seventeenth century. At the beginning of the century, sympathy is an “occult power” treated mostly by thinkers on the periphery of philosophy. During the second half of the century, it becomes a central component of mainstream philosophical systems. This chapter discusses the Stoic and Platonist sources of seventeenth-century notions of sympathy, explores some of the most prominent debates about the concept in the middle decades of the century, and then uses this material to display its significance in the metaphysical systems of G. W. Leibniz and Anne Conway. Both philosophers are committed to universal sympathy, according to which all creatures correspond sympathetically to all the others. Although this is primarily a metaphysical claim, it has moral implications.

This chapter asks that we step back from the main text of the _Theodicy_ and attend to its Preface. It shows that the Preface performs two crucial preparatory tasks that have not been properly appreciated. The first is to offer a public declaration of Leibniz’s _radical rationalism_. It assumes that any attentive rational being is capable of divine knowledge. The second task of the Preface is to invite readers to seek divine love and virtue. To set themselves on the path to virtue, they need only avoid the pitfalls of religion and use reason in the right way to grasp a divine perfection. Once they enter the main text of the _Theodicy_, they have begun that journey. The _Theodicy_ looks importantly different when so prefaced. While it is surely true that the main text offers a sustained and detailed attempt to solve the problem of evil and rescue reason’s power from Bayle’s criticisms, neither the solution nor the rescue is its main concern. Rather, the goal of the _Theodicy_ is to promote divine love and produce virtuous souls. Leibniz’s proposed solutions to the problem of evil and his response to Bayle cannot be properly evaluated outside that context.

Platonism played a much more significant part in the development of the new natural philosophy in the seventeenth century than has generally been understood. This paper displays the crucial role that Platonist doctrines about mind, soul, God, and emanative causation played in the natural philosophy of two seventeenth-century philosophers: Gottfried Wilhelm Leibniz (1646–1716) and Anne Finch Conway (1631–1679). The paper explores the failure of the metaphysical underpinnings of the mechanical philosophy, and displays the importance of early modern Platonism to right those metaphysical wrongs. The Platonism of Leibniz and Conway reveals a good deal both about the specific use of Platonist doctrines in grounding the new seventeenth-century natural philosophy and the precise motivations behind doing so.

In this paper, I examine the arguments offered by prominent ancient philosophers and medical theorists to justify the view that female bodies are imperfect or “mutilated” compared to male bodies from which it is supposed to follow that women are morally inferior to men. These arguments rendered men superior to women and justified the need for women to subjugate themselves to their procreative powers and to the wisdom of their superiors. Western sexism and misogyny has its roots here. It is unsettling to witness the ease with which a few men writing millennia ago laid the groundwork for centuries of sexism and depressing to realize that many of our contemporaries embrace the residue of these ancient ideas. But it is important for us to understand how these sexist attitudes arose, how they maintained themselves, and how utterly contingent they are.

The main goal of this chapter is to present the basic components of Anne Conway’s metaphysics of sympathy. To that end, I will explicate her concepts of God or first substance and second substance or Christ with special emphasis on the key role that the second substance plays in her philosophy. I argue that one of the keys to Conway’s system lies in her reinterpretation of the Christian narrative about suffering. She combines Christian imagery with ancient and modern ideas in an attempt to create a philosophy that will appeal to people of all faiths and explain ‘all phenomena in the entire universe’ ). Christ’s role as a metaphysical and moral figure is crucial to Conway’s philosophy and helps explain her views about suffering and the importance of sympathy in her philosophy.

while no one was looking, contextualism replaced rational reconstructionism as the dominant methodology among English-speaking early modern historians of philosophy. In this paper, I expose the contours of this silent revolution, show that rational reconstructionism is a thing of the past among early modern historians, and examine the current state of early modern scholarship.1 As the contextualist revolution has increasingly widened our perspective and revealed the period’s philosophical diversity, it has encouraged early modernists to develop new skills and expertise. I propose here that current early modern historians are devoted to maximize...

