Modern French Philosophy

Je serais heureux que le public anglais sût le bien que je pense du livre de M. Gunn, sur la philosophie francaise depuis 1851. Le sujet choisi est neuf, car il n’existe pas, à ma connaissance, d’ouvrage relatif à toute cette période de la philosophie française. Le beau livre que M. Parodi vient de publier en français traite surtout des vingt dernières années de notre activité philosophique. M. Gunn, remontant jusqu’à Auguste Comte, a eu raison de placer ainsi devant nous toute le seconde moitié du siècle passé. Cette période de cinquante ans qui a précédée notre vingtième siècle est d’une importance capitale. Elle constitue réellement notre dix-neuvième siècle philosophique, car l’oeuvre même de Maine de Biran, qui est antérieure, n’a été bien connue et étudiée qu’à ce moment, et la plupart de nos idées philosophiques actuelles ont été élaborées pendant ces cinquante ans.

Le sujet est d’ailleurs d’une complication extrême, en raison du nombre et de la variété des doctrines, en raison surtout de la diversité des questions entre lesquelles se sont partagés tant de penseurs. Dr. Gunn a su ramener toutes ces questions à un petit nombre de problèmes essentiels : la science, la liberté, le progrès, la morale, la religion. Cette division me paraît heureuse. Elle répond bien, ce me semble, aux principales préoccupations de la philosophie francaise. Elle a permis à l’auteur d’être complet, tout en restant simple, clair, et facile à suivre.

Elle présente, il est vrai, un inconvénient, en ce qu’elle morcelle la doctrine d’un auteur en fragments dont chacun, pris à part, perd un peu de sa vitalite et de son individualité. Elle risque ainsi de présenter comme trop semblable à d’autres la solution que tel philosophe a donnée de tel problème, solution qui, replacée dans l’ensemble de la doctrine, apparaîtrait comme propre à ce penseur, originale et plus forte. Mais cet inconvénient était inévitable et l’envers de l’avantage que je signalais plus haut, celui de l’ordre, de la continuité et de la clarté.

Le travail du Dr. Gunn m’apparaît comme tout à fait distingué. Il témoigne d’une information singulièrement étendue, précise et sûre. C’est l’oeuvre d’un esprit d’une extrême souplesse, capable de s’assimiler vite et bien la pensée des philosophes, de classer les idées dans leur ordre d’importance, de les exposer méthodiquement et les apprécier à leur juste valeur.

[These pages are a revised extract from the more formal Rapport which was presented by M. Bergson to the University of Liverpool].

This work is the fruit of much reading and research done in Paris at the Sorbonne and Bibliothèque nationale. It is, substantially, a revised form of the thesis presented by the writer to the University of Liverpool for the degree of Doctor in Philosophy, obtained in 1921. The author is indebted, therefore, to the University for permission to publish. More especially must he record his deep gratitude to the French thinkers who gave both stimulus and encouragement to him during his sojourn in Paris. Foremost among these is M. Henri Bergson, upon whose rapport the Doctorate was conferred, and who has expressed his appreciation of the work by contributing a Foreword for publication.

Mention must also be made of the encouragement given by the late M. Emile Boutroux and by the eminent editor of the well-known Revue de Métaphysique et de Morale, M. Xavier Léon, a leading spirit in the Société de Philosophie, whose meetings the writer was privileged to attend by invitation. Then MM. Brunschvicg, Levy-Bruhl, Lalande, Rey and Lenoir, from time to time discussed the work with him and he must record his appreciation of their kindness.

To Professor Mair of Liverpool is due the initial suggestion, and it has been felt a fitting tribute to his supervision, criticism, encouragement and sympathy that this book should be respectfully dedicated to him by one of his grateful pupils. In the labour of dealing with the proofs, the writer has to acknowledge the co-operation of Miss M. Linn and Mr. J. E. Turner, M.A.

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The method adopted in this history has been deliberately chosen for its usefulness in emphasising the development of ideas. A purely chronological method has not been followed. The biographical system has likewise been rejected. The history of the development of thought centres round problems, and it progresses in relation to these problems. The particular manner in which the main problems presented themselves to the French thinkers of the second half of the nineteenth century was largely determined by the events and ideas which marked the period from 1789 to 1851. For this reason a chapter has been devoted to Antecedents. Between the Revolution and the coup d’état of Napoleon III., four distinct lines of thought are discernible. Then the main currents from the year 1851 down to 1921 are described, with special reference to the development of the main problems. The reconciliation of science and conscience proved to be the main general problem, which became more definitely that of Freedom. This in itself is intimately bound up with the doctrines of progress, of history, of ethics and religion. These topics are discussed in a manner which shows their bearing upon each other. The conclusion aims at displaying the characteristics of French thought which reveal themselves in the study of these great problems. Its vitality, concreteness, clearness, brilliance and precision are noted and a comparison made between French thought and German philosophy.

From a general philosophical standpoint few periods could be so fascinating. Few, if any, could show such a complete revolution of thought as that witnessed since the year 1851. To bring this out clearly is the main object of the present book. It is intended to serve a double purpose. Primarily, it aims at being a contribution to the history of thought which will provide a definite knowledge of the best that has been said and thought among philosophers in France during the last seventy years. Further, it is itself an appeal for serious attention to be given to French philosophy. This is a field which has been comparatively neglected by English students, so far as the nineteenth century is concerned, and this is especially true of our period, which is roughly that from Comte to Boutroux (who passed away last month) and Bergson (who has this year resigned his professorship). It is the earnest desire of the writer to draw both philosophical students and lovers of France and its literature to a closer study and appreciation of modern French philosophy. Emotion and sentiment are inadequate bases for an entente which is to be really cordiale between any two peoples. An understanding of their deepest thoughts is also necessary and desirable. Such an understanding is, after all, but a step towards that iternationalisation of thought, that common fund of human culture and knowledge, which sets itself as an ideal before the nations of the world. La philosophie n’a pas de patrie! Les idées sont actuellement les forces internationales.

J. A. G.

THE UNIVERSITY,
        LIVERPOOL,
            December, 1921

HISTORICAL SURVEY OF THE MAIN CURRENTS FROM THE REVOLUTION OF 1789 UP TO 1851.

After the Revolution—The Traditionalists: Chateaubuand, De Bonald, De Maistre, Lamennais, Lacordaire

Main Currents:

1. Maine de Biran.

2. The Eclectics: Cousin, Jouffroy.

3. The Socialists: Saint-Simon, Fourier and Cabal, Proudhon and Blanc.

4.Positivism: Auguste Comte.

This work deals with the great French thinkers since the time of Auguste Comte, and treats, under various aspects, the development of thought in relation to the main problems which confronted these men. In the commencement of such an undertaking we are obliged to acknowledge the continuity of human thought, to recognise that it tends to approximate to an organic whole, and that, consequently, methods resembling those of surgical amputation are to be avoided. We cannot absolutely isolate one period of thought. For this reason a brief survey of the earlier years is necessary in order to orient the approach to the period specially placed in the limelight, namely 1851-1921.

In the world of speculative thought and in the realm of practical politics we find reflected, at the opening of the century, the work of the French Revolutionaries on the one hand, and that of Immanuel Kant on the other. Coupled with these great factors was the pervading influence of the Encyclopædists and of the thinkers of the Enlightenment. These two groups of influences, the one sudden and in the nature of a shock to political and metaphysical thought, the other quieter but no less effective, combined to produce a feeling of instability and of dissatisfaction at the close of the eighteenth century. A sense of change, indeed of resurrection, filled the minds and hearts of those who saw the opening of the nineteenth century. The old aristocracy and the monarchy in France had gone, and in philosophy the old metaphysic had received a blow at the hands of the author of the Three Critiques.

No better expression was given to the psychological state of France at this time than that of Alfred de Musset in his Confession d’un Enfant du Siècle. Toute la maladie du siècle présent (he wrote) vient de deux causes; le peuple qui a passé par ’93 et par 1814 porte au cœur deux blessures. Tout ce qui était n’est plus; tout ce qui sera n’est pas encore. Ne cherchez ailleurs le secret de nos maux.^[1] De Musset was right, the whole course of the century was marked by conflict between two forces—on the one hand a tendency to reaction and conservatism, on the other an impulse to radicalism and revolution.

[1] The extract is taken from Première partie, ch. 2. The book was published in 1836. Somewhat similar sentiments are uttered with reference to this time by Michelet. (See his Histoire du XIX^e Siècle, vol. i., p. 9).

It is true that one group of thinkers endeavoured, by a perfectly natural reaction, to recall their fellow-countrymen, at this time of unrest, back to the doctrines and traditions of the past, and tried to find in the faith of the Christian Church and the practice of the Catholic religion a rallying-point. The monarchy and the Church were eulogised by Chateaubriand, while on the more philosophical side efforts on behalf of traditionalism were made very nobly by De Bonald and Joseph de Maistre. While they represented the old aristocracy and recalled the theocracy and ecclesiasticism of the past by advocating reaction and Ultramontanism, Lamennais attempted to adapt Catholicism to the new conditions, only to find, as did Renan later, that “one cannot argue with a bar of iron.” Not the brilliant appeals of a Lacordaire, who thundered from Notre Dame, nor the modernism of a Lamennais, nor the efforts in religious philosophy made by De Maistre, were, however, sufficient to meet the needs of the time.

The old traditions and the old dogmas did not offer the salvation they professed to do. Consequently various groups of thinkers worked out solutions satisfactory to themselves and which they offered to others. We can distinguish clearly four main currents, the method of introspection and investigation of the inner life of the soul, the adoption of a spiritualist philosophy upon an eclectic basis, the search for a new society after the manner of the socialists and, lastly, a positive philosophy and religion of humanity. These four currents form the historical antecedents of our period and to a brief survey of them we now turn.

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To find the origin of many of the tendencies which appear prominently in the thought of the second half of the nineteenth century, particularly those displayed by the new spiritualistic philosophy (which marked the last thirty years of the century), we must go back to the period of the Revolution, to Maine de Biran (1766-1824)—a unique and original thinker who laid the foundations of modern French psychology and who was, we may note in passing, a contemporary of Chateaubriand. A certain tone of romanticism marks the work of both the literary man and the philosopher. Maine de Biran was not a thinker who reflected upon his own experiences in retreat from the world. Born a Count, a Lifeguardsman to Louis XVI. at the Revolution, and faithful to the old aristocracy, he was appointed, at the Restoration, to an important administrative position, and later became a deputy and a member of the State Council. His writings were much greater in extent than is generally thought, but only one important work appeared in publication during his lifetime. This was his treatise, or mémoire, entitled Habitude, which appeared in 1803. This work well illustrates Maine de Biran’s historical position in the development of French philosophy. It came at a tome when attention and interest, so far as philosophical problems were concerned, centred round two “foci.” These respective centres are indicated by Destutt de Tracy,^[2] the disciple of Condillac on the one hand, and by Cabanis^[3] on the other. Both were “ideologues” and were ridiculed by Napoleon who endeavoured to lay much blame upon the philosophers. We must notice, however, this difference. While the school of Condillac,^[4] influenced by Locke, endeavoured to work out a psychology in terms of abstractions, Cabanis, anxious to be more concrete, attempted to interpret the life of the mind by reference to physical and physiological phenomena.

[2] Destutt de Tracy, 1754-1836. His Elements of Ideology appeared in 1801. He succeeded Cabanis in the Académie in 1808, and in a complimentary Discours pronounced upon his predecessor claimed that Cabanis had introduced medicine into philosophy and philosophy into medicine. This remark might well have been applied later to Claude Bernard.

[3] Cabanis, 1757-1808, Rapports du Physique et du Morale de l’Homme, 1802. He was a friend of De Biran, as also was Ampère, the celebrated physicist and a man of considerable philosophical power. A group used to meet chez Cabanis at Auteuil, comprising De Biran, Cabanis, Ampère, Royard-Collard, Guizot, and Cousin.

[4] Condillac belongs to the eighteenth century. He died in 1780. His Traité des Sensations is dated 1754.

It is the special merit of De Biran that he endeavoured, and that successfully, to establish both the concreteness and the essential spirituality of the inner life. The attitude and method which he adopted became a force in freeing psychology, and indeed philosophy in general, from mere play with abstractions. His doctrines proved valuable, too, in establishing the reality and irreducibility of the mental or spiritual nature of man.

Maine de Biran took as his starting-point a psychological fact, the reality of conscious effort. The self is active rather than speculative; the self is action or effort—that is to say, the self is, fundamentally and primarily, will. For the Cartesian formula Cogito, ergo sum, De Biran proposed to substitute that of Volo, ergo sum. He went on to maintain that we have an internal and immediate perception of this effort of will through which we realise, at one and the same time, our self in its fullest activity and the resistance to its operations. In such effort we realise ourselves as free causes and, in spite of the doctrine of physical determinism, we realise in ourselves the self as a cause of its own volitions. The greater the resistance or the greater the effort, the more do we realise ourselves as being free and not the absolute victims of habit. Of this freedom we have an immediate consciousness, it is une donnée immédiate de la conscience.

This freedom is not always realised, for over against the tendency to action we must set the counter-tendency to passivity. Between these two exists, in varying degrees of approach to the two extremes, habitude. Our inner life is seen by the psychologist as a field of conflict between the sensitive and the reflective side of our nature. It is this which gives to the life of this homo duplex all the elements of struggle and tragedy. In the desires and the passions, says Maine de Biran, the true self is not seen. The true self appears in memory, reasoning and, above all, in will.

Such, in brief, is the outline of De Biran’s psychology. To his two stages, vie sensitive and vie active (ou réflexive), he added a third, la vie divine. In his religious psychology he upheld the great Christian doctrines of divine love and grace as against the less human attitude of the Stoics. He still insists upon the power of will and action and is an enemy of the religious vice of quietism. In his closing years De Biran penned his ideas upon our realisation of the divine love by intuition. His intense interest in the inner life of the spirit gives De Biran’s Journal Intime a rank among the illuminating writings upon religious psychology.

Maine de Biran was nothing if not a psychologist. The most absurd statement ever made about him was that he was “the French Kant.” This is very misleading, for De Biran’s genius showed itself in his psychological power and not in critical metaphysics. The importance of his work and his tremendous influence upon our period, especially upon the new spiritualism, will be apparent. Indeed he himself foresaw the great possibilities which lay open to philosophy along the lines he laid down. “Qui sait,” he remarked,^[5] “tout ce que peut la réflection concentrée et s’il n’y a pas un nouveau monde intérieur qui pourra être découvert un jour par quelque ‘Colomb métaphysicien.’” With Maine de Biran began the movement in French philosophy which worked through the writings of Ravaisson, Lachelier, Guyau, Boutroux and particularly Bergson. A careful examination of the philosophy of this last thinker shows how great is his debt to Maine de Biran, whose inspiration he warmly acknowledges.

[5] Pensées, p. 213.

But it is only comparatively recently that Maine de Biran has come to his own and that his real power and influence have been recognised. There are two reasons for this, firstly the lack of publication of his writings, and secondly his being known for long only through the work of Cousin and the Eclectics, who were imperfectly acquainted with his work. Upon this school of thought he had some little influence which was immediate and personal, but Cousin, although he edited some of his unpublished work, failed to appreciate its originality and value.

So for a time De Biran’s influence waned when that of Cousin himself faded. Maine de Biran stands quite in a different category from the Eclectics, as a unique figure at a transition period, the herald of the best that was to be in the thought of the century. Cousin and the Eclectic school, however, gained the official favour, and eclecticism was for many years the “official philosophy.”

This Eclectic School was due to the work of various thinkers, of whom we may cite Laromiguière (1756-1837), who marks the transition from Condillac, Royer-Collard (1763-1845), who, abandoning Condillac, turned for inspiration to the Scottish School (particularly to Reid), Victor Cousin (1792-1867), Jouffroy (1796-1842) and Paul Janet (1823-1899), the last of the notable eclectics. Of these “the chief” was Cousin. His personality dominated this whole school of thought, his ipse dixit was the criterion of orthodoxy, an orthodoxy which we must note was supported by the powers of officialdom.

He rose from the Ecole Normale Supérieure to a professorship at the Sorbonne, which he held from the Restoration (1815 to 1830), with a break of a few years during which his course was suspended. These years he spent in Germany, to which country attention had been attracted by the work of Madame de Staël, De l’Allemagne (1813). From 1830 to the beginning of our period (1851) Cousin, as director of the Ecole Normale Supérieure, as a pair de France and a minister of state, organised and controlled the education of his country. He thus exercised a very great influence over an entire generation of Frenchmen, to whom he propounded the doctrines of his spiritualism.

His teaching was marked by a strong reaction against the doctrines of the previous century, which had given such value to the data of sense. Cousin abhorred the materialism involved in these doctrines, which he styled une doctrine désolante, and he endeavoured to raise the dignity and conception of man as a spiritual being. In the Preface to his Lectures of 1818, Du Vrai, du Beau et du Bien (Edition of 1853), published first in 1846, he lays stress upon the elements of his philosophy, which he presents as a true spiritualism, for it subordinates the sensory and sensual to the spiritual. He upholds the essentially spiritual nature of man, his liberty, moral responsibility and obligation, the dignity of human virtue, disinterestedness, charity, justice and beauty. These fruits of the spirit reveal, Cousin claimed, a God who is both the author and the ideal type of humanity, a Being who is not indifferent to the welfare and happiness of his creatures. There is a vein of romanticism about Cousin, and in him may be seen the same spirit which, on the literary side, was at work in Hugo, Lamartine and De Vigny.

Cousin’s philosophy attached itself rather to the Scottish school of “common sense” than to the analytic type of doctrine which had prevailed in his own country in the previous century. To this he added much from various sources, such as Schelling and Hegel among the moderns, Plato and the Alexandrians among the ancients. In viewing the history of philosophy, Cousin advocated a division of systems into four classes—sensualism, idealism, scepticism and mysticism. Owing to the insufficiency of his vérités de sens commun he was prone to confuse the history of philosophy with philosophy itself. There is perhaps no branch of science or art so intimately bound up with its own history as is philosophy, but we must beware of substituting an historical survey of problems for an actual handling of those problems themselves. Cousin, however, did much to establish in his native land the teaching of the history of philosophy.

His own aim was to found a metaphysic spiritual in character, based upon psychology. While he did not agree with the system of Kant, he rejected the doctrines of the empiricists and set his influence against the materialistic and sceptical tendencies of his time. Yet he cannot be excused from “opportunism” not only in politics but in thought. In order to retain his personal influence he endeavoured to present his philosophy as a sum of doctrines perfectly consistent with the Catholic faith. This was partly, no doubt, to counteract the work and influence of that group of thinkers already referred to as Traditionalists, De Bonald, De Maistre and Lamennais. Cousin’s efforts in this direction, however, dissatisfied both churchmen and philosophers and gave rise to the remark that his teaching was but une philosophie de convenance. We must add too that the vagueness of his spiritual teaching was largely responsible for the welcome accorded by many minds to the positivist teaching of Auguste Comte.

While Maine de Biran had a real influence upon the thought of our period 1851-1921, Cousin stands in a different relation to subsequent thought, for that thought is largely characterised by its being a reaction against eclecticism. Positivism rose as a direct revolt against it, the neo-critical philosophy dealt blows at both, while Ravaisson, the initiator of the neo-spiritualism, upon whom Cousin did not look very favourably, endeavoured to reorganise upon a different footing, and on sounder principles, free from the deficiencies which must always accompany eclectic thought, those ideas and ideals to which Cousin in his spiritualism had vaguely indicated his loyalty. It is interesting to note that Cousin’s death coincides in date with the foundation of the neo-spiritual philosophy by Ravaisson’s celebrated manifesto to idealists, for such, as we shall see, was his Rapport sur la Philosophie au Dix-neuvième Siècle (1867). Cousin’s spiritualism had a notable influence upon several important men—e.g., Michelet and his friend Edgar Quinet, and more indirectly upon Renan. The latter spoke of him in warm terms as un excitateur de ma pensée.^[6]

[6] It is worth noting that two of the big currents of opposition, those of Comte and Renouvier, arose outside the professional and official teaching, free from the University which was entirely dominated by Cousin. This explains much of the slowness with which Comte and Renouvier were appreciated.

Among Cousin’s disciples one of the most prominent was Jouffroy of the Collège de France. The psychological interest was keen in his work, but his Mélanges philosophiques (1883) showed him to be occupied with the problem of human destiny. Paul Janet was a noble upholder of the eclectic doctrine or older spiritualism, while among associates and tardy followers must be mentioned Gamier, Damiron, Franke, Caro and Jules Simon.

We have seen how, as a consequence of the Revolution and of the cold, destructive, criticism of the eighteenth century, there was a demand for constructive thought. This was a desire common not only to the Traditionalists but to De Biran and Cousin. They aimed at intellectual reconstruction. While, however, there were some who combated the principles of the Revolution, as did the Traditionalists, while some tried to correct and to steady those principles (as De Biran and Cousin), there were others who endeavoured to complete them and to carry out a more rigorous application of the Revolutionary watchwords, Liberté, Egalité, Fraternité. The Socialists (and later Comte) aimed at not merely intellectual, but social reconstruction.

The Revolution and the War had shown men that many changes could be produced in society in a comparatively short time. This encouraged bold and imaginative spirits. Endeavours after better things, after new systems and a new order of society, showed themselves. The work of political philosophers attempted to give expression to the socialist idea of society. For long there had been maintained the ecclesiastical conception of a perfect social order in another world. It was now thought that humanity would be better employed, not in imagining the glories of a “hereafter,” but in “tilling its garden,” in striving to realise here on earth something of that blessed fellowship and happy social order treasured up in heaven. This is the dominant note of socialism, which is closely bound up at its origin, not only with political thought, but with humanitarianism and a feeling essentially religious. Its progress is a feature of the whole century.

The most notable expression of the new socialistic idea was that of Count Henri de Saint-Simon (1760-1825), a relative of the celebrated Duke. He had great confidence in the power of science as an instrument for social reconstruction, and he took over from a medical man, Dr. Burdin, the notions which, later on, Auguste Comte was to formulate into the doctrines of Positivism. Saint-Simon’s influence showed itself while the century was young, his first work Lettres d’un Habitant de Genève appearing in 1803. In this he outlined a scheme for placing the authoritative power of the community, not in the hands of Church and State, but in a freely elected body of thinkers and artistes. He then endeavoured to urge the importance of order in society, as a counterpart to the order erected by science in the world of knowledge. To this end was directed his Introduction aux Travaux scientifiques du Dix-neuvième Siècle (1807-8). He also indicated the importance for social welfare of abandoning the preoccupation with an imaginary heaven, and pointed out that the more social and political theory could be emancipated from the influence of theological dogmas the better. At the same time he quite recognised the importance of religious beliefs to a community, and his sociological view of religion foreshadowed Guyau’s study, an important work which will claim our attention in due course.

In 1813, Saint-Simon published his Mémoire sur la Science de l’Homme, in which he laid down notions which were the germ of Auguste Comte’s Law of the Three Stages. With the peace which followed the Battle of Waterloo, a tremendous stimulus was given in France to industrial activity, and Saint-Simon formulated his motto “All by industry and all for industry.” Real power, he showed, lay not in the hands of governments or government agents, but with the industrial class. Society therefore should be organised in the manner most favourable to the working class. Ultimate economic and political power rests with them. These ideas he set forth in L’Industrie, 1817-18, La Politique, 1819, L’Organisateur, 1819-30, Le Système industriel, 1821-22, Le Catéchisme des Industriels, 1822-24. Since 1817 among his fellow- workers were now Augustin Thierry and young Auguste Comte, his secretary, the most important figure in the history of the first half of the century.

Finding that exposition and reasoned demonstration of his ideas were not sufficient, Saint-Simon made appeal to sentiment by his Appel aux Philanthropes, a treatise on human brotherhood and solidarity. This he followed up in 1825 by his last book, published the year of his death, Le Nouveau Christianisme. This book endeavoured to outline a religion which should prove itself capable of reorganising society by inculcating the brotherhood of man in a more effective manner than that of the Christian Church. Fraternité was the watchword he stressed, and he placed women on an equal political and social footing with men. He set forth the grave deficiencies of the Christian doctrines as proclaimed by Catholic and Protestant alike. Both are cursed by the sin of individualism, the virtue of saving one’s own soul, while no attempt at social salvation is made. Both Catholics and Protestants he labelled vile heretics, inasmuch as they have turned aside from the social teaching of Christianity. If we are to love our neighbour as ourselves we must as a whole community work for the betterment of our fellows socially, by erecting a form of society more in accord with Christian principles. We must strive to do it here and now, and not sit piously getting ready for the next world. We must not think it religious to despise the body or material welfare. God manifests Himself as matter and spirit, so Religion must not despise economics but rather unite industry and science as Love unites spirit and matter. Eternal Life, of which Christianity makes so much, is not to be sought, argued Saint-Simon, in another world, but here and now in the love and service of our brothers, in the uplift of humanity as a whole.

Saint-Simon believed in a fated progress and an inevitable betterment of the condition of the working classes. The influence of Hegel’s view of history and Condorcet’s social theories is apparent in some of his writings. His insistence upon organisation, social authority and the depreciative view of liberty which he held show well how he was the real father of many later doctrines and of applications of these doctrines, as for example by Lenin in the Soviet system of Bolshevik Russia. Saint-Simon foreshadowed the dictatorship of the proletariat, although his scheme of social organisation involved a triple division of humanity into intellectuals, artists and industrials. Many of his doctrines had a definite communistic tendency. Among them we find indicated the abolition of all hereditary rights of inheritance and the distribution of property is placed, as in the communist programme, in the hands of the organising authority. Saint-Simon had a keen insight into modern social conditions and problems. He stressed the economic inter-relationships and insisted that the world must be regarded as “one workshop.” A statement of the principles of the Saint- Simonist School, among whom was the curious character Enfantin, was presented to the Chambre des Députés in the critical year 1830. The disciples seem to have shown a more definite communism than their master. The influence of Saint-Simon, precursor of both socialism and positivism, had considerable influence upon the social philosophy of the whole century. It only diminished when the newer type of socialist doctrine appeared, the so-called “scientific” socialism of Marx and Engels. Saint-Simon’s impulse, however, acted powerfully upon the minds of most of the thinkers of the century, especially in their youth. Renouvier and Renan were fired with some of his ideas. The spirit of Saint-Simon expressed itself in our period by promoting an intense interest in philosophy as applied to social problems.

Saint-Simon was not, however, the only thinker at this time with a social programme to offer. In contrast to his scheme we have that of Fourier (1772-1837) who endeavoured to avoid the suppression of liberty involved in the organisation proposed by Saint-Simon.

The psychology of Fourier was peculiar and it coloured his ethical and social doctrine. He believed that the evils of the world were due to the repression of human passions. These in themselves, if given liberty of expression, would prove harmonious. As Newton had propounded the law of the universal attraction of matter, Fourier endeavoured to propound the law of attraction between human beings. Passion and desire lead to mutual attraction; the basis of society is free association.

Fourier’s Traité de l’Association domestique et agricole (1822), which followed his Théorie des Quatre Mouvements (1808), proposed the formation of associations or groups, phalanges, in which workers unite with capital for the self-government of industry. He, like Saint- Simon, attacks idlers, but the two thinkers look upon the capitalist manager as a worker. The intense class- antagonism of capitalist and labourer had not yet formulated itself and was not felt strongly until voiced on behalf of the proletariat by Proudhon and Marx. Fourier’s proposals were those of a bourgeois business man who knew the commercial world intimately, who criticised it and condemned the existing system of civilisation. Various experiments were made to organise communities based upon his phalanges.

Cabet, the author of Icaria (1840) and Le nouveau Christianisme, was a further power in the promotion of socialism and owed not a little of his inspiration to Robert Owen.

The most interesting and powerful of the early socialist philosophers is undoubtedly Proudhon (1809- 1865), a striking personality, much misunderstood.

While Saint-Simon, a count, came from the aristocracy, Fourier from the bourgeoisie, Proudhon was a real son of the people, a mouthpiece of the proletariat. He was a man of admirable mental energy and learning, which he had obtained solely by his own efforts and by a struggle with poverty and misery. Earnest and passionate by nature, he yet formulated his doctrines with more sanity and moderation than is usually supposed. Labels of “atheist” and “anarchist” have served well to misrepresent him. Certainly two of his watchwords were likely enough to raise hostility in many quarters. “God,” he said, “is evil,” “Property is theft.” This last maxim was the subject of his book, published in 1840, Qu’est-ce que la propriété? (ou, Recherches sur le principe du droit et du gouvernement) to which his answer was “C’est le vol!” Proudhon took up the great watchword of Egalité, and had a passion for social justice which he based on “the right to the whole product of labour.” This could only come by mutual exchange, fairly and freely. He distinguished between private “property” and individual “possession.” The latter is an admitted fact and is not to be abolished; what he is anxious to overthrow is private “property,” which is a toll upon the labour of others and is therefore ultimately and morally theft. He hated the State for its support of the “thieves,” and his doctrines are a philosophy of anarchy. He further enunciated them in Système des Contradictions économiques (1846) and De la Justice (1858). In 1848 he was elected a député and, together with Louis Blanc and Pierre Leroux, figured in the Revolution of 1848. Blanc was a man of action, who had a concrete scheme for transition from the capitalist régime to the socialist state. He believed in the organisation of labour, universal suffrage and a new distribution of wealth, but he disapproved strongly of the dictatorship of the proletariat and of violent revolution. Proudhon expressed his great admiration for Blanc.

The work of both of these men is a contradiction to the assertion put forward by the Marxian school that socialist doctrine was merely sentimental, utopian and “unscientific” prior to Marx. Many of the views of Proudhon and Blanc were far more “scientific” than those of Marx, because they were closer to facts. Proudhon differed profoundly from Marx in his view of history in which he saw the influence of ideas and ideals, as well as the operation of purely economic factors. To the doctrine of a materialistic determination of history Proudhon rightly opposes that of a spiritual determination, by the thoughts and ideals of men.^[7] The true revolution Proudhon and Blanc maintained can come only through the power of ideas.

[7] Indeed, it is highly probable that with the growing dissatisfaction with Marxian theories the work of Proudhon will come into greater prominence, replacing largely that of Marx.
    On the personal relations of Proudhon with Marx (1818-1883), who was nine years younger than the Frenchman, see the interesting volume by Marx’s descendant, M. Jean Longuet (Député de la Seine), La Politique internationale du Marxisme (Karl Marx et la France) (Alcan).
    On the debt of Marx to the French social thinkers see the account given by Professor Charles Andler in his special edition of the Communist Manifesto, Le Manifeste Communiste (avec introduction historique et commentaire), (Rieder), also the last section of Renouvier’s Philosophie analytique de l’Histoire, vol. iv.

All these early socialist thinkers had this in common: they agreed that purely economic solutions would not soothe the ills of society, but that moral, religious and philosophic teaching must accompany, or rather precede, all efforts towards social reform. The earliest of them, Saint-Simon, had asserted that no society, no system of civilisation, can endure if its spiritual principles and its economic organisation are in direct contradiction. When brotherly love on the one hand and merciless competition on the other are equally extolled, then hypocrisy, unrest and conflict are inevitable.

The rise of positivism ranks with the rise of socialism as a movement of primary importance. Both were in origin nearer to one another than they now appear to be. We have seen how Saint-Simon was imbued with a spirit of social reform, a desire to reorganise human society. This desire Auguste Comte (1798-1857) shared; he felt himself called to it as a sacred work, and he extolled his “incomparable mission.” He lamented the anarchical state of the world and contrasted it with the world of the ancients and that of the Middle Ages. The harmony and stability of mediaeval society were due, Comte urged, to the spiritual power and unity of the Catholic Church and faith. The liberty of the Reformation offers no real basis for society, it is the spirit of criticism and of revolution. The modern world needs a new spiritual power. Such was Comte’s judgment upon the world of his time. Where in the modern world could such a new organising power be found? To this question Comte gave an answer similar to that of Saint-Simon: he turned to science. The influence of Saint-Simon is here apparent, and we must note the personal relations between the two men. In 1817 Comte became secretary to Saint-Simon, and became intimately associated with his ideas and his work. Comte recognised, with his master, the supreme importance of establishing, at the outset, the relations actually obtaining and the relations possible between science and political organisation. This led to the publication, in 1822, of a treatise, Plan des Travaux scientifiques nécessaires pour réorganiser la Société, which unfortunately led to a quarrel between the two friends, and finally, in 1824, to a definite rupture by which Comte seems to have been embittered and made rather hostile to his old master and to have assumed an ungenerous attitude.^[8] Comte, however, being a proud and ambitious spirit, was perhaps better left alone to hew out his own path. In him we have one of the greatest minds of modern France, and his doctrine of positivism is one of the dominating features of the first half of the century.

[8] In considering the relations between Saint-Simon and Comte we may usefully compare those between Schelling and Hegel in Germany.

His break with Saint-Simon showed his own resources; he had undoubtedly a finer sense of the difficulties of his reforming task than had Saint-Simon; moreover, he possessed a scientific knowledge which his master lacked. Such equipment he needed in his ambitious task, and it is one of the chief merits of Comte that he attempted so large a project as the Positive Philosophy endeavoured to be.

This philosophy was contained in his Cours de Philosophie positive (1830-1842), which he regarded as the theoretic basis of a reforming political philosophy. One of the most interesting aspects of this work, however, is its claim to be a positive philosophy. Had not Comte accepted the Saint-Simonist doctrine of a belief in science as the great future power in society? How then comes it that he gives us a “philosophie positive” in the first place and not, as we might expect, a “science positive”? Comte’s answer to this is that science, no less than society itself, is disordered and stands in need of organisation. The sciences have proceeded to work in a piecemeal fashion and are unable to present us with une vue d’ensemble. It is the rôle of philosophy to work upon the data presented by the various sciences and, without going beyond these data, to arrange them and give us an organic unity of thought, a synthesis, which shall produce order in the mind of man and subsequently in human society.

The precise part to be played by philosophy is determined by the existing state of scientific knowledge in the various departments and so depends upon the general stage of intelligence which humanity has reached. The intellectual development of humanity was formulated generally by Comte in what is known as “The Law of the Three Stages,” probably that part of his doctrine which is best known and which is most obvious. “The Law of the Three Stages” merely sets down the fact that in the race and in the individual we find three successive stages, under which conceptions are formed differently. The first is the theological or fictitious stage, in which the explanation of things is referred to the operations of divine agency. The second is the metaphysical or abstract stage when, for divinities, abstract principles are substituted. In the third, the scientific or positive stage, the human mind has passed beyond a belief in divine agencies or metaphysical abstractions to a rational study of the effective laws of phenomena. The human spirit here encounters the real, but it abstains from pretensions to absolute knowledge; it does not theorise about the beginning or the end of the universe or, indeed, its absolute nature; it takes only into consideration facts within human knowledge. Comte laid great emphasis upon the necessity of recognising the relativity of all things. All is relative; this is the one absolute principle. Our knowledge, he insisted (especially in his Discours sur l’Esprit positif, 1844, which forms a valuable introduction to his thought as expressed in his larger works), is entirely relative to our organisation and our situation. Relativity, however, does not imply uncertainty. Our knowledge is indeed relative and never absolute, but it grows to a greater accord with reality. It is this passion for “accord with reality” which is characteristic of the scientific or positivist spirit.

The sciences are themselves relative and much attention is given by Comte to the proper classification of the sciences. He determines his hierarchy by arranging them in the order in which they have themselves completed the three stages and arrived at positivity. Mathematics, astronomy, physics, chemistry, biology and sociology are his arrangement. This last named has not yet arrived at the final stage; it is but a science in the making. Comte, indeed, himself gives it its name and founds it as the science of society, science applied to politics, as was first indicated in his scheme of work and early ideas of reform.

Comte strongly insists upon the social aspect of all knowledge and all action. He even goes to the extent of regarding the individual man as an abstraction; for him the real being is the social being, Humanity. The study of human society has a double aspect, which is also a feature of the other sciences. As in biology there is the study of anatomy on the one hand and of physiology on the other, so in sociology we must investigate both the laws which govern the existence of a society and those which control its movements. The distinction is, in short, that of the static and the dynamic, and it embraces in sociological study the important conceptions of order and of progress. Comte very rightly stressed the idea of progress as characteristic of modern times, but he lamented its being divorced from that of order. He blamed the conservative view of order as responsible for promoting among “progressives” the spirit of anarchy and revolution. A positive sociology would, Comte maintained, reconcile a true order, which does not exclude change, with real progress, a movement which is neither destructive nor capricious. Comte here owes a debt in part to Montesquieu and largely to Condorcet, whose Esquisse d’un Tableau historique des Progrès de l’Esprit humain (1795) did much to promote serious reflection upon the question of progress.

We have already noted Comte’s intense valuation of Humanity as a whole as a Supreme Being. In his later years, notably after 1845, when he met his “Beatrice” in the person of Clotilde de Vaux, he gave to his doctrines a sentimental expression of which the Religion of Humanity with its ritualism was the outcome. This positivist religion endeavoured to substitute for the traditional God the Supreme Being of Humanity—a Being capable, according to Comte, of sustaining our courage, becoming the end of our actions and the object of our love. To this he attached a morality calculated to combat the egoism which tends to dominate and to destroy mankind and intended to strengthen the altruistic motives in man and to raise them to the service of Humanity.

We find Comte, at the opening of our period, restating his doctrines in his Système de Politique positive (1851-54), to which his first work was meant to serve as an Introduction. In 1856 he began his Synthèse subjective, but he died in 1857. Comte is a singularly desolate figure; the powers of officialdom were against him, and he existed mainly by what he could gain from teaching mathematics and by a pension raised by his admirers in England and his own land.

The influence of his philosophy has been great and far- reaching, but it is the spirit of positivism which has survived, not its content. Subsequent developments in science have rendered much of his work obsolete, while his Religion has never made a great appeal. Comte’s most noted disciple, Littré (1801-1881), regarded this latter as a retrograde step and confined himself to the early part of his master’s work. Most important for us in the present work is Comte’s influence upon subsequent thinkers in France, notably Taine, and we may add, Renan, Cournot, and even Renouvier, although these last two promoted a vigorous reaction against his philosophy in general. He influenced his adversaries, a notable testimony. Actually, however, the positivist philosophy found a greater welcome on the English side of the Channel from John Stuart Mill, Spencer and Lewes. The empiricism of the English school proved a more fruitful soil for positivism than the vague spiritualism of Cousin to which it offered strong opposition. Positivism, or rather the positivist standpoint in philosophy, turned at a later date to reseek its fatherland and after a sojourn in England reappears as an influence in the work of French thinkers near the end of the century—e.g., Fouillée, Guyau, Lachelier, Boutroux and Bergson express elements of positivism.

We have now passed in review the four main currents of the first half of the century, in a manner intended to orient the approach to our period, 1851-1921. Without such an orientation much of the subsequent thought would lose its correct colouring and perspective. There is a continuity, even if it be partly a continuity marked by reactions, and this will be seen when we now examine the three general currents into which the thought of the subsequent period is divided.

Introductory: Influence of events of 1848-1851—Reactionary character of Second Empire—Disgust of many thinkers (e.g., Vacherot, Taine, Renan, Renouvier, Hugo, Quinet)—Effects of 1870, the War, the Commune, and the Third Republic.

General character of the Philosophy of the Period—Reaction against both Eclecticism and Positivism.

THE THREE MAIN CURRENTS.

I. Positivist and naturalist current turning upon itself, seen in Vacherot, Taine, and Renan.

II. Cournot, Renouvier, and the neo-critical philosophy.

III. The New Spiritual Philosophy, to which the main contributors were Ravaisson, Lachelier, Boutroux, Fouillée, Guyau, Bergson, Blondel, and Weber.

The year 1851 was one of remarkable importance for France; a crisis then occurred in its political and intellectual life. The hopes and aspirations to which the Revolution of 1848 had given rise were shattered by the coup d’état of Louis Napoleon in the month of December. The proclamation of the Second Empire heralded the revival of an era of imperialism and reaction in politics, accompanied by a decline in liberty and a diminution of idealism in the world of thought. A censorship of books was established, the press was deprived of its liberty, and the teaching of philosophy forbidden in lycées.^[1]

[1] The revival of philosophy in the lycées began when Victor Drury reintroduced the study of Logic.

Various ardent and thoughtful spirits, whose minds and hearts had been uplifted by the events of 1848, hoping to see the dawn of an era expressing in action the ideals of the first Revolution, Liberté, Egalité, Fraternité, were bitterly disappointed. Social ideals such as had been created by Saint-Simon and his school received a rude rebuff from force, militarism and imperialism. So great was the mingled disappointment and disgust of many that they left for ever the realm of practical politics to apply themselves to the arts, letters or sciences. Interesting examples of this state of mind are to be found in Vacherot, Taine, Renan and Renouvier, and, we may add, in Michelet, Victor Hugo and Edgar Quinet. The first of these, Vacherot, who had succeeded Cousin as Professor of Philosophy at the Sorbonne, lost his chair, as did Quinet and also Michelet, who was further deprived of his position as Archivist. Hugo and Quinet, having taken active political part in the events of 1848, were driven into exile. Disgust, disappointment, disillusionment and pessimism characterise the attitude of all this group of thinkers to political events, and this reacted not only upon their careers but upon their entire philosophy. “With regard to the Second Empire,” we find Renan saying,^[2] “if the last ten years of its duration in some measure repaired the mischief done in the first eight, it must never be forgotten how strong this Government was when it was a question of crushing the intelligence, and how feeble when it came to raising it up.”

[2] In his Preface to Souvenirs d’Enfance et de Jeunesse.

The disheartening end of the Empire in moral degeneracy and military defeat only added to the gloominess, against which the Red Flag and the red fires of the Commune cast a lurid and pathetic glow, upon which the Prussians could look down with a grim smile from the heights of Paris. Only with the establishment of the Third Republic in 1871, and its ratification a few years later, does a feeling of cheerfulness make itself felt in the thought of the time. The years from 1880 onwards have been remarkable for their fruitfulness in the philosophic field—to such an extent do political and social events react upon the most philosophical minds. This is a healthy sign; it shows that those minds have not detached themselves from contact with the world, that the spirit of philosophy is a living spirit and not merely an academic or professional product divorced from the fierce realities of history.

We have already indicated, in the treatment of the “Antecedents” of our period, the dominance of Eclecticism, supported by the powers of officialdom, and have remarked how Positivism arose as a reaction against Cousin’s vague spiritualism. In approaching the second half of the century we may in general characterise its thought as a reaction against both eclecticism and positivism. A transitional current can be distinguished where positivism turns, as it were, against itself in the work of Vacherot, Taine and Renan. The works of Cournot and the indefatigable Renouvier with his neo-criticism mark another main current. Ultimately there came to triumph towards the close of the century a new spiritualism, owing much inspiration to De Biran, but which, unlike Cousin’s doctrines, had suffered the discipline of the positivist spirit. The main contributors to this current are Ravaisson, Lachelier, Fouillée and Guyau, Boutroux, Bergson, Blondel and Weber. Our study deals with the significance of these three currents, and having made this clear we shall then discuss the development of thought in connection with the various problems and ideas in which the philosophy of the period found its expression.

In his Critique of Pure Reason Kant endeavoured, at a time when speculation of a dogmatic and uncritical kind was current, to call attention to the necessity for examining the instrument of knowledge itself, and thereby discovering its fitness or inadequacy, as the case might be, for dealing with the problems which philosophy proposes to investigate. This was a word spoken in due season and, however much subsequent philosophy has deviated from the conclusions of Kant, it has at least remembered the significance of his advice. The result has been that the attitude adopted by philosophers to the problems before them has been determined largely by the kind of answer which they offer to the problems of knowledge itself. Obviously a mind which asserts that we can never be sure of knowing anything (or as in some cases, that this assertion is itself uncertain) will see all questions through the green-glasses of scepticism. On the other hand, a thinker who believes that we do have knowledge of certain things and can be certain of thiss, whether by objective proof or a subjective intuition, is sure to have, not only a different conclusion about problems, but, what is probably more important for the philosophic spirit, a different means of approaching them.

Writing in 1860 on the general state of philosophy, Renan pointed out, in his Essay La Métaphysique el son Avenir^[3] that metaphysical speculation, strictly so-called, had been in abeyance for thirty years, and did not seem inclined to continue the traditions of Kant, Hegel, Hamilton and Cousin. The reasons which he gave for this depression of the philosophical market were, firstly, the feeling of the impossibility of ultimate knowledge, a scepticism of the instrument, so far as the human mind was concerned, and secondly, the rather disdainful attitude adopted by many minds towards philosophy owing to the growing importance of science—in short, the question, “Is there any place left for philosophy; has it any raison d’être?”

[3] Essay published later (1876) in his Dialogues et Fragments philosophiques. Cf. especially pp. 265-266.

The progress of the positive sciences, and the assertions of many that philosophy was futile and treacherous, led philosophy to give an account of itself by a kind of apologia pro vita sua. In the face of remarks akin to that of Newton’s “Physics beware of metaphysics,” the latter had to bestir itself or pass out of existence. It was, indeed, this extinction which the more ardent and devoted scientific spirits heralded, re-iterating the war-cry of Auguste Comte.

It was a crisis, in fact, for philosophy. Was it to become merely a universal science? Was it to abandon the task of solving the problems of the universe by rapid intuitions and a priori constructions and undertake the construction of a science of the whole, built up from the data and results of the science of the parts—i.e., the separate sciences of nature? Was there, then, to be no place for metaphysics in this classification of the sciences to which the current of thought was tending with increasing impetuosity? Was a science of primary or ultimate truths a useless chimera, to be rejected entirely by the human mind in favour of an all-sufficing belief in positive science? These were the questions which perplexed the thoughtful minds of that time.

We shall do well, therefore, in our survey of the half century before us, to investigate the two problems which were stressed by Renan in the essay we have quoted, for his acute mind possessed a unique power of sensing the feeling and thought of his time. Our preliminary task will be the examination of the general attitude to knowledge adopted by the various thinkers and schools of thought, following this by an inquiry into the attitude adopted to science itself and its relation to philosophy.

With these considerations in mind, let us examine the three currents of thought in our period beginning with that which is at once a prolongation of positivism and a transformation of it, a current expressed in the work of Vacherot, Taine and Renan.

Etienne Vacherot (1809-1897) was partially a disciple of Victor Cousin and a representative also of the positivist attitude to knowledge. His work, however, passed beyond the bounds indicated by these names. He remained a convinced naturalist and believer in positive science, but, unlike Comte, he did not despise metaphysical inquiry, and he sought to find a place for it in thought. Vacherot, who had won a reputation for himself by an historical work on the Alexandrian School, became tne director of the Ecole Normale Supérieure, an important position in the intellectual world. He here advocated the doctrines by which he sought to give a to metaphysics. His most important book, La Métaphysique et la Science, in three volumes, appeared in 1858. He suffered imprisonment the following year for His liberal principles under the Empire which had already deprived him of his position at the Sorbonne.

The general attitude to knowledge adopted by Vacherot recalls in some respects the metaphysical doctrines of Spinoza, and he endeavours to combine the purely naturalistic view of the world with a metaphysical conception. The result is a profound and, for Vacherot, irreconcilable dualism, in which the real and the ideal are set against one another in rigorous contrast, and the gap between them is not bridged or even attempted to be filled up, as, at a later date, was the task assumed by Fouillee in his philosophy of idées-forces. For Vacherot the world is a unity, eternal and infinite, but lacking perfection. Perfection, the ideal, is incompatible with reality. The real is not at all ideal, and the ideal has no reality.^[4] In this unsatisfactory dualism Vacherot leaves us. His doctrine, although making a superficial appeal by its seeming positivism on the one hand, and its maintenance of the notion of the ideal or perfection on the other, is actually far more paradoxical than that which asserts that ultimately it is the ideal only which is real. While St. Anselm had endeavoured to establish by his proof of the existence of God the reality of perfection, Vacherot, by a reversal of this proof, arrives at the opposite conclusion, and at a point where it seems that it would be for the ideal an imperfection to exist. The absolute existence of all things is thus separated from the ideal, and no attempt is made to relate the two, as Spinoza had so rigorously done, by maintaining that reality is perfection.^[5]

[4] It is interesting to contrast this with the attitude of the new spiritualists, especially Fouillée’s conception of idees-forces, of ideas and ideals realising themselves. See also Guyau’s attitude.
                    “L’idéal n’est-il pas, sur la terre où nous sommes
                    Plus fécond et plus beau que la réalité?”
                                        —Illusion féconde.

[5] Vacherot contributed further to the thought of his time, notably by a book on religion, 1869, and later in life seems to have become sympathetic to the New Spiritualism, on which he also wrote a book in 1884.

The influence of Vacherot was in some measure continued in that of his pupil, Hippolyte Taine (1828-1893), a thinker who had considerable influence upon the development of thought in our period. His ability as a critic of art and literature was perhaps more marked than his purely philosophical influence, but this is, nevertheless, important, and cannot be overlooked.

Taine was a student of the Ecole Normale, and in 1851 was appointed to teach philosophy at Nevers. The coup d’état, however, changed his career, and he turned to literature as his main field, writing a work on La Fontaine for his doctorate in 1853. In the year of Comte’s death (1857) Taine published his book, Les Philosophes français du XIX^e Siècle, in which he turned his powerful batteries of criticism upon the vague spiritualism professed by Cousin and officially favoured in France at that time.^[6] By his adverse criticism of Cousin and the Eclectic School, Taine placed his influence upon the side of the positivist followers of Comte. It would, however, be erroneous to regard him as a mere disciple of Comte, as Taine’s positivism was in its general form a wider doctrine, yet more rigorously scientific in some respects than that of Comte. There was also an important difference in their attitude to metaphysics. Taine upheld strongly the value, and, indeed, the necessity, of a metaphysical doctrine. He never made much of any debt or allegiance to Comte.

[6] See his chapter xii. on “The Success of Eclecticism,” pp. 283-307. Cousin, he criticises at length; De Biran, Royer-Collard and Jouffroy are included in his censures. We might mention that this book was first issued in the form of articles in the Revue de l’Instruction publique during the years 1855, 1856.

In 1860 a volume dealing with the Philosophy of Art appeared from his pen, in which he not only endeavoured to relate the art of a period to the general environment in which it arose, but, in addition, he dealt with certain psychological aspects of the problem. Largely as a result of the talent displayed in this work, he was appointed in 1864 to tne chair of the History of Art and Æsthetics in the Ecole des Beaux-Arts.

Taine’s interest in philosophy, and especially in psychological problems, was more prominently demon strated in his book De l’Intelligence, the two volumes of which appeared in 1870. In this work he takes a strict view of the human intelligence as a mechanism, the workings of which he sets forth in a precise and cold manner. His treatment of knowledge is akin, in some respects, to the doctrines of the English Utilitarian and Evolutionary School as represented by John Stuart Mill, Bain and Spencer. The main feature of the Darwinian doctrine is set by Taine in the foreground of epistemology. There is, according to him, “a struggle for existence” in the realm of the individual consciousness no less than in the external world. This inner conflict is between psychical elements which, when victorious, result in sense-perception. This awareness, or hallucination vraie, is not knowledge of a purely speculative character; it is (as, at a later date, Bergson was to maintain in his doctrine of perception) essentially bound up with action, with the instinct and mechanism of movement.

One of the most notable features of Taine’s work is his attitude to psychology. He rejects absolutely the rather scornful attitude adopted with regard to this science by Comte; at the same time he shatters the flimsy edifice of the eclectics in order to lay the foundation of a scientific psychology. “The true and independent psychology is,” he remarks, “a magnificent science which lays the foundation of the philosophy of history, which gives life to physiology and opens up the pathway to metaphysics.”^[7] Our debt to Taine is immense, for he initiated the great current of experimental psychology for which his country has since become famous. It is not our intention in this present work to follow out in any detail the purely psychological work of the period. Psychology has more and more become differentiated from, and to a large degree, independent of, philosophy in a strictly metaphysical meaning of that word. Yet we shall do well in passing to note that through Taine’s work the scientific attitude to psychologv and its many problems was taken up and developed by Ribot, whose study of English Psychology appeared in the same year as Taine’s Intelligence. Particularly by his frequent illustrations drawn from abnormal psychology, Taine “set the tone” for contemporary and later study of mental activity of this type. Ribot’s later books have been mainly devoted to the study of “the abnormal,”and his efforts are characteristic of the labours of the Paris School, comprising Charcot, Paulhan, Binet and Janet.^[8] French psychology has in consequence become a clearly defined “school,” with characteristics peculiar to itself which distinguish it at once from the psychophysical research of German workers and from the analytic labours of English psychologists. Its debt to Taine at the outset must not be forgotten.

[7] De l’Intelligence, Conclusion.

[8] By Charcot (1825-1893), Leçons sur les Maladies du Système nerveux faites à la Salpêtrière and Localisation dans les Maladies du Cerveau et de la Moelle épinière, 1880.
    By Ribot (1839-1916), Hérédité, Etude psychologique, 1873, Eng. trans., 1875; Les Maladies de la Mémoire, Essai dans la Psychologie positive, 1881, Eng. trans., 1882; Maladies de la Volonté, 1883, Eng. trans., 1884; Maladies de la Personnalité, 1885, Eng. trans., 1895. Ribot expressed regret at the way in which abnormal psychology has been neglected in England. See his critique of Bain in his Psychologie anglaise contemporaine. In 1870 Ribot declared the independence of psychology as a study, separate from philosophy. Ribot had very wide interests beyond pure psychology, a fact which is stressed by his commencing in 1876 the periodical La Revue philosophique de la France et de l’Etranger.
    By Binet (1857-191!), Magnétisme animal, 1886; Les Altérations de la personnalité, 1892; L’Introduction à la Psychologie expérimentale, 1894. He founded the review L’Année psychologique in 1895.
     By Janet (Pierre), born 1859 now Professeur at the Collège de France, L’Automatisme psychologique, 1889; Etat mental des Hystériques, 1894; and Neuroses et Idées-fixes, 1898. He founded the Journal de Psychologie.
     By Paulhan, Phénomenes affectifs and L’Activité mentale.
     To the fame of the Paris School of Psychology must now be added that of the Nancy School embracing the work of Coué.

The War and the subsequent course of events in France seemed to deepen the sadness and pessimism of Taine’s character. He described himself as naturellement triste, and finally his severe positivism developed into a rigorous stoicism akin to that of Marcus Aurelius and Spinoza. This attitude of mind coloured his unfinished historical work, Les Origines de la France contemporaine, upon which he was engaged for the last years of his life (1876-1894). It may be noticed for its bearing upon the study of sociological problems which it indirectly encouraged. Just as Taine had regarded a work of art as the product of social environment, so he looks upon historical events. This history bears all the marks of Taine’s rigid, positive philosophy, intensified by his later stoicism. The Revolution of 1789 is treated in a cold and stern manner devoid of enthusiasm of any sort. He could not make historical narrative live like Michelet, and from his own record the Revolution itself is almost unintelligible. For Taine, however, we must remember, human nature is absolutely the product of race, environment and history.^[9]

[9] Michelet (1798-1874), mentioned here as an historian of a type entirely different from Taine, influenced philosophic thought by his volumes Le Peuple, 1846; L’Amour, 1858; Le Prêtre, La Femme et la Famille, 1859; and La Bible de l’Humanité, 1864. He and his friend Quinet (1803-1875), who was also a Professor at the College de France, and was the author of Génie des Religions, 1842, had considerable influence prior to 1848 of a political and religious character. They were in strong opposition to the Roman Catholic Church and had keen controversies with the Jesuits and Ultramontanists.

In the philosophy of Taine various influences are seen at work interacting. The spirit of the French thinkers of the previous century—sensualists and ideologists—reappears in him. While in a measure he fluctuates between naturalism and idealism, the predominating tone of his work is clearly positivist. He was a great student of Spinoza and of Hegel, and the influence of both these thinkers appears in his work. Like Spinoza, he believes in a universal determination; like Hegel, he asserts the real and the rational to be identical. In his general attitude to the problems of knowledge Taine criticises and passes beyond the standpoints of both Hume and Kant. He opposes the purely empiricist schools of both France and England. The purely empirical attitude which looks upon the world as fragmentary and phenomenal is deficient, according to Taine, and is, moreover, incompatible with the notion of necessity. This notion of necessity is characteristic of Taine’s whole work, and his strict adherence to it was mainly due to his absolute belief in science and its methods, which is a mark of all the positivist type of thought.

While he rejected Hume’s empiricism he also opposed the doctrines of Kant and the neo-critical school which found its inspiration in Kant and Hume. Taine asserted that it is possible to have a knowledge of things in their objective reality, and he appears to have based his epistemology upon the doctrine of analysis proposed by Condillac. Taine disagreed with the theory of the relativity of human knowledge and with the phenomenal basis of the neo-critical teaching, its rejection of “the thing in itself.” He believed we had knowledge not merely relative but absolute, and he claimed that we can pass from phenomena and their laws to comprehend the essence of things in themselves. He endeavours to avoid the difficulties of Hume by dogmatism. While clinging to a semi-Hegelian view of rationality he avoids Kant’s critical attitude to reason itself. We have in Taine not a critical rationalist but a dogmatic rationalist. While the rational aspect of his thought commands a certain respect and has had in many directions a very wholesome influence, notably, as we have remarked, upon psychology, yet it proves itself in the last analysis self-contradictory, for a true rationalism is critical in character rather than dogmatic.

In Taine’a great contemporary, Ernest Renan (1823-1892), a very different temper is seen. The two thinkers both possessed popularity as men of letters, and resembled one another in being devoted to literary and historical pursuits rather than to philosophy itself.

Renan was trained for the priesthood of the Roman Catholic Church. He has left us a record of his early life in Souvenirs d’Enfance et de Jeunesse. We there have an autobiography of a sincere and sensitive soul, encouraged in his priestly career by his family and his teachers to such a degree that he had conceived of no other career for himself, until at the age of twenty, under the influence of modern scientific doctrines and the criticism of the Biblical records, he found himself an unbeliever, certainly not a Roman Catholic, and not, in the ordinary interpretation of that rather vague term, a Christian. The harsh, unrelenting dogmatism of the Roman Church drove Renan from Christianity. We find him remarking that had he lived in a Protestant. country he might not have been faced with the dilemma.^[10] A via media might have presented itself in one of the very numerous forms into which Protestant Christianity, is divided. He might have exercised in such a sphere, his priestly functions as did Schleiermacher. Renan’s break with Rome emphasises the clear-cut division which exists in France between the Christian faith (represented, almost entirely by the Roman Church) and libre-pensée, a point which will claim our attention later, when we come to treat of the Philosophy of Religion.

[10] Cf. his Souvenirs d’Enfance et de Jeunesse, p. 292.

Having abandoned the seminary and the Church, Renan worked for his university degrees. The events of 1848-49 inspired his young heart with great enthusiasm, under the influence of which he wrote his Avenir de la Science. This book was not published, however, until 1890, when he had lost his early hopes and illusions. In 1849 he went away upon a mission to Italy. “The reaction of 1850-51 and the coup d’état instilled into me a pessimism of which I am not yet cured,” so he wrote in the preface to his Dialogues et Fragments philosophiques.^[11] Some years after the coup d’état he published a volume of essays (Essais de Morale et de Critique), and he showed his acquaintance with Arabic philosophy by an excellent treatise on Averroes et l’Averroisme (1859). The following year he visited Syria and, in 1861, was appointed Professor of Hebrew at the Collège de France. He then began his monumental work on Les Origines du Christianisme, of which the first volume, La Vie de Jésus, appeared in 1863. Its importance for religious thought we shall consider in our last chapter; here it must suffice to observe its immediate consequences. These were terrific onslaughts from the clergy upon its author, which, although they brought the attention of his countrymen and of the world upon Renan, resulted in the Imperial Government suspending his tenure of the chair. After the fall of the Empire, however, he returned to it, and under the Third Republic became Director of the Collège de France.

[11] Published only in 1895. The preface referred to is dated 1871.

Renan, although he broke off his career in the Church and his connection with organised religion, retained, nevertheless, much of the priestly character all his life, and he himself confesses this: “I have learned several things, but I have changed in nowise as to the general system of intellectual and moral life. My habitation has become more spacious, but it still stands on the same ground. I look upon my estrangement from orthodoxy as only a change of opinion concerning an important historical question, a change which does not prevent me from dwelling on the same foundations as before.” He indeed found it impossible to reconcile the Catholic faith with free and honest thought. His break with the Church made him an enemy of all superstition, and his writings raised against him the hatred of the Catholic clergy, who regarded him as a deserter. In the customary terms of heated theological debate he was styled an atheist. This was grossly unfair or meaningless. Which word we use here depends upon our definition of theism. As a matter of fact, Renan was one of the most deeply religious minds of his time. His early religious sentiments remained, in essence if not in form, with him throughout his life. These were always associated with the tender memories he had of his mother and beloved sister and his virtuous teachers, the priests in the little town of Brittany, whence he came. Much of the Breton mysticism clung to his soul, and much of his philosophy is a restated, rationalised form of his early beliefs.

As a figure in the intellectual life of the time, Renan is difficult to estimate. The very subtilty of his intellect betrayed him into an oscillation which was far from admirable, and prevented his countrymen in his own day from “getting to grips” with his ideas. These were kaleidoscopic. Renan seems a type, reflecting many tendencies of the time, useful as an illustration to the historian of the ideas of the period; but for philosophy in the special sense he has none of the clearly defined importance of men like Renouvier, Lachelier, Guyau, Fouillée, Bergson or Blondel. His humanism keeps him free from dogmatism, but his mind fluctuates so that his general attitude to the ultimate problems is one of reserve, of scepticism and of frequent paradox and contradiction. Renan seems to combine the positivist scorn of metaphysics with the Kantian idealism. At times, however, his attitude is rather Hegelian, and he believes in universal change which is an evolving of spirit, the ideal or God, call it what we will. We need not be too particular about names or forms of thought, for, after all, everything “may be only a dream.” That is Renan’s attitude, to temper enthusiasm by irony, to assert a duty of doubt, and often, perhaps, to gain a literary brilliance by contradictory statements. “The survey of human affairs is not complete,” he reminds us, “unless we allot a place for irony beside that of tears, a place for pity beside that of rage, and a place for a smile alongside respect.”^[12]

[12] Preface to his Drames philosophiques, 1888.

It was this versatility which made Renan a lover of the philosophic dialogue. This literary and dramatic form naturally appealed strongly to a mind who was so very conscious of the fact that the truths with which philosophy deals cannot be directly denied or directly affirmed, as they are not subject to demonstration. All the high problems of humanity Renan recognised as being of this kind, as involving finally a rational faith; and he claimed that the best we can do is to present the problems of life from different points of view. This is due entirely to the peculiar character of philosophy itself, and to the distinction, which must never be overlooked, between knowledge and belief, between certitude and opinion. Geometry, for example, is not a subject for dialogues but for demonstration, as it involves knowledge and certitude. The problems of philosophy, on the contrary, involve “une nuance de foi,” as Renan styles it. They involve willed adhesion, acceptance or choice; they provoke sympathy or hate, and call into play human personality with its varying shades of colour.

