Read Ebook: A General View of Positivism Or Summary exposition of the System of Thought and Life by Comte Auguste Harrison Frederic Author Of Introduction Etc Bridges John Henry Translator

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Here, then, we are met by a serious difficulty. The construction of the objective basis for the Positive synthesis imposes two conditions which seem, at first sight, incompatible. On the one hand we must allow the intellect to be free, or else we shall not have the full benefit of its services; and, on the other, we must control its natural tendency to unlimited digressions. The problem was insoluble, so long as the study of the natural economy did not include Sociology. But as soon as the Positive spirit extends to the treatment of social questions, these at once take precedence of all others, and thus the moral point of view becomes paramount. Objective science, proceeding from without inwards, falls at last into natural harmony with the subjective or moral principle, the superiority of which it had for so long a time resisted. As a mere speculative question it may be considered as proved to the satisfaction of every true thinker, that the social point of view is logically and scientifically supreme over all others, being the only point from which all our scientific conceptions can be regarded as a whole. Yet its influence can never be injurious to the progress of other Positive studies; for these, whether for the sake of their method or of their subject matter, will always continue to be necessary as an introduction to the final science. Indeed the Positive system gives the highest sanction and the most powerful stimulus to all preliminary sciences, by insisting on the relation which each of them bears to the great whole, Humanity.

Thus the foundation of social science bears out the statement made at the beginning of this work, that the intellect would, under Positivism, accept its proper position of subordination to the heart. The recognition of this, which is the subjective principle of Positivism, renders the construction of a complete system of human life possible. The antagonism which, since the close of the Middle Ages, has arisen between Reason and Feeling, was an anomalous though inevitable condition. It is now for ever at an end; and the only system which can really satisfy the wants of our nature, individually or collectively, is therefore ready for our acceptance. As long as the antagonism existed, it was hopeless to expect that Social Sympathy could do much to modify the preponderance of self-love in the affairs of life. But the case is different as soon as reason and sympathy are brought into active co-operation. Separately, their influence in our imperfect organization is very feeble; but combined it may extend indefinitely. It will never, indeed, be able to do away with the fact that practical life must, to a large extent, be regulated by interested motives; yet it may introduce a standard of morality inconceivably higher than any that has existed in the past, before these two modifying forces could be made to combine their action upon our stronger and lower instincts.

Positive science may deal either with objects themselves as they exist, or with the separate phenomena that the objects exhibit. Of course we can only judge of an object by the sum of its phenomena; but it is open to us either to examine a special class of phenomena abstracted from all the beings that exhibit it, or to take some special object, and examine the whole concrete group of phenomena. In the latter case we shall be studying different systems of existence; in the former, different modes of activity. As good an example of the distinction as can be given is that, already mentioned, of Meteorology. The facts of weather are evidently combinations of astronomical, physical, chemical, biological, and even social phenomena; each of these classes requiring its own separate theories. Were these abstract laws sufficiently well known to us, then the whole difficulty of the concrete problem would be so to combine them, as to deduce the order in which each composite effect would follow. This, however, is a process which seems to me so far beyond our feeble powers of deduction, that, even supposing our knowledge of the abstract laws perfect, we should still be obliged to have recourse to the inductive method.

Regarded under this more simple aspect, our system of scientific knowledge is already so far elaborated, that all thinkers whose nature is sufficiently sympathetic may proceed without delay to the problem of moral regeneration; a problem which must prepare the way for that of political reorganization. For we shall find that the theory of development of which we have been speaking, when looked at from another point of view, condenses and systematizes all our abstract conceptions of the order of nature.

This will be understood by regarding all departments of our knowledge as being really component parts of one and the same science; the science of Humanity. All other sciences are but the prelude or the development of this. Before we can enter upon it directly, there are two subjects which it is necessary to investigate; our external circumstances, and the organization of our own nature. Social life cannot be understood without first understanding the medium in which it is developed, and the beings who manifest it. We shall make no progress, therefore, in the final science until we have sufficient abstract knowledge of the outer world and of individual life to define the influence of these laws on the special laws of social phenomena. And this is necessary from the logical as well as from the scientific point of view. The feeble faculties of our intellect require to be trained for the more difficult speculations by practice in the easier. For the same reasons, the study of the inorganic world should take precedence of the organic. For, in the first place, the laws of the more universal mode of existence have a preponderating influence over those of the more special modes; and in the second place it is clearly incumbent on us to begin the study of the Positive method with its simplest and most characteristic applications. I need not dwell further upon principles so fully established in my former work.

Social Philosophy, therefore, ought on every ground to be preceded by Natural Philosophy in the ordinary sense of the word; that is to say by the study of inorganic and organic nature. It is reserved for our own century to take in the whole scope of science; but the commencement of these preparatory studies dates from the first astronomical discoveries of antiquity. Natural Philosophy was completed by the modern science of Biology, of which the ancients possessed nothing but a few statical principles. The dependence of biological conditions upon astronomical is very certain. But these two sciences differ too much from each other and are too indirectly connected to give us an adequate conception of Natural Philosophy as a whole. It would be pushing the principle of condensation too far to reduce it to these two terms. One connecting link was supplied by the science of Chemistry which arose in the Middle Ages. The natural succession of Astronomy, Chemistry, and Biology leading gradually up to the final science, Sociology, made it possible to conceive more or less imperfectly of an intellectual synthesis. But the interposition of Chemistry was not enough: because, though its relation to Biology was intimate, it was too remote from Astronomy. For want of understanding the mode in which astronomical conditions really affected us, the arbitrary and chimerical fancies of astrology were employed, though of course quite valueless except for this temporary purpose. In the seventeenth century, however, the science of Physics specially so called, was founded; and a satisfactory arrangement of scientific conceptions began to be formed. Physics included a series of inorganic researches, the more general branch of which bordered on Astronomy, the more special on Chemistry. To complete our view of the scientific hierarchy we have now only to go back to its origin, Mathematics; a class of speculations so simple and so general, that they passed at once and without effort into the Positive stage. Without Mathematics, Astronomy was impossible: and they will always continue to be the starting-point of Positive education for the individual as they have been for the race. Even under the most absolute theological influence they stimulate the Positive spirit to a certain degree of systematic growth. From them it extends step by step to the subjects from which at first it had been most rigidly excluded.

The same theory then which explains the mental evolution of Humanity, lays down the true method by which our abstract conceptions should be classified; thus reconciling the conditions of Order and Movement, hitherto more or less at variance. Its historical clearness and its philosophical force strengthen each other, for we cannot understand the connexion of our conceptions except by studying the succession of the phases through which they pass. And on the other hand, but for the existence of such a connexion, it would be impossible to explain the historical phases. So we see that for all sound thinkers, History and Philosophy are inseparable.

I have now described the general spirit of Positivism. But there are two or three points on which some further explanation is necessary, as they are the source of misapprehensions too common and too serious to be disregarded. Of course I only concern myself with such objections as are made in good faith.

The fact of entire freedom from theological belief being necessary before the Positive state can be perfectly attained, has induced superficial observers to confound Positivism with a state of pure negation. Now this state was at one time, and that even so recently as the last century, favourable to progress; but at present in those who unfortunately still remain in it, it is a radical obstacle to all sound social and even intellectual organization. I have long ago repudiated all philosophical or historical connexion between Positivism and what is called Atheism. But it is desirable to expose the error somewhat more clearly.

