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 ~

UTURE OF SCI,
~ _
_—

“7

IDEAS OF 1848.

BY

ERNEST RENAN.

“ Hoe nunc os ex ossibus meis et caro de carne mea.”

TRANSLATED FROM THE FRENCH.

LONDON: CHAPMAN AND HALL, Limite A

-9
A
4 vy
a 1891.
~~ Translated by Avent D. Vaypay to page 284, C. B. Prrman from page 28
and Notes corresponding.
 ar

Ted ot By cet 0 C24ae

—_+o2———

THE year 1848 made an exceedingly keen impression

upon me. Until then I had never given a thought
to socialistic problems. Those problems, starting
from the earth, as it were, and frightening people,
got hold of my mind and became an integral part
of my philosophy. A paper on the study of Greek
in the Middle Ages which I had begun in answer
to a question of l’Académie des Inscriptions et Belles
_ Lettres had engrossed all my thoughts. After that I
passed my examination as Doctor of Philosophy
in September. ‘Towards October I felt myself again.
I felt the need of summing up in a volume the
new faith which with me had replaced shattered
Catholicism. This took me the last two months
of 1848 and the first four or five months of 1849.
The beginner’s naive but ambitious dream was to
publish that big volume there and then. On the
15th July, 1849, I gave an extract from it to La
Liberté de Penser with a note to the effect that the
volume would appear in a few weeks.
_ It was a great piece of presumption indeed.
About the time I wrote those lines, M. Victor Le
Clere bethought himself to have me, in conjunction
with my friend Charles Daremberg, entrusted with
 ”
- a
‘

v1 Preface.
various researches in the public libraries of Italy
in connection with the literary history of France
and a thesis I had begun on Averroism. This
journey which lasted eight months influenced my
mind very materially. The artistic side of life
which had till then been almost closed to me re-.
vealed itself resplendent and comforting. A fairy
wielding an enchanting power seemed to say to me
what the Church in her hymn says to the wood of
the Cross.
Flecte ramos, arbor alta,
Tensa laxa viscera,
Et rigor lentescat ille
Quem dedit nativitas.

A sort of soothing breeze made me unbend, nearly

all my illusions of 1848 vanished as utterly impossible
of realization. I became aware of the fatal necessities
of human society, resigned to a state of things in
which a great deal of evil is the necessary condition —
of a small amount of good, in which an imperceptible
quantity of aroma is extracted from an enormous
caput mortwum of spoiled matter.
I became reconciled in certain respects to the
reality, and when on my return I took up the book
written a twelvemonth before I found it to be harsh,
dogmatic, sectarian and hard.
My thought in its primary shape lay on my back
like a load sticking out on all sides and getting
entangled everywhere. My ideas too autocratic for —
conversation were still less fit for publication as a
whole. Germany, whose pupil I had been for some
years, had made me too much in her own image
and that in a kind of production in which she does
not shine, in “book-making.” I felt convinced
 rreface. Vil
that French readers would find all this insufferably
clumsy.
I consulted several friends, especially Augustin
Thierry, who treated me like a son. This worthy
man finally persuaded me not to make my entrée
in the literary world with this enormous bundle on
my head. He predicted a complete failure with the
public and advised me to proceed piecemeal, to con-
tribute to the Revue des Deux Mondes and to the
Journal des Débats articles on various subjects in
which I would get rid retail of the stock of ideas
which presented in compact bulk would inevitably
frighten the reader. The boldness of the theories
would in that way be less likely to shock people’s
notions. Men of the world often accept in small
doses what they refuse to swallow as a whole.
A little while after M. de Sacy encouraged me
to do the same thing. The old Jansenist was fully
- alive to my heresies. When I read my articles to
him I noticed his smile at every respectful or cajoling
sentence.
There is no doubt that the huge volume whence
all this came with its heavy style and very indifferent
literary form would have simply horrified him. It
was plain enough that if I meant to appeal to culti-
vated people, I should be bound to leave a great
deal of my baggage at the door. My ideas dawn
upon me in an involved way, they only become clear
after a labour similar to that of a gardener who
trims a tree, lops away its dead branches and trains
it against the wall.
In that way I retailed the huge volume which
thanks to sound advice and friendly counsel had
been consigned to the bottom of one of my drawers.
vill Preface.
The Coup d’Kitat which happened shortly after-
wards had the effect of binding me more firmly
to the. Revue Deuz Mondes and the Journal des
Débats, in my disgust at the people who on the 2nd
December greeted the signs of grief of the honest
citizen with ironical smiles. I was engrossed with
special studies, travel, my ‘‘ Origins of Christianity ”’
left me no time to think of anything else for twenty-
five years. I made up my mind that the old MSS.
should be published after my death, that it would
then afford pleasure to a select section of enlightened
minds, that it might succeed perhaps in fixing on
me once more that attention of the world of which
the dead stand in so much need in the unequal com-
petition the living thrust upon them in that respect.
My life having been prolonged beyond my expec-
tations I lately made up my mind to be my own
publisher. I flattered myself that perhaps some
people would read these ancient, honest pages not —
without profit to themselves and that the rising
generation especially, which seems to be somewhat
uncertain about its road, would be pleased to find
out how a young man, very frank and very sincere
thought forty years ago, face to face with himself
only. Young people like the work of young people.
In my writings intended for men and women of
the world I have been compelled to make many
sacrifices. In the following pages which have
undergone no process of boiling down the reader will
meet with the young, conscientious Breton lad who
one day ran away frightened from Saint-Sulpice
because he fancied that part of what his masters had
told him was perhaps not strictly true. A day may
come when the critics will maintain that the Revue
 Preface. ix:
des Dews Mondes and the Journal des Débats spoilt
me insomuch that they taught me to write, that is,
constantly to condense and prune my ideas. That
day they may perhaps like these pages for which I
only claim one merit, that of showing in his natural
and as yet uncorrupted state and suffering from
violent inflammation of the brain a young man living
solely with his own thoughts and believing frantically
in the truth.
In fact, the blemishes of this first work are
enormous, and if I had the slightest literary pride, I
should have suppressed it altogether. The way
I introduced my ideas lacks the commonest skill.
Jé is a dinner in which the primary materials are
good but which has been cooked and served up any-
how, the parings of the various ingredients not even
having been removed. I was too anxious not to lose
anything. Lest I should not be understood L insisted
too much, in order to drive home the nail I fancied
myself bound to knock with all my might. The art
of composing implying the cutting away of the
tangled growths that might obstruct the light in “‘ the
forest of thought’? was unknown to me. No one is
brief at his first start.
The clearness and tact exacted by the French
which, I am bound to confess, compel one to say
only part of what one thinks and are damaging to »
depth of thought seemed to me so much tyranny.
The French only care to express that which is clear,
as it happens the most important truths, those that
relate to the transformations of life are not clear; one
only perceives them in a kind of half-light. That is
why, after having been the first to perceive the truth
of what is called Darwinism nowadays, France has
b
x Preface.
been the last to rally toit. They saw it well ncaa 3
but it was out of the beaten track of the language, it
did not fit the mould of well-constructed phrases. In
that way France passed by the side of precious truths
not without seeing them, but simply flinging them
among the waste paper as useless or impossible to -
express. At the start I wanted to say everything
and I often said it badly. At the risk of tumbling into
the realm of the unintelligible I endeavoured to fix
the fleeting essence, hitherto considered. as not
worthy of consideration.
However much and wisely or the reverse I may
have modified my habits of style as regards exposition
as little have I changed my fundamental ideas from
the moment I began to think for myself. My religion
is now as ever the progress of reason, in other words
the progress of science. But in looking over these —
pages of my youth, I often found a certain confusion
which distorted certain deductions. Intensive cul-
ture constantly adding to the sum total of human ~
knowledge is not the same thing as extensive culture
disseminating that knowledge more and more for the —
welfare of the countless human beings in existence, —
The sheet of water in expanding continues to lose in
depth. Towards 1700 Newton had acquired views on
the system by which the earth was governed infinitely
superior to everything that had been thought out
before him without his matchless discoveries having in —
the least affected the education of the people. On the
other hand one might reasonably conceive a state of
exceedingly perfect elementary education without the
higher sciences deriving much benefit. therefrom.
Our real motive for advocating elementary education
is that a nation without education is fanatical and
~
Preface. be:
that fanatical nations are dangerous to science,
governments being in the habit of shackling freedom
of thought in the names of popular beliefs and the
so-called sanctity of family institutions.
Hence, the idea of a state of civilization with
a levelling mission, such as it is presented in a few
pages of this book is nothing more than a dream.
A school in which the pupils would make the laws
would be a sorry school indeed. Enlightenment,
morality, art will always be represented among
mankind by a magistracy, by a minority, preserving
the traditions of the true, the good and the beautiful.
But we must be on our guard against this magis-
tracy disposing of the public forces and appealing
to superstition and imposture in order to maintain
its power.
There were also a great many illusions in my
acceptance of the socialistic ideas of 1848 in bygone
days. While still believing that science alone is
capable of improving the unhappy lot of man here
below, I have ceased to believe in the solution of the
problem being as near as I believed it to be then.
Inequality is one of nature’s written laws, it is the
consequence of liberty and the liberty of the indi-
vidual is a necessary postulate of human progress.
This progress implies a great sacrifice of individual
happiness. The actual condition of humanity,
for instance, demands the maintenance of separate
nations which are establishments exceedingly heavy
to bear. A condition which would afford the
greatest possible happiness to individuals would
probably, from the point of view of the ennobling
pursuits of mankind, be a condition of profound
abasement. r
Sil Preface.
The main error with which these old pages teem.
is an exaggerated optimism which fails or is deter-—
mined not to see that evil still exists and that we
have to pay dearly, that is in privileges, the power
that protects us against this evil. The reader will
also notice an old leaven of Catholicism; the idea
that we shall behold once more the age of belief when
a compulsory and universal religion will prevail as it
prevailed in the first half of the Middle Ages.
Heaven preserve us from being saved in that fashion.
Uniformity of belief, that is, fanaticism, can only
come back in this world of ours in company with the
ignorance and credulity of bygone centuries. I would
by far have an immoral people than a fanatical
people for immoral masses are by no means difficult
to deal with while fanatical masses reduce the world
to a state of imbecility, and a world condemned to
a state of imbecility has no longer any claim on my
interest; I would as lief see it perish. Let us
suppose every orange tree to be smitten with a
disease impossible of cure except on the condition —
of its no longer producing oranges. It would be so —
much time wasted seeing that the orange tree which
does not produce oranges is worthless.
In order not to make this publication utterly
devoid of all interest I had-to submit to one con-
dition, namely ; to reproduce my essay in its simple,
matted, often abrupt form. I might just as well have
written a new book as have attempted to correct
numberless inaccuracies, to modify a great number
of thoughts which at present appear to me either —
expressed in an exaggerated manner or which are no
longer just, and moreover the framework of my old |
essay is by no means such as I would choose to-
 » Preface. xiii
day.* Hence, I confined myself to the striking out
of mistakes resulting from carelessness, those big
blunders which one only notices in proof and which
would assuredly have been corrected if I had pub-
lished the book in times gone by. I have left the
notes as a whole at the end of the volume. Many a
passage will provoke a smile on the reader’s part. It
will make no difference to me as long as he, the
reader, acknowledges that these pages contain the
expression of great intellectual rectitude and perfect
sincerity.
A great difficulty resulting from my decision of
‘printing my purana as it stands was the resemblance
between certain pages of the present work and many
of works. published before, a resemblance which
cannot fail to strike the reader. Besides the fragment
published in La Liberté de Penser which has been
reproduced in my ‘‘ Contemporary Essays,’’ there are
many other passages that have found their way
either as regards the mere idea or as regards both the
idea and its expression in several of my writings,
notably in those belonging to my first period. I tried
at first to excise this dualism, but it soon became
patent to me that the book would not stand on its
legs at all in that way. The parts that had been re-
peated were the most important, the whole structure,
like a wall from which the most necessary stones
have been abstracted, was toppling over. ‘The
simplest way out of the difficulty, I thought, was to
appeal to the indulgence of the reader. ‘Those who
* T have left all the passages in which I presented German
culture as being synonymous with aspiration towards the ideal-
istic. They were true when I peuned them. It is not I who
have changed.
xiv Preface.
do me the honour of reading my writings in the order —
they were written will, I trust, pardon those repeti-
tions, if the present volume should succeed in show-
ing them my ideas arranged and combined in a way |
that may present something novel and interesting
to them.
In attempting to strike a balance between what
has remained merely so much vision and what has
been realized in those dreams of half a century ago
I must confess to a feeling of appreciable moral
satisfaction. After all, I was right, Hxcepting a
few disappointments progress has travelled on the
lines laid down in my imagination. At that period
I did not see sufficiently clearly what man had left
behind in the purely animal kingdom, I had not a
sufficiently clear perception of the inequality of races
but I had a just conception of what I may call the
origin of life.
I perceived well enough that everything is accom-
plished in humanity and nature, that creation has no
part nor parcel in the series of effects and causes. —
Too little of a naturalist to track the paths of life in
the labyrinth which we see without seeing it, I was —
a determined evolutionist in all that appertains to the
productions of humanity, language, literature, social
forms, writings, I began to perceive that the mor-
phological draughtboard of the vegetal and animal
Species was indeed the indication of a genesis; that
everything is born in accordance with a design of
which we can only see the obscure canvas. The
aim of science is an immense development of which
the cosmological sciences give us the first perceptible
links, of which history proper shows us the last ex-
pansions. Like Hegel I made the mistake of being
 Preface. Xv
too confident in attributing to mankind a central
part in the universe.
The whole of human development may be of no
more consequence than the moss or lichen with
which every-moist surface is covered. To us, though,
the history of man stands first and foremost, seeing
that humanity alone creates the conscience of the
universe. A plant’s only worth lies in its producing
flowers, fruit, aroma, nourishing tubercules, which
are of no account as a mass, if they are compared to
the mass of the plant itself, but which possess the
character of finality in a much greater degree than
the leaves, branches and trunk.
Historical science and its auxiliaries, philological
sciences, have made immense conquests since I took
to them so fondly forty years ago. But the end can
_ already be foreseen. In another century mankind
will pretty well know everything that can be known
about its past; and then it will be time to stop,
because the tendency of these studies is to begin
their own destruction the moment they have reached
comparative perfection. The danger of a revival of
superstition will alone keep up the habit of critical
disquisition at first hand.
The history of religion has been cleared up in its
most important branches. It has become patent, not
from a priori arguments, but from the very discussion
of evidence that in the centuries open to men’s
researches there has been neither revelation nor
supernatural fact. The onward course of civilization
has been made manifest in its general laws. The
inferiority of certain races to others is proved. The
claims of each human family to a more or less
honourable mention in the history of progress are
pretty well decided.
xvi Preface.
With regard to the political and social sciences,
one may safely say that progress during the last
forty years has been slow. The old political economy
whose pretensions were so noisily shouted forth in
1848, has been wrecked. Socialism which has been
taken up again by the Germans so earnestly and
with so much study continues to trouble the world
without arriving at a clear solution. Prince Bismarck
who was to have stopped its progress in five years by
means of repressive legislation has evidently been
mistaken, at any rate this time. What appears very
probable indeed is that there will be no end of.
socialism. But assuredly the socialism that will gain
the victory will be different from the Utopism of
1848. A keen observer might have seen in the year
800 of our era that Christianity will not end, but
ought also to have seen that the world will not end,
that the latter will adapt the former to its needs and
out of a belief destructive of all society, will make
a sedative, a political machine, conservative to a
degree.
In politics the situation is by no means more
clear. The national principle has since 1848 been
developed to an extraordinary extent. Representa-
tive government is established nearly everywhere.
But evident signs of the fatigue caused by national
burdens are looming on the horizon. Patriotism is
becoming local, national enthusiasm decreases.
Modern nations resemble the heroes borne down by
their armour, on the tomb of Maximilian at Inns-
bruck, ricketty bodies with iron masters over them.
France who was the pioneer on that road will,
following ordinary laws be the first to react against
the movement she started. In fifty years the
 Pr reface. xvi
national principle will be on the decline. The
terrible harshness of the proceedings by which the
ancient monarchial States obtained the sacrifice of
the individual will have become impossible in free
States; scarcely any one nowadays cares to provide
the materials for those towers of Tamerlane, built up
with corpses. In fact, it has become too clear that
the happiness of the individual is not in direct pro-
portion to the grandeur of the nation to which he
belongs, and as a rule one generation cares very little
about the why or wherefore a preceding generation
has sacrificed its life.
These variations spring from the uncertainty of
our ideas with regard to the object to be attained and
the higher end of humanity. Between the two.
objects held out by political life, the grandeur of
nations, and welfare of individuals the choice is
prompted by interest or passion. There is no hint
afforded to us either as to nature’s will or the aim
of the universe. For us, idealists, there exists but
one true doctrine, the transcendental doctrine accord-
ing to which the aim of humanity consists in consti-
tuting a loftier consciousness of the universe, or as
we used to say, the highest glory of God; but it is
very clear that this doctrine will afford no basis for a
_ practical policy. Such an aim must, on the contrary,
be carefully dissimulated. Men would revolt if they
knew they were being thus exploited.
How long will national spirit be able to hold out
against individual egotism? Who, in centuries to
come, will have served humanity most, the patriot,
the liberal, the reactionary, the savant? No one
knows and still it would be a capital thing to know,
for what is good in one of these hypotheses is bad
Xviil Preface.
in the other. One works the switches without know-
ing whither one wants to go. According to the goal
to be reached France is doing either detestable or
excellent work. Other nations are more enlightened.
Politics are like a desert in which one marches at
random towards the north or towards the south; for
we must keep on marching. No one knows where
the good lies in the social order. There is one
comfort, one is sure to land somewhere. In the kind
of rifle competition with which humanity is amusing
itself the mark hit is supposed to be the mark aimed
at. In that way the good and true men always have
a clear conscience. For the rest, in the existing
state of general doubt, liberty in any case, has its
value, since it is a means of allowing free play to the
secret spring which moves humanity, and carries it
along with or against its will.
To sum up; if through the constant labour of the
nineteenth century the knowledge of facts has con-
siderably increased, the destiny of mankind has on ~
the other hand become more obscure than ever. The
serious thing is that we fail to perceive a means of
providing humanity in the future with a catechism
that will be acceptable henceforth, except on the
condition of returning to a state of credulity. Hence,
it is possible that the ruin of idealistic beliefs may
be fated to follow hard upon the ruin of supernatural
beliefs and that the real abasement of the morality
of humanity will date from the day it has seen the
reality of things. Chimeras have succeeded in
obtaining from the good gorilla an astonishing moral
effort; do away with the chimeras and part of the
factitious energy they aroused will disappear. Even
glory, a8 a motive-power implies in some respects
 Preface. : Sie
immortality, the fruit of it generally coming only
after death. Suppress the alcohol on which the
workman has hitherto relied for his strength, but
you must not ask him for the same amount of
work.
Candidly speaking, I fail to see how, without the
ancient dreams, the foundations of a happy and noble
life are to be relaid. The hypothesis that the true
sage would be he who, barring to himself all distant
horizons, would confine himself to the perspective
of mere vulgar gratification, this perspective, I say,
is absolutely repugnant to us. However, man’s
happiness and noble aims have rested before now on
false foundations. The wisest thing to do, then, is
to go on enjoying the supreme gifts vouchsafed to
us, life and the faculty of seeing the reality. Science
will always remain the gratification of the noblest ¢
craving of our nature; curiosity; it will always
supply man with the sole means of improving his lot.
It protects him against error, though it may not
reveal the truth to him, but there is an advantage
in being certain of not being duped. Man fashioned
according to this discipline is on the whole a better
man than the instinctive man of the ages of faith.
He is not subject to the errors to which the un-
cultured fatally yield, he is more enlightened, he
commits fewer crimes, he is less sublime, but he is
also less ridiculous. All this, it will be said, is not
worth the heaven science takes away from us. First
of all, who knows whether it does take it away;
secondly people are none the poorer for being robbed
of bogus shares and false banknotes. A little true
science is better than a great deal of bad science.
One is less liable to error by confessing one’s ignor-
XX Preface.
ance than by fancying that one knows a great many
things one knows not.
Consequently I was right at the outset of my
intellectual career firmly to believe in science and to
make it the object of my life. If I had to begin
again I should do exactly as I have done, and during
the little time that remains to me I shall go on as I
began.
Immortality means to labour at a lasting work.
According to the primitive Christian idea, the true
one, only those shall rise again who have contributed
to the divine work; furthering God’s kingdom on
earth. The punishment of the wicked and frivolous
will be utter annihilation. Here a formidable objec- .
tion starts up against us. Can science be more.ever-
lasting than humanity whose end is written down
from the very fact of its having had a beginning?
It matters not ; human reason has not been engaged
consecutively for more than a hundred years on the
problem of matters mundane. It has already made
some wonderful discoveries that have increased man’s
power a: hundred, nay a thousandfold. What then
will it be a hundred thousand years hence? And
pray remember that no truth is ever lost, that no
error ever strikes root. All this makes us feel secure.
We are really afraid of nothing except of the falling-
in of the sky, and even if the sky came crashing
down we should still go to sleep quietly with the
thought, ‘‘ The Being of whom we were the transitory
blossom has always been, always will be.”
 Preface. | wai
To Monsieur Eugéne Burnouf, Member of the eae
Professor at the Collége de France.
Monstevr,
During the last twelvemonth my thoughts
have frequently gone back to that memorable 35th
February 1848, when after having scaled the barri-
cades to get to the Collége de France we found our
modest room transformed into a guardroom, to which
we were welcomed like so many suspected individuals.
That day I asked myself more seriously than ever
whether a man could do better than devote every
- moment of his life to study and to thought, and after
‘having consulted my conscience and strengthened
my faith in human intellect, I resolutely answered ;
“No.” If science were nothing more than an agree-
able pastime, a kind of diversion for the idle, a mere
costly ornament, a hobby for the amateur, in short
the least vain of all vanities, there might be times
when the savant would have occasion to say with
the poet ;
«“ Shame to him who sings, the while Rome burns.”

But if science be a serious matter, if the destinies

of mankind and the perfection of the individual be
bound up with it, if it be a religion, it has like
matters of religion its value every day, every moment
of our lives. To devote to study and intellectual
culture only our moments of peace and leisure is an
insult to the human intellect, it is tacitly supposing
that there is something more important than the
pursuit of truth. If such were indeed the case, if
science were only a matter of second rate importance
how could the man who has resolved to devote his
xxi Preface.
life to the attainment of the perfect, who wishes to
be able to say at his last moments; ‘“‘I have accom-
plished my task,” how could that man devote so
much as a single hour to it, when he knows that
higher duties claim him ? .
That revolutions and the dread of the future
offer a temptation to science ignorant of its aim,
to science that has never endeavoured to ascertain
its own value and true significance, is easily under-
stood. As for serious and philosophical science
which responds to a want of human nature, no social
upheavals will succeed in affecting it, they may, on
the contrary, be of use to it, by causing it to take
itself to task, to verify its titles, to be no longer
satisfied with the mere perfunctory judgment on
which it was wont to base itself formerly.
These are the reflections, Monsieur, I have made ~
for myself, while remaining isolated and calm amidst
the universally prevailing agitation; and which I have
embodied in these pages. Thanks to the sentiments
with which they have inspired me, I have gone
through many a sad. day without cursing any one, full ~
of trust in the natural rectitude of human reason and
its necessary tendency towards a more enlightened,
consequently a more moral and happier state. I
hesitated a good deal before making up my mind to
disclose in this way the thoughts of my youth, the
critic of which I may become perhaps when older,
and which no doubt will have but scant value to
those further advanced on the road of science. Still,
I fancied that some young people enamoured of the
beautiful and true might derive comfort and strength
from this confidence of mine amidst the struggles
which every distinguished mind is bound to wage ata
 Preface. XXili
certain age in order to find out and to shape for him-
self the ideal of his life. I also wanted, at the outset
of my scientific career to proclaim my deeply rooted
belief in human reason and modern intelligence,
at a moment when so many faint-hearted brethren
drop tired and spent into the arms of those who
profess to regret ignorance while they anathematize
criticism. JI would fain warn those who take advan-
tage of our weakness, who discount beforehand our
misfortunes, who found their hopes on the intellectual
fatigue and depression resulting from great suffering,
I would fain warn those against thinking that the
generation just entering upon “the life of thought”
is theirs. We shall be able to uphold the tradition of
the modern spirit both against those who wish to
bring back the past and against who those aim at
substituting for our living multiple civilization a kind
of architectural and petrified condition of society like
that in which the pyramids were built.
It is not a mere commonplace sentiment which
prompts the dedication of this essay to you. It was
really thought out before you. Whenever, in my
inward hesitations, my scientific ideal seemed to
become obscured the thought of you was sufficient
to dispel the clouds, you were the answer to all my
doubts. It is your image I have had constantly
before me when trying to express the lofty ideal
which conceives life not as a part to be played or
‘as an intrigue to be accomplished successfully, but as
something earnest and true. In listening to your
lectures on the most beautiful of languages and
literatures of the primitive world I realized what
until then had been only a dream; science becom-
ing philosophy and the highest results springing from
the most scrupulous analysis of details.

Oe
)
bai
Cx Preface. i
It is to this living proof that I would invite all those
whom I may not be able to convince of my favourite _
thesis; that the science of the human intellect —
must be above all the history of the human intellect;
and this history only becomes possible by the patient _
and philological study of the works it has produced —
at its different epochs.
Believe me, Monsieur,
_ Your respectful and admiring pupil,
ERNEST RENAN.

Paris, March, 1849.

 THE FUTURE OF SCIENCE.

CHAPTER I.

‘BUT ONE THING IS NEEDFUL.” I grant in its widest

philosophical bearing this precept of the Great
Teacher of morality. I look upon it as the principle
of every life striving to be noble, as the expressive
‘formula—though dangerous in its briefness—éf
human natyre from the point of view of morality
and duty./ The first step of him who aspires to
wisdom, as respectable antiquity expressed it, is to
divide his life into two parts; the first, commonplace
and having nothing sacred in it, consisting of wants
and indulgences of an inferior order (material exist-
ence, pleasure, wealth, etc.) ; the other, which may
be termed the ideal one, heavenly, divine, disin-
terested, taking as its aim the purer forms of truth,
beauty, moral goodness. ) In other words, to employ
the most comprehensive expression hallowed ‘by
reverence in the past, God Himself; God Himself,
~ ever felt, ever perceived, ever touched in His thousand
forms by the intelligent perception of all that is true,
by the love of all that is beautiful. This is the great
_ opposition of the body and the soul recognized by all
religions, by all lofty philosophical systems; an
opposition superficial indeed if it be meant to denote
a dual substance in the human being, but perfectly
true, if judiciously enlarging the sense of these two
B

‘7
2 The Future of Science.
words and applying them to two orders of phenomena,
we take them as signifying the two roads of life open
to, man. To admit the distinction between these
two roads, is tantamount to admitting that the
higher life, the ideal one is everything, and that
the lower, the life spent in pursuit of pleasure and
interest is nothing, that the latter disappears before
the former as the finite before the infinite, and that
if practical wisdom commands us to think of it, it 1s
only in view and as a condition of the first-named.
I am ‘aware that, by ieading off with such
ponderous truths I have virtually written myself
down a slow-coach. But I am _ utterly without
shame on this point. For many years already I
have elected to take my stand among the simple
and dull-witted who. take things conscientiously.
I am sufficiently weak-minded to look upon that
pretence at delicacy which refuses to take life as a
serious and sacred business as unbecoming, and very
easy to imitate; and if there were no alternative I
should prefer the most narrow dogmatism to this
flippancy which one honours too much by calling it
scepticism, the more appropriate names for it being
sheer folly and trash. If it were true that human
life is nothing more than a profitless succession of —
vulgar facts without any higher worth than that
derived from the senses, the first serious reflection
would lead man to make away with himself; there
would be no choice between intoxication, a tyrannical
occupation of one’s every moment and suicide. To
live the intellectual life, to inhale the infinite through
every pore, to endeavour to realize the beautiful, to
attain the perfect, each according to his ability, that —
is the only thing needful; all the rest is vanity and —
vexation of spirit. ,
Christian asceticism in proclaiming this grand
simplification of life understood the one thing —
needful in so narrow a spirit that its principle aSee
became in the course of time a galling yoke to the —
human intellect. Not only did it wholly neglect
e
 The Future of Science. 3
the true and the beautiful (philosophy, science,
poetry being mere “ vanities’), but in clinging
exclusively to the good, it conceived it in the
meanest spirit. The good according to it meant the
realization of the will of a superior being, a kind of
subjection humiliating to human dignity; because
the realization of moral good no more means obedi-
ence to imposed laws than the realization of the
beautiful in a work of art means the carrying out of
certain rules. Consequently human nature was
mangled in its most noble members. In matters
intellectual, which are all equally holy, a distinction
was made between the sacred and the profane. The
_ profane, thanks to the instincts of nature which
happened to be stronger than the principles of an
artificial asceticism, was not altogether banished;
though “vanity,” it was tolerated; sometimes
_ Christian asceticism went even so far as to call it the
least vain of vanities, but if it had been consistent
the profane would have been pitilessly proscribed;
it was considered a mere weakness of which the
ascetically perfect would have none. It was a fatal
distinction which poisoned the existence of many free
and beautiful natures born to relish the ideal in all
its infinity and whose lives were spent in sadness,
crushed in the grip of the fatal vice. Oh, the
struggles it has cost me! The first philosophical
victory of my youth was to proclaim from the depth
of my conscience that, ‘“‘Everything appertaining to
_ the soul is sacred.” :
_ Hence, it is no narrow limit which I am laying
_ down for human nature in suggesting to its activity
one thing only as being worthy of it, for this sole
thing contains the infinite. It only excludes the
commonplace, which has no value except in so far
as it is felt and at the moment it is felt ; and this
inferior sphere is far more circumscribed than is
generally believed. There are very few things in
human life altogether profane. Our moral and
‘intellectual progress will disclose new standpoints
|
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7
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4 The Future. of Science.
that will invest acts in appearance most homely with
an ideal-value. Has not Christianity, aided by the ~
instincts of the Celtic and Germanic races, raised to
the dignity of an esthetic and moral sentiment a
fact viewed by the whole of antiquity—with the
exception of Plato perhaps—as a mere gratification
of the senses? Has not the act of nutrition, the
most material of life, received a most admirable mystic
significance at the hands of the first Christians? ©
Manual labour which nowadays is scarcely anything
else but an irksome and brutalizing penalty to those
condemned to it, was not such to the craftsmen of :
the Middle Ages who built cathedrals singing as
they built. Who knows but what one day the sight
of the general welfare of humanity for whom the
work is constructed may soften and sanctify the sweat
on the workman’s brow? For from the point of view
of humanity the most lowly works have an ideal
worth seeing that they are the means or at any rate
the implied condition of mental conquest. The |
sanctifying of the material lower life by outward
ceremonies and practices is a trait common to all
religions. The progress of rationalism at once— —
and without much merit-—proclaimed these cere- —
monies so many acts of pure superstition. What —
has been the result? Baulked in its attempts
ati idealizing, life has become something profane,
vulgar, prosaic, so much so that for certain acts in —
which the need of religious significance was more
deeply felt, such as for instance in birth, marriage,
and death, the world has preserved the ancient
ceremonies, though it may no longer have faith in ~
their efficacy. I am inclined to think that eventual
progress will reconcile those two tendencies by sub-
stituting moral sentiment in all its purity for sacra- —
mental acts, whose only value lies in their signification,
and which viewed in their material execution are
utterly inefficacious. 7
Hence, everything connected with the higher life
of man, the life by which he is distinguished from
|. . The Future of Science. Ly;
the animal, is sacred and deserving of the passionate
devotion of high-minded natures. A beautiful sen-
H timent is worth a beautiful thought; a beautiful
¢

$ thought is worth a beautiful action. A system of

7 philosophy is worth a poem, a poem is worth a
scientific discovery; a life spent in the pursuit of
‘sclence 1s as good as a life spent in the practice
of virtue. The perfect man will be he who is a poet,
a philosopher, a savant, and a virtuous man in one
and that not at intervals (periodically) and at distinct
moments—tfor in that case he would only be such in
a restricted sense—but by an intimate simultaneous
interpenetration at every moment of his life, who will
be a poet at the same time that he is a philosopher,
a philosopher at the same time that he is a savant, in
whom, in one word, all the elements of humanity will
be blended in a superior harmony, as in collective
humanity itself. The weakness of our age of analysis
does not allow of such an elevated degree of unity;
life has become a trade, a profession, a man is com-
pelled to advertise his title as a poet, artist or savant,
create for himself a little world of his own in which
he lives apart without understanding anything be-
yond, nay, often denying that anything beyond
exists. ‘That this is a necessity of the actual con-
dition of the human intellect, it is impossible to
deny; nevertheless we are bound to admit that such
a system of life, though warranted by the necessity
of it, is contrary to human dignity and the per-
fection of the individual. Tested as man a Newton,
a Cuvier, a Heyne sounds less beautiful than an
antique sage, a Solon or a Pythagoras for instance.
The final aim of man is not to know, to feel, to
imagine, but to be perfect, that is, to be man in
.every acceptation of the word; to represent in an
individual type a condensed picture of complete
humanity, and to show blended in one powerful unit
all the aspects of life which humanity has sketched
at different epochs and places.’ Man too frequently
fancies that morality and morality alone constitutes
6 The Future of Science.
perfection, that the pursuit of the true and the
beautiful is nothing more than a mere enjoyment,
that the upright man is the perfect man, such, for
instance, as the Moravian brother. The model of
perfection is afforded to us by humanity itself, the
most perfect life is that which best represents the
whole of humanity. And cultured humanity is not
only moral, it is also learned, inquiring, poetical,
impassioned.
To think that the individual man may one day
embrace the whole field of intellectual culture would
no doubt be carrying one’s hopes for the future of
humanity beyond the limits observed by the boldest
Utopian. But there are in the various branches
of art and science two totally distinct elements
which though equally necessary to the production
of work scientific or artistic, contribute in a very un-
equal measure to the perfection of the individual;
there is on one side the technical process, the prac-
tical skill, indispensable to the discovery of the true,
the realization of the beautiful; on the other the
mind that creates and animates, the soul that breathes
life into the work of art, the great law that lends
significance and value to such and such a scientific
discovery. It will always be impossible for the same
man to handle with the same skill the painter’s
brush, the musician’s instrument, the chemist’s ap-
paratus. In all this there is a special education and
a practical skill which, to become spontaneous habit
calling for no previous consideration demands a life’s
practice. But that which may become possible in a
more advanced form of intellectual culture is the: |
sentiment that endows the composition of the poet
or artist with life, the penetration of the philosopher
or the savant, the moral sense of a lofty nature being
united in order to make but one soul, sympathetic
with everything that is good, true and beautiful, to
constitute a moral type of humanity in the agere-
gate, an ideal which without being realized in this
man or that may be to the future generations what
 The Future of Science. 7
Christ has been to the past eighteen centuries,
namely—a Christ who would no longer represent
only the moral side in its highest power, but further-
more the zxsthetic and scientific side of humanity.
For after all, all these categories. of pure forms
perceptible to the intellect constitute but the facets
of a same unity. Divergence only begins at a lower
level. There is a great central focus in which
poetry, science and morality are identical, in which
to know, to admire, and to love are one and the
same thing, in which all opposing sentiments drop
away, in which human nature recognizes the high
harmony of all its faculties and that grand act
of adoration which sums up the tendency of its
whole being towards the everlasting infinite, in the
identity of its aim. The saint is he who devotes his
life to this grand ideal and votes all the rest useless.
Pascal has shown the necessarily pernicious circle
of the positive life in a masterly way. Man labours
to obtain rest and then rest becomes unbearable. He
does not enjoy life, but only expects to enjoy it. The
fact is that worldly people have no well defined
system of life—at any rate, as far as I can see.
They cannot exactly say what is essential, what is
accessory, they are not sure what is the end and
what the means. Wealth cannot be the final aim
seeing that it has no value except in the enjoyments
it procures. Nevertheless, we see the most serious
faculties frittered away in the acquisition of wealth
and pleasure is looked upon as a relaxation only for
lost moments and useless years. The philosopher
and the religious man only can take their fill of rest
at any moment, seize upon and profit by the fleeting
hour without postponing anything to the future.
A man said once to a philosophe r of antiquity that
he did not think he was born to be a philosopher .
“You poor, unfortunate mortal,” replied the sage ;
“for what then do you think you were born?” No
doubt if philosophy were a specialty, a profession
like any other, if to philosophize meant to study
8 The Future. of Science.
or to seek the solution of a certain number of more
or less important questions, then the reply of the
sage would be singularly nonsensical. And yet if
we understand philosophy in its proper sense, the
man who is not a philosopher, that is, who has not
succeeded in grasping the loftier meaning of life
is indeed a wretched being. A great many people
equally willingly give up the title of poet. If to be
a poet meant the skilful use of the mechanism of
language they would be excusable. But if we under-
stand by poetry the soul’s faculty of being touched in
a certain way, of yielding a response of a particular
and undefinable nature when face to face with the
beauty of things, he who is not a poet is not a man,
and to give up the title is tantamount to abdicating
voluntarily the dignity of his nature.
If needs were illustrious examples could be found
to prove that this lofty harmony of the powers of
human nature is not an idle fancy. The lves of men
of genius nearly always present the delightful sight
of vast intellectual capacity allied to very lofty
poetical sentiment and charming good nature, to a
degree such as to make in most cases their lives in
their serene and sweet tranquillity their most beautiful
work of all and an essential part of their complete
works. Really and truly the words poetry, philo-
sophy, art, science do not signify so much diverse
objects offered to the intellectual activity of man as
different ways of looking at the same object which
is simply existence itself in all its manifestations.
That is why there is no great philosopher who is not
at the same time a poet; the great artist is often
much more of a philosopher than those who bear the
name. All these are merely so many different forms,
which like those of literature are capable of express-
ing everything. Béranger found means to say every-
thing in the guise of songs, another haply in the
guise of novels, a third in the guise of history. All
genius is universal with regard to the object of its
efforts and the-small minds are just as wrong in trying
 The Future of Science. 9
to establish the exclusive pre-eminence of their art as
the great men are right in maintaining that their art
is the whole of man, seeing that it enables them, in
fact to express that which cannot be divided ;namely
—the soul, God.
Nevertheless one is bound to admit that the secret
to blend those diverse elements is as yet, not found.
In the actual condition of human intelligence a nature
too richly endowed suffers constant martyrdom. The
man born with one eminent faculty which absorbs
all the others is far happier than the one who is
always discovering within himself new wants which
he cannot satisfy. He would need one life to acquire
knowledge, another to feel and to love, a third to
act, or to speak correctly he would like to lead
abreast a series of parallel existences, while still
possessing in one superior unity the simultaneous
consciousness of each of these. Limited by time and
extraneous necessities, his concentrated activity
burns itself out inwardly. He requires so much time
to live for himself that he finds none to live for the
outer world. He does not wish to lose an atom of°
this all-devouring, multiple existence which escapes
him and which he himself devours hurriedly and
greedily. He rolls from one world on to another
or rather worlds badly harmonized jostle one another
in his breast. He envies in turns—for he is capable
_ of understanding in turns-—the simple soul that lives
by love and faith, the virile nature that takes life like
a muscular athlete, the critical and penetrating
intellect which enjoys the handling of its exact and
certain instrument at leisure. Then, when he finds
-out the impossibility of realizing this multiple ideal,
when he sees how short, how fatally incomplete, how
necessarily divided is life, when he reflects that whole
sides of his rich and fruitful nature will never emerge
from semi-obscurity a reaction sets in full of un-
paralleled bitterness. He anathematizes this super-
abundance of life which only leads to his wearing him-
self out without result, or if he throws his energy on
 = a “wa
t eats,»

10 The Future of Science. =a

some extraneous work, he still suffers in being unable _
to throw more than a part of himself into it. No ~
sooner has he realized one side of life than a thousand
others just as beautiful flash upon, deceive and lead ©4
him on in their turn until the day comes when heis —
bound to give up and when casting a glance behind
he can say at last with some comfort to himself; ‘“ I
have lived a great deal.’ It is the first time he has
found his reward. .
_ din
‘
: The Future of Science. 11

CHAPTER I.
To know is the keyword of the creed of natural
religion ; for to know is the first condition of the
commerce of mankind with the things that are, of
the penetrating study of the universe, which is the
intellectual life of the individual; to know is self-
initiation to God. By ignorance man is as it were
sequestrated from nature, shut up within himself, and
reduced to make himself a fanciful non-ego on the
model of his personality. Hence arises the strange
world in which infancy lives, in which primitive
man lived. Man is only capable of communing with
things by knowledge and love; without science he
only loves so many chimeras. Science only can
supply the foundation of reality necessary to life. If
_ like Leibnitz we conceive the individual soul as a
mirror in which the universe is reflected, it is by
science that it will be able to reflect a smaller or
greater portion of what is, and travel towards its
final aim; namely, towards its perfect harmony
with the universality of things.
To know is of all acts of life the least profane, for
it is the most disinterested, the most independent
of gratifications, the most objective, to employ the
language of the schools. It is a waste of time to
prove its sanctity, for those only for whom there
is nothing sacred would dream of denying it. Those
who go no further than the mere facts of human
nature without venturing upon a qualification on the
value of things, even those will not deny that science
 oe
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12 The Future of Science.
at any rate is the first and foremost necessity of man-
kind. Man face to face with things is necessarily
impelled to seek their secret. The problem suggests
itself, and that by virtue of man’s faculty of pene-
trating beyond the phenomenon he perceives. It is
first of all nature itself which whets this craving to
know, and he attacks the latter with the impatience
bred of a naive presumption, which fancies itself able
to draw up a system of the universe at the first
attempt and in a few pages. Then his curiosity is
tempted by the wish to know all about himself, and
much later on by the desire to solve the problem of
his species, of humanity at large, of its history.
Then comes the final problem, the great cause, the
supreme law. ‘The problem gets varied, grows larger
and larger, according to the horizons appertaining to
each age, but it never ceases suggesting itself; face
to face with the unknown man always experiences a
dual sentiment; a reverence for the mysterious, a
noble recklessness that prompts him to rend the veil
in order to know what is beyond it.
To remain indifferent face to face with the uni-
verse is utterly impossible to man. As soon as he
begins to think, he begins to seek, he puts problems
to himself and solves them; he must needs have —
a system on the world, on himself, on the primary
cause, on his origin, on his end. He lacks the
necessary data to answer the questions he puts to
himself, but no matter. He supplies them himself. —
Hence, primitive religions, improvised solutions of
a problem that required long centuries of research,
but to which an immediate answer was necessary. —
The scientific method is capable of resigning itself —
to no-knowledge, or it does at any rate submit to —
delay; primitive science wanted there and then to
grasp the meaning of things. In fact, to ask man
to adjourn certain problems, to postpone to future
centuries the knowledge of what he is, what kind of
place he occupies in the world, what is the cause
of the world and of himself, to ask him to do this
 ee
a To
The Future of Science. 13
_ is to ask him to achieve the impossible. Even if he
_ did get to know the enigma insoluble, one could not
prevent him from worrying and wearing himself out
about it.
I am aware that there is something irreverent,
something unlawful, something savouring of high
* treason against the divine in this bold act of man
by which he endeavours to penetrate the mystery of
things. At any rate that is how all ancient peoples
looked at it. According to them science was a robbery
committed to the prejudige of God, an act of de-
fiance and disobedience.f In the beautiful myth
with which the Pentateuch opens, it is the genius
_ of evil-that prompts man to emerge from his state
of innocent ignorance in order to become like God
by the knowledge distinct and antithetic of good and
evil. The fable of Prometheus has no other meaning
than that; the conquests of civilization presented
as an attempt against, an illicit rape upon, a jealous
_ divinity who wished to keep them to himself.
Hence, the proud character of daring against the
gods borne by the first inventors, hence, the theme
developed in so many mythological legends: that
the wish for a better state is the source of all evil
in the world. It will be easily understood that,
antiquity not having the ‘‘ key-word”’ of the enigma,
progress was, as it were, bound to feel a respectful
dread in shattering the barriers erected, according
to it by a superior power, that not daring to rely
upon the future for a state of happiness, it conceived
it as having existed in a primitive golden age (1),
that it should have said, Audax Iapeti genus, that
it called the conquest of the perfect a vetvtwm nefas.
Humanity, in those days, had the sentiment of the
obstacle, not that of victory, but though calling
itself all the while audacious and daring, it kept
marching onward and onward. As for us who have
reached the grand moment of our consciousness, it
is no longer a question of saying, ‘ Calum wsum
petimus stultitia!” and to go on committing sacri-

"%
14 The Future of Science. ..
i
leges as it were. We must proceed with proudly
uplifted head and fearlessly towards that which is
ours and when we do violence to things in order to
drag their secret from them, feel perfectly convinced
that we are acting for ourselves, for them and for God.
Man does not at once become fully conscious of
his strength and creative power. Among primitive
peoples, all the marvellous exploits of the human
intellect are attributed to the Divinity; the wise
men believe themselves inspired and thoroughly con-
vinced of their mysterious relations with higher beings
and boast of them. Often the supernatural agents
themselves are credited with the authorship of works
that seemingly exceed the powers of man. In
Homer it is Hephestos who creates all the inge-
nious mechanisms. ‘The credulous centuries of me-
dizevalism attribute all eminent science or all skill
above the common level to secret faculties, to com-
merce with the Evil One. As a rule the non-reflect-
ing or ‘‘little-reflecting’’ centuries are given to
substitute theological for psychological explanations.
It seems natural to believe that grace comes from
on high; it is only later on discovered to emanate
from the inmost conscience. The untutored fancies
that the dew drops from the sky; he scarcely believes
the savant who assures him that it emanates from the
plants themselves.
When I wish to picture to myself fact as of the
progenitor of science in all its primitive simplicity
and disinterested impulse, I revert with a feeling of
inexpressible charm to the first rational philosophers
of Greece. To the psychologist there is a priceless
ingenuousness and truth in this spontaneous ardour
of a few men who without traditional precedent
or official motive but from mere inward impulse
of their nature take to grappling with the eternal
problem in its true form. Aristotle is already a deep-
thinking savant conscious of his process who pro-
duces science and philosophy as Virgil produces
verse. ‘Those first thinkers, on the contrary, are
 The Future of Science. 15
_ moved by their spontaneous curiosity in a totally
_ different manner. The object is before them, whet-
_ ting their appetite; they attack it like the child
who, growing impatient when confronted with a
complicated piece of machinery, tries it in every way
in order to get at its secret, and does not stop until
he has found the to him sufficiently satisfactory
explanation. This primitive science is nothing more
than the constantly repeated “ Why?” of infancy;
with this difference though that with us the child
finds an instructed person to supply the answer to
his question while there it is the child itself who
gives the answer with the same simplicity. It seems
to me as difficult to understand the true point of
view of science without having studied those primi-
tive savants as to have the lofty sense of poetry
without having studied primitive poesy.
A busy civilization like ours is by no means favour-
able to the glorifying of those speculative wants.
Nowhere is curiosity more keen, more disinterested,
more attracted by the outward than in the child and
the savage. How sincerely and simply interested
they are in nature, in animals, without a single second
thought or a respect for humanity (2). The busy man,
on the contrary, is bored in the company of nature
and of animals; those disinterested enjoyments
are no part or parcel of his egoism. Unsophisti-
cated man, left to his own thought, often conceives
a more complete and far-reaching system of things
than he who has only received a conventional and
fictitious education. The habits of practical life
weaken the instinct of pure curiosity ; but there is
comfort to the lover of science in the thought that
nothing can destroy it, that the monument to which
he has added a stone is eternal, that like morality,
it has its guarantee in the very instincts of human
nature.
As a rule science is only looked at from the stand-
point of its practical results and its civilizing effects.
There is no great difficulty in finding out that modern
 q
i ee ee AOE a
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Hi =

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16 The Future of Science.
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society is indebted to it for its principal improvements. { Da~~

*)
~~

This is very true, but nevertheless, putting the thesis

4
j
‘7,
in a dangerous way. One might just as well, in order |
|
to establish the claims of morality point exclusively
to the benefits society derives from it. Science, as |
* P

well as morality is valuable in itself and indepen-

dently of all beneficent results.
These results are, moreover, nearly always con-
ceived in a mean and shabby spirit. As a rule
people remain blind to anything but practical appli-
cations which no doubt have their importance
inasmuch as by their rebound they powerfully con-
tribute to mental progress but which in themselves
have little or no ideal value. Moral applications,
in fact, almost always lead science astray from its
true aim. ‘To study history for no other purpose
than the lessons of morality or practical wisdom to
be deduced from it is simply to revive the ridiculous
theory of those poor interpreters of Aristotle who
considered the only object of dramatic art to be the
cure of the passions it puts into action. The spirit
against which I am especially tilting here is that of
English science, so lacking in loftiness, in philosophy.
I know of no Englishman, Byron perhaps excepted,
who has deeply grasped the philosophy of things.
To order one’s life in accordance with reason, to
avoid error, not to embark upon enterprises that
cannot be carried out, to provide for one’s self a
gentle and assured existence, to recognize the sim-
plicity of the laws of the universe, to get hold of a
few views of natural theology seems to be to the
Englishman who thinks the sovereign aim of science.
There is never as much as an idea of lofty and
harassing speculation, never a deep glance at that
which is. This, no doubt, arises from the fact, that
with our neighbours, positive religion, kept under a
conservative sequestration, is held to be unassail-
able, is still considered as capable of giving the key
to the enigma of great things (3). But scie> a, in
fact, being only of value in as far as it is capa. te. of

=
 The Future of Science. lf
———_
_ replacing religion, what becomes of it under such a
system? A kind of petty process to knock a little
bit of understanding into folk, a kind of help in
obtaining a social status, a means of acquiring useful
and interesting knowledge. All this is not worth a
moment's consideration. As for myself, I only admit
of one result of science, namely, the solution of the
enigma, the final explanation to mankind of the
meaning of things, the explanation of man to him-
self, the giving to him in the name of the sole legiti-
mate authority which is the whole of human nature
itself, of the creed which religion gave him ready
made and which he can no longer accept. To live
without a system whereby to explain things is not
to live the life of man. I certainly understand scep-
ticism, it is a system that may be as good as any other ;
it has its grandeur and noble qualities. I understand
faith{ I envy its possessors and regret perhaps not
possessing it myself.) But what seems to me most
monstrous in humanity is indifference and flippancy.
As intelligent as you please, he who face to face
with the infinite fails to perceive that he is sur-
rounded by problems and mysteries is to me nothing
better than an imbecile.
It has become a hackneyed truth by now to say
that the world is governed by ideas. Still, it is after
all but saying what ought to be and what will be
rather than what has been. There is no gainsaying
that in history we should make large allowances for
force, for whim, and even for what is called accident,
that is to say, to that, the moral cause of which is not
proportionate to the effect (4). Philosophy, pure
and simple, scarcely had any immediate influence
on human progress until the eighteenth century, and
it would be much nearer the mark to assert that it
is the historical period which creates the philosophy
than that the philosophy creates the period. But
what admits of no doubt is that humanity amidst
its o: ‘ations ever tends to a condition of greater
perfe on, that it has the right and the power to
co
 bidbe e d titde. 3: \/

\
18 The Future of Science.
make reason more and more predominant over whim |
and instinct in the government of things. It is of ,
no use arguing with him who has not recognized by |
now that history is not merely so much aimless agi-
tation, a movement without aresult. One willnever —
succeed in proving the onward course of humanity
to him who has not managed to find it out for
himself. The first word of the creed of the nine-
teenth century is contained in the immense results
achieved by the science of humanity during the last
hundred years. Above the individual stands collective
humanity which lives and develops like every other
organic being and which like every organic being ~
tends towards perfection, that is, to the plenitude of
its being (5). After having groped for many long
centuries in the darkness of infancy without con-
sciousness of itself and by the mere motive power of
its organism, the grand moment came when, like the
individual, it took possession of itself, as it were,
when it became aware of its own strength, when it
felt itself to be a living unity ; a moment for ever
to be remembered, a moment we do not see because
it is too near to us, but which, it seems to me, will
be considered by future generations as a revolution
comparable to that which has marked a newera in
the history of all the nations. Barely half a century
has elapsed since humanity began to understand and
reflect upon, itself; and still we profess to be sur- ~
prised at the consciousness of its unity and mutual
adherence being so weak (6). The French Revolution
is the first. attempt of humanity to take the reins in
its own hands and to drive itself. It is the advent —
of the power of reflection in the government of ~
humanity. It is the moment corresponding to that —
in which the child hitherto led by spontaneous
instinct, by mere whim, by the will of others, takes
up his stand as a free, moral being, responsible for
his acts. All that went before may be called in the
words of Robert Owen ‘the irrational period of
human existence ;” and one day this period will only
a ~~ eee ee.

The Future of Science. 19

count in the history of humanity and in that of our
nation in particular as a curious preface, something
like that chapter on the history of the Gauls which
generally precedes the history of France. The real
history of France begins at 1789, all that goes before
is but the slow preparation of ’89 and is of no interest
except as viewed in that light. In fact, study history
a2 you may you will find nothing analogous to that
immense fact presented by the whole of the eighteenth
century ; of philosophers, men of wit in no way con-
cerned with actual politics, radically changing the
whole of previously received ideas and carrying the
greatest of all revolutions, conscientiously, and with
deliberation on the faith of their systems. The revo-
lution of ’89 is a revolution wrought by philosophers.
Condorcet, Mirabeau, Robespierre are the first
instances of theorists meddling with the direction
of affairs and endeavouring to govern humanity in
a reasonable and scientific manner. All the members
of the Constituent Assembly, of the Legislative
Assembly and the Convention were literally and
almost without exception disciples of Voltaire and
Rousseau. I will show by and bye how this chariot
driven by such hands could not be driven so well at
first as it was when it rolled along by itself and
how it was almost bound to be shattered to pieces in
an abyss. For the present it is sufficient to note
the matchless audacity, the marvellous and bold
attempt to reform the world according to the dic-
tates of common sense, to attack everything savour-
ing of prejudice, the blind established thing, habits
to all appearances irrational, in order to replace them
by a system calculated like a formula, combined like
an artificial machine (7). This, I repeat, is a thing
unique and without example in all the preceding
centuries, nay, it constitutes in itself an age in the
history of humanity. Surely, an attempt such could
not be without blemish in every respect. Because
those institutions that seem so absurd are not alto-
gether so absurd as they seem, those prejudices have
—~
e .
;

20 The Future of Science. *

their sensible side which you fail to see. The prin-

ciple involved in all this admits of no controversy,
intelligence alone must reign, intelligence alone ;
in other words, sense must govern the world. But
are you sure that your analysis is complete, that you
are not led into denying what you do not understand
and that a more advanced philosophy will not succeed
in justifying the spontaneous work of humanity?
There is nothing easier than to show that the majority
of prejudices on which the old society was based; —
the privileges of the nobility, the law of primo-
geniture, legitimacy, etc., are irrational and absurd
from the point of view of abstract reason, that in a
society constituted regularly such superstitions would
find no abiding place. There is an analytical and
seductive clearness about this such as the eighteenth
century loved. But is that a reason to blame abso-
lutely these abuses in the old structure of humanity
in which they enter as an integral part? It is certain
that the criticism of those first reformers was on
many points harsh, that it showed the non-intelligent
side of spontaneity, the arrogant pride of the easy
discoveries of analytical reason.
As a rule the philosophy of the eighteenth century
and the policy of the first Revolution show the errors
inseparable from crude reflexion, the non-intelligent
side of mere mother-wit, the tendency to con-
sider as absurd that of which one fails to see the
immediate reason. That century only understood
itself and judged all the others by its own. Domi-
nated by the idea of the inventive power of man,
it extended too much the sphere of deliberate in- —
vention. In poetry it substituted artificial com-
position for the innate inspiration that wells up from
the recesses of the heart without troubling about
literary composition. In politics man was supposed
to create freely and deliberately society and the
authority that rules it. In morality man found and
established the principle of duty as a useful inven-
tion. In psychology he seemed to be the creator of
r The Future of Science. 21
the results most necessary to his constitution. In _
philology the grammarians of the period spent their
time in showing the inconsistency, the errors of
speech such as the people had made it and in cor-
recting the deviations that had become habit. by
logical argument without perceiving that the terms
which they want to suppress are as a rule more
logical, clearer and easier than those they want to
substitute for them. That century did not under-
stand nature, spontaneous activity. No doubt man
produces, in a certain sense, all that comes out of
his nature. He spends all his active energy upon it,
he supplies the brute strength which brings about
the result, but the directing of all this does not
belong to him. He supplies the material, the shape
of it comes to him from on high; the real author is
that living and truly divine force, secreted as it
were by the human faculty, which is neither con-
vention, nor calculation, but which produces its
effect out of its own self and by its own tension.
Hence arises the tendency towards the artificial,
towards the merely mechanical with which we are
still so deeply smitten. We fancy that we shall
_ be able to foresee all possible cases, but the work
is so complex as to set all our efforts at naught.
The holy horror of the arbitrary is carried so far
as to become destructive of all initiative. The in-
dividual is so swaddled round with rules and regu-
lations, cramping his every limb that a lay-figure
could do as much as he if we fashioned it to move
to the turning of a handle. The difference between
mediocrity and distinction in the individual has
in that way become almost insignificant, adminis-
tration has become a soulless machine which will
accomplish the work of a man. France is too apt
to believe that one may supply the private im-
pulse of the soul by mechanism and extraneous
process. Nay, there have been attempts to apply
this detestable spirit to even more delicate things,
to education, to morality (8). Have not we seen
22 The Future of Science.
ministers of public instruction who pretended to turn
out great men by means of suitable regulations? Did |
not they conceive a process of making man moral,
as one makes fruit ripe by squeezing it between one’s
fingers? Ye of little faith in nature, why not leave
it to the sun ?
Such then are the excusable and necessary errors
of centuries in which reflection takes the place of
spontaneity (9). And although this first degree
of consciousness is an immense progress, the con-
dition resulting from it may have seemed in some.
of its aspects inferior to that which went before,
and the enemies of humanity have been enabled to
take advantage of it by combating the dogma of
progress with some show of plausibility (10). In
fact during the blind and irrational state, affairs
proceeded spontaneously and by themselves by virtue
of established order. The world had institutions
made of one piece, the origin of which was never ~—
questioned, dogmas that were accepted without criti-
cism. ‘The world was a huge machine organized
so long ago and with so little thought that people
believed it had been put together by God Himself.
Such was no longer the case the moment humanity
wanted to govern itself and to underpin the in-
stinctive structure of ages. Instead of old insti-
tutions whose origin was lost and which merely
seemed the necessary result of the equilibrium of
things, it had constitutions made by the hands of
men, brand-new, with corrections and sentences
struck out and from this very fact shorn of the old
prestige. And seeing that it knew the authors of ©
the new work, that mankind considered itself their
equal in authority, that the improvised machine had
visible defects, and that the whole of the business
was henceforth transferred to a field open to dis-
cussion there was no reason why it should ever be
declared closed again. The result was an era of —
upheaval and instability during which the dull but
honest minded might well regret the old order of
 The Future of Science. 23
things. One might just as well prefer the positive
assertions of bygone science which was never at a
loss to the prudent hesitations and fluctuations of
modern science. No doubt, the uncontrolled reign
of absolutism in politics as in philosophy is the one
conducive to the greatest amount of rest and the
grands seigneurs who are fond of rest are most
likely to be fond of such a régime. Oscillation on
the other hand is the necessary condition of true
human development, and modern constitutions are
perfectly consistent in laying down periodical terms
for their further modification.
Hence it is not surprising that after the disappear-
ance of the primitive state and the destruction of
the old edifices built up by the blind conscience of
ages, there should be some regrets, and that the new
structures should be by no means equal to the old.
Imperfect thought cannot reproduce at the first
attempt the works of human nature, acting with all
its innate forces. Combination is as powerless to
reconstruct the works of instinct as art is power-
less to imitate the blind work of the insect that
spins its web or builds its honey-cells. Is that a
reason to give up reflective science, to go back to
blind instinct? Certainly not. It is a reason for
continuing to inquire to the end, with the assurance
that perfected thought will reproduce the same
works but with a higher degree of clearness and
reasoning. We must hope, march onward, and keep
on marching always, despising meanwhile the objec-
tions of sceptics. Besides, the first step has been
taken already, humanity has once for all begun the
task of its emancipation, it has attained its majority,
wishing to govern itself, and supposing even that,
advantage might be taken of a moment’s sleep to
impose fresh chains upon it, it will be mere child’s
play to break them. ‘The only means to reconsti-
tute the bygone condition of things would be to
destroy its consciousness by destroying science and
intellectual culture. There are people who know
24 The Future of Science.
this, but I pledge you my word that they will not
succeed in doing it.
Such then is the condition of the human intelli-
gence. It has overthrown gothic edifices, constructed
one knows not well how, but which sufficed never-
theless to shelter humanity. Then it tried to rebuild
the edifice on better proportions, without, however,
succeeding ; for the old temples raised by humanity
had some wonderful subtleties of architecture and
design which were not perceived at first and which
the modern engineers with all their geometry cannot.
contrive to compass. Besides, the world has become
more difficult to please and does not like to fatigue
itself in sheer waste. The preceding centuries did not
complain of the organization of society because there
was no organization to speak of. The evil was
accepted as emanating from fate. What would arouse
an outcry nowadays did not provoke a murmur then.
The neo-feudalistic school has taken a singularly q
unfair advantage of this misunderstanding. What
are we to do? Reconstruct the old temple? That
would be more difficult still, for even if its original
plan were not lost, the materials could never be
found again. What is wanted, is to look for the
perfect beyond, to push science to its furthermost
limits. Science and science alone is capable of re-
storing to humanity that without which it cannot
live; a creed and a law.
The dogma which must be maintained at any cost
is that the mission of intellect is the reforming of
society according to its own principles; that it is by
no Means conspiring against Providence to attempt
to improve its work by well considered efforts.
True optimism can only be conceived under such
conditions. Optimism would be a mistake if man
were not susceptible of being made more perfect if it
were not given to him to improve the established con-
dition of things by science. The formula; ‘“ Every-
thing is for the best,” would without this be only a
bitter mockery (11). Yes, everything is for the best
— s
The Future of Science. 25
thanks to human intelligence capable of reforming
the necessary imperfections of the first establishment
of things. Let us rather say, ‘Everything will be
for the best when man, having accomplished his
legitimate task, shall have restored harmony in the
moral world and conquered the physical world.’ As
for bygone conceptions of Providence in which the
world is conceived as made once for all, and bound
to remain as it is, in which the effort of mankind
against fate is considered as so much sacrilege, these
conceptions are vanquished and obsolete. What is
very certain, at any rate, is that they will not hinder
man in his task of reformation, that he will persist
per fas et nefas in correcting Creation; that he will
pursue to the end his holy work, viz. to fight blind
causes and the fortuitous establishment of things, to
substitute reason for necessity. The religions of the
Hast enjoin man to put up with evil; European
religion is summed up in the few words; ‘‘ Fight
against the evil.’”’ This race is verily the offspring
of Iapetus ; it is bold against God.
The keen observer will notice that this is the
kernel of the problem, that the whole of the struggle
at this moment lies between the old and the new
ideas of theism and morality. It is sufficient that he
should see it. We have reached the sacred line
where the doctrines divide; one point of divergence
between two rays starting from the centre places the
infinite between them. But this much should be
remembered ; that the theories of progress are 1rre-
concilable with the ancient doctrine of divine justice,
that their only meaning lies in attributing divine
action to the human intellect, in one word, by ad-
mitting as the primordial power in the world the
reforming power of the spirit.
The secret link of these doctrines is nowhere more
apparent than in the last book of M. Guizot, a book
of the greatest value and which will retain the privi-.
lege of being read by posterity, because it sets forth
in a highly original manner a curious intellectual
 26 The Future of Science.

teenth century could have said that since the eman-

cipation of various classes of society the number of
- distinguished men has not increased in France, “as
if Providence,” he adds, ‘‘ did not permit human laws
to affect the intellectual order of things, with regard to
the extent and magnificence of his gifts’ (12). The
Aristarchi of that time will consider this passage an
interpolation and will advance peremptory proofs to
that effect. They will say that so narrow-minded a.
conception of the government of the world could
have never entered the mind of the author of “‘ The
History of Civilization.”” But how will they manage
to excuse an argument like the following; ‘‘ Up to
this time society has always presented three types of
social condition ; men living on their income, men
exploiting their income, men living by their work.
Hence we may take this to be the natural condition _
of humanity, and thus it will ever be.” Equally
valid would the argument of antiquity have been;
“‘ Society has up till now always had three classes of
men, an aristocracy, freedmen, slaves. Hence we
may take this to be the natural condition of humanity,
hence it will always be.’’ It would have been just as ak“e

reasonable to say in 1780, ‘‘ Till now the State has

always contained three classes of men, the governors,
the aristocracy, limiting the power of the latter, the
plebeians ; hence we may take this to be the natural
condition of humanity; hence, you who wish to
change this condition of things are nothing better
than a parcel of dangerous lunatics, of Utopians.”’
Assuredly no one is more profoundly convinced
than I am of the impossibility of reforming human
nature. But narrow-minded and dictatorial people
have a strange way of interpreting human nature.
To them human nature means that which they see
of it existing in their own times and the preservation
of which they ardently desire. There are a great
many better reasons for maintaining that a privileged
 yy; —a _ a — << -_” we

The Future of Science. 27

aristocracy is essential to every society than for main-
taining that a moneyed aristocracy is necessary to it.
The truth is that human nature is only made up of
Instincts and very general principles which by no
means sanction or sanctify one social condition in
preference to another, but only certain conditions
of the social fabric, such as for instance the family,
individual property. The truth is that with the
eternal principles of his nature at work, man can
reform the political and social edifice; he can do
this, seeing that undoubtedly he has already done
it, seeing that there is no one who does not admit
actual society to be better organized in certain re-
spects than that of the past. ‘It is the result of
. religion ; ” people will say. Granted that it is, but
whatis religion if not the most beautiful and energetic
creation of human nature? The appeal to human
nature is the final argument in all social and philo-
sophical questions. But we should be careful not
to invoke this nature in a petty and narrow-minded
manner with regard to the habits and customs, the
order of things we are actually witnessing. It isa
much deeper ocean, the bottom of which is not so
easily reached, and which the weak-sighted cannot
even perceive. How numerous are the ridiculous
errors in commonplace psychology springing from
neglect of this principle! ‘They are nearly all due
to the narrow ideas that prevail with regard to the
revolutions already undergone by the moral and
social system, to ignorance of the profound difference
existing between the various literatures, and the
feelings of various peoples.
Without altogether pinning his faith to one
particular system of moral reform no lofty and pene-
trating mind will be able to deny that the very
question of that reform is of kind different from that
of political reform, the legitimacy of the latter being,
I trust, beyond controversy. The social fabric like
the political has been shaped under the influence of
blind instinct. It isthe mission of human intelligence
28 The Future of Science.
to correct it. It is not a bit more illegal to say
that society may be improved than to wish the Shah
of Persia to improve his government. The first time
this terrible problem was assailed ; to reform political
society by human reasoning there was no doubt an
outery at the boldness of the thought, at the unheard-
of attempt. The conservatives of ’89 could oppose
to the revolutionaries what the conservatives of 1849
opposed to the socialists. You attempt to do a thing
which has no precedent, you are attacking the work
of ages, you do not take into account history and
human nature. The cheap bombast of the middle
classes against the hereditary nobility; ‘‘ You only
had the trouble to be born, etc.,’’ may with advantage
be retorted against the moneyed classes. It is very
patent that the existence of a nobility is not rational,
that it is the result of the blind ordering of humanity.
But if we are to argue in that way, where are we to
stop? There is no great merit in twitting it with ~
its want of rationality ; it is simply an indefensible
truism. I am even bound to admit that, all things
considered, the attempt of the political reformers of
89 seems to me a great deal bolder in its aim and
above all more wonderful than that of the social re-
formers of our days. Hence, I fail to understand
how people who admit ’89 can reject as a matter of
right socialreform. As for the means, I understand,
I repeat, the most radical diversity. No general
difficulties have been advanced against the socialists
which may not be equally advanced against the con-
stituents. It is a bold thing to assign limits to the
reforming power of human reason and to reject no
matter what attempt on the plea that it is without
precedent. Hvery reform was characterized by the
same defect originally, and besides, they who prefer
that reproach do so nearly always because they have
not a sufficiently extensive idea of the various forms
of human society and of its history.
In the East thousands of people die of starvation
or of wretchedness without ever having thought of
|
The Future of Science. 29
revolting against the established powers. In Europe,
rather than die of hunger a man thinks it simpler
to snatch up a rifle and to attack society, guided as
he is by that profound and instinctive view that
society has duties with regard to him which it has
never fulfilled. We find at every page of our actual
literature some remarkable turn, which is perhaps
not thirty years old; it is merely a way of looking
upon individual suffering as a social evil and making
society responsible for the wretchedness and degrad-
ing condition of its members. A novel idea, a
thoroughly novel idea, assuredly. We have ceased
to consider those evils as emanating from fate (13).
Well, we had better remember that humanity has
never taken up a standpoint to relinquish it im-
mediately afterwards.
Hence, by every way open to us we are beginning
to proclaim the right of human reason to reform
society by means of rational science, and the theo-
retical knowledge of existing things. It is, therefore,
no exaggeration to say that science contains the future
of humanity, that it alone can give us the explana-
tion of its destiny and teach it the way to attain its
object. Until now it is not human reason that has
governed the world, but whim and passionate im-
pulse. The day will come when reason enlightened
by experience will resume its legitimate sway, the
only one that can claim the title of ‘right divine,”
and will lead the world, no longer at haphazard, but
with a clear perception of the goal to be reached.
Our period of passionate impulse and error will then
- appear as so much pure barbarism, or as the capri-
cious and fantastical age which in the child divides
the charms of tender age from the rational existence
of the mature man. Our mechanical politics, our
blind and selfish parties will seem like so many
monsters of another age. People will no longer
understand how a century could have accorded the
title of ‘‘able’”’ to a man like Talleyrand, who looked
upon the government of mankind as upon a mere game
30 The Future of Science.
of chess, without having an idea as to the object to
be attained, without having as much as an idea of
humanity itself. The science which will govern the
world will not be politics. Politics, that is, the way
to govern humanity like a machine will vanish as a
special art as soon as humanity shall cease to be a
machine. The master science, the then sovereign,
will be philosophy, that is to say, the science which
will investigate the aim and conditions of society.
‘In politics,’ says Herder, ‘‘man is a means, in
morality, he is an end. The revolution of the
future will be the triumph of morals over politics.
Hence, the scientific organization of humanity is
the final word of modern science, that is, its bold, but
legitimate pretension. I will go further still. The
universal task of all that breathes being to make God
perfect, that is, to further the grand final result
which will close the circle of humanity by the unity
of the whole, it admits of no question that hwman _
reason which until now has had no share in this
work, the latter having been accomplished blindly
and by the mere tendency of everything that is,
it admits of no question, I repeat, that human
reason will one day take in hand the management of
this work and after having organized humanity
will orgamze God (14). I do not insist upon this
point and am willing that people should treat it as
a mere illusion, because to many worthy minds
which I wish to please, it would seem questionable
form ; besides, I do not require it in support of my
thesis. I will confine myself to saying that nothing
should astonish us, considering that the whole of the
progress accomplished up to the present moment is
perhaps no more than the first page of the preface of
a work without end.
| —

The Future of Science. 31

CHAPTER III.