This volume showcases the best current work now being written on a wide range of issues in early modern philosophy, when some of the most influential current philosophical problems were first identified by figures like Locke, Berkeley, Kant, Spinoza, and Descartes. Collectively the articles exemplify the wide range of methodological perspectives currently being employed by top figures in the field. Indeed the selling point of the volume is the very high level of the fourteen contributors, each of whom has a highly distinguished international reputation.

In his thoughtful and generous review of my book, Leibniz’s Metaphysics: Its Origins and Development, Cees Leijenhorst accepts many of its most radical conclusions: that Leibniz’s metaphysics evolved out of an attempt to combine ideas gathered from the great philosophers of the past and to do so in a manner that would solve the theological, legal, and philosophical questions that most concerned him; that although Leibniz’s notion of substance developed out of his interpretation of the philosophy of Aristotle, his conception of the relation between God and creatures has its roots in the Platonism that he learned as a young man in Leipzig and Jena; that the views constituting the core doctrines of the mature philosophy were conceived by the time Leibniz went to Paris in early 1672; and that Leibniz rejects the reality of passive extended matter and embraces his own version of idealism as early as 1671. I am tempted to respond with a loud rodeo yell and end it at that. But because the few points on which.

Anyone interested in Leibniz, the Kabbalah, the Cambridge Platonists, Gnosticism, Platonism, or seventeenth-century metaphysics will want to read Allison P. Coudert’s Leibniz and the Kabbalah. Coudert argues that core features of Leibniz’s mature philosophy were directly influenced by the Kabbalah in general and Francis Mercury van Helmont’s Lurianic Kabbalah in particular. This is a provocative thesis to which Coudert brings an impressive amount of scholarly detective work. Her argument in brief goes as follows: there are important differences between the philosophy of Leibniz’s middle period and that of the late; some of the most distinctive features of the late philosophy are very similar to key aspects of the Lurianic Kabbalism of van Helmont, with whose works and ideas Leibniz became increasingly familiar after 1687; therefore, Leibniz’s late philosophy was significantly influenced by the thought of van Helmont.

When Bruno was burned at the stake in 1600, philosophers were still inclined to offer natural explanations in Aristotelian terms. Neither the physical proposals of Bruno himself, nor those of other prominent non-Aristotelians like Paracelsus had diminished the power of the explanatory model offered by the scholastics. For those philosophers watching the demise of Bruno in the Campo dei Fiori in Rome, the burning of the wood and its subsequent effects would have been explained adequately in terms of matter and substantial form. For such Aristotelian philosophers, all natural objects are constituted of matter and form, and natural events are explained in terms of the actualization of the potency of these two “principles of nature.” By the time Kenelm Digby composed his Two Treatises of 1644 and Thomas Hobbes his De Corpore in 1655, there was a new explanatory model available to explain such events, one that had greatly diminished the power of the scholastic model. According to the mechanical philosophy, nature is composed of matter—whether the res extensa of Descartes, the atoms of Gassendi, or one of the many less popular accounts of corporeity—whose actions and interactions cause and explain all the phenomena of nature. For the mechanist, therefore, all physical phenomena are to be explained in terms of some kind of matter and motion. Although these thinkers disagreed about how to define the material component in nature, they all took it to be entirely devoid of substantial forms. For our purposes here, it will be helpful to distinguish between first wave and second wave mechanists. A first wave mechanist is someone like Descartes, Galileo, Hobbes, or Gassendi who proposed a version of the mechanical explanatory model before 1650. A second wave mechanist is a philosopher working in the second half of the seventeenth century who accepts the mechanical explanatory model. For our purposes, it is important that many second wave mechanists were prepared to reject the scholastic explanatory model, replace it with the mechanical one, and yet were not content to accept the metaphysical grounding of the mechanical physics offered by the first wave mechanists.