The charge of Materialism which is often made against Positive philosophy is of more importance. It originates in the course of scientific study upon which the Positive system is based. In answering the charge, I need not enter into any discussion of impenetrable mysteries. Our theory of development will enable us to see distinctly the real ground of the confusion that exists upon the subject.

This philosophical estimate of Materialism explains how it is that it has been brought as a charge against Positivism, and at the same time proves the deep injustice of the charge. Positivism, far from countenancing so dangerous an error, is, as we have seen, the only philosophy which can completely remove it. The error arises from certain tendencies which are in themselves legitimate, but which have been carried too far; and Positivism satisfies these tendencies in their due measure. Hitherto the evil has remained unchecked, except by the theologico-metaphysical spirit, which, by giving rise to what is called Spiritualism, has rendered a very valuable service. But useful as it has been, it could not arrest the active growth of Materialism, which has assumed in the eyes of modern thinkers something of a progressive character, from having been so long connected with the cause of resistance to a retrograde system. Notwithstanding all the protests of the spiritualists, the lower sciences have encroached upon the higher to an extent that seriously impairs their independence and their value. But Positivism meets the difficulty far more effectually. It satisfies and reconciles all that is really tenable in the rival claims of both Materialism and Spiritualism; and, having done this, it discards them both. It holds the one to be as dangerous to Order as the other to Progress. This result is an immediate consequence of the establishment of the encyclopaedic scale, in which each science retains its own proper sphere of induction, while deductively it remains subordinate to the science which precedes it. But what really decides the matter is the fact that such paramount importance, both logically and scientifically, is given by Positive Philosophy to social questions. For these are the questions in which the influence of Materialism is most mischievous, and also in which it is most easily introduced. A system therefore which gives them the precedence over all other questions must hold Materialism to be quite as obstructive as Spiritualism, since both are alike an obstacle to the progress of that science for the sake of which all other sciences are studied. Further advance in the work of social regeneration implies the elimination of both of them, because it cannot proceed without exact knowledge of the laws of moral and social phenomena. In the next chapter I shall have to speak of the mischievous effects of Materialism upon the Art or practice of social life. It leads to a misconception of the most fundamental principle of that Art, namely, the systematic separation of spiritual and temporal power. To maintain that separation, to carry out on a more satisfactory basis the admirable attempt made in the Middle Ages by the Catholic Church, is the most important of political questions. Thus the antagonism of Positivism to Materialism rests upon political no less than upon philosophical grounds.

With the view of securing a dispassionate consideration of this subject, and of avoiding all confusion, I have laid no stress upon the charge of immorality that is so often brought against Materialism. The reproach, even when made sincerely, is constantly belied by experience, indeed it is inconsistent with all that we know of human nature. Our opinions, whether right or wrong, have not, fortunately, the absolute power over our feelings and conduct which is commonly attributed to them. Materialism has been provisionally connected with the whole movement of emancipation, and it has therefore often been found in common with the noblest aspirations. That connexion, however, has now ceased; and it must be owned that even in the most favourable cases this error, purely intellectual though it be, has to a certain extent always checked the free play of our nobler instincts, by leading men to ignore or misconceive moral phenomena, which were left unexplained by its crude hypothesis. Cabanis gave a striking example of this tendency in his unfortunate attack upon mediaeval chivalry. Cabanis was a philosopher whose moral nature was as pure and sympathetic as his intellect was elevated and enlarged. Yet the materialism of his day had entirely blinded him to the beneficial results of the attempts made by the most energetic of our ancestors to institute the Worship of Woman.

We have now examined the two principal charges brought against the Positive system, and we have found that they apply merely to the unsystematic state in which Positive principles are first introduced. But the system is also accused of Fatalism and of Optimism; charges on which it will not be necessary to dwell at great length, because, though frequently made, they are not difficult to refute.

The charge of Fatalism has accompanied every fresh extension of Positive science, from its first beginnings. Nor is this surprising; for when any series of phenomena passes from the dominion of Wills, whether modified by metaphysical abstractions or not, to the dominion of Laws, the regularity of the latter contrasts so strongly with the instability of the former, as to present an appearance of fatality, which nothing but a very careful examination of the real character of scientific truth can dissipate. And the error is the more likely to occur from the fact that our first types of natural laws are derived from the phenomena of the heavenly bodies. These, being wholly beyond our interference, always suggest the notion of absolute necessity, a notion which it is difficult to prevent from extending to more complex phenomena, as soon as they are brought within the reach of the Positive method. And it is quite true that Positivism holds the Order of Nature to be in its primary aspects strictly invariable. All variations, whether spontaneous or artificial, are only transient and of secondary import. The conception of unlimited variations would in fact be equivalent to the rejection of Law altogether. But while this accounts for the fact that every new Positive theory is accused of Fatalism, it is equally clear that blind persistence in the accusation shows a very shallow conception of what Positivism really is. For, unchangeable as the Order of Nature is in its main aspects, yet all phenomena, except those of Astronomy, admit of being modified in their secondary relations, and this the more as they are more complicated. The Positive spirit, when confined to the subjects of Mathematics and Astronomy, was inevitably fatalist; but this ceased to be the case when it extended to Physics and Chemistry, and especially to Biology, where the margin of variation is very considerable. Now that it embraces Social phenomena, the reproach, however it may have been once deserved, should be heard no longer, since these phenomena, which will for the future form its principal field, admit of larger modification than any others, and that chiefly by our own intervention. It is obvious then that Positivism, far from encouraging indolence, stimulates us to action, especially to social action, far more energetically than any Theological doctrine. It removes all groundless scruples, and prevents us from having recourse to chimeras. It encourages our efforts everywhere, except where they are manifestly useless.

For the charge of Optimism there is even less ground than for that of Fatalism. The latter was, to a certain extent, connected with the rise of the Positive spirit; but Optimism is simply a result of Theology; and its influence has always been decreasing with the growth of Positivism. Astronomical laws, it is true, suggest the idea of perfection as naturally as that of necessity. On the other hand, their great simplicity places the defects of the Order of Nature in so clear a light, that optimists would never have sought their arguments in astronomy, were it not that the first elements of the science had to be worked out under the influence of Monotheism, a system which involved the hypothesis of absolute wisdom. But by the theory of development on which the Positive synthesis is here made to rest, Optimism is discarded as well as Fatalism, in the direct proportion of the intricacy of the phenomena. It is in the most intricate that the defects of Nature, as well as the power of modifying them, become most manifest. With regard, therefore, to social phenomena, the most complex of all, both charges are utterly misplaced. Any optimistic tendencies that writers on social subjects may display, must be due to the fact that their education has not been such as to teach them the nature and conditions of the true scientific spirit. For want of sound logical training, great misuse has been made in our own time of a property peculiar to social phenomena. It is that we find in them a greater amount of spontaneous wisdom than might have been expected from their complexity. It would be a mistake, however, to suppose this wisdom perfect. The phenomena in question are those of intelligent beings who are always occupied in amending the defects of their economy. It is obvious, therefore, that they will show less imperfection than if, in a case equally complicated, the agents could have been blind. The standard by which to judge of action is always to be taken relatively to the social state in which the action takes place. Therefore all historical positions and changes must have at least some grounds of justification; otherwise they would be totally incomprehensible, because inconsistent with the nature of the agents and of the actions performed by them. Now this naturally fosters a dangerous tendency to Optimism in all thinkers, who, whatever their powers may be, have not passed through any strict scientific training, and have consequently never cast off metaphysical and theological modes of thought in the higher subjects. Because every government shows a certain adaptation to the civilization of its time, they make the loose assertion that the adaptation is perfect; a conception which is of course chimerical. But it is unjust to charge Positivism with errors which are evidently contrary to its true spirit, and merely due to the want of logical and scientific training in those who have hitherto engaged in the study of social questions. The object of Sociology is to explain all historical facts; not to justify them indiscriminately, as is done by those who are unable to distinguish the influence of the agent from that of surrounding circumstances.