Propte may, if they like, consider the whole of the

foregoing as absurd and chimerical, but I beg of them,
in the name of Heaven, to grant me this, that science
alone can supply mankind with those vital truths,
without which life would be unbearable and society
impossible. If we could conceive the possibility of
arriving at those truths in any other way than by
the patient study of things, higher science would
have meaning no longer. We should have erudition,
the curiosity of the amateur, but not science in the
noblest acceptation of the term, and noble natures
would assuredly forbear engaging in researches,
having neither horizon nor future. Thus those who
think that metaphysical speculation, pure reasoning,
can, without the pragmatic study of what is, supply
us with the higher truths must necessarily despise
that which to them is nothing more than useless
lumber, an unnecessary and cumbersome burden. to
the intellect. Malebranche has not been too severe
upon those savants, ‘‘ who make their brain a store-
house in which they pile up without discernment
everything that presents a certain character of learn-
ing, and who pride themselves on their likeness to
those collections of curiosities and antiquities and
which have neither a monetary nor an archzological
value, and the price of which simply depends upon
fancy, accident or passion.’ ‘Those who think
that matter of fact sense, common sense is a suf-
ficiently efficient teacher to mankind must look upon
 ow Beheres
= 5 aed 7
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32 The Future of Science. a

the savant in about the same way that Socrates —

looked upon the sophists ; as useless and subtle dis- —
putators. Those who think that feeling and imagi-
nation, the spontaneous instincts of human nature
can get at essential truths of life by a kind of in-
tuition will be equally consistent in considering the
researches of the savant as ponderous and of no use,
or else as frivolous superfluities not having the merit
even of being amusing. In short those who think
that human reason cannot attain to the higher truths
and that: a superior power only has the mission of
revealing these to them also contribute to the de-
struction of science by depriving it of what constitutes
its life and its true value.
What, in fact, does there remain, if you deny
science its philosophical aim? Trifling details,
capable, no doubt, of whetting the curiosity of in-
quiring minds and of providing a pastime to those
who have nothing better to do; very indifferent to
those who look upon life as a serious matter and who
above all, concern themselves with the moral and
religious needs of man. Science is of value only in
as far as it can investigate what revelation professes
to teach. If you take away that which constitutes its
worth you leave it only an insipid residuum, fit at best
to fling to those who feel the want of a bone to
gnaw. I sincerely congratulate the good souls that
are content with this, as for myself I will have none
of it. The moment a doctrine intercepts my horizon,
I declare it to be false, the infinite only is to be
my background. If you offer me a system ready-
made, what then remains there for me todo? To ~
verify by rational research what revelation teaches —
me? ‘That would indeed be a useless exercise, a
frittering away of time most frivolous, for if I know
beforehand that what I have been taught is absolutely
true there is no need of my tiring myself in looking ~
for its demonstration. It is tantamount to wanting
to observe the stars with the naked eye when one
might use a telescope. It is tantamount to appeal-
ee a ‘ oe a
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The Future of Science. 33

‘ing’ to men when one may claim the authority of
_ the Holy Spirit. I only know of one contradiction
more flagrant than that; a constitutional pope.
I shall be told that there remains a vast field of
inquiry in the natural truths which God has given for
disputation by mankind. Vast you call it, when
you take away God, man, mankind, the origins of
the universe. I myself think it very narrow and at
best fit for those who to their need of believing add |
the need of disputing. You think I ought to be
very thankful for allowing me to exercise my mind
on a few not clearly defined points by flinging to me
the world as a bone of contention and by warning
me distinctly that from the first word to the last
I shall not understand a syllable. Science is not
a dispute of a few otiose minds on a few questions
left to them as food for their taste for controversy.
Lives there the lofty mind that would devote his
life to such humble and debasing labour? I feel
- reluctant to answer because to remove beforehand
the objections that might be addressed to me here,
would require long explanations and numerous re-
servations; profane science in any system of frankly
admitted revelation can only be a disputation (15).
That which is essential has been given; the only
serious science will be that of commenting on the
revealed word; no other will be of any value except
in connection with this. Orthodox people have as a
rule very little scientific honesty. ‘They do not in-
vestigate, they try to prove and this must necessarily
be so. The result has been given to them before-
hand; this result is true, undoubtedly true. Science
has no business with it, science which starts from
doubt without knowing whither it is going, and gives
itself up bound hand and foot to criticism which
leads it wheresoever it lists. I know the theological
method very well and may safely affirm that its pro-
cess is opposed to the true scientific spirit. Heaven
forbid I should deny that among the most sincere
‘believers there have been men who have rendered
D
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34 The Future of Science.

the most eminent services to science; and to go no
further back than our contemporaries it is among
the sincerest Catholics that I should perhaps find the
men most sympathetic to my intellect and heart.
But if I were allowed to come to a very close under-
- standing with them, we should soon see how far their
scientific ardour partakes of the character of a noble
inconsistency. Let me be allowed to cite an instance
in point. To my mind Silvestre de Sacy is the type
of the orthodox savant. Undoubtedly, one could not
possibly demand science of a higher standard as far
as correctness and criticism of detail go. But if
one looks higher, we have the strange fact of one
of the most learned men of modern times never
having arrived at a single idea of lofty criticism.
When for critical or other purposes I am studying
the man’s works—an eminently respectable man, I
am always tempted to ask him, ‘“‘ What is the good
of it all? what is the use of knowing Hebrew,
Arabic, Samaritan, Syriac, Chaldaic, Ethiopian, Per-
sian, what is the good of being the foremost in Hurope
in the knowledge of the literatures of the Hast, if ©
one has not grasped the idea of humanity, if the
whole of all this has been conceived without a higher
and religious aim.’”’ ‘True higher science only com- —
mence when human reason conceives its task
seriously, when it says to itself; ‘‘ Everything else
fails me; my salvation depends upon myself.” It is
only then that one resolutely sets to work; it is then
that everything reassumes its value in view of a
final result. We have done with playing at science,
with making it a theme for insipid and pointless para- ~
doxes (16); we are upon the great business of man
and mankind ; hence, there is begotten a seriousness,
an attention, a respect unknown to those who only
embarked upon science with but one part of them-
selves. One must not be too exacting; to work out —
one’s salvation is the only thing needful, one will ©
lend one’s self to the rest as to a secondary matter, -
one will not be comfortablé in it; if one’s taste leans
 — oe AF _— 7 ”
ia
oo - ‘

The Future of Science. 35

too much that way one will reproach one’s self for it
as for a weakness, one will be only semi-profane, one
will do like Saint Augustine and Alcuin who accuse
themselves of being too fond of Virgil. They are
not as guilty as they think they are. Human nature,
in reality stronger than all the religious systems hits
upon some secret modes of taking its revenge. Has
not Islamism, by the most flagrant of contradictions
nourished in its own bosom a development of purely
rationalistic science? Kepler, Newton, Descartes
and the majority of the founders of modern science
were believers. Truly, a strange illusion, which
proves at least the good faith of those who under-
took that work, but more still the fate that impels
the human intellect, entering the paths of rationalism,
to an absolute breach, which at first it repels, with
all positive religion. With some of those great men
this was explained by the limited view they had of
science and its aim; with others as with Descartes
(17), whose pretension was really to deduce from
reason the truths essential to mankind, there was
a manifest superfetation, the use of two mechanisms
to attain the same end. I beg the reader to re-
member that there is no need for me to take my
stand here as a controversialist, to prove that
science and revelation contradict one another; it is
sufficient for me that there is double employment to
prove my actual thesis. In a revealed system, science
has only a very secondary value and does not deserve
devoting one’s life to it, because that which con-
stitutes its worth is given elsewhere in a much more
eminent manner. No one can serve two masters,
nor worship a double ideal.
As for me, I say it with the candour which, I trust,
the reader will not question (he who is not candid at
twenty-five is a wretch) that I cannot conceive the
higher science, the science understanding its aim
and its end, except as outside all supernatural belief.
It is the pure love of science that made me break
the bonds of all revealed belief, and the day I declared
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36 The Future of Science. .

myself to be without any other master than human —

reason, I felt that I was laying down the conditions
of science and philosophy. If on reading these lines
some religious soul should fancy that I am insulting
him, I should tell him; ‘‘No, I am your brother; I
would insult nothing that belongs to the soul. It ‘is
because I am in earnest that I speak like this, it is
because I look upon things religious in the most
serious light.” If like so many others I looked upon
religion as merely a machine, a dyke, a useful pre-
judice, I should assume that indescribable semi-tone
which in reality is only so much indifference and
flippancy. But seeing that I believe in truth, the
same that I believe Christianity to be a serious and
important thing, there is a quasi-air of the controver-
sialist about me and certain squeamish minds willl |
am certain raise the outcry about a recrudescence of
Voltairianism. I am glad to have the opportunity ~
of telling people once for all that if I import into ~
religious discussion a frankness and heaviness of
hand which are no longer the fashion, it is because
I take it in sober earnest and with the deepest
respect. You have no more dangerous enemy, —
gentlemen than those wary, half-hearted and merely ~
insinuating critics. The least controversial age is —
after all the most incredulous and frivolous one. If,
therefore, | am more candid and pointblank, it is ~
because I am more deferential to, more anxious
for intrinsic truth. Of course people will say that ~
it argues a want of tact to take things in that
way.
I shall often, in my life, have occasion to speak of —
Christianity. How could I do otherwise? The ~
glory of Christianity lies in the fact of its engrossing _
still half of our earnest thoughts, of engrossing the —
attention of all thinkers, of those who struggle as —
well as of those who believe. I managed for along |
while to write and to think as if there were no |
religions in the world, like so many rationalistic”
philosophers who have written volumes upon volumes |
 The Future of Science. 37
without broaching a word about Christianity. But
this abstention seemed to me subsequently so irre-
verent towards history, so partial, so great a denial
of all that is most sublime in human nature, that, at
the risk of offending inquisitors and philosophers
alike, I have made up my mind to take the human
intellect as it is and not to deprive myself of the
study of its more beautiful half. In my opinion
religions are worth speaking about and there is as
much philosophy in the study of them as in a few
chapters of dry and insipid moral philosophy.
The day is not far distant when with a little
candour on both sides and by the removal of mis-
understandings that divide those best fit to under-
stand one another, the world will be bound to admit
that the lofty perception of things, higher criticism,
deep love, truly divine art, and the sacred ideal of
morality are impossible except on the condition of
taking one’s stand at the very outset in the divine;
of declaring that everything which is pure, beautiful
' and lovable is equally sacred and worthy of worship,
of considering everything that is as appertaining to
one sole order of things which is nature itself, as the
variety, the blossoming, the germination of a selfsame
and living substratum.
Science really worthy of the name is therefore
impossible except on the condition of most perfect
autonomy. Criticism is no respecter of things; it
neither stops at mystery or prestige, it breaks every
charm, it pulls aside every veil. This power, utterly
lacking in reverence casting an unflinching and scru-
tinizing glance on everything alike, is from its very
essence guilty of high treason against the divine and
the human. It is the sole authority without control;
it is the spiritual man of Saint Paul “‘ who judgeth
all things, yet he himself is judged of noman.” The
cause of criticism is the cause of rationalism, and the
cause of rationalism is the cause of the modern spirit
itself. To curse rationalism is to curse the whole
development of human intelligence from Petrarch
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38 The Future of Science. .

and Bocaccio, that is, from the first appearance of

the critical spirit. It is crying back to the Middle
Ages. No, it is not that, because even the Middle
Ages had their bold attempts at rationalism. It 1s
tantamount to proclaiming the uncontrolled sway
of superstition and credulity. The real question at
issue is to know whether we are to go back five
centuries and to blame a development which was
evidently called for by the necessity of things. And
a. priort and independently of all examination such
a development carries its own legitimacy with it, for
though the present century may not be infallibility
itself; it is symbolic of the moment, and if there be |
an appeal against it, it must be an appeal to the
future, not to the past. If, in fact, we study the :
march of modern criticism since Petrarch and ~
_ Bocaccio we shall find it always following the line
ci its inflexible progress, overthrowing one after the .—
other all the idols of incomplete science, allthe super-
stitions of the past. First of all it is Aristotle, the
god of medizval philosophy who succumbs beneath
the blows of the reformers of the fifteenth and seven-
teenth centuries with their grotesque procession of
Arabs and commentators; then comes the turn of
Plato, who, set up for a little while against his rival,
his doctrines preached like the gospel, recovers his’
dignity in dropping once more from the rank of
prophet to that of man. After that it is the whole
of antiquity which resumes its real significance and
its importance—wrongly understood at first—in the
history of human intellect; then comes Homer, the
ideal of ancient philology, who one day was missing
from his three thousand year old pedestal, and went
to drown himself in the fathomless ocean of humanity; _
then comes the whole of primitive history, accepted
up till then in its grossest literalness, which finds
ingenious interpreters, rationalistic hierophants who —
itt the veil from before the old mysteries. Then _
come writings hitherto considered sacred and which
tested by an ingenious and subtle exegesis become
|eae
The Future of Science. 39
a most curious literature. Would you know what
the work of modern criticism is? Well, it is simply
an admirable deciphering of a superstitious hiero-
glyph, it is the bold march from the letter to the
spirit.
The modern spirit, then, means criticism, well-
weighed intelligence. The belief in a revelation, in a
supernatural order of things is the negation of criti-
cism, it is the remains of the old anthropomorphic
conception of the world, conceived at a time when
man had not arrived at a clear perception of the laws
of nature. When speaking of the supernatural we
should say what Schleiermacher said of angels: ‘‘ We
cannot prove their impossibility. Nevertheless, the
whole of this conception is such as to be impossible
in our days, it belongs exclusively to the idea of the
world as conceived by antiquity’’ (18). The belief in
miracles, in fact, is the consequence of an intellectual
view in which the world is considered as being
governed by fantasy and not by immutable laws.
No doubt, this is not the way in which the modern
supernaturalist looks at it. Compelled by science
which he dare not seriously offend to admit a stable
order of things in nature he falls back upon the sup-
position that the free action of God may change now
and then, and thus the miracle is conceived as a
‘ deviation from the established laws. But this con-
ception, I repeat, was by no means that of primitive
man. ‘The miracle in those days was not considered
as supernatural. The idea of the supernatural only
appears when the idea of the laws of nature has
been clearly formulated and makes its influence felt
even upon those who timidly attempt to reconcile
the marvellous and that which is proved by experi-
ment. It is one of the half-hearted compromises
between primitive ideas and the data of experiment
which are neither poetical nor scientific. To primi-
tive man the miracle was, on the contrary, perfectly
natural and confronted him at each step in life, or
to speak correctly, neither laws nor nature counted
 - Pir wd a” Oe eeee ae: r
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40 The Future of Science.

for much with those naive souls, perceiving every- —
where the immediate action of free agents. The idea
of the laws of nature only appears very much later on
and only becomes accessible to cultivated intellects.
It is completely wanting in the savage and even
nowadays the simple minded admit the miracle with-
out the smallest difficulty.
It is not from one argument only but from the
whole of modern science that the tremendous result
is derived. ‘‘There is no such thing as the super-
natural.’ It is impossible to refute by direct argu>
ments one who persists in believing in it; he will
snap his fingers at every a@ priori argument; you ~
might just as well argue with the savage on the ~
absurdity of his fetishes. You cannot convert a -
believer in fetichism; the only means to bring him ~
to a superior religion is not to preach it to him
directly, for if he accepts it in that condition, he
will only accept it as another kind of fetichism, ~
but to civilize him, to raise him to the rung of the
human ladder to which that religion corresponds. —
The orthodox supernaturalist is equally unassailable. ~
No logical or metaphysical argument has the slightest
effect on him. But by taking one’s stand ona high ~
level of the development of human nature super-
naturalism appears only as a conception that has
been left behind. The sole cure of this strange
malady, which to the disgrace of civilization has not
disappeared as yet from humanity, is modern culture.
Raise the intellect to the level of science, nourish
it according to the rational method, and without a
struggle, without arguments those superannuated
superstitions will drop away. Since the dawn of
existence everything that has happened in the pheno-
menal world has been but the regular development
of the laws relating to such existences, laws that
constitute but one sole order of government which
is nature. Whosoever speaks of anything as being
above or beyond nature in the order of facts is guilty
of contradiction, just as one would be in speaking
 7
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The Future of Science. 41
of the superdivine in the order of substances. It
is simply a vain attempt to rise above the highest.
All facts have for their stage space or mind. Nature
is simply human reason, it is the immutable, the ex-
clusion of everything savouring of the whimsical; and
our modern task will not be accomplished until we have
destroyed the belief in the supernatural, no matter
in what shape—the same that we have destroyed the
belief in magic, in witchcraft. All these belong to
the same order of things. Posterity will look upon
those who are fighting supernaturalism in our days
as we look upon those who fought against the belief
in magic in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries.
No doubt, the latter rendered eminent service to
human reason, but their very victories have consigned
them to oblivion. It is the fate of all those who
fight against prejudices to be forgotten the moment
those prejudices disappear. Positive and experi-
mental science only, by imbuing man with a strong
sentiment of the reality of life, is capable of destroy-
ing supernaturalism. Metaphysical speculation is
far from attaining that object. India shows us the
curious phenomenon of perhaps the most powerful
metaphysical development ever realized by the human
mind side by side with the most exuberant mythology.
Speculations of the Kantian and Schelling order
have co-existed in the Brahmanic brain side by side
with fables more extravagant than those sung by
Ovid.
In endeavouring to account for the motives that
caused me to cease to believe in the Christianity
that held my childhood and early youth spellbound,
it seems to me that the system of things, such as
I understand it to-day only differs from my first
conceptions in that I consider all the real facts as
belonging to the same order and that I have restored
to nature that which I formerly looked upon as
superior to nature. One is bound to admit that
there was something admirably powerful and lofty
in primitive supernaturalism, in the supernaturalism
 Fare! 4a
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yi

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42 — The Future of Science. *

which created the mythologies of India and Greece
(19). I willingly forgive that supernaturalism, nay re-
gret it at times, but it is no longer possible; reflection
has made too many strides, and imagination has
cooled down too much to allow of such superb anti-
common sense. As for the half-hearted compromise
that seeks to reconcile an enfeebled supernaturalism
with an intellectual condition incompatible with a
belief in the supernatural, such a compromise only
succeeds in outraging the most imperious scientific
instincts of modern times without reviving the
marvellous ancient poesy, henceforth and for ever
impossible. Everything or nothing; absolute super-
naturalism or unreserved rationalism. .
Simple faith has its charms, but semi-criticism
will never be anything but a burden to the spirit.
The man who ponderously discusses fables shows
himself as much of a simpleton and a gull though
far less of a poet than he who accepts them “in a
lump.’’ We look upon the hagiologists of the seven-
teenth century who in writing the “ Lives of the
Saints’ accepted certain miracles while rejecting
others as too extravagant as upon so many barbarians
—and not unjustly. It is very evident that with
such principles they should have rejected everything,
and from the artistic point of view we prefer for
instance the ‘“ Sainte-Elisabeth’’ of M. de Monta-
lembert where everything is unreservedly accepted.
In that case the line between the belief in nothing
and the belief in everything is very vague both as
regards the author and the reader. One may lean
towards the one or the other according to the mood
being rationalistic or poetic, while the work itself
preserves at least an indisputable value as a work
of art. That also was the beautiful and poetic
way of Plato, that is the secret of the matchless
charm which the half-sceptical, half-believing use.of
popular myths imparts to his philosophy. But the
acceptance of a part can only proceed from a narrow
mind. Nothing can be less philosophical than to
 The Future of Science. 43
apply semi-criticism to narratives conceived beyond
all criticism.
Hence the task of modern criticism is to lay the
axe to every system of belief tainted with super-
naturalism. Islamism which, by a strange fate
scarcely constituted as a religion in its earlier years
has since then marched onward constantly acquiring
new degrees of strength and stability, Islamism, I say
will perish without striking a blow by the sheer in-
fluence of European science, and history will point
to our century as the one in which the first causes
of that immense event began to appear on the
horizon. The Turkish and Egyptian youth coming
to our schools in search of European science will
take back with them that which is its inseparable
corollary, the rational method, the spirit of experi-
ment, the sentiment of the real, the impossibility
of belief in religious traditions evidently conceived
beyond all sphere of criticism. Rigidly orthodox
Musulmans are already growing uneasy at this and
pointing out the danger to the emigrating younger
generation. Sheikh Rifaa in the interesting narra-
tive of his journey in Europe lays great stress on the
deplorable errors that disfigure our books on science,
such as for instance, the motion of the earth, etc.;
and still deems it not utterly impossible to cleanse
them of this poison. It is, however, patent that
these heresies will shortly prove stronger than the
Koran with minds initiated to modern methods. I
fancy that there also will occur a Renaissance ana-
-logous to that of Europe in the fifteenth century,
and which will be due, not to our literature, which
has no more meaning to the Oriental than had the
literature of the Greeks to the Arabs of the ninth
and tenth centuries, but to our science, which, like
that of the Greeks, having no stamp of nationality,
is a pure work of the human intellect (20).
I am aware that man has weakling, humble,
feminine instincts, a kind of yielding softness, if I
may so term it, possessing wide-spread analogies at
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44 The Future of Science.

which one guesses without wishing to define them
and which are as much perhaps the concern of the
physiologist as that of the psychologist (21), instincts
that suffer from the manly and firm attitude of
rationalism which sometimes looks like stiffness (22).
In. the life of individuals, as in that of humanity
there is a kind of medievalism, a movement in
which reflection becomes veiled and obscured and
in which instinct takes the upper hand for the time
being. There are certain highly, delicately-strung
souls to whom it will ever be impossible to submit
to this severe system and austere discipline. Seeing
that those instincts are part and parcel of human
nature one should not blame them too much, and
the true moral and intellectual system will assign
their part to them; but that part must never be
despondent depression or superstition. Great cala-
mities by humiliating man and blunting the edge
of his keenest and boldest faculties become in that - ‘
way a downright danger to rationalism and inspire
humanity, as illness inspires the individual with
a certain tendency to submission, abasement and
humiliation. A moisture-laden and _ enervating
breeze, relaxing our rigidity, loosening that which
held firm is wafted over us. One feels almost tempted.
to strike one’s breast in atonement for the bold-
ness felt while in good health, the mainsprings are
weakened, generous and vigorous instincts drop, one _
feels a nameless inclination to become converted
and to kneel down. If the calamities of the Middle
Ages came back once more, the monasteries would
become peopled again, the superstitions of the
Middle Ages would return. The old beliefs have
no resource left but ignorance and public calamities.
Faith will always be in inverse ratio to vigour of
mind and intellectual culture (23). It is there in the
rear of humanity espying its weak moments to clasp
it in its arms and to pretend afterwards that it is
humanity which gave itself freely. As for ourselves
we will not yield, we will hold out like Ajax against
 2 a : —_—. _ F*
ee
—
The Future of Science. 45
the gods, if they count upon driving us back by
striking us they are mistaken. Shame upon the
timid ones that are afraid. Shame above all on those
cowards who take advantage of our misery, who
_ watch for the moment to conquer until misfortune
has already half-conquered us.
_ The everlasting objection which keeps away from
rationalism certain distinguished natures which from
their very delicacy of disposition feel the most urgent
need of belief, is the brevity of its creed, the con-
tradiction of its systems, the appearance of negation,
which imparts a look of scepticism to it. But
scantily gifted in the matter of intellect and critical
faculty they would like a ready made system uniting
a great many suffrages and lending itself to accept-
ance without intrinsic examination. ‘‘ How,” say
they, ‘‘can we put faith in those philosophers ; no
two speak in the same way ”’ (24). All these objec-
tions are but the scruples of small minds, incapable
of rational discussion and only too glad of the oppor-
tunity of stopping at those outward characteristics;
scruples, deserving of respect nevertheless, for they
are honest and imply faith in the truth. To reply to
these good and noble souls that it is a pity it should
be so, but that after all, rationalism is not to blame
for the inability of man to affirm so few things, that
it is better to affirm little with certainty than to
affirm that of which one has no legitimate knowledge,
' that if the best intellectual system were that which
affirms most, none would be preferable to primitive
credulity which admits everything alike without
criticism, to reply all this to these gushing and un-
sophisticated souls would be tantamount to arguing
with an over excited appetite to prove that the
craving it feels is a morbid one. One must reply
only one thing and that one thing is the truth,
namely, that the brevity of the creed of science is
only so in appearance, that its contradictions are
only contradictions in appearance, that its negative
form is only so in appearance. Rational people con-
 46 The Future of Science.
tradict one another because they do not treat of the
_ game things, or because they treat the same things
from a different point of view. It is certain that two
men having had exactly the same education, having
gone through the same studies in exactly the same
manner would look at things exactly in the same way,
though they might feel differently. No doubt science
does not state its results like dogmatic theology, it
does not count its propositions, it does not stop at a
given number of its articles of belief. Its acquired
truths are not ponderous theorems, ostentatiously
‘showing themselves off’? for the benefit of the
coarsest intellects. They are merely delicate per-
, ceptions, undefinable and even fugitive glimpses,
_ ways of framing one’s idea rather than positive data,
ways of looking upon things absolutely undefinable;
science is a culture of subtlety and delicacy rather
than a positive dogma. But the true form of moral
truths is, in reality, such that to apply to them those _
inflexible moulds of mathematical sciences which are
only fit for truths of another order, and acquired by
different processes is tantamount to warping their
method. Plato has no symbol, no definite proposi-
tions, no fixed principles in the scholastic sense we
attach to the word; to attempt to extract a dogmatic
theory from him is tantamount to warping his idea.
Still, Plato represents a sprit; Plato is a religion.
A spirit, that is the thing essential. The spirit is
everything, the positive dogma is little or nothing,
and the chances are a thousand to one on its being
contradictory ; nay more, it must be fatally narrow,
if it be not contradictory. A spirit does not ex-
press itself by an analytical theory, in which every
point of science is successively elucidated. It is
neither by yes nor by no that it solves the delicate
problems it puts to itself. A spirit expresses itself
In its entirety at one and the selfsame time, it shows
itself in twenty pages as it would show itself in a
book; in a book as it would show itself in a com-
plete collection of works. There is not a single
 ——S hl Cl Sh CU CC

The Future of Science. - 47

dialogue of Plato which is not a philosophy in itself,
a variation on the selfsame, ever identical theme.
The word Voltairien expresses as clearly distinct and
as easily understood a shade as the word Cartesien ;
nevertheless Descartes has a system and Voltaire
has not. Descartes may be reduced to propositions,
Voltaire cannot be so reduced. But Voltaire has a
spirit, a way of taking things, the result of a whole
ensemble of intellectual habits. Read through the
whole of his works and then say if it is not suf-
ficiently characteristic, whether the man has not
deliberately and definitely chosen his vantage point
to depict in his own way the grand landscape,
whether the man had not a system of life, a manner
exclusively his own of looking at things. When, oh
when shall we cease to be ponderous schoolmen,
insisting upon bits of phrases in geometrical fashion eel

on God, on the soul, on morality. We will suppose

those phrases to be as exact as possible, still they
must be false, radically false by reason of their
absurd attempts to define, to assign a limit to the
infinite. I would sooner you read me a dialogue of
Plato, a meditation of Lamartine, a page of Herder,
a scene of ‘‘ Faust.” These if you like, contain a
philosophy, that is, a way of looking at life and
things. As for individual propositions each one
arranges them according to his own tendencies, and
this is the least important. But it worries small
minds who only like formulas of two or three lines,
easy to learn by rote. Then when they find that
each philosopher has his own, and that all this is
far from coinciding, they get grievously vexed in
spirit and wondrously impatient. ‘It is the tower
of Babel,” they say, ‘‘each one speaks his own
tongue. Let us go to those whose propositions
stand better on their legs and to a creed settled once
forall,”’
When I wish to initiate young minds to the science
of philosophy, I begin by no matter what subject, I
speak in a certain sense and in a certain tone; | care
 oie . > ~~ ) = FF a |

48 The Future of Science.

little or nothing about their remembering the posi-
tive data I give them, I do not even attempt to prove
them, but I insinuate a certain spirit, a way, a turn ;
then when I have inoculated them with this new
sense, I leave them to search in their own way, to
build their temple according to their own style. For
there begins individual originality which we are
bound to respect rigorously. The positive results
of this order teach nothing, produce no effect, have
no value if transmitted in that way and merely ac-
cepted by rote. One must have been led to them,
one must have discovered them or guessed at them
almost before they left the lips of him who pro-
pounded them. Positive propositions are every one’s
business; the spirit only can be transmitted. I
frankly admit that I do not possess an ensemble of
settled and clearly limited propositions constituting
a natural religion, nor do I think that science pos-
sesses such. But there is an intellectual standpoint
capable of being expressed in a book, not in a single
phrase, which is in itself a religion; there is a lofty
and religious way of taking things, and that way is
my way. ‘Those who have breathed—if only once in
their lives—the air of the unseen world, and tasted
of the ideal nectar, they will understand me (25).
It seems to me that it need not take long to find
out that too great a precision in things moral is as
unphilosophical as it is unpoetical. Hvery system is
assailable by the very precision of it (26). How far
removed, for instance, are those admirable funeral
orations of Bossuet, in which he has commented
upon death in such magnificent language, how far
removed are they from that upon which our actual
mode of feeling would insist by reason of the cramped
and precise framework to which theology has reduced
the ideas concerning the future life. Nowadays, we
do not conceive an eloquent discourse over a tomb
without a doubt expressed in it, without an attempt
to draw the veil on what is beyond, with the mere
expression of a hope, left in the clouds as it were, a
;
The Future of Science. 49°
less eloquent standpoint perhaps, but certainly more
poetical and philosophical than a too definite dogma-
_ tism, supplying if I may be permitted to say so, the
map to the life to come. The savage of the Pacific
looks upon his island as the whole of the world.
Those who pretend to limit the lines of the infinite
are still more foolhardy. That is why of all studies
most brutalizing, most destructive of all poetry,
theology is the first.
A system means an epic on things. It would be
as absurd for a system to contain the last word on
reality as it would be for an epic to attempt to ex-
haust the whole range of the beautiful. An epic is
the more perfect in proportion as it corresponds best
with the whole of humanity, nevertheless after the
most perfect epic, the theme is still new and may
lend itself to infinite variations according to the
individual character of the poet, of the century or
nation to which he belongs. How can one have a
feeling for nature, how can one unrestrictedly inhale
the perfume of things if one only sees them in the
narrow and moulded forms of asystem. I felt this
divinely one day on entering a small wood. But an
unseen hand repelled me as it were, because at that
moment I pictured nature under I know not what
physical aspect and I only became reconciled to the
idea by saying to myself that all this was but a trait
seized from the infinite, a vapour on a pure sky, a
fluting on a vast curtain. We must dismiss the
narrow conception of the schools, looking upon the
human mind as amachine perfectly exact and ade-
quate to the absolute. Views, glimpses, gleams of
light, perceptions, sensations, colours, physiognomies,
aspects, these are the forms under which the intellect
perceives things (27). Geometry alone can be re-
duced to axioms and theorems. Hlsewhere the vague
is the true view. , }
The activity of human intelligence is such that
to confine it in too narrow a circle is to force it
into alienation. The right to think for one’s self is
; E
 50 The Future of Science.
imprescriptible, if you bar vast horizons to man, he
will resort to subtle arguments in revenge, if you
impose a text upon him he will escape from it by
using it in the wrong sense. The wrong sense or
nonsense is the revenge of the human intellect in
periods of authority on the fetters imposed on it; it
is a protest against the text. This text is infallible,
very well. But it lends itself to various interpreta-
tions, and there begins anew the diversity, the simu-
lacrum of freedom with which one puts up, in default
of another. Under the régime of Aristotle, as under
that of the Bible people were permitted to think as
freely as they are nowadays but on the condition of
proving that such and such a thought was really in
Aristotle. or in the Bible, which was after all, not
very difficult. The Talmud, the Masora, the Cabbala
are curious proofs of the capability of the human
intellect when fettered to a text. One begins to
count its letters, its words, its syllables, the material
. sound gets to count far more than the sense, one
goes on multiplying the exegetical subtleties, the
modes of interpretation, like the starving wretch who, —
after having devoured his hunk of bread, carefully
collects the crumhs thereof. All the commentaries ~
ev courud writings are like one another, from those of
Manu to those of the Bible, from those of the Bible to
those of the Koran. All are a protest of the human
intellect against the enslaving tendency of literal in- |
terpretation ; a miserable attempt to fertilize a barren
field. When the mind does not find an object com-
mensurate with its activity, it is fain to create one
by a thousand tricks. a
That which the human intellect is apt to do before ~
a text imposed, it does before a settled dogma. Why —
were people so terribly bored in the seventeenth cen-
tury? Why did Madame de Maintenon die of ennui
at Versailles? Alas! because there was no horizon. —
What resource is there left to the prisoner chained
up opposite a dead wall of which he has counted the |
bricks over and over again? That is the very reason —
 a a ek © 7 -

The Future of Science. oe

why this century of orthodoxy and rule was the
century of equivocation. It is the narrow rule that
breeds equivocation. Why is law the science of
equivocation ? Because one is cribbed and confined
on every side by formulas? Why was equivocation
so universal in the Middle Ages? Because Aristotle
was there. Why is theology from beginning to, end
nothing more than a long-drawn subtlety? Because
the authority is ever present ; one rubs shoulders with
1t constantly, its uncomfortable pressure is felt at
every moment. It is a perpetual struggle between
liberty and the divine text. A spout of water, left
free uprises in a straight line, compressed, confined
1t swerves and deviates. Similarly the intellect left
free operates normally, compressed it subtilizes.
I am convinced that if minds cultivated by the
study of rational science were to interrogate them-
selves, they would find that, without formulating any
proposition capable of being reduced to one sentence,
they have sufficiently clear views on vital matters,
and that these views variously expressed for every
one come to about the selfsame thing; only they do
not happen to be fixed into hard and fast forms and
settled once for all. Hence springs the individual
shade of all philosophies, and above all of German
philosophies. Hach system is merely the way in
which an eminent mind has looked at the world, a
way always deeply stamped with the individuality of
the thinker. I do not doubt that each of these |
systems assumed the shape of a very great truth in
the brain of its author, but the very fact of their
individuality renders them incapable of being com-
municated and demonstrated (28). They are pure ex-
planatory hypotheses, like those applied to physics, but
which do not prevent the subsequent trial of others.
We must not absolutely say that it is thus for we
cannot have a conception adequate to primordial
causes; all we can say is that things happen as if
it were thus (29). It is impossible for two well
ordered minds to look upon the same things and to
52 The Future of Scrence.
come to a different conclusion. If the one says,
‘¢Yeg,” and the other, “No,” it is evident that they
do not speak of the same thing or that they do not
attach the same sense to the same words (30). That
is what Hegel meant when he averred that every
thinker is at liberty to create the world in his own
fashion.
It is not surprising, then, that the orthodox man
should be able to lock up his beliefs in a safer way
than the philosopher. Orthodoxy puts, if I may be
allowed to say so, the whole of its vital provision in —
a hard and resisting tube, which is an outward and
palpable fact; revelation, a kind of carapace that
protects, but at the same time, makes, it heavy and
ungraceful. The faith of the philosopher, on the
contrary is always nude, clad in nothing but its
simple beauty. One may fancy the temptation it
affords to brutal outrage. But the day will come —
when the stiletto of criticism will in its turn, pierce
the carapace of the believer and reach the human
nature within.
Truth, to the thinker, is only a more or less ad-~
vanced but always incomplete form, or at any rate
a form capable of being perfected. Orthodoxy, on
the other hand, petrified, stereotyped in its forms,
can never cast off its past. Seeing that it pretends
to have been made at one sitting and in one piece ©
it places itself beyond the pale of progress, it be-
comes rigid, overbearing, unbending, and while philo-
sophy is always abreast with humanity, theology at
a certain period lags behind. For it is immutable
and humanity marches onward. Not that theology
has not been forced to march now and then like the
rest. But it denies this, it lies to history, it warps
all criticism in order to prove that its actual state is
its primitive one, and it is obliged to do this on the
penalty of forfeiting the conditions of its existence.
The philosopher on the contrary, conceives under no
circumstances either absolute retrogression or pre-
determined immobility. He recommends concession
 The Future of Science. 53
to the successive modifications brought about by
time, without ever categorically severing one’s self
from the past any more than being its slave. He
has no wish to deny that past, but endeavours to
explain it in a new sense, to show the part of ill-
defined truth it contained. There is nothing con-
tradictory in a philosopher exceeding the limits of
his own philosophy, in using several systems, by
which I mean several not equally perfect expressions
of the truth ; this simply redounds to his honour.
The problem of philosophy is ever new, it will
never attain a definite formula, and the day we shall
be satisfied to abide by the assertions of the past by
accepting them as so many absolute truths, incapable
of reconstruction, that day will sound the death-knell
of philosophy. The orthodox man is never more
annoying than when, pluming himself upon his
immobility, he twits the thinker with his fluctuations
and philosophy with its constant modifications (31).
It is exactly those very modifications which prove
that philosophy is truth; through them it is in
harmony with human nature, always in travail and
happily condemned to obtain all its conquests in
the sweat of its brow. Only that which is not pro-
gressive does not vary. There is nothing more
motionless than the nonentity who has never lived
the intellectual life, or the dullard who has never
seen aught but one side of things. The way not to
vary is not to think. If orthodoxy is immutable it
is simply because it has placed itself beyond the pale
of human nature and reason.
And I pray you not to say that this is scepticism.
It is criticism, that is, the ultimate and transcen-
dental discussion of what at first was admitted
without sufficient inquiry, in order to deduce from
it a purer and more advanced truth. It is high
time that we should accustom ourselves to call
sceptics all those who do not believe as yet in the
religion of the modern spirit, and who still lingering
around effete systems, deny with blind hatred the
54 The Future of Science.
acquired dogmas of the living century. We accept ‘:
the inheritance of the three great. modern move-—
ments; protestantism, philosophy and the revolution,
without having the slightest inclination to become
converts to the symbols of the sixteenth century,
or Voltairians or to recommence another 1793 or
1848. There is not the slightest need for us to
recommence what our fathers accomplished. Their
work is summed up in liberalism, we shall know how
to continue that work. ;
In logic, in morality, in politics man aspires to the
attainment of something absolute. Those who base
human knowledge, and duty and government on |
human nature appear to deprive themselves of such
a foundation ; for unhampered inquiry means dissent,
variety of views. It seems easier, therefore, to seek
for knowledge, morality and politics a basis outside
man, a revelation, a right divine for instance. It 1s
unfortunate that there exists nothing of the kind;
that such a revelation would first of all have to be.
proved, that it is not proved, and that if it were
proved, it could only be proved by reason, that con- —
sequently diversity would uprise again with regard
to the appreciation of those proofs. Hence, it is
better to remain within the field of human nature, —
to look for the absolute only in science and to do-
away with all those timid palliatives which only pro-
duce illusions and postpone the difficulty.
Nowadays there are only two systems confronting
one another; one portion of humanity, despairing of —
reason, believing it to be condemned to eternal con-
tradiction of itself, frantically embrace an outside
authority and become believers through scepticism
(a Jesuitical ‘system; authority, the director, the
pope substituted for reason, for God). The other
portion from a more profound view of the march of
human intellect perceive progress and unity beneath
apparent contradictions. But let us remember this,
for it is essential; unless one believes from instinct,
like the most simple minded, one can only believe
 The Future of Science. 55
from scepticism ; to despair of philosophy has become
the first basis of theology. I love and admire this
grand despairing scepticism the expression of which
has endowed modern literature with so many admir-
able works. But I can only laugh at and be disgusted
with that petty irony of human nature which results
in superstition and pretends to cure Byron by preach-
ing the Pope to him.
A great deal is said nowadays about the accordance
of human reason with faith, of science with revelation,
and some pedants who wish to make themselves in-
teresting and to pose as impartial and superior minds
have made this a theme full of ambiguity and frivo-
lous nonsense. The principal thing is to understand
one another. If revelation be really what it pretends
to be, the word of God, it is but too clear that it is
master, that it has no need to enter into a pact with
science, that the latter can only pack up its traps
in presence of this infallible authority, and that its
role (that of science) would be reduced to that of
serva et pedissequa, to comment upon or to explain
the revealed word. From that moment also the
custodians of this revealed word will be superior to
the investigators of human science, or rather they
will be the only power before which the other will
vanish, like the human before the divine. No doubt,
truth not admitting of self-contradiction, one would
be bound to conclude that sownd science could not
very well contradict revelation. But seeing that
the latter is infallible and more clear, if science
appears to contradict it, one will conclude that it is
not sound science and impose silence on its objections.
But if, on the contrary, the fact of the revelation is
not real, or if at any rate, there is nothing super-
natural about it, then religions are nothing more
than human creations and the whole matter is re-
duced to the finding of the reason for the different
fictions of the human intellect. On such an hypothesis
man himself has done everything by means of his
natural faculties, in one case spontaneously and in
56 The Future of Science.
the dark; in the other scientifically and reflectingly;
but in sum man has done everything, he finds him- —
self everywhere face to face with his own authority
and with his own work. The theologians are right
when they say that before everything one should
discuss the fact; is this doctrine the word of God?
And whether we reply yea or nay, the so-calle d
problem of the agreeme nt between faith and reason,
supposing as it does two equal powers which it 1s —
necessary to reconcile, is utterly devoid of sense; for
in the first case, reason vanishes in the presence
of faith, like the finite before the infinite and the
strictest orthodoxy has right on its side; in the
second case there remains nothing but reason, manl-
festing itself in various ways, but nevertheless always
remaining identical with itself (32).
It is you who are the sceptics, and we are the
believers. We believe in the work of modern days,
in its sanctity, in its future, it is you who curse it.
We believe in reason and you insult it; we believe
in humanity, in its godlike destinies, in its imperish-
able future, and you laugh at it; we believe in the ~
dignity of man, in the goodness of his nature, in
the rectitude of his heart, in his right to attain the
perfect state, and you shake your head at these com-
forting truths and you complacently lay stress on the
evil, and the most saintlike aspirations towards a
divine idealism, you denounce them as the works of ©
Satan, and you talk of rebellion, of sin, of punish-
ment, of expiation, of humiliation, of penitence, of
the hangman to him who should hear no words from
your lips save those of deification and expansion.
We believe in everything that is true, we love every-
thing that is beautiful (383); and you, wilfully blind
to the infinite charm of things, you pass through this |
beautiful world of ours without deigning to bestow
a smile upon it. Is the world a cemetery and life
a funeral procession? Instead of the reality you
cherish an abstraction. Which of us denies, you or
we? And he who denies is he not the sceptic ?
a The Future of Science. 5¥
Our rationalism, therefore, is not that hauteur, ana-
lytical, dry, negative, incapable of understanding the
things of the heart and the imagination which was
inaugurated by the eighteenth century; it is not the
exclusive use of what has been called ‘the acid of
reasoning ;’’ it is not the positive philosophy of M.
Auguste Comte, nor the irreligious criticism of M.
Proudhon. It is the acknowledgment of human
nature, hallowed in all its parts, it is the simultaneous
and harmonious use of all the faculties, it is the ex-
clusion of all exclusiveness. According to our views
M. de Lamartine is a rationalist, still in a more
restricted sense, he would no doubt deny this title,
seeing that he himself tells us that he attains his re-
sults not by combination or reasoning but by instinct
and direct intuition. Until now criticism has been
conceived as being only a dissolving agent, an analysis
destroying life; from a more advanced point of view
it will be understood that higher criticism is only
possible on the condition of giving the whole of human
nature full play, and that reciprocally a higher love
and a great admiration are only possible on condition
of criticism. The pretended poetical natures who
imagined they could get to the true sense of things
without science will then turn out to be so many
chimera-mongers, and the austere savants who shall
_ have neglected the more delicate gifts whether from
scientific virtue or from a compulsory contempt of
what they did not possess will remind us of the in-
genious myth of the daughters of Minyas who were
changed into bats for having been unable to do any-
thing but argue in the presence of symbols to which
a more generous method of elucidation should have
been applied. ar)
History appears to raise an objection against
science, criticism, rationalism, civilization—synony-
mous terms after all—which it is expedient to ex-
plain. It seems in fact to show us the most cul-
tured people always a prey to the most barbarous
people ; Athens to Macedonia, Greece to the Romans,
58 The Future of Science.
the Romans to the barbarians, the Chinese to the
Manchoos. The process of thinking is a wearing
one. Our middle class families which in reality have
only been conscious of their own strength for one
or two generations are already wearing out. The
half-century that has elapsed’ since 1789 has ex-
hausted them to a greater extent than the innumer-
able generations of primitive darkness. Too much
knowledge apparently weakens humanity, a people of —
philologists, thinkers and critics would probably be
too weak to defend its own civilization. The Ger-
many of the beginning of the century gave way dis-
gracefully to France and yet how superior from a
mental point of view was the Germany of Goethe and
Kant to the France of Napoleon. Barbarism being —
unconscious of its own powers, is obedient and pas-
sive; the individual, unaware of his individual worth
is lost in the masses, and obeys the command as he
would fate. Passive obedience is only possible on
the condition of stupidity. The man who thinks for
himself, on the other hand, calculates his interests
too well and asks himself with that feeling of posi-
tiveness which he applies to all things whether it is
really his interest to get himself killed. Besides, he
clings more tenaciously to life and the reason is plain
enough. His individualism is much stronger than
that of the barbarian, civilized man says J with un-
paralleled energy; with the barbarian on the con-
trary, life is scarcely raised one degree above the level
of the dull sensation that constitutes the life of
the animal. He does not resist, for the reason that
he barely exists. Hence the contempt for human
life (for his own as well as that of others) which is
the secret of the barbarian’s heroism. The culti-
vated man whose life has a real value, sets too much
store by it to stake it casually (84). Brutal strength
appears to him such an extravagant idea that he
revolts against such absurd means and cannot make
up his mind to pit himself against weapons which
a savage handles better than he does. In those rude
' The Future of Science. a9
struggles the most benighted conscience is the best;
personality, reflection are simply so many causes of
inferiority. Hence, the liberty to think for one’s
self has up till now been by no means favourable to
enterprises requiring the abdication of their individu-
ality by masses of men in order to yoke themselves
to the vehicle of a grand idea and to drag it majes-
tically through the world. What would Napoleon
have done with an army of reasoners?
This is a real contradiction which like so many
others, cannot be cyphered away except by acknow-
ledging that humanity is as yet far removed from its
normal condition. While one portion of humanity
is still leading a brutal life, misunderstanding and evil
passions will succeed in exploiting barbarian humanity
against civilized humanity and in letting loose the
ferocious brute on reasonable men. The critics are
right, whether they are the stronger or the weaker
does not prevent them from being in the right, and
if they fall, it simply proves that the actual condition
of humanity is still far distant from the point when
justice and reason will be the only real forces as
they are the only legitimate ones.
Bear in mind, I pray you, that this is not a mere
academic question, a dream discussed in an idle hour.
It is the question of humanity itself and the legiti-
macy of its nature. If humanity is so constituted
as to require necessary illusions, if too much refine-
ment leads to dissolution and weakness, if too great
a knowledge of the reality of things becomes in-
jurious to it, if it wants superstitions and incomplete
views, if the legitimate and necessary development
of its own being prove its own degradation, then
humanity is badly constituted, it is based on false
foundations, it is only travelling towards its own
destruction, because those who have conquered
thanks to their illusions will be forcibly brought to
their own disillusion afterwards by civilization and
rationalism. Under such circumstances our symbol
is destroyed, for our symbol is the legitimacy of pro-
60 The Future of Scrence.
gress. And on this hypothesis, humanity would find
itself in a blind alley, its line of route would not be
the straight one, proceeding towards the infinite,
seeing that pushing forward and forward it would
discover in the end that it had gone backward. The
law, which in such a case one would have to enjoin
on human nature would no longer be to exert all its
strength in the attainment of the absolute, civiliza-
tion would have its maximum, arrived at by an equi-
librium of opposites, and wisdom would consist in
stopping at that. The question, in one word, comes
to this; the law of humanity is either an expression
such that by increasing all its variable quantities, one
increases the total value; or else it must be assimi-
lated to those expressions that attain a maximum,
beyond which any addition brought to the several
factors results in a decrease of the total value.
Happy will they be who by means of a definite
experiment will be enabled to oppose a proved answer
to these terrible apprehensions. Our affirmations in
that respect may perhaps possess some of the merit of
faith which believes without having seen, and truth
to tell, when one looks at isolated facts, optimism
appears a very gratuitous liberality to God. As
for myself, if I were to see humanity collapse on its
own foundations, mankind slaughter one another in
some fateful darkness, if I were to see all this, I
should still go on proclaiming the rectitude of human
nature, that perfection is its final aim, that misunder-
standings will disappear, and that the day must come
when reason and perfection shall reign supreme.
Then we shall be remembered, and some will say;
‘“‘Oh, how they must have suffered.” We must
take care not to assimilate our civilization and our
rationalism to the fictitious culture of antiquity and
above all to that of degenerate Greece. Our eighteenth
‘century was no doubt an epoch of moral depression,
nevertheless it closed with the greatest eruption of
devotion, of abnegation of life recorded in history.
Those philosophers, those Girondists who so proudly
 The Future of Science. 61
eo pe St SS RR id
marched to the scaffold were they nothing more than
quaking rhetoricians? Was it a superstitious illusion
that strengthened those noble souls? There exists,
I know, a generation of egotists, a generation that
has grown up in the shadow of a prolonged peace, a
sceptical generation, born under the star of Mercury,
without faith or love, which at the first blush, seems
to be governing the world. But even if this were so,
we should not despair of humanity, without a doubt,
for humanity does not die, but we should have to
despair of France. But, after all, are these the men
whom in good faith, we ought to oppose as an ob-
jection to science and philosophy? Is it too much
knowledge that has taken the muscle and marrow out
of them? Is it too much thought that has destroyed
all feeling of patriotism and honour in them? Is it
their too frequent excursions to the realms of the
intellect that have made them unfit for great things ?
They whose minds are closed to every idea, whose
only science is that of a fictitious world, whose philo-
sophy consists of frivolity. For Heaven’s sake, do
not talk to me of these men when we are discussing
philosophy and civilization. LHven if it be proved
that the tone of the society which became more and
more powerful under Louis-Philippe was calculated to
hamstring all noble effort, it would be no argument
against the society which will be brought to the front
by reason and human nature in its frankest and truest |
development. Hven if the final impotency of the
official world were proved, if it were proved incapable
of creating aught original and strong, it would not
justify us in despairing of humanity, for humanity dis-
poses of unknown sources whither it goes constantly
to renew its youth. Is it too much rationalism that
has ruined unhappy Italy, which at the present moment
presents to us the deplorable spectacle of a member
of humanity stricken with paralysis? Is it too much
criticism that has dried up the vessels that gave it
life ?* Was it not stronger and more beautiful in the
fifteenth, and in the first half of the sixteenth, cen-
 ae

62 The Future of Science.

turies, when it was the pioneer of the whole of Hurope
along the roads of civilization, and spread its shelter-
ing wings over the boldest of rationalism? Is it its
religious beliefs that have preserved its vigour? Was
not the pagan Italy of Julius II. and Leo X. worth the
exclusively Catholic Italy of Pius V. and the Council
of Trent? To knock down the Capitol or the Temple
of Jupiter Stator would have been tantamount to
overthrow Rome. Such things should no longer be
possible among modern nations, seeing that the rest
and be thankful in the matter of religious creeds is
sufficient to enervate a nation (35). A few months
ago the people of Rome cast their church bells into
the melting pot to make coppers of them. No doubt
if the religion of the moderns were like that of the
ancients, the spinal marrow of the nation itself, this
would have been a great piece of absurdity. One
might as well profess to enrich France by converting
the Venddme Column into money. But what are
people to do when the gods are departed? Sym-
machus asking for the restoration of the altar dedi-
cated to Victory was simply playing the rhetorician.*
Seeing that antiquity never understood the great
object of literary culture, having always looked upon
it as a kind of mental drill with a view to ‘‘ speaking
well,” it is not very surprising that the strong and
energetic natures of those days should have so severely
condemned the puerile system of the rhetoricians and
the meretricious and sophistical education they im-
parted to the young. The ideal of virtue as conceived
by serious minded men was the rough and unculti-
vated character and their ideal of a society consisted
in a development exclusively tending to devotion to
the country and well-doing (Sparta, ancient Rome,
etc.). And seeing that literary culture was found
to be subversive of such a state, that culture was
denounced as offering the greater facility to the
* Symmachus, Prefect of Rome 384 of the Christian Era, Consul
in 391, reported to be the last adherent and advocate of P aganisin
i
in the West.—T rans,
 The Future of Science. 63
enemy to vanquish. Hence those commonplaces
about the superiority of well-doing over eloquent talk-
mg, of rough hewn virtue over refined civilization,
the contempt of the Greculus, primed with grammar,
etc. In our days all this would be so much nonsense.
From our point of view, Sparta and ancient Rome
represent, in fact, one of the most imperfect con-
ditions of humanity, seeing that one of the essential
elements of our nature, thought, intellectual perfec-
tion was utterly neglected there. No doubt the
simple and genuine cultivation of the love of country
is superior to that artificial culture of the latter days
of the empire, and if anything could inspire one with
fear for the future of modern civilization it would be
the fact that the so-called classical education given to
our young generation resembles that of that lament-
able epoch. But there is nothing superior to science
and to the grand and purely human civilization, and
it is only the superficial mind that could compare
this grand form of complete life to the artificial
centuries in which a man could have no noble senti-
ment apart from a rhetorical reminiscence, when. he
sent for a philosopher to hear the reading of a Conso-
lation when he had lost his nearest and dearest, and
when people on their death-beds pulled from their
pockets a speech prepared for the occasion.
Thus, if civilization were to founder once more in
presence of barbarism, it could not be argued as an
objection against it. It would have right on its side
- even beyond that. It would once more vanquish its
conquerors, and so it will be always until the day
when there will be no longer any one to conquer, and
when sole mistress it will reign in its own right.
What does it matter by whom the work of civilization
and the welfare of humanity be accomplished? In
the eyes of God and posterity, Russians and French
are only so many human beings. We only appeal
to the principle of nationality when the nation
oppressed is superior intellectually to that which
oppresses her. The absolute partisans of nationality
 —_

64 The Future of Science:

can only be narrow-minded people. Humanitarian
perfection is the aim, and from that point of view
civilization is always triumphant; and it would be —
strange indeed if an invisible weight dragged down
humanity in that sense, if that sense meant only
degeneration.
From the point of view of humanity there is no
such thing as decline. Decline is a word that ought
to be banished once for all from the philosophy of
history. Where does the decline of Rome begin?
The narrow-minded, ever concerned with the preser-
vation of ancient habits and customs will aver that
it is after the Punic wars, that is, just at the very
- moment when the preliminaries having been laid
down, Rome begins her mission and gets rid of the
habits of her infancy, which henceforth have become
impossible to her. Those who are preoccupied with
the idea of the republic will place the fatal line at
the battle of Actium; they are the poor folk who
would have committed suicide in company with
Brutus ; they fancy they can see death in what was
after all but the crisis of ripe age. Can that decline
be placed with greater justice in the fourth century,
when the work of Roman assimilation is at its height,
or in the fifth, when Rome imposes her civilization on
the barbarians that invade her? And when we look
at Greece from the Homeric times to the days of
Heraclius, where is her decline? Is it at the epoch
of Philip, when she is on the eve of making her
brillant first appearance in the work of humanisation
through Alexander? Is it during the domination of
Rome, when she becomes the cradle of Christianity?
So true is it that the word decline has no sense
except from the narrow point of view of politics and
nationalities, not from the grand and wide point of |
view of the work of humanisation. When atrophy
takes hold of certain races, humanity has always
a sufficient reserve of living forces left to make good
such deficiencies. And if it be apprehended that
humanity having exhausted all its resérve stock be
.— - The Future of Science. Ss
_ one day in the position of each nation in particular,..
my answer must be that before then humanity will
_ no doubt have become stronger than all the destruc-
tive causes put together. In our actual condition,
criticism carried to extremes causes moral and phy-
sical weakness, in the normal condition science will
become the mother of strength. Seeing that hitherto
science has only appeared in the guise of criticism,
it is difficult to conceive its ever becoming a powerful
active motor. Such will be the case, nevertheless,
the moment it has succeeded in creating in the
moral world a conviction equal to that produced of
yore by religious faith. All the arguments deduced
from the past in order to prove the impotence of
philosophy are no proofs at all with regard to the
- future, for the past has only been a necessary intro-
_ duction to the grand era. Reflection has as yet not
shown itself as a creative power. Let us wait a
while, let us wait a while... .
Many of my readers will no doubt be surprised at
my frequent appeals to the future. It is because I
am really convinced that the majority of the argu-
ments advanced apologetically in behalf of science
and modern civilization are very faulty and lay them-
selves open to the attacks of the retrogressive schools
if they, the arguments, are to be considered by them-
selves and irrespective of the ulterior condition of
‘things to which they will have contributed. The
only means of understanding and justifying the
modern spirit is to look upon it as a necessary
stage towards the perfect, in other words, towards
the future. And this appeal is not the mere act of
blind faith which falls back upon the unknown. It
is the legitimate result emanating from the whole of
the history of the human intellect. ‘‘ Hope,” says
George Sand, ‘‘is the faith of this century.”
Side by side with theological dogmatism which
makes science useless and robs it of its dignity we
must place another dogmatism, still more narrow and
more absolute, that of superficial common sense,
F
 = > ~~ 7 am

66 The Future of Science.

which in reality is only so much self-sufficiency and —
emptiness, and which not perceiving the difficulties
of problems, thinks it strange that their solution
should be looked for outside the beaten track. It is
too evident that the common sense in question 18
not that resulting from straightforward action of the
human faculties on a sufficiently well-known subject.
The one I am tilting against is a somewhat rather
equivocal quality the exclusive possession of which
small minds claim for themselves and which they
liberally grant to those who agree with them, the
subtle triviality which succeeds in investing every-
thing with an appearance of evidence. Now, it is very
evident that common sense, thus understood, cannot
make up for science in its search for truth. First of
all, let us remember that the superficial minds who ~
are constantly appealing to common sense designate —
by that name the very special and very limited form
of customs and habits under which they happen to —
have been born. Their common sense is the way of
looking at things of their century or of their province.
Only he who has systematically compared the various
facets of humanity would have the right to make
this appeal to universal opinions. Besides is it
common sense which will give me philosophical, |
historical, philological knowledge, ail of which are
necessary for the criticism of the most important
truths ? Common sense has every right to speak
when it comes to establishing the bases of morality
and psychology, seeing that in that case it is only
necessary to note that which appertains to human
nature, which should only be looked for in its general,
consequently in its most commonplace expression,
but common sense is only ponderous and clums
when it pretends to solve by itself problems, to the
elucidation of which divination is more essential
than sight, in connection with which one has to
catch a thousand shades almost. imperceptible, to
pursue hidden and secret analogies. Common sense
is partial; it always looks at its opinion from the
' The Future of Science. 67
inside, it never emerges from it to judge it from the
outside. It so happens, however, that nearly every
opinion is true in itself, but only relatively true with
regard to the point of view whence it is conceived.
The really true in moral and historical sciences
appeals to subtle and refined intellects only, the same
that mathematics appeal to the systematic intellect
only. The truths of criticism do not lie on its surface,
they almost look like paradoxes, they do not plant
themselves, visible from all sides before the ordinary °
understanding like theorems of geometry, they are
fugitive flashes of which the eye just catches a
glimpse, which one perceives in an absolutely indi-
vidual way, and which it becomes almost impossible
to communicate to others. The only resource left is
to bring the other minds to the same point of view
in order to show them things from the same side.
What business has this vulgar common sense, with
its blustering ways, loud voice and _ self-satisfied
laughter in that world of finesse and subtle thought?
I can make neither head nor tail of it is its last and
sovereign sentence, and how very easy indeed is it
to say that much. The self-sufficient tone it assumes
when face to face with the results of science and
thought is one of the most aggravating nuisances
the thinker has to contend with. It unhinges him,
-and if he be not a philosopher at heart, he cannot
help getting annoyed with those who abuse their
privilege in that way against his delicate and feeble
voice.
Hence it is inadmissible to appeal from science
to common sense, seeing that science is only en-
lightened common sense operating knowingly. The
really true is no doubt the voice of human nature,
but of nature fittingly developed and brought by
culture to its utmost capacity.
 —— ~~!

68 The Future of Scvence.

CHAPTER IV.

Scrence has no enemies save those who consider truth

as useless and making no difference, and those who
granting to truth its priceless value profess to get at
it by other roads than those of criticism and rational
investigation. The latter are, no doubt to be pitied
as having strayed from the right method of the
human intellect, but they at any rate recognize the
ideal aim of life; they may come to an understand-
ing and to a certain extent sympathize with the man
of science. As for those who despise science as they
despise lofty poetry, as they despise virtue, because
their degraded soul only understands the perishable,
we have nothing to say to them. They belong to
another world, they do not deserve the name of men,
seeing that they are without the faculty which con-
stitutes the noble prerogative of humanity. We are
rather proud that they should look upon us as men
of another age, as fools and dreamers, we glory in
knowing the routine of life less well than they do,
we delight in proclaiming our studies to be useless;
their contempt for them makes them valuable to us.
These men are the immoral ones, the atheists who
are impervious to every breath coming from on high.
The atheist is the indifferent, the superficial and
frivolous who has no cult save that of interest and
self-gratification. ngland to all appearance one of
the most religious countries of the world is in fact
the most atheistic ; for it is the least ideal. Unlike
some of the Latin orators I do not wish to fall into
 The Future of Science. 69
the convicium saeculi.. I believe that there exist in
the souls of the nineteenth century just as many
intellectual needs as in those of any other epoch, and
am convinced that at no time were there so many
minds open to criticism. The misfortune is that
the prevailing frivolity condemns them to form a
world apart, and that the aristocracy of the century,
which is that of wealth, has as a rule lost the ideal
sense of life. Iam only speaking conjecturally ; for
that world is utterly unknown to me and it would be
easier to me to quote illustrious exceptions than ex-
_ actly point out those at whom in this instance my
reproach is aimed. Nevertheless it seems to me that
a society which de facto only encourages a wretched
literature in which everything is reduced to measure
_ and adjustment, that a society which finds no middle
course between an absence of moral ideas and a reli-
gion which it has first ‘‘boned’’ to make it more
acceptable, that such a society, I repeat, is far from
the true and grand sentiments of humanity. The
future is with those who taking life seriously, come
back to the eternal foundation of truth, that is to
human nature, taken in the mass and not in its
extreme refinements. For humanity will always be
serious, believing, religious and the frivolity which
believes in nothing will never hold the foremost place
in human affairs.
4G) It seems to me that we ought not to attach too
much importance to all that speechifying which has
become trite against the utilitarian and realistic ten-
dencies of our days, and if aught could prove the
lack of sincerity of those lamentations it would be
the strange resignation with which those who utter
them submit to the inevitable necessities of the cen-
tury. In fact nearly all seem disposed to wind up
with the line:
“The good old time, the iron age.”

Whatever one’s opinion may be with regard to the

tendencies of the century, it would at any rate be
 _—— —_™

70 The Future of Science.

fair to admit that, the sum total of activity having
increased there may have been increment on the one
side, without a falling off on the other. It cannot
be disputed that there is more commercial and in-
dustrial activity in our days then there was, for in-
stance, in the tenth century. And must we there-
fore conclude that the latter was better endowed
in respect of intellectual activity?
There is a kind of optical illusion in history which
is very dangerous. The actual century is always seen
through a cloud of dust raised by the whirl of real
life and one can scarcely distinguish amidst this
whirlwind the pure and beautiful forms of the ideal.
On the other hand, this cloud of petty interests
having vanished from before the past, it appears to
us grave, severe, disinterested. Looking at it by
means of its books and monuments only, in other |
words, in the manifestation of its thought, we are
tempted to believe that people did nothing else but
think. The noise of the street, the stir of the mart
do not come down to posterity. When the future
shall see us freed from that deafening tumult, it
will judge us as we judge the past. The race of
egoists who have no feeling either for art, science or
morality is ‘of all times.” But they die without
leaving a trace, they have no place in that grand
piece of historical tapestry-work which humanity
weaves and leaves to be unrolled behind it. They
are the noisy waves that plash beneath the paddle
wheels of the steamer in its course, but become
silent behind it.
Therefore, let those who dread to see the efforts
of the mind stifled by material preoccupations take
heart. ‘Intellectual culture, speculative research, in
one word, science and philosophy possess the best of
all guarantees, I mean, the needs of human nature
itself. \Man will never live by bread alone; the dis-
interested pursuit of the true, the beautiful and the
good, the realization of science, of art, of morality is
‘as Imperative a want to him as the need of satisfying
bi
The Future of Science. 71
his hunger and his thirst.} Besides, the activity, the
apparent aim of which is/only material improvement
has nearly always an intellectual value. What
speculative discovery has affected civilization as
much as the discovery of steam? A railway does
more for human progress than a work of genius,
which, from purely extraneous circumstances may be
deprived of its influence.
It cannot be denied that Christianity has done a
great wrong to humanity in representing the actual
life as a matter of no moment and consequently dis-
suading man from the idea of improving it. For
though ‘it is the spirit that quickeneth,” and “‘ the
flesh profiteth nothing,” the grand reign of the spirit
will not commence until the material world shall be
completely under man’s control. Besides, the actual
life is the stage of that perfect life which Christianity
relegated to the world beyond. There is nothing
exaggerated in the spiritualism of the Gospel nor in
the exclusive preponderance it gives to a higher life.
But it is here below and not in a fantastic heaven
that this life will be realized. It is essential there-
fore that man should commence by assuming the
mastership of the bodily world in order to be at
liberty afterwards for the victories of the spirit.
That is where the injustice lies of the anathema |
flung by Christianity against the present life. All the
great material and social improvements of this life
have been accomplished outside Christianity and
have even been prejudicial to it. Hence the annoy-
ance of the actual representatives of Catholicism at
all the most rational reforms of the abuses of the
past, judicial reforms, penal reforms, etc. ‘They are
well aware that all this hangs together, and that one
step on that road necessarily entails all the rest.
Posterity will, no doubt, not wholly approve our
materialistic tendencies. It will, no doubt, judge
our work as we judge that of Christianity and find it
equally one-sided. But it will at any rate admit
that unconsciously we have laid down the condition
72 The Future of Science.
of future progress, and that our “‘industrialism” has _
been, with regard to its results, a holy and meritorious
work.
A certain number of social doctrines are often
taunted with concerning themselves solely with
material interests, with the supposition that there
exists only one kind of work for man and one kind of
food, with the ideal conception of an easy life for all.
This is unfortunately the case, nevertheless, one 1s —
bound to observe that if those systems could really
bring about the material improvement of a consider-
able portion of humanity the reproach would not hold ~
water. Because the improvement of the material con-
dition is the necessary condition of moral and intel-
lectual improvement, and that item of progress will
like every other have to be accomplished by a special
work; humanity cannot do two things at once. It is
evident that a man who has not the necessities of
life, or in order to procure them is compelled to
devote himself to some kind of mechanical labour
every minute of the day is forcibly condemned to
dependence and utter insignificance. At the present
period, the most signal service one could render to
the human intellect would be to discover a system
which would insure material comfort to every one.
The human intellect will only be free when com-
pletely emancipated from those material needs that
humiliate it and obstruct its development. Such
improvements possess no ideal value in themselves,
but they are the essential condition of the dignity of
humankind and the perfection of the individual.
That protracted labour by which the middle classes
managed to accumulate wealth during the whole of
the Middle Ages is apparently something sufficiently
vulgar. We cease to look at it in that way by re-
flecting that the whole of modern civilization which
is the work of the trading classes would have been
impossible without it. The secularization of science
could only be accomplished by an independent,
consequently a well-to-do class. If the urban popu-
 The Kuture of Sevence, 73
lations had remained poor or fettered by incessant
manual labour like the peasant, scionce would be
; 23 to this day, the monopoly of the priestly class.
_ ‘Lverything that contributes to the progress of
| humanity, however humble and commonplace it
may appear, is by the very fact entitled to respect
; and sacred,
_ _ St is odd that the two classes which nowadays have
_ divided French society between them fling recipro-
_ cally the charge of materialism. In common fairness
we are bound to say that the materialism of the
opulent class only is blamable. he striving of the
poorer classes after material welfare is just, legitimate
and sacred, seeing that the poorer classes cannot
{- attain real holiness, by which I mean moral and
_ intellectual perfection unless they acquire a certain
degree of material welfare. When a well-to-do man
still seeks after greater wealth, he does a thing which
f to say the least is profane, seeing that his only aim
can be indulgence of self.! But when a poor wretch
strives to lift himself above want he attempts a vir-
_ tuous task, for he tries to carry out the condition of
his redemption. He does the right thing at the
right moment, When Cleanthes spent his nights in
drawing water he did as saintly 4 work a8 when he
spent his days in listening to Zeno, J cannot help
getting angry whenever I hear the fortunate ones of
the century stigmatize the feeling with which the
' proletarian looks upon the more distinguished exist-
ence of the superior classes as one of vile jealousy
and disgraceful lust. You think it disgraceful that
| they should desire that which you enjoy. You would
preach to the people monastic confinement and
| abstinence from all pleasure, when pleasure is the
ha and omega of your life, when you have poets
: sing of nothing elec. If the life is a good one,
| why should not they desire to lead it also? If it is
: why do you enjoy it?
_ he tendency towards material improvements is
i therefore far from prejudicial to the progress of the
74 The Future of Science.
human intellect provided it be fittingly ordained to
its end. That which debases and degrades is the
mean spirit brought to bear upon it; the petty com-
binations, the shabby processes resorted to in the
race for wealth. I honestly believe that it would be
better to leave the people to their poverty than to
educate them in that way. Ignorant and unculti-
vated, they blindly aspire to the ideal by virtue of
the powerful and inarticulate instinct of human
nature, they are energetic and true like all great
masses whose consciousness is still benighted. In-
spire them with those paltry instincts of lucre and
you lower them, you destroy their originality without
making them more moral or educated. The science
of Bonhomme Richard has always seemed to me a
sufficiently bad science. Just fancy a man who sums ~
up his life in the words; to make a fortune honestly ;
(and even then there is a suspicion that honestly is
only recommended in order the better to make the
fortune) the last thing of which one needs to think,
a thing of no value save as a means to an ulterior
and ideal end. This is immoral, this is a narrow and.
finite conception of existence ; this can only proceed
from a soul void of religion and poetry (36). Great
Heavens, what is the good, I ask you, what is the
good of having realized at the termination of the
short life of ours the more or less complete type of
outward happiness? What is better is to have
thought and loved a good deal, to have cast a
resolute glance at all things, to be able to criticize
death itself while on one’s death-bed. I prefer a
Jogui, I prefer an Indian Mouni, nay Simon Stylites
himself gnawed at by the worms on his strange
pedestal to a prosaic trader capable of pursuing for
a score of years the one selfsame idea of wealth.
Ye heroes of the disinterested life, saints, apostles,
cenobites, ascetics of all epochs, sublime poets and
philosophers who preferred to have no inheritance
here below; sages who went through life having the
left eye fixed on earth, the right on Heaven, and
 ‘

The Future of Science. be)

above all you, godlike Spinoza who remained poor
and forgotten for the sake of cultivating your idea
and in order the better to worship the infinite, how
much better did you understand life than those who
treat it as a narrow calculation of interest, as an
insignificant struggle of ambition and vanity. Better
would it have been, no doubt, not to have put your
God in so remote an abstract, not to have placed Him
on such anebulous height where to contemplate Him
you were compelled to take up so uncomfortable |
a position.'\God is not only in Heaven, He is near
every one of us;) He is in every flower you crush
beneath your feet, in the breath that wafts its odour
over you, in that small life which buzzes and mur-
murg everywhere around you, in your heart above
all. }How much more proof of the needs and the
extremely sensitive instincts of humanity do I find
in your sublime madness than in those colourless
existences never lighted up by a single ray of the
ideal, of those existences which from their first to
their last moments have proceeded day by day, exact,
ruled like the leaves of a counter ledger.
Certainly we ought not to regret seeing the peoples
pass from spontaneous, blind aspiration to clear
and well considered perception, but it must be on
the condition that the object proposed to this
thoughtful consideration be not unworthy to occupy
it. The tendency which at certain epochs of civili-
zation impels certain minds to be smitten with
admiration of barbaric and original peoples is a
logical and in a sense a legitimate one. For the
barbarian with his dreams and his fables is better
than the positive man who understanding stops at
the finite. Perfection would be the aspiration to-
wards the ideal, that is religion, not operating in the
world of chimeras and fantastic creations, but in that
of the reality. Until we have got to understand that
the ideal is near every one of us we shall not be
able to prevent certain natures (and these the most
beautifully constituted ones) from seeking it beyond
76 The Future of Science.
the vulgar existence, and finding their delight in
asceticism. ‘The sceptic and the frivolous minded
may shrug their shoulders as much as they like and
as long as they like at the folly of those beautiful
natures, it will make no difference to them. Re-
ligious and pure natures understand them, the philo-
sopher admires them, like every energetic manifesta-
tion of a real need which mistakes its road for want
of criticism and rationalism.
Nothing is easier with our positive spirit than to
point out the absurdity of all the sacrifices a man
makes of his welfare in obedience to the suprasen-
sible. To the realist the man on his knees before the
invisible looks uncommonly like an imbecile, and if
antique libations were still in usage (37), there are
many people who would say with the apostles;
Ut quid perditiohec? Why waste this liquor thus?
You would have done better to drink or to sell it,
which might have given you pleasure or profit, than
to sacrifice it to the invisible. Saint-Hulalia fasci-
nated by the charm of asceticism escapes from the
paternal home, takes the first road she comes to,
wanders about at haphazard, gets lost in the bogs
and cuts her feet in the brambles. ‘‘ The girl was
mad ;’’ I hear people say. You may eall her mad,
as long as you like, I would give everything I pos-
sess to have seen her at that moment. Our judg-
ments on a life of asceticism all start from the same
principle; the ascetic sacrifices himself to the use-
less; hence he is absurd. Or else, if an apology for
the life is attempted, it will be solely for the material
services it has been able to render accidentally,
without the consideration that those services were
utterly foreign to its aim, and that those works that
are accounted a title to glory, had no value attached
to them, save in so far as they contributed to his
asceticism. Assuredly he who would embrace a
useless life, not from the need of contemplation but
simply for the sake of idleness (and this was what
happened during the degeneracy of the institution)
 The Future of Science. — 77.
would be thoroughly contemptible. As for pure
asceticism, it will always remain, like the pyramids,
one of those grand monuments of the inmost needs
of man, manifesting themselves with energy and
grandeur, but with too little conscience and reason.
The principle of asceticism is eternal in humanity,
the progress of thought will impart to it a more
rational direction (38). The ascetic of the future
will not be the Trappist monk, one of the most
imperfect types of man, he will be the lover of the
purely beautiful, sacrificing to this dear ideal all the
personal needs of the lower life.
The English have imagined that they were further-
ing the cause of sacred morality by prohibiting in
India the processions stained with the blood of
voluntary sacrifices, the suttee. A strange mistake
indeed. Do you really believe that the fanatic who
joyfully lays down his head under the wheels of the
car of Juggernauth is not happier and more beautiful
than you, insipid merchants. Do not you think that
he honours human nature more by attesting—in an
irrational,’
but none the less powerful manner, no
doubt—that man has within him instincts superior
to all the cravings for the finite and the love of self.
Undoubtedly if we looked upon those acts as the
mere sacrifice to a chimerical deity, they would be
simply absurd. But we look upon them as the
fascination which the infinite exercises on man, as
impersonal enthusiasm, the cult of the suprasensible.
And it is upon those magnificent outbursts of the
grand instincts of human nature that you would
impose limits, with your paltry morality and your
narrow common sense... - In those sae: and
icturesque exaggerations of human nature there is
Be alerdinass, Bee ferecusness which the healthy
and regular exercise of reason, do what it will, will
never equal, and which the poet and the artist will
always prefer (89). A morbid and exclusive develop-
ment is more original and shows in greater relief the
energy of nature, like an injected vein which stands
 78 The Future of Science.
out more clearly to the inspection of the anatomist.
Go and have a look in the Louvre at the marvellous
Spanish collection; it is ecstasy and the superhuman
‘incarnated, saints whose feet scarcely touch earth;
virgins with necks craned, haggard eyes, staring into
space, martyrs who wrench their hearts from their
bodies or lacerate themselves, monks undergoing all
kinds of self torture, etc. Well, I love those monks
of Ribeira and Zurbaran, without which one would
fail to understand the Inquisition. It is the moral
force of man exaggerated, off the track, but original
and bold in its excess. The apostle is certainly not
the pure type of humanity, nevertheless, where shall
we find a more powerful manifestation for the psycho-
logist from which to study the inmost energy of
human nature and its divine outbursts ?
We must make due allowance for everything.
Some of the charges preferred against the middle
class civilization by the adversaries of the modern
spirit are unquestionably true. The Middle Ages
which assuredly understood the reality of life less
well than we do, understood in some respects the
suprasensible life better than we do. The error of
the neo-feudal school lies in its non-perception of the
fact that the faults of modern society are necessary
to its character of transition, that these faults arise
from a perfectly legitimate tendency operating under
an exclusive and partial form. And this very partial
form is also necessary; for it is one of humanity’s
laws that it must proceed with its phases the one
after the other, and in setting aside temporarily all
the rest; whence arises the incomplete appearance
of all its successive developments.
If aught could inspire doubt in the mind of the
thinker with regard to the future of reason, it would
no doubt be the absence of grand originality and the
small initiative displayed by humanity as it proceeds
on its roads of reflection. When we compare the
timid works brought forth with so much travail by
our reasoning age with the sublime creations en-
|
The Future of Science. 79
gendered by primitive spontaneity, engendered with-
out so much as a feeling of their difficulty ; when we
ponder the strange facts which must have taken
possession of men’s consciences in order to create a ~
generation of martyrs and apostles, we might be
tempted to regret that man has ceased to be instinc-
tive inorder to become rational. But we are com-
forted with the thought that if his inward potentiality
has diminished, his creation has become much more
personal, that he is much more the master of his
own work, that he is its author by virtue of a more
lofty title; with the thought in sum that the actual
condition of things is only a painful, difficult condi-
tion, full of effort and hard striving through which
the human intellect will have had to pass towards a
superior state ; with the thought that the progress of
the rational state will bring about another phase, in
which the intellect will be once more the creator,
but freely and with more conscience of its work. It
is no doubt very sad for the man of intellect to have
to pass through those ages of “little faith,” to see
sacred things railed at by the profane and to be
exposed to the insulting laughter of triumphant
frivolity. But it matters not; he is the custodian
of the sacred deposit, he is the standard bearer of
the future, he is man in the grand and extended
signification of the word. And he knows it, hence
his joy and his sadness; his sadness because he is
permeated with the love of the perfect, it grieves him
to think that so many consciences should for ever be
closed to it; his joy, because he knows that the
mainsprings of humanity never wear out; that,
though momentarily overcome with sleep, they are
there nevertheless, deep down his inmost being and
that one day they will wake up to astonish by their
proud originality and their invincible energy both
their timid apologists and their insolent despisers.
Let us suppose for a moment thata thought as
original, as powerful as that of Christianity were to
appear to-day. At the first glance it looks as if it
 me —_—

80 The Future of Science.

would make no headway at all. Selfishness is domi-
nant, the sense of grand devotion and of disinterested
apostleship is lost. The century seems to obey two
motives only ; fear and interest. At such a spectacle
a deep sadness comes over the soul. It is all over
then? We must bid farewell to great things; noble
thoughts will have no existence save in the recollec-
tions of the orator; religion will no longer be aught
but a check in the hands of the frightened wealthier
classes. The sea of ice is for ever spreading and |
getting more solid. Who shall be able to break
through it ?
Timid friends who thus despair of humanity, let us
go back-together eighteen hundred years. Fancy
that you are living at that period when a handful of
obscure men founded in the East the dogma which
since then has governed humanity. Cast a glance
at the contemptible world that obeyed Tiberius, and
tell me whether the world is really dead. Chant once
more the funeral hymn of humanity ; for humanity
is no more, its heart is:still in the cold grip of death.
How are these poor enthusiasts to endow it with life
once more; how, without a lever, can they uplift
a world? Well, they have done it nevertheless;
three hundred years later the new dogma was master,
and four hundred years after that it became tyrant
in its turn.
This is our triumphant reply. The condition of
humanity will never be so desperate as to preclude ©
us from saying ; ‘‘ Many a time it was believed to be
dead. The gravestone seemed fastened down for
ever, and the third-day it uprose from the dead.”’
ii
; The Future of Science. 81

CHAPTER V.

Ir is not altogether inadvertently that I designate

by the name of science that which is generally called
philosophy. ‘To philosophize is the word by which
I would most willingly sum up my life; nevertheless,
seeing that the popular use of the word only ex-
presses a still partial form of the inner life, that,
besides, it only implies the subjective fact of the
_ solitary thinker we must employ the more objective
word; to know when assuming the standpoint of
humanity. Yes, the day will come when humanity
will no longer believe ; but when it shall know; the
day when it shall know the metaphysical and moral
world as it already knows the physical; the day
when the government of humanity will no longer be
given to accident and intrigue, but to the rational dis-
cussion as to what is best, and to the most efficacious
means of attaining that best. If such be the aim of
science, if its object be to teach man its final aim
and its law, to make him grasp the true sense of life,
to make up, with art, poetry and virtue the divine
ideal which alone lends worth to human existence,
if such be its aim, then is it possible that it should
have its serious detractors ?
“But,” it will be asked, ‘‘ will science accomplish
these marvellous destinies?’’ All I know is this,
that if science does not accomplish them, nothing
else will, and that humanity will for ever be ignorant
of the significance of things ; for science is the only
legitimate means of knowing, and that if it has been
G
 —_ ~~

82 The Future of Science.

possible for the religions to exercise a salutary in-
fluence on the march of humanity it is solely because
science was obscurely mixed up with them, that 1s _
to say, the regular exercise of the human intellect.
If we were to confine ourselves to what science
has done hitherto without considering the future we
might well ask ourselves whether it will ever carry
out this programme, whether it will succeed in pro-
viding humanity with a symbol comparable to that of |
the religions. Up till nowscience has done little else
but destroy. Applied to nature itself, it has destroyed
its mystery and its charm by showing mathematical
forces there where the popular imagination saw life,
moral expression and liberty. Applied to the history
of the human intellect, it has destroyed those poetical
superstitions of privileged individuals, in the admira-
tion of which semi-science took so great a delight.
Applied to moral thingsit has destroyed the com-
forting beliefs which nothing can replace in the heart
that was at rest in them. Where is the man who
after having given himself up to science with all his
heart has not cursed the day when thought became
his birthright, who has not hankered after some fond,
lost illusion? As for me, I admit having often been -
torn with regret; yes, there were days when I still —
wished to be at rest with the simple-minded, when.
I should have felt annoyed with criticism and ration- —
alism, if it were possible to be annoyed with fate.
The first feeling of him who deserts the ranks of —
naive belief for those of critical investigation, is that
of regret and almost anathema against that inflexible
power, which from the moment it seizes upon him,
compels him to accompany it through every stage of
its irresistible march, until the final goal where one
stops to weep (40). Unhappy like the Cassandra of
Schiller through having seen too much of the reality,
he is almost tempted to exclaim, “ Restore me to m
blindness.” But are we to conclude from this that
science is only fit to take the colour out of life, and
to destroy beautiful dreams ?
 The Future of Science. 83
_ Let me first of all frankly admit that if such be
the case, it is an evil beyond remedy, necessary and
for which we should blame no one. If there be
aught fatal on earth, it is reason and science. It is
useless to grumble at it and to get impatient, and the
anger of the orthodox folk against the freethinkers
really makes one laugh; because it looks as if the
latter had really had it in their power to develop
themselves in a different fashion, as if a man were
free to believe what he likes. It isimpossible to pre-
vent reason from taking up every object of belief,
and all these objects lending themselves to criticism,
reason is fatally bound to declare that they do not
constitute absolute truth. There is not a single link
in this chain which one was free to shake off for a
single moment; the only culprit in the matter is
human nature and its legitimate evolution. And the
unquestionable principle is that human nature is
without reproach and proceeds towards the perfect by
_ means of forms successively and diversely imperfect.
The fact is that science will only have destroyed
the dreams of the past to put in their stead a reality
a thousand times superior. If science were to remain
what itis we should have to submit to it while cursing
it, for it has destroyed and not builded up again; it has
awakened man from a sweet sleep, without smoothing
the reality to him. What science gives me is not
enough, I am still hungry. If I believed in any re-/
ligion, my faith, I admit, would have the greater
wherewithal to satisfy its hunger, but a small
modicum of good science is better than a great deal
of haphazard science. If we had to admit literally
all that legend-mongers and chroniclers tell us about
the origin of peoples and religions we should know a
great deal more about them than with the system
of Niebuhr and Strauss. The ancient history of
the East in its ascertained facts might be reduced
to a few pages; if we were to put our faith in
Hebrew, Arabic, Persian and Greek histories, etc.,
we should have a library full. Folk with whom the
 — _—~
oo

84 The Future of Scvence.

craving to believe is very developed may afford them-
selves the pleasure of swallowing all that. The
critical intellect is the sober man, or if you like, the
fastidious man; he makes sure above all and before-
hand, of the quality. He prefers abstention to in-
discriminate acceptance, he prefers truth to himself,
and sacrifices his most lovely dreams to it. Think
you then that it would not be much more pleasant to
us to sing in the temple with the women or to dream
with the children than to be pursuing on those in-
hospitable mountains a truth which is for ever fleeing.
Do not, therefore, twit us with knowing so very few
things, for you, you know nothing at all. The little
we do know is at any rate perfectly acquired and will
ever go on increasing. Our guarantee is the most
invincible of inductions, derived from the example
of the sciences of nature.
WA “Tf,” as Burke maintains, ‘‘our ignorance of the
things of nature, is the principal cause of our admira-
tion of them, if this ignorance became to us the
source of the feeling for the sublime,” we might ask
ourselves whether modern science by rending the
veil that hid from us the forces and the agents of
a

~, physical phenomena, and by showing us everywhere

a regularity subject to mathematical laws and con-
sequently devoid of mystery, has furthered the con-
templation of the universe, been of service to «sthe-
ticism, while furthering at the same time the know-
ledge of truth. The patient investigations of the
observer, the figures accumulated by the astronomer,
the long enumerations of the naturalist are scarcely
calculated to awaken the sense of the beautiful, but
the genuinely beautiful, that which is not based upon
fictions of human fantasy is hidden in the results of
analysis. ‘To dissect a human body is to destroy its
beauty, and still by means of this dissection, science
arrives at the recognition of a much superior order
of beauty, which superficial examination would not
have as much as suspected. No doubt the enchanted
world in which humanity dwelt previous to its
 The Future of Science. 85
entrance upon life guided by thought, the world
conceived as being moral, replete with passion, life,
and sentiment, that world possessed an ineffable
charm; and it is likely that face to face with that
inflexible and severe nature created for us by ration-
alism, some may be tempted to regret the miracle
and to reproach scientific experiments with having
banished it from the universe. But such a reproach
could only be based upon an incomplete view of the
results of science. For the real world revealed to us
by science is by far superior to the fantastic world
created by the imagination. If the human intellect
had been challenged to conceive the most surprising
marvels, if the limits which realisation imposes on
the ideal had been knocked down in favour of the
human intellect, if all this had been done even then
it would not have dared to conceive a thousandth
part of the splendours revealed by observation. We
may go on inflating our conceptions as long as we
like, we only bring forth atoms at the expense of the
reality of things. Is it not a strange fact that all
the ideas which primitive science had formed on the
world appear narrow, trivial, and ridiculous to us after
that which has been proved to be true. The earth
resembling a disc, a column, a cone, the sun as big
as the Peloponnesus, or else conceived to be a
meteor, lighting itself every day, the stars trundling
about at a few leagues distance on a solid vault,
concentric spheres, a universe closed, stifling, walls, a
narrow hemisphere against which the instinct of the
infinite is shattered (41), these were some of the
most brilliant hypotheses at which the human
intellect had arrived. Beyond these, truly, was the
world of angels with its everlasting splendour; but
even there what narrow limits, what finite concep-
tions. Has not the temple of our God become ~
enlarged since science has revealed to us the infinity »

of worlds? And still people were free then to create

marvels ; there was plenty of stuff to cut from and to
spare, if I may so express it; observation placed no
86 The Future of Science.
check on fantasy; but it was the experimental
method which many delight in representing as
narrow and without idealism which had the honour
of revealing to us not that metaphysical infinite the
idea of which is the foundation itself of man’s reason,
but that real infinite which he never attains in his
boldest flights of fancy. Hence, we may fearlessly
contend that if the marvellous in fiction has up till
now seemed necessary to poetry, the marvellous in
nature, when it shall be unveiled in all its splendour
will constitute a poetry a thousand times more
sublime, a poetry which will be reality itself, which
will be science and philosophy at the same time. If
the experimental knowledge of the physical universe
has exceeded by far the dreams of imagination,
are we not justified in believing that the human
intellect by investigating more and more closely
the metaphysical and moral sphere and applying its
severest method to it without any consideration for
chimeras and desirable dreams—if there be such, are
we not justified in believing that by doing this it will
simply shatter a narrow and HOA world to open
another world of infinite marvels ?/ Who knows but
what our metaphysics and theology are not to those
to be’ one day revealed by rational science as the
Cosmos of Anaximenes or Indicopleustes to the
Cosmos of Herschel and Humboldt.
The above consideration, it appears to me, is as
eminently calculated to reassure us on the future
and eventual results of science, as to justify all bold-
ness and to condemn all timid restriction. However
destructive a criticism may seem, we should give it
free scope, provided it be really scientific; salvation
never comes by going backward. | It is, first of all
too evident that the very consciousness of having
retreated before the salutary method, and the
permanent sentiment of a fictitious objection would
cast over the whole of ulterior existence a scepticism
more distressing than denial itself. We must either
never discuss at all, or discuss to the end. Besides,
“en
The Future of Science. 87
it is certain that the true moral system of things is
infinitely superior to the wretched hypotheses over-
toppled by severe reasoning, that one day science will
unfold a reality a thousand times more beautiful, and
that criticism in that way will have been a first step
in the direction of beliefs more comforting than those
which it seems to destroy. Yes, if I were to see all
the truths constituting what is called natural religion,
a personal God, Providence, prayer, anthropomor-
phism, personal immortality, etc.; if I were to see
all these truths, without which there is no happy
life go to wreck beneath the legitimate effort of
critical examination, I should clap my hands for joy
- over their ruin, thoroughly convinced that the real
system of things, of which I may be still ignorant
but in the direction of which this very denial is a
step, infinitely surpasses the poor imaginations with-
out which we cannot conceive the beauty of the
universe. The gods only go to make room for others.
That infinite beauty which we perceive only in vague
outlines and which we endeavour to reproduce by
paltry images exists, truly exists. It is more beauti-
ful, more comforting a thousand times by far than
that which my imagination may have conjured up.
When the old anthropomorphic conception of the
world disappeared before positive science, one might
have been for a moment tempted to exclaim : ‘‘ Good-
bye to poetry, good-bye to the beautiful,” and behold,
the beautiful has revived more beautiful than ever.
In the same way the moral world is far from having
received a mortal blow by the destruction of old
chimeras, the most realistic method being that which
will lead us to its most dazzling marvels, and until
we have discovered~ineffable splendour} intoxicating
truths, delightful and comforting beliefs we may
rest assured that we are not within the truth, that
we are merely passing through one of those fatal
periods of transition when humanity ceases to believe
in chimerical beauties ere it arrives at the discovery
of the marvels of the reality. We should never get
88 The Future of Science.
frightened at the onward march of science, seeing
that we may be sure that it will only lead to the
discovery of incomparably beautiful things. Let us
leave vulgar natures to exclaim with Micah when
they had taken away his idols; ‘‘Ye have taken
away my gods.” Let us leave them to say with
Serapion the converted anthropomorphist of Mount
Athos; ‘Alas, they have taken away my god, and
I no longer know what I worship.” As for us, when —
the temple topples down, instead of weeping on its
ruins, let us think of the temples, which more mag-
nificent and vast, will uprise in the future until the
day when for ever shattering their narrow walls,
thought will only have one temple, the roof of which
will be the sky. are .
Hence, science must pursue its road without mind-
ing with whom it comes in collision. Let the others
get out of the way. If it appears to raise objections
against received dogmas, it is not for science but the
received dogmas to be on the defensive and to reply
to the objections. .Science should behave as if the
world were free from preconceived opinions, and not.
heed the difficulties it starts. Let the theologians
come to an arrangement with one another to come
to an agreement with science. We may as well take
it for granted that that which is infinity exceeds in
beauty any and everything that which thay be con-
ceived ; that the Utopian who sets his fancy to work
in the creation of the best possible world only brings
forth child’s work in comparison with the reality;
that when positive science only reveals triviality and
finiteness, it 1s because it has not reached its final -
result. Fourier, scattering broadcast belts, crowns
and aurore boreales over the various worlds is nearer
the truth than the physicist who thinks his small
universe equal to that of God, and still, one day
Fourier will be surpassed by the realists who will
know the truth of things through unquestionable
scientific observation.
The reader will allow me to cite an example.
 The Future of Science. 89
The old manner of looking at immortality is in my
opinion a ‘survival’? of the conceptions of the
primitive world and seems to me as narrow and as
unacceptable as the anthropomorphic God. Man, in
fact, is not to me, a composite of two substances, he
is a unit, an individual resultant, a great persistent
phenomenon, a thought prolonged. On the other
hand, as soon as we deny immortality in an absolute
manner, the world becomes colourless and sad.
Now, it is an unquestionable fact that the world is
beautiful beyond expression. Hence, we are bound to
admit that everything which has been ‘sacrificed in
the furtherance of progress will be recovered at the
end of the infinite, by a kind of immortality which
- moral science is sure to discover one of these days
(42), and which will be to the fantastic immortality
of the past as the palace of Versailles to a house of
cards put together by a child. One may say as much
of all the dogmas of our natural religion and morality,
so colourless, so narrow, so lacking in the poetical
that I should be afraid of offending God by believing+
in them. One may compare the old dogmas to those
hypotheses of the physical sciences which afford
sufficiently exact formulas for the representation of
facts, though their expression be very faulty and
contains a considerable part of fiction. One cannot
say; “things are thus;” but one may say that,
“things proceed as if it were thus.” In calculating
by the light of these hypotheses, one will get at
exact results, because the error lies only in the ex-
pression and the illustration not in the schema and
the category itself. ;
For the sake of the ultimate welfare of humanity
there are centuries condemned to scepticism and
immorality. To get from the beautiful, poetical
world of the naive peoples we have had to pass
through the atomic and mechanical world. In the
same way, in order to create for itself a new world
of beliefs humanity must destroy the old, which can
only be done by passing through an age of incredulity
90 The Future of Science.
and speculative immorality. I say speculative, for
no one has the right to throw the blame of his per-
sonal immorality on the century ; elevated souls are
under the happy necessity of being virtuous and the
eighteenth century has proved that the most hideous
doctrines may go hand in hand with the purest con-
duct and the most honourable character. This is an
inconsisteney, if you like. But there is no condition
of humanity which can do without, and the first step _
of him who would think is to grow bolder in the
face of contradictions, trusting to the future to re-
concile them. A man who is consistent in his system
of life is assuredly a narrow-minded one. Jor I defy
him, in the actual condition of the human intellect
to make all the elements of human nature agree. If
he wants a system without a joint, he will be reduced
to deny and to exclude.
Paltry and absolute criticism always springs from
the fact of looking at every development of philoso-
phical history by itself and not from the point of view
of bumanity. All the conditions through which
humanity passes are faulty and assailable. Hvery
century proceeds towards the future, carrying its
objection in its side like a bullet ina wound. The —
destruction of ancient beliefs and the formation of ©
new ones is not always accomplished in the most
desirable order. Science often destroys a_ belief
when it is still necessary. Let us suppose that the
day will come when humanity shall have no longer
any need to believe in immortality, can we imagine
the anguish the premature destruction of this com-
forting faith will have caused to the unfortunate ones
sacrificed to fate during our age of sorrow. In the
definite constitution of humanity science will be
happiness ; but in the imperfect state through which
we are passing it may be dangerous to know too soon.
My inmost conviction is that the religion of the
future will be pure humanism, that is, the cult of
everything that appertains to man, the whole of life
sanctified and raised to a moral value. To tend
 The Future of Science. oa
one’s beautiful humanity (43) will then be the Law
and the Prophets, and that without any particular
form, without any limit which will remind one of
sect, or of exclusive brotherhood. The general
characteristic of religious works is their specialness,
that is, they require to be understood a special
sense which every one has not; separate beliefs,
separate feelings, separate style, separate figures.
Religious works are for adepts; for they, the works,
assume the existence of the profane. Assuredly
St. Paul was an admirable genius; still, does the
beauty of his letters consist in the grand instincts
of human nature taken in the most general form as,
for instance, in the dialogues of Plato? No. Seneca
and Tacitus, perusing these curious compositions
would not have considered them beautiful, at any
rate not to the same extent that we do, initiated as
we are in the data of Christian esthetics. Several
religious sects of the East, the Druses, the Mendaites,
the Ansarians have sacred writings affording them
a very substantial pabulum, but which to us are
- ridiculous or utterly insignificant. The sectarian’s
_ mind is closed to half of the world. Every sect pre-
sents itself to us circumscribed by limits ; and no
matter what limit is most antipathetic to our ex-
pansion of mind. We have seen so many of them
that we cannot resign ourselves to the belief that
the one any more than the other has got hold of the
absolute truth. While willingly admitting that grand
originality has up till now been sectarian or at any rate
dogmatic, we cannot fail to see with equal certainty
the absolute impossibility of confining the human
intellect in the future in any of those vices. With
a consciousness of humanity as developed as ours, we
should soon bring about the reconciliation, we should
judge ourselves as we judge the past, we should
criticize ourselves whilst alive. Sectarian dogma-
tism is irreconcilable with criticism, for how can one
-help testing on one’s self the laws observed in the
development of other doctrines, and how can one
92 The Future of Science.
reconcile absolute belief with such a reflective view ?
We may therefore say without hesitation that no
religious sect will henceforth spring up in Europe
unless new and ingenuous races strangers to thought,
stifle once more all civilization; and even then
one may affirm that this form of religion will be far
less energetic than in the past and will not result
in anything very characteristic. People are not
converted from finesse to stupidity. One always
remembers having been a critic and is often taken
with laughter—even at one’s adversaries in default
of others. And apostles never laugh; laughter
means scepticism already, for after having laughed
at others, if one be consistent, one will also laugh at
one’s self.
For a religious sect to become henceforth possible
we should want a deep moat of oblivion like that
dug by barbaric invasion in which all the recollec-
tions of the modern world must be shot. Keep but
one library, one school, one more or less significant
monument, and you preserve criticism, or at least,
the remembrance of a critical age. And, I repeat,
there is but one means of being cured of criticism as
of scepticism, namely, to forget radically its previous
development and to recommence on another footing.
That is why all the religious sects which for the last
half century have endeavoured to establish them-
selves in Hurope have struck against the spirit of
criticism which took them on their ridiculous and
irrational side to a degree such that the sectaries in
their turn choose the wiser part of laughing at them-
selves. The century is so little religious as to have
been unable to give birth even to a heresy (44). To
attempt a religious innovation is to perform an act
of belief, and it is because the world knows well
enough that nothing is to be done in that order of
things that it becomes bad taste to change anything
in the statu quo of religion. France is of all countries
the most orthodox for it is the least religious country
in the world. If France had to a greater extent the
 The Future of Science. 93
sentiment of religion, it would have become Pro-
testant ike Germany. But not understanding any-
thing of theology, and nevertheless feeling the need
of a belief she thinks it easier to take the ready made
“system readiest to hand without caring in the least
to make it more perfect ;because to attempt to make
it more perfect would be to take it earnestly, it
would be assuming the part of theologian; and it is
the correct thing with us to profess not to concern
one’s self with that kind of thing. Nothing is nearer
to indifference than orthodoxy. The heresiarch has
then, nothing to hope for nowadays, either from
the severe orthodox who would anathematize him,
or from the freethinkers who would smile at the
attempt to reform that which cannot be reformed.
There is a very delicate line of demarcation beyond
which the philosophical school becomes a sect; woe
to him who crosses it. In a moment the language
becomes altered; one no longer speaks to the world
at large, there is an affectation of mystical form, a
kind of incredulity and superstition creeps into
doctrines—one knows not whence—that seemed
altogether rational, reverie becomes mixed with
science in an indistinguishable tissue. The school of
Alexandria presents the most curious instance of this
transformation. Saint-Simonism has renewed it in
our days. I am convinced that if that school had
kept to the lines of Saint-Simon, who, though
very superficial on account of his defective education
had really the scientific spirit, and under the direc-
tion of Bazard, who was certainly a philosopher in
the best acceptation of the word, it would have
become the original philosophy of the France of
the nineteenth century. But the moment the less
earnest spirits take the upper hand, the dross of
superstition appears, the school turns to religion, only
arouses laughter and breathes its last at Menilmon-
tant amidst extravagances which wind up the history
of all sects. Assuredly a tremendous lesson for the
future.
 ae
94 The Future of Science.

