IV.
In his correspondence with Stuart Mill which takes place between 1841 and 1846, that is to say which embraces the end of his first career and the beginning of the second, Comte has repeatedly explained how the two successive portions of his work are connected together, and in what they are distinct. It may not be useless to quote his own words. “The second half of my philosophical life,” he says, “must differ notably from the first, especially in that feeling must take, if not an obvious, at least a real part in it, one as great as that of the intellect. The great work of systematization which has been reserved for our century, must indeed embrace equally, both feelings and ideas as a whole. Truly it was the ideas which had first to be systematized, under pain of failing to bring about a complete regeneration by falling into a more or less vague mysticism. That is why my fundamental work had to appeal almost exclusively to the intellect. It was to be a work of research, and accessorily of discussion, destined to discover and to constitute the true universal principles, in rising by hierarchical degrees from the simplest scientific questions to the highest social speculations.”[8] But this being done, Comte passed to the systematisation of the feelings, “a necessary sequel to that of the ideas, and an indispensable basis for that of the institutions.”
It is, therefore, an entirely new work. Comte can imagine without difficulty that it might have been reserved for another than himself. His personal mission might have been limited to the foundation of the philosophy which puts an end to the “_mental_ anarchy.” The ethics and the religion which were to be established upon this philosophy, to put an end to _moral and political_ anarchy, would, in this case, have been the work of one of his successors. Stubborn labour and good fortune allowed Comte to undertake this work himself. But even in 1845, he says how “under the holy influence of Mdme. de Vaux,” he had very clearly seen his two careers as distinct and as one, these two careers of which the second was to transform philosophy into religion, as the first had changed science into philosophy.
The object of the present work is to study Comte’s philosophy properly so called, leaving aside the transformation of this philosophy into religion. The choice which we thus make is not an arbitrary one, since, in order to justify it, we have the distinction formally established by Comte himself, when he admits that his philosophy and his religion might have been the work of two different persons.
It will perhaps be asked in what our position differs from that of Littré, and of the “incomplete positivists.” By the difference, we shall answer, which separates the historical from the dogmatic point of view. It is from the latter point of view that Littré and his friends reject the “systematisation of the feelings,” the subjective method and the religion of Humanity. It is as positivists that they connect themselves with the first half of the doctrine, and that they exclude the second half. But we are here working from the historical point of view, and the historian, while using his right to define the limits of his work has nothing to exclude from the doctrine which he sets forth. As a matter of fact far from claiming with Littré that the second part of Comte’s work weakens and contradicts the first, we have recognised that they both form a whole of which he had drawn out the plan in his early writings, and that he was not wrong in taking as an epigraph for his _Politique positive_ the fine words of the poet-philosopher: _What is a great life? A thought of youth fulfilled in riper age._
But then, why only study the first of the two careers, why not respect the integrity of that whole which, according to us, Littré ought not to have disregarded?--We do respect it, for we do not arbitrarily exclude from the doctrine any of the parts which Comte included in it. If we make the philosophy proper the sole object of this study, in it we shall ever have before our minds the idea of the greater whole in which Comte placed it. On this condition alone, our study will be accurate. But once this condition is fulfilled we do not consider that we exceed our right, in concentrating our effort upon the philosophy.
There are two different ways of conceiving the history of a doctrine. The historian may place himself exactly in the mental attitude of the philosopher whom he studies, and think again after him his leading ideas, as indeed he should do; but further, he can judge, just as the philosopher himself does, of the respective importance of problems, without allowing himself to distinguish what is secondary from what is essential. The historical work then assumes the shape of a “monography,” or of an “intellectual biography;” or else, while endeavouring to penetrate to the heart of the system, in order to grasp it in its principles, the historian may nevertheless place himself outside it and above it, and try to “situate” it in the general evolution of philosophy. Then the system is better understood in its entirety, since we can see its relations with the preceding, contemporary and following doctrines. At the same time it becomes possible to separate what is of enduring philosophical interest, from what was merely of secondary or momentary importance, although the author may have judged otherwise. To borrow from Comte a distinction which he often uses, the former of these methods is better suited to erudition, the latter to history.
