FRANCE.

When, some ten years ago, M. de Roberty published in the _Review of

Positive Philosophy_ a series of articles, under the title of the

“New and the Old Philosophy,” I was much impressed by the work. The

conception of the three types; the idealistic, the materialistic, and the

sensualistic, under which nomenclature he ranged the various philosophic

systems, seemed to bring order into the history of philosophy. He also

proceeded to treat, after the same manner and in a very happy way, the

“law of the three states” of Auguste Comte, by this means rectifying

and justifying the latter. The law of the three states, wrote M. de

Roberty, corresponds with the present state of philosophy, which is again

explained by science, so that to whatever measure knowledge may attain

to, it will be equalled by philosophy, which borrows its types and its

characteristics from the sequence of facts, at the point where it leaves

the sphere of explanatory hypotheses.

Since then M. DE ROBERTY has completed by a new study, his first work on

this subject. In the “Unknown” he has laid his finger on one of the weak

points of modern positivism; perhaps by dint of searching into details,

he has shown himself a little too severe on Comte in the book about

which I am going to speak to-day, _The Philosophy of the Century_ (_La

Philosophie du Siècle._).

This book contains a thoughtful criticism of the three doctrines that

occupy contemporaneous thought; and which are: criticism, positivism,

and evolutionism. He considers these in conformance to his _criterium_,

as simply the varieties of one single species and the absolutely

identical manifestation of a common fund of beliefs and hypotheses held

generally by all. According to him critical philosophy derives its

direct origin from idealism. Positive philosophy, from materialism; and

the philosophy of evolution from sensualism. Going further still, he

considers critical philosophy as the legitimate outcome of sensualistic

idealism; and positive philosophy, similarly, as the product of

sensualistic materialism. Sensualism is thus the common ancestor; the

three systems inter-penetrating each other. But the promoters of these

systems must be judged with equity, put back into their proper places,

and ranged according to their epochs. In my opinion, a philosophical

doctrine is valuable, not so much by the clear solutions it affords us,

as by its methods of procedure, may I say, even by the coloring it gives

to thoughtful minds.

I do not hesitate to recognise in Kant, the strong, rough-handed workman

of modern philosophy; in Comte, the most utilitarian; in Spencer the

subtlest as well as the most successful. Kant possesses the greatest

speculative vigor; Comte, the clearest scientific turn of mind; Spencer,

the keenest conception of, and insight into, psychological subjects.

Taking these philosophers as a whole, Spencer, in spite of his merits,

appears to me the least original, the least remarkable of the three.

His universal metaphysics has feet of clay. The classification of the

sciences that he wished to substitute for that of Comte is obscure,

devoid of general utility; in short the influence of Comte on succeeding

generations will be more considerable than Spencer’s, if indeed there are

any philosophers who will be bold enough to avow themselves deliberately

as Comtists.

This contradiction should not surprise us. It not seldom happens that the

influence of a master continues even when his doctrines have suffered

shipwreck. We notice this in the great schools of thought of the

present day. We may say with truth, that the criticists are inclined to

dialectics; the positivists, to methods and systems; the evolutionists

to facts. The first excel in the analysis of ideas, but they expose

themselves to be lost in abstractions. The second endeavor to reduce to

a system all scientific matter, but they run the risk of being either

rigorists or becoming too elementary. The last while making rapid strides

in the genesis of the subtler phenomena of life, incur the danger of

accepting arbitrary _liaisons_, or of remaining in an inchoate condition.

Each one possesses most valuable qualities, which it would be desirable

indeed to meet with in the same mind. Each has rendered services which it

is but just to recognise and which it would be unwise to disregard.

The main thing is always to be able to understand one another upon the

question of what philosophy means and its relation to science. What M. de

Roberty cares most for, in all his writings, is the elucidation of this

problem. We must concede, that it is one which is worth striving after.

And it is surely not asking too much if we demand of every philosopher,

that he shall know, more or less, what is meant by philosophising.