This state of nuance Renan asserts to be the one of the hour for philosophy. It is not the time, he thinks, to attempt to strengthen by abstract reasoning the “proofs” of God’s existence or of the reality of a future life. “Men see just now that they can never know anything of the supreme cause of the universe or of their own destiny. Nevertheless they are anxious to listen to those who will speak to them about either.”^[13]

[13] From his Preface to Drames philosophiques.

Knowledge, Renan maintained, lies somewhere between the two schools into which the majority of men are divided. “What you are looking for has long since been discovered and made clear,” say the orthodox. “What you are looking for is impossible to find,” say the practical positivists, the political “raillers” and the atheists. It is true that we shall never know the ultimate secret of all being, but we shall never prevent man from desiring more and more knowledge or from creating for himself working hypotheses or beliefs.

Yet although Renan admits this truth he never approaches even the pragmatist position of supporting “creative beliefs.” He rather urges a certain passivity towards problems and opinions. We should, he argues in his Examen de Conscience philosophique,^[14] let them work themselves out in us. Like a spectator we must let them modify our “intellectual retina”; we must let reality reflect itself in us. By this he does not mean to assert that the truth about that reality is a matter of pure indifference to us-far from it. Precisely because he is so conscious of the importance of true knowledge, he is anxious that we should approach the study of reality without previous prejudices. “We have no right,” he remarks, “to have a desire when reason speaks; we must listen and nothing more.”^[15]

[14] In his Feuilles detachées, pp. 401-443.

[15] Feuilles détachées, p. 402.

It must be admitted, however, that Renan’s attitude to the problems of knowledge was largely sceptical. While, as we shall see in the following chapter, he extolled science, his attitude to belief and to knowledge was irritating in its vagueness and changeableness. He appeared to pose too much as a dilettante making a show of subtle intellect, rather than a serious thinker of the first rank. His eminence and genius are unquestioned, but he played in a bewitching and frequently bewildering manner with great and serious problems, and one cannot help wishing that this great intellect of his—and it was unquestionably great—was not more steady and was not applied by its owner more steadfastly and courageously to ultimate problems. His writings reflect a bewildering variety of contradictory moods, playful, scathing, serious and mocking. Indeed, he replied in his Feuilles detachées (1892) to the accusations of Amiel by insisting that irony is the philosopher’s last word. For him as for his brilliant fellow-countryman, Anatole France, ironical scepticism is the ultimate product of his reflection upon life. His Examen de Conscience philosophique is his Confession of Faith, written four years before his death, in which he tries to defend his sceptical attitude and to put forward scepticism as an apology for his own uncertainty and his paradoxical changes of view. Irony intermingles with his doubt here too. We do not know, he says, ultimate reality; we do not know whether there be any purpose or end in the universe at all. There may be, but on the other hand it may be a farce and fiasco. By refusing to believe in anything, rejecting both alternatives, Renan argues, with a kind of mental cowardice, we avoid the consequence of being absolutely deceived. He recommended an adoption of mixed belief and doubt, optimism and irony.

This is a surprising attitude in a philosopher and is not characteristic of great modern thinkers, most of whom prefer belief (hypothetical although that be) to non-belief. Doubtless Renan’s early training had a psychological effect which operated perhaps largely unconsciously throughout his life, and his literary and linguistic ability seems to have given him a reputation which was rather that of a man of letters than a philosopher. He had not the mental strength or frankness to face alternatives squarely and to decide to adopt one. Consequently he merited the application of the old proverb about being between two stools. This application was actually made to Renan’s attitude in a critical remark by Renouvier in his Esquisse d’une Classification des Doctrines philosphiques.^[16] Renouvier had no difficulty in pointing out that the man who hesitates deprives himself of that great reality, the exercise of his own power of free choice, in itself valuable and more akin to reality (whatever be the choice) than a mere “sitting on the fence,” an attitude which, so far from assuring one of getting the advantages of both possibilities as Renan claims, may more justly seem to deprive one of the advantages in both directions. The needs of life demand that we construct beliefs of some sort. We may be wrong and err, but pure scepticism such as Renan advocated is untenable. Life, if it is to be real and earnest, demands of us that we have faith in some values, that we construct some beliefs, some hypotheses, by which we may work.

[16] Vol. ii., p. 395.

Both Renan and Taine exercised a considerable influence upon French thought. While inheriting the positivist outlook they, to a great degree, perhaps unconsciously, undermined the positive position, both by their interest in the humanities, in art, letters and religion and in their metaphysical attitude. Taine, beginning with a rigid naturalism, came gradually to approach an idealistic standpoint in many respects, while Renan, beginning with a dogmatic idealism, came to acute doubt, hypotheses, “dreams” and scepticism. Taine kept his thoughts in too rigid a mould, solidified, while those of Renan seem finally to have existed only in a gaseous state, intangible, vague and hazy. We have observed how the positivist current from Comte was carried over by Vacherot to Taine. In Renan we find that current present also, but it has begun to turn against itself. While we may say that his work reflects in a very remarkable manner the spirit of his time, especially the positivist faith in science, yet we are also able to find in it, in spite of his immense scepticism, the indications of a spiritualist or idealist movement, groping and shaping itself as the century grows older.

While the positivist current of thought was working itself out through Vacherot, Taine and Renan to a position which forms a connecting link between Comte and the new spiritualism in which the reaction against positivism and eclecticism finally culminated, another influence was making itself felt independently in the neo-critical philosophy of Renouvier.

We must here note the work and influence of Cournot (1801-1877), which form a very definite link between the doctrines of Comte and those of Renouvier. He owed much to positivism, and he contributed to the formation of neo-criticism by his influence upon Renouvier. Cournot’s Essai sur le Fondement de nos Connaissances appeared in 1851, three years before Renouvier gave to the world the first volume of his Essais de Critique générale. In 1861 Cournot published his Traité de l’Enchaînement des Idées, which was followed by his Considerations sur le Marche des Idées (1872) and Matérialisme, Vitalisme, Rationalisme (1875). These volumes form his contribution to philosophical thought, his remaining works being mainly concerned with political economy and mathematics, a science in which he won distinction.

Like Comte, Cournot opposed the spiritualism, the eclecticism and the psychology of Cousin, but he was possessed of a more philosophic mind than Comte; he certainly had greater philosophical knowledge, was better equipped in the history of philosophy and had much greater respect for metaphysical theory. He shared with Comte, however, an interest in social problems and biology; he also adopted his general attitude to knowledge, but the spirit of Cournot’s work is much less dogmatic than that of the great positivist, and he made no pretensions to be a “pontiff” such as Comte aspired to be. Indeed his lack of pretensions may account partly for the lack of attention with which his work (which is shrewd, thoughtful and reserved) has been treated. He aimed at indicating the foundations of a sound philosophy rather than at offering a system of thought to the public. This temper was the product of his scientific attitude. It was by an examination of the sciences and particularly of the principles upon which they depend that he formulated his group of fundamental doctrines.

He avoided hasty generalisations or a priori constructions and, true to the scientific spirit, based his thought upon the data afforded by experience. He agreed heartily with Comte regarding the relativity of our knowledge. An investigation of this knowledge shows it to be based on three principles—order, chance, and probability. We find order existing in the universe and by scientific methods we try to grasp this order. This involves induction, a method which cannot give us absolute certainty, although it approximates to it. It gives us probability only. There is therefore a reality of chances, and contingency or chance must be admitted as a factor in evolution and in human history.

Cournot foreshadows many of the doctrines of the new spiritualists as well as those of the neo-critical school. Much in his work heralds a Bergson as well as a Renouvier. This is noticeable in his attitude to science and to the problem of contingency or freedom. It is further seen in his doctrine that the vivant is incapable of demonstration, in his view of the soul or higher instinct which he distinguished from the intelligence, in the biological interest displayed in his work (due partly to the work of Bichat^[17]), and in his idea of a Travail de Création. Unlike Bergson, however, he admits a teleology, for he believed this inseparable from living beings, but he regards it as a hazardous finality, not rigid or inconsistent with freedom.

[17] Bichat (1771-1802) was a noted physiologist and anatomist. In 1800 appeared his Recherches physiologiques sur la Vie et la Mort, followed in 1801 by Anatomie générale, appliquée à la Physiologie et à la Médecine.

The immediate influence of Cournot was felt by only a small circle, and his most notable affinity was with Renouvier, although Cournot was less strictly an intellectualist. Like Renouvier he looked upon philosophy as a “Critique générale.” He was also concerned with the problem of the categories and with the compatibility of science and freedom, a problem which was now assuming a very central position in the thought of the period.

Renouvier, in the construction of his philosophy, was partly influenced by the work of Cournot. In this lone, stern, indefatigable worker we have one of the most powerful minds of the century. Charles Renouvier shares with Auguste Comte the first honours of the century in France so far as philosophical work is concerned. Curiously enough he came from Comte’s birth-place, Montpellier. When Renouvier was born in 1815, seventeen years later than Comte, the great positivist was in his second year of study at the Ecole Polytechnique in Paris. To this great scientific and mathematical institution came Renouvier, to find Comte as Répétiteur of Higher Mathematics. He was not only a keen student of the mathematical sciences but also an ardent follower of Saint-Simon, and although in later life he lost many of the hopes of his youth the Saint-Simon spirit remained with him, and he retained a keen interest in social ethics and particularly in the ideas of Fourier, Proudhon and Blanc. At the Ecole he met as fellow-pupils Jules Lequier and Felix Ravaisson.

Instead of entering the civil service Renouvier then applied himself to philosophy and political science, influenced undoubtedly by Comte’s work. The year 1848, which saw the second attempt to establish a republic, gave Renouvier, now a zealous republican, an opportunity, and he issued his Manuel républicain de l’Homme et du Citoyen. This volume, intended for schoolmasters, had the approval of Carnot, Minister of Education to the Provisionary Government. Its socialist doctrines were so criticised by the Chamber of 1849 that Carnot, and with him the Government, fell from power. Renouvier went further in his Gouvernement direct et Organisation communale et centrale de la République, in which he collaborated with his socialist friends in outlining a scheme of communism, making the canton a local power, a scheme which contained the germ-idea of the Soviet of Bolshevik Russia. Such ideas were, however, far too advanced for the France of that date and their proposal did more harm than good to the progressive party by producing a reaction in wavering minds. Renouvier, through the paper Liberté de penser, launched attacks upon the policy of the Presidency, and began in the Revue philosophique a serial Uchronie, a novel of a political and philosophical character. It was never finished. Suddenly, like a bolt from the blue, came, on December and, the coup d’état. The effect of this upon Renouvier was profound. Disgusted at the power of the monarchy, the shattering of the republican hopes, the suppression of liberty and the general reaction, he abandoned political life entirely. What politics lost, however, philosophy has gained, for he turned his acute mind with its tremendous energy to the study of the problems of the universe.

Three years after the coup d’état, in the same year in which Comte completed his Système de Politique positive, 1854, Renouvier published the first volume of his magnum opus, the Essais de Critique générale.^[18] The appearance of this work is a notable date in the development of modern French philosophy. The problems therein discussed will concern us in later chapters. Here we must point out the indefatigable labour given to this work by Renouvier. The writing and revision of these essays covered almost the whole of the half century, concluding in 1897. In their first, briefer form they occupied the decade 1854-64, and consisted of four volumes only, which on revision became finally thirteen.^[19] These Essays range over Logic, Psychology, the Philosophy of the Sciences and the Philosophy of History.

[18] It is interesting for the comparative study of the thought of the century to observe that the great work of Lotze in Germany, Mikrocosmos, was contemporaneous with the Essais of Renouvier. Lotze’s three volumes appeared in 1856, 1858 and 1864. The Logik and Metaphysik of Lotze should also be compared with Renouvier’s Essais. Further comparison or contrast may be made with reference to the Logic of both Bradley and Bosanquet in England.

[19] Since 1912 the Essais de Critique générale are available in ten volumes, owing to the publications of new editions of the first three Essays by A. Colin in five volumes. For details of the original and revised publication of the work, see our Bibliography, under Renouvier (pp. 334-335).

Having thus laid the foundations of his own throught, Renouvier, in conjunction with his scholarly friend Pillon, undertook the publication of a monthly periodical, L’Année philosophique, to encourage philosophic thought in France. This appeared first in 1867, the same year in which Ravaisson laid the foundations of the new spiritualism by his celebrated Rapport. In 1869 Renouvier published his noteworthy treatise upon Ethics, in two volumes, La Science de la Morale.

The war of 1870 brought his monthly periodical to an untimely end. The conclusion of the war in 1871 resulted in the establishment, for the third time, of a republic, which in spite of many vicissitudes has continued even to this day. With the restoration of peace and of a republic, Renouvier felt encouraged to undertake the ambitious scheme of publishing a weekly paper, not only philosophical in character but political, literary and religious. He desired ardently to address his countrymen at a time when they were rather intellectually and morally bewildered. He felt he had something constructive to offer, and hoped that the “new criticism,” as he called it, might become the philosophy of the new republic. Thus was founded, in 1872, the famous Critique philosophique, which aimed primarily at the consolidation of the republic politically and morally,^[20] This paper appeared as a weekly from its commencement until 1884,then continued for a further five years as a monthly. Renouvier and his friend Pillon were assisted by other contributors, A. Sabatier, L. Dauriac, R. Allier, who were more or less disciples of the neo-critical school. Various articles were contributed by William James, who had a great admiration for Renouvier. The two men, although widely different in temperament and method, had certain affinities in their doctrine of truth and certitude.^[21]

[20] In the early numbers, political articles, as was natural in the years following 1871, were prominent. Among these early articles we may cite the one, “Is France morally obliged to carry out the terms of the Treaty imposed upon her by Prussia?”

[21] On this relationship see James’s Will to Believe, p. 143, 1897, and the dedications in his Some Problems of Philosophy (to Renouvier), and his Principles of Psychology (to Pillon), also Letters of William James, September i8th, 1892.

Renouvier’s enthusiasm for his periodical did not, however, abate his energy or ardour for more lasting work. He undertook the task of revising and augmenting his great work, the Essais de Critique générale, and added to the series another (fifth) Essay, in four volumes. He also issued in 1876 the curious work Uchronie, a history of “what might have been” (in his view) the development of European civilisation. Together with Pillon he translated Hume’s Treatise on Human Nature.

Meanwhile the Critique philosophique continued to combat any symptoms of a further coup d’état, and “to uphold strictly republican principles and to fight all that savoured of Caesar or imperialism.” In 1878 a quarterly supplement La Critique religieuse was added to attack the Roman Catholic Church and to diminish its power in France.^[22]

[22] The significance of this effort is more fully dealt with in our last chapter.

Articles which had appeared in this quarterly were published as Esquisse d’une Classification systématique des Doctrines philosophiques in 1885 in two volumes, the second of which contained the important Confession of Faith of Renouvier, entitled, How I arrived at this Conclusion.

His thought assumed a slightly new form towards the close of the century, at the end of which he published, in conjunction with his disciple Prat, a remarkable volume, which took a prize at the Académie des Sciences morales et politiques, to which rather late in the day he was admitted as a member at the age of eighty-five. In its title La Nouvelle Monadologie, and method it reveals the influence of Leibnitz.

The close of the century shows us Renouvier as an old man, still an enormous worker, celebrating his eighty-sixth birthday by planning and writing further volumes (Les Dilemmes de la Métaphysique pure and its sequel, Histoire et Solution des Problèmes métaphysiques). This “grand old man” of modern French philosophy lived on into the early years of the twentieth century, still publishing, still writing to the last. His final volume, Le Personnalisme, was a restatement of his philosophy, issued when he was in his eighty-ninth year. He died “in harness” in 1903, dictating to his friend Prat a résumé of his thought on important points and leaving an unpublished work on the philosophy of Kant.^[23]

[23] The résumé was published by Prat a couple of years later as Derniers Entretiens, the volume on the Doctrine de Kant, followed in 1906.

Renouvier’s career is a striking one and we have sketched it somewhat fully here because of its showing more distinctly than that of Taine or Renan the reflections of contemporary history upon the thinking minds who lived through the years 1848-51 and 1870-71. Renouvier was a young spirit in the year of the revolution, 1848, and lived right on through the coup d’état, the Second Empire, the Franco-Prussian War, the Commune, the Third Republic, and he foresaw and perhaps influenced the Republic’s attitude to the Roman Church. His career is the most significant and enlightening one to follow of all the thinkers who come within our period. Let us note that he never held any academic or public teaching appointment. His life was in the main a secluded one and, like Comte, he found the University a limited preserve closed against him and his philosophy, dominated by the declining eclecticism which drew its inspiration from Cousin. Only gradually did his influence make itself felt to such a degree that the University was compelled to take notice of it. Now his work is more appreciated, but not as much as it might be, and outside his own country he is little known. The student finds his writings somewhat difficult owing to the author’s heavy style. He has none of the literary ease and brilliance of a Renan. But his work was great and noble, animated by a passion for truth and a hatred of philosophical “shams” and a current of deep moral earnestness colours all his work. He had considerable power as a critic, for the training of the Ecole Polytechnique produced a strictly logical temper in his work, which is that of a true philosopher, not that of a merely brilliant litterateur or dilettante, and he must be regarded as one of the intellectual giants of the century.

While we see in Positivism a system of thought which opposed itself to Eclecticism, we find in the philosophy of Renouvier a system of doctrine which is opposed to both Eclecticism and Positivism. Indeed Renouvier puts up a strong mental fight against both of these systems; the latter he regarded as an ambitious conceit. He agreed, however, with Comte and with Cournot upon the relativity of our knowledge. “I accept,” he says, “one fundamental principle of the Positivist School—namely, the reduction of knowledge to the laws of phenomena.”^[24] The author of the Essais de Critique générale considered himself, however, to be the apostolic successor, not of Comte, but of Kant. The title of neo-criticisme^[25] which he gave to his philosophy shows his affinity with the author of the Kritik der reinen Vernunft. This is very noticeable in his method of treating the problem of knowledge by criticising the human mind and especially in his giving a preference to moral considerations.^[26] It would be, however, very erroneous to regard Renouvier as a disciple of Kant, for he amends and rejects many of the doctrines of the German philosopher. We have noted the fact that he translated Hume; we must observe also that Hume’s influence is very strongly marked in Renouvier’s “phenomenalism.”^[27] “Renouvier is connected with Hume,” says Pillon, in the preface he contributed to the translation,^[28] “as much as with Kant. . . . He reconciles Hume and Kant. . . . Something is lacking in Hume, the notion of law; something is superfluous in Kant, the notion of substance. It was necessary to unite the phenomenalism of Hume with the a priori teaching of Kant. This was the work accomplished by Renouvier.”

[24] Preface to Essais de Critique générale.

[25] The English word “criticism” is, it should be noted, translated in French by “critique” and not by the word “criticisme,” a term which is used for the philosophy of the Kritik of Kant.

[26] In recognising the primacy of the moral or practical reason in Kant, Renouvier resembles Fichte.

[27] Renouvier’s phenomenalism should be compared with that of Shadworth Hodgson, as set forth in the volumes of his large work on The Metaphysic of Experience, 1899. Hodgson has given his estimate of Renouvier and his relationship to him in Mind (volume for 1881).

[28] Psychologie de Hume : Traité de la Nature humaine, Renouvier Préface par Pillon, p. lxviii.

It may be doubted whether Pillon’s eulogy is altogether sound in its approval of the “reconciliation” of Hume and Kant, for such a reconciliation of opposites may well appear impossible. Renouvier himself faced this problem of the reconciliation of opposites when at an early age he inclined to follow the Hegelian philosophy, a doctrine which may very well be described as a “reconciliation of opposites,” par excellence. Dissatisfied, however, with such a scheme Renouvier came round to the Kantian standpoint and then passed beyond it to a position absolutely contrary to that of Hegel. This position is frankly that opposites cannot be reconciled, one or the other must be rejected. Renouvier thus made the law of contradiction the basis of his philosophy, as it is the basis of our principles of thought or logic.

He rigorously applied this principle to that very interesting part of Kant’s work, the antinomies, which he held should never have been formulated. The reasons put forward for this statement were two: the principle of contradiction and the law of number. Renouvier did not believe in what mathematicians call an “infinite number.” He held it to be an absurd and contradictory notion, for to be a number at all it must be numerical and therefore not infinite. The application of this to the Kantian antinomies, as for example to the questions, “Is space infinite or finite? Had the world a beginning or not?” is interesting because it treats them as Alexander did the Gordian knot. The admission that space is infinite, or that the world had no beginning, involves the admission of an “infinite number,” a contradiction and an absurdity. Since, therefore, such a number is a pure fiction we must logically conclude that space is finite,^[29] that the world had a beginning and that the ascending series of causes has a first term, which admission involves freedom at the heart of things.

[29] It is interesting to observe how the stress laid by Renouvier upon the finiteness of space and upon relativity has found expression in the scientific world by Einstein, long after it had been expressed philosophically.

As Renouvier had treated the antinomies of Kant, so he makes short work of the Kantian conception of a world of noumena (Dinge an sich) of which we know nothing, but which is the foundation of the phenomena we know. Like Hume, he rejects all notion of substance, of which Kant’s noumenon is a survival from ancient times. The idea of substance he abhors as leading to pantheism and to fatalism, doctrines which Renouvier energetically opposes, to uphold man’s freedom and the dignity of human personality.

In the philosophy of Kant personality was not included among the categories. Renouvier draws up for himself a new list of categories differing from those of Kant. Beginning with Relation they culminate in Personality. These two categories indicate two of the strongholds of Renouvier’s philosophy. Beginning from his fundamental thesis “All is relative,” Renouvier points out that as nothing can possibly be known save by or in a relation of some sort it is evident that the most general law of all is that of Relation itself. Relation is therefore the first and fundamental category embracing all the others. Then follow, Number, Position, Succession, Quality. To these are added the important ones, Becoming, Causality, Finality proceeding from the simple to the composite, from the abstract to the concrete, from the elements most easily selected from our experience to that which embraces the experience itself, Renouvier comes to the final category in which they all find their consummation-Personality. The importance which he attaches to this category colours his entire thought and particularly determines his attitude to the various problems which we shall discuss in our following chapters.

As we can think of nothing save in relation to consciousness and consequently we cannot conceive the universe apart from personality, our knowledge of the universe, our philosophies, our beliefs are “personal” constructions. But they need not be on that account merely subjective and individualistic in character, for they refer to personality in its wide sense, a sense shared by other persons. This has important consequences for the problem of certitude in knowledge and Renouvier has here certain affinities to the pragmatist standpoint.

His discussion of certitude is very closely bound up with his treatment of the problem of freedom, but we may indicate here Renouvier’s attitude to Belief and Knowledge, a problem in which he was aided by the work of his friend Jules Lequier,^[30] whom he quotes in his second Essai de Critique générale. Renouvier considers it advisable to approach the problem of certitude by considering its opposite, doubt. In a famous passage in his second Essai he states the circumstances under which we do not doubt—namely, “when we see, when we know, when we believe.” Owing to our liability to error (even seeing is not believing, and we frequently change our minds even about our “seeing”), it appears that belief is always involved, and more correctly “we believe that we see, we believe that we know.” Belief is a state of consciousness involved in a certain affirmation of which the motives show themselves as adequate. Certitude arises when the possibility of an affirmation of the contrary is entirely rejected by the mind. Certitude thus appears as a kind of belief. All knowledge, Renouvier maintains, involves an affirmation of will. It is here we see the contrast so strongly marked between him and Renan, who wished us to “let things think themselves out in us.” “Every affirmation in which consciousness is reflective is subordinated, in consciousness, to the determination to affirm.” Our knowledge, our certitude, our belief, whatever we prefer to call it, is a construction not purely intellectual but involving elements of feeling and, above all, of will. Even the most logically incontrovertible truth are sometimes unconvincing. This is because certitude is not purely intellectual; it is une affaire passionnelle.^[31] Renouvier here not only approaches the pragmatist position, but he recalls the attitude to will, assumed by Maine de Biran. For the Cartesian formula De Biran had suggested the substitution of Volo, ergo sum. The inadequacy of the the Cogito, ergo sum is remarked upon by Lequier, whose treatment of the question of certainty Renouvier follows. As all demonstration is deductive in character and so requires existing premises, we cannot expect the première vérité to be demonstrable. If, from the or certainty, we must turn to the will to create belief, or certainty, we must turn to the will to create beliefs, for no evidence or previous truths exist for us. The Cogito, ergo sum really does not give us a starting point, as Descartes claimed for it, since there is no proper sequence from cogito to sum. Here we have merely two selves, moi-pensée and moi-objet. We need a live spark to bridge this gap to unite the two into one complete living self; this is found in moi-volonté, in a free act of will. This free act of will affirms the existence of the self by uniting in a synthetic judgment the thinking-self to the object-self. “I refuse,” says Renouvier, quoting Lequier, “to follow the work of a knowledge which would not be mine. I accept the certainty of which I am the author.” The première vérité is a free personal act of faith. Certainty in philosophy or in science reposes ultimately upon freedom and the consciousness of freedom.

[30] Jules Lequier was born in 1814 and entered the Ecole polytechnique in 1834, leaving two years later for a military staff appointment. This he abandoned in 1838. He died in 1862 after having destroyed most of his writings. Three Years after his death was published the volume, La Recherche d’une première Vérité, fragments posthumes de Jules Lequier. The reader should note the very interesting remarks by Renouvier at the end of the first volume of his Psychologie rationnelle, 1912 ed., pp. 369-393, on Lequier and his Philosophy, also the Fragments reprinted by Renouvier in that work, Comment trouver, comment chercher, vol. i., on Subject and Object (vol. ii.), and on Freedom.

[31] Lotze employs a similar phrase, eine Gemüths-sache.

Here again, as in the philosophy of Cournot, we find the main emphasis falling upon the double problem of the period. It is in reality one problem with two aspects—the relation of science to morality, or, in other words, the place and significance of freedom.

The general influence of Renouvier has led to the formation of a neo-critical “school” of thought, prominent members of which may be cited: Pillon and Prat, his intimate friends, Séailles and Darlu, who have contributed monographs upon their master’s teaching, together with Hamelin, Liard and Brochard, eminent disciples. Hamelin (1856-1907), whose premature and accidental death deprived France of a keen thinker, is known for his Essai sur les Eléments principaux de la Représentation (1907), supplementing the doctrines of Renouvier by those of Hegel.

In the work of Liard (1846-1917), La Science positive et la Métaphysique (1879), we see a combination of the influence of Vacherot, Renouvier and Kant. He was also perplexed by the problem of efficient and final causes as was Lachelier, whose famous thesis De l’Induction appeared eight years earlier. While Lachelier was influenced by Kant, he, none the less, belongs to the current of the new spiritualism which we shall presently examine. Liard, however, by his adherence to many critical and neo-critical standpoints may be justly looked upon as belonging to that great current of which Renouvier is the prominent thinker.

Brochard (1848-1907) is mainly known by his treatise De l’Erreur (1879) and his volumes on Ethics, De la Responsabilité morale (1876), and De l’Universalité des Notions morales (1876), in all of which the primacy of moral considerations is advocated in a tone inspired by Renouvier’s strong moral standpoint. The work De l’Erreur emphasises the importance of the problem of freedom as being the crux of the whole question involved in the relation of science and morality. Adhering to the neo-critical doctrines in general, and particularly to the value of the practical reason, Brochard, by his insistence upon action as a foundation for belief, has marked affinities with the doctrines of Blondel (and Olle-Laprune), the significance of whose work will appear at the end of our next section.

The phenomenalism of Renouvier was followed up by two thinkers, who cannot, however, be regarded as belonging to his neo-critical school. In 1888 Gourd published his work entitled Le Phénomène, which was followed six years later by the slightly more coherent attempt of Boirac to base a philosophy upon the phenomenalism which expresses itself so rigidly in Hume. In his book L’Idée du Phénomène (1894), he had, however, recourse to the Leibnitzian doctrines, which had finally exercised a considerable influence over Renouvier himself.

The reaction against positivism and against eclecticism took another form quite apart from that of the neocritical philosophy. This was the triumphant spiritualist philosophy, as we may call it, to give it a general name, represented by a series of great thinkers—Ravaisson, Lachelier, Fouillée, Guyau, Boutroux, Bergson and, we may add, Blondel. These men have all of them had an influence much greater than that of Renouvier, and this is true of each of them separately. This is rather noteworthy for, if we exclude Fouillee, whose writings are rather too numerous, the works of all the other men together do not equal in quantity the work of Renouvier. There is another point which is worthy of notice. While Renouvier worked in comparative solitude and never taught philosophy in any college or university, being, in fact, neglected by the University of Paris, all the company—Ravaisson, Lachelier, Fouillée, Guyau, Boutroux and Bergson—had a connection with the University of Paris in general, being associated with the Sorbonne, the Collège de France or the important Ecole Normale Supérieure.

The initiator of the spiritualistic philosophy was Ravaisson (1815-1900), who himself drew inspiration from Maine de Biran, to whose work he had called attention as early as 1840 in a vigorous article contributed to the Revue des Deux Mondes. This roused the indignation of Victor Cousin and the eclectics, who in revenge excluded Ravaisson from the Institute. His independent spirit had been shown in his thesis De l’Habitude (1838)^[32] and his remarkable study of the metaphysics of Aristotle (1837-1846).

[32] Reproduced in 1894 in the Revue de Métaphysique et de Morale.

Ravaisson’s chief title to fame, however, lies in his famous philosophic manifesto of 1867, for such, in fact, was his Rapport sur la Philosophie en France au XIX^è Siècle. This Report, prepared for the Exposition universelle at the request of the Ministry of Education, marks an epoch, for with it began the current of thought which was to dominate the close of the century. The “manifesto” was a call to free spirits to assert themselves in favour of a valid idealism. It, in itself, laid the foundations of such a philosophy and dealt a blow to both the Eclectic School of Cousin and the followers of Auguste Comte. Ravaisson wrote little, but his influence was powerful and made itself felt in the University, where in his office of president of the agrégation en philosophie he exercised no little influence over the minds of younger men. His pupils, among whom are to be found Lachelier, Boutroux and Bergson, have testified to the profound and inspiring influence which this thinker exercised. A notable tribute to his memory is the address given by Bergson when he was appointed to take Ravaisson’s place at the Académie des Sciences morales et politiques in 1904.

Various influences meet in Ravaisson and determine his general attitude to thought. He reverts, as we have said, to Maine de Biran, whose insistence upon the inner life he approves. We must examine human consciousness and make it our basis. We have in it powers of will, of desire and of love. Ravaisson blends the Aristotelian insistence upon Thought with the Christian insistence upon Love. In his method he manifests the influence of the German philosopher, Schelling, whose lectures he attended at Munich in company with the young Swiss thinker, Secretan.^[33] This influence is seen in his doctrine of synthesis and his intellectual intuition. Science continues to give us analyses ever more detailed, but it cannot lead us to the absolute. Our highest, most sublime knowledge is gained by a synthesis presented in and to our consciousness, an intuition. Further, he argues that efficient causes, about which science has so much to say, are really dependent upon final causes. Spiritual reality is anterior to material reality, and is characterised by goodness and beauty. Himself an artist, imbued with a passionate love of the beautiful (he was guardian of sculptures at the Louvre), he constructs a philosophy in the manner of an artist. Like Guyau, he writes metaphysics like poetry, and although he did not give us anything like Vers d’un Philosophe, he would have endorsed the remarks which Guyau made on the relation of poetry and philosophy if, indeed, it is not a fact that his influence inspired the younger man.

[33] Charles Secretan (1815-1895), a Swiss thinker with whom Renouvier had interesting correspondence. His Philosophie de la Liberté appeared in 1848-1849, followed by other works on religious philosophy. Pillon wrote a monograph upon him.

After surveying the currents of thought up to 1867 Ravaisson not only summed up in his concluding pages the elements of his own philosophy, but he ventured to assume the role of prophet. “Many signs permit us to foresee in the near future a philosophical epoch of which the general character will be the predominance of what may be called spiritualistic realism or positivism, having as generating principle the consciousness which the mind has of itself as an existence recognised as being the source and support of every other existence, being none other than its action.”^[34] His prophecy has been fulfilled in the work of Lachelier, Guyau, Fouillée, Boutroux, Bergson, Blondel and Weber.

[35] Rapport, 2nd ed., 1885, p. 275.

After Ravaisson the spiritualist philosophy found expression in the work of Lachelier (1832-1918), a thinker whose importance and whose influence are both quite out of proportion to the small amount which he has written.^[36] A brilliant thesis of only one hundred pages, Du Fondement de l’Induction, sustained in 1871, together with a little study on the Syllogism and a highly important article on Psychologie et Métaphysique, contributed to the Revue philosophique in May of 1885, constitute practically all his written work.^[37] It was orally that he made his influence felt; by his teaching at the Ecole Normale Supérieure (1864-1875) he made a profound impression upon the youth of the University and the Ecole by the dignity and richness of his thought, as well as by its thoroughness.

[36] Dr. Merz, in his admirable History of European Thought in the Nineteenth Century, is wrong in regard to Lachelier’s dates; he confuses his resignation of professorship (1875) with his death. This, however, did not occur until as late as 1918. See the references in Mertz, vol. iii., p. 620, and vol. iv., p. 217.

[37] The thesis and the article have been published together by Alcan, accompanied by notes on Pascal’s Wager. The Etude sur le Syllogisme also forms a volume in Alcan’s Bibliothèque de Philosophie contemporaine.

Lachelier was a pupil of Ravaisson, and owes his initial inspiration to him. He had, however, a much more rigorous and precise attitude to problems. This is apparent in the concentration of thought contained in his thesis. It is one of Lachelier’s merits that he recognised the significance of Kant’s work in a very profound manner. Until his thesis appeared the influence of Leibnitz had been more noticeable in French thought than that of Kant. It was noticeable in Ravaisson, and Renouvier, in spite of his professed adherence to Kant, passed to a Leibnitzian position in his Nouvelle Monadologie.

The valuable work Du Fondement de l’Induction is concerned mainly with the problem of final causes, which Lachelier deduces from the necessity of totality judgments over and above those which concern merely efficient causes. On the principle of final causes, or a ideological conception of a rational unity and order, he founds Induction. It cannot be founded, he claims, upon a mere empiricism. This is a point which will concern us later in our examination of the problem of science.

Lachelier was left, however, with the dualism of mechanism, operating solely by efficient causes, and teleology manifested in final causes, a dualism from which Kant did not manage to escape. In his article Psychologic et Métaphysique he endeavoured to interpret mechanism itself as a teleological activity of the spirit.^[38] He indicates the absolute basis of our life and experience, indeed of the universe itself, to be the absolute spontaneity of spirit. In spirit and in freedom we live and move and have our being. We do not affirm ourselves to be what we are, but rather we are what we affirm ourselves to be. We must not say that our present depends upon our past, for we really create all the moments of our life in one and the same act, which is both present to each moment and above them all.^[39] Here psychology appears as the science of thought itself and resolves itself into metaphysics. Here, too, we find the significance of the new spiritualism; we see its affinity with, and its contrast to, the doctrines of the older spiritualism as professed by Cousin. Lachelier here strikes the note which is so clearly characteristic of this current of thought, and is no less marked in his work than in that of Bergson—namely, a belief in the supremacy of spirit and in the reality of freedom.

[38] It is interesting to compare this with the attitude taken by Lotze in Germany.

[39] Psychologie et Métaphysique, p. 171.

The notion of freedom and of the spontaneity of the spirit became watchwords of the new spiritualist philosophers. Under the work and influence of Boutroux (1845-1921) these ideas were further emphasised and worked out more definitely to a position which assumes a critical attitude to the dogmatism of modern science and establishes a contingency in all things. Boutroux’s thesis De la Contingence des Lois de la Nature appeared in 1874 and was dedicated to Ravaisson. His chief fame and his importance in the development of the spiritualist philosophy rest upon this book alone. In 1894 he published a course of lectures given at the Sorbonne in 1892-3, Sur l’Idée de Loi naturelle, which supplements the thesis. Outside his own country attention has been more readily bestowed upon his writings on the history of philosophy, of which subject he was Professor. In his own country, however, great interest and value are attached to his work on The Contingency of the Laws of Nature. In this Boutroux combines the attitude of Ravaisson with that of Lachelier. The totality of the laws of the universe manifests, according to him, a contingency. No explanation of these laws is possible apart from a free spiritual activity. The stress laid upon contingency in the laws of nature culminates in the belief in the freedom of man.

The critique of science which marked Boutroux’s work has profoundly influenced thinkers like Hannequin, Payot and Milhaud,^[40] and in the following century appears in the work of Duhem and of Henri Poincaré, the noted mathematician, whose books on La Science et l’Hypothèse (1902), La Valeur de la Science (1905), and Science et Méthode (1909) have confirmed many of Boutroux’s conclusions.^[41]

[40] Hannequin’s notable work is the Essai critique sur L’Hypothèse des Atomes (1896). Payot’s chief book is La Croyance (1896). Milhaud’s critique of science is contained in his Essai sur les Conditions et les Limites de la Certitude logique (1894), and in Le Rationnel (1898). Duhem’s book is La Théorie physique (1906).

[41] It is interesting to note that Boutroux married Poincaré’s sister, and that his son, Pierre Boutroux, whose education was guided by both his uncle and his father, is now Professor at the Collège de France. Emile Boutroux was a pupil of Zeller, whose lectures on Greek philosophy he attended in Heidelberg, 1868. He expressed to the writer his grief at the later prostitution of German thought to nationalist and materialist aims. He was Professor of the History of Philosophy in Paris from 1888, then Honorary Professor of Modern Philosophy. In 1914 he gave the Hertz Lecture to the British Academy on Certitude et Vérité. He was until his death Directeur de la Fondation Thiers, a college for post-graduate study, literary, philosophical and scientific.

While the new spiritualist current was thus tending to a position far removed from that of Taine, at the commencement of our period, a wavering note was struck by the idealist Fouillée (1838-1912), who, while maintaining a general attitude in harmony with the new doctrines endeavoured to effect a reconciliation with the more positive attitude to science and philosophy. In his philosophie des ideés-forces^[42] he endeavoured to combine and reconcile the diverging attitudes of Plato and of Comte. He shows a scorn of the neo-critical though of Renouvier. He wrote in his shorter life more books than did Renouvier, and he is conspicuous among this later group of thinkers for his mass-production of books, which appeared steadily at the rate of one per annum to the extent of some thirty-seven volumes, after he gave up his position as maître de conférence at the Ecole Normale owing to ill-health.^[43]

[42] His Evolutionnisme des Idées-forces appeared in 1890, La Psychologie des Idées-forces three years later. His Morale des Idées-forces belongs to the next century (1907), but its principles were contained already in his thesis Liberté et Déterminisme.

[43] He only held this for three years, 1872-75.

Fouillée, with the noblest intentions, set himself to the solution of that problem which we have already indicated as being the central one of our period, the relation of science and ethics, or, in brief, the problem of freedom. This was the subject of his thesis, undoubtedly the best book he ever wrote, La Liberté et le Déterminisme, which he sustained in 1872.^[44] The attitude which he takes in that work is the keynote to his entire philosophy. Well grounded in a knowledge of the history of systems of philosophy, ancient and modern, he recognises elements of truth in each, accompanied by errors due mainly to a one-sided perspective.^[45] He recalls a statement of Leibnitz to the effect that most systems are right in their assertions and err in their denials. Fouillée was convinced that there was reconciliation at the heart of things, and that the contradictions we see are due to our point of view. Facing, therefore, in this spirit, the problems of the hour, he set himself “to reconcile the findings of science with the reality of spirit, to establish harmony between the determinism upheld by science and the liberty which the human spirit acclaims, between the mechanism of nature and the aspirations of man’s heart, between the True which is the object of all science and the Good which is the goal of morality.”^[46]

[44] This work created quite a stir in the intellectual and political world in France just after the war. Fouillée’s book led to an attack on the ministry, which did not go so far as that occasioned by Renouvier’s volume in 1849. (See p. 61.)

[45] Fouillée stands in marked contrast to Comte in his general acquaintance with the history of ideas. Comte, like Spencer, knew little of any philosophy but his own. Fouillée, however, was well schooled, not only in Plato and the ancients, but had intimate knowledge of the work of Kant, Comte, Spencer, Lotze, Renouvier, Lachelier, Boutroux and Bergson.

[46] This is also the idea expressed at length in his Avenir de la Métaphysique, 1889.

Fouillée had no desire to offer merely another eclecticism à la mode de Cousin; he selects, therefore, his own principle of procedure. This principle is found in his notion of idée-force. Following ancient usage, he employs the term “idea” for any mental presentation. For Fouillée, however, ideas are not idées-spectacles, merely exercising a platonic influence “remote as the stars shining above us.” They are not merely mental reproductions of an object, real or hypothetical, outside the mind. Ideas are in themselves forces which endeavour to work out their own realisation. Fouillée opposes his doctrine to the evolutionary theory of Spencer and Huxley. He disagrees with their mechanism and epiphenomenalism, pointing out legitimately that our ideas, far from being results of purely physical and independent causes, are themselves factors, and very vital factors, in the process of evolution. Fouillée looks upon the mechanistic arrangement of the world as an expression or symbol of idea or spirit in a manner not unlike that of Lotze.

He bears out his view of idées-forces by showing how a state of consciousness tries to realise its object. The idea of movement is closely bound up with the physiological and physical action, and, moreover, tends to produce it. This realisation is not a merely mechanistic process but is teleological and depends on the vital unity between the physical and the mental. On this fundamental notion Fouillée constructs his psychology, his ethic, his sociology and his metaphysic. He sees in the evolutionary process ideas at work which tend to realise themselves. One of these is the idea of freedom, in which idea he endeavours to find a true reconciliation of the problem of determinism in science and the demands of the human spirit which declares itself free. The love of freedom arising from the idea of freedom creates in the long run this freedom. This is Fouillée’s method all through. “To conceive and to desire the ideal is already to begin its realisation.” He applies his method with much success in the realm of ethics and sociology where he opposes to the Marxian doctrine of a materialist determination of history that of a spiritual and intellectual determination by ideas. Fouillée’s philosophy is at once intellectual and voluntarist. He has himself described it as “spiritualistic voluntarism.” It is a system of idealism which reflects almost all the elements of modern thought. In places his doctrine of reconciliation appears to break down, and the psychological law summed up in idées-forces is hardly sufficient to bear the vast erection which Fouillée builds upon it. The idea is nevertheless a valuable and fruitful one. Fouillée’s respect for positive science is noteworthy, as is also his great interest in social problems.^[47]

[47] At the end of the century these problems received highly specialised attention in the work of the sociologists inspired by Comte’s influence. Works of special merit in this direction are: tspmas, with his Société’s animales (1876) and Tarde, predecessor of Bergson at the Collège de France (1843-1907), with his Criminalité comparée (1898) and Les Lois de l’Imitation (1900), also Durkheim’s work De la Division du Travail social (1893) and Les Régles de la Méthode sociologique (1894), and Izoulet, with his La Cité moderne (1894). Note those of Levy-Bruhl, Bouglé, and Le Bon.

The importance of the sociological aspect of all problems was emphasised in a brilliant manner by Guyau (1854-1888), the step-son of Fouillée. Guyau was a gifted young man, whose death at the early age of thirty-four was a sore bereavement for Fouillée and undoubtedly a disaster for philosophy. Guyau was trained by his step-father,^[48] and assisted him in his work. When ill-health forced both men from their professorships,^[49] they lived in happy comradeship at Mentone at the same time, it is interesting to note, that Nietzsche was residing there. Equally interesting is it to observe that although Guyau and Fouillée were unaware of the German thinker’s presence or his work, Nietzsche was well acquainted with theirs, particularly that of Guyau. Doubtless he would have been pleased to meet the author of the Esquisse d’une Morale sans Obligation ni Sanction (1885) and L’Irreligion de l’Avenir (1887). Editions of these books exist in the Nietzsche-Archiv bearing Nietzsche’s notes and comments.

[48] Some authorities are of opinion that Fouillée was actually the father of Guyau. Fouillée married Guyau’s mother.

[49] Guyau taught at the Lycée Condorcet (1874) where young Henri Bergson was studying (1868-1878).

Guyau himself has a certain affinity with Nietzsche, arising from his insistence upon Life and its power; but the author of the delightful little collection Vers d’un Philosophe (1881) is free from the egoism expressed in Der Wille zur Macht. Guyau posits as his idée-directrice the conception of Life, both individual and social, and in this concept he professes to find a basis more fundamental than that of force, movement or existence. Life involves expansion and intension, fecundity and creation. It means also consciousness, intelligence and feeling, generosity and sociability. “He only lives well who lives for others.” Life can only exist by extending. It can never be purely egoistic and endure; a certain giving of itself, in generosity and in love, is necessary for its continuance. Such is the view which the French philosopher-poet expresses in opposition to Nietzsche, starting, however, from the concept of Life did Nietzsche. Guyau worked out a doctrine of ethics and of religion based upon this concept which will demand our special attention in its proper place, when we consider the moral and religious problem. He strove to give an idealistic setting to the doctrines of evolution, and this alone would give him a place among the great thinkers of the period.

In his doctrine of the relation of thought and action Guyau followed the philosophie des idées-forces. On the other hand there are very remarkable affinities between the thought of Guyau and that of Bergson. Guyau is not so severely intellectual as Fouillée; his manner of thought and excellence of style are not unlike Bergson. More noticeably he has a conception of life not far removed from the élan vital. His “expansion of life” has, like Bergson’s évolution créatrice, no goal other than that of its own activity. After Guyau’s death in 1888 it was found that he had been exercised in mind about the problem of Time, for he left the manuscript of a book entitled La Genèse de l’Idée de Temps.^[50] He therein set forth a belief in a psychological, heterogeneous time other than mathematical time, which is really spatial in character. In this psychological time the spirit lives. The year following Guyau’s death, but before his posthumous work appeared, Bergson published his thesis Les Données immédiates de la Conscience (1889), which is better described by its English title Time and Free Will, and in which this problem which had been present to Guyau’s mind is taken up and treated in an original and striking manner. In Guyau, too, is seen the rise of the conception of activity so marked in the work of Bergson and of Blondel. “It is action and the power of life,” he insists, “which alone can solve, if not entirely at least partially, those problems to which abstract thought gives rise.”^[51]

[50] This work was edited and published by Fouillée two years after Guyau’s death, and reviewed by Bergson in the Revue philosophique in 1891.

[51] Esquisse d’une Morale sans Obligation ni Sanction, p. 250.

Bergson, born in 1859, Professor at the Collège de France from 1901 to 1921, now retired, has had a popularity to which none of the other thinkers of this group, or indeed of our period, has attained. He is the only one of the new idealists or spiritualists who is well known outside his own country. For this reason foreigners are apt to regard him as a thinker unrelated to any special current of thought, an innovator. Although much is original and novel in his philosophy, his thought marks the stage in the development to which the spiritualist current has attained in contemporary thought. The movement of which he forms a part we can trace back as far as Maine de Biran, to whom Bergson owes much, as he does also to Ravaisson, Lachelier, Boutroux and Guyau.

Two important books by Bergson came prior to 1900, his Time and Free Will (1889) and his Matter and Memory (1896). His famous Creative Evolution appeared in 1907. It is but his first work “writ large,” for we have in Time and Free Will the essentials of his philosophy.

He makes, as did Guyau, a central point of Change, a universal becoming, and attacks the ordinary notion of time, which he regards as false because it is spatial. We ourselves live and act in durée, which is Bergson’s term for real time as opposed to that fictitious time of the mathematician or astronomer. He thus lays stress upon the inward life of the spirit, with its richness and novelty, its eternal becoming, its self-creation. He has his own peculiar manner of approaching our central problem, that of freedom, of which he realises the importance. For him the problem resolves itself into an application of his doctrine of la durée, to which we shall turn in due course.

Bergson insists with Guyau and Blondel upon the primary significance of action. The importance attached to action colours his whole theory of knowledge. His epistemology rests upon the thesis that “the brain is an instrument of action and not of representation,” and that “in the study of the problems of perception the starting- point should be action and not sensation.” This is a psychology far different from that of Condillac and Taine, and it is largely upon his merit as a psychologist that Bergson’s fame rests. He devoted his second work, Matter and Memory, to showing that memory is something other than a function of the brain. His distinction between “pure” memory and mere memorising power, which is habit, recalls the mémoire of Maine de Biran and of Ravaisson upon Habit. Bergson sees in memory a manifestation of spirit, which is a fundamental reality, no mere epiphenomenon. Spirit is ever striving against matter, but in spite of this dualism which he cannot escape, he maintains that spirit is at the origin of things. This is a difficulty which is more clearly seen in his later book, Creative Evolution. Matter is our enemy and threatens our personality in its spiritual reality by a tendency to lead us into habit, away from life, freedom and creativeness.

Further we must, he claims, endeavour to see things sub specie durationis in a durée, in an eternal becoming. We cannot expect to grasp all the varied reality of life in a formula or indeed in any purely intellectual manner. This is the chief defect of science and of the so-called scientific point of view. It tries to fix in concepts, moulds and solid forms a reality which is living and moving eternally. For Bergson all is Change, and this eternal becoming we can only grasp by intuition. Intuition and intellect do not, however, oppose one another. We are thus led to realise that Life is more than logic. The Bergsonian philosophy concludes with intuitionism and contingency, which drew upon it the severe criticisms of Fouillée,^[52] who termed it a philosophy of scepticism and nihilism. Of all the spiritualist group Fouillée stands nearest the positive attitude to science, and his strong intellectualism comes out in his criticism of Bergson, who well represents, together with Blondel, the tendency towards non-intellectual attitudes inherent in the spiritualist development. Blondel has endeavoured to treat the great problems, a task which Bergson has not attempted as yet, partly because he (Bergson) shares Renan’s belief that “the day of philosophic systems has gone,” partly because he desires to lay the basis of a philosophy of the spirit to which others after him may contribute, and so he devotes his attention to method and to those crucial points, such as the problem of freedom upon which a larger doctrine must necessarily rest.^[53]

[52] Particularly in his work Le Mouvement idéaliste et la Réaction contre la Science positive (cf. .206), 1896, and later in La Pensée et les nouvelles Ecoles anti-intellectualistes, 1910.

[53] For a fuller appreciation of the Bergsonian doctrines than is possible in such a survey as this, the reader is referred to the author’s monograph, Bergson and His Philosophy, Methuen and Co., 1920.

The current of the new idealism or spiritualism reaches a culminating point in the work of Blondel (born about 1870), whose remarkable and noteworthy book L’Action appeared in l893.^[54] The fundamental thesis of the Philosophy of Action^[55] is that man’s life is primarily one of action, consequently philosophy must concern itself with the active life and not merely with thought. By its nature, action is something unique and irreducible to other elements or factors. It is not the result of any synthesis: it is itself a living synthesis, and cannot be dealt with as the scientist deals with his data. Blondel lays emphasis, as did Bergson, upon “the living” being unique and inexpressible in formulae. Intellect cannot grasp action; “one penetrates the living reality only by placing oneself at the dynamic point of view of the will.”^[56] His words recall Bergson’s attitude to the free act. “The principle of action eludes positive knowledge at the moment at which it makes it possible, and, in a word that needs to be better defined, it is subjectivity.”^[57]

[54] The same year in which the philosophic interest in France, growing since 1870, and keener in the eighties, led to the foundation of the famous Revue de Métaphysique et de Morale by Xavier Léon. In 1876 (the same year in which Professor Croom Robertson in England established the periodical Mind) Ribot had founded the Revue philosophique de la France et de l’Etranger. These journals, along with the teaching in the Lycées, have contributed to make the French people the best educated, philosophically, of any people.

[55] It is interesting to note that this designation has been used by its author to replace his original term “pragmatisme,” which he employed in 1888 and abandoned upon becoming acquainted with the theory of Peirce and James, and with their use of the term in another manner, with which he did not agree. See Bulletin de la Société française de Philosophie, 1902.

[56] L’ Action, p. 100.

[57] Ibid., p. 87.

Blondel, however, leads us beyond this subjectivity, for it is not the will which causes what is. Far from that, he maintains that in so far as it wills it implies something which it does not and cannot create of itself; it wills to be what it is not yet. We do not act for the mere sake of acting, but for some end, something beyond the particular act. Action is not self-contained or self- sufficing: it is a striving to further attainment or achievement. It therefore pre-supposes some reality beyond itself. Here appear the elements of “passion” and “suffering” due to resistance, for all action involves some opposition. In particular moral action implies this resistance and a consciousness of power to overcome the resistance, and it therefore involves a reality which transcends the sphere in which we act.

Owing to this inequality between the power and the wish, we are obliged to complete our actions or our activity in general by a belief in a Reality beyond. It is, however, “a beyond that is within,” a Divine power immanent in man. This view, Blondel claims, unites the idea of God “transcendent” with the idea of God as “immanent.” Man’s action partakes of both, for in so far as it results from his own will it is immanent; transcendence is, however, implied in the fact that the end of man’s action as a whole is not “given.” Blondel leads us to a conception of a religious idealism in which every act of our ordinary existence leads ultimately to a religious faith. Every action is sacramental. Blondel and his follower Laberthonnière, who has taken up this idea from his master in his volume of Essais de Philosophie réligieuse (1901), go beyond a purely pragmatist or voluntarist position by finding the supreme value of all action, and of the universe, not in will but in love. For Blondel this word is no mere sentiment or transient feeling, but a concrete reality which is the perfection of will and of intellect alike, of action and of knowledge. The “Philosophy of Action,” asserts Blondel, includes the “Philosophy of the Idea.” In the fact of love, he claims, is found the perfect unity between the self and the non-self, the ground of personality and its relation to the totality of persons, producing a unity in which each is seen as an end to others as well as to himself. “Love,” says Laberthonnière, “is the first and last word of all. It is the principle, the means and the end. It is in loving that one gets away from self and raises oneself above one’s temporal individuality. It is in loving that one finds God and other beings, and that one finds oneself.” It is, in short, these idealists claim, the Summum Bonum; in it is found the Absolute which philosophers and religious mystics of all ages have ever sought.

The “philosophy of action” is intimately bound up with the “philosophy of belief,” formulated by Ollé-Laprune, and the movement in religious thought known generally as Modernism, which is itself due to the influence of modern philosophic thought upon the dogmas of the Christian religion, as these are stated by the Roman Church. Both the Philosophy of Belief and Modernism are characterised by an intense spirituality and a moral earnestness which maintain the primacy of the practical reason over the theoretical reason. Life, insists Ollé-Laprune in his book Le Prix de la Vie (l885),^[58] is not contemplation but active creation. He urges us to a creative evolution of the good, to an employment of idées-forces. “There are things to be made whose measure is not determined; there are things to be discovered, to be invented, new forms of the good, ideas which have never yet been received—creations, as it were, of the spirit that loves the good.” This dynamism and power of will is essential. We must not lose ourselves in abstractions; action is the supreme thing: it alone constitutes reality.

[58] This has been followed in the new century by La Raison et le Rationalisme, 1906. As early as 1880, however, he issued his work La Certitude morale, which influenced Blondel, his pupil.

A similar note is sounded by the Modernists or Neo-Catholics, particularly by the brilliant disciple and successor of Bergson, Le Roy, who in Dogme et Critique (1907) has based the reality of religious dogma upon its practical significance. We find Péguy (who fell on the field of battle in 1914) applying Bergsonian ideas to a fervid religious faith. Wilbois unites these ideas to social ethics in his Devoir et Durée (1912). In quite different quarters the new spiritualism and philosophy of action have appeared as inspiring the Syndicalism of Sorel, who endeavours to apply the doctrines of Bergson, Ollé-Laprune and Blondel to the solution of social questions in his Réflexions sur la Violence (1907) and Illusions du Progrès (1911).

It would be erroneous to regard Bergson’s intuitional philosophy as typical of all contemporary French thought. Following Renouvier, Fouillée and Boutroux, there prevail currents of a more intellectualist or rationalist type, to which we are, perhaps, too close to see in true and historical perspective. The élan vital of French thought continues to manifest itself in a manner which combines the work of Boutroux and Bergson with Blondel’s idealism. A keen interest is being taken in the works of Spinoza, Kant and Hegel, and this is obviously influencing the trend of French philosophy at the moment, without giving rise to a mere eclecticism. French thought is too original and too energetic for that. In addition to these classical studies we should note the great and growing influence of the work of Durkheim and of Hamelin, both of whom we have already mentioned. The former gave an immense impetus to sociological studies by his earlier work. Further interest arose with his Formes élémentaires de la Vie religieuse in 1912. Hamelin indicated a turning-point from neo-criticisme through the new spiritualist doctrines to Hegelian methods and ideas. Brunschwicg, who produced a careful study of Spinoza, wrote as early as 1897 on La Modalité du Jugement, a truly Kantian topic. This thinker’s later works, Les Etapes de la Philosophie mathematique (1912) and the little volume La Vie de l’esprit, illustrate a tendency to carry out the line taken by Boutroux—namely, to arrive at the statement of a valid idealism disciplined by positivism. The papers of Berthelot in his Evolutionnisme et Platonisme are a further contribution to this great end. In the work of Evellin, La Raison pure et les Antinomies (1907), the interest in Kant and Hegel is again seen. Noël, who contributed an excellent monograph on Lachelier to the Revue de Métaphysique et de Morale (that journal which is an excellent witness in itself to the vitality of contemporary French philosophy), produced a careful study of Hegel’s Logik in 1897. Since that date interest has grown along the lines of Boutroux, Bergson and Blondel in an attempt to reach a positive idealism, which would combine the strictly positivist attitude so dear to French minds with the tendency to spiritualism or idealism which they also manifest. This attempt, which in some respects amounts to an effort to restate the principles of Hegel in modern or contemporary terms, was undertaken by Weber in 1903 in his book entitled Vers le Positivisme absolu par l’Idéalisme. Philosophy in France realises to-day that the true course of spiritual development will be at once positive and idealistic.

INTRODUCTION: The scientific outlook—Progress of the sciences—The positivist spirit, its action on science, philosophy and literature—The problem as presented to philosophy.

I. Comte’s positivism—Work of prominent scientists—Position maintained by Berthelot and Bernard—Renan’s confidence—Vacherot and Taine—Insufficiency of sciences alone.

II. Cournot and Renouvier attack the dogmatism of science.

III. The neo-spiritualist group continue and develop this attack, which becomes a marked feature in Lachelier, Boutroux, and Bergson.

Entire change of attitude in the development of the period.

The problem of freedom opened up in the process.

Having thus surveyed the main currents of our period and indicated the general attitude adopted to knowledge by the various thinkers, we approach more closely to the problem of the relation of science and philosophy. The nineteenth century was a period in which this problem was keenly felt, and France was the country in which it was tensely discussed by the most acute minds among the philosophers and among the scientists. French thought and culture, true to the tradition of the great geometrician and metaphysician Descartes, have produced men whose training has been highly scientific as well as philosophical. Her philosophers have been keenly versed in mathematics and physical science, while her scientists have had considerable power as philosophical thinkers.

One of the very prominent tendencies of thought in the first half of the nineteenth century was the growing belief and confidence in the natural sciences. In France this was in large measure due to the progress of those sciences themselves and to the influences of Comte, which was supported by the foreign influences of Kant’s teaching and that of the English School, particularly John Stuart Mill. These three great streams of thought, widely different in many respects, had this in common—that they tended to confuse philosophy and science to such a degree that it seemed doubtful whether the former could be granted any existence by itself. Science, somewhat intoxicated by the praise and worship bestowed upon her, became proud, arrogant and overbearing. She scorned facts which could not be adapted to her own nature, she ignored data which were not quantitative and materialistic, and she regarded truth as a system of laws capable of expression by strict mathematical methods and formulae*. Hence science became characterised by a firm belief in absolute determinism, in laws of necessity operating after the manner of mathematical laws. This “universal mathematic” endeavoured also to explain the complex by reference to the simple. Difficulties were encountered all along the line, for experience, it was found, did not quite fit into rigid formulae*, “new” elements of experience presented a unique character and distressing discrepancy. Confidence in science, however, was not shaken by this, for the perfect science, it was imagined, was assured in a short time. Patience might be needed, but no doubt was entertained of the possibility of such a construction. Doubters were told to look at the rising sciences of psychology and sociology, which, as Auguste Comte had himself prophesied, were approaching gradually to the “type” venerated—namely, an exact and mathematical character. Biology, it was urged, was merely a special branch of physico-chemistry. As for beliefs in freedom, in art, morality and religion, these, like philosophy (metaphysics) itself, belonged to the earlier stages (the theological and metaphysical) of Comte’s list, stages rapidly to be replaced by the third and final “positive” era.

Such, briefly stated, were the affirmations so confidently put forward on behalf of science by its devoted worshippers. Confidence in science was a marked feature of the work written by Renan in the years 1848-1849, L’Avenir de la Science. Yet, paradoxical as it may seem, Renan himself played a large part in undermining this confidence. Yet the time of his writing this work is undoubtedly the period when the confidence in science was most marked. By this it is not implied that an even greater confidence in science has not been professed since by many thinkers. That is probably true, but the important point is that at this time the confidence in science was less resisted than ever in its history. It seemed to have a clear field and positivism seemed to be getting unto itself a mighty victory.

The cult of facts, which is so marked a characteristic of the scientific or positivist temper, penetrated, it is interesting to note, into the realm of literature, where it assumed the form of “realism.” In his Intelligence we find Taine remarking, “de tout petits fails bien choisis, importants, significatifs, amplement circonstanciés et minutieusement notés, voilà aujourd’hui la matière de toute science.”^[1] It was also, in the opinion of several writers, the matière de toute littérature. The passion for minute details shows itself in the realism of Flaubert and Zola, in the psychology of Stendthal* and the novels of the Goncourts. It was no accident that their works were so loved by Taine. A similar spirit of “positivism” or “realism” animated both them and him.

[1] Preface to Intelligence.

With the turn of the half century, however, a change manifested itself by the fact that the positivist current began to turn against itself, and our period is, in some respects, what Fouillée has called la réaction centre la science positive.^[2] The function of philosophy is essentially criticism, and although at that period the vitality of philosophy was low, it nevertheless found enough energy to criticise the demands and credentials of Science.

[2] Compare also Aliotta’s book, The Idealistic Reaction against Science, Eng. trans., 19l4.

The publication of Claude Bernard’s volume Introduction à la Médecine experimentale^[3] drew from the pen of Paul Janet, the last of the Eclectic School dominated by Cousin, an article of criticism which appeared in the Revue des Deux Mondes, and was later published in his volume of essays entitled, Les Problèmes du XIX^e Siècle. Although Janet’s essay reveals all the deficiencies of the older spiritualism, he makes a gallant attempt to combat the dogmatism and the assumed finality of Bernard’s point of view and that of the scientists in general. Janet regarded the sciences and their relation to philosophy as constituting an important problem for the century and in this judgment he was not mistaken.