Applied to the study of his doctrine, the first method would have us to consider positive philosophy with him as simply preparatory to the Religion of Humanity, which was the first and the last goal of his efforts. The writer should undoubtedly give a large place to this “préambule indispensable,” to this great fundamental work, in which Comte lays down the intellectual bases of his political and religious system. But he ought nevertheless to subordinate it to this system and place in the front rank the “social reorganisation,” the dogma, the worship and the _régime_ of the Religion of Humanity, the institution of a spiritual power, in fact the whole of that portion of Comte’s work in which he takes up again “the Catholic programme of the Middle Ages,” confident of fulfilling it better than Catholicism itself ever did.
Now it is not in this part of his work that Comte shows himself most original, and that his thought has been most fruitful. The problem of “social reorganisation” does not belong to him alone. Its presence is felt, so to speak, in the air at the time that Comte’s youth was passing away. The common aspirations of the generation which grew up with him were to re-establish order and to fix the conditions of progress, to determine the relations of Ethics to Politics, and to put a new religion in the place apparently left free by Catholicism. The _Politique positive_ which claims to satisfy these aspirations, corresponds in Comte’s system (all proper allowance being made for the substance of the doctrines) to what the Saint Simon school had already attempted to do before 1830. It comes thirty years later than the previous attempts of the same kind, because Comte wanted to found his “social organisation” upon philosophy and morality, and because this speculative effort occupied the better part of his youth and of his maturity. But it originated in fact in the first third of the century as is proved by the pamphlets reprinted by Comte. When it appears between 1850 and 1857, a new generation brought up in other political and social circumstances gives it only passing attention. Other problems command attention more forcibly, and claim a more urgent solution. The philosophy of history no longer excites the same passionate interest. Men are less anxious to see the birth of a new religion, and Catholicism has proved that its vitality is still very strong.
Therefore neither Comte’s genius, nor the precautions which he thought he had taken to place his “social reorganisation” upon a rational basis, could shield it from the common fate which sooner or later overtakes all attempts similar to his own. Undoubtedly the _Politique positive_ and the other works of Comte’s second career are full of just and deep views. Whatever may be the subject upon which a great mind has worked it is always interesting and profitable to see what the reflection of that mind has discovered in it. But, in fact, that portion of his work, which to him was the most important, is far from maintaining this position in the eyes of the historian.
By his _Politique positive_ Comte only represents his generation. By his philosophy properly so called he is a “representative man” of his entire century. Is it necessary to prove this? The intellectual history of our age witnesses to it at every step. Of all the systems which found birth in France in the XIX. century, this one alone found a hearing beyond the frontiers and left a deep impression upon foreign thinkers. Comte’s philosophy was at first received in England and in Holland even with more sympathy than in France. John Stuart Mill, Herbert Spencer, George Lewes, George Elliot and a number of English philosophers and writers drew more or less of their inspiration from it. To this day, it is defended by men of great talent in England. It is true that no German philosopher had the same personal relations with Comte as John Stuart Mill, but as a matter of fact, for thirty years the positive spirit has gradually gained ground in the German Universities. To be convinced of this, it is enough to see how metaphysics are set aside in them and to observe the lines on which the moral and social sciences are taught. In the Latin countries of the two hemispheres Comte’s influence has been exercised with even greater strength, in Spain, in Portugal, in South America; and North America has also its Positivist societies. In his life time, Comte had already found there some of his most devoted disciples. In France the principal “vehicles” of Positivist philosophy have been the works of two writers who, in their time, were those most beloved by the public; Renan and Taine, although they were not positivists, have perhaps done more for the diffusion of the ideas and method of Comte than Littré and all the other positivists together.
It is true that Taine owes a great deal to Spinoza and to Hegel, and more still to Condillac. Among his contemporaries he seems to be especially connected with John Stuart Mill and Spencer. But through them it is from Comte that he proceeds, and there we find the origin of the greater number of his leading ideas. His conception of literary history, of criticism, of the philosophy of art, in a word, his effort to bring into the study of the moral sciences the method used in the natural sciences, all this is chiefly derived from Auguste Comte. The _Histoire de la Litterature anglaise_ is, in a sense, an application of the positive theory according to which the evolution of the arts and literatures is governed by necessary laws which constitute its solidarity with that of morals, of institutions and of beliefs. The theory of the “moment” and of the “milieu” which is the chief one in Taine’s work was certainly not unknown in the XVIII. century. But it is Comte who generalised it by bringing Lamarck nearer to Montesquieu; it is he who taught Taine the general definition, at once biological and social, of the idea of the “milieu.”