Philosophy will be, in the future, very much what it has always been in

the past, a general _conception of the world_. This is a fixed fact for

M. de Roberty. Is it true that philosophy preceded science, or, that on

the contrary it has always been and will continue to be subsidiary to

it? Many are, we know, partisans of the first opinion; it has seemed to

them that the sciences have separated little by little from the hazy and

indistinct conglomerate which bore the name of theology, metaphysics,

in a word, of philosophy. M. de Roberty does not hesitate to adopt the

contrary opinion. Philosophy, according to him, has always sprung from

science, it has always been the equal of science. But though he proclaims

this equality as existing between science and philosophy, this does not

in the least oblige him to recognise any equality in their manifestations

“in history.” The knowledge of a given science, implies a certain

_conception of the world_; this is the supreme law of philosophical

evolution. Philosophy is an abstract science of general interest, having

for its end, the integration of the documentary evidence furnished

by the various sciences. Comte was strongly imbued with this truth.

Spencer made it his own, but he makes a more serious mistake than his

predecessor, when he asserts that philosophy is able to “play an active

part” in scientific discovery. In the opinion of M. de Roberty, it is

neither the antecedent of science, nor is it even to be called an art.

Must it then be called a science? Or is it to be comprehended in science?

Neither the one, nor the other. He prefers rather to regard it as a link

(“_un trait d’union_”) between these two different kinds of intellectual

activity, science and art. The mental faculties may, he tells us, aim

at subjugating nature, either in a direct manner, the result of which

will be called science; or in an indirect way, in which case we name it

art; or they may have still a third intention, taking a kind of middle

course between the utility of _science_ and the indirect utility of art,

which while actively participating in both, facilitates as well the

transition from one to the other, from which springs _philosophy_. “Most

unmistakably identical,” says he finally, “are the elements which produce

a particular combination, in the one, they are called science, in the

other philosophy.”

But we must not confound the two propositions. “If a house is to be

built of brick, does that mean that we are not to distinguish between

the materials required in its erection?—that we are to apply to its

construction, the ingredients and the procedures used in the making and

firing of bricks? We never should build a house if we acted thus.”

Let us not misunderstand this comparison! The house here spoken of is

entirely figurative. The hypothesis which underlies it is universally

accepted, but its primal condition is always wanting—i. e. universal

knowledge. It would be presumptuous indeed, to draw, to-day, the plans

and define the style of architecture which shall be used in our future

philosophical habitation, since we do not yet possess even the materials

wherewith to build it. We can only hope to erect such a temporary

shelter, a fort, that may be swept away in a few hours, whenever the

enemy shall have discovered an explosive powerful enough to blow it into

atoms. I do not care very much, I confess, for the distinction spoken of

“between a direct and an indirect utility” and the idea of philosophy

forming a link between art and science. This way of representing the

facts of the case, seems to me both cumbersome and incomplete. I will

not stop here to discuss it. The thoughtful study of M. de Roberty is

not compromised by such a small detail, and I would rather remember the

positive teaching which is given in the very striking book that I have

just been criticising.

“Philosophy and science,” writes the author, “are terms which define

two principal _species_ of the vast _genus_ designated under the one

name,—knowledge.” The most marked trait of the philosophy of the future,

will be the _distinction_ between the two species, as _confusion_ was the

predominant characteristic of the philosophy of the past.

* * * * *

The work of M. de Roberty gave us a methodic history of philosophy.

That of M. F. PICAVET, _The Ideologists—An Essay on the Scientific,

Philosophic, Religious, etc., ideas and theories in France since 1789_,

stretches over a very vast area of descriptive history. His book

conducts us from Condorcet to Destutt de Tracy, and Cabanis; from these

to Degérando and Laromiguière; it embraces thus nearly the whole of

the philosophy of the eighteenth century, which it carries back to the

seventeenth, from thence following the thread of its history, through

the intervening years, down to our own times. The name “Ideologist” is

vague, as are all the rest of the battle-cries which are used by the

leaders of parties, or that their adversaries may make use of against

them. Ideology, in the sense used by Destutt de Tracy, signifies, that

philosophers must confine themselves to psychological research, more

particularly to that which concerns the origin and the formation of

ideas, an immense field, embracing philology, ethnology, etc. With

regard to the wrong sense which Napoleon attached to this word, it was

justified in a certain measure by the pretensions of the philosophers in

governing life, politics, and law, by doubtful hypotheses, which did not

often accord with practice. It cannot be denied that since the time of

Rousseau, we pass much too easily from theory to action, and that we fall

back too readily on our imagination, to supplement our actual experience.