[3] Cf. Livre III., Science, chap, i., on “Method in General”; chap, ii., on The Experimental Method in Physiology,” pp. 213-279.

We have, in our Introductory Chapter, reckoned Auguste Comte among the influential antecedents of our period. Here, in approaching the study of the problem of science, we may note that the tendency towards the strictly scientific attitude, and to the promotion of the scientific spirit in general, was partly due to the influence of his positivism. Comte’s intended Religion of Humanity failed, his system of positive philosophy has been neglected, but the SPIRIT which he inculcated has abided and has borne fruit. We would be wrong, however, if we attributed much to Comte as the originator of that spirit. His positive philosophy, although it greatly stimulated and strengthened the positive attitude adopted by the natural sciences, was itself in large measure inspired by and based upon these sciences. Consequently much of Comte’s glory was a reflected light, his thought was a challenge to the old spiritualism, an assertion of the rights of the sciences to proclaim their existence and to demand serious consideration.

Although he succeeded in calling the attention of philosophy to the natural sciences, yet owing to the mere fact that he based himself on the sciences of his day much of his thought has become obsolete by the progress and extension of those very sciences themselves. He tended, with a curious dogmatism, to assign limits to the sciences by keeping them in separate compartments and in general by desiring knowledge to be limited to human needs. Although there is important truth in his doctrine of discontinuity or irreducible differences, the subsequent development of the natural sciences has cleared away many barriers which he imagined to be impassable. There still are, and may always be, gaps in our knowledge of the progress from inorganic to organic, from the living creature to self-conscious personality, but we have a greater conception of the unity of Nature than had Comte. Many new ideas and discoveries have transformed science since his day, particularly the doctrines dealing with heat as a form of motion, with light, electricity, and the radio-activity of matter, the structure of the atom, and the inter-relation of physics and chemistry.

Comte’s claim for different methods in the different departments of science is of considerable interest, in view of present-day biological problems and the controversies of vitalists, mechanists and neo-vitalists.^[4] Although Comte insisted upon discontinuity, yet he urged the necessity for an esprit d’ensemble, the consideration of things synthetically, in their “togetherness.” He feared that analysis, the esprit de détail or mathematisation, was being carried out à l’outrance. This opinion he first stated in 1825 in his tract entitled Considérations sur les Sciences et les Savants. On the social side he brought this point out further by insisting on the esprit d’ensemble as involving the social standpoint in opposition to a purely individualistic view of human life.

[4] See, for example, The Mechanism of Life, by Dr. Johnstone, Professor of Oceanography in the University of Liverpool. (Arnold, 1921.)

Comte was slow to realise the importance of Ethics as an independent study. Psychology he never recognised as a separate discipline, deeming it part of physiology. He gave a curious appreciation to phrenology. Unfortunately he overlooked the important work done by the introspectionist psychologists in England and the important work of Maine de Biran in his own country. One is struck by Comte’s inability to appreciate the immense place occupied by psychology in modern life and in particular its expression in the modern novel and in much modern poetry. An acquaintance with the works of men like De Regnier, Pierre Loti and Anatole France is sufficient to show how large a factor the psychological method is in French literature and life. It is to be put down to Comte’s eternal discredit that he failed to appreciate psychology. Here lies the greatest defect in his work, and it is in this connection that his work is now being supplemented. Positivism in France to-day is not a synonym for “Comtism” at all; the term is now employed to denote the spirit and temper displayed in the methods of the exact sciences. For Comte, we must never forget, scientific investigation was a means and not an end in itself. His main purpose was social and political regeneration. Positivism since Comte differs from his philosophy by a keen attention bestowed upon psychology, and many of Comte’s inadequate conceptions have been enriched by the introduction of a due recognition of psychological factors.

It is to be noted that Comte died two years before Darwin’s chef-d’œuvre appeared, and that he opposed the doctrine of evolution as put forward by Lamarck. Although Comte’s principle of discontinuity may in general have truth in it, the problem is a far more complicated one than he imagined it to be. Again, while Comte’s opposition to the subjectivism of Cousin was a wholesome influence, he did not accord to psychology its full rights, and this alone has been gravely against the acceptance of his philosophy, and explains partly the rise and progress of the new spiritualist doctrines. His work served a useful purpose, but Comte never closed definitely with the problem of the precise significance of “positivism” or with its relation to a general conception of the universe; in short, he confined himself to increasing the scientific spirit in thought, leaving aside the difficulty of relating science and philosophy.

Comte stated in his Philosophie positive^[5] that he regarded attempts to explain all phenomena by reference to one law as futile, even when undertaken by the most competent minds well versed in the study of the sciences. Although he believed in discontinuity he tried to bridge some gaps, notably by his endeavour to refer certain physiological phenomena to the law of gravitation.

[5] Vol. i., pp. 53-56.

The chief work which this undoubtedly great mind accomplished was the organisation of the scientific spirit as it appeared in his time. Renan hardly does justice to him in his sarcastic remark in his Souvenirs d’Enfance et de Jeunesse. “I felt quite irritated at the idea of Auguste Comte being dignified with the title of a great man for having expressed in bad French what all scientific minds had seen for the last two hundred years as clearly as he had done.” His work merits more than dismissal in such a tone, and we may here note, as the essence of the spirit which he tried to express, his definition of the positive or scientific attitude to the universe given at the commencement of his celebrated Cours de Philosophie positive. There, in defining the positive stage, Comte speaks of it as that period in which “the human spirit, recognising the impossibility of obtaining absolute conceptions, abandons the search for the origin and the goal of the universe and the inner causes of things, to set itself the task merely of discovering, by reasoning and by experience combined, the effective laws of phenomena—that is to say, their invariable relations of succession and of similarity.”^[6] This positive spirit Comte strove to express rather than to originate, for it was already there in the sciences. Undoubtedly his work made it more prominent, more clear, and so we have to note an interaction between positivism in the sciences and in philosophy.

[6] Leçon i.

It is equally important for our purpose to notice that the period was one rich in scientific thought. The work of Lavoisier and Bichat, both of whom as contemporaries of Maine de Biran, belong to the former century, was now bearing fruit. Lavoisier’s influence had been great over chemistry, which he established on a modern basis, by formulating the important theory of the conservation of mass and by clearing away false and fan- tastic conceptions regarding combustion.^[7] Bichat, the great anatomist and physiologist, died in 1802, but the publication of his works in a completed form was not accomplished until 1854. The work and influence of the Académie des Sciences are noteworthy features of French culture at this time. There stands out prominently the highly important work of Cuvier in anatomy, zoology and palæontology.^[8] The nineteenth century was a period of great scientists and of great scientific theories. Leverrier, applying himself to the problem of the motions of Uranus, found a solution in the hypothesis of another planet, Neptune, which was actually discovered from his calculations in 1846. This was a notable victory for logical and scientific method. In 1809 Lamarck had outlined, prior to Spencer or Darwin, the scheme of the evolutionary theory (Transformism).^[9] Spencer’s work, which appeared from 1850 onwards, has always commanded respect and attention in France even among its critics.^[10] Interest increased upon the publication of Darwin’s Origin of Species in 1859, and its translation into French in 1862. These dates coincide with the rise of the Société d’Anthropologie de Paris, founded by Broca in the same year that Darwin’s book appeared. Another translation from Darwin’s work followed in 1872, Descendance de l’Homme, which aroused further interest in the evolutionary theory. At the same time the work of men such as Pasteur, Bertrand, Berthelot and Bernard gave an impetus and a power to science. Poincare belongs rather to the twentieth century. Pasteur (1822-1895) showed mankind how science could cure its ills by patient labour and careful investigation, and earned the world’s gratitude for his noble work. His various Discours and his volume, Le Budget de la Science (1868), show his faith in this progressive power of science. In Bertrand (1822-1900), his contemporary who held the position of Professor of Mathematics at the College de France, a similar attitude appears.

[7] Lavoisier perished at the guillotine in 1794, and his death was a tragic loss to science.

[8] Cuvier’s Anatomie comparée appeared in the years 1800-1805, following his Histoire naturelle (1798-1799). Later came his Rapport sur les Sciences naturelles (1810) and his work Le Regne animal (1816).He died in 1832. We may note that Cuvier opposed the speculative evolutionary doctrines of Lamarck, with whom he indulged in controversy.

[9] In his work, Philosophie zoologique, ou Exposition des Considérations relatives a l’Histoire naturelle des Animaux, 2 vols Paris, Dentu, 1809.

[10] His Social Statics was published in 1850, and his Psychology five years later. His life work, The Synthetic Philosophy, extends over the period 1860-1896.

One of the foremost scientific minds, however, was Claude Bernard (1813-1878), a friend of Renan, who held the Chair of Medicine at the College de France, and was, in addition, the Professor of Physiology at the Faculté des Sciences at the Sorbonne. Science, Bernard maintained, concerns itself only with phenomena and their laws. He endeavoured in his celebrated Introduction à l’Etude de la Médécine expérimentale, published in 1865, to establish the science of physiology upon a sound basis, having respect only to fact, not owning homage to theories of a metaphysical character or to the authority of persons or creeds. He desired to obtain by such a rigorous and precise method, objectivity. “The experimental method is,” he insists, “the really scientific method, which proclaims the freedom of the human spirit and its intelligence. It not only shakes off the yoke of metaphysics and of theology, in addition it refuses to admit personal considerations and subjective standpoints.”^[11]

[11] Introduction à l’Etude de la Médécine expérimentale, chap. ii, sect. 4.

Bernard’s attitude is distinctly that of a positivist, and the general tone of his remarks as well as his attitude on many special points agrees with that of Comte. His conclusions regarding physiology are akin to those expressed by Comte concerning biology. Bernard excludes any metaphysical hypothesis such as the operation of a vital principle, and adheres strictly to physicochemical formulas. He accepts, however, Comte’s warning about the reduction of the higher to terms of the lower, or, in Spencerian phraseology, the explanation of the more complex by the less complex. Consequently, he carefully avoids the statement that he desires to “reduce” physiology to physics and chemistry. He makes no facile and light-hearted transition as did Spencer; on the contrary, he claims that the living has some specific quality which cannot be “reduced” to other terms, and which cannot be summed up in the formulae of physics or chemistry. The physiologist and the medical practitioner must never overlook the fact that every living being forms an organism and an individuality. The physiologist, continues Bernard, must take notice of this unity or harmony of the whole, even while he penetrates the interior to know the mechanism of each of its parts. The physicist and the chemist can ignore any notion of final causes in the facts they observe, but the physiologist must admit a harmonious finality, a harmony pre-established in the organism, whose actions form and express a unity and solidarity, since they generate one another. Life itself is creation; it is not capable of expression merely in physico-chemical formulae. The creative character, which is its essence, never can be so expressed. Bernard postulated an abstract, idée directrice et créatrice, presiding over the evolution of an organism. “Dans tout germe vivant, il y a une idée créatrice qui se développe et se manifeste par l’organisation. Pendant toute sa durée l’être vivant reste sous l’influence de cette même force vitale, créatrice, et la mort arrive lorsqu’elle ne peut plus se réaliser. Ici comme partout, tout dérive de l’idée, qui, seule, crée et dirige.”^[12]

[12] Introduction à l’Etude de la Médécine expérimentale, p.151 ff.

The positivist spirit is again very marked in the doctrines of Berthelot (1827-1907), another very great friend of Renan, who, in addition to being a Senator, and Minister of Education and of Foreign Affairs, held the Chair of Organic Chemistry at the Collège de France. In 1886 he published his volume, Science et Philosophie, which contains some interesting and illuminating observations upon La Science idéale et la Science positive. Part of this, it may be noted, was written as early as 1863, in correspondence with Renan, and as a reply to a letter of his of which we shall speak presently.^[13] Berthelot states his case with a clearness which merits quotation.

[13] See the Fragments of Renan, published 1876, pp 193-241. Reponse de M. Berthelot.

“Positive science,” he says, “seeks neither first causes nor the ultimate goal of things. In order to link together a multitude of phenomena by one single law, general in character and conformable to the nature of things, the human spirit has followed a simple and invariable method. It has stated the facts in accordance with observation and experience, compared them, extracted their relations, that is the general facts, which have in turn been verified by observation and experience, which verification constitutes their only guarantee of truth. A progressive generalisation, deduced from prior facts and verified unceasingly by new observations, thus brings our knowledge from the plane of particular and popular facts to general laws of an abstract and universal character. But, in the construction of this pyramid of science, everything from base to summit rests upon observation and experience. It is one of the principles of positive science that no reality can be established by a process of reasoning. The universe cannot be grasped by a priori methods.”

Like Comte, Berthelot believed in the progress of all knowledge through a theological and metaphysical stage to a definitely scientific or positive era. The sciences are as yet young, and we cannot imagine the development and improvement, social and moral, which will accrue from their triumph in the future. For Berthelot, as for Renan, the idea of progress was bound up essentially with the triumph of the scientific spirit. In a Discourse at the Sorbonne given in commemoration of the fiftieth anniversary of his being appointed Professor at the Collège de France, we find this faith in science reiterated. “To-day,” he remarks, “Science claims a triple direction of societies, materially, intellectually and morally. By this fact the role of the men of science, both as individuals and as a class, has unceasingly come to play a great part in modern states.”

These scientific men, Berthelot and Bernard, with whom Renan was on terms of friendship, had a large influence in the formation of his thought, after he had quitted the seminary and the Church. As a young man Renan possessed the positive spirit in a marked degree, and did not fail to disclose his enthusiasm for “Science” and for the scientific method. His book L’Avenir de la Science, which we have already noted, was written when he was only twenty-five, and under the immediate influence of the events of 1848, particularly the socialist spirit of Saint-Simon and the “organising” attitude of Auguste Comte. It did not, however, see publication until 1890, when the Empire had produced a pessimistic temper in him, later accentuated by the Commune and the Prussian War. The dominant note of the whole work is the touching and almost pathetic belief in Science, which leads the young writer to an optimism both in thought and in politics. “Science” constitutes for him the all-in-all. Although he had just previously abandoned the seminary, his priestly style remained with him to such a degree that even his treatment of science is characterised by a mixture of the unction of the curé and the subtilty of the dialectician. Levites were still to be necessary to the people of Israel, but they were to be the priests of the most High, whose name, according to Renan, was “Science.”

His ardour for Science is not confined to this one book: it runs through all his writings. Prospero, a character who personifies rational thought in L’Eau de Jouvence, one of Renan’s Drames philosophiques, expresses an ardent love for science continually. In his preface to Souvenirs d’Enfance et de Jeunesse we find Renan upon the same theme. Quaintly enough he not only praises the objectivity which is characteristic of the scientific point of view, but seems to delight in its abstraction. The superiority of modern science consists, he claims, in this very abstraction. But he is aware that the very indefatigability with which we fathom nature removes us, in a sense, further from her. He recognises how science leads away from the immediacy of vital and close contact with nature herself. “This is, however, as it should be,” asserts Renan, “and let no one fear to prosecute his researches, for out of this merciless dissection comes life.” He does not stay to assure us, or to enlighten us, as to how that life can be infused into the abstract facts which have resulted from the process of dissection. Fruitful and suggestive as many of his pages are, they fail to approach the concrete difficulties which this passage mentions.

Writing from Dinant in Brittany in 1863 to his friend, Berthelot, Renan gives his view of the Sciences of Nature and the Historical Sciences. This letter, reprinted in his Dialogues et Fragments philosophiques, in 1876, expresses Renan’s.views in a clear and simple form upon the place of science in his mind and also upon the idea of progress, as for him the two are intimately connected. Extreme confidence is expressed in the power of science. Renan at this time had written, but not published, his Avenir de la Science. In a brief manner this letter summarises much contained in the larger work. The point of view is similar. Science is to be the great reforming power.

The word “Science” is so constantly upon Renan’s lips that we can see that it has become an obsession with mm to employ it, or a device. Certainly Renan’s extensive and ill-defined usage of it conceals grave difficulties. One is tempted frequently to regard it as a synonym for philosophy or metaphysics, a word which he dislikes. That does not, however, add to clearness, and Renan’s usage of “Science” as a term confuses both science and philosophy together. Even if this were not the case, there is another important point to note— namely, that even on a stricter interpretation Renan, by his wide use of the term, actually undermines the confidence in the natural sciences. For he embraces within the term “Science” not merely those branches of investigation which we term in general the sciences of nature, but also the critical study of language, of history and literature. He expressly endeavours to show in the letter to Berthelot that true science must include the product of man’s spirit and the record of the development of that spirit.

Renan assumed quite definitely a positivist attitude to metaphysics. “Philosophy,” he remarks, “is not a separate science; it is one side of every science. In the great optic pencil of human knowledge it is the central region where the rays meet in one and the same light.” Metaphysical speculation he scorned, but he admitted the place for a criticism of the human mind such as had been given by Kant in The Critique of Pure Reason.

Kantian also, in its professions at least, was the philosophy of Vacherot, who stated that the aim of his work, La Métaphysique et la Science, was “the reconciliation of metaphysics with science.”^[14] These dialogues between a philosopher and a man of science, for of such discussions the book is composed, never really help us to get close to the problem, for Vacherot’s Kantianism is a profession which merely covers an actual positivism. His metaphysical doctrines are superimposed on a severe and rigid naturalism, but are kept from conflict with them, or even relation with them, by being allotted to a distant limbo of pure ideals, outside the world which science displays to us.

[14] See particularly his statements to this effect in his Preface, pp. xxxvii-xl.

Taine, in spite of his severely positive attitude, was a strong champion of metaphysics. The sciences needed, he claimed, a science of first principles, a metaphysic. Without it, “the man of science is merely a manœuvre and the artist a dilettante.” The positive sciences he re- garded as inferior types of analysis. Above them “is a superior analysis which is metaphysics, and which reduces or takes up these laws of the sciences into a universal formula.” This higher analysis, however, does not give the lie to the others: it completes them.

It was indeed a belief and hope of Taine that the sciences will be more and more perfected until they can each be expressed in a kind of generic formula, which in turn may be capable of expression in some single formula. This single law is being sought by science and metaphysic, although it must belong to the latter rather than to the former. From it, as from a spring, proceeds, according to Taine, the eternal roll of events and the infinite sea of things.

Taine’s antagonism to the purely empirical schools centres round his conception of the law of causality. He disagrees with the assertion that this law is a synthetic, a posteriori judgment, a habit, as Hume said, or a mechanical attente, as Mill thought, or a generalisation of the sensation of effort which we feel in ourselves, as was suggested by Maine de Biran. Yet he also opposes Kant’s doctrine, in which causality is regarded as a synthetic a priori judgment. His own criticism of Hume and Kant was directed to denial of the elements of heterogeneity in experience, which are so essential to Hume’s view, and to a denial of the distinction maintained by Kant between logical and causal relations. Taine considered that all might be explained by logical relations, that all experience might some day be expressed in one law, one formula. The more geometrico of Spinoza and the “universal mathematic” of Descartes reappear in Taine. He even essays in L’Intelligence to equate the principle of causality (principe de raison explicative) with that of identity.

His attempt to reduce the principle of causality to that of identity did not succeed very well, and from the nature of the case this was to be expected. As Fouillée well points out in his criticism of Taine, both in La Liberté et le Déterminisme and the concluding pages of his earlier work on Plato,^[15] the notion of difference and heterogeneity which arises in the action of cause and effect can never be reducible to a mere identity, for the notion of identity has nothing in common with that of difference. Differences cannot be ignored; variety and change are undeniable facts of experience. Fouillée here touches the weak spot of Taine’s doctrine. In spite of a seemingly great power of criticism there is an underlying dogmatism in his work, and the chief of those dogmas, which he does not submit to criticism, is the assertion of the universal necessity of all things. To this postulate he gives a false air of objectivity. He avoids stating why we do objectify causality, and he diverts discussion from the position that this postulate may itself be subjective.

[15] Vol. 4.

The particular bearing of Taine’s psychology upon the general problem of knowledge is interesting. He defines perception in L’Intelligence as une hallucination vraie. His doctrine of the “double aspect,” physical and mental, recalls to mind the Modes of Spinoza. In his attitude to the difficult problem of movement and thought he rests in the dualism of Spinoza, fluctuating and not enunciating his doctrine clearly. The primacy of movement to thought he abandoned as too mechanical a doctrine, and regarded the type of existence as mental in character. Taine thus passes from the materialism of Hobbes to the idealism of Leibnitz. “The physical world is reducible to a system of signs, and no more is needed for its construction and conception than the materials of the moral world.”

When we feel ourselves constrained to admit the necessity of certain truths, if we are inclined to regard this as due to the character of our minds themselves (notre structure mentale), as Kant maintained, Taine reminds us that we must admit that our mind adapts itself to its environment. He here adopts the view of Spencer, a thinker who seems to have had far more influence upon the Continent than in his own country. Although Taine thus reposes his epistemology upon this basis, he does not answer the question which the Kantian can still put to him—namely, “How do we know the structure of things?” He is unable to escape from the difficulty of admitting either that it is from experience, an admission which his anti-empirical attitude forbids him to make (and which would damage his dogma of universal logical necessity), or that our knowledge is obtained by analysing our own thoughts, in which case he leaves us in a vicious circle of pure subjectivity from which there is no means of escape.

The truth is that Taine vainly tried to establish a phenomenal doctrine, not purely empirical in character like that of Hume, but a phenomenalism wedded to a necessity which is supposed to be self-explanatory. Such a notion of necessity, however, is formal and abstract. Rather than accept Taine’s view of a law, a formula, an “eternal axiom” at the basis of things, we are obliged to postulate an activity, creative in character, of whose action universal laws are but expressions. Law, formula, axiom without action are mere abstractions which can of themselves produce nothing.

Taine’s positivism, however, was not so rigid as to exclude a belief in the value of metaphysics. It is this which distinguishes him from the Comtian School. We see in him the confidence in science complemented by an admission of metaphysics, equivalent to a turning of “positivism” in science and philosophy against itself. Much heavier onslaughts upon the sovereignty of science came, however, from the thinker who is the great logician and metaphysician of our period, Renouvier. To him and to Cournot we now turn.

While Taine had indeed maintained the necessity of a metaphysic, he shared to a large degree the general confidence in science displayed by Comte, Bernard, Berthelot and Renan. But the second and third groups of thinkers into which we have divided our period took up first a critical attitude to science and, finally, a rather hostile one.

Cournot marks the transition between Comte and Renouvier. His Essai sur les Fondements de nos Connaissances et sur les Caractères de la Critique philosophique contains some very calm and careful thought on the relation of science and philosophy, which is the product of a sincere and well-balanced mind.^[16] He inherits from the positivists an intense respect for scientific knowledge, and remarks at the outset that he is hostile to any philosophy which would be so foolish as to attempt to ignore the work of the modern sciences.

[16] See in particular the second chapter of vol. 2, Du Contraste de la Science et de la Philosophie et de la Philosophie des Sciences, pp. 216-255.

His work Matérialisme, Vitalisme, Rationalisme is a striking example of this effort on Cournot’s part, being devoted to a study of the use which can be made in philosophy of the data afforded by the sciences. Somewhat after the manner of Comte, Cournot looks upon the various sciences as a hierarchy ranging from mathematics to sociology. Yet he reminds the scientists of the insufficiency of their point of view, for the sciences, rightly pursued, lead on to philosophy. He laments, however, the confusion of the two, and thinks that such confusion is “partly due to the fact that in the realm of speculations which are naturally within the domain of the philosopher, there are to be found here and there certain theories which can actually be reduced to a scientific form”^[17] He offers, as an instance of this, the theory of the syllogism, which has affinities to algebraical equations—but this interpenetration should not cause us, he argues, to abandon or to lose sight of the distinction between science and philosophy.

[17] Essai sur les Fondements de nos Connaissances, vol. 2, p. 224.

This distinction, according to Cournot, lies in the fact that science has for its object that which can be measured, and that which can be reduced to a rigorous chain or connection. In brief, science is characterised by quantity. Philosophy, on the other hand, concerns itself with quality, for it endeavours not so much to measure as to appreciate.

Cournot reminds the apostles of science that quantity, however intimately bound up with reality it may be, is not the essence of that reality itself. He is afraid, too, that the neglect of philosophy by science may cause the latter to develop along purely utilitarian lines. As an investigation of reality, science is not ultimate. It has limits by the fact that it is concerned with measurement, and thus is excluded from those things which are qualitative and incapable of quantitative expression. Science, moreover, has its roots in philosophy by virtue of the metaphysical postulates which it utilises as its basis. Physics and geometry, Cournot maintains, both rest upon definitions which owe their origin to speculative thought rather than to experience, yet these sciences claim an absolute value for themselves and for those postulates as being descriptions of reality in an ultimate sense.

Following out his distinction between philosophy and the sciences, Cournot claims in a Kantian manner that while the latter are products of the human understanding the former is due to the operation of reason. This apparent dualism Cournot does not shrink from maintaining; indeed, he makes it an argument for his doctrine of discontinuity. The development of a science involves a certain breach with reality, for the progress of the science involves abstraction, which ever becomes more complicated. Cournot here brings out the point which we noticed was stressed by Renan.^[18]

[18] See above, p. 105.

Reason produces in us the idea of order, and this “idea of order and of reason in things is the basis of philosophic probability, of induction and analogy.”^[19] This has important bearings upon the unity of science and upon the conception of causality which it upholds. In a careful examination of the problems of induction and analogy, Cournot emphasises the truth that there are facts which cannot be fitted into a measured or logical sequence of events. Reality cannot be fitted into a formula or into concepts, for these fail to express the infinite variety and richness of the reality which displays itself to us. Science can never be adequate to life, with its pulsing spontaneity and freedom. It is philosophy with its vue d’ensemble which tries to grasp and to express this concreteness, which the sciences, bound to their systematic connection of events within separate compartments, fail to reach or to show us. Referring to the ideas of beauty and of goodness, Cournot urges a “transrationalism,” as he calls it, which, while loyal to the rational requirements of science, will enable us to take the wider outlook assumed by philosophy.^[20]

[19] Essai sur les Fondements de nos Connaissances, p. 384.

[20] The parallelism of some of Cournot’s ideas here with those expressed by Bergson, although they have been enunciated by the later thinker in a more decided manner, is so obvious as hardly to need to be indicated.

Like Cournot, the author of the Essais de Critique générale was a keen antagonist of all those who sought to deify Science. It was indeed this which led Renouvier to give this title to his great work, the first part of which was published at a time when the confidence in Science appeared to be comparatively unassailed. We find him defending philosophy as against the scientists and others by an insistence upon its critical function.

In examining Comte’s positivism in his work Histoire et Solution des Problèmes métaphysiques, Renouvier points out that its initial idea is a false one—namely, that philosophy can be constituted by an assembling together of the sciences.^[21] Such an assembly does not, he objects, make a system. Each science has its own postulates, its own data, and Science as a whole unity of thought or knowledge does not exist. He attacks at the same time the calm presumption of the positivist who maintains that the scientific stage is the final and highest development. Renouvier is considerably annoyed at this unwarranted dogmatism and assumed air of finality.

[21] Book X.: De l’Etat actuel de la Philosophie en France, chap. 1., De l’Aboutissement des Esprits au Positivisme, pp. 416-417.

Owing to the excellent training he had received at the Ecole Polytechnique, and by his own profound study, Renouvier was able on many technical points to meet the scientists on their own ground. His third Essai de Critique générale is devoted to a study of “the Principles of Nature,” in which he criticises many of the principles and assumptions of mechanism, while many pages of his two previous Essais are concerned with the discussion of questions intimately affecting the sciences.^[22]

[22] This is particularly noticeable in the matter printed as appendices to his chapters. (Cf. the Logic, vol 2.)

An important section of his second Essay, Psychologie rationnelle, deals with the “Classification of the Sciences.”^[23] Renouvier there points out that the attempt to classify the sciences in accordance with their degrees of certainty ends in failure. All of them, when loyal to their own principles, endeavour to display equal certainty. By loyalty Renouvier shows that he means adherence to an examination of certain classes of phenomena, the observation of facts and laws, with the proposal of hypotheses, put forward frankly as such. He draws a line between the logical and the physical sciences—a division which he claims is not only a division according to the nature of their data, but also according to method. Following another division, we may draw a line between sciences which deal with objects which are organic, living creatures, and those which are not.

[23] Vol. 2, chap. xviii., De la Certitude des Sciences et leur Classification rationnelle, pp. 139-186, including later observations on Spencer.

Renouvier’s line is not, it must be remembered in this connection, a purely imaginary one. It is a real line, an actual gap. For him there is a real discontinuity in the universe. Taine’s doctrine of a universal explanation, of a rigid unity and continuity, is, for Renouvier, anathema, c’est la mathématisation a l’outrance. This appears most markedly in the pages which he devotes to the consideration of la synthèse totale.

An important section of his Traité de Logique (the first Essai de Critique générale) deals with the problem of this Total Synthesis of all phenomena.^[24] This is a conception which Renouvier affirms to be unwarrantable and, indeed, in the last analysis impossible. A general synthesis, an organisation or connected hierarchy of sciences, is a fond hope, an illusion only of a mind which can overlook the real discontinuity which exists between things and between groups of things.

[24] Vol. I, pp. 107-115, and also vol. 2, pp. 202-245.

He sees in it the fetish of the Absolute and the Infinite and the lure of pantheism, a doctrine to which he opposes his “Personalism.” He reminds the scientists that personality is the great factor to which all knowledge is related, and that all knowledge is relative. A law is a law, but the guarantee of its permanence is not a law. It is no more easy, claims Renouvier, to say why phenomena do not stop than it is to know why they have begun. Laws indeed abide, but “not apart from conscious personalities who affirm them.”^[25] Further, attacking the self-confident and dogmatic attitude in the scientists, Renouvier reminds them that it is impossible to demonstrate every proposition; and in an important note on “Induction and the Sciences”^[26] he points out that induction always implies a certain croyance. This is no peculiar, mystical thing; it is a fact, he remarks, which colours all the interesting acts of human personality. He here approaches Cournot in observing that all speculation is attended by a certain coefficient of doubt or uncertainty and so becomes really rational belief. With Cournot, too, Renouvier senses the importance of analogy and probability in connection with hypotheses in the world of nature and of morals. In short, he recognises as central the problem of freedom.

[25] Logique, vol. 2, p. 321.

[26] Note B to chap. xxxv. of the Logique, vol. 2, p. 13.

Renouvier attacks Comte’s classification or “hierarchy” of the sciences as mischievous and inexact. It is not based, he claims, upon any distinction in method, nor of data. It is not true that the sciences are arranged by Comte in an order where they successively imply one another, nor in an order in which they have come to be constituted as “positive”.^[27]

[27] This outburst of attack is a sample of Renouvier’s usual attitude to Positivism. (Deuxième Essai, vol. 2, pp. 166-170.)

He justifies to the scientist the formulation of hypothesis as a necessary working method of co-ordinating in a provisional manner varying phenomena. Many hypotheses and inductions of science are, however, unjustifiable from a strictly logical standpoint, Renouvier reminds us. His chief objection, however, is that those hypotheses and inductions are put forward so frequently as certainties by a science which is dogmatic and surpasses its limits.

Science, Renouvier claims, does not give us a knowledge of the absolute, but an understanding of the relative. It is in the light of his doctrine of relativity and of the application of the law of number that he criticises many of the attitudes adopted by the scientists. Whatever savours of the Absolute or the Infinite he opposes, and his view of cause depends on this. He scorns the fiction of an infinite regress, and affirms real beginnings to various classes of phenomena. Causality is not to be explained, he urges in his Nouvelle Monadologie, save by a harmony. He differs from Leibnitz, however, in claiming in the interests of freedom that this harmony is not pre-established. In meeting the doctrine of the reduction of the complex to the simple, Renouvier cites the case of “reducing” sound, heat, light and electricity to movement. This may be superficially correct as a generality, but Renouvier aptly points out that it overlooks the fact that, although they may all be abstractly characterised as movement, yet there are differences between them as movements which correspond to the differences of sensation they arouse in us.

Renouvier upholds real differences, real beginnings, and, it must be added, a reality behind and beyond the appearances of nature. His Monadologie admits that “we can continue to explain nature mathematically and mechanically, provided we recognise that it is an external appearance—that thought, mind or spirit is at the heart of it.” This links Renouvier to the group of new spiritualists. His attitude to science is akin to theirs. He does not fear science when it confines itself to its proper limits and recognises these. It has no quarrel with philosophy nor philosophy with it. Advance in science involves, he believes, an advance also in theology and in metaphysics.

The sciences are responsible for working out the laws determining the development of the Universe. But between Science, an ideal unachieved, and the sciences which in themselves are so feeble, imperfect and limited, Renouvier claims that General Criticism, or Philosophy, has its place. “In spite of the discredit into which philosophy has fallen in these days, it can and ought to exist. Its object has been always the investigation of God, man, liberty, immortality, the fundamental laws of the sciences. ‘All these intimately connected and interpenetrating problems comprise the domain of philosophy.” In those cases where no science is possible, this seeming impossibility must itself be investigated, and philosophy remains as a “General Criticism” (Critique générale) of our knowledge. “It is this notion,” he says, “which I desired to indicate by banishing the word ‘Philosophy’ from the title of my Essays. The name ought to change when the method changes.”^[28] Thus Renouvier seeks to establish a “critique” midway between scepticism and dogmatism, and endeavours to found a philosophy which recognises at one and the same time the demands of science et conscience.

[28] Logique, vol. 2, p. 352.

On turning to the spiritualist current of thought we find it, like the neo-criticism, no less keen in its criticism of science. The inadequacy of the purely scientific attitude is the recurring theme from Ravaisson to Boutroux, Bergson and Le Roy. The attitude assumed by Ravaisson coloured the whole of the subsequent development of the new spiritualist doctrines, and not least their bearing upon the problem of science and its relation to metaphysics.

Mechanism, Ravaisson pointed out, quoting the classical author upon whom he had himself written so brilliantly (Aristotle), does not explain itself, for it implies a “prime mover,” not itself in motion, but which produces movement by spiritual activity. Ravaisson also refers to the testimony of Leibnitz, who, while agreeing that all is mechanical, carefully added to this statement one to the effect that mechanism itself has a principle which must be looked for outside matter and which is the object of metaphysical research. This spiritual reality is found only, according to Ravaisson, in the power of goodness and beauty—that is to say, in a reality which is not non-scientific but rather ultra-scientific. There are realities, he claims, to which science does not attain.

The explanation of nature presupposes soul or spirit. It is true, Ravaisson admits, that the physical and chemical sciences consider themselves independent of metaphysics; true also that the metaphysician in ignoring the study of those sciences omits much from his estimate of the spirit. Indeed, he cannot well dispense with the results of the sciences. That admission, however, does not do away with the possibility of a true “apologia” for metaphysics. To Newton’s sarcastic remark, “Physics beware of metaphysics,” Hegel replied cogently that this was equivalent to saying, “Physics, keep away from thought.” Spirit, however, cannot be omitted from the account; it is the condition of all that is, the light by which we see that there is such a thing as a material universe. This is the central point of Ravaisson’s philosophy. The sciences of nature may be allowed and encouraged to work diligently upon their own principles, but the very fact that they are individual sciences compels them to admit that they view the whole “piecemeal”. Philosophy seeks to interpret the whole as a whole. Ravaisson quotes Pascal’s saying, “Il faut avoir une pensée de derrière la tête et juger de tout par là.” This pensée de derrière la tête, says Ravaisson, while not preventing the various sciences from speaking in their own tongue, is just the metaphysical or philosophical idea of the whole.

It is claimed, Aristotle used to say, that mathematics have absolutely nothing in common with the idea of the good. “But order, proportion, symmetry, are not these great forms of beauty?” asks Ravaisson. For him there is spirit at the heart of things, an activity, un feu primitif qui est l’âme, which expresses itself in thought, in will and in love. It is a fire which does not burn itself out, because it is enduring spirit, an eternal cause, the absolute substance is this spiritual reality. Where the sciences fall short is that they fail to show that nature is but the refraction of this spirit. This is a fact, however, which both religion and philosophy grasp and uphold.

These criticisms were disturbing for those minds who found entire satisfaction in Science or rather in the sciences, but they were somewhat general. Ravaisson’s work inculcated a spirit rather than sustained a dialectic. Its chief value lay in the inspiration which it imparted to subsequent thinkers who endeavoured to work out his general ideas with greater precision.

It was this task which Lachelier set himself in his Induction. He had keenly felt the menace of science, as had Janet;^[29] he had appreciated the challenge offered to it by Ravaisson’s ideas. Moreover, Lachelier’s acute mind discovered the crucial points upon which the new spiritualism could base its attack upon the purely scientific dogmatism. Whatever Leibnitz might have said, creative spontaneity of the spirit, as it was acclaimed by Ravaisson, could not easily be fitted into the mechanism and determinism upheld by the sciences. Ravaisson had admitted the action of efficient causes in so far as he admitted the action of mechanism, which is but the outcome of these causes. In this way he endeavoured to satisfy the essential demands of the scientific attitude to the universe. But recognising the inadequacy of this attitude he had upheld the reality of final causes and thus opposed to the scientists a metaphysical doctrine akin to the religious attitude of Hellenism and Christianity.

[29] We refer here to the quotation from Janet’s Problèmes du XIX^e Siècle, given above on p. 95. Janet himself wrote on Final Causes but not Wlth the depth or penetration of Lachelier.

Lachelier saw that the important point of Ravaisson’s doctrine lay in the problem of these two types of causality. His thesis is therefore devoted to the examination of efficient and final causes. This little work of Lachelier marks a highly important advance in the development of the spiritualist philosophy. He clarifies and re-affirms more precisely the position indicated by Ravaisson. Lacheher tears up the treaty of compromise which was drafted by Leibnitz to meet the rival demands of science with its efficient causes and philosophy with its final causes. The world of free creative spontaneity of the spirit cannot be regarded, Lachelier claims (and this is his vital point), as merely the complement of, or the reflex from, the world of mechanism and determinism.

He works out in his thesis the doctrine that efficient causes can be deduced from the formal laws of thought. This was Taine’s position, and it was the limit of Taine’s doctrine. Lachelier goes further and undermines Taine’s theories by upholding final causes, which he shows depend upon the conception of a totality, a whole which is capable of creating its parts. This view of the whole is a philosophical conception to which the natural sciences never rise, and which they cannot, by the very nature of their data and their methods, comprehend. Yet it is only such a conception which can supply any rational basis for the unity of phenomena and of experience. Only by seeing the variety of all phenomena in the light of such an organic unity can we find any meaning in the term universe, and only thus, continues Lachelier, only on the principle of a rational and universal order and on the reality of final causes, can we base our inductions. The “uniformity of nature,” that fetish of the scientists which, as Lachelier well points out, is merely the empirical regularity of phenomena, offers no adequate basis for a single induction.

Lachelier developed his doctrines further in the article, Psychologie et Métaphysique. We can observe in it the marks which so profoundly distinguish the new spiritualism from the old, as once taught by Cousin. The old spiritualism had no place between its psychology and its metaphysics for the natural sciences. Indeed it was quite incapable of dealing with the problem which their existence and success presented, and so it chose to ignore them as far as possible. The new spiritualism, of which Lachelier is perhaps the profoundest speculative mind, not only is acquainted with the place and results of the sciences, but it feels itself equal to a criticism of them, an advance which marks a highly important development in philosophy.

In this article Lachelier endeavours to pass beyond the standpoint of Cousin, and in so doing we see not only the influence of Ravaisson’s ideas of the creative activity of the spirit, but also of the discipline of the Kantian criticism, with which Lachelier, unlike many of his contemporaries in France at that time, was well acquainted.

He first shows that the study of psychology reveals to us the human powers of sensation, feeling and will. These are the immediate data of consciousness. Another element, however, enters into consciousness, not as these three, a definite content, but as a colouring of the whole. This other element is “objectivity,” an awareness or belief that the world without exists and continues to exist independently of our observation of it. Lachelier combats, however, the Kantian conception of the “thing-in-itself.” If, he argues, the world around us appears as a reality which is independent of our perception, it is not because it is a “thing-in-itself,” but rather it appears as independent because we, possessing conscious intelligence, succeed in making it an object of our thought, and thus save it from the mere subjectivity which characterises our sense-experience. It is upon this fact, Lachelier rightly insists, that all our science reposes. A theory of knowledge as proposed by Taine, based solely on sensation and professing belief in hallucination vraie, is itself a contradiction and an abuse of language. “If thought is an illusion,” remarks Lachelier, “we must suppress all the sciences.”^[30]

[30] Psychologie et Métaphisique, p.151.(See especially the passages on pp.150-158.)

He then proceeds to show that if we admit thought to be the basis of our knowledge of the world, that is, of our sciences, then we admit that our sciences are themselves connstructions, based upon a synthetic, constructive, creative activity of our mind or spirit. For our thought is not merely another “thing” added to the world of things outside us. Our thought is not a given and predetermined datum, it is “a living dialectic,” a creative activity, a self-creative process, which is synthetic, and not merely analytic in character. “Thought,” he says, “can rest upon itself, while everything else can only rest upon it; the ultimate point d’appui of all truth and of all existence is to be found in the absolute spontaneity of the spirit.”^[31] Here, Lachelier maintains, lies the real a priori; here, too, is the very important passage from psychology to metaphysics.

[31] Psychologie et Métaphysique, p. 158.

Finally his treatment of the problems of knowledge and of the foundations of science leads him to reemphasise not only the reality of spirit but its spontaneity. He recognises with Cournot and Renouvier that the vital problem for science and philosophy is that of freedom. The nature of existence is for Lachelier a manifestation of spirit, and is seen in will, in necessity and in freedom. It is important to note that for him it is all these simultaneously. “Being,” he remarks in concluding his brilliant essay,^[32] “is not first, a blind necessity, then a will which must be for ever bound down in advance to necessity and, lastly, a freedom which would merely be able to recognise such necessity and such a bound will; being is entirely free, in so far as it is self-creative; it is entirely an expression of will, in so far as it creates itself in the form of something concrete and real; it is also entirely an expression of necessity, in so far as its self-creation is intelligible and gives an account of itself.”

[32] Ibid., p. 170.

At this stage something in the nature of a temporary “set-back” is given to the flow of the spiritualist current by Fouillee’s attitude, which takes a different line from that of Ravaisson and Lachelier. The attitude towards Science, which we find adopted by Fouillee, is determined by his two general principles, that of reconcilation, and his own doctrine of idées-forces. His conciliatory spirit is well seen in the fact that, although he has a great respect for science and inherits many of the qualities contained in Taine’s philosophy, particularly the effort to maintain a regular continuity and solidarity in the development of reality, nevertheless he is imbued with the spirit of idealism which characterises all this group of thinkers. The result is a mixture of Platonism and naturalism, and to this he himself confesses in his work, Le Mouvement idéaliste et la Réaction contre la Science positive, where he expresses a desire “to bring back Plato’s ideas from heaven to earth, and so to make idealism consonant with naturalism.”^[33]

[33] Le Mouvement idéaliste el la Réaction contre la Science positive, p. xxi.

Fouillée claims to take up a position midway between the materialists and the idealists. Neither standpoint is, in his view, adequate to describe reality. He is particularly opposed to the materialistic and mechanistic thought of the English Evolutionary School, as presented by Spencer and Huxley, with its pretensions to be scientific. Fouillee accepts, with them, the notion of evolution, but he disagrees entirely with Spencer’s attempt to refer everything to mechanism, the mechanism of matter in motion. In any case, Fouillée claims, movement is a very slender and one-sided element of experience upon which to base our characterisation of all reality, for the idea of motion arises only from our visual and tactual experience. He revolts from the epiphenomenalism of Huxley as from a dire heresy. Consciousness cannot be regarded as a mere “flash in the pan.” Even science must admit that all phenomena are to be defined by their relation to, and action upon, other phenomena. Consciousness, so regarded, will be seen, he claims, as a unique power, possessing the property of acting upon matter and of initiating movement. It is itself a factor, and a very vital one, in the evolutionary process. It is no mere reflex or passive representation. On this point of the irreducibility of the mental life and the validity of its action, Fouillée parts company with Taine. On the other hand, he disagrees with the idealistic school of thought, which upholds a pure intellectualism and for whom thought is the accepted characterisation of reality. This, complains Fouillée, is as much an abstraction and a one-sided view as that of Spencer.

In this manner Fouillée endeavours to “rectify the scientific conception of evolution” by his doctrine of idées-forces. “There is,” he says,^[34] “in every idea a commencement of action, and even of movement, which tends to persist and to increase like an élan. . . . Every idea is already a force.” Psychologically it is seen in the active, conative or appetitive aspect of consciousness. To think of a thing involves already, in some measure, a tendency toward it, to desire it. Physiologically considered, idées-forces are found to operate, not mechanically, but by a vital solidarity which is much more than mere mechanism, and which unites the inner consciousness to the outer physical fact of movement. From a general philosophical point of view the doctrine of idées-forces establishes the irreducibility of the mental, and the fact that, so far from the mental being a kind of phosphorescence produced as a result of the evolutionary process, it is a prime factor in that evolution, of which mechanism is only a symbol. Here Fouillée rises almost to the spiritualism of Ravaisson. Mechanism, he declares, is, after all, but a manner of representing to ourselves things in space and time. Scientists speak of forces, but the real forces are ideas, and other so-called “forces” are merely analogies which we have constructed, based upon the inner mental feeling of effort, tendency, desire and will.^[35]

[34] La Liberté et le Déterminisme, p. 97, 4e ed.

[35] This was a point upon which Maine de Biran had insisted. (See p. 20.)

The scientists have too often, as Fouillée well points in his work on L’Evolutionnisme des Idées-forces, regarded the concept of Evolution as all-sufficing, as self-explanatory. Philosophy, however, cannot accept such dogmatism from science, and asserts that evolution is itself a result and not in itself a cause. With such a view Fouillée is found ultimately in the line of the general development of the spiritual philosophy continuing the hostility to science as ultimate or all-sufficing. Further developments of this attitude are seen in Boutroux and in Bergson.

In the work of Boutroux we find a continuation of that type of criticism of science which was a feature in Ravaisson and Lachelier. He has also affinities with Renouvier (and, we may add, with Comte), because of his insistence upon the discontinuity of the sciences; upon the element of “newness” found in each which prevents the higher being deduced from the lower, or the superior explained by reference to the inferior. Boutroux opposes Spencer’s doctrines and is a keen antagonist of Taine and his claim to deduce all from one formula. Such a notion as that of Taine is quite absurd, according to Boutroux, for there is no necessary bond between one and another science. This is Boutroux’s main point in La Contingence des Lois de la Nature.

By a survey of laws of various types, logical, mathematical, mechanical, physical, chemical, biological, psychological and sociological, Boutroux endeavours to show that they are constructions built up from facts. Just as nature offers to the scientist facts for data, so the sciences themselves offer these natural laws as data to the philosopher, for his constructed explanation of things which is metaphysics or philosophy.

“In the actual condition of our knowledge,” he remarks, “science is not one, but multiple; science, conceived as embracing all the sciences, is a mere abstraction.” This is a remark which recalls Renouvier’s witty saying, “I should very much like to meet this person I hear so much about, called ‘science.’” We have only sciences, each working after its own manner upon a small portion of reality. Man has a thirst for knowledge, and he sees, says Boutroux, in the world an “ensemble” of facts of infinite variety. These facts man endeavours to observe, analyse, and describe with increasing exactness. Science, he points out, is just this description.

It is futile to attempt a resolution of all things into the principle of identity. “The world is full of a number of things,” and, therefore, argues Boutroux, the formula A = B can never be strictly and absolutely true. “Nature never offers to us identities, but only resemblances.” This has important bearing upon the law of causality, of which the sciences make so much. For there is such a degree of heterogeneity in the things to which the most elementary and general laws of physics and chemistry are applied that it is impossible to say that the consequent is proportional to the antecedent—that is to say, it is impossible to work out absolutely the statement that an effect is the unique result of a certain invariable cause. The fundamental link escapes us and so, for us, there is a certain contingency in experience. There is, further, a creativeness, a newness, which is unforeseeable. The passage from the inorganic to the organic stresses this, for the observation of the former would never lead us to the other, for it is a creation, a veritable “new” thing. Boutroux is here dealing hard blows at Taine’s conception. He continues it by showing that in the conscious living being we are introduced to a new element which is again absolutely irreducible to physical factors. Life, and consciousness too, are both creators. The life of the mind is absolutely sui generis; it cannot be explained by physiology, by reflex action, or looked upon as merely an epiphenomenon. Already Boutroux finds himself facing the central problem of Freedom. He recognises that as psychological phenomena appear to contain qualities not given in their immediate antecedents, the law of proportion of cause to effect does not apply to the actions of the human mind.

The principle of causality and the principle of the conservation of energy are m themselves scientific “shibboleths,” and neither of them, asserts Boutroux, can be worked out so absolutely as to justify themselves as ultimate descriptions of the universe. They are valuable as practical maxims for the scientist, whose object is to follow the threads of action in this varied world of ours. They are incomplete, and have merely a relative value. Philosophy cannot permit their application to the totality of this living, pulsing universe. For cause, we must remember, does not in its strictly scientific meaning imply creative power. The cause of a phenomenon is itself a phenomenon. “The positive sciences in vain pretend to seize the divine essence or reason behind things.”^[36] They arrive at descriptive formulæ and there they leave us. But, as Boutroux well reminds us in concluding his thesis, formulas never explain anything because they cannot even explain themselves. They are simply constructions made by observation and abstraction and which themselves require explanation.

[36] Contingence des Lois de la Nature, p 154.

The laws of nature are not restrictions which have been, as it were, imposed upon her They are themselves products of freedom; they are, in her, what habits are to the individual. Their constancy is like the stability of a river-bed which the freely running stream at some early time hollowed out.

The world is an assembly of beings, and its vitality and nature cannot be expressed in a formula. It comprises a hierarchy of creatures, rising from inorganic to organic forms, from matter to spirit, and in man it displays an observing intelligence, rising above mere sensibility and expressly modifying things by free will. In this conception Boutroux follows Ravaisson, and he is also influenced by that thinker’s belief in a spiritual Power of goodness and beauty. He thus leads us to the sphere of religion and philosophy, both of which endeavour, in their own manner, to complete the inadequacy of the purely scientific standpoint. He thus stands linked up in the total development with Cournot and Renouvier, and in his own group with Lachelier, in regard to this question of the relation of philosophy and the sciences.

The critique of science, which is so prominent in Boutroux, was characteristic of a number of thinkers whom we cannot do more than mention here in passing, for in general their work is not in line with the spiritualist development, but is a sub-current running out and separated from the main stream. This is shown prominently in the fact that, while Boutroux’s critique is in the interests of idealism and the maintenance of some spiritual values, much subsequent criticism of science is a mere empiricism and, being divorced from the general principles of the spiritualist philosophy, tends merely to accentuate a vein of uncertainty—indeed, scepticism of knowledge. Such is the general standpoint taken by Milhaud, Payot, and Duhem. Rather apart from these stands the works of acute minds like Poincaré, Durand de Gros, and Hannequin, whose discussion of the atomic doctrines is a work of considerable merit. To these may be added Lalande’s criticism of the doctrine of evolution and integration by his opposing to it that of dissolution and disintegration. Passing references to these books must not, however, detain us from following the main development which, from Boutroux, is carried on by Bergson.

We find that Bergson, like Boutroux, holds no brief for science, and in particular he opposes some of its doctrines which have been dogmatically and uncritically accepted. His work, Matiére et Mémoire, is a direct critique of the scientific postulate of psycho-physical parallelism which Bergson regards as the crux of the problem at issue between science and philosophy—namely, that of freedom. He shows that this theory, which has been adopted by science because of its convenience, ought not to be accepted by philosophy without criticism. In his opinion it cannot stand the criticism which he brings against it. A relation between soul and body is undeniable, but he does not agree that that relation is one of absolute parallelism. To maintain parallelism is to settle at once and beforehand, in an unwarrantably a priori manner, the whole problem of freedom. His intense spiritualism sees also in such a doctrine the deadly enemy Epiphenomenalism, the belief that the spiritual is only a product of the physical. He maintains the unique and irreducible nature of consciousness, and claims that the life of the soul or spirit is richer and wider than the mere physical activity of the brain, which is really its instrument. Bergson asks us to imagine the revolution which might have been, had our early scientists devoted themselves to the study of mind rather than matter, and claims that we suffer from the dogmatism of materialistic science and the geometrical and mathematical conceptions of “a universal science” or “mathematic” which come from the seventeenth century, and are seen later in Taine.

The inadequacy of the scientific standpoint is a theme upon which Bergson never tires of insisting. Not only does he regard a metaphysic as necessary to complete this inadequacy, but he claims that our intellect is incapable of grasping reality in its flux and change. The true instrument of metaphysics is, according to him, intuition. Bergson’s doctrine of intuition does not, however, amount to a pure hostility to intellectual constructions. These are valuable, but they are not adequate to reality. Metaphysics cannot dispense with the natural sciences. These sciences work with concepts, abstractions, and so suffer by being intellectual moulds. We must not mistake them for the living, pulsing, throbbing reality of life itself which is far wider than any intellectual construction.

By his insistence upon this point, in which he joins hands with several of his predecessors, Bergson claims to have got over the Kantian difficulties of admitting the value and possibility of a metaphysic. There is nothing irrational, he insists, in his doctrine of metaphysical intuition or “intellectual sympathy”; it is rather super-rational, akin to the spirit of the poet and the artist. The various sciences can supply data and, as such, are to be respected, for they have a relative value. What Bergson is eager to do is to combat their absolute value. His metaphysic is, however, no mere “philosophy of the sciences” in the sense of being a mere summary of the results of the sciences. His intuition is more than a mere generalisation of facts; it is an “integral experience,” a penetration of reality in its flux and change, a looking upon the world sub specie durationis. It is a vision, but it is one which we cannot obtain without intellectual or scientific labour. We can become better acquainted with reality only by the progressive development of science and philosophy. We cannot live on the dry bread of the sciences alone, an intuitional philosophy is necessary for our spiritual welfare. Science promises us well-being or pleasure, but philosophy, claims Bergson, can give us joy, by its intuitions, its super-intellectual vision, that vital contact with life itself in its fulness, which is far grander and truer than all the abstractions of science. This is the culmination of much already indicated in Cournot, Renouvier, Ravaisson, Lachelier, and Boutroux, which Bergson presents in a manner quite unique, thus closing in our period the development of that criticism and hostility to the finality and absoluteness of the purely scientific attitude which is so marked a feature of both our second and third groups, the neo-critical thinkers and the neo-spiritualists.

*    *    *    *    *    *    *    *    *

Beginning with a glowing confidence in the sciences as ultimate interpretations of reality, we thus have witnessed a complete turn of the tide during the develop-* since 1851. Also, in following out the changes in the attitude adopted to Science, we have been enabled to discover in a general manner that the central and vital problem which our period presents is that of Freedom. It will be interesting to find whether in regard to this problem, too, a similar change of front will be noticeable as the period is followed to its close.

NOTE.—The reader may be interested to find that Einstein has brought out some of Boutroux’s points very emphatically, and has confirmed the view of geometry held by Poincaré. Compare the following statements:
    Boutroux: “Mathematics cannot be applied with exactness to reality.” “Mathematics and experience can never be exactly fitted into each other.”
    Poincaré: “Formulæ are not true, they are convenient.”
    Einstein: “If we deny the relation between the body of axiomatic Euclidean geometry or the practically rigid body of reality, we readily arrive at the view entertained by that acute and profound thinker, H. Poincaré . . . Sub specie æterni, Poincaré, in my opinion, is right” (Sidelights on Relativity, pp. 33-35).

INTRODUCTORY: The central problem of our period—The reconciliation of science with man’s beliefs centres around the question of Freedom—Unsatisfactoriness of Kant’s solution felt.

I. The positivist belief in universal and rigid determinism, especially shown in Taine. Renan’s view.

II. Cournot and Renouvier uphold Freedom—Strong logical and moral case put forward for it.

III. The new spiritualists, Ravaisson and Lacheher, set Freedom in the forefront of their philosophy—Fouillée attempts a reconciliation by the idea of Freedom as a determining force—Guyau, Boutroux, Blondel and Bergson insist on the reality of Freedom—They surpass Cournot and Renouvier by upholding contingency —This is especially true of Guyau, Boutroux and Bergson.

Belief in creativeness and spontaneity replace the older belief in determinism.

The discussions regarding the relation between science and philosophy led the thinkers of our period naturally to the crucial problem of freedom. Science has almost invariably stood for determinism, and men were becoming impatient of a dogmatism which, by its denial of freedom, left little or no place for man, his actions, his beliefs, his moral feelings.

“La nature fatale offre à la Liberté
Un problème.”^[1]

[1] Guyau, in his Vers d’un Philosophe, “Moments de Foi—I.,” En lisant Kant, p. 57.

It was precisely this problem which was acutely felt in the philosophy of our period as it developed and approached the close of the century.

In a celebrated passage of his Critique of Judgment the philosopher Kant had drawn attention to the necessity of bringing together the concept of freedom and the concept of nature as constructed by modern science, for the two were, he remarked, separated by an abyss. He himself felt that the realm of freedom should exercise an influence upon the realm of science, but his own method prohibited his attempting to indicate with any preciseness what that influence might be. The fatal error of his system, the artificial division of noumena and phenomena, led him to assign freedom only to the world of noumena. Among phenomena it had no place, but reigned transcendent, unknown and unknowable, beyond the world we know.

The artificiality of such a solution was apparent to the thinkers who followed Kant, and particularly was this felt in France. “Poor consolation is it,” remarked Fouillée, in reply to Kant’s view, “for a prisoner bound with chains to know that in some unknown realm afar he can walk freely devoid of his fetters.”

The problem of freedom, both in its narrow sphere of personal free-will and in its larger social significance, is one which has merited the attention of all peoples in history. France, however, has been pre-eminently a cradle for much acute thought on this matter. It loomed increasingly large on the horizon as the Revolution approached, it shone brilliantly in Rousseau. Since the Revolution it has been equally discussed, and is the first of the three watchwords of the republic, whose philosophers, no less than its politicians, have found it one of their main themes.

The supreme importance of the problem of freedom in our period was due mainly to the need felt by all thinkers for attempting, in a manner different from that of Kant, a reconciliation between science and morals (science et conscience), and to find amid the development of scientific thought a place for the personality of the thinker himself, not merely as a passive spectator, but as an agent, a willing and acting being. Paul Janet, in his essays entitled Problèmes du XIX^e Siècle,^[2] treating the question of science, asks whether the growing precision of the natural sciences and “the extension of their ‘positive’ methods, which involve a doctrine or assumption of infallible necessity, do not imperil gravely the freedom of the moral agent?” While himself believing that, however closely the sciences may seem to encroach upon the free power of the human soul, they will only approach in an indefinite “asymptote,” never succeeding in annulling it, he senses the importance of the problem. Science may endeavour to tie us down to a belief in universal and rigid determinism, but the human spirit revolts from the acceptance of such a view, and acclaims, to some degree at least, the reality of a freedom which cannot be easily reconciled with the determinist doctrines.

[2] Published in 1872.

In the period which we have under review the central problem is undoubtedly that of freedom. Practically all the great thinkers in France during this period occupied themselves with this problem, and rightly so, for they realised that most of the others with which philosophy concerns itself depend in a large degree upon the attitude adopted to freedom. Cournot, Renouvier, Ravaisson, Lachelier, Fouillée, Boutroux, Blondel and Bergson have played the chief part in the arena of discussion, and although differing considerably in their methods of treatment and not a little in the form of their conclusions, they are at one in asserting the vital importance of this problem and its primacy for philosophy. The remark of Fouillée is by no means too strong: “The problem which we are going to discuss is not only a philosophical problem; it is, par excellence, the problem for philosophy. All the other questions are bound up with this.”^[3] This truth will be apparent when, after showing the development of the doctrines concerning freedom, we come, in our subsequent chapters, to consider its application to the questions of progress, of ethics and of the philosophy of religion.

[3] In his preface to his Thesis Liberté et Déterminisme, later editions, p. vii.

We find in the thought of our period a very striking development or change in regard to the problem of freedom. Beginning with a strictly positivist and naturalist belief in determinism, it concludes with a spiritualism or idealism which not only upholds freedom but goes further in its reaction against the determinist doctrines by maintaining contingency.

Taine and Renan both express the initial attitude, a firm belief in determinism, but it is most clear and rigid in the work of Taine. His whole philosophy is hostile to any belief in freedom. The strictly positivist, empiricist and naturalist tone of his thought combined with the powerful influence of Spinoza’s system to produce in him a firm belief in necessity—a necessity which, as we have seen, was severely rational and of the type seen in mathematics and in logic. Although it must also be admitted that in this view of change and development Taine was partly influenced by the Hegelian philosophy, yet his formulations were far more precise and mathematical than those of the German thinker.

We have, in considering his attitude to science, seen the tenacious manner in which he clings to his dogma of causality or universal necessity. All living things, man included, are held in the firm grip of “the steel pincers of necessity.” Every fact and every law in the universe has its raison explicative, as Taine styles it. He quotes with approval, in his treatment of this question at the close of his work De l’Intelligence, the words of the great scientist and positivist Claude Bernard: “Il y a un déterminisme absolu, dans les conditions d’existence des phénomènes naturels, aussi bien pour les corps vivants que pour les corps bruts.”^[4] In Taine and the school of scientists like Bernard, whose opinions on this matter he voices, no room is accorded to freedom.

[4] De l’Intelligence, vol. 2, p. 480, the quotation from Bernard is to be found in his Introduction à l’Etude de la Médecine expérimentale, p. 115.

Taine’s belief in universal necessity and his naturalistic outlook led him to regard man from the physical standpoint as a mechanism, from the mental point of view a theorem. Vice and virtue are, to quote his own words, “products just as vitriol or sugar.” This remark having appeared to many thinkers a scandalous assertion, Taine explained in an article contributed to the Journal des Débats^[5] that he did not mean to say that vice and virtue were, like vitriol or sugar, chemical but they are nevertheless products, moral products, which moral elements bring into being by their assemblage. And, he argues, just as it is necessary in order to make vitriol to know the chemical elements which go to its composition, so in order to create in man the hatred of a lie it is useful to search for the psychological elements which, by their union, produce truthfulness.

[5] On December 19th, 1872.

Even this explanation of his position, however, did not prevent the assertion being made that such a view entirely does away with all question of moral responsibility. To this criticism Taine objected. “It does not involve moral indifference. We do not excuse a wicked man because we have explained to ourselves the causes of his wickedness. One can be determinist with Leibnitz and nevertheless admit with Leibnitz that man is responsible —that is to say, that the dishonest man is worthy of blame, of censure and punishment, while the honest man is worthy of praise, respect and reward.”