And to do this, all that is here necessary is to point out the close relation in which the new philosophy stands to the whole course of the French Revolution. This revolution has now been agitating Western nations for sixty years. It is the final issue of the vast transition through which we have been passing during the five previous centuries.

In this great crisis there are naturally two principal phases; of which only the first, or negative, phase has yet been accomplished. In it we gave the last blow to the old system, but without arriving at any fixed and distinct prospect of the new. In the second or positive phase, which is at last beginning, a basis for the new social state has to be constructed. The first phase led as its ultimate result to the formation of a sound philosophical system; and by this system the second phase will be directed. It is this twofold connexion which we are now to consider.

The strong reaction which was exercised upon the intellect by the first great shock of revolution was absolutely necessary to rouse and sustain our mental efforts in the search for a new system. For the greatest thinkers of the eighteenth century had been blinded to the true character of the new state by the effete remnants of the old. And the shock was especially necessary for the foundation of social science. For the basis of that science is the conception of human Progress, a conception which nothing but the Revolution could have brought forward into sufficient prominence.

Social Order was regarded by the ancients as stationary: and its theory under this provisional aspect was admirably sketched out by the great Aristotle. In this respect the case of Sociology resembles that of Biology. In Biology statical conceptions were attained without the least knowledge of dynamical laws. Similarly, the social speculations of antiquity are entirely devoid of the conception of Progress. Their historical field was too narrow to indicate any continuous movement of Humanity. It was not till the Middle Ages that this movement became sufficiently manifest to inspire the feeling that we were tending towards a state of increased perfection. It was then seen by all that Catholicism was superior to Polytheism and Judaism; and this was afterwards confirmed by the corresponding political improvement produced by the substitution of Feudalism for Roman government. Confused as this first feeling of human Progress was, it was yet very intense and very largely diffused; though it lost much of its vitality in the theological and metaphysical discussions of later centuries. It is here that we must look if we would understand that ardour in the cause of Progress which is peculiar to the Western family of nations, and which has been strong enough to check many sophistical delusions, especially in the countries where the noble aspirations of the Middle Ages have been least impaired by the metaphysical theories of Protestantism or Deism.

But whatever the importance of this nascent feeling, it was very far from sufficient to establish the conviction of Progress as a fundamental principle of human society. To demonstrate any kind of progression, at least three terms are requisite. Now the absolute character of theological philosophy, by which the comparison between Polytheism and Catholicism was instituted, prevented men from conceiving the bare possibility of any further stage. The limits of perfection were supposed to have been reached by the mediaeval system, and beyond it there was nothing but the Christian Utopia of a future life. The decline of mediaeval theology soon set the imagination free from any such obstacles; but it led at the same time to a mental reaction which for a long time was unfavourable to the development of this first conception of Progress. It brought a feeling of blind antipathy to the Middle Ages. Almost all thinkers in their dislike of the Catholic dogmas were seized with such irrational admiration for Antiquity as entirely to ignore the social superiority of the mediaeval system; and it was only among the untaught masses, especially in the countries preserved from Protestantism, that any real feeling of this superiority was retained. It was not till the middle of the seventeenth century that modern thinkers began to dwell on the conception of Progress.

It re-appeared then under a new aspect. Conclusive evidence had by that time been furnished that the more civilized portion of our race had advanced in science and industry, and even, though not so unquestionably, in the fine arts. But these aspects were only partial: and though they were undoubtedly the source of the more systematic views held by our own century upon the subject, they were not enough to demonstrate the fact of a progression. And indeed, from the social point of view, so far more important than any other, Progress seemed more doubtful than it had been in the Middle Ages.

But this condition of opinion was changed by the revolutionary shock which impelled France, the normal centre of Western Europe, to apply itself to the task of social regeneration. A third term of comparison, that is to say the type on which modern society is being moulded, now presented itself; though it lay as yet in a distant and obscure future. Compared with the mediaeval system it was seen to be an advance as great as that which justified our ancestors of chivalrous times in asserting superiority to their predecessors of antiquity. Until the destruction of Catholic Feudalism became an overt fact, its effete remnants had concealed the political future, and the fact of continuous progress in society had always remained uncertain. Social phenomena have this peculiarity, that the object observed undergoes a process of development as well as and simultaneously with the observer. Now up to the time of the Revolution, political development, on which the principal argument for the theory of Progress must always be based, corresponded in its imperfection to the incapacity of the scientific spirit to frame the theory of it. A century ago, thinkers of the greatest eminence were unable to conceive of a really continuous progression; and Humanity, as they thought, was destined to move in circles or in oscillations. But under the influence of the Revolution a real sense of human development has arisen spontaneously and with more or less result, in minds of the most ordinary cast; first in France, and subsequently throughout the whole of Western Europe. In this respect the crisis has been most salutary; it has given us that mental courage as well as force without which the conception could never have arisen. It is the basis of social science and therefore of all Positive Philosophy; since it is only from the social aspect that Positive Philosophy admits of being viewed as a connected whole. Without the theory of Progress, the theory of Order, even supposing that it could be formed, would be inadequate as a basis for Sociology. It is essential that the two should be combined. The very fact that Progress, however viewed, is nothing but the development of Order, shows that Order cannot be fully manifested without Progress. The dependence of Positivism upon the French Revolution may now be understood more clearly. Nor was it by a merely fortuitous coincidence that by this time the introductory course of scientific knowledge by which the mind is prepared for Positivism should have been sufficiently completed.

But we must here observe that, beneficial as the intellectual reaction of this great crisis undoubtedly was, its effects could not be realized until the ardour of the revolutionary spirit had been to some extent weakened. The dazzling light thrown upon the Future for some time obscured our vision of the Past. It disclosed, though obscurely, the third term of the social progression; but it prevented us from fairly appreciating the second term. It encouraged that blind aversion to the Middle Ages, which had been inspired by the emancipating process of modern times; a feeling which had once been necessary to induce us to abandon the old system. The suppression of this intermediate step would be as fatal to the conception of Progress as the absence of the last; because this last differs too widely from the first to admit of any direct comparison with it. Right views upon the subject were impossible therefore until full justice had been rendered to the Middle Ages, which form at once the point of union and of separation between ancient and modern history. Now it was quite impossible to do this as long as the excitement of the first years of the revolution lasted. In this respect the philosophical reaction, organized at the beginning of our century by the great De Maistre, was of material assistance in preparing the true theory of Progress. His school was of brief duration, and it was no doubt animated by a retrograde spirit; but it will always be ranked among the necessary antecedents of the Positive system; although its works are now entirely superseded by the rise of the new philosophy, which in a more perfect form has embodied all their chief results.