Large-minded and unfettered science without any —

bond but that of reason, without a defined creed, —
without temples, without priests, living at ease in
what is called the profane world, that is the form
of the beliefs which henceforth will carry humanity
with them. The temples of this doctrine will be
not schools like those of to-day, childish, cramped,
scholastic, but resorts of leisure as in ancient times
(schole) where men foregather to partake together
of the food provided for supra-sensible minds. The ~
priests are the philosophers, the savants, the poets,
the artists, that is, the men who have accepted the
ideal as part of their inheritance and have relinquished ~
the earthly portion (45). In this way the poetic
priesthood of the first pioneers of civilization will
come back to. us. Many admirable intellects have
often expressed regret at philosophy. not having its
temples and pulpits. Let us have them by all means,
provided that nothing shall be taught in them except
what is taught at the Sorbonne and the College of
France, that, in one word, they shall be schools,
shorn of their pedagogic varnish. Schools are the ~
real competitors with temples. If you raise altar
against altar, you will be told; ‘‘ We prefer the old
ones, not because we have greater faith in them, but
because our fathers worshipped that way.’ If we
were entrusted with the religious education of the —
people, we should have to begin by its so-called pro-
fane education, by teaching them history, science,
and languages. For real religion is only the
culmination of intellectual culture and it will not be
accessible to the masses, until education shall be
accessible to all. Our glory lies in always appealing
to light; we pride ourselves in not being understood
save on the condition of superior culture, on our
strength being in direct proportion to our civilization.
The eighteenth century must in this respect, always
remain our model; the eighteenth century which
has changed the world and inspired energetic con-
victions without attempting to become a sect or a
 The Future of Science. 95
religion and by remaining purely scientific and
philosophical. Social and religious reform will
assuredly come, seeing that every one is wishing for
it, but it will not come from any one sect; it will
come from the grand science, cominon to all, and
operating in the unrestricted midst of human intelli-
gence.
Hence the question of the future of religion must
be resolved in divers ways according to the meaning
attached to the word. If by religion we understand
an ensemble of doctrines traditionally bequeathed,
assuming a mythical form, exclusive and sectarian,
then we are bound to say unhesitatingly, that the
religions will have been the distinguishing mark of
an epoch of humanity, but that they are in no way an
integral part of human nature, and that one day they
will disappear (46). If on the other hand we take
the word to mean a belief accompanied by enthu-
slasm, crowning conviction with devotion and faith
with sacrifice, then there is no doubt that humanity
will never cease to be religious. But it is equally
certain that henceforth no doctrine will have a
chance of making headway without being solidly
interwoven with humanity at large, and eliminating
all speciality of form, without appealing to every one
without distinction of adepts and profane. It causes
me genuine grief to see distinguished intellects
desert the grand audience of humanity in order to
enact the easy part, so flattering to their estimate of
self, of grand priests and prophets in conclaves which
up till now are nothing more than clubs. What a
difference between the philosopher whose name was
formerly Pierre Leroux and the patriarch of a small
church, surrounded by a knot of affiliated converts,
concerning whom one hesitatingly puts .the question ;
“Are they stupid enough to be believers? In
Heaven’s name, if you do happen to have got hold
of the truth, do address yourself to the whole of
humanity. The man of secret societies is always
narrow-minded, suspicious, one sided. The famili-
 ’ = 7=™ oe A
Ria)
¥

96 The Future of Science.

arity with such a small world destroys the familiarity
with the great one ;one ends by becoming suspicious
of human nature and by founding the hope of success
on factitious means, and obscure manceuvres. Great
things are accomplished in open daylight. I do not
mean to offend those whom present necessity com-
pels to lock themselves in conclaves; very often,
I am bound to say, they cannot help themselves.
When the majority of the public is egotistical and
immoral, we must pardon those who constitute them- —
selves into secret committees, however prejudicial a
blow such a life may strike at their intellectual
development. Who shall blame the first Christians
for having made unto themselves a world apart
amidst the corrupt society of their times? Never-
theless, such a necessity is always a misfortune.
One of the results of my historical studies, as far as
I am personally concerned, has been to make me
understand the apostle, the prophet, the founder of
a religion; ‘I am thoroughly aware of the sublimity
and the errors inseparable from such an intellectual
position. It seems to me that I have succeeded
now and then in reproducing within myself by means
of reflection the psychological facts that must have
naturally perturbed those lofty souls. Well, I do
not hesitate to say that the time for this kind of
parts is gone by. The universal, that is, the human
must henceforth be the outward criterion of a
doctrine that solicits the faith of human kind. All
that is sectarian must be placed on the same level
with those products of a puny, weak literature which
cannot live outside the atmosphere of the drawing-
rooms in which they blossomed. We must be on
our guard against those people who can only be
understood by a committee. Common sense has
relegated to its proper place that curious esthetic
school of wony, brought into fashion by Schlegel
where the artist proudly draping himself in his
virtuosity and geniality made it a point to present
nothing but insignificant and tasteless truisms, then
 The Future of Science. 97
shrugged his shoulders at the denseness of the public
which did not care for these platitudes. All that
partakes of the nature of monopoly in the world of
thought, all that requires, in order to be understood
a kind of special revelation, a sense apart, not
possessed by humanity, must be fatally driven
towards the like excess.
Hence, science is a religion, science alone will
henceforth make the creeds, science alone can solve
for men the eternal problems, the solution of which
his nature imperatively demands.
98 The Future of Science.

CHAPTER VI.

Wuy then is science whose fate is so closely bound

up with that of the human intellect so badly under-
stood as arule? Why does it seem only a pastime
or a supplementary thing? Why is the learned man
in France I do not say an object of chaff to the
frivolous minded—that would be an honourable title
as far as he himself is concerned—but a useless piece
of furniture in the opinion of many refined minds,
something analogous to those literary abbés who were -
part of the furniture of a nobleman’s seat much in
the same way as the library itself. In fact, literature
proper is a great deal better understood. There is
no one who, from a more or less elevated standpoint,
does not admit the necessity of people to write plays,
novels, and periodical articles. Truly, there are few
who have a conception of the earnest side of litera-
ture and poetry; the literary man is, in the opinion
of the majority, only fit to amuse them, and the
savant not having the same privilege is for that very
reason, voted useless and a bore. People are apt to
think that this is the case because he investigates,
edits and comments on the work of others. Besides
it is so very easy to ridicule his patient researches.
One must be dull indeed not to be able to coin a
feeble joke on the subject of a man who spends his
life in deciphering old marbles, in guessing at un-
known alphabets, at interpreting and commenting on
texts, which to the ignorant, are only ridiculous and
absurd. Those jokes have that false appearance of
 The Future of Science. 99
common sense, so powerful in France and which too
often governs public opinion. A journalist, a manu-
facturer is considered a “serious” person. But the
savant 1s of no account, unless he be a professor.
Science should not put its head out of the college or
special school, the public at large has no business
with it. Let the professor occupy himself with it,
that is right enough, it is his trade. But every one
else who devotes his life to it meddles with what
does not concern him, something like the man who
learns a trade without ever intending to practise it.
Hence the discredit attached to every branch of
study not contributing directly to classical or peda-
gogical education, the necessity of which is accepted
in good faith, without much knowledge of the reason
why. The best judges acknowledge that all the
branches of philological studies, the East and India
above all may afford the history of the human
intellect its most precious data. Then why is this
~ California so little exploited? Alas, let us give the
reason in its most prosaic harshness. It is because
there is no outlet.
Whence arises this ignoble mistake? Let us first
of all admit that a feeling of enthusiasm for science
is much more rare and difficult in an age like ours
which has witnessed such unquestionable progress in
every branch of human knowledge than at an epoch
-when all the sciences were merely being created.
Conquest and discovery imply a waking up and entail
an exertion of strength which must remain foreign
to those who need only march along in the already
beaten track. Where is the philologist of our days
who brings to his researches the intoxication of the
first classical students, Petrarch, Boccacio, Poggio,
Ambrose Traversari, the men who were so powerfully
moved by the desire to know, who carried the
worship of the new studies by which they enriched
the human intellect to a degree of lofty mysticism,
who suffered persecution, who starved in the pursuit
of their ideal object. Where is the Orientalist who
 —_

100 The Future of Scrence.

raves on his subject like Guillaume Postel? Where
is the astronomer capable of the ecstacies of Kepler,
the student of physical science capable of the pro-
phetic excitement of the two Bacons? It was the
heroic age of science when one philologis t haply
counted among his Anecdota Homer, another Livy,
a third Plato. It is very easy to stigmatize those
noble follies with the rather equivocal term of
pedantry, it is easier still to show that those pas-
sionate lovers of science had neither the good taste
nor the severe method of our century. But might
we not also envy them their powerful love and their
disinterestedness ?
It does not come within the scope of my plan to
inquire in how far the system of public education in
France is responsible for the decay of the scientific
spirit. Nevertheless, it seems to me that the small
importance attached among us to higher education,
the total lack of an institution corresponding to that
of the German wniversities is one of its principal
causes (47). JI am the least likely man to libel the
teaching given at the faculties. Germany has
nothing to compare to the Sorbonne or to the College
of France. In fact, I am not aware of the existence
outside Paris of an institution whither savants and
thinkers come pretty well without a programme to
entertain regularly a public solely attracted by the
charm or the importance of their lectures. They are
two admirable institutions, essentially French, but
they are not like the German universities. They are
far beyond them, but they do not answer the same
purpose. Apart from a few courses of a character
altogether special, the lack of a constant and com-
pulsory audience does not allow of demonstration
of a very scientific nature. Face to face with a
public the majority of which wishes above all to be
enterestingly amused, the lecturer is bound to enun-
clate ingenious views, to afford ingenious glimpses,
rather than rely-upon scientific discussion. I am
aware that those views are the principal aim which
 The Future of Science. 101
we should set ourselves in scientific research ; but
however excellent the manner in which they are pro-
pounded, it can scarcely be denied that the courses
which necessarily attract a great number of listeners
and which exercise the greatest influence on the
culture of the intellect, are the least likely to con-
tribute to the spread of the scientific spirit. A great
number of theories can, therefore, only find room
in the curriculum of the lyceums, where science does
not occupy its dignified position (48). How can
public opinion be favourable to science, when the
majority only know it from their old college recollec-
tions, which besides they are in a hurry to drop and
which cannot make them conceive it in its true light?
Hence, serious books and studies seem to have no
Significance save with a view to education, while on
the contrary education should be only one of the
least applications of science. This ridiculous pre-
judice is one of the greatest troubles in the path of
him who devotes his life to pure science.
Thus by a strange reversal, science with us is only
made for the schools, while the school should only
be made for science. No doubt if the school in
modern days were like that of antiquity, a gathering
of men solely impelled by the desire to know and
united by a common method of philosophizing, one
might allow science to lock itself into it. But the
school with us having as a rule a practical or peda-
gogic purpose, the reduction of science to narrow
proportions, the supposition that philology is only of
use.in so far as it aids classical education is the
greatest humiliation imaginable and most opposed
to good sense. The department of science and
serious research becomes in this way that of public
education as if such things had no value except in
so far as they are aids to education. Hence the idea
that as soon as one’s education is finished, one need
not concern one’s self any longer with them, and
that they only concern the professors. In fact, it
would be difficult indeed, I believe, to find among us
102 The Future of Scrence.
a philologist who does not in some way belong to the
scholastic profession and a philological book, not
written for the use of schools or with some other
scholastic purpose. It is a strange vicious circle,
for if these things are of no use save for the purpose
of teaching, if they are to be studied only by those
who are to teach them, what is the good of teaching
them ?
Heaven forbid that we should try to lower those
noble and useful functions that help to prepare the
seriously-inclined intellect for every career; but it
appears to me that we should thoroughly distinguish
between science and instruction and give to the
former, apart from the latter a religious and philo-
sophical aim. The savant and the professor differ as
much from one another as the manufacturer and the
retailer. The confusion that has arisen in peoples’
minds with regard to them has contributed to throw
a kind of slight on the most important branches of
science, on the very ones which on account of their
importance were considered worthy of being selected
as the bases of classical studies. Fashion is not half
so severe with regard to studies of lesser importance
which do not happen to remind us in so awkward a
way of our college days.
Hence, we must accustom ourselves to consider
the application of certain branches of science and
especially of philology to classical studies as some-
thing accessory and secondary from the standpoint
of science. It is only in connection with positive
philosophy that everything has its price and its value.
The frivolous mind which does not understand
science, pedantry which understands it badly and
causes its depreciation both spring from an absence
of the philosophic spirit. We must accustom our-
selves to look for the value of knowledge in know-
ledge itself and not in the use one may make of it
for the education of childhood or youth.
No doubt, by the natural force of things, the men
most eminent in each branch of science will be called
 The Future of Science. 103
upon to teach them, and reciprocally the professors
will always have a gift apart. It is even worthy of
note that all the most illustrious names in modern
. Science are those of professors. One would look in
vain among the free contingent of amateurs for
Heynes, Bopps, Sacys, Burnoufs. Nevertheless, one
cannot willingly blind one’s self to the grave danger
of science becoming too exclusively a matter of
schools. It would contract habits of pedantry,
which by investing it with a particular colour would
drag it away from the grand midst of humanity.
No one is more profoundly convinced than I that
Sclence cannot live without what we call the tech-
nique,no one has less sympathy than I have with
the kind of drawing-room science, emasculated in
form, trying to be interesting, a science of semi-
scientific, semi-fashionable reviews. True science is
that which belongs neither to the school, nor to the
drawing-room, but which responds exactly to the
want of man; that which shows no trace of institu-
tion or fictitious custom, in one word that which re-
minds us most of the schools of ancient Greece,
which in this as in everything has given us the
model of the pure and sincere. Look at Aristotle.
The scientific apparel takes up more space with him
that with no matter what modern savant, Kant per-
haps excepted. It is evident that the human in-
tellect delighted at the discovery of those orderly
pigeon holes of thought which dialectics bring to
light, attached at first too much importance to them
and naively believed that every idea might advan-
tageously be moulded in those forms. Still, is
Aristotle, though so eminently technical, exactly
scholastic? No. Compare his ‘‘ Rhetoric” to the
modern rhetorics, which after all and in reality are
but so many weak reproductions of it, and you will
on the one hand, have an original work, though
strange in form, a true, albeit somewhat idle analysis
of one of the facets of the human mind, on the other,
books utterly insignificant and absolutely useless
104 The Future of Science.
outside the college. Compare the ‘‘ Analytics” with
the “scholastic logics’? of the old school and you
will be confronted with the same contrast. There-
fore, in forbidding science to assume the scholasti c
air, we make no concessio n to the superficia l intellect —
which should never be considere d. We merely wish
to bring science back to its grand and beautiful form
which the French intellect understands so well.
There is ‘‘ good taste’’ in science as well as in litera-
ture which our countrymen have caught every now
and then in a very superior and delicate way. German
science is in this respect not bound to observe so
many precautions. It may assume the scholastic air
and surround itself with a scholastic perfume which
with us would be considered scandalous. Are we to
congratulate it on that account? Grave intellects
readily make excuses for pedantry. They know that
this form of intellectual labour is often necessary,
always pardonable. No one objects to it in the
classics of the Carlovingian restoration, nor in those
of the Renaissance; the human intellect is sure to
amuse itself for some time with its discoveries and —
the new results it introduces into science, it is bound
to make a pleasant pastime, nay a toy of it, before
making it an object of philosophic meditation. The
same tone will be sure to crop up once more and will
be equally pardoned in the exclusive and pre-occupied
savant who works his mine with passion, especially
if a powerful spirit does not come to the rescue to
animate his patient researches, and if the simplicity
of his outward life reduces him to the everlasting and
unchanging role of savant. The higher philosophy,
intercourse with society or the practical pursuit of
business can alone preserve science from pedantry.
But for many, many long years we shall still have to
pardon the savant for being neither a philosopher,
hor a man of the world, nor a statesman, even when
they bear the title of Court Councillors as in Germany.
Our sensitiveness in this respect is perhaps one of
the reasons why philology, though represented in
 The Future of Science. 105
France by so many illustrious names is always held
back by a kind of shamefacedness, and dares not pro-
«claim itself openly. We are so terribly afraid of ridi-
cule that everything which can possibly lend itself to
It arouses our suspicion ; and the most worthy things
by slightly changing their name and shade lay them-
selves open to it. The term pedantry, which, if not
clearly defined, may be so mischievously applied, and
which with the unthinking is almost synonymous
‘with everything relating to serious and scientific
inquiry has in this way become a scarecrow to subtle
and refined intellects who have often preferred to
remain superficial rather than lay themselves open
to the attack the most painful of all to us. This
scruple has been carried so far that we have seen
critics of the highest order of intellect deliberately
leave their expressions incomplete rather than employ
the scholastic word, when the scholastic word was
the right one to employ. Scholastic jargon when
it merely hides the absence of thought or when
merely used to ‘‘ show off”’ by the narrow intellect
is tasteless and ridiculous. But to deliberately
banish the exact and technical style, which alone
is capable of expressing certain delicate or deep
shades of thought, to do this is to fall into a purism
equally unreasonable. Kant and Hegel or even
minds as absolutely emancipated from the scholastic
traditions as Herder, Schiller and Goethe would, if
judged like that, not escape our terrible accusation
of pedantry.
We may congratulate our neighbours upon their
freedom from all such fetters, which, we are bound
to say, would be less hurtful to them than to us.
With them the school and science are in touch;
with us, every system of higher education, which in
its manner, has still the scent of the school about it,
is voted ‘“‘bad form’’ and unbearable. People think
they are showing great subtlety and tact by placing
themselves above everything that reminds them of
school instruction. Every one indulges in that small
106 The Future of Science.
conceit, and fancies he is proving in that way that
he has got over his schooling long ago. Does 1t
sound credible to us that in the ceremonies, resembling: ;
our distributions of prizes, when with us a display-ot~
eloquence is THE THING, the Germans confine them-
selves to the reading aloud of grammatical disserta-
tions of the severest kind and bristling with Greek
and Latin words (49)? Should we be able to under-
stand solemn and public sittings, occupied with the
following lectures. ‘On the Nature of the Con-
junction.’—* On the German period.”—‘* On the
Greek Mathematicians.”’—‘‘ On the topography of
the Battle of Marathon.” —‘‘ On the plain of Crissa.”
—‘ On the centurie of Servius Tullius.”—‘‘ On the
Vineyards of Attica.”’—“ Classification of the Pre-
positions.” — Hlucidation of the difficult words wm
Homer.’ —‘* Commentary on the portrait of Thersites
in Homer;” etc.; etc. (50)? All this implies
among our neighbours a marvellous taste for the
serious, and also perhaps a certain amount of courage
in being bored without wincing when etiquette re-
quires it. Madame de Stael says that the Viennese
of her time amused themselves methodically and as
a matter of conscience. Perhaps the German public
may also be more patient than ours when it becomes
a question of being bored ceremoniously and by
official invitation. It will soon become with us a
meritorious act to witness a sitting of the Academy
of Inscriptions, though the blame may not be laid
at the door of the Academies. Our public is too
difficult to please, it wants to be interested and even
amused where instruction should suffice; and in fact
until one has a conception of the lofty and philo-
sophical aim of science, as long as people will look
upon it as a kind of curiosity, like any other curiosity,
it will be voted a bore and taxed with the ennui it
produces. Play for play there is no reason why the
least attractive should be chosen.
Montaigne who in many respects is the eminently
typical intellect of the Frenchman, represents that
 The Future of Science. — 107
typical intellect above all by his horror of everything
that reminds him of pedantry. It is a treat to see
_ him do the “free and easy,” the man of the world
who understands nothing of science and ‘knows
everything without having ever learned anything.’’*
‘““All these,” he says; ‘are but so many dreams of
a man who has only tasted the upper crust of science
in his infancy, and has only retained a general and
vague impression of it; a little of everything and
nothing at all, in the French fashion. For in sum,
I know that there is a science of medicine, of juris-
prudence, four parts in mathematics, and roughly at
what they aim. And I may perhaps have an inkling
of the pretensions of sciences in general with regard
_ to their use in life, but as for having gone deeper
into them, as for having bitten my nails to the quick
in the study of Aristotle, the king of the modern
method, or having obstinately pursued any science
at all, I have never done so, there is no art of which
I can do more than lay down the first principles.
There is not a middle class child, but what may call
itself more learned than I, who could not make it
go through its first lesson. And if I were compelled
to do so, I should be obliged to draw absurdly from
said lesson some matter of general import, on which
I would examine his natural aptitude; a lesson as
utterly unknown to him, as his is to me.”
Nevertheless, he takes good care to show that he
understands as much about it as any one else, and to
reveal such traits of learning as may do credit to his
understanding, provided it be taken for granted that
he sets no store by them and that he is above such
pedantry. He prides himself upon having no memory
(retention) and ‘‘to be a capital hand at forgetting ”
excellent en oubliance. ‘‘I have got no store cup-
board;”’ (Je n’ai pas de gardoire) he says; ‘‘for it is
by that that the learned shine.’ Upon the whole, it
is a nice quiet way of snapping his fingers at the
virtues of the savant in order to raise himself in
* Moliére.—TRAN&L.
 = ~Y : + ae

108 The Future of Science.

peoples’ estimation by those of the man of sense and
the man of wit, a way eminently characteristic of the
French intellect and which Madame de Stael desig-
nates so very cleverly by the name of ‘“‘ the pedantry
of thoughtlessness ’’ (51).
 The Future of Science. 109

CHAPTER VII.

Just as in the very bosom of religion there are

a great many men handling sacred matters without
the least idea of their lofty meaning, and only look-
ing at them in the light of vulgar manipulation, so
in the field of science there are labourers—very
worthy people in the main—often utterly lacking in
the sentiment of their work and its value in the
furtherance of the ideal. Let us hasten to add that
it would be unfair to require of the savant the ever
immediate consciousness of the aim of his work; it
would be bad taste on our part to wish him to speak
of it deliberately in and out of season; it would be
compelling him to head all his works with the self-
same prolegomena. Take the most beautiful scientific
works, peruse the works of Letronne, of Burnouf, of
Lassen, of Grimm and of the princes of modern criti-
cism generally and perhaps you would seek in vain
for a page directly and abstractedly philosophical.
The fact of their authors being thoroughly imbued
with the philosophic spirit is made manifest not so
much by an isolated flight of rhetoric as. by the
general spirit and method. Nay, this prudent ab-
stention may often be taken as an act of scientific
- virtue and the heroes of science are they who, though
more capable than no matter whom of indulging in
lofty speculation, have the strength of mind to con-
fine themselves to the strict statement of facts and ab-
staining voluntarily from anticipated generalizations.
 —_ a

110 The Future of Science.

Works undertaken without this noble spirit may even
powerfully aid in the cultivation of the human intel-
lect irrespective of the more or less paltry intentions
of their authors. Isit at all necessary for the marble
quarrier to have an idea of the future monument of
which the blocks which he quarries will form a part?
Among the laborious workers of science who have
raised the edifice of science many looked no further
than the stone they shaped, or at any rate no further
than the limited region where they placed it. Like
the ants, they each bring their individual tribute,
remove some obstacle, cross one another incessantly,
apparently without the slightest attempt at order,
and only get in one another’s way. Nevertheless, it
happens that by the united labour of so many men
and without any preconceived plan a science is orga-
nized, and organized in noble proportions. An in-
visible genius has been the architect presiding over
the whole and has made all those isolated efforts
subservient to a perfect unity.
By studying the origin of each science one will
find that the first steps were nearly always taken.
with no very distinct consciousness, and that
among others, philological studies owe a large debt
of gratitude to very mediocre intellects, which at the
outset laid down their material conditions. Hervas,
Paulin de Saint-Barthélemi, Pigafetta who must be
considered the founders of linguistic science were
certainly not geniuses. What an immense fact in
the history of the human intellect is the initiation of
the Latin world in the understanding of Greek litera-
ture. The two men who contributed most powerfully
to it, Barlaam and Léontius Pilatus were according
to Petrarch and Boccacio who knew them so very
intimately two nonentities who were as surly as .
they were whimsical. The majority of the Greek
emigrants who played so important a part in the
development of European intelligence were men of
no parts whatsoever, downright labourers who took
advantage per alcwni denari of their knowledge of —
 The Future of Science. 111
Greek. For every Bessarion there were a hundred
Philelphuses. The lexicographers are as a rule not
very great philosophers and still the best book on gene-
ralities has not had so great an influence on the higher
sciences as the dictionary—philosophically an ex-
ceedingly poor performance—by which Wilson made
the study of Sanskrit possible in Europe. There are
works requiring an amount of plodding drudgery to
which men impelled by too powerful a craving for
philosophical studies would with difficulty submit.
Would lofty and energetic minds have succeeded
in accomplishing the immense works issued from the
scientific workshops of the congregation of St. Maur?*
Every scientific work, conducted according to a sound
method, keeps its unquestionable value, irrespective
of the wider or narrower views of its author. The
only useless works are those in which the smatterer
or the quack pretends to imitate the bearing. of
genuine science, and those in which the author,
prompted by an interested thought, or by the pre-
conceived dreams of his imagination is bent at all
costs upon finding his chimeras everywhere.
Though it is not necessary for the workman to
have a perfect knowledge of the work he executes,
one could wish those who devote themselves to
special labours to have an idea of the whole which
alone imparts value to theirresearches. If the many
laborious workers to whom science owes its progress
had possessed the philosophical spirit of what they
did, if they had perceived in learning something
more than the satisfaction of their vanity or curiosity,
how many precious moments would have been saved,
how many fruitless excursions spared, how many
lives given up to insignificant works would have
been devoted to more useful researches. When we
come to consider that the intellectual labour of whole
* The congregation of St. Maur, a reformed branch of the order
of St. Benedict, was founded in France in the seventeenth century
and has rightly been called the nursery ground of savants.—
TRANSL.
 a ae
112 The Future of Science.
centuries, of whole countries, of Spain for instance,
has been wasted, for lack of a substantial object
in view, that millions of volumes have crumbled to
dust without producing the least result, we cannot
help regretting deeply this immense loss of human
force, brought about by the absence of guidance
and for want of a distinct perception of the goal to
be reached. ‘The intensely sad impression one feels
on entering a library is due mainly to the thought —
that nine-tenths of the books crowded together —
there have missed their mark, and whether through
the fault of the author himself, or through the
fault of circumstances have never had nor will ever
have, any direct action on the onward march of
humanity.
It seems to me that science will only then recover _
its dignity when it takes up its definite stand on the ~
grand and wide point of view of its veritable aim.
In former days there was room for that trivial and
more or less innocuous character of the savant of
the Restoration, a semi-courtier-like part, the actor
of which had a way of allowing himself to be taken
for aman of solid attainments who tossed his head
at ambitious innovations; it was a way of securing
the patronage of some Mecenas, a duke or peer,
who as a mark of high favour admitted him in the
capacity of a bit of furniture of his drawing-room,
or of an antique curio of his collection; and in the
whole transaction there was nothing deserving the |
name of serious, there was nothing but the more or
less imbecile laughter of vanity,
the laughter so terribly
aggravating when it presumes to meddle with serious
matters. That is the kind of thing which is doomed
to disappear for ever more, that is as good as buried
together with the playthings of a society in which |
shams still played so important a part. To entice
science from the grandiose midst of humanity in
order to make it an idle plaything of a court or a
drawing-room is degrading science, for the day is not
far distant when everything that is not serious and
|alll
The Future of Science. 113
true will be ridiculous. Let us, then, be true for -
Heaven’s sake, true like Thales when from his own
Initiative and impelled from within he took to
speculating upon nature, true like Socrates, true
like Jesus, genuine like St. Paul, genuine like all
those great men which the ideal claimed as its own,
took possession of and dragged after it. Let us leave
old-world twaddle to plead lukewarmly in apology
for science that like everything else, it is a neces-
sity, an ornament, that it confers lustre on a country,
etc., etc. All this is so much sheer imbecility.
Whereis the noble and philosophic soul, eager for
perfection, possessing the sentiment of its intrinsic
worth that would consent to sacrifice itself to such
vanities, that would gladly take up its place in the
Inanimate tapestry of human nature, to enact in the
living world the part of a mummy in a museum.
As for myself, I confess frankly that if I could see
a form of life more beautiful than that of science,
I should run to embrace it. How can one be recon-
ciled to what one knows to be the second-best ? How
can one consent to put one’s self among the waste,
to accept a mere part of show when life is so short,
when nothing can make up for the moments not
devoted to the delights of the ideal? Oh, truth
and earnestness of life, oh holy poesy of things, what
is there to console us for having no feeling for thee ?
And to talk for a moment of the serious hour to
which everyone must look forward to appreciate
things in their true light, who will be able to breathe
his last tranquilly, when, in casting a glance back-
ward, he only finds in his life frivolity or gratified
curiosity? The end only is worthy of. being looked
at, the whole rest nothing but vanity. To live does
not mean to glide smoothly along a pleasant surface,
it does not mean making the world your plaything
in the pursuit of your own pleasure; it means to
partake of many beautiful things, it means to be the _
fellow-traveller of the stars; it means knowledge,”
hope, love, admiration; it means well-doing~\He
I
 =

Tidog The Future of Scrence.

has lived most and most worthily who by his heart
and intellect, by his acts has worshipped most.~
Hence, to look at science in the light of a mere
satisfaction of vanity or curiosity is as great an error
as to consider poetry merely the listless exercise
of frivolous minds, or literature the amusement of
which one tires least, and to which one comes back
most willingly. The collector and the amateur
may render signal services to science, but they are
neither savants nor philosophers. They are as far
removed from it as the manufacturer. For they
amuse themselves, they pursue their own pleasure
just as the manufacturer seeks his profit. J am
aware of there being various degrees of curiosity.
There is a wide difference between the paltry instinct
of the collector which scarcely differs from the attach-
ment of the child to his toys, and the more elevated
form when it becomes a love of knowledge, that is;
a legitimate instinct of nature and may be productive
of a very noble existence. Boyle and Charles Nodier
are only mere inquirers, and still they closely trench
upon the philosopher. It is very rare, in fact, that —
with the highest exercise of the intellect there is
not mixed up a certain amount of pleasure, which
though having no value as far as the ideal is con-
cerned, is none the less useful. It would be difficult
to say how many discoveries have been simply due
to curiosity. How many compilations, precious in
view of ultimate researches would have never been
made but for that innocent love of labour with which
many mildly active natures cheat their craving. It
would be cruel indeed to refuse to those humble
workers the trivial and not very lofty pleasure, but
sweet withal, which M. Daunou has so well defined
as paperasser.* We are all more or less glad at having
felt the same satisfaction, if for no other reason than
because it has helped us to devour the barren pages
* Paperasser means both a love of scribbling and of ferreting
among documents. Daunou was the author of a remarkable series
of Historical Essays; died about 1840.—TRaANsL.
 The Future of Science. rT
of science. Without this the first studies necessary
to master the material baggage of a language would
be unbearable, and thanks to this they become the
most attractive imaginable.
We may go further still and positively affirm that
without this attraction the most learned men of
- modern times who were neither borne up by lofty
philosophical views, nor by directly religious motives,
would not have undertaken those immense labours
which have made the investigations of higher criti-
cism possible to us. He who, with our material
wants intensified to a greater pitch, would accom-
plish a similar act of abnegation to-day, would be ~
ahero. But it is important to maintain for all that,
that this curiosity has no immediate moral whatsoever,
and that its possession does not constitute the savant.
There are manufacturers who exploit science for their|
benefit, the others exploit it for their amusement. |
No doubt the latter is the better part, but there is
not an enormous difference between the two. Plea-
sure being essentially personal and interested, there
is nothing whatsoever sacred or moral about it. All
literature, all poesy, all science whose only aim is
to amuse or merely to awaken interest is for this
very reason frivolous and vain, or to speak correctly,
has no right at all to call itself literature, poesy or
science. The mountebanks in the streets and else-
where do as much, and what is more, succeed better.
How is it that one considers the perusal of Corneille,
Goethe, Byron as a serious occupation, and that the
perusal of such and such a modern novel or drama
is looked upon as merely a pastime? For the same
reason that the Quarterly and Edinburgh Reviews are
serious periodicals and that the Magasin Pittoresque
is a frivolous book.
Therefore, to take up science as merely interesting
-and curious is to humiliate it. In that case Chris-
tian asceticism would be perfectly right in its oppo-
sition. The sole legitimate means of making one’s
self the apologist of science is to look upon it as the
 116 The Future of Science.
~ essential element to human perfection. ‘‘The Imita-
tion of Christ,’’ after having begun like the ‘‘ master _
of those who know” with the words; ‘‘ Every man is
naturally desirous to know,” was thoroughly right in
adding; ‘‘ But what is the use of science without love?
Better by far the humble peasant who serves God,
than the proud philosopher who watches the course
of the stars and neglects himself. What is the use
of the knowledge of things, the ignorance of which
will not cause us to be condemned? All is vanity,
save the love of God and to serve Him.” ‘There
is no gainsaying this, if science be conceived as a
simple series of formulas, if perfect love be possible
without knowledge. If we place perfection on one
side, on the other vanity, how can one fail to follow
perfection ? But it is this very division which is
illegitimate, because perfection is impossible without
science} The true way of worshipping God, is to
know and to love that which is.)
 The Future of Science. 117

CHAPTER VIII.

Or all branches of human knowledge philology is the

one of which it becomes most difficult to grasp the
aim and the unity. Astronomy, zoology, botany
have all a determined object in view. But what is
that of philology? The grammarian, the linguist, the
lexicographer, the literary manin the special meaning
of the word have, all of them, a right to the title of
philologists, and we observe, in fact, between those
various studies a connection sufficiently strong to
enable us to call them by acommon name. In one
respect the words philology, philosophy, poesy and
a good many others are very much alike; in that
their very vagueness is expressive. When after the
manner of the logicians we look for a phrase equiva-
lent to those comprehensive words, and which at the
same time gives their definition, we become greatly
embarrassed because they have neither in their ob-
ject nor in their method any unique characteristic.
Socrates, Diogenes, Pascal, Voltaire are termed
philosophers; Homer, Aristophanes, Lucretius, Mar-
tial, Chaulieu and Lamartine are termed poets, but
it is not easy to find the family link which unites
minds so utterly different under the same name.
Such appellations have not been coined according to
preconceived and clearly defined notions; they owe
their origin to a process less fettered in its applica-
tion and upon the whole more exact than that of
artificial logic. These words designate regions of the
human intellect between which we must be careful
118 The Future of Science.
not to trace lines of demarcation too hard and fast. —
Where does eloquence end, where does poetry com-
mence (52)? Is Plato a poet, is he a philosopher?
Puerile questions, these, no doubt, seeing that what-
soever name we give him he will be none the less
admirable, and that genius does not work in the
exclusive categories which language coins afterwards,
and on the strength of his work. The whole differ-
ence lies in a peculiar harmony, in a more or less
sonorous ring with regard to which an experienced
faculty never hesitates.
Antiquity, wiser in this respect and less distantly
removed from the origin of these words, was less
embarrassed in their application. The very complex
sense of its word grammar did not cause it the least
hesitation. Since we have drawn up a map of science
as it were we persist in assigning to philology, to
philosophy each a place apart; and yet they are
less special sciences than different ways of treating
things intellectual.
At a time when the first question asked of the ©
savant refers to the nature of his studies, and the
results attained, philology can but find small favour.
One understands the physicist, the student of chem-
istry, the astronomer; the philosopher is less well
understood, and the philologist still less. The —
majority, wrongly interpreting the etymology of his —
name imagine that he only works on words (and
what, say they, could be more frivolous ?) and never
dream of distinguishing like Zeno the philologist from
the logophile (53). The vague cloud that hangs over
the object of his studies, that sporadic character as
the Germans call it, that almost undefined latitude
which embraces so many divers researches under the
Same name is apt to make one believe that he is
only an amateur, who flits about amidst the variety
of his works, and undertakes exploring expeditions —
into the past just as certain burrowing animals con-
struct subterranean passages for the mere pleasure
of constructing them. His place in the philosophical
 The Future of Science. 119
organization is as yet not sufficiently defined, his
monographs keep on accumulating without any one
perceiving their purport.
Philology, in fact, seems at the first glance only
to offer an ensemble of studies without any scientific
unity. Everything that contributes to restore or to
illustrate the past has the right to a place in it.
Understood in its etymological meaning it should
only include grammar, exegesis and criticism of texts.
Works of pure learning, of archeology, of xsthetic
criticism should be excluded from it. But such ex-
.clusion would, however, not be natural at all. For
there is the closest connection between these labours,
they form, as a rule, part of the studies of the same
individual, very often of the same work. To elimi-
nate some of these from the ensemble of philological
labours, would be to make an artificial and arbitrary
scission in a natural group. Let us take, for in-
stance, the school of Alexandria; a few philosophical
and theurgical speculations apart, are not all the
labours of that school, even those which do not come
directly under the head of philology, stamped with
the same spirit, which one may call philological,
a spirit it carries even into poetry and philosophy?
Would a history of philology be complete if it made
no mention of Apollonius of Rhodes, of Apollodorus, of
Aflian, of Diogenes Laertius, of Athenzus and other
polygraphists, whose works are, however, far from
being philological, even in the most restricted mean-
ing? If, on the other hand, we grant to philology its
widest possible extension, where are we to stop?
If we do not look out, we shall be forcibly brought to
include nearly the whole of the literature of thought
into it. Historians, critics, polygraphists, the writers
of literary history will have to find a place in it (54).
Such is the drawback, grave no doubt, but necessary
withal and compensated for by great advantages, of
separating in that way a group of ideas, belonging to
the ensemble of the human intellect and to which it
clings with every one of its fibres. Let us add that
120 The Future of Science.
the bearing of words changes with the revolution of
things and that in the appreciation of their meaning
we should only be guided by their central notions,
without trying to impriscn those notions in formulas
which are never their perfect equivalents. When it
becomes a question of ancient literature, criticism
and erudition enter by right into the framework of
philology ; on the other hand the historian of modern
philology will not deem it incumbent upon him to
speak of our grand collections of civil and literary
history, nor of those brilliant works of esthetic criti-
cism that have attained the level of the noblest
philosophical creations (55).
Therefore, the field of the philologist can no more
be defined than that of the philosopher, for both in
fact are occupied not with a distinct object, but with
all things from a special standpoint. The true philo-
logist must be at once a linguist, a historian, an
archeologist, an artist and a philosopher. LEvery-
thing assumes to him a meaning and a value, in view
of the object he sets himself, and which renders
serious the most frivolous things distantly or closely
connected withit. Those who like Heyne and Wolf
have confined the réle of the philologist to the re-
production in its purely scientific domain, and as in
a living library, of every trait of the ancient world
(56), do not appear to have understood the full extent
of their range. The aim of philology does not lie
within itself; it has its value as a necessary con-
dition of the history of the human intellect and the
study of the past. No doubt a good many philolo-
gists whose learned studies have thrown open an-
tiquity to us, saw no further than the text they
interpreted and around which they grouped the
myriad spangles of their brilliant learning. In this,
as in every other science, the natural curiosity of the
human intellect coming to the aid of the philo-
sophical spirit and supporting the patience of investi-
gators has no doubt had its use.
A great many people feel inclined to laugh when
 The Future of Science. 121
they find grave intellects take an enormous deal of
trouble in explaining grammatical peculiarities, col-
lect glossaries, compare the variorum editions of some
ancient author whose only claim to notice often lies
in his oddity or mediocrity. All this arises through
not having understood in a sufficiently wide sense the
history of the human intellect and the study of the
past. Human intelligence after having traversed
.a certain space likes to retrace its steps to behold
once more the road along which it has travelled, to
chew the cud of its own thoughts. The first creators
did not look behind them, they marched onward,
without any other guide than the eternal principles
of human nature. But, on the other hand, humanity
reaches a certain stage, when books have sufficiently
accumulated to be collected and compared, and then
the mind will only proceed with a full knowledge
of facts; it wants to confront its work with that of
bygone ages; that day witnesses the birth of the
literature of thought, and parallel with it, the birth of
philology. The apparition, therefore, is not, as has
been said, a sign of the death of various literatures,
it merely bears witness to their having accomplished
already one life. Greek-literature was manifestly not
dead in the age of the Pisistratidez when the philo-
logical spirit shows itself already so characteristic.
In the Latin and French literatures, the philological
spirit was the forerunner of the grand productive
epochs. China, India, Arabia, Syria, Greece, Rome,
the modern nations have all known the moment when
the labour of the intellect from being spontaneous
becomes scientific and no longer proceeds without
consulting the archives deposited in museums and
libraries. The development of the Hebrew people
itself which previous to Christ appears to offer less
trace than any other of intellectual activity, shows
in its decline perceptible vestiges of that spirit of
comparison, of collecting, of “patching up ee |
may so call it, which terminates the original life of
all literatures.
122 The Future of Science.
These considerations would, it appears to me, be
sufficient as an apology for the philological sciences.
Nevertheless, they are, in my opinion, very secondary
indeed, when we come to consider the new position
which the development of contemporary philosophy
ought to grant to these studies. It wants but one
step more for science to be proclaimed the true philo-
sophy of humanity, and the science of a being who is
in a perpetual condition of ‘‘to be’ can only be the
history of that being. The history of the human
intellect not merely inquisitive but theoretical, that
is the philosophy of the nineteenth century.
And it so happens that this study is only possible
through the direct study of monuments, and that
those monuments “cannot be got at” without the
special researches of the philologist. Certain forms
of the past are each in itself sufficient to occupy
a laborious existence. An ancient language, often
utterly unknown, an isolated paleography, an arche-
ology and a history painfully deciphered, each of
these is assuredly more than enough to engross all
the efforts of the most patient investigator, unless
humbler workers have given protracted labour to the
digging from the quarry and to the presentation in an
aggregate for his appreciation of the materials with
which he is to reconstruct the edifice of the past (57).
In the opinion of posterity, such and such a ponderous,
mediocre, but patient intellect, who has contributed
one important stone to this gigantic work will perhaps
occupy a loftier standpoint than such and such a
speculative mind of secondary order, who called him-
self a philosopher and who did nothing but talk about
the problem, without providing a single new datum
to its solution. The revolution which since 1820 has
completely changed the aspect of historical studies,
or which, to speak more correctly has really founded
the science of history among us, is obviously as
important a fact as the apparition of a new system.
Well; would the works of a Guizot, a Thierry, a
Michelet, works so full of originality, would they
 The Future of Science. 123
have been possible without the Benedictine collections
and other preparatory labours? Mabillon, Muratori,
Baluze, Du Cange were not great philosophers, and
still they have done more for true philosophy than a
good many empty and systematic minds who wanted
to build the fabric of things on air, and of whom not
a single syllable will remain among our final acqui-
sitions. I am not alluding here to works in which
the most solid learning is wedded to a subtle or lofty
criticism, such as for instance the last volumes of
‘‘ T7histoire litteraire de la France ” ‘“ L’ Essai sur le
Buddhisme ” of M. EKugéne Burnouf, “ L’Archéologie
Indienne”’ of M. Lassen, ‘‘La Grammaire Comparée ”’
of M. Bopp, or “ Les Religions de l’Antiquité’”’ of M.
Guigniaut. As for myself I have no hesitation in
saying that I have got more things philosophical out
of each one of these works than from the whole of
the collected works of Descartes and of his school.
But I am speaking of those works of a severer cha-
racter which the profane consider as unreadable,
such as for instance; Catalogues of Manuscripts,
grand compilations, ‘‘ Libraries” like that of Fabricus,
etc.; etc. Well I maintain that such books, almost
insignificant in themselves, have a priceless value if
looked upon as materials for the history of the human
intellect. Ten thousand volumes of philosophy like
the ‘“‘ Lessons’”’ of La Romiguiére or the ‘‘ Logique”’
of Port-Royal might burn before my eyes, and I
should prefer to save ‘‘ La Bibliotheque Orientale”’ of
Assemani or the ‘‘ Bibliotheca Arabico-Hispana”’ of
Casiri. For philosophy always benefits by taking up
things ab integro, and after all the philosopher can
always say; ‘‘ Omnia mecum porto;’’ whereas the
noblest genius in the world could not restore to me
the documents in those collections bearing upon
Syriac and Arabic literature, two very secondary facets,
no doubt, but still, two facets of the human intellect.
It is very easy to ridicule those attempts at re-
storing obscure literatures, often of but mediocre
value. ‘The error arises from the fact of not under-
124 The Future of Science.
standing the whole extent, the infinite variety of the
science of the human intellect. A learned disciple
of M. Burnouf, M. Foucaux has for the last few years
tried to introduce into France the study of Thibetic.
I should not be surprised in the least but that his
praiseworthy enterprise has already caused many an.
epigram to be flung at him; well I declare, I, that
M. Foucaux is doing more meritorious work with
regard to the philosophy of the future than three
fourths of those who claim the position of philo-
sophers and thinkers. When Mr. Hodgson dis-
covered in the monasteries of Nepaul the primitive
monuments of Indian. Buddhism, he did greater
service to thought than a generation of scholastic
metaphysicians could have done. He provided one
of the most essential elements to the explanation of
the Gospel and Christianity by revealing to criticism
one of the most curious religious apparitions and the
only fact possessing a close analogy to the grandest
phenomenon in the history of humanity. He who
should bring us back from the Hast a few works in
Zend or Pehlvi, who should make known to Europe
the epic poems and the whole of the civilization of
the Rajpoots, who should make his way into the
libraries of the Djains of Guzerat, who should give us
an exact knowledge of the books of the Gnostic sect
which is still being preserved under the name of
Meudeans or Nasoreans, he who should do all this
would be certain to have contributed an imperishable
stone to the grand fabric of the science of humanity.
Where is the abstract thinker who can make sure of
a similar satisfaction?
Hence, it is in philosophy that we must look for
the real value of philology. Each branch of human
knowledge has its special results which it brings as a
tribute to the general science of things and to uni-
versal criticism, one of the first needs of thinking
man. Herein lies the dignity of all special research
and of the last details of learning which have no
meaning for the frivolous and light-minded. Looked
 The Future of Science. 125
at in this light, there is no such a thing as trivial or
useless research. There is no study, however unim-
portant its object may seem, but what brings its ray
of light to the science of the whole, to the true philo-
sophy of the realities. The general results which
alone, we are bound to admit, have a value in them-
selves, and are the jinal aim of science, become only
possible by the means of knowledge, and of learned
knowledge of details. We go further still and say
that the general results not based on the knowledge
of the latest details are necessarily hollow and arti-
ficial; whereas special researches, even if destitute of
the philosophical spirit may be of the greatest value
if they are exact and conducted according to a severe
method. The spirit of science is that intellectual
communion which links the scholar to the thinker,
gives to each his deserved glory and establishes the
point of convergence at which their several labours
meet at last.
The union of philology and philosophy, of learning
and thought should, therefore, be the characteristic
of the intellectual labour of our age. It is either
philology or learning which will provide the thinker
with that forest of things (silva rerum ac sententiarum,
as Cicero has it) without which philosophy will never
be aught else than a Penelope web which will
constantly have to be recommenced. We must once
for all abandon the attempt of the old school, to con-
struct the theory of things by the play of formulas
void of all spirit, just as if by manipulating the
shuttle of the weaver without putting thread into it,
we should pretend to manufacture linen, or by setting
a mill into motion without providing corn we should
expect to get flour. The thinker implies the scholar ;
and if it were only for the sake of the severe training
of the mind, I should set very little store by the
philosopher who had not for once in his life worked
at the elucidation of some special point of science.
No doubt the réles may be divided and such division
is often desirable. But there should be at any rate
L204 The Future of Science.
a close commerce between these various functions,
the works of the scholar should no longer remain
buried among the mass of learned collections, where
for all the good they do, they might just as well not
exist at all; the philosopher on the other hand should
no longer insist upon evolving from his own con-
sciousness the vital truths of which the sciences
outside possess such enormous wealth for him who
explores them intelligently and critically.
Whence come so many novel views on the progress
of the different literatures and the human intellect,
on spontaneous poetry, on the primitive ages,
unless they have sprung from the patient study of
barren detail? Would Vico, Wolf, Niebuhr and
Strauss have been able to endow thought with so
many new views, without the possession of most
minute erudition? What if not erudition, has opened
to us the worlds of the Hast, the knowledge of
which has made possible to us. the comparative
science of the developments of the human intellect?
Why is one of the noblest geniuses of modern
times, Herder, so frequently inexact, chimerical,
inaccurate in his treatise on the ‘‘ Poetry of the
Hebrews,”’ in which he has put forth all his soul,
unless it be because he failed to support that ad-
mirable esthetic sense with which he was gifted by
scientific criticism? From this point of view the
study even of the follies of the intellect has its
value _as regards history and psychology. Many
important problems of historical criticism will not be
solved until an ‘‘intelligent’’ scholar shall have
devoted his life to the dissection of the Talmud and
the Cabbala. If Montesquieu in classifying the laws
of the Ripuarians, Visigoths and the primitive Bur-
gundians was justified in comparing himself to Saturn
devouring stones, what will have to be the strength
of the mind capable of digesting such a farrago? And
still, there might be extracted from it a number of
data exceeding valuable to the history of comparative
religion.
|an
1
The Future of Science. 12e
Ever since the fifteenth century the sciences
having for their object the human intellect and its
works have made no discovery to be compared to
that which has revealed to us in India an intellectual
world of marvellous wealth, variety and depth, in
one word, another Europe. If we review our most
settled ideas in comparative literature, in linguistic
knowledge, in ethnography, in criticism we shall find
the whole of them stamped and modified by this grand
and capital discovery. As far as I am concerned, I
find few elements of my thoughts whose roots are
not deeply planted in that sacred ground, and I aver
that no philosophical creation has furnished so many
living parts to modern science as this patient restora-
tion of a world the existence of which was not so
much as suspected. Here then we meet with a
series of essential results introduced into the current
of the human intellect by philologists, and scholars,
men by whom the partisans of the a priort would no
doubt set little store. What then will it be when
this mine, scarcely touched, shall have been worked
in every direction? What will it be when every
nook and corner of the human intellect shall have
been explored and compared in a like way? And
philology alone is capable of accomplishing this task.
Anquetil-Duperron was undoubtedly a patient and
zealous student. Why did all his works have to be
‘propped up”’ as it were and radically reformed?
Because he was not a philologist.
One might fancy that the very fact of summoning
erudition to renewed intellectual activity implies its
being exhausted and that we are assimilating our
century to those epochs when literature, no longer
capable of producing anything original, becomes
critical and retrospective. There would be no doubt
of this, if our erudition were nothing more than a
dead and meaningless letter, if like some narrow
intellects we looked for nothing else in the know-
ledge and admiration of the works of the past than
the pedantic right of despising the works of the
128 The Future of Science.
present. But in addition to our creations being
more spirited than those of the ancients, and apart
from the fact of every modern nation possessing
sufficient sap for two or three engrafted literatures,
our manner of conceiving philology is very much
more philosophical and fruitful than that of antiquity.
Philology is not with us, as in the school of Alex-
andria, the mere curiosity of the erudite man; it is
an organized science having a lofty and serious aim ;
it is the science of the productions of the human in-
tellect. I am not afraid of exaggerating in saying
that philology inseparably bound up with criticism is
one of the most essential elements of the modern
spirit, that without philology the modern world would
not be what it is, and that philology constituted the
vast difference between the Middle Ages and modern
times. If we surpass the Middle Ages in clearness,
in precision, in criticism, it is due solely to philo-
logical education.
The Middle Ages worked as much as we do, the
Middle Ages produced intellects, as active, as pene-
trating as ours; the Middle Ages had their philoso-
phers, their savants, their poets; but it had no
philologists (58) ; hence that lack of criticism which
reduced them to the condition of intellectual infancy.
Impelled towards antiquity by that urgent need which
impels all the neo-Latin nations towards their intel-
lectual origin, it was unable to get at the truth for
want of the necessary instrument (59). There were
as many Latin authors and as few Greek authors in
the West at the time of Vincent of Beauvais as at
the time of Petrarch. And yet Vincent of Beauvais
knows nothing of antiquity, he possesses only a few
insignificant and detached scraps of it, lacking
coherent sense, constituting no spirit. Petrarch, on
the other hand, who as yet has not read Homer, but
who has a manuscript of him in the original language,
who worships him without understanding him (60),
has instinctively guessed the spirit of antiquity ; he
himself has its spirit to a degree as eminent as any
>
soln

nreeere The Future

ge of
SS Science.
ey 129
savant of the subsequent centuries; he understands
with his soul that which he cannot grasp literally,
his enthusiasm is aroused by an ideal, the worth of
which he can only surmise. It is because the philo-
logical spirit makes its first appearance in him. That
is why he should be considered the founder of the
modern spirit in criticism and literature. He is the
landmark between inexact fragmentary and mere
material knowledge, and comparative, delicate and in
one word, critical knowledge. Is the faulty under-—
standing of the philosophy of the ancients by the
Middle Ages, for instance, to be attributed to in-
sufficient study? Who would dare to affirm such a
thing of the century that produced the vast com-
mentaries of an Albertus Magnus, of a Thomas
Aquinas? Is it for lack of sufficient documents ?
Not at all. It had the complete materials of the
Peripatetic philosophy, that is, the philosophical
encyclopedia of antiquity; it had furthermore nu-
merous documents on Platonism, and had the works
of Cicero, Seneca, Macrobius, of Chalcidius, and the
commentaries on Aristotle afforded it almost as much
information on the philosophy of the ancients as we
ourselves possess. What then did they lack, those
laborious workers who devoted so many vigils to that
deep study? They lacked that which the Renaissance
possessed; philology. If instead of wasting their
lives on barbarous translations and second-hand
works, the scholastic commentators had mastered
Greek and read in the original text, Aristotle, Plato,
Alexander Aphrodisiensis, the fifteenth century
would have been spared the spectacle of the war
between two Aristotles, the one left solitary and
forgotten in his original pages, the other artificially
created by successive and scarcely perceptible devia-
tions from the primitive text. The original texts of
a literature are its true and complete presentment.
Translations and second-hand renderings are en-
feebled copies and always leave gaps which the
imagination takes upon itself to fill up. In pro-
K
130 The Future of Science.
portion to the copies belonging to a period removed
from the original and getting reproduced in still
more imperfect copies, the gaps increase, conjectures
become multiplied and the true colour of things
vanishes. The classical translations of the sixteenth
century were to antiquity, as the Aristotle and the
Galen of the Faculties, for which pupils and pro-
fessors were referred to the traditional class books,
to the real Aristotle, to the real Galen, as Greek
culture to the insignificant fragments collected after
other compilers by Martinus Capella or Isidore of
Seville. It is neither original production nor the
inquiring interest into the past, nor the perseverance
to work that the Middle Ages lack. The literati of
the Renaissance were superior neither in penetration
nor in application to an Alcuin, an Allain of Lille,
an Alexander of Hales, a Roger Bacon. But they
were more critical, they enjoyed the advantages
of the progress made in their times and of the know-
ledge acquired, they benefited by the favourable
circumstances which successive events had brought
about. It has been the fate of philology as well as
of every other science to be inseparably linked to
the march of things, and to be unable to accelerate
by a single day by the effort of its own will the pro-
gress to be accomplished.
This axpucia then may be taken as the general
character of the knowledge of antiquity in the Middle
Ages, or to be more exact, of the whole intellectual
condition of that period. Politics as well as litera-
ture had its share of it. Those fictions of kings, of
patricians, of emperors, of Caesars, of Augustuses, trans-
ferred to rank barbarism; those legends of Brut,
of Francus, the opinion that all authority must
necessarily date back to the Roman Empire, as all
high nobility to Troy, the way of looking upon Roman
law as absolute law, Greek knowledge as absolute
knowledge, whence did all this come, if not from the
rough “guesswork knowledge’’ of antiquity, from
the semi-fantastic light by which that ancient world
 The Future of Science. 131
was viewed, that ancient world to which they aspired
to link themselves? The modern spirit, that is,
rationalism, criticism, liberalism, was founded on the
same day that philology was founded. The founders
of the modern spirit are the philologists.
Philology constitutes also one of the claims to
superiority of the moderns over the ancients. Anti-
quity can show no noble type of philological philo-
sopher in the style of Humboldt, Lessing, Fauriel.
If some Alexandrian like Porphyrus and Longinus
happen to add philology to philosophy, the two
realms with them scarcely touch one another; philo-
logy does not beget philosophy ; philosophy is not
philological. What are Dionysius of Halicarnassus,
Aristarchus, Aphtonius, Macrobius compared to those
subtle and excellent intellects which from a certain
point of view constitute the philosophers of the nine-
teenth century (61)? What are questions like the
following: ‘‘Why did Homer begin the catalogue
of the ships with those of the Boeotians?”’ ‘ How
could the head of Medusa be at one and the selfsame
time in the nether regions and on the shield of a
God?” ‘* How many rowers had Ulysses?”? What
are questions like these and other problems that
supplied the subjects for the wrangling of the schools
of Alexandria and Pergamos, when compared to the
ingenious, comprehensive and delicate way of
examining every aspect of things, of culling the
essence of every subject, of strolling through a corner
of ‘‘the universal ”’ like a many-sided observer, which
nowadays we call criticism? Such inferiority is,
after all, easy to explain. The ancients lacked the
means of comparison; wherever they had sufficiently
authentic documents at hand, as in the Homerie
question, they left little for us to do, except in the
higher criticism to which the comparison of the
different literatures is indispensable. That is why
their grammar is above all defective, because they
only know their own language, and special gram-
matical systems derive their life from general gram-
 oan

132 The Future of Science.

mar, and general grammar presupposes a comparison
of idioms. The ancients were equal to the modern
philologists most enamoured of their subjects in
the minuteness of their details and the patience of
their comparisons. As for the criticism of texts,
their position was far different to ours. They had no
inventory of manuscripts of acknowledged authority
and settled once for all to guide them, as we have.
Hence they were compelled to think less than we
do, of comparing and counting them. Aulus Gellius,
for instance, in the critical discussions in which he
frequently indulges argues nearly always a priori and
appeals very seldom to the authority of ancient copies.
Cicero said that Aristarchus rejected as interpolations
such verses of Homer as did not please him (62).
The imperfection of lexicography, the infant state of
linguistic knowledge caused a great deal of uncer-
tainty with regard to the exegesis of archaic texts.
At the philological epoch the ancient tongue had
already become a learned idiom, requiring special
study, almost like the literal language of the far Hast,
and it is not surprising that the moderns should often
censure the interpretations of the ancient philo-
logists, for they were scarcely more competent than
we are as regards the scientific theory of their own
language, and we have unquestionably hermeneutical
means at our disposal which they had not (63). The
ancients, in fact, knew no language but their own
and only the classical and settled form of that
language.
But the inferiority of antiquity was above all per-
ceptible in erudition. The want of elementary books,
of manuals containing common and ordinary notions
(64), of biographical, historical and geographical dic-
tionaries, etc., threw back everyone upon his own
\ . researches, and multiplied errors even with the most
\skilful writers (65). Where should we be, if in order
to learn history or geography, we were reduced to
the scattered facts to be picked up in books that do
not\ treat of such science ex professo? The paucity
\
\
 The Future of Science. 133
of books, the absence of indexes and concordances
which so greatly facilitate our researches often com-
pelled them to quote from memory, that is, in a very
inaccurate manner. And last of all, the ancients had
not the experience of a tolerably great number of
literary revolutions to fall back upon; they could not
compare sufficiently many literatures to soar very high
in esthetic criticism. Let us remember that our
superiority in that way only dates from a few years
back. In this respect the ancients were exactly on
the level of our seventeenth century. When one
reads the opuscula of Dionysius of Halicarnassus on
Plato, on Thucydides, on the style of Demosthenes,
one might well fancy to be reading the ‘‘ Memoirs ”’
of M. and of Madame Dacier and other worthy savants
which fill up the first volumes of the Transactions
of the Académie des Inscriptions et Belles-Lettres.
What artificiality, what puerility do not we meet
with even in the “‘ Treatise of the Sublime”’ itself,
that is, in the best critical work of antiquity, a work
that we may compare with the productions of the
French school of the eighteenth century (66)? Per-
haps the very ages that know best how to produce
the beautiful may know least how to give its theory.
Nothing could be more insipid than what Racine and
Corneille have left us in the way of criticism. One
is tempted to say that they did not understand the
beauties of their own works.
To appreciate the value of philology we should
not ask ourselves what is the worth of this or that
obscure monograph, this or that note which the
scholar crams in at the bottom of a page of his
favourite author; we have as much right to inquire
about the use in natural history of this or that mono-
graphion a certain variety lost among fifty thousand
species of insects. We must consider the revolution
philology has wrought; we must examine what the
human intellect was before the advent of philological
culture, what it has become since it has felt the
influence of this culture; what changes the critical
134 The Future of Science.
understanding of antiquity has wrought in the
manner of inquiring practised by modern students.
And, it seems to me that a carefully written history
of the human intellect from the fifteenth century
onwards would show that the most important revolu-
tions of thought have been brought about by the
men whom we should call littérateurs or philologists. —
At any rate there can be no doubt that such men
have had a more direct influence than those properly
called philosophers. When posterity shall regulate
the ranks in the Pantheon of humanity according to
the influence brought to bear on the progress of
things, the names of Petrarch, of Voltaire, of Rous-
seau, of Lamartine will no doubt take precedence of
those of Descartes and Kant. ‘The first reformers,
Luther, Melanchthon, Kobanus Hessus, Calvin, all
the abettors of the Reformation, Erasmus, the
Etiennes were philologists, the Reformation was born
when philology was in full swing. The eighteenth
century, though superficial in erudition gets at its
results much more by criticism, history and positive
science than by metaphysical abstraction (67). Uni-
versal criticism is the only characteristic one can
assign to the delicate, fleeting, undefinable thought
of the nineteenth century. By what name shall we
call so many chosen intellects which without ab-
stractedly dogmatizing have shown thought a new
way of exercising itself in the world of facts? Let
us take M. Cousin himself; is he a philosopher?
No; he is a critic who devotes himself to philosophy,
as another devotes himself to history and another
again to what we call literature. Criticism, then, is
the form, in which in every field, the human intellect
tends to exercise its faculties; and if criticism and
philology are not identical, they are at least insepar-
able. To criticize is to assume the position of a
spectator and a judge amidst the variety of things;
and philology is the interpreter of things, the means
of entering into communication with them and of —
understanding their language. The day that philo-
 The Future of Science. 135
logy should perish, criticism would perish with it,
barbarism would be born again, credulity would be
once more the mistress of the world.
That immense mission which philology has under-
taken in the development of the modern spirit is far
from accomplished ; it is perhaps only at its begin-
ning. Has rationalism which is the general result of
the whole of philological culture penetrated among
the masses of mankind? Strange beliefs, which
cause the critical sense to revolt, are not they gulped
down like water even by distinguished intellects?
Is there a widespread sense of psychological laws, or
at any rate does it sufficiently influence the turn of
thought or ordinary speech? ‘The sane view of
things, which is not the result of an argument, but
of an entire system of critical culture, of a complete
intellectual training, is it the view accepted by
the greatest number? The mission of philology is
to accomplish this task in concert with the physical
sciences. ‘T'o dissipate the mist which envelops the
world of thought as well as that of nature to the
ignorant, to substitute for the fantastic imaginations
of the primitive dream, the clear perceptions of the
scientific age, that is the common goal to which
those two orders of research so powerfully converge.
Nature is the word in which they are summed up.
I repeat, all this is not the outcome of an isolated
demonstration; all this is the result of a clear and
unbiassed glance cast at the world, of the intellectual
habits begotten of modern methods. ‘T'wo roads,
which make but one, lead to the direct and pragmatic
knowledge of things; the physical sciences to that
of the physical world, the science of mental facts to
that of the intellectual world. And for this science
I can find no other name than that of philology.
All supernaturalism will receive its death-blow from
philology. The supernatural only holds its ground
in France because France is not philological.
When I question myself with regard to the most
important and the most definitely acquired articles
136 The Future of Science.
of my scientific creed, I place’ in the front rank my
ideas on the constitution and the mode of govern-
ment of the universe, on the essence of life, its
development and phenomenal nature, on the sub-
stantial foundation of all things and its everlasting
delimitation in transient forms, on the apparition of
humanity, the primitive facts of its history, the laws
of its progress, its aim and its end, on the meaning
and the value of things esthetic and moral, on the
right of every living being to light and the attain-
ment of the perfect, on the eternal beauty of human
nature expanding at every point of space and on the
duration of immortal poems (religion, art, temples,
myths, virtues, science, philosophy, etc.), in short
on the divine part which is in everything, which
constitutes the right to existence and which suitably
brought to light, constitutes the beautiful. Is it by
reading this or that philosopher that I have formu-
lated to myself things in this way? Is it by the
a priort hypothesis? No; it is by the universal
experimentalizing of life,—it is by pushing forward
my thoughts in all directions, in scouring every tract,
in analyzing and digging deeply into all things, in
watching the successive development of the waves
of that eternal ocean, in casting a friendly and in-
quisitive glance here and there. I am convinced of
owing everything to experiment; but it is impossible
for me to say by which road I arrived at it, out of
what elements I have composed this whole (which,
no doubt, may possess very little value, but which
after all is my life). A balancing of all things, an
inmost tissue, a vast equation of which the variable
quantity constantly oscillates owing to the accession
of new data, such are the images by which I endeavour
to represent to myself the fact, without being satis-
fied. I feel that I have benefited as much in the
formation of my general conception of things by the
study of Hebrew or Sanskrit as by the reading of
Plato; by the perusal of the poem of Job or the
Gospel, of Revelations or of a Moallaca, of the
 The Future of Science. 1387
Baghavat-Gita or the Koran, as by Leibnitz, Hegel,
Goethe or Lamartine. Nevertheless, it is neither
Manu nor Kulluku-Bhatta, Antar nor Beidhawi; itis
not the knowledge of the sheva and the virama, of
the Kal and the Niphal, of the Parasmaipadam and
the Attmanépadam that has given me my philosophy.
But it is the general and critical view, it is the uni-
versal induction ; and I feel that, if I had ten human
lives to live in parallel, so as to be able to explore all
the worlds, I being there in the centre, sniffing the per-
fume of all things, judging and comparing, combining
and inducting, I should get at the system of things
(68). Well, that which no individual can accomplish,
humanity will accomplish; for it is immortal, and
everyone works for it. Humanity will succeed in
fathoming the true physiognomy of things, that is; the
truth in all order of things. And who, after that,
will dare to say that those who have contributed to
that immense work, who shall have polished one of
the facets of that diamond, who shall have removed
a particle of the dross that dims its native brilliancy,
are only pedants, idlers, ponderous intellects who
waste their time, and who being unfit to carve their
way in the world of the living took refuge in that of
mummies and graveyards.
To philosophize is to know things; it is according
to the beautiful phrase of Cuvier, to instruct the world
in theory. I believe with Kant that every purely
speculative demonstration has no more value than a
mathematical demonstration and can teach us no-
thing with regard to existing reality. Philology (69)
is the exact science of things intellectual. It is to
the sciences of humanity as physics and chemistry
to the philosophical science of matter.
This has not been sufticiently understood by an
intellect otherwise eminent by its originality and its
honourable independence; M. Auguste Comte. It
is strange that a man, above all preoccupied with the
method of the physical sciences and aspiring to
transfer this method to the other branches of human
138 The Future of Science.
knowledge, should have conceived in the narrowest
fashion the science of the human intellect and of
humanity and should have applied to it the coarsest
method. ;
M. Comte has failed to understand the infinite
variety of this shifting, capricious, multiple, unde-
finable material, which is human nature. Psychology
is to him an aimless science; the distinction between
psychological and physiological facts, the contempla-
tion of the mind by itself an illusion. Sociology 1s
the summary of all the sciences of humanity, and
sociology to him is not the earnest and patient ascer-
tainment of all the facts of human nature; sociology
is not (I am quoting M. Comte’s own words) that
incoherent compilation of facts which we call history
and over which presides the most radical irrational-
ism. It merely borrows examples from this indiges-
tible compilation after which it sets to work on its
own account without paying heed to literary know-
ledge, considered as very useless. Hence, M. Comte’s
method with regard to the sciences of humanity is
the purely a priori one (70). M. Comte, instead of fol-
lowing the infinitely flexible lines of human societies,
their offshoots, their apparent whimsicalities, instead
of calculating the definite resultant of this immense
oscillation aspires from the very first to a simplicity
which the laws of humanity present even to a less
degree than the laws of the physical world. M.
Comte proceeds exactly like the hypothetic natu-
ralists who forcibly reduce to the straight line the
numerous ramifications of the animal world. When
he has tried to prove that the human intellect pro-
ceeds from theology to metaphysics and from meta-
physics to positive science his task as far as the
tracing of the history of humanity goes is virtually
at anend. Morality, poetry, religion, mythology, all
these occupy no place whatsoever in his system, all
these are pure fantasy without the least value. If
human nature were such as it is conceived by M.
Comte, every noble soul would hasten to commit
 The Future of Science. 139
suicide ; it would not be worth while wasting one’s
time to turn the handle of such an insignificant piece
of mechanism. True, M. Comte believes with us that
one day science will endow humanity with a creed;
but the science in his “‘mind’s eye” is that of
Galileo, of Newton, of Descartes, remaining as it
is. On that day, the Gospel, poetry would be super-
fluous. M. Comte thinks that man lives exclu-
sively upon science ; nay, upon little scraps of phrases,
like the theorems of geometry, barren formulas.
Unfortunately for M. Comte he has a system and
he does not take up a sufficiently commanding stand-
point on the field of the human intellect, open
to every breeze that blows. To pretend to write
the history of the human mind, one must have very
extensive literary attainments. The laws in this
instance being of a very delicate nature and not
presenting themselves broadside, the faculty most
essential is that of the literary critic, of the delicate
turn (it is generally the turn which expresses most),
the subtlety of perception, in short, the very reverse
of the geometrical spirit. What would M. Comte
think of a physicist who should be content to observe
in the aggregate the physiognomy of natural facts,
of the student of chemistry who should neglect the
theory of equilibrium? And does not he commit a
similar error when he proclaims as useless all those
patient explorations in the past, when he declares it
to be a waste of time to study those centres of civili-
zation which have no direct connection with ours,
when he says that it is only necessary to study
Europe in order to determine the law of the human
mind and then to apply this law a priori to the other
developments? In this M. Comte is much more
influenced than he thinks by the old historical theory
of the Four Empires, the germ of which may be
found in the non-canonical book of Daniel (71), and
which since the days of Bossuet has been the
foundation of Catholic teaching. He imagines that
humanity has really traversed the three conditions of
140 The Future of Science.
fetichism, of polytheism, of monotheism, that the
first men were cannibals, like the savages, etc. As
it happens, this is not to be admitted for a moment.
The fathers of the Semitic race had from their origin
a secret tendency to monotheism; the Vedas, those
matchless songs, really afford the ideas of the original
aspirations of the Indo-Germanic race. Among these
races, morality dates from the very first beginnings.
In one word, M. Comte fails utterly to understand
the sciences of humanity, because he is not a philo-
logist.
M. Proudhon, though receptive to every idea, on
account of. the extreme pliability of his mind and
capable of understanding in turns the most diverse
aspects of things, does not seem to me to have con-
ceived science in a sufficiently broad manner. No
one better than he has understood that science alone
is henceforth possible, but his science is neither poetic
nor religious; it is too exclusively abstract and
logical. M. Proudhon is as yet not sufficiently eman-
cipated from the scholasticism of the seminary; he
argues a great deal, he does not appear to have under-
stood sufficiently that in the sciences of humanity,
logical argumentation means nothing and that
delicate mental perception means everything. Argu-
mentation is only possible in a science like geometry,
where the principles are plain and absolutely true,
without any restriction. But this is not the case
in the moral sciences where the principles are only
of a ‘more or less’’ character, imperfect expressions,
founded more or less, but never ‘in full,’ on the
truth. In this instance the light thrown on to
the idea is the only possible demonstration. The
form, the style are three-fourths of the idea; and
this is not an abuse of the idea as some puritans
pretend. Those who inveigh against the style and
beauty of form in philosophical and moral science
strangely misconceive the true nature of the results
of those sciences and the delicate nature of their
principles. In geometry, in algebra, a man may
alll ok

The Future of Science. 141

fearlessly abandon himself to the play of formulas,
without worrying himself, in the course of the argu-
ment, as to the realities which they represent. In the
moral sciences, on the contrary, it is never allowed
to trust one’s self in that way to formulas, to combine
them indefinitely as did the old theology, being
certain that the result emanating from it, must be
strictly true. It will only be logically true and may
not even be as true as the principles; for the conse-
quence may happen to bear solely on some error
or misunderstanding that was in the principles,
but sufficiently hidden to make the principle accept-
able. Hence, it may happen that while arguing very
logically, a man may arrive, in the moral sciences, at
consequences absolutely false, though he started from
principles sufficiently true. The books written to
defend property by argument are as bad as those that
attack it by the same method. The truth is, that
argument in that order of things should not be
listened to, that the results of reasoning in that
instance are only legitimate on the condition of being
controlled at each step by immediate experience.
And whenever we are led by logic to extreme con-
sequences, we should not be frightened at them, for
the facts ‘‘ delicately perceived’ are in that instance,
the sole criterion of the truth.
142 The Future of Science.