In one of his Essais Taine further argued in defence of his doctrine of universal determination that since WE ourselves are determined—that is to say, since there is a psychological determinism as well as a physical determinism—we do not feel the restriction which this determinism implies, we have the illusion of freedom and act just as if we were free. To this Fouillée replied that the value of Taine’s argument was equal to that of a man who might say, “Because I am asleep, all of me, all my powers and faculties, therefore I am in a state where I am perfectly free and responsible.” Certainly Taine’s remark that we are determined had nothing in common with the belief in that true determinism, which is equally true freedom, since it is self-determination. Taine professed no such doctrine, and rested in a purely naturalistic fatalism, built upon formulæ of geometry and logic, in abstraction from the actual living and acting of the soul, and this dogma of determinism, to which he clung so dearly, colours his view of ethics and of history. For Taine, “the World is a living geometry” and “man is a theorem that walks.”

Like Taine, Renan set out from the belief in universal causation, but he employed the conception not so much in a warfare against man’s freedom of action as against the theologians’ belief in miracle and the supernatural. There is none of Taine’s rigour and preciseness in Renan, and it is difficult to grasp his real attitude to the problem of freedom. If he ever had one, may be doubted. The blending of viewpoints, the paradox so characteristic of him, seems apparent even in this question.

His intense humanism prompted him to remarks in praise of freedom, and he seems to have recognised in man a certain power of freedom; but in view of his belief in universal cause he is careful to qualify this. Further, his intensely religious mind remained in love with the doctrine of divine guidance which is characteristic of Christian and most religious thought. Although Renan left the Church, this belief never left Renan. He sees God working out an eternal purpose in history, and this he never reconciled with the problem of man’s free will. The humanist in him could remark that the one object of life is the development of the mind, and the first condition for this is freedom. Here he appears to have in view freedom from political and religious restrictions. He is thinking of the educational problem. His own attitude to the ultimate question of freedom in itself, as opposed to determinism, is best expressed in his Examen d’une Conscience philosophique. He there shows that the universe is the result of a lengthy development, the. beginnings of which we do not know. “In the innumerable links of that chain,” says Renan, “we find not one free act before the appearance of man, or, if you like, living beings.” With man, however, freedom comes into the scheme of things. A free cause is seen employing the forces of nature for willed ends. Yet this is but nature itself blossoming to self-consciousness; this free cause emanates from nature itself. There is no rude break between man with his free power and unconscious nature. Both are interconnected. Freedom is indeed the appearance of something “new,” but it is not, insists Renan, something divorced from what has gone before.

We see in Renan a rejection of the severely deterministic doctrine of Taine, but it is by no means a complete rejection or refutation of it. Renan adheres largely to the scientific and positivist attitude which is such a feature of Taine’s work. His humanism, however, recognises the inadequacy of such doctrines and compels him to speak of freedom as a human factor, and he thus brings us a step nearer to the development of the case for freedom put forward so strongly by Cournot and Renouvier and by the neo-spiritualists.

A very powerful opposition to all doctrines based upon or upholding determinism shows itself in the work of Cournot and the neo-critical philosophy. The idea of freedom is a central one in the thought of both Cournot and Renouvier.

Cournot devoted his early labours to a critical and highly technical examination of the question of probability, considered in its mathematical form, a task for which he was well equipped.^[6] Being not only a man of science but also a metaphysician, or rather a philosopher who approached metaphysical problems from the impulse and data accorded him by the sciences, Cournot was naturally led to the wider problem of probabilité philosophique. He shows in his Essai sur les Fondements de nos Connaissances that hazard or chance are not merely words which we use to cover our ignorance, as Taine would have claimed. Over against the doctrine of a universal determinism he asserts the reality of these factors. The terms chance and hazard represent a real and vital element in our experience and in the nature of reality itself. Probability is a factor to be reckoned with, and this is so because of the elements of contingency in nature and in life. Freedom is bound up essentially with the vitality which is nature itself.

[6] See his Essai sur les Fondements de nos Connaissances: “Hazard,” chap. iii.; “Probabilité Philosophique,” chap, iv., pp. 71-101; and chap. v., “De l’Harmonie et de la Finalité,” pp. 101-144.

The neo-critical philosopher, Renouvier, is a notable champion of freedom. We have already seen the importance he attaches to the category of personality. For him, personality represents a consciousness in possession of itself, a free and rational harmony—in short, freedom personified.

From a strictly demonstrative point of view Renouvier thinks it is impossible to prove freedom as a fact. However, he lays before us with intense seriousness various. considerations of a psychological and a moral character which have an important bearing upon the problem. This problem, he asserts, not only concerns our actions but also our knowledge. To bring out this point clearly, Renouvier develops some of the ideas of his friend, Jules Lequier, on the notion of the autonomy of the reason, or rather of the reasonable will. In this way he shows doubt and criticism to be themselves signs of freedom, and asserts that we form our notions of truth freely, or that at least they are creations of our free thought, not laid upon us by an external authority.

More light is thrown on the problem by considering what Renouvier calls vertige mental, a psychopathological condition due to a disturbance of the rational harmony or self-possession which constitutes the essence of the personal consciousness. This state is characterised by hallucination and error. It is the extreme opposite of the self-conscious, reflective personality in full possession of itself and exercising its will rationally. Renouvier shows that between these two extremes there are numerous planes of vertige mental in which the part played by our will is small or negligible, and we are thus victims of habit or tendency. Is there, then, any place for freedom? There most certainly is, says Renouvier, for our freedom manifests itself whenever we inhibit an action to which we are excited by habit, passion or imagination. Our freedom is the product of reflection. We are at liberty to be free, to determine ourselves in accordance with higher motives. This power is just our personality asserting itself, and it does not contradict our being, more often than not, victims of habit. We have it in our power to make fresh beginnings. Renouvier’s disbelief in strict continuity is here again apparent. We must admit freedom of creation in the personality itself, and not seek to explain our actions by trying to ascend some scale of causes to infinity. There is no such thing as a sum to infinity of a series; there is no such thing as the influence of an infinite series of causes upon the performance of a consciously willed act in which the personality asserts its initiative— that is, its power of initiation of a new series, in short, its freedom.

Passing from these psychological considerations, Renouvier calls our attention to some of a moral nature, no less important, in his opinion, for shedding light upon the nature of freedom. If, he argues, all is necessary, if all human actions are predetermined, then popular language is guilty of a grave extravagance and appears ridiculous, insinuating, as it does, that many acts might have been left undone and many events might have occurred differently, and that a man might have done other than he did. In the light of the hypothesis of rigorous necessity, the mention of ambiguous futures and the notion of “being otherwise” (le pouvoir être autrement) seem foolish. Science may assert the docrine of necessity and preach it valiantly, but the human conscience feels it to be untrue and will not be gainsaid. The scientist himself is forced to admit that man does not accept his gospel of universal predestination or fatalism. This Renouvier recognises as an important point in the debate. Strange, is it not, he remarks, that the mind of the philosopher himself, a sanctuary or shrine for truth, should appear as a rebellious citadel refusing to surrender to the truth of this universal necessity. We believe ourselves to be free agents or, at least beings who are capable of some free action. However slight such action, it would invalidate the hypothesis of universal necessity.

If all things are necessitated, then moral judgments, the notions of right and of duty, have no foundation in the nature of things. Virtue and crime lose their character; the sentiments and feelings, such as regret, hope, fear, desire, change their meaning or become meaningless. Renouvier lays great stress upon these moral considerations.

Again, if everything be necessitated, error is as necessary as truth. The false is indeed true, being necessary, and the true may become false. Disputes rage over what is false or true, but these disputes cannot be condemned, for they themselves are, by virtue of the hypothesis, necessary, and the disputes are necessarily absurd and ridiculous from this point of view. Where then is truth? Where is morality? We have here no basis for either. Looking thus at history, all its crimes and infamies are equally lawful, for they are inevitable; such is the result, Renouvier shows, of viewing all human action as universally predetermined.

The objections thus put forward by Renouvier against the doctrine of universal necessity are powerful ones. They possess great weight and result in the admission, even by its upholders, that “the judgment of freedom is a natural datum of consciousness and is bound up with our reflective judgments upon which we act, being itself the foundation of these.”

Yet, we have, Renouvier reminds us, no logical proof of the reality of freedom. We feel ourselves moved, spontaneously and unconstrained. The future, in so far as it depends upon ourselves, appears not as prearranged but ambiguous, open.^[7] Whether our judgment be true or false, we in practical life act invariably on the belief in freedom. That, of course, as Renouvier admits at this stage of his discussion, does not prove that our belief is not an illusion. It is a feeling, natural and spontaneous.

[7] Cf., later, Bergson’s remark: “The portals of the future stand wide open, the future is being made.”

One of the most current forms of the doctrine of freedom has been that known as the “liberty of indifference.” The upholders of this theory regard the will as separated from motives and ends. The operation of the will is regarded by them as indifferent to the claims or influence of reason or feeling. Will is superadded externally to motives, where such exist, or may be superimposed on intellectual views even to the extent of annulling these. Judgment and will are separated in this view, and the will is a purely arbitrary or indifferent factor. It can operate without reason against reason. The opponents of freedom find little difficulty in assailing this view, in which the will appears to operate like a dice or a roulette game, absolutely at hazard, reducing man to a non-rational creature. Such a type of will, however, Renouvier declares to be non-existent, for every man who has full consciousness of an act of his has at the same time a consciousness of an end or purpose for this act, and he proposes to realise by this means a good which he regards as preferable to any other. In so far as he has doubts of this preference the act and the judgment will be suspended. He must, however, if he be an intelligent being, pursue what he deems to be his good—that is to say, what he deems to be good at the time of acting. Renouvier here agrees with Socrates and Plato in the view that no man deliberately and knowingly wills what he considers to be evil or to be bad for him. Virtue involves knowledge, and although there is the almost proverbial phrase of Ovid and of Paul, about seeing and approving the better, yet nevertheless doing the worse, it is a general statement which does not express an antithesis as present to consciousness at the time of action. The agent may afterwards say

. . . “Video meliora proboque
deteriora sequor.”

but at the time of action “the worse” must appear to him as a good, at any rate then and in his own judgment. Further, beyond these psychological considerations there are grave moral objections, Renouvier points out, to admitting “an indifferent will,” for the acts of such a will being purely arbitrary and haphazard, the man will be no moral agent, no responsible person. A man who wills apart from the consideration of any motive whatever can never perform any meritorious action. Under the conception of an indifferent will the term “merit” ceases to have a meaning. The theologians who have asserted the doctrine (indeed, it seems to have originated, Renouvier thinks, with them) have readily admitted this point, for it opens up the way for their theory of divine grace or the good will of God acting directly upon or within the agent. Will and merit are for them quite separate, the latter being due to the mystical operations of divine favour or grace, in honour of which the indifference of the will has been postulated. Philosophers not given to appeals to divine grace, who have upheld the doctrine of the indifferent will, have really been less consistent than the theoloians and have fallen into grave error.

Renouvier appeals to the testimony of the penal laws of all nations in favour of his criticism of an indifferent will. Motive is deemed a real factor, for men are not deemed to have acted indifferently. Some deliberation, indeed, is implied in all action which is conscious and human, some comparison of motives and a conscious, decision. The values of truth, as well as those of morality are equally fatal to the indifferentist; for, asks Renouvier, is a man to be regarded as not determined to affirm as true what he judges to be true?

The doctrine of freedom as represented by that of an indifferent will is no less vicious, Renouvier affirms, than the opposing doctrine of universal necessity. The truth is that they both rest on fictions. “Indifferentism” imagines a will divorced from judgment, separated from the rational man himself, an unseizable power, a mysterious absolute cause unconnected with reflection or deliberation, a mere chimera. For determinism the will is equally a fiction.

A way out of this difficulty is to be found, according to Renouvier, in viewing the will in a manner different from that of the “indifferentists.” Let us suppose the will bound up with motive, a motive drawn from the intellectual and moral equipment of the man. This, however, gives rise to psychological determinism. The will, it is argued, follows always the last determination of the understanding. Greater subtilty attends on this argument against freedom than those put forward on behalf of physical determinism. Renouvier sees that there is no escape from such a doctrine as psychological determinism unless we take a view of the will as bound up with the nature of man as a whole, with his powers of intellect and feeling. Such a will cannot be characterised as indifferent or as the mere resultant of motives.

The Kantian element in Renouvier’s thought is noticeable in the strong moral standpoint from which he discusses all problems, and this is particularly true of his discussion of this very vital one of freedom. He is by no means, however, a disciple of Kant, and he joins battle strongly with the Kantian doctrine of freedom. This is natural in view of his entire rejection of Kant’s “thing-in-itself,” or noumena, and it follows therefrom, for Kant attached freedom only to the noumenal world, denying its operation in the world of phenomena. The rejection of noumena leaves Renouvier free to discuss freedom in a less remote or less artificial manner than that of Kant.

If it be true, argues Renouvier, that necessity rules supreme, then the human spirit can find peace in absolute resignation; and in looking back over the past history of humanity one need not have different feelings from those entertained by the geologist or paleontologist. Ethics, politics and history thus become purely “natural” sciences (if indeed ethics could here have meaning, would it not be identical with anthropology? At any rate, it would be purely positive. A normative view of ethics would be quite untenable in the face of universal necessity). Any inconvenience, pain or injustice would have to be accepted and not even named “evil,” much less could any effort be truly made to expel it from the scheme of things. To these accusations the defenders of necessity object. The practical man, they say, need not feel this, in so far as he is under the illusion of freedom and unaware of the rigorous necessity of all things. He need not refrain from action.

But this defence of necessity leads those who wish to maintain the case against it to continue the argument. Suppose that the agent does not forget that all is necessitated, what then? Under no illusion of the idea of freedom, he then acts at every moment of his existence in the knowledge that he cannot but do what he is doing, he cannot but will what he wills, he cannot but desire what he desires. In time this must produce, says Renouvier, insanity either of an idle type or a furious kind, he will become an indifferent imbecile or a raving fanatic, in either case a character quite abnormal and dangerous. These are extreme results, but between the two extremes all degrees of character are to be, found. The most common type of practical reason presents an antinomy in the system of universal necessity. The case for necessity must reckon with this fact—namely, that the operation of necessity has itself given rise to ethics which exists, and, according to the case, its existence is a necessary one; yet ethics constitutes itself in opposition to necessity, and under the sway of necessity is quite meaningless. Here is a paradox which is not lessened if we suppose the ethical position to be an absurd and false one. Whether false or not, morality in some form is practically as universal as human nature. That nature, Renouvier insists, can hardly with sincerity believe an hypothesis or a dogma which its own moral instincts belie continually.

If, on the other hand, truth lies with the upholders of freedom, then man’s action is seen to have great value and significance, for man then appears as creating a new order of things in the world. His new acts, Renouvier admits, will not be without preceding ones, without roots or reasons, but they will be without necessary connection with the whole scheme of things. He is thus creating a new order; he is creating himself and making his own history. Conscious pride or bitter remorse can both alike be present to him. The great revolutions of history will be regarded by him not as mystical sweepings of some unknown force external to himself, but as results of the thought and work of humanity itself. A philosophy which so regards freedom will thus be a truly “human” philosophy. Renouvier rightly recognises that the whole philosophy of history turns upon the attitude which we adopt to freedom.

In view of the many difficulties connected with the problem of freedom many thinkers would urge us to a compromise. Renouvier is aware of the dangers of this attitude, and he brings into play against it his logical method of dealing with problems. This does not contradict his statement about the indemonstrability of freedom, nor does it minimise the weight and significance of the moral case for freedom: it complements it. Between contradictories or incompatible propositions no middle course can be followed. Freedom and necessity cannot be both at the same time true, or both at the same time false, for of the two things one must be true—namely, either human actions are all of them totally predetermined by their conditions or antecedents, or they are not all of them totally predetermined. It is to this pass that we are brought in the logical statement of the case. Now sceptics would here assert that doubt was the only solution. This would not realh be a solution, and however legitimate doubt is in front of conflicting theories, it involves the death of the soul if it operates in practical affairs and in any circumstances where some belief is absolutely necessary to the conduct of life and to action.

The freedom in question, as Renouvier is careful to remind us, does not involve our maintaining the total indetermination of things or denial of the operations of necessity within limits. Room is left for freedom when it is shown that this necessity is not universal. Many consequences of free acts may be necessitated. For example, says Renouvier, I have a stone in my hand. I can freely will to hurl it north or south, high or low, but once thrown from my hand its path is strictly determined by the law of gravity. The voluntary movement of a man on the earth may, however slightly, alter the course of a distant planet. Freedom, we might say, operates in a sphere to which necessity supplies the matter. Ultimately any free act is a choice between two alternatives, equally possible, but both necessitated as possibilities. The points of free action may seem to take up a small amount of room in the world, so to speak, but we must realise how vital they are to any judgment regarding its character, and how tremendously important they are from a moral point of view. So far, claims Renouvier, from the admittance of freedom being a destruction of the laws of the universe, it really shows us a special law of that universe, not otherwise to be explained—namely, the moral law. Freedom is thus regarded by Renouvier as a positive fact, a moral certainty.

Freedom is the pillar of the neo-critical philosophy; it is the first truth involved at once in all action and in all knowledge. Truth and error are not well explained, or, indeed, at all explained, by a doctrine which, embracing them both as equally necessary, justifies them equally, and so in a sense verifies both of them. It was this point which Brochard developed in his work L’Erreur, which has neo-critical affinities. Man is only capable of science because he is free; it is also because he is free that he is subject to error.^[8] Renouvier claims that “we do not avoid error always, but we always can avoid it.”^[9] Truth and error can only be explained, he urges, by belief in the ambiguity of futures, movements of thought involving choice between opinions which conflict—in short, by belief in freedom. The calculation of probabilities and the law of the great numbers demonstrates, Renouvier claims, the indetermination of futures, and consciousness is aware of this ambiguity in practical life. This belief in the ambiguity of futures is a condition, he shows, of the exercise of the human consciousness in its moral aspect, and this consciousness in action regards itself as suspended before indetermination—that is, it affirms freedom. This affirmation of freedom Renouvier asserts to be a necessary element of any rational belief whatever. It alone gives moral dignity and supremacy to personality, whose existence is the deepest and most radical of all existences. The personal life in its highest sense and its noblest manifestation is precisely Freedom. Renouvier assures us that there is nothing mysterious or mystical about this freedom. It is not absolute liberty and contingency of all things; it is an attribute of persons. The part played thus freely by personality in the scheme or order of the universe proves to us that that order or scheme is not defined or formed in a predetermined manner; it is only in process of being formed, and our personal efforts are essential factors in its formation. The world is an order which becomes and which is creating itself, not a pre-established order which simply unrolls itself in time. For a proper understanding of the nature of this problem “we are obliged to turn to the practical reason. It is a moral affirmation of freedom which we require; indeed, any other kind of affirmation would, Renouvier maintains, presuppose this. The practical reason must lay down its own basis and that of all true reason, for reason is not divided against itself reason is not something apart from man; it is man, and man is never other than practical—i.e., acting.”^[10] Considered from this standpoint there are four cases which present themselves to the tribunal of our judgment—namely, the case for freedom, the case against freedom, the case for necessity and the case against necessity.

[8] De L’Erreur, p. 47.

[9] Psychologie rationnelle, vol. 2, p. 96.

[10] Psychologie rationnelle, vol. 2, p 78.

The position is tersely put in the Dilemma presented by Jules Lequier, the friend of Renouvier, quoted in the Psychologie rationnelle. There are four possibilities:

To affirm necessity, necessarily. To affirm necessity, freely. To affirm freedom, necessarily. To affirm freedom, freely.

On examining these possibilities we find that to affirm necessity, necessarily, is valueless, for its contradictory, freedom, is equally necessary. To affirm necessity, freely, does not offer us a better position, for here again it is necessity which is affirmed. If we affirm freedom necessarily, we are in little better case, for necessity operates again (although Renouvier notes that this gives a certain basis for morality). In the free affirmation of freedom, however, is to be found not only a basis for morals, but also for knowledge and the search for truth. Indeed, as we are thus forced “to admit the truth of either necessity or freedom, and to choose between the one and the other with the one or with the other,”^[11] we find that the affirmation of necessity involves contradiction, for there are many persons who affirm freedom, and this they do, if the determinist be right, necessarily. The affirmation of freedom, on the other hand, is free from such an absurdity.

[11] Ibid., p. 138.

Such is the conclusion to which Renouvier brings us after his wealth of logical and moral considerations. He combines both types of discussion and argument in order to undermine the belief in determinism and to uphold freedom, which is, in his view, the essential attribute of personality and of the universe itself. He thus succeeded in altering substantially the balance of thought in favour of freedom, and further weight was added to the same side of the scales by the new spiritualist group who placed freedom in the forefront of their thought.

The development of the treatment of this problem within the thought of the new spiritualists or idealists is extremely interesting, and it proceeded finally to a definite doctrine of contingency as the century drew to its close. The considerations set forth are usually psychological in tone, and not so largely ethical as in the neo-critical philosophy.

Ravaisson declared himself a champion of freedom. He accepted the principle of Leibnitz, to the effect that everything has a reason, from which it follows that everything is necessitated, without which there could be no certitude and no science. But, says Ravaisson, there are two kinds of necessity—one absolute, one relative. The former is logical, the type of the principle of identity, and is found in syllogisms and in mathematics, which is just logic applied to quantity. The other type of necessity is moral, and is, unlike the former, perfectly in accord with freedom. It indeed implies freedom, the freedom of self-determination. The truly wise man can- not help doing what is right and good. The slave of Passion and caprice and evil has no freedom. The wise man selecting the good chooses it infallibly, but at the time with perfect free-will. “It is perhaps because the good or the beautiful is simply nothing other than love—that is, the power of will in all its purity, and so to will what is truly good is to will oneself (c’est se vouloir soi-même).”^[12]

[12] La Philosophie en France, p. 268.

Nature is not, as the materialists endeavour to maintain, entirely geometrical—that is to say, fatalistic in character. Morality enters into the scheme of things and, with it, ends freely striven for. There is present a freedom which is a kind of necessity, yet opposed to fatalism. This freedom involves a determination by conceptions of perfection, ideals of beauty and of good. “Fatality is but an appearance; spontaneity and freedom constitute reality.”^[13] So far, continues Ravaisson, from all things operating by brute mechanism or by pure hazard, things operate by the development of a tendency to perfection, to goodness and beauty. Instead of everything submitting to a blind destiny, everything obeys, and obeys willingly, a divine Providence.

[13] Ibid., p. 270.

Ravaisson’s fundamental spiritualism is clear in all this, and it serves as the starting-point for the thinkers who follow him. Spiritualism is bound up with spontaneity, creation, freedom, and this is his central point, this insistence on freedom. While resisting mechanical determination he endeavours to retain a determination of another kind—namely, by ends, a teleology or finalism. This is extremely interesting when observed in relation to the subsequent development in Lachelier, Boutroux, Blondel and Bergson.

Lachelier’s treatment of freedom is an important landmark in the spiritualist development. By his concentrated analysis of the problem of induction he brought out the significance of efficient and final causes respectively. He appears as the pupil of Ravaisson, whose initial inspiration is apparent in his whole work, especially in his treatment of freedom. He dwells upon the fact of the spontaneity of the spirit—a point of view which Ravaisson succeeded in imparting to the three thinkers, Lachelier, Boutroux and Bergson. Besides the influence of Ravaisson, however, that of Kant and Leibnitz appears in Lachelier’s attitude to freedom. Yet he passes beyond the Kantian position, and he rejects the double-aspect doctrine which Leibnitz maintained with regard to efficient and final causes. Lachelier insists that the spontaneity of spirit stands above and underlies the whole of nature. This is the point which Boutroux, under Lachelier’s influence, took up in his Contingence des Lois de la Nature. Lachelier, in attacking the purely mechanistic conception of the universe, endeavoured, as he himself put it, “to substitute everywhere force for inertia, life for death and freedom for fatalism.” Rather than universal necessity it is universal contingence which is the real definition of existence. We are free to determine ourselves in accordance with ends we set before us, and to act in the manner necessary to accomplish those ends. Our life itself, as he shows in the conclusion of his brilliant little article Psychologie et Métaphysique, is creative, and we must beware of arguing that what we have been makes us what we are, for that character which we look upon as determining us need not do so if we free ourselves from habit, and, further, this character is, in any case, itself the result of our free actions over extended time, the free creation of our own personality.

While with Ravaisson and Lachelier the concept of freedom was being rather fully developed in opposition to the determinist doctrines, Fouillée, in his brilliant and acute thesis on Liberté et Déterminisme, endeavoured to call a halt to this supremacy of Freedom, and to be true to the principles of reconciliation which he laid down for himself in his philosophy. He confesses himself, at the outset, to be a pacifist rather than a belligerent in this classic dispute between determinists on the one hand and partisans of freedom on the other. He believes that, on intimate investigation pursued sufficiently far, the two opposing doctrines will be seen to converge. Such a declaration would seem to be dangerously superficial in a warfare as bitter and as sharp as this. It must be admitted that, as is the case with many who profess to conciliate two conflicting views, Fouillée leaves us at times without precise and definite indication of his own position.

In contrast to the attitude of Ravaisson and Lachelier Fouillée inclines in some respects to the attitude of Taine and many passages of his book show him to be holding at least a temporary brief for the partisans of determinism. He agrees notably with Taine in his objecting to the contention that under the determinist theory moral values lose their significance. Fouillée claims that it is both incorrect and unfair to argue that “under the necessity-hypothesis a thing being all that it can be is thereby all that it should be.”^[14].

[14] La Liberté et le Déterminisme, p. 51 (fourth edition).

He goes on to point out that the consciousness of independence, which is an essential of freedom, may be nothing more than a lack of consciousness of our dependence. Motives he is inclined to speak of as determining the will itself, while he looks upon the “liberty of indifference” or of hazard as merely a concession to the operations of mechanical necessity. The “liberty of indifference” is often the mere play of instinct and of fatality, while hazard, so far from being an argument in the hands of the upholders of freedom, is really a determination made previously by something other than one’s own will.

This is a direct attack upon the doctrines put forward by both Cournot and Renouvier. Fouillée is well aware of this, and twenty pages of his thesis are devoted to a critical and hostile examination of the statements of both Renouvier and his friend Lequier.^[15] Fouillée claims that these two thinkers have only disguised and misplaced the “liberty of indifference”; they have not, he thinks, really suppressed it, although both of them profess to reject it absolutely. A keen discussion between Fouillée and Renouvier arose from this and continued for some time, being marked on both sides by powerful dialectic. Renouvier used his paper the Critique philosophique as his medium, while Fouillée continued in subsequent editions of his thesis, in his Idée moderne du Droit and also in his acute study Critique des Systèmes de Morale contemporains. Fouillée took Renouvier to task particularly for his maintaining that if all be determined then truth and error are indistinguishable. Fouillée claims that the distinction between truth and error is by no means parallel to that between necessity and freedom. An error may, he points out, be necessitated, and consequently we must look elsewhere for our doctrine of certitude than to the affirmation of freedom. In the philosophy of Renouvier, as we have seen, these two are intimately connected. Fouillée criticises the neo-critical doctrine of freedom on the ground that Renouvier mars his thought by a tendency to look upon the determinist as a passive and inert creature. This, he says, is “the argument of laziness” applied to the intelligence. “One forgets,” says Fouillée, “that if intelligence is a mirror, it is not an immovable and powerless mirror: it is a mirror always turning itself to reality.”^[16]

[15] Ibid., pp. 117-137.

[16] La Liberté et le Déterminisme, p. 129.

On examining closely the difference between Renouvier and Fouillée over this problem of freedom, we may attribute it to the fact that while the one thinker is distinctly and rigorously an upholder of continuity, the other believes in no such absolute continuity. For Fouillée there is, in a sense, nothing new under the sun, while Renouvier in his thought, which has been well described as a philosophy of discontinuity, has a place for new things, real beginnings, and he is in this way linked up to the doctrine of creative development as set forth ultimately by Bergson. It will be seen also as we proceed that Fouillée, for all he has to say on behalf of determinism, is not so widely separated in his view of freedom from that worked out by Bergson, although at the first glance the gulf between them seems a wide one.

Fouillée, while attacking Renouvier, did not spare that other acute thinker, Lachelier, from the whip of his criticism. He takes objection to a passage in that writer’s Induction where he advocates the doctrine that the production of ideas “is free in the most rigorous sense of that word, since each idea is in itself absolutely independent of that which precedes it, and is born out of nothing, as is a world.” To this view of the spontaneity of the spirit Fouillée opposes the remark that Lachelier is considering only the new forms which are assumed by a mechanism which is always operating under the same laws of causality. He asks us in this connection to imagine a kaleidoscope which is being turned round. The images which succeed each other will be in this sense a formal creation, a form independent of that which went before, but, as he is anxious to remind us, the same mechanical and geometrical laws will be operating continually in producing these forms.

Having had these encounters with the upholders of freedom, and thus to some degree having conveyed the impression of being on the side of the determinists, Fouillée proceeds to the task he had set himself—namely, that of reconciliation. He felt the unsatisfactoriness of Kant’s treatment of freedom,^[17] and he endeavours to remedy the lack in Kant of a real link between the determinism of the natural sciences and the human consciousness of freedom, realised in the practical reason. Fouillée proposes to find in his idées-forces a middle term and to offer us a solution of the problem at issue in the dispute.

[17] See above, p. 136.

He begins by showing that there has been an unfortunate neglect of one important factor in the case—a factor whose reality is frankly admitted by both parties. This central, incontestable fact is the idea of freedom. This idea, according to Fouillée, arises in us as the result Of a combination of various psychological factors, such as notions of diversity, possibility, with the tendency to action arising from the notion of action, which thus shows itself as a force. The combination of these results in the genesis of the idea of freedom. Now the stronger this idea of freedom is in our minds the more we make it become a reality. It is an “idea-force” which by being thought tends to action and thus increases in power and fruitfulness. The idea of freedom becomes, by a kind of determinism, more powerful in proportion to the degree with which it is acted upon. Determinism thus reflects upon itself and in a curious way turns to operate against itself. This directing power of the idea of freedom cannot be denied even by the most rigorous upholders of determinism. They at least are forced to find room in their doctrine for the idea of freedom and its practical action on the lives of men, both individually and in societies. The vice of the doctrines of determinism has been the refusal to admit the reality of the liberating idea of freedom, which is tending always to realise itself.

The belief in freedom is, therefore, Fouillée claims, a powerful force in the world. Nothing is a more sure redeemer of men and societies from evil ways than the realisation of this idea of freedom. So largely is this the case that indeed the extinction of the belief in freedom would, he argues, not differ much in consequence from the finding that freedom was an illusion, or, if it be a fact, its abolition.

Having thus rectified the doctrine of determinism by including a place within it for the idea of freedom, Fouillée proceeds by careful analysis to show the error of belief in freedom understood as that of an indifferent will. This raises as many fallacious views as that of a determinism bereft of the idea of freedom. The capricious and indifferent liberty he rejects, and in so doing shows us the importance of the intelligent power of willing, and also reaffirms the determinists’ thesis of inability to do certain things. The psychology of character shows us a determined freedom, and in the intelligent personality a reconciliation of freedom and determinism is seen to be effected. Fouillée shows that if it were not true that very largely what we have been makes us what we are, and that what we are determines our future actions, then education, moral guidance, laws and social sanctions would all be useless. Indifferentism in thought is the reversal of all thought.

Fouillée sees that the antithesis between Freedom and Necessity is not absolute, and he modifies the warmth of Renouvier’s onslaughts upon the upholders of determinism. But he believes we can construct a notion of moral freedom which will not be incompatible with the determinism of nature. To effect this reconciliation, however, we must abandon the view of Freedom as a decision indifferently made, an action of sheer will unrelated to intelligence. Freedom is not caprice; it is, Fouillée claims, a power of indefinite development.

Yet, in the long and penetrating Introduction to his volume on the Evolutionnisme des Idées-forces, Fouillée points out that however much science may feel itself called upon to uphold a doctrine of determinism for its own specific purposes, we must remember that the sphere of science is not all-embracing. There is the sphere of action, and the practical life demands and, to a degree demonstrates, freedom. Fouillee admits in this connection the indetermination of the future, pour notre esprit. We act upon this idea of relative indeterminism, combining with it the idea of our own action, the part which we personally feel called upon to play. He recognises in his analysis how important is this point for the solution of the problem. We cannot overlook the contribution which our personality is capable of making to the whole unity of life and experience, not only by its achievements in action, but by its ideals, by that which we feel both can and should be. Herein lies, according to Fouillée’s analysis, the secret of duty and the ideal of our power to fulfil it, based upon the central idea of our freedom. By thus acting on these ideas, and by the light and inspiration of these ideals, we tend to realise them. It is this which marks the point where a doctrine of pure determinism not only shows itself erroneous and inadequate, but as Fouillee puts it, the human consciousness is the point where it is obliged to turn against itself “as a serpent which bites its own tail.”^[18] Fatalism is a speculative hypothesis and nothing else. Freedom is equally an hypothesis, but, adds Fouillée, it is an hypothesis which is at work in the world.

[18] Evolutionnisme des Idées-forces, Introduction, p. lxxiv.

In the thought of Guyau there is a further insistence upon freedom in spite of the fact that his spiritualism is super-added to much which reveals the naturalist and positive outlook. He upholds freedom and, indeed, contingency, urging, as against Ravaisson’s teleology, that there is no definite tendency towards truth, beauty and goodness. At all times, too, Guyau is conscious of union with nature and with his fellows in a way which operates against a facile assertion of freedom. In his Vers d’un Philosophe he remarks:

“Ce mot si doux au coeur et si cher, Liberté,
J’en préfèrs encore un: c’est Solidarité.”^[19]

[19] Vers d’un Philosophe, “Solidarité,” p. 38.

The maintenance of the doctrine of liberty, which in view of the facts we are bound to maintain, does away, Guyau insists, with the doctrine of Providence; for him, as for Bergson, there is no prévision but only nouveauté in the universe. Guyau indeed is not inclined to admit even that end which Bergson seems to favour—namely, “spontaneity of life itself.” The world does not find its end in us, any more than we find our “ends” fixed for us in advance. Nothing is fixed, arranged or predetermined; there is not even a primitive adaptation of things to one another, for such adaptation would involve the pre-existence of ideas prior to the material world, together with a demiurge arranging things upon a plan in the manner of an architect. In reality there is no plan; every worker conceives his own. The world is a superb example, not of order, such as we associate with the idea of Providence in action, but the reverse, disorder, the result of contingency and freedom.

The supreme emphasis upon the reality of freedom appears, however, in the work of Boutroux and of Bergson at the end of our period. They arrive at a position diametrically opposed to that of the upholders of determinism, by their doctrines of contingency as revealed both in the evolution of the universe and in the realm of personal life. There is thus seen, as was the case with the problem of science, a complete “turn of the tide” in the development since Comte.

Boutroux, summing up his thesis La contingence des Lois de la Nature, indicates clearly in his concluding chapter his belief in contingency, freedom and creativeness. The old adage, “nothing is lost, nothing is created,” to which science seems inclined to attach itself, has not an absolute value, for in the hierarchy of creatures contingency, freedom, newness appear in the higher ranks. There is at work no doubt a principle of conservation, but this must not lead us to deny the existence and action of another principle, that of creation. The world rises from inorganic to organic forms, from matter to spirit, and in man himself from mere sensibility to intelligence, with its capacity for criticising and observing, and to will capable of acting upon things and modifying them by freedom.

Boutroux inclines to a doctrine of finalism somewhat after the manner of Ravaisson. The world he conceives as attracted to an end; the beautiful and the good are ideals seeking to be realised; but this belief in finality does not, he expressly maintains, exclude contingency. To illustrate this, Boutroux uses a metaphor from seamanship: the sailors in a ship have a port to make for, yet their adaptations to the weather and sea en route permit of contingency along with the finality involved in their making for port. So it is with beings in nature. They have not merely the one end, to exist amid the obstacles and difficulties around them, “they have an ideal to realise, and this ideal consists in approaching to God, to his likeness, each after his kind. The ideal varies with the creatures, because each has his special nature, and can only imitate God in and by his own nature.”^[20]

[20] La Contingence des Lois de la Nature, p. 158.

Boutroux’s doctrine of freedom and contingency is not opposed to a teleological conception of the universe, and in this respect he stands in contrast to Bergson, who, in the rigorous application of his theory of freedom, rules out all question of teleology. With Renouvier and with Bergson, however, Boutroux agrees in maintaining that this freedom, which is the basis of contingency in things, is not and cannot be a datum of experience, directly or indirectly, because experience only seizes things which are actually realised, whereas this freedom is a creative power, anterior to the act. Heredity, instinct, character and habit are words by which we must not be misled or overawed into a disbelief in freedom. They are not absolutely fatal and fully determined. The same will, insists Boutroux, which has created a habit can conquer it. Will must not be paralysed by bowing to the assumed supremacy of instincts or habits. Habit itself is not a contradiction of spontaneity; it is itself a result of spontaneity, a state of spontaneity itself, and does not exclude contingency or freedom.

Metaphysics can, therefore, according to Boutroux, construct a doctrine of freedom based on the conception of contingency. The supreme principles according to this philosophy will be laws, not those of the positive sciences, but the laws of beauty and goodness, expressing in some measure the divine life and supposing free agents. In fact the triumph of the good and the beautiful will result in the replacement of laws of nature, strictly so called, by the free efforts of wills tending to perfection—that is, to God.

Further studies upon the problem of freedom are to be found in Boutroux’s lectures given at the Sorbonne in 1892-93 in the course entitled De l’Idée de la Loi naturelle dans la Science et la Philosophie contemporaines. He there recognises in freedom the crucial question at issue between the scientists and the philosophers, for he states the object of this course of lectures as being a critical examination of the notion we have of the laws of nature, with a view to determining the situation of human personality, particularly in regard to free action.^[21] Boutroux recognises that when the domain of science was less extensive and less rigorous than it is now it was much easier to believe in freedom. The belief in Destiny possessed by the ancients has faded, but we may well ask ourselves, says Boutroux, whether modern science has not replaced it by a yet more rigorous fatalism.^[22] He considers that the modern doctrine of determinism rests upon two assumptions—namely, that mathematics is a perfectly intelligible science, and is the expression of absolute determinism; also that mathematics can be applied with exactness to reality. These assumptions the lecturer shows to be unjustifiable. Mathematics and experience can never be fitted exactly into each other, for there are elements in our experience and in our own nature which cannot be mathematically expressed. This Boutroux well emphasises in his lecture upon sociological laws, where he asserts that history cannot be regarded as the unrolling of a single law, nor can the principle of causality, strictly speaking, be applied to it.^[23] An antecedent certainly may be an influence but not a cause, as properly understood. He here agrees with Renouvier s position and attitude to history, and shows the vital bearing of the problem of freedom upon the philosophy of history, to which we shall presently give our special attention.

[21] De l’Idée de la Loi naturelle, Lecture IV., p. 29.

[22] Compare Janet’s remark, given on p. 136.

[23] Lecture XIII.

Instead of the ideal of science, a mathematical unity, experience shows us, Boutroux affirms, a hierarchy of beings, displaying variety and spontaneity—in short, freedom. So far, therefore, from modern science being an advocate of universal determinism, it is really, when rightly regarded, a demonstration, not of necessity, but of freedom. Boutroux’s treatment of the problem of freedom thus demonstrates very clearly its connection with that of science, and also with that of progress. It forms pre-eminently the central problem.

The idea of freedom is prominent in the “philosophy of action” and in the Bergsonian philosophy; indeed, Bergson’s treatment of the problem is the culmination of the development of the idea in Cournot, Renouvier and the neo-spiritualists. In Blondel the notion is not so clearly worked out, as there are other considerations upon which he wishes to insist. Blondel is deeply concerned with the power of ideals over action, and his thought of freedom has affinities to the psychology of the idées-forces. This is apparent in his view of the will, where he does not admit a purely voluntarist doctrine. His insistence on the dynamic of the will in action is clear, but he reminds us that the will does not cause or produce everything, for the will wills to be what is not yet; it strives for achievement, to gain something beyond itself. Much of Blondel’s treatment of freedom is coloured by his religious and moral psychology, factors with which Bergson does not greatly concern himself in his writings. Blondel endeavours to maintain man’s freedom of action and at the same time to remain loyal to the religious notion of a Divine Providence, or something akin to that. Consequently he is led to the dilemma which always presents itself to the religious consciousness when it asserts its own freedom—namely, how can that freedom be consistent with Divine guidance or action? Christian theology has usually been determinist in character, but Blondel attempts to save freedom by looking upon God as a Being immanent in man.

Bergson makes Freedom a very central point in his philosophy, and his treatment of it bears signs of the influence of De Biran, Ravaisson, Lachelier, Guyau and Boutroux. He rejects, however, the doctrine of finality as upheld by Ravaisson, Lachelier and Boutroux, while he stresses the contingency which this last thinker had brought forward. His solution of the problem is, however, peculiarly his own, and is bound up with his fundamental idea of change, or LA DURÉE.

In his work Les Données immédiates de la Conscience, or Time and Free-Will, he criticises the doctrine of physical determinism, which is based on the principle of the conservation of energy, and on a purely mechanistic conception of the universe. He here points out, and later stresses in his Matiere et Mémoire, the fact that it has not been proved that a strictly determined psychical state corresponds to a definite cerebral state. We have no warrant for concluding that because the physiological and the psychological series exhibit some corresponding terms that therefore the two series are absolutely parallel. To do so is to settle the problem of freedom in an entirely a priori manner, which is unjustifiable.

The more subtle and plausible case for psychological determinism Bergson shows to be no more tenable than that offered for the physical. It is due to adherence to the vicious Association-psychology, which is a psychology without a self. To say the self is determined by motive will not suffice, for in a sense it is true, in another sense it is not, and we must be careful of our words. If we say the self acts in accordance with the strongest motive, well and good, but how do we know it is the strongest? Only because it has prevailed—that is, only because the self acted upon it, which is totally different from claiming that the self was determined by it externally. To say the self is determined by certain tives is to say it is self-determined. The essential thing in all this is the vitality of the self.

The whole difficulty, Bergson points out, arises from the fact that all attempts to demonstrate freedom tend only to strengthen the artificial case for determinism, because freedom is only characteristic of a self in action. He is here in line on this point with Renouvier and Boutroux, although the reasons he gives for it go beyond in psychological penetration those assigned by these thinkers. When our action is over, says Bergson, it seems plausible to argue a case for determinism because of our spatial conception of time and the relationships of events in time. We have a habit of thinking in terms of space, by mathematical time, not in real time or la durée as Bergson calls it, the time in which the living soul acts.

Bergson thus makes room in the universe for a freedom of the human will, a creative activity, and thus delivers us from the bonds of necessity and fatalism in which the physical sciences and the associationist psychology would bind us. We perceive ourselves as centres of indetermination, creative spirits. We must guard our freedom, for it is an essential attribute of spirit. In so far as we tend to become dominated by matter, which acts upon us in habit and convention, we lose our freedom. It is not absolute, and many never achieve it, for their personality never shines forth at all: they live their lives in habit and routine, victims of automatism. We have, however, Bergson urges, great power of creation. He stresses, as did Guyau, the Conception of Life, as free, expanding, and in several respects his view of freedom is closer to that of Guyau than to that of Boutroux, in spite of the latter’s contingency. There is no finalism admitted by Bergson, for he sees in any teleology only “a reversed mechanism.”

Obviously the maintenance of such a doctrine of freedom as that of Bergson is of central importance in any philosophy which contains it. Our conceptions of ethics and of progress depend upon our view of freedom. For Bergson “the portals of the future stand wide open, the future is being made.” He is an apostle of a doctrine of absolute contingency which he applied to the evolution of the world, in his famous volume L’Evolution Créatrice (published in 1907). His philosophy has been termed pessimistic by some in view of his rejection of any teleological conception. Such a doctrine would conflict with his “free” universe and his absolute contingency. On the other hand, it leaves open an optimistic view, because of its freedom, its insistence upon the possibilities of development. It is not only a reaction against the earlier doctrines of determinism, it is a deliverance of the human soul which has always refused, even when religious, to abandon entirely the belief in its own freedom.

Such is the doctrine of freedom which closes our period, a striking contrast to the determinism which, under the influence of modern science, characterised its opening. The critique of science and the assaults upon determinism proceeded upon parallel lines. In many respects they were two aspects of the one problem, and in themselves were sufficient to describe the essential development in the thought of our half century, for the considerations of progress, ethics and religion to which we now turn derive their significance largely from what has been set forth in these chapters on Science and Freedom.

INTRODUCTORY : Freedom and Progress intimately connected—Confidence in Progress, a marked feature of the earlier half of the nineteenth century, was bound up with confidence in Science and Reason, and in a belief in determinism, either natural or divine—Condorcet, Saint-Simon, Comte and others proclaim Progress as a dogma.

I. The idea of progress in Vacherot, Tame and Renan—Interesting reflections of Renan based on belief in Reason.

II. Cournot and Renouvier regard Progress in a different light, owing to their ideas on Freedom—They look upon it as a possibility only, but not assured, not inevitable—Renouvier’s study of history in relation to progress and his view of immortality as Progress—No law of progress exists.

III. The new spiritualist group emphasise the lack of any law of progress, by their insistence on the spontaneity of the spirit, creativeness and contingency—Difficulties of finalsm or teleology in relation to progress as free—No law or guarantee of progress.

CONCLUSION : Complete change from earlier period regarding Progress—New view of it developed—Facile optimism rejected.

Intimately bound up with the idea of freedom is that of progress. For, although our main approach to the discussion of freedom was made by way of the natural sciences, by a critique of physical determinism, and also by way of the problem of personal action, involving a critique of psychological determinism, it must be noted that there have appeared throughout the discussion very clear indications of the vital bearing of freedom upon the wide field of humanity’s development considered as a whole—in short, its history. The philosopher must give some account of history, if he is to leave no gap in his view of the universe. The philosophy of history will obviously be vastly different if it be based on determinism rather than on freedom. When the philosopher looks at history his thoughts must inevitably centre around the idea of progress. He may believe in it or may reject it as an illusion, but his attitude to it will be very largely a reflection of the doctrine which he has formed regarding freedom.

The notion of progress is probably the most characteristic feature which distinguishes modern civilisation from those of former times. It would have seemed to the Greeks foolishness. We owe it to the people who, in the modern world, have been what Greece was in the ancient world, the glorious mother of ideas. The eighteenth century was marked in France by a growing belief in progress, which was encouraged by the Encyclopaedists and rose to enthusiasm at the Revolution. Its best expression was that given by Condorcet, himself an Encyclopaedist, and originally a supporter of the Revolution. His Sketch of an Historical Picture of the Progress of the Human Mind was written in 1793 (while its author was threatened with the guillotine^[1]), published two years later, and became, in the early years of the nineteenth century, a powerful stimulus to thought concerning progress. Much of the work is defective, but it had a great influence upon Saint-Simon, the early socialists, and upon the doctrines of Auguste Comte, which themselves are immediate antecedents of our own period. We may note briefly here, that Condorcet believed in a sure and infallible progress in knowledge and in social welfare. This is the important doctrine which Saint-Simon and Comte both accepted from him. His ideal of progress is contained in the three watchwords of the Revolution, Liberté, Egalité, Fraternité, particularly the last two. He forecasts an abandonment of militarism, prophesies an era of universal peace, and the reign of equality between the sexes. Equality is a point which he insists upon very keenly, and, although he did not speak of sociology as did Comte, nor of socialism as did Saint-Simon, he claimed that the true history of mankind is the history of the great mass of workers: it is not diplomatic and military, not the record of dazzling deeds of great men. Condorcet, however, was dogmatic in his belief in progress, and he did not work out any “law” of progress, although he believed progress to be a law of the universe, in general, and an undeniable truth in regard to the life-history of mankind.

[1] He was ultimately imprisoned and driven to suicide.

Later, his friend Cabanis upheld a similarly optimistic view, and endeavoured to argue for it, against the Traditionalists, who we may remember endeavoured to restate Catholicism, and to make an appeal to those whom the events of the Revolution had disturbed and disillusioned. The outcome of the Terror had somewhat shaken the belief in a straightforward progress, but enthusiastic exponents of the doctrine were neither lacking nor silent. Madame de Staël continued the thought of Condorcet, thus forming a link between him and Saint-Simon and Comte. The influence of the Traditionalists and the general current of thought and literature known as Romanticism, helped also to solve a difficulty which distinguishes Condorcet from Comte. This difficulty lay in the eighteenth-century attitude to the Middle Ages, which Condorcet had accepted, and which seriously damaged his thesis of general progress, for in the eighteenth century the Middle Ages were looked upon as a black, dark regress, for which no thinker had a good word to say. The change of view is seen most markedly when we come to Comte, whose admiration of the Middle Ages is a conspicuous feature of his work. While, however, Saint-Simon and Comte were working out their ideas, great popularity was given to the belief in progress by the influence of Cousin, Jouffroy, Guizot, and by Michelet’s translation of the Scienza nuova of the Italian thinker Vico, a book then a century old but practically unknown in France. For Cousin, the world process was a result of a necessary evolution of thought, which he conceived in rather Hegelian fashion. Jouffroy agreed with this fatal progress, although he endeavoured to reconcile it with that of personal freedom. Guizot’s main point was that progress and civilisation are the same thing, or rather, that civilisation is to be defined only by progress, for that is its fundamental idea. His definition of progress is not, however, strikingly clear, and he calls attention to two types of progress—one involving an improvement in social welfare, the other in the spiritual or intellectual life. Although Guizot tried to show that progress in both these forms is a fact, he did not touch ultimate questions, nor did he successfully show that progress is the universal key to human history. He did not really support his argument that civilisation is progress in any convincing way, but he gave a stimulus to reflection on the question of the relationship of these two. Michelet’s translation of Vico came at an appropriate time, and served a useful purpose. It showed to France a thinker who, while not denying a certain progress over short periods, denied it over the long period, and reverted rather to the old notion of an eternal recurrence. For Vico, the course of human history was not rectilineal but rather spiral, although he, too, refrained from indicating any law. He claimed clearly enough that each civilisation must give way to barbarism and anarchy, and the cycle be again begun.

Such were the ideas upon progress which were current at the time when Saint-Simon, Fourier and Comte were busily thinking out their doctrines, the main characteristics of which we have already noted in our Introduction on the immediate antecedents of our period. The thought given to the question of progress in modern France is almost unintelligible save in the light of the doctrines current from Condorcet, through Saint-Simon to Comte, for the second half of the century is again characterised by a criticism and indeed a reaction against the idea professed in the first half. This was true in regard to Science and to Freedom. We shall see a similar type of development illustrated again respecting Progress.

Already we have noted the general aim and object which both Saint-Simon and Comte had in view. The important fact for our discussion here is that Saint-Simon, by his respect for the Middle Ages, and for the power of religion, was able to rectify the defects which the ideas of the eighteenth century had left in Condorcet’s doctrine of progress. Moreover, he claimed, as Condorcet had not done, to indicate a “law of progress,” which gives rise alternately to “organic” and to “critical” periods. The Middle Ages were, in the opinion of Saint-Simon, an admirable period, displaying as they did an organic society, where there was a temporal and spiritual authority. With Luther began an anarchical, critical period. According to Saint-Simon s law of progress a new organic period will succeed this, and the characteristic of that period will be socialism. He advocated a gradual change, not a violent revolutionary one, but he saw in socialism the inevitable feature of the new era. With its triumph would come a new world organisation and a league of peoples in which war would be no more, and in which the lot of the proletariat would be free from oppression and misery. The Saint-Simonist School became practically a religious sect, and the chief note in its gospel was “Progress.”

That the notion of progress was conspicuous in the thought of this time is very evident. It was, indeed, in the foreground, and a host of writers testify to this, whom we cannot do much more than mention here. A number of them figured in the events of 1848. The social reformers all invoked “Progress” as justification for their theories being put into action. Bazard took up the ideas of Saint-Simon and expounded them in his Exposition de la Doctrine saint-simonienne (1830). Buchez, in his work on the philosophy of history, assumed progress (1833). The work of Louis Blanc on L’Organisation du Travail appeared in 1839 in a periodical calling itself Revue des Progrès. The brochure from Proudhon, on property, came in 1840, and was followed later by La Philosophie du Progrès (1851). Meanwhile Fourier’s Théorie des Quatre Mouvements et des Destinées générales attempted in rather a fantastic manner to point the road to progress. Worthless as many of his quaint pages are, they were a severe indictment of much in the existing order, and helped to increase the interest and the faith in progress. Fourier’s disciple, Considérant, was a prominent figure in 1848. The Utopia proposed by Cabet insisted upon fraternité as the keynote to progress, while the volumes of Pierre Leroux, De l’Humanité, which appeared in the same year as Cabet’s volume, 1840, emphasised égalité as the essential factor. His humanitarianism influenced the woman-novelist, George Sand. This same watchword of the Revolution had been eulogised by De Tocqueville in his important study of the American Republic in 1834, and that writer had claimed égalité as the goal of human progress. All these men take progress as an undoubted fact; they only vary by using a different one of the three watchwords, Liberté, Egalité, Fraternité, to denote the kind of progress they mean. Meanwhile, Michelet and his friend Quinet combated the Hegelian conception of history maintained by Cousin, and they claimed liberté to be the watchword of progress. The confidence of all in progress is almost pathetic in its unqualified optimism. It is not remarkable that the events of 1851 proved a rude shock. Javary, a writer who, in 1850, published a little work, De l’Idée du Progrès, claimed that the idea is the supremely interesting question of the time in its relation to a general philosophy of history and to the ultimate destiny of mankind. This is fairly evident from the writers we have cited, without Javary’s remark, but it is worth noting as being the observation of a contemporary. With the mention of Reynaud’s Philosophie religieuse, upholding the principle of indefinite perfectability and Pelletan’s Profession du Foi du XIX^e Siècle, wherein he maintained confidently and dogmatically that progress is the general law of the universe, we must pass on from these minor people to consider one who had a profounder influence on the latter half of the century, and who took over the notion of progress from Saint-Simon.

This was Comte, whose attitude to progress in many respects resembles that of Saint-Simon, but he brought to his work a mental equipment lacking in the earlier writer and succeeded, by the position he gave to it in his Positive Philosophy, in making the idea of progress one which subsequent thinkers could not omit from consideration.

According to Comte, the central factor in progress is the mental. Ideas, as Fouillée was later to assert, are the real forces in humanity’s history. These ideas develop in accordance with the “Law of the Three Stages,” already explained in our Introduction. In spite of the apparent clearness and simplicity of this law, Comte had to admit that as a general law of all development it was to some degree rendered difficult in its application by the lack of simultaneity in development in the different spheres of knowledge and social life. While recognising the mental as the keynote to progress, he also insisted upon the solidarity of the physical, intellectual, moral and social life of man, and to this extent admitted a connection and interaction between material welfare and intellectual progress. The importance of this admission lay in the fact that it led Comte to qualify what first appears as a definite and confident belief in a rectilineal progress. He admits that such a conception is not true, for there is retrogression, conflict, wavering, and not a steady development. Yet he claims that there is a general and ultimate progress about a mean line. The causes which shake and retard the steady progress are not all-powerful, they cannot upset the fundamental order of development. These causes which do give rise to variations are, we may note in passing, the effects of race, climate and political and military feats like those of Napoleon, for whom Comte did not disguise his hatred, styling him the man who had done most harm to humanity. Great men upset his sociological theories, but Comte was no democrat and strongly opposed ideas of Liberty and Equality. We have remarked upon his general attitude to his own age, as one of criticism and anarchy. In this he was probably correct, but he quite underestimated the extent and duration of that anarchy, particularly by his estimate of the decline and fall of Catholicism and of militarism, which he regarded as the two evils of Europe. The events of the twentieth century would have been a rude shock to him, particularly the international conflagration of 1914-1918. It was to Europe that Comte confined his philosophy of history and consequently narrowed it. He knew little outside this field.

He endeavoured, however, to apply his new science of sociology to the development of European history. His work contains much which is good and instructive, but fails ultimately to establish any law of progress. It does not seem to have occurred to Comte’s mind that there might not be one. This was the question which was presented to the thinkers after him, and occupies the chief place in the subsequent discussion of progress.

In the second half of the century the belief in a definite and inevitable progress appears in the work of those thinkers inspired by the positivist spirit, Vacherot, Taine and Renan. Vacherot’s views on the subject are given in one of his Essais de Philosophie critique,^[2] entitled “Doctrine du Progrès.” These pages, in which sublime confidence shines undimmed, were intended as part of a longer work on the Philosophy of History. Many of Renan’s essays, and especially the concluding chapters of his work L’Avenir de la Science, likewise profess an extreme confidence in progressive development. Yet Taine and Renan are both free from the excessive and glowing confidence expressed by Condorcet, Saint-Simon and Comte. Undoubtedly the events of their own time reacted upon their doctrine of progress, and we have already noted the pessimism and disappointment which coloured their thoughts regarding contemporary political events. Both, however, are rationalists, and have unshaken faith in the ultimate triumph of reason.

[2] Published in 1864.

The attitude which Taine adopts to history finds a parallel in the fatalism and determinism of Spinoza, for he looks upon the entire life of mankind as the unrolling of a rigidly predetermined series of events. “Our preferences,” he remarks, “are futile; nature and history have determined things in advance; we must accommodate ourselves to them, for it is certain that they will not accommodate themselves to us.” Taine’s view of history reflects his rejection of freedom, for he maintains that it is a vast regulated chain which operates independently of individuals. Fatalism colours it entirely. It is precisely this attitude of Taine which raises the wrath of Renouvier, and also that of both Cournot and Fouillée, whose discussions we shall examine presently. They see in such a doctrine an untrue view of history and a theory vicious and detestable from a moral standpoint, although it doubtless, as Fouillée sarcastically remarks, has been a very advantageous one for the exploiters of humanity in all ages to teach and to preach to the people.

In passing from Taine’s fatalistic view of history to note his views on progress we find him asserting that man’s nature does not in itself inspire great optimism, for that nature is largely animal, and man is ever ready, however “civilised” he may appear to be, to return to his native primitive ferocity and barbarism. Man is not, according to Taine, even a sane animal, for he is by nature mad and foolish. Health and wisdom only occasionally reign, and so we have no great ground for optimism when we examine closely the nature of man, as it really is. Taine’s treatment of the French Revolution^[3] shows his hostility to democracy, and he is sceptical about the value or meaning of the watchwords, “Rights of Man,” or Liberté, Egalité, Fraternité. This last, he claims, is merely a verbal fiction useful for disguising the reality, which is actual warfare of all against all.

[3] “La Révolution,” in his large work, Les Origines de la France contemporaine.

Yet in spite of these considerations Taine believes in a definitely guaranteed progress. Man’s lower nature does not inspire optimism, but his high power of reason does, and it is on this faith in reason that Taine confidently founds his assertions regarding progress. He sees in reason the ultimate end and meaning of all else. The triumph of reason is an ideal goal to which, in spite of so many obstacles, all the forces of the universe are striving. In this intellectual progress, this gradual rationalisation of mankind, Taine sees the essential element of progress upon which all other goods depend. The betterment of social conditions will naturally follow; it is the spiritual and mental factor which is the keynote of progress Reason, he contends, will give us a new ethic, a new politic and a new religion.

Renan shares with Taine the belief in reason and its ultimate triumph. His views on progress are, however, more discursive, and are extremely interesting and suggestive. He was in his later years shrewd enough to discover the difficulties of his own doctrine. Thus although he believed in a “guaranteed” progress, Renan marks a stage midway between the idea of progress as held by Comte and Taine on the one hand, and by Cournot and Renouvier on the other.

His early book, L’Avenir de la Science, glows with ardent belief in this assured progress, which is bound up with his confidence in science and rationality. “Our creed,” he there declares, “is the reasonableness of progress.” This idea of progress is almost as central a point in Renan’s thought as it was in that of Comte, and he gave it a more metaphysical significance. His general philosophy owes much to history, and for him the philosophy of history is the explanation of progress. By this term he means an ever-growing tendency to perfection, to fuller consciousness and life, to nobler, better and more beautiful ends. He thinks it necessary to conceive of a sort of inner spring, urging all things on to fuller life. He seems here to anticipate vaguely the central conception of Guyau and of Bergson. But, like Taine, Renan founds his doctrine of progress on rationalism. He well expresses this in one of his Drames philosophiques (L’Eau de Jouvence), through the mouth of Prospero, who represents rational thought. This character declares that “it is science which brings about social progress, and not progress which gives rise to science. Science only asks from society to have granted to it the conditions necessary to its life and to produce a sufficient number of minds capable of understanding it.”^[4] In the preface written for this drama he declares that science or reason will ultimately succeed in creating the power and force of government in humanity.

[4] L’Eau de Jouvence, Act 4, Scene I., Conclusion.

These thoughts re-echo many of the sentiments voiced on behalf of progress by Condorcet, Saint-Simon and Comte. It is interesting, however, to note an important point on which Renan not only parts company with them, but ranges himself in opposition to them. This point is that of socialism or democracy, call it what one will.

In the spring of 1871 Renan was detained at Versailles during the uproar of the Commune in Paris, and there wrote his Dialogues et Fragments philosophiques, which were published five years later. In these pages certain doctrines of progress and history are set forth, notably in the “dialogues of three philosophers of that school whose ground-principles are the cult of the ideal, the negation of the supernatural and the investigation of reality.” Renan raises a discussion of the end of the world’s development. The universe, he maintains, is not devoid of purpose: it pursues an ideal end. This goal to which the evolutionary process moves is the reign of reason. But there are striking limitations to this advance. From this kingdom of reason on the earth the mass of men are shut out. Renan does not believe in a gradual improvement of the mass of mankind accompanied by a general rationalisation which is democratic. The truth is that Renan was an intellectual aristocrat and, as such, he abhorred Demos. His gospel of culture, upon which he lays the greatest stress, is for the few who are called and chosen, while the many remain outside the pale, beyond the power of the salvation he offers. The development of the democratic idea he looks upon as thoroughly mischievous, inasmuch as it involves, in his opinion, degeneration, a levelling down to mediocrity. In his philosophy of history he adopts an attitude somewhat akin to that of Carlyle in his worship of Great Men. The end of history is, Renan states, the production of men of genius. The great mass of men, the common stuff of humanity, he likens to the soil from which these Great Ones grow. The majority of men have their existence justified only by the appearance upon the scene of “Heroes of Culture.” In this teaching the parallelism to the gospel of the Superman is apparent, yet it seems clear that although Renan’s man of culture despises the ignorance and vulgarity of the crowd, he does so condescendingly as a benefactor, and is free from the passionate hatred and scorn to which Nietzsche’s Superman is addicted. Nevertheless, Renan’s attitude of uncompromising hostility to democratic development is very marked. He couples his confidence in Science to his anti-democratic views, and affirms the “Herd” to be incapable of culture. Although the process of rationalisation and the establishment of the kingdom of reason is applicable only to the patrician and not to the plebs, this process is claimed by Renan to be capable of great extension, not in the number of its adherents but in the extent of culture. In this final reign of reason, instinctive action and impulse will be replaced by deliberation, and science will succeed religion.