What was required therefore for the discovery of Sociological laws, and for the establishment upon these laws of a sound philosophical system, was an intellect in the vigour of youth, imbued with all the ardour of the revolutionary spirit, and yet spontaneously assimilating all that was valuable in the attempts of the retrograde school to appreciate the historical importance of the Middle Ages. In this way and in no other could the true spirit of history arise. For that spirit consists in the sense of human continuity, which had hitherto been felt by no one, not even by my illustrious and unfortunate predecessor Condorcet. Meantime the genius of Gall was completing the recent attempts to systematize biology, by commencing the study of the internal functions of the brain; as far at least as these could be understood from the phenomena of individual as distinct from social development. And now I have explained the series of social and intellectual conditions by which the discovery of sociological laws, and consequently the foundation of Positivism, was fixed for the precise date at which I began my philosophical career: that is to say, one generation after the progressive dictatorship of the Convention, and almost immediately after the fall of the retrograde tyranny of Bonaparte.

Thus it appears that the revolutionary movement, and the long period of reaction which succeeded it, were alike necessary, before the new general doctrine could be distinctly conceived of as a whole. And if this preparation was needed for the establishment of Positivism as a philosophical system, far more needful was it for the recognition of its social value. For it guaranteed free exposition and discussion of opinion: and it led the public to look to Positivism as the system which contained in germ the ultimate solution of social problems. This is a point so obvious that we need not dwell upon it further.

Having satisfied ourselves of the dependence of Positivism upon the first phase of the Revolution, we have now to consider it as the future guide of the second phase.

It is often supposed that the destruction of the old regime was brought about by the Revolution. But history when carefully examined points to a very different conclusion. It shows that the Revolution was not the cause but the consequence of the utter decomposition of the mediaeval system; a process which had been going on for five centuries throughout Western Europe, and especially in France; spontaneously at first, and afterwards in a more systematic way. The Revolution, far from protracting the negative movement of previous centuries, was a bar to its further extension. It was a final outbreak in which men showed their irrevocable purpose of abandoning the old system altogether, and of proceeding at once to the task of entire reconstruction. The most conclusive proof of this intention was given by the abolition of royalty; which had been the rallying point of all the decaying remnants of the old French constitution. But with this exception, which only occupied the Convention during its first sitting, the constructive tendencies of the movement were apparent from its outset; and they showed themselves still more clearly as soon as the republican spirit had become predominant. It is obvious, however, that strong as these tendencies may have been, the first period of the Revolution produced results of an extremely negative and destructive kind. In fact the movement was in this respect a failure. This is partly to be attributed to the pressing necessities of the hard struggle for national independence which France maintained so gloriously against the combined attacks of the retrograde nations of Europe. But it is far more largely owing to the purely critical character of the metaphysical doctrines by which the revolutionary spirit was at that time directed.

The negative and the positive movements which have been going on in Western Europe since the close of the Middle Ages, have been of course connected with each other. But the former has necessarily advanced with greater rapidity than the latter. The old system had so entirely declined, that a desire for social regeneration had become general, before the groundwork of the new system had been sufficiently completed for its true character to be understood. As we have just seen, the doctrine by which social regeneration is now to be directed could not have arisen previously to the Revolution. The impulse which the Revolution gave to thought was indispensable to its formation. Here then was an insurmountable fatality by which men were forced to make use of the critical principles which had been found serviceable in former struggles, as the only available instruments of construction. As soon as the old order had once been fairly abandoned, there was of course no utility whatever in the negative philosophy. But its doctrines had become familiar to men's minds, and its motto of 'Liberty and Equality', was at that time the one most compatible with social progress. Thus the first stage of the revolutionary movement was accomplished under the influence of principles that had become obsolete, and that were quite inadequate to the new task required of them.

For constructive purposes the revolutionary philosophy was valueless; except so far as it put forward a vague programme of the political future founded on sentiment rather than conviction, and unaccompanied by any explanation of the right mode of realizing it. In default of organic principles the doctrines of the critical school were employed: and the result speedily showed their inherent tendency to anarchy; a tendency as perilous to the germs of the new order as to the ruins of the old. The experiment was tried once for all, and it left such ineffaceable memories that it is not probable that any serious attempt will be made to repeat it. The incapacity for construction inherent in the doctrine in which the revolutionary spirit had embodied itself was placed beyond the reach of doubt. The result was to impress every one with the urgent necessity for social renovation; but the principles of that renovation were still left undetermined.

In this condition of philosophical and political opinion, the necessity of Order was felt to be paramount, and a long period of reaction ensued. Dating from the official Deism introduced by Robespierre, it reached its height under the aggressive system of Bonaparte, and it was feebly protracted, in spite of the peace of 1815, by his insignificant successors. The only permanent result of this period was the historical and doctrinal evidence brought forward by De Maistre and his school, of the social inutility of modern metaphysics, while at the same time their intellectual weakness was being proved by the successful attempts of Cabanis, and still more of Gall, to extend the Positive method to the highest biological questions. In all other respects this elaborate attempt to prevent the final emancipation of Humanity proved a complete failure; in fact, it led to a revival of the instinct of Progress. Strong antipathies were roused everywhere by these fruitless efforts at reconstructing a system which had become so entirely obsolete, that even those who were labouring to rebuild it no longer understood its character or the conditions of its existence.

A re-awakening of the revolutionary spirit was thus inevitable; and it took place as soon as peace was established, and the chief upholder of the retrograde system had been removed. The doctrines of negation were called back to life; but very little illusion now remained as to their capacity for organizing. In want of something better, men accepted them as a means of resisting retrograde principles, just as these last had owed their apparent success to the necessity of checking the tendency to anarchy. Amidst these fresh debates on worn-out subjects, the public soon became aware that a final solution of the question had not yet arisen even in germ. It therefore concerned itself for little except the maintenance of Order and Liberty; conditions as indispensable for the free action of philosophy as for material prosperity. The whole position was most favourable for the construction of a definite solution; and it was, in fact, during the last phase of the retrograde movement that the elementary principle of a solution was furnished, by my discovery, in 1822, of the two-fold law of intellectual development.

The apparent indifference of the public, to whom all the existing parties seemed equally devoid of insight into the political future, was at last mistaken by a blind government for tacit consent to its unwise schemes. The cause of Progress was in danger. Then came the memorable crisis of 1830, by which the system of reaction, introduced thirty-six years previously, was brought to an end. The convictions which that system inspired were indeed so superficial, that its supporters came of their own accord to disavow them, and to uphold in their own fashion the chief revolutionary doctrines. These again were abandoned by their previous supporters on their accession to power. When the history of these times is written, nothing will give a clearer view of the revulsion of feeling on both sides, than the debates which took place on Liberty of Education. Within a period of twenty years, it was alternately demanded and refused by both; and this in behalf of the same principles, as they were called, though it was in reality a question of interest rather than principle on either side.