CHAPTER IX.

Wauat then is the meaning of this superficial and idle

contempt? Why is the philologist, manipulating
as he does, things human in order to extract from
them the science of humanity, less understood than
the student of chemistry and the physicist, manipu-
lating nature, in order to get at the theory of nature ?
No doubt the existence of the curious man of eru-
dition who has spent his life in amusing himself
learnedly and in treating serious things frivolously
has been a profitless existence indeed. Men and
women of the world are not altogether wrong in
looking upon such a réle as a mere clever trick
of memory, suited to those who have only been
endowed with second rate qualities. But theirs is
a short and narrow view, in that they fail to perceive
that the knowledge of many arts and sciences is the
condition of the high esthetic, moral, religious,
poetical intelligence. A philosopher who thinks that
he can evolve everything from his own bosom, that
is, from the study of the soul and from purely
abstract consideration must necessarily despise eru-
dition and look upon it as prejudicial to the progress
of reason. From this point of view, the fretful
temper of Descartes, of Malebranche and of the
Cartesians in general with regard to erudition is
legitimate and accounted for by reason. Leibnitz
was the first to realize in a magnificent harmony
that elevated conception of a critical philosopher
to which Bayle could not attain through insufficient
“ The Future of Science. 148
concentration of mind. The nineteenth century is
destined to be called upon to realize it and to
introduce the positive method in every branch of -
knowledge. M. Cousin’s glory will lie in his having
proclaimed criticism as a new method in philosophy,
a method which may lead to results as dogmatic
as abstract speculation. His eclecticism has only
lost its strength when outward necessities, which he
could not resist, have compelled it to embrace ex-
clusively particular doctrines which have made it as
narrow as they themselves are, and to screen itself
behind certain names, which should be honoured
otherwise than by fanaticism. Such was not the
grand eclecticism of 1828 and 1829, and of the
preface to Tennemann. The new philosophical
generation will understand the necessity of transport-
ing itself to the living centre of things, of no longer
making philosophy a collection of speculations with-
out unity, of restoring to it at last its ancient and
broad acceptation, its eternal mission of giving vital
truths to man.
Philosophy, in fact, is not a science apart, it is one
side of all sciences. In each science we should
distinguish the technical and special part, which has
no value except in so far as it contributes to discovery ’
and exposition, from the general results which the,
science in question provides on its own account
towards the solution of the problem of things. Phi-
losophy constitutes the common head, the central
part of the grand fabric of human knowledge, the focus
_where all the rays touch one another in an identical
light. There isnot a line which traced to the very end
does not lead to that focus. Psychology which one
has become accustomed to consider as the whole of
philosophy is after all one of many sciences, nay, it
may not even provide the most philosophical results.
Logic understood as the ee of reason a only j
art of psychology; considered as a repertory o
erase to ad the mind to the discovery of the
truth, it is simply useless, seeing that it is impossible
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144 The Future of Science. ~

to give recipes for the discovery of truth. Refined

culture and the multiple training of the intellect are
from this point of view the only legitimate logical
methods. Morality and the theory of divine justice are
not sciences apart, they become heavy and ridiculous,
when one pretends to treat them according to a
definite and scientific programme, they should only —
be the divine resonance resulting from all things or at
most the esthetic education of the pure instincts of
the soul, the analysis of which belongs to psychology.
By what right then can we constitute a whole,
having the right to assume the name of philosophy,
seeing that this whole, in the only limits one can
assign to it, has already a particular name, that
is psychology (72)? Antiquity grasped this lofty
and broad acceptation of philosophy in a marvellous
manner. Philosophy was to it the sage, the investi-
gator, Jupiter on Mount Ida, the spectator taking up
his stand in the world. ‘‘ Among those who rush to
the public festivals of Greece, some are attracted by
the wish to contest and to dispute the palm; others
come thither to transact their commercial business ;
a few again come neither for glory, nor for profit,
but merely to see; and these are the noblest, for the
spectacle is provided for them, and they are there for
no one’s sake but ‘their own. So on entering life,
some aspire to mingle in the strife, others are am-
bitious to make a fortune ; but there are some noble
souls who despise vulgar cares and while the common
herd of combatants rend one another to pieces in
the arena, look upon themselves as spectators in the
vast amphitheatre of the universe. They are the
philosophers (73).’”—Never has philosophy been
more perfectly defined.
At the origin of rational research, the word
‘“‘ philosophy’ might without causing inconvenience
represent the whole of human knowledge. But when
each of the series of studies became sufficiently exten-
sive to absorb whole existences and to present a
side of universal life, each branch became an inde-
 oe
—
The Future of Science. 145
pendent science and left the common trunk im-
poverished by those successive curtailments. The
ripe fruits, having thrived upon the common sap
became detached from the stalk and left the tree
bereft. In that way philosophy only preserved the
least defined notions, those which were unable to
group themselves in distinct unities and which had
no other reason for being united under one name
than the impossibility of arranging each of them under
another name. The time has come to revert to the
acceptation of antiquity, assuredly not to confine
once more all the sciences with their infinite details
within philosophy, but to make it the common
centre of the conquests of the human intellect, the
arsenal of vital stores. Who will dare to say that
natural history, comparative anatomy and physiology,
astronomy, history and above all the history of the
human intellect do not afford to the thinker results
as philosophical as the analysis of the memory, of the
imagination, of the association of ideas? Who will
dare to pretend that Geoffroy Saint-Hilaire, Cuvier,
the Humboldts, Goethe, Herder, had not as much
right to the title of philosopher as Dugald Stewart
or Condillac? The philosopher means a mind
sacredly inquisitive of all things; it is the gnostic in
the primitive and elevated sense of that word; the
philosopher is the thinker, no matter what the object
be on which he exercises his thought.
No doubt the days are gone long ago when every
thinker summed up his philosophy in a Ilept dicews.
When we come to reflect that the human intellect
in its legitimate impatience and naive presumption
deemed itself able at the very outset.to trace the
system of the universe in a few pages, then the
patient investigations of modern science, the in-
numerable ramifications of the problems, the limit
of research retreating before advancing discovery, in
short the infinity of things—will warrant the belief
that any “‘summary” of the world must be infinite
as the world itself. An Aristotle would nowadays
| L
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146 The Future of Science.

be an impossibility. Not only has the alliance of
psychological and moral studies with the physical and
mathematical sciences become a rare phenomenon ;
but a subdivision, even restricted as to its object,
of a branch of human knowledge is often too vast
a field for the labours of a laborious life and a
deeply penetrating intellect. I do not say this in
a critical spirit; this onward march of science 1s
legitimate. The strictness of scrupulous analysis
should succeed to primitive syncretism, to vague and
approximative study. The superficial study of the
whole must make room for the deep and successive
investigation of parts; but we must guard ourselves
against the belief that the circle of the human in-
| tellect closes there, and that the knowledge of par-
ticulars is its final term. If the end of science were
the counting of the spots on the wings of the butter-
fly or the enumeration of the diverse species in the
flora of a country, in a language often barbarous, it
would be better, I think, to come back to the Pla-
tonic definition and to declare that there is no such
thing as a science of that which passes away. It
is no doubt right that experimental studies should
be wide enough to include the analysis of all the
individualities of the universe, but. on the condition
of being one day gathered into a perfect synthesis,
which will be much superior to the primitive syncre-
tism, because it will be based on a distinct knowledge
of parts. When dissection shall have been carried
to its utmost limits (and we may believe that in
some sciences that limit has been reached), then and
not till then will begin the movement of comparison
and reconstruction. We shall have had the humiliat-
ing and laborious task; nevertheless, when posterity
shall have gone far beyond us by profiting by our work,
the science of the eighteenth and nineteenth cen-
turies will perhaps incur as harsh a reproach for
having been too minute and pragmatic as we reproach
the ancients for having been too summary and —
hypothetical. It will only prove the difficulty of
 The Future of Science. 147
knowing how to appreciate the necessity and legiti-
macy of the successive revolutions of the human
intellect.
One consequence of this fragmentary and partial
method of modern science has been to banish from
philosophy the cosmology which at its origin almost
wholly constituted the former. He whom we look
upon usually as the founder of rational philosophy,
Thales, would nowadays be no longer called a phi-
losopher. We feel ourselves bound to divide into
two or three parts scientific lives like those of
Descartes and Leibnitz or even like that of Newton
(albeit that with him the part of pure philosophy is
already very much weaker), and still those lives have
been perfectly ‘“‘one”’; and the word by which their
unity was expressed was that of philosophy.. The
time has, no doubt, gone by to appeal against this
necessary elimination ; philosophy, after having held
in its bosom all the nascent sciences has been
compelled to see them separate from it when they
attained a sufficient degree of development. Will
the day come when they shall return to it, not with
the mass of their details, but with their general .
results; the day when philosophy shall be less a
science apart than. a focus of all the sciences, a kind |
of luminous centre in which all branches of human
knowledge will meet at their summit, divergingin
proportion to their descent into details? ‘The regular
law by which their progress takes its start from
syncretism and gets to synthesis by way of analysis
which alone is the legitimate method, which alone
has a philosophic value, may warrant such hope.
The appearance of a work like the ‘‘ Cosmos” of M.
von Humboldt, in which a single savant renewing
in the nineteenth century the attempt of a Timeus or
a Lucretius, reviews the Cosmos in its entirety proves
that it is still possible to grasp once more the cosmic
unity swamped by the infinite multitude of detail.
If the final aim of philosophy be the truth on the
general system of things, how then could it remain
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148 The Future of Science.

indifferent to the science of the universe ? Has not
cosmology the same claim to holiness as the psycho-
logical sciences? Does not it start problems the
solution of which is as imperatively demanded by our
nature as that of questions related to ourselves and
to the primary cause? Is not the world the first
object that excites the curiosity of the human in-
tellect, is it not the first to whet the craving to
know which is the marked trait of our rational
nature, and which makes of us beings capable of
philosophizing? Take the mythologies, which give
us the true measure of the ‘spiritual needs of man ;
they all open with a cosmogony; the cosmological
myths occupy a space in them at least as great as
those relating to morals or theosophy. And even in
our days though the particular sciences are far from
having reached their final form, how many precious
data have they not afforded to the mind that aspires
to know philosophically ? He who has not learnt
from geology the history of our globe and of the
beings who have successively populated it; from
physiology the laws of life ; from zoology and botany, -
the laws of form of all breathing things, and the
general plan of animate nature (74) ; from astronomy,
the structure of the universe; from ethnography
and from history, the science of humanity in its
evolution ; he who has not learned this can he pre-
tend to know the law of things, nay, to know man
whom he only studies in the abstract and in indi-
vidual manifestations ?
I will endeavour to explain by an instance the
manner in which one might use the particular sciences
in the solution of a philosophical question. I select
the problem which from the very first years that I
began to philosophize has occupied my mind most; —
the problem of the origins of mankind.
There can be no doubt as to the existence of
mankind having had a beginning. It is equally
certain that the appearance of mankind on earth was
.ccomplished in accordance with the permanent laws

nNNe
 The Future of Science. 149
of nature (75), and that the first facts of his psycho-
logical and physiological life, though so strangely
different from those that characterize his actual
condition were the development pure and simple of
the laws that are still in force to-day, operating in a
medium profoundly different. Hence we are con-
fronted by an important problem, if ever there was
one, and from the solution of which would spring data
of capital importance on the whole of the meaning of
human life. And in my opinion this problem should
be divided into six subordinate questions all of which
should be solved by different sciences.
Ist. Ethnographic Question.—If and up to what
point the races actually existent are deducible from
one another. Were there several centres of creation ?
which are they, etc. ?—The investigator should there-
fore have at command the ensemble of the whole of
modern ethnography, in its certain as well as hypo-
thetical parts, also the anatomical and linguistic
knowledge without which the study of ethnography
is impossible.
Qnd. Chronological Question.—At what epoch did
mankind or each race make its appearance on earth?
—This question should be resolved by the collating
of two means; on the one hand, the geological
data; on the other, the data supplied by the antique
chronologies and above all by the monuments. Hence
the author must be learned in geology, and well
versed in the antiquities of China, Egypt, of India, of
the Hebrews, etc.
8rd. Geographical Question.—At which point of the
globe did mankind or the diverse races take their
starting point ?—Here the knowledge of geography
in its most philosophic part would be necessary and
above all the deepest scientific knowledge of antique
literatures and the traditions of the various peoples.
Languages in this instance supplying the principal
element the author should be an able linguist, or if
not, he should at any rate have at his disposal the
results acquired by comparative philology.
150 The Future of Science.
4th. Physiological Question.—Possibility and mode
of apparition of organic life and of human life. The
laws that have produced that apparition, which is
still continued in the hidden corners of nature. To
deal with this side of the question, a thorough know-
ledge of comparative physiology is necessary. The
author should be able to form an opinion on the most
delicate point of that science.
5th, Psychological Question.—The condition of man-
kind and of the human intellect at the first stages
of its existence. Primitive languages. Origin of
thought and of language. Must have a deep in-
sight into the secrets of spontaneous psychology, an
habitual practice of the higher branches of psychology
and philosophical sciences. Must be thoroughly
versed in the experimental study of the child and the
first exercise of its reason, in the experimental study
of the savage, consequently must be extensively
acquainted with the literature of the great travellers,
and as much as possible have travelled himself among
the primitive peoples which are fast disappearing from
the face of the earth, at any rate in their original |
condition of spontaneous impulse; must have a
knowledge of all primitive literatures, of the com-
parative genius of the various peoples, of comparative
literature, a refined and scientific taste, tact, and
spontaneous initiative ; a childlike and at the same
time serious nature, susceptible of great enthusiasm
with regard to the spontaneous and capable of repro-
ducing it within himself, within the very seat af
deeply reflected thought.
6th. Historical Question.—The history of mankind
before the definite apparition of reflected thought.
I am convinced that there is a science of the
origins of mankind, and that it will be constructed
one day not by abstract speculation but by scientific
research. What human life in the actual condition
of science would suffice to explore all the sides of this
single problem? And still, how can it be resolved
without the scientific study of the positive data?
 The Future of Science. 7
And if it be not resolved how can we say that we
know man and mankind? He who would contribute
to the solution of this problem, even by a very im-
perfect essay, would do more for philosophy than by
half a century of metaphysical meditations.
152 The Future of Science.

CHAPTER X.

PsycHoLocy, such as it has been understood up till

now, appears to me to have been conceived in rather
too narrow a spirit and not to have yielded its most
important results (76). First of all, it has generally
confined itself to the study of the human intellect in
its complete development and such as it appears
nowadays. ‘That which is done by physiology and
anatomy for organized matter, psychology has done
for the phenomena of the soul, of course with the
differences of method required by objects so different
in their nature. But, just as by the side of the
science of the organs and their operations, there is
another dealing with the history of their formation
and development, so, by the side of psychology which
describes and classifies the functions of the soul there
should be an embryogony of the human mind which
would study the apparition and the first exercise of
those faculties, the action of which, so regular now,
makes us almost forget that at the start, they were
only rudimentary. Such a science would no doubt
be more difficult and hypothetic than that which
simply confines itself to the observation of the present
state of the conscience. Nevertheless, there are
sure means that may lead us from the actual to the
primitive state, and if direct experiments with regard
to the latter are impossible, the method of induction
bearing upon the present may bring us to the
precedent condition of which the former is but the
expansion. If, in fact, the primitive condition has
 The Future of Science. 1538
disappeared for ever, the phenomena characteristic of
it have still their analogies among us. Hach indi-
vidual travels in his turn along the line which the
whole of mankind has followed, and the series of the
development of human reason is exactly parallel to
the progress of individual reason, with the exception
of old age, which will never be known by humanity,
destined as it is to be for ever blossoming afresh into
eternal youth. Hence, the phenomena of infancy
present to us the phenomena of primitive man (77).
On the other hand the onward march of humanity is
not simultaneous in all its parts; while in the one
case it rises to sublime heights, in the other it
still wallows in the mire which was its cradle, and
such is the infinite variety that animates it, that at
a given moment one might find in the different
countries inhabited by man all the various ages we
find disposed ‘“‘in echelon” in its history. Races
and climates produce simultaneously in humanity
the same differences which time has shown succes-
sively in the series of their developments. The
phenomena which, for instance, marked the dawn of
human consciousness, may be traced back again in
the everlasting infancy of those non-perfectible races,
which have remained as witnesses to what happened
at the outset of man’s existence. Not that we should
absolutely maintain that the savage is the primitive
man; the infancy of the various human races must
have differed very much according to the sky under
which they were born. No doubt the wretched
creatures who first stammered forth inarticulate
sounds on the forbidding soil of Africa and Oceania
were very unlike those simple and graceful beings
that became the progenitors of the religious and theo-
cratic race of the Semites and the vigorous ancestors
of the philosophical and rational race of the Indo-
Germanic people. But those differences no more
militate against general inductions than the varieties
of character among individuals impede the psycho-
logists’ progress. Hence the infant and the savage
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7

- 154 The Future of Science.

must be the great objects of study of him who would
scientifically construct the primeval ages of humanity.
How is it that people have failed to understand that
there lies a science of the highest interest in the
psychological observation of those races, which the
civilized man superciliously neglects, and that those
anecdotes reported by travellers which apparently are
only fit to amuse children contain in fact the most
profound secrets of human nature ?
Science has a still more direct means of communi-
cation with those distant ages; the products them-
selves of the human mind at its different epochs ; the
monuments in which man has expressed himself, and
which he has left behind to trace his footsteps. Un-
fortunately, they only date from a period too near our
own, and the cradle of humanity remains still wrapt
in mystery. How, in fact, could man have bequeathed
the testimony of an age when he was scarcely in
possession of his own powers, and when having no
past, he could bestow no thought upon the future?
But there is one monument in which are inscribed
all the diverse phases of this marvellous Genesis, ©
which in its thousand aspects represents each of
the conditions, sketched in turns by humanity, a
monument not of one epoch only, but each part of
which, if we can only assign a date to it, contains
the materials of all the previous centuries capable
of being revealed by analysis; an admirable poem
which was born and developed with man, which
accompanied him at each step and received the
imprint of each of his different modes of thinking,
of feeling. This monument, this poem is language.
The deep study of its mechanism and history will
always prove the most efficacious means of mastering
primeval psychology. In fact, the problem of its
origin is identical with that of the origin of the
human mind, and thanks to it, we stand face to face
with the primeval epoch like the artist who is to
restore an antique statue in accordance ‘with the
mould in which its limbs were cast. No doubt,
 ‘The Future of Science. 155
primeval languages have as far as science is concerned,
disappeared—disappeared together with the condition
of humanity they represented, and no one will hence-
forth be tempted to tire himself in their pursuit with
such ancient linguistic knowledge as he may command.
But it is not a mere hypothesis that, among the
idioms, the knowledge of which has become possible
to us, there are some that more than others have pre-
served the trace of the various processes that presided
at the birth and the development of language and
which have undergone a less complicated wear and tear
of decomposition and reconstruction ; it is a result
proven by the most elementary notions of compara-
tive philology. It is well to remind people of this;
seeing that arbitrary whim could not possibly have
played the smallest part in the invention and the
formation of language. There is not asingle one of our
most time-worn dialects which is not connected by
a more or less direct genealogy with one of the first
attempts which themselves were the spontaneous crea-
tion of all the human faculties, ‘‘ the living product of
the whole inward man” (Fr. Schlegel). But who
would be capable of finding the trace of the primeval
world amidst that immense network of artificial com-
plication with which certain languages have become
enwrapped beneath the numerous layers of peoples
and tae which have absolutely been piled upon
one another in certain countries? Reduced to such
data, the problem would be insoluble. Fortunately
there are other languages that have been less worked
up by successive revolutions, that are less variable in
their forms, and spoken by peoples doomed to remain
stationary, with whom the motion of ideas has not
necessitated constant modification in the instrument
of ideas; they still remain as witnesses, not by any
means, of the primeval language, nor even of a
primeval language, but of the primitive process by
means of which man succeeded in imparting to his
thought an outward and social expression.
Hence, we should have to create a primeval psy-
2 bee . ‘ ot = a a
-- . " See

al

156 The Future of Science.

chology showing the tables of facts of the human
intellect at its first awakening, the influences by
which it was governed at first, the laws that governed
its first manifestations. Our vulgar mode of per--
ception scarcely allows us to conceive the difference
between that condition and ours, the wondrous
activity secretly stored by those fresh and stirring
organizations, those powerful but still obscured con-
sciences, giving full and unfettered play to all the
native energy of life’s spring. Who can, in our
reflective state, with our metaphysical refinements,
and our senses that have become coarse, form a
correct idea of the antique harmony, then existing
between the thought and the sensation, between man
and nature? Looking back to that horizon where
heaven and earth become confounded
with one another,
man was god, andthe god was man. Alienated from
himself, to use Maine de Biran’s expression, man, as
Leibnitz says, became the concentric mirror in which
was depicted that nature from which he could scarcely
distinguish himself. It was not a coarse materialism,
only understanding, only feeling the physical; it was —
not an abstract spiritualism substituting entities for
life; it was a high harmony, perceiving the one in
the other, expressing by one another the two worlds
lying open before man. The sensitiveness (the sym-
pathy with nature, Naturgefiihl as Fr. Schlegel says)
was the more delicate, seeing that the rational faculties
were the less developed. The savage possesses an
amount of perspicuity, of curiosity that astonishes
us; his senses detect a thousand imperceptible shades
that escape the senses or rather the attention of the
civilized man. Unfamiliar as we are with nature we
only see uniformity there where nomadic or agricul-
tural peoples have perceived numerous instances of
individual originality. We must assume primeval
man to have possessed an infinitely delicate tact
which enabled him to grasp, with a finesse of which
we can no longer form an idea, the qualities ‘to be
felt’? which were to be the basis of the nomenclature
 The Future of Science. Baz
of things. The faculty of interpretation which is
simply an extremely great sagacity in perceiving a
connection between things was more developed in
them. They saw ever so many things at once. Nature
spoke to them more intelligibly than she does to us,
or rather they found in themselves a secret echo
which replied to all those voices from without and
reproduced them in articulations, in words. Hence
those abrupt passages the trace of which is utterly
lost to our slow and laboured systems. Who could
once more seize upon those fleeting impressions?
Who could once more find the truant paths along
which the imagination of primeval man travelled, the ©
association of ideas that guided him in this work of
spontaneous production, in which now man, then
nature herself ‘‘ spliced’’ the broken strand of analo-
gies, and wove their reciprocal action in an indissoluble
unity? What shall we say of that marvellous intel-
lectual synthesis, necessary to the creation of a —
metaphysical system like the Sanskrit language, a
sweet and sensuous poem like the Hebrew? What
shall we say of that infinite liberty to create, of that
boundless fancy, of that wealth, of that exuberance,
of that complexity which is beyond our grasp? We
should not be capable of speaking Sanskrit, our most
eminent musicians would fail to execute the octuple
and nonuple quavers of the Song of the Illinois. Ye
sacred ages, primeval ages of humanity, who can
understand you ?
In view of those strange productions of earlier
ages, of those facts that seem outside the normal
order of the universe, we are inclined to suppose
specific laws that have now been abrogated. But
there is no temporary government in nature; the
same laws that govern the world to-day are those
that have presided at its constitution. The for-
mation of the different planetary systems and their
preservation, the apparition of organized beings and
of life, that of man and of conscience, the first feats
of humanity were only the development of an agere-
158 The Future of Science.
gate of physiological and psychological laws settled
once for all, without the superior agent, who moulds
his action according to these laws, having interposed
a specially intentional will in the mechanism of
things. No doubt everything springs from the pri-
mary cause, but the primary cause does not act upon
partial motives, by special manifestations of will, as
Malebranche would say. What it has done is and
remains the best, the means once established are and
remain the most efficacious. But how, it will be said,
can we explain facts so diverse by the same system?
Why do those strange facts that marked the origin of
man no longer repeat themselves, if it be true that
the laws which produced them still exist? It is
because the circumstances are no longer the same;
the incidental causes that determined those laws at
their grand phenomenal moments do no longer exist.
As a general rule we only formulate the laws of
nature with a view to the actual condition, and the
actual condition is only a particular case. It is like
a partial equation drawn from a more general equa-
tion by a special hypothesis. The general equation
virtually contains all the others, and its truth lies in
the special truth of all the others.
It is the same with all the laws of nature. Applied
amidst different surroundings, they produce altogether
different effects, if the same circumstances present
themselves, the same effects will reappear. Hence
there are no two series of laws co-operating with one
another in order to fill up their voids and to supply
their individual insufficiency ; there is no interim in
nature; creation and preservation are wrought by
the same means, operating under different conditions.
Geology, after having appealed for a long while to
causes different from those operating to-day, to ex-
plain cataclysms and the successive phases of the
globe, is coming back from every direction to proclaim
that the actual laws were sufficient to produce these
revolutions. Those conditions of life which appear
to us fantastical because they were different from
 The Future of Science. 159
ours, what strange combinations they must have
wrought! And when man appeared on this earth
_ which was still in process of creation, without being
suckled by a woman, nor tended by a mother, without
the lessons of a father, without ancestors or father-
land, can we form an idea of the astonishing facts
that must have happened at the first awakening of
his intellect, at the sight of that fruitful nature,
whence he was beginning to be divided. Those first
apparitions of human activity must have been marked
by an energy, a spontaneousness of which nothing
nowadays can convey an idea to us. Necessity, in
fact, is the real incidental cause of the exercise of all
power. Man and nature went on creating as long as
there was a void in the scheme of things, they
forgot to create as soon as the need of it no longer
compelled them. It is not that from that moment
they were one power short; but those productive
faculties, which at the origin were exercised on an
immense scale, henceforth deprived of nutrition, were
reduced to an obscure role, and as it were, relegated
to a back corner in nature. Thus for instance,
spontaneous organization, which in the beginning
brought forth everything that lives, is still preserved
on an imperceptible scale on the lowest rungs of the
animal ladder; thus the spontaneous faculties of the
human mind still live in the facts of the instinct, but
they are lessened and almost stifled by reflected
thought ; thus the creative spirit of the language is
still met with in that which presides at its revolu-
tions; for the force that sustains life is in reality
that which brings forth, and to develop is in one
- gense to create. If man were to lose language, he
would once more create it. But he finds it ready
made, hence his productive force, in default of an
object, withers away like every faculty not exercised.
The infant still possesses it before it is able to speak,
but loses it as soon as science from without renders
the creation from within useless. —
How, indeed, is it possible to reduce the science of
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160 The Future of Scvence.

man to a system by studying man in his age of
reflection only, as Scotch psychology has done, when
his originality is as it were effaced by artificial culture,
when artificial motors have replaced the powerful
instincts under the influence of which he formerly
worked at his own development with so much energy?
The second void with which I meet in psychology
and which in the same way can be filled up only by
the philological study of the works of the human
mind is in its application to the mere individual,
without ever rising to the consideration of humanity
at large. If the immense historical development of
the latter end of the eighteenth and the nineteenth
centuries has been productive of any result at all,
it is that which proves that there is a life of
humanity just as there is a life of the individual;
that history is not a purposeless series of isolated
facts, but a spontaneous tendency towards an ideal
goal, that the perfect is the centre of gravity of
humanity as of everything that lives (78). Hegel’s
claim to immortality consists in having been the
first to express with perfect clearness this vital force
which neither Vico nor Montesquieu had noticed, of
which even Herder had but the vaguest notion.
Through this he has insured for himself the title of
the definite founder of the philosophy of history. °
Henceforth, history will be no longer what it was to
Bossuet, the unfolding of a particular plan conceived
and realized by a power superior to man, which leads
man, who can only bestir himself according to its
designs ; it will no longer be what it was to Montes-
quieu, an interlinked chain of facts and causes;
what it was to Vico, a lifeless and almost reasonless
movement. It will be the history of a being, de-
veloping himself by his inward power, creating him-
self and attaining by diverse degrees to the full
possession of himself. There is, no doubt, a move-
ment, as Vico meant, there are, no doubt causes, in
Montesquieu’s sense ; there is, no doubt, a previously:
imposed plan, agreeing with Bossuet’s theory. But
>
The Future of Science. 161
_What they failed to perceive was the active and living
force impelling that movement, animating those
causes, and which without any co-operation from
without, and solely by its tendency towards the
perfect, accomplishes the providential plan. Perfect
autonomy, inward creation, in short, life; such is the
law of humanity.
_Assuredly Bossuet’s plan is simple enough; simple
like a pyramid ; commandment on one side ; obedience
on the other ; God and man, the King and the subject,
the Church and the believer. It is simple but harsh,
and after all it is doomed. We shall, henceforth,
have great difficulty to imagine in what manner those
who do not believe in progress conceive the world.
If there be a notion we have outgrown, it is that of
nations succeeding one another, traversing the same
periods in order to die in their turn, then to revive
under other names, and thus without cessation re-
commencing the same dream. In that case what a
nightmare humanity would be; what a tissue of
absurdities the various revolutions! What a colour-
less, vapid thing life! Amidst such a poor system,
would it be really worth while to aspire ardently to
the beautiful and the true, to sacrifice one’s happi-
ness and peace of mind to them? I can conceive
such a paltry conception of actual existence in the
severely orthodox, who transports the whole of his
present existence to the one beyond; I fail to con-
ceive it in the philosopher. The idea of humanity is
the grand line of demarcation between the ancient:
and the new philosophies. Consider well why the
ancient systems no longer satisfy you ; you will find
that it is because that idea is utterly absent from it.
In that, I repeat, lies the whole of the new philo-
sophy (79).
The moment we admit that humanity is conceived
as a conscience that shapes and developes itself, we
admit the necessity of a psychology of humamty,
just as there is a psychology of the individual.
The irregular and fortuitous appearance of its progress
| M
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162 The Future of Scrence.

must not hide from us the laws that govern it.
Botany shows us that all the trees wouldbe as
regular as the conifere with regard to their form,
the arrangement of their leaves and branches, were it
not for abortion and suppression which, destroying the
symmetry, impart to them such fantastic shapes.
A river would flow straight to the sea but for the
hills which compel it to turn so frequently aside.
In the same way humanity, apparently given up to
chance, yields to laws which other laws may cause
_ to deviate, but which are nevertheless the reason of
its movement. History is the necessary form of the
science of everything contained in the ‘ will-be.”
The science of languages means the history of lan-
guages ; the science of literatures and religions means
the history of literatures and religions. The science
of the human intellect means the history of the
human intellect. To attempt to seize a given
moment only of those successive existences in order
to dissect and to fixedly examine it is simply falsi-
fying their nature. Tor they are not complete at a
given moment, they are merely tending towards
completion. Such is the human intellect. By what
right do you select the man of the nineteenth century
to illustrate the theory of it? I am aware that
there are common elements which the examination
of all countries and all peoples will yield to analysis.
But these, on account of their very stability are not
the most essential to science. ‘The variable and
characteristic element is much more important. The
only reason why physiology often appears so much
tautology and emptiness is because it confines itself
too exclusively to those generalizations of small value
which make it look like the lesson of philosophy of
the ‘ Bourgeois Gentilhomme.” Philology commits
the same mistake when instead of taking languages
in their individual varieties, it confines itself to the
general analysis of the forms common to all, to what
we call general grammar.
How unsuitable, in fact, is our dry and abstract
 The Future of Science. 163
mode of treating psychology for the purpose of put-
‘ting into relief the differential shades of the senti-
ments of humanity. It would lead us to conclude
that every race, every century understood God, the
soul, morality in an identical manner (80). We
never seem to suspect that each nation with its
temples, its divinities, its poesy, its heroic traditions,
its fantastic beliefs, its laws and its institutions re-
presents a unity, a way of its own of taking life, a
separate tone in humanity, a distinctive faculty of
the great soul. The true psychology of humanity
would consist in analyzing the one after the other
those various lives in their complexity, and as
every nation has generally tied its suprasensitive
life into a spiritual sheaf, which is its literature,
true psychology would consist above all in the history
of literatures. The second volume of M. von Hum-
boldt’s Cosmos (the history of a sentiment traced in
all its varieties and shades among every race and
through the lapse of all the centuries) may be
taken as an example of this historical psychology.
Ordinary psychology is too much like that literature
which by dint of representing humanity in its
general characteristics and rejecting local and indi-
vidual colour will perish through lack of vitality of its
own and originality. :
I am under the impression that the comparative
study of the different literatures has afforded me a
much wider idea of human nature than that generally
conceived. No doubt there is a good deal that is
universal, there are a great many common elements
in human nature. No doubt we may see that there
is but one psychology the same that there is but one
literature, seeing that all literatures live on the same
common fund of sentiments and ideas. But this
universality is not where we believe it to be, and
to apply a rigid and unbending theory to mankind of
different epochs is simply to falsify the complexion
of facts. That which is universal, is the great
divisions and the great needs of nature; they are, if
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164 The Future of Science.

I may so express it, the natural pigeon-holes, filled
up successively by those diverse and variable forms;
religion, poesy, morality, etc. Looking at the
past of humanity only, religion for instance would
seem to be essential to human nature; and still
religion in the ancient forms is fated to disappear.
That which will remain is the place it occupied, the
want to which it corresponded, and which will be
satisfied one day by something analogous to it. Has
morality itself been a form of all ages—provided we
attach to the word the complete and quasi-evangelical
sense we give to it? A not over delicate analysis,
taking no account of the different physiognomy of
facts, might affirm such a thing. True psychology
which takes care not to designate by the same name
facts of a different complexion, though they may be
analogous cannot make up its mind to this. Is the
word morality applicable to the form which the idea
assumed in the ancient Arab, Hebrew and Chinese
civilizations, which it still assumes among savage
peoples, etc.? Iam not making one of those common-
place objections here, which have been so often
repeated since the days of Montaigne and Bayle,
and which attempted to prove by means of a few
divergencies or a few ambiguous terms that in certain
peoples the moral sense was entirely absent. I admit
that the moral sense or its equivalents appertain to
the essence of humanity, but I maintain that to apply
the same denomination to facts so diverse is to speak
incorrectly. There exists in humanity a faculty or
a need, in one word a capacity which in our days
is supplied by a code of morals, and which has always
been supplied, which will always be supplied by some-
thing analogous. In the same way I conceive that
in the future the word morality will not be the
proper word and that it will be replaced by another.
As far as my personal use goes, I prefer to substitute
the word estheticism for it. Face to face with a
given action, I ask myself whether it is ugly or
beautiful rather than whether it be good or bad, and
 The Future of Science. 165
I believe that mine is a good criterion; because
with the simple morality that constitutes the honest
man, it is still possible to lead a sufficiently paltry
existence. Be this as it may, the immutable should
only be looked for in the divisions of human nature
themselves, in its compartments, if I may so express
it, and not in the forms that are adjusted to it, and
which may be replaced by substitutes. This is some-
thing analogous to the fact of chemical substitution
in which analogous bodies may in their turn fill up
the same frames.
China offers me the best example to elucidate what
I have just said. It would be altogether incorrect to
say that the Chinese are a nation without morality,
without religion, without a mythology, without God;
in that case they would be a monster among man-
kind, and yet it is very certain that the Chinese have
neither morality, religion, a mythology, nor a God in
the sense we understand them. Theology and the
supernatural occupy no place in the minds of these
people; and Confucius only acted in accordance with
the spirit of his nation when he dissuaded his disciples
from the study of things divine (81). So vague are
the ideas of the Chinese with regard to the Godhead,
that since the days of Francis Xavier the missionaries
have had the greatest difficulty to find a Chinese
term, signifying God. The Catholics, after a good
deal of groping about, succeeded at last in agreeing
upon a word; but when, about thirty years ago, the
Protestants began to translate the Bible into Chinese,
there was a repetition of the difficulties. The variety
of terms employed by the different Protestant mission-
aries to designate God became such, that they had
to have recourse to a council, which it appears to
me, decided nothing at all, seeing that Mr. Medhurst
_who has recently published a dissertation on the
subject which was printed at Shanghai still discusses
the sense in which the classic authors employ each of
the terms that have been proposed as equivalents for
the word God. We might point out similar analogies
 uf af ay es i” tt ia |
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166 The Future of Science.

with regard to morality and religion, and prove that

morality with the Chinese is only the observance of
an established ceremonial and religion the respect
due to ancestors. M. Saint-Marc-Girardin when he
compared Voltaire’s ‘‘Orphelin de la Chine” with
the original has pertinently pointed how the pathetic
and passionate elements disappear from the Chinese
system to become systematic duty, how the family
affections disappear by the family becoming an
institution (82). A careful study of the different
zones of the affections of the human species would
reveal everywhere, not an identity of elements, but
analogous composition, the same plan, the same dis-
position of parts in diverse proportions. A given
element, prominent in a given race, is only rudimen-
tary in another. ‘‘Mythologism”’ so dominant in
India scarcely shows in China, but is nevertheless
perceptible on an infinitely reduced scale. Philosophy,
the dominant element in the Indo-Germanic races
appears to be altogether foreign to the Semites, and
still, on looking very closely, one perceives in the |
latter, not the thing itself, but its rudimentary germ.
At the outset of our scientific career we are apt
to imagine the laws of the psychological and physio-
logical world as absolutely non-deviating formulas,
but before long the scientific spirit modifies this
conception. We meet with individualism every-
where ; the genus and the species almost melt into
=
one in the analysis of the naturalist ; each fact shows
itself as sui generis; the most simple phenomenon
appears incapable of being reduced ; the order of real
things is only a vast oscillation of tendencies pro-
ducing by their infinitely varied combinations con-
stantly varying apparitions. Reason is the only
one law that governs the world; it is as impossible
to reduce to formulas the law of things as to
reduce to a settled number of schemes the turns of
speech of the orator, as to enumerate the precepts
on which the moral man bases his conduct towards
the good. “Endeavour to be beautiful (83), and
 The Future of Science. 167
then do at every moment that with which your heart
will inspire you; ’” that is morality in a nutshell.
All the other rules in their absolute form are faulty
and mendacious. The general rules are only trumpery
_makeshifts to hide the absence of the grand moral
sense, which in itself is sufficient to show man at all
times what is most beautiful. It is an attempt to
substitute previously prepared instructions for inmost
spontaneousness. The variety of cases constantly
baffles all previsions. There is nothing, absolutely
nothing that can replace the soul; no amount of
teaching can make up with man for the inspiration
of his nature.
Psychology, as understood up till now, is to true
historical psychology what the comparative philology
of Bopp and W. von Humboldt is to that ‘skimpy ”’
part of dialectics, formerly entitled comparative
grammar. In the latter one treated language like
a petrified thing, settled once for all, stereotyped
in its forms, as something finished, and which
was supposed to have been always, and to remain
always as it was. In the former, on the other
hand, they take the living organism, the specific
variety, the movement, the process of evolution, in
short, the history. Its history is the true form of the
science of languages (84). It is no doubt useful to
take an idiom at a given moment of its existence, if
it be an idiom one is learning to speak. But to stop
there is as little profitable to science as if we limited
the study of organized bodies to the examination of
what they are at a definite moment without inquiring
into the laws of their development. No doubt if
languages were like inanimate bodies condemned to
immobility, grammar should be purely theoretical.
But they are alive, like man and mankind who speak
them, they are constantly being decomposed and
reconstructed ; it is a real inward growth, a constant
circulation from within to without, and from without
to within, a continual “becoming.” As such they
are like everything that lives subject to the laws of
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168 The Future of Science.
changing and successive existence, to their progress
and phases, in consequence of that secret impulsion,
which allows neither man nor the productions of his
mind to remain stationary.
In the same way psychology has insisted too much
on considering man from the point of view of his
“being” and has not inquired sufficiently into his
evolution. Everything that lives has a history; the
- psychological man as well as the human body, aggre-
gate humanity as well as the individual lives and
renews its life. They constitute a, moving picture
in which the masses of colour, blending with one
another by imperceptible gradations should by a
constant play tone down and absorb one another,
expand and at the same time limit one another. It
is a reciprocal action and reaction, a commerce of
common parts, a growth on a common trunk. In
this eternal evolution one would in vain look for the
stable element to which to apply the anatomical
process. ‘The word soul, so admirably fit to designate
the supra-sensitive life of man will always be fallacious -
and untrue if applied in the sense of a permanent
basis which would be the ever identical subject of
phenomena. It is this false-connection of a fixed
substratum which has given to psychology its hard
and fast forms. The soul is taken for a fixed, per-
manent being, and analyzed like a natural body,
while after all it is only the ever variable resultant
of the multiple and complex facts of existence. The
soul means individual evolution, just as God means
universal evolution. It is certain that if there
were an invariable ‘‘being’’ which we might call
the soul, just as there are creations we call Iceland
spar, quartz, mica, there would be a science called
psychology, which would be analogous to mineralogy.
So true is this that in taking up this standpoint
we should cease studying the science of the soul,
for there are various kinds, and take to studying
the science of souls. This is how Aristotle under-
stood it, who was far less guilty than people generally
 The Future of Science. 169
think him, for to him the soul is only the persistent
phenomenon of life. This above all, is the manner
in which it was understood by ancient philosophy
which made itself grotesque to the extent of found-
ing a science called pnewmatology or the science of
spiritual beings (‘‘God, man, the angel, and may-
be animals,’’ they said) just as, in natural history, we
might found a science treating of the horse, the
unicorn, the whale and the butterfly. The Scotch
psychology avoided those scholastic absurdities, but
still, it clung too much to the point of view of the
“being’’ and not enough to the point of view of
the evolution, it still conceived philosophy as the
study of man in an abstract and absolute manner,
and not as the study of the eternal ‘‘ becoming.”
The science of man will only then be placed in
its true light when students are persuaded that
conscience evolves itself, vague, feeble, non-cen-
tralized at first, in the individual as well as in agegre-
gate humanity, that it only attains its plenitude
after having gone through diverse phases. It will
then be seen that the science of the individual soul
is the history of the individual soul, and the science
of the human intellect, the history of the human
intellect. |
The great progress of modern thought has been
the substitution of the category of evolution for the
category of the “being’’; of the conception of the
relative for the conception of the absolute, of move- -
ment for immobility. Formerly everything was con-
sidered as “being” (an accomplished fact); people
spoke of law, of religion, of politics, of poetry in an
absolute fashion (85). At present everything is
considered as in the process of formation (86). Not
that formerly evolution and development were not,
as they are to-day, general laws; but people had no
perception of them. ‘The earth revolved before
Copernicus, albeit that it was thought to be stationary.
Substantial hypotheses always precede phenomenal
hypotheses. The Egyptian statue, motionless with
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170 The Future of Science.
its hands ‘‘stuck’’ to its knees is the natural ante-
cedent of the Greek that lives and moves. .
But how is it possible to establish the history of
the human intellect without the most extensive
learning and without the study of the monuments
bequeathed to us by every epoch? From that point
of view nothing is useless, the most insignificant
works are often the most important in so far as they
energetically depict one aspect of things. The
Talmud is a very curious monument of moral de-
pression and extravagance; but I maintain that no
one who has not studied that unique work can form
an idea of how far the human intellect may go in its
aberration from the paths of common sense. The
works of the Latin poets of the decline are insipid
enough in all conscience, nevertheless, unless one
reads them, it is impossible to conceive the charac-
teristics of a decadence, to get an idea of the exact
colour of an epoch in which the intellectual sap is
exhausted. Of all literatures, the Syriac is, Limagine,
the most colourless. The writings of that nation are
pervaded by a suave mediocrity for which I can find
no name. Herein lies its very interest, no study
affords a better idea of the mediocre condition of the
human intellect. And, natural, unsophisticated
mediocrity being a facet of human life just like any
other, it has a claim to our attention. No doubt,
such studies possess very little value from the
esthetic point of view, they are very precious from
the scientific one. There is certainly very little to
be learned from, and to admire in, the Latin poems of
the Middle Ages and the scientific literature in
general of those days ; still, can we pretend to know
the human mind if ignorant of the dreams that
haunted their sleep of ten centuries’ duration.
* Among the special works in connection with the.
Semitic languages I know of none more urgent in
the state of actual science than a complete and
definitely authentic publication of the books of the
small gnostic sect which subsists still at Bassora
 The Future of Science. Th
under the name of Mendaites or Christians of St.
John. Those books do not contain a single line of
sense; they are simply so much raving composed in
a barbarous and indecipherable style. It is that
which constitutes their very value. For it is easier
to study diverse natures in their crises than in their
normal condition. The regularity of life only shows
one surface and conceals in its depth the inmost
mainsprings ; in a state of ebullition, on the other
hand, everything rises in its turn to the surface.
Sleep, madness, delirium, somnambulism, hallucina-
tion afford the study of individual psychology a much
more profitable field of observation than the regular
condition. For the phenomena which in the latter
state are effaced, as 1t were, by their insignificance
show themselves in extraordinary crises in a more
conspicuous manner by reason of their exaggeration.
The physicist does not study galvanism in the feeble
quantity presented by nature, but multiplies it by
experiment in order to study it with more facility,
being perfectly sure, after all, that the laws thus ob-
served in their exaggerated condition are identical
with those of the natural condition. In the same way
the psychology of humanity should take its lessons
above all from the study of the aberrations of mankind,
of its dreams, of its hallucinations, of all those strange
absurdities that may be met with at every page of
the history of the human intellect.
The philosophical spirit can extract philosophy
from no matter what. If I were condemned to make
a special study of heraldry, it seems to me that I
should cheerfully make up my mind to it and gather
a honey that would have its sweetness like the
veriest bee among a well stocked flowerbed. If I
were incarcerated at Vincennes with the Anecdota of
Pez or Marténe and the Collection of d’Achery;
I should consider myself the happiest of mortals. I
commenced, and I hope to have the courage to
finish a work on the history of Hellenism among the
Hastern peoples (Assyrians, Arabs, Persians, Arme-
172 The Future.of Science.
nians, Georgians, etc.). I can pledge my word that
there is no more wearisome business, no more
monotonous spectacle, no more colourless and less
original page in literary history. Nevertheless, I
hope to extract from this insignificant study some
curious traits for the history of the human intellect ;
we shall meet in it with two profoundly different
spirits, in presence of, and incapable of penetrating,
one another, a superficial education without lasting
effects which, by its contrast, will make us under-
stand.the immense fact of the Hellenic education of
the Western peoples; singular misunderstandings,
strange instances of utter nonsense will disclose
voids, the knowledge of which will be useful in
drawing up in a more exact way the map of the
Semitic spirit and the Indo-Germanie spirit.
The history of the Origins of Christianity written
by a critic who would go to the direct sources would
undoubtedly be a work of importance. Well, that
marvellous history, which if carried out in a scientific
and final manner would revolutionize thought, with
what should it be constructed? With utterly in-
significant books, such as the book of Enoch, the
Testament of the Twelve Patriarchs, the Testament
of Solomon, and in general the Apocryphal books of
Jewish and Christian origin, the Chaldaic paraphrases,
the Mishna, the Deutero-Canonical books, etc. On
that day, Fabricius and Thilo who have prepared
a creditable edition of these texts, Bruce who brought
back from Abyssinia, the book of Enoch, Laurence,
Murray and A. G. Hoffmann who have elaborated
the -text, will have done more for the work than
Voltaire with the whole of the eighteenth century
by his side.
Thus, from the vast point of view of the science of
the human intellect works deemed insignificant at
the first glance may prove to be the most important.
A given literature in Asia which has absolutely no
intrinsic value may afford data for the history of the
human intellect more curious than no matter which
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The Future of Science. 173

modern literature. The scientific study of the savage
races would be attended with still more decisive
results, if it were undertaken by truly philosophical
minds. Just as the worst popular jargon is more apt
to initiate us in the science of languages than an
artificial language polished by the hand of man
like French, so may a man be thoroughly versed in
various literatures such as the French, the German,
the English, the Italian, without having as much as
perceived the great problem. Orientalists —often
make themselves ridiculous by attributing an absolute
value to the literatures they cultivate. It would be
too painful to have devoted the whole of one’s life to
deciphering a difficult text and then to have to admit
that the text was not admirable. On the other
hand, superficial minds smile and joke when they
see serious people amuse themselves in translating
and commenting books, possessing no form or style,
which in our opinions would be only absurd and
ridiculous. They are both in the wrong. We ought
not to say; ‘‘ This is absurd; this is magnificent.”’
We should say; ‘‘This belongs to the human
intellect, consequently it has its value.”’ It is very
patent at once that from the point of view of positive
science there is nothing to be gained by the study
of the Hast. A few hours given to the perusal of a
modern work on medicine, mathematics or astronomy
will be more useful as regards the knowledge of those
sciences than long years of learned research devoted
to the physicians, mathematicians and astronomers
of the Hast (87). Even history is scarcely a
sufficient motive to invest those studies with any
value. For, first of all, the ancient history of the
East is absolutely fabulous; secondly, the moment
it becomes more or less trustworthy, the political
history of the Hast becomes almost insignificant.
The platitude of the Arabian and Persian historians
who have transmitted to us the history of Islamism
is absolutely without a parallel. And, in fairness be
it said, the history itself is much more to blame than
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174 The Future of Science.

the historians. What could the latter make out.
of a world of ice, as it were, consisting of whims and
freaks of absurd and bloodthirsty despots, revolts- of
governors, changes of dynasties, successions of viziers,
a world from which humanity is apparently com-
pletely absent, in which the voice of nature seems
dumb, in which there is not a single true or original
movement of the people? Certainly, those who are
under the impression that a man studies Turkish
literature with the same object that he would study
German literature ; to find something to admire, are
right when they smile at those who devote their
vigils to it, in looking at them as benighted intellects,
incapable of doing aught else. As a rule, the
modern literatures of the Hast are weak, and would
not in themselves, deserve the attention of the
serious student (88). But they become exceedingly
valuable when bearing in mind that they afford
important elements for the study of ancient litera-
ture and the comparative study of idioms. Nothing
is useless when we know how to reduce it to its aim, |
but we must not lose sight of the fact that mediocrity
has only its value in the whole of which it is a part.
But has the study of the ancient literatures of the
Kast a value of its own, and irrespective of the history
of the human intellect? I confess that there is real
and incontestable beauty in those ancient productions
of the Hast. Job and Isaiah, the Ramayana and the
Mahabarata, the pre-Islamite poems are beautiful for
the same reason that Homer is beautiful. But, if we
analyze the feeling produced in us by those ancient
works, what, as far as we are concerned, is their claim
to the award of beauty? We admire a poem of M. de
Lamartine, a tragedy of Schiller, a canto of Goethe,
because we meet with our ideal in it. Do we equally
meet with our ideal in the poetical dissertations of
Job, in the sweet psalms of the Jews, in the picture
of Arabian life of Antara, in the hymns of the Vedas
in the admirable episodes of Nal and Damayanti of
Yadnadatta, of Savitri, of the descent of the Ganga?
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Is it our ideal we meet with in the symbolical figure
of Um orof Brahma, in an Egyptian pyramid, or in
the Caverns of Ellora? Certainly not. We can only
admire on the condition of transporting ourselves to
the times to which these monuments belong, of
placing ourselves in the centre of human intellectuality,
of regarding all this as the eternal growth of hidden
forces. That is why limited and more or less rigid
intellects who judge these ancient productions by
clinging obstinately to the modern point of view
cannot make up their minds to admire them, or else
admire exactly that which is not worthy of admira-
tion, or what is altogether absent from it (89). Just
submit the myths of the Maruthas or the visions of
Fizekiel to a man who is not versed in strange litera-
tures, he will simply vote them hideous and repulsive.
From his point of view, Voltaire was right in
ridiculing Ezekiel (90), just as Perrault and some
eritics of the school of Alexandria were right in de-
claring Homer ridiculous, and Madame Dacier and
Boileau are wrong when they undertake to defend
Homer while still adhering to the same strange
manner of viewing antiquity. To understand the
true sense of those exotic beauties, we must have
become identified with the intellect of aggregate
humanity ; we must feel, live, with it in order to
grasp its originality, its life, its harmony even in its
most eccentric creations wherever we meet with
them. Champollion wound up by perceiving beauty
in the Egyptian heads; the Jews consider the
Talmud replete with a morality as lofty as that of the
Gospel; the lovers of the Middle Ages stand lost
in admiration before grotesque statues which the
profane do not deem worthy of a look. Think you
that this is the mere illusion of the erudite man or
the ardent amateur? No; it simply arises from the
fact that in every fold and corner of the handiwork of
man there is hidden a ray of divine light, the careful
observer knows where to find it. The altar on which
the patriarchs sacrificed to Jehovah was, materially
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176 The Future of Science.

speaking, only a heap of stones; considered in its —
humanitarian significance, as a symbol of the sim-
plicity of those ancient modes of worship and of the
natural and amorphous God of primeval humanity,
that heap of stones was worth a temple of anthro-
pomorphic Greece, and was certainly a thousand-
fold more beautiful than our temples of gold and
marble raised and admired by people who do not
believe in God. A little cowdung and a handful
of Kousa herbs are enough for the Brahmin’s sacrifice
and for his reaching God in his own way. ‘The
rough-hewn cippus by which the Hellenes represented
the Graces was more eloquent to them than beau-
tiful allegorical statues. ‘The value of things lies in
what humanity can see in them, in the feelings it
has attached to them, in the symbols it drew from
them. So true is this that the imitations of primeval
works, however perfect they are supposed to be, are
not beautiful, while the works themselves are sublime.
An exact reproduction of the pyramid of Ghizeh on
the common of Saint-Denis would be mere child- |
ishness. In the latter days of Hebraic literature, the
learned men composed psalms imitated from the
ancient Canticles, so perfect as to puzzle every one.
Well; we can only say that the old psalms are
beautiful, while the modern ones are merely in-
genious ; and still the greatest adept can scarcely
distinguish them from one another.
The beauty of a work should never be considered
from an abstract point and independently of the
surroundings that gave it birth.. If the Ossianic
poems of Macpherson were authentic they should
be ranked with those of Homer. The moment it
is proved that they are the work of a poet of the
eighteenth century, they have only a mediocre value.
For it is the true breath of humanity and not the
literary merit that constitutes the beautiful. Let
us suppose that a man of parts (it is almost the
case with Apollonius of Rhodes) succeeded in catch-
ing a very fair imitation of the Homeric style in such
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a way as to produce a poem in exactly the same
style, a poem that should be to Homer’s what “ Les
Paroles d’un Croyant”’ areto the Bible, that poem in-
many people’s opinion, ought to be superior to
Homer’s ; for the author would be able to avoid what
we consider blemishes, or at any rate, the wants of
transition, the contradictions. I should like to know
how the absolute critics would manage to prove that
such a poem is not in fact superior to the “ Iliad,” or
rather to prove effectually that the “Iliad” is worth
a world’s ransom while the work of the modern man
is doomed to mildew and oblivion on the shelves of a
library after having for an instant diverted the quid-
nuncs. In what then does the beauty of Homer
consist, seeing that a poem absolutely like his, written
in the nineteenth century would not be beautiful?
It is because the Homeric poem of the nineteenth
century would not be true. It is not Homer who is
beautiful, it is the Homeric life, the phase of man-
kind’s existence as described in Homer. It is not
the Bible that is beautiful, it is the Biblical manners
and customs, the form of existence depicted in the
Bible. It is not this or that Indian poem that is
beautiful, it is the Indian life. What do we admire
in ‘‘ Telemaque”? Is it the perfect imitation of the
antique form? Is it this or that description, this or
that comparison borrowed from Homer or Virgil?
No, they simply elicit the cool remark, as if we were
stating a mere fact, ‘This man has caught the
antique style in a remarkably delicate way.” That
which arouses our admiration and our sympathy in
that beautiful book is exactly the modern spirit
breathing through it, the geniusofChristianity which
prompted Fénélon in his description of the Elysian
Fields; it is that policy so moral and so rational
guessed at by a miracle as it were amidst the Satur-
nalia of an absolute monarchy. ;
The true literature of an age is that which expresses
and depicts that age (91). Some sacred orators of
the Restoration have bequeathed us funeral orations
N
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178 The Future of Science.

imitated from those of Bossuet and almost entirely
composed of the phrases of that great man. Well ;
these phrases which are beautiful in the work of the
seventeenth century, because of their sincerity at
that time, are insignificant later on because they are
false and because they do not express the sentiments
of the nineteenth century. Independently of any
system, except that which dogmatically preaches
utter annihilation, the tomb has its poesy, and this
poesy is never more affecting perhaps than when an
involuntary doubt mingles with the certainty latent in
every heart, as if to moderate the too great prosaism
of dogmatic affirmation. The chiaro-oscuro affords
a softer and sadder tint, a less distinctly drawn
horizon, more vague than and more analogous to the
tomb. The few pages of M. Cousin on Santa-Rosa
are more valuable, as far as our feelings go than
a funeral oration imitated from those of Bossuet. A
beautiful copy of a picture by Raphael is beautiful
because it pretends nothing more than to represent
Raphael. But a nineteenth century imitation of
Bossuet is not beautiful, because it is a false applica-
tion of forms that were true once upon a time; it
does not express the humanity of its epoch.
It has been pointed out in a delicate manner how
much the works of art with which our museums are
crowded lose in their esthetic value. There can be
no doubt as to that, seeing that their position and
their significance at the epoch when they were true
contributed three-fourths of their beauty. A work
has no value save in its framework and the frame-
work of every work is its epoch. Did not the sculp-
ture of the Parthenon possess a greater value in the
place to which it belongs than stuck in little bits
on the walls of a museum? I deeply admire the old
religious monuments of the Middle-Ages, but face
to face with our modern Gothic churches, built by an
architect in a frock coat, piecing together the
designs borrowed from the ancient fanes my feeling
1s only one of pain. Absolute admiration is always
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artificial; I yield to no man in my admiration of
the ‘‘ Pensées’’ of Pascal, the Sermons of Bossuet ;
but I admire them as works of the seventeenth
century. If those works were to appear in our days,
they would scarcely deserve attention. True admi-
ration is historial. Local colour possesses an incon-
testable charm when real ; it is insipid when copied.
I like the Alhambra and Broceliande in their reality ;
I cannot help laughing at the romanticist who
imagines that by combining these words, he can
construct a beautiful work. Therein lies the error
of Chateaubriand and the cause of the incredible
mediocrity of his school. He is no longer himself
when he leaves the domain of critical appreciation
and tries to produce after the model of the works,
the beauties of which he so judiciously points out.
Among the works of Voltaire those in which he
has copied the forms of the past are unmistakably
forgotten. Who, outside the college, reads the
‘‘Henriade” or his tragedies. But those in which
he has shown the elegant proofs of his subtle tact, of
his immorality, of his witty scepticism will live, for
they are true. I prefer ‘“‘La Féte de Bellebat’”’ or
“‘ La Pucelle’’ to “La Mort de César’’ or the poem
on Fontenoy. It may be as infamous as you please ;
but it belongs essentially to the century, it is the
man himself. Horace is more lyrical in Nune est
bibendum than in Qualem ministrum fulminis alitem.
Hence, true admiration of primitive works is only
possible from the sole point of view of human in-
tellect and by diving into its history not out of
mere curiosity, but from a deep-rooted feeling and
intimate sympathy. Hvery dogmatical point of view
is absolute, all appreciation based on modern lines is
out of place. The literature of the seventeenth
century is no doubt admirable, but on the condition
of it being transported to its own medium, the seven-
teenth century. It is only the pedant of the college
who is capable of seeing in if the eternal type of
beauty. In this as in everything else criticism 1s
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180 The Future of Science.

the condition of the greater esthetics. The true
meaning of things can only be grasped by him who
takes up his position at the fountain head itself
of beauty; and who from the centre of human nature
contemplates with rapturous ecstasy and in every
direction those eternal productions in their infinite
variety; temples, statues, poems, philosophical
systems, religions, social forms, passions, virtues,
sufferings, love, and nature itself which would have
no value without the conscient being who idealizes it.
Science, art, philosophy would no longer have
any value outside the point of view of the human
race. He only is capable of grasping the great
beauty of things who sees in everything a form
of the intellect, a step towards God. For we are -
bound to say humanity in this instance is but a
symbol; perfect beauty dwells in God alone, that
is to say, in the whole. The most sublime works are
those which humanity has made collectively and
to which no name can be attached. The most
beautiful things are anonymous. The critics who
are simply scholars and nothing else regret this
and bring all the resources of their art to bear
upon the penetration of that secret. All this is so
much blundering. Do they imagine that they have
enhanced the beauty of this or that national epic
because they discovered the name of the weak
mortal who indited it. What do I care for that
man who stands between humanity and me? What
do I care for the insignificant syllables of his name ?
That name itself is a lie; it is not he, it is the
nation; it is humanity toiling at a point of time and
space who is the real author. Anonymousness in
this instance is much more expressive and true; the
only name which should designate the author of
those spontaneous works is the name of the nation
among which they saw the light; and that name
instead of being inscribed on the title, is inscribed on
every page. If Homer were a real and single
personage it would still be absurd to say that he
 The Future of Science. 181
is the author of the ‘“Tliad.” A like composition,
evolved in one piece from an individual brain, with-
out traditional antecedent, would have been insipid
and impossible to read, we might as well suppose
that it is Matthew, Mark, Luke and John who
invented Christ. ‘‘Only rhetoric,” said M. Cousin,
- ““can ever suppose the plan of a grand work to
belong to him who carries it out.’’ The rhetoricians
who look at everything from the literary side, who
admire the poem, while they remain profoundly
indifferent to the thing that has been perpetuated in
song will never understand the part of the people
in those works. It is the people that provides the
material, and that material the rhetoricians are
blind to and simply imagine that it is the inven-
tion of the poet. The Revolution and the Empire
have produced no poem worthy of being mentioned ;
they did better. They left us the most marvellous
epic in action. It is foolish in the extreme to
admire the literary expression of the feelings and
the acts of mankind and not to admire those senti-
ments and acts in mankind. Humanity alone is
admirable. Genius fis only the editor of the in-
spirations of the crowd. Their glory lies in being
so deeply sympathetic with the ever creative soul,
as to feel the throbbings of that great heart resound
beneath their pen. ‘To endeavour to exalt them
by revealing their individuality is merely to lower
them; it is to destroy their true glory in order
to ennoble them by chimeras. ‘True nobility does
not consist in having a name of one’s own, a glory
of one’s own, but in belonging to the noble race of
the children of God, in being a soldier lost in the
immense army marching onward towards the con-
quest of the perfect. |
If transported to those open fields of humanity
with what pity will the critic look upon that paltry
admiration that clings to the handwriting of the
writer rather than to the genius of him who has
dictated. No doubt good criticism should allot a
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182 The Future of Science.

great share to great men. They are valuable among
humanity and through humanity. They distinctly
and eminently feel what the world feels only vaguely.
They impart a languag e and a voice to those mute
instincts, which, pent up in the crowd— a stammer-
ing being if ever there was one—as pire to find
their expressi on and recogni zed themsel ves in their
accents. ‘‘ Oh, sublime poet,” they say to him, ‘‘ we
were mute and thou hast given us a voice. We
were seeking in the dark for ourselves and thou
hast revealed us to ourselves.’’ It is an admirable
dialogue -between the man of genius and the crowd.
The crowd lends him the grand material, the man of
genius gives expression to it, gives it shape and
creates it; then the crowd that feels but cannot
speak, recognizes itself and shouts for joy. It sounds
like one of those musical choruses, arranged in
dialogue where now one, then several alternate with
and reply to one another. Now it is the solitary
voice, thin and prolonged which resounds in sweet
but penetrating notes. Then comes the grand out-
burst, apparently discordant, but powerful in effect,
amidst which the small still voice continues, but
henceforth absorbed in the grand concert which at
last gets beyond, and carries it along. Great men
have the faculty of guessing beforehand that which
becomes ere long patent to all; they are the scouts of
the great army; they in their rapid and venturesome
advance, can catch sight before the others of the
smiling plains and lofty peaks. But in reality it is
the army that has brought them where they are and
has pushed them forward; it is the army that sup-
ports them and gives them confidence ; it is the army
which in them advances beyond its own lines, and
the conquest is not realized until the main bod
in its slower but surer march ruts with its millions
of footsteps the path which they scarcely touched and
encamps its heavy masses on the ground where they
first appeared as bold adventurers.
How often, in fact, have great men been hterally
 The Future of Science. 183
made by humanity, which removing from their exist-
ence every stain and every trace of vulgarity, idealizes
and consecrates them like statues erected on the
various stages of its march, in order to remind itself
of what it is, and to become enthusiastic over its own
image. Happy those whom legend thus sequestrates
from criticism. For alas, we may well believe that
if we touched them we should find at their feet a
greater or smaller clod of earth. That which is ad-
mirable, heavenly, divine belongs nearly always by
right to humanity. As a rule, good criticism must
be on its guard against individuals and not allot to
them too great a share. It is the masses that
create, because the masses eminently possess, and to
a thousandfold superior degree of spontaneity, the
moral instincts of human nature. The beauty of
Beatrice belongs to Dante, and not to Beatrice; the
beauty of Krishna belongs to the genius of India, and
not to Krishna; the beauty of Jesus and Mary
belongs to Christianity and not to Jesus and Mary.
No doubt it is not merely pure chance which has
marked out this or that individual for idealization.
But there are cases in which the woof of humanity
completely covers the primitive reality. By this
powerful labour and transformed by this plastic
energy the most ugly caterpillar might become the
most ideal of butterflies.
This labour of the crowd is an element which has
been too much neglected in the history of philosophy.
The debates are supposed to be finally closed when
a few proper names have been opposed to one another.
But no one concerns himself as to how the people
looked at life, or with the intellectual system on
which the age reposed; this, however, is the great
motor principle. The history of the human in-
tellect is, a rule composed in too individual a
matter. It is like the scene of a play supposed to
occur in a public thoroughfare in which there are at
most two or three persons moving about. This or |
that history of German philosophy deems itself com-
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plete in devoting separate articles to Kant, Fichte,
Schelling, Hegel, Hamann, Herder, Jacobi, Herbart.
But where is the grand humanity amidst which they
lived? That ought to be the permanent background
on which the individuals should be shown. In one
word, the history of philosophy should be the history
of the thoughts of mankind. The current ideas of a
people and of an age contain an unwritten philosophy
and literature which should be inserted in the great
total. It is thought that a people has no literature
untilit has definite and settled monuments. But
the true: literary productions of a people in its in-
tellectual childhood are the mythical ideas that are
not written down (the conception of a regular
system of editing and the faculties implied by such
work only appear among a people at a comparatively
advanced degree of thought), ideas rolling their
current throughout the whole of the nation, filter-
ing tradition through a thousand secret rivulets to
which every one gives a form according to his own
taste. At the first glance, one would be tempted to
believe that the Breton peoples have no literature,
because there would be a difficulty in giving an
extensive catalogue of Breton books really and truly
ancient and original. But the fact is that they have
a complete traditional literature in their legends,
their stories, their mythological fantasies, their
superstitious worships, their poems hovering about
here and there. It was the same with the greater
part of our heroic legends before they were repudiated
by the cultured part of the nation and got into low
company in the ‘‘ Bibliotheque Bleue.”
On entering the Spanish galleries at the Louvre
we derive no doubt a great deal of pleasure from the
close examination of this or that picture of Murillo
or Ribeira. But there is something still more beauti-
ful and that is the impression we derive from the
galleries as a whole, from the ordinary pose of the
personages, from the general style of the pictures,
from the dominant colouring. Not a nude figure,
 The Future of Science. 185
not a smile on a single pair of lips. It is Spain in
her habit as she lived that we see before us. © The
principle of grand criticism should in like manner con-
sist in grasping the physiognomy of each portion of
humanity. To praise this, to blame that is to fall into
a paltry method indeed. We must take the work for
what it is, perfect in its order, eminently representing
what it does represent, and not reproach it for what it
has not. The idea that the author has made a mistake
is altogether out of place in literary criticism, unless
we are treating of literatures altogether artificial, like
the Latin literature of the decadence. No doubt,
not everything is of equal value, but as a rule a piece
is what it is capable of being. We must place it on
a higher or lower rung in the scale of the ideal, but
we should not blame the author for having conceived
the thing in this or that tone, and for having
voluntarily shunned this or that order of beauty.
We may criticize the point of view from which each
work is conceived rather than the work itself, for
all its great authors are perfect from their point of
view, and the criticisms addressed to them are as
a rule merely so many reproaches for not having
been what they were not.
I have perhaps repeated too often, still I will
repeat once more that there is a science of humanity
which, I hope, will have as much right to assume
the title of philosophy as the science treating of the
individual ; a science which is impossible of attain-
ment save by the erudite trituration of the works of
humanity. We need not look for any other motive
in many studies whose object is the past. Why
‘should the most noble intellect devote itself to the
translation of the Bhagavata-Purana, to commenting
the Yashua? He who has accomplished this task
in so learned a manner will answer you; “ ‘To analyze
the works of human thought, by assigning to each
its essential character, to discover the analogies
which connect them with one another, and to look
for the reason of those analogies in the nature of
 186 The Future of Science.
intelligence itself, which without losing aught of
its indivisible unity, gets multiplied by the very
varied products of art and science; to the solution
of this problem the genius of the philosophers of
all times has clung from the moment that Greece
bestowed upon mankind the two powerful levers of
analysis and observation (92).”” Therein lies the only
value of erudition. No one dreams of crediting it
with any practical utility, apart from the fact that
curiosity pure and simple would not suffice to ennoble
it. Hence, all that remains is to look upon it as the
condition of the science of the human intellect; the
, science of the products of the human intellect.
Both the ordinary observer and the savant admire
a beautiful flower to the same degree, but they do
not admire the same things in it. The ordinary
observer only sees bright colours and shapely form.
The savant is so delighted, is so enraptured with
the marvels and secrets of its inner life as scarcely to
notice those superficial beauties. It is not exactly
the flower he admires, it is life, universal force which
in one of its forms manifests itself in it. Criticism
has up till now admired the masterpieces of literature
as we admire the beautiful forms of the human body.
The critic of the future will admire them like the
anatomist, who penetrating beyond those perceptible
beauties, finds in the secrets of their organization an
order of beautiful things a thousand times superior.
A dissected body is in a certain sense horrible to a
degree, and yet the eye of science discovers in it a
world of marvels.
Looked at in this way, the most eccentric litera-
tures, those which, judged according to our ideas,
would possess the least value, those that take us the
farthest away from the actual world are the most
important. Comparative anatomy obtains many
more results from the observation of inferior animals
than from the observation of the superior species.
Cuvier might have gone on dissecting domestic
animals all his life without so much as suspect
 The Future of Science. 187
the higher problems revealed to him by the study
of the molluscs and annelids. In the same way
those who study only regular literatures which, in
the order of products of the intellect, are as the
big classical animals in the animal scale will never
succeed in arriving at a larger conception of the
science of the human intellect (93). They only see
the literary and esthetic side; nay more; they
cannot even understand that ina grand and thorough
manner. For they fail to see the divine force at
work in every creation of the human intellect. For
instance, what are literary works in France? Ele-
gant and subtle bits of moral gossip, never majestic
and scientific works. No problem is ever pro-
pounded ; there is no perception of the higher cause.
The science of literatures is treated of as botany
would be treated of by an amateur florist who would
be content to finger and admire the petals of each
flower. The higher and grander criticism, on the
contrary, does not scruple to tear away the flower in
order to study its roots, to count its stamens, to
analyze its tissues. But we should not infer from
this that it relinquishes its higher admiration. On
the contrary, the higher and grander criticism alone
has the right to admire, inasmuch as it alone is certain
not to admire blunders, mistakes of copyists; the
higher criticism alone knows the reality, and the
reality only is admirable. ‘That will be our system,
we who belong to the second half of the nineteenth
century. We may not possess the subtlety of those
masters of atticism, their delightful way of gossiping,
their witty innuendo. But we shall have the
dogmatic view of human nature, we will plunge into
the ocean instead of taking a pleasant dip in shallow
‘water, and we shall return laden with primeval
pearls. All that appertains to the work of the
human intellect is divine, and the more primeval,
the more divine. It is said that M. Villemain called
M. Fauriel ‘‘an atheist in lderature.” He should
have said a pantheist, which is not the same thing.
188 The Future of Science.

CHAPTER XI.
Hence we must look upon philology or the study
of ancient literatures as a science having a distinct
object, viz. the knowledge of the human intellect.
To consider those literatures merely as a means of
intellectual culture is, in my opinion, to deprive them
of their true dignity. To restrict their influence
merely to contemporary literary production is to
take a still narrower view. In a remarkable lecture
delivered before the Congress of German philologists |
at Bonn in 1841, M. Welcker in endeavouring to
define the accepted meaning of philology (Uber die
Bedeutung der Philologie), looked at it almost ex-
clusively in that way (94). To M. Welcker philology
is the science of classic literatures, that is, of model
literatures, which, offering us as they do, the
general type of higher learning ought to suit all
peoples and be made to serve equally in their educa-
tion. M. Welcker appreciates the study of anti-
quity above all on account of the happy influence
it may exercise on the literature and esthetic educa-
tion of the modern nations. The ancients are to him
models and objects of admiration rather than objects
of science. Still, M. Welcker does not altogether
preach servile imitation. What he asks for is an
intimate and secret influence, analogous to that of
electricity, which without communicating anything
of its own, develops a similar state in other bodies;
what he blames is the attempt of those who pretend
to find in the modern peoples sufficient material for
——
The Future of Science. 189
a moral and esthetic education. Consequently M.
Welcker only looks upon philology from the point of
view of the classical scholar, and not from the point
of view of the savant. As far as we are concerned, it
seems to us that we should be placing philosophy in
a much more certain and higher sphere, by investing
it with a scientific and philosophical value with
reference to the history of the human intellect, than
by reducing it to a mere means of education and
literary culture. If modern nations could find in them-
selves a sufficiently intellectual leaven, a running
and primary source of original inspirations we should
becareful indeed not to trouble that vein of fresh supply
by an admixture of the antique. Tone in literature
is the more beautiful in proportion to its being more
true and more pure ; to the scholar and to the critic
belong the universal use and intelligent appreciation
of the most diverse forms; a foreign note, on the
contrary will trouble and worry the original and
creative poet. But admitting that modern times
could find a poesy and a philosophy as truly repre-
sentative of them as Homer and Plato are repre-
sentatives of the Greece of their days, even then the
study of antiquity would have its value from the
point of view of science. Besides; M. Welcker’s
considerations would not constitute a valid apology
for all philological studies. If ancient literatures
are only cultivated for the sake of finding models,
what would be the use of cultivating those which,
though having their original beauties, do not lend
themselves to our imitation? We should be obliged
to confine ourselves to the study of Greek and Latin
antiquity, and even within those limits, the study
of masterpieces only would have its value. But the
literatures of the Hast which M. Welcker treats with
great contempt, and the second rate works of classical
literature, if less suitable as models for taste, some-
times present more philosophical interest and teach
us more of the history of the human intellect than
the most finished monuments of the ages of perfection.
190 The Future of Science.
The fact of classical languages has, moreover,
nothing absolute in it. The Greek and Latin litera-
tures are classical so far as we are concerned, not
because they are the most excellent of literatures,
but because they have been imposed upon us by
history. This fact of an ancient language being
selected to serve as a basis for the education, and
concentrating around it the literary efforts, of a nation
which has made for itself anew idiom long ago, is not
as people would too often lead us to believe the effect
of an arbitrary choice, but purely and simply one of
the most ‘general laws of language, a law that owes
nothing to the whim or to the literary opinions
of this or that epoch. In fact, to invest this deno-
mination of classical with an absolute sense and to
restrict it to one or two idioms as if they were pre-
destined by an essential privilege resulting from their
nature to be the educational instrument of all peoples
is to misapprehend greatly the role and nature of
classical languages. ‘Their existence is a universal
fact in the linguistic organism, and their selection,
just as it implies nothing absolute with regard to all
peoples, has nothing arbitrary for any of them.
The general history of languages has long ago
demonstrated the fact that in every country where
there has been an intellectual movement, there has
already occurred the formation of two strata of lan-
guages; not through the method of one language
abruptly displacing the other, but through that of
the second emerging by imperceptible transformations
from the dust of the first. The ancient language has
been replaced everywhere by a vulgar idiom which in
reality does not constitute a different language but
rather a different age from that which preceded it -
the former is more scholarly, more synthetical, full of
inflections expressing the most delicate connections
of thought, richer in its order of ideas, albeit that
this order of ideas was comparatively more restricted :
it is, in short an image of primeval spontaneity in
which the mind confounded the elements in ak
.—
The Future of Science. 19}
obscure unity, and lost in the whole the analytical
view of parts. On the contrary, the second dialect,
corresponding with a clearer and more explicit pro-
gress of analysis, divides what the ancients united
and shatters the mechanism of the ancient language
in order to provide each idea, each connection with
its isolated expression.
By taking the one after the other the languages
of every country in which humanity has a history it
would be possible to verify that progress, which is
the progress of the human intellect itself. In India
it is Sanskrit with its admirable wealth of gram-
matical forms with its eight cases, its six moods, its
numerous terminations, its involved and powerfully
knitted phraseology which in its modification pro-
duces Pali, Prakrit and Kawi, dialects less rich,
more simple and clear which in their turn are
analyzed into dialects still more popular, the Hindu,
Bengali, Mahratta and other vulgar dialects of
Hindustan, and in their turn become dead, learned
and sacred languages; Pali in the island of Ceylon
and Indo-China, Prakrit among the Djainas, Kawi, in
the islands of Java, Bali, and Madura. In the region
of India to the Caucasus, Zend with its long and
complicated words, its absence of prepositions and
its mode of supplying them by means of cases formed
by inflection, the Persian of the cuneiform inscriptions,
so perfect in its structure, are replaced by modern
Persian, almost as decrepit as English which has
reached its last stage of erosion. In the region of the
Caucasus modern Armenian and Georgian succeeded
to the ancient Armenian and Georgian. In Europe
the position of the ancient Sclavonic, the Teutonic,
the Gothic, the Norman, is below that of the Scla-
vonic and Germanic idioms. And to wind up, it is
from the analysis of Greek and Latin, subjected to the
process of decomposition of the barbarous centuries
that the modern Greek and the neo-Latin languages
have sprung.
The Semitic languages, though dead languages
 —

192 The Future of Science.

to a greater degree than the Indo-Germanic ones
have followed an analogous course. Hebrew, their
most ancient type, disappears at a remote period,
to leave the field absolutely to Chaldaic, Samaritan ,
Syriac, dialects more analytical ly constructe d, longer
and sometimes more lucid also, which in their turn
become successively merged in Arabic. But Arabic
in its turn too scholarly for the everyday use of
strangers who are unable to observe its delicate
and varied inflections, beholds solecism usurping the
common right and in consequence by the side of
the literal language, which becomes the exclusive
property of the schools, there springs up the vulgar
Arabic, more simple in its system and less rich in
grammatical forms. The languages of the West and
of Central Asia present several analogous phenomena
in the ‘‘superposition”’ of the ancient Chinese and
the modern Chinese, of the ancient Thibetan and
the modern Thibetan, and the Malay languages in
that ancient language to which Marsden and Craw-
furd have given the name of ‘‘ grand Polynesian’’
which was the language of Javanese civilization and
which Balbi calls the Sanskrit of Oceania.
But what becomes of the ancient language ousted
in that way from everyday use by the new idiom?
Jts réle, though changed is, for all that, none the
less remarkable. If it ceases to be the intermediary
of the ordinary intercourse of life, it becomes the
learned and nearly always the sacred language of
the people that decomposed it. Imbedded, as a rule
in an antique literature, the storehouse of religious
and national traditions, it remains the patrimony of
savants, the language appertaining to the mental and
spiritual domain, and it generally requires many
centuries before the modern idiom in its turn dares
to emerge from vulgar existence to venture into the.
order of things intellectual. In one word, it becomes
classical, sacred, liturgical, correlative terms accord-
ing to the country where the fact is verified and
signifying uses which as a rule accompany one
 The Future of Science. 193
another. For instance, among the Orientals where
the antique book never fails. to become sacred,
religious dogmas and the liturgy are generally con-
fided to the custody of that obscure, scarcely known
language.
Hence, it may be taken as a general fact of the
history of languages that each nation finds its
classical language in the very conditions of its
history and that its choice is not an arbitrary one.
It is also a fact that, among nations not very far
advanced in mental culture, all matters of the intel-
lectual order are confided to that language, and that
among the peoples whose more energetic intellectual
activity has forged a new instrument better adapted
to their needs, the antique tongue preserves a grave
and religious role; that of accomplishing the educa-
tion of the faculty of thought and of its initiation into
the things of the intellectual world.
Modern language being, in fact, wholly made up
of the remains of the ancient, it becomes impossible
to master it in a scientific manner, except by bring-
ing back those fragments to the primeval structure,
where each of them had its value. Experience
shows how imperfect is the knowledge of modern
languages with those whose knowledge is not based
on the knowledge of the antique language from
which each modern idiom sprang. ‘The secret of
grammatical mechanisms, of etymologies and con-
sequently of orthography being altogether contained
in the ancient dialect, the logical reason of the rules
of grammar is utterly lost to those who consider
those rules in an isolated way and irrespective of
their origin. Routine, in that case, becomes the
only method possible as in every case where practical
knowledge is aimed at to the exclusion of theoretical
reason. One knows the language as the workman
who employs the methods of geometry without
understanding them, knows geometry. Besides,
being indebted for its form to dissolution, modern
language will fail to imbue with life the shreds it has
)
 194 The Future of Science.
endeavoured to assimilate, unless it reverts to the
“ancient synthesis in order to find the stamp that
must invest with a new unity those scattered elements.
Hence its inability to constitute itself by itself into
a literary language; hence the utility of those men
who at given periods, had to provide its education
by the antique, to preside as it were at its “ classi-
cality.” Without this necessary operation, the vulgar
tongue always remains what it was at its origin, a
popular jargon begotten by the incapacity for syn-
thesis, and inapplicable to matters intellectual. Not
that we-should mourn for the loss of synthesis.
Analysis is something much more advanced and corre-
sponds to a more scientific condition of the human
intellect. But it is incapable of creating anything
by itself. Eminently fit to decompose and to lay
bare the secret springs of language, it is powerless
to reconstruct the ensemble it has destroyed, unless
it resorts for this to the ancient system, and derives
from its commerce with antiquity its spirit of con-
structing a whole, and of scholarly organization.
This is the law to which all modern languages had to
submit in their development. And the processes by
which the vulgar tongue has risen to the dignity of
literary language are the very ones by which one
may attain to a perfectly intellectual grasp of it.
The model of philological education is traced in each
country by the training undergone by the vulgar idiom
in order to gain its patent of nobility.
The historical utility of the study of ancient lan-
guage is in no way inferior to its philological and
literary utility. The sacred book to the antique
nation was that in which were recorded all the
national recollections ; it was consulted by every one
in search of his genealogy, the meaning of all the
acts of civil, political and religious life. The
classical languages are in many respects, the sacred
book of the modern peoples. They contain the roots
of the nation, her titles, the sense of her words
consequently of her institutions. Without it a great
 ——._ — r

The Future of Science. 195

many things would remain unintelligible and _his-
torically unexplicable. very modern idea is grafted
upon an antique stem, all actual development is the
emanation from a precedent. To consider humanity
from an isolated point of its existence is to condemn
one’s self for ever to remain in ignorance of it; it
has no sense except as a whole. There lies the prize
of erudition; in the re-creation of the past, in the
exploration of every part of humanity ; whether it be
conscious or not of its mission, erudition prepares
the basis necessary to philosophy.
More modest education, compelled to set itself
limits, and unable to take in the whole of the past,
adheres to the portion of antiquity, which, as applic-
able to each nation, is classic. And this choice which
can never be doubtful is still less doubtful with us
than with any other people. Our civilization, our in-
stitutions, our languages have been constructed out of
Greek and Latin elements. Hence whether we like
it or not, Greek and Latin are forced upon us by facts.
No law, no rule has given them or can deprive them
of this character which they derive from history, just
as education among the Chinese or Arabs will never
mean the acquiring of the vulgar Arabic or Chinese,
but will always mean the acquisition of literal Arabic
or Chinese, just as modern Greece owes its slight
revival of literary life solely to the study of ancient
Greek, so will the study of our classical languages,
inseparable from one another, always constitute with
us, and by thé force of circumstances, the basis of
education. Other nations, even Huropean ones,
such as for instance the Sclavonic nations, nay the
Germanic peoples themselves though they were later
on so intimately connected with Latinism, may look
for their education elsewhere: they would at most
voluntarily deprive themselves of an admirable source
of the beautiful and the true; but they would not
deprive themselves of direct intercourse with their
ancestors. But as for us, it would be tantamount to
denying our origin, to cut off all connection with our
 y.
im <= 2
‘—
Sa
’

196 The Future of Science.

forbears. Philological education cannot possibly
-consist in the study of modern language, any more
than moral and political education can mean the
exclusive study of actual ideas and institutions, we
must go back to the primary source and take our
stand on the road of the past to arrive subsequently
at the full understanding of the present by the same
road over which humanity travelled.
—— _

The Future of Science. 197

CHAPTER XII.