His famous letter to Berthelot includes a brief statement of his views on progressive culture, which, for him, constitutes the sign of progress. “One ought never,” he writes, “to regret seeing clearer into the depths.” By endeavouring to increase the treasure of the truths which form the paid-up capital of humanity, we shall be carrying on the work of our pious ancestors, who loved the good and the true as it was understood in their time. The true men of progress, he claims, are those who profess as their starting-point a profound respect for the past. Renan himself was a great lover of the past, yet we find him remarking in his Souvenirs d’Enfance et de Jeunesse that he has no wish to be taken for an uncompromising reactionist. “I love the past, but I envy the future,” and he thinks that it would be extremely pleasant to live upon this planet at as late a period as possible. He appears jealous of the future and of the young, whose fate it will be to know what will be the outcome of the activities of the German Emperor, what will be the climax of the conflict of European nationalities, what development socialism will take. His shrewd mind had alreadv foreseen in a measure the possible development of German militarism and of Bolshevism. He regards the world as moving towards a kind of “Americanism,” by which he means a type of life in which culture and refinement shall have little place. Yet, although he has a horror and a dread of democracy, he feels also that the evils accompanying it may be, after all, no worse than those involved in the reactionary dominance of nobles and clergy.

Humanity has not hitherto marched, he thinks, with much method. Order he considers to be desirable, but only in view of progress. Revolutions are only absurd and odious, he asserts in L’Avenir de la Science, to those who do not believe in progress. Yet he claims that reaction has its place in the plan of Providence, for it works unwittingly for the general good. “There are,” to quote his metaphor, “declivities down which the rôle of the traction engine consists solely in holding back.”

Renan thinks that if democratic ideas should secure a clear triumph, science and scientific teaching would soon find the modest subsidies now accorded them cut off. He fears the approach of an era of mediocrity, of vulgarity, in fact, which will persecute the intellectuals and deprive the world of liberty. He is not thoughtlessly optimistic; he was far too shrewd an intellect for that. Our age, he suggests, may be regarded in future as the turning point of humanity’s history, that point where its deterioration set in, the prelude to its decline and fall. But he asserts, as against this, that Nature does not know the meaning of the word “discouragement.” Humanity, proving itself incapable of progress, but only capable of further deterioration, would be replaced by other forms. “We must not, because of our personal tastes, our prejudices perhaps, set ourselves to oppose the action of our time. This action goes on without regard to us and probably is right.”^[5] The future of science is assured. With its progress, Renan points out, we must reckon upon the decay of organised religion, as professed by sects or churches. The disappearance of this organised religion will, however, result most assuredly in a temporary moral degeneration, since morality has been so conventionally bound up with the Church. An era of egoism, military and economic in character, will arise and for a time prevail.

[5] Preface to Souvenirs d’Enfance et de Jeunesse.

Yet we must not, Renan reminds us, grumble at having too much unrest and conflict. The great object in life is the development of the mind, and this requires liberty or freedom. The worst type of society is the theocratic state, or the ancient pontifical dominion or any modern replica of these where dogma reigns supreme. A humanity which could not be revolutionary, which had lost the attraction of “Utopias,” believing itself to have established the perfect form of existence would be intolerable. This raises also the query that if progress be the main feature of our universe, then we have a dilemma to face, for either it leads us to a terminus ad quem, and so finally contradicts itself, or else it goes on for ever, and it is doubtful then in what sense it can be a progress.

Renan’s own belief was essentially religious, and was coloured by Christian and Hebrew conceptions. It was a rationalised belief in a Divine Providence. He professed a confidence in the final triumph of truth and goodness, and has faith in a dim, far-off divine event which he terms “the complete advent of God.” The objections which are so frequently urged by learned men against finalism or teleology of any kind whatsoever Renan deemed superficial and claimed, rightly enough, that they are not so much directed against teleology but against theology, against obsolete ideas of God, particularly against the dogma of a deliberate and omnipotent Creator. Renan’s own doctrine of the Deity is by no means clear, but he believed in a spiritual power capable of becoming some day conscious, omniscient and omnipotent. God will then have come to himself. From this point of view the universe is a progress to God, to an increasing realisation of the Divinity in truth, beauty and goodness.

The universe, Renan claims, must be ultimately rooted and grounded in goodness; there must be, in spite of all existing “evils,” a balance on the side of goodness, otherwise the universe would, like a vast banking-concern, fail. This balance of goodness is the raison d’être of the world and the means of its existence. The general life of the universe can be illustrated, according to Renan, by that of the oyster, and the formation within it of the pearl, by a malady, a process vague, obscure and painful. The pearl is the spirit which is the end, the final cause and last result, and assuredly the most brilliant outcome of this universe. Through suffering the pearl is formed; and likewise, through constant pain and conflict, suffering and hardship, the spirit of man moves intellectually and morally onward and upward, to the completed realisation of justice, beauty, truth and infinite goodness and love, to the complete and triumphant realisation of God. We must have patience, claims Renan, and have faith in these things, and have hope and take courage. “One day virtue will prove itself to have been the better part.” Such is his doctrine of progress.

With Cournot and Renouvier our discussion takes a new form. Renan, Taine, Vacherot and the host of social and political writers, together with August Comte himself, had accepted the fact of progress and clung to the idea of a law of progress. With these two thinkers, however, there is a more careful consideration given to the problem of progress. It was recognised as a problem and this was an immense advance upon the previous period, whose thinkers accepted it as a dogma.

True to the philosophic spirit of criticism and examination which involves the rejection of dogma as such, Cournot and Renouvier approach the idea of progress with reserve and free from the confidently optimistic assertions of the eighteenth and early nineteenth century. Scorning the rhetoric of political socialists, positivists and rationalists, they endeavour to view progress as the central problem of the philosophy of history, to ascertain what it involves, and to see whether such a phrase as “law of progress” has a meaning before they invoke it and repeat it in the overconfident manner which characterised their predecessors. We have maintained throughout this work that the central problem of our period was that of freedom. By surveying the general character of the thought of the time, and in following this by an examination of the relation of science and philosophy, we were able to show how vital and how central this problem was. From another side we are again to emphasise this. Having seen the way in which the problem of freedom was dealt with, we are in a position to observe how this coloured the solutions of other problems. The illustration is vivid here, for Cournot and Renouvier develop their philosophy of history from their consideration of freedom, and base their doctrines of progress upon their maintenance of freedom.

It is obvious that the acceptance of such views as those expressed on freedom by both Cournot and Renouvier must have far-reaching effects upon their general attitude to history, for how is the dogma of progress, as it had been preached, to be reconciled with free action? It is much easier to believe in progress if one be a fatalist. The difficulty here was apparent to Comte when he admitted the influence of variations, disturbing causes, which resulted in the development of mankind assuming an oscillating character rather than that of a straight-forward progress. He did not, however, come sufficiently close to this problem, and left the difficulty of freedom on one side by asserting that the operation of freedom, chance or contingency (call it what we will), issuing in non-predetermined actions, was so limited as not to interfere with the general course of progress.

Cournot and Renouvier take up the problem where Comte left it at this point. Each of them takes it a stage further onward in the development. The fundamental ideas of Cournot we have briefly noted as being those of order, chance and probability. The relation of these to progress he discusses, not only in his Essai sur les Fondements de nos Connaissances and the Traité de l’Enchaînement d’Idées, but also in a most interesting manner in his two volumes entitled Considérations sur la Marche des Idées et des Evènements dans les Temps modernes. Like Comte, he is faithful, as far as his principles will allow, to the idea of order. There is order in the universe to a certain degree; science shows it to us. There is also, he maintains, freedom, hazard or chance. Looking at history he sees, as did Comte, phenomena which, upon taking a long perspective, appear as interferences. Pure reason is, he claims, really incapable of deciding the vital question whether these disturbances are due to a pure contingency, chance or freedom, or whether they mark the points of the influence of the supernatural upon mankind’s development. He refers to the enchaînement de circonstances providentielles which helped the early Jews and led to the propagation of their monotheism; which helped also the development of the Christian religion in the Roman Empire. Hazard itself, he claims,^[6] may be the agent or minister of Providence. Such a view claims to be loyal at once to freedom and to order.

[6] Essai sur les Fondaments de nos Connaissances, vol. i, chap. 5.

Cournot continues his discussion further and submits many other considerations upon progress. He claims that it is absurd to see in every single occurrence the operations of a divine providence or the work of a divine architect. Such a view would exalt his conception of order, undoubtedly, but only at the expense of his view of freedom. He will not give up his belief in freedom, and in consequence declares that there is no pre-arranged order or plan in the sense of a “law.” He sets down many considerations which appear as dilemmas to the pure reason, and which only action, he thinks, will solve. He points out the difficulty of economic and social progress owing to our being unable to test theories until they are in action on a large field. He shows too how conflicting various developments may be, and how progress in one direction may involve degeneration in another. Equality may be good in some ways, unnatural and evil in others. Increase of population may be applauded as a progress from a military standpoint, but may be an economic evil with disastrous suffering as its consequence. The “progress” to peace and stability in a society usually involves a decrease in vitality and initiative. By much wealth of argument, no less than by his general attitude, Cournot was able to apply the breaks to the excessive confidence in progress and to call a halt for sounder investigation of the matter.

Renouvier did much more in this direction. In his Second Essay of General Criticism he touched upon the problem of progress in relation to freedom, and his fourth and fifth essays constitute five large volumes dealing with the “Philosophy of History.” He also devotes the last two chapters of La Nouvelle Monadologie to progress in relation to societies, and brings out the central point of his social ethics, that justice is the criterion of progress. Indeed, all that Renouvier says regarding history and progress leads up, in a manner peculiarly his own, to his treatment of ethics, which will claim attention in our next chapter.

The Analytic Philosophy of History forms an important item in the philosophical repertoire of Renouvier. He claims it to be a necessary feature of the neo-critical, and indeed of any serious, philosophy. It is, he claims, not a branch of knowledge which has an isolated place, for it is as intimately connected to life as is any theory to the facts which it embraces. That is not to say, and Renouvier is careful to make this clear, that we approach history assuming that there are laws governing it, or a single law or formula by which human development can be expressed. The “Philosophy of History” assumes no such thing; it is precisely this investigation which it undertakes, loyal to the principles of General Criticism of which it, in a sense, forms a part. In a classification it strictly stands between General Criticism or Pure Philosophy and History itself.

“History,” says Renouvier, “is the experience which humanity has of itself,”^[7] and his conclusions regarding progress depend on the views he holds regarding human personality and its essential attribute, freedom. The philosophy of history has to consider whether, in observing the development of humanity on the earth, one may assert the presence of any general law or laws. Can one say legitimately that there has been development? Is there really such a thing as progress? If so, what is our idea of progress? What is the trend of humanity’s history? These are great questions.

[7] Introduction à la Philosophie de l’Histoire, Préface.

The attitude which Renouvier adopts to the whole course of human history is based upon his fundamental doctrines of discontinuity, freedom and personality. There are, he claims, real beginnings, unpredicable occurrences, happenings which cannot be explained as having been caused by preceding events. We must not, he urges, allow ourselves to be hypnotised by the name “History,” as if it were in itself some great power, sweeping all of us onward in its course, or a vast ocean in which we are merely waves. Renouvier stands firm in his loyalty to personality, and sees in history, not a power of this sort, but simply the total result of human actions. History is the collective work of the human spirit or of free personalities.^[8]

[8] Renouvier’s great objection to Comte’s work was due to his disagreement with Comte’s conception of Humanity. To Renouvier, with his intense valuation of personality, this Comtian conception was too much of an abstraction.

It is erroneous to look upon it as either the fatalistic functioning of a law of things or as the results of the action of an all-powerful Deity or Providence. Neither the “scientific” view of determinism nor the theological conception of God playing with loaded dice, says Renouvier, will explain history. It is the outcome of human action, of personal acts which have real worth and significance in its formation. History is no mere display of marionettes, no Punch-and-Judy show with a divine operator pulling strings from his concealed position behind the curtain. Equally Renouvier disagrees with the view that history is merely an unrolling in time of a plan conceived from eternity. Human society and civilisation (of which history is the record) are products of man’s own thought and action, and in consequence manifest discontinuity, freedom and contingency. Renouvier thus opposes strongly all those thinkers, such as the Saint-Simonists, Hegelians and Positivists, who see in history only a fatalistic development. He joins battle especially with those who claim that there is a fatalistic or necessitated progress. History has no law, he claims, and there is not and cannot be any law of progress.

The idea of progress is certainly, he admits, one with which the philosopher is brought very vitally into contact in his survey of history. Indeed an elucidation of, this notion might itself be a part of the historian’s task. If so, the historians have sadly neglected part of their work. Renouvier calls attention to the fact that all those historians or philosophers who accept a comforting doctrine of humanity’s assured progress make very plausible statements, but they never seem able to state with any clearness or definiteness what constitutes progress, or what significance lies in their oft-repeated phrase, “the law of progress.” He rightly points out that this insistence upon a law, coupled with a manifest inability to indicate what it is, causes naturally a certain scepticism as to there being any such law at all.

Renouvier brands the search for any law of progress a futile one, since we cannot scientifically or logically define the goal of humanity or the course of its development because of the fact of freedom and because of our ignorance. We must realise that we, personally at firsthand, see only an infinitesimal part of humanity’s life on this planet alone, not to speak of a destiny possible beyond this globe, and that, at second-hand, we have only evidence of a portion of the great procession of human events. We do not know humanity’s beginning and primitive history, nor do we know its goal, if it has one. These factors alone are grave hindrances to the formulation of any conception of progress. Reflection upon them might have saved men, Renouvier observes, from the presumptuous belief in assured progress. We cannot presume even to estimate the tendencies, the direction of its course, because of the enormous and ever-increasing complexity of free human activity.

By his large work on the “Philosophy of History,” Renouvier shows that the facts of history themselves are against the theory of a universal and continuous progress, for the record shows us conflict, advance, retrogression, peoples rising, others degenerating, empires establishing themselves and passing away by inward ruin or outer assaults, or both, and civilisations evolving and disintegrating in their turn. The spectacle does not readily promote an optimistic view of human development at all, much less support the doctrine of a sure and certain progress. Renouvier does not blind himself to the constant struggle and suffering. The theatre, or rather the arena, of history presents a curious spectacle. In politics and in religion he shows us that there are conflicts of authority and of free thought, a warfare of majorities with minorities, a method of fighting issues slightly less savage than the appeal to pure force, but amounting to what he terms “a pacific application of the principle of force.” History shows us the corruption, tyranny and blindness of many majorities, and the tragic and necessary resort to force as the only path to liberty for down-trodden minorities. How, Renouvier asks, can we fit this in with a doctrine of assured progress, or, indeed, progress at all?

Further, he does not find it difficult to show that much unthinking utterance on the part of the optimists may be somewhat checked by calm reflection on even one or two questions. For example, Was progress involved in the change from ancient slavery to the wage-slavery of modern industrialism? Was Christianity, as Nietzsche and others have attempted to maintain, a retrogression? Or, again, Was the change from Greek city life to the conditions of the Middle Ages in any way to be regarded as a progress?

Renouvier considers it quite erroneous to assert, as did Comte, that there is a steady and continuous development underlying the oscillations, and that the variations, as it were, from the direct line of progress cancel one another or balance each other, leaving, as Renan claimed, a balance always and inevitably on the side of goodness.

Such a confidence in the great world banking concern Renouvier does not possess. There is no guarantee that the account of goodness may not be overdrawn and found wanting. He reminds us sternly and solemnly of the terrible solidarity which characterises evil. Deceit, greed, lust, violence and war have an enormous power of breeding each other and of supporting one another increasingly. The optimistic doctrines of progress are simply untrue statements of the facts of history, and falsely coloured views of human nature. It is an appalling error in “social dynamics” to overlook the clash of interest, the greed of nation and of class, the fundamental passionate hate and war. With it is coupled an error in “social statics,” in which faith is put in institutions, in the mechanism of society. These, declares Renouvier, will not save humanity; they will, indeed, ruin it if it allow itself, through spiritual and moral lethargy, to be dominated by them. They have been serviceable creations of humanity at some time or other, and they must serve men, but men must not be bound down to serve them. This servitude is evil, and it has profoundly evil consequences.

Having attacked Comte’s view of progress and of order in its static and dynamic point of view, Renouvier then brings up his heavy artillery of argument against Comte’s idealisation of the Middle Ages. To assert that this period was an advance on the life of the Greek city, Renouvier considers to be little short of impudence. The art and science and philosophy of the Greeks are our best heritage, while the Middle Ages, dominated by a vicious and intolerant Church, with its infallible theology and its crushing power of the clergy, was a “dead hand” upon the human spirit. While it provided an organic society, it only succeeded in doing so by narrowing and crushing the human intellect. The Renascence and the Reformation proved that there were essential elements of human life being crushed down. They reached a point, however, where they exploded.

Not only does Renouvier thus declare the Middle Ages to be a regress, but he goes the length of asserting that the development of European history could have been different. This is his doctrine of freedom applied to history. There is no reason at all for our regarding the Middle Ages or any such period as necessitated in the order of mankind’s development. There is no law governing that development; consequently, had mankind, or even a few of its number, willed and acted upon their freedom differently, the whole trend of the period we call the Dark Ages might have been quite other than it was. Renouvier does not shirk the development of this point, which is a central one for his purpose. It may seem fantastic to the historians, who must of course accept the past as given and consequently regard reflection on “what might have been” as wasted time. Certainly the past cannot be altered—that is not Renouvier’s point. He intends to give a lesson to humanity, a stern lesson to cure it of its belief in fatalism in regard to history. This is the whole purpose of the curious volume he published in 1876, entitled Uchronie, which had as its explanatory sub-title L’Utopie dans l’Histoire, Esquisse historique du Développement de la Civilisation européenne, tel qu’il n’a pas été, tel qu’il avail pu être. The book, consisting of two manuscripts supposed to be kept in the care of an old Dutch monk, is actually an imaginary construction by Renouvier himself of European history in the period 100 to 800 A.D., written to show the real possibility that the sequence of events from the Emperor Nerva to the Emperor Charlemagne might have been radically different from what it actually was.

All this is intended by Renouvier to combat the “universal justification of the past.” He sees that the doctrine of progress as usually stated is not only a lie, but that it is an extremely dangerous one, for it justifies the past, or at least condones it as inevitable, and thus makes evil a condition of goodness, demoralises history, nullifies ethics and encourages the damnation of humanity itself. This fatalistic doctrine, asserts Renouvier with great earnestness, must be abandoned; freedom must be recognised as operative, and the human will as making history.There is no law of progress, and the sooner humanity can come to realise this the better it will be for it. Only by such a realisation can it work out its own salvation. “The real law lies”, declares Renouvier,”only in an equal possibility of progress or deterioration for both societies and individuals.” If there is to be progress it can only come because, and when, humanity recognises itself as collectively responsible for its own history, and when each person feels his own responsibility regarding that action. No acceptance of events will avail; we must will progress and consciously set ourselves to realise it. It is possible, but it depends on us. Here Renouvier’s considerations lead him from history to ethics. “Almost all the Great Men, men of great will, have been fatalists. So slowly does humanity emerge from its shadows and beget for itself a just notion of its autonomy. The phantom of necessity weighs heavily,” he laments, “over the night of history.”^[9] With freedom and a recognition of its freedom by humanity generally we may see the dawn of better things. Humanity will then consciously and deliberately make its history, and not be led by the operations of herd-instinct and fatalistic beliefs which in the past have so disgraced and marred its record.

[9] Psychologie ralionnelle, vol. 2, p. 91.

The existing condition of human society can only be described frankly, in Renouvier’s opinion, as a state of war. Each individual, each class, each nation, each race, is actually at war with others. It matters not whether a diplomatic state of peace, as it is called, exists or not; that must not blind us to the facts. By institutions, customs, laws, hidden fraud, diplomacy, and open violence, this conflict is kept up. It is all war, says Renouvier. Modern society is based on war, economic, military or judicial. Indeed, military and naval warfare is a clear issue, but only a symbol of what always goes on. Might always has the upper hand, hence ordinary life in modern society is just a state of war. Our civilisation does not rest on justice, or on the conception of justice; it rests on power and might. Until it is founded on justice, peace, he urges, will not be possible; humanity will be enslaved in further struggles disastrous o itself. This doctrine of the état de guerre, as descriptive of modern society, he makes a feature of his ethics, upon which we must not here encroach, but may point out that he insists upon justice as the ultimate social criterion, and claims that this is higher than charity, which is inadequate as a basis for society, however much it may alleviate its ills. One of the chief necessities, he points out, an essential to any progressive measure would be to moralise our modern notion of the state.^[10] In the notes to his last chapter of the Nouvelle Monadologie Renouvier attacks the Marxian doctrine of the materialistic determination of history.

[10] This point was further emphasised by Henri Michel in his work, L’Idée de l’Etat.

This same book, however, we must note, marks a stage in Renouvier’s own thought different from his doctrines in the earlier Essais de Critique générale, and this later philosophy, of which the Monadologie and Personnalisme are the two most notable volumes, displays an attempt to look upon progress from a more ultimate standpoint. His théodicée here involves the notion, seen in Ravaisson, of an early perfection, involving a subsequent “fall,” the world now, with its guerre universelle, being an intermediate stage between a perfect or harmonious state in the past and one which lies in the future.

The march of humanity is an uncertain one because it is free. The philosophy of history thus reiterates the central importance of freedom. The actual end or purpose of this freedom is not simply, says Renouvier, the attainment of perfection, but rather the possibility of progress. It was this thought which led him on in his reflections further than any of the thinkers of our period, or at least more deliberately than any, to indicate his views on the doctrine of a future life for humanity. So far from this being a purely religious problem, Renouvier rightly looks upon it as merely a carrying further afield of the conception of progress.

For him, and this is the significant point for us here, any notion of a future life for humanity, in the accepted sense of immortality, is bound up with, and indeed based upon, the conception of progressive development. It is true that Renouvier, like Kant, looks upon the problems of “God, Freedom and Immortality” as the central ones in philosophy, true also that he recognises the significance of this belief in a Future Life as an extremely important one for religious teaching; but his main attitude to the question is merely a continuation of his general doctrine of progress, coupled with his appreciation of personality. It is in this light only that Renouvier reflects upon the problem of Immortality. He makes no appeal to a world beyond our experience—a fact which follows from his rejection of the Kantian world of “noumena”; nor does he wish the discussion to be based on the assertions of religious faith. He admits that belief in a Future Life involves faith, in a sense, but it is a rational belief, a philosophical hypothesis and, more particularly, according to Renouvier, a moral hypothesis. He asserts against critics that the undertaking of such a discussion is a necessary part of any Critical Philosophy, which would be incomplete without it, as its omission would involve an inadequate account of human experience.

Renouvier claims that, in the first instance, the question of a future existence arises naturally in the human mind from the discrepancy which is manifest in our experience between nature on the one hand and conscience on the other. The course of events is not in accord with what we feel to be morally right, and the demands of the moral law are, to Renouvier’s mind, supreme. He realises how acutely this discrepancy is sometimes felt by the human mind, and his remarks on this point recall those of the sensitive soul, who, feeling this acutely, cried out:

“Ah, Love! could thou and I with Fate conspire
To grasp this sorry Scheme of Things entire,
Would we not shatter it to bits—and then
Re-mould it nearer to the heart’s desire.”

These lines well express the sharpness of Renouvier’s own feelings, and he claims that, such a conspiracy being impossible, the belief in Immortality becomes a necessary moral postulate or probability.

The grounds for such a postulate are to be found, he claims, even in the processes of nature itself. The law of finality or teleology manifests itself throughout the universe: purpose is to be seen at work in the Cosmos. It is true that in the lower stages of existence it seems obscure and uncertain, but an observer cannot fail to see “ends” being achieved in the biological realm. The functions of organisms, more particularly those of the animal world, show us a realm of ends and means at work for achieving those ends. This development in the direction of an end, this teleology, implies, says Renouvier, a destiny. The whole of existence is a gradual procession of beings at higher and higher levels of development, ends and means to each other, and all inheriting an immense past, which is itself a means to their existence as ends in themselves. May one not then, suggests Renouvier, make a valid induction from the destiny thus recognised and partially fulfilled of certain individual creatures, to a destiny common to all these creatures indefinitely prolonged?^[11]

[11] Psychologic rationnelle, vol. 2, pp. 220-221.

The objection is here made that Nature does not concern herself with individuals; for her the individual is merely a means for the carrying on and propagation of the species. Individuals come into being, live for a time and pass away, the species lives on perpetually; only species are in the plan of the universe, individuals are of little or no worth. To this Renouvier replies that species live long but are not perpetual; whole species have been wiped out by happenings on our planet, many now are dying out. The insinuation about the worthlessness of individuals rouses his wrath, for it strikes at the very root of his philosophy, of which personality is the keynote. This, he says, is to lapse into Pantheism, into doctrines of Buddhists and of Spinoza. Pantheism and all kindred views are to be rejected. It is not in the indefinable, All-existing, the eternal and infinite One, that we find help with regard to the significance of ends in nature. Ends are to be sought in the individuals or the species. But while it behoves us to look upon the world as existing for the species and not the species for the sake of the world, we must remember that the species exists for the sake of the individuals in it. It is false to look upon the individuals as existing merely for the sake of the species.

If we subordinate the individual to the species, sacrificing his inherent worth and unique value, and then subordinate species to genus and all genera to the All, we lose ourselves in the Infinite substance in which everything is swallowed up. Again, Pantheism tends to speak of the perfection of individuals, and speaks loudly of progress from one generation to another. But it tells only of a future which involves the entire sacrifice of all that has worth or value in the past. It shows endless sacrifice, improvement too, but all for naught. “What does it matter to say that the best is yet to be, if the best must perish as the good, to give place to a yet better ‘best’ which will not have the virtue of enduring any more than the others? Do we offer any real consolation to Sisyphus,” asks Renouvier, “by promising him annihilation, which is coupled with the promise of successors capable of lifting his old rock higher and still higher up the fatal slope, by offering him the eternal falling of this rock and successors who will continually be annihilated and endlessly be replaced by others?” The rock is the personal life. On this theory, however high the rock be pushed, it always is destined to fall back to the same depth, as low as if it had never been pushed up hill at all. We refuse to reconcile a world containing real ends and purposes within it with such a game, vast and miserable, in which no actor plays for his own sake, and all the false winners lose all their gains by being obliged to leave the party while the play goes on for ever. This is to throw away all individual worth, the value of all personal work and effort, to declare individuality a sham, and to embrace fatality. It is this mischievous Pantheism which is the curse of many religions and many philosophies. Against it Renouvier wages a ceaseless warfare. The individuals, he asserts exist both for their own sake and worth, also for the sake and welfare of others. In the person, the law of finality finds its highest expression. Personality is of supreme and unique value.

This being so, it becomes a necessary postulate of our philosophy, if we really believe in the significance of personalities and in progress (which Renouvier considers to have no meaning apart from them), to conclude that death is but an event in the career of these personalities. They are perpetuated beyond death.

For Renouvier, as for Kant, the chief arguments for survival are based on considerations of a moral character, upon the demands of the moral ideal for self- realisation, for the attainment of holiness or, more properly, “wholeness.” This progress can only be made possible by the continued existence after bodily death of the identical personality, unique and of eternal worth in the scheme of things, capable of further development than is possible amid the conditions of life as we know it.

We must, however, present to ourselves Immortality as given by the development of appearances in this world of phenomena, under the general laws with which we are acquainted to-day, thus correcting the method of Kant, who placed Immortality in a noumenal world. The salvation of a philosopher should not be of such a kind. We must treat Immortality as a Law, not as a miracle. The thinker who accepts the latter view quits the realm of science—that is, of experience and reason—to establish a mystic order in contradiction with the laws of nature. The appeal to the “supernatural” is the denial of nature, and the appellant ruins his own case by his appeal. If Immortality is a fact, it must be considered rationally.

Is Death—that is, the destruction of individuals as such, or the annihilation of personalities—a reality? Renouvier reminds those who jeer at the doctrine of Immortality that “the reality of death (as so defined) has not been, and cannot be, proved.” Our considerations must of necessity be hypothetical, but they can be worthy of rational beings. We must then keep our hopes and investigations within the realm of the universe and not seek to place our hope of immortality in a region where nothing exists, “not even an ether to support the wings of our hope.”

Renouvier’s general considerations led him to view all individuals as having a destiny in which their individuality should be conserved and developed. When we turn in particular to man, these points are to be seen in fuller light. The instinctive belief in Immortality is bound up with his nature as a thinking being who is capable of setting up, and of striving after, ends. This continual striving is a marked characteristic of all human life, a counting oneself not to have attained, a missing of the mark.

The human consciousness protests against annihilation. At times this is very keenly expressed. “At the period of the great aspirations of the heart, the ecstasy of noble passions is accompanied by the conviction of Immortality. Life at its highest, realising its richest personality, protests, in virtue of its own worth, and in the name of the depths of power it still feels latent in itself, against the menace of annihilation.”^[12] It cries out with its unconquerable soul:

“Give me the glory of going on and not to die!”

[12] Psychologie rationnelle, vol. 2, p. 249.

Renouvier finds a further witness in the testimony of Love—that is to say, in nature itself arrived at the consciousness of that passion in virtue of which it exists and assuring itself by this passion, of the power to surmount all these short-comings and failures. Love casteth out fear, the dread of annihilation, and shows itself “stronger than death.” Hope and Love unite in strengthening the initial belief in Immortality and the “will to survive.”

Renouvier admits that this is a priori reasoning, and speedily a posteriori arguments can be brought up as mighty battering-rams against the fortress of immortal life, but although they mav shake its walls, they are unable to destroy the citadel. Nothing can demonstrate the impossibility of future existence, whereas the whole weight of the moral law and the teleological elements at work in the universe are, according to Renouvier, in favour of such a belief.

Morality, like every other science, is entitled to, nay obliged to, employ the hypothesis of harmony. Now in this connection the hypothesis of harmony (or, as Kant styled it, the concurrence of happiness and virtue necessary to a conception of order) finds reinforcement from the consideration of the meaning and significance of freedom. For the actual end or purpose of freedom is not simply the attainment of perfection, but rather the possibility of progress. Immortality becomes a necessary postulate, reinforced by instinct, reason, morality, by the fact of freedom, and the notion of progress. Further, Renouvier feels that if we posit death as the end of all we thereby give an absolute victory to physical evil in the universe.

The postulate of Immortality has a certain dignity and worth. The discussion of future life must, however, be kept within the possibilities of law and phenomena. Religious views, such as those of Priestley, by their appeal to the miraculous debase the notion of Immortality itself. Talk of an immortal essence, and a mortal essence is meaningless, for unless the same identical person, with his unique character and memory, persists, then our conception of immortality is of little or no value. The idea of an indestructible spiritual substance is not any better or more acceptable. Our notion of a future life must be based upon the inherent and inalienable rights of the moral person to persistence and to chances of further development or progress. Although we must beware of losing ourselves in vain speculations, which really empty our thought of all its content, Renouvier claims that we are quite entitled to lay down hypotheses.

The same general laws which we see in operation and which have brought the universe and the beings in it to the stage of development in which they now are may, without contradiction, be conceived as operating in further developments after the change we call bodily death. There is no incongruity in conceiving the self-same personality continuing in a second and different organism. Renouvier cites the case of the grub and the butterfly and other metamorphoses. In man himself he points to organic crises, which give the organism a very different character and effect a radical change in its constitution. For example, there is the critical exit from the mother’s womb, involving the change from a being living in an enclosure to that of an independent creature. When once the crisis of the first breath be passed the organism starts upon another life. There are other crises, as, for instance, the radical changes which operate in both sexes at the stage of puberty. Just as the personality persists in its identity through all these changes, may it not pass through that of bodily death?

The Stoics believed in a cosmic resurrection. Substituting the idea of progress for their view of a new beginning, Renouvier claims that we may attain the hypothesis that all human history is but a fragment in a development incomparably greater and grander. Again, we may conceive of life in two worlds co-existing, indeed interpenetrating, so that the dead are not gone far from us into some remote heaven.

But, whatever form we give to our hypothesis regarding progress into another existence beyond this present one, Renouvier does not easily allow us to forget that it must be based upon the significance of freedom, progress and personality supported by moral considerations. Even this progress is not guaranteed, and even if it should be the achievement of some spirits there is no proof that it is universal. Our destiny, he finally reminds us, lies in our own hands, for progress here means an increased capacity for progress later, while spiritual and moral indifference will result finally, and indeed, necessarily, in annihilation. Here, as so often in his work, Renouvier puts moral arguments and appeals in the forefront of his thought. Progress in relation to humanity’s life on earth drew from him an appeal for the establishment of justice: progress in a further world implies equally a moral appeal. Our duty is to keep the ideal of progress socially and individually ever before us, and to be worthy of immortality if it be a fact, rather than to lose ourselves in the mistaken piety of “other- worldliness.” About neither progress can we be dogmatic; it is not assured, Renouvier has shown, and we must work for it by the right use of our freedom, our intelligence and our will.

No thinker discussed the problem of progress with greater energy or penetration than Renouvier. The new spiritualist group, however, developed certain views arising from the question of contingency, or the relation of freedom to progress. These thinkers were concerned more with psychological and metaphysical work, and with the exception of Fouillée and Guyau, they wrote little which bore directly upon the problem of progress. Many of their ideas, however, have an indirect bearing upon important points at issue.

In Ravaisson, Lachelier and Boutroux, we find the question of teleology presented, and also that of the opposition of spirit and matter. From the outset the new spiritualism had to wrestle with two difficulties inherent in the thought of Ravaisson. These were, firstly, the reconciliation of the freedom and spontaneity of the spirit with the operations of a Divine Providence or teleology of some kind; and, secondly, the dualism assumed in the warfare of spirit and matter, although spirit was held to be superior and anterior to matter. This last involved a complication for any doctrine of progress, as it required a primitive “fall” to account for matter, even a fall of the Deity himself. This Ravaisson himself admits, and he thinks that in creating the world God had to sacrifice some of his own being. In this case “progress” is set over against a transcendental existence, and is but the reawakening of what once existed in God, and in a sense now and eternally exists. Progress there is, claims Ravaisson, towards truth and beauty and goodness. This is the operation of a Divine Providence acting by attracting men freely to these ideals, and as these are symbols of God himself, progress is the return of the spirit through self-conscious personalities to the fuller realisation of harmony, beauty and love—that is, to the glory of God, who has ever been, now is, and ever shall be, perfect beauty, goodness and love.

Thus, although from a temporal and finite standpoint Ravaisson can speak of progress, it is doubtful if he is justified in doing so ultimately, sub specie æternitatis. To solve the problem in the way he presents it, one would need to know more about the ultimate value and significance of the personalities themselves, and their destiny in relation to the Divinity who is, as he claims, perfect harmony, beauty and love. It was this point, so dear to an upholder of personality, which had led Renouvier to continue his discussion of progress in relation to history as generally understood, until it embraced a wider field of eternal destiny, and to consider the idea of a future life as arising from, and based upon, the conception of progress. It is this same point which later perplexes Bergson, when he recognises this self-conscious personality as the ultimate development of the évolution créatrice, and so constituting in a sense the goal of the spirit, although he is careful to state that there is no finalism involved at all. Ravaisson stands for this finalism, however, in claiming that there are ends. He does not see how otherwise we could speak of progress, as we should have no criterion, no terminus ad quem; all would be simply process, not progress.

“Détachement de Dieu, retour à Dieu, clôture du grand cercle cosmique, restitution de l’universel équilibre, telle est l’histoire du monde.” Such is Ravaisson’s doctrine, much of which is akin to, and indeed re-echoes, much in Christian theology from St. Augustine, with his idea of an eternal and restless movement of return to the divinity, to the Westminster divines in their answer to the important query about the chief end of man, which they considered to be not only to glorify God but to enjoy Him for ever. This last and rather strange phrase only seems to have significance if we conceive, in Ravaisson’s manner, of beauty, truth and goodness as expressions or manifestations of the Divinity to whom the world-process may freely tend.

For Lachelier the universal process presents a triple aspect, mechanism which is coupled with finalism and with freedom. These three principles are in action simultaneously in the world and in the individual. Each of us is at once matter, living soul and personality—that is, necessity, finality and freedom. The laws of the universe, so far from being expressed entirely by mechanical formulae, can only be expressed, as Ravaisson had claimed, by an approach to harmony and beauty, not in terms of logic or geometry. All this involves a real progress, a creativeness, which differs from Ravaisson’s return, as it were, to the bosom of God.

Boutroux combines the views of Ravaisson and Lachelier by insisting on freedom and contingency, but maintaining at the same time a teleological doctrine. Already in discussing his conception of freedom we have referred to his metaphor of the sailors in the ship. His doctrine of contingency is directly opposed to any rigid pre-ordained plan of reality or progress, but it does not prevent the spirit from a creative teleology, the formation of a plan as it advances. This is precisely, is it not, the combination of free action and of teleology which we find in our own lives? Boutroux is thus able to side with Ravaisson in his claim to see tendencies to beauty and truth and goodness, the fruits of the spirit, which it creates and to which it draws us, while at the same time he maintains freedom in a manner quite as emphatic as Lachelier. He is careful to remind us that “not all developments are towards perfection.”^[13] In particular he dislikes the type of social theory or of sociology which undervalues the personal life.^[14]

[13] Contingence des Lois de la Nature, p. 127.

[14] Thus he agrees with Renouvier’s objection to Comte’s view and to Communism.

Similar in many ways to the ideas of Ravaisson and of Boutroux are those expressed by Blondel. He is concerned deeply with the problem of God and progress, which arises out of his view of the Deity as immanent and as transcendent. He is quite Bergsonian in his statement that God creates Himself in us, but he qualifies this by asking the significant question, “If he does not EXIST how can He create Himself in us.” This brings us back to Ravaisson’s view. Other remarks of Blondel, however, recall the doctrine of Vacherot and of Renan, that God is the ideal to which we are ever striving. “It is a necessity that we should be moving on, for He is always beyond.” All action is an advance, a progress through the realm of materialistic determinism to the self-conscious personality in man, but it is from a transcendent teleology, a Divine Providence, that this action proceeds.

This is the line of thought pursued by Fouillée, who in many of his writings gives considerable attention to the doctrines of progress. It may be doubted, however if he ever surpassed the pages in his Liberté et Déterminisme and L’Evolutionnisme des Idées-forces, which deal with this point. These are the best expressions of his philosophy, and Fouillée repeated himself a great deal. We might add, however, his Socialism and his book on L’Avenir de la Métaphysique.

We have observed the importance attached by Comte to his new science of sociology. Fouillée endeavours to give to it a metaphysical significance with which Comte did not concern himself. He suggests in his volume on La Science sociale contemporaine that as biology and sociology are closely related, the laws common to them may have a cosmic significance. Is the universe, he asks, anything more than a vast society in process of formation, a vast system of conscious, striving atoms? Social science which Fouillée looks upon, as did Comte, as constituting the crown of human knowledge, may offer us, he thinks, the secret of universal life, and show us the world as the great society in process of development, erring here and blundering there in an effort to rise above the sphere of physical determinism and materialism to a sphere where justice shall be supreme, and brotherhood take the place of antagonism, greed and war. The power at the heart of things, which is always ready to manifest itself in the human consciousness when it can, might be expressed, says Fouillée, in one word as “sociability.”

Life in its social aspect displays a conspiration to a common end. The life of a community resembles a highly evolved organism in many respects, as Fouillée shows; but although he thus partially adopts the biological and positivist view of the sociologists, Fouillée does not overlook the idealistic conceptions of Renouvier and his plea for social justice. He rather emphasises this plea, and takes the opportunity to point out that it represents the best political thought of his country, being founded on the doctrine of the contrat social of Rousseau, of which social theory it is a clear and modern interpretation.

We may take the opportunity afforded here by Fouillée’s mention of sociology, in which he was so keenly interested, to observe that the positivist tendency to emphasise an indefinite progress remained with most of the sociologists and some of the historians. It is seen in the two famous sociological works of Tarde and Durkheim respectively, Les Lois de l’Imitation and La Division du Travail social. Two writers on history deserve mention as illustrating the same tendency: Lacombe, whose work De l’Histoire considérée comme Science (1894) was very positivist in outlook, and Xénopol. This last writer, treating history in 1899 in his Principes fondamentaux de l’Histoire,^[15] distinguished cause in history from causality in science, and showed that white the latter leads to the formation of general laws the former does not. History has no laws, for it is succession but never repetition. Much of his book, however, reflects the naturalism and positivism which is a feature of the sociological writers.^[16]

[15] This work, revised and considerably augmented, was re-issued in 1905 with the new title, La Théorie de l’Histoire.

[16] It was this which made Enouvier criticise sociology. He disagreed with its principles almost entirely. On this, see his notes to “La Justice,” Part VII. of La Nouvelle Monadogie, pp. 527-530.

It was his doctrine of idées-forces and its essential spiritualism or idealism which distinguished Fouillée’s attitude from that of these sociologists who were his contemporaries. It was the basis, too, of his trenchant criticisms of socialism, particularly its Marxian forms. Fouillée agrees with Comte’s doctrine that speculation or thought is the chief factor and prime mover in social change. For Fouillée the idea is always a force; and it is, in this connection, the supreme force. The history of action can only be understood, he asserts, in relation to the history of ideas. This is the central gospel of the évolutionnisme des idées-forces. The mental or spiritual is the important factor. This he opposes to the Marxian doctrine of economic determinism. Will is, he claims a greater reality than brute forces, and in will lies the essence of the human spirit. It is a will, however, which is bound up with reason and self-consciousness, and which is progressive in character.

Summing up his work, Histoire générale de la Philosophie, Fouillée refers in his Conclusion to the idea of progress as having become the dominant note in philosophy. He looks upon the history of philosophy as, in some measure, witness to this. Above the ebb and flow of the varied systems and ideas which the ages have produced he sees an advance accomplished in the direction to which humanity is tending—perfect knowledge of itself or collective self-consciousness and perfect self- possession. This type of progress is not to be equated with scientific progress. He points out that in the development of philosophy, which is that of human reflection itself, two characteristics appear. The distinction of two kinds or aspects of truth is seen in philosophy; one section, dealing with logic, psychology, aesthetic and applied ethics, or sociology, approaches to a scientific character of demonstrability, while the other section, which constitutes philosophy in the strict sense of metaphysic, deals with ultimate questions not capable of proof but demanding a rational faith. Obviously the same kind of progress cannot be found in each of these sections. This must be realised when progress in knowledge is spoken about. He suggests, as illustrative of progress even in the speculative realm, the fact that humanity is slowly purifying its conception of God—a point for further notice in our last chapter.

However much Fouillée is concerned with establishing; a case for progress in knowledge, it is clear that his main stress is on the progress in self-consciousness or that self- determination which is freedom. This freedom can only grow as man consciously realises it himself. It is an idée-force, and has against it all the forces of fatalism and of egoism. For Fouillée quite explicitly connects his doctrine of freedom with that of altruism. The real freedom and the real progress are one, he claims, since they both are to be realised only in the increasing power of disinterestedness and love. He believes in the possibility of a free progress. Fatality is really egoism, or produces it.

Fouillée has a rather clear optimism, for he finds in the development of real freedom a movement which will involve a moral and social union of mankind. The good- will is more truly human nature than egoism and selfishness. These vices, he maintains in his Idée moderne du Droit,^[17] are largely a product of unsatisfied physical wants. The ideal of the good-will is not a contradiction of human nature, because, he asserts, that nature desires and wills its good. More strikingly, he states that the human will tends ultimately not to conflict but to co-operation as it becomes enlightened and universalised. He disagrees with the pessimists and upholds a comparatively cheerful view of human nature. Egoism is much less deeply rooted than sympathy, and therefore, he says, war and strife are transitory features of human development. One contrasts the views of Taine and Renouvier with this, and feels that man’s history has been, as far as we know it, entirely of this “transitory” nature, and is long likely to be so.

[17] L’Idée moderne du Droit, Livre IV.

Fouillée’s optimism seems to be overdrawn mainly because of his doctrine of the idée-force. He exaggerates the response which human nature is likely to make to the ideal good. Even if it be lifted up, it is not likely to draw all men to it. Yet Fouillée’s social and ethical doctrines stand entirely upon this foundation. They are valuable views, and Fouillée is never better than when he is exhorting his fellows to act upon the ideas of freedom, of justice, of love and brotherhood. He is right in his insistence upon humanity’s power to create good- will, to develop a new order. For the good man, he says, fatality and egoism are obstacles to be overcome Believing in freedom and in sympathy, he acts to others in a spirit of freedom and love. By his very belief in universal good-will among men, he assists largely in creating it and realising it in the world.^[18]

[18] Conclusion to Liberté et Déterminisme.

But did not Fouillée, one asks, overrate the number of good men (as good in his sense), or rather did he not exaggerate the capacities of human nature to respond to the ideal which he presents? Much of his confidence in moral and social progress finds its explanation here.

His step-son, Guyau, was not quite so optimistic, although he believed in a progress towards “sociability” and he adopted many of the doctrines of the philosphie des idées-forces. He attacks cheerful optimism in his Esquisse d’une Morale sans Obligation ni Sanction, where he remarks^[19] that an absolute theory of optimism is really an immoral theory, for it involves the negation of progress in the strict and true sense. This is because, when it dominates the mind, it produces a feeling of entire satisfaction and contentment with the existing reality, resulting in resignation and acceptance of, if not an actual worship of, the status quo. In its utter obedience to all “powers that be,” the notions of right and of duty are dimmed, if not lost. A definitely pessimistic view of the universe would, he suggests, be in many respects better and more productive of good than an outrageous optimism. Granting that it is a wretched state in which a man sees all things black, it is preferable, Guyau thinks, to that in which all things appear rosy or blue.

[19] Esquisse d’une Morale, p. 10.

Guyau concludes his Esquisse d’une Morale sans Obligation ni Sanction by remarking: “We are, as it were, on the Leviathan, from which a wave has torn the rudder and a blast of wind carried away the mainmast. It is lost in the ocean as our earth is lost in space. It floats thus at random, driven by the tempest, like a huge derelict, yet with men upon it, and yet it reaches port. Perhaps our earth, perhaps humanity, will also reach that unknown end which they will have created for themselves. No hand directs us; the rudder has long been broken, or rather it has never existed; we must make it: it is a great task, and it is our task.” This paragraph speaks for itself as regards Guyau’s attitude to the doctrine of an assured progress.

In his notable book L’Irreligion de l’Avenir, the importance of which we shall note more fully when we deal with the religious problem in our last chapter, Guyau indicates the possibilities of general intellectual progress in the future. The demand of life itself for fuller expression will involve the decay of cramping superstitions and ecclesiastical dogmas. The aesthetic elements will be given a larger place, and there will be intellectual freedom. Keen as Guyau is upon maintaining the sociological standpoint, he sees the central factor in progress to be the mental. “Progress,” he remarks,^[20] “is not simply a sensible amelioration of life—it is also the achievement of a better intellectual formulation of life, it is a triumph of logic. To progress is to attain to a more complete consciousness of one’s self and of the world, and by that very fact to a more complete inner consistency of one’s theory of the world.” Guyau follows his stepfather in his view of “sociability” or fraternité (to use the watchword of the Revolution) as the desirable end at which we should progressively aim—a conclusion which is but the social application of his central concept of Life.

[20] Introduction to L’Irreligion de l’Avenir.

The next step in human progress must be in the direction of human solidarity. Guyau thinks it will arise from collective, co-operative energy (synergie sociale). Further progress must involve simultaneously sympathie sociale, a community of fellowship or comradeship, promoted by education of a true kind, not mere instruction, but a proper development and valuation of the feelings. Here art will play its part and have its place beside science, ethics and philosophy in furthering the ideal harmony in human society. Such Progress involves, therefore, that the Beautiful must be sought and appreciated no less than the True and the Good, for it is a revelation of the larger Life of which we ourselves are part. These ideals are in themselves but manifestations of the Supreme Vitality.

The same spontaneous vital activity of which Guyau makes a central doctrine characterises Bergson’s view of reality. He upholds, like Boutroux, freedom and contingency, but he will not admit finalism in any shape or form, not even a teleology which is created in the process of development. He refuses to admit as true of the universal process in nature and in human history what is certainly true of human life—the fact that we create ends as we go on living. For Bergson there is no end in the universe, unless it be that of spontaneity of life such as Guyau had maintained. There is no guarantee of progress, no law of development, but endless possibility of progress. Such a view, as we have already insisted, is not pessimistic. It is, however, a warning to facile optimism to realise that humanity, being free, may go “dead wrong.” While Boutroux maintains with Ravaisson that there is at the heart of things a tendency to superior values such as beauty, goodness and truth, and while Renan assures us that the balance of goodness in the world is a guarantee of its ultimate triumph, Bergson, like Renouvier, gives us stern warning that there is no guarantee in the nature of things that humanity should not set its heart on other values, on materialistic and egoistic conceptions, and go down in ruin quarrelling and fighting for these things. There is no power, he reminds us, keeping humanity right and in the line of desirable progress. All is change, but that is not to say that all changes are desirable or progressive. Here we arrive at a point far removed from the rosy optimism of the earlier thinkers. Progress as a comfortable doctrine, confidently accepted and dogmatically asserted, no longer holds ground; it is seen to be quite untenable.

In Bergson the difficulty which besets Ravaisson reappears more markedly—namely, the relation of spirit and matter to one another, and to the power at the heart of things, which, according to Bergson himself, is a spiritual principle. Here we seem forced to admit Ravaisson’s view of a “fall” or, as the theologians would say, a “Kenosis” of the deity in order to create the material universe. Yet in the processes of nature we see spirit having to fight against matter, and of this warfare Bergson makes a great point. These considerations lead to discussions which Bergson has not touched upon as yet. He does not follow Ravaisson and Boutroux into the realm of theological ideas. If he did he might have to make admissions which would compromise, or at least modify, other doctrines expressed by him. He will have none of Hegel or of the Absolute Idealism which sees the world process as a development of a Divine Idea. It is new and it is creation; there is no repetition. Even God himself se fait in the process, and it may be, suggests Bergson, that love is the secret of the universe. If so we may well ask with Blondel, “If God se fait in the process, then does he not already exist and, in a sense, the process with him?” Instead, however, of reverting to Ravaisson’s view of the whole affair being a search for, and return to God, Bergson claims that the development is a purely contingent one, in which a super-consciousness develops by experiment and error.

Bergson’s God, if he may be so-called, is not so much a Creator, but a power creative of creators—that is, human personalities capable of free action. The Deity is immanent in man, and, like man, is ignorant of the trend of the whole process. The universe, according to Bergson, is a very haphazard affair, in which the only permanence is change. There is no goal, and progress has little meaning if it be only and merely further change, which may be equally regress rather than progress. To live is not merely to change, but to triumph over change to set up some values as of absolute worth, and to aim at realising and furthering these. Apart from some philosophy of values the conception of progress has little meaning.

Interesting discussions of various aspects of the problem are to be found in the writings of the sociologist we have mentioned, Durkheim, particularly La Division du Travail sociale, Le Suicide and Les Formes élémentaires de la Vie religieuse. There is an interesting volume by Weber, entitled Le Rythme du Progres, and there are the numerous books of Dr. Gustave Le Bon.

Although he is not strictly a philosopher in the academic or professional sense, and his work belongs to literature rather than to the philosophy of the period, we cannot help calling attention briefly here, at the conclusion of this chapter, to the genial pessimism of Bergson’s great literary contemporary, Anatole France, the famous satirist of our age. His irony on questions like that of progress is very marked in L’Ile des Penguins and in Jérôme Coignard. A remark from one of his works, this latter, will sufficiently illustrate his view on progress. “I take little interest,” remarks his character, the Abbé Coignard, “in what is done in the King’s Cabinet, for I notice that the course of life is in no way changed, and after reforms men are as before, selfish, avaricious, cowardly, cruel, stupid and furious by turns, and there is always a nearly even number of births, marriages, cuckolds and gallows-birds, in which is made manifest the beautiful ordering of our society. This condition is stable, sir, and nothing could shake it, for it is founded on human misery and imbecility, and those are foundations which will never be wanting.” The genial old Abbé then goes on to remind socialist revolutionaries that new economic schemes will not radically change human nature. We easily see the ills in history and blind ourselves with optimism for the future. Even in Sorel, the Syndicalist, who has added to his articles on Violence (which appeared in 1907 in the periodical Le Mouvement socialiste) a work on Les Illusions du Progrès, we find the same doctrines about the vices of modern societies, which he considers no better than ancient ones in their morality; they are filled with more hypocrisy, that is all. France and Sorel only add more testimony to the utter collapse of the old doctrine of assured and general progress.

*    *    *    *    *    *    *    *    *

To such a final position do we come in following out the development of the idea of progress. The early assurance and dogmatic confidence which marked the early years of the century are followed by a complete abandonment of the idea of a guaranteed or assured progress, whether based on the operations of a Divine Providence, or on faith in the ultimate triumph of reason, or on merely a fatalistic determinism. Progress is only a possibility, and its realisation depends on ‘humanity’s own actions. Further, any mention of progress in future must not only present it as quite contingent, but we have to reckon with the fact that the idea of progress may itself progress until it resolves itself into another conception less complicated and less paradoxical, such as “the attainment of a new equilibrium.” Some effort must be devoted also to a valuation of criteria. Various values have in the past been confused together, scientific, materialistic, hedonistic, moral, aesthetic. Ultimately it seems that we shall find difficulty in settling this apart from the solution offered by Renouvier—namely, that true progress is not merely intellectual, but moral. It involves not merely a conquest of material nature but of human nature—a self- mastery. Progress is to be measured not by the achievements of any aristocracy, intellectual or other, but by the general social status, and our criterion of progress must be ultimately that of social justice. This itself is a term needing interpretation, and to this question of ethics we now turn.

INTRODUCTION : Difficulties of the moral problem as presented in the nineteenth century—Recognised as a social problem—Influence of Comte important in this connection—Other influences—Christianity—Kant—The practical reason.

I. Taine and Renan—Renan’s critique of Christian morality—Early socialistic views—Change in his later life—Prefers criterion of beauty to that of goodness.

II. Renouvier the great moralist of our period—Relation to Kant —His Science de la Morale—Personality in Ethics—Justice.

III. Fouillée, Guyau, Ollé-Laprune and Rauh pass further from the Kantian rigorism to an ethic in harmony with the philosophy of idées-forces of life and action—Humanitarianism of Fouillée and Guyau—Idées-forces and Morale sans Obligation ni Sanction —Rauh’s doctrines—Other thinkers.

CONCLUSION: Action and belief—Ethics and Religion.

Moral philosophy is probably the most difficult branch of those various disciplines of the human spirit summed up in the general conception of philosophy. This difficulty is one which all the thinkers of our period recognised. Many of them, occupied with other problems on the psychological or metaphysical side, did not write explicitly upon ethics. Yet the problem of ethics, its place, significance and authority, is but the other side of that problem of freedom which has appeared throughout this development as central and vital. The ethical consciousness of man has never been content for long with the assertion that ethics is a purely positive science, although it has obviously a positive side. The essence of morality has been regarded as not merely a description of what exists, but what might, should or ought to exist. Ethics is normative, it erects or endeavours to outline a standard which is an ideal standard. This is the characteristic of ethics, and so long as the moral conscience of humanity, individually and collectively, does not slumber nor die, it will remain so. This conflict between the ideal and the real, the positive and normative is indeed the chief source of pain and conflict to man, but without it he would cease to be human.

Whatever the difficulties, the philosopher who aspires to look upon human life as a whole must give some interpretation of this vital aspect of human consciousness. It is in this connection that a solution of the problem of freedom is so valuable, for under a purely determinist and positivist reading of life, the moral sentiments become mere data for an anthropological survey, the hope and tragedy of human life are replaced, comfortably perhaps for some, by an interpretation in which the true significance of ethics is lost.

One of the outstanding features of the discussion upon ethics in our period is the fact that the social standpoint colours most of the discussion. This was largely due to the impulse given by Comte and continued by the sociologists. We have already remarked the importance which he attached to his new science of society or “sociology.” However much the development of this branch of study may have disappointed the hopes of Comte, it has laid a powerful and necessary emphasis upon the solidarity of the problems of society. As Comte claimed that psychology could not be profitably studied in the isolated individual alone, so he insisted that ethics could only be studied with profit from a social standpoint. This was not forgotten by subsequent thinkers, even by those who were not his followers, and the main development of the ethical problem in our period is marked by an increasing insistence upon sociability and solidarity. Comte was able to turn the thoughts of philosophers away from pre-occupation with the isolated individual, conceived as a cold and calculating intellectual machine, a “fiction” which had engrossed the minds of thinkers of the previous century. He was able also to indicate the enormous part played by instincts, particularly “herd-instincts,” by passion and feelings of social hatred and social sympathy. It was the extension of social sympathy upon which Comte insisted as the chief good. The great defect of Christianity from an ethical standpoint was, Comte pointed out, due to its individualistic ethic. To the doctrine of “saving one’s own soul” Comte opposed that of the salvation of humanity. The social unit is not the individual man or woman, it is the family. In that society which is not a mere association but a union, arising from common interests and sympathy, the individual realises himself as part of society. The highest ethical conception, however, arises when the individual, transcending himself and his family, feels and acts as a member of humanity itself, not only in his public, but also in his private life. In the idea of humanity Comte finds the concrete form of that universal which in the ethic of Kant was the symbol of duty itself.

It was by this insistence on human social solidarity that Comte left his mark upon the ethical problem. Many of the details of social ethics given in the last three large volumes of his work are extremely thoughtful and interesting, in spite of their excessive optimism, but we can only here indicate what is sufficient for our purpose, his influence over subsequent thought. That is summed up in the words “solidarity” and “social standpoint.”

We may observe that the supreme problems in social ethics Comte regarded as being those of education or mental development and the “right to work.”^[1] He foresaw, as did Renan, that Culture and Economic Justice were the two foci around which the ethical problems were to be ranged in the immediate future. He regretted that the proletariat in their cry for justice had not sufficient culture to observe that they themselves are not a class apart, however class-conscious they be. They stand solid with the community, and Comte prophesied that, finding this out sooner or later, they would have to realise the folly of violent revolution. Only a positive culture or education of the democracy could, he believed, solve this social problem, which is there precisely because the proletariat are not sufficiently, and do not feel themselves to be, incorporated in the life of the community or of humanity. Only when they realise this will work be ennobled by a feeling of service. The Church has a moral advantage here, in that she has her organisation complete for furthering the conception of service to God. Comte realised this advantage of religious morality, but he thought it would come also to “positive” morality when men came to a conception of service for humanity To this great end, he urged, our education should be directed, and it should aim, he thought, at the decline and elimination of militarism which, in Comte’s view corresponds to the second stage of development (marked also by theology), a stage to be superseded in man’s development, by an era in which the war-spirit will be replaced by that of productive service performed not only pour la patrie, but pour l’humanité.

[1] Comte criticised the teaching given to the young in France as being “instruction” rather than “education.” This has frequently been insisted upon since his time.

In viewing the general influences which bore upon the study of the ethical problem in our period this stress upon the social character of morality is supreme, and is the most distinctly marked. But in addition to the sociological influence there are others which it is both interesting and important to note briefly. There is the influence of traditional religious morality, bound up with Christianity as presented by the Roman Catholic Church. The deficiencies of this are frequently brought out in the discussion, but in certain of the thinkers, chiefly the “modernists,” it appears as an influence contributing to a religious morality and as offering, indeed, the basis of a religion. Other writers, however, while rejecting the traditional morality of the Church, lay stress upon a humanitarian ethic which has an affinity to the idealistic morality preached by the founder of Christianity, a morality which manifests a spirit different from that which his Church has usually shown. Indeed, the general tendency of the ethical development in our period is one of opposition to the ecclesiastical and traditional standpoint in ethics.

Then there is the influence of Kant’s ethics, and here again, although Renouvier owed much to Kant, the general tendency is to get away from the formalism and rigorism of his “categorical imperative.” The current of English Utilitarian ethics appears as rather a negative influence, and is rather scorned when mentioned. The common feature is that of the social standpoint, issuing in conceptions of social justice or humanitarianism and finding in action and life a concrete morality which is but the reflection of the living conscience of mankind creating itself and finding in the claims of the practical reason that Absolute or Ideal to which the pure reason feels it cannot alone attain.

Taine and Renan were influenced by the outlook adopted by Comte. It might well be said that Taine was more strictly positivist than Comte. In his view of ethics, Taine, as might be expected from the general character of his work and his philosophical attitude, adheres to a rigidly positivist and naturalist conception. He looks upon ethics as purely positive, since it merely states the scientific conditions of virtue and vice, and he despairs of altering human nature or conduct. This is due almost entirely to his doctrine of rigid determinism which reacts with disastrous consequences upon his ethical outlook. This only further confirms our contention that the problem of freedom is the central and vital one of the period. We have already pointed out the criticism which Fouillée brought against Taine’s dogmatic belief in determinism, as an incomplete doctrine, a half-truth, which involves mischievous consequences and permits of no valuable discussion of the ethical problem.

More interesting and useful, if we are to follow at all closely the ethical thought of our period, is it to observe the attitude adopted to ethics by Taine’s contemporary, Renan.

The extreme confidence which Renan professed to have in “science,” and indeed in all intellectual pursuits, led him to accord to morality rather a secondary place. “There are three great things,” he remarks in his Discours et Conférences,^[2] “goodness, beauty and truth, and the greatest of these is truth.” Neither virtue, he continues, nor art is able to exclude illusions. Truth is the representation of reality, and in this world the search for truth is the most serious occupation of all. One of his main charges against the Christian Church in general is that it has insisted upon moral good to such an extent as to undervalue and depreciate the other goods, expressed in beauty and in truth. It has looked upon life from one point of view only—namely, the moral—and has judged all action by ethical values alone, despising in this way philosophy, science, literature, poetry, painting and music. In its more ascetic moods it has claimed that these things are “of the devil.” Thus Christianity has introduced a vicious distinction which has done much to mutilate human nature and to cramp the wholesome expression of the life of the human spirit. Whatever is an expression of spirit is, claims Renan, to be looked upon as sacred. If such a distinction as that of sacred and profane were to be drawn it should be between what appertains to the soul and what does not. The distinction, when made between the ethical and the beautiful or true, is disastrous.

[2] Discours, dated November 26th, 1885.

Renan considers that of the two, the ethical and the beautiful, the latter may be the finer and grander distinction, the former merely a species of it. The moral, he thinks, will give place to the beautiful. “Before any action,” he himself says in L’Avenir de la Science, “I prefer to ask myself, not whether it be good or bad, but whether it be beautiful or ugly, and I feel that I have in this an excellent criterion.”