All previous convictions being thus thoroughly upset, more room was left for the instinctive feeling of the public; and the question of reconciling the spirit of Order with that of Progress now came into prominence. It was the most important of all problems, and it was now placed in its true light. But this only made the absence of a solution more manifest; and the principle of the solution existed nowhere but in Positivism, which as yet was immature. All the opinions of the day had become alike utterly incompatible both with Order and with Progress. The Conservative school undertook to reconcile the two; but it had no constructive power; and the only result of its doctrine was to give equal encouragement to anarchy and to reaction, so as to be able always to neutralize the one by the other. The establishment of Constitutional Monarchy was now put forward as the ultimate issue of the great Revolution. But no one could seriously place any real confidence in a system so alien to the whole character of French history, offering as it did nothing but a superficial and unwise imitation of a political anomaly essentially peculiar to England.

The period then between 1830 and 1848 may be regarded as a natural pause in the political movement. The reaction which succeeded the original crisis had exhausted itself; but the final or organic phase of the Revolution was still delayed for want of definite principles to guide it. No conception had been formed of it, except by a small number of philosophic minds who had taken their stand upon the recently established laws of social science, and had found themselves able, without recourse to any chimerical views, to gain some general insight into the political future, of which Condorcet, my principal predecessor, knew so little. But it was impossible for the regenerating doctrine to spread more widely and to be accepted as the peaceful solution of social problems, until a distinct refutation had been given of the false assertion so authoritatively made that the parliamentary system was the ultimate issue of the Revolution. This notion once destroyed, the work of spiritual reorganization should be left entirely to the free efforts of independent thinkers. In these respects our last political change will have accomplished all that is required.

The whole position brings into fuller prominence the fundamental problem previously proposed, of reconciling Order and Progress. The urgent necessity of doing so is acknowledged by all; but the utter incapacity of any of the existing schools of opinion to realize it becomes increasingly evident. The abolition of monarchy removes the most important obstacle to social Progress: but at the same time it deprives us of the only remaining guarantee for public Order. Thus the time is doubly favourable to constructive tendencies; yet at present there are no opinions which possess more than the purely negative value of checking, and that very imperfectly, the error opposite to their own. In a position which guarantees Progress and compromises Order, it is naturally for the latter that the greatest anxiety is felt; and we are still without any organ capable of systematically defending it. Yet experience should have taught us how extremely fragile every government must be which is purely material, that is, which is based solely upon self-interest, and is destitute of sympathies and convictions. On the other hand, spiritual order is not to be hoped for at present in the absence of any doctrine which commands general respect. Even the social instinct is a force on the political value of which we cannot always rely: for when not based on some definite principle, it not unfrequently becomes source of disturbance. Hence we are driven back to the continuance of a material system of government, although its inadequacy is acknowledged by all. In a republic, however, such a government cannot employ its most efficient instrument, corruption. It has to resort instead to repressive measures of a more or less transitory kind, every time that the danger of anarchy becomes too threatening. These occasional measures, however, naturally proportion themselves to the necessities of the case. Thus, though Order is exposed to greater perils than Progress, it can count on more powerful resources for its defence. Shortly after the publication of the first edition of this work, the extraordinary outbreak of June, 1848, proved that the republic could call into play, and, indeed, could push to excess, in the cause of public Order, forces far greater than those of the monarchy. Thus royalty no longer possesses that monopoly of preserving Order, which has hitherto induced a few sincere and thinking men to continue to support it; and henceforth the sole political characteristic which it retains is that of obstructing Progress. And yet by another reaction of this contradictory position of affairs, the monarchical party seems at present to have become the organ of resistance in behalf of material Order. Retrograde as its doctrines are, yet from their still retaining a certain organic tendency, the conservative instincts rally round them. To this the progressive instincts offer no serious obstacle, their insufficiency for the present needs being more or less distinctly recognized. It is not to the monarchical party, however, that we must look for conservative principles; for in this quarter they are wholly abandoned, and unhesitating adoption of every revolutionary principle is resorted to as a means of retaining power; so that the doctrines of the Revolution would seem fated to close their existence in the retrograde camp. So urgent is the need of Order that we are driven to accept for the moment a party which has lost all its old convictions, and which had apparently become extinct before the Republic began. Positivism and Positivism alone can disentangle and terminate this anomalous position. The principle on which it depends is manifestly this: As long as Progress tends towards anarchy, so long will Order continue to be retrograde. But the retrograde movement never really attains its object: indeed its principles are always neutralized by inconsistent concessions. Judged by the boastful language of its leaders, we might imagine that it was destroying republicanism; whereas the movement would not exist at all, but for the peculiar circumstances in which we are placed; circumstances which are forced into greater prominence by the foolish opposition of most of the authorities. As soon as the instinct of political improvement has placed itself under systematic guidance, its growth will bear down all resistance; and then the reason of its present stagnation will be patent to all.

And for this Theologism is, unawares, preparing the way. Its apparent preponderance places Positivism in precisely that position which I wished for ten years ago. The two organic principles can now be brought side by side, and their relative strength tested, without the complication of any metaphysical considerations. For the incoherence of metaphysical systems is now recognized, and they are finally decaying under the very political system which seemed at one time likely to promote their acceptance. Construction is seen by all to be the thing wanted: and men are rapidly becoming aware of the utter hollowness of all schools which confine themselves to protests against the institutions of theologism, while admitting its essential principles. So defunct, indeed, have these schools become, that they can no longer fulfil even their old office of destruction. This has fallen now as an accessory task upon Positivism, which offers the only systematic guarantee against retrogression as well as against anarchy. Psychologists, strictly so called, have already for the most part disappeared with the fall of constitutional monarchy; so close is the relation between these two importations from Protestantism. It seemed likely therefore that the Ideologists, their natural rivals, would regain their influence with the people. But even they cannot win back the confidence reposed in them during the great Revolution, because the doctrines in virtue of which it was then given are now so utterly exploded. The most advanced of their number, unworthy successors of the school of Voltaire and Danton, have shown themselves thoroughly incapable either morally or intellectually of directing the second phase of the Revolution, which they are hardly able to distinguish from the first phase. Formerly I had taken as their type a man of far superior merit, the noble Armand Carrel, whose death was such a grievous loss to the republican cause. But he was a complete exception to the general rule. True republican convictions were impossible with men who had been schooled in parliamentary intrigues, and who had directed or aided the pertinacious efforts of the French press to rehabilitate the name of Bonaparte. Their accession to power was futile; for they could only maintain material order by calling in the retrograde party; and they soon became mere auxiliaries of this party, disgracefully abjuring all their philosophical convictions. There is one proceeding which, though it is but an episode in the course of events, will always remain as a test of the true character of this unnatural alliance. I allude to the Roman expedition of 1849; a detestable and contemptible act, for which just penalties will speedily be imposed on all who were accessory to it; not to speak of the damnatory verdict of history. But precisely the same hypocritical opposition to progress has been exhibited by the other class of Deists, the disciples, that is, of Rousseau, who profess to adopt Robespierre's policy. Having had no share in the government, they have not so entirely lost their hold upon the people; but they are at the present time totally devoid of political coherence. Their wild anarchy is incompatible with the general tone of feeling maintained by the industrial activity, the scientific spirit, and the esthetic culture of modern life. These Professors of the Guillotine, as they may be called, whose superficial sophisms would reduce exceptional outbreaks of popular fury into a cold-blooded system, soon found themselves forced, for the sake of popularity, to sanction the law which very properly abolished capital punishment for political offences. In the same way they are now obliged to disown the only real meaning of the red flag which serves to distinguish their party, too vague as it is for any other name. Equally wrong have they shown themselves in interpreting the tendencies of the working classes, from being so entirely taken up with questions of abstract rights. The people have allowed these rights to be taken from them without a struggle whenever the cause of Order has seemed to require it; yet they still persist, mechanically, in maintaining that it is on questions of this sort that the solution of all our difficulties depends. Taking for their political ideal a short and anomalous period of our history which is never likely to recur, they are always attempting to suppress liberty for the sake of what they call progress. In a time of unchangeable peace they are the only real supporters of war. Their conception of the organization of labour is simply to destroy the industrial hierarchy of capitalist and workman established in the Middle Ages; and, in fact, in every respect these sophistical anarchists are utterly out of keeping with the century in which they live. There are some, it is true, who still retain a measure of influence with the working classes, incapable and unworthy though they be of their position. But their credit is rapidly declining; and it is not likely to become dangerous at a time when political enthusiasm is no longer to be won by metaphysical prejudices. The only effect really produced by this party of disorder, is to serve as a bugbear for the benefit of the retrograde party, who thus obtain official support from the middle class, in a way which is quite contrary to all the principles and habits of that class. It is very improbable that these foolish levellers will ever succeed to power. Should they do so, however, their reign will be short, and will soon result in their final extinction; because it will convince the people of their profound incapacity to direct the regeneration of Europe. The position of affairs, therefore, is now distinct and clear; and it is leading men to withdraw their confidence from all metaphysical schools, as they had already withdrawn it from theology. In this general discredit of all the old systems the way becomes clear for Positivism, the only school which harmonizes with the real tendencies as well as with the essential needs of the nineteenth century.