Renan spoke of Comte with extreme severity, and not without some disdain. He owned, however, that later on Comte’s name would be one of the most representative ones of this century, and he had himself strongly felt his influence. We must certainly take into account all the other French and foreign sources from which this mind at once so supple and so large, drew inspiration. But is it not from Comte, as much as from Hegel, that he learnt to regard history as the “sacred science of humanity,” to expect from it what before was demanded from theology, to transform the ancient dogmas of Providence and of optimism into the belief in the positive idea of progress, and finally to conceive that truth and goodness are not immutable and immoveable realities, but are realised by degrees through the effort of successive generations?
These two examples will suffice to show the point of extreme diffusion which has been reached by the positive spirit.
This spirit is so intimately mingled with the general thought of our time that we scarcely notice it, just as we do not pay attention to the air we breathe. History, romance, and, even poetry have reflected its influence and, being charged with it, have contributed to its diffusion. Contemporary Sociology is the creation of Comte; scientific Psychology, in a certain degree has also sprung from him. From all these signs, it is not rash to conclude that positive philosophy expresses some of the most characteristic tendencies of the age.
We are therefore conforming to historical reality when we attach ourselves, in Comte’s work, to the philosophy which constitutes its most original, and up to the present time its most fruitful and living part. It matters little that he himself should only have considered it as a preliminary portion of his work. How often has the speculative effort made by a great thinker for the purpose of establishing practical conclusions proved to be of more enduring interest than those conclusions themselves!
FOOTNOTES:
[1] Lettres à Valat, p. 156-7 (25 Décembre 1824).
[2] Lettres à Valat, p. 99.
[3] Lettres à Valat, p. 128.
[4] Revue Occidentale, 1881, I, p. 288.
[5] Politique positive, II, p. XX.
[6] V. book, I, ch. vi. p.
[7] Correspondence de J. S. Mill et de Comte, Lettre de Comte du 14 juillet 1845, p. 456-7.
[8] Correspondance de Comte and de Stuart Mill, p. 456-7. Lettre de Comte du 14 juillet 1845.
## BOOK I
## CHAPTER I
THE PHILOSOPHICAL PROBLEM
According to Comte, philosophy is destined to serve as a basis for morality, for politics and for religion. It is not an end in itself but a means to reach an end not otherwise attainable. Had Comte thought it possible to reorganise society without first reorganising morals, and to reorganise morals without first reorganising beliefs, he would not perhaps have written the six volumes of the “Cours de Philosophie positive” which occupied him from 1830 to 1842. He would have gone straight to what was of supreme interest.
He early became convinced that the shortest way would not be the best. In his view, all endeavour at religious, moral, or political reorganisation, must be vain so long as _mental_ reorganisation has not taken place. It is therefore with a new philosophy that he must begin. Indispensable to the social end which Comte has in view, philosophy becomes, at least provisionally, an end in itself.
Comte is going to endeavour to reorganise beliefs, that is to say, to substitute a demonstrated faith to the revealed faith whose force is now spent. This demonstrated faith will have nothing in common with the natural religion of the XVIII. century, which was at bottom but a weak and degenerate form of belief in the supernatural. Under the metaphysical garb of Deism we still recognise theological thought. On the contrary the demonstrated faith will have its origin and its justification in positive science. The two words “faith” and “demonstration” appear to clash with each other. But the contradiction lies merely on the surface. For we are still concerned with “faith” since the great majority of men will always have to take on faith the conclusions of positive philosophy.
The number of men with sufficient leisure and enough culture to examine these conclusions and to go into their proofs will always be small. The attitude of the others must be one of submission and respect. But, differing on this point from the religious dogmas which humanity has known until now; the new faith will be “demonstrated.” It will contain nothing which has not been established and controlled by scientific methods, nothing which goes beyond the domain of the relative, nothing which at any moment cannot be proved to a mind capable of following the demonstration.
This form of “faith” already exists in the case of a great number of scientific truths. Thus all men to-day believe in the theory of the solar system which we owe to Copernicus, to Galileo and to Newton. Yet how many are in a position to understand the demonstrations upon which this theory rests? They know, however, that what here is a matter of faith to them, is a matter of science to others, and would be so equally for themselves had they gone through the necessary studies. _Faith_ therefore signifies here not indeed a voluntary abdication of the intellect in presence of a mystery which surpasses its power of comprehension, but a submission to fact, which in no way encroaches upon the rights of reason. Every man is not capable, at any moment, of exercising this right to criticise. In practice, Comte will severely restrict the use of it.[9] But in theory this right belongs to all men, and must ever remain unalterable. In the last place the legitimate existence of the demonstrated faith rests upon this proposition: “If all minds were in a condition to examine the dogmas of that faith, all, without exception, would understand the demonstration, and would agree with it.”