Working on Leibniz’s vast essays and texts can seem overwhelming. As exciting as it is to study the details of the Monadology and Discourse on Metaphysics, the Theodicy and the letters to Arnauld, it can be terrifying to sit back and think that there are thousands of other pages of equally sublime and often more difficult philosophical material. The personal notes are particularly daunting. Because Leibniz wrote these for himself, it is often difficult to grasp his reasoning and decipher his underlying philosophical motivation: he typically neither states his most basic assumptions nor articulates how the piece he is presently writing fits into a general plan or project. Sometimes he just plays with an idea or tries out an argument. As Leibniz himself wrote about his notes: “instead of treasure..., you will only find ashes; instead of elaborate works, a few sheets of paper and some poorly expressed vestiges of hasty reflections, which were only saved for the sake of my memory.” But even Leibniz’s more polished essays can be unnerving in manuscript. These sheets—which contain deletions, additions, an enormous number of reformulations, and reconsiderations—reveal an impatient intellect hurrying to express its ideas. Because Leibniz is so often reluctant to set the stage for a philosophical proposal or to acknowledge its various implications, one often has to go well beyond the text in order to understand how the proposal at hand relates to other parts of his thought. Moreover, Leibniz encourages confusion by using one terminology in one text and an entirely different one in another. The moral to the story is clear: one cannot depend either on a single essay or on a small group of passages taken in isolation from others in the same period. When it comes to Leibniz’s writings, it is necessary to take the widest possible textual perspective.

This essay examines the basis of Leibniz’s views on the unity of corporeal substance. It draws on the analysis of Robert Sleigh, who linked the unity of Leibnizian substances to their possession of identity through change. It argues that Sleigh’s analysis leaves many questions about unity unanswered, notably the problem of how a substantial form produces unity in its associated passive principle or body, whose components are in constant flux. The key to this problem lies in a historically informed account of Leibniz’s writings, which reveal his underlying assumptions on unity.

Descartes intended to revolutionize seventeenth-century philosophy and science. But first he had to persuade his contemporaries of the truth of his ideas. Of all his publications, Meditations on First Philosophy is methodologically the most ingenuous. Its goal is to provoke readers, even recalcitrant ones, to discover the principles of “first philosophy.” The means to its goal is a reconfiguration of traditional methodological strategies. The aim of this chapter is to display the methodological strategy of the Meditations. The text’s method is more subtle and more philosophically significant than has generally been appreciated. Descartes’ most famous work is best understood as a response to four somewhat separate philosophical concerns extant in the seventeenth century. Section 1 describes these. Section 2 discusses how Descartes uses and transforms them. A clearer sense of the Meditations’ methodological strategy provides a better understanding of exactly how Descartes intended to revolutionize seventeenth-century thought.

The Preface to Leibniz's famous Theodicy offers a perspective on the work that has been insufficiently studied. In this paper, I ask that we step back from the main text of the Theodicy and attend to its Preface. I show that the latter performs two crucial preparatory tasks that have not been properly appreciated. The first is to offer a public declaration of what I call Leibniz’s radical rationalism. The Preface assumes that any attentive rational being is capable of divine knowledge. The basic idea is that it is knowledge about a divine perfection that can be understood more or less completely. In the Preface, Leibniz entices his readers to seek such knowledge and explains why doing so has been so difficult before now. What makes this rationalism radical is that divine knowledge is severed from any religion or set of religious beliefs. While some Christian doctrines make it easier to approach God, they are neither necessary nor sufficient to do so. The author of the Theodicy thereby informs his readers that they have access to divine perfections, regardless of religious affiliation. To acquire such knowledge, they need only work through his book. The second task of the Preface is closely related to the first. It invites readers to seek divine love and virtue. To set themselves on the path to virtue, they need only avoid the pitfalls of religion and use reason in the right way to grasp a divine perfection. Once they enter the main text of the Theodicy, they have begun that journey.