Morality, he further insists, has been conceived up to now in far too rigid a manner as obedience to a law, as a warfare and strife between opposing laws. But the really virtuous man is an artist who is creating beauty, the beauty of character, and is fashioning it out of his human nature, as the sculptor fashions a statue out of marble or a musician composes a melody from sounds. Neither the sculptor nor the musician feels that he is obeying a law. He is expressing and creating beauty.

Another criticism which Renan brings against the ethic of Christianity is its insistence upon humility as a virtue. He sees nothing virtuous in it as it is generally interpreted: quite rightly he suspects it of hypocritically covering a gross pride, after the manner of the Pharisees. He gives a place to honest asceticism which has its nobility, even although it be a narrow, misconceived ideal. Much nobler is it, he thinks, than the type of life which has only one object, getting a fortune.

This leads him to another remark on the moral hypocrisy of so many professedly religious folk. Having an easy substance and possessing already a decent share of this world’s goods, they devote all their energies to the pursuit of pleasure or of further superfluous wealth. From this position they criticise the worker who endeavours to improve his lot, and have the audacity to tell him in pious fashion that he must not be materialistic, and must not set his heart on this world’s goods. It would be laughable were it not so tragic. The whole question of the relativity of the two positions is overlooked, the whole ethic of the business ignored. Material welfare is good and valuable, says Renan, in so far as it frees man’s spirit from mean and wretched dependence and a cramped life which injures development, physical and spiritual. These goods are a means to an end. When, therefore, a man, already comfortably endowed, amasses more and more for its own sake, he commits both a profane and immoral act. But when a worker endeavours to augment his recompense for his labour, he is but demanding “what is the condition of his redemption. He is performing a virtuous action.”^[3]

[3] L’Avenir de la Science, p. 83.

Sound as many of these considerations undoubtedly are, they come from the Renan, who wrote in the years 1848-9 L’Avenir de la Science. He lived long enough to see that these truths had complements, that there might be, even ethically, another side. In speaking of Progress this has been noted: in his later years he forecasted the coming of an era of egoism, of national and industrial selfishness, working itself out in policies of military imperialism among the nations, and of economic greed and tyranny among the proletariat. His remarks about the virtuous action of the worker bettering his lot were inspired by the socialism of Saint-Simon. Renan did not at that time raise in his own mind the question of the workers themselves carrying their reaction so far, that it, although just at first, might reach a point where it became a dictatorship decreed by self-interest alone. It is in Renouvier that we find this danger more clearly indicated. In so far as Renan felt it, his solution was that which he suggested for the elimination of all social wickedness— namely, the increase of education. He looked upon wickedness as a symptom of a lack of culture, particularly the lack of any moral teaching.

It was precisely this point, the education of the democracy, morally no less than intellectually, which presented a certain difficulty to the French Republic when, after several unsuccessful attempts, the plan for state education of a compulsory, gratuitous and secular character was carried in 1882, largely through the efforts of Jules Ferry.^[4]

[4] In 1848 Hippolyle Carnot had this plan ready. The fall of the Ministry, in which he was Minister of Education, was due partly to the discussion raised by Renouvier’s book (see p. 61 of the present work). With the fall of the Ministry, and in 1851, of the Republic, the scheme went too. France had to wait eleven years longer than England for free, compulsory education. Her educational problem has always been complicated by the attitude of the Roman Catholic Church to religious education and its hostility to “lay” schools. Brilliant as France is intellectually, there are numbers of her people who do not read or write owing to the delay of compulsory state education. The latest census, that of 1921, asked the question, “Savez-vous à la fois lire et écrire?” in order to estimate this number.

The great moralist of our period was Renouvier. Not only, as we have already seen, did ethical considerations mark and colour his whole thought, but he set forth those considerations themselves with a remarkable power. His treatise in two volumes on The Science of Ethics is one of the most noteworthy contributions to ethical thought which has been made in modern times. Although half a century has elapsed since its publication on the eve of the Franco-Prussian War, its intense pre-occupation with the problems which beset our modern industrial civilisation, its profound judgments and discussions concerning subjects so vital to the world of to-day (such as the relations of the sexes, marriage, sex-ethics, civil liberty, property, communism, state intervention, socialist ideals, nationalism, war, the modern idea of the State, and international law), give to it a value, which very few works upon the subject possess. Long as the work is, it has the merit of thoroughness, and difficulties are not slurred over, but stated frankly, and some endeavours are made to overcome them. Consequently, it is a work which amply repays careful study. It is almost presumption to attempt in a few pages to summarise Renouvier’s important treatise. Some estimate of its significance is, however, vital to our history.

The title itself is noteworthy and must at that date have appeared more striking than it does to us now by its claim that there is a science of ethics.^[5] We are accustomed to regard physics, mathematics and even logic as entitled to the name Sciences. Can we legitimately speak of a Science of Ethics?

[5] It is interesting for comparative study to note that Leslie Stephen’s Science of Ethics was a much later production than Renouvier’s treatise, appearing thirteen years later.

Renouvier insists that we can. Morality deals with facts, although they are not embraced by the categories of number, extension, duration or becoming (as mathematical and physical data), but rather by those of causality, finality and consciousness. The facts “are not the natural being of things, but the devoir-être of the human will, the devoir-faire of persons, and the devoir-être of things in so far as they depend upon persons.”^[6] Personal effort, initiative and responsibility lie at the basis of all ethics. Morality is a construction, like every science, partly individual and partly collective; it must lay down postulates, and if it is to justify the claim to be a science, these postulates must be such as to command a consensus gentium. Further, if ethics is to be scientifically based it must be independent. In the past this has unfortunately not been the case, for history shows us ethics bound up with some system of religion or metaphysics. If ethics is to be established as a science, Renouvier points out that it must be free from all hypothesis of an irrelevant character, such as cosmological speculations and theological dogmas. Renouvier’s insistence upon the independence of ethics was followed up in an even clearer and more trenchant manner by Guyau in his famous Esquisse d’une Morale sans Obligation ni Sanction.

[6] Science de la Morale, vol. I, p. 10.

Although, generally, ethics has suffered by reason of its alliance to theological and metaphysical systems, Renouvier affirms that, in this connection, there is one philosophy which is not open to objection—namely, the Critical Philosophy of Kant. This is because it subordinates all the unknown to phenomena, all phenomena to consciousness, and, within the sphere of consciousness itself, subordinates the speculative reason (reinen Vernunft) to the practical reason (praktischen Vernunft). Its chief value, according to Renouvier, lies precisely in this maintenance of the primacy of moral considerations.

Two standpoints or lines of thought which are characteristic of Renouvier, and whose presence we have already noted in our first chapter, operate also in his ethics and govern his whole treatment of the nature of morality and the problems of the moral life. Briefly stated these are, firstly, his regard for the Critical Philosophy of Kant; secondly, his view of man as “an order, a harmony of functions reciprocally conditioned, and, by this fact, inseparable.”^[7] As in his treatment of Certitude, Renouvier showed this to be a psychological complex into which entered elements not only of cognition, but of feeling and will, the same insistence upon this unity of human nature meets us again in his ethics. “Any ethical doctrine which definitely splits up the elements of human nature is erroneous.”^[8] Abstraction is necessary and useful for any science, even the science of ethics, but however far we may carry our scientific analysis, we must never lose sight of the fact that we are dealing with abstractions. To lose sight of the relationship of the data under observation or discussion is, indeed, working away from the goal of scientific knowledge.

[7] Science de la Morale (first edition, 1869), vol. I, p. 189.

[8] Ibid.

“Nothing,” remarks Renouvier in this connection, “has done more to hinder the spread of Kant’s doctrines in the world than his assertion that the morally good act must be performed absolutely without feeling.” In view of man as he is, and in so far as we understand human nature at all, it seems a vain and foolish statement. For Kant, Duty was supreme, and the sole criterion of a good act was, for him, its being done from a consciousness of Duty. He himself had to confess that he did not know of any act which quite fulfilled this ideal of moral action. With this view of morality Renouvier so heartily disagrees that he is inclined to think that, so far from a purely rational act (if we suppose such an act possible) being praiseworthy, he would almost give greater moral worth to an act purely emotional, whose “motive” lay, not in the idea of cold and stern Duty, but in the warm impulses of the human heart, springing from emotion or feeling alone. Emotion is a part of our nature—it has its role to play; the rational element enters as a guide or controlling power. It is desirable that all acts should be so guided, but that is far from stating, as does Kant, that they should proceed solely from rational considerations. Ultimately reason and sentiment unite in furthering the same ends. No adequate conception of justice can be arrived at which is not accompanied by, and determined by, correlatively, love of humanity. Kant rigorously excluded from operation even the most noble feelings, whose intrusion should dim the worth and glory of his moral act, devoid of feeling. But “without good-will and mutual sympathy of persons, no society could ever have established itself beyond the family, and scarcely the family itself.”^[9]

[9] Science de la Morale, vol. I, p. 184.

Renouvier confesses that in most of this treatment of the problem of ethics he follows Kant^[10] and although his admiration for Kant’s work is not concealed, nevertheless he is not altogether satisfied with it, and does not refrain from criticism. Indeed this reconstruction of the Critical Philosophy in a revised version is the main effort of the neo-critical philosopher, and it is constantly manifest.

[10] On p. 108 (vol. I) he refers to “le philosophie que je suis, et que j’aimerais de pouvoir suivre toujours.”

He complains that Kant did not adhere rigorously to his own principles, but vainly strove to give an objectivity to the laws of the practical reason by connecting them to metaphysics. But, he says, “on the other hand I maintain that the errors of Kant can be corrected in accordance with the actual principles of his own philosophy. I continue my serious attachment to this great reformer in spite of the very serious modifications I am endeavouring to make in his work.”^[11]

[11] Science de la Morale, vol. I, p. no. 110.

In the opinion of Renouvier, Kant’s work, the Metaphysic of Morals, is marred by its neglect of history in its relation to ethics, by a disfigured picture of right which does not make it any more applicable to existing human conditions, also by the rather artificial and complicated nature of its doctrines. He further reproaches Kant for excessive rigorism and formalism, accompanied by a vagueness which prevents the application of much of his teaching. This, it seems to us, is a reproach which can be hurled easily at most of the ethical teachers whom the world has seen. The incessant vagueness of paradoxical elements in the utterances of such teachers has inevitably compelled their disciples to find refuge in insisting upon a “right spirit” of action, being devoid of any clear teaching as to what might constitute right action in any particular case.

The rudiments of morality, according to Renouvier, are found in the general notion of “obligation,” the sense of ought (devoir-faire) which the human consciousness cannot escape. Any end of action is conceived as a good for the agent himself; and because of liberty of choice between actions or ends, or between both, certain of these are deemed morally preferable. There are certain obligations which are purely personal, elementary virtues demanded from any rational being. It is his interest to preserve his body by abstaining from excesses; it is his interest also to conserve and develop the faculties of his nature. This is the point upon which Guyau makes such insistence in common with Nietzsche—the development, expansion and intensification of life. There are, Renouvier points out, duties towards oneself, involving constant watchfulness and intelligence, so that the agent may be truly self-possessed under all circumstances, maintaining an empire over himself and not falling a constant victim to passion. “Greater is he that ruleth himself than he that taketh a city,” are not vain words. This is the rudimentary but essential virtue which Renouvier calls “virtue militant”—moral courage. Intellectually it issues in Prudence or Wisdom; on the side of sense and passion it is represented by Temperance. These duties are present to conscience, which itself arises from a doubling of consciousness. “We have the empirical person with his experience of the past, and we have the ideal person—that is to say, that which we wish to be,”^[12] our ideal character. In so far as we are conscientious we endeavour to bring “what we are” into line with “what we conceive we should be.” The moral agent thus has duties towards himself, obligations apart from any relation to or with others of his kind.

[12] Science de la Morale, vol. I, p. 25.

This elementary morality is “essentially subjective,”^[13] but this only shows us that the most thorough-going individualism does not by its neglect of others, its denial of altruism, thereby escape entirely from moral obligations. There are always duties to one’s higher self, even for a Robinson Crusoe. Frequently it is stated that duties and rights are co-relative; but Renouvier regards Duty as more fundamental than Right, which he uses only of man in association with his fellows. Between persons, right and duty are in a synthesis, but the person himself has no rights as distinct from duties to himself; he has no right not to do what it is his duty to perform. From this it follows that if his personal notion of obligation changes, he has no right whatever to carry out actions in accordance with his judgments made prior to his change of conscience, merely for the sake of consistency. He is in this respect a law to him- self, for no man can act as a conscience for another. The notion of rights only arises when others are in question, and only too often the word has been abused by being employed where simply power is meant, as, for example, in many views of “natural right.” This procedure both sullies the usage of the term Right and lowers the status of personality. It is always, Renouvier claims, to “the inherent worth and force of personality, with its powers of reflection, deliberation, liberty, self-possession and self-direction, that one must return in order to understand each and every virtue.”

[13] Science de la Morale, vol. I, p. 81.

Renouvier’s insistence upon the inherent worth, the dignity and moral value of personality becomes clearer as he proceeds from his treatment of the lonely individual (who, it may be objected, is to such an extent an abstraction, as to resemble a fiction) to associated persons. The reciprocal relation of two persons brings out the essential meaning of Justice. Two personalities co-operating for a common end find themselves each possessed of duties and, inversely therefore, of rights which are simply duties regarded from the point of view not of the agent, but of the other party. The neo-critical ethic here brings itself definitely into line with the principle of practical reason of the Critical Philosophy. This, says Renouvier,^[14] is the profound meaning of Justice, which consists in the fact that the moral agent, instead of subordinating the ends of other people to his own, considers the personalities^[15] of others as similar to his own and possessing their own ends which he must respect. This principle is that which Kant formulated under the name of “practical obligation” or “supreme principle.”^[16] “Recognise the personality of others as equal in nature and dignity, as being an end in itself, and consequently refrain from employing the personality of others merely as a means to achieve your own ends.”

[14] Science de la Morale, vol. I, pp. 82-83.

[15] Personality is a better translation, as it avoids the rather legal and technical meaning of “person” in English.

[16] In a footnote to this passage, Renouvier states his own preference for “moral obligation” rather than “imperative of conscience.”

This doctrine of Personalism is an assertion not only of Liberté, Egalité, Fraternité as necessary and fundamental principles, but also of the value of personality in general and the relativity of “things.” It constitutes an ethical challenge to the existing state of society which is not only inclined, in its headlong pursuit of wealth, its fanatical worship of Mammon, to treat its workers as purely “means” to the attainment of its end, but further minimises personality by its legal codes and social conventions, which both operate far more readily and efficiently in the defence of property than in the defence or protection of personality. From the ethical standpoint the world is a realm of ends or persons and all other values must be adjusted in relation to these.

We have been told by religious ethical teachers that we must love our neighbour as ourself, and have been reminded by moralists continually of the conflict between Egoism and Altruism. Renouvier points out that ultimately obligation towards others is reducible to a duty to oneself. He does not do this from the point of view of Hobbes, who regarded all actions, however altruistic they appeared to be, as founded purely upon self-interest, but rather from the opposite standpoint. “We should make our duty to others rank foremost among our duties to ourselves.”^[17] This is the transcendent duty through the performance of which we achieve a realisation of the solidarity of persons, demonstrate an objective value for our own existence, and gain a fuller and richer life.

[17] Science de la Morale, vol. I, p. 85.

The idea of personal and moral reciprocity was formulated by the Chinese and the Greeks; at a later date it reappeared in the teaching of Jesus. This ancient and almost universal maxim has been stated both positively and negatively: “Do not to others what you would not have them do unto you,” “Do as you would be done by.” The maxim itself, however, beyond a statement of the principle of reciprocity rather vaguely put, has no great value for the science of ethics. Renouvier regards it not as a principle of morality but a rule-of-thumb, and he considers the negative statement of it to be more in harmony with what was intended by the early ethical teachers—namely, to give a practical warning against the committing of evil actions rather than to establish a scientific principle of right action.

Renouvier has shown the origin of the notion of Justice as arising primarily from an association of two persons. “Reason established a kind of community and moral solidarity in this reciprocity.”^[18] This right and duty unite to constitute Justice. It is truly said that it is just to fulfil one’s duty, just to demand one’s right, and Justice is formed by a union of these two in such a manner that they always complement one another. Bearing in mind the doctrine of personality as an end, we get a general law of action which may be stated in these terms: “Always act in such a way that the maxim applicable to your act can be erected by your conscience into a law common to you and your associate.” Now to apply this to an association of any number of persons—e g., human society as a whole—we need only generalise it and state it in these terms: “Act always in such a way that the maxim of your conduct can be erected by your conscience into a universal law or formulated in an article of legislation which you can look upon as expressing the will of every rational being.” This “categorical obligation” is the basis of ethics. It stands clear of hypothetical cases as a general law of action, and “there is no such thing really as practical morality,” remarks Renouvier, “except by voluntary obedience to a law.”^[19]

[18] Ibid., pp. 79-80.

[19] Science de la Morale, vol. I, p. 100.

The fulfilment of our duties to ourselves generally tends to fit us for fulfilling our duties to others, and the neglect of the former will lead inevitably to inability to perform these latter. Our duty to others thus involves our duty to ourselves.^[20]

[20] The notion of self-sacrifice itself involves also, to a degree, the maintenance of self, without which there could be no self to sacrifice. History has frequently given examples of men of all types refusing to sacrifice their lives for a certain cause because they wished to preserve them for some other (and possibly better—in their minds at any rate, better) form of self-sacrifice.

Personality which lies at the root of the moral problem demands Truth and Liberty, and it has a right to these two, for without them it is injured. They are essential to a society of persons. Another vital element in society is Work, the neglect of which is a grave immoral act, for as there is in any society a certain amount of necessary work to be performed, a “slacker” dumps his share upon his fellows to perform in addition to their own share. With industrial or general laziness, and the parasitism of those whose riches enable them to live without working, is to be condemned also the shirking of intellectual work by all. Quite apart from those who are “intellectuals” as such, a solemn duty of work, of thought, reflection and reasoning lies on each person in a society. Apathy among citizens is really a form of culpable negligence. The duty of work and thought is so vital and of such ethical, political and social importance that Renouvier suggests that the two words, work and duty, be regarded as synonyms. It might, he thinks, make clearer to many the obligation involved.

Justice has been made clear in the foregoing remarks, but in view of Kant’s distinction of “large” and “strict” duties, Renouvier raises the question of the relation of Justice and Goodness. He concludes that acts proceeding from the latter are to be distinguished from Justice. They proceed not from considerations of persons as such, but from their “nature” or common humanity, and are near to being “duties to oneself.” They are of the heart rather than of the head, proceeding from sentiments of humanity, and sentiment is not, strictly speaking, the foundation of justice, which is based on the notions of duties and rights. There can be, therefore, an opposition of Justice and of Goodness (Kindness or Love), and the sphere of the latter is often limited by considering the former. Renouvier recognises the fact that Justice in the moral sense of recognition and respect for personality is itself often “constitutionally and legally” violated in societies by custom, laws and institutions as well as by members of society in their actions, and he notes that this “legal” injustice makes the problem of the relation of Justice and Charity excessively difficult.

The science of ethics is faced with a double task owing to the nature of man’s evolution and history. Human societies have been built upon a basis which is not that of justice and right, but upon the basis of force and tyranny—in short, upon war. There is, therefore, for the moralist the twin duty of constructing laws and principles for the true society founded upon an ethical basis, that is to say on conceptions of Justice, while at the same time he must give practical advice to his fellows living and striving in present society, where a continual state of war exists owing to the operation of force and tyranny in place of justice, and he must so apply his principles that they may be capable of moving this unjust existing society progressively towards the ideal society.

In our account of Renouvier’s “Philosophy of History” we brought out his insistence upon war as the essential feature of man’s life on this planet, as the basis of our present “civilisation.” Here he proclaims it again in his ethics.^[21] War reigns everywhere: it is around us and within us—individuals, families, tribes, classes, nations and races. He includes in the term much more than open fighting with guns. The distribution of wealth, of property (especially of land), wages, custom duties, diplomacy, fraud, violence, bigotry, orthodoxy, and persecution, lies themselves, are all, to him, forms of war. Its most ludicrous stronghold is among men who pride themselves on being at peace with all men, while they force their idea of God upon other men’s consciences. Religious intolerance is one, and a very absurd kind of warfare.^[22]

[21] Science de la Morale, vol. I, p. 332.

[22] Renouvier sums up its spirit in the words: “Crois ce que je crois moi, où je te tue” (La Nouvelle Monadologie).

The principle of justice confers upon the person a certain “right of defence” in the midst of all this existing varied warfare of mankind. It involves, according to Renouvier, resistance. The just man cannot stand by and see the unjust man oppress his fellow so that the victim is “obliged to give up his waistcoat after having had his coat torn from him.” Otherwise we must confuse the just with the saintly man who only admits one law—namely, that of sacrifice. But Renouvier will have us be clear as to the price involved in all this violent resistance. It means calling up powers of evil, emissaries of injustice. He does not found his “right of defence” on rational right; it is to misconceive it so to found it. We must recognise the use of violence and force, even in self-defence, as in itself evil, an evil necessitated by facts which do not conform to the rules of peace and justice themselves. It is to a large degree necessary, unfortunately, but is none the less evil and to be frankly regarded as evil, and likely to multiply evil in the world, owing to the tremendous solidarity of wickedness of which Renouvier has already spoken in history. It is the absence of the reign of justice which necessitates these conflicts, and we have to content ourselves with a conception of actual “right,” a conception already based on war, not with one of “rational right” or justice.

Right in the true sense, Renouvier insists, belongs to a state of peace; in a state of war, such as our civilisation is perpetually in, it cannot be realised. The objection may be made that Renouvier is then justifying the means by the end. He emphatically denies this. By no means is this the case, for “the evil,” he remarks, “which corrects another evil does not therefore become good; it may be useful, but it is none the less evil, immoral, or unjust, and what is not just is not justifiable. Wars, rebellions, revolutions may lessen certain evils, but they do not thereby cease to be any the less evils themselves. Morally we are obliged to avoid all violence; a revolution is only justified if its success gives an indication of its absolute necessity. We must lament, from the standpoint of ethics or justice, the evil state of affairs which gives rise to it.^[23]

[23] On this point, it is interesting to compare with the above the views of Spinoza in his Tractatus Theologico-politicus and Tractatus-politicus, and those of T. H. Green in his Lectures on Political Obligation.

Renouvier devotes a considerable portion of his treatise to problems of domestic morals, economic questions and problems of a political and international character. In all these discussions, however, he maintains as central his thesis of the supremacy of personality.

Under droit domestique he defends very warmly the right of the woman and the wife to treatment as a personality. He laments particularly the injustice which usually rules in marriage, where, under a cloak of legality, the married man denies to his wife a personal control of her own body and the freedom of self-determination in matters of sexual intercourse. So unjust and loathsome in its violation of the personality of woman is the modern view of marriage that Renouvier considers it little better than polygamy (which is often a better state for women than monogamy) or prostitution. It is less just than either, owing to its degradation of the personality of the wife. He remarked too in his Nouvelle Monadologie that love (in the popular sense), being so largely an affair of passion and physical attraction, is usually unjust, and that friendship is a better basis for the relationship of marriage, which should be, while it lasts among mankind, one of justice.^[24] Consequently, it should involve neither the idea of possession nor of obedience, but of mutual comradeship.

[24] See particularly the notes in La Nouvelle Monadologie appended to the fourth part, “Passion,” pp. 216-222.

In the economic sphere Renouvier endeavours to uphold freedom, and for this reason he is an enemy of communism. Hostile to the communistic doctrine of property, he is a definite defender of property which he considers to be a necessity of personality. He considers each person in the community entitled to property as a guarantee of his own liberty and development. While disagreeing with communism, Renouvier is sympathetic to the socialist view that property might be, and should be, more justly distributed, and he advocates means to limit excessive possession by private persons and to “generalise” the distribution of the goods of the community among its members. Progressive taxation, a guarantee of the “right to work” and a complete system of insurance are among his suggestions. He is careful, however, to avoid giving to the state too much power.

Renouvier was no lover of the state. While regarding it as necessary under present conditions, he agrees with the anarchist idealists, to whom government is an evil. He admits its use, however, as a guarantor of personal liberty, but is against any semblance of state- worship. The state is not a person, nor is it, as it exists at present, a moral institution. One of the needs of modern times is, he points out, the moralising of the conception of the state, and of the state itself. Although, therefore, he has no a priori objection to state interference in the economic sphere, and would not advocate a mere laissez-faire policy, with its vicious consequences, yet he does not look with approval upon such interference unless it be “the collective expression of the personalities forming the community.”

The fact of living in a society, highly organised although it be, does not diminish at all the moral significance of personality. Rights and duties belong essentially to persons and to them only. We must beware of the political philosophy which regards the citizens as existing only for the state. Rather the state exists, or should exist, for the welfare of the citizens. In the past this was a grave defect of military despotisms, and was well illustrated by the view of the state taken, or rather inculcated, by German political philosophy. In the future the danger of the violation of personality may lie, Renouvier thinks, in another direction—namely, in the establishment of Communistic states. The basic principle of his ethic is the person as an end in himself, and the treatment of persons as ends. If this be so, a Communistic Republic which has as its motto “Each for all,” without also “All for each,” may gravely violate personality and the moral law if, by constraint, it treats all its citizens and their efforts not as ends in themselves, but merely means to the collective ends of all.

The moral ideal demands that personality must not be obliterated. Personality bound up with “autonomy of reason” is the fundamental ethical fact.^[25] In the last resort, responsibility rests upon the individuals of the society for the evils of the system of social organisation under which they live. The state itself cannot be regarded as a moral person. Renouvier opposes strongly any doctrine which tends to the personalisation or the deification of the state.

[25] Note that Renouvier prefers this term to Kant’s “autonomy of will,” which he thinks confuses moral obligation and free-will.

He combats also the modern doctrines of “nationality,” and claims that even the idea of the state is a higher one, for it at any rate involves co-operating personalities, while a nation is a fiction, of which no satisfactory definition can be given. He laughs at the “unity of language, race, culture and religion,” and asks where we can find a nation?^[26] War and death have long since destroyed such united and harmonious groups as were found in ancient times.

[27] Science de la Morale, vol. 2, chap. xcvi, “Idées de la Nationalité et d’Etat,” pp. 416-427.

In approaching the questions of international morality Renouvier makes clear that there is only one morality, one code of justice. Morality cannot be divided against itself, and there cannot be an admission that things which are immoral in the individual are justifiable, or permissible, between different states. Morality has not been applied to these relationships, which are governed by aggressive militarism and diplomacy, the negation of all conceptions of justice. Ethical obligation has only a meaning and significance for personalities, and our states do but reflect the morality of those who constitute them; our world reflects the relationships and immorality of the states. War characterises our whole civilisation, domestic, economic and international. To have inter- national peace, internal peace is essential, and this pre- supposes the reign of justice within states. War we shall have with us, Renouvier reminds us, in all its forms, in our institutions, our laws and customs, until it has disappeared from our hearts. Treaties of “peace” and federations or leagues of nations are themselves based on injustice and on force, and in this he sees but another instance of the “terrible solidarity of evil.”^[28] Better it is to recognise this, thinks Renouvier, than to consider ourselves in, or even near, a Utopia, whence human greed and passion have fled.

[28] Science de la Morale, vol. 2, p. 474.

We find in Renouvier’s ethics a notable reversion to the individualism which characterised the previous century. Much of the individualistic tone of his work is, however, due to his finding himself in opposition to the doctrines preached by communists, positivists, sociologists, pessimistic and fatalistic historians, and supporters of the deified state. Renouvier acclaims the freedom of the individual, but his individualism is “personalism.” In proclaiming that the basis of justice and of all morality is respect for personality, as such, he has no desire to set up a standard of selfish individualism; he wishes only to combat those heretical doctrines which would minimise and crush personality. For him the moral “person” is not an isolated individual—he is a social human being, free and responsible, who lives with his fellows in society. Only upon a recognition of personality as a supreme value can justice or peace ever be attained in human society; and it is to this end that all moral education, Renouvier advocates, should tend. The moral ideal should be, in practice, the constant effort to free man from the terrible solidarity of evil which characterises the civilisation into which he is born, and to establish a community or association of personalities. Such an ideal does not lie necessarily at the end of a determined evolution; Renouvier’s views on history and progress have shown us that. Consequently it depends upon us; it is our duty to believe in its possibility and to work, each according to his or her power, for its realisation. The ideal or the idea, will, in so far as it is set before self-conscious personalities as an end, become a force. Renouvier agrees on this point with Fouillée, to whose ethic, founded on the conception of idées-forces, we now turn.

The philosophy of idée-forces propounded by Fouillée assumes, in its ethical aspect, a role of reconciliation (which is characteristic, as we have noted, of his whole method and his entire philosophy) by attempting a synthesis of individualism and humanitarianism. It is therefore another kind of personnalisme, differing in type from that of Renouvier. Fouillée’s full statement of his ethical doctrines was not written until the year 1907,^[29] but long before the conclusion of the nineteenth century he had already indicated the essential points of his ethics. The conclusion of his thesis La Liberté et le Déterminisme (1872) is very largely filled with his ethical views and with his optimism. Four years later appeared his study L’Idée moderne du Droit en Allemagne, en Angleterre et en France, which was followed in 1880 by La Science sociale contemporaine, where the relation of the study of ethics to that of sociology was discussed. A volume containing much acute criticism of current ethical theories was his Critique des Systèmes de Morale contemporains (1883), which gave him a further opportunity of offering by way of contrast his application of the doctrine of idées-forces to the solution of moral problems. To this he added in the following year a study upon La Propriété sociale et la Démocratie, where he discussed the ethical value and significance of various political and socialist doctrines. Ethical questions raised by the problems of education he discussed in his L’Enseignement au Point de Vue national (1891). At the close of the century he issued his book on morality in his own country, La France au Point de Vue morale (1900).^[30]

[29] His Morale des Idées-forces was then published.

[30] It is interesting to note the wealth of Fouillée’s almost annual output on ethics alone in his later years. We may cite, in the twentieth century: La Réforme de l’Enseignement par la Philosophie, 1901; La Conception morale et critique de l’Enseignement; Nietzsche et l’Immoralisme, 1904; Le Moralisme de Kant et l’Amoralisme contemporaine, 1905; Les Eléments sociologiques de la Morale, 1905; La Morale des Idées-forces, 1907; Le Socialisme, 1910; La Démocratie politique et sociale en France, 1910; and the posthumous volume, Humanitaires et Libertaires au Point de Vue sociologique et morale, 1914.

Fouillée endeavours to unite the purely ideal aspect of ethics—that is to say, its notion of what ought to be, with the more positive view of ethics as dealing with what now is. His ethic is, therefore, an attempt to relate more intimately the twin spheres of Renouvier, l’état de guerre with l’état de paix, for it is concerned not only with what is, but with that which tends to be and which can be by the simple fact that it is thought. As, however, what can be is a matter of intense interest to us, we are inevitably led from this to consider what ought to be—that is to say, what is better, or of more worth or value. The ethical application of the philosophy of idées-forces is at once theoretical and practical, that philosophy being concerned both with ideas and values.

As in his treatment of freedom we found Fouillée beginning with the idea of freedom, so here in a parallel manner he lays down the idea of an end of action as an incontestable fact of experience, although the existence of such an end is contested and is a separate question. This idea operates in consciousness as a power of will (volonté de conscience). Intelligence, power, love and happiness-in short, the highest conscious life—are involved in it, not only for us, but for all. Thus it comes about that the conscious subject, just because he finds himself confronted by nature and by over-individual ends, proposes to himself an ideal, and imposes at the same time upon himself the obligation to act in conformity with this full consciousness which is in all, as in him, and thus he allows universal consciousness to operate in his own individual life. Here we have conscience, the idea of duty or obligation, accounted for, and the principle of autonomy of the moral person laid down. The ethical life is shown as the conscious will in action, finding within itself its own end and rule of action, finding also the conscious wills of others like itself. Morality is the indefinite extension of the conscious will which brings about the condition that others tend to become “me.” Through the increasing power of intellectual disinterestedness and social sympathy, the old formula “cogito, conscius sum” gives place to that of “conscii sumus,” and this is no mere intellectual speculation, but a concrete principle of action and feeling which is itself akin to the highest and best in all religions.

One of the features of this ethic is its insistence upon the primacy of self-consciousness. Indeed, it has its central point in the doctrine of self-consciousness, which, according to Fouillée, implies the consciousness of others and of the whole unity of mankind. Emphasising his gospel of idées-forces, he outlines a morality in which the ideal shall attract men persuasively, and not dominate them in what he regards as the arbitrary and rather despotic manner of Kant.

By advocating the primacy of self-consciousness Fouillée claims to establish an ethic which towers above those founded upon pleasure, happiness and feeling. The morality of the idées-forces is not purely sentimental, not purely intellectual, not purely voluntarist; it claims to rest on the totality of the functions of consciousness, as revealed in the feelings, in intellect and will, acting in solidarity and in harmony.

He endeavours to unite the positive and evolutionary views of morality to those associated with theological or metaphysical doctrines, concerning the deity or the morally perfect absolute. He claims, against the theologians and on behalf of the positivists, that ethics can be an independent study, that it is not necessarily bound up with theological dogmas. There is no need to found the notion of duty upon that of the existence of God. Our own existence is sufficient; the voice of conscience is within our human nature. He objects, as did Nietzsche, to the formality and rigour of Kant’s “categorical imperative.” His method is free from the legalism of Kant, and in him and Guyau is seen an attempt to relate morality itself to life, expanding and showing itself creative of ideals and tending to their fulfilment.

From the primacy of self-consciousness which can be expressed in the notion, Je pense, donc j’ai une valeur morale, a transition is made to a conception of values. Je pense, donc j’evalue des objets. The essential element in the psychology of the idees-forces then comes into play by tending to the realisation of the ideals conceived and based on the valuation previously made. Finally, Fouillée claims that on this ethical operation of the idées-forces can be founded the notion of a universal society of consciences. This notion itself is a force operating to create that society. The ideal is itself persuasive, and Fouillee’s inherent optimism, which we have observed in his doctrine of progress, colours also his ethical theory. He has faith in men’s capacity to be attracted by the ideals of love and brotherhood, and insists that in the extension of these lies the supreme duty, and the ideal, like the notion of duty itself, is a creation of our own thought. The realisation of the universality, altruism, love and brotherhood of which he speaks, depends upon our action, our power to foster ideas, to create ideals, particularly in the minds of the young, and to strive ever for their realisation. This is the great need of our time, Fouillée rightly urges.^[31] Such a morality contains in a more concentrated form, he thinks, the best that has been said and thought in the world-religions; it achieves also that union of the scientific spirit with the aspirations of man, which Fouillée regards as so desirable, and he claims for it a philosophical value by its success in uniting the subjective and personal factors of consciousness with those which are objective and universal.

[31] The work of Benjamin Kidd should be compared in this connection, particularly his Social Evolution, 1894; Principles of Western Civilisation, 1902; and The Science of Power, 1918 (chap, v., “The Emotion of the Ideal”).

Similar in several respects to the ethical doctrines of Fouillée are those of his step-son. Guyau insists more profoundly, however, upon the “free” conception of morality, as spontaneous and living, thus marking a further reaction from Kant’s doctrine. Both Fouillée and Guyau interacted upon one another in their mental relationship, and both of them (particularly Guyau) have affinities with Nietzsche, who knew their work. While the three thinkers are in revolt against the Kantian conception of ethics, the two Frenchmen use their conceptions to develop an ethic altruistic in character, far removed from the egoism which characterises the German.^[32]

[32] We find the optimism and humanitarian idealism of the Frenchmen surprising. May not this be piecisely because the world has followed the gospel of Nietzsche? We may dislike him, but he is a greater painter of the real state of world-morality than are the two Frenchmen. They, with their watchword of fraternité, are proclaiming a more excellent way they are standing for an ethical ideal of the highest type.

Guyau, after showing in his critique of English Ethics (La Morale anglaise contemporaine, 1879) the inadequacies of a purely utilitarian doctrine of morality, endeavoured to set forth in a more constructive manner the principles of a scientific morality in his Esquisse d’une Morale sans Obligation ni Sanction.

He takes as his starting-point the position where John Stuart Mill fell foul of the word “desirable.” What, asks Guyau, is the supreme desire of every living creature? The answer to this question is “Life.” What we all of us desire most and constantly is Life, the most intensive and extensive in all its relationships, physical and spiritual. In the principle of Life we find cause and end—a unity which is a synthesis of all desires and all desirables. Moreover, the concept or the principle of Life embraces all functions of our nature—those within consciousness and those which are subconscious or unconscious. It thus relates intimately purely instinctive action and reflective acts, both of which are manifestations of Life and can enrich and increase its power.

The purely hedonistic views of the Utilitarians he considers untrue. Doubtless, he admits, there is a degree of truth in the doctrine that consciousness tends to pursue the line of greatest pleasure or least resistance, but then we must remember how slight a part this consciousness actually plays. Instincts and an intensive subconscious “will-to-live” are constantly operating. A purely scientific ethic, if it is to present a complete scheme, must allow for this by admitting that the purely hedonistic search after pleasure is not in itself a cause of action, but is an effect of a more fundamental or dominating factor. This factor is precisely the effort of Life to maintain itself, to intensify itself and expand. The chief motive power lies in the “intensity of Life.” “The end which actually determines all conscious action is also the cause which produces every unconscious action; it is Life itself, Life at once the most intense and the most varied in its forms. From the first thrill of the embryo in its mother’s womb to the last convulsion of the old man, every movement of the being has had as cause Life in its evolution; this universal cause of actions is, from another point of view, its constant effect and end.”^[33]

[33] Esquisse d’une Morale, p. 87.

A true ethic proceeding upon the recognition of these principles is scientific, and constitutes a science having as its object all the means by which Life, material and spiritual, may be conserved and expanded. Rising in the evolutionary development we find the variety and scope of action increased. The highest beings find rest not in sleep merely, but in variety and change of action. The moral ideal lies in activity, in all the variety of its manifestations. For Guyau, as for Bergson, the worst vice is idleness, inertia, lack of élan vital, decay of personal initiative, and a consequent degeneration to merely automatic existence.

Hedonism is quite untenable as a principle; pleasure is merely a consequence, and its being set in the van of ethics is due to a false psychology and false science. Granting that pleasure attends the satisfaction of a desire, pain its repression, recognising that a feeling of pleasure accompanies many actions which expand life, we must live, as Guyau reminds us, before we enjoy. The activity of life surges within us, and we do not act with a view to pleasure or with pleasure as a motive, but life, just because it is life, seeks to expand. Man in acting has created his pleasures and his organs. The pleasure and the organ alike proceed from function—that is, life itself. The pleasure of an action and even the consciousness of it are attributes, not ends. The action arises naturally from the inherent intensity of life.

The hedonists, too, says Guyau, have been negligent of the widest pleasures, and have frequently confined their attention to those of eating and drinking and sexual intercourse, purely sensitive, and have neglected those of living, willing and thinking, which are more fundamental as being identical with the consciousness of life. But Guyau asserts that, as the greatest intensity of life involves necessarily its widest expansion, we must give special attention to thought and will and feeling, which bring us into touch universally with our fellows and promote the widest life. This expansiveness of life has great ethical importance. With the change in the nature of reproduction, involving the sexual union of two beings, “a new moral phase began in the world.” It involved an expansion not merely physical, but mental—a union, however crude, of soul.

It is in the extension of this feature of human life that Guyau sees the ethical ideal. The most perfect organism is the most sociable, for the ideal of the individual life is the common or social life. Morality is for him almost synonymous with sociability, disinterestedness, love and brotherhood, and in it we find, he says, “the flower of human life.”

All our action should be referred to this moral ideal of sociability. Guyau sees in the phrase “social service” a conception which should not be confined to those who are endeavouring in some religious or philanthropic manner to alleviate the suffering caused by evil in human society, but a conception to which the acts, all acts, of all members of society should be related. Like Renouvier, he gives to work an important ethical value. “To work is to produce—that is, to be useful to oneself and to others.” In work he sees the economic and moral reconciliation of egoism and altruism. It is a good and it is praiseworthy. Those who neglect and despise it are parasites, and their existence in society is a negation of the moral ideal of sociability and social service. In so far as the work of certain persons leads to the accumulation of excessive capital in individual hands, it is likely to annul itself sooner or later in luxury and idleness. Such an immoral state of affairs, it is the concern of society, by its laws of inheritance and possession, to prevent.

Having made clear his principle of morality, Guyau then has to face the question of its relation to the notion of duty or obligation. Duty in itself is an idea which he rejects as vague, and he disapproves of the external and artificial element present in the Kantian “rigorism.” For Guyau the very power of action contained in life itself creates an impersonal duty. While Emerson could write:

“Duty says, ‘I must,’
The youth replies, ‘I can,’”

the view of Guyau is directly the converse; for him “I can” gives the “I must”; it is the power which precedes and creates the obligation. Life cannot maintain itself unless it grows and expands. The soul that liveth to itself, that liveth solely by habit and automatism, is already dead. Morality is the unity of the personality expanding by action and by sympathy. It is at this point that Guyau’s thought approaches closely to the philosophie des idées-forces of his step-father, by his doctrine of thought and action.

Immorality is really unsociability, and Guyau thinks this a better key-note than to regard it as disobedience. If it is so to be spoken of, it is disobedience to the social elements in one’s own self—a mischievous duplication of personality, egoistic in character and profoundly antisocial. The sociological elements which characterise all Guyau’s work are here very marked. In the notion of sociability we find an equivalent of the older and more artificial conception of Duty—a conception which lacks concreteness and offers in itself so little guidance because it is abstract and empty. The criterion of sociability, Guyau claims, is much more concrete and useful. He asks us to observe its spirituality, for the more gross and materialistic pleasures fall short of the criterion by the very fact that they cannot be shared. Guyau’s thought is here at its best. The higher pleasures, which are not those of bodily enjoyment and satisfaction, but those of the spirit, which thinks, feels, wills and loves, are precisely those which come nearest to fulfilling the ideal of sociability, for they tend less to divide men than to unite them and to urge them to a closer co-operation for their spiritual advancement. Guyau writes here with sarcasm regarding the lonely imbecile in the carriage drawn by four horses. For his own part it is enough to have—

“. . . a Loaf of Bread beneath the Bough,
A Flask of Wine, a Book of Verse—and Thou
Beside me singing in the Wilderness—
And Wilderness is Paradise enow.”

He knows who really has chosen the better part. One cannot rejoice much and rejoice alone. Companionship and love are supremely valuable “goods,” and the pleasure of others he recognises as a very real part of his own. The egoist’s pleasure is, on the other hand, very largely an illusion. He loses, says Guyau, far more by his isolated enjoyment than he would gain by sharing.

Life itself is the greatest of all goods, as it is the condition of all others, but life’s value fades if we are not loved. It is love, comradeship and the fellowship of kindred souls which give to the humblest life a significance and a feeling of value. This, Guyau points out with some tenderness, is the tragedy of suicides. These occurrences are a social no less than an individual tragedy. The tragic element lies in the fact that they were persons who were unable to give their devotion to some object, and the loss of personalities in this way is a real loss to society, but it is mainly society itself which is to blame for them.

We need not fear, says Guyau, that such a gospel will promote unduly the operation of mere animality or instinctive action, for in the growth of the scientific spirit he sees the development of the great enemy of all instinct. It is the dissolving force par excellence, the revolutionary spirit which incessantly wages warfare within society against authority, and in the individual it operates through reason against the instinctive impulses. Every instinct tends to lapse in so far as it is reflected upon by consciousness.

The old notion of duty or obligation must, in Guyau’s opinion, be abandoned. The sole commandment which a scientific and positive ethic, such as he endeavours to indicate, can recognise, is expressible only in the words, “Develop your life in all directions, be an individual as rich as possible in energy, intensive and extensive”—in other words, “Be the most social and sociable being you can.” It is this which replaces the “categorical imperative.”

He aptly points out the failure of modern society to offer scope for devotion, which is really a superabundance of life, and its proneness to crush out opportunities which offer a challenge to the human spirit. There is a claim of life itself to adventure; there is a pleasure in risk and in conflict; and this pleasure in risk and adventure has been largely overlooked in its relation to the moral life. Such risk and adventure are not merely a pure negation of self or of personal life, but rather, he considers, that life raised to its highest power, reaching the sublime. By virtue of such devotion our lives are enriched. He draws a touching picture of the sacrifice upon which our modern social life and civilisation are based, and draws an analogy between the blood of dead horses used by the ploughman in fertilising his field, and the blood of the martyrs of humanity, qui ont fécondé l’avenir. Often they may have been mistaken; later generations may wonder if their cause was worth fighting for; yet, although nothing truly is sadder than to die in vain, that devotion was valuable in and for itself.

With the demand of life for risk in action is bound up the impetus to undertake risk in thought. From this springs the moral need for faith, for belief and acceptance of some hypotheses. The very divergence or diversity of the world-religions is not discouraging but rather the reverse. It is a sign of healthy moral life. Uniformity would be highly detrimental; it would cease to express life, for with conformity of belief would come spiritual decline and stagnation. Guyau anticipates here his doctrine of a religion of free thought, a “non-religion” of the future, which we shall discuss in our next chapter, when we examine his book on that subject. In the diversity of religious views Guyau sees a moral good, for these religions are themselves an expression of life in its richness, and the conservation and expansion of this rich variety of life are precisely the moral ideal itself.

We must endeavour to realise how rich and varied the nature of human life really is. Revolutionaries, Guyau points out, are always making the mistake of regarding life and truth as too simple. Life and truth are so complex that evolution is the key-note to what is desirable in the individual intellect and in society, not a revolution which must inevitably express the extreme of one side or the other. The search for truth is slow and needs faith and patience, but the careful seekers of it are making the future of mankind. But truth will be discovered only in relation to action and life and in proportion to the labour put into its realisation. The search for truth must never be divorced from the active life, Guyau insists, and, indeed, he approaches the view that the action will produce the knowledge, “He that doeth the will shall know of the doctrine.” Moreover he rightly sees in action the wholesome cure for pessimism and that cynicism which all too frequently arises from an equal appreciation of opposing views. “Even in doubt,” he exclaims, “we can love; even in the intellectual night, which prevents our seeing any ultimate goal, we can stretch out a hand to him who weeps at our feet.”^[34] In other words, we must do the duty that lies nearest, in the hope and faith that by that action itself light will come.

[34] Esquisse d’une Morale sans Obligation ni Sanction, p. 178.

In the last part of his treatise Guyau deals with the difficult problem of “sanction,” so ultimately connected with ethics, and, it must be added, with religion. The Providence who rewards and punishes us, according to the orthodox religious creed of Christendom, is merely a personified “sanction” or distributive justice, operating in a terrestrial and celestial court of assize. Guyau condemns this as an utterly immoral conception. Religious sanctions, as he has not much difficulty in showing, are more cruel than those which a man could imagine himself inflicting upon his mortal enemy. The “Heavenly Father” ought at least to be as good as earthly ones, who do not cruelly punish their children. Guyau touches upon an important point here, which will be further emphasised—namely, the necessity for making our idea of God, if we have one at all, harmonious with our own ethical conceptions. The old ideas of the divinity are profoundly immoral and are based on physical force. This is natural because those views which have survived in modern times are those of primitive and savage people to whom the most holy was the most powerful and physically majestic. But, says Guyau, now that we see that “all physical force represents moral weakness,” the idea of God the All-terrible, with his hell-fire ready for the sinful soul, must be condemned as immoral blasphemy itself. “God,” he remarks, “in damning any soul might be said to damn himself.”

Virtue is really its own reward. No one should be or do good in order to gain an entry into paradise or to escape the torments of hell. That is to build morality on an immoral principle and on a belief, not in goodness as valuable in and for itself, but on a basis of material self-interest alone, “the best policy.” It is true, Guyau admits, that virtue involves happiness, but it is not in this sense. A conflict between “pleasure” and virtue is usually one of higher versus lower ideals. Virtue is not a precedent to sense-happiness, and in this sense is not at all equivalent or bound up with happiness, but, as the facts of life reveal, very often opposed to it.

Guyau opposes the ordinary view of punishment in society and shows that it is both immoral and socially harmful in its application. It adds evil to evil, and legal murder is really more absurd than the illegal murder. Punishment, capital or other, is no “compensation” exacted for the crime committed, and it never can be such. Attempts to treat and cure the guilty one would, Guyau suggests, be far more rational, humane and really beneficial to society itself, which at present creates by its punishments, especially those inflicted for first offences, a “criminal class.” One should convert the criminal before punishing him, and then, Guvau asks, if he is converted, why punish him?

The appeal to justice denoted in the words “To everyone according to his works” is frequently heard in the defence of punishment. This is an excellent maxim in Guyau’s opinion, but he is careful to point out that it is purely one of social economics. It is a plea for a just distribution of the products of labour, but does not apply at all to the problem of punishment. In a manner which recalls the remarks of Renan, Guyau sees in evil-doing a lack of culture, or rather of that sociability, which comes of social culture, from consciousness of a membership of society and a solidarity with one’s fellows. In vice and in virtue alike the human will appears aspiring to better things according to its lights. As virtue is its own reward, so is evil; and the moralist must say to the wicked: “Verily they have their reward” (Comme si ce n’était pas assez pour eux d’être méchants).

Guyau comments upon the gradual modifications of punishment from a social point of view. There was the day when the chastisement was infinitely worse than the crime itself. Then came the morality of reciprocity, “an eye for an eye, and a tooth for a tooth,” an ethic which represented a high ideal for primitive man to reach, and one to which, Guyau thinks, we have yet to reach to-day in some spheres of life. Yet a further moral development will show how foolish, in a civilised society, are wrath and hatred of the criminal and the cry for vengeance. Society must aim at ensuring protection for itself with the minimum of individual suffering. Punishment must be regarded as an example for the future rather than as revenge or compensation. In the individual himself Guyau observes how powerful can be the inner sanction of remorse, the suffering caused by the unrealised ideal. This is perhaps the only real moral punishment, and it is one which society cannot itself directly enforce. Only by increasing “sociability” and social sensitiveness can this sanction be indirectly developed.

Herein lies the highest ethical ideal, far more concrete and living, in Guyau’s opinion, than the rigorism of a Kant or the “scholastic”^[35] temper of a Renouvier. Charity or love for all men, whatever their value morally, intellectually or physically, must, he claims, “be the final end pursued even by public opinion.”In co-operation and sociability, he finds the vital moral ideal; in love and brotherhood, he finds the real sanction which should operate.”Love supposes mutuality of love,” he says; and there is one idea superior to that of justice, that is the idea of brotherhood, and he remarks with a humane tenderness “the guilty have probably more need for love than anyone else.” “I have,” he cries, “two hands—the one for gripping the hand of those with whom I march along in life, the other to lift up the fallen. Indeed, to these I should be able to stretch out both hands together.”^[36]

[35] This is Guyau’s word to describe Renouvier, whom he regards as far too much under the influence of Kant.

[36] Esquisse d’une Morale sans Obligation ni Sanction, p. 223.

While Fouillée and, more especially, Guyau were thus outlining an ethic marked by a strong humanitarianism, a more definitely religious ethic was being proclaimed by that current of philosophy of belief and of action which has profoundly associated itself in its later developments with “Modernism” in the Roman Church. The tendency to stress action and the practical reason is noticeable in the work of Brochard, Ollé-Laprune and Blondel, also in Rauh. They agree with Renouvier in advocating the primacy of the practical reason, but their own reasons for this are different from his, or at least in them the reasons are more clearly enunciated. Plainly these reasons lie in the difficulties of intellectualism and the quest of truth. They propose the quest of the good in the hope of finding in that sphere some objectivity, some absolute, in fact, which they cannot find out by intellectual searching. They correspond in a somewhat parallel fashion to the philosophy of intuition with its rejection of intellectualism as offering a final solution. These thinkers desire by action, by doing the will, to attain to a knowledge of the doctrine. The first word in their gospel is—

“Im Anfang war die That.”

It is for them the beginning and the end. Their certainty is an act of belief, which grows out of action and life. It is a curious mixture of insistence upon life and action, such as we find in Guyau and in Bergson, coupled with a religious Platonism. Brochard’s work is of this type. He wrote as early as 1874 on La Responsabilité morale, and in 1876 on L’Universalité des Notions morales. Three years later appeared his work L’Erreur. Ollé-Laprune and Blondel, who best represent this tendency, do not like Guyau’s ethics, which lacks the religious idealism which they consider should be bound up with morality. This was the thesis developed in the volume La Certitude morale, written by Ollé-Laprune in 1881. “By what right,” says Ollé-Laprune in his subsequent book Le Prix de la Vie (1895), “can Guyau speak of a high exalted life, of a moral ideal? It is impossible to speak so when you have only a purely naturalistic ethic; for merely to name these things is an implication that there is not only intensity in life, but also quality. You suppress duty because you can see in it only a falsely mystical view of life and of nature. What you fail to realise is that between duty and life there is a profound agreement. You reduce duty to life, and in life itself you consider only its quantity and intensity, and regard as illusion everything that is of a different order from the natural physical order in which you imprison yourself.”^[37]

[37] Le Prix de la Vie, p. 139.

Such a criticism is not altogether fair to Guyau who, as we noted, proclaimed the superiority of the higher qualities of spiritual life. It does, however, attack his abandonment of the idea of Duty; and we must now turn to examine a thinker, who, by his contribution to ethics, endeavoured to satisfy the claims of life and of duty.

This was Rauh, whose Essai sur le Fondement métaphysique de la Morale appeared in 1890. It had been preceded by a study of the psychology of the feelings, and was later followed by L’Expérience morale (1903). In seeking a metaphysical foundation for morality, Rauh recalls Kant’s Metaphysic of Morals. He, indeed, agrees with Kant in the view that the essence of morality lies in the sentiment of obligation. Belief or faith in an ideal, by which it behoves us to act, imposes itself, says Rauh, upon the mind of man as essential. It is as positive a fact as the laws of the natural sciences. Man not only states facts and formulates general laws in a scientific manner, he also conceives and believes in ideals, which become bound up in his mind with the sentiment of obligation—that is, the general feeling of duty. But beyond a general agreement upon this point, Rauh does not follow Kant. He tends to look upon the ethical problem in the spirit which Guyau, Bergson and Blondel show in their general philosophic outlook. In life, action and immediacy alone can we find a solution. Nothing practical can be deduced from the abstract principle of obligation or duty in general. The moral consciousness of man is, in Rauh’s opinion, akin to the intuitional perceptions of Bergson’s philosophy. Morality, moreover, is creating itself perpetually by the reflection of sensitive minds on action and on life itself. “Morality, or rather moral action, is not merely the crown of metaphysical speculation, but itself the true metaphysic, which is learnt only in living, as it is naught but life itself.”^[38] In concluding his thesis, Rauh reminds us that “the essential and most certain factor in the midst of the uncertainties of life and of duty lies in the constant consciousness of the moral ideal.” In it he sees a spiritual reality which, if we keep it ever before us, may inspire the most insignificant of our actions and render them into a harmony, a living harmony of character.

[38] Essai sur le Fondement métaphysique de la Morale, p. 255.

Rauh’s doctrines, we claim, have affinities to the doctrines of action and intuition. That does not imply, however, that the intelligence is to be minimised—far from this; but the intelligence triumphs here in realising that it is not all-sufficing or supreme. “The heart hath reasons which the reason cannot know.” While Fouillée had remarked that morality is metaphysics in action, Rauh points out that “metaphysics in action” is the foundation of our knowledge. We must, he insists, seek for certitude in an immediate and active adaptation to reality instead of deducing a rule or rules of action from abstract systems.

He separates himself from the sociologists^[39] by pointing out that, however largely social environment may determine our moral ideals and rules of conduct, nevertheless the ethical decision is fundamentally an absolutely personal affair. The human conscience, in so far as active, must never passively accept the existing social morality. It finds itself sometimes in agreement, sometimes obliged to give a newer interpretation to old conventions, and at times is obliged to revolt against them. In no case can the idea of duty be equated simply and calmly with acquiescence in the collective general will. It must demand from social morality its credentials and hold itself free to criticise the current ethic of the community. More often than not society acts, Rauh thinks, as a break rather than a stimulus; and social interest is not a measure of the moral ideal, but rather a limitation of it.

[39] The relation of ethics and sociology is well discussed, not only by Durkheim (who, in his Division du Travail social, speaks of the development of democracy and increasing respect for human personality), but also by Lévy-Bruhl, who followed his thesis on L’Idée de Responsabilité, 1883, by the volume, La Morale el la Science des Moeurs.

Although the moral ideal is one which must be personally worked out, it is not a merely individualistic affair. Rauh does not abandon the guidance of reason, but he objects equally to the following of instinct or a transcendent teaching divorced from the reality of life. Our guide must be reflection upon instinct, and this is only possible by action and experience, the unique experience of living itself. Reason itself is experience; and it is our duty to face problems personally and sincerely, in a manner which the rational element in us renders “impersonal, universal and disinterested.”

Any code of morality which is not directly in contact with life is worthless, and all ethical ideas which are not those of our time are of little value. Only he is truly a man who lives the life of his time. The truly moral man is he who is alive to this spirit and who does not unreflectingly deduce his rules of conduct from ancient books or teachers of a past age. The art of living is the supreme art, and it is this which the great moralists have endeavoured to show humanity. Neither Socrates nor Jesus wrote down their ethical ideas: they lived them.

Rauh thus reminds us partly of Guyau in his insistence upon life. He regards the ethical life at its highest, as one sans obligation ni sanction. Rather than the Kantian obligation of duty, of constraint, he favours in his second book, L’Expérience morale, a state of spontaneity, of passion and exaltation of the personal conscience which faces the issue in a disinterested manner. The man who is morally honest himself selects his values, his ideals, his ends, by the light which reason gives him. Ethics becomes thus an independent science, a science of “ends,” which Reason, as reflected in the personal conscience, acclaims a science of the ideal ordering of life.

Such was Rauh’s conception of rational moral experience, one which he endeavoured to apply in his lectures to the two problems which he considered to be supreme in his time, that of patriotism and of social justice.

These problems were further touched upon in 1896, when Léon Bourgeois (since noted for his advocacy of the “League of Nations”) published his little work Solidarité, which was also a further contribution to an independent, positive and lay morality. In the conception of the solidarity of humanity throughout the ages, Bourgeois accepted the teaching of the sociologists, and urges that herein can be found an obligation, for the present generation must repay their debt to their ancestors and be worthy of the social heritage which has made them what they are. Somewhat similar sentiments had Been expressed by Marion in his Solidarité morale (1880). Ethical questions were kept in the forefront by the society known as L’Union pour l’Action morale, founded by Desjardins and supported by Lagneau (1851- 1894). After the excitement of the Dreyfus case (1894- 1899) this society took the name L’Union pour la Verité. In 1902 Lapie made an eloquent plea for a rational morality in his Logique de la Volonté, and in the following year Séailles published his Affirmations de la Conscience moderne. The little Précis of André Lalande, written in the form of a catechism, was a further contribution to the establishment of a rational and independent lay morality, which the teaching of ethics as a subject in the lycées and lay schools rendered in some degree necessary.^[40] This little work appeared in 1907, the same year in which Paul Bureau wrote his book La Crise morale des Temps nouveaux. Then Parodi (who in 1919 produced a fine study of French thought since 1890^[41]) followed up the discussion of ethical problems by his work Le Problème morale et la Pensée contemporaine (1909), and in 1912 Wilbois published his contribution entitled Devoir et Durée: Essai de Morale sociale.

[40] The teaching of a lay morality is a vital and practical problem which the Government of the Republic is obliged to face. The urgent need for such lay teaching will be more clearly demonstrated or evident when our next chapter, dealing with the religious problem, has been read.

[41] La Philosophie contemporaine en France.

Thus concludes a period in which the discussion, although not marked by a definite turning round of positions as was manifested in our discussions of science, freedom and progress, bears signs of a general development. This development is shown by the greater insistence upon the social aspects of ethics and by a turning away from the formalism of Kant to a more concrete conception of duty, or an ethic in which the notion of duty itself has disappeared. This is the general tendency from Renan with his insistence upon the aesthetic element, Renouvier with his claim for justice in terms of personality, to Fouillée, Guyau, Ollé-Laprune and Rauh with their insistence upon action, upon love and life.

Yet, although the departure from an intense individualism in ethics is desirable, we must beware of the danger which threatens from the other extreme. We cannot close this chapter without insisting upon this point. Good must be personally realised in the inner life of individuals, even if they form a community. The collective life is indeed necessary, but it is not collectively that the good is experienced. It is personal. In the neglect of this important aspect lies the error of much Communistic philosophy and of that social science which looks on society as purely an organism. This analogy is false, for however largely a community exhibits a general likeness to an organism, it is a superficial resemblance. There is not a centre of consciousness, but a multitude of such centres each living an inner life of personal experience which is peculiarly its own; and these personalities, we must remember, are not simply a homogeneous mass of social matter, they are capable of realising the good each in his or her own manner. This is the only realisation of the good.

In this chapter we have traced the attempt to reconcile science et conscience, after the way had been opened up by the maintenance of freedom. It was recognised that reason is not entirely pure speculation: it is also practical. Human nature seeks for goodness as well as for truth. It is noticeable that while the insistence upon the primacy of the practical reason developed, on the one hand, into a philosophy of action (anti-intellectual action in its extreme development as shown in Syndicalism), the same tendency, operating in a different manner and upon different data, essayed to find in action, and in the belief which arises from action, that Absolute or Ideal to which the pure reason feels it cannot alone attain—namely, the realisation of God. To this problem of religion we devote our next chapter.

INTRODUCTION: The religious situation in France in the nineteenth century—The intellectual and political forces against the Roman Catholic Church—Its claims, its orthodoxy and tyranny—The humanitarians—The power of Rome—Church and State—The educational problem—Clericalism—The cult of Jeanne d’Arc—The lack of a via media between Roman orthodoxy and libre pensée—Protestantism negligible.

I. Comte’s effort in his “Religion of Humanity”—Renan and the Church—Freedom—Denial of supernatural elements in Christianity—Vie de Jésus—Renan not irreligious—Piety—Love and Goodness reveal the Divine—God the “ideal”—Vacherot and Taine.

II. Renouvier’s efforts, with Pillon, in the Critique philosophique and Critique religieuse—His republican theology—Freedom, personality and God—The deity as finite—God as Goodness and as a Person.

III. Ravaisson’s blend of Hellenism and Christian thought—Boutroux—Fouillée on the Idea of God—The importance of Guyau’s L’Irreligion de l’Avenir—The decay of dogma and ecclesiasticism—The term “irreligion” misleading—Sociology and religion-Freedom—Religious education and tolerance—Modernism and the Church—Loisy and others—Symbolism and Fidéisme.

