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then, Leibniz is to account for the actual qualities of matter as found in experience. These are the form, magnitude, cohesion, resistance, and the purely sensible qualities of objects. “First” matter, that is, abstract matter, may be conceived, according to Leibniz, as perfectly homogeneous, a “subtle fluid,” in his words, without any distinction of parts or of solidity. But this is an abstract notion. It is what matter would be without motion. Motion necessarily differentiates this plenum of homogeneity, and thus causes distinctions of figure (that is, boundaries of parts) and varieties of cohesion, or the varying solidity and fluidity of bodies. The latter difference is indeed the ultimate one. The principle of continuity or gradation, as applied to motion, makes it necessary that motions should not be in any two places of exactly the same energy. The result is that the original fluid matter is everywhere differently divided. Motion, entering into the uniform plenum, introduces distinction; it causes so much of the matter as is affected by a given movement to collect together and form in appearance a coherent body, as opposed to surrounding bodies which are affected by different degrees of energy. But even this is only approximate; the same principle of continuity must be applied within any apparently coherent body; its parts, while, in relation to other bodies, they have the same amount of motion, are in relation to one another differently affected. There are no two having exactly the same motion; if they had, there would be no distinction between them; and thus, according to the principle of Leibniz, they would be the same.
It follows at once from this that there is in the universe no body of absolute hardness or solidity, nor of entire softness or fluidity. A perfectly solid body would be one whose system of motions could not be affected by any other system,—a body which by motion had separated itself from motion, or become absolute. This is evidently an idea which contradicts itself, for the very essence of motion is continuity or relation. A body perfectly fluid, on the other hand, would be one in which there was no resistance offered to other motions,—a body, in other words, in which there are no movements that, entering into connection with one another, form a relative opposition to other movements. It would be a body isolated or out of relation with the general system of motions, and hence an impossibility. There is no last term either of solidity or of fluidity.
It equally follows as matter of course that there is no indivisible particle of matter,—no atom. The infinity of degrees of motion implies a corresponding division of matter. As already said, it is only in contrast with other relatively constant systems of motion that any body is of uniform motion; in reality there is everywhere throughout it variety of movement, and hence complete divisibility, or rather, complete division. If Leibniz were to employ the term “atom” at all, it could be only in the sense of the modern dynamical theory (of which, indeed, he is one of the originators), according to which the atom is not defined by its spatial position and outlines, but, by the range of its effects, as the centre of energies of infinite circumference. Correlative to the non-existence of the atom is the non-existence of the vacuum. The two imply each other. The hard, limited, isolated body, having no intrinsic relations with other bodies, must have room to come into external relations with them. This empty space, which is the theatre of such accidental contacts as may happen, is the vacuum. But if bodies are originally in connection with one another, if they are in reality but differentiations of varying degrees of motion within one system of motion, then there is no necessity for the vacuum,—nay, there is no place for it. The vacuum in this case could mean only a break, a chasm, in the order of nature. According to the theory of Leibniz, “bodies” are but the dynamic divisions of the one energy that fills the universe; their separateness is not an independent possession of any one of them or of all together, but is the result of relations to the entire system. Their apparent isolation is only by reason of their actual connections. To admit a vacuum anywhere, would thus be to deny the relatedness of the parts separated by it. The theory of the atom and the vacuum are the two phases of the metaphysical assumption of an indefinite plurality of independent separate realities. The theory of Leibniz, resting as it does on the idea of a perfect unity of interrelated members, must deny both of these aspects. Were we making an extended analysis of the opposed view, it would be necessary to point out that it denies itself. For it is only through the vacuum that the atoms are isolated or independent, and the sole function of the vacuum is to serve as the background of the atoms. The atoms are separated only in virtue of their connection, and the vacuum is what it is—pure emptiness—only on account of that which is in it. In short, the theory is only an abstract and incomplete way of grasping the thought of relation or mediated unity.
We have thus discovered that all motions conspire together, or form a system. But in their unity they do not cease to be motions, or variously differentiated members. Through this differentiation, or mutual reaction of motions, there comes about the appearance of boundaries, of separation. From these boundaries or terminations arise the form and size of bodies. From motion also proceeds the cohesion of bodies, in the sense that each relative system resists dissolution, or hangs together. Says Leibniz, “The motions, since they are conspiring, would be troubled by separation; and accordingly this can be accomplished only by violence and with resistance.” Not only form, size, and stability depend upon motion, but also the sensible, the “secondary” qualities. “It must not be supposed that color, pain, sound, etc., are arbitrary and without relation to their causes. It is not God’s way to act with so little reason and order. There is a kind of resemblance, not entire, but of relation, of order. We say, for example, ‘Light is in the fire,’ since there are motions in the fire which are imperceptible in their separation, but which are sensible in their conjunction or confusion; and this is what is made known in the idea of light.” In other words, color, sound, etc., even pain, are still the perception of motion, but in a confused way. We thus see how thoroughly Leibniz carries back all the properties of bodies to motion. To sum up, motion is the origin of the relative solidity, the divisibleness, the form, the size, the cohesion, or active resistance of bodies, and of their properties as made known to us in immediate sensation.
In all that has been said it has been implied that extension is already in existence; “first matter” is supposed to fill all space, and motion to determine it to take upon itself its actual concrete properties. But this “first matter,” when thus spoken of, has a somewhat mythological sound, even if it be admitted that it is an abstraction. For how can an abstraction be extended in space, and how can it form, as it were, a background upon which motion displays itself? The idea of “first matter” in its relation to extension evidently demands explanation. In seeking this explanation we shall also learn about that “subject” which Leibniz said was necessarily presupposed in extension, as a concrete thing is required for a quality.
The clew to the view of Leibniz upon this point may be derived, I think, from the following quotations:—
“If it were possible to see what makes extension, that kind of extension which falls under our eyes at present would vanish, and our minds would perceive nothing else than simple realities existing in mutual externality to one another. It would be as if we could distinguish the minute particles of matter variously disposed from which a painted image is formed: if we could do it, the image, which is nothing but a phenomenon, would vanish. . . . If we think of two simple realities as both existing at the same time, but distinct from one another, we look at them as if they were outside of one another, and hence conceive them as extended.”
The monads are outside of one another, not spatially, but ideally; but this reciprocal distinction from one another, if it is to appear in phenomenal mode, must take the form of an image, and the image is spatial. But if the monads were pure activity, they would not take phenomenal form or appear in an image. They would always be thought just as they are,—unextended activities realizing the spiritual essence of the universe. But they are not pure activity; they are passive as well. It is in virtue of this passive element that the ideal externality takes upon itself phenomenal or sensible form, and thus appears as spatial externality.
Leibniz, in a passage already quoted, refers to the diffusion of materiality or antitypia. This word, which is of frequent occurrence in the discussions of Leibniz, he translates generally as “impenetrability,” sometimes as “passive resistance.” It corresponds to the solidity or resistance of which Locke spoke as forming the essence of matter. Antitypia is the representation by a monad of the passive element in other monads. Leibniz sometimes speaks as if all created monads