The words “belief” and “faith” must not be misunderstood. In the “reorganisation of beliefs” which he undertakes, Comte only concerns himself with beliefs capable of demonstration. He is here faithful to the thought of Saint Simon, who understood “religion” chiefly as a basis of political organisation. At any rate, in the early part of his philosophical career Comte does not bring into “faith” the mystical, sentimental and non-intellectual elements which this word usually implies and which so often oppose it to “reason.” The word signifies for Comte that which man believes concerning _what may be for him a subject of knowledge_. Until now these beliefs have set forth a more or less mythical or metaphysical explanation of the universe and of man, taught by priests and philosophers. But this no longer satisfies the human mind. By degrees positive science, which works on a totally different plan, substitutes a knowledge of the laws of phenomena to those “explanations.” From this moment the problem thus presents itself to Comte: To establish by rational means a system of universally accepted truths concerning man, society and the world.
Comte thus takes for granted: 1st, that the “opinions,” the “beliefs” and the “conceptions” relating to these matters, are to-day “anarchical”: 2nd, that their natural and normal condition is to be “organised.”
There is no need to prove the first part; a glance at contemporary society is enough. The confused disturbing movements which fill it with trouble and agitation, and which, unless rational harmony be at last established, threaten its destruction are not due merely to political causes. They proceed from moral disorder. And this in turn proceeds from intellectual disorder, that is to say from a lack of principles common to all minds, and from the absence of universally admitted conceptions and beliefs. For in order that a human society may subsist, a certain harmony of sentiment or even common interests among its members will not suffice. Above all things, intellectual concord which finds expression in a body of common beliefs is necessary.
If, therefore, a society be a prey to chronic disorders, which political remedies appear powerless to cure, one has every right to believe that the deep-rooted evil has its origin in intellectual disorganisation. All other troubles are merely symptoms. This, according to Comte, is precisely the state of contemporary society. It has neither “intellectual” nor “spiritual” government, and does not even feel the want of it. The minds of men recognise no common discipline. Not a principle subsists which negative and “corrosive” criticism has not attacked. The individual erects himself as a judge of all things--philosophy, ethics, politics, religion. The opinion which he adopts most frequently without any special qualification for so doing, and according to his passions, always appears to him to have as much right to be admitted as those of other men. He claims to be amenable to no one for his thoughts. And this scattering (later on Comte will say insurrection) of intelligences is what he calls a state of _anarchy_.
But, we may say, does not this state represent the ordinary condition of human societies? Perhaps the “organic” state only appears occasionally and as an exception? Such a supposition is groundless. For, if such were the case societies could not subsist, and above all could not develop. We must admit, on the contrary, that periods of intellectual anarchy form the exception, and that in a normal state of society men are united by their unanimous submission to a sufficiently large body of principles and beliefs. History confirms this view. The immobility of civilisation in the Far-East is especially due to the intellectual stability which distinguishes it from our own condition. The societies of Antiquity (Grecian and Roman), rested upon a conception of man, of citizenship and of the world, which, as a matter of fact, scarcely varied during the whole period of their existence. Lastly, in the Middle-ages, Christianity had constituted an admirable spiritual authority. The organisation of Catholicism, “a masterpiece of political sagacity,” had established a body of beliefs which all minds accepted with complacent docility. It is the decomposition of this great system which has produced the majority of the evils with which we are now struggling. Mental anarchy is therefore truly an abnormal state, a pathological fact, what Comte will call later on the “western disease,” a mortal disease if it is to be prolonged. Either modern society must perish, or minds must regain their stable equilibrium by submission to common principles.
The problem of the organisation of beliefs would seem to come under two heads. In the first place we have the philosophical problem: how to establish a system of principles and beliefs capable of being universally admitted; and, in the second place, a social problem: how to bring all minds into the new faith. But this distinction only appears on the surface. As a matter of fact, the solution of the first problem will necessarily imply that of the second. Does not the principal cause for the lack of common discipline lie in the disorder which troubles the mind of each individual? If intellects are divided among themselves it is because each intellect is divided against itself. Let one of them succeed in establishing a perfect harmony within itself, and by the mere force of logic, this harmony, by gradual diffusion will be communicated to the others--once true philosophy is established, the rest will only be a matter of time. It will therefore suffice to examine the opinions and beliefs which actually exist in _one_ mind, and to inquire into the conditions necessary to substitute in it harmony to anarchy, or in a word, to realise within it a _perfect logical coherence_.