CONCLUSION: The personal factor in faith—Freedom vital to religion—Change of attitude since the eighteenth century—Value of religion—Tendency towards a free religion devoid of dogmas, expressive of the best aspirations of man’s mind.

It is outside our purpose to embark upon discussions of the religious problem in France, in so far as this became a problem of politics. Our intention is rather to examine the inner core of religious thought, the philosophy of religion, which forms an appropriate final chapter to our history of the development of ideas.

Yet, although our discussion bears mainly upon the general attitude to religion, upon the development of central religious ideas such as the idea of God, and upon the place of religion in the future—that is to say, upon the philosophy of religion—it is practically impossible to understand the religious attitude of our thinkers without a brief notice of the religious situation in France during the nineteenth and twentieth centuries.

In our Introduction we briefly called attention to the attempt of the Traditionalists after the Revolution to recall their countrymen to the Christian faith as presented in and by the Roman Catholic Church. The efforts made by De Bonald, De Maistre, Chateaubriand, Lamennais and Lacordaire did not succeed as they had hoped, but, nevertheless, a considerable current of loyalty to the Church and the Catholic religion set in. Much of this loyalty was bound up with sentimental affection for a monarchy, and arose partly from anti-revolutionary sentiments.^[1] It cannot, however, be entirely explained by these political feelings. There was the expression of a deeper and more spiritual reaction directed against the materialistic and sceptical teachings of the eighteenth century. Man’s heart craved comfort, consolation and warmth. It had been starved in the previous century, and revolution and war had only added to the cup of bitterness. Thus there came an epoch of Romanticism in religion of which the sentimental and assumed orthodoxy of Chateaubriand was a sign of the times. His Génie du Christianisme may now appear to us full of sentimentality, but it was welcomed at the time, since it expressed at least some of those aspirations which had for long been denied an expression. It was this which marked the great difference between the two centuries in France. The eighteenth was mainly concerned with scoffing at religion. Its rationalism was that of Voltaire. In the first half of the nineteenth century the pendulum swung in the opposite direction. Romanticism, in poetry, in literature, in philosophy and in religion was à la mode, and it led frequently to sentimentality or morbidity. Lamartine, Victor Hugo and De Vigny professed the Catholic faith for many years. We may note, and this is important, that in France the only form of Christianity which holds any sway over the people in general is the Roman Catholic faith. Outside the Roman Church there is no religious organisation which is of much account. This explains why it is so rare to find a thinker who owns allegiance to any Church or religion, and yet it would be wrong to deem them irreligious. There is no via media between Catholicism and free personal thought. This was a point which Renan quite keenly felt, and of which his own spiritual pilgrimage, which took him out of the bounds of the Church of his youth, is a fine illustration. Many of France’s noblest sons have been brought up in the religious atmosphere of the Church and owe much of their education to her, and Rome believes in education. The control of education has been throughout the century a problem severely contested by Church and State. More important for our purpose than the details of the quarrels of Church and State is the intellectual condition of the Church itself.

[1] De Maistre regarded the Revolution as an infliction specially bestowed upon France for her national neglect of religion—his religion, of course. The same crude, misleading, and vicious arguments have since been put forward by the theologians in their efforts to push the cause of the Church with the people. This was very noticeable both in the war of 1870 and that of 1914. In each case it was argued that the war was a punishment from God for France’s frivolity and neglect of the Church. In 1914, in addition, it was deemed a direct divine reply to “Disestablishment.”

This reveals a striking vitality, a vigour and initiative at war with the central powers of the Vatican, a seething unrest which uniformity and authority find annoying. How strong the power of the central authority was, the affair of the Concordat had shown, when forty bishops were deposed for non-acceptance of the arrangement between Napoleon and the Pope.^[2] Stronger still was the iron hand of the Pope over intellectual freedom.

[2] The Revolution had separated Church and State and suppressed clerical privilege by the “Civil Constitution of the Clergy” enactment of 1790. Napoleon, alive to the patriotic value of a State Church, repealed this law and declared the divorce of Church and State to be null and void. His negotiations with the Pope (Pius VII.) resulted, in 1801, in the arrangement known as the Concordat, by which the Roman Catholic Church was again made the established national Church, its clergy became civil servants paid by the State, and its worship became a branch of public administration.

Lamennais was not a “modernist,” as this term is now understood, for his theology was orthodox. His fight with the Vatican was for freedom in the relations of the Church to society. He pleaded in his Essai sur L’indifference en Matière de Religion for the Church to accept the principle of freedom, to leave the cherished fondling of the royalist cause, and to present to the world the principles of a Christian democracy. Lamennais and other liberal-minded men desired the separation of Church and State, and were tolerant of those who were not Catholic. They claimed, along with their own “right to believe,” that of others “not to believe.” His was a liberal Catholicism, but its proposals frightened his co-religionists, and drew upon him in 1832 an encyclical letter (Mirari vos) from the Vatican. The Pope denounced liberalism absolutely as an absurd and an erroneous doctrine, a piece of folly sprung from the “fetid source of indifferentism.” Lamennais found he could not argue, as Renan himself later put it, “with a bar of iron.” It was the reactionary De Maistre, with his principle of papal authority,^[3] and not Lamennais, whom the Vatican, naturally enough, chose to favour, or rather to follow.

[3] As stated in Du Pape, 1819.

Thus Lamennais found himself, by an almost natural and inevitable process, outside the Church, and this in spite of the fact that his theology was orthodox. He endeavoured to present his case in his paper L’Avenir and in an influential brochure, The Words of a Believer, which left its mark upon Hugo, Michelet, Lamartine, and George Sand. His views blended with the current of humanitarian and democratic doctrines which developed from the Saint-Simonists, Pierre Leroux and similar thinkers. We have already noted that these social reformers held to their beliefs with the conviction that in them and not in the Roman Church lay salvation.

This brings us to a crucial point which is the clue to much of the subsequent thought upon religion. This is the profound and seemingly irreconcilable difference between these two conceptions of religion.

The orthodox Catholic faith believes in a supernatural revelation, and is firmly convinced that man is inherently vile and corrupt, born in sin from which he cannot be redeemed, save by the mystical operations of divine grace, working only through the holy sacraments and clergy of the one true Church, to whom all power was given, according to its view, by the historic Jesus. Its methods are conservative, its discipline rigid and based on tradition and authority. Its system of salvation is excessively individualistic. It holds firmly to this pessimistic view of human nature, based on the doctrine of original sin, thus maintaining a creed which, in the hands of a devoted clergy, who are free from domestic ties, works as a powerful moral force upon the individual believer. His freedom of thought is restricted; he can neither read nor think what he likes, and the Church, having made the thirteenth-century doctrines of Aquinas its official philosophy, hurls anathema at ideas scientific, political, philosophical or theological which have appeared since. No half-measures are allowed: either one is a loyal Catholic or one is not a Catholic at all. In this relentlessly uncompromising attitude lies the main strength of Catholicism; herein also is contained its weakness, or at least that element which makes it manufacture its own greatest adversaries.

While claiming to be the one Church of Jesus Christ, it does not by any means put him in the foreground of its religion. Its hierarchy of saints is rather a survival of polytheism; its worship of the Virgin and cult of the Sacré Cœur issue often in a religious sentimentality and sensuality promoted by the denial of a more healthy outlet for instincts which are an essential part of human nature. Tribute, however, must be paid—high tribute—to the devotion of individuals, particularly to the work done by the religious orders of women, whose devotion the Church having won by its intense appeal to women keeps, consecrates and organises in a manner which no other Church has succeeded in doing. This is largely the secret of the vigorous life of the Church, for as a power of charity the Roman Church is remarkable and deserves respect. Her educational efforts, her missions, hospitals, her humbler clergy, and her orders which offer opportunity of service or of sanctuary to all types of human nature—these constitute Roman Catholicism in a truer manner than the diplomacy of the Jesuits or the councils of the Vatican. It is this pulsing human heart of hers which keeps her alive, not the rigid intellectual dogmatism and antiquated theology which she expounds, nor her loyalty to the established political order, which, siding with the rich and powerful, frequently gives to this professedly spiritual power a debasing taint of materialism.

Against all this, and in vital opposition to this, we have the humanitarians who, rejecting the doctrine of corruption, believe that human instincts and human reason themselves make for goodness and for God. While Catholicism looks to the past, humanitarianism looks forward, believes in freedom and in progress, and regards the immanent Christ-spirit as working in mankind. Its gospel is one of love and brotherhood, a romantic doctrine issuing in love and pity for the oppressed and the sinful. In the collective consciousness of mankind it sees the incarnation, the growth of the immanent God. Therefore it claims that in democracy, socialism and world brotherhood lies the true Christianity. This, the humanitarians claim, is the true religious idealism—that which was preached by the Founder himself and which his Church has betrayed. The humanitarians make service to mankind the essence of religion, and regard themselves as more truly Christian than the Church.

In those countries where Protestantism has a large following, the two doctrines of humanitarian optimism and of the orthodox pessimism regarding human nature are confused vaguely together. The English mind in particular is able to compromise and to blend the two conflicting philosophies in varying degrees; but in the French mind its clearer penetration and more logical acumen prevent this. The Frenchman is an idealist and tends to extremes, either that of whole-hearted devotion to a dominating Church or that of the abandonment of organised religion. In Protestantism he sees only a halfway house, built upon the first principles of criticism, and unwilling to pursue those principles to their conclusion—namely, the rejection of all organised Church religion, the adoption of perfect freedom for the individual in all matters of belief, a religion founded on freedom and on personal thought which alone is free.

Such were the two dominant notes in religious thought in France at the opening of our period.

Catholicism resisted the humanitarianism of 1848 and strengthened its power after the coup d’état. The Church and the Vatican became more staunch in their opposition to all doctrines of modern thought. The French clergy profited by the alliance with the aristocracy, while religious orders, particularly the Jesuits, increased in number and in power. Veuillot proclaimed the virtues of Catholicism in his writings. Meanwhile the Pope’s temporal power decreased, but his spiritual power was increasing in extent and in intensity. Centralisation went on within the Church, and Rome (i.e., the Pope and the Vatican) became all-powerful.

Just after the half-century opens the Pope (Pius IX.), in 1854, proclaimed his authority in announcing the dogma of the Immaculate Conception of the Virgin Mary.^[4] As France had heard the sentence, L’Etat, c’est moi, from the lips of one of its greatest monarchs, it now heard from another quarter a similar principle enunciated, L’Eglise, c’est moi. As democracy and freedom cried out against the one, they did so against the other. Undaunted, the Vatican continued in its absolutism, even although it must have seen that in some quarters revolt would be the result. Ten years later the Pope attacked the whole of modern thought, to which he was diametrically opposed, in his encyclical Quanta Cura and in his famous Syllabus, which constituted a catalogue of the modern errors and heresies which he condemned. This famous challenge was quite clear and uncompromising in its attitude, concluding with a curse upon “him who should maintain that the Roman Pontiff can, and must, be reconciled and compromise with progress, liberalism and modern civilisation!” To the doctrine of L’Eglise, c’est moi had now been added that of La Science, aussi, c’est moi. This was not all. In 1870 the dogma of Papal Infallibility was proclaimed. By a strange irony of history, however, this declaration of spiritual absolutism was followed by an entire loss of temporal power. The outbreak of the war in that same year between France and Prussia led to the hasty withdrawal of French troops from the Papal Domain and the Eternal City fell to the secular power of the Italian national army under Victor Emmanuel.

[4] This new dogma of the Immaculate Conception of the Virgin must not, of course, be confused, as it often is by those outside the Catholic Church, with the quite different and more ancient proposition which asserts the Virgin Birth of Jesus.

The defeat of France at the hands of Prussia in 1871 issued in a revival of religious sentiment, frequently seen in defeated nations. A special mission or crusade of national repentance gathered in large subscriptions which built the enormous Church of the Sacré Coeur overlooking Paris from the heights of Montmartre.^[5]

[5] The anti-Catholic element, however, have had the audacity, and evidently the legal right, to place a statue to a man who, some centuries back, was burned at the stake for failing to salute a religious procession, in such a position immediately in front of this great church that the plan for the large staircase cannot be carried out.

Seeking for religious consolation, the French people found a Catholicism which had become embittered and centralised for warfare upon liberal religion and humanitarianism. They found that the only organised religion they knew was dominated by the might of Rome and the powers of the clergy. These even wished France, demoralised as she was for the moment, to undertake the restoration of the Pope’s temporal power in Italy. Further, they were definitely in favour of monarchy: “the altar and the throne” were intimately associated in the ecclesiastical mind.

It was the realisation of this which prompted Gambetta to cry out to the Third Republic with stern warning, “Clericalism is your enemy.” Thus began the political fight for which Rome had been strengthening herself. With the defeat of the clerical-monarchy party in 1877 the safety of the Republic was assured. From then until 1905 the Republic and the Church fought each other. Educational questions were bitterly contested (1880). The power of the Jesuits, especially, was regarded as a constant menace to the State. The Dreyfus affair (1894- 1899) did not improve relations, with its intense anti-semitism and anti-clericalism. The battle was only concluded by the legislation of Waldeck-Rousseau in 1901 and Combes in 1903, expelling religious orders. Combes himself had studied for the priesthood and was violently anti-clerical. The culmination came in the Separation Law of 1905 carried by Briand, in the Pope’s protest against this, followed by the Republic’s confiscation of much Church property, a step which might have been avoided if the French Catholics had been allowed to have their way in an arrangement with the State regarding their churches. This was prevented by the severance of diplomatic relations between France and the Vatican and by the Pope’s disagreement with the French Catholics whose wishes he ignored in his policy of definite hostility to the French Government.^[6]

[6] Relations with the Vatican, which were seen to be desirable during the Great European War, have since been resumed (in 1921) by the Republic.

During our period a popular semi-nationalist and semi-religious cult of Jeanne d’Arc, “the Maid of Orleans,” appeared in France. The clergy expressly encouraged this, with the definite object of enlisting sentiments of nationality and patriotism on the side of the Church. Ecclesiastical diplomacy at headquarters quickly realised the use which might be made of this patriotic figure whom, centuries before, the Church had thought fit to burn as a witch. The Vatican saw a possibility of blending French patriotism with devotion to Catholicism and thus possibly strengthening, in the eyes of the populace at least, the waning cause of the Church.

The adoration of Jeanne d’Arc was approved as early as 1894, but when the Church found itself in a worse plight with its relation to the State, it made preparations in 1903 for her enrolment among the saints.^[7] She was honoured the following year with the title of “Venerable,” but in 1908, after the break of Church and State, she was accorded the full status of a saint, and her statue, symbolic of patriotism militant, stands in most French churches as conspicuous often as that of the Virgin, who, in curious contrast, fondles the young child, and expresses the supreme loveliness of motherhood.^[8] The cult of Jeanne d’Arc flourished particularly in 1914 on the sentiments of patriotism, militarism and religiosity then current. This was natural because it is for these very sentiments that she stands as a symbol. She is evidently a worthy goddess whose worship is worth while, for we are assured that it was through her beneficent efforts that the German Army retired from Paris in 1914 and again in 1918. The saintly maid of Orleans reappeared and beat them back! Such is the power of the “culte” which the Church eagerly fosters. The Sacré Coeur also has its patriotic and military uses, figuring as it did as an emblem on some regimental flags on the battlefield. Meanwhile, the celebrations of Napoleon’s centenary (1921) give rise to the conjecture that he, too, will in time rank with Joan of Arc as a saint. His canonisation would achieve absolutely that union of patriotic and religious sentimentality to which the Church in France directs its activities.

[7] t is interesting to observe the literature on Jeanne d’Arc published at this time: Anatole France, Vie de Jeanne d’Arc (2 vols., 1908); Durand, Jeanne d’Arc et l’Eglise (1908). These are noteworthy, also Andrew Lang’s work, The Maid of Orleans (also 1908).

[8] Herein, undoubtedly, lies the strong appeal of the Church to women.

The vast majority of the 39,000,000 French people are at least nominally Catholic, even if only from courtesy or from a utilitarian point of view. Only about one in sixty of the population are Protestant. Although among cultured conservatives there is a real devotion to the Church, the creed of France is in general something far more broad and human than Catholicism, in spite of the tremendously human qualities which that Church possesses. The creed of France is summed up better in art, nature, beauty, music, science, la patrie, humanity, in the worship of life itself.^[9]

[9] Those who desire to study the religious psychology of France during our period cannot find a better revelation than that given in the wonderful novel by Roger Martin du Card, entitled Jean Barois.

It was against such a background of ecclesiastical and political affairs that the play of ideas upon religion went on. Such was the environment, the tradition which surrounded our thinkers, and we may very firmly claim that only by a recognition that their religious and national milieu was of such a type as we have outlined, can the real significance of their religious thought be understood. Only when we have grasped the essential attitude of authority and tradition of the Roman Church, its ruthless attitude to modern thought of all kinds, can we understand the religious attitude of men like Renan, Renouvier and Guyau.

We are also enabled to see why the appeal of the Saint-Simonist group could present itself as a religious and, indeed, Christian appeal outside the Church. It enables us to understand why Cousin’s spiritualism pleased neither the Catholics nor their opponents, and to realise why the “Religion of Humanity,” which Auguste Comte inaugurated, made so little appeal.^[10] This has been well styled an “inverted Catholicism,” since it endeavours to preserve the ritual of that religion and to embody the doctrines of humanitarianism. Naturally enough it drew upon itself the scorn of both these groups. The Catholic saw in it only blasphemy: the humanitarian saw no way in which it might further his ends.

[10] Littré, his disciple, as we have already noted, rejected this part of his master’s teaching. Littré was opposed by Robinet, who laid the stress upon the “Religion of Humanity” as the crown of Comte’s work.

Comte’s attempt to base his new religion upon Catholicism was quite deliberate, for he strove to introduce analogies with “everything great and deep which the Catholic system of the Middle Ages effected or even projected.” He offered a new and fantastic trinity, compiled a calendar of renowned historical personalities, to replace that of unknown saints. He proclaimed “positive dogmas “and aspired to all the authority and infallibility of the Roman Pontiff, supported by a trained clergy, whose word should be law. Curiously enough he, too, had his anathemas, in that he had days set apart for the solemn cursing of the great enemies of the human race, such as Napoleon. It was indeed a reversed Catholicism, offering a fairly good caricature of the methods of the Roman Church, and it was equally obnoxious in its tyrannical attitude.^[11] While it professed to express humanity and love as its central ideas it proceeded to outline a method which is the utter negation of these. Comte made the great mistake of not realising that loyalty to these ideals must involve spiritual freedom, and that the religion of humanity must be a collective inspiration of free individuals, who will in love and fellowship tolerate differences upon metaphysical questions. Uniformity can only be mischievous.

[11] Guyau’s criticisms of Comte’s “Religion of Humanity” in his L’Irreligion de l’Avenir are interesting. “The marriage of positive science and blind sentiment cannot produce religion” (p. 314; Eng. trans., p. 366). “Comtism, which consists of the rites of religion and nothing else, is an attempt to maintain life in the body after the departure of the soul” (p. 307; Eng. trans., p. 359).

It was because he grasped this vital point that Renan’s discussion of the religious question is so instructive. For him, religion is essentially an affair of personal taste. Here we have another indication of the clear way in which Renan was able to discern the tendencies of his time. He published his Etudes d’Histoire religieuse in 1857, and his Preface to the Nouvelles Etudes d’Histoire religieuse was written in 1884. He claims there that freedom is essential to religion, and that it is absolutely necessary that the State should have no power whatever over it. Religion is as personal and private a matter as taste in literature or art. There should be no State laws, he claims, relating to religion at all, any more than dress is prescribed for citizens by law. He well points out that only a State which is strictly neutral in religion can ever be absolutely free from playing the rôle of persecutor. The favouring of one sect will entail some persecution or hardship upon others. Further, he sees the iniquity of taxing the community to pay the expenses of clergy to whose teachings they may object, or whose doctrines are not theirs. Freedom, Renan believed, would claim its own in the near future and, denouncing the Concordat, he prophesied the abolition of the State Church.

The worst type of organisation Renan holds to be the theocratic state, like Islam, or the ancient Pontifical State in which dogma reigns supreme. He condemns also the State whose religion is based upon the profession of a majority of its citizens. There should be, as Spinoza was wont to style it, “liberty of philosophising.” The days of the dominance of dogma are passing, in many quarters gone by already, “Religion has become for once and all a matter of personal taste.”

Renan himself was deeply religious in mind. He was never an atheist and did not care for the term “free-thinker” because of its implied associations with the irreligion of the previous century. He stands out, however, not only in our period of French thought, but in the world development of the century as one of the greatest masters of religious criticism. His historical work is important, and he possessed a knowledge and equipment for that task. His distinguished Semitic scholarship led to his obtaining the chair of Hebrew at the Collège de France, and enabled him to write his Histories, one of the Jews and one of Christianity.

It was as a volume of this Histoire des Origines du Christianisme that his Vie de Jésus appeared in 1863. This life of the Founder of Christianity produced a profound stir in the camps of religious orthodoxy, and drew upon its author severe criticisms. Apart from the particular views set forth in that volume, we must remember that the very fact of his writing upon “a sacred subject,” which was looked upon as a close preserve, reserved for the theologians or churchmen alone, was deemed at that time an original and daring feat in France.

His particular views, which created at the time such scandal, were akin to those of Baur and the Tubingen School, which Strauss (Renan’s contemporary) had already set forth in his Leben Jesu.^[12] Briefly, they may be expressed as the rejection of the supernatural. Herein is seen the scientific or “positive” influence at work upon the dogmas of the Christian religion, a tendency which culminated in “Modernism” within the Church, only to be condemned violently by the Pope in 1907. It was this temper, produced by the study of documents, by criticism and historical research which put Renan out of the Catholic Church. His rational mind could not accept the dogmas laid down. Lamennais (who was conservative and orthodox in his theology, and possessed no taint of “modernism” in the technical sense) had declared that the starting-point should be faith and not reason. Renan aptly asks in reply to this, “and what is to be the test, in the last resort, of the claims of faith is not reason?”

[12] Written in 1835. Littré issued a French translation in 1839, a year previous to the appearance of the English version by George Eliot. Strauss’s life covers 1808-1874.

In Renan we find a good illustration of the working of the spirit of modern thought upon a religious mind. Being a sincere and penetrating intellect he could not, like so many people, learned folk among them, keep his religious ideas and his reason in separate watertight compartments. This kind of people Renan likens in his Souvenirs d’Enfance et de Jeunesse to mother-o’-pearl shells of Francois de Sales “which are able to live in the sea without tasting a drop of salt water.” Yet he realises the comfort of such an attitude. “I see around me,” he continues, “men of pure and simple lives whom Christianity has had the power to make virtuous and happy. . . . But I have noticed that none of them have the critical faculty, for which let them bless God!” He well realises the contentment which, springing sometimes from a dullness of mind or lack of sensitiveness, excludes all doubt and all problems.

In Catholicism he sees a bar of iron which will not reason or bend. “I can only return to it by amputation of my faculties, by definitely stigmatising my reason and condemning it to perpetual silence.” Writing of his exit from the Seminary of Saint Sulpice, where he was trained for the priesthood, he remarks in his Souvenirs d’Enfance et de Jeunesse that “there were times when I was sorry that I was not a Protestant, so that I might be a philosopher without ceasing to be a Christian.” For Renan, as for so many minds in modern France, severance from the Roman Church is equivalent to severance from Christianity as an organised religion. The practical dilemma is presented of unquestioning obedience to an infallible Church on the one hand, or the attitude of libre-penseur on the other. There are not the accommodating varieties of the Protestant presentation of the Christian religion. Renan’s spiritual pilgrimage is but an example of many. In a measure this condition of affairs is a source of strength to the Roman Church for, since a break with it so often means a break with Christianity or indeed with all definite religion, only the bolder and stronger thinkers make the break which their intellect makes imperative. The mass of the people, however dissatisfied they may be with the Church, nevertheless accept it, for they see no alternative but the opposite extreme. No half-way house of non-conformity presents itself as a rule.

Yet, as we have insisted, Renan had an essentially religious view of the universe, and he expressly claimed that his break with the Church and his criticism of her were due to a devotion to pure religion, and he even adds, to a loyalty to the spirit of her Founder. Although, as he remarks in his Nouvelles Etudes religieuses, it is true that the most modest education tends to destroy the belief in the superstitious elements in religion, it is none the less true that the very highest culture can never destroy religion in the highest sense. “Dogmas pass, but piety is eternal.” The external trappings of religion have suffered by the growth of the modern sciences of nature and of historical criticism. The mind of cultivated persons does not now present the same attitude to evidence in regard to religious doctrines which were once accepted without question. The sources of the origins of the Christian religion are themselves questionable. This, Renan says, must not discourage the believers in true religion, for that is not the kind of foundation upon which religion reposes. Dogmas in the past gave rise to divisions and quarrels, only by feeling can religious persons be united in fellowship. The most prophetic words of Jesus were, Renan points out, those in which he indicated a time when men “would not worship God in this mountain nor in Jerusalem, but when the true worshippers would worship in spirit and in truth.” It was precisely this spirit which Renan admired in Jesus, whom he considered more of a philosopher than the Church, and he reminds the “Christians”^[13] who railed against him as an unbeliever that Jesus had had much more influence upon him than they gave him credit for, and, more particularly, that his break with the Church was due to loyalty to Jesus. By such loyalty Renan meant not a blind worship, but a reverence which endeavoured to appreciate and follow the ideals for which Jesus himself stood. It did not involve slavish acceptance of all he said, even if that were intelligible, and clear, which it is not. “To be a Platonist,” remarks Renan, “I need not adore Plato, or believe all that he said.”^[14]

[13] Renan complains of the ignorance of the clergy of Rome regarding his own work, which they did not understand because they had not read it, merely relying on the Press and other sources for false and biassed accounts.

[14] Cf. Renan’s Essay in Questions contemporaines on “L’Avenir religieux des Sociétés modernes.”

Renan is in agreement with the central ideas of Jesus’ own faith, and he rightly regards him as one of the greatest contributors to the world’s religious thought. Renan’s religion is free from supernaturalism and dogma. He believes in infinite Goodness or Providence, but he despises the vulgar and crude conceptions of God which so mar a truly religious outlook. He points out how prayer, in the sense of a request to Heaven for a particular object, is becoming recognised as foolish. ‘As a “meditation,” an interview with one’s own conscience, it has a deeply religious value. The vulgar idea of prayer reposes on an immoral conception of God. Renan rightly sees the central importance for religion of possessing a sane view of the divinity, not one which belongs to primitive tribal wargods and weather-gods. He aptly says, in this connection, that the one who was defeated in 1871 was not only France but le bon Dieu to which she in vain appealed. In his place was to be found, remarks Renan with a little sarcasm, “only a Lord God of Hosts who was unmoved by the moral ‘délicatesse’ of the Uhlans and the incontestable excellence of the Prussian shells.”^[15] He rightly points to the immoral use made of the divinity by pious folk whose whole religion is utilitarian and materialistic. They do good only in order to get to heaven or escape hell,^[16] and believe in God because it is necessary for them to have a confidant and sonsoler, to whom they may cry in time of trouble, and to whose will they may resignedly impute the evil chastisement which their own errors have brought upon them individually or collectively. But, he rightly claims, it is only where utilitarian calculations and self-interest end, that religion begins with the sense of the Infinite and of the Ideal Goodness and Beauty and Love.

[15] Dialogues et Fragments philosophiques, p. ix.

[16] One pious individual thought to convert Renan himself by writing him every month, quite briefly, to this effect “There is a hell.”

He endeavours in his Examen de Conscience philosophique (1888) to sum up his attitude upon this question. There he affirms that it is beyond dispute or doubt that we have no evidence whatever of the action in the universe of one or of several wills superior to that of man. The actual state of this universe gives no sign of any external intervention, and we know nothing of its beginning. No beneficent interfering power, a deus ex machinâ, corrects or directs the operation of blind forces, enlightens man or improves his lot. No God appears miraculously to prevent evils, to crush disease, stop wars, or save his children from peril. No end or purpose is visible to us. God in the popular sense, living and acting as a Divine Providence, is not to be seen in our universe. The question is, however, whether this universe of ours is the totality of existence. Doubt comes into play here, and if our universe is not this totality, then God, although absent from his world, might still exist outside it. Our finite world is little in relation to the Infinite, it is a mere speck in the universe we know, and its duration to a divine Being might be only a day.

The Infinite, continues Renan, surrounds our finite world above and below. It stretches on the one hand to the infinitely large concourse of worlds and systems, and, on the other, to the infinitely little as atoms, microbes and the germs by which human life itself is passed on from one generation to another. The prospect of the world we know involves logically and fatally, says Renan, atheism. But this atheism, he adds, may be due to the fact that we cannot see far enough. Our universe is a phenomenon which has had a beginning and will have an end. That which has had no beginning and will have no end is the Absolute All, or God. Metaphysics has always been a science proceeding upon this assumption, “Something exists, therefore something has existed from all eternity.” which is akin to the scientific principle, “No effect with- out a cause.”^[17]

[17] Examen de Conscience philosophique, p. 412 of the volume Feuilles détachées.

We must not allow ourselves to be misled too far by the constructions or inductions about the uniformity and immutability of the laws of nature. “A God may reveal himself, perhaps, one day.” The infinite may dispose of our finite world, use it for its own ends. The expression, “Nature and its author,” may not be so absurd as some seem to think it. It is true that our experience presents no reason for forming such an hypothesis, but we must keep our sense of the infinite. “Everything is possible, even God,” and Renan adds, “If God exists, he must be good, and he will finish by being just.” It is as foolish to deny as to assert his existence in a dogmatic and thoughtless manner. It is upon this sense of the infinite and upon the ideals of Goodness, Beauty and Love that true faith or piety reposes.

Love, declares Renan, is one of the principal revelations of the divine, and he laments the neglect of it by philosophy. It runs in a certain sense through all living beings, and in man has been the school of gentleness and courtesy—nay more, of morals and of religion. Love, understood in the high sense, is a sacred, religious thing, or rather is a part of religion itself. In a tone which recalls that of the New Testament and Tolstoi, Renan beseeches us to remember that God is Love, and that where Love is there God is. In loving, man is at his best; he goes out of himself and feels himself in contact with the infinite. The very act of love is veritably sacred and divine, the union of body and soul with another is a holy communion with the infinite. He remarks in his Souvenirs d’Enfance et de Jeunesse, doubtless remembering the simple purity and piety of his mother and sister, that when reflection has brought us to doubt, and even to a scepticism regarding goodness, then the spontaneous affirmation of goodness and beauty which exists in a noble and virtuous woman saves us from cynicism and restores us to communication with the eternal spring in which God reflects himself. Love, which Renan with reason laments as having been neglected on its most serious side and looked upon as mere sentimentality, offers the highest proof of God. In it lies our umbilical link with nature, but at the same time our communion with the infinite. He recalls some of Browning’s views in his attitude to love as a redeeming power. The most wretched criminal still has something good in him, a divine spark, if he be capable of loving.

It is the spirit of love and goodness which Renan admires in the simple faith of those separated far from him in their theological ideas. “God forbid,” he says,^[18] “that I should speak slightingly of those who, devoid of the critical sense, and impelled by very pure and powerful religious motives, are attached to one or other of the great established systems of faith. I love the simple faith of the peasant, the serious conviction of the priest.”

[18] L’Avenir de la Science, pp. 436, 437; Eng. trans., p. 410.

“Supprimer Dieu, serait-ce amoindrir l’univers?”

asks Guyau in one of his Vers d’un Philosophe.’^[19] Renan observes that if we tell the simple to live by aspiration after truth and beauty, these words would have no meaning for them. “Tell them to love God, not to offend God, they will understand you perfectly. God, Providence, soul, good old words, rather heavy, but expressive and respectable which science will explain, but will never replace with advantage. What is God for humanity if not the category of the ideal?”^[20]

[19] “Question,” Vers d’un Philosophe, p. 65.

[20] L’Avenir de la Science,” p. 476; Eng. trans., p. 445.

This is the point upon which Vacherot insisted in his treatment of religion. He claimed that the conception of God arises in the human consciousness from a combination of two separate ideas. The first is the notion of the Infinite which Science itself approves, the second the notion of perfection which Science is unable to show us anywhere unless it be found in the human consciousness and its thoughts, where it abides as the magnetic force ever drawing us onward and acts at the same time as a dynamic, giving power to every progressive movement, being “the Ideal” in the mind and heart of man.

Similar was the doctrine of Taine, who saw in Reason the ideal which would produce in mankind a new religion, which would be that of Science and Philosophy demanding from art forms of expression in harmony with themselves. This religion would be free in doctrine. Taine himself looked upon religion as “a metaphysical poem accompanied by belief,” and he approached to the conception of Spinoza of a contemplation which may well be called an “intellectual love of God.”

Like Renan, Renouvier was keenly interested in religion and its problems; he was also a keen opponent of the Roman Catholic Church and faith, against which he brought his influence into play in two ways—by his néo-criticisme as expressed in his written volumes and by his energetic editing of the two periodicals La Critique philosophique and La Critique religieuse.

In undertaking the publication of these periodicals Renouvier’s confessed aim was that of a definite propaganda. While the Roman Church profited by the feelings of disappointment and demoralisation which followed the Franco-Prussian War, and strove to shepherd wavering souls again into its fold, to find there a peace which evidently the world could not give, Renouvier (together with his friend Pillon) endeavoured to rally his countrymen by urging the importance, and, if possible, the acceptance of his own political and religious convictions arising out of his philosophy. The Critique philosophique appeared weekly from its commencement in 1872 until 1884, thereafter as a monthly until 1889. Among its contributors, whose names are of religious significance, were A. Sabatier, L. Dauriac, R. Allier^[21] and William James.

[21] Now Dean of the Protestant Faculty of Theology in Paris.

Renouvier’s great enthusiasm for his periodical is the main feature of this period of his life, although, owing to his tremendous energy, it does not seem to have interfered with the publication of his more permanent works. The political and general policy of this journal may be summed up in a sentence from the last year’s issue,^[22] where we find Renouvier remarking that it had been his aim throughout “to uphold strictly republican principles and to fight all that savoured of Caesar, or imperialism.” The declared foe of monarchy in politics, he was equally the declared foe of the Pope in the religious realm. His attitude was one of very marked hostility to the power of the Vatican, which he realised to be increasing within the Roman Church, and one of keen opposition to the general power of that Church and her clergy in France. Renouvier’s paper was quite definitely and aggressively anti-Catholic. He urged all Catholic readers of his paper who professed loyalty to the Republic to quit the Roman Church and to affiliate themselves to the Protestant body.

[22] La Critique philosophique, 1889, tome ii., p. 403.

It was with this precise object in view that, in 1878, he added to his Critique philosophique a supplement which he entitled La Critique religieuse, a quarterly intended purely for propaganda purposes. “Criticism,” he had said, “is in philosophy what Protestantism is in religion.”^[23] As certitude is, according to Renouvier’s doctrines, the fruit of intelligence, heart and will, it can never be obtained by the coercion of authority or by obedience such as the Roman Church demands. He appealed to the testimony of history, as a witness to the conflict between authority and the individual conscience. Jesus, whom the Church adores, was himself a superb example of such revolt. History, however, shows us, says Renouvier, the gradual decay of authority in such matters. Thought, if it is really to be thought in its sincerity, must be free. This Renouvier realised, and in this freedom he saw the characteristic of the future development of religion, and shows himself, in this connection, in substantial agreement with Renan and Guyau.

[23] Ibid., 1873, pp. 145-146.

Renouvier’s interest in theology and religion, and in the theological implications of all philosophical thought, was not due merely to a purely speculative impulse, but to a very practical desire to initiate a rational restatement of religious conceptions, which he considered to be an urgent need of his time. He lamented the influence of the Roman Church over the minds of the youth of his country, and realised the vital importance of the controversy between Church and State regarding secular education. Renouvier was a keen supporter of the secular schools (écoles laïques). In 1879, when the educational controversy was at its height, he issued a little book on ethics for these institutions (Petit Traité de Morale pour les Ecoles laïques), which was republished in an enlarged form in 1882, when the secular party, ably led by Jules Ferry, triumphed in the establishment of compulsory, free, secular education. That great achievement, however, did not solve all the difficulties presented by the Church in its educational attitude, and even now the influence of clericalism is dreaded.

Renouvier realised all the dangers, but he was forced also to realise that his enthusiastic and energetic campaign against the power of the Church had failed to achieve what he had desired. He complained of receiving insufficient support from quarters where he might well have expected it. His failure is a fairly conclusive proof that Protestantism has no future in France: it is a stubborn survival, rather than a growing influence. With the decline in the power and appeal of the Roman Catholic Church will come the decline of religion of a dogmatic and organised kind. Renouvier probably had an influence in hastening the day of the official severance of Church and State, an event which he did not live long enough to see.^[24]

[24] It occurred, however, only two years after his death.

Having become somewhat discouraged, Renouvier stopped the publication of his religious quarterly in 1885 and made the Critique philosophique a monthly instead of a weekly Journal. It ceased in 1889, but the following year Renouvier’s friend, Pillon, began a new periodical, which bore the same name as the one which had ceased with the outbreak of the war in 1870. This was L’Année philosophique, to which Renouvier contributed articles from time to time on religious topics.

Some writers are of the opinion that Renouvier’s attacks on the Roman Catholic Church and faith, so far from strengthening the Protestant party in France, tended rather to increase the hostility to the Christian religion generally or, indeed, to any religious view of the universe.

Renouvier’s own statements in his philosophy, in so far as these concern religion and theology, are in harmony with his rejection of the Absolute in philosophy and the Absolute in politics. His criticism of the idea of God, the central point in any philosophy of religion, is in terms similar to his critique of the worship of the Absolute or the deification of the State.

In dealing with the question of a “Total Synthesis” Renouvier indicated his objections to the metaphysical doctrine of an Absolute, which is diametrically opposed to his general doctrine of relativity. He is violently in conflict with all religious conceptions which savour of this Absolute or have a pantheistic emphasis, which would diminish the value and significance of relativity and of personality. The “All-in-All” conception of God, which represents the pantheistic elements in many theologies and religions, both Christian and other, is not really a consciousness, he shows, for consciousness itself implies a relation, a union of the self and non-self. In such a conception actor, play and theatre all blend into one, God alone is real, and he is unconscious, for there is, according to this hypothesis, nothing outside himself which he can know. Renouvier realises that he is faced with the ancient problem of the One and the Many, with the alternative of unity or plurality. With his usual logical decisiveness Renouvier posits plurality. He does not attempt to reconcile the two opposites, and he deals with the problem in the manner in which he faced the antinomies of Kant. Both cannot be true, and the enemy of pantheism and absolutism acclaims pluralism, both for logical reasons and in order to safeguard the significance of personality. In particular he directly criticises the philosophy of Spinoza in which he sees the supreme statement of this philosophy of the eternal, the perfect, necessary, unchanging One, who is the same yesterday, to-day and forever. He admits that the idea of law or a system of laws leads to the introduction of something approaching the hypothesis of unity, but he is careful to show by his doctrine of freedom and personality that this is only a limited unity and that, considered even from a scientific standpoint, a Total Synthesis, which is the logical outcome of such an hypothesis, is ultimately untenable. He overthrows the idols of Spinoza and Hegel. Such absolutes, infinite and eternal, whether described as an infinite love which loves itself or a thought thinking thought, are nothing more to Renouvier than vain words, which it is absurd to offer as “The Living God.”

Against these metaphysical erections Renouvier opposes his doctrines of freedom, of personality, relativity and pluralism. He offers in contrast the conception of God as a Person, not an Absolute, but relative, not infinite, but finite, limited by man’s freedom and by contingency in the world of creatures. God, in his view, is not a Being who is omnipotent, or omniscient. He is a Person of whom man is a type, certainly a degraded type, but man is made in the image of the divine personality. Our notion of God, Renouvier reminds us, must be consistent with the doctrine of freedom, hence we must conceive of him not merely as a creator of creatures or subjects, but of creative power itself in those creatures. The relation of God to man is more complex than that of simple “creation” as this word is usually comprehended, “It is a creation of creation,” says Renouvier,^[25] a remark which is parallel to the view expressed by Bergson, to the effect that, we must conceive of God as a “creator of creators.”^[26] The existence of this Creative Person must be conceived, Renouvier insists, as indissolubly bound up with his work, and it is unintelligible otherwise. That work is one of creation and not emanation—it involves more than mere power and transcendence. God is immanent in the universe.

[25] Psychologie ralionnelle, vol. 2, p. 104.

[26] In his address to the Edinburgh Philosophical Society, 1914.

Theology has wavered between the two views—that of absolute transcendence and omnipotence and that of immanence based on freedom and limitation. In the first, every single thing depends upon the operation of God, whose Providence rules all. This is pure determinism of a theological character. In the other view man’s free personality is recognised; part of the creation is looked upon as partaking of freedom and contingency, therefore the divinity is conceived as limited and finite.

Renouvier insists that this view of God as finite is the only tenable one, for it is the only one which gives a rational and moral explanation of evil. In the first view God is responsible for all things, evil included, and man is therefore much superior to him from a moral standpoint. The idea of God must be ethically acceptable, and it is unfortunate that this idea, so central to religion, is the least susceptible to modification in harmony with man’s ethical development. We already have noticed Guyau’s stress upon this point in our discussion of ethics. Our conception of God must, Renouvier claims, be the affirmation of our highest category, Personality, and must express the best ethical ideals of mankind. Society suffers for its immoral and primitive view of God, which gives to its religion a barbarous character which is disgraceful and revolting to finer or more thoughtful minds.

It is true that the acceptance of the second view, which carries with it the complete rejection of the ideas of omnipotence and omniscience, modifies profoundly many of the old and primitive views of God. Renouvier recognises this, and wishes his readers also to grasp this point, for only so is religion to be brought forward in a development harmonious with the growth of man’s mind in other spheres. Man should not profess the results of elaborate culture in science while he professes at the same time doctrines of God which are not above those of a savage or primitive people. This is the chief mischief which the influence of the Hebrew writings of the Old Testament has had upon the Christian religion. The moral conscience now demands their rejection, for to those who value religion they can only appear as being of pure blasphemy. God is neither omnipotent nor omniscient, consequently many things must be unknown to him until they happen. Foreknowledge and predetermination on his part are impossible, according to Renouvier. God is not to be conceived as a consciousness enveloping the entire universe, past, present and future, in a total synthesis. Such a belief is mischievous to humanity because of its fatalism, in spite of the comfortable consolation it offers to pious souls. Moreover, it presents the absurd view of God working often against himself.

The idea of God, Renouvier shows, arises out of the discussions of the nature of the universal laws of the universe and from the progress of personalities. The plausible conceptions of God based on causality and on “necessary essence” have not survived the onslaughts of Criticism. The personality of God seems to us, says Renouvier, indicated as the conclusion and the almost necessary culmination of the consideration of the probabilities laid down by the practical reason or moral law. The primary, though not primitive, evidence for the existence of God is contained in, and results from, the generalisation of the idea of “ends” in the universe. We must not go bevond phenomena or seek evidence in some fictitious sphere outside of our experience. In its most general and abstract sense the idea of God arises from the conception of moral order, immortality, or the accord of happiness and goodness. We cannot deny the existence of a morality in the order and movements of the world, a physical sanction to the moral laws of virtue and of progress, an external reality of good, a supremacy of good, a witness of the Good itself. Renouvier does not think that any man, having sufficiently developed his thought, would refuse to give the name God to the object of this supreme conception, which at first may seem abstract because it is not in any way crude, many of its intrinsic elements remaining undetermined in face of our ignorance, but which, nevertheless, or just for that very reason, is essentially practical and moral, representing the most notable fact of all those included in our belief. This method of approaching the problem of God is, he thinks, both simple and grand. It is a noble contrast to the scholastic edifice built up on the metaphysical perfection of being, called the Absolute. In this conception all attributes of personality are replaced by an accumulation of metaphysical properties, contradictory in themselves and quite incompatible with one another. This Absolute is a pure chimerical abstraction; its pure being and pure essence are equivalent to pure nothing or pure nonsense.

The fetish of pure substance, substantial cause, absolute being, whatever it be called, is vicious at all times, but particularly when we are dealing with the fundamental problems of science. It would be advisable here that the only method of investigation be that of atheism, for scientific investigation should not be tainted by any prejudices or preconceived ideas upon the nature of the divinity.

What really is Atheism? The answer to this query, says Renouvier, is clear. The idea of God is essentially a product of the moral law or conscience. An atheist is, strictly speaking, one who does not admit the reality of this moral order of ends and of persons as valuable in themselves. Verily, he himself may personally lead a much more upright life than the loud champions of theism, but he denies the general moral order, which is God. With the epithet of atheist as commonly used for those who merelv have a conception of God which differs from the orthodox view, we are not here concerned. That may be dismissed as a misuse of the word due to religious bigotry. The fruits of true atheism are materialism, pantheism and fatalism. Indeed any doctrine, even a theological doctrine, which debases and destroys the inherent value of the human consciousness and personality, is rightly to be regarded, whatever it may say about God, however it may repeat his name (and two of these doctrines are very fond of this repetition, but this must not blind us to the real issue)—that doctrine is atheistic. The most resolute materialists, the most high-minded worshippers of Providence and the great philosophers of the Absolute, find themselves united here in atheism. God is not a mere totality of laws operating in the universe. Such a theism is but a form of real atheism. We must, insists Renouvier, abandon views of this type, with all that savours of an Absolute, a Perfect Infinite, and affirm our belief in the existence of an order of Goodness which gives value to human personality and assures ultimate victory to Justice. This is to believe in God. We arrive at this belief rationally and after consideration of the world and of the moral law of persons. Through these we come to God. We do not begin with him and pretend to deduce these from his nature by some incomprehensible a priori propositions. The methods of the old dogmatic theology are reversed. Instead of beginning with a Being of whom we know nothing and can obviously deduce nothing, let us proceed inductively, and by careful consideration of the revelation we have before us in the world and in humanity let us build up our idea of God.

Renouvier is anxious that we should examine the data upon which we may found “rational hypotheses” as to the nature of God. The Critical Philosophy has upset the demonstrations of the existence of God, which were based upon causality and upon necessary existence (the cosmological and ontological proofs). Neo-criticism not only establishes the existence of God as a rational hypothesis, but “this point of view of the divine problem is the most favourable to the notion of the personality of God. The personality of God seems to us to be indicated as the looked-for conclusion and almost necessary consummation of the probabilities of practical reason.”^[27]

[27] Psychologie rationnelle, vol. 2, p. 300.

The admission of ends, of finality, or purpose in the universe is frequently given as involving a supreme consciousness embracing this teleology. Also it is argued that Good could not exist in its generality save in an external consciousness—that is, a divine mind. By recalling the objections to a total synthesis of phenomena, Renouvier refutes both these arguments which rest upon erroneous methods in ontology and in theology. The explanation of the world by God, as in the cosmological argument, is fanciful, while the ontological argument leads us to erect an unintelligible and illogical absolute. Renouvier regards God as existing as a general consciousness corresponding to the generality of ends which man himself finds before him, finite, limited in power and in knowledge. But in avowing this God, Renouvier points him out to us as the first of all beings, a being like them, not an absolute, but a personality, possessing (and this is important) the perfection of morality, goodness and justice. He is the supreme personality in action, and as a perfect person he respects the personality of others and operates on our world only in the degree which the freedom and individuality of persons who are not himself can permit him, and within the limits of the general laws under which he represents to himself his own enveloped existence. This is the hypothesis of unity rendered intelligible, and as such Renouvier claims that it bridges in a marvellous manner the gap always deemed to exist between monotheism and polytheism—the two great currents of religious thought in humanity. The monotheists have appeared intolerant and fanatical in their religion and in their deity (not in so far as it was manifest in the thoughts of the simple, who professed a faith of the heart, but as shown in the ambitious theology of books and of schools), bearing on their banner the signs of a jealous deity, wishing no other gods but himself, declaring to his awed worshippers: “I am that I am; have no other gods but me!” On the other hand, the polytheistic peoples have been worshippers of beauty and goodness in all things, and where they saw these things they created a deity. They were more concerned with the immortality of good souls than the eternal existence of one supreme being; they were free-thinkers, creators of beauty and seekers after truth, and believers in freedom. The humanism of Greece stands in contrast to the idolatrous theocracy of the Hebrews.

The unity of God previously mentioned does not exclude the possibility of a plurality of divine persons. God the one would be the first and foremost, rex hominum deorumque. Some there may be that rise through saintliness to divinity, Sons of God, persons surpassing man in intelligence, power and morality. To take sides in this matter is equivalent to professing a particular religion. We must avoid the absolutist spirit in religion no less than in philosophy. By this Renouvier means that brutal fanaticism which prohibits the Gods of other people by passion and hatred, which aims at establishing and imposing its own God (which is, after all, but its own idea of God) as the imperialist plants his flag, his kind and his customs in new territory, in the spirit of war and conquest. Such a “holy war” is an outrage, based not upon real religion, but on intolerant fanaticism in which freedom and the inherent rights of personality to construct its own particular faith are denied.

Renouvier finds a parallelism between the worship of the State in politics and of the One God in religion. The systems in which unity or plurality of divine personality appears differ from one another in the same way in which monarchal and republican ideas differ. Monarchy in religion offers the same obstacles to progress as it has done in politics. It involves a parallel enslavement of one’s entire self and goods, a conscription which is hateful to freedom and detrimental to personality. To this supreme and regal Providence all is due; it alone in any real sense exists. Persons are shadows, of no reality, serfs less than the dust, to whom a miserable dole is given called grace, for which prayer and sacrifice are to be unceasingly made or chastisements from the Almighty will follow. This notion is the product of monarchy in politics, and with monarchy it will perish. The two are bound up, for “by the grace of God” we are told monarchs hold their thrones, by his favour their sceptre sways and their battalions move on to victory. This monarchal God, this King of kings and Lord of hosts, ruler of heaven and earth, is the last refuge of monarchs on the earth. Confidence in both has been shaken, and both, Renouvier asserts, will disappear and give place to a real democracy, not only to republics on earth, but to the conception of the whole universe as a republic. Men raise up saints and intercessors to bridge the gulf between the divine Monarch and his slaves. They conceive angels as doing his work in heaven; they tolerate priests to bring down grace to them here and now. The doctrine of unity thus gives rise to fanatical religious devotion or philosophical belief in the absolute, which stifles religion and perishes in its own turn. The doctrine of immortality, based on the belief in the value of human personality, leads us away from monarchy to a republic of free spirits. A democratic religion in this sense will display human nature raised to its highest dignity by virtue of an energetic affirmation of personal liberty, tolerance, mutual respect and liberty of faith—a free religion without priests or clericalism, not in conflict with science and philosophy, but encouraging these pursuits and in turn encouraged by them.^[28]

[28] The fullest treatment of this is the large section in the conclusion to the Philosophie analytique de l’Histoire (tome iv.). Cf. also the discussion of the influence of religious beliefs on societies in the last chapter of La Nouvelle Monadologie.

Ravaisson, in founding the new spiritual philosophy, professed certain doctrines which were a blending of Hellenism and Christianity. In the midst of thought which was dominated by positivism, naturalism or materialism, or by a shallow eclecticism, wherein religious ideas were rather held in contempt, he issued a challenge on behalf of spiritual values and ideals. Beauty, love and goodness, he declared, were divine. God himself is these things, said Ravaisson, and the divinity is “not far from any of us.” In so far as we manifest these qualities we approach the perfect personality of God himself. In the infinite, in God, will is identical with love, which itself is not distinguished from the absolutely good and the absolutely beautiful. This love can govern our wills; the love of the beautiful and the good can operate in our lives. In so far as this is so, we participate in the love and the life of God.

Boutroux agrees substantially with Ravaisson, but he lays more stress upon the free creative power of the deity as immanent. “God,” he remarks in his thesis, “is not only the creator of the world, he is also its Providence, and watches over the details as well as over the whole.”^[29] God is thus an immanent and creative power in his world as well as the perfect being of supreme goodness and beauty. Boutroux here finds this problem of divine immanence and transcendence as important as does Blondel, and his attitude is like that of Blondel, midway between that of Ravaisson and Bergson.

[29] La Contingence des Lois de la Nature, p. 150.

Religion, Boutroux urges, must show man that the supreme ideal for him is to realise in his own nature this idea of God. There is an obligation upon man to pursue after these things-goodness, truth, beauty and love—for they are his good, they are the Good; they are, indeed, God. In them is a harmony which satisfies his whole nature, and which does not neglect or crush any aspect of character, as narrow conceptions of religion inevitably do. Boutroux insists upon the necessity for intellectual satisfaction, and opposes the “philosophy of action” in ils doctrine of “faith for faith’s sake.” At the same time he conceives Reason as a harmony, not merely a coldly logical thing. Feeling and will must be satisfied also.^[30]

[30] Boutroux has in his volume, Science et Religion dans la Philosophie contemporaine, contributed a luminous and penetrating discussion of various religious doctrines from Comte to William James. This was published in 1908.

We have observed already how Fouillée claimed that the ethics of his idées-forces contained the gist of what was valuable in the world religions. He claims that philosophy includes under the form of rational belief or thought what the religions include as instinctive belief. In religion he sees a spontaneous type of metaphysic, while metaphysic or philosophy is a rationalised religion.

Nothing in this connection is more important than a rational and harmonious view of God. This he insists upon in his thesis and in his Sketch of the Future of a Metaphysic founded on Experience. The old idea of God was that of a monarch governing the world as a despot governs his subjects. The government of the universe may still be held to be a monarchy, but modern science is careful to assure us that it must be regarded as an absolutely constitutional monarchy. The monarch, if there be one, acts in accordance with the laws and respects the established constitution. Reason obliges us to conceive of the sovereign: experience enlightens us as to the constitution.

There can be little doubt that one of the world’s greatest books upon religion is the work of Guyau, which appeared in 1886, bearing the arresting title, L’Irreligion de l’Avenir. Its sub-title describes it as an Etude sociologique, and it is this treatment of the subject from the standpoint of sociology which is such a distinctive feature of the book. The notion of a social bond between man and the powers superior to him, but resembling him, is, claims Guyau, a point of unity in which all religions are at one. The foundation of the religious sentiment lies in sociality, and the religious man is just the man who is disposed to be sociable, not only with all living beings whom he meets, but with those whom he imaginatively creates as gods. Guyau’s thesis, briefly put, is that religion is a manifestation of life (again he insists on “Life,” as in his Ethics, as a central conception), becoming self-conscious and seeking the explanation of things by analogies drawn from human society. Religion is “sociomorphic” rather than merely anthropomorphic; it is, indeed, a universal sociological hypothesis, mythical in form.

The religious sentiment expresses a consciousness of dependence, and in addition, adds Guyau, it expresses the need of affection, tenderness and love—that is to say, the “social” side of man’s nature. In the conception of the Great Companion or Loving Father, humanity finds consolation and hope. Children and women readily turn to such an ideal, and primitive peoples, who are just like children, conceive of the deity as severe and all- powerful. To this conception moral attributes were subsequently added, as man’s own moral conscience developed, and it now issues in a doctrine of God as Love. All this development is, together with that of esthetics and ethics, a manifestation of life in its individual and more especially social manifestations.

It is the purpose of Guyau’s book not only to present a study of the evolution of religion in this manner, from a sociological point of view, but to indicate a further development of which the beginnings are already manifest—namely, a decomposition of all systems of dogmatic religion. It is primarily the decay of dogma and ecclesiasticism which he intends to indicate by the French term irréligion. The English translation of his work bears the title The Non-religion of the Future. Had Guyau been writing and living in another country it is undoubtedly true that his work would probably have been entitled The Religion of the Future. Owing to the Roman Catholic environment and the conception of religion in his own land, he was, however, obliged to abandon the use of the word religion altogether. In order to avoid misunderstanding, we must examine the sense he gives to this word, and shall see then that his title is not meant to convey the impression of being anti-religious in the widest sense, nor is it irreligious in the English meaning of that word.

Guyau considers every positive and historical religion to present three distinct and essential elements:

An attempt at a mythical and non-scientific explanation of (a) natural phenomena—e.g., intervention, miracles, efficacious prayer; (b) historical facts—e.g., incarnation of Buddha or Jesus. A system of dogmas—that is to say, symbolic ideas or imaginative beliefs—forcibly imposed upon one’s faith as absolute verities, even though they are susceptible to no scientific demonstration or philosophical justification. A cult and a system of rites or of worship, made up of more or less immutable practices which are looked upon as possessing a marvellous efficacy upon the course of things, a propitiatory virtue.^[31]

[31] L’Irréligion de l’Avenir, p. xiii; Eng. trans., p. 10.

By these three different and really organic elements, religion is clearly marked off from philosophy. Owing to the stability of these elements religion is apt to be centuries behind science and philosophy, and consequently reconciliation is only effected by a subtle process which, while maintaining the traditional dogmas and phrases, evolves a new interpretation of them sufficiently modern to harmonise a little more with the advance in thought, but which presents a false appearance of stability and consistency, disguising the real change of meaning, of view-point and of doctrine. Of this effort we shall see the most notable instance is that of the “Modernists” or Neo-Catholics in France and Italy, and the Liberal Christians in England and America.

Guyau claims that these newer interpretations, subtle and useful as they are, and frequently the assertions of minds who desire sincerely to adapt the ancient traditions to modern needs, are in themselves hypocritical, and the Church in a sense does right to oppose them. Guyau cannot see any satisfactoriness in these compromises and adaptations which lack the clearness of the old teaching, which they in a sense betray, while they do not sufficiently satisfy the demands of modern thought.

With the decay of the dogmatic religion of Christendom which is supremely stated in the faith of the Roman Catholic Church, there must follow the non-religion of the future, which may well preserve, he points out, all that is pure in the religious sentiment and carry with it an admiration for the cosmos and for the infinite powers which are there displayed. It will be a search for, and a belief in, an ideal not only individual, but social and even cosmic, which shall pass the limits of actual reality. Hence it appears that “non-religion” or “a-religion,” which is for Guyau simply “the negation of all dogma, of all traditional and supernatural authority, of all revelation, of all miracle, of all myth, of all rite erected into a duty,” is most certainly not a synonym for irreligion or impiety, nor does it involve any contempt for the moral and metaphysical doctrines expressed by the ancient religions of the world. The non-religious man in Guyau’s sense of the term is simply the man without a religion, as he has defined it above, and he may quite well admire and sympathise with the great founders of religion, not only in that they were thinkers, metaphysicians, moralists and philanthropists, but in that they were reformers of established belief, more or less avowed enemies of religious authority and of every affirmation laid down by an ecclesiastical body in order to bind the intellectual freedom of individuals. Guyau’s remarks in this connection agree with the tone in which Renan spoke of his leaving the Church because of a feeling of respect and loyalty to its Founder. Guyau points out that there exists in the bosom of every great religion a dissolving force—namely, the very force which in the beginning served to constitute it and to establish its triumphant revolt over its predecessor. That force is the absolute right of private judgment, the free factor of the personal conscience, which no external authority can succeed, ultimately, in coercing or silencing. The Roman Church, and almost every other organised branch of the Christian religion, forgets, when faced with a spirit which will not conform, that it is precisely to this spirit that it owes its own foundation and also the best years of its existence. Guyau has little difficulty in pressing the conclusions which follow from the recognition of this vital point.

Briefly, it follows that the hope of a world-religion is an illusion, whether it be the dream of a perfect and world-wide Judaism, Buddhism, Christianity, or Mohammedanism. The sole authority in religious matters, that of the individual conscience, prevents any such consummation, which, even if it could be achieved, would be mischievous. The future will display a variety of beliefs and religions, as it does now. This need not discourage us, for therein is a sign of vitality or spiritual life, of which the world-religions are examples, marred, however, by their profession of universality, an ideal which they do not and never will realise.

The notion of a Catholic Church or a great world- religion is really contrary to the duty of personal thought and reflection, which must inevitably (unless they give way to mere lazy repetition of other people’s thoughts) lead to differences. The tendency is for humanity to move away from dogmatic religion, with its pretensions to universality, catholicity, and monarchy (of which, says Guyau, the most curious type has just recently been achieved in our own day, by the Pope’s proclamation of the dogma of papal infallibility), towards religious individualism and to a plurality of religions. There may, of course, be religious associations or federations, but these will be free, and will not demand the adherence to any dogma as such.

With the decay of dogmatic religion the best elements of religious life will have freer scope to develop themselves, and will grow both in intensity and in extent. “He alone is religious, in the philosophical sense of the word, who researches for, who thinks about, who loves, truth.” Such inquiry or search involves freedom, it involves conflict, but the conflict of ideas, which is perfectly compatible with toleration in a political sense, and is the essence of the spirit of the great world teachers. This is what Jesus foresaw when he remarked: “I did not come to bring peace, but a sword.” More fully, he might have put it, Guyau suggests: “I came not to bring peace into human thought, but an incessant battle of ideas; not repose, but movement and progress of spirit; not universal dogma, but liberty of belief, which is the first condition of growth.” Well might Renan remark that it was loyalty to such a spirit which caused him to break with the Church.

While attacking religious orthodoxy in this manner, Guyau is careful to point out that if religious fanaticism ls bad, anti-religious fanaticism is equally mischievous, wicked and foolish.^[32] While the eighteenth century could only scoff at religion, the nineteenth realised the absurdity of such raillery. We have come to see that even although a belief may be irrational and even erroneous, it may still survive, and it may console multitudes whose minds would be lost on the stormy sea of life without such an anchor. While dogmatic or positive religions do exist they will do so, Guyau reminds us, for quite definite and adequate reasons, chiefly because there are people who believe them, to whom they mean something and often a great deal. These reasons certainly do diminish daily, and the number of adherents, too, but we must refrain from all that savours of anti- religious fanaticism.^[33] He himself speaks with great respect of a Christian missionary. Are we not, he asks, both brothers and humble collaborators in the work and advance of humanity? He sees no real inconsistency between his own dislike of orthodoxy and dogma and the missionary’s work of raising the ignorant to a better life by those very dogmas. It is a case of relative advance and mental progress.

[32] He cites a curious case of anti-religious fanaticism at Marseilles in 1885, when all texts and scripture pictures were removed fromthe schools.

[33] Guyau’s book abounds in illustrations. He mentions here Huss’s approval of the sincerity of one man who brought straw from his own house to burn him. Huss admired this act of a man in whom he saw a brother in sincerity.