We find in M. Picavet’s book, new and valuable information about all the

men who have contributed to the intellectual life of the French nation,

during and since the time of the Revolution. We can trace there the

origin of certain doctrines, which have appeared to spring up suddenly

before our eyes, and shall often be extremely surprised by what we shall

read there. It is a most valuable and important work, showing an enormous

amount of erudition, fine critical acumen, and a rare descriptive talent.

It is quite voluminous (more than 600 pp. 8vo.), and some might indeed

consider that it could have been more condensed. But it is primarily a

book of reference, in whose pages we shall surely not complain of finding

a large amount of information, when we refer to it.

* * * * *

With the book of M. BERNARD PÉREZ, _Le Caractère, de l’enfant à l’homme_,

(Character, from Childhood to Manhood), we leave the domain of philosophy

and history to enter into that of psychology. M. Pérez modestly disclaims

all pretension to founding a science of character. Nevertheless, that

which he has given us and produced here, bears the stamp of originality

in a subject in which authors have hitherto only repeated one another.

His work is composed of two parts, of which the second forms the

completion of, or rather a commentary on, the first. We find here, to

start with, a classification of characters, illustrated by portraits

which render the developments more tangible; secondly, a study on the

common combinations of the principle traits of personality.

The classification of M. Pérez is founded on movements, that is to say

it is displayed in sufficiently complete groups connected with some

distinct mode of expression, such as rapidity, slowness, and energy of

movements. It offers the practical advantage of substituting for the four

or six temperaments of the old schools, which are frequently hard to

distinguish, classes more flexible and distinguished by visible gestures

which betray, more or less clearly, their physiological foundation. M.

Pérez has provisorily established six of these classes. He distinguishes

the vivacious, the vivacious-ardent, the ardent, the sluggish, the

sluggish-ardent, and lastly the balanced type. The last category is

in my judgment a sort of utility-box, apparently designed to receive

specimens which we are at a loss where else to put. For one of two things

is certainly true, either this balance is an insignificant trait or it

is one that is dominant in the person, and it is absolutely necessary to

state which.

Many will undoubtedly question this doctrine that the movements of

a person express all his character and that consequently they are

competent to reveal it to us. We might maintain, indeed, that if the

movements supply us with the labels of each class, it is not always to be

distinctly seen how the different traits of character and of intelligence

(the author does not separate the two, and gives his reasons for so

doing) subordinate themselves to one another and vary with the motor sign

chosen to express them. There can be no question, however, that rapidity,

energy, or slowness of movement, do not have certain actual and profound

connections with our visceral and cerebral functions, and that the motor

sign is easy to be made use of, although it does not reach all the facts

which it is employed to describe, and although the explanation of these

facts still remains to be sought in the physiological substratum.

M. Pérez has secondly attempted a systematisation of character-traits, by

successively studying the relations of gaiety and sadness, irascibility

and gentleness, courage and fear, kindness and malevolence, self-love and

will, with the principal emotional intellectual and volitional traits

of character. He has perceived, instinctively as it were, that the

pointing out of generic, specific, and individual marks does not possess

its entire worth except on the condition that we also point out _the

subordination_ of the same, and he has given this factor much prominence

in the last chapters of his book. This portion of the work is replete

with subtle observations, and ingenious and profound reflections, but it

is fragmentary in character, a half-way production, I might say, between

the disconnected literature of the moralist and a reasoned and methodical

description such as ethology ought to furnish later on, after the manner,

if possible, of the natural sciences.

The desiderata which I here briefly refer to, are not set forth to

diminish the value of the work of M. Pérez. It will in its present form

render great services, and I should not be at all surprised if the

terminology which he has invented should pass into the language of the

day, as it is convenient and easily lends itself to the description of

character-portraits. Even readers who shall find here much to criticise,

will not refuse to accord to it real and solid merit.

* * * * *

After the work of M. Pérez, a study of my own naturally ranges itself—_La

Psychologie du peintre_[59]—concerning which I ask permission to

offer a few remarks. I have set myself the problem, in this work, of

determining a professional type, and I have chosen one of those which

are certainly the most distinctly defined. If other authors could give

us the psychology of the musician, of the lawyer, of the physician, and

of the geometer, such a task would not be an indifferent performance in

what concerns our knowledge of _character_, and we should arrive at the

construction of a natural history of society from a different point of

view and by different methods from those at the disposal of the novelist.