CoNSEQUENTLY in my opinion the sole means of con-

stituting the apologia of philological sciences and of
learning in general is to group them into a whole
and to bestow upon them the title of Sciences of
humanity, in contrast to the sciences of nature.
Without this, there is no object in science, and it
exposes itself to all the objections so often directed
against it.
The modesty of the means it employs to attain
its end should not be argued as a reproach. Cuvier
dissecting snails would have raised a smile from
the frivolous minded who do not understand the
processes of science. The student of chemistry
manipulating his various apparatus looks very much
like a navvy, and still he accomplishes the most
liberal work of all, the inquiry into what is. M. de
Maistre has depicted modern science somewhere as
having ‘‘its arms full of books and instruments of
all kinds, pale with vigils and overwork, staggering
along on the road to truth, quivering and inkstained,
and bending its forehead wrinkled with algebra
towards the ground.” A grand seigneur like M. de
Maistre must in fact have felt greatly humiliated
by such painful investigations, and truth was very
irreverent indeed by putting so many difficulties in
his way. He must have preferred the more easy
method of “Oriental science, free, isolated, flying
rather than plodding along, presenting in its whole
appearance something aerial and supernatural, letting
 Si)

198 The Future of Science.

the winds toy with its hair escaping from under
an Eastern mitre, its spurning foot seemingly only
touching the earth in order to get an impetus for its
flight.” It is the characteristic and the pride of
modern science to attain its most lofty results only
_ through the most scrupulous methods of experiment —
and to arrive at the knowledge of the highest laws of
nature, its hands resting on its apparatus. It leaves ©
to old-fashioned a prior: the doubtful honour of seek-
ing its support only in itself; it prides itself upon
being nothing but the mere echo of facts, upon
mixing no invention of its own with its discoveries.
The most humble methods are in this way ennobled
by their results. The highest laws of the physical
sciences have been ascertained by manipulations
differing very little from those of the artisan. If the
. highest truths can as it were emanate from the
alembic and the crucible, why should they not
equally be the result of the study of the remains of
the past, covered with the dust of ages? Shall the
philologist who toils on words and syllables be less
honoured than the student of chemistry labouring in
his laboratory ?
The few results attained by certain branches of
philological studies constitutes in itself no objection
against them. For on embarking upon an order of
researches it is impossible to guess beforehand what
may result from them, any more than one can know,
in digging a mine, the wealth it may contain. The
veins of precious metal do not lend themselves
to prognostication. We may be on our way to the
discovery of a new world; the laborious investiga-
tions undertaken may also lead to the sole conclusion
that nothing is to be gained from them. But do not
say that he who has merely attained this altogether
negative result has wasted his time. For apart from
the fact of there not being any absolutely fruitless
research or any which does not lead either directly or
accidentally to some discovery, the investigator will
save others the useless trouble he gave himself. A
 ~

The Future of Science. 199

good many orders of researches will remain in that
way like mines, exploited at some previous period,
but abandoned since, because they did not sufficiently
reward the workers for their pains and because they
no longer afford hope to future explorers. We
should, however, bear in mind that results which at
a given moment may appear altogether insignificant
may turn out to be most important in connection
with new discoveries and newcomparisons. Science
always presents itself to man as an unknown country,
he often enters upon it by an out-of-the-way corner
which fails to give him an idea of the whole. The
first navigators who discovered America were far
from suspecting the exact forms and true relations
to one another of those parts of this new world.
Was it an isolated island, a group of islands, a vast
continent or the prolongation of another continent?
Only the subsequent explorers could answer these
questions. The same in science ; the most important
discoveries have often been brought about in a round-
about way; ‘“‘on the slant’’ if I may so express it.
Very few problems have been deliberately grappled
with at the outset, ‘“‘taken at the core.’’ It was
through fragmentary translations that Anquetil-
Duperron began the study of Zend literature, as in
the Middle Ages it was through very imperfect
Arabic versions that the scientific authors of Greece
acquired their first knowledge of the West. The
celebrated passage of Clement of Alexandria on the
Egyptian writings attracted little or no notice until
the day when, in consequence of other discoveries, it
became the key to the study of Egyptian monuments.
The accessory may in this way become the principal
in consequence of a change of aspect (95). _‘The theo-
logians who in the Middle Ages, occupied the prin-
cipal scene are very secondary personages to us.
The rare savants and thinkers who at that period
conducted their investigations by the true method,
and who at the time remained unnoticed or were
persecuted, occupy in our opinion the first and fore-
 a

200 The Future of Science. !

most position, for only their method has been con-—

tinued; they alone had issue. No kind of research
should be branded at the outset as useless or puerile ;
one does not know what it may bring forth, nor the
value it may acquire from a more advanced stand-
point.
Physical science affords a great number of instances
of isolated discoveries which for years remained
almost without significance and only acquired im-
portance long afterwards through the accession of
new facts. For a long while students may pursue
an apparently barren track, which they abandon at
last in despair, when all of a sudden there appears an
unexpected light; the discovery bursts forth at two
or three points at the same time, and what until then
had looked as a mere isolated and insignificant fact
becomes in a novel combination, the basis of a whole
theory. There is nothing more difficult to foretell
than the importance with which posterity will invest ~
this or that order of facts, the researches that will be ~
abandoned, the researches that will be continued.
The attractive properties of yellow amber were
merely looked upon by the ancient students of
physics as a curious fact until a complete scientific
theory was constructed around that first atom. We
must not expect a hard and fast system of logic in
the order of scientific investigations, any more than
we must ask the explorer to give us beforehand a
plan of his discoveries. In looking for one thing one
may stumble upon another, in the pursuit of a mere
vision, one may hit upon a magnificent reality.
Accident, chance, on the other hand claims its share.
Universal exploration, a beating-up of the game on
all sides, that and that only is the. sole possible
method. ‘‘ We must look upon the fabric of science,
as we would upon that of nature;” said Cuvier.
‘Hach fact occupies its defined position, which
cannot be occupied except by that fact.” That
which has no value in itself may possess a great deal —
as a hecessary means. 3
 The Future of Science. 201
The critical consideration of an object is often
_ More serious than the object itself. One may com-
ment seriously on a madrigal or a frivolous novel;
grave scholars have devoted their lives to comment-
ing works the authors of which only aimed at giving
pleasure. All that belongs to the past deserves
Serious attention. Some day Béranger will become
an object of scientific comment and belong to the
domain of the Académie des Inscriptions. Would
not Moliére, who was so apt to ridicule the savants
whose name ended in ws, be more or less surprised
at having fallen into their hands? The profane and
every now and then even they who call themselves
thinkers laugh at the minute investigations of the
past by archeology. Such researches, if their aim
were strictly confined to their own domain, would no
doubt be nothing better than more or less interesting
fancies of the amateur, but they become invested
with the dignity of science, nay, in a certain sense
sacred if one admits their connection with the know-
ledge of antiquity, which it is impossible to attain
save through the knowledge of monuments. There
are a great many studies which possess no value
except with the view of an ulterior purpose. It
would be difficult perhaps to find anything philoso-
phical in the theory of Greek accentuation, but is
that a reason to vote it useless? Certainly not, for
without it, the thorough knowledge of Greek would
be impossible. A like system of exclusion would
lead to the revival of the witty argument, by which,
in Voltaire’s story, the education of Jeannot is sim-
plified with a vengeance.
Besides, how many works are there which though
possessing no absolute value, were highly important
in their own days, on account of their opposition to
rooted prejudices. We do not learn a great deal from
Naudé’s Apology for great men wrongly suspected
of magic, nevertheless it may have exercised true
influence in its own days. How many books of our
own century will be judged in the same way by
202 The Future of Science.
posterity? Writings intended to combat an error
disappear with the error they combated. When a
result has been attained, it is difficult to realize the
trouble its attainment has cost. It wanted a genius
to conquer the domain that afterwards may have
become a child’s.
The researches relating to the cuneiform inscrip-
tions which constitute one of the most important of
Oriental studies in the actual condition of science
afford one of the most curious instances of studies
worthy of being pursued with the greatest zeal, not-
withstanding the uncertainty of their results. I
leave aside the Persian inscriptions, the explanation
of which is complete; I am alluding to the Median,
Assyrian and Babylonian inscriptions, which, even
according to those who have arduously laboured at
them, remain undeciphered. How far they will
continue to resist the learned onslaughts of the
-savants, it is impossible to say. But granting the
most discouraging hypothesis, supposing they will
remain an enigma for ever, those who have devoted
their labours to them will none the less deserve as
well of science, as if, like Champollion, they had
restored a whole world; for even if this happy result
should not be realized, its realization did not alto-
gether belong to the impossibilities, and there was
no means of knowing until they had tried.
In the actual condition of science, there is no work
more urgently needed than a critical catalogue of the
manuscripts contained in the various libraries. Those
who have been engaged in these researches know how
utterly insufficient they all are to convey an exact
idea, how for instance, those of the Bibliothéque
Nationale are full of mistakes and gaps. This, at the
first blush, is a very humble undertaking, for which
the merest pupil of the Ecole des Chartes* would
suffice. Nothing of the kind. There is no work,
* The Ecole des Chartes is almost equivalent to our Record
Office of which the Master of the Rolls has the custody, but it
admits students subsidized by the State-—TRranst.
 The Future of Science. 203
requiring a wider knowledge, and all our most eminent
scientific men, each examining the manuscripts within
the most restricted circle of their own specific know-
ledge, would scarcely suffice to carry out the task in
a thoroughly sufficient manner. And still, learned
research will be hampered and remain incomplete
until this work be done in a final manner. Even the
Jews admit that in another hundred years the Tal-
mudic-Rabbinical literature will no longer attract
students. When these books shall cease to have a
religious interest, no one will have the courage to
tackle this chaos. And still they contain vast trea-
sures to the critic and the student of the history of
the human intellect. Had we not better be quick
and utilize the five or six men of the present genera-
tion who alone are competent to let in the light
upon these precious documents? I can assure you
that the few hundred thousand francs a Minister of
Public Education would devote to this would be
better spent than three-fourths of the money usually
spent upon the advancement of literature. But this
minister should at the same time and beforehand don
his armour against the epigrams of the ‘‘ boobies”’
and even of literary men who will ‘ fail to conceive
why the money of the rate and tax payer should be
spent on such ‘ tomfoolery.’ ”’
It is the law of science as of every human under-
taking to draw its plans on a large scale and with
a great deal that is superfluous around them. Man-
kind finally assimilates only a small number of the
elements of its food. But the parts that have been
eliminated, are they therefore useless, have they
played no part in the act of nutrition? Certainly
not; they have been useful in causing the remainder
to pass, they were so closely bound up with the
nutritive portion that the latter without the super-
fluous could have neither been taken nor digested.
Open a collection of antique epigraphs, and out of a
hundred only one or two perhaps will be of real
interest. But if the others had not been deciphered
 204 The Future of Science.
how should we have known that among them there
were not some still more important? To have pub-
lished those that seem useless cannot even be
deemed a work of superflui ty, seeing that this or that
one which appears to be utterly insignifi cant now
may become of capital importance in a series of in-
vestigations which at present we cannot foresee. _
The general design of the forms of humanity is like
those colossal figures intended to be seen froma dis-
tance and of which each line does not show as distinct
and clear as that of a statue or a picture. The forms
are largely outlined, there is a great deal too much,
and if we wished to reduce it to the strictly necessary,
we should have to take away a good deal. In history
the outline is coarse, each feature instead of being
represented by an individual or by a small number of
men is represented by large masses, by a nation, by
a system of philosophy or by a form of religion. On
the monuments at Persepolis the nations tributary to
the King of Persia are represented by a single indi-
vidual wearing the dress, and carrying in his hands
the products, of his country; the latter to be offered
in homage to the suzerain. Here we have a picture
of humanity; each nation, each form of intellect, of
religion, of morality leaves behind it a short sum-
mary, which is as it were the extract and the quint-
eessence
é
of it, and which is often contained in one
word. ‘This abridged and expressive type remains as
the representation of the millions of men who never
emerged from obscurity, who lived and who died in
order to be grouped under that sign. Greece, Persia,
India, Judaism, Islamism, Stoicism, Mysticism, all
these forms were necessary in order to complete the
grandiose figure, for in order to be represented in a
manner worthy of them, not a few individuals, but
enormous masses were needed. Pictorial representa-
tion by masses is the grand process of Providence.
There is a marvellous grandeur and a very deep
philosophy in the way in which the ancient Hebrews
conceived the government of God, treating nations
 art a eae eS Sw Le
- =
‘

The Future of Science. 205

like individuals, establishing between all the members
of a community a perfect a mutual and reciprocal
responsibility and dispensing with a majestic “ there-
abouts” his distributive justice. God only sets Him-
self the large, general plan. Hach created being
finds subsequently in himself the ,instincts which
make his lot as mild as possible.7 The thought of
how few traces are left behind by men, even by those
who seem to play a principal part is calculated to fill
us with terrible sorrow. And when we reflect that
millions upon millions of creatures were born and
died in that way, without leaving the slightest memo-
rial, one experiences the same terror as one would
feel in presence of utter annihilation or the infinite.
Only think for a moment of those wretched exist-
ences scarcely characterized by anything, which
among the savages appear and disappear like the
indistinct visions of a dream. Only think for a
moment of the countless generations which have
been piled upon one another in our country ceme-
teries. Dead, dead for ever and aye? .. . No they
live in humanity; they served to build the great
Babel which uprises towards the sky, and each layer
of which means a people. ;
Iam going to tell you about the most charming
recollection of my early youth; the thought of it
almost brings tears to my eyes. One day my mother
and I in one of those short excursions in the stony
byways on the coast of Brittany which leave such
sweet memories with all those who wander there,
came upon a small village church, surrounded. as
usual by the churchyard, and we sat down to rest
ourselves. The walls of the church of rough-hewn
granite and covered with moss, the neighbouring
houses built of primitive blocks, the closely serried
tombs, the mouldering and overthrown crosses, the
numerous skulls ranged in tiers on the steps of the
tiny house which served as an ossuary (96), all these
showed that people had been buried there from the
most remote days, when the Saints of Brittany had
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206 The Future of Science.

made their appearance for the first time on these
waves. On that day the terror-stricken feeling at
the immense oblivion and the vast silence amidst
which human life is swallowed up was such as to
haunt me still, and to have become one of the
elements of my moral existence. Among all these
simple, humble folk that lie there, in the shadow of
the old trees, not one, not a single one will live in
the future. Not asingle one has stamped his acts
on the grand movement of things, not a single one
will count in the final statistics of those who have
given the impulse to the ever-moving wheel. In
those days I served the God of my infancy, and an
upward look at the stone cross on the steps of which
I was seated, a glance at the tabernacle visible through
the windows of the church was sufficient to explain
all this to me. And besides, the sea was but at a
stone’s throw, so were the rocks and the foam-crested
waves, I could sniff the winds from heaven, which
penetrating to the very brain, awakened a kind of
undefinable and indescribable feeling of freedom and
expansion. My mother also was by my side; and it
seemed to me that the humblest life was capable of
reflecting heaven through pure love and individual
affection. I considered those who lay there happy.
Since then I have shifted my tent and I account for
this vast darkness in a different way. They are not
dead those obscure children of the hamlet, for Brittany
still lives, and they have contributed to the making
of Brittany; they played no part in the great drama,
but they formed part of the vast chorus, without
which the drama would be cold and lifeless and
destitute of sympathetic actors. And when Brittany
shall be no longer there, France will still be there;
and when France is gone, humanity will remain, and
people will go on saying; ‘“‘In days gone by, there
_was a noble country in sympathy with all that was
beautiful, whose destiny it was to suffer for the sake
of humanity and to fight in its behalf.” On that day
the lowliest peasant who had but a few steps to go
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The Future of Science. 207

from his hut to his tomb, shall like ourselves, live in
that immortal name (97); he will have contributed
his small share in the great result. And when
humanity is gone, God will remain, and humanity
will have contributed to the making of Him, and in
his vast bosom all that lived will live again, and then ~
it will be true to the very letter that not a glass of
water, not a word that has furthered the Divine work
of progress will be lost.7
That is the law of humanity; an enormous and
lavish expenditure of the individual, a contemptuous
agglomeration of human beings (I can fancy the
modeller flinging his material about anyhow, and
taking little or no heed of three-fourths of it that
falls to the ground); the immense majority fated to
enact ‘‘ the wall flowers’”’ at the grand ball conducted
by destiny, or rather to figure in one of those multiple
personages which the ancient drama designated as
the chorus. Are they useless? No; for they also
have made their show; without them the lines
would have been thin and paltry; they have con-
tributed to the splendour of the whole, which is
more original and more grand. This or that nun
who vegetates unnoticed, forgotten in her convent
seems altogether lost as far as the living picture of
humanity is concerned. Not at all; for she con-
tributes to the sketch of monastic life; she enters as
an atom in the grand mass of black necessary to that.
Humanity would not have been complete without
monastic life; monastic life could only be repre-
sented by a numberless group; hence all those who
have made part of the group, however completely
they may be forgotten, have had their share in the
representation of one of the most essential forms of
humanity. In short, there are two ways of in-
fluencing the world, either by one’s individual force,
or by the body of which one forms a part, by the
ensemble in which one occupies a place. In the
latter case the action of the individual seems veiled;
but on the ‘other hand it is more powerful, and the
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208 The Future of Science.

proportional part accruing to each is much stronger
than if he remained isolated. Those poor women,
divided, would have been vulgar, commonplace, and
would have made no figure in humanity; united,
they represent energetically one of the world’s most
essential elements; sweet, timid and pensive piety.
No one, therefore, is useless in humanity. The
savage who scarcely exists, serves at any rate as
waste power. And as I have already said, it was
but fit that the plan of the forms of humanity should
be superabundantly provided for. The belief in
immortality implies nothing else than that invincible
faith in the future. No action is utterly lost. This
or that insect which had no other vocation than to
group under a living form a certain number of mole-
cules .and to eat a leaf accomplished something
which still bears consequences in the eternal series of
causes.
Science, like all the other facets of human life
must be represented in that large way. Scientific
results should not be arrived at in a meagre and
isolated manner. The final residue which will
remain in the domain of the human intellect must
necessarily be extracted from a vast mass of things.
Just as no man is useless in humanity, so is no
labourer useless in the field of science. Here, as
everywhere else, there must be an immense waste of
power. When we reflect upon the enormous amount
of intellectual work and activity that has been
engulphed for the last three centuries and even in
our days in the periodical publications, in the reviews,
etc.; we experience the same feeling that comes
over us at seeing the eternal round of generations
swallowed up by the tomb, as it were putting one
another down. But this is bound to be; for if every-
thing that is said and discovered were assimilated
there and then, it would be like a man taking abso-
lutely nothing but what is nutritious. After the
lapse of a century a genius of the first order is re-
duced to two or three pages. The score of volumes
 The Future of Science. 209
of his complete works remain as a necessary develop-
ment of his fundamental idea. A volume for each
idea. The eighteenth century is summed up, as far
as we are concerned in a few pages expressing its
general tendencies, its spirit, its method; all this is
hidden away in thousands of books, forgotten by this
time and teeming with gross errors. The biggest
library could be filled with the books relating to one
controversy only, such as for instance that of the
Reformation, of Jansenism, of Thomaism. All this
expenditure of intellectual force is not lost, provided
those controversies have contributed one single atom
to the fabric of modern thought. A great many .
literary lives, apparently wasted, have been, in fact,
useful and necessary. Who, at present, bestows a
single thought on this or that grammarian of Alex-
andria, illustrious in his own time? And still he is
not dead; for he helped to sketch Alexandria, and
Alexandria remains an immense fact in the history
of mankind.
We can conceive no idea of the largeness of the
method by which the work of science should be
undertaken in a condition of humanity scientifically
organized. I may suppose that it took a thousand
laborious lives to collect all the local varieties of a
certain legend, such as for instance, that of the
Wandering Jew. It is by no means certain that such
labour would lead to any serious result ; but it matters
not; the mere possibility of finding in it some subtle
induction, which by entering as an element into a
- more vast ensemble should reveal a feature of the
system of things, would be sufficient to venture upon
such an expenditure. Tor nothing is too dear when
it becomes a question of providing a single additional
atom to truth. Are not thousands of lives lost every
day, what is called absolutely lost, in the furthering
of the arts of luxury, in contributing a mere scrap
of nourishment for the pleasures of the idle, etc.
Humanity, after all, has a great deal of strength
which absolutely perishes for want of employment
P
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210 The Future of Science. |

and guidance. May not we hope that one day all

this neglected or utterly wasted strength will be
applied to serious things or to the attainment of
supra-sensitive results ?
There are often a great many false conceptions
with regard to what will be the mode of life in the
future; it is thought that immortality in literature
will consist in being read by future generations.
This is an illusion we had better abandon. We shall
not be read by future generations, we know it, we
rejoice in it and congratulate ourselves on it. But
we shall ‘have contributed to the manner of looking
at things, we shall have enabled the future to do with-
out reading us, we shall have accelerated the day
‘when the knowledge of the world shall equal the
world, when the subject and the object having
\ become identified, God will be complete. By ac-
celerating progress, we accelerate our death. We
are not writers who are studied for their style of
exposition and their classical touch; we are thinkers,
and our thought is a scientific act. Do people still
read the works of Newton, of Lavoisier, of Euler ?
Their books are facts; they have had their place in
the series of the development of science ; after which
their mission is at an end. Only the name of the
author remains in the annals of the human intellect
like the names of great statesmen and great captains.
The real savant never thinks of the immortality of
his book, but of the immortality of his discovery.
In the same way we try to enrich the human intel-
lect by our observations, rather than to make it read
the expression itself of our thoughts. We would
wish our name to remain rather than our book. Our |
immortality consists in the insertion of an imperish-
able element into the intellectual movement and in
that sense we may say as of old; Hxegi monumentum
ere prennius seeing that a result, an act in connec-
tion with humanity is immortal by reason of the
modification it introduces for evermore in the series
of things. The results of this or that obscure book
 The Future of Science. 211
which has crumbled to dust long since still last and
will last forever. The destiny of the history of litera-
ture is to replace to a vast extent the direct perusal
of the works of the human intellect. Who nowadays
reads the polemical works of Voltaire? And still,
are there any works that have ever exercised a
greater influence? The study of the authors of the
seventeenth century is no doubt eminently useful to
the knowledge of the intellectual condition of that
period. Nevertheless I consider as good as wasted
the time devoted to such study. There is nothing
to be learned from it in the way of philosophical
ideas and views, nor, I am bound to confess, do I
conceive the result of a complete education to con-
sist in the knowledge by heart of La Bruyére, Mas-
sillon, Jean-Baptiste Rousseau, Boileau, all of whom
have but little connection with us. On the other
hand no young fellow can be said to have terminated
his studies without being up in Villemain, Guizot,
Thiers, Cousin, Quinet, Michelet, Lamartine, Sainte-
Beuve. I yield to no one in my admiration of the
seventeenth century in its proper place in the history
of the human intellect but I revolt the moment this
heavy style of thinking utterly devoid of critical
acumen is held up as the model of absolute beauty.
Heaven preserve us from such a book as ‘‘ L’ Histoire
Universelle,’’ the object of a kind of stereotyped
admiration, the work of a belated theologian, by way
of a text-book of historical philosophy for our liberal
rising generation. ;
The revolution which has transformed literature -
into journalism and periodical writing, which has
reduced every work of the intellect to a work “of
actuality’ that will be forgotten saan short time
naturally compels us to look at it from this stand-
point. In this way the work of intellect ceases to
be a monument in order to become a fact ‘a lever of
opinion.” Every one harnesses himself to the cen-
tury for the purpose of dragging it in his own direc-
tion ; the moment the impulse has been given, there
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212 The Future of Science.

remains only the accomplished fact. All this suggests
the conception of a state of things in which the
privilege of writing will no longer be a right apart,
but in which masses of individuals would only think
of bringing into circulation this or that order of ideas
without appending to them the label of their per-
sonality. Periodical production has already reached
with us a condition of exuberance such as to entail
oblivion to an immense extent and the swallowing
up of beautiful as well of mediocre productions.
Happy the classics who came at a period when lite-
rary individuality was so powerful. There are par-
liamentary speeches of to-day assuredly as good asthe |
best discourses of Demosthenes. Many of the forensic
speeches of Chaix-d’Hst-Ange will stand a favourable —
comparison with the invectives of Cicero; still
Demosthenes and Cicero will continue to be pub-
lished, admired, commented upon as classics, while
the speeches of M. Guizot, of M. de Lamartine, of —
M. de Chaix-d’Hst-Ange will live and die only in the .
columns of the journals of the day after these
speeches.
 The Future of Science. 213

CHAPTER XIII.

Ir is, therefore, of great importance to understand

the réle of the savant’s labours and the manner in
which he exercises his influence. His aim is not to
be read, but to insert a stone in the great edifice.
Scientific books are a fact; the life of the savant
may possibly be summed up in two or three results,
the expression of which may consist of only a few
lines or may disappear entirely in more advanced
formulas. He may have recorded his researches in
bulky volumes that will only be read by those who
travel over the same special road that he did. His
immortality does not lie there, but in the brief for-
mula in which he has summed up his life and which
in its more or less exact shape will become an element
in the science of the future.
Only art in which the form is inseparable from the
matter goes down in its entirety to posterity. And
one is compelled to admit that our worth does not
lie in our form. The authors of our own century
will be read very little, but they may take comfort,
they will be talked of a great deal in the history of
the human intellect. The monographers will read
them, and will compose on them curious theses, as
we do on d’Urfé, on La Boétie, on Bodin, etc. We
compose none on Racine and Corneille ; for they are
still read, and books are only written on books that
are no longer read.
Be this as it may, scientific and philosophical
progress is subject to conditions utterly different
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214 The Future of Science.

from those of art. Art is not exactly a matter of
progress, but of variation of the ideal. Nearly every
literature has as its origin the model of its perfec-
tion. Science on the contrary advances by utterly
opposite processes. By the side of its philosophical
results which are never very long in becoming cur-
rent, it has its special and technical part which is
only intelligible to the learned. Nay, several
sciences have as yet only that part and will probably
never have any other.
Scientific specialities are the scandal of men of
the world, just as generalities are the scandal of
the savants. It is the result of our deplorable habit
of looking upon that which is general and philoso-
phical as superficial, and upon that which is scholarly
as heavy and impossible to be read. To preach
philosophy to certain savants is tantamount to pro-
claiming one’s self a smatterer and a numskull. ‘To
preach science to men of the world means numbering
one’s self among the pedantic schoolmen. These
are no doubt very absurd prejudices but they are not
without their cause; because philosophy up till now
has scarcely been anything but fancy a priori and
science has only been an insignificant display of
learning. The truth is, it seems to me, that speciali-
ties mean nothing except with a view to generalities,
but that again generalities are only possible by virtue
of specialities; the truth is, that there is a vital
science which deals with the whole of man and that
this science must needs be based on all other par-
ticular sciences, which are beautiful in themselves,
but above all beautiful in their ensemble. The
specials (if I may be allowed the expression) often
make the mistake of thinking that the aim of their
work lies in that work itself, and on that account lay
themselves open to ridicule, everything savouring of
result alarms, and seems of no value to, them. No
doubt, ifthey confined themselves to making war upon
generalities advanced haphazard, upon superficial
observations we could only applaud their severity.
—
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The Future of Science. 215

But they often seem to set great store upon details
themselves. I can perfectly well understand that a
date happily ascertained, the recovery of the circum-
stances attending an important fact, the elucidation
of an obscure history may assume greater value than
whole volumes of the kind frequently boasting the
title of “‘ history of philosophy.” But truly, are such
discoveries worth anything in themselves? Does not
it lie in the degree of their contribution to the found-
ing of the true and serious philosophy of history of
the future? What does it matter to me whether
Alexander died in 324 or in 325, whether the Battle
of Platza was fought on this or that hill, whether
the succession of the Greek and Indo-Scythian Kings
of Bactriana was effected in this or that order. Truly,
how much better off am I for the fact of knowing
that Asoka succeeded Bindusaro, and Kanerkes to I
do not know whom. If scholarship meant nothing
more than that, the Hermagoras of La Bruyere who
knows the names of the architects of the Tower of
Babel but who has not seen Versailles is the true
scholar, and all the ridicule levelled at scholarship
would be truly deserved, because vanity alone could
sustain people in such researches, and only mediocre
intellects could devote their lives to them.
. The moment it is thoroughly agreed that learning
is only valuable by virtue of its results we cannot push
the division of scientific work too far. In the actual
condition of science, and above all of philological
science the most useful work is that which brings to
light new original sources. Until all the parts of
science are elucidated by special monographs, the
general works must be considered premature. And
monographs are only possible on the condition of
specialities within very severe limits. In order to
clear up a given point the whole intellectual region
in which it is situated must have been gone through,
we must have explored all the outskirts and be able
to take our stand in the centre, and with a full know-
ledge, of the subject. How much would not the works
216 The Future of Science.
on Oriental literature gain if their authors were as ~
great specialists as the philologists who have created
piecemeal the science of the classical literatures.
The only works of use to science are those which may
be thoroughly relied upon, and whose authors have
acquired, through long habit, if not the privilege of
infallibility, at least that vast knowledge which con-
stitutes the assurance of the writer and the security
of the readers. Without this nothing can be said to
be definitely acquired, everything will constantly have
to be done over again. One may say without exag-
geration that two-thirds of the works relating to
Oriental languages are not deserving of more confi-
dence than a work on classical languages by a fair
scholar in the fifth form.
I shouid be sorry if on this point the drift of this
work were misunderstood. I have eulogized poly-
mathy and varied knowledge as a philosophical
method, but I think that in the way of special work
one cannot too rigorously restrict one’s self to one’s
sphere. I like Leibnitz who under the common
term of philosophy unites mathematics, the natural
sciences, history and linguistic studies, but I cannot
approve of a William Jones, who, without being a
philosopher fritters away his activity on numberless
subjects and who in a lite extending over forty-seven
years writes a Greek anthology, an ‘ Arcadia,”
an epic poem on the discovery of Great Britain,
translates the speeches of Iseus, the Persian poems
of Hafiz, the Sanskrit code of Manu, the drama of
Sacontala, one of the Arabian poems called ‘‘ Moalla-
kat” at the same time that he writes ‘“‘ A Means for
Preventing Riots during Elections,” and several other
pamphlets on passing events, the whole “ without
prejudice ”’ to his profession as a barrister.
Still less can I forgive that culpable frittering
away of a scientific existence which causes science
to be looked upon as a means of business and robs
the savant’s life of its most precious moments. Did
not Cuvier really waste his time when he devoted
 — =
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The Future of Science. 217
hours upon hours that might have been so fruitful, to
administrative functions which others might have
discharged as well as he? A man only excels in
one thing; I cannot conceive how one can thus
admit in one’s life a principal and an accessory
aim. Only the principal has its value, existence has
not two aims. If I did not believe that everything
is sacred, that everything is of importance in the
pursuit of the beautiful and true, I should consider
as wasted the time devoted to anything else but
special research. I can conceive the fact of a very
vast, nay of a universal scope of life. That the
thinker, the philosopher, the poet should be actively
concerned in the affairs of his country, not in the
small details of administration but in the general
direction, well and good. But that the special savant
after having written a work or so, or after having
made a few discoveries should claim as a reward to
be absolved from doing any more and to be allowed
to enter the political arena is the sign of a paltry
nature, of a man who has never understood the noble-
ness of science.
Hence, the true interests of science demand more
than ever specialistic work and monographs. That
each paving stone should have its history is a con-
summation devoutly to be wished. ‘There are as yet
few branches in philology and history in which
general work is possible with anything like full
security. Nearly all the sciences have already
‘‘ enacted ’’ their grand histories ; the history of medi-
cine, the history of philosophy ; the history of philo-
logy. Well, we may-unhesitatingly affirm that, with
the exception perhaps of the history of philosophy,
not one of these histories is capable of adequate
record, and that if the work of writing monographs
does not assume more extensive proportions, will not
be capable before another century. In fact, we
cannot expect of him who undertakes those vast.
histories an equal special knowledge of all the parts
of his subject. He will be obliged to trust for a
218 The Future of Science.
great many things to the works of others. And it so
happens that on many important points, monographs
are as yet utterly lacking, so that the author is
reduced to gather here and there some sparse and
second-hand notions, frequently very inexact. Let
us take for instance, the history of medicine, one of
the most curious and one of the most important with
regard to the history of the human intellect. Let us
suppose that a savant should undertake to rewrite in
its ensemble the very imperfect work of Sprengel.
By means of his personal knowledge and works already
accomplished he might perhaps treat the ancient part
in a definite manner. But what of Arabic medicine,
medizval medicine, Indian medicine, Chinese medi-
cine? Granted even that he know Arabic, Chinese
or Sanskrit and that he were capable of making
useful monographies in one of these languages the
whole of his life would not be sufficient to go even
superficially over one of those fields still unexplored.
Hence, in condemning himself to be complete, he ~
condemns himself to be superficial. His book will
be valuable only in those parts where he applies a
special knowledge ; then why not confine himself to
those parts? Why devote to worthless labour which
is moreover fated to become useless the time he
might employ so usefully in definite researches?
Why write long volumes among which one only may
perhaps possess a real value? It is pitiful to see
a savant in order not to lose a chapter of his book,
condemned to write the history of Chinese medicine
under about the same conditions as a man writing the
history of Greek medicine after some trashy Arabic
or medieval work. And still he would be fatally
condemned to do this by the very framework of his
-book.
The following is a curious experiment and I would
wager that it might be made without exception in
connection with all general histories. Present those
histories to each of the men who have a special
knowledge of one of the parts of which they are
 The Future of Science. 219
composed and I am certain that each of them will
find his own part execrably treated. Those who
have studied Aristotle are of opinion that Ritter has
badly summarized Aristotle, those who have studied
stoicism that he has spoken superficially of stoicism.
I once presented my learned friend Dr. Daremberg
with a copy of ‘‘ the History of Philology” by Grae-
fenhan that he might examine the medical part. He
found it treated without the least understanding of the
subject. Is it not very probable that other specialist
savants would have judged the parts relating to
the objects of their researches in the same way?
So that in wanting to do too much one satisfies no
one, unless, I repeat, the author of the general
history be himself a specialist in one branch of it,
to which branch he would have done better to confine
himself.
The work of the nineteenth century then, should
be the writing of monographs on every point of
science, a hard, humble and laborious task, no doubt,
requiring the most disinterested devotion, but a solid
and lasting work withal and immensely lifted out of
the common by the loftiness of the final aim. It
would certainly be more sweet and flattering to
human vanity to pluck at the outset the fruit which
will only be ripe in a distant future. It wants a
very deep-rooted scientific virtue to check one’s self
on this fatal slope and to refrain from rushing on
when the whole of human nature clamours for the
final solution. The heroes of science are they who
capable of the loftiest views have been able at the same
time to resist all anticipated thought and to resign
themselves to the role of humble monographers,
when every instinct of their nature would have
impelled them to scale the high summits. To many,.
nay to the majority, we are bound to say, this is but a
small sacrifice, there is but little merit in abstaining
from philosophic views to which they are not inclined
by nature. The really deserving are they who while
understanding in the loftiest sense the supreme aim
220 The Future of Science.
of science, while experiencing the most urgent philo-
sophical and religious needs devote themselves for
the sake of posterity to the laborious calling of mere
navvies, and condemn themselves, like the plough
horse to see only the furrow it turns. This in the
style of the gospel is called; losing one’s soul in
order to save it. To make up one’s mind to ignore so
that posterity may know, is the first and foremost con-
dition of the scientific method. For many long
years science will still stand in need of those patient
researches that take, or might take, the title of
“*Memoranda for the use of . . .” With a view to
the welfare of posterity lofty intellects will in that
way be compelled to condemn themselves to the
ergastulum in order to store up in learned pages
materials which but a small number will be able
to read. To all appearance these patient investiga-
tors waste their time and their labour. There is no
public for them. They will be read by three or four
people, sometimes only by him who reviews their
work in some scientific periodical (98), or by him
who shall take up the same kind of work, that is, if
the latter care at all to know what his predecessors
have done. And still monographs are after all the
things that live longest. A book of generalities is
generally outstripped in about ten years, a monograph
being a fact in science, a stone laid in the edifice
is in a sense everlasting from its results. People
may neglect the name of the author, the book itself
may be forgotten, but the results to which it has
contributed remain. It is a sufficient reward to
a whole life, if it has provided a few elements
to the final creed, whatever transformations these
elements may undergo. Henceforth that will be the
true immortality (99). uy |
One might cite a great number of researches which
to posterity will be summed up in a few lines,
which lines again will imply whole lives of patient’
application. The Greek Kingdoms of Bactriana and
Pentapotamia have been for some years the object of
 The Future of Science. 220
researches which would already make several volumes
and are far from being terminated. Is it at all likely
that these studies with all their details will find
a lasting place in the science of the future?
Certainly not. And still they were necessary to
show the character of the extent, of the importance
and physiognomy of those advanced colonies of
Greece; without these laborious researches we
should have remained in the dark with regard to one
of the most curious aspects of the history of Hellen-
ism in the Hast. Those results attained, the works
that have been instrumental in attaining them may
disappear without much inconvenience to any one,
like the scaffolding when the building is finished.
And even supposing that the details remain necessary
for the more intelligent understanding of the general
results, the means, the machinery, if I may be per-
mitted to call it so, by which the Prinseps and the
Lassens have deciphered that page of history will
-almost have lost its value or will at best be preserved
like bas-reliefs on the pedestal of the obelisk which
they were instrumental in raising. ‘The scholars
of the nineteenth century have proved——”’ the text
willrun. And that will be all.
Science should be represented to our minds as a
building of the ages which can only be raised by
the accumulation of enormous masses. A whole life
of assiduous labour will only be as an obscure and
nameless stone in that gigantic fabric, nay it may be
- nothing more than an unnoticed stone hidden in the
thickness of the walls. No matter, one has one’s
place in the temple, one has contributed to the
strength of its heayy foundations (100). The authors
of monographs cannot reasonably hope to see their
work endure in their proper form; the results they
have put into circulation will undergo modifications, .
they will: be digested and thoroughly assimilated.
But through all metamorphoses, they will have the
honour of having furnished essential elements to the
life of humanity. The glory of the first explorers
 = Oe
bY
222 The Future of Science.
consists in being outstripped and in giving their
successors the means by which the latter can out-
strip them. ‘But this glory is immense and should
be the less contested by him who comes second, see-
ing that he himself will have no other merit in the
opinion of those who will busy themselves with the
same subject than the merit of having preceded
them (101).”
The faculty of forgetting occupies a large place in
the scientific education of the individual. A mass
of special data more or less painfully acquired drop
of themselves from the memory ; but for all that we
should be careful not to assume that they have been
lost. For the intellectual culture which was the .
result of this travail, the progress accomplished by
the mind through these studies remains, and these
only are worth anything. It is the same in the edu-
cation of humanity. The particular elements dis-
appear, but the accomplished progress remains.
There are algebraical problems for which it is neces- ©
sary to employ unknown auxiliaries and to take very
wide circuits. Do we regret, when the problem has
been solved, the elimination of all this baggage in
order to make room for a simple and final expression ?
Therefore, the specialist-savant, far from deserting
the true arena of humanity, is the one who labours
most efficaciously to the progress of the intellect,
seeing that he alone can provide us with the materials
for its constructions. But his researches, I repeat,
cannot have an aim in themselves, for they do not
contribute to make the author more perfect, they
are of no value until they are introduced into the
grand current. We must admit that the specialist-
savants themselves are mainly responsible for propa-
gating strange misunderstandings on that point.
Exclusively occupied with their own studies, they
consider the rest useless and all those not engaged
in the same researches are so many profane ones to
them. In that way their speciality becomes a small
world to them, in which they obstinately and super-
 pa , .
See ee ee
—
The Future of Science. 223
ciliously shut themselves up. And still, if the special
object to which a man devotes his whole life had to
be taken as possessing an absolute value, every one
ought to apply himself to the same object that is, to
the most excellent of all. Among the ancient litera-
tures a man should exclusively study Greek litera-
ture; among those of the East, Sanskrit literature,
and he who should devote his time and labour to
a mediocre literature would only be a mere blunderer.
Each of these studies has only its value in view of
its place in the great whole, and of its connection
with the science of the human intellect. The
Oriental studies, for instance, are subdivided into
three or four principal branches, to each of which
a small number of savants devote themselves exclu-
sively ; so that the researches relating to literatures
which are not the object of their studies possess no
interest to them. The result is that he who writes
a special work on Chinese, Persian, or Thibetic
literatures may hope to have about a dozen readers
in Europe. And even these, being engrossed, on
their side, with their own special labours, have no
time to trouble much about those of others and only
glance at them superficially, so that in those studies,
every one works for himself alone. A strange re-
versal of things. Are we to infer from this that it
would be desirable for every Orientalist to apply
himself to all the languages of Asia? Certainly not.
But what would be desirable is that the savants who
are most specialistic should have the true and inmost
consciousness of their labours, and that the philo-
sophical intellects should not disdain to apply to
scholarship for the material of thought. For, I
repeat, if the monographer alone reads his mono-
graph, what is the use of writing it. It would be
too odd if science had no other aim than to supply
food for the curiosity of this or that man. LBesides,
the various sciences have problems in common with,
and analogous to, one another as far as form goes
which are often more easy of solution by means of
 Bs

224 The Future of Science.

one science than by that of another. I am con-
vinced, for instance, that for the undoubtedly philo-
sophical problem of the classification and the reality
of the species the naturalists would derive great light
from the study of the method of the linguists and
of the natural characters that help them to consti-
tute the families and groups according to the imper- ~
ceptible degradation of the grammatical processes.
Let the savants look to it; there is a savour of vanity
in that mania of condemning any and every study
not made at first hand as being of doubtful alloy.
Such a system, carried to extremes would lead to
the shutting up of every one within himself and to
the destruction of all intellectual and scientific com-
merce. What would be the use of monographs if for
every subsequent work we were obliged to recom-
mence. This defect proceeds from still another
vanity of the savants, which in its turn is closely
allied to the spirit of superficiality of which they
have so righteous a horror, namely, the vanity of ©
writing books not for the sake of being read, but for
the purpose of proving their learning.
It cannot be repeated too often; the true scien-
tific work is the work at first hand. As a rule results
only preserve their absolute purity in the writings
of him who first discovered them. It is difficult to
point out how scientific matters, in passing from
hand to hand, and deviating from their primary
source become altered and warped, and this without
the least illwill of those who borrow them. This or
that fact is looked at in a light somewhat different
from that in which it was first observed; a reflection
is added which the author of the original work would
not have made, but which he who adds it thinks
himself justified in making. A general observation
is put forth which the primary investigator would
not have formulated for himself in the same manner.
A writer at third hand will improve in that way on
his predecessor, and thus, unless it reverts constantly
to its sources historical science is always inexact and
open to suspicion.
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The Future of Science. 225

The knowledge possessed by the Middle Ages of
classical antiquity affords the most striking instance
of those imperceptible modifications of primary facts
that lead to the strangest errors or to the most absurd
_ way of representing facts. The Middle Ages knew
a great many things appertaining to Greek antiquity,
but it knew nothing, absolutely nothing at first hand
(102), hence the most incredible errors. The me-
dizval writers think that they can combine in their |
own way the scattered and incomplete notions they
possess and in that way simply multiply inexact-_
ness which at the end of three or four centuries
becomes such that when in the fourteenth century,
the true Greek antiquity came to be directly known,
it seemed to be the revelation of another world. The
Latin encyclopedists, Martianus Capella, Boethius,
Isidore of Seville only compile school books and
string the traditional data together. Bede and
Alcuin know even less of antiquity than Martianus
Capella and Isidore. Vincent of Beauvais has left
the truth still further behind him. At last in the
fourteenth century (outside Italy), inexactness reaches
its furthest limits, the Greek civilization is no better
known than India would be, if, to reconstruct the
Indian world we only had the notions left to us by
the writers of classical antiquity.
Several parts of literary history which as yet, have
not been sufficiently endued with life by the direct
study of sources afford instances of inexactness with
which those committed in the Middle Ages will bear
comparison. Brucker is no doubt a scrupulous
investigator, but still the books he has devoted to
the philosophy of the Indians, of the Chinese or even
of the Arabs must be placed on the same rank as
the chapter dealing with ancient history in the
“‘ Sneculum Historiale’’ of Vincent of Beauvais.
What then shall we say of those who came after him
and who have only copied or arbitrarily extracted
| from him without the least feeling as to what is
|
|
essential and what accessory? When people are
Q
|
 226 The Future of Science,
certain that the materials they possess are the only.
ones extant they may allow themselves to indulge
in that kind of ingenious inlaid work in which are
grouped all the spangles at their disposal, on the
condition, however, of making reservations and
acknowledging their inability to determine the
mutual relations of parts, the proportions of the
whole. But when there are original sources only
waiting to be explored, there is something grotesque
in this dovetailing of scattered scraps, inexact, dis-
- connected which are made into a system according
to fancy and without the least notion of the manner
in which the original producers proceeded. Hence
the inevitable defect of all the histories of literature
and philosophy composed outside the original sources
as has been the case so long with regard to the
Middle Ages, as is the case still with regard to the
East. Those who compose those histories only copy
the same errors and aggravate them by adding their
own conjectures to them. Try to read in Tennemann,
in Tiedemann, in Ritter the chapters treating of
Arabian philosophy. You will find nothing more
than you find in Brucker, that is, nothing more than
approximatives. We must definitely banish from —
science those works at third and fourth hand, in
which the same data are simply copied without an
attempt at either completing or verifying them.
Whosoever, in the actual condition of science, should
undertake a complete history either of Arabian philo-
sophy or medicine would literally waste his time and
his labour for he would only repeat what is already
known. Such a work cannot possibly be accom-
plished until eight or ten of the most laborious
students gifted with the most special knowledge
have devoted their whole lives to the publication,
translation and analysis of all the Arabian authors
of which we possess the text or the rabbinical
versions. Until then all the general works in that
direction will be utterly baseless. And it is very
probable that even then nothing very marvellous
 — eaeheel UDC SS i tl
or ius ? . ‘

The Future of Science. 227

will result from all this, because I have no great
faith in the Arabian philosophy, but if the result
were a mere atom towards the history of the human
intellect a thousand well spent lives would not be
too much to pay for it. In the actual condition of
Science we may feel a pang of regret that dis-
tinguished intellects should devote their time and
labour to objects in appearance so undeserving of
their concern.’ But if science were as it should be,
namely, cultivated. by great masses of individuals
and practically worked in large scientific workshops,
the least interesting points would like the others be
cleared up. In the actual condition one may aver
that there are useless researches in the sense that
they take up time that would be better spent on
more serious subjects. But in the normal state in
which so much power, now spent upon perfectly
futile objects, would be devoted to serious things
there would be no ground for despising any kind of
work. For the perfect science of the whole will be
impossible of attainment save by the patient and
analytical exploration of the parts. Certain philo-
logists have devoted long dissertations to the particles
of the Greek language, others of the Renaissance
have written works on the conjunction quanquam ;
a grammarian of Alexandria has written a book on
the difference between yp7 and det. No doubt they
might have set themselves more important problems ;
still it would be rash to assert that such works
are useless. For they do something for the know-
ledge of classical languages and classical languages
do something for the philosophy of the human intel-
lect. In the same way the knowledge of Sanskrit
will not be perfectly grasped until plodding philo-
logists shall have composed monographs about every
part and every process of it. There exists a some-
what bulky volume of Byneus; ‘‘ De Calecis Hebre-
orum.” It is a pity, no doubt that the shoes of the
Hebrews should have found a monographer before
the Vedas found a publisher. Nevertheless, 1 am
 os vy- ee
7
dioy

228 The Future of Science.

convinced that this book which I mean to read one ©
of these days contains some valuable information
and should make a useful appendix to the works
of Braun, Schroeder and Hartmann on the dress of
the Hebrew high priest and women. Pliny’s saying
is literally true. ‘‘There is no book, however bad,
from which you may not learn somethin g.” It is
rash to exclude no matter what, to condemn before-
hand no matter what research as fruitless. What
priceless results have sprung from studies apparently
frivolous? Is it not the progress of grammar which
has contributed to the more perfect interpretation
of texts and through that to the more intelligent
understanding of the ancient world? The most
important questions of Biblical exegesis in particular
to which the philosopher cannot remain indifferent
depend as a rule on the most humble and most
minute grammatical discussions (103). Nowhere
has the process of making grammar and lexicography
more perfect wrought a more radical reform. There
are numerous other cases in which the most vital
questions with regard to the human intellect depend
on the most minute philological details. Far, there-
fore, from being the mere work of minds but little
given to philosophy special labours are the most
important to true science and betoken the best minds.
Who is there that could write more scholarly gene-
ralities on Indian literature than M. Hugéne Burnouf ?
Well, he only does so reluctantly and casually, be-
cause he justly considers as the more essential and
most urgent work the publication of texts, the philo-
logical discussion of the same. In his preface to
the ‘‘ Bhagavata-Purana,’’ M. Hugéne Burnouf while
apologizing to the savants for having given some
general views, protests that he has only done so for
the French reader and that he attaches but a secondary
importance to a work which will have to be done
later on, and which as it could be done to-day, would
necessarily be outstripped and rendered useless by
its follower. Are we to take this as the humility of
 -
:—ee =
=

The Future of Science. 229

the mind, or as the love for humble things for their
own sake? No, it is simply the outcome of a healthy
method and an upright judgment. In the actual
condition of Sanskrit literature the publication and
translation of texts is of more value than any possible
number of dissertations whether on the history of
India or on the genuineness and completeness of the
works. Superficial minds may be inclined to think
that it would be more meritorious and glorious on
the part of a lofty intellect to write for instance
a literary history of India than to devote itself to
the unthankful task of editing and translating texts.
This is a mistake. There is, as yet, no occasion to
write dissertations on a literature all the elements
of which are not to hand. Petrarch, Boccaccio,
Poggio might as well have endeavoured to write the
theory of Greek literature. Petrarch and Boccaccio
by making Homer known; Ambrogio Traversari by
translating Diogenes Laertius, Poggio by discovering
Quintilian and translating Xenophon; Aurispa by
bringing to the West the manuscripts of Plotinus,
of Proclus, of Diodorus Siculus; Lorenzo Valla
by translating Herodotus and Thucydides have
rendered greater services to the classical literatures
than if they had prematurely endeavoured to grapple
with the higher questions of history and criticism.
These early humanists, no doubt, fell fatally into
literary superstitions and errors of criticism, which
we, with our minds sharpened by the comparisons
of other literatures, are able to avoid. We at the
very outset are capable of performing on those almost
unknown literatures tricks of skill which were only
possible with regard to Greek and Latin literatures
after the lapse of two or three centuries. The first
students of Manu or the “‘ Mahabharata” were enabled
to discover things which it took three or four hundred
years to discover in Homer or Moses. Nevertheless
we are bound to maintain “ that the period of disser-
tations and memoirs on India has not yet arrived,
or rather that is already past and that the labours
230 The Future of Science.
of a Colebrooke, of a Wilson, of a Schlegel and a
Lassen have for a long while barred the career so
brilliantly opened by the talent of Sir William Jones
(104).” In fact, to write the history of India will
only become possible after two centuries of labour
such as the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries de-
voted to the classical literatures. Works of the latter
order are the only ones which, in the actual condi-
tion of science, have a real and lasting value. Still,
as it is true enough that an incomplete system, pro-
vided we do not cling to it in too narrow a spirit,
is better than no system at all, one could wish that
some one without professing to write a definitely
scientific work, should attempt a kind of manual or
introduction to that literature, based upon the actual
state of Sanskrit studies. I confess that the greatest
obstacle I have met with in engaging upon Indian
studies is the utter absence of a summary work on
Sanskrit literature, its development, its principal
periods, the various ages of the language, the place
and rank occupied by the various works, in short,
something analogous to what Gesenius has done for
the language and literature of the Jews. Such a
work truly would be obsolete after the lapse of ten
years ; but it would have had its use and contributed
to facilitate the direct study of the sources. It
would assuredly be a pity for an eminent man to
spend upon it moments that might be better em-
ployed in making that very work useless, and still
who could do it if not the man who has a thorough
survey of the ground already travelled over ?
It is no doubt a drawback that those who devote
their lives to works of special learning should not be
imbued with the grand spirit that alone can impart
life to these labours, but which very often does more
harm to the moral perfection of the authors than to
the work itself. Perfection would mean grappling
closely with the particle while keeping at the same
time to the grand centre from a force of constant
habit that should penetrate the whole of the scientific
’

The Future of Science. 231

life. For we may truly ask where the difference lies
between certain learned researches, certain collec-
tions made by intellects too feeble to set them-
selves an aim and the work of the mere collector
who pins on his cardboard sheets butterflies of any
and every colour? Oh! when life is as short as it
is and when so many serious matters crop up into
it, would it not be better to listen to the numberless
promptings of the heart and the imagination and to
taste the delicious joys of the religious sentiment
than to fritter away a life that is irretrievable, and
which when lost, is lost for ever and ever?
The great obstacle which checks the progress of
philological studies seems to me to lie in that dis-
persion of work, in that self-isolation among special
studies, which render the labours of the philologist
only available to himself and to a small number of
friends who are engaged upon the same subject with
him. Hach savant developing in that way his part
without the least concern for the other branches of
science becomes narrow, egotistical and lost to the
lofty sense of his mission. A whole life would
scarcely suffice to exhaust the researches to be under-
taken on this or that special point of a science which
itself is but the infinitesimal part of a much more
extensive science. The same researches are con-
stantly begun over and over again, monographs
increase and accumulate to a degree such that their
very number annuls and renders them useless. It
seems to me that the time will come when philo-
logical students will collect and examine all those scat-
tered labours, and when the results are finally attained
the henceforth useless monographs will only be pre-
served as so many mementos. When the edifice has
been raised there is no harm in taking away the .
scaffolding that was necessary to its construction.
That is how physical sciences proceed. The works
approved of by competent authorities are done once
for all and henceforth adopted in full confidence ~
without the self-imposed attempt of reverting to the
232 The Future of Science.
researches of the first experimentalists except in rare
cases and at long intervals. It is thus that whole
years of assiduous studies have been often summarized
in a few lines or in a few figures and that the vast
whole of the science of nature has been composed
piece by piece and with admirable joint responsibility
on the part of all the labourers. The much more
delicate nature of the philological sciences would no
doubt not admit of the rigorous application of a
similar method. Still, I am under the impression
that we shall not get out of this maze of individual
and isolated work save by a great scientific organiza-
tion, in which everything shall be done without stint
as without waste of power and in so final a manner
as to render the results attained capable of accepta-
tion in full confidence. One cannot help thinking
now and again that the mass of scientific work is
crushed by its own weight and that it would be for the
better if publicity were more restricted. But the
real defect is the want of organization and control.
In an efficiently ordered scientific state it would
be desirable that the number of workers were still
much more considerable. For then the work would
not go a-burrowing and would not choke itself, like a
fire of which the fuel is too closely piled up. It is
sad to think that three-fourths of the minute things
which are still being sought for are already found,
while other mines in which treasures are lying await-
ing discovery remain without hands in consequence
of the inefficient direction of the work. Science in
our days is not unlike a magnificent library turned
upside down. It contains everything, but so utterly
pell-mell, so thoroughly unclassified that it might
just as well not be there.
A moment’s reflection will convince us of the abso-
lute necessity of supposing the future to have a
grand scientific reform in store for us (105). In fact,
the material claiming the attention of the scholar
keeps on increasing at so rapid a rate, either by reason
of fresh discoveries or by the multiplying of centuries
 -.=-asieeer iP - S e e
acs
P wad
: : -

The Future of Science. 233

as to exceed in the long run the capacities of investi-
gators. A hundred years hence France will count
three or four literatures virtually piled atop of one
another. In five hundred years there will be two
ancient histories. And, if the elucidation of the first
which the times and the utter absence of the print-
ing press invested with such great simplicity to us,
sufficed to occupy so many laborious lives, what will
it be with ours which will have to be extracted from
such an enormous mass of documents? The same
argument holds good with regard to our libraries.
If the National Library continues to accumulate all
the new productions, it will become absolutely im-
practicable in another hundred years and its very
wealth will make it useless (106). Hence, there is
a progressive march which cannot continue indefi-
nitely without producing a revolution in science. It
would be foolish to inquire how that revolution will
be brought about. Will there be an immense sim-
plification like that wrought by the barbarians? We
cannot risk the slightest reasonable hypothesis on
the subject. _
Without being a partisan of literary and scientific
communism, I believe, nevertheless that the dispersion
of forces should be urgently opposed, and the concen-
tration of work as urgently called for. Germany has
in that respect some really useful customs. It is by
no means rare to find in the literary journals or in
the reports of philological conferences the notice of a
savant informing his fellow-savants that he has under-
taken a special work on a certain subject and conse-
quently asking them to send him any and everything
bearing upon the subject which may have come in
their way in the course of their own particular studies.
Without attempting to lay down hard and fast rules
I have an idea that under a seriously organized
system one might throw open in that way public
problems to which every one should be welcome to
contribute his contingent of facts. The Académies,
especially the académies devoted to works that have
 ee ee ee
oe
i Fe, " a . ae
Ee
’ 1

234 The Future of Science.

much in common, such as for instance the Académie
des Inscriptions et Belles-Lettres supply the want I
am pointing out, but in order to supply it in a
thoroughly efficacious manner, they would have: to
undergo radical transformations.
 e® 6 pele De i Da Ce ee

The Future of Science. 235

CHAPTER XIV.

THE plan of my work does not admit of my sug-

gesting any ideas of practical application. My
complete ignorance of practical life would, moreover,
make me utterly unfit to do so. Organization,
demanding experience and the careful balancing of
principles by existing facts could not possibly be the
work of a young man. I shall, therefore, only lay
down principles.
It cannot be gainsaid that it is the duty of the
State to patronize science as it patronizes art. The
State, in fact, represents society and should replace
individual enterprise with regard to works where
isolated effort would be insufficient. The aim of
society is the realization on a vast and complete
scaleof all the facets of human life. As it happens
some of these facets can only be realized by collective
wealth. Individuals cannot build unto themselves
observatories; they cannot create libraries, they
cannot found large scientific institutions. The State,
therefore, owes to science observatories, libraries,
scientific institutions. Individuals cannot by them-
selves undertake and publish certain works. The
State owes them subsidies. Certain branches of
science (and the most important) cannot provide
those that cultivate them with the necessaries of life.
The State is bound to afford in some shape or other
to deserving workers the necessary means to pursue
peaceably their labours and to keep them from
harassing want. I say that this is a duty of the State,
 oa Se
5 4 ‘

236 The Future of Science:

and I say so unreservedly (107). I do not look upon
the State as a simple institution of police and for
preserving order. The State is society itself, that is,
man in his normal condition. It is consequently,
subject to the same duties as the individual, as
regards religious things. It must not merely let
things take their course, it is bound to provide man
with the conditions of his striving after perfection.
It is a plastic and really guiding power. For society
is not merely the atomic union of individuals, wrought
by the repetition of the unit; it is the constituted
unit, it is primeval.
I am aware that England, like France of old in
some respects provides for nearly everything by
private foundations, and I can understand that in a
country where private foundations are so respected
one may dispense with a minster of Public Education.
The State, I repeat, should only step in where the
individual cannot or does not suffice, hence its part
is less important in a country where private indi-
viduals can do and do a great deal. Besides, England
only realizes these grand things by association, that
is, by small societies within the large one, and
personally I consider the French organization, which
sprang from our Revolution much more in accordance
with the modern spirit. It is above all in the shape
of religion that the watchfulness of the State over
the supra-sensitive interests of humanity has hitherto
been exercised. But as soon as the religious
tendency of man shall manifest itself in the purely
scientific and rational form all that the State formerly
granted to the budget of Public Worship will by right
revert to science, the sole definite religion. There
will be no budget of Public Worship, there will be a
budget of science, a budget of arts. The State must
provide for science as it does for religion, seeing that
science like religion is an essential part of human
nature. Science has even a higher claim on the
State, because religion though everlasting in its psy-
chological basis, is more or less transitory in its
 — ust. . —_——_
| ia ' I i at

r?

The Future of Science. 237

form ; unlike science it is not wholly an essential
part of human nature.
Seeing that science can only exist under the con-
dition of the most perfect freedom, the patronage
which the State owes it, does not confer upon the
State the least right to control or to regulate it, any
more than the subsidy granted to public worship
gives it the right to frame articles of faith. In one
sense the State can exercise even less influence on
science than on religions; because it can at least
impose certain regulations of police on the latter ;
while it can impose nothing, absolutely nothing on
science. Science, in fact, proceeding through the
intrinsic and objective consideration of things is not
itself free to yield obedience to him who would
command it; if it were free in its opinions, one
might perhaps ask it for this or that opinion. But
it is not free; there is nothing more fatally stubborn _
than reason and consequently, science. ‘To attempt
to direct it, to ask it to attain this or that result is
merely a flagrant contradiction ; it is acting upon the
supposition that it is pliable to every sensation, upon
the supposition that it is not science.
Certain religious orders which applied to study that
tranquillity of mind—one of the most delightful fruits
of monastic life—realized of old those grand scientific
workshops the disappearance of which is so deeply
to be regretted. No doubt it would have been much
better had those workers been independent (108).
They would not have brought to their labours so ~
much patience and abnegation, but they certainly
would have brought a keener spirit of criticism. Be
this as it may, it cannot be denied that the abroga-
tion of the religious orders which devoted themselves
to study and of the ‘parliaments’? which afforded
scholars so much studious leisure have struck a fatal
blow to learned researches. This gap will not be
filled up until the State shall have instituted, in some
form or other, lay chapters, lay benefices, where the
great labours of learning will be resumed by profane
238 The Future of Science.
and critical Benedictines. By the side of the
learned labour of the architect there is in science the
drudgery of the hodman which requires unnoticed
patience and united labour. Dom Mabillon, Dom
Ruinard, Dom Rivet, Montfaugon could not have
accomplished their gigantic tasks if they had not
had at command a whole community of laborious
workers who ‘“ fined down ”’ the work to which they
afterwards put the finishing touch. Science will
make no rapid conquests until lay Benedictines
will harness themselves once more to the yoke of
learned research and devote lives of labour to
the elucidation of the past. Glory will not be the
reward of those humble workers; but life has many
gentle and tranquil natures, but little exercised by
passions and desires, not harassed by philosophical
needs (take care not to infer from this that they are
cold and withered; on the contrary, they often
possess intense faculties of concentration and are
exceedingly sensitive) who would be content with
this peaceful life and who, amidst modest comforts
and happy family surroundings, would exactly find
the atmosphere suited to such modest work. Truth
to tell, the most natural form of patronizing science
in that way is the form of sinecures. Sinecures are
indispensable in the scientific world; they are the
most dignified and the fittest way of pensioning the
savant ; besides affording the advantage of grouping
around scientific institutions illustrious names and
eminent talents. Only barbarians and people ‘‘ who
see no farther than their nose’ will allow themselves
to be taken in by superficial objections like those
raised at the first blush by the employment of
extensive scientific staffs. It is very evident that
the work of this or that library which numbers ten
or twelve assistants would be done just as well by
two or three people (and in fact among the number
there are only two or three who do anything worth
mentioning). Certain people would conclude from
this that all the others ought to be dismissed. No
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The Future of Science. 239

doubt, if the sole aim were to provide for the material
wants of the work. An odd thing. Science the one
truly liberal thing in this world is only largely
patronized in Russia.
It is a pity, certainly that we should have to
descend to such considerations. But in the actual
condition of humanity money is an intellectual force
and in virtue of that deserves some consideration.
A million is as good as one or two men of genius, in
the sense that with a million well spent one may do
as much for intellectual progress as one or two first-
rate men could do, if reduced to intellectual force
only. With a million I will undertake to drive
modern ideas deeper into the mind of the masses
than it could be done by a whole generation of poor ,
thinkers, commanding no influence. With a million >
I could translate the Talmud, publish the Vedas, the
Nyaya with its commentaries and bring out a number
of works which would contribute more to the progress
of science than a whole century of metaphysical
thought. How frantic it drives one to think that
with the sums silly opulence scatters about to satisfy
mere whims, one might move heaven and earth. It
is idle to expect the savant to emancipate himself
from the conditions of ordinary life and to do without »
the everyday food. It is still more idle to hope
that the wealthy who are exempt from such cares,
will ever suffice for the needs of science. The grand
scientific instincts nearly always find their develop-
ment among well educated but poor young men. The
rich always import into science a tone of superficial
amateurishness of very doubtful alloy (109). Religion
has never been blamed for having ministers subject to
material wants like other men and claiming State aid.
As for those who look upon science as a mere money-
making machine, we will have nothing to say to them,
they are manufacturers like a good many other
manufacturers, they are not savants. Whosoever
has been able to dwell for a single moment on the
hope of becoming rich, whosoever has looked upon
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240 The Future of Science.

the outward needs in any other light than a heavy
and fatal chain to which unfortunately he must
submit, does not deserve the name of savant. Large
scientific stipends and plurality of appointments
would in that respect have the same serious draw-
backs that wealth had formerly on the clergy ; they
would attract mercenary characters who look upon
science as a means as good as any other to make
their fortune, disgraceful simoniacs who import into
sacred things their grovelling habits and their worldly
views. Students should feel sure beforehand that in
embracing the scientific career they condemned
themselves to lifelong poverty, though they should
not want for the strictly necessary ; in that way
there would be none but noble natures driven by
a powerful and irresistible instinct who would devote
- themselves to it, and the scum of intriguers and
adventurers would carry their pretensions elsewhere.
The first condition has been already fulfilled?
Why is it not the same with regard to the second ?
 The Future of Science. 241

CHAPTER XV.