As Descartes, in order to test all his knowledge, had only to examine the sources from which it originated, so Comte, in order to verify the logical compatibility of his opinions, will content himself with the consideration of the methods which have furnished him with them. If he discovers methods which mutually tend to exclude each other, he will have found the cause of the mental disorder which gives birth to all the evils we see troubling modern society. At the same time he will have discovered the remedy which will bring about the disappearance of those contradictions. The human mind is so constituted, that the first thing it requires is unity. Understanding is spontaneously systematic. Opinions merely in juxtaposition in the mind but logically irreconcilable cannot satisfy it. As a matter of fact, the contradiction, even when it is ignored, nevertheless impresses itself. Whether we know it or not, each of our opinions implies a complexus of connected opinions all arrived at by the same method as the one in question; and this complexus is itself part of the more considerable whole which finally completes itself in a comprehensive conception of the world given in experience.
Now Comte saw in himself, as in his contemporaries, two general methods, two “modes of thought” which cannot coexist without contradiction, although neither one nor the other has obtained a full mastery up to the present time. Concerning several categories of phenomena he thinks as a scholar trained in the school of Hobbes, of Galileo, of Descartes and of their successors. He does not seek to explain them by causes. When, by means of observation or deduction, he has arrived at a knowledge of their laws he remains satisfied. For the knowledge of these laws allows him in certain cases to intervene in the phenomena, and to substitute to the natural order an artificial order better suited to his requirements. It is thus that mechanical, astronomical, physical, chemical and even biological phenomena are objects of _relative_ and _positive_ science for him to-day.
But, as soon as the question is one of facts which originate in the human conscience, or which are connected with social life and with history, an opposite tendency becomes predominant. Instead of solely seeking for the laws of phenomena, our mind desires to explain them. It wants to find the essence and the cause. It speculates upon the human soul, upon the relation of that soul to the other realities of the universe, upon the end which society should have in view, upon the best possible government, upon the social contract, etc. All these questions arise from the “metaphysical” mode of thought, and this mode is formally incompatible with the preceding one. Yet we see both of them subsisting in our minds to-day.
Social dynamics will show how this condition must have been produced. But whatever the historical reasons may be, the reality is only too evident. The human mind to-day can neither adhere entirely to nor give up entirely one or the other of these two modes of thought. Undoubtedly it feels that the conquests of positive science are “irrevocable.” For example, how could it return to a metaphysical or theological explanation of astronomical or physical phenomena? But, on the other hand, metaphysical and theological conceptions seem to it no less indispensable. It does not believe it could do without them. And this is natural. For, to satisfy the desire for unity, which is its supreme requirement, the human mind demands a conception of the whole which embraces all the orders of phenomena, what Kant called a totalizing of experience, in a word a “philosophy.”
Now, up to the present time, the positive mode of thought has not shown itself in a position to respond to this demand. It has only produced individual sciences. Positive Science has been “special” and fragmentary, always attached to the investigation of a more or less restricted group of phenomena. With a laudable prudence, which has made her strength, she has applied herself solely to works of analysis and
## partial synthesis. She has never ventured upon a synthesis of the whole
of the real within our reach. Until now theologies and metaphysics alone have made the effort, and this office is, still to-day, the chief reason of their existence, this office must be fulfilled. The human mind is carried, by a spontaneous and necessary movement, towards the point of view of the universal. Sooner than leave the philosophical problems without an answer, it would remain attached indefinitely to the solutions, chimerical as they are, which the theologies and metaphysics offer him. In short, in the present state of things, the positive mind is “real” but “special.” The theologico-metaphysical mind is “universal” but “fictitious.” We can neither sacrifice the “reality” of science, nor the “universality” of philosophy. Which is the way out of this difficulty?
Three solutions alone are conceivable:
1. To find a reconciliation which will make it possible for the two modes of thought to coexist without contradiction:
2. To re-establish unity by making the theologico-metaphysical method universal:
3. To re-establish unity by making the positive method universal: