First, one word more than what I said last time about the relative foreignness of the divine principle in the philosophy of the absolute. Those of you who have read the last two chapters of Mr. Bradley's wonderful book, 'Appearance and reality,' will remember what an elaborately foreign aspect _his_ absolute is finally made to assume. It is neither intelligence nor will, neither a self nor a collection of selves, neither truthful, good, nor beautiful, as we understand these terms. It is, in short, a metaphysical monster, all that we are permitted to say of it being that whatever it is, it is at any rate _worth_ more (worth more to itself, that is) than if any eulogistic adjectives of ours applied to it. It is us, and all other appearances, but none of us _as such_, for in it we are all 'transmuted,' and its own as-suchness is of another denomination altogether. Spinoza was the first great absolutist, and the impossibility of being intimate with _his_ God is universally recognized. _Quatenus infinitus est_ he is other than what he is _quatenus humanam mentem constituit_. Spinoza's philosophy has been rightly said to be worked by the word _quatenus_. Conjunctions, prepositions, and adverbs play indeed the vital part in all philosophies; and in contemporary idealism the words 'as' and 'quâ' bear the burden of reconciling metaphysical unity with phenomenal diversity. Quâ absolute the world is one and perfect, quâ relative it is many and faulty, yet it is identically the self-same world--instead of talking of it as many facts, we call it one fact in many aspects.