We should accomplish, unquestionably, the passage from general and

_abstract_ psychology, to _concrete_ psychology.

Do professional types really exist? and if they exist, what are they

composed of? The question as I view it, is not bereft of interest for the

psychologist. We do, no doubt, find among painters, vivacious, sluggish,

and ardent individuals, and we may indeed, in studying this or that

particular painter, discover in him some one or other of the combinations

described by M. Pérez. But that does not stand in the way of the growth

and constitution of social types, and individuals may find a natural

place in the different categories of a general classification without

ceasing to belong to their professional category in consequence of a

natural self-grouping of their intellectual faculties, and a definite

tendency of the traits of their emotional nature. It would be justifiable

to say, at the same time simplifying and enlarging a little the facts,

that originally our viscera form our character but our cerebral organism

forms our profession; and if it is true furthermore that a certain

physiological state brings with it a definite intellectual mode of

operation, it is none the less true that the same culture of the mind and

the long-continued habits of a profession are apt to impose upon one’s

personality a definite discipline and mean equilibrium of tendencies and

sentiments; and it is in this sense that it has seemed to me we are at

liberty to speak of a professional type without equivocation or violence.

Those who will not accept this manner of looking at this subject will

find, I hope, some additional interest in my work on the score of the

special questions which are treated of there: the heredity of genius,

memory, the classification of the sentiments (implied rather than

formulated), the relations of the will to the design considered as

writing, the evolution of art in its connection with visual analysis,

and so forth. There is here a sufficiently abundant supply of materials

capable of being wrought up in social psychology and the criticism of

art. But it does not become me to bestow praises on my own work, and it

would be too easy for me to subject it to criticism. My readers will

find in it themselves the weak portions, without my pointing them out to

them; and it would be a source of great pleasure to me to have the same

assurance that they will discover in it qualities which I do not perceive

there.

* * * * *

There remains still to be mentioned _La Première partie d’une étude sur

la théorie du droit musulman_,[60] by SAVVAS PACHA, one time governor

and governor general, one time minister of public works and foreign

secretary of Turkey. Savvas Pacha—a Christian of Greek descent—has held

high positions in the Ottoman Empire and is esteemed as one of the most

learned men in Islamic law who have ever lived. His book therefore

demands the greatest consideration; it will not possess less interest for

philosophers than for statesmen and jurists. In my opinion, works of this

class should be consulted by psychologists as much as by sociologists; we

are too much inclined nowadays to neglect certain social studies which

offer us valuable information respecting the genius of races and the

conditions of their moral existence.

The work of Savvas Pacha will undoubtedly contribute much toward the

elucidation of some mooted points of very first importance; I should like

to mention—the history of creation, and the exposition of the principles

of a law which rules more than a million human beings and is intimately

interwoven with their political life; a more exact knowledge of the

Semitic genius; an estimate of the relations which have existed between

the juridical metaphysics of the Semitic peoples and that of the schools

of Greece, between the Mohammedan law and the Roman law in provinces once

Romanised but afterwards subjected to the empire of the Caliphs.

It does not seem at all doubtful that the ontology of Aristotle in

particular has exercised an influence on the philosophy of the Arabian

jurisconsults. A second truly remarkable fact, too, is not the new

ontology which they have produced, but the use they have made of it in

their legislative fabrics. It is impossible to enter into details here; I

limit myself to the mere pointing out of the facts.

With respect to the originality of the institutions that belong to the

period of the first Abbassids, the same has been contested by a number of

historians. M. Renan, among others has maintained that they are the work

of the Iranian genius. Savvas Pacha refutes this opinion in a peremptory

manner, and we shall no longer be able to deny, after having read him,

that the Mohammedan civilisation, with the _corpus juris_ which stands

for its most perfect production, has really proceeded from the genius of

the races that bore the banner of Islam from the confines of China to the

Straits of Gibraltar.

Shall I add that we may deduce from this work, so learned and so

suggestive, the elements of an instructive comparison between two grand

divisions of human history whose evolution seems still to be pursued on

lines wholly apart—that which we call Christianity and that which has

sprung from the teachings of Mohammed?

I fervently hope that Savvas Pacha will not delay the publication of

the other works which he has promised. When they appear he will have

furnished us with the most considerable work which we possess on the

institutions of a great division of humanity, still too little known to

us.