In order to complete my idea and to make clearly

understood what I mean by a scientific philosophy
I am bound to give some instances here, which,
it seems to me, will make it evident that special
studies can lead to results as important to the
thorough knowledge of things as metaphysical and
psychological speculation. I will borrow them by
preference from historical or philological sciences,
the only ones with which I am familiar and with
which, besides, this essay specially deals. It is not
because the natural sciences do not afford data quite
as philosophical. I am not afraid of exaggerating
when I say that our most settled ideas on the system
of things are rooted more or less deeply in the phy-
sical sciences and that the most important differences
that distinguish modern from antique thought are
due to the revolution those studies have wrought in
our manner of viewing the world. Our idea of the
laws of nature which has upset for ever and aye
the old conception of the anthromorphic world is the
grand result of physical sciences, not of this or that
experiment but of a very general mode of induction,
the result of the general physiognomy of phenomena.
It cannot be gainsaid that astronomy in revealing to
man the structure of the universe, the rank and
position of the earth, the order it occupies in the
system of the world has done more for true science
than all the conceivable speculations based upon the
exclusive consideration of human nature (110). This
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242
ah ln The
Ee Future of Science. ee
consideration, in fact, would lead either to the
ancient finalism, which made man the centre of the
universe or to pure Hegelism which admits no other —
manifestation of the divine conscience than humanity.
But the study of the world’s system and of the place
man occupies in it, without upsetting either of these
two conceptions forbids us to take them in a too
absolute or exclusive manner. The idea of the infi-
nite is one of the most fundamental in human nature,
—if it be not the whole of human nature itself; and
still man would not have succeeded in understanding
in its reality the infinitude of things, if the expert-
mental study of things had not brought him to it.
Of course it is not the telescope that has revealed
the infinite to him, but it is the telescope that has
taken him to the extreme limits beyond which there
\
is still an infinitude of worlds. Has not geology in- —
troduced as essential an element into philosophy by
teaching man the history of our globe, the period at —
which humanity first appeared, the conditions of that
appearance and the creations which preceded him ?
Physics and chemistry have done more for the inmost
constitution of the body than all the speculations of
the ancient and modern philosophers on the abstract
quality of matter, its essence, its divisible properties.
Physiology and comparative anatomy, zoology, botany
are In my opinion, the sciences that teach the greatest
number of things on the essence of life, and it is
from them that I have drawn the greatest number of
elements for my manner of regarding the individuality
and the mode of consciousness resulting from the
organism. Mathematics themselves, though afford-
ing no lesson on reality are precious in moulding
thought, and offer us, in the way of pure reason in
action, the model of the most perfect logic. But I
wish to insist no longer on things of which I have
no special knowledge and come back to my funda-
mental idea of a critical philosophy. |
_ Tomy idea the highest degree of intellectual culture
18 to understand humanity. The physical student
 The Future of Science. 243
understands nature, no doubt not in all its pheno-
mena, but at any rate in its general laws, in its true
physiognomy. The physical student is the critic of
nature, the philosopher is the critic of humanity.
Where the ordinary observer only sees whim and
miracle, the physicist and the philosopher see laws
and the manifestation of reason. And this true
intuition with regard to humanity, which is after all
only criticism, the historical and philological sciences
alone are able to giveit. The first step in the science
of humanity is to distinguish two phases in human
thought ; the primeval age, an age of spontaneity in
which the faculties of their creative fruitfulness,
unconscious of themselves, as it were and by their
inmost tension attained an object at which they did
not aim; and the age of reflection in which man
becomes conscious and master of himself, an age of
- combination and painful process, of antithetical and
much-debated knowledge. One of the services ren-
dered to philosophy by M. Cousin has been to intro-
duce among us this distinction and to demonstrate it
with his admirable clearness of mind. But it will be
the mission of science to demonstrate it finally and
to apply it to the solution of the highest problems.
Primitive history, the epics and poetry of the spon-
taneous ages, their religions, their languages will
have no meaning until this grand distinction shall
have become current coin. The enormous errors of
criticism generally to be found in the essays on the
works of the primitive epochs arise from the ignor-
ance of this principle and from the habit of judging
all the epochs of the human intellect by the same
standard. Let us take for instance, the origin of
language. Why do people advance such absurd
arguments on that important philosophical question ?
Because they apply to the primitive epochs views
that have a meaning only in our age of reflection.
People say; ‘‘ Seeing that the greatest philosophers
are powerless to analyze language how could the first
human beings have created it?” The objection
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244 The Future of Scvence.

holds good only with regard to deliberate invention.
Spontaneous action has no need to be preceded by
the analytical view. The mechanism of the intellect
is much more difficult still to analyze, and still while
knowing nothing of such analysis the simplest man
sets in motion all its springs. The fact is that the
words easy and dificult have no meaning whatsoever
when applied to spontaneous action. The child that
learns its language, humanity that creates science
experience no more difficulty than the plant that
germinates, than the organized body that arrives at
its complete development. It is the hidden God,
the universal force acting everywhere, producing
either during sleep or in the absence of the individual
soul, those marvellous effects, which are as much
above human skill, as the infinite power is beyond
limited strength.
It is because this creative force of spontaneous
reason has not been understood that the strangest
hypotheses on the origin of the human intellect have
been allowed to. gain ground. When the Catholic
Condillac, M. de Bonald, conceives primeval man
after the model of a powerless statue, devoid of origi-
nality or initiation on, which God ‘‘ enamels” or
“lays on’ if I may be permitted the expression both
language, moral feeling and thought, he only con-
tinues the reasoning of the eighteenth century and
denies the innate originality of the intellect ; (irre-
spective of the absurdity of making a stump or stock
utterly deprived of intelligence, speak and understand
by simply speaking to it, and as if such a revelation —
did not imply the inherent faculty to understand; as
if the receptive faculty were not correlative with the
productive one). It is as untrue to say that man
deliberately and with forethought created language,
religion, morality as it is to say that those divine
attributes of his nature have been revealed to him.
All this is the work of spontaneous reason and of
that hidden and inward activity which while conceal-
ing from us the motor power only shows us the
 The Future of Science. 245
effects. When we get as far down as this, it
matters little whether we attribute the primary cause
to God or to man, the spontaneous being both
divine and human at the same time. There lies
the point of conciliation between apparently con-
tradictory opinions, but which are in fact only partial
in their expression, according to their connection
with one aspect of the phenomenon rather than with
the other.
The false reasoning on the history of religions and
their origins springs from thesame cause. ‘The great
religious apparitions present a mass of inexplicable
facts to him who fails to look for the cause beyond
ordinary experience. The formation of the legend
of Jesus and all the primitive facts of Christianity
would be incapable of being explained in surround-
ings like ours. Let those who make themselves
a narrow and paltry idea of the laws of the human
intellect, who understand nothing beyond the com-
monplace of a drawing-room or the restricted limits
_of ordinary common sense; let those who have not
grasped the proud originality of the spontaneous
creations of human nature, let all those beware of
grappling with such a problem or let them content
themselves with timidly casting the solution of the
supernatural upon it. In order to understand those
extraordinary apparitions we must be hardened
against miracles; we must lift ourselves above our
age of reflection and slow combination to be able to
contemplate the human faculties in their creative
originality ; when spurning our painful processes, they
evolved from their plenitude the sublime and the
divine. Then was the age of psychological miracles.
To have recourse to the supposition of the super-
natural in order to explain those marvellous effects
is simply to insult human nature ; it is to admit one’s
ignorance of the hidden forces of the soul; it is to
imitate the commonplace man who looks upon extra-
ordinary effects of which science explains the mystery
asso many miracles. In every order of things, the
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246 The Future of Science.

miracle is only apparent, the miracle means that
which has not been explained. The further we pene-
trate into the higher psychology of primordial
humanity, the deeper we pierce the origins of the
human intellect the more miracles we are likely to
find, miracles the more admirable in that they do not
require for their production a ‘‘ God-machine,’’ who
is always meddling with the course of things, the
more shall we become aware that they are the regular
development of immutable laws like reason itself and
the attainment of the perfect. The spontaneous
man looks upon nature and history with the eyes of
childhood; the child casts upon everything the halo
of the marvellous which he finds in his own soul.
His curiosity, the lively interest he shows in every
new combination spring from his faith in the marvel-
lous. Blasés with experiments we do not expect
anything very wonderful; but the child does not
know what will come next. Knowing the reality
less, he believes more in the possible. ‘That delight-
ful intoxication of life which is contained within
himself makes his head spin; he only sees the world
through a delicately tinted mist; casting a joyous
and inquisitive look at all things, he smiles at every-
thing, everything smiles on him. Hence spring his
joys but also his terrors; he makes unto himself a
fantastic world that delights or frightens him; he
has not the faculty of distinguishing, which in the
age of reflection so clearly divides the ego and the
non-ego ; and makes us such coldblooded observers of
the reality. He makes himself part and parcel of all
his stories; the simple and objective relation of the
fact is impossible with him; he does not know how
to isolate himself from the judgment he has delivered
upon it, from the personal impression of it that has
remained with him. He does not relate things, he
relates the fancies he has conceived in connection with
things, or rather he relates himself. The child in his
turn creates for himself all the myths that humanity
created for itself; every fable that strikes his imagin-
 The Future of Science. 247
ation is accepted by him; he himself improvises
strange ones, and then affirms their truth to himself
(111). Such is the process of the human intellect
at the mythical epochs. The dream is taken for the
reality and affirmed as such. Without the least
mendacious premeditation, the fable is born of itself ;
accepted the moment it is born, it goes on gathering
like the snowball; there is no criticism to stop it.
And it is not only at the origin of the human intel-
lect that the soul allows herself to be tricked by this
delightful deception; the love of the marvellous
goes on bearing ample fruit until the final advent of
the scientific age, but less spontaneously and accom-
panied by the assimilation of many more historical
elements.
Here, then, we have a principle capable of be-
coming the basis of a complete philosophy of the
human intellect, and around which are grouped the
most important results of modern criticism. Chro-
nology counts for very little in the history of man-
kind. A combination of causes may once more
obscure thought and revive the instincts of the
primeval days. That is what did occur on the eve of
modern times, and subsequent to the grand civiliza-
tion of antiquity, when the Middle Ages recalled the
Homeric ones, and that of the childhood of humanity.
The theory of the primitive state of the human
intellect, so indispensable to the knowledge of the
human intellect itself, is our great discovery and has
introduced thoroughly new data into philosophical
science. The old Cartesian school took man in an
abstract, general, uniform manner. It constructed
the history of the individual as some Germans still
construct the history of humanity, a prior, and
without troubling itself about gradations which
facts alone can reveal. And when I say history, I
only do so for form’s sake, for there was no history
for that creature without any connection with its
kind, who like the angels, saw everything in God.
And when he had asked himself whether his faculty
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248 The Future of Scvence.

to think is constant, whether his senses deceived him,
whether matter exists, whether the animals have a
soul, everything was said and done. And what in
the name of all that is sensible could they know of
the living, breathing man, those long-robed and stern
personages of the parliaments, of Port-Royal, of the
Oratoire, the personages that cut man into two parts,
the body, the soul, without any space or passage
between them, and by this mere arrangement pro-
hibited themselves from studying life in its perfect
simplicity (112)? There are strange things told of
the want of sensibility and sternness of Malebranche,
and this could not be otherwise. It is not in the
abstract world of pure reason that people beget a
sympathy with life, all that touches and moves us
belongs always more or less to the body. As for us,
we have shifted the field of the science of man. It
is his life we want to know, and life means both
the body and the soul, not placed facing one another
like clocks that tick in time, not soldered together
like two different metals, but united into one two-
fronted phenomenon which cannot be divided, with-
out destroying it.
Our science of man, then, is no longer an abstract
thing that may be built up a priort and from general
views; it is the universal experimental method
applied to human life, and consequently the study of
all the products within the sphere of its activity, above
all of its spontaneous activity. I prefer to the most
beautiful Cartesian disquisitions the theory of primi-
tive poesy and the national epic as Wolf viewed them,
as they have been definitely settled by the comparative
study of literatures. If aught can make us under-
stand the aim of criticism and the importance of the
discoveries we may expect from it, it is assuredly the
fact of having explained by the same laws Homer
and the Ramayana, the Niebelungen and the Shah-
Nameh, the romance of the Cid, our own medixval
legendary poems (Chansons de Gestes) the heroic
songs of Scotland and Scandinavia (113). There
 The Future of Science. 249
are traits of humanity capable of being fixed once for
all, and for which the most ancient pictures are the
best. Homer, the Bible, and the Vedas will last for
ever. They will be read when the intermediary
works shall have been forgotten; they will ever be
the sacred books of humanity. In fact, to the two
phases of human thought there are two corresponding
literatures ; primitive literatures, the ingenuous out-
pourings of the peoples in their still spontaneous
condition, rustic but withal natural flowers, direct
manifestations of the national genius and traditions ;
literatures that are the outcome of reflected thought,
possessing much greater individuality than the
others, and with regard to which questions of authen-
ticity and integrity—impertinent in connection with
primitive literatures—are of the greatest significance.
Thus, two poems, like the “‘ Iliad” and the “ Aineid”’
placed side by side of old, are placed at the two poles
of the idea.
The general theory of the mythologies as estab-
lished by Heyne, Niebuhr, Ottfried Miiller, Bauer,
Strauss, comes within the same order of researches
and implies the same principle. ‘The mythologies
are no longer to us a series of absurd and often
ridiculous fables, but grandiose, divine poems, in
which the primeval nations have poured out their
dreams with regard to the supra-sensitive world.
They are, in a certain sense, more valuable than
history, for in history there is a necessary and
fortuitous part which is not the work of humanity ;
while in the fables everything is its own; it is its
portrait painted by its own hand. Fable is un-
shackled, history is not. ‘‘The Book of Kings” of
Firdousi is decidedly a very inferior history of Persia;
and still that lovely poem represents to us the genius
of Persia much better than would the most exact
history ; it gives us her legends and epic traditions,
that is, her soul. Scholars often regret deeply that
India has left us no history of any sort. But in
reality we have something better than her history;
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250 The Future of Scvence.

we have her sacred books, her philosophy. That
history would be no doubt, like all other histories of
the East, a mere dry nomenclature of her kings, a
series of insignificant facts. Is it not better to be
in direct possession of that which at great pains
we should have to extract from the history, that
which solely constitutes its value; the spirit of the
nation ?
The races that are most philosophical are also the
most mythological. India presents the most astonish-
ing phenomenon of the richest mythology side by
side with a metaphysical development much superior
to that of Greece; perhaps even to that of Germany.
The three characteristics that distinguish the Indo-
Germanic peoples from the Semitic peoples are, that
the Semitic peoples have neither philosophy,—nor
' mythology,—nor epic (114); three things in reality
very closely connected and due to an entirely
different mode of looking at the world. The Semites
never conceived ‘‘sex’”’ in God; the feminine of the
word ‘“‘God’’ in Hebrew would be the strangest bar-
barism possible (115). Because of this they have
deprived themselves of the possibility of ‘‘making’”’
either a mythology or a divine epic; a variety of
complications being out of the question under an
only and absolutely ruling God. Under such a
régime the struggle becomes impossible. The God
of Job replying to man with nothing but thunder-
claps, is very poetical, but in noway epic. He is too
strong, he crushes at the first blow. The angels do
not offer any individual variety; and all the sub-
sequent efforts to invest them with a kind of
physiognomy ‘(archangels, seraphim, etc.) have led
to nothing characteristic. And besides what interest
could we take in messengers, in ministers without
initiative, without passion? Under the régime of
Jehovah mythological creation could only result in
depicting the executors of his orders. Hence the
roles assumed by the angels are as a rule cold and
monotonous, like those of the messengers and con-
 The Future of Science. 251
fidants.* Variety is the element most radically
wanting in the peoples of Semitic origin; their
original poems would not make more than one
volume. The themes are few in number and quickly
exhausted. This God, isolated from nature; this
nature made by God, do not lend themselves to the
conception of incident and to historical composition.
What an enormous distance indeed between that
vast deification of the forces of nature which is the
foundation of the great mythologies and the narrow
conception of a world fashioned like .a bowl in the
potter’s hands. And it is thither we strayed in
search of our theology. Doubtless, this mode of
conceiving things is simple and majestic, but how
colourless in comparison to those grandiose evolutions
of Pan which the Indo-Germanic race at its poetic
beginnings as well as at its end, understood so well.
Among the secondary sciences which must aid
in constituting the science of humanity, there is no
one more important than the philosophical and com-
parative theory of languages. When we remember
that this admirable science counts as yet but one
generation of labour, and the precious discoveries to
which it has already led, we cannot help wondering
at its being so little cultivated, so little understood.
Is it credible that there is not in the whole of Kurope
a single chair of philology, and that the Collége de
France which boasts of representing in its curriculum
the ensemble of the human intellect has no chair for
one of the most important branches of human know-
ledge, created by the nineteenth century? What
historical results may we not expect from the classi-
fication of languages into families, and above all
from the formation of that group of which we are
a part and the branches of which extend from the
island of Ceylon to the deepest recesses of Brittany?
What lights to be thrown on ethnography, on primi-
* To the French “messengers and confidants” is expressive
enough. M. Rénan alludes to what in theatrical parlance we call
‘the feeders” of Corneille and Racine’s tragedies.
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252 . The Future of Science.

tive history, on the origins of mankind! What philo- |

sophical results in the ascertaining of the laws that
have presided at the development of*language, at
the transformation of its mechanism, at the perpetual
decompositions and recompositions which constitute
its history. Would the analytical progress of thought
have been discovered if the various languages had
not shown us as in mirror the ceaseless march of the
human intellect from synthesis and from primitive
complexity to analysis and clearness? Is it not
the study of the primitive languages that has revealed
to us the primitive characteristics of the exercise of
the thinking faculties, the predominance of sensation
and that’ deep sympathy which then bound man to
nature? What synopsis of the human intellect, in
short, can be compared to that afforded by the com-
parative study of the processes by which the various
races have expressed the different nexus of thought ?
I do not know of a more beautiful chapter of psycho-
logy than the dissertations of von Humboldt on
the dual number, on the adverbs of locality, or
those that might be written on the comparison of_
Semitic and Indo-Germanic conjugations, on the
general theory of pronouns, on the formation of
roots, on the imperceptible deterioration and the
rudimentary existence of the grammatical process in
the various families, etc. What we cannot point out
too often is the fact that through languages we get
in touch with the primeval condition of man.
Languages, in fact, do not create for themselves new
processes, any more than they create new roots.
Their whole progress consists in developing this or
that process, in diverting the meaning of roots,
but never in adding new ones. The populace and
children alone enjoy the privilege of coining new —
words and turns of phrases that have no antecedents
for their individual use. The thinking man never
attempts to combine in an arbitrary way sounds to
express a new idea, or to create a grammatical form
to express a new nexus. We may conclude from this
 The Future of Science. 253
that all the roots of the various families are the
outcome of the way the primitive peoples felt and
that all the grammatical processes proceed directly
from the manner in which each race treated ideas ;
that, in short, language in the whole of its construc-
tion dates from the first days of man and brings us
in touch with his origin. Personally, I am convinced
that the language spoken by the first thinking beings
of the Semitic race differed very little from the
common type of all those languages, such as it
presents itself to us in the Hebrew or Syriac. There
can, at any rate, be no doubt that the roots of these
idioms, the roots that still constitute the foundation
of a language spoken on a large part of the globe
were the first that rang in the deep and vigorous
chests of the fathers of that race. And though it
may seem paradoxical to maintain the same thing
with regard to our metaphysical languages, battered
about by so many revolutions, one may fearlessly
affirm that they do not contain a single word, a
single process we may not connect by a direct affilia-
tion to the first impressions of the first children of
God. Let us, therefore, remember in Heaven’s
name what we have got in hand and let us labour to
decipher that medal of days gone long ago. .
As a rule, people imagine the laws of the evolution
of the human intellect to be much more simple than
they are. It is very dangerous indeed to invest with
a historical and chronological value the evolutions
supposed to have been necessarily successive, to
suppose, for instance, that at his origin man was
a cannibal because that condition is considered
as the most degraded. The reality presents a very
much greater variation. ‘There is not a thinker who
pondering the history of humanity does not succeed
in constructing a formula; those formulas do not
coincide with, but they are not contradictory of, one
another. The factis that there are no two absolutely
identical developments in humanity (116). There
are laws, and very deeply rooted laws, the simple
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254 The Future of Science.

action of which is never perceived, the result being
always complicated by accidental circumstances.
The general names by which we designate the
various phases of the mind never apply in a perfectly
univocal manner—as the schoolmen said—to two
different states. ‘‘The line of humanity,” says
Herder, “is neither straight, nor uniform; it de-
viates in every direction, and presents all the curves
and all the angles imaginable. Neither the asymp-
tote, nor the ellipsis, nor the cycloid can give us an
idea of its law.”’ The relations between things are
not on a plane, but in space. There are dimensions
in thought as there are dimensions in the expanse.
Just as a classification only explains one lineal
series of beings, and necessarily neglects several as
real which cross the first and would require a
classification apart so do all the laws express only
one system of relations and necessarily omit a thou-
sand others. It is ike a body of three dimensions
projected on one plane. Certain traits will be pre-
served, others will be altered, others again altogether
omitted. The Middle Ages are in certain aspects
like the Homeric times, and yet who could care to-
apply the same denomination to conditions so dif-
ferent? In this vast picture every one lays hold
of a trait, a physiognomy, a ray of light; no one
grasps the ensemble and the significance of the whole.
Let us take a traveller who has crossed France from
north to south ; another from east to west; a third
following a different line; each of them gives his
account as the complete description of France; that
is the exact image of what up till now those have
done who have attempted to present a system of the
philosophy of history (117). A geographical map
cannot possibly be drawn unless the country intended —
to be represented has been explored in all directions.
And let us bear in mind that history is the true
philosophy of the nineteenth century. Our century
is not metaphysical. It cares little about the in-
trinsic discussion of questions. Its great concern is
—
The Future of Science. 255
history, and above all the history of the human
intellect. Here lies the dividing point of the
schools; a man is a philosopher or a believer ac-
cording to his manner of looking at history ; a man
believes in humanity or does not believe in it
according to the system he has conceived of its
history. If the history of the human mind be only
a succession of systems that upset one another, all
we can do is to throw ourselves into the arms of
scepticism or into those of faith. If the history
of the human intellect be the onward march towards
the truth between two oscillations which have the
effect of restricting more and more the domain of
error, we are justified in still putting our trust in
reason. very one in our days is what he is accord-
_ Ing to the way in which he understands history.
The comparative study of religions when once
definitely established on the solid basis of criticism
will constitute the noblest chapter in the history of
the human intellect, finding its place between the
history of mythologies and the history of philosophies.
Religion, like philosophy supplies a speculative want
of humanity. Like mythology, it contains a large
part of the records of spontaneous and non-premedi-
tated exertion of the human faculties. Hence its
priceless value from the philosopher’s point of view.
Just as a Gothic cathedral is the best piece of evidence
of the Middle Ages, because the generations have
dwelt there in the spirit; so is religion the best
means of understanding humanity; for humanity
has dwelt there; it is the deserted tent in which
everything attests the traces of those whom it
sheltered. Woe to him who passes by those vener-
able tenements with indifference, those venerable
tenements in the shadow of which humanity has
lingered so long and where so many noble souls still
find comfort and awe. Even if the roof lets in the
light of heaven and the torrents from the sky drench
the upturned face of the believer on his knees,
science would wish to study those ruins, to describe
 fle

956 The Future of Science.

all the statuettes that adorn them, to lift the stained
window panes which only admit a mysterious semi-
glow, in order to introduce the radiant sun, and to ~
study at leisure those admirable petrifactions of
human thought.
The history of religions has, as yet, almost entirely
to be created. Numberless causes of respect and
timidity operate on that point against thorough
frankness, without which rational discussion becomes
impossible, and in reality, render the position of
those grand systems more unfavourable than advan-
tageous from the point of view of science. Religions
seem to have been tabooed by humanity, it takes
them a long while to obtain the recognition of
their value, the value which is theirs from the
standpoint of. criticism; and the silence concerning
them may breed an illusion as to the importance of
the part they have enacted in the development of
ideas. A history of philosophy (118), which should
devote a volume to Plato, ought, it seems, to devote
two to Jesus; and still the chances are that His
name will not be mentioned once. It is not the
historian’s fault; it is the consequence of. Jesus’
position. Such is the fate of everything that attains
religious consecration. How much, for instance,
has not Hebraic literature suffered from the stand-
point of science and taste by becoming the Bible?
Whether from mere bad temper, or from the remains
of superstition, scientific and literary criticism
shrinks from considering as 1ts own works which have
been sequestrated in that way from profane and
natural influences, by which we mean, that which is.
Nevertheless are the books themselves to blame ?
Could the author of that delightful little poem
called ‘‘ The Song of Songs’”’ have foreseen that one
day he would have to part company with Anacreon
and Hafiz to be made into an inspired singer who
only sang of divine love? It is really time that
criticism should become accustomed to take its
material wherever it finds it, and not to make dis-
 The Future of Scrence. 257
tinctions between the works of the human intellect
when it becomes a question of leading opinion, of
admiring. It is time for reason to cease to criticize
religions as alien works, set up against it by a rival
power and to finally recognize its own concern in all
the productions of humanity without distinction or
antithesis. It is time to proclaim the fact that one
sole cause has wrought everything in the domain of
intellect, the human mind, operating according to
identical laws, but among different surroundings. To
hear certain rationalists, we should be tempted to
believe that religions came from heaven to confront
reason for the pleasure of thwarting it; as if human
nature had not done everything by different aspects
of itself. No doubt, we may oppose religion and
philosophy as we oppose two systems, but in recog-
nizing that they have the same origin and occupy
the same ground. The old method of polemics
seemed to concede that religions have a different
origin, and from this very fact was induced to insult
it. By being bolder, we shall be more respectful.
The lofty serenity of science becomes possible
only on the condition of impartial criticism, which
without regard for the beliefs of a certain portion of
humanity, handles its imperturbable instrument with
the inflexibility of the geometrician, without anger
and without pity. The critic never insults. When
we shall have reached the point at which the history
of Jesus shall be as open to discussion as the history
of Buddha and of Mahomed, people will no longer
dream of addressing harsh reproaches to those whom
circumstances have deprived of the light of criticism.
I am certain that M. Eugéne Burnouf has never
been angry with the authors of the fabulous life of
Buddha, and that those among the Huropeans who
have written the life of Mahomed have never felt
any violent spite against Abulféda and the Mussulman
authors who have written the life of their prophet as
true believers. The apologists maintain that it is
religion which has wrought all the great things of
3 s
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258 The Future of Science.

humanity, and they are right. The philosophers —
believe that they are striving for the honour of
philosophy by depreciating religion, and they are
wrong. As for ourselves who advocate but one sole
cause, the cause of the human intellect, our admira-
tion is much more unfettered. We should fancy that
we were wronging ourselves by withholding our admi-
ration from anything wrought by the human intel-
lect. We ought to criticize religions in the same
way that we criticize primitive poems. Do we show |
any temper with Homer or Valmiki, because their
manner is not that of our own epoch?
Heaven be praised, no one, nowadays, feels tempted
to enter upon the discussion of religion with that
spirit of disdainful criticism of the eighteenth century
which flattered itself that it was capable of explaining
everything by the use of words of superficial clear-
ness, superstition, credulity, fanaticism. ‘To a more
advanced critic, religions are the philosophies of the
spontaneous, philosophies, amalgamated with hetero-
geneous elements, like food that is not solely made
up of nutritious parts. Apparently, the very finest
would be preferable but the stomach would not be
able to digest it. Exclusively scientific formulas
would afford but a dry food, and so true is this, that
with every great philosophical thought there is mixed
up a little mysticism; that is, a compound of indi-
vidual fantasy and religion.
Religions, therefore, are the purest and most com-
plete expressions of human nature, the shell in which
its forms are moulded, the bed on which it lies, on
which it leaves the impression of the curves of its
outlines. Religions and languages should be the
first studies of the psychologist. For humanity is
much more easily recognized in its products than in
its abstract essence, and in its spontaneous products
than in its premeditated ones. Science being wholly
objective, has nothing that is personal or individual
m it, religions, on the other hand, are individual,
national by their very essence ; they are in one word,
 a
'
—
The Future of Science. 259
subjective. Religions were made at a time when
man put himself into all his works. Take up a work
of modern science, “1’Astronomie Physique” of M.
Biot or ‘‘la Chimie” of M. Regnault; you will find
it the most perfect specimen of objective treatment ;
there is a complete absence of the author himself,
the work bears neither an individual nor a national
stamp; it is an intellectual, not a human work.
Popular science, and in many respects, ancient
science, only saw man through the prism of man and
dyed him with colours altogether human. For a
long while after modern men of science had created
for themselves more perfect means of observation,
there remained numerous causes of aberration which
disfigured, and impaired with false colours, the out-
lines of objects. On the other hand, the telescope
with which the moderns take their observations of
the world is perfectly achromatic. If there are any
other intellects than that of man we cannot well con-
ceive that they can see otherwise. Scientific works,
therefore, can in no way convey an idea of the
originality of human nature nor of its proper character,
while in a work in which fancy and the feelings have
borne a large part is much more human and con-
sequently more adapted to the experimental study
of the instincts of psychological nature.
Hence the immense interest of everything that
appertains to religion, to the popular instinct, of
primitive narrative, of fable, of superstitious beliefs.
Each nation spends her very soul over it, creates it
out of her own substance. Tacitus, whatever may
be his talents for painting human nature, contains
less true psychology than the artless and credulous
narrative of the Gospels. It is because the narrative
of Tacitus is objective; he narrates or endeavours
to narrate things and their causes as they really
were; the narrative of the Evangelists, on the con-
trary, is subjective; they do not recount things, but
the views they conceived of things, the manner in
which they appreciated them. I may be allowed to
 _— os ’ —

260 The Future of Science.

give an instance in point. While passing by a church-
yard, at night, I have been pursued by a will o’ the
wisp. In relating my adventure, I should express
myself thus; ‘‘One evening in passing by a church-
yard, I was pursued by a will o’ the wisp.” On the other
hand, a peasant woman who happens to have lost
her brother a few days before, and to whom a similar
adventure had occurred, would express herself as
follows; ‘‘While I was passing by the churchyard
at night I was pursued by the soul of my brother.”
Here we have two accounts of the same fact, both
perfectly veracious. What then constitutes their
difference? The first recounts the fact in its naked
reality; the second mingles a subjective element with
it, an appreciation, a judgment, a view of the narrator
herself. The one narrative was simple, the other is
complex and mingles with the affirmation of the fact
a judgment of cause (119). All the narratives of the
primitive ages are subjective; those of the thinking
ages are objective. Criticism consists in recover-
ing, as far as possible the real colour of facts, from
the colours as refracted through the prism of the
nationality or individuality of the narrators. .
Hence, the history of religions is the true history
of philosophy. The work most urgently wanted for
the advancement of the sciences of humanity would
be, therefore, a philosophical theory of religions. But
how could we possibly get such a theory without
erudition ? Islamism is certainly very well known
by the students of Arabian literature; there is no
religion which offers fewer obstacles to inquiry;
nevertheless, in the ordinary books Islamism is the
object of the most absurd fables, of the most erro-
neous judgments. And yet, Islamism, although the
weakest of all religions from the standpoint of creative
originality (the sap had already run dry), is of major
importance in that comparative study, because we
have authentic documents on its origins, which is
not the case with any other religion; the primitive
facts of the apparitions of religions, occurring in the
| el
The Future of Science. 261
spontaneous conditions of humanity leaving no trace.
Religion does not become conscious of itself until it
has reached the adult and developed state, that is,
when the primitive facts have disappeared for ever.
Religions, no more than individual man, remember
their infancy, and it is very rare that extraneous
documents are found to dispel the darkness that
surrounds their cradle. Islamism affords the only
exception in that respect, it is born when history is
already in full swing; the traces of the disputes it
provoked and of the incredulity it had to fight against
still exist. The Koran is from beginning to end
nothing but a mass of sophistical argumentation.
There was a great deal of reflection in Mahomed and
even a little of what—if driven to it—we might call
imposture (120). The facts that succeeded the estab-
lishment of Islamism and which are eminently calcu-
lated to show the manner in which religions are
consolidated, do also, every one of them, belong to
the domain of history.
Buddhism does not share this advantage. Induc-
tion and conjectures will necessarily have to play a
large part in the history of its origins. But what
‘inestimable lights will not that vast development
afford for the discovery of the laws that presided at
the formation of a religious system; that vast de-
velopment so analogous to Christianity, which start-
ing from India has invaded half of Asia and despatched
missionaries far and wide from the territories of the
Seleucide to the uttermost corners of China. The pro-
blem of primitive Christianity will not be ripe until the
day when M. Eugéne Burnouf shall have finished his
‘Introduction to the History of Indian Buddhism.”
And, the most important book of the nineteenth
century should bear the title of; ‘‘ A Critical History
of the Origins of Christianity.” Oh, the admirable
book, the author of which I envy and which will be
the work of my ripe age, if I am not prevented by death
and the many outwardly fatal incidents which so
often and forcedly cause a life to turn aside from its
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262 The Future of Science.

original purpose. People do so obstinately persist
in repeating such utterly erroneous platitudes on the
subject. They think that the subject 1s exhausted
when they have mentioned the fusion of Judaism,
Platonism and Orientalism, without having any
notion of what is Orientalism, without their being able
to say how Jesus and the apostles came by any tradi-
tions of Plato. Because as yet no one has dreamt of
looking for the origins of Christianity there where they
really exist, in the Deutero-Canonical books, in the
apocryphal writings of Jewish origin, in the Mishna,
in the Pirké-Avoth, in the works of the Judzo-Chris-
tians. People look for Christianity in the works of
the Platonist Fathers who only represent a second
moment of its existence. Christianity is primarily
a Jewish fact, just as Buddhism is an Indian fact,
albeit that Christianity like Buddhism was almost
exterminated from the countries that gave it birth
and that the admixture with foreign ingredients may
have cast a doubt upon its origin.
As for me, if ever I undertook that great work,
I should begin by an exact catalogue of the sources,
that is of everything that has been written in the
Hast from the captivity of the Jews in Babylon until
the moment Christianity is finally constituted, with-
out overlooking the very important aid to be derived
from monuments, engraved stones, etc. Then I
should devote a volume to the criticism of those
sources. I should take one after the other the frag-
ments of Daniel written in the time of the Maccabees,
the Book of Wisdom, the Chaldaic paraphrases, the
Testament of the Twelve Patriarchs, the Books of
the New Testament, the Mishna, the Apocryphas,
etc., and I would try to ascertain by the most scru-
pulous criticism, the exact period, the locality, the
intellectual surroundings in which those works were
composed. ‘That done, I should be solely guided by
those data in the formation of my ideas and com-
pletely discard all the fancies in which others have
indulged either by the process of induction or on
 The Future of Science. 263
nothing more substantial than vague analogies. No
doubt the universal knowledge of the human intellect
would be necessary for that history. But one should
be careful not to transform analogies into reciprocal
loans, if history says nothing about the reality of
such loans. Our French critics who have only studied
the Greek and Latin worlds would have great difficulty
in understanding that Christianity was at the outset an
exclusively Jewish fact. Christianity in their opinion
is the work of collective humanity; Socrates com-
posed, as it were, the prelude to it, Plato laboured
at it, Terence and Virgil are already Christians,
Seneca still more so. .This is true, perfectly true,
provided one can grasp the meaning of it. Chris-
tianity in reality only became what it is when
humanity adopted it as the expression of the wants
and tendencies by which it had been stirred for ever
so long. Christianity, such as it prevails amongst
us, contains in fact, elements of every date, of every
country. But the important point to bring to light,
which is not sufficiently noticed, is that the primitive
germ is wholly Jewish, that the apparition of Jesus
is simply simultaneous with the Christianity antici-
pated by the Greco-Latin world; that the Gospel
and Saint-Paul must be explained by the Talmud-
and not by Plato (121). The soil whence Christianity
drew its sap, in which it spread its roots, is humanity,
and above all the Greco-Latin world; but the kernel
from which it sprang is wholly Jewish. What I
wish to indicate here is the history of that curious
formation and development, the history of the roots
of Christianity up to the moment that the tree
appears above ground, while as yet it is only a
Jewish sect, up to the moment when it is adopted,
or rather absorbed by the nations. It is still wholly
a matter of conjecture; neither Christians, nor
Jews, nor Pagans having left us anything /istorical
on that first apparition, or on the principal hero.
But criticism may recover history from legend or
at any rate trace back the characteristic aspect of
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264 ‘The Future of Science.

the period and its works. Scholastic precision, here —
as always, excludes criticism. We may set ourselves
a number of questions on the Resurrection, on the
miracles of the Gospel, on the character of Jesus and
of the Apostles which it is impossible to answer by
judging the first century after our own. If Jesus did
not really rise from the dead, how is it that the belief
in such resurrection spread? Are -we to conclude ~
then that the Apostles were impostors, the Evangelists
liars? How is it that the Jews did not protest?
How is it that ...etc., etc. All these are questions
that would have a meaning in our century of reflection
and publicity, but which had none in a period of credu-
lity when no critical thought raised its voice (122).
The first step in the comparative study of religion
will be, it seems to me, to establish two very distinct
classes among those curious products of the human
intellect ; organized religions, having sacred books
precise dogmas ; non-organized religions, possessing
neither sacred books, nor dogmas, being only more
or less pure forms of the worship of nature, and
having no pretensions whatsoever to spring from
revelations. The first class would comprise ; Judaism,
Christianity, Islamism, Parseeism, Brahminism,
Buddhism, to which may be added Manicheism,
which is not merely a sect or a Christian heresy, as
people often imagine, but a religious apparition,
gratted like Christianity, Islamism and Buddhism on
an anterior religion. ‘The second class should com-
prise the mythological polytheisms of the Greeks,
the Scandinavians, the Gauls and in general all the
mythologies of the peoples who had no sacred books.
Candidly speaking, these forms of worship scarcely
deserve the name of religions; the idea of revelation is
utterly foreign to them; it is pure naturalism expressed
by a poetical symbolism. It would perhaps be more
becoming to restrict the name of religions to the
dogmatic compositions of Western and Southern Asia.
It is certain, though, that the existence of the sacred
book is the criterion that should determine the classi-
_—
The Future of Science. 265
fication of religions, because it is the,mark of a more
profound character; the dogmatic organization. It
is also certain that the Hast presents itself as the
soil whence sprang the great organized religions. The
Hast has always lived in that psychological condition
which is favourable to the birth of myths. It has
never arrived at that perfect clearness of consciousness
which is rationalism. The East has never understood
the true philosophical grandeur which can dispense
with miracles. It sets little store by a sage who is
not also a thaumaturge (123). The sacred book is
an exclusively Asiatic production. Europe has not
created a single one (124).
Another characteristic, not less essential, and which
may serve as well as the sacred book to distinguish
religions is tolerance or exclusivism. The old mytho-
logical forms of worship, not claiming to be the
absolute form of religion, but merely professing to be
local forms, did not exclude the other forms.
‘“T have my God whom I serve; you shall serve
yours. ‘They are two powerful Gods.”
That is the pure expression of that religious form.
Each nation, each city has its gods, more or less
powerful; it is perfectly natural that the one city
should not serve those of another. Jehovah himself
is often only the God of Jacob, cherishing his people
with the same feelings of national partiality as the
- other local deities. Hence those challenges with
regard to the respective powers of the gods, each
nation insisting that her own are strongest, but which
challenges in no way imply that they are the only
gods. It is altogether different in the Judaism of
the times of the prophets, and in general in all the
great organized religions. Jehovah alone is God, all
the rest are so many idols. Hence the idea of a true
religion which had no meaning in the mythological
forms of worship. And seeing that in those epochs,
the truth is conceived as a revelation from the
Divinity, that characteristic manifests itself in
revealed religion (125).
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266 The Future of Science.

Last of all, the organized religions are distinguished —
from the forms of mythological worship by a greater
character of stability and duration. It is literally
true that up till now, not a single great religion 1s
positively dead and that the most ill-treate d ones,
Parseeism, Samaritanism, etc., still live in the faith
of some tribe or other, or relegated to some distant
nook of the globe. . ;
Thus, on the one side; organized religions, claim- —
ing to be based upon revelation, absolute, exclusively
true and possessing a sacred book.—On the other ;
non-organized religions, local, not exclusive, not
having a sacred book.
The great Asiatic religions would group themselves
as it were in three families, or rather would claim
connection with three sources: (1) The Semitic
family (Judaism, Christianity, Islamism); (2) The
Aryan family (Parseeism, Manicheism); (3) The
Indian family (Brahmanism, Buddhism). Within
each family, the successive reforms have only been
the developments of the self-same foundation (126).
Strictly speaking we could not say that religions are
a question of racial idiosyncracy, seeing that the
Indo-Germanic peoples have created religions as well
as the Semitic peoples. Still it would be idle to
deny that the Indo-Germanic religions have a stamp
apart. ‘They are very nearly systems of pure philo-
sophy. Buddha was only a philosopher ; Brahmanism
has little in common with the other organized religions
save the sacred book and is in reality nothing more
than the most simple expression of naturalism. <A
more noticeable difference still; all the Semitic
religions are essentially monotheistic ; the race has
never had a developed mythology. All the Indo-
Germanic religions are, on the contrary, either.
pantheistic or dualistic and boast a vast mythological
or symbolical development (127). It would seem
that among the peoples the creative faculties with
regard to religions were in inverse ratio to the philo-
sophical faculties. The premeditated, independent,
=
The Future of Science. 267
severe, courageous —in one word — philosophical
search after the truth seems to have been the inherit-
ance of that Indo-Germanic race which from the
uttermost confines of India to the farthest extremes
of the West and the North, from the most distant
centuries to modern times, has endeavoured to ex-
plain God, man and the world to the rationalistic
sense, and has left behind it, posted as it were, at the
different stages of its history, those systems, those
philosophical creations, subject always and everywhere
to the unvarying and necessary laws of a logical de-
velopment. The Semites, on the contrary, who do
not show us a single attempt at analysis, who have
not produced a single school of native philosophy,
are par excellence the race of religions, destined to
give them birth and to propagate them. Theirs is
the privilege of those bold and spontaneous flights of
natures, still in the flush of youth, penetrating without
an effort and by a most natural movement as it were
into the very bosom of the infinite, and descending
from it thoroughly drenched with divine dew, then
letting their enthusiasm exhale in a form of worship,
in a mystic doctrine, in a revealed book. The philo-
sophical school has its cradle under the skies of
Greece and India; the temple and priestly science
explaining themselves in enigmas and in creeds,
veiling the truth beneath mystery, often soaring
higher because it is less afraid of looking backward
and making sure of its onward march, such is the
character of the religious and theocratic race of the
Semites. They are ‘“‘God’s people” par excellence,
and the exceptional atheist is to them a being devoid
of meaning, an enigma, a monster in the universe.
They have that moral instinct, that sound sense,
practical and not capable of analyzing very deeply,
but popular and easy-going which constitutes the
genius of religions, and added to this the prophetic
gift which often succeeds in speaking of God more
eloquently and above all more exuberantly than
science and rationalism (128). And in fact is it not a
268 The Future of Science.
thing worthy of remark that the three religions which
up till now have played the greatest part in the
history of civilization, the three religions stamped
with a special character of stability, fruitfulness and
proselytism, and moreover bound to one another by
such close relations as to make them seem three
branches of a same trunk, three versions—not equally
beautiful and pure—of a self-same idea, is it not
worthy of remark that all three should have been
born on Semitic ground, and from there should have
started forth to the conquest of high destinies. The
distance between Jerusalem and Sinai, and between
Sinai and Mecca is but a few miles (1282).
Still, seeing that races do not differ in virtue of
the possession of different faculties, but through the
different extension of the same faculties, seeing that
what constitutes the dominant characteristic in some
is found among others in a rudimentary condition,
Greece presents the unmistakable germs of the pro-
cesses which in the East created the revealer, the
man-god and the prophet. But they (the processes)
always miscarried before they could become a genuine
religious tradition. The system of Pythagoras with
its degrees, its initiations, its novitiates, its distinct
tinge of asceticism reminds one of the grand organized
systems of Asia. Pythagoras himself is very like
a theurge. He is infallible (attos é¢a); a disciple
who has incurred his blame kills himself. He has
visited the nether regions, and remembers his trans-
migrations. He willingly lends himself to, or even
supplies the occasion for, such beliefs ;he recognizes
in a temple of Greece the arms he bore at the siege
of Troy. In the Hast Pythagoras would have been
Buddha. This colouring is even more striking in
Empedocles, who represents the Oriental theurge
In every trait. A priest and a poet, like Orpheus,
a physician and a thaumaturge the whole of Sicily
rings with his miracles. He raised the dead, stayed
the winds, averted the plague. He only appeared in
public amidst a train of servitors, the sacred crown
 The Future of Science. 269
on his head, the tinkling brass sandals on his feet,
with flowing locks, his hand holding the laurel
branch. His divinity was admitted throughout
Sicily, he himself proclaimed it. ‘Ye friends, who
dwell on the heights of the great city washed by the
yellow Acragas;”’ he writes at the beginning of one
of his poems; ‘‘ ye zealous observers of justice, hail !
IT am not aman, I am a God. On my entering the
flourishing cities men and women prostrate them-
selves. The multitude follow my footsteps. Some
ask me for oracles, others the cure for cruel maladies by
which they are tormented.” The processes by which
his miraculous legend is constituted remind one in
every particular of those of the Kast. A trance from
which he has roused some one becomes a resurrection.
He arrests the Htesian gales that are devastating Agri-
gentum by closing a gap between two rocks; hence
the surname of kod\voavéuas. He drains a marsh
close to Selinus, which is sufficient to make him an
equal of Apollo. Here we have analogies very
characteristic of the founders of religion in the East.
But alas, Greece was too flighty to dwell for very
long on those beliefs and to constitute them into
religious traditions; the divinity of Empedocles came
to grief against the scepticism of the scoffers, and
spiteful legend made merry over his sandals that
were found on Etna. Asia has never known how to
laugh, and it is because of this that she is religious.
As for the mythological forms of worship that were
not organized, that had no sacred book, their variety
is much greater, or to speak correctly all classifica-
tion here becomes impossible. They are all so much
pure fantasy, it is human imagination constantly
broidering on a self-same canvas, which is natural
religion. Comparing poem with poem, creed with
creed, the variety in this instance becomes every
now and then almost individual, a simple family
affair. The most one can do is to indicate the diverse
degrees and ages of those curious processes. At the
lowest degree stands fetichism, that is, the individual
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270 The Future of Science.

or family mythologies, fables evolved from dreams
and affirmed in the most arbitrary way, fables with-
out the slightest traditional antecedent, without
the idea of their truth ever presenting itself to the
mind, any more than it did in the dream, the fable
for the fable’s sake. Then came the more pre-
meditated myths, in which the instincts of human
nature express themselves in a more distinct manner,
that is, they already show a certain analysis, but
without reflection or perception of allegorical sym-
bolism. At last comes the thought-out symbolism,
the allegory created with the distinct consciousness
of the double meaning which utterly escapes the first
creators of myths.
In reality every mythological creation like every
religious development goes through two very distinct
phases; the creative age when the grand traits of
legend are traced deep down the popular conscience,
and the age of remodelling, of adjustment, of verbose
amplification when the grand poetical vein is lost
and when the whole thing consists in the re-dishing
of the old poetical fables after a stereotyped process
beyond which they no longer go. Hesiod on the one ~
side, the Alexandrian mythologists on the other; the
Vedas on the one side, the Puranas on the other ;
the canonical Gospels on the one side, the Apocryphas
on the other afford so many examples of this trans-
formation of mythologies. It is simply a way of
taking the myths of olden times and amplifying
them by fusing all the original traits in the new
narrative, and to a certain extent of composing the
monograph of what was but a mere detail in the
grand primitive fable; the whole of it requiring but
little power of invention, because there is never a
deviation from the given theme. That which must
have probably happened is added, the situation is
amplified, certain links are forged. It.is, in short
a carefully considered composition and in one sense,
a literary one, having for its bases a spontaneous
creation. That age is necessarily insipid and weari-
—
The Future of Science. . 271
some. For the spontaneous production, so full of
life, so graceful, does not admit of being remodelled.
What chance is there for the naive thoughts of a
child, ponderously commented on by pedants, delicate
flowers that wither by passing from hand to hand?
Do not you think that to the primitive men that
_ created them, Venus, Pan, the Graces had a meaning
different from that which they convey in the park at
Versailles, reduced as they were to a chilling alle-
gorism by a thinking age, which from mere fantasy
goes in search of a mythology of the past, in order to
coin from it a conventional language for its own
use (129) ?
Those two phases in legendary creation correspond
with the two ages of every religion; the primitive
age in which religion is evolved beautiful and pure
from man’s conscience, like the sun’s rays; the age
of naive and simple faith without afterthought, with-
out objection or refutation; and the thinking age,
marked by the rise of objection and apology; the
subtle age in which reflection becomes exacting,
without being able to obtain satisfaction ; in which the
marvellous, formerly ‘‘so easily accepted,” so beau-
tiful in its imaginings, so gentle in its conceptions,
the so eminently pure reflex of the moral instincts of
humanity, becomes timid and paltry, sometimes im-
moral, pettily supernatural, a series of miracles arro-
gated by coteries and brotherhoods, etc. Everything
shrinks and dwindles, the practice of religion becomes
devoid of meaning and materialized ; prayer becomes
a mere mechanical performance, worship a mere
ceremonial, formulas become a kind of Cabbalism, in
which words operate not as formerly by their moral
sense, but by their sound and articulation; legal
prescriptions, originally stamped witha deep sense
of morality become mere irksome prohibitions which
people seek to elude until the day when they shall
find some subtle argument to rid themselves alto-
gether of them (130). In the primeval age, religion
has no need of creeds; it is a new spirit, a fire that
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272 The Future of Science.

goes on consuming everything before it, it is free and —
boundless. Then, when the enthusiasm has sub-
sided, when the original and native force is ex-
tinguished, man begins to define, to combine, to
speculate upon that which the first believers had
embraced in faith and love. That day beholds the
birth of scholasticism, on that day the first germ of
incredulity is sown. I cannot state all my percep-
tions on this fruitful subject nor the wealth of
psychological knowledge that might accrue from the ©
study of those admirable works of human nature.
I am aware that our position face to face with those
strange works is a singular one. Replete with life
—
and truth to the peoples who created them, they are
to us merely an object of analysis and dissection.
This, in one sense, constitutes an inferior position
which will always debar us from arriving at a perfect
understanding of them. How often, in pondering the
mythology of India for instance, have I been struck
with the absolute impossibility, as far as we are
concerned of understanding the life and soul of it.
We, in this instance are confronted with works,
deeply expressive, brimful of significance to a por-
tion of humanity, we the sceptics, the analysts.
How could they possibly tell us what they tell them ?
They who believed in Christ can understand Him.
In the same way, to understand in all their import
those sublime creations, one must have believed in
them, or rather (for the word to believe has no mean-
ing in the world of fantasy) one must have lived
with them. Would it not be possible to realize that
wonder by such a vast progress of the scientific spirit
as would make people profoundly sympathetic with
everything humanity has accomplished? It is diffi-
cult to say, but it is certain at any rate, that those
systems containing as they do, more or less precious
atoms of human nature, that is, of truth, he who.
succeeds in understanding them, would find solid
nourishment there. It may be taken as a general
rule that when a work of the human intellect seems
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The Future of Science. ;, 273

too absurd or too odd, it is because we do not under-
stand it, or take it in the wrong sense. If we placed
ae in the true light we should see the sense
of it.
_I wanted to show by a few instances the philoso-
phical results to which the sciences of pure scholar-
ship may lead and how unjust is the contempt for
those studies felt by certain intellects, themselves
gifted with the philosophical sense. What if I
were to show, in the case of the philosophy of
history, that this marvellous science, which one day
will be the ruling science, will never succeed in
constituting itself in a serious and dignified manner
except by the aid of the most scrupulous learning,
that until then it will remain in the same condition
as were the physical sciences before Bacon, that is,
wandering from one hypothesis to another, without
a settled ‘‘ way-bill,’ not knowing what form to
give to its laws and never going beyond the sphere
of artificial and fantastic creations ?
What, if I were to show that literary criticism
which is our domain proper, and of which we are
deservedly proud can never become serious and pro
found except by the aid of learning? How can we
grasp the physiognomy and originality of primitive
literatures, if we do not penetrate into the moral and
intimate life of the nation, if we do not place our-
selves on the same standpoint of humanity which
it occupied, in order to see and to feel as it did; if
we do not watch its life, or rather if we do not share
its life, if only fora moment? Besides, there is as
a rule nothing more silly than the admiration be-
stowed upon antiquity. People do not admire its
original and really admirable features ;but in a paltry
spirit pick out in the works of antiquity the traits
which approach our own; they endeavour to point
out the beauties which with us—one is bound to
admit it—would be considered as of a second rate
order. The way superficial intellects stand embar-
rassed when face to face with the grand productions
T
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274 The Future of Science.

of classical literature is very amusing indeed. They
start from the principle that those works must be
beautiful under any circumstances, seeing that the
connoisseurs have decided as much. But as they are
incapable—for lack of scholarship—to grasp their
intense originality, their truth, their value in the
history of the human intellect, they wind themselves
up to a pitch of admiration, to an enthusiastic appre-
ciation of the beauties of antiquity, which in fact,
is only admiration of their own silliness. Utterly
conventional admiration, ‘‘ turned on” for form’s sake
and in order to escape from the self-reproach of
barbarism which the non-admiration of works ad-
mired by connoisseurs would imply. Hence the self-
inflicted tortures in order to rise to the occasion
when face to face with works which absolutely must
be voted beautiful, in order to discover a small detail,
an epithet, a brilliant trait, a sentence which trans-
lated into French would sound startling. If they
were honest about it, they would prefer Seneca to
Demosthenes (131). Certain people who have been
told that Rollin is beautiful are astonished at only —
finding very simple phrases, and do not know where
to lay hold of a point for admiration, incapable as
they are of conceiving the beauty resulting from that —
naive and delightfully upright nature. It is the man
himself, who is beautiful, it is the things themselves
that are beautiful, and not the way they are ex-
pressed. But there are so few people capable of
judging wsthetically. They admire on trust and in
order not to remain behind. How many people,
standing before a picture by Raffaele know what con-
stitutes its beauty? How many if they frankly
stated their opinion would prefer a modern picture,
with a clearer style and a more brilliant colouring?
One of the keenest pleasures is to see mediocre in-
tellects floundering about with regard to works they
have been told beforehand are beautiful. Fréron
admires Sophocles for having respected certain con-
ventionalities which, assuredly were the last things
 The Future of Science. 275
to enter that poet’s mind. As a rule the Grecks
knew nothing of the beauties of design, and the
credit we bestow upon them in that respect is purely
gratuitous. JI have heard people express their ad-
miration of the entrance upon the scene of ‘ Oedipus .
Tyrannus,” because his first line contains a pretty
antithesis for which there is an equivalent in a line
by Racine.
Ever since people have gone on repeating (and
justly) that the Bible is admirable, every one pro-
fesses great admiration of the Bible. The result of
this favourable disposition is precisely the admira-
tion of that which is not there. Bossuet, who is
supposed to be such a very Biblical scholar, and who
is scarcely anything of the kind, goes into ecstacies
over the blunders and the solecisms of the Vulgate,
and professes to discover beauties in them of which
there is no trace in the original (132). That worthy
Rollin is more ingenuous still and points out in “ the
Song of Moses and Miriam”’ the exordium, the con-
nection of ideas, the plan, even the style. To wind
up, Lowth, more insipid than all the others, gives
us a treatise of Aristotelian rhetoric on the poesy of
the Hebrews, in which we find a chapter ‘“‘On the
Metaphors of the Bible,” another on the Comparisons,
a third on the prosopopoeia, a fourth on the sublime
in diction, etc.; without suspecting for a moment
that which really does constitute the beauty of those
ancient poems, namely; the spontaneous inspiration
—independent of artificial and premeditated forms—
of the human intellect, still young and fresh to the
world, carrying with it everywhere God of whom it
still preserves the recent impression. Admiration,
in order to be to the purpose and useful must,
therefore, be historical and scholarly. Hach work
is beautiful when considered amidst its own sur-
roundings, and not because it fits one of the pigeon
holes that have been established more or less arbi-
trarily. To establish absolute divisions in literature,
to declare that a work shall-be an epic, or an ode,
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276 The Future of Science.

or a novel, and to criticize the works of the past
according to the rules that have been laid down for
each of these kinds, to blame Dante for having.
written a work which is neither an epic, nor a drama,
nor a didactic poem, to blame Klopstock for having
taken too perfect a hero, to do all this, is simply to
ignore the liberty of inspiration, and the right of the
intellect to blow from the quarter whence it chooses.
Every mode of realizing the beautiful is legitimate
and genius has ever the same right to create. The
beautiful is that which represents in finished and |
individual traits, the eternal and infinite beauty of
human nature.
The savant alone has the right to admire. Not
only do criticism and estheticism, considered as
opposed to one another, not exclude one another, but
they are inseparable. Everything is at the same time
admirable and susceptible of being criticized, and he
only who knows how to admire, knows how to eriti-
cize. How, for instance can a man understand the
beauties of Homer unless he be a savant, unless he —
know antiquity, unless he have the sense of primeval
things? What do we generally admire in those
ancient poems? Some small instances of great
simplicity, some traits that raise a smile; not that
which is truly admirable, the picture of an age of
humanity in its inimitable truth. The admiration
of Chateaubriand is only therefore so often at fault
because the esthetic sense with which he was so
essere gifted was not based upon solid learning
Hence, in the actual condition of the human in-
tellect it is by labours in the direction of scientific
philosophy that we may hope to add to the domain
of already acquired ideas. When we reflect upon
the roles in the history of human intellect enacted
by men like Hrasmus, Bayle, Wolf, Niebuhr, Strauss,
when we reflect upon the ideas they have put into
circulation, and the advent of which they accelerated
one feels surprised that the name of philosopher, so
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The Future of Science. 277

lavishly bestowed upon obscure pedants, cannot be
applied to such men. I am aware that the results
of the higher sciences are a long while in becoming
current. Of the immense labours already accom-
plished by modern students of Indian literature, only
a very few have as yet become common property. A
numberless hive of learned philologists has produced
a complete reformation in biblical exegesis in Ger-
many without France being the wiser, as yet, with
regard to a single word of their works. Still there
are secret canals for science as well as for philosophy
by means of which results do filter through. The
ideas of Wolf on the epic or rather those to which
he has led have become public property. The grand
pantheistic poesy of Goethe, of Victor Hugo, of
Lamartine implies an acquaintance with the whole
of the labours of modern criticism, the final upshot
of which is literary pantheism. I can _ scarcely
imagine that M. Hugo has read Heyne, Wolf, William
Jones, still his poesy would breed that supposition.
The day comes when the results of science fill the
air, if I may be allowed the expression, and affect
the general formation of literature. M. Fauriel was
only a critical savant; the gift of artistic production
was almost denied to him; nevertheless, there are
few men who have wielded so profound an influence
on productive literature.
But the mines of the past are still very far from
having yielded all the treasures they contain. The
task of modern scholarship will only be accomplished
then when all the facets of humanity, that is, all the
nations shall have been explored definitely, when China,
Judea, Egypt shall have been restored to us in their
primeval aspects, when we shall have finally arrived
at the perfect understanding of the whole of human
development. Then, and then only the reign of
criticism will be inaugurated. For criticism will only
proceed with perfect surety when the field of uni-
versal comparison shall be thrown open to it. Com-
parison is the great instrument of criticism. The
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278 The Future of Science.

seventeenth century was ignorant of criticism, be-
cause the comparison of the different facets of the
human intellect was impossible to it. Herodotus
and Livy must have been considered serious his-
torians; Homer must have passed muster as an 1n-
dividual poet, previous to the comparative study of
literatures having revealed the very delicate facts
connected with mythism, primitive legend and apo-
cryphism. If the seventeenth century had been
acquainted, like ourselves, with India, Persia and
ancient Germania, it would not have admitted in
so ponderous a fashion the fables of the Greek and
Roman origins. Bossuet, whose claim to eminence
rests upon the fact of having represented in a mar-
-vellous abridgment the whole of the seventeenth
century, its grandeur as well as its weakness, would
he have brought to bear so detestably critical a
method on his exegesis, if instead of having derived
his Biblical education from Saint-Augustine, he had
got it from Eichhorn and Von Wette (134) ?
People are not inoculated with the critical sense —
in an hour; he who has not cultivated it by means
of a protracted scientific and intellectual training
will always find arguments to oppose to the most
delicate inductions. The theses of refined criticism
are not of the kind that are demonstrated in a few
minutes and on which one can force the ignorant
adversary or the one determined not to fall in with
the views proposed to him. If there be myths on the
face of them among the works of the human intellect,
they are assuredly the first pages of Roman history,
the story of the tower of Babel, of Lot’s wife, of
Samson; if there be a thoroughly characteristic
historical romance, it is that of Xenophon; if there
be a historian story-teller, it is Herodotus. Still, it.
would be so much time wasted to endeavour to per-
suade to that effect those who decline to take that
view. ‘To elevate and to cultivate the minds of the
majority, to popularize the great results of science,
these are the only means of spreading the understand-
 The Future of Science. 279
ing and acceptance of the new ideas of criticism.
It is science, it is philology, it is the vast perception
and comparison of things, it is, in short, the modern
spirit, that converts. We may leave to mediocre
intellects the satisfaction of believing themselves
invincible in their ponderous arguments. ‘We should
not as much as try to refute them. The results of
criticism cannot be proved, they must be perceived,
to understand them requires long training and a
thorough culture of the perception of the finesse of
things. It is impossible to convince the man who
obstinately rejects them, just as it is impossible to
prove the existence of microscopic animalcule to
the man who refuses to make use of a microseope,
Determined to shut their eyes to delicate considera-
tions, to take count of no shades whatsoever, they
fling their everlasting ‘‘ prove to us that it is im-
possible,’ at your head. (There are so few things
that are impossible.) The critic will leave them to
enjoy their triumph by themselves and abstain from
discussing with. narrow intellects, determined to
remain such, he will pursue his road, supported by
the thousands of inductions which the universal
study of things will cause to spring forth from all
parts and which so powerfully converge towards the
rationalistic point of view. Obstinate denial cannot
be grappled with ; in no matter what order of things
is it possible to make a man see who is determined
not to see. It is moreover inflicting a wrong upon
the results of criticism to clothe them in that heavy
syllogistic form in which the mediocre intellects
excel, and which delicate considerations could never
assume.
An instance in point. The four canonical Gospels
often report the same fact with very considerable
variations of circumstances. These are easily ac-
counted for by natural hypothesis for we have no
right to be more exacting with regard to the Gospels
than with regard to other historical or legendary
narratives which often present more startling contra-
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280 The Future of Science.

dictions. But it would appear that this constitutes
an altogether unanswerable objection against those
who think it incumbent to see in each of these
narratives a history literally true and exact in the
most minute details. This is, however, not the —
case. For if the circumstances are only different
and not absolutely irreconcilable, they will say that
one of the texts has preserved details omitted by the
others and they will endeavour to make the various
circumstances meet at the risk of concocting the
most grotesque narrative out of them. If the cir-
cumstances are decidedly contradictory, they will
aver that the fact narrated occurred two or three
times, albeit that in the eyes of sound criticism
the narrators had the same event in view. Hence,
the narratives of John and the synoptics (by which
collective name are meant Matthew, Mark, and
Luke) of the last entry of Jesus into Jerusalem
being irreconcilable, the sticklers for harmony suppose
that he came thither twice, with scarcely an interval
between the two occurrences. Similarly, the three
denials of Peter being told differently by the four .
Evangelists constitute in the opinion of those critics
eight or nine different denials, while Jesus predicted
that he would deny him only thrice. The circum-
stances attending the Resurrection give rise to
analogous difficulties, to which they oppose similar
solutions. What is there to be said about such an
explanation ? That it is metaphysically impossible ?
No. It will always be impossible to silence the man
who will obstinately maintain it ; but it will always
be rejected by whosoever is gifted with more or less
critical education as contrary to all the laws of logical
hermeneutics, especially if it is often repeated. There
is no difficulty of which one cannot get rid by some
subtle argument, and in reality, a subtle argument
may sometimes be a true one. But there is no possi-
bility of a hundred subtleties being true at the same
time. We may say the same with regard to the
““non-suit ’’ opposed by certain exegetists to what
 The Future of Science. 281
they term negative argument, that is, to the induc-
tions drawn from the silence or absence of texts.
For instance ; because the most ancient of histories
of the Jews settled in Palestine offers no trace of
the accomplishment of the Mosaic prescriptions, the
rationalistic critic concludes from it that these pre-
scriptions did, as yet, not exist. ‘How do you
know,” says the orthodox student, ‘ but what they
may have existed without their being mentioned?”
The romance of Antar and the Moallacats does not
lead us to suppose the existence of any judiciary
institution, of any penalty whatsoever among the
Arabs, before the advent of Islamism. ‘‘ How do you
know but what they may have had a jury without it
being mentioned?” To cope with such criticism,
we should want a text conceived as follows; “The
Arabs at that period had no jury;”. which text, I
admit, it would be difficult to find. You may as well
require a similar text to prove that artillery was not
known in Homeric times, and in general, for all the
results of criticism expressed in negative form.
This impossibility of imposing his results and of
silencing his adversaries may at first make the critic
impatient and goad him into entering that coarse
arena. That would be an unpardonable error. For
many long years to come still the critic will be a
solitary creature and ought to confine himself to
merely regretting that the necessary education to
understand him should be confined to so small a
circle. How can it be otherwise, when the first
instruction received in childhood and which is often
the only philosophical doctrine of life,-is the very
negation of criticism? Poetical and vague super-
stition is gross and nothing else. If the critical
spirit is much more wide-spread in Northern Germany
than in France, the cause lies no doubt in the differ-
ence of religious instruction, with us positive and
hard, with them not hard and fast and purely human.
 ~: SS Oo ae
I i

to ie2)m2) The Future of Science.

CHAPTER XVI.

T wonpzr whether I have succeeded in making people

understand the possibility of a scientific philosophy
which would no longer be a system of vain and
empty speculation, aiming at no real object, of
a science which would no longer be dry, barren,
exclusive, but which in becoming complete, would
become religious and poetical? There is no word to
express that intellectual condition in which all the
elements of nature would be blended into one superior
harmony, and which, when realized in a human
being, would constitute the perfect man. I am
inclined to call it synthesis, in the special sense which
I will explain.
Just as the simplest fact of the human understand-
ing as applied to a complex object is composed of
three actions; (1) a general and confused view of
the whole ; (2) a distinct and analytical view of the
parts; (3) a synthetical recomposition of the whole
with the knowledge one possesses of the parts; so
the human intellect, in its march, traverses three
conditions which may be defined under the three
names of syncretism, analysis, synthesis, and which
correspond with these three phases of the under-
standing.
The first age of the human intellect which we too
often fancy to have been that of simplicity, was that
of complexity and confusion. We are too easily
persuaded that the simplicity which we conceive to
be logically anterior to complexity is also chrono-
| ie

The Future of Science. 283

logically anterior to it; as if that which, in regard to
our analytical processes is the simpler, ought to have
come into existence before the whole of which it is
apart. The language of the child, apparently more
simple, is in fact more comprehensive and more
closely knit together that that which explains word
for word the most carefully analyzed thought of ripe
_ age. The most profound linguists have been sur-
prised to find at the origin and among the peoples
we call children rich and complicated languages.
The primitive man has not the faculty of division, he
sees things in their natural state; that is, organically
and in the plenitude of life (135). Nothing is abstract
to him, for abstraction means life piecemeal ; every-
thing is concreté and alive. The power of dis-
tinguishing is not given to man at his origin, the
first view is a general one, comprehensive, but ob-
scure and incorrect; everything is huddled together
without distinction. Like the beings who are meant
to be perpetuated, the human intellect was, from its
initial moments, complete, though not developed;
nothing has been added since, but everything has
been unfolded in its natural proportions, everything
has been put in its proper place. Hence, the extreme
complexity of the primitive works of the human
intellect. Hverything was contained in a single
work, all the elements of humanity were gathered
into one unity, which was undoubtedly very far
removed from modern clearness, but which, it must
be admitted, was incomparably majestic. The sacred
book is the expression of that first condition of the
human intellect. Let us take the sacred books of
ancient peoples and what do we find in them? ‘The
whole of the supra-sensitive life, the whole of a
nation’s soul; her poesy; her heroic recollections;
her legislation, her politics, her code of morals; her
history, her philosophy and science; in short, her
religion. For the whole of this first development is
wrought in a religious form. ‘The religion, the sacred
book of primitive peoples, is the syncretic accumu-
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284 The Future of Science.

lation of all the human elements of the nation.
Everything is there in a confused but withal beauti-
ful unity. Hence arises the lofty placidity of those
admirable works; antithesis, contention, distinctions
being banished from them, harmony and peace reign
supreme without ever being disturbed. To struggle
is the characteristic of the state of analysis. How
could religion and philosophy, poesy and science,
morality and politics have contended in those grand -
primitive works, seeing that they repose side by side
on the same page, often in the same line? The
religion was the philosophy, the poesy was the science,
the legislation was the morality; the whole of
humanity was condensed in each of its acts, or rather
the power of humanity was emitted complete in each
of its efforts.
Therein lies the secret of the incomparable beauty
of these primitive books, which are still the most
adequate representations of complete humanity. It
is idle to look specially for science in them; the
science of our time is unquestionably better than
that which they contain. It is idle, too, to look for
philosophy in them, for we are beyond doubt better
analysts. It is, again, equally idle to look in them
for legislation and public law; for the rulers of our
day are better informed, and that is not saying much.
But what we do find in them is ‘simultaneous
humanity,” the grand harmony of human nature,
the likeness of our glowing youth. Hence, also, is
derived the superb poesy of those primitive types
in which was incarnated the doctrine of those demi-
gods who stand as religious ancestors to.all nations
—Orpheus, Thoth, Moses, Zoroaster, Vyasa and
Fohi, who are at once savants, poets, legislators,
social organizers, and, summing up all these qualities,
priests and mystagogues. These admirable types
still lasted for some time in the early ages of
analytical reflection, producing those primitive
“sages’’ who, though something more than mysta-
gogues, are not quite philosophers, and who have
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—

The Future of Science. 285

also their legend (a fabulous biography), though one
not so well formed as that of the initiators (a pure
myth). Such are Confucius, Lao-Tseu, Solomon,
Locman, Pythagoras. Empedocles, who form a
connecting link with the early philosophers by means
of the still more refined types of Solon, Zaleucus,
Numa, etc.
Such is human intelligence in the primitive ages.
It has its beauty, which our timid analysis cannot
rival. It is the divine life, of childhood, during
which God reveals Himself so closely to those who
know how to adore. I admire not less than M. de
Maistre does this ancient wisdom, wearing the crown
of the sage and the priestly robe. I regret its loss,
but I do not, on that account, blame the ages
devoted to the toilsome work of analysis, which,
inferior as they are in certain respects, represent,
after all, a necessary progress of the human mind.
The human mind, in fact, cannot remain steadfast
in this primitive unity. Thought, when applied
more closely to objects, recognizes their complexity
and the necessity of studying them piecemeal.
Primitive thought could see only one world; thought
in its second stage of years perceives a thousand
_ worlds, or rather sees a world in all things. Its gaze,
instead of becoming more extensive, pierces and
plunges downward; instead of taking a horizontal
direction, it extends vertically; instead of losing
itself in a boundless horizon, it settles earthwards
and upon itself. It is the age of partial sight,
of exactitude, of precision, of the making of dis-
tinctions; instead of creation we have analysis.
Thought becomes broken up and divided. The
primitive style possessed neither the division of
phrases nor the division of words. Analytical style
calls to its assistance a complicated mode of punctua-
tion, intended to dissect the different members.
There are poets, savants, moralists, philosophers,
politicians; there are even still theologians and
priests (136). This is singular, for as theology and
 = See
he ~) = a, |

“ae
286 The Future of Science.
sacerdotalism are the complete form of primitive
development, one would imagine that they would
have disappeared with it. So they would have done
if humanity advanced with perfect harmony and pre-
cision. As such is not the case, theology and sacer-
dotalism survive that which should have been mortal
to them; they remain one specialty among many
others. This is a contradiction in terms, for how are
you to make a specialty of that which is only some-
thing upon condition of being everything? But as
analytical science imposes itself as a necessity, the
timid endeavour to conciliate this necessity with the
remains of institutions which are opposed to analysis,
and they fancy that they succeed in maintaining the
two things face to face. I repeat that if theology was
worth preserving, it would necessarily take the prece-
dence of all else, and all other things would only be
of importance by comparison with their bearing on
it. The theological point of view is in contradiction
with the analytical point of view; the analytical
age ought to be atheistic and irreligious. But
humanity, fortunately, prefers contradicting itself to
leaving without sustenance one of the essential
cravings of its being.
It is not of his own choice, it is by the fatality of
his nature, that man thus quits the delights of his
primitive garden, so smiling and so full of romance,
to plunge into the quicksands of critique and science.
One may regret these early attractions, just as, in the
prime of life, one often regrets the dreams and joys of
childhood; but one must go manfully onward, and,
instead of casting longing looks behind, follow the
hard path which will lead, no doubt, to a state of things
a thousand times better. Even if the analytical
condition which we are traversing were distinctly
inferior to the primitive state (and it is only so in
certain particulars), analysis would, nevertheless,
represent a more advanced stage than syncretism,
because it is an intermediate stage which must be
gone through in order to reach.a higher state. True
— 2
The Future of Science. 287
progress sometimes seems a retrogression and then
areturn. The introgradations of humanity are like
those of the planets. Viewed from ‘earth, they are
retrogradations ; but in reality they are not so. The
retrogradation appears as such only to the gaze of
those whose sight embraces but a limited portion
of the curve. Whether circular or spiral, as Goethe
would have it, the march of humanity is along a line
the two extremities of which meet. A_ vessel
navigating along the western and wild coast of the
United States in order to reach the eastern and
civilized coast, would, to all appearances, be nearer
its destination when starting than when it was being
assailed by the storms and snows of Cape Horn.
And yet, looking at the reality, this vessel would be
nearer its destination when off Cape Horn than it
was upon the banks of the Oregon. This great
circuit was unavoidable. In the same way, the
human mind will have had to traverse deserts in
order to reach the promised land.
Analysis is war. In the primitive synthesis, with
men’s minds scarcely differing, harmony was a very
simple matter. But in the state of individualism,
liberty is ready to take umbrage ; each person is bent
upon saying what he thinks fit and cannot see why
he should subject his will and thought to those of
others. Analysis is the revolution and the negation
of the one, absolute law. Those who dream of peace
in this state dream of death. Resolution is a neces-
sary element in it, and, whatever one may do, it will
take its course. Peace is not the lot of the analytical
state, and the analytical state is necessary for the
progress of human intelligence. Peace will only re-
appear with the great synthesis, upon the day when
men shall once again meet in the fond embrace of
reason and of human nature properly cultivated.
While this necessary transition is in progress, any-
thing like a general association is impossible. The
individual existence of each is too strong; individu-
alities so marked in their characteristics will not
 a —

288 The Future of Science.

allow themselves to be gathered up in sheaves. It
would be impossible in the present day to create
those great religious unities, those vast agglomera-
tions of souls into the one doctrine called religious, —
or those military orders of the Middle Ages in which
so many individualities quite insignificant in them-
selves became fused in view of one common aim. It
is easy to bind up the ears when they have been
cut or knocked off by the storm, but not so long as
they are growing. To allow oneself to become thus
absorbed in a great corporation, through which one
lives, and with the fame or prosperity of which one
becomes identified, one must have little individuality,
few views of one’s own, simply a great fund of unre-
flecting energy ready to place at the service of a great
common idea. Reflection would be insufficient to
bring about the unity; diversity is the essential
characteristic of the philosophical epochs; any great
dogmatic foundation is impossible in them. The
primitive state was the age of solidarity. Crime
even was not regarded as individual; the substitu-
tion of the innocent for the guilty appeared quite
natural; a misdeed was transmitted and became
hereditary. In the age of reflection, on the contrary,
such dogmas seem absurd; each man answers only
for himself, each man is his own artificer. With us,
all knowledge is antithetical; in face of good we see
evil; in face of the beautiful the ugly; when we
make an affirmation, we deny, we see the objection,
we harden ourselves, we argue. In the primitive
age, on the contrary, an affirmation was plain and
simple, with no going back upon it.
Assuredly, if analysis had no ulterior aim, it would
be distinctly inferior to the primitive syncretism.
For the latter seized the whole life, whereas analysis
does not grasp it. But analysis is the necessary
condition of the true synthesis; this diversity will
anew dissolve itself into unity; perfect science is
only possible upon condition of its being first of all
based upon analysis and a clear view of the parts.
 The Future of Science. 289
The conditions of science are for humanity the same
as they are for the individual; the individual only
knows thoroughly the whole of which he also knows
the separate elements one by one, as also the part
which these separate elements play on the whole.
Humanity will not be learned until the day that
science has explored every corner and put the living
being together again after having taken him to pieces.
Do not, therefore, sneer at the savant who sinks
deeper and deeper into this slough. No doubt, if
this toilsome operation was an end in itself, science
would be only an ungrateful and degrading pursuit.
But all is noble in view of the grand definite science,
wherein poetry, religion, science and morality will
find their lost harmony in complete reflection. The
primitive age was religious but not scientific; the
later age will be at once religious and scientific. j

Then there will be once more an Orpheus and a

Trismegistos, not to sing to peoples in a state of
childhood their fanciful dreams, but to teach a
humanity grown wise the marvels of reality. Then
there will be once more sages, poets and organizers, \
legislators and priests, not to govern humanity in
the name of a vague instinct, but to lead it rationally
into its paths, which are those of perfection. Then
will appear, once more, superb types of human
character, which will recall the marvels of the early
ages. Such a state will seem a return to the primi-
tive age; but between the two there will be the
abyss of analysis; there will have been centuries of
patient and attentive study; there will be the possi-
bility, in embracing the whole, to gain simultaneously
consciousness of the parts. No two things can be
more like each other than syncretism and synthesis ;
nothing can in reality be more diverse, for synthesis
virtually preserves within itself all analytical process ;
it assumes it and builds itself thereupon. All the
phases of humanity are, therefore, good, seeing that
they tend to what is perfect; the only thing is that
they may perhaps be incomplete, because humanity
U
290 The Future of Science.
accomplishes its work bit by bit, and draws its
sketches one after the other, all in view of the grand
final tableau and of the ulterior epoch, in which,
after having traversed syncretism and analysis, 16
will complete the circle with synthesis. A little
reflection may have rendered impossible the marvel-
lous creations of instinct; but complete reflection
will bring to life again the same works with a superior
degree of clearness and of determination. .
Analysis is powerless to create. A simple synthesist,
devoid of critique, has more power to change the face
of the world and to make proselytes than the stern
and inaccessible philosopher. It is a great misfortune
to have discovered within oneself the springs of the
soul; for one is always fearful of becoming self-
duped; one regards with suspicion one’s feelings,
joys and instincts. The simple-minded marches
straight ahead, with a determined step and with
unconquered energy. ‘The age in which criticism is
the most advanced is by no means the one best able
to realize the beautiful. Germany is the only country
in which literature allows itself to be influenced by
the preconceived theories of criticism. Hach new
growth of literary production is brought about in that
country by a new system of wsthetics; to which may ©
be attributed so much of what is artificial and affected
in its literature. The defect of the intellectual de-
velopment of Germany is the abuse of reflection:
I mean to say, the deliberate and intentional appli-
cation to spontaneous production of the laws which
are recognized in the anterior phases of thought.
The great result of the historical critique of the
nineteenth century, as applied to the history of the
human intelligence, is to have recognized the neces-
sary ebb and flow of the systems, to have got a dim|
idea of some of the laws according to which they are
piled the one upon the other, and the way in which
they incessantly oscillate towards the truth, when
they follow their natural course. This is a specula-
tive truth of the first order, but one which becomes
 The Future of Science. 291
very dangerous when put into application. For to
conclude from this principle ‘The ulterior system
is always the best,” that any superficial or frivolous
person who may happen to utter some drivel after
a man of genius is preferable to the latter because he
is chronologically posterior to him, this is, in sooth,
to give mediocrity too much the best of it. And yet
this is what too often happens in Germany. After
a great philosophical or critical work has appeared,
it is certain that a whole swarm of “advanced
thinkers,” so-called, will spring up, with the pre-
tension of outvying it, when in reality they often
merely contradict it. I cannot too strongly insist
that the law of the progress of systems is only
applicable when their production is perfectly spon-
taneous, and when their authors, without thinking
of anticipating each other, concentrate their atten-
tion only on the intrinsic and objective consideration
of things. To neglect this important condition is to
hand over the development of the human intelligence
to chance or to the grotesque claims of a few vain
and presumptuous individuals (137).
Criticism does not understand the art of assimila-
tion. Dogmatic eclecticism is only possible upon
the condition of not being too closely tied down.
Our attempts to effect a fusion between doctrines
fail because we know them too well. The early
Christians, the Alexandrians, the Arabs, the men of
the Middle Ages and Mahomet were able to practise
an eclecticism far more powerful than ours, because
it was much more in the rough. They did not
possess such exact knowledge as we do, and they had
less of criticism; these elements they mixed up,
without knowing whence they came. They amalga-
mated without scruple, mixing up the whole without
any particular regard to details, putting in their
originality without being aware they were doing so.
Criticism, upon the contrary, cannot digest; the
morsels remain whole; so that it is easy to see the
difference. The dogma of the Divinity would never
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“~— .
~

292 The Future of Science.

we see. Modern eclecticism is excellent as a prin-

ciple of criticism, but barren as an attempt at
dogmatic fusion; it will never be anything more
than a piece of marquetery work ; a juxtaposition of
distinct pieces. In former times, a new spirit or new
institutions were formed by a thorough mixture of
different principles, just as our coarsest aliments are
transformed by cooking. The institutions or dogmas
_of the past were taken as they came, and arranged
according to individual fancy. The Middle Ages
made for themselves an empire out of ancient and
very inaccurate recollections. If the Middle Ages
had been as familiar with history as we are, they
- would not have indulged in this pretty fancy. The
counter-sense (contresens) had much to do with these
strange creations, and I hope some day to show the
part it played in the formation of our most essential
dogmas; or rather the uncritical tendency sought to
discover its aim in the past, and, in order to do so,
fashioned the past at its fancy. This, assuredly, is a
rude kind of science, if ever there was one. Never-
theless, it created more than ours has, thanks to its
very rudeness. Clear and delicate vision serves only
to draw distinctions; analysis can never be more
than mere analysis.
And yet analysis is, in its way, a progress. In
syncretism, all the elements were jumbled together
without that precise distinction which characterizes
analysis ; without that splendid unity which results
from perfect synthesis. It is only in the second
degree that the parts begin to outline themselves
clearly, and this is done, it must be confessed, at the
cost of that unity of which the primitive state offered
at all events the outward show. Then it is the
multiplicity, the division which predominate until
synthesis, taking possession of these isolated parts—
which having had a separate existence, are hence-
forth conscious of the fact—fuses them anew in a
superior unity.
" oe ie) Dd

The Future of Science. 293

In reality, this great law is not solely the law of
human intelligence (138). Evolution from a primi-
tive and syneretic germ by the analysis of its
members, and fresh unity resulting from this analysis,
such is the law of all that has life. A germ is
deposited, containing in posse, without distinction,
all that the being will some day become; the germ
develops, the forms become constituted in their
regular proportions, that which was potential be-
comes a fact; but nothing is created, nothing is
added. I have often successfully used the following
comparison to make this view understood. Let us
imagine a mass of homogeneous hemp, drawn out in
separate strands, the mass will represent syncretism,
in which all instincts have a confused existence; the
strands will represent analysis. If we imagine the
strands, while remaining distinct, to be afterwards
interlaced so as to form a rope, we have the
synthesis, which differs from the primitive syn-
cretism, insomuch as that the individualities, while
knotted together in unity, remain distinct. In an
hypothesis which I am far from assuming as dog-
matically certain, but merely as a striking illustra-
tion of the system of things, the law of God would
not be very different from this. Primitive unity was
without life, for life can only exist upon the condition
of analysis and of the opposition of the parts. The
being was as if he did not exist; for nothing was
distinct in him; the whole was without individual-
ization or separate existence. Life only began when
the obscure and confused unity was developed in
multiplicity and became the universe. But the
universe, again, is not the complete form; the unity
is not sufficiently distinct in it. The return to unity
operates in it by the intelligence, for the intelligence
is merely the unique outcome of a certain number of
multiple elements. The history of the being will
only be complete when multiplicity is entirely con-
verted into unity, and when from everything that
exists shall issue an unique resultant which will he
 294 The Future of Science.
God, just as in man, the soul is the resultant of all
the elements which compose it. God will then
be the soul of the universe, and the universe will be
the body of God, and life will be complete ; for all
the parts of that which is will have lived apart
‘and will be ripe for unity. The circle will then be
closed, and the being, after having traversed the
multiple, will anew rest in the unity. But why, it
may be asked, emerge therefrom to re-enter it again ?
What good will the voyage athwart the multiple
have done? The good will be that all will have
lived its own life, and that thus analysis will have
been introduced into the unity. For life is not
absolute unity or multiplicity; it is multiplicity in
unity, or rather multiplicity resolving itself into
unity (139).
The perfection of life in the animal is in direct
ratio to the distinctiveness of its organs. ‘The lower
animal, in appearance more homogeneous, is, in
reality, inferior to the vertebrated animal, because -
a grand central existence is the outcome, in the
latter, of several perfectly distinct elements. France ~
is the first among nations, because she is the unique
concert resulting from an infinity of different sounds.
The perfection of humanity will not be the extinction,
but the harmony of nationalities; nationalities con-
tinue to increase rather than diminish in strength ;
to destroy a nationality is to destroy a sound
in humanity. ‘ Genius,” writes Michelet, ‘‘is only
genius in that it is at once simple and analytical, at
once child and full-grown man and woman, barbarian
and civilized (140). In the same way, science
will only be perfect when it is at once analytical
and synthetical; when exclusively analytical, it is
harrow, dry and scanty; when exclusively syn-
thetical, it is chimerical and gratuitous. Man will
only really have knowledge when, while affirming the
general law, he has a clear view of all the detailed
facts which it implies.
All the special sciences start by the affirmation of
_ -
The Future of Science. 295
unity, and only begin to distinguish when analysis
has revealed numerous differences where before had
been visible nothing but uniformity. Read the
Scottish psychologists, and you will find at each
page that the primary rule of the philosophical
method is to maintain distinct that which is distinct,
not to anticipate facts:by a hurried reduction to
unity, not to recoil before the multiplicity of causes.
Nothing can be better, but upon the condition that,
by an ulterior outlook, one makes sure that this
reduction to unity, which is not yet ripe, will one
day be effected. It would, assuredly, be very strange
that there should be in nature sixty-one simple
bodies, neither more nor less; that there should be in
man eight or ten faculties, neither more nor less.
Unity is at the foundation of things, but science
must wait for its appearance, while still feeling
assured that it willappear. It is an error to reproach
science with thus reposing in diversity, but science,
upon the other hand, would be wrong if it did not
make its reservations and recognize this temporary
diversity as being destined to disappear some day
after a deeper investigation of nature.
The present state is open to criticism and is incom-
plete. True science, the complete and felt science,
will be for the future, if civilization is not once again
arrested in its march by blind superstition and the
invasion of barbarism, in one form or another. But,
whatever happens, even should a Renaissance become
necessary, it is unquestionable that it would take
place, that the barbarians would look to us as to the
ancients to advance further than we have done, and
to obtain in their turn new points of view. ‘Then
pity will be felt for us, the men of the age of analysis,
reduced to see nothing but a corner of things; but
we shall be honoured for having preferred humanity
to ourselves, for having deprived ourselves of the
pleasure of general results, in order to put the future
in the position of being able to deduce them with
certainty, very different from those egotistical
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™
hee

296 The Future of Science.

thinkers of the early ages, who endeavoured to im-
provise for themselves a system of things rather than )
to gather for the future the elements of the solution.
Our method is par excellence the disinterested one ;
we do not labour for ourselves; we are willing to be
ignorant in order that the future may have know-
ledge; we labour for humanity.
This patient and severe method seems to me to be
suited to France, which, of all countries, has prac-
tised with the most firmness the positive method,
but which is also the one in which abstruse specula-
tion has been the most barren. Without accepting
in all its fulness the reproach which Germany levels
at us, of understanding absolutely nothing in religion
or in metaphysics, I admit that the religious sense
is a very weak one in France, and it is precisely on
that account that we attach more importance than
others, in religion, to narrow formule which exclude
altogether the ideal. This is why there will never
in France be any medium between the strictest
Catholicism and incredulity; this is why it is so
difficult to make people understand that, if you are
not a Catholic, you are not necessarily a Voltairian.
The metaphysical speculations of the French school
(excepting, perhaps, Malebranche) have always been
paltry and timid. The true French philosophy is
the scientific philosophy of a Dalembert, a Cuvier,
or a Geoffroy St. Hilaire. Theological development
has been quite null in France; there is no country
in Kurope where religious thought has been less
active. Strange to say, the very men who have
been so quiet, so delicate, so swift to note the
slightest shades of difference in real life are regular
simpletons in metaphysics, and accept without
question enormities which to the critical sense are
simply revolting. They feel this, and do not concern
themselves with them. But as the need for a
religion is one common to humanity, they find it
convenient to take ready made the system which lies
handy, without stopping to consider whether it is
—-
The Future of Science. 297
acceptable (141). Religion has always in France
been a sort of separate wheel, a stereotyped form,
lke “ Louis by the grace of God,” having no con-
nection with the remainder and which is not read;
a dead letter. Our religious wars are in reality only
civil or party wars. If France had possessed a
stronger religious sentiment, she would have become
Protestant, like Germany. But not having the
sentiment of the theological movement, she saw no
half-way house between a given system and the dis-
dainful repudiation of this system. France is in
religion what the East is in politics. The Hast can
imagine no other government than an absolute one.
Only, when absolutism becomes intolerable, the
sovereign is stabbed: This is the only political
tempering understood there. France is the most
orthodox country in the world, for it is the least
religious and the most positive country. The
Franklin type of man, the man of the present day.
who is as atheistic as possible, is often the one most
closely attached to formule. If clever people look
into the matter at all closely, they either fall back
with characteristic facility upon our incompetency
to judge matters of this kind, or else they fairly
laugh at us. There is among unbelievers even, in
France, a certain fund of Catholicism. The pure
ideal religion, which, in Germany, has so many
proselytes, is quite unknown with us (142). A system
ready made, which it is not necessary to understand
and which spares us the pains of searching, that is
what France requires in religion, because she quite
understands that she has not the delicate perception
of things of this kind. France pre-eminently repre-
sents the analytical, revolutionary, profane and irre-
ligious period of humanity ; and it is because of her
very powerlessness in religion that she clings with
this sceptical indifference to the formule of the past.
It may be that some day France, having accom-
plished her task, will become an obstacle to the
progress of humanity and disappear; for the parts
208. The Future of Science.
are quite distinct; the man who has effected the
analysis does not do the synthesis. To each his
work, such is the law of history. France will have
been the great revolutionary instrument, will she be
equally powerful for religious re-edification? The
future will show, but, be this as it may, she has done
enough for fame in haying delineated one side of
humanity.
=
The Future of Science. 299

CHAPTER XVII.