It is with great wealth of discussion that Guyau recounts the genesis of religions in primitive societies to indicate the sociological basis of religion. More important are his chapters on the dissolution of religions in existing societies, in which he shows the unsatisfactoriness of the dogmas of orthodox Protestantism equally with those of the Catholic Church. As mischievous as the notion of an infallible Church is that of an infallible book, literally—that is to say, foolishly-interpreted. He recognises that for a literal explanation of the Bible must be substituted, and is, indeed, being substituted, a literary explanation. Like Renan, he criticises the vulgar conception of prayer and of religious morality which promotes goodness by promise of paradise or fear of hell. He urges in this connection the futility of the effort made by Michelet, Quinet and, more especially, by Renouvier and Pillon to “Protestantise” France. While admitting a certain intellectual, moral and political superiority to it, Guyau claims that for the promotion of morality there is little use in substituting Protestantism for Catholicism. He forecasts the limitation of the power of priests and other religious teachers over the minds of young children. Protestant clergymen in England and America he considers to be no more tolerant in regard to the educational problem than the priests. Guyau urges the importance of an elementary education being free from religious propaganda. He was writing in 1886, some years after the secular education law had been carried. There is, however, more to be done, and he points out “how strange it is that a society should not do its best to form those whose function it is to form it.”^[34] In higher education some attention should be given to the comparative study of religions. “Even from the point of view of philosophy, Buddha and Jesus are more important than Anaximander or Thales.”^[35] It is a pity, he thinks, that there is not a little more done to acquaint the young with the ideas for which the great world-teachers, Confucius, Zoroaster, Buddha, Socrates, Mohammed, stood, instead of cramming a few additional obscure names from early national history. It would give children at least a notion that history had a wider range than their own country, a realisation of the fact that humanity was already old when Christ appeared, and that there are great religions other than Christianity, religions whose followers are not poor ignorant savages or heathen, but intelligent beings, from whom even Christians may learn much. It is thoroughly mischievous, he aptly adds, to bring up children in such a narrow mental atmosphere that the rest of their life is one long disillusionment.

[34] L’Irréligion de l’Avenir, p. 232; Eng. trans., p. 278.

[35] Ibid., p. 236; Eng. trans., p. 283.

With particular reference to his own country, Guyau criticises the religious education of women, the question of “mixed marriages,” the celibacy of the Roman Catholic clergy, and the influence of religious beliefs upon the limitation or increase of the family.

After having summed up the tendency of dogmatic religion to decay, he asks if any unification of the great religions is to-day possible, or whether any new religion may be expected? The answer he gives to both these questions is negative, and he produces a wealth of very valid reasons in support of his finding. He is, of course, here using the term religion as he has himself defined it. The claim to universality by all world-religions, the insistence by each that it alone is the really best or true religion, precludes any question of unity. As well might we imagine unity between Protestantism and the Roman Catholic Church.

In the “non-religious” state, dogma will be replaced by individual constructions. Religion will be a free, personal affair, in which the great philosophical hypotheses (e.g., Theism and Pantheism) will be to a large extent utilised. They will, however, be regarded as such by all, as rational hypotheses, which some individuals will accept, others will reject. Certain doctrines will appeal to some, not to others. The evidence for a certain type of theism will seem adequate to some, not to others. There will be no endeavour to impose corporately or singly the acceptance of any creed upon others.

With Guyau’s conception of the future of religion or non-religion, whichever we care to call it, we may well close this survey of the religious ideas in modern France. In the Roman Church on the one hand, and, on the other, in the thought of Renan, Renouvier and Guyau, together with the multitude of thinking men and women they represent, may be seen the two tendencies—one conservative, strengthening its internal organisation and authority, in defiance of all the influences of modern thought, the other a free and personal effort, issuing in a genuine humanising of religion and freeing it from ecclesiasticism and dogma.

A word may be said here, however, with reference to the “Modernists.” The Modernist movement is a French product, the result of the interaction of modern philosophical and scientific ideas upon the teaching of the Roman Church. It has produced a philosophical religion which owes much to Ollé-Laprune and Blondel, and is in reality modern science with a veneer of religious idealism or platonism. It is a theological compromise, and has no affinities with the efforts of Lamennais. As a compromise it was really opposed to the traditions of the French, to whose love of sharp and clear thinking such general and rather vague syntheses are unacceptable. It must be admitted, however, that there is a concreteness, a nearness to reality and life, which separates it profoundly from the highly abstract theology of Germany, as seen in Ritschl and Harnack.

The Abbé Marat of the Theological School at the Sorbonne and Father Gratry of the Ecole Normale were the initiators of this movement, as far back as the Second Empire. “Modernism” was never a school of thought, philosophical or religious, and it showed itself in a freedom and life, a spirit rather than in any formula;. As Sorel’s syndicalism is an application of the Bergsonian and kindred doctrines to the left wings, and issues in a social theory of “action,” so Modernism is an attempt to apply them to the right and issues in a religion founded on action rather than theology. The writings of the Modernists are extensive, but we mention the names of the chief thinkers. There is the noted exegetist Loisy, who was dismissed in 1894 from the Catholic Institute of Paris and now holds the chair of the History of Religions at the College de France. His friend, the Abbé Bourier, maintained the doctrine, “ Where Christ is there is the Church,” with a view to insisting upon the importance of being a Christian rather than a Catholic or a Protestant.

The importance of the Catholic thinker, Blondel, both for religion and for philosophy, has already been indicated at an earlier stage in this book. His work inspires most.Modernist thought. Blondel preaches, with great wealth of philosophical and psychological argument, the great Catholic doctrine of the collaboration of God with man and of man with God. Man at one with himself realises his highest aspirations. Divine transcendence and divine immanence in man are reconciled. God and man, in this teaching, are brought together, and the stern realism of every-day life and the idealism of religion unite in a sacramental union. The supreme principle in this union Laberthonnière shows to be Love. He is at pains to make clear, however, that belief in Love as the ultimate reality is no mere sentimentality, no mere assertion of the will-to-believe. For him the intellect must play its part in the religious life and in the expression of faith. No profounder intellectual judgment exists than just the one which asserts “God is Love,” when this statement is properly apprehended and its momentous significance clearly realised. We cannot but lament, with Laberthonnière, the abuse of this proposition and its subsequent loss of both appeal and meaning through a shallow familiarity. The reiteration of great conceptions, which is the method by which the great dogmas have been handed down from generations, tends to blurr their real significance. They become stereotyped and empty of life. It is for this reason that Le Roy in Dogme et Critique (1907) insisted upon the advisability of regarding all dogmas as expressions of practical value in and for action, rather than as intellectual propositions of a purely “religious” or ecclesiastical type, belonging solely to the creeds.

To Blondel, Laberthonnière, and Le Roy can be added the names of Fonsegrive, Sertillanges, Loyson and Houtin, the last two of whom ultimately left the Church, for the Church made up its mind to crush Modernism. The Pope had intimated in 1879 that the thirteenth-century philosophy of Aquinas was to be recognised as the only official philosophy.^[36] Finally, Modernism was condemned in a Vatican encyclical (Pascendi Dominici Gregis) in 1907, as was also the social and educational effort, Le Sillon.

[36] This led to revival of the study of the Summa Theologiæ and to the commencement of the review of Catholic philosophy, Revue Thomiste.

Such has been Rome’s last word, and it is not surprising, therefore, that France is the most ardent home of free thought upon religious matters, that the French people display a spirit which is unable to stop at Protestantism, but which heralds the religion or the non-religion of the future to which Guyau has so powerfully indicated the tendencies and has by so doing helped, in conjunction with Renan and Renouvier, to hasten its realisation.

A parallel to the “modernist” theology of the Catholic thinkers was indicated on the Protestant side by the theology of Auguste Sabatier, whose Esquisse d’une Philosophie de la Religion d’après la Psychologie et l’Histoire appeared in 1897^[37] and of Menegoz,^[38] whose Publications diverges sur le Fidéisme et son Application a l’Enseignement chrétien traditionnel were issued in 1900. Sabatier assigns the beginning of religion to man’s trouble and distress of heart caused by his aspirations, his belief in ideals and higher values, being at variance with his actual condition. Religion arises from this conflict of real and ideal in the soul of man. This is the essence of religion which finds its expression in the life of faith rather than in the formation of beliefs which are themselves accidental and transitory, arising from environment and education, changing in form from aee to age both in the individual and the race. While LeRoy on the Catholic side, maintained that dogmas were valuable for their practical significance, Sabatier and Ménégoz claimed that all religious knowledge is symbolical. Dogmas are but symbols, which inadequately attempt to reveal their object. That object can only be grasped by “faith” as distinct from “belief”—that is to say, by an attitude in which passion, instinct and intuition blend and not by an attitude which is purely one of intellectual conviction. This doctrine of “salvation by faith independently of beliefs” has a marked relationship not only to pragmatism and the philosophy of action, but to the philosophy of intuition. A similar anti-intellectualism colours the “symbolo-fidéist” currents within Catholicism, which manifest a more extreme character. A plea voiced against all such tendencies is to be found in Bois’ book, De la Connaissance religieuse (1894), where an endeavour is made to retain a more intellectual attitude, and it again found expression in the volume by Boutroux, written as late as 1908, which deals with the religious problem in our period.

[37] It was followed after his death in 1901 by the volume Les Religions d’Authorité et la Religion de l’Esprit, 1904.

[38] This is the late Eugene Ménégoz, Professor of Theology in Paris, not Ferdinand Ménégoz, his nephew, who is also a Professor of Theology now at Strasbourg.

Quoting Boehme in the interesting conclusion to this book on Science and Religion in Contemporary Philosophy (1908) Boutroux sums up in the words of the old German mystic his attitude to the diversity of religious opinions. “Consider the birds in our forests, they praise God each in his own way, in diverse tones and fashions. Think you God is vexed by this diversity and desires to silence discordant voices? All the forms of being are dear to the infinite Being himself!”^[39]

[39] It is interesting to compare with the above the sentiments expressed in Matthew Arnold’s poem, entitled Progress:

“Children of men! the unseen Power, whose eye
For ever doth accompany mankind,
Hath look’d on no religion scornfully
That men did ever find.

This survey of the general attitude adopted towards religion and the problems which it presents only serves to emphasise more clearly those tendencies which we have already denoted in previous chapters. As the discussion of progress was radically altered by the admission of the principle of freedom, and the discussion of ethics passes bevond rigid formulae to a freer conception of morality, so here in religion the insistence upon freedom and that recognition of personality which accompanies it, colours the whole religious outlook. Renan, Renouvier and Guyau, the three thinkers who have most fully discussed religion in our period, join in proclaiming the importance of the personal factor in religious belief, and in valiant opposition to that Church which is the declared enemy of freedom, they urge that in freedom of thought lies the course of all religious development in the future, for only thus can be expressed the noblest and highest aspirations of man’s spirit.

The foregoing pages have been devoted to a history of ideas rather than to the maintenance of any special thesis or particular argument. Consequently it does not remain for us to draw any definitely logical conclusions from the preceding chapters. The opportunity may be justly taken, however, of summing up the general features of the development.

Few periods in the history of human thought can rival in interest that of the second half of the nineteenth century in France. The discussion covers the principal problems with which man’s mind is occupied in modern times and presents these in a manner which is distinctly human and not merely national. This alone would give value to the study of such a period. There is, however, to be added the more striking fact that there is a complete “turning of the tide” manifested during these fifty years in the attitude to most of the problems. Beginning with an overweening confidence in science and a belief in determinism and in a destined progress, the century closed with a complete reversal of these conceptions.

Materialism and naturalism are both recognised as inadequate, a reaction sets in against positivism and culminates in the triumph of spiritualism or idealism. This idealism is free from the cruder aspects of the Kantian or Hegelian philosophy. The Thing-in-itself and the Absolute are abandoned; relativity is proclaimed in knowledge, and freedom in the world of action. Thoughts or ideas show themselves as forces operating in the evolution of history. This is maintained in opposition to the Marxian doctrine of the purely economic or materialistic determination of history. A marked tendency, however, is manifested to regard all problems from a social stand point. The dogmatic confidence in science gives way to a more philosophical attitude, while the conflict of science and religion resolves itself into a decay of dogma and the conception of a free religion.

We have indicated the problem presented by “science et conscience,” and in so far as we have laid down any thesis or argument in these pages, as distinct from an historical account of the development, that thesis has been, that the central problem in the period was that of freedom. It was to this point which the consideration of science, or rather of the sciences, led us. We have observed the importance of the sciences for philosophy, and it is clear that, so far from presenting any real hostility to philosophy, it can acclaim their autonomy and freedom, without attempting by abstract methods to absorb them into itself. They are equally a concrete part of human thought, and in a deep and real sense a manifestation of the same spirit which animates philosophy.

By recognising the sciences philosophy can avoid the fallacy of ideology on the one hand and naturalism on the other. Unlike the old eclecticism, the new thought is able to take account of science and to criticise its assertions. We have seen how this has been accomplished, and the rigidly mechanical view of the world abandoned for one into which human freedom enters as a real factor. This transforms the view of history and shows us human beings creating that history and not merely being its blind puppets. History offers no cheerful outlook for the easy-going optimist; it is not any more to be regarded as mere data for pessimistic reflections, but rather a record which prompts a feeling of responsibility. The world is not ready-made, and if there is to be progress it must be willed by us and achieved by our struggle and labour.

The doctrine of immanence upon which the modern tendency is to insist, in place of the older idea of transcendence, makes us feel, not only that we are free, but that our freedom is not in opposition to, or in spite of, the divine spirit, but is precisely an expression of divine immanence. Instead of the gloomy conception of a whole which determines itself apart from us, we feel ourselves part, and a very responsible part, of a reality which determines itself collectively and creatively by its own action, by its own ideals, which it has itself created. This freedom must extend not only to our conceptions of history but also to those of ethics and of religion.

“English philosophy ends in considering nature as an assemblage of facts; German philosophy looks upon it chiefly as a system of laws. If there is a place midway between the two nations it belongs to us Frenchmen. We applied the English ideas in the eighteenth century; we can in the nineteenth give precision to the German ideas. What we have to do is to temper, amend and complete the two spirits, one by the other, to fuse them into one, to express them in a style that shall be intelligible to everybody and thus to make of them the universal spirit.”

Such was Taine’s attitude, and it indicates clearly the precise position of French thought. We are apt to consider Taine purely as an empiricist, but we must remember that he disagreed with the radical empiricism of John Stuart Mill. His own attitude was largely that of a reaction against the vague spiritualism of the Eclectic School, especially Cousin’s eclecticism, a foreign growth on French soil, due to German influence. The purely a priori constructions of the older spiritualism could find no room, and allowed none, for the sciences. This was sufficient to doom it, and to lead naturally to a reaction of a positive kind, revolting from all a priori constructions.

It was to combat the excessive positive reaction against metaphysics that Renouvier devoted his energies, but while professing to modernise Kant and to follow out the general principles of his Critical Philosophy, Renouvier was further removed from the German thinker than he at times seems to have observed. Renouvier must undoubtedly share with Comte the honours of the century in French Philosophy. Many influences, however, prevented the general or speedy acceptance of Renouvier’s doctrines. The University was closed against him, as against Comte. He worked in isolation and his style of presentation, which is heavy and laborious, does not appeal to the esprit of the French mind. Probably, too, his countrymen’s ignorance of Kant at the time Renouvier wrote his Essais de Critique générale prevented an understanding and appreciation of the neo-critical advance on Criticism.

Renouvier commands respect, but he does not appear to be in the line of development which manifests so essentially the character of French thought. This is to be found rather in that spiritualism, which, unlike the old, does not exclude science, but welcomes it, finds a place for it, although not by any means an exclusive place. The new spiritualists did not draw their inspiration, as did Cousin, from any German source, their initial impulse is derived from a purely French thinker, Maine de Biran, who, long neglected, came to recognition in the work of Ravaisson and those subsequent thinkers of this group, right up to Bergson.

This current of thought is marked by a vitality and a concreteness which are a striking contrast to the older eclectic spiritualism. Having submitted itself to the discipline of the sciences, it is acquainted with their methods and data in a manner which enables it to oppose the dogmatism of science, and to acclaim the reality of values other than those which are purely scientific. Ignoring a priori construction, or eclectic applications of doctrines, it investigates the outer world of nature and the inner life of the spirit.

We have said that these ideas are presented, not merely from a national standpoint, but from one which is deeply human and universal. “La Science,” re-marked Pasteur, “n’a pas de patrie.” We may add that philosophy, too, owns no special fatherland. There is not in philosophy, any more than in religion, “a chosen people,” even although the Jews of old thought themselves such, and among moderns the Germans have had this conceit about their Kultur. In so far as philosophy aims at the elucidation of a true view of the universe, it thereby tends inevitably to universality. But just as a conception of internationalism, which should fail to take into account the factors of nationality, would be futile and disastrous, so a conception of the evolution of thought must likewise estimate the characteristics which nationality produces even in the philosophical field.

Such characteristics, it will be found, are not definite doctrines, for these may be transferred, as are scientific discoveries, from one nation to another, and absorbed in such a manner that they become part of the general consciousness of mankind. They are rather differences of tone and colour, form or expression, which express the vital genius of the nation. There are features which serve to distinguish French philosophy from the development which has occurred in Germany, Italy, England and America.

Modern French thought does not deliberately profess to maintain allegiance to any past traditions, for it realises that such a procedure would be inconsistent with that freedom of thought which is bound up with the spirit of philosophy. It does, however, betray certain national features, which are characteristic of the great French thinkers from Descartes, Pascal and Malebranche onwards.

One of the most remarkable points about these thinkers was their intimacy with the sciences. Descartes, while founding modern philosophy, also gave the world analytic geometry; Pascal made certain physical discoveries and was an eminent mathematician. Malebranche, too, was keenly interested in science. In the following century the Encyclopaedists displayed their wealth of scientific knowledge, and in the nineteenth century we have seen the work of Comte based on science, the ability of Cournot and Renouvier in mathematics, while men like Boutroux, Hergson and Le Roy possess a thorough acquaintance with modern science.

These facts have marked results, and distinguish French philosophy from that of Germany, where the majority of philosophers appear to haye been theological students in their youth and to have suffered from the effects of their subject for the remainder of their lives. Theological study does not produce clearness; it does not tend to cultivate a spirit of precision, but rather one of vagueness, of which much German philosophy is the product. On the other hand, mathematics is a study which demands clearness and which in turn increases the spirit of clarity and precision.

There is to be seen in our period a strong tendency to adhere to this feature of clearness. Modern French philosophy is remarkably lucid. Indeed, it is claimed that there is no notion, however profound it may be, or however based on technical research it may be, which cannot be conveyed in the language of every day. French philosophy does not invent a highly technical vocabulary in order to give itself airs in the eyes of the multitude, on the plea that obscurity is a sign of erudition and learning. On the contrary, it remembers Descartes’ intimate association of clearness with truth, remembers, too, his clear and simple French which he preferred to the scholastic Latin. It knows that to convince others of truth one must be at least clear to them and, what is equally important, one must be clear in one’s own mind first. Clarity does not mean shallowness but rather the reverse, because it is due to keen perceptive power, to a seeing further into the heart of things, involving an intimate contact with reality.

French thought has always remained true to a certain “common sense.” This is a dangerous and ambiguous term. In its true meaning it signifies the general and sane mind of man free from all that prejudice or dogma or tradition, upon which, of course, “common sense” in the popular meaning is usually based. A genuine “common sense” is merely “liberté” for the operation of that general reason which makes man what he is. It must be admitted that, owing to the fact that philosophy is taught in the lycées, the French are the best educated of any nation in philosophical ideas and have a finer general sense of that spirit of criticism and appreciation which is the essence of philosophy, than has any other modern nation. Philosophy in France is not written in order to appeal to any school or class. Not limited to an academic circle only, it makes its pronouncements to humanity and thus embodies in a real form the principles of egalité and fraternité. It makes a democratic appeal both by its clarté and its belief that la raison commune is in some degree present in every human being.

Not only was clearness a strong point in the philosophy of Descartes, but there was also an insistence upon method. Since the time of his famous Discours de la Méthode there has always been a unique value placed upon method in French thought, and this again serves to distinguish it profoundly from German philosophy, which is, in general, concerned with the conception and production of entire systems. The idea of an individual and systematic construction is an ambitious conceit which is not in harmony with the principles of liberté, egalité, fraternité. Such a view of philosophical work is not a sociable one, from a human standpoint, and tends to give rise to a spirit of authority and tradition. Apart from this aspect of it, there is a more important consideration. All those systems take one idea as their starting-point and build up an immense construction a priori. But another idea may be taken and opposed to that. There is thus an immense wastage of labour, and the individual effort is never transcended. Yet an idea is only a portion of our intelligence, and that intelligence itself is, in turn, only a portion of reality. A wider conception of philosophy must be aimed at, one in which the vue d’ensemble is not the effort of one mind, but of many, each contributing its share to a harmonious conception, systematic in a sense, but not in the German sense. Modern French thought has a dislike of system of the individualistic type; it realises that reality is too rich and complex for such a rapid construction to grasp it. It is opposed to systems, for the French mind looks upon philosophy as a manifestation of life itself—life blossoming to self-consciousness, striving ever to unfold itself more explicitly and more clearly, endeavouring to become more harmonious, more beautiful, and more noble. The real victories of philosophical thought are not indicated by the production of systems but by the discovery or creation of ideas. Often these ideas have been single and simple, but they have become veritable forces, in the life of mankind.

French thinkers prefer to work collectively at particular problems rather than at systems. Hence the aim and tone of their work is more universal and human, and being more general is apt to be more generous. This again is the expression of liberte, égalité and fraternité in a true sense. The French prefer, as it were, in their philosophical campaign for the intellectual conquest of reality diverse batteries of soixante-quinze acting with precision and alertness to the clumsy production of a “Big Bertha.” The production of ambitious systems, each professing to be the final word in the presentation of reality, has not attracted the French spirit. It looks at reality differently and prefers to deal with problems in a clear way, thereby indicating a method which may be applied to the solution of others as they present themselves. This is infinitely preferable to an ambitious unification, which can only be obtained at the sacrifice of clearness or meaning, and it arises from that keen contact with life, which keeps the mind from dwelling too much in the slough of abstraction, from which some of the German philosophers never succeed in escaping. Their pilgrimage to the Celestial City ends there, and consequently the account of their itinerary cannot be of much use to other pilgrims.

Another feature of modern French thought is the intimacy of the connection between psychology and metaphysics, and the intensive interest in psychology, which is but the imestigation of the inner life of man. While in the early beginnings of ancient Greek philosophy some time was spent in examining the outer world before man gave his attention to the world within, we find Descartes, at the beginning of modern philosophy, making his own consciousness of his own existence his starting-point. Introspection has always played a prominent part in French philosophy. Pascal was equally interested in the outer and the inner world. Through Maine de Biran this feature has come down to the new spiritualists and culminates in Bergson’s thought, in which psychological considerations hold first rank.

The social feature of modern French thought should not be omitted. In Germany subsequent thought has been coloured by the Reformation and the particular aspects of that movement. In France one may well say that subsequent thought has been marked by the Revolution. There is a theological flavour about most German philosophy, while France, a seething centre of political and social thought, has given to her philosophy a more sociological trend.

The French spirit in philosophy stands for clearness, concreteness and vitality. Consequently it presents a far greater brilliance, richness and variety than German philosophy displays.^[1] This vitality and even exuberance, which are those of the spirit of youth manifesting a joie de vivre or an élan vital, have been very strongly marked since the year 1880, and have placed French philosophy in the van of human thought.

[1] It is, therefore to be lamented that French thought has not received the attention which it deseives. In England far more attention has been given to the nineteenth-century German philosophy, while the history of thought in France, especially in the period between Comte and Bergson, has remained in sad neglect. This can and should be speedily remedied.

It would be vain to ask whither its advance will lead. Even its own principles prevent any such forecast; its creative richness may blossom forth to-morrow in forms entirely new, for such is the characteristic of life itself, especially the life of the spirit, upon which so much stress is laid in modern French philosophy. The New Idealism lays great stress upon dynamism, voluntarism or action. Freedom and creative activity are its keynotes, and life, ever fuller and richer, is its aspiration. La Vie, of which France (and its centre, Paris) is such an expression, finds formulation in the philosophy of contemporary thinkers.^[2]

[2] The student of comparative thought will find it both interesting and profitable to compare the work done recently in Italy by Croce and Gentile. The intellectual kinship of Croce and Bergson has frequently been pointed out, but Gentile’s work comes very close to the philosophy of action and to the whole positive-idealistic tendency of contemporary French thought. This is particularly to be seen in L’atto del pensare come atto puro (1912), and in Teoria generalo dello spirito come atto puro (1916). Professor Carr, the well-known exponent of Bergson’s philosophy, remarks in his introduction to the English edition of Gentile’s book, “We may individualise the mind as a natural thing-object person. . . . Yet our power to think the mind in this way would be impossible were not the mind with and by which we think it, itself not a thing, not a fact, but act; . . . never factum, but always fieri.” This quotation is from p. xv of the Theory of Mind as Pure Act. With one other quotation direct from Gentile we must close this reference to Italian neo-idealism. “In so far as the subject is constituted a subject by its own act it constitutes the object. . . . Mind is the transcendental activity productive of the objective world of experience” (pp. 18, 43). Compare with this our quotation from Ravaisson, given on p. 75 of this work, and the statement by Lachelier on p. 122, both essential principles of the French New Idealism.

One word of warning must be uttered against those who declare that the tendency of French thought is in the direction of anti-intellectualism. Such a declaration rests on a misunderstanding, which we have endeavoured in our pages to disclose It is based essentially upon a doctrine of Reason which belongs to the eighteenth century. The severe rationalism of that period was mischievous in that it rested upon a one-sided view of human nature, on a narrow interpretation of “Reason” which gave it only a logical and almost mathematical significance. To the Greeks, whom the French represent in the modern world, the term “NOUS” meant more than this—it meant an intelligible harmony. We would do wrong to look upon the most recent developments in France as being anti-rational, they are but a revolt against the narrow view of Reason, and they constitute an attempt to present to the modern world a conception akin to that of the Greeks. Human reason is much more than a purely logical faculty, and it is this endeavour to relate all problems to life itself with its pulsing throb, which represents the real attitude of the French mind. There is a realisation expressed throughout that thought, that life is more than logic. The clearness of geometry showed Descartes that geometry is not all-embracing. Pascal found that to the logic of geometry must be added a spirit of appreciation which is not logical in its nature, but expresses another side of man’s mind. To-day France sees that, although a philosophy must endeavour to satisfy the human intelligence, a merely intellectual satisfaction is not enough. The will and the feelings play their part, and it was the gteat fault of the eighteenth century to misunderstand this The search to-day is for a system of values and of truth in action as well as a doctrine about things in their purely theoretical aspects.

This is a serious demand, and it is one which philosophy must endeavour to appreciate Salvation will not be found in a mere dilettantism which can only express ieal indifference, nor in a dogmatism which results in bigotry and pride. Criticism is required, but not a purely destructive criticism, rather one which will offer some acceptable view of the universe. Such a view must combine true positivism or realism with a true idealism, by uniting fact and spirit, things and ideas. Its achievement can only be possible to minds possessing some creative and constructive power, yet minds who have been schooled in the college of reality. This is the task of philosophy in France and in other lands. That task consists not only in finding values and in defining them but in expressing them actively, and in endeavouring to realise them in the common life.

I. Works of the Period classified under Authors. (The more important monographs are cited.) Names of philosophical journals.

II. Books on the Period.

III. Comparative Table showing contemporary German and Anglo-American Works from 1851 to 1921.

BERGSON:	Les Données immédiates de la Conscience. 1889. English Translation—Time and Free-Will. 1910. Matière et Mémoire. 1896. (E.T.[1] 1911.) Le Rire. 1901. (E.T. 1911.) Introduction a la Métaphysique. 1903. Revue de Métaphysique et de Morale. (E.T. 1913.) L’Evolution créatrice. 1907. (E.T. 1911.) L’Energie spirituelle. 1919. (E.T. 1920.) Some monographs on Bergson: Le Roy (1912), Maritain (1914) in France, Meckauer (1917) in Germany, and for the English reader Lindsay (1911), Stewart (1911), Carr (1912), Cunningham (1916), and Gunn (1920).
BERNARD:	Introduction a l’Etude de la Médecine expérimental. 1865.
BERTHELOT:	Science et Philosophie. 1886.
BINET:	Magnétisme animal. 1886. Les Altérations de la Personnalité. 1892. L’Introduction à la Psychologie expérimental. 1894. (Founded the Année psychologique in 1895.)
BLONDEL:	L’Action, Essai d’une Critique de la Vie et d’une Science de la Pratique. 1893. Histoire et Dogme. 1904.
BOIRAC:	L’Idée du Phénomène. 1894.
BOIS:	De la Connaissance religieuse. 1894.
BOURGEOIS:	Solidarité. 1896.
BOUTROUX (EMILE):	De la Contingence des Lois de la Nature 1874. (E.T. 1916.) De l’Idée de Loi naturelle dans la Science et la Philosophie contemporaines. 1895. (E.T. 1914.) Questions de Morale et d’Education. 1895. (E.T. 1913.) De l’Influence de la Philosophie écossaise sur la Philosophie française. 1897. La Science et la Religion dans la Philosophie contemporaine. 1908. (E.T. 1909.) Rapport sur la Philosophie en France depuis 1867. Paper read to Third Congress of Philosophy at Heidelberg in 1908. Revue de Métaphysique et de Morale. Nov., 1908. Etudes d’Histoire de la Philosophie. (E.T. 1912.) The Beyond that is Within. E.T. 1912. (Addresses.)
BROCHARD:	De la Responsabilité morale. 1874. De l’Universalité des Notions morales. 1876. De L’Erreur. 1879.
BRUNSCHWICG:	La Modalité du jugement. 1897. La Vie de l’Esprit. 1900. Les Etapes de la Philosophie mathématique. 1912.
BUREAU:	La Crise morale des Temps nouveau. 1907.
CARO:	Le Matérialisme et la Science. 1868. Problèmes de Morale sociale. 1876.
COMTE:	Cours de Philosophie positive. 6 vols. 1830-42. Discours sur l’Esprit positive. 1844. Système de Politique positive. 4 vols. 1851-4. Catéchisme positiviste. Synthèse subjective (vol. i.). 1856. Note.—The Free and Condensed Translation of Comte’s Positive Philosophy in English by Miss Martineau, appeared in two volumes in 1853. Monograph by Lévy-Bruhl.
COURNOT:	Essai sur les Fondements de nos Connaissances et sur les Caractères de la Critique philosophique (2 vols.). 1851. Traité de l’Enchaînement des Idées fondamentales dans les Sciences et dans l’Histoire (2 vols.). 1861. Considérations sur la Marche des Idées et des Evénements dans les Temps modernes (2 vols.). 1872. Matérialisme, Vitalisme, Rationalisine: Etude sur l’Emploi des Données de la Science en Philosophie. 1875. Note.—A number of the Revue de Métaphysique et de Morale was devoted to Cournot in 1905. See also the Monograph by Bottinelli and his Souvenirs de Cournot. 1913.
COUTURAT:	De l’Infini mathématique. Les Principes des Mathématiques.
CRESSON:	Le Malaise de la pensée philosophique contemporaine. 1905.
DAURIAC:	Croyance et Realité. 1889. Motions de Matière et de Force. 1878.
DELBOS:	L’Esprit philosophique de l’Allemagne et la Pensée française. 1915.
DUHEM:	La Théorie physique. 1906.
DUNAN:	Les deux Idéalismes. 1911.
DURKHEIM:	De la Division du Travail social. 1893. Les Regles de la Méthode sociologique. 1894. Le Suicide. 1897. Les Formes élémentaires de la Vie religieuse. 1912. (E. T.)
ESPINAS:	Societés animales. 1876.
EVELLlN:	La Raison pure et les Antinomies. 1907.
FONSEGRIVE:	Morale et Société. 1907.
FOUILLÉE:	La Philosophie de Platon 2 vols. 1869. Prize for competition in 1867, on the. Theory of Ideas, offered by the Académie des Sciences morales et politiques. “Crowned” after publication by the Académie française. 1871. Second Edition, revised, and enlarged to four volumes. 1888-9. La Liberté et le Determinisme. 1872. (Doctorate Thesis) La Philosophie de Socrate. 2 vols 1874. Prize in 1868, Académie des Sciences morales et politiques. Histoire générale de la Philosophie. 1875. New Edition revised and augmented, 1910. Extraits des grands Philosophes. 1877. L’Idée moderne du Droit en Allemagne, en Ingleterre et en France. 1878. La Science sociale contemporaine. 1880. Critique des Systèmes contemporains. 1883. La Propriété sociale et la Démocratie. 1884. L’Avenir de la Métaphysique fondée sur l’Expérience. 1889. L’Evolutionisme des Idées-forces. 1890. L’Enseignement au Point de Vue national. 1891 (E. T. 1892.) La Psychologie des Idées-forces. 2 vols. 1893. Tempérament et Caractère selon les Individus, les Sexes et les Races. 1895. Le Mouvement idéaliste et la Réaction contre la Science positive. 1895. Le Mouvement positiviste et la Conception sociologique du Monde. 1896. Psychologie du Peuple français. 1898. Les Etudes classiques et la Démocratie. 1898. La France au Point de Vue moral. 1900. La Reforme de l’Enseignement par la Philosophie. 1901. La Conception morale et civique de L’Enseignement. Nietzsche et l’Immoralisme. 1904. Esquisse psychologique des Peuples européens. 1903. Le Moralisme de Kant et l’Amoralisme contemporain. 1905. Les Elements sociologiques de la Morale. 1905. La Morale des Idées-forces. 1907. Le Socialisme et la Sociologie réformiste. 1909. La Démocratie politique et sociale en France. 1911. La Pensée et les nouvelles Ecoles anti-intéllectualistes. 1912. Posthumous: Esquisse d’une Interprétation du Monde. Humanitaires et Libertaires. 1914. Equivalents philosophiques des Religions. On Fouillée, monograph by Augustin Guyau, son of J. M. Guyau.
GOBLOT:	Traité de Logique. 1918.
GOURD:	Le Phénomène. 1888. La Philosophie de la Religion. 1911.
GUYAU:	La Morale d’Epicure et ses Rapports avec les Doctrines contemporaines. 1878. “Crowned” four years before by the Académie des Sciences morales et politiques. La Morale anglaise contemporaine. 1879. An extension of the Prize Essay (Second Part). Vers d’un Philosophe. 1881. Problèmes de l’Esthétique contemporaine. 1884. Esquisse d’une Morale sans Obligation ni Sanction. 1885. (E.T. 1898.) L’Irréligion de l’Avenir. 1887. (E.T. 1897.) Posthumous: Education et Hérédité. (E.T. 1891.) L’Art au Point de Vue sociologique. La Genèse de l’Idée de Temps. 1890. There is a monograph on Guyau by Fouillée.
HAMELIN:	Essai sur les Eléments principaux de la Représentation. 1907.
HANNEQUIN:	Essai critique sur l’Hypothèse des Atomes. 1896.
IZOULET:	La Cité moderne. 1894.
JANET (PAUL):	La Famille. 1855. Histoire de la Philosophie morale et politique dans L’Antiquité et dans les Temps modernes. 2 vols. 1858. Republished as Histoire de la Science politique dans ses Rapports avec la Morale. 1872. La Philosophie du Bonheur. 1862. La Crise philosophique. 1865. Le Cerveau et la Pensée. 1867. Eléments de Morale. 1869. Les Problèmes du XIXe Siècle. 1872. La Morale. 1874 (E T. 1884.) Philosophie de la Révolution française. 1875. Les Causes finales. 1876. (E.T. 1878.)
JANET (PIERRE):	L’Automatisme psychologique. 1889 L’Etat mental des Hystériques. 1894. Névroses et Idées-fixes. 1898. (Janet founded the Journal de Psychologie. 1904).
JAVARY:	L’Idée du Progrès. 1850.
LABERTHONNIÈRE.	Le Dogmatisme morale. 1898. Essais de Philosophie religieuse. 1901. Le Réalisme chrétien et l’Idéalisme grec.
LACHELIER:	Du Fondement de l’Induction. 1871. Psychologie et Métaphysique. 1885. Article in Revue de Métaphysique et de Morale, now published with the above. Etude sur le Syllogisme. 1907. Monograph by Séailles, article by Noël.
LACOMBE:	De l’Histoire considérée comme Science. 1894.
LALANDE:	La Dissolution opposée à l’Evolution, dans les Sciences physiques et morales. 1899. Précis raisonné de Morale pratique par Questions et Réponses. 1907.
LAPIE:	Logique de la Volonté. 1902.
LE BON:	Lois psychologiques de l’Evolution des Peuples. Les Opinions et les Croyances. 1911. Psychologie du Socialisme. 1899. Psychologie des Foules. (E.T.) La Vie des Vérités. 1914.
LEQUIER:	La Recherche d’une Première Vérité (Fragments posthumes). 1865.
LE ROY:	Dogme et Critique. 1907.
LIARD:	Des Définitions géometriques et des Définitions empiriques. 1873. La Science positive et la Métaphysique. 1879. Morale et Enseignement civique. 1883. L’Enseignement supérieure en France, 1789 à 1889. 1889.
LOISY:	L’Evangile et l’Eglise. (E.T.)
MARION:	La Solidarité morale. 1880.
MÉNÉGOZ:	Publications diverses sur le Fidéisme et son Application à l’Enseignement chrétien traditionnel. 1900. Two additional volumes later.
MEYERSON:	Identité et Réalité. 1907
MICHELET:	L’Amour. 1858 Le Prêtre la Femme et la Famille. 1859. La Bible de l’Humanité. 1864
MILHAUD:	Essai sur les Conditions et les Limites de la Certitude logique. 1894 Le Rationnel. 1898.
OLLÉ-LAPRUNE:	La Certitude morale. 1880. Le Prix de la Vie. 1885 La Philosophie et le Temps présent. 1895. La Raison et le Rationalisme. 1906.
PARODI:	Le Problème morale et la Pensée contemporaine. 1910.
PASTEUR:	Le Budget de la Science. 1868
PAULHAN:	Phénomènes affectifs. L’Activité mentale. 1889
PAYOT:	La Croyance. 1896.
PELLETAN:	Profession da Foi du XIXe Siècle. 1852.
POINCAIRÉ:	La Science et l’Hypothèse. 1902. (E.T. 1905.) La Valeur de la Science. 1905. Science et Méthode. 1909 Dernières pensées.
PROUDHON:	Qu’est-ce que la Propriété? 1840 Système des Contradictions économiques. 1846 La Philosophie du Progrès. 1851. De la Justice. 1858.
RAUH:	Psychologie appliquée à la Morale et à l’Education. De la Méthode dans la Psychologie des Sentiments. Essai sur le Fondement métaphysique de la Morale. 1890. L’Expérience morale. 1903.
RAVAISSON-MOLLIEN (1813-1900):	Habitude. 1838. (Thesis.) Reprinted 1894 in Revue de Métaphysique et de Morale. Aristote. 1837. Vol. I. Vol. II. in 1846. Development of work crowned by Académie des Sciences morales et politiques in 1833, when the author was twenty. Rapport sur la Philosophie en France au XIXe Siècle. 1867. La Philosophie de Pascal (Revue des Deux Mondes. 1887) L’Education (Revue bleue. 1887). Métaphysique et Morale (Revue des Deux Mondes. 1893). Le Testament philosophique (Revue des Deux Mondes. 1901). Cf. Boutroux on Ravaisson (Revue de Métaphysique et de Morale. 1900). Bergson : Discours à l’Académie des Sciences morales et politiques. 1904.
RENAN:	Averroès et l’Averroisme. 1852. Etudes d’Histoire religieuse. 1857. Essais de Morale et de Critique. 1851). Les Origines du Christianisme. 1863-83. 8 vols., of which: Vie de Jésus. 1863. (E.T.) Questions contemporaines. 1868. La Réforme intellectual et morale. 1871. Dialogues et Fragments philosophiques. 1870. (E.T. 1883.) Drames philosophiques. Souvenirs d’Enfance et de Jeunesse. 1883. (E.T. 1883.) Nouvelles Etudes d’Histoire religieuse. 1884. (E.T. 1886.) Histoire du Peuple d’Israël. 5 vols. 1887-04. (E.T. 1888-91. 3 vols.) L’Avenir de la Science. 1890. Written 1848-9. (E.T.) Feuilles détachées. 1802. For monographs on Renan: Allier: La Philosophie de Renan. 1895. Monod: Renan, Taine, Michelet. 1894. Séailles: Renan. 1894*.
RENOUVIER:	Manuel de Philosophie moderne. 1842. Manuel de Philosophie ancienne. 1844. Manuel républicaine de l’Homme et du Citoyen. 1848. Gouvernement direct et Organisation communale et centrale de la République. 1851. Essais de Critique générale. 4 vols. 1854, 1859, 1864, 1864. (On revision these four became thirteen vols.) La Science de la Morale. 2 vols. 1869. 1er Essai, revised: Traité de Logique général et de Logique formelle. 3 vols. 1875. 2e Essai, revised: Traité de Psychologie rationnelle. 3 vols. 1875. Uchronie (L’Utopie dans l’Histoire), Esquisse historique du Développement de la Civilisation européenne, tel qu’il n’a pas été, tel qu’il aurait pu être. 1876. Petit Traité de Morale pour les Ecoles laïques. 1879. Esquisse d’une Classification systématique des Doctrines philosophiques. 2 vols. 1886. 3e Essai, revised: Les Principes de la Nature. 1892. Victor Hugo, le Poète. 1893. 4e Essai, revised: L’lntroduction à la Philosophie analytique de l’Histoire. 1896. 5e Essai, new: La Philosophie analytique de l’Histoire. 4 vols. I. and II. 1806. III. and IV. 1897. (This brought the Essais up to thirteen volumes.) La Nouvelle Monadologie. 1891). (With L. Prat.) (“Crowned” by the Académie des Sciences morales et politiques.) Victor Hugo, le Philosophe. 1900. Les Dilemmes de la Métaphysique pure. 1901. Histoire et Solution des Problèmes métaphysiques. 1901. Le Personnalisme, suivi d’une Etude sur la Perception externe et sur la Force 1903. Posthumous: Derniers entretiens. 1905. Doctrine de Kant. 1906. For his two journals, see under “Periodicals.” In the latest edition the complete Essais de Critique générale are only ten volumes, as follows: Logic, 2; Psychology, 2; Principles of Nature, 1; Introduction to Philosophy of History, 1; and the Philosophy of History, 4. The best monograph is that of Séailles, 1905. Renouvier’s Correspondence with the Swiss Philosopher, Sécretan, has been published; cf. also The Letters of William James.
REYNAUD:	Philosophie religieuse. 1858. (Third Edition.)
RIBOT:	La Psychologie anglaise contemporaine. 1870. (E.T. 1873.) Hérédité, Etude psychologique. 1873. (E.T. 1875.) La Psychologie allemande contemporaine. 1879. (E.T. 1886.) Les Maladies de la Mémoire, Essai dans la Psychologie positive. 1881. (E.T. 1882.) Les Maladies de la Volonté. 1883. (E.T. 1884.) Les Maladies de la Personnalité. 1885. (E.T. 1895.) La Psychologie de l’Attention. 1889. (E.T. 1890.) La Psychologie des Sentiments. 1896. (E.T. 1897.) L’Evolution des Idées générales. 1897. (E.T. 1899.) Essai sur l’Imagination créatrice. 1900. La Logique des Sentiments. 1904. Essai sur les Passions. 1906. La Vie inconsciente et les Mouvements.
SABATIER (AUGUSTE):	Esquisse d’une Philosophie de Religion d’après la Psychologie et l’Histoire. 1897. Les Religions d’Autorité et la Religion de l’Esprit. 1904. (E.T.)
SABATIER (PAUL):	A propos de la Séparation des Eglises de l’Etat. 1905. E.T., Robert Dell, 1906 (with Text of the Law).
SÉAILLES:	Affirmations de la Conscience moderne. 1903.
SIMON:	La Liberté de Conscience. 1859. Dieu, Patrie, Liberté. 1883.
SOREL:	Reflexions sur la Violence. 1907. (E.T 1916.) Illusions du Progrès. 1911.
TAINE:	Les Philosophes français au XIXe Siecle. 1857. Essais de Critique et d’Histoire. 1858. Philosophie de l’Art. 2 vols. 1865. (E.T. 1865.) Nouveaux Essais de Critique et d’Histoire. 1865. De l’Intélligence. 2 vols. 1870. (E T. 1871.) The work Origines de la France contemporaine in 5 vols, 1876-93. Histoire de la Littérature anglaise. 5 vols. 1863. (E.T. by Van Laun. 1887.) Monographs: De Margerie: Taine. 1894. Monod: Renan, Taine, et Michelet. 1894. Barzellotti: La Philosophie de Taine. Boutmy: H. Taine. 1897. Giraud: Essai sur Taine. 1901.
TARDE:	Criminalité comparée. 1898. Les Lois de l’Imitation. 1900.
VACHEROT:	Histoire de l’Ecole d’Alexandrie. 1846-51. La Métaphysique et la Science. 3 vols. 1858. La Démocratie. 1860. Essais de Philosophie critique. 1864. La Religion. 1868. La Science et la Conscience. 1870. Le Nouveau Spiritualisme. 1884. Cf. Parodi on Vacherot, Revue de Métaphysique et de Morale. 1899.
WEBER:	Le Rythme du Progrès. Vers le Positivisme absolu par l’Idéalisme. 1903.
WlLBOIS:	Devoir et Durée: Essai de Morale sociale. 1912.
XÉNOPOL:	Principes fondamentaux de l’Histoire. 1899. Revised and reissued in larger form in 1905 as La Théorie de l’Histoire.

[1] This abbreviation is used throughout for “English Translation.”

“LA CRITIQUE PHILOSOPHIQUE,” of Renouvier and Pillon, 1872. to 1884, weekly; monthly from 1885 to 1889.
“LA CRITIQUE RELIGIEUSE,” 1878-1884 (quarterly). Renouvier.
“REVUE PHILOSOPHIQUE DE LA FRANCE ET DE L’ÉTRANGER,” founded by Ribot in 1876.
“L’ANNÉE PHILOSOPHIQUE.” 1867-1869. Renouvier and Pillon, refounded in 1890 by Pillon.
“REVUE DE MÉTAPHYSIQUE ET DE MORALE,” founded by Xavier Leon in 1893. “Crowned” by Académie des Sciences morales et politiques, 1921.
“ANNÉE PSYCHOLOGIQUE,” founded by Beaunet and Binet, 1895.
“REVUE DE PHILOSOPHIE,” founded by Peillaube, 1900.
“REVUE THOMISTE.”
“ANNALES DE PHILOSOPHIE CHRÉTIENNE.” Laberthonnière.
“ANNÉE SOCIOLOGIQUE.” 1896-1912. Durkheim.
“JOURNAL DE PSYCHOLOGIE NORMALE ET PATHOLOGIQUE.” Founded 1904 by Janet and Dumas.
“BULLETIN DE LA SOCIÉTÉ FRANÇAISE DE PHILOSOPHIE.” From 1901.

ALIOTTA:	The Idealistic Reaction against Science. (E.T. from Italian. 1914.)
BARTH:	Die Philosophie der Geschichte als Sociologie. 1897.
BERGSON:	La Philosophie française. 1915.
BOUTROUX:	Philosophie en France depuis 1867. Report to Congress of Philosophy given in the Revue de Métaphysique et de Morale. 1908. La Philosophie: an Essay in the volume of collected Essays entitled: Un Demi-Siècle de la Civilisation française. 1870- 1915. Pp. 25-48. (Paris: Hachette. 1916.)
DWELSHAUVERS:	La Psychologie française contemporaine. 1920.
FAGUET:	Dix-Neuvième Siècle. 1887. Politiques et Moralistes du XIXe Siècle. 1881.
FERRAZ:	Etudes sur la Philosophie en France au XIXe Siècle. 3 vols. 1882-9. It is interesting to notice the triple division adopted by Ferraz: Socialism (under which heading he also groups Naturalism and Positivism). Traditionalism (Ultramontanism). Spiritualism (together with Liberalism).
FISCHER:	Geschichte der neuern Philosophie. 9 vols.
FOUILLÉE:	Histoire de la Philosophie, Latest Edition, last Chapter. Le Mouvement idéaliste et la Réaction contre la Science positive. 1896. La Pensée et les nouvelles Ecoles anti-intellectualistes. 1912.
HÖFFDING:	Modern Philosophers. (E.T. from Danish. 1915.)
LÉVY-BRUHL:	Modern Philosophy in France. Chicago, 1899.
MERZ:	History of European Thought in the Nineteenth Century. 4 vols. A great work. Very comprehensive, particularly for German and British thought.
PARODI:	La Philosophie contemporaine en France. 1919. An excellent treatment of the development from 1890 onwards by a French thinker. (“Crowned” by Académie.)
RAVAISSON:	Rapport sur la Philosophie en France au XIXe Siècle. 1867. (Second Edition, 1889.) This has become an acknowledged classic.
RENOUVIER:	Philosophie analytique de l’Histoire. (Vol. IV. latest sections.) 1897.
RUGGIERO:	Modern Philosophy. 1912. (E.T. from Italian. 1921.) Gives a stimulating account of German, French, Anglo- American and Italian thought.
STEBBING:	Pragmatism and French Voluntarism. 1914.
TAINE:	Les Philosophes français du XIXe Siècle. 1857.
TURQUET-MILNES, G.:	Some Modern French Writers: A Study in Bergsonism. 1921. Deals mainly with literary figures-e.g., Barres, Péguy, France, Bourget, Claudel.
VILLA:	Contemporary Psychology. (E.T. from Italian. 1903.) L’Idealismo moderno. 1905.
WEBER:	Histoire de la Philosophie européenne. (Eighth Edition, 1914.)

* * * * *

The article contributed by Ribot to Mind in 1877 is worthy of notice, while much light is thrown on the historical development by articles in the current periodicals cited on p. 338, especially in the Revue philosophique and the Revue de Métaphysique et de Morale.

THE CHIEF PHILOSOPHICAL WORKS IN FRANCE, GERMANY, ENGLAND AND AMERICA FROM 1851 TO 1921.

	FRANCE.		GERMANY.		ENGLAND AND AMERICA.
l851	COURNOT: “Essai sur les Fondements de nos Connaissances.”	1851	FECHNER: “Zend Avesta.”	1851	MANSEL: “Prolegomena to Logic.”
	RENOUVIER: “Gouvernement direct et Organisation communale.”
	PROUDHON: “La Philosophie du Progrès.”
		1852	MOLESCHOTT: “Der Kreislauf des Lebens.”
			LOTZE: “Medizinische Psychologie oder Physiologie der Seele.”
1854	RENOUVIER: “Essai de Critique générale”(Ier Essai).			1854	FERRIER: “Institutes of Metaphysic.”
	COMTE completes “Systeme de Politique positive.”
		1855	BÜCHNER: “Kraft und Stoff.”	1855	BAIN: “The Senses and the Intellect.”
			FECHNER: “Uber die physikalische und die philosophische Atomlehre.”		SPENCER: “Principles of Psychology.”
			CZOLBE: “Neue Darstellung des Sensualismus.”
1856	COMTE: “Synthèse subjective,” vol. i.	1856	LOTZE: “Mikrokosmos” (1856-1864).
			CZOLBE: “Die Enstehung des Selbstbewusstseins.”
1857	TAINE: “Philosophes rançais du XIXe Siecle.”			1857	BUCKLE: “History of Civilization in England” (vol. i.).
	RENAN: “Etudes d’Histoire religieuse.”				MANSEL: “The Limits of Religious Thought.”
1858	VACHEROT: “La Métaphysique et la Science.”			1858	HAMILTON: “Lectures” (1858-1860).
1859	RENOUVIER: “Deuxième Essai de Critique generale.”			I859	DARWIN: “Origin of Species.”
		1860	FECHNER: “Elemente der Psychophysik.”
1861	COURNOT: “Traité de l’Enchaînement des Idees.”	1861	FECHNER: “Uber die Seelenfrage.”
		1862	HÄCKEL: “Generalle Morphologie” (1862-1866).	1862	SPENCER: “First Principles.”
1863	RENAN: “Vie de Jésus.”	1863	VOGT: “Vorlesungen iiber den Menschen.”	1863	MILL (J. S.): “Utilitarianism.”
			FECHNER: “Die Drei Motive des Glaubens.”
1864	RENOUVIER: “Troisième Essai de Critique générale”; “Quatrième Essai de Critique générale.”
1865	BERNARD: “Introduction à l’Etude de la Médecine expérimentale.”	1865	DÜHRING: “Der Wert des Lebens.”	1865	HODGSON: “Time and Space.”
			CZOLBE: “Die Grenzen und der Ursprung der Menschlichen Erkenntnis.”		MILL (J. S): “Examination of Sir William Hamilton’s Philosophy.”
					HAMILTON: “Lectures on Metaphysics.”
					STIRLING: “Secret of Hegel.”
		1866	LANGE: “Geschichte des Materialismus.”
1867	RAVAISSON: “Rapport sur la Philosophie en France au XIXe Siecle.”	1867	MARX: “Das Kapital.”	1867	BUCKLE: “History of Civilization in England” ( vol. ii.).
1868	RENAN: “Questions contemporaines.”	1868	LOTZE: “Geschichte der Asthetik in Deutschland.”
			HÄCKEL: “Natürliche Schöpftungsgeschichte
1869	RENOUVIER: “Science deU Morale.”	1869	HARTMANN: “Philosophic des Unbewussten.”
1870	TAINE: “De l’Intelligence.”	1870	RITSCHL: “Lehre von der Rechfertigung”(1870-1874).
1871	LACHELIER: “Du Fondement de l’Induction.”
1872	FOUILLÉE: “La LibertcS et la Determinisme,”	1872	STRAUSS: “Der Alte und der neue Glaube.”	1872	MAURICE: “Moral and Metaphysical Philosophy.”
	JANET: “Problemes du XIXe Siecle.”		NIETZSCHE: “Die Geburt der Tragödie”		WALLACE: “Logic of Hegel.”
	COURNOT: “Considerations sur la Marche des Idees.”
1873	RIBOT: “IWredite.” 1873	1973	SIGWART: “Logik” (1873-1878). 1873	1973	STEPHEN (J. F.): “Liberty, Equality,Fraternity.”
1874	BOUTROUX: “La Contingence des Lois de la Nature.”	1874	LOTZE: “Drei Bucher der Logik.”	1874	SIDGWICK: “Method of Ethics.”
			WUNDT: “Physiologische Psychologie.”
			BRENTANO: “Psychologie vom empirischen Standpunkt.”
1875	COURNOT: “Materialisme, Vitalisme,Rationalisme.”
	RENOUVIER: Revises first and second “Essais.”
1876	RENAN: “Dialogues et Fragments philosophiques.”	1876	FECHNER: “Vorschule der Asthetik.”	1876	BRADLEY: “Ethical Studies.”
	JANET: “Les Causes finales.”				GROTE: “Moral Ideals.”
				1877	FLINT: “Theism.”
1878	FOUILLEE: “L’Idee du Droit.”	1878	NIETZSCHE: “Menschliches Allzumenschhches “(1878-1880).	1878	HODGSON: “Philosophy of Reflection.”
1879	BROCHARD: “De l’Erreur.”	1879	LOTZE: “Drei Bucher der Metaphysik.”	1879	SPENCER: “Data of Ethics.”
			HARTMANN: “Phanomenologie des sittlichen Bewusstseins.”		BALFOUR: “Defence of Philosophic Doubt.”
		1880	AVENARIUS: “Kritik der reinen Erfahrung”(1880-1890)	1880	CAIRD: “Philosophy ol Religion.”
1881	GUYAU: “Vers d’un Philosophe.”	1881	NIETZSCHE: “Morgenrote.”
		1882	NIETZSCHE: “Die frohliche Wissenschaft.”	1882	STEPHEN (L.): “Science of Ethics.”
		1883	NIETZSCHE: “Also sprach Zarathustra”(1883-1891)	1883	GREEN: “Prolegomena to Ethics.”
			DUHRING: “Der Ersatz der Religion.”		BRADLEY: “Principles of Logic.”
			WUNDT: “Logik.”
			MACH: “Die Mechanik in ihrer Entwicklung.”
1885	GUYAU: “Esquisse d’une Morale sans Obligation ni Sanction.”			1885	MARTINEAU: “Types o. Ethical Theory.”
	LACHELIER: “Psychologic et Métaphysique.”				BOSANQUET: “Knowledge and Reality.”
1886	GUYAU: “L’Irreligion de l’Avenir.”	1886	MACH: “Analyse der Empfindungen.”	1886	WARD: “Psychology” (article).
			WUNDT: “Ethik.”
			NIETZSCHE: “Jenseits von Gut und Böse.”
		1887	NIETZSCHE: “Zur Genealogie der Moral.”	1887	SETH (Pringle-Pattison): “Hegelianism and Personality.”
		1888	EUCKEN: “Die Einheit des Geisteslebens.”	1888	BOSANQUKT: “Logic.”
1889	BERGSON: “Les Donnees immediates de la Conscience.”	1889	WUNDT: “System der Philosophie.”	1889	MARTINEAU: “Study of Religion.”
	FOUILLEE: “L’Avenir de la Metaphysique.”		LIPPS: “Grundthatsachen des Seelenlebens.”		ALEXANDER: “Moral Order and Progress.”
	JANET (Pierre): “L’Automatisme psychologique.”
	PAULHAN: “L’Activité mentale.”
1890	RENAN: “L’Avenir de la Science.”			1890	JAMES: “Principles of Psychology.”
	FOUILLÉE: “L’Evolutionnisme des Idées-forces.”
	RAUH: “Le Fondement métaphysique de la Morale”
		1891	SIMMEL: “Moralwissenschaft.”
			AVENARIUS: “Der menschliche Weltbegriff.”
1892	RENOUVIER Revises third “Essai.”			1892	PEARSON: “Grammar Of Science.”
	RENAN “Feuilles détachées.”
1893	DURKHEIM: “De la Division du Travail social.”			1893	HUXLEY: “Evolution and Ethics.”
	BLONDEL: “L’Action.”				CAIRD: “Evolution of Religion”
	FOUILLÉE: “Psychologie des Idées-forces.”				BRADLEY: “Appearance and Reality.”
		1894	MEINONG: “Werththeorie” (Psychologisch-ethische Untersuchungen).	1894	FRASER: “Philosophy of Theism”
			HERTZ: “Prinzipien der Mechanik.”
1895	FOUILLÉE: “Le Mouvement idéaliste.”			1895	BALFOUR: “Foundations of Belief.”
1896	BERGSON: “Matière et Mémoire”	1896	EUCKEN: “Der Kampf um einen geistigen Lebensinhalt.”	1896	STOUT: “Analytic Psychology.”
	RENOUVIER: Revises fourth “Essai.”				HOBHOUSE: “Theory of Knowledge.”
	RENOUVIER: Publishes fifth “Essai” (La Philosophie analytique de l’Histoire), vols. 1 and 2.				MERZ: “History of Thought in the Nineteenth Century” (1896-1914).
					MACTAGGART: “Hegelian Dialectic.”
1897	RENOUVIER: Ditto, vols. 3 and 4.	1897	HARTMANN: “Kategorienlehre.”	1897	JAMES: “The Will to Believe
	SABATIER: “Esquisse d’une Philosophie de Religion.”		DREWS: “Das Ich als Grundproblem der Metaphysik.”
			EHRENFELS: “System der Werttheorie” (1897-1898).
				1898	WALLACE: “Natural Theology and Ethics.”
1899	RENOUVIER (and Prat): “La Nouvelle Monadologie.”	1899	MEINONG: “Uber gegenstände höheren Ordnung.”	1899	WARD: “Naturalism and Agnosticism.”
					BOSANQUET: “Philosophical Theory of the State.”
					HODGSON: “Metaphysic of Experience.”
1900	TARDE: “Les Lois de l’Imitation.”	1900	PETZOLDT: “Die Philosophie der reinen Erfahrung.”	1900	ROYCE: “The World and the Individual.”
	BRUNSCHWICG: “La Vie de l’Esprit.”
		1901	EUCKEN: “Das Wesen der Religion.”
			EUCKEN: “Das Wahrheitsgehalt der Religion.”
1902	POINCARÉ	1902	COHEN: “System der Philosophie: Logik.”	1902	JAMES: “Varieties of Religious Experience.”
					CLIFFORD: “Essays and Lectures.”
1903	WEBER: “Vers le Positivisme absolu par l’Idéalisme.”	1903	BERGMANN: “System des objectiven Idealismus.”	1903	RUSSELL: “Principles of Mathematics.”
	RAUH: “L’Expérience morale.”				SCHILLER: “Humanism.”
	RENOUVIER: “Le Personnalisme.”
		1904	COHEN: “System der Philosophie: Ethik.”	1904	MACTAGGART: “Hegelian Cosmology.”
1905	POINCARÉ: “Valeur de la Science.”	1905	MACH: Erkenntnis und Irrtum.”
1906	OLLÉ-LAPRUNE: “La Raison et le Rationalisme.”	1906	MEINONG: “Die Stellung der Gegenstandtheorie ein System der Wissenschaften.”	1906	BAILLIE: “Idealistic Construction of Experience.”
	DUHEM: “La Théorie physique.”				BALDWIN: “Thought and Things.”
1907	HAMELIN: “Les Eléments principaux de la Répresentation.”	1907	EUCKEN: “Grundlinien einer neuen Lebensauschauung.”	1907	SCHILLER: “Studies in Humanism.”
	BERGSON: “L’Evolution créatrice.”		EUCKEN: “Hauptprobleme der Religionsphilosophie.”
	EVELLIN: “La Raison pure et les Antinomies.”
	LALANDEL “Précis de Morale.”
	FOUILLÉE: “Morale des Idées-forces.”
1908	BOUTROUX: “Science et Religion.”	1908	EUCKEN: “Sinn und Wertdes Lebens.”
			EUCKEN: “Philosophie des Geisteslebens.”
			MÜNSTERBERG: “Philosophie der Werte.”
1909	POINCARÉ: “Science et Méthode.”			1909	DEWEY: “Logical Theory.”
		1910	REMKHE: “Philosophie als Grundwissenschaft”
1911	DUNAN: “Les Deux Idéalismes.”	1911	EUCKEN: “Konnen wir noch Christen sein?”	1911	WARD: “Realm of Ends.”
1912	FOUILLÉE: “La Pensée.”	1912	COHEN: “System der Philosophie: Æsthetik.”	1912	BOSANQUET: “Value and Destiny of the Individual”
	DURKHEIM: “Formes élémentaires de la Vie religieuse.”		EUCKEN: “Erkennen und Leben.”
				1913	BOSANQUET: “Value and Destiny of the Individual.”
1914	FOUILLÉE: “Humanitaires et Libertaires.”
				1915	SORLEY: “Moral Values and the Idea of God.”
1917	LOISY: “La Religion.”
1918	GOBLOT: “Traité de Logique.”
1919	BERGSON: “L’Energie spirituelle.”
				1920	ALEXANDER: “Space, Time and Deity.”
				1921	RUSSELL: “Analysis of Mind.”
					MACTAGGART: “Nature of Existence.”