In this explanation of the recent position of French affairs one point yet remains to be insisted on. We have seen from the general course of the philosophical, and yet more of the political, movement, the urgent necessity for a universal doctrine capable of checking erroneous action, and of avoiding or moderating popular outbreaks. But there is another need equally manifest, the need of a spiritual power, without which it would be utterly impossible to bring our philosophy to bear upon practical life. Widely divergent as the various metaphysical sects are, there is one point in which they all spontaneously agree; that is, in repudiating the distinction between temporal and spiritual authority. This has been the great revolutionary principle ever since the fourteenth century, and more especially since the rise of Protestantism. It originated in repugnance to the mediaeval system. The so-called philosophers of our time, whether psychologists or ideologists, have, like their Greek predecessors, always aimed at a complete concentration of all social powers; and they have even spread this delusion among the students of special sciences. At present there is no appreciation, except in the Positive system, of that instinctive sagacity which led all the great men of the Middle Ages to institute, for the first time, the separation of moral from political authority. It was a masterpiece of human wisdom; but it was premature, and could not be permanently successful at a time when men were still governed on theological principles, and practical life still retained its military character. This separation of powers, on which the final organization of society will principally depend, is understood and valued nowhere but in the new school of philosophy, if we except the unconscious and tacit admiration for it which still exists in the countries from which Protestantism has been excluded. From the outset of the Revolution, the pride of theorists has always made them wish to become socially despotic; a state of things to which they have ever looked forward as their political ideal. Public opinion has by this time grown far too enlightened to allow any practical realization of a notion at once so chimerical and so retrograde. But public opinion not being as yet sufficiently organized, efforts in this direction are constantly being made. The longing among metaphysical reformers for practical as well as theoretical supremacy is now greater than ever; because, from the changed state of affairs, their ambition is no longer limited to mere administrative functions. Their various views diverge so widely, and all find so little sympathy in the public, that there is not much fear of their ever being able to check free discussion to any serious extent, by giving legal sanction to their own particular doctrine. But quite enough has been attempted to convince every one how essentially despotic every theory of society must be which opposes this fundamental principle of modern polity, the permanent separation of spiritual from temporal power. The disturbances caused by metaphysical ambition corroborate, then, the view urged so conclusively by the adherents of the new school, that this division of powers is equally essential to Order and to Progress. If Positivist thinkers continue to withstand all temptations to mix actively in politics, and go on quietly with their own work amidst the unmeaning agitation around them, they will ultimately make the impartial portion of the public familiar with this great conception. It will henceforth be judged irrespectively of the religious doctrines with which it was originally connected. Men will involuntarily contrast it with other systems, and will see more and more clearly that Positive principles afford the only basis for true freedom as well as for true union. They alone can tolerate full discussion, because they alone rest upon solid proof. Men's practical wisdom, guided by the peculiar nature of our political position, will react strongly upon philosophers, and keep them strictly to their sphere of moral and intellectual influence. The slightest tendency towards the assumption of political power will be checked, and the desire for it will be considered as a certain sign of mental weakness, and indeed of moral deficiency. Now that royalty is abolished, all true thinkers are secure of perfect freedom of thought, and even of expression, as long as they abide by the necessary conditions of public order. Royalty was the last remnant of the system of castes, which gave the monopoly of deciding on important social questions to a special family; its abolition completes the process of theological emancipation. Of course the magistrates of a republic may show despotic tendencies; but they can never become very dangerous where power is held on so brief a tenure, and where, even when concentrated in a single person, it emanates from suffrage, incompetent as that may be. It is easy for the Positivist to show that these functionaries know very little more than their constituents of the logical and scientific conditions necessary for the systematic working out of moral and social doctrines. Such authorities, though devoid of any spiritual sanction, may, however, command obedience in the name of Order. But they can never be really respected, unless they adhere scrupulously to their temporal functions, without claiming the least authority over thought. Even before the central power falls into the hands of men really fit to wield it, the republican character of our government will have forced this conviction upon a nation that has now got rid of all political fanaticism, whether of a retrograde or anarchical kind. And the conviction is the more certain to arise, because practical authorities will become more and more absorbed in the maintenance of material order, and will therefore leave the question of spiritual order to the unrestricted efforts of thinkers. It is neither by accident nor by personal influence that I have myself always enjoyed so large a measure of freedom in writing, and subsequently in public lectures, and this under governments all of which were more or less oppressive. Every true philosopher will receive the same licence, if, like myself, he offers the intellectual and moral guarantees which the public and the civil power are fairly entitled to expect from the systematic organs of Humanity. The necessity of controlling levellers may lead to occasional acts of unwise violence. But I am convinced that respect will always be shown to constructive thinkers, and that they will soon be called in to the assistance of public order. For order will not be able to exist much longer without the sanction of some rational principle.

The result, then, of the important political changes which have recently taken place is this. The second phase of the Revolution, which hitherto has been restricted to a few advanced minds, is now entered by the public, and men are rapidly forming juster views of its true character. It is becoming recognized that the only firm basis for a reform of our political institutions, is a complete reorganization of opinion and of life; and the way is open for the new religious doctrine to direct this work. I have thus explained the way in which the social mission of Positivism connects itself with the spontaneous changes which are taking place in France, the centre of the revolutionary movement. But it would be a mistake to suppose that France will be the only scene of these reorganizing efforts. Judging on sound historical principles, we cannot doubt that they will embrace the whole extent of Western Europe.

During the five centuries of revolutionary transition which have elapsed since the Middle Ages, we have lost sight of the fact that in all fundamental questions the Western nations form one political system. It was under Catholic Feudalism that they were first united; a union for which their incorporation into the Roman empire had prepared them, and which was finally organized by the incomparable genius of Charlemagne. In spite of national differences, embittered as they were afterwards by theological discord, this great Republic has in modern times shown intellectual and social growth both in the positive and negative direction, to which other portions of the human race, even in Europe, can show no parallel. The rupture of Catholicism, and the decline of Chivalry, at first seriously impaired this feeling of relationship. But it soon began to show itself again under new forms. It rests now, though the basis is inadequate, upon the feeling of community in industrial development, in esthetic culture, and in scientific discovery. Amidst the disorganized state of political affairs, which have obviously been tending towards some radical change, this similarity in civilization has produced a growing conviction that we are all participating in one and the same social movement; a movement limited as yet to our own family of nations. The first step in the great crisis was necessarily taken by the French nation, because it was better prepared than any other. It was there that the old order of things had been most thoroughly uprooted, and that most had been done in working out the materials of the new. But the strong sympathies which the outbreak of our revolution aroused in every part of Western Europe, showed that our sister-nations were only granting us the honourable post of danger in a movement in which all the nobler portion of Humanity was to participate. And this was the feeling proclaimed by the great republican assembly in the midst of their war of defence. The military extravagances which followed, and which form the distinguishing feature of the counter-revolution, of course checked the feeling of union on both sides. But so deeply was it rooted in all the antecedents of modern history that peace soon restored it to life, in spite of the pertinacious efforts of all parties interested in maintaining unnatural separation between France and other countries. What greatly facilitates this tendency is the decline of every form of theology, which removes the chief source of former disagreement. During the last phase of the counter-revolution, and still more during the long pause in the political movement which followed, each member of the group entered upon a series of revolutionary efforts more or less resembling those of the central nation. And our recent political changes cannot but strengthen this tendency; though of course with nations less fully prepared the results of these efforts have at present been less important than in France. Meanwhile it is evident that this uniform condition of internal agitation gives increased security for peace, by which its extension had been originally facilitated. And thus, although there is no organized international union as was the case in the Middle Ages, yet the pacific habits and intellectual culture of modern life have already been sufficiently diffused to call out an instinct of fraternity stronger than any that has ever existed before. It is strong enough to prevent the subject of social regeneration from being ever regarded as a merely national question.

And this is the point of view which displays the character of the second phase of the Revolution in its truest light. The first phase, although in its results advantageous to the other nations, was necessarily conducted as if peculiar to France, because no other country was ripe for the original outbreak. Indeed French nationality was stimulated by the necessity of resisting the counter-revolutionary coalition. But the final and constructive phase which has begun now that the national limits of the crisis have been reached, should always be regarded as common to the whole of Western Europe. For it consists essentially in spiritual reorganization; and the need of this in one shape or other presses already with almost equal force upon each of the five nations who make up the great Western family. Conversely, the more occidental the character of the reforming movement, the greater will be the prominence given to intellectual and moral regeneration as compared with mere modifications of government, in which of course there must be very considerable national differences. The first social need of Western Europe is community in belief and in habits of life; and this must be based upon a uniform system of education controlled and applied by a spiritual power that shall be accepted by all. This want satisfied, the reconstruction of governments may be carried out in accordance with the special requirements of each nation. Difference in this respect is legitimate: it will not affect the essential unity of the Positivist Republic, which will be bound together by more complete and durable ties than the Catholic Republic of the Middle Ages.

Not only then do we find from the whole condition of Western Europe that the movement of opinion transcends in importance all political agitation; but we find that everything points to the necessity of establishing a spiritual power, as the sole means of directing this free yet systematic reform of opinion and of life with the requisite consistency and largeness of view. We now see that the old revolutionary prejudice of confounding temporal and spiritual power is directly antagonistic to social regeneration, although it once aided the preparation for it. In the first place it stimulates the sense of nationality which ought to be subordinate to larger feelings of international fraternity. And at the same time, with the view of satisfying the conditions of uniformity which are so obviously required for the solution of the common problem, it induces efforts at forcible incorporation of all the nations into one, efforts as dangerous as they are fruitless.

My work on Positive Philosophy contains a detailed historical explanation of what I mean by the expression, Western Europe. But the conception is one of such importance in relation to the questions of our time, that I shall now proceed to enumerate and arrange in their order the elements of which this great family of nations consists.

Since the fall of the Roman empire, and more especially from the time of Charlemagne, France has always been the centre, socially as well as geographically, of this Western region which may be called the nucleus of Humanity. On the one great occasion of united political action on the part of Western Europe, that is, in the crusades of the eleventh and twelfth century, it was evidently France that took the initiative. It is true that when the decomposition of Catholicism began to assume a systematic form, the centre of the movement for two centuries shifted its position. It was Germany that gave birth to the metaphysical principles of negation. Their first political application was in the Dutch and English revolutions, which, incomplete as they were, owing to insufficient intellectual preparation, yet served as preludes to the great final crisis. These preludes were most important, as showing the real social tendency of the critical doctrines. But it was reserved for France to co-ordinate these doctrines into a consistent system and to propagate them successfully. France then resumed her position as the principal centre in which the great moral and political questions were to be worked out. And this position she will in all probability retain, as in fact it is only a recurrence to the normal organization of the Western Republic, which had been temporarily modified to meet special conditions. A fresh displacement of the centre of the social movement is not to be expected, unless in a future too distant to engage our attention. It can indeed only be the result of wide extension of our advanced civilization beyond European limits, as will be explained in the conclusion of this work.

North and south of this natural centre, we find two pairs of nations, between which France will always form an intermediate link, partly from her geographical position, and also from her language and manners. The first pair is for the most part Protestant. It comprises, first, the great Germanic body, with the numerous nations that may be regarded as its offshoots; especially Holland, which, since the Middle Ages, has been in every respect the most advanced portion of Germany. Secondly, Great Britain, with which may be classed the United States, notwithstanding their present attitude of rivalry. The second pair is exclusively Catholic. It consists of the great Italian nationality, which in spite of political divisions has always maintained its distinct character; and of the population of the Spanish Peninsula , which has so largely increased the Western family by its colonies. To complete the conception of this group of advanced nations, we must add two accessory members, Greece and Poland, countries which, though situated in Eastern Europe, are connected with the West, the one by ancient history, the other by modern. Besides these, there are various intermediate nationalities which I need not now enumerate, connecting or demarcating the more important branches of the family.

In this vast Republic it is that the new philosophy is to find its sphere of intellectual and moral action. It will endeavour so to modify the initiative of the central nation, by the reacting influences of the other four, as to give increased efficiency to the general movement. It is a task eminently calculated to test the social capabilities of Positivism, and for which no other system is qualified. The metaphysical spirit is as unfit for it as the theological. The rupture of the mediaeval system is due to the decadence of theology: but the direct agency in the rupture was the solvent force of the metaphysical spirit. Neither the one nor the other then is likely to recombine elements, the separation of which is principally due to their own conceptions. It is entirely to the spontaneous action of the Positive spirit that we owe those new though insufficient links of union, whether industrial, artistic, or scientific, which, since the close of the Middle Ages, have been leading us more and more decidedly to a reconstruction of the Western alliance. And now that Positivism has assumed its matured and systematic form, its competence for the work is even more unquestionable. It alone can effectually remove the national antipathies which still exist. But it will do this without impairing the natural qualities of any of them. Its object is by a wise combination of these qualities, to develop under a new form the feeling of a common Occidentality.