Wouv.p to God that I could have succeeded in making

clear to a few lofty minds that there is in the pure
cultivation of human faculties and of the divine
objects which they attain a religion as suave, as rich
in delights, as the most venerable forms of worship.
I have tasted in my childhood and early youth the
purest joys of the believer, and I say from the bottom
of my heart that these joys are nothing by comparison
with what I have felt in the pure contemplation of
the beautiful and the passionate search after truth.
I wish to all my brethren who have remained orthodox
a peace to be compared with that in which I live
since my struggle is over and since the appeased
storm has left me in the midst of this great pacific
ocean, a sea without wind or shore, upon which one
has no star but reason, no compass but one’s own
heart.
A scruple, however, sometimes rises within me,
and the idea which I have endeavoured to express in
these pages would be incomplete if I did not offer
the solution of it here. It is, in fact, the grand
objection incessantly raised against rationalism ; and
I am anxious to express my feelings upon this point.
Science and humanism, I may be told, offer you
sufficient religious sustenance. But can the religion
be that of all the world? Can the man of the people,
bending beneath a never-ending toil, the limited
intelligence, to which the secrets of a higher life
must ever be a closed book, hope to have his part in
300 The Future of Scvence.
this worship of the perfect? That if your religion
is for a small minority, that if it excludes the poor
and the humble, it is not the true one; more than
that, it is barbarous and immoral, inasmuch as it ~
banishes from the kingdom of Heaven those who are
already dispossess ed of the joys of earth.
These objections are all the stronger because I am
the first to admit that science, to arrive at this
degree in which it offers a religious and moral aliment
to the soul, must elevate itself above the vulgar
level, that ordinary scientific education is here quite
insufficient, that you must have, in order to realize
this idea, a life entirely devoted to study, a scientific
asceticism which never falters and the most absolute
renunciation of the pleasures, the business and the
affairs of this world; that not only the ignorant man
is radically incapable of understanding a word of this
system of life, but that even the immense majority
of those who are looked upon as educated and culti-
vated are absolutely incapable of attaining to it.
Yes, I admit that rational and pure religion is only
accessible to the small minority. The number of
philosophers has been, as it were, imperceptible in
humanity. The most modest of religions has had a
thousand times as many followers and has had more
influence upon the destinies of humanity than all the
schools put together. Philosophy after our fashion
presupposes a long period of culture and habits of
thought which very few are capable of. I do not
know whether it is possible anywhere in France out-
side Paris to place oneself properly at this point of
view, and I should be afraid of going too far if I said
that there are now in the world two or three thou-
sand persons capable of worshipping after this fashion.
But the humble are not, on that account, excluded
from the ideal. Their formule, although inferior,
suffice to make them lead a noble life, and the people
more especially have in their grand instincts and
powerful spontaneousness an ample. compensation
for what is denied them in the way of science and
 The Future of Science. 301
reflection. Ishe who can understand the preaching
of a village Jocelyn, and these parables,
Ou le maitre, abaissé jusqu’au sens des humains,
Faisait toucher le ciel aux plus petites mains,

disinherited from the heavenly life? All men, by

the sole fact of their participation in human nature,
have their right to the ideal; but it would be running
counter to evidence to pretend that all are equally
apt to taste the delights of it. While repeating with
Michelet ‘“‘Oh! who will deliver me from the bond
of inequality!’ while admitting that, in respect to
intelligence, inequality is harder to bear for the
privileged man than for the inferior, it must be said
that this inequality is in the nature of things, and -
that the theological formula is in this particular
perfectly true ; all men have sufficient grace to work
out their own salvation; but all are not called to the -
same state of perfection. Mary has the better part
which shall not be taken from her. What may be
regarded as certain is that if humanity were as
highly cultivated as we are, it would have the same
religion as we have.
If, therefore, you blame the philosopher for the
exceptional excellence of his religion, you must also
blame the man who seeks in the ascetic life a higher
perfection for being called to an exceptional state.
You must also reproach the man who cultivates his
mind for breaking the vulgar line of humanity. It
must be allowed, painful as the admission may be,
that perfection, in the present state of society, is
possible only to very few. Are we to conclude from
this that perfection is bad and injurious to humanity?
Assuredly not; we need only regret that it is subject
to such narrow conditions. It is intolerable pride
on the part of the philosopher to imagine that he
has the monopoly of the higher life ; it would be
a very blameworthy piece of egotism for him to
rejoice in his isolation and designedly to prolong
the degradation of his fellow-men in order that he
 “re deel he ‘ ee le) he
Kiet By “4,

302 The Future of Science.

might have no equals. But it cannot be imputed as
a crime to him that he should raise himself above
the common level, and exclaim with St. Paul: Cupio
omnes fieri qualis et ego cum. Do not therefore con-
tend that the inferiority of philosophy consists in
its being accessible to the small minority; for this
is, on the contrary, its chief title to glory. The only
practical conclusion to be drawn from this melancholy
truth is that one should labour to hasten the advent
of the blessed day in which all men will have their
place in the sunshine of intelligence and will be
called to the true light of the children of God.
It would be a very pleasant but very chimerical
optimism to hope that this day is at hand. But it
is the property of faith to hope against hope, and
there is nothing, after all, which the past does not
justify us in hoping from the future of humanity.
For how different were the conditions of intellectual
culture in the antiquity of Greece from what they
are to-day. In the present day, science and philo-
sophy are a profession. ‘One does not get credit
with the world,” says Pascal, ‘“‘for understanding
poetry if one has not hung out the poet’s sign, nor
for being clever at mathematics, if one has not dis-
played that of the mathematician.” In the noble
ages of antiquity, a man was philosopher or poet, as
one is an honest man in all situations of life. No
practical interest, no official institution were
necessary to stimulate the zeal for research or for
- the production of poetry. Spontaneous curiosity
the instinct of what was beautiful, sufficed. Am-
monius Saccas, the founder of the highest and most
learned philosophical school of antiquity, was a
porter. Imagine a market porter of the present day
creating in France an order of speculation analogous
to the philosophy of Schelling or of Hegel. When
I think of the noble people of Athens, where every
one felt and lived the life of the nation, of this
people which applauded Sophocles’ plays, of this
people which criticized Isocrates, of this people
 The Future of Science. 303
where the women said: ‘‘ This, then, is Demosthenes,”
of this people where a female vendor of herbs detected
Theophrastus to be a stranger, where every one had
been taught in the same gymnasia and had learnt
the same songs, where every one knew Homer and
understood him in the same sense, I cannot help
feeling rather sore at our society being so profoundly
divided into men of culture and barbarians. With
the Greeks, all men had their share in the same
souvenirs, all gloried in the same trophies (148), all
had contemplated the same Minerva and the same
Jupiter. What are Racine, Bossuet, Buffon and
Fléchier to our fellow-countrymen? What do they
know of the heroes of Louis XIV., of Condé and
Turenne? What meaning do Nordlingen and Fon-
tenoy (144) convey to them? ‘The people in our day
are disinherited from the intellectual life; there is
no literature for them. ‘There was only one kind of
taste at Athens—the taste of the people, good taste.
With us there is the popular taste and the taste of men
of refinement; the distinguished kind and the petty
kind. In order to appreciate our literature, a man
must be well-read, a critic and more or less of a wit.
The vulgar herd admires without knowing why, and
does not venture upon a judgment of its own upon
works which exceed the limits of its intelligence.
Germany does not know what provincial taste is
because she has no taste of the capital; antiquity
had nothing of the weak and popular style because
it had no aristocratic literature.
T cannot conceive an elevated mind remaining
indifferent to such a spectacle and not suffering at
the sight of the greater part of humanity being
excluded from the domain which it possesses and
which might so readily be divided. There are some
people who do not understand happiness except as
an exceptional favour to themselves, and who would
not appreciate wealth, education and intelligence if
they were the possession of all the world. These
latter do not love perfection in itself, but relative
304 The Future of Science.

superiority; they are full of vanity and egotism.

For my own part, perfect happiness is, as I under-
stand it, that all men should be perfect. I cannot
understand how the opulent man can fully enjoy his
opulence, while he is obliged to veil his face in
presence of the misery of a portion of his fellow-
creatures. My greatest sorrow is to reflect that all
cannot share my happiness. There will only be
happiness when all are equal, but there will only be
equality when all are perfect. What pain for the
savant and the thinker to find themselves, through
their very excellence, isolated from humanity, having
their world apart and their belief apart! And yet you
wonder that with this they are sometimes sad and
solitary! But even if they were in possession of the
infinite, of absolute truth, they could not but be
pained at possessing it alone, or fail to regret the
commonplace dreams which they at least had in
common with their fellow-men. There are souls
which cannot endure this isolation, and which prefer
attaching themselves to the weak rather than to.
stand out by themselves in humanity. I admire
and like these men. ... At the same time, the
savant cannot follow this course, even if he wished to
do so, for what has been proved to him to be false is
henceforward incapable of being accepted. The
spectacle of the physical sufferings of the poor is, no
doubt, a lamentable one, but I confess it does not
come home to me so keenly as to see the immense
majority of my fellow-men condemned to intellectual
helotism, to see men similar to myself, possessing
perhaps intellectual and moral faculties superior to
my own, reduced to a state of brutal degradation,
unfortunate passengers through life who are born,
live and die without having for a moment lifted their
eyes from the servile instrument which gives them
their daily bread, without having for a single moment
breathed in God.
One of the commonplaces most frequently repeated
by vulgar minds is this: To initiate the masses
 The Future of Science. 305
devoid of fortune into the intellectual culture usually
reserved for the higher classes of society is too often
for them a source of pain and suffering. Their edu-
cation will merely serve to make them feel the social
want of proportion, and to render their condition in-
tolerable. That is, I repeat, just the bourgeois view,
which only envisages intellectual culture as a com-
plement to worldly fortune, and not as a moral good.
Yes, I admit that the simple are the happiest; but
is that a reason for not raising oneself? Yes,
these poor creatures will be more unhappy when
their eyes are opened. But it is not a question of
being happy; it is a question of being perfect. They
are as well entitled as others to the nobility of suffer-
ing. Remember that the question at issue is true
religion, the only thing which is serious and sacred.
I can understand the most radical divergencies as to
the best means of operating for the greatest good of
humanity, but I do not understand that honest minds
should differ as to the aim and substitute egotistical
ends for the great divine end: perfection and life for
all. Upon this first question, there are only two
classes of men: the honest men who subordinate
themselves to the great social end, and the immoral
men who are resolved to get enjoyment, and who
care little whether they do so at the cost of others.
If it were true that humanity was so constituted that
there was nothing to be done for the general. good,
if it were true that politics consisted in stifling the
cries of the wretched and in looking with folded arms
upon evils as if they were without a remedy, nothing
could induce noble minds to endure life. If the
world were thus constituted, we should have no
alternative but to curse God and then commit suicide.
It is not enough for the progress of human intelli-
gence that a few isolated thinkers should reach very
advanced posts, and that a few heads should shoot
up like wild oats above the common level. OF what
service is the most magnificent discovery if only a
hundred persons or so are to profit by it? aS is
 a z < a,

306 The Future of Scvence.

humanity served if seven or eight persons have been
able to perceive the true reason of things? A result
can only be regarded as acquired when it has entered
into general circulation. Now the results of abstruse
science are not of the kind which have simply to be
enunciated. Mens’ minds have to be raised up to
them. It would be all very well for Kant and Hegel
to be right; their science, in the present condition |
of things, would be incapable of being communicated.
Would this be their fault? Not at all, but that of
the barbarians who cannot understand them, or
rather the fault of the society responsible for the
existence of barbarians. A civilization is only really
strong when it has a widely extended basis. An-
tiquity had thinkers almost as advanced as our own,
and yet ancient civilization perished owing-to its
paucity, buried beneath the multitude of barbarians.
It did not rest upon a sufficiently large number of
men; it disappeared not for want of intensity, but
for lack of extension. It is a matter of great urgency,
I take it, to enlarge the whirl of humanity ; other-
wise a few individuals might reach heaven while the
mass is still dragging along upon the earth. A pro-
gress of that kind would not be a genuine one and
would be of no effect.
If intellectual culture was merely a form of enjoy-
ment, it would not be a cause of complaint that only
a minority had a share in it, for man has no right to
enjoyment. But from the moment that it is a religion,
and the most perfect of religions, it becomes barbarous
to deprive a single soul of it. Formerly, in the age
of Christianity, that was not so revolting ; upon the
contrary, the lot of the unfortunate and the simple was
in one sense to be envied, inasmuch as they were nearer
to the kingdom of God. But the charm has been
broken and cannot be restored. The outcome of this
is very shocking, for we see men condemned to suffer,
without a single moral thought, without an elevated
idea, without a noble sentiment, retained only by force
like brutes in a cage. That, assuredly, is intolerable.
—

The Future of Science. 307

_ But what is to be done? Are these beasts to be
let loose upon men? No, for humanity and civiliza-
tion must be saved at any cost. Are the brutes to
be kept under lock and key and well beaten when
they offer resistance ? That is a horrible alternative.
No, they must be made men of, they must be given
their part in the delights of the ideal, they must be
elevated, ennobled, made worthy of liberty. Till
that is done, to preach liberty will be equivalent to
preaching destruction; it will be very much as if,
out of respect for the right of bears and lions, one
opened the bars of a menagerie. Until then, violent .
actions are necessary, and although to be condemned
in the analytical appreciation of facts, they are, in
effect, legitimate. The future will absolve them, as
we absolve the great Revolution, while deploring its
culpable acts and stigmatizing those who provoked
them.
But it is a waste of time to vex one’s mind over
these problems. ‘They are in a speculative sense
insoluble ; they will be solved by brute force. It is
like reasoning upon the crater of a volcano, or at the
foot of a dyke when the waters are rising. Humanity
has many a time thus found itself arrested in its
march like an army brought up short by some un-
fathomable precipice. The shrewdest then lose their
heads, and human prudence is at its wit’s end. The
wisest suggest turning back and making a circuit of
the precipice. But the crowd behind is ever pressing
forward; those in the foremost ranks are toppled
over into the yawning gulf, and when their bodies
have filled up the abyss, the last comers pass over
on the level. God be praised, the abyss is crossed.
A cross is erected at the spot, and the tender hearted
come and weep there. Aa
Or, to take another comparison, it 1s as when an
army has to cross a broad and deep river. ‘T'he
cooler heads wish to build a bridge or to construct
pontoons, but the more impatient determine to let
the men swim across; three-fourths perish, but any-
308 The Future of Science.
how the river has been crossed. Humanity, having
at its disposal forces without limit, does not show
itself very economical in regard to them. ‘These
terrible problems are insoluble, and one can only
fold arms and look on in despair., Humanity will
leap over the obstacle and do all for the best. Abso-
lution for the living, and holy water for the dead !
Oh! how fortunate it is that passion undertakes ~
these cruel executions. Men of delicate mind would
hesitate too much and go to work too timidly.
When the work to be done is to found the future
while inflicting blows upon the past, you require’
some of those redoubtable sappers who are not
affected by woman’s tears, and who are not afraid to
use the axe. Itis only by a revolution that institu-
tions which have been long since condemned can be
destroyed. In a time of tranquillity, people cannot
make up their mind to strike, even when that at
which the blow is aimed has ceased to have any
raison d’étre. Those who believe that the renovation
which was necessitated by all the intellectual triumph
of the eighteenth century could have been effected
peacefully are mistaken. Efforts would have been
made to compromise, a thousand personal considera-
tions, which in time of peace are much prized, would
have been brought into ‘‘ play ;’ no one would have
dared to abolish outright either the privileges or the
religious orders, or so many other abuses. The
tempest took this in hand. The temporal power of
the Popes is assuredly out of date. Yet if everybody
had this opinion, no one would make up his mind to
clear away this relic of the past. We must wait for
the next earthquake to do that. Nothing is done in
times of tranquillity; it is only in revolution that
people show daring. One should always endeavour
to lead humanity in the paths of peace and to let
revolutions glide along the soft inclines of time, but
if one is more or less critical, one is fain to admit to
oneself that this is impossible, that the matter
cannot be effected in that way. But in any case the
 The Future of Science. 309
thing will be done in one way or another. It isa
waste of time to calculate and cunningly combine the
means ; for brutality will have its finger in the pie,
and there is no calculating with brutality. We have
here an antinomy and an unstable equilibrium, as in
so many other questions relative to humanity, when
we envisage them exclusively in the present. There
are men who are necessarily detested and cursed by
their age; the future will explain them and say with
calm impartiality : it was necessary that there should
be men of that stamp (145). Moreover, this pos-
thumous rehabilitation is not rigorously just; for as
they are nearly always immoral, they have had their
reward in the satisfaction of their brutal passions.
I can imagine in theory a virtuous revolutionist, who
would act in a revolutionary spirit through the sense
of duty and in view of the calculated good of hu-
manity, so that circumstances alone would be to
blame for his acts of violence. But as a matter of
fact there has never been any individual of the sort,
and it may be that such a character is outside the
limits of humanity. For such acts cannot occur
without passion being imported into them, and, upon
the other hand, such passions cannot fail to evoke
some disinterested view. The character of revolu-
tionists is very complex, and the extremely simple
explanations given of them are convicted of being
false by their very simplicity. acm y
Theophylactus relates that Philippicus, a Roman
general, being on the point of giving battle, began
to weep as he thought of the great number of men
who were about to be killed. Montesquieu calls that
bigotry, but it was, perhaps, merely the result of
a large heart. It is good to weep over these terrible _
necessities, provided that the tears do not prevent ©
you from marching forward. What a cruel alterna-
tive for the high minded! Hither to form alliance
with the wicked and draw upon one the curses of
those one loves, or to sacrifice the future.
Woe to him who brings about revolutions; happy
“810 The Future of Science.
he who enjoys their fruits, and happier still they
who, born in a better age, will no longer need to
have resort to the most irrational and absurd means
to’effect the triumph of reason. The moral point of |
view is too narrow to explain history. One must
raise oneself up to the level of humanity, or, let it
rather be said, one must soar above humanity and
raise oneself to the Supreme Being, where all is
reason and where all differences are reconciled. —
There is the great white light, which, lower down, |
is refracted in a thousand hues separated by undis-
cernible limits.
M. Pierre Leroux is right. We have destroyed
paradise and hell. Whether we have done right
or wrong, I cannot. say, but it is certain that we
have done this. One cannot replant a paradise,
one cannot relight a hell. We must not remain
half-way. We must bring down paradise upon earth
that all may enter it. And paradise will be here
below when all have their share in light, perfec-
tion, beauty, and therefore in happiness. When
the priest, with a congregation of believers around
him, preached resignation and submission, because,
after all, it was merely a question of suffering for
a short time, after which would come eternity, when
all sufferings would be reckoned as merits, that was
all right enough. But we have destroyed the in-
fluence of the priest, and it is not in our power to re-
establish it. We decline to submit to it ourselves;
it would be a strange thing that we should wish to
impose it upon others. Hven supposing that we still
had some influence upon the people, supposing that
our advice had some weight and would not rather
excite their mistrust, with what sort of a face could
we sceptics go and preach Christianity, which we
admit that we no longer have need of, to people who
require it, in order to make things comfortable for
us? What would be the name to give to such
a procedure? For, since the beginning of the world,
has there been a single instance of such a miracle
a —_—- " : = ge pet)
aan

The Future of Science. 311

as lying and hypocritical scepticism making men
believers. Conviction alone effects conviction. I
have read—where, I forget—a history of some bonzes
guaranteeing to an old woman paradise in another
world, if she would give them her fortune in this one.
But the sceptic who preaches paradise and hell, in
which he does not believe, to a people which does
not believe in it either, plays a much more contemp-
tible part. ‘My friends, leave me the enjoyment
of this world, and I promise you enjoyment in the
next.’’ This, assuredly, would be a very good comedy
scene, and the people, who have a very keen sense
of the humorous, would be much amused by it.
God forbid that I should say that belief in immor-
tality is not in one sense necessary and sacred. But
I maintain that when the sceptic preaches this con-
soling dogma to the poor without believing in it,
simply to keep him quiet, this should be termed
a swindle ; it is equivalent to making a payment in
notes which one knows to be bad; it is turning the
simple out of the track of the real and the true by
means of achimera. It cannot be denied that too
much concern for the life of the future is in some
respects injurious to the welfare of humanity. When
_ one reflects that all things will be rectified above, it
is no longer worth while to pursue so eagerly order
and equity here below. Our principle is that we
should regulate our present life just as if the future
life did not exist, that it is never justifiable to refer
to what is beyond in extenuation of any social con-
dition or action. To appeal incessantly to the future
life is to deaden the spirit of reform, to relax the zeal
for the rational organization of humanity. All the
work of social reform accomplished by the French
bourgeoisie since the eighteenth century rests upon
this implicitly recognized principle, that the present
life must be organized without regard to the future.
It is the surest way of not letting any one be made
a dupe.. :
But, it will be said, at all events do not interfere
Meng at teThe Future of Science.
312
with the priest, who is a believer himself, and who, —
therefore, may effect a conversion. True enough;
but do not place too much reliance upon this apostle-
ship improvised in a moment of panic; the people
will feel that you are very pleased that they should
be thus preached to, and will notice that you
remain incredulous. You may pay missionaries to
preach in all the villages; but your incredulity
will be a more effective sermon than any they can
preach.
Well, then, let us be converted ourselves. ‘To
make the people believe, we must ourselves believe.
Of all courses, this is the most impracticable; re-
ligions are not to be resuscitated. A man cannot
be converted at will. You will believe in a moment
of panic; you will try to believe. But what strange
Christians are the Christians of fear! As soon as the
sun comes out, you will revert to your incredulity.
You may have driven Voltaire out of your library ;
you will not drive him out of your memory, for —
Voltaire is yourself. .
The idea, then, of containing the people by means
of ancient ideas must be given up. There remains
brute force, but be on your guard. Do not place much
reliance upon that; helots in a minority are still the
stronger. One false step, one maladroit act will be
sufficient for them to push you down and trample
upon you. Are you quite certain of not making
one false step in twenty years ? Remember that they
are there, behind you, waiting their opportunity.
And besides, this is immoral and intolerable when
one comes to think upon it. The happiness which
I enjoy is only to be had at the cost of a portion of
my fellow-creatures. If, for an instant, the mastiffs
which keep watch at the door of the ergastulum relax
their vigil, all is over. I never have been able to
realize a sense of security in a country constantly
threatened with the invasion. of the waters, nor moral
happiness in a society which presupposes the degra-
dation of a part of the human race.
 a a :
a ee
F) | ie
ae
x

—
The Future of Science. _ B18
Nor must you fail to remark the fatality which has
brought things to this point, and which has riveted
each link in the chain, and do not think that you
have said all there is to be said when you have
declaimed against this or that. It was by sheer
force of things that cultured humanity broke off the
yoke of ancient creeds, and was led to find them
unworthy of acceptation. ~Can it be blamed for this,
and can people believe what they please? There is
, hothing more fateful than reason. It was by the
fatal working of things, and without any impulse
from the philosophers, that the people in turn became
incredulous. Who is to be blamed for this, seeing
that it did not rest with the first sceptics to remain
believers, and that they would have been hypocrites
had they simulated a belief which they did not possess,
while it would have been of very little effect, seeing
that falsehood is powerless in the history of humanity.
It is, lastly, by the force of things, that the unbe-
_hleving people has risen up against its masters in
unbelief and has said to them: ‘‘ Give me my share
- here below, seeing that you take from me my share
in heaven.” Thus there is nothing but what har-
monizes in this development of the modern spirit;
the whole march of Europe for four centuries is
summed up in this practical conclusion: to elevate
and ennoble the people, and to let all men have a share
in the delights of the intelligence. Turn the problem
about as you will, that is what it amounts to. In my
opinion, this is the capital question of the nineteenth
century; all the other reforms are secondary and
premature, for they presuppose that one. To main-
tain a portion of humanity in a state of brutality is ~
immoral and dangerous, to give back to it the chain
of the ancient religious beliefs, which had a fairly
moralizing effect upon it, is impossible. Only one
course, therefore, remains, and that is to widen the.
basis of the family and to find room for all at the |
banqueting-table of light. Rome only escaped from
social wars by opening its ranks to allies, after having
314 The Future of Science.
vanquished them. Thank God, we also have con-
quered. Let us, therefore, open our ranks.
Society is not, in my opinion, a merely conven-
tional tie, an external institution and a simple matter
of police. Society has the charge of souls, it has
duties towards the individual; it does not owe him
life, but the possibility of life; that is to say, the
first fund which, fertilized and multiplied by each
man’s labour, will in due course become the aliment
of his physical, intellectual and moral life. Society
is not the atom-like and fortuitous assemblage of
individuals, as is, for instance, the tie which brings
together passengers by the same vessel. It is primi-
tive (146). If the individual were anterior to society,
his acceptance would be necessary for him to be
considered as a member of society and subject to its
laws, and one might conceive, for instance, the possi-
bility of his refusing to participate in its liabilities
and advantages. But seeing that man is born into
society, as he is born to reason, he is no more free
- to repudiate the laws of society than those of reason.
Man is not born free, with full liberty to afterwards
embrace voluntary servitude. He is born part of
society, he is born under the law. He is no more
entitled to complain of being subject to a law which
he has not accepted than he is to complain of being —
born a man. ‘The old societies had their sacred —
books, their epics, their national rites, and their
traditions, which were, 80 to speak, the depot of
education and national culture. Hach individual,
upon coming into the world, found, in addition to
the family, which does not suffice to make man, the
nation, which is the depository of another and higher
life. Christianity, which has destroyed the ancient
conception of the nation and of country, has taken
the place with modern peoples of this great national
culture, and fora long time has quite sufficed. Thus,
man has always had open before him a grand school
of the higher life. Man, like the plant, is wild by
nature ; to be a man does not mean merely to have ©
 wel —_— ,- «|
s= o ,

The Future of Science. 315

the human face or to reason upon a few plain sub-
Jects after the fashion of other people. To be a man,
you must have intellectual and moral culture.
_ I believe, with the Catholics, that our profane and
irreligious society, paying heed solely to order and
discipline, caring little about the immorality and de-
gradation of the masses, so long as they continue
to turn the mill in silence, rests upon an impossi-
bility. The State owes the people religion; that is
to say intellectual and moral culture ; it owes them
the school even more than the temple. The indi-
vidual is only completely responsible for his acts if
he has received his share of the education which
makes the man. By what right do you punish this
“wretch who has been shut off since his youth from
moral ideas, having barely the power of discerning
between good and evil, impelled by coarse appetites
which are his sole law, and perhaps also by pressing
needs? You punish him for being a brute, ‘but is it
his fault if no one took him at his birth to cause him
to be born to the moral life? Is it his fault if the
only escape he has received has been that of vice?
And to remedy these crimes which you have been
unable to prevent, you have only the galleys and
the scaffold. The true culprit in all this is the
society which has not elevated and ennobled this
poor wretch. What a strange coincidence that
nearly all criminals should spring from the same
class! Nature, I would say with Pascal, is not so
uniform. Is itnot evident thatif nineteen-twentieths
of the crimes punished by society are committed by
persons deprived of all education and prompted by
want, the cause lies in this lack of education and in
this want? God forbid that I should ever seek to
excuse crime or disarm society against its enemies.
But crime is only crime when it is committed with
full consciousness. Do you suppose that this poor
wretch would not, like you, have been honest and
good if he had, like you, been cultivated by a long
course of, education and ameliorated by the salutary
 316
Oe
eee The Future of Science.
influences of the family? We must start from the
principle that man is not actually born good, but
with the power of becoming good, any more than he
is born a savant, but with the power of becoming so;
that the main thing is to develop the germs of virtue
which he has in him, that man is not inclined to evil
of his own choice, but by want, by the fatality of
things, and especially for lack of moral culture.
Assuredly, in the present state, when society cannot
~ exercise a civilizing influence upon all its members,
it is important to maintain punishment so as to deter
those whom education has failed to keep from crime.
But this is not the normal state of humanity, for, I
repeat, you do not punish a man for being savage,
though, if you have savages to govern, you may,
so as to keep them in order, have recourse to the
sanction of punishment. In that case, it is no longer
a moral punishment; it is making an example,
nothing more. I willingly admit that for a man to
reach the utmost limits of want, the point where
morality expires in presence of want, there must at
one time or another of his life have been some fault
of his own—I except of course the infirm and women
——that with morality and intelligence a man can
always find a way out of his difficulties and resources
of some kind. But is it the fault of these poor
people if they do not possess this morality and
intelligence, seeing that these faculties need to be
cultivated, and that no one has taken any pains to
develop them ?
All the’ evil which there is in humanity proceeds,
as I think, from lack of culture, and society is not
entitled to complain of this, seeing that it is, to a
great extent, responsible for it. When calling the
two parties which now dispute for the mastery in
the world aristocrats and democrats, we may say that
the one and the other are, in the present state of
humanity, equally impossible. For the masses being
blind and deficient in intelligence, to appeal only to
them is to appeal from civilization to barbarism.
 The Future of Science. 317
Upon the other hand, the aristocracy constitutes an
odious monopoly if it does not set before it for its
aim the tutelage of the masses; that is to say their
gradual elevation. I was a spectator of those fatal
days concerning which we may say:
Excidat illa dies ero, nec postera credant
Secula, nos etiam taceamus, et oblita multa
Nocte tegi nostre patiamur crimina.gentis.
God knows that never for a moment did I desire the
triumph of the barbarians; and yet I suffered pain to
hear honest men pouring out mockery or anger upon
these lamentable follies. It irritated me to hear
people applauding the bloodiest acts of revenge or
regretting that there were not more such. For,
after all, did these senseless people know what they
were doing, and was it their fault if society had left
them in this state of imbecility through which they
were destined, upon ‘the first day of trial, to become
the tool of the perverse and the foolish?
No one can deplore popular folly more than I do, and
I am glad that it should be put down. But these acts
of folly evoke in me only one regret, and that is that
one half of humanity should be thus abandoned to
its native bestiality, and I cannot understand any
honest and clear-sighted mind failing at once to draw
this conclusion. Of these beasts let us make men. '
People who laugh over these follies irritate me; for
these follies are, in part, their work.
It used to be said in respect to hapless Italy:
‘Took and see if this people be worthy of liberty.
Look what use they make of it and in what a way
they defend it.”” No doubt, but whose is the fault?
Is it the fault of those who are condemned to nullity
and who, advanced in age, wake up children; or of
those who have kept them under, and who then come
and reproach a great country with the immorality
of which they themselves have been guilty (147)?
This indignation will ever remain among the most
vivid recollections of my youth. A guardian has
made his ward imbecile in order to preserve the
 318 The Future of Science.
management of his property. Chance restores to
the ward for a moment the use of his fortune, and,:
as a matter of course, he makes ducks and drakes
of it; from which fact the guardian draws a strong
argument for placing his ward again under his charge.
So it is not “‘ Away with the barbarians,” but ‘‘ Let
there be no more barbarians,” that we should ex-
claim, for as long as there are any, an invasion will
always be on the cards. If there were, face to face
with each other, two races of men, the one civilized,
the other incapable of civilization, the only policy
would be.to stamp out the uncivilizable race, or to .
make it strictly subject to the other. If it was true,
as Aristotle believes (148) that, just as the soul is
destined to command and the body to obey, so there
are in society men who have their reason within
_ themselves, and others who, having their reason out
of themselves, are only fitted to execute the will
of others, the latter would naturally be slaves; it
would be just and expedient that they should obey,
their revolt would be as great a misfortune and crime ©
as if the body revolted against the spirit. From this
point of view, the conquests of the democracy would
be the conquests of the spirit of evil, the triumph of
the flesh over the spirit. But it is this very point
of view which is deceptive; an incontrovertible
degree of progress has put a ban upon this aristocratic
theory and laid down as an axiom the inviolable
rights of those who are weak in body and mind as
against the strong. All men bear within them the
same principles of morality. It is impossible to love
the people as they are, and it is only the ill-inten-
tioned who are desirous of keeping them in their
present condition, in order to be able to make them
answer their own purposes. But let them have a
care ; one day or other, the wild beast may likely
enough turn and rend them. Iam firmly convinced,
, for my own part, that unless we make haste and
elevate the people, we are upon the eve of a terrible
outbreak of barbarism. For if the people triumph
 The Future of Science. 319
7

in their present state, it will be worse than it wo cos

with the Franks and Vandals. They will destroy ©

their own accord the instrument which might ha‘
served to elevate them; we shall then have to wa’:
until civilization once more emerges spontaneous! y
from the profound depths of nature. We shall have
to traverse another period of the Middle Ages, to
pick up the broken thread of learned tradition.
Morality, like politics, is summed up, then, in this
grand saying: ‘lo elevate the people. Morality
should have prescribed this course at all times;
policy dictates it more imperiously than ever, now
that the people have been admitted to share in
political privileges. Universal suffrage will only be
legitimate when all men shall possess that share of
intelligence without which one does not deserve
the name of man, and if, in the interim, it is to be
maintained, this is solely because it is calculated to
hasten the advent of that condition of things. Stu- >
pidity has no right to govern the world. How is it.
possible, I ask of you, to entrust the destinies of
humanity to unfortunate beings, whose ignorance
lays them open to all the tricks of charlatanism,’
who are scarcely entitled to rank as moral beings?
A deplorable state of things truly, when, in order
to obtain the suffrages of an omnipotent multitude,
the great point is not to be true, learned, clever or
virtuous, but to possess a name or to be a brazen
charlatan ! |
I will suppose some learned and laborious searcher
to have discovered, if not the definite solution, at ail
events the most advanced solution of the great
social problem. It is undeniable that this solution
would be so complicated that there would be barely
twenty people in the world capable of understanding
it. Let us hope that he may be gifted with patience
if he intends waiting, in order to get his discovery
accepted, the adhesion of universal suffrage. An
empiric who proclaims loudly that he has found the
solution, that it is as clear as noonday, and that
 320 ‘ The Future of Science.
only the bad faith of interested persons can refuse to
recognize it, who repeats every day in the columns of
a newspaper certain stale commonplaces, such a man
as this will assuredly make his fortune more quickly
than one who looks for success to science and reason.
Let it, therefore, be well understood that those
who refuse to enlighten the people are those who
want to make tools of them, and who need their
blindness in order to succeed. Shame to those
who, when they talk of an appeal to the people,
know that they are only making an appeal to imbe-
cility. Shame upon those who base their hopes upon
stupidity, who rejoice in the multitude of fools as
in the multitude of their own partisans, and who
believe that they triumph when, thanks to an
ignorance which they themselves have fostered, they
can say,: ‘‘ You see that the people will have none of
your modern ideas.” If there were no more fools to
be got over, the profession of sycophant and parasite
of the people would soon be at an end. ‘The im-
moral means of government, a Machiavelian police,
and restrictions upon certain natural liberties and so
forth, have hitherto been both necessary and legiti-
mate. They will cease to be so when the State is.
composed of intelligent and cultivated men. The
question of government reform is not, therefore,
political ; it is moral and religious ; the Ministry of
Public Education is the most important, I was
going to say the only important one. After scrutiniz-
ing all the necessary antinomies of the present
political programme, it will, I think, be admitted
that the intellectual rehabilitation of the people is
the remedy for them all, and that the most liberal
institutions will be the most dangerous, as long as
what has been so well called ‘the slavery of ignor-
ance ”’ shall last. Until then, government & priori
will be the most detestable of all governments.
At the first dawning of modern liberalism, it was
for a moment thought that absolutism was dependent
for existence upon the force of a strong government.
—e
The Future of Science. 321
But we have since found out that it has a much
more powerful support in the stupidity and ignorance
of the governed, inasmuch as we have seen peoples
which have been set at liberty regret their chains
and ask to have them forged afresh. It is no great
thing to destroy tyranny; that has been done a
thousand times in the course of history. But to get
on without it. . . . In the view of some, that is the
best apology which can be offered for those who
govern; to my mind it is their gravest offence.
Their offence is that they should have rendered
themselves necessary and have maintained mankind
in such a state of degradation that they themselves
ask for slavery and shame. M. de Falloux has
expressed his surprise that the Tiers Etat of ’89
should have sought to avenge ancestors who were
not conscious of any injury having been done them.
That is true, and the most revolting part of the
business, and that which cries most for vengeance,
is that these forefathers did not, as a matter of fact,
_ feel that they had been wronged.
As the greatest good of humanity should be the
aim of every government, it follows that the opinion
of the majority is only entitled to impose itself
when that majority represents the most enlightened
reason and views. What! In order to please the
ignorant masses, you will do a perhaps irreparable —
wrong to humanity? I will never consent to recog-
nize the sovereignty of unreason. The only sovereign ,
by divine right is reason, the majority only has power |
so far as it is supposed to represent reason. In the |
normal state of things, the majority will, as a matter
of fact, be the most direct criterion for ascertaining
the party which is in the right. If there was a
better means for ascertaining the truth, it would be
expedient to have recourse to it and take no account
of the majority. aes
If we were to be guided by certain politicians who
dub themselves liberals, the sole duty of a govern- :
ment is to follow public opinion without ever
Y
 322 The Future of Science.
attempting to direct the movement. It is, they
say, an intolerable piece of tyranny that the central
power should impose upon the province s instituti ons,
men and schools which are little in harmony with
the prejudices of these provinces. They cannot
admit that it is right that the administra tors and
teachers from these provinces should come to Paris
and acquire an education which will render them
superior to the people over whom they are placed.
This is a singular scruple. Paris, enjoying a supe-
riority of initiative and representing a more advanced.
stage of. civilization, has the full right to impose ©
herself and to carry forward towards perfection the
less enlightened masses. Shame be to them who
have no other prop than ignorance and stupidity,
and who endeavour to preserve them as their best
‘auxiliaries. The question of the education of
humanity and the progress of civilization takes pre-
cedence of all others. No injury is done to a child
in endeavouring to draw him out of his natural in-
difference, for the development of his intellectual
and moral culture. The time is not yet near at
‘hand when there will be no need to do good to
humanity in spite of itself. To govern in the spirit
of progress is to govern by right divine.
Universal suffrage presupposes two things: (1)
that all men are competent to form an opinion upon
questions of government; (2) that there is not, at
the time of its being instituted, any absolute dogma;
that humanity is at that moment without a fault and
in the condition which M. Jouffroy has called prac-
tical scepticism (scepticisme de fait). These epochs
are epochs of liberalism and toleration. When one
man is not more richly endowed than his neighbour
with the knowledge of the truth, the simplest way is
to count heads; numbers constitute the right, or at
least an external and practical right, which may very
possibly not convert the minority but compels its
acceptance. In reality, this is not very logical, for
as numbers are not an indication of intrinsic truth,
—_—: ee

The Future of Science. 323

the minority might say: “ You force yourselves upon
us not because you are right, but because you are ~~
stronger in numbers. That would be right, if
numbers represented force; for then, instead of
fighting the question, it would be more reasonable
to count heads and so avoid useless evils. But,
although less numerous than you, we have better
muscles and we are braver; so let us fight it out.
We are no.more or less in the right than you; you
are the more numerous, we are the stronger; so let
us come to.” ‘The fact is that such a state of
things is not normal for humanity ; and reason alone,
that is to say the established dogma, confers the
right of imposing one’s will; numbers are, in short,
of as superficial a character as force, and that
nothing can be firmly established except upon the
basis of reason.
I say it with due deference, and with the con-
viction that those who read these pages will not set
me down as a Sedition-monger. I say it as a pure
critic, looking at the revolutions of the present day
as we do at those of Rome, for instance, and just
as people will look at ours five centuries hence;-
a triumphant insurrection is often a better criterion
as to which party is right than is a numerical
majority. For the majority is often composed or at
all events based upon people who are very insigni-
ficant and inert, regardful only of their own repose,
who do not deserve to be taken into account;
whereas an opinion capable of stirring the masses
and above all of causing them to triumph testifies
by that very fact to its force. The vote by battle
is at all events as trustworthy as any other form of
vote, for with that only the living forces are counted;
or rather the energy which opinion gives to its
partisans is weighed; and that is an excellent cri-
terion. People do not fight for what is dead; what-
ever stirs the pulse the most is that which is fullest
of life and truth. Those who are attached to what
is absolute and to clearly defined solutions are ready
 324 The Future of Science.
to appeal to the numerical tests, for nothing can be ~
clearer than numbers; all you have to do is to count
heads. But this would be making things too easy,
and humanity does not go to work in quite so simple
away. Do what we will, we cannot find any other
absolute basis than reason, and until humanity shall
have reached a definitely scientific age, we shall
have no other criterion of reason than the definite —
fact. The fact does not constitute reason, but in-
dicates it. The best proof that the insurrection of
June (1848) was unlawful was that it did not succeed.
Here we have a necessary, insoluble antinomy,
and one which will endure until some great dogmatic
formula has once more englobed humanity. In the
periods of scepticism, when people are aspiring to a
new form which has not yet taken shape, no one
being quite sure as to what the true religion is, it
would be intolerable that such an one should, of his
own individual authority, come and impose his creed
upon others. People only declare all religions to be
equally good when no particular one is sufficient.
If there were any religion really alive, which corre-
sponded to the requirements of the age, we may be
sure that it would not be long in establishing its
_ claims and that the nation would not be inclined to
haggle with it. Indifference in politics is what scep-
ticism is in philosophy, a halt between two dogma-
tisms, one dead, the other in the germ. During
this interregnum, each person is free to attach him-
self to any doctrine, to be, according to his fancy,
Pythagorean or Platonian, stoic or peripatetic. All
forms are equally inoffensive, and the only function
of authority is to keep the peace between them and
to prevent them from exterminating one another.
It is not the same in the dogmatic states, in which ©
there is a living and actual reason, a doctrine outside
of which is no salvation. Strong in all the life of
the nation, it is the prime necessity and right of that
nation. It is in one sense superior to the political
law, inasmuch as it finds therein its reason and its
 <a

The Future of Science. 325

sanction. The government is then absolute and is
carried on in the name of the doctrine which is
universally accepted. All bends before it, and the
spiritual power, which represents it, is all the more
above the temporal power because the spiritual
requirements of man are above his material interests,
or, as it used to be said, the spirit is above the flesh.
And this absolute rule is not tyranny. Tyranny only
comes in when the chain is felt, when the ancient
dogma has grown old and uses the same authoritative
methods to maintain its supremacy. We are some-
times unjust towards the persecutions of the Church
in the Middle Ages. She was bound to be intolerant
at that time, for so long as a whole society accepts a
dogma and proclaims this dogma to be absolute
truth, and that without any opposition, it is chari-
table to persecute. It is neither more nor less than
defending society. The wars of the Albigenses, the
persecutions of the Waldenses, the Cathares, the
Bogomites and the poor of Lyons do not shock me
more than the crusades; they were, as a matter of
fact, stray sheep, who had quitted the great flock of
humanity ; and as to the really advanced men of the
Middle Ages, Scotus Erigena, Arnauld de Bresse,
Abélard and Frederick II., they underwent the just
punishment of being in advance of their time. The
reason why these acts of the Inquisition in the
Middle Ages excite our indignation is that we judge
them from the standpoint of our own sceptica l ;
age
it is very evident that in our day, when there is no
longer any dogma, such acts would be execrable.
“To massacre other people for an individual opinion is
horrible. But when it is done for the dogma of
humanity, the whole question is altered. ‘hat a
man should be violent and even cruel in the defence
of his disinterested faith is regrettable, but may
always be excused. Persecution only becomes odious
when it is the work of interested agents, who
sacrifice the thoughts of others to their own ease
and comfort.
326 The Future of Science.
This is why the persecutions of the Church in the
Middle Ages and in our time must be judged quite
differently. For in these modern times, persecution
has ceased to be what it was in the Middle Ages;
it is now no more than an ant{quated form of oppres-
sion, worn out, cumbersome and illegitimate; all
that it does to retain its power is odious, for it no
longer has any raison d’étre. The death of John
Huss itself excites my anger, for he represented the
future; the death of Vanini and Giordano Bruno ©
revolts me, for the modern spirit had already become
definitely emancipated, and as to the absurd religious
persecutions of Louis XIV., no one but a narrow-
minded and hard woman, Jesuits and Bossuet could’
have been capable of advising them to a worn-out
and aged king. When the Church was the legitimate
authority, she had much less cause to persecute
than since she has ceased to be so. That great and
odious persecution, the Inquisition, did not become ~
positively monstrous until the sixteenth century, that
is to say when the Church had been finally van-
quished by the Reformation. Louis XIV. had not,
so far as I can recall, a single act of severity to per-
form in order to maintain his absolute authority, and
this was almost a matter of course; for his sove-
reignty was legitimate and accepted; no prince could
have been more absolute and less tyrannical. The —
Restoration, upon the contrary, was always upon the
qui vive to maintain a power assuredly much less
extensive, and the smallest act of violence upon its
part was revolting, for it was self-imposed. The
measure of the violence which a power is obliged to
display to maintain its position, and especially the
indignation which this violence excites, is the
measure of its legitimacy. We are legitimists in
our own way. The legitimate government is that
which is based upon the reason of the age; the
illegitimate government is that which employs force
or corruption to maintain itself in opposition to
patent facts.
 4 - be sabe |ee) SS oe a oo ie ieee ee vie

The Future of Science. 327

It is through not comprehending the difference
between these two ages of humanity that so many
sophisms are current as to the relations between
Church and State. In the earliest age, that in
which there is a true religion, the embodiment of
society, the State and religion are one and the same
thing, and so far from the State salarying religion,
religion maintains itself, and it is rather the State
which, upon certain occasions, appeals to the Church.
It is even superior to the State, inasmuch as the
State derives from it the principle of its existence.
But in periods when the State, having no creed, says
publicly: “I do not understand anything about
theology, do as you please,”’ it should not give a salary
(it is then only that this ignoble word comes into ex-
istence) to any one form of worship, or, what amounts
to the same thing, it should do so to all. What
the State gives to religions is but mere alms;
they may well blush in taking it, and I can quite
understand the indignation of the Ultramontanes
when they see God inscribed in the State budget
like some public functionary. In these days, there
are nothing except mere opinions, and why should
the State pay a salary to opinions. I can understand
the State recognizing a single creed, or not recog-
nizing any. But I do not understand it recognizing
all the creeds (149). The liberal theory of indit-
ferentism is superficial. Humanity requires some
doctrine. If Catholicism is true, the most extreme
claims of the Ultramontanes are well grounded, the
Inquisition is a beneficent institution. In fact, as
from this point of view sound belief is the greatest
good to which all the rest should be sacrificed, the
sovereign does a fatherly act in separating the grain
from the chaff and in burning the latter. All must
give way to the one necessary fact: the saving of
souls. ‘The principle of compelle intrare is legitimized
by its results. If in sacrificing a ee none ee
souls you may hope to save a single one, from an
oa faint of oe the sacrifice is justified (150).
 328 The Future of Science.
I am sorry that it should be so, but there is no
getting away from the dogmatic question. Those
who want to keep this question apart are in the
impossibility of reaching a logical solution.
It shows want of shrewdness to presuppose an
absolutely legal order of things, against which no
objection can be raised and which imposes itself
absolutely. Society is never in either a perfectly
legal or totally illegal state. Every social state of
things is inevitably illegal, so. far as it is imperfect,
and tends always to become more legal, that is to say
towards being perfect. It is not less superficial to
suppose that the government is merely the expression
of the will of the greatest number, so that universal
suffrage would be a natural right, and that, this
suffrage being acquired, there would be nothing left
- but to let the will of the people express itself. That
would be too simple and easy. Only college pedants,
superficial and simple minds could be deceived by
the apparent evidence of the representative theory.
The mass is only entitled to govern if we suppose
that it knows better than any one else what is best.
The government represents reason, God, or, if that
phrase be preferred, humanity in the highest sense
(that is to say the lofty tendencies of human nature)
not a set of figures. The representative principle
was all very well to uphold in opposition to the
ancient dispositions of individuals, when the sovereign
considered himself entitled to command of his own
right, which is much more absurd still. But, as a
matter of fact, universal suffrage is only legitimate
if it can hasten the march of social improvement.
A despot who effected this improvement against the
wishes of the greatest number would be entirely in
his right. When the Napoleon we want, the great
political organizer, shall come upon the scene, he
_ will be able to do without the papal benediction or
popular sanction.
_ The ideal government would be a scientific one,
in which competent specialists would treat govern-
 The Future of Science. 329
ment questions as scientific ones and would seek for
a rational solution of them. Up to the present time,
it has been birth, intrigue or the privilege of first
come first served which have generally conferred
grades upon the governing class; and.the first in-
triguer who succeeds in sitting down in front of a
board of green cloth is dubbed a statesman. I am
not at all sure whether some day we shall not have,
in some form or other, something equivalent to the
Chinese institution of men of letters, and whether
the government will not become the natural pos-—
session of competent men, of a sort of academy of ©
moral and political sciences. Politics may be re-
garded as a kind of science and required as much
study and knowledge as any other. In the primitive |
societies, the college of priests governed in the name
of the gods; in the societies of the future, savants
will govern in the name of rational search for what
is best. In our day, such an acadeiiy would have a
hard task if it had to demonstrate to ignorant and
headstrong presumption the legitimacy of its action.
The mania of foolish people for a reason to explain
what they do not understand and to be angry when
they do not understand is one of the greatest
obstacles to progress. The wise men of the future
will despise it.
But, it will be said, how are you to impose upon
- the majority that which is best, if it refuses your
offer. That is the very point which requires the
most delicate handling. The sages of old had some
very convenient auxiliaries in the oracles, the
augurs, the Hgerie, etc. Others had armed forces
at their disposal. All these means have become 1m-
possible. The religion of the future will cut the
knot with its heavy sword. Let us learn at all events
not to be so severe upon those who have resorted to
a certain amount of ruse and what it is the fashion to
call corruption, if in reality (and that is the essential
condition) they have only had in view the welfare of
humanity. If, upon the contrary, they have only
 330 The Future of Science,
had selfish considerations in view, they are tyrants
and wretches.
It is doing a disservice to a ward to place him too
soon in-possession of his property. But it is a crime
to keep him in a state of imbecility in order to retain
perpetual control over him. Better far is a pre-
mature emancipation, for, after a brief period of
dissipation, it may contribute to render him amen-
able to reason.
Until the people has become initiated to intel-
lectual life, intrigue and falsehood are evidently put
up for public sale. It is a question of securing the
good graces of a blind old man, and, in order to do so,
you must lie and cajole. The vivid scenes of Aristo-
phanes are not in the least exaggerated. The suf-
frage of the unenlightened people can only lead to the
rule of the demagogue or of the aristocracy of birth,
never to a government based on reason. ‘The philo-
sophers, who are sovereigns by right divine, are
unsympathetic in the eyes of the people and exercise
little influence over them. Look at what was the
fate of all the sages (o% dristoz) at Athens: Miltiades,
Themistocles, Socrates and Phocion. They are not
brilliant externally, they do not flatter, they are
serious and severe, they do not laugh, they speak a
language which is not understood of the multitude ;
that of reason. How can you expect that men of
this kind, if they attempt to speak to the multitude,
will fail to get into disfavour? Only those who
appeal to the passions of the people, or who style
themselves dukes or counts, speak a language which
is intelligible. These two languages are easily
understood.
This explains the disfavour the people has always
shown against the philosophers, especially when
they have had the temerity to concern themselves
with public affairs. Left to choose between the
charlatan and the genuine physician, the people
always incline to the former. The people like to
be told only things which are clear and easy of com-
 The Future of Science. 331
prehension, and the unfortunate part of the matter
is that in nothing is truth to be found upon the
surface. The people are fond of banter. The most
superficial and State views put in a grossly humorous
vein which set the teeth of refined persons on edge,
transport the ignorant with delight. The true in-
terests of the people are rarely to be found where
they appear to be. The wise men who go to the reality
are regarded as the people’s enemies, and the char-
latans who confine themselves to commonplaces are
as a matter of course their friends. Besides, there
is, somehow or other, in the wise an indefinable
degree of pride, however hard they try to be humble
and condescending. It is not their fault; pride (and
the word is not used in a depreciatory sense) is innate
in them. The grand seigneur is proud too; but his
__ pride does not shock the people so much. ‘They
console themselves for not possessing the gold and
the ribbons of the grand seigneur ; but they cannot
forgive the thinker for being superior to them in in-
telligence, and they regard themselves as being at least
as competent as he is in politics. The people are much
more indulgent for the great than for the middle
classes which are well educated and enlightened.
_ The latter they regard as being upon the same level
as themselves, and they look upon their superiority
with great jealousy. The king and the royal family
are as demigods and attract his affection. But a
plain bourgeois, whose talents have carried him into
power, cannot fail to be a thief and an intriguer.
The great are too much above the people to excite
their envy ; jealousy can only exist among equals.
A government composed of men with no great names
is bound to be suspected and vilified. ‘‘ What has
this man, who is my equal, done that he should
have attained this position? He must be a dis-
honest man, for otherwise he would be my superior,
which, of course, is impossible. He has had the
handling of the State funds, he must have let some
of it stick to his fingers; for I know that if I had
332 The Future of Science.
been in his place, I should have been much tempted
to do so.” Such is the language of coarse and
vulgar envy. These suspicions never are directed
upon those who are looked upon as being of another
species and with whom it is hopeless to compare
oneself. When in the company of some peasants,
I noticed that they were very dissatisfied at the idea
of their representatives in Parliament receiving a
small salary even during the vacation when they
were doing nothing for it; yet these same people
had nothing to say against the millions of the
civil list.
Assuredly, if everybody was like us, not only would
government be much easier, but there would scarcely
be any need of one. Governmental restrictions are
in inverse proportion to the perfection of individuals.
Now, all other people would be like us if they all had
our culture, if all possessed like us the complete idea
of humanity. Why is it that all liberty is accom-
panied by a corresponding danger and stands in need
of a corrective? The reason is that liberty is the
same for the wise as for the foolish. But when all
men are wise, or when public reason is strong enough
to keep the foolish in order, no restriction will be
necessary.
Fichte has gone so far as to conceive a social state
of things so perfect that the very thought of evil is
banished from the mind of man. I believe with him
that moral evil will have marked but one age of
humanity, the age in which man was neglected by
society and did not receive from it the moral in-
heritance to which he was entitled. ‘‘There are
men,” says M. Guizot, ‘“‘who have full confidence in
human nature. According to them, when left to
itself, it tends in the direction of what is good. All |
the ills of society come from government, which cor-
rupts mankind by violence or fraud.” I am one of
those who feel this confidence. But I believe that
the evil is derived not from governments committing
deeds of violence or fraud, but because they do not
|ileal

The Future of Science. 333

elevate. I, as a man of culture, do not find any evil
in myself, and I am impelled spontaneously towards
what seems to me the most noble. If all others had
as much culture as myself, they would all, like my-
self, be incapable of doing an evil act. Then it might
__ be said with truth: you are gods and sons of the
Most High. Morality has hitherto been conceived _
in a very narrow spirit, as obedience to a law, as an
internal struggle between contradictory laws (151).
For my own part, I can declare that when I do right,
I do not obey any one, that I do not engage in any
struggle or win any victory, that I accomplish an act
as independent and as spontaneous as that of the
artist who derives from his inner sense the beauty
of which he gives an external realization, that I have
merely to follow with delight and in perfect acqui-
escence the moral inspiration which comes out from
the recesses of my heart. The man of elevation has
only to follow the pleasant beat of his inward im-
pulse; he might adopt the motto of St. Augustine
and of the Abbey of Thelema: ‘“Fais ce que tu
voudras,” for he can only wish what is good. The
virtuous man is as an artist who realizes the beautiful
in human life as the sculptor does in marble, or the
musician in sound. Is there anything like obedience
or struggle in the act of the sculptor or the musician ?
This is pride you will say. But that depends. If by
humility is meant the small value which man attaches
to his nature, the slight esteem in which he holds
his estate, I utterly decline to give to such a senti-
ment the title of virtue, and I reproach Christianity
with having sometimes taken this view. The basis
of our moral law is excellence, the perfect autonomy
of human nature; the foundation of all our philo-
sophical and literary system is the absolution of all
that is human. i
The ennobling and the emancipation of all men
by the civilizing action of society, such is, then, the
most pressing duty of government in the present state
of things. HKverything which is done outside of that
 334 The Future of Science.
is useless or premature. People are always talking
about liberty, the right of public meeting, the right
of association. Nothing could be better if the in-
telligence of those who are to profit by them were
in a normal state; but until such is the case, nothing
could be more frivolous. It will be all very well for
people who are imbecile or ignorant to meet in con-
clave; no good can come out of their assemblage.
Sectaries and party men imagine that it is only com-
pression which prevents their ideas from prevailing,
and they fret against this compression. ‘They are
mistaken. It is not the ill-will of governments which
gags their ideas; it is that their ideas are not yet
ripe; just. as it is that peoples are kept in subjection
not by the force of an absolute government but by
the depression of the subjects of that government.
Do you suppose that, if they were ripe for liberty,
they would not secure it for themselves at once?
’ Our French liberalism, thinking that it can explain
away everything by means of despotism, thinking
exclusively of liberty, regarding government and its
subjects as natural enemies, is in reality very super-
ficial. Let us get to understand that it is not a
question of liberty, but of acting, of creating, of
working. The true always finds enough liberty to
make itself visible, and liberty can only be hurtful
when it is sought for by those who have not got
good sense. It serves only to favour anarchy, and is
of no service for the real progress of humanity. If
a commissioner of police comes into a room where a
few weak and empty headed individuals are mutually
exciting their instinctive passions, we declare that
we are shocked at such a violation of liberty. Do
you imagine that it is these poor wretches who are
going to solve the problem? We use force to pre-
serve for everybody the right of twaddling at his
pleasure ;would it not be much better to speak the
language of reason and teach all men to speak and
understand their language. Close the clubs and open
schools in their stead, and you will be doing true
service to the popular cause.
 The Future of Science. 335
The liberty of saying what one pleases presupposes
that those to whom one addresses oneself have the
intelligence and discernment required for passing an
opinion upon what is said to them; for accepting it
if it is good advice, for rejecting it if it is bad. If
there were a class legally to be defined incapable of
showing this discernment, it would be necessary to
exercise supervision over what was said to them; for
liberty is only tolerable when accompanied by the
corrective of public good sense which takes due
account of errors. This is why liberty of teaching
is an absurdity, asregards children. For as the child,
accepting what is taught him, without being able
to pass criticism upon it, regards his master not
as a man who gives his opinion to his fellow-men
that they may examine it, but as an authority, it is
evident that supervision should be exercised over
what is taught him, and that some other liberty
should be substituted for his in order to effect this
discernment. As it is impossible to trace categories
between adults, liberty becomes, so far as they are
concerned, the only course possible. But it is cer-
tain that until a people is educated, all liberties are
dangerous and require restrictions. As a matter of
fact, in questions relating to the liberty of expressing
one’s thoughts, we have not only to consider the
right appertaining to the speaker—a right which is
a natural one and only limited by that of others—
but also the position of the listener, who, not always
possessing the necessary discernment, is placed, as
it were, under the tutelage of the State. It is from
the point of view of the hearer and not from that
of the speaker that restrictions are permissible and
legitimate. The liberty of saying what one pleases
can only be admissible when all men will have the
necessary discernment, and when the best punish-
ment for the foolish will be the contempt of the
public.
I am sorry not to be able to make sufficiently clear
my conviction as to the vanity and hollowness of
 ‘ ——.
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336 | The Future of Sevence.

our political and liberal agitation, which would be
all very well in a State where men’s minds were
generally cultivated, and where many scientific ideas
came into existence (for science cannot exist without
liberty); but in a society composed for the most —
part of ignorant people open to every kind of seduc-
tion, and in which intellectual power is evidently on
the decline, to do no more than defend these empty
formule is to neglect the essential for almost insigni-
ficant legal forms, inasmuch as authority can always
exclude them or interpret them in its own way.
M. Jouffroy has expressed this most clearly in his
admirable discourse upon the scepticism of the time,
which I might copy word for word as expressing my
‘own views on this subject: ‘‘ Hach one of our liberties
has appeared to us in turn as the object we have been
longing for, and its absence as the cause of all our
woes. And yet we have gained these liberties, and
we are no better off, and the day following each
revolution finds us in a hurry to draw up the pro-
gramme of the next one. The fact is that we mis-
conceive the true state of things; the truth is that
each of these liberties we have so eagerly desired,
that liberty itself is not and cannot be the aim for
which a society like ours aspires. . . . Take them
one after another, the liberties which we enjoy, and
you will see that they are no more than guarantees
and means; guarantees against whatever might stand
in the way of the moral revolution, which alone can
cure us, means of hastening on this revolution, etc.”
It is not saying much to declare that the public
liberties are better guaranteed now than they were
at the dawn of Christianity ; and yet I maintain that
a great idea would find in our day more obstacles in
the way of its propagation than Christianity did at |
its birth. If Jesus were to appear now, He would
be brought up before the magistrates ; which is worse
than being crucified. Imagine the life of Jesus being
crowned by a commonplace death ; what a difference!
People are too ready to believe that liberty is favour-
 ——,.—~

The Future of Science. 337

able to the development of really original ideas: As
it has been remarked that, in the past, every new
system has been born and has grown outside the law,
until it has in time become law in its turn, it was
not unnatural to expect that in recognizing and
legalizing the right of new ideas to develop, the state
of things would improve. But it is the very con-
trary which has happened. There has never been
so little originality in thought as since thought has
been free. A true and original idea does not require
permission to come into existence, and it matters
little whether its right is recognized or not; it always
finds enough liberty, for it makes for itself all the
liberty which it requires. Christianity did not re-
quire liberty of the press or the right of public meet-
ing in order to conquer the world. A liberty which
is officially recognized requires to be regulated. Now
a regulated, or restricted liberty constitutes a tighter
chain than the absence of the law. In Judea, under
Pontius Pilate, the right of meeting was not recog-
nized, and, as a matter of fact, people were all the
more free to meet; for by the very fact of the right
not being recognized, it was not in any sense re-
stricted. Originality, I repeat, is better served by
arbitrary methods and the drawbacks it entails than
by the tangled web in which we are enfolded by
thousands of laws and rules, which are an arsenal
for weapons of every kind. Our formalistic liberalism
is only really of service to agitators and to the petty
originality which is so injurious to great originality
and which is of so little use to the true progress
of the human mind. We wear out our strength in
defending our liberties, forgetting that these liberties
are only a means, that they are only of value in so
far as they may facilitate the advent of new ideas.
We are above all things anxious to be free to pro-
duce, and as a matter of fact we produce nothing.
We shudder at the idea of the outward bond, and
we understand nothing of the great boldness of
thought. The very shadow of the Inquisition terrifies
Z
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338 The Future of Science.

even the Catholics, and inwardly we are timid and
devoid of ‘‘go;” we are only too ready to resign ~
ourselves to public opinion and to habit ; we sacrifice
our originality to it, and whatever travels at all
outside the commonplace routine is declared to be
absurd. Germany, no doubt, at the end of the last
century and the beginning of this had less outward
liberty than we have, and yet I defy any one to deny
that all the free thinkers in our Republic had nota
quarter of the boldness and liberty which are breathed
in the writings of Lessing, of Herder, of Goethe and
of Kant. In reality, thought was more free half a
century’ ago at the Court of Weimar, under an
absolute Government, than in our country which
has fought so many battles for liberty. Goethe, the
friend of a Grand Duke, might have been prosecuted
if he had written in France; the translator of |
Feurbach could not find a publisher who ventured ~
to bring out his book. This is our peculiarity; we
are an external and. superficial nation, more con- |
cerned for the form than for the reality. The great —
and broad ideas about God have been and still are in
Germany the doctrine of all philosophically culti-
vated minds; in France, no one has yet had the
courage to profess them, and if he did he would
encounter greater obstacles than he would have done
at ‘T'ubingen or Jena under absolute governments.
If it be asked whence the obstacle would come, the
answer is from the intellectual timidity which closes
our minds against any idea and traces around us the
narrow horizon of the finite. France, I repeat, has
only understood external liberty, but not in any
respect liberty of thought. Spain, in reality as free
and as philosophical as any other nation, has not felt
the need of an external emancipation, and can you
imagine that if she had seriously desired it, she would
not have secured it? Liberty there is entirely
internal; Spaniards have preferred to think freely
in the dungeons and at the stake. Mystics like
St. Theresa of Avila, indefatigable theologians like
 a——-——(—(—i‘ wr
oe Ai <3
i= .
:

The Future of Science. 339

Soto, Bafiez and Suarez were in reality as bold specu-
lators as Descartes or Diderot.
Let us, therefore, set ourselves to think more
freely and scientifically, rather than to be more free
to express our thoughts. The man who is right is |
always sufficiently free. Is it not very probable that
those who protest against the violation of liberty are
not so much the people who, possessed of the truth,
suffer pain because they cannot divulge it, as those
who, having no ideas of their own, work to their own
advantage that liberty which ought only to serve for
the rational progress of human intelligence? The
innovators who have been right in the eyes of the
future may, perhaps, have been persecuted; but
persecution has never retarded for much more than a
year the triumph of their ideas, and has in other
ways been of more service to them than if they had
secured immediate acceptance.
No doubt, it is our duty carefully to preserve the
liberties which we have acquired with so many efforts,
but, what is of greater importance still, is to convince
ourselves that this is merely a primary condition
which is advantageous if one has ideas and fatal if
one has not. For what boots it to be free to meet
if one has nothing of value to communicate to one
another? What boots it to be free to write and
speak, if one has nothing new or true to say? Hach -
side has its part to play; persecutors and persecuted
alike have their shoulders to the everlasting wheel ;
and after all the persecuted owe a debt of gratitude
to the persecutors, as but for them they would not
have the same title to admiration.
Persecution has the great advantage of getting rid
of the petty originality which endeavours to gain
kudos by a paltry kind of opposition. When men
risk their lives for their ideas, it is only those who
are possessed of God, those who are carried away
by a powerful conviction and by the invincible need
to utter their thoughts who put themselves in the
forefront. Our guaranteed semi-liberties give too
 “
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340 The Future of Science.

fine a field for intrigue ; for one does not incur much
risk, and the annoyances to which one exposes one-
self are, at most, but a good investment for the
future. This makes things too easy, whereas in
former times, out of ten innovators nine were put to
a violent death, so that the tenth was really original.
The pruning hook which lops off the weak branches
does but give more strength to the others. In these
days, there is no pruning hook, but there is no more
sap. In short, all this is a matter of little impor-
tance, and humanity will go on its way without the
liberals and despite the retrogrades. The mind 1s
never bolder and more self-reliant than when it just
feels the hand checking it. Leave it quite unfettered,
and it will be lacking in ballast, so contented with its
_-> liberty that it will think only of preserving it with-
out any idea of profiting by it. The history of the
human mind shows us how all ideas are born outside
the law and grow in secret. If we go back to the
origin of all reforms, they will appear in the regular
course of things to be incapable of being put into
force. Let us take our stand, for instance, in 1520,
and ask ourselves how the new idea will succeed in
piercing this sea of ice. It is impossible; the chain
is too strong, what with the Pope, the Emperor,
kings, religious orders and universities ; and against
all these only a poor monk. It is quite impossible.
Or let us take the origin of modern rationalism.
The age is in the meshes of the Jesuits, the oratory,
priests, and kings. The Jesuits have made of educa-
tion a machine to shrink the heads and to depress
the minds, according to Michelet’s expression. And
against all this what have we except a few poor and
obscure savants, with no backing in the masses,
such as Galileo and Descartes. What can they
expect to do, and how are they to lift such a weight
4 authority ? Yet a century and a half later it was
one.
Thus all reforms would have been prevented if the
law had been rigorously observed, but the law never
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cae ie
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The Future of Science. 341

provides for every contingency, and the mind is so
subtle that a very small outlet suffices for it. So
that it matters little whether the law grants or
refuses liberty to new ideas, for they make their way
all the same; they come into existence without the
law and despite the law, and they are all the better for
this than if they had grown in full legality. When
a river which has overflown its banks pours onward,
you may erect dykes to arrest its progress, but the
flood continues to rise; you may work with eager
energy and employ skilful labourers to make good all
the fissures, but the flood will continue to rise until
the torrent has surmounted the obstacle, or until,
by making a circuit of the dyke, it comes back by
some other way to inundate the land which you have
attempted to protect from it.
342 The Future of Science.

CHAPTER XVIII.

Tur end of humanity, and therefore the aim which

political conduct should keep before it, is to realize
the highest human culture possible, that is to say
the most perfect religion, by science, philosophy, art
and morality : in a word by all the means of attaining
the ideal which are in the nature of man.
This high culture of humanity could only be solid
in so far as it was realized by the individual. Con-
sequently, the end would not be attained if a
civilization, however elevated, was only accessible to
a small number, and especially if it constituteda
personal enjoyment and one without any tradition.
The end will only be attained when all men shall
have access to this true religion, and when all
humanity shall possess culture.
Every man has a right to the true religion, to
what makes man perfect ; that is to say every man
ought to find in the society into which he is born
the means of attaining the perfection of his nature,
according to the formula of the day; in other words,
every man ought to find in society, as regards the
intelligence, what the mother furnishes him as
regards the body, the milk, the primordial element,
the primary foundation which he cannot procure for
himself. This perfection needs a certain degree of
material well-being. So that in a normal state of
society, man would also be entitled to the primary
funds necessary for procuring this livelihood.
In a word, society owes to man the possibility of
 The Future of Science. 343
life, of the life which man, in his turn, is bound, if
necessary, to sacrifice to society.
If socialism were the logical consequence of the
modern intelligence, one would have to be a socialist ;
for the distinguishing feature of modern intelligence
is the unquestionable. Many persons, indeed, with
opposite intentions, maintain that socialism is the
direct filiation of modern philosophy. Whence the
one side concludes that socialism must be admitted
as a necessity, while the other side maintains that
modern philosophy should be rejected.
Nothing causes more misunderstandings in the
moral sciences than the absolute use of names for
designating systems. Wise men never accept any
of these names, for a name is a limit. They criticize
doctrines, but never take them just as they are.
What man of any mark in our day would take for
himself the names of pantheist, materialist, sceptic,
etc.? Give me ten lines of any author, and I will
prove to you that he is pantheist, and with ten more
I will prove that he is not. These words do not
designate a unique and constant shade of ideas;
they vary according to the aspects.
It is the same with socialism. For my own part
I would willingly adopt as my formula of opinion in
this respect what M. Guizot says: ‘‘ Socialism derives
its ambition and its strength from sources which no
one can dry up. But dominated by the forces of
unity and order in society, it will always be combated
and vanquished in so far as it is absurd and perverse,
while gradually taking its place and its share in the
immense and imposing development of humanity
which is going on in our days.”
What constitutes the force of socialism is that it
corresponds to a perfectly legitimate tendency of
the human mind, and in this sense it is the genuine,
natural development of it. One must be blind not
to see that the work begun four centuries ago in the
literary, scientific and political order is the successive
exaltation of the whole human race, the realization
 a
344 The Future of Science.
of that inmost craving of our nature for “more
light.”
ay the present juncture, the problem is set forth
in particularly difficult terms. For, upon the one
hand, it is necessary to preserve the conquests already
secured for civilization, while upon the other all
must have their share in the blessings of this civili-
zation. This will appear contradictory, for it must
seem at first sight as if the abjection of a certain
number and even of the majority was a necessary
condition of society as it has been moulded by
modern epochs, and especially by the eighteenth
century.
I do not hesitate to assert that never, since the
origin of things, has the human intelligence set itself
so terrible a problem. That of slavery in antiquity
was much less so, and yet it took centuries to con-
ceive the possibility of a society without slavery.
In proportion as humanity advances, the problem
of its destiny becomes more complicated; for it has
to combine more data, to weigh more motives, to con-
ciliate more contradictions. So humanity marches
on, with one hand clutching within the folds of its
robe the conquests of the past, and in the other
holding the sword which is to effect fresh conquests.
Formerly, the question was very simple; the most
advanced views, merely because they were the most
advanced, might be regarded as the best. It is no
longer so. No doubt it is always well to take the
shortest route, and I do not at all approve those who
maintain that we should walk, but not run. We
should always do the best we can, and do it as
quickly as possible. But the essential thing is to
discover what is the best, and that is not an easy
matter. It is barely fifty years ago that humanity
saw clearly the object which it had hitherto been
unconsciously pursuing. This is an immense pro-
gress, but it is also an undeniable danger. The
traveller who looks only at the horizon of the plain
risks not seeing the precipice or the quagmire at his
 The Future of Science. 345
feet. In the same way, humanity, when looking
only to the distant object, is tempted to make a jump
for it, without regard to the intermediate objects
against which it may not improbably dash itself to
pieces. The most remarkable characteristic of the
Utopists is not to be historical, not to take into
account of what we have been brought to by accom-
plished facts. Supposing that the society of which
they dream were possible, supposing even that it
were absolutely the best, it would still not be the
true society, that which has been created by all the
antecedents of humanity. The problem is, there-
fore, more complicated than it may appear; the
solution can only be obtained by balancing two
orders of consideration; upon the one side, the
object to be attained, upon the other the present
state of things, the ground we are treading. When
humanity went instinctively forward, one might put
confidence in the divine genius which directed its
course, but one shudders at the thought of the dread
alternatives it holds in its hands since it has reached
an age of consciousness, and of the incalculable con-
sequences which a blunder or an act of caprice might
have.
With these great problems confronting them,
the philosophers reflect and wait; among those who
are not philosophers, some deny the problem and
maintain that the present state of things must at
any cost be preserved, while others hope to meet
what is wanted by solutions too simple and too self-
evident. It is needless to say that each side has
good arguments to adduce, for the reformers throw
in the teeth of the conservatives undeniable wrongs
and evils which call loudly for a remedy, while the
conservatives have no difficulty in demonstrating
that with the system proposed by the reformers there
would be no society possible. And better by far is
a defective society than one which does not exist.
I have often reflected that a pagan of the time of
Augustus might have urged in favour of the main-
346 | The Future of Science.
tenance of ancient society all that is said in our
days to prove that nothing ought to be changed in
the present state of society. What is the aim of
this sombre and melancholy creed? What strange
people these Christians are, people who avoid the
light, unsociable, the very residuum of the people
(152). I should be very much surprised if some
of the self-satisfied people of those days did not say
as in our own: We must not refute Christianity,
but suppress it. Society in the presence of Chris-
tianity is as it were in the presence of an implacable
enemy. Society must crush it, or it will itself be
crushed.. In these conditions, all discussion is
reduced to a struggle, and all reasoning to a weapon.
What do we do. in presence of an irreconcilable
enemy? Do we enter into controversy with him?
No, we go to war with him. In the same way,
society must defend itself against Christianity, not
by reasonings but by force. It must not discuss or _
refute its doctrines, but suppress them. I can fancy
Seneca coming by chance across those words of St.
Paul: ‘“‘Non est Judeus neque Grecus; non est
servus neque liber ; non est masculus neque femina;
omnes enim vos unum estis in Christo.’’ ‘‘ Surely,”
he would have said,.‘‘ Here we havea Utopian. How
can a society exist without slaves? Would you
have me cultivate my land with my own hands?
This is subversive of public order and then what is
this Christus who is playing so singular a part?
These people are dangerous. I will speak to Nero
about them.” No doubt if the slaves, taking literally
and as being immediately applicable the words of
St. Paul, had established their dominion upon the
smoking ruins of Rome and of Italy and-had deprived —
the world of the benefits it was to derive from the
dominion of Rome, Seneca would have been to a
certain extent right. But if a Christian slave had
said to the philosopher: “Oh! Annus, I know
the man who wrote these words, he preaches only
submission and patience. What he has written will
 The Future of Science. 347
be accomplished, without rebellion and by the masters
themselves. A day will come when society will be
possible without slaves, although you, as a philoso-
pher, cannot imagine this,” Seneca would not, in
all probability, have believed him; but perhaps he
would not have had the simple-minded dreamer
flogged.
Socialism is, therefore, right to the extent of dis-
cerning the problem, but solves it badly; or rather
socialism is not yet possible of solution. Individual _.
liberty, in fine, is the primary cause of the evil.
Now, the emancipation of the individual is secured,
finally secured, and must for ever be preserved.
‘“‘ Society,” said Enfantin, ‘“‘does not consist solely
of idlers and workers; politics should have for aim
the moral, physical and intellectual improvement of
the lot of the workers and the progressive effacement
of the idlers.’’ Here we have a clearly defined pro-
blem. Now let us listen to the solution. ‘The
means are, as regards the idlers, the destruction of
all the privileges of birth, and, as regards the workers,
a classification according to capacities and a scale
of rewards according to the work done.” This is a
remedy worse than the disease. It is a necessity of
the human mind that when a problem is thus stated
for the first time, certain ingenuous and generous
minds, not possessed of enough rational critique nor
a sufficient experience of history, nor of any idea of
the extreme complexity of human nature, should
dream of the formation of a society too simple to be
possible, and should imagine that they had found
the solution in some obvious or superficial idea,
which, if it could be realized, would go directly
counter to their object. No social problem can be
attacked from the front ; whenever a solution appears
to be clear and easy, we must be on our guard. The
truth, in this order of things is deep and hidden.
But the duller minds, which do not seize these deli-
cate shades of difference, blunder straight on through
morasses and quagmires. ‘This is an inevitable and
 348 The Future of Science.
irremediable error. Persuaded that they hold the
key of the enigma, these worthy souls are impor-
tunate and very eager to be doing; they are anxious
to be given a free course, and they are convinced
that only selfishness and ill-will stand in the way
of their system being adopted. Those who laugh
at these simple enthusiasts or who insult them are
still less excusable; for they are not any better in-
formed, and they are perhaps still more backward,
for they have not grasped the problem. My con-
_viction is that the day will come when it will be said
of socialism as of all reforms: It has attained its
_ object, not according to the aim of the sectaries, but
_ for the good of humanity. Reforms never triumph
directly ; they triumph by compelling their adver-
saries, in order to overcome them, to partially adopt
them. It is like a storm which draws back into its
vortex those who attempt to face it (153), a stream
which carries with it those who seek to withstand it,
a knot which tightens when you attempt to untie it,
a fire which kindles when you blow to put it out.
Humanity, like God of the Old Testament, accom-
plishes the will by the efforts of its enemies. Ex-
amine the history of all great reforms, and it will
seem at first sight as if they were defeated. But in
reality the reaction which has resisted them has only
triumphed over them by conceding what was just
and legitimate in their demands. It might be said
of the reforms as of the crusades: Not one suc-
ceeded; all succeeded. Their defeat is their victory,
or rather no one gains an absolute triumph in these
great struggles unless it be humanity, which profits
by the energetic initiative of the innovators, and by
the reaction which undesignedly corrects and im-
proves that which it sought to suppress.
We should, in my opinion, feel grateful to those
who attempt to solve a problem, even when they are
fated not to succeed. For, before reaching the true
solution, many erroneous ones must be tried, and the
panacea and the philosopher’s stone must be allowed
 The Future of Science. 349
to have their chance. I cannot profess much re-
spect for that negative wisdom, so much in favour
with us, which consists of making light of those who
seek the truth and of remaining motionless and in-
active so as not to risk being regarded as subversive.
It is a poor merit not to fall when one does not move.
The first people to enter upon a new order of ideas
are bound to be charlatans more or less in earnest.
It is easy for us nowadays to sneer at Paracelsus,
Agrippa, Cardan, and Van Helmont, and yet without
them we should not be what we are. Humanity only
reaches the truth through a series of successive errors.
It is the aged Balaam who falls and whose eyes are
opened (154). As one sees the tide bringing the ever
collapsing waves upon the shore, the feeling aroused
is one of powerlessness. The wave arrived so
proudly, and yet it is dashed to pieces against the
sand, and it expires in a feeble career of the shore
which it seemed as though about to devour. But
upon reflection, one finds that this process is not so
idle as it seems, for each wave, as it dies away, has
its effect, and all the waves combined make the
rising tide against which heaven and hell would be
powerless.
Foreign nations often laugh at the waste of time
and strength which a revolution entails in France,
and at the disappointments which cause her to revert
to the point from which she started, after having
paid very dearly for her excursion. It is very easy
for them, seeing that they do not attempt to do
anything, leaving us to make experiments at our
own cost, to laugh when we make a false step upon
this unexplored ground. But let them try what they
can do, and we shall see. England, for instance,is
obstinately attached to the most flagrant contradic-
tions. Her religious system is the most absurd of
any, and she is not to be moved from it. She refuses
to open her eyes. Her quietism and her prosperity
are a shame to her, and testify to her nullity. _
Such, then, is the situation of the human mind.
 ie