Acting on this principle, Positivists will always acknowledge the close relation between their own system and the memorable effort of mediaeval Catholicism. In offering for the acceptance of Humanity a new organization of life, we would not dissociate it with all that has gone before. On the contrary, it is our boast that we are but proposing for her maturity the accomplishment of the noble effort of her youth, an effort made when intellectual and social conditions precluded the possibility of success. We are too full of the future to fear any serious charge of retrogression towards the past. It would be strange were such a charge to proceed from those of our opponents whose political ideal is that amalgamation of temporal and spiritual power which was adopted by the theocratic or military systems of antiquity.

The separation of these powers in the Middle Ages is the greatest advance ever yet made in the theory of social Order. It was imperfectly effected, because the time was not ripe for it; but enough was done to show the object of the separation, and some of its principal results were partially arrived at. It originated the fundamental doctrine of modern social life, the subordination of Politics to Morals; a doctrine which in spite of the most obstinate resistance has survived the decline of the religion which first proclaimed it. We see it now sanctioned by a republican government which has shaken off the fetters of that religion more completely than any other. A further result of the separation is the keen sense of personal honour, combined with general fraternity, which distinguishes Western nations, especially those who have been preserved from Protestantism. To the same source is due the general feeling that men should be judged by their intellectual and moral worth, irrespectively of social position, yet without upsetting that subordination of classes which is rendered necessary by the requirements of practical life. And this has accustomed all classes to free discussion of moral and even of political questions; since every one feels it a right and a duty to judge actions and persons by the general principles which a common system of education has inculcated alike on all. I need not enlarge on the value of the mediaeval church in organizing the political system of Western Europe, in which there was no other recognized principle of union. All these social results are usually attributed to the excellence of the Christian doctrine; but history when fairly examined shows that the source from which they are principally derived is the Catholic principle of separating the two powers. For these effects are nowhere visible except in the countries where this separation has been effected, although a similar code of morals and indeed a faith identically the same have been received elsewhere. Besides, although sanctioned by the general tone of modern life, they have been neutralized to a considerable extent by the decline of the Catholic organization, and this especially in the countries where the greatest efforts have been made to restore the doctrine to its original purity and power.

In these respects Positivism has already appreciated Catholicism more fully than any of its own defenders, not even excepting De Maistre himself, as indeed some of the more candid organs of the retrograde school have allowed. But the merit of Catholicism does not merely depend on the fact that it forms a most important link in the series of human development. What adds to the glory of its efforts is that, as history clearly proves, they were in advance of their time. The political failure of Catholicism resulted from the imperfection of its doctrines, and the resistance of the social medium in which it worked. It is true that Monotheism is far more compatible with the separation of powers than Polytheism. But from the absolute character of every kind of theology, there was always a tendency in the mediaeval system to degenerate into mere theocracy. In fact, the proximate cause of its decline was the increased development of this tendency in the fourteenth century, and the resistance which it provoked among the kings, who stood forward to represent the general voice of condemnation. Again, though separation of powers was less difficult in the defensive system of mediaeval warfare than in the aggressive system of antiquity, yet it is thoroughly repugnant to the military spirit in all its phases, because adverse to that concentration of authority which is requisite in war. And thus it was never thoroughly realized, except in the conceptions of a few leading men among both the spiritual and temporal class. Its brief success was principally caused by a temporary combination of circumstances. It was for the most part a condition of very unstable equilibrium, oscillating between theocracy and empire.

But Positive civilization will accomplish what in the Middle Ages could only be attempted. We are aided, not merely by the example of the Middle Ages, but by the preparatory labours of the last five centuries. New modes of thought have arisen, and practical life has assumed new phases; and all are alike tending towards the separation of powers. What in the Middle Ages was but dimly foreseen by a few ardent and aspiring minds, becomes now an inevitable and obvious result, instinctively felt and formally recognized by all. From the intellectual point of view it is nothing more than the distinction between theory and practice; a distinction which is already admitted more or less formally throughout civilized Europe in subjects of less importance; which therefore it would be unreasonable to abandon in the most difficult of all arts and sciences. Viewed socially, it implies the separation of education from action; or of morals from politics; and few would deny that the maintenance of this separation is one of the greatest blessings of our progressive civilization. The distinction is of equal importance to morality and to liberty. It is the only way of bringing opinion and conduct under the control of principle; for the most obvious application of a principle has little weight when it is merely an act of obedience to a special command. Taking the more general question of bringing our political forces into harmony, it seems clear that theoretical and practical power are so totally distinct in origin and operation, whether in relation to the heart, or intellect, or character, that the functions of counsel and of command ought never to belong to the same organs. All attempts to unite them are at once retrograde and visionary, and if successful would lead to the intolerable government of mediocrities equally unfit for either kind of power. But as I shall show in the following chapters this principle of separation will soon find increasing support among women and the working classes; the two elements of society in which we find the greatest amount of good sense and right feeling.

Modern society is, in fact, already ripe for the adoption of this fundamental principle of polity; and the opposition to it proceeds almost entirely from its connexion with the doctrines of the mediaeval church which have now become deservedly obsolete. But there will be an end of these revolutionary prejudices among all impartial observers as soon as the principle is seen embodied in Positivism, the only doctrine which is wholly disconnected with Theology. All human conceptions, all social improvements originated under theological influence, as we see proved clearly in many of the humblest details of life. But this has never prevented Humanity from finally appropriating to herself the results of the creeds which she has outgrown. And so it will be with this great political principle; it has already become obsolete except for the Positive school, which has verified inductively all the minor truths implied in it. The only direct attacks against it come from the metaphysicians, whose ambitious aspirations for absolute authority would be thwarted by it. It is they who attempt to fasten on Positivism the stigma of theocracy: a strange and in most cases disingenuous reproach, seeing that Positivists are distinguished from their opponents by discarding all beliefs which supersede the necessity for discussion. The fact is that serious disturbances will soon be caused by the pertinacious efforts of these adherents of pedantocracy to regulate by law what ought to be left to moral influences; and then the public will become more alive to the necessity of the Positivist doctrine of systematically separating political from moral government. The latter should be understood to rely exclusively on the forces of conviction and persuasion; its influence on action being simply that of counsel; whereas the former employs direct compulsion, based upon superiority of physical force.

We now understand what is meant by the constructive character of the second revolutionary phase. It implies a union of the social aspirations of the Middle Ages with the wise political instincts of the Convention. In the interval of these two periods the more advanced nations were without any systematic organization, and were abandoned to the two-fold process of transition, which was decomposing the old order and preparing the new. Both these preliminary steps are now sufficiently accomplished. The desire for social regeneration has become too strong to be resisted, and a philosophical system capable of directing it has already arisen. We may, therefore, recommence on a better intellectual and social basis the great effort of Catholicism, to bring Western Europe to a social system of peaceful activity and intellectual culture, in which Thought and Action should be subordinated to universal Love. Reconstruction will begin at the points where demolition began previously. The dissolution of the old organism began in the fourteenth century by the destruction of its international character. Conversely, reorganization begins by satisfying the intellectual and mental wants common to the five Western nations.

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