350 The Future of Science.

SS
SS a

A vast problem lies before it, the solution of which

is urgent; but the solution is impossible and perhaps
will not be ripe for a century. Then come the
empirics with their deplorable natveté; each one of
them has discovered at a glance what has so per-
plexed and baffled the wise and the experienced;
each of them undertakes to effect a general pacifica-
tion, the only condition he asks for the salvation of
society being that he should be left afree hand. The
wise men who know how difficult the problem is shrug
their shoulders. But the people have not the senti-
ment of the difficulty of a problem, and the reason
is very simple; they imagine it to be too simple and
do not take account of all its elements.
To seek a perfect equilibrium and repose at such
an epoch as this is to seek the impossible ; for we are
by necessity in the midst of what is provisional and
unstable. The calm is but an armistice and a breath-
ing space. Humanity, when it is fatigued, is willing
to pause, but to pause is not to rest. It is impos-
sible for society to find calm in a state when it is
suffering from an open wound such as that of to-day.
The mere consciousness of the malady prevents re-
pose, and one can but doze between one attack and
another. At such a period, no one can be right
unless it is the critic who does not offer a decided
opinion. For the age is oppressed by a problem at
once inevitable and insoluble. At these epochs,
doubt and indecision are the truth; the man who is
not in doubt is either a simpleton or a charlatan.
The life of humanity, like the life of the individual, .
rests upon necessary contradictions. Life is but a
transition, an intolerable burden long endured. There
is not a moment in which one can say that one rests
upon any solid foundation; one is always hoping to
reach that solid basis, but only hoping.
We must not, therefore, be surprised at these in-
soluble contradictions. Only narrow minds can
construct for themselves at any given moment a well-
defined and rounded-off system, and imagine that
 The Future of Science. 351
ee
eC eee
this infinite void (155) can be filled up with an &
priort constitution. The party man feels it necessary
to think that he is entirely in the right, that he is
fighting for a sacred cause, that those opposed
to him are criminal and perverse. The party man
seeks to force his antipathies upon the future, not
reflecting that the future is devoid of passion against
any one, that Spartacus and John of Leyden are
merely objects of interest to us. Strange to say, we
are only impartial and critical for the fanaticisms of
the past, and we are fanatical ourselves. We barri-
cade ourselves in our party in order not to see the
reasons of the other side. The wise man does not
feel anger against any one, for he knows that human
nature only has its passions moved for the incom-
plete truth. He knows that all parties are at once
wrong and right. ‘The conservatives are wrong, for
the state of things which they uphold as good and
which they do right to uphold, is bad and intolerable.
The revolutionists are wrong ; for, if they discern the
evil, they do not possess, any more than the con-
servatives, the idea of organization. But it is absurd
to destroy when you have nothing to put in place of
what you destroy. Revolution will be sacred and
legitimate when the regenerating idea, that is to say
the new religion, having been discovered, all that
will be needed will be to upset the worn-out state ‘
of things to give it its legitimate place; or rather
there will no longer be any need to effect a revolu-
tion ; it will come of itself: Any constitution would
be at once abrogated by it; for it would be absolute
sovereign. So it was in 1789. The revolution was
ripe at that period; it had already been effected in
the public mind; for every one saw what a flagrant
contradiction there was between the new ideas created
by the eighteenth century, and existing institutions.
Tt was the same in 1830. ‘The liberal revolution
had preceded it, the liberal principles were accepted
in advance. Was it so in 1848? The future will
show, but it is a remarkable fact that the victorious
352 ‘The Future of Science.
side was the one most embarrassed on the morrow ~
of the victory. The revolution of ’48 was not at all
a political revolution; compare the politicians and
the politics of to-day with those of the epoch pre-
ceding the 24th of February, and you will find them
to be absolutely identical. Its signification was that
of social revolution, and as such it was certainly pre-
mature, inasmuch as it proved abortive. Revolutions
must be made for well-ascertained principles, and not
for tendencies which have not yet been formulated
in a practical manner.
Herein, then, lies the secret of our situation. The
present state of things being defective and felt to be
so, whoever comes forward with a proposed remedy
is welcome. Upon the morrow of one revolution,
the germ of another begins to form. This accounts
for the favourable consideration which may be
reckoned upon by any party which has not yet been
put to the test. But no sooner has it triumphed
than it is in as great a difficulty as the rest, for it
does not know any more thantheydo. Hence arises
the inevitable unpopularity of all authority, and the’
fatal position in which every Government finds itself.
For it is expected to provide in a moment what it
cannot give and what no one possesses, the solution
of the problem of the hour. Every government thus
becomes, by the force of things, a target for every
weapon, and is condemned to be unable to fulfil its —
task. It isan unfair piece of tactics to remind the
governing body of what they have said and promised
during the time they were in opposition and to make
them appear inconsistent ; for this inconsistency is
necessary, and those who declare so stoutly that they
would do differently if they were in power either lie
or deceive themselves. If they were in power, they
would be subject to the same necessities and would
act in the same way. For the last sixty years there
has not been a single Head of the State who has
not died on the scaffold or in exile, and.it was neces-
sary that such should be the case. Any future one
 The Future of Science. 353
will have the same fate, unless a periodic law, more
favourable to him in reality than he may think,
comes in time to deliver him from office. How is
it possible to avoid succumbing beneath an impos-
sible task ? In reality, this does honour to France;
it proves that she has a high idea of perfection. It
is to our credit that we are hard to please and dis-
satisfied. Mediocrity is easily satisfied ; lofty minds
are always full of disquiet and agitated, for they are
constantly aspiring after something better. Only
the infinite could thoroughly satisfy them.
Thus humanity is in the position of a sick person,
who suffers in whatever position he may be, and
yet who allows himself to be constantly lured by the
hope that he will be better if he turnsround. Revo-
lutions are the upheavals of the everlasting Enceladus
turning over when Aitna weighs too heavily upon
him. It is superficial to envisage history as being
composed of periods of stability and periods of tran-
sition. It is transition which is the customary state. °
No doubt humanity remains fixed for a more or less
lengthened period upon the same ideas; but it is
like the bird of paradise in the legend, which broods
as it flies. Allis the end, everything is the means.
In human life, mature years are not the aim of youth,
old age is not the aim of maturity. The aim is life
taken in its unity.
There is an optical illusion to which we who were
born between 1815 and 1830 are subject. We have
not been the witnesses of great events, so we go
back to the Revolution for our estimate of every-
thing ; that is our horizon, the hill of our childhood,
our world’s end. Nowitso happens that this horizon
is a mountain; we measure everything by that.
This is deceptive, and cannot form any induction
for the future, as since the invasion which constitutes
the limit of ancient and of modern history, there has
been no fact like that, and perhaps will not be again
for centuries. But whenever there is any question
of revolution, even if the reference be to mere child’s
2A
 iat ee a
354 The Future of Science.
play, we at once carry our minds back to this gigantic —
cataract, and never to the much slower changes
recorded by earlier history, say that of the sixteenth
and seventeenth centuries.
T will take care not to follow political economy
in its deductions, for the economists would no doubt
attribute to my incompetence the suspicion which
these deductions arouse in me; but I am competent
in matters of morality and of the philosophy of
humanity. I do not concern myself with the means;
I speak of what should be and consequently of what
will be. Well, I am convinced that humanity will
succeed: within a century in realizing that towards
which it is now tending, with the exception, of
course, that it will then be guided by new require-
ments. Then one will be in a position to criticize
both sides: those who resisted, and those who
fancied that society could be reconstructed like a
house of cards. Each man will have his part to
play; we, the critics, like the rest. What may be
taken for granted is that nobody will be altogether
right or absolutely wrong. Barbes himself, the
unreasonable revolutionist, will then become an
exponent of legitimacy, and the mutual explanations
which must then ensue will be interesting.» The
common error of the socialists and of their opponents —
is to suppose that the question of humanity is a
question of ease and enjoyment. If that were so,
Fourier and Cabet would be perfectly right. It is
horrible that one man should be sacrificed to the>
enjoyment of another. Inequality is only con-
ceivable and just from the standpoint of moral
society. If it were merely a question of self-indul-
gence, it would be better that all should have Spartan
fare than that some should have luxuries and others ~
go hungry. Would it, in fact, be worth while to
sacrifice one’s life and happiness for the good of
society if the sole result was to procure a little
insipid enjoyment for a few insignificant idlers who
have put themselves beyond the pale of humanity,
— ar a

The Future of Science. 355

in order to live more at their ease? Let me repeat
that if the object of life was but self-indulgence, it
would not be unreasonable that each one should
claim his share, and from this point of view any
enjoyment which one might procure at the expense
of others would be in reality an injustice and a
robbery. The communistic follies are, therefore,
the consequence of the hideous hedonism of the last
few years. When the socialists say: The aim of
society is the happiness of all; when their adver-
saries say: The aim of society is the happiness of a
few, both are alike wrong, but the former less so
than the latter. What should be said is: The aim
of society is the greatest possible perfecting of all,
and material ease is only of value in so far as it is
to a certain extent the indispensable condition of
intellectual perfection. The State is neither an
institution of police, as Smith would have it, nor a
charity bureau and a hospital, as the socialists would
have it. It is a machine for making progress.
Hivery sacrifice of the individual which is not an
injustice, that is to say the spoliation of a natural
right, is permissible in order to reach this end; for
in this case the sacrifice is not effected for the enjoy-
ment of another individual, it is made upon behalf
of society as a whole. It is the idea of the ancient
sacrifice, the man for the nation: eapedit unum
hominem mori pro popula.
Inequality is~ legitimate whenever inequality is
necessary for the good of humanity. A society is
entitled to what is necessary for its existence, how-
ever great may be the apparent injustice resulting
for the individual. Bex:
The principle that there are no such things as indi-
viduals is true as a physical fact, but not as a teleo-
logical proposition. In the plane of things, the
individual disappears; the large shape mapped out
by individuals generally is alone of any account,
Socialists are not really consistent when they preach
equality, for equality is derived mainly from the
 of Science.
356 et ye
ee eeFuture
The ee
consideration of the individual, and inequality is
only conceivable from the point of view of society.
The possibility and the requirements of society, the
interests of civilization, take precedence of all the
rest. Thus, individual liberty, emulation and com-
petition being conditional to all civilization, the
present iniquity is better than the final servitude of
socialism. Thus, learned and lettered culture being
absolutely indispensable in the scheme of humanity,
even when it can only fall to the share of a small
minority, this flagrant privilege would be excused
by necessity. For there is not, as a matter of fact,
any tradition for happiness, but there is a tradition
for science. I will go so far as to say that if at any
time slavery was necessary for the existence of
society, slavery was legitimate, for in such a case
the slaves were slaves of humanity (156), slaves of
the divine scheme—a thing which is no more repug-
nant than the existence of so many beings inexorably
attached to the yoke of an idea which is above them
and which they do not understand (157). If a day
arrived when humanity once more needed to be
governed in the old way, to be subject to a Lycurgus-
like code, that would be quite justifiable (158). In
the same way, the day may come when international
rights will reach such a point that each nation will
be sensitive like the limb of a body to what is going
on in others. With a more perfect code of morality,
rights which are now false and dangerous will be
unquestioned, for the condition of these rights will
be laid down, which has not yet been done (159).
This may be conceived when once you attribute to
humanity an objective aim (that is to say independent
' of the well-being of individuals) the realization of the
perfect, the great deification. The subordination
of animals to man, that of the sexes the one to the
other, does not shock any one, because it is the work
of nature and of the inevitable organization of things.
At bottom, the hierarchy of men according to their
degree of perfection does not shock one’s ideas of
 The Future of Science. 357
fitness a whit more. What is shocking is that the
individual, of his own right and for his personal
enjoyment, should enslave his fellow-man in order
to have self-indulgence at his expense. The in-
equality is revolting when we consider solely the
personal and egotistical advantage which the superior
derives from the inferior ; it is natural and right if
considered as an inevitable law of society, the tran-
sitory condition at all events of its perfection.
Those who envisage rights, like the rest, as being
always rigorously the same, launch anathemas against
the most necessary facts of history. But this way
of looking at things has grown obsolete; the human
mind has passed from the absolute to the historical,
envisaging everything from the point of view of -
becoming. Rights create themselves like other things ;
they are created, not, of course, by positive laws,
but by the successive exaltation of humanity, which
manifests itself in the conquest which it effects of
these rights. The fact does not constitute the right,
but manifests the right. All rights must be con-
quered, and those who cannot conquer them prove
that they are not ripe for these rights, that these
rights do not exist for them, unless it be potentially.
The freeing of the negroes was neither achieved nor
deserved by the negroes, but by the progress in
civilization of their masters. It is not because you
have proved to a nation that it is entitled to its
independence that it rises to claim it; the young
lion goes off to hunt for his food when he feels strong
enough, without any one telling him. The wishes
of humanity do not constitute the right, as Jurieu
would have it; but it is, in its general tendency and
its main results, the indication of the right. The
champions of the absolute right, like the jurists, and
of blind facts, like Callicles, are both wrong. The
fact is the criterion of right. The French Revo-
lution is not legitimate because it has taken place;
but it took place because it was legitimate. Right
is the progress of humanity; there is no right in
358 The Future of Science.
opposition to this progress, and, vice versd, Progress
is sufficient to legitimize everything. Whatever
serves to advance the work of God is permissi ble.
We Frenchm en, who are gifted with an absolute
and exclusive spirit, fall into strange illusions in this
respect, and we often reason much in this way,
which is a very scholastic one. ‘Such a system of
institution would be intolerable with us, at the point
we have reached; it must be so, therefore, every-
where, and it must have been so always.’’ The
simple minded carry this to a most delightfully ludi-
crous point, and a few months ago they wanted to
make all Europe republican willy nilly. We want to
establish everywhere the government which suits us
and to which we are entitled. We think that we
should be doing wonders if we established the consti-
tutional régime among the savages of Oceania, and
we shall soon be sending diplomatic notes to the
Grand Turk to advise him to call together a Parlia-
ment.* We reason in the same way with regard to
the emancipation of the blacks. Assuredly, if there
is a reform which is urgent and ripe this is the one.
But we conclude that we are without transition to
apply to the negro the régime of individual liberty
which suits civilized people like ourselves, not re-
flecting that what is above all things necessary is —
to educate these unhappy creatures, and that this
régime is not suitable for doing so. The best system
to be followed for the education of the negro races is
that which Providence has followed in the education
of humanity, for it is not, seemingly, by chance that
it has made its selection. Look by how many
stages the peoples have passed. It is certain that
civilization cannot be improvised, that it requires a.
long course of discipline, and that it is doing a dis-
service to uncultivated races to emancipate them
all at once. I imagine that they need to traverse a
* What M. Renan suggests as a joke in 1850 was actually done
if not by France, at all events by other Western Powers in 1876,
—TRANSL.
 The Future of Science. 359
state analogous to the ancient theocracies. Slavery
does not elevate the negro, nor does liberty. True,
he will sleep all day, or will run, like a child, about
the woods. Abolitionism carried to an extreme
betrays a profound ignorance of the psychology of
humanity. I imagine, moreover, that the scientific
and experimental study of the education of barbarous
races will become one of the most striking problems
offered to the mind of Europe, when the attention of
the continent can for a moment be taken off from
itself.
The history of humanity is not only the history of
its enfranchisement, it is above all the history of its
education. What would humanity be if it had not
traversed the ancient theocracies and the severe
codes of a Lycurgus? The whip has been a necessity
in the education of humanity. We have ceased to
envisage these forms except as obstacles which
humanity has been compelled to break. She has
broken them, no doubt, but only after having turned
them to her profit. And was it not she, after all,
who had created them for herself? The effort which
_is made to destroy them renders us blind to their
anterior use. The revolutionary histories make the
mistake of presenting the destruction of ancient forms
as the great resultant of the progress of humanity.
To destroy is not an end. Humanity has lived in
the ancient moulds until they have become too
narrow, and then has caused them to burst, but does
any one suppose that this was out of anger against
these moulds ? Do you suppose that when the bird
breaks the shell of the egg, his object is to break ?|
No; his aim is to pass to a new life. The most we
can say is that if the egg resisted, he might show
rather more temper. In the same way, the moulds
of humanity having grown hard and as it were petri-
fied, a great effort was required to break them;
humanity was compelled to gather together its forces
and to set itself to the work of destruction for destruc-
tion’s sake. It is in the order of things that the
360 The Future of Science. —
moulds of humanity should acquire a certain solidity,
that all thought should aspire to stereotype itself and
to pose for being eternal (160). That becomes in the
long run an obstacle, when the need comes for
breaking ; and in the same way one might say that
only mud huts or tents which can be taken down
in an hour and leave no ruins behind them sbould
be erected because, if you build palaces, they will be
very troublesome to demolish.
Alas, we are only too given to these ephemeral
constructions. Humanity, in our day, is encamped —
beneath the tent. We have lost the long-sustained
hope and the vast thoughts. The idea of demolition
preoccupies and blinds us. Christianity, for instance,
is no longer anything but a dam, a pyramid built
across the road, a mountain of stones which stands
in the way of the new buildings. But does it follow
that those who built the pyramid were wrong? ‘The
mould, as it gains hardness, becomes a prison. No
matter, for it is essential that, in order to impress its
shape, it should be hard. It only becomes a prison
when the object which has been moulded attempts
to emerge. Then we have struggles and recrimina-
tions, for it is regarded as nothing but an obstacle.
It is always the way; the matter is looked at from
only one side, and becomes a partial one because of
the practical aim in view. He who destroys cannot
be just towards what he destroys, for he regards it
only as a stumbling-block, a stupidity, an absurdity.
But, if you reflect a little, you must see that it is
humanity which has fashioned it. Take the most
odious of institutions, the Inquisition. Spain made
it and put up with it, and would apparently have got
rid of it if she had been so inclined. No doubt if we
looked at it from the Spanish point of view, we should
understand it. The speculative man alone can be
critical; liberals are not so; they are superficial.
Humanity is responsible for everything. We only
declaim against force because we fancy the chain has
been imposed by a force foreign to humanity. Yet
 The Future of Science. 36T -
it 7 humanity alone which has forged fetters for
itself.
There are in humanity elements which seem solely
destined to arrest or moderate its progress. We must
not assume them on that account to be useless.
Reaction has its place in the plan of Providence ; it
works unwittingly for the general good. There are
declivities down which the réle of the traction engine
consists solely in holding back. Those who seek to
arrest a movement render it a double service: they
accelerate and they regulateit. The aim of humanity
is to get to the bottom of all the modes of life, to
hatch them, to digest them, so to speak, in order to
assimilate whatever they may contain of what is true
and to cast out what is bad and useless. It is essen-
tial, therefore, that it should keep them for a certain
time, in order to effect this analysis at leisure; other-
wise too hasty a digestion of them would only result
in weakening it; the accumulation of a number of
really nutritive elements would be prevented. If the
men who play this part were disinterested, that is to
say if they had solely in view the highest progress of
humanity, they would be heroes; for the part of re-
actionist is an ungrateful one and is not highly
prized. The essential thing for humanity is to do
well what it embarks upon, so that there may be no
need to go backupon it. It is not by swaying hither
and thither, by swallowing and rejecting all kinds of
ideas with ungoverned voracity, without either mas-
ticating or digesting them, that so serious a work can
be accomplished.
I repeat that if one only regarded in civilization
the personal good which results from it for those who
are civilized, one would perhaps hesitate to sacrifice
for the good of civilization one portion of humanity
to the other. But the object in view is to realize a
more or less beautiful form of humanity, and for that
the sacrifice of the individual is lawful. How many
generations was it not necessary to sacrifice in order
to raise the gigantic terraces of Nineveh and Babylon?
 362 The Future of Science.
Positive minds regard that as quite absurd. No
doubt, if the object in view had been to gratify the
_. pride of some stupid tyrant this would have been
true. But the object was to outline in stone one of
the stages of humanity. Let there be no mistake |
about it; the generations buried beneath these
masses lived a fuller life than if they had vegetated
happy beneath their vine and fig-tree (161). -
I see before me, as I write these lines, the marvel
of Royal France, Versailles. I repeople in fancy its
deserted corridors with all the century which, passed
away. The king in the centre; here Condé and the
princes ;- there, in the pathway of the gardens, Bossuet
and the bishops; here, in the theatre, Racine, Lulli,
Moliére and a few libertines; on the terrace of the
Orange-House Madame de Sévigné and the great
ladies, and, in the distance, within the gloomy walls
of St. Cyr, Madame de Maintenon and her melan-
choly. There you have a civilization open to plenty
of criticism, no doubt; but perfectly one and com-
plete; it is one form of humanity among many. It
would have been a great pity if it had not been repre-
sented, and yet it could not have been except at the
price of great sacrifices. The degradation of the
people, arbitrary and capricious conduct, court in-
trigues and lettres de cachet, the Bastille, the gibbet
and the Grands-Jours are the essential parts of this
edifice, so that if you repudiate the abuses you must
also repudiate the edifice, for they are integral parts
of its construction. I should prefer, for my own
part, the age of Louis XIV. although it is very much
against my individual taste and although I regard as
rather silly the craze there was for this epoch during
the last years of the ancien régime, to a perfectly ©
regular state of things, with each person living at his
ease, creating nothing, founding nothing, producing
nothing. For the aim of humanity is not that indi-
viduals should live at ease, but that the beautiful
and well-defined forms should be represented, and
that perfection should be made flesh.
 The Future of Scrence. 363
From the point of view of the individual, liberty
and equality seem to be inherent rights. From the
point of view of the human species, government and
inequality are easily understood. It is better to have
some brilliant personification of humanity, such as
_ the king and his court, than a general mediocrity.
It is desirable that the noble life should be led by a
few as it cannot be by all. This privilege would be
odious if only the self-indulgence of the privileged
individual were regarded ; it ceases to be so if we see
in it the realization of a humanitarian form. Our
petty system of bourgeois government, aspiring above
all else to guarantee the rights and to secure the
ease and comfort of each one, is conceived from the
point of view of the individual, and has failed to pro-
- duce anything grand. Would Louis XIV. have
built Versailles if he had carping deputies to cut
down his budgets? Only the accession of the people
can revive these lofty aspirations of the ancient
aristocratic world. It would be better no doubt that
all should be great and noble. But so long as that
remains impossible, it is important that the tradition
of stately human life should be maintained among
the élite. Would the lowly be greater because the
great were. brought down to their level? Equality
_ will only be of inherent right when all men are able
to be perfect in their measure. I say ‘‘in their
measure ;’’ for absolute equality is as impossible in
humanity as it would be in the animal reign. Hu-
manity, in short, would not exist as a unity, if it
' was formed of perfectly equal unities, without fany
relation of subordination between them. Unity only
exists upon the condition that diverse functions work
- towards the same end; it presupposes the hierarchy
_ of the parts. But each part is perfect when it is all
that it can be, and that it does well all that it ought
to do. Hach individual will never be perfect, but
humanity will be, and all will share in its perfection.
Nothing is capable of explanation in the moral
world from the individual’s point of view. All is
364 The Future of Scrence.
confusion, chaos, revolting iniquity, if we do not
envisage the transcendent resultant in which all
things harmonize and justify themselves (162).
Nature shows us upon an immense scale how the
inferior species is sacrificed to the realization of a
higher plan. It is the same in humanity. Perhaps,
even, we ought to look beyond this too narrow
horizon, and only look for justice, the perfect peace,
the definite solution, the complete harmony in a
vaster whole, to which humanity itself would be
subordinated, in that mysterious 76 wav, which will
still endure when humanity shall have disappeared.
 The Future of Science. 365

CHAPTER XIX.

THEREis a tendency to believe that modern civil-

ization must have a destiny analogous to ancient
civilization and undergo, like it, an invasion of
barbarians. It is forgotten that humanity never
repeats itself, and does not twice employ the same
methods. Upon the contrary, all goes to show that
this fact of a civilization being nipped in the bud by
barbarism will be unique in history, and that modern
civilization is destined to propagate itself ad infi-
mitum. It would probably have been so with the
Greco-Roman civilization but for the great cataclysm
which swept it away. The fourth and fifth centuries
are only so meagre and superstitious in the Latin
world because of the calamities of the times. If the
barbarians had not come, it is probable that the fifth
and ‘sixth centuries would have presented to us a
great civilization, analogous to that of Louis XIV.,
a grave and severe Christianity, tempered by philo-
sophy. Certain persons find a malicious pleasure in
putting their finger upon points in our literature
and philosophy which recall the Greek and ‘Roman
decadence, and they draw from it this conclusion
that the modern spirit, after having (as they say)
had its brilliant epoch in the seventeenth century, is
losing caste and is gradually dying out. Our poets
remind them of Statius and Silius Italicus; our
philosophers of Porphyrius and Proclus ; eclecticism
upon both sides closes the series. Our publishers, com-
pilators, abbreviators, philologists and critics would
366 The Future of Science.
answer to the rhetoricians, grammarians and scho-
liasts of Alexandria, Rhodes and Pergamus. Our
lettered politicians would answer to the sophist
statesmen, such as Dion Chrysostomus, Themistius ©
and Libanius. Our pretty imitations of the classical
style, and our pasticcios of exotic colour are just like
Lucianus. But the true critics use with extreme
caution this deceptive word ‘“‘decadence.”” The
rhetoricians who would have us believe that Tacitus,
compared to Livy, is an author of the decadence, —
will doubtless also urge that Thierry and Michelet
are of the decadence, by comparison with Rollin and
d’Anquetil. The human mind does not proceed by
so simple a path as this. How are you to explain by
a decadence that prodigious development of German
literature, which, at the close of the eighteenth cen-
tury, opened,up,a fresh life to Hurope? Say that
St. Augustin, St. John Chrysostom and St. Basile
are geniuses of the iron age. The human mind is
only obscured in one of its aspects for another to
glow with all the more brilliant light. Decadence
only exists in the view of those narrow minds which
hold obstinately to a single point of view in litera-
ture, in art, in philosophy, and in science. No doubt
the man of letters finds St. Augustine and St. Ambrose
inferior to Cicero and Seneca, the learned rationalist
regards the legend tellers of the Middle Ages cre-
dulous and superstitious by comparison with Lucretius
and Kuhemerus. But he who invisages the totality
of the human mind does not know what decadence
means. The eighteenth century has neither Racine
nor Bossuet, and yet it is very superior to the
seventeenth ; its science, its critique, its preface to
the Encyclopedia, its luminous essays by Voltaire —
are its literature. There was but one form of life
for these ancient States. To overthrow the ancient
institutions of Sparta is to overthrow Sparta itself.
In those times, in order to be a good patriot, it
was necessary to be a thorough-paced conservative;
the wise man of old is obstinately attached to the
 The Future of Science. 367
national customs. It is not the same with us, for
the day upon which France destroyed her ancient
institution was the day upon which her epic history
began. For my part, I expect that five hundred
years hence the history of France will begin with
the Jeu de Paume, and that what preceded it will be
treated as a background, as an interesting preface,
much like the notions on ancient Gaul which are
placed at the head of our own histories of France.
It is an easy commonplace to speak at large of
social palingenesis, of renovation. It is nota question
of being born again, but of continuing to live; the
modern spirit and civilization are founded for ever,
and the most terrible revolutions will serve solely
to signal the infinitely varied phases of this develop-
ment.
In accepting as a necessity the great fact of the
invasion of the barbarians and passing an a priori
criticism upon it, we find that it might have occurred
in two ways. In the first (that in which it actually
did occur), the barbarians, stronger than Rome,
destroyed the Roman edifice, then, for long centuries
to come, they endeavoured to reconstruct something
upon the model of this edifice and with Roman
materials. But another way would have been equally
practicable. Rome had succeeded in perfectly
assimilating the provinces and causing them to live
after her way of civilization; but she had been
unable to act in the same way upon the barbarians
who poured in during the fourth and fifth centuries.
It is impossible to believe that she could not, if
she had desired, do so, when we observe the eager-
ness with which the barbarians, upon their entry
into the Empire, embrace Roman forms, and drape
themselves in Roman tinsel, titles of Consul and
Patrician, in Roman insignia and costumes. Our
Merovingians, among others, embraced the Roman
mode of life with charming candour, and as to the
two civilizations of the Ostrogoths and Visigoths,
they are so thoroughly the direct prolongation of the
 /? Fs ee ee

An

368 The Future of Science.

Roman civilization that they added an important
chapter, though one containing little that was ~
original, to the history of classic literature. The
barbarians did not at first make any change in the
order of things which they found established. In- —
different to learned culture, they regarded it without
much attention and consequently without displeasure. _
Some of them, even, such as Theodoric and Chilperic, ~
took it with a promptitude and ease which surprise
one. I believe that if the Empire had had as great
men in the fourth century as in the second, and —
especially if Christianity had been as strongly cen-
tralized in Rome as it was in the following centuries,
it would have been possible to render the barbarians
Romans before or immediately upon their entry, and
thus to have maintained the continuity of things.
The world was within a hair’s breadth of having no
Middle Ages, and of the Roman civilization con-
tinuing without interruption. If the Gallo-Roman
schools had been strong enough to effect in a century
the education of the Franks, humanity would have
economized ten centuries. If that did not occur,
the fault was with the schools and institutions, not
with the Franks; the Roman mind was too much
weakened to effect immediately this immense work.
The question, in fine, was whether this ancient —
edifice, into which so many fresh materials were —
waiting to enter, should be renewed by a slow sub-
stitution of parts which would not break its identity,
or whether it should undergo a thorough demolition,
to be built anew with a combination of the old and
new materials, but again upon the old plan.
As Rome was too weak at once to assimilate these
fresh and violent elements, the change was effected
in the other way. The barbarians overthrew the —
Empire, but in reality, when they attempted to re-
construct they reverted to the plan of the Roman
society, which had struck them from the very first
by its beauty, and which was the only one, moreover,
they knew. Their conversion to Christianity was in
e r
.

The Future of Science. 369

plain truth their affiliation to Rome by the Bishops,
who were the direct continuers of the Roman dress,
language and habits. The Empire of which they
caught up the idea for themselves was but a way of
attaching themselves to Romie, the only source of all
legitimate authority. And the Papacy what is its
origin if it be not the selfsame idea, that all comes
from Rome, that Rome is the capital of the world?
The Roman Empire should not be regarded so much
as a State which has been overthrown to make way
for others as the first effort of universal civilization,
being continued with a momentary extinction of
reflection (which is the Middle Ages) in modern
civilization. The invasion and the Middle Ages are
really no more than the crisis provoked by the violent
intrusion of fresh elements which vivified and en-
larged the ancient circle of life: they are but
accidents in the great voyage, accidents which may
have caused unfortunate delays, well compensated
for by the inestimable advantages which humanity
has derived from them. All this thay be applied,
word for word, to the future of modern civilization.
In the very improbable hypothesis of the barbarians
(who are only to be looked for among ourselves)
suddenly overturning it, and without its having time
to assimilate them, it is unquestionable that after
having overthrown it, they would come back to its
ruins in order to extricate from them the materials
of the future edifice, that we should become, in re-
lation to them, classics and educators, that it would
be the rhetoricians of the ancient society who would
initiate them into the intellectual life and would be
the occasion of another Renaissance, that there
would again be a Martianus Capella, a Boethius, a
Cassiodorus, an Isidore of Seville, putting into a
portable and easily handled compass the civilizing
data of the ancient culture, in order to form the
intellectual aliment of the new society. But it is
infinitely more probable that modern civilization will
be sufficiently full of life to assimilate these new
2B
370 The Future of Science.

‘barbarians who are desirous of entering, and to con- —

tinue its march in their company. For look how the
barbarians appreciate this civilization, how they press
around it, how they seek to understand it with their
simple yet keen perception, how they study it with
curiosity, how pleased they are when they have
guessed its meaning. Who could fail to be touched
at seeing the interest which our uninstructed classes
take in this civilization which is there in the midst
of them, but not for them. They remind me of the
simple wonder of the barbarians, in presence of the —
Bishops speaking Latin and when brought face to —
face with the vast machine of Roman organization.
It would, no doubt, have been difficult for Sidonius
Apollinaris and the keen wits of the Gauls to have |
shouted: ‘Vive les barbares!’’ And yet they |
should have done so if they had the sentiment of
the future (163). We who see things clearly, after
fourteen centuries, take sides with the barbarians.
What was it they asked for? Land to till, sunshine, |
civilization. Ah! blessed is he who asks only to
increase the family of the children of light. The
barbarians are those who receive these new-comers
with blows, for fear that their own share may be
diminished.
But, it will be said, your hopes rest upon a con-—
tradiction. You admit that intellectual culture, in”
order to become civilizing, demands a whole life of
application and study. The immense majority of the
human race, condemned to manual labour, is never
therefore to enjoy the fruits of it.
No doubt, if intellectual culture was always to
remain what it is among us, a profession of its own,
a speciality, we might despair of seeing it become
universal. A state in which no one would have any
other profession but that of poet, man of letters or
philosopher, would be the strangest of caricatures.
Intellectual. culture is as if it did not exist for
humanity, when people study only with a view to
write. Serious literature is not that of the rhetorician,
 The Future of Science. 371
who embarks upon literature for literature, who is
interested in things spoken and written, and not in
the things themselves, who does not care about
nature, but who likes to read a description, who,
unmoved by a moral sentiment, only understands it
when expressed in sonorous verse. Beauty is in
things themselves ; literature is imagery and parable.
Strange is the man of letters who troubles himself
about morality or philosophy, not because that is
human nature, but because there are works upon this
subject, just as the man of erudition only concerns
himself about agriculture and war because there are
poems upon these subjects. This is to assume that
the thing which is related is more real and important
than the thing which is. Art, literature, and elo-
quence are only so far true as they are not empty
forms, but as they serve and express a human
cause. If the poet was merely, as Malherbe under-
stood him an ‘‘arranger of syllables,’’ if literature
were merely an exercise, an attempt to do artificially
what the ancients did naturally, it would, I admit,
be a very trifling misfortune if all men could not be
initiated into it.
We must, therefore, come to conceive the possi-
bility of an intellectual life for all, not in the sense
that all participate in scientific work, but that all ~
participate in its results. We must, consequently,
conceive the possibility of associating philosophy
and the cultivation of the mind with a mechanical
art.
This was what Greek society, so true and so
unartificial, thoroughly realized. Greece was ignorant
of our aristocratic prejudices which brand with
ignominy any one exercising a manual profession and
-exclude him from what may be called the distinque
world: A man might reach the noblest and most
‘elevated life, though poor and working with his
jhands; or rather the morality of the individual so
‘effaced his profession that regard was had only to
{the individual, whereas now we regard only the

|
372 The Future of Scrence.
profession. Ammonius was not a porter who was a
philosopher, he was a philosopher who happened to
be a porter. May we not hope that humanity will
some day revert to this beautiful and true conception
of life in which the mind is everything, in which no
one is defined according to his calling, in which the
manual profession would merely be an accessory to
which little attention would be paid, much as the
trade of glass polishing was for Spinoza, a mere trifle
which is done by the insignificant part of the
individual without his attaching any importance to
it or others doing so either. Work of this kind
would not then be more servile than that which
I am now doing in moving my fingers to write these
lines.
What makes a manual labour brutalizing now is
that it absorbs the individual and becomes his self,
his all. The definition of this unfortunate being
is, in fact, shoemaker, or carpenter. This word
tells his nature, his essence; he is merely a human
machine which makes boots and furniture. You
cannot define in this way Spinoza as a maker of
telescope glasses, or Mendelssohn as a shopman
(164). The professional individuality only effaces
the moral and intellectual individuality when the
latter is insignificant. Imagine a well-instructed
and noble-hearted man exercising one of these trades
which require only a few hours’ labour; so far from
the higher life being closed to him, he is in a situation
a thousand times more favourable to philosophical
development than three-fourths of those who occupy
the so-called liberal professions. Most of the liberal
professions, in fact, absorb every hour of a man’s time,
and, what is worse, of his thoughts; whereas the
trade requiring no reflection or attention leaves
him who exercises it free to live in the world of pure
spirits. For my own part, I have often thought that
it I was offered a manual profession which, by my
working four or five hours a day, would ensure me a
living, I would abandon for it my calling of graduate
| The Future of Science. 373
of philosophy ; for as this calling would occupy only
my hands, it would not divert my thoughts so much
as the necessity for speaking for two hours from
what is not the actual object of my reflections. I
should have four or five hours of delightful promenade,
and I should have the rest of the time for the mental
exercises which exclude all manual occupation. I
should acquire during these hours of leisure positive
knowledge, I should ruminate during the rest of the
time upon what I had acquired. These are certain
callings which ought to be reserved for philosophers,
such as tiller of the soil, stone cutter, weaver and
other occupations which require only the action of
the hand (165). Any complicated work, anything
which required the least attention, would be a
depredation upon one’s thought. -Manufacturing work
would, in this respect, be much less advantageous.
Do you suppose that a man, in this position, would
not be much more free to philosophize than a lawyer,
a doctor, a banker or a government official? All
_ Official positions are moulds more or less close; to
enter them, you must break and bend by force all
originality. The teaching profession is now the
almost unique resort left to those who, having a
vocation for mental labour, are reduced by the
necessities of fortune, to accept some external pro-
fession, and teaching is very prejudicial to the higher
qualities of the mind, as it absorbs and wears out
much more than manual labour would do. None of
us have forgotten the Lollards of the Middle Ages,
those mystic weavers who, as they worked, hummed
(lollarent) in cadence, and mixed the rhythm of the
heart with that of the spindle. The béguards of
Flanders, the humiliate of Italy, also reacheda high
degree of mystical and poetical exaltation, beneath
the vivid pressure of that mysterious bow which
causes new and candid souls to vibrate so powerfully.
If most of those who exercise the so-called servile
functions are really brutalized, it is because they
are empty-headed, because they are only put to
 es

374 The Future of Science.

these functions as being fit for nothing else, because —

this function, purely animal and significant as it 1s, —
absorbs them altogether and still further degrades
them. But if they had their heads full of literature,
history, philosophy and humanism, if, in a word,
they could, while working, talk to each other of
higher things, what a difference that would make! —
Many men devoted to things of the mind set apart —
a few hours of each day to hygienic pursuits, some-
times differing but little from those which working ©
men perform as a matter of necessity, and these do —
not appear to brutalize them (166). In the state
of things which I should like to see, manual labour
would be the recreation of mental labour. If I am,
told that there is no calling which would be suffi-
ciently remunerative with four or five hours’ work
a day, I will reply by saying that in a properly —
organized society, where useless waste of time and
unproductive superfluities would be eliminated, where
everybody would work to some purpose, and espe-
cially where machinery was employed not to do
without the workman, but to help him in his task
and abridge his hours of labour, I am persuaded
(incompetent as I am in such matters) that very few
hours of labour would be sufficient for the good of
the society, and for the wants of the individual ; the
rest would be for the mind.
‘Tf every instrument,” says Aristotle, ‘‘could upon
an order being given or even guessed, work of its own
accord, like the statues of Dedalus or the tripods of
Vulcan, which, as the poet tells us, went of their own
accord to the meetings of the gods, if the spindles
worked of themselves, if the bow played the violin
without being held, the contractors would do without
workmen and the masters without slaves (167).”
This simultaneousness of two lives, having nothing
in common with each other, on account of the in-—
finity which separates them, is by no means without
example. J have often felt that I never lived more
energetically by imagination and sensibility than
-.

The Future of Science. 375

when I was applying myself the closest to all that is
most technical in science and seemingly the most
_ arid. When the scientific object has some wsthetic
or moral interest in itself, it quite absorbs the
person who applies himself to it; when, upon the
contrary, it does not appeal at all to the imagination
and the heart, it leaves these two faculties free to
vagabond at their ease. I can conceive, in the
erudite man, a very active life of the heart, and all
the more active when the object of his erudition
offers less aliment to the sensibility ; you then have
two mechanisms quite independent of each other.
It is the division which is fatal. A philosopher may
. exist in a state of things which requires only manual
co-operation, such as work in the fields. He cannot
exist in a position in which he must exercise his
mind and concern himself seriously with petty affairs,
such as commerce or finance. And, as a matter of
fact, these professions have not produced a single
man of mark in the history of the human mind.
Far be it from me to believe that such a system
of society is applicable for the moment, or even that,
if applied, it would serve the cause of intelligence.
We must not forget that the immense majority of
humanity is still at school, and that to let them out
too soon would be to encourage them in idleness.
Necessity, says Herder, is the weight of the clock,
which causes all the wheels to turn. Humanity is
only what it is owing to the severe course of gymnastics
it has gone through, and liberty would only involve
decadenceif it resulted in diminishing its activity.
I was only anxious to explain the possibility of a state
- of things in which the highest intellectual and moral
culture, that is to say true religion, would be acces-
sible to the classes now regarded as the lowest in
society. Do you imagine that if the working man
possessed education, intelligence, ‘morality, a mild
and beneficent culture, that he would complain of
his outward inferiority? No, for, apart from the
fact that morality and intelligence would infallibly
376 The Future of Science.
secure for him order and ease, this culture would —
cause him to be highly considered and liked, would
bring him within the limits of that enviable circle
where delicate perceptions prevail and from which
he grieves to see himself excluded. The peasant
does not feel his moral and intellectual objection,
but the working man in large towns sees our higher
classes, he feels that we are more perfect than he is,
he finds himself condemned to live in a fetid atmo- -
sphere of intellectual depression and immorality, he
who has smelt the pleasant odour of the civilized
world is fated to seek his enjoyment (for man cannot
live without enjoyment of some kind, the trappist
even hag his) in ignoble haunts which are repugnant
to him, repelled as he is by his lack of culture rather
than by opinion, from more delicate pleasures. How ~
could he do otherwise than rebel against such a state
of things ?
Chimerical as it may appear from the point of view
of our present habits, I maintain that this simul-
taneousness of the intellectual life and of professional
labour is possible. Greece is an illustrious instance.
of this; I do not speak of the most primitive
societies, such as those of the Hindoos and the
Hebrews, from which all idea of outward decorum
and human respect was completely absent. The
Brahmin of the forest, clothed in a few rags, feeding
on leaves often dry, reaches a degree of intellectual
speculation, a height of conception, a nobility of life
unknown to the immense majority of those among
us who call ourselves civilized.
There are men very highly endowed by nature
but scantily endowed by fortune, who become proud
and almost intractable, and who would die rather
than accept for their livelihood what public opinion ~
regards as an external humiliation. Werther leaves
his ambassador because he meets silly and imper-
tinent people in his salon; Chatterton commits ~
suicide because a lord mayor offers him a situation
as valet. This extreme sensitiveness as to externals
 The Future of Science. 377
_ proves a certain humility of mind, and testifies that
those who feel it have not yet reached the highest
philosophical summits. They are, in fact, upon the
borders of the highly ridiculous, for if they are not
in reality geniuses (and who can assure them that
they are? How many others have believed that
they were without being so in reality ?), they run
the risk of resembling the most stupid, ridiculous
and self-conceited of men, the unappreciated young
men of genius, who look upon everything as being
beneath them, who anathematize society because
society does not make a suitable allowance to those
who devote themselves to sublime thoughts. Genius
is in no wise humiliated because it works with its
own hands. Of course, one cannot demand of it that
it should surrender itself with all its soul to its task,
that it should become absorbed in its office or its
workshop. But dreaming is not a profession, and it
is an error to imagine that the great writers would
have thought much more if they had not had any-
thing else to do but think. Genius is patient and
full of life; I would almost say robust and hardy as
the peasant. ‘‘ The force of living is essentially
a part of genius.’ It is amidst the struggles of an
external situation that the great geniuses have de-
veloped themselves, and if they had not had any
other profession than that of thinkers, perhaps they
would not have been so great. Beranger was a clerk
in a government office. The man who is really
elevated has all his pride within him. To take
account of the external humiliation is to show that
one takes some account of that which is not the
soul. The degraded slave, who felt his inferiority to
his master, endured the blows inflicted upon him as
due to fatality, without dreaming of resenting them.
The cultivated slave, who felt himself superior to his
master, could not have felt himself in the least
humiliated at having to serve him. To have been
irritated with him would have been to put himself
on a par with him; it was better to despise him
378 The Future of Science.
inwardly and say nothing. To be sparing of showing
him respect and submissio n would have been equiva-
lent to attaching importan ce to this. One only feels
the insults of one’s equals; those of a blackguard
affect people of his own kidney, but do not reach us.
In the same way those whose inward excellence
renders them susceptible, irritable and jealous of an
outward dignity in proportion to their worth, have
not yet passed a certain level, or understood the true
royalty of men of high intelligence.
The ideal of human life would be a state in which
man had so mastered nature that material require-
ments were no longer a motive, in which these
requirements were satisfied as soon as felt, in which
man, the king of the world, would scarcely have to
make an effort to maintain it under his dependence,
in which all human activity would, in short, be
directed towards the things of the mind, and in
which man would merely have to live the celestial
life. Then would prevail the true reign of the spirit,
the perfect religion, the worship of God as spirit and
truth. Humanity still has need of a material stimu-.
lus, and at present such a state of things would be
prejudicial, as it would only engender idleness. But
this drawback is merely relative. ‘For us, men of
intelligence, the labour of existence and material
necessities are merely an obstacle; it is a part of
the time we give to ransom the rest. If we were
delivered from the thought of material wants, like
the religious orders or the Brahmin, who plunges
naked into the forest, we should be navigating with
all sails set, we should conquer the infinite. . . .
Patriarchal life realized: this lofty independence
of man, but it was at the sacrifice of not less essential
elements ; civilization, in fact, can only exist where —
there is a parallel development of the intelligence,
of the moral condition and of comfort. In ancient
times, the same result was reached by slavery ; the
free man was really in a very fine position, dispensed
from terrestrial cares, and at liberty to cultivate things
 The Future of Science. 379

of the mind. The careful organization of humanity

will bring back this state of things, but in a much
more complicated form than in patriarchal times,
and without needing slavery. The work of the
nineteenth century will have been the conquest of
this material comfort, which, at first sight, may ~
appear profane but which becomes hallowed if we
reflect that it is one of the conditions of the
enfranchisement of the mind. No one is more
strongly opposed than I am to those who urge
the rehabilitation of the flesh, and I believe never-
theless that Christianity was wrong in preaching
the struggle, the revolt of the senses, the mortification
of bodily desires. That may have been all very well
for the education of humanity, but there is some-
thing more perfect still. That is not to think any
more of the flesh, to live so energetically the life of
the spirit that these gross temptations may have no
hold. Abstinence and mortifications are the virtues,
of barbarians and materialists, who, subject to coarse
instincts, can conceive of nothing more heroic than
to resist them; so that these virtues are held in
special esteem in sensual countries. In the eyes of
those with coarse appetites, a man who fasts, who
flagellates himself, who is chaste, who passes his
life upon a column, is the ideal of virtue. For he,
the barbarian, is gluttonous, and he quite feels that
it would be a great sacrifice for him to live in this
way. But in our eyes, such a man is not virtuous,
for these pleasures of the palate, of the senses, are
nothing to us; we think that there is no merit in
foregoing them ; affected fasting proves that one sets
great store by the things which one goes without.
Plato was not so mortified as Dominic Loricat, and
apparently was more of a spiritualist. The Catholics
sometimes assert that the disuse into which the
fasting of the Middle Ages has fallen shows our
sensuality ;but, upon the contrary, it is owing to
the progress of the mind that these practices have
become unmeaning and out of date. We must
380 The Future of Science.
destroy the antagonism of the body and of the mind,
not by equalling the two terms, but by prolonging
one of them ad infinitum, so that the other may be
annihilated and become as zero. That being done,
let the body have its enjoyments, for to refuse them
to it would be to imply that these trifles are of some
importance. The motto of the Saint-Simonians:
‘‘Sanctify yourself by pleasure” is abominable ; it
is pure gnosticism. ‘‘Sanctify yourself by abstain-
ing from pleasure ’’ also leaves something wanting.
‘“‘Sanctify yourself, and pleasure will become insig-
nificant, and you will not think of pleasure ”’ is what
we spiritualists would say. Holiness consists in
living for the spirit, not for the body. Gross minds
may have imagined that in cutting themselves off
from the bodily life, they rendered themselves more
apt to the spiritual life.
It is very possible that some day a still higher
conception will be reached. The reason why plea-
sure is quite a profane thing for us is that we take
it always as a personal enjoyment, whereas personal
enjoyment has absolutely no suprasensible value. -
But if we took pleasure with the mystical ideas
which tke ancients attached to it, when they asso-
ciated it with their temples and their festivals, if we
succeeded in eliminatiug all idea of enjoyment, to
see in it only the perfecting process which results
from it for our being, the mystical union with nature,
the sympathy which it establishes between us and
things, 1 am not sure that it might not be elevated
to the rank of a hallowed object. In my bare and
cold room, abstemious and poorly clad, I seem to
understand beauty from a somewhat lofty point of
view. But I ask myself whether I should not. under-
stand it still better with my brain stimulated by a
generous fluid,-richly clad, perfumed and téte-d-téte
with the Beatrice whom I have seen only in my
dreams. If the creation of my fancy were incarnate
at my side, should I not love and adore it the more ?
Doubtless, if there is one thing more revolting than
 The Future of Science. 381
another, it is that people should seek delight in
intoxication. But if a man merely tries to aid his
ecstasy by a very noble material element, and one
which has called forth such noble poetry, the matter
is quite a different one. I have read somewhere
that a poet or a philosopher (a German, I think)
made a point of getting intoxicated regularly once
a month, in order to attain that mystical state in
which one gets closest to the infinite. J should not
like to say whether all pleasures could stand this
purifying process, and become exercises in piety, from
which all thought of self-indulgence was excluded.
The imperfection of the present state is that
external occupations absorb all one’s time, so that
people devote themselves mainly to some profession,
only cultivating the mind if they have time and
inclination. The accidental thus becomes life itself,
while the truly human and religious part almost
disappears. If we come to look closely at the spec-
tacle of human activity, we see that the greatest
part of it is quite wasted. aise yourself in fancy
above a city like Paris, and try to analyze the motives
which guide the hurried footsteps of so many thou-
sands of men. You will find that the desire for gain,
business, or material cares are the main cause of
nine-tenths of these movements; that pleasure is
the motive of perhaps a twentieth part of this
agitation, that scarcely one-hundredth part of the
crowd is guided by affection, and that barely one in
a thousand is impelled by scientific or religious
motives.
It seems as if external affairs are the main object
of life, that the aim of the great majority of the
human race is to live beneath the pressing and
absorbing thought of how they are to gain their
daily bread, so that life has no other aim than to
sustain itself. What a vicious circle this is! In
a better state of human society, a man would first
of all be himself, that is to say that the first care of
each person would be the perfecting of his nature.
382 The Future of Science.
Then, in quite a secondary way, to which scarcely _
any heed would be paid, one would belong to such
and such a profession. That would be the antique
idyl, the pastoral life conceived in their dreams by
all the bucolic poets, a life in which material occu-
pation is of such small account that no thought is
given to it, and that a man is quite free for poetry
and the beautiful. Then it will be said: ‘‘ Our
fathers had to place their paradise in heaven. But
we can do without the paradise of God, for the
celestial life is brought down to us here below.”’
Such a state of perfection would not exclude intel-
lectual variety ; upon the contrary, the originalities
would be much more marked in it, owing to the free
development of the individualities. And evenif the
variety of minds was destined to disappear in pre-
sence of a more advanced culture, where would the
harm be? But let us hasten to say that uniformity
would, as things now are, be the extinction of
humanity. The hive has never been a centre of
progress. We are traversing the age of analysis,
that is to say of partial views, an age during which ~
the diversity of views is necessary. When Plato
desired, in his ideal Republic, that all should see
with the same eyes and hear with the same ears, he
purposely left out of the calculation one of the most
essential elements of humanity. Humanity, in fact,
is only what it is through variety. When two birds
respond to each other, in what do their accents differ
from an elegy? Only from their variety. So far
from preaching communism in the present state of
the human intelligence, we ought to preach indi-
vidualism and originality. No two men ought to
resemble each other, for those who are alike count
only as one.
In the primitive syncretism, all men of the same
race resembled one another like fish of the same
kind. There are no individual characters in the
primitive epics; what the ancient critics told us
about the characters in Homer is very exaggerated,
 The Future of Science. 383
-and, moreover, the Greek world, so fuil of life, so
varied, so multiform, attained from the very first a
very nice sense of distinction in these matters. The
old Hebrew literature has little more than two cate-
goriesof men, the good and the bad, and in the
Indian literature there is scarcely even this much.
All the characters are presented as being very much
the same. Our more finely drawn types do not
appear until much later.
As it is, education and the variety of the objects of
study which create the varieties of mind, everything
which tends to put all minds into one registered
mould is prejudicial to the progress of human in-
telligence. Men’s minds, as a matter of fact, differ
much more by what they have learnt, by the facts
upon which they base their judgments, than by their
actual nature (168). The habits of French society,
so severe upon all originality, are, from this point of
view, altogether to be deplored. ‘‘ As,’ says Madame
de Staél, ‘‘ what constitutes individual existence is
always a peculiarity of some kind, this peculiarity ex-
cites ridicule, so that as people dread this above every-
thing else they endeavour to avoid whatever would
cause them to be remarked one way or the other.”
The truly noble and gifted natures are not those in
which the opposing elements neutralize one another,
but those in which extremes meet, not simultaneously,
but successively, and according to the surface
which has to be delineated. The perfect man would
be one as inflexible as a philosopher, as weak as a
woman, as hardy as a Breton peasant, as ingenuous
and gentle as a child. The colourless natures,
formed of a kind of proportional medium between
extremes, are of no value in an epoch of analysis.
Analysis, in fact, exists only through the diversity
of the points of view, and upon condition of all the
sides of a subject being completely elucidated; to
each his task, to each his atom to explore, such is
its motto. What is required in a given state of
things is the greatest possible variety among in-
384 The Future of Scrence.
dividuals; for each originality is the outline of one
way of looking at things; it is one way of taking the
world. But it may be that some day or other
humanity will reach such a state of individual per-
fection, so complete a synthesis, that all men will
have reached an equally advanced stage, and that
they will make their fresh starting-point from there
towards the future. And this harmony will be
realized not by theocracy, not by the suppression of
the individual, not by the ‘‘ Father king”’ of the
Saint-Simonians who regulated belief as well as all
else, but by a mutual and unfettered aspiration, as
is the case with the ideal in heaven. It is easy to
bind the sheaves which have been cut. But it is
another matter to bind the living sheaves! At the
present time, all are harnessed to the same car; but
some are pulling forward, some backward, others in
different directions, and so there is no progress.
But then all will pull in the same direction; then,
science, which is now only cultivated by a few obscure
men lost in the crowd, will be pursued by millions of
men, seeking in unison the solution of the problems set
before them. Oh! for the day when there will no
longer be any great men, because all will be equally
great, and when humanity, coming back to unity,
will march like one man to the conquest of the ideal
and of the secret of things (169)! What will be able
to resist sclence when humanity itself is scientific and
marches with one accord to the assault of the truth ?
Why, it will be said, take account of these
chimeras? Let the future take care of itself, and
have to do with the present. My answer is that
nothing can be done without chimeras. Man needs,
in order that he may bring into play all his activity,
to place before himself an object capable of rousing
his energies. What is the use of labouring for the
future if the future is to be colourless and insignificant?
Would it not be better to think of his ease and
pleasure in this life than to sacrifice himself for a
void? The first Mussulmans would not have
 The Future of Science. 385
marched from one end of the world to the other if
Abu Bekr had not told them that they had Paradise
before them. The Conquistadores would not have
undertaken their perilous expeditions if they had not
hoped to find the El Dorado, the fountain of Jouvence,
the Cipangu with its golden roofs. Alexander went
in pursuit of the Griffins and the Arimaspes.
Columbus, on returning from the islands of St.
Brandon and the earthly paradise, discovered America.
With the idea that the paradise is in the remote
distance, the world marches on and on, and dis-
covers something better than paradise. ‘‘ The
heart,” says Herder (170), “beats only for that
which is distant.’’ Hopes, moreover, which may be
chimerical in form are not envisaged as such when
regarded as the symbol of the future of humanity.
The Jews had the Messiah because they fervently
looked for Him. No idea is realized without the
inward working of faith and hope. The early
Christians daily expected to see the New Jerusalem
coming down out of heaven and Christ descending
to reign. You will say that they were mad. But
hope never deceives, and I am convinced that all
the hopes of the believer will be fulfilled and even
more than fulfilled. Humanity realizes perfection by
desiring it and hoping it, as the woman is said to im-
press upon the child in her womb the objects which
strike her senses. These hopes are so far from being
objects of indifference that they alone explain and
render possible the life of sacrifice and devotion.
What use, indeed, is it to devote oneself to relieving
misfortunes which only come into existence at the
moment they are felt? Why sacrifice one’s comfort
to that of others, if, after all, only a mere question of
enjoyment is at stake? My happiness is as precious
to me as that of others, and I should be very stupid
to sacrifice it for them. If I did not believe that
humanity is called to a divine end, to the realization
of the perfect, I should become an Epicurean, if I were
capable of doing so, and if not, I should commit suicide.
2C
386 The Future of Science.

CHAPTER XX.

I sHoutp be much misunderstood if it were concluded

from what precedes that I had any intention of
suggesting that science should descend from its
eminence to put itself on a level with the people.
I have a profound antipathy for popular science,
because it cannot be the true science. Over the
portals of an ancient school were inscribed the
words: ‘Let no man enter here unless he knows
geometry.” The modern philosophical school should
have for motto: ‘‘Let no man enter here un-
less he knows the human mind, history, literature,
etc.’ Science loses all its dignity when it lowers —
itself to these childish formule and to a language —
which is not its own. In order to render these lofty —
philosophic theories intelligible to the vulgar, we are —
obliged to strip them of their true form, to subject
them to the narrow measure of common sense, to
distort them. It would be very desirable that the —
mass of the human race should elevate itself to the
comprehension of science, but science must not abase |
itself in order to be understood. It must remain upon —
its lofty eminence and raise humanity up to it. Iam
not opposed to the literature of the working classes.
Upon the contrary. I believe, with M. Michelet,
that the people possess a true fund of feeling, superior
in one sense to that of nearly all our aristocrati¢ :
poets. The most original poems written since
Lamartine and Victor Hugo ceased composing are,
perhaps, those of working men. This is all the
= _

The Future of Science. 387

more meritorious seeing that the instrument which
we put into their hands is extremely aristocratic and
inflexible and the very antithesis of popular thought.
With respect to the social and philosophical
writings, in which the form is of less consequence
than in literature, working men often display more
intelligence than the bulk of well-read men. The
man who has only had primary instruction is nearer
to positivism and to the negation of the supernatural
than the bourgeois who has had a classical education,
for this latter often inclines people to be content with
mere words. But the working men often commit a
really unpardonable error; that of discarding the
line in which they might excel to treat of subjects
in regard to which they are incompetent and which
require a culture very different from that afforded by
little school books. M. Agricol Perdiguier was
original as long as he was content to be only the
workman. What people liked in him was that he
told them what was the way of thinking of a certain
class of society, and also the ingenuous effort of the
half-educated man to find an instrument for his
thoughts. But one fine day, he set himself to com-
pile a Universal History, a work in which Bossuet
had failed. It is all very well for M. Perdiguier to
say that it was a history for the working man; that
all his predecessors had treated history from the point
of view of the classics and like college pedants.
There are not, so far as I am aware, two histories,
one for the learned and the other for the unlearned,
and I only know one class of men capable of writing
it, and that is the savants who are broken by a long
course of intellectual culture to all the fine points of
criticism. Science and philosophy must preserve
their lofty independence, that is to say only pursue
the truth in all its objectivity, without troubling
themselves about any popular or worldly form.
Drawing-room science is just as little true science as
is the science of petty popular treatises. Science
degrades itself when it ceases to correspond directly,
388 The Future of Science.
like poetry, music, and religion, to a disinterested —
requirement of human nature. How rare, with us,
is this pure cult of all the parts of the human soul.
Collecting by themselves, and as it were in a useless
bundle of religious cares, we make vulgar interests
the essential of life. Knowledge, we are told, does
not suffice to ensure salvation; knowledge does not
serve to make one’s fortune; consequently, know-
ledge is useless (171).
The great misfortune of contemporary society 18
that intellectual culture is not recognized in it as a
religious concern ; that poetry, science, and literature
are regarded as an artistic luxury appealing only to
the classes privileged by fortune. Greek art pro-_
duced for the sake of the country, for the national
thought; the art of the seventeenth century produced
for the king, which was, in one way, to produce for
the nation. Art, in our day, produces only at the
express or understood command of individuals. The ©
artist corresponds to the amateur, as the cook does to
the gastronomist. This is a deplorable situation at ~
an epoch when, with rare exceptions, the subdivision
of property makes it impossible for private individuals .
to achieve great things. Greece owed her poems,
her temples, and her statues to her inward spon-
taneousness, they were due to her own fecundity and
to her craving to satisfy one of the needs of human
nature. With us, artis granted a few sparing sub-
sidies, which are made not from a desire to see the
national thought finding expression in great works,
not by the inward impulsion which inclines man to
realize beauty, but from a calm and critical con-
sideration that art should have its place and from a
reluctance to be behind the past. But if people
merely obeyed the pure and spontaneous love of what
is beautiful, little would be done. One of the reasons —
recently advanced in favour of the scheme for the
completion of the Louvre was that it would be a
means of giving employment to artists. I should be
curlous to know whether Pericles advanced this
i
The Future of Science. 389
argument to the Athenians when the question of
building the Parthenon was discussed.
Reflect for a moment on the consequences of this
deplorable regime which subjects art, and more or
less literature and poetry, to the fancy of individuals.
In the productions of the mind, as in all other kinds,
the question of supply and demand prevails, and it must
necessarily happen that it is wealth which makes the
demand. So that the man who contemplates living
by intellectual production must first of all anticipate
the demand of the rich man in order to comply with
it. Now what does the rich man demand in the way
of intellectual productions? Is it serious literature?
Is it high philosophy, or, in the way of art, pure and
severe productions, high moral creations ? Assuredly
not. It isamusing literature; serial stories, romances,
clever plays in which his opinions are flattered, and
so on. Thus, with the rich man regulating the
literary and artistic production by his tastes, which
are pretty well known, and these tastes being as a
tule (there are a few noble exceptions) for frivolous
literature and for art unworthy of the name, it was
bound to happen that such a state of things would
lower literature, art, and science. For with the rich
man’s taste setting the value of things, a jockey or a
danseuse who correspond to this taste are persons of
more value than the savant or the philosopher, whose
works he does not want. That is why a composer of
novels for serials may make a brilliant fortune and
attain what is called a position in the world, while a
real savant, had he achieved the distinction of a
Bopper or Lassen, could not make a living out of his
works.
I mean by plutocracy a state of society in which
wealth is the principal thing, in which one can do
nothing unless one is rich, in which the chief object
of ambition isto become rich, in which capacity and
morality are generally valued (and more or less
accurately) by a money standard, so that the best
criterion of the élite of a nation is the cess-rate.
 ay
e = , |

390 The Future of Science.

It will not, I imagine, be questioned that the society
of the present day combines these different charac-
teristics. That being granted, I maintain that all
the faults of our intellectual development come from
plutocracy, and that it is in this respect above all that
our modern societies are inferior to Greek society.
In fact, when wealth becomes the principal aim of
human life, or at all events the necessary condition
of all other ambitions, let us consider what will be
the direction given to the mind. What is needed to
become rich? Is it to be a savant, a wise man, or a
philosopher? Not at all; these are, upon the con-
trary, more obstacles than anything else. He who
devotes his life to science may rest assured that he
will die in want, unless he has a patrimony, or unless
he finds a means of utilizing his science, that is to say, —
unless he can make a livelihood out of pure science.
For it will be observed that when a man makes a
living by intellectual labour, it is not as a rule his
true science that he brings into play, but his inferior |
qualities. M. Lebronne has made more by compiling
second-rate elementary books than by the admirable ~
researches which have rendered his name famous.
Vico earned his living by composing prose and poetic
pieces of the most contemptible rhetoric for princes”
and nobles, and could not find a publisher for his
Scrence Nouvelle. So true is it that it is not the
intrinsic value of things which constitutes their value,
but the relation which they bear to those who hold
the purse-strings. I may without vanity consider
myself to possess as much capacity as any clerk or
shopman. Yet the latter are able, in serving purely
material interests, to gain an honest living, while I,
who appeal to the soul, I, the priest of true religion,
do not, in sober truth, know where I am to look for
my daily bread next year.
The profound truth of the Greek intelligence is
derived, as it seems-to me, from the fact that riches
constituted, in their highly organized civilization,
merely a motive of itself, but not a necessary condi-
 The Future of Science. 391
tion to any other ambition. Hence arose the perfection
of spontaneousness in the development of individual
characters. A man was a poet or a philosopher
because it was part of his human nature, and because
he was specially endowed in that way. With us,
upon the contrary, there is a tendency imposed upon
whomsoever seeks to make a situation for himself in
external life. The faculties which he must cultivate
are those which serve to make rich: the industrial
spirit and practical intelligence. Now these faculties
are of very small value: they do not make a man
better, or more elevated, or more clear-sighted in
divine things; quite the contrary. A man devoid of
worth or morality, selfish and lazy, will be more likely
to make his fortune upon the Stock Exchange than
one who concerns himself with serious matters. That
is not just, and therefore it will disappear. Plutocracy,
then, is not very favourable to the legitimate develop-
ment of intelligence. England, the country of wealth,
is of all civilized countries the one in which you find
the minimum of the philosophical development of
the intelligence. The nobles in former times regarded
it as beneath their dignity to concern themselves
with literature. The rich generally have coarse
tastes and attach the idea of good form (bon ton) to
matters which are ridiculous or purely of convention.
A gentleman rider, however insignificant he is, may
pass for a model of fashion. But I call him in so
many words a fool.
Plutocracy, in another order of ideas, is the source
of all our wars, because of the evil feelings it inspires
among those whom fate has made poor. The latter,
in truth, seeing that they are nothing because they
possess nothing, direct all their activity towards this
one aim; and as, in many cases, this is slow, difficult,
- and even impossible, evil thoughts germ; jealousy
and hatred of the rich, the idea of stripping him of
what he possesses. The remedy for this 1s not to
contrive so that the poor may become rich, nor to
excite this desire in him, but so to act that riches
392, The Future of Science.
may become a secondary and insignificant thing ; that
without it one may be very happy, very great, very
noble, and very handsome ; that without it one may
become influential and highly esteemed in the State.
The remedy, in other words, is not to excite among
men appetites which all cannot satisfy, but to destroy —
this appetite or to change the object of it, seeing that
this object does not belong to the essence of human
nature ; but that, on the contrary, it impedes the
proper development of it.
 The Future of Science. 393

CHAPTER XXI.

Science being one of the true elements of humanity,

it is independent of all social and fixed form like
human nature. No revolution will destroy it, for no
revolution will change the deep-rooted instincts of
man. Doubtless one can, while devoting oneself to
it, find spare moments for other duties; but this
must be only a suspending not an abrogation of the
worship. A man must maintain the elevated and
ideal value of science even when attending to other
and more pressing duties. There are, I admit,
sciences which may be termed wmbratiles, which are
the better for security and peace. Only a M. de
Sacy could have published in the terrible year of
1793, at the Louvre printing-press, a work upon
Persian antiquities and upon the coins of the Sassa-
nides kings. But, taking human intelligence in the
mass, estimating progress by the movement accom-
plished in ideas, we are led to say: God’s will be
done! and we recognize the fact that a three days’
revolution does more for the progress of the human
mind than a generation of the Académie des Inscrip-
tions.
If there is one commonplace to which facts give
the lie more than to another, it is that a revolu-
tionary period is very unpropitious for mental labour,
that literature, in order to produce masterpieces, has
need of calm and leisure, and that the arts deserve
in reality the classic epithet of “friends of peace.”
History demonstrates, upon the contrary, that action,
 oo -
Bi‘
vy

394 The Future of Science.

war, and rumours of war are the true medium in
which humanity develops itself, that genius only
puts out its full vegetation amid the storm, and that
all the great creations of thought have appeared in
troublous times. Of all ages, the sixteenth century
is beyond doubt that in which the human mind dis-
played the most energy and activity in all directions ;
it is the creative century par excellence. There was
a want of regularity in it, no doubt; it was a thick
and luxuriant growth amid which art had not, as yet,
traced paths. But what fertility we have in this
the century of Luther and of Raphael, of Michael
Angelo and of Ariosto, of Montaigne and of Erasmus,
of Galileo and of Copernic, of Cardan and of Vanini. _
All branches of learning and knowledge are embraced _
in it: philology, mathematics, astronomy, physical —
science and philosophy. And yet this wonderful —
century, in which the modern spirit was definitely
constituted, was the century of universal struggles
and contentions: religious, political, literary, scien-
tific. Italy herself, which then took the lead of all
Europe in the paths of investigation, was the theatre
of barbarous wars such as the future, let us hope,
will never see again. The sacking of Rome did not
disturb the brush of Michael Angelo ; left an orphan
at the age of six, mutilated at Brescia, Tartaglia
worked out mathematics for himself. Rhetoricians
alone can prefer the calm and artificial work of the
writer to the burning and genuine work which was
an act, and stood out in its day as the spontaneous
cry of an heroic or impassioned soul. Aidschylus had
been a soldier at Salamis before being the poet. It
was in camp and amid the risks of a life of adventure
that Descartes thought out his method. Would
Dante have composed in an atmosphere of studious
ease those cantos of his which are the most original
in a period of ten centuries? Are not the sufferings
of the poet, his wrath, his passions, and his exile half
_ the poem? Can one not feel in Milton the man
who has been wounded in political strife? Would
|eae
The Future of Science. SUo
Chateaubriand have been what he is if the nine-
teenth century had been an unbroken continuation
of the eighteenth?
The customary state of Athens was one of terror.
Never were political habits more violent, or the
security of the individual less. The enemy was
always a few leagues off; not a year elapsed but
what he appeared at the gates, but what it was
necessary to go out and fight against him. And
within, what an interminable series of revolutions!
To-day an exile, to-morrow sold as a slave; then
regretted, honoured as a god, liable each day to be
dragged before the most pitiless revolutionary tri-
bunal, the Athenian, who amid this life of rush and
uncertainty, was never sure of the morrow, pro-
duced with a spontaneousness which overwhelms us
with surprise. Let us not forget that the Parthenon
and the Propyleea statues of Phidias, the Dialogues
of Plato, the stinging satires of Aristophanes, were
the work of an epoch very similar to 1793, of a
political state of things which entailed, in proportion
to the number of people concerned, more violent
deaths than our first revolution at its paroxysm.
Where in these masterpieces do we find a trace of
the terror? Some strange timidity seems to have
taken hold of our minds. As soon as the smallest
cloud appears upon the horizon, everybody withdraws
himself inside his shell, so to speak, and is overcome
with fear? ‘‘ What can be done in times like
these? We want security. There is no inclination
to produce anything, when there is no certainty as
to the morrow.” But we might remember that the
morrow has never been certain since the beginning
of the world, and that if the great men whose labours
have made us what we are had reasoned in this way,
the human mind would have remained for ever sterile.
Montaigne ran the risk of assassination as he walked
round his chateau, but this did not prevent him from
writing his Essais. This fatal craving for repose has
come from the long period of peace we have gone
396 The Future of Science.
through, and which has had so great an influence
upon the current of our ideas. The masculine gene- —
ration which grew to manhood in 1815, had the good
fortune to be cradled amid great achievements and
great perils, and to have had a high-spirited struggle
to carry on as a training for its youth. But we, who
began to think in 1830, born beneath the influence of
Mercury, first saw the world as a machine in regular
working order; peace seemed to us as being the
natural medium of the human mind ; our only expe-
rience of struggle and contention was under the
petty proportions of a purely personal opposition.
The least, disturbance surprises us. Our horizon is
limited to the timid preservation of what our fathers
have accomplished. Woe to the generation which
has only had experience of a regular state of adminis-
tration, whose sole conception of life is as a rest and
of art as an enjoyment. Great achievements never
are accomplished in these lukewarm periods. But
it would not do to deny all value to the productions
of a period of calm and regularity. They are highly
finished, sensible, reasonable, full of a delicate criti- —
cism ; they are agreeable to read in hours of leisure;
but there is nothing decided or original about them,
nothing which breathes militant humanity, nothing
which approaches the hardy works of those won-
derful ages in which all the elements of humanity
while in a state of ebullition appear alternately upon
the surface. The universe created only in its primi-
tive periods and beneath the reign of chaos. Mon-
sters could not come into being under the peaceful .
régime of equilibrium which has succeeded the
tempests of the earliest ages.
It is not, therefore, either material ease or even
liberty which contribute much to the originality and
the energy of intellectual development; it is the
medium of great things, it is universal activity, it is
the spectacle of revolutions, it is the passion developed
in combat. The work of the mind would only be
seriously threatened when humanity came to be too
| lait re —-

|
) . ,

The Future of Science. 397

much at its ease. Thank God! that day is still far
distant.
A newspaper some time since called upon the
National Assembly to decree the right to rest; an
ingenious metaphor the meaning of which no one
could mistake. No doubt, if life were to be regarded
merely as a period of rest and pleasure, we might
well regard the agitation of thought as a curse,
and as perverse those, who in order to satisfy their
feeling of unrest, disturbed this pleasant slumber.
Revolutions can be only absurd and odious dis-
turbances in the eyes of those who do not believe in
progress. Without the idea of progress, all the ideas
of humanity are incomprehensible. If human life
had no other horizon than to vegetate somehow ; if
society were merely an aggregation of persons each
one living for himself and invariably subject to the
same vicissitudes ; if every one was born, lived, and
died in much the same manner, the best thing to do
would be to put humanity to sleep and patiently
submit to this commonplace monotony. ‘There are
some who think it a good thing that the time of
religious controversies is over. For my own part,
I regret it, and I regret the disappearance of that
most beneficent Protestant controversy which, for
more than two centuries, sharpened up and kept on
the qui-vive the mind of all civilized Europe; I regret
the time when Turenne and Lesdiguiére were in
controversy, when a book by Claude or Jurieu was
an event, when Caton and Turretin, matched against
each other, arrested the attention of all Hurope.
The wars of religion are, after all, the most reason-
able of all wars, and henceforward they will be the
only ones such. We must be fair, and admit that
never was life more free than from 1830 to 1848, and
we shall perhaps have to wait a long time before we
have a régime affording so large a share of liberty.
But can it be said that during this period humanity
was enriched by many new ideas, that morality,
intelligence, and true religion made any real pro-
398 The Future of Science.
gress? Just as the monastic life, where all is cut
and dried in advance, destroys the picturesque part
of life and effaces all originality, so a regular civiliza- —
tion, tracing too narrow a road for existence, and
placing constant fetters upon individual liberty, is
more detrimental to spontaneousness than the
arbitrary régime (172). ‘‘This formalist liberty,”
says M. Villemain, ‘‘ engenders more petty vexations
than great struggles, more intrigues than great
passions.”” The human mind was infinitely more
active in the years of compression of the Restoration
than in the years of reasonable liberty which followed
1830. Poetry became egotistical, and its sole value
was as a delicate accompaniment of pleasure;
originality was out of place. It was admired and
sought out with curiosity in the past, but it was re-
garded with contumely in the present. Keen interest
was felt in the well-defined figures to be found in
history, and no mercy was shown to the contem-
poraries whom the future will regard with the same
interest. ‘Thus a régime which realized the ideal of
eclecticism will get the reputation of being a some-.
what barren period as regards the history of human
intelligence.
Upon the other hand, an epoch may, so long as it
emerges from the commonplace, give birth to the
most original and contradictory apparitions. Have
we not seen the selfsame revolution producing at
one and the same time the true formula of the rights
of man, and the new symbol of liberty, equality, and
fraternity, and, upon the other hand, the massacres
of September and the scaffold in permanence? Did
not the same century give birth to the Talmud and
the Gospel, the most fearful monument of intellectual
depression and the loftiest creation of the moral —
sense—to Jesus upon the one hand and Hillel and
Schammai on the other? Anything may be antici-
pated in these great crises of the human mind,
whether in the way of what is sublime or absurd.
It is only the colourless productions of periods of
; oe ae x

| The Future of Science. 399

repose which are consistent with themselves. The
appearance of Christ would be inexplicable in a
logical and regular state of things; it is compre-
hensible during the singular crises which at that
period characterized the reasoning sense of Judea.
Those solemn periods during which human nature,
in a state of exaltation, half beside itself, emits the
most extravagant sounds, are the periods of great
revelations. If the same circumstances occurred
again, the same phenomena would reappear, and we
should again see Christs, not probably represented
by individuals, but by a new spirit, which would be
of spontaneous growth, without perhaps being per-
sonified so exclusively in any one particular person.
It must not be imagined that human nature is so
clearly marked off as to be unable to extend beyond
a commonplace horizon. There are rents in this
horizon, through which the eye pierces the infinite;
there are vistas which go direct beyond the goal.
There may spring up among the stronger races and
at periods of crises monsters in the intellectual order,
which, while participating in human nature, ex-
aggerate it so much in one sense that they catch
a glimpse of the unknown worlds. ‘These beings
were less rare than is generally believed in the
primitive epochs. It may be that more of these
strange natures, placed upon the limit of man and
open to different combinations, will one day appear.
But assuredly these ancestors will not be born in
our jog-trot time. A narrow and fixed conception
of life weakens the creative faculties. Civilization,
owing to the extreme definition of rights which it
introduces into society, and by the fetters which
it imposes upon individual liberty, becomes in the
long run a very irksome burden, and deprives man
in a great measure of the keen sense of his inde-
pendence. I can understand German writers re-
gretting from this point of view the old Germanic
life and deploring the Roman and Christian influence
which changed its rough-and-ready sincerity. Com-
400 The Future of Science.
pare the modern man, swathed about witha thousand
clauses of law, unable to take a step without being
confronted by a sergeant or a regulation, with Antar
in his desert, knowing no other law than the fire of
his race, dependent only upon himself, in a world
where no idea of penal law or of coercia exercised in
the name of society exists.
All is fruitful except common sense. The prophet,
the apostle, the poet of the early ages would be re-
garded as madmen in the midst of the colourless
mediocrity in which human life is imprisoned. A
man who shed tears without any apparent cause, who
wept over the universal sorrow, or laughed with a
long, mysterious laugh, would be shut up in a mad-
house because he did not make his thoughts fit to
our accustomed moulds. And yet I would ask why
this man is not nearer to God than a self-sufficient
little tradesman, huddled up in the corner of his
shop. How touching is the custom prevalent -in
Judea and Arabia, where the lunatic is honoured as
a favourite of God, as a man who sees into the world
beyond! The Soufi and the Corybant believed, in
losing their senses, that they touched the divinity;
the instinct of different peoples has sought for reve-
lations from the hallowed state of slumber. The
prophets and the inspired men of ancient times
would have been classed by our physicians as victims
of hallucination. So true is it that an undetermined
line divides the legitimate and the exorbitant exer-
cise of the human faculties, and that they cover a
serial scale of which the centre alone is attainable.
The same instinct, in the one case normal, in the
other perverse, inspired Dante and the Marquis de
Sade. The greatest of religions was marked at its
cradle by incidents of the purest enthusiasm and by
the extravagances of convulsionists equal to anything
to be seen among the most exalted of sectaries.
We must, therefore, resign ourselves to the fact
that the most beautiful of things are born amid tears;
sorrow is not too high a price to pay for beauty:
 The Future of Science. 401
The new faith will only be born amidst terrible dis-
turbances, and when the human intelligence has
been checkmated, thrown off the rails, so to speak,
by events as yet unparalleled. We have not yet)
suffered sufficiently to see the kingdom of heaven.- ee
When a few millions of men have died of hunger,
when thousands have devoured one another, when
the brains of the others, carried off their balance of
these darksome scenes, have plunged into extrava-
gances of one kind and another, then life will begin
anew. Suffering has been for man the mistress and
the revealer of great things. Order is an end, not a °
beginning. ©
So true is it that institutions bear their best fruit
before they have become too official. It would be
very foolish to imagine that now there is a discus-
sion forum on the Quai d’Orsay, there will be greater
political speakers. The first Hcole Normale was
unquestionably regulated with less care than that of
to-day, and had no teachers to compare with the
present ones. And yet the generation it produced
is beyond all comparison with what is produced now.
An institution only possesses its full strength when
it corresponds to the real and clearly felt want which
led to its establishment. At first, it may appear to
be imperfect, and people are too ready to imagine
that when the period of tranquillity and of peaceful
organization comes, it will do wonders. This is all
a mistake; the petty improvements spoil the work ;
the motive force disappears, and the whole becomes
petrified. Official regulations do not impart life, and
IT am convinced for my part that an education like
ours will always have the defects so often imputed
to it of being mechanical and artificial. Regulations
are supposed to take the place of the spirit, to achieve
with men devoid of self-devotion or morality what
could be accomplished with men who were devoted
and religious. This is attempting the impossible;
life cannot be simulated; no machinery however well
combined will produce more than an Be
D
 —~“ te es

402 The Future of Science.

This evil is not to be corrected by regulations, in-
asmuch as they are the very source of the mis-
chief. Rule existed, it is true, at the outset, but
it was vivified by the spirit, just as the Christian
ceremonies, which have become a mere series of ©
closely regulated movements, were in the beginning
true and sincere. What a difference there is be-
tween chanting a tag of Latin called the Hpistle and
reading in company the Correspondence of colleagues,
between a piece of consecrated bread which no longer
has any meaning and the feast of early times! The
primitive gathering, the agape, had no need to be
regulated, for it was spontaneous. Painting pro-
duced masterpieces before there was such a thing as
a yearly exhibition. Men of letters and artists did ©
not enjoy, in the seventeenth and eighteenth cen-
turies, the amount of dignity they should have done,
and therefore, now that they have obtained the place
which is due to them, they will do much better. —
These are erroneous conclusions, for they presuppose
that the regulating of the external conditions of
intellectual production is favourable to it, Whereas
this production depends solely upon the abundance
of the inner and living sap of humanity. =»
Some one said, speaking of the beatific calm in
which Austria was previous to 1848: ‘* What can’ you~
expect ; these people are foolish enough to be happy.”’
That is not so; it is not a vulgar thing to be happy.
Only the high-strung souls know how to attain hap-
piness. But to be at one’s ease is the most prosaic
of aspirations. None but a simpleton can be so eager -
for the régime of a full stomach. i
_ As soon as a country begins to show signs of agita-
tion, we are inclined to regard its condition as
unsatisfactory. If, upon the contrary, it is in a dead
calm, we say, and in this case with more truth,
“This country feels the want of action.” Agitation
appears to be a regrettable transition and repose
seems to be the aim; but repose never comes, and
if it did that would be the worst thing that could
 The Future of Science. 403
happen. No doubt, order is a desirable thing, and
all efforts should tend towards it; but order is only
to be desired in view of progress. When humanity
has reached its rational state, but not till then, revo-
lutions will appear detestable, and pity will be due
to the age which stands in need of them.
The aim of humanity is not repose; it is intellec-
tual and moral perfection. How can people talk of
repose, I should like to know, when they have the
infinite to traverse and the perfect to reach? Humanity
will only repose when it has reached the perfect. It
would be too strange if a few profane persons could,
from motives of £ s. d. or personal interest, arrest
the progress of the mind, the true religious progress.
The most dangerous state for humanity would be that
in which the majority, finding itself quite at ease and
not wishing to be disturbed, should retain its repose
at the cost of thought and of an oppressed minority.
When that occurred, the only safety would be in the
moral instincts of human nature, which, no doubt, |
' would not be found wanting.
The traction force of humanity has hitherto resided
in the minority. Those who find themselves well off
in the world as it is cannot like movement, unless
they raise themselves above self-interested views.
Thus the greater become the number of the well-to-
do, the harder is it to stir humanity; it has to be
dragged along. The good of humanity being the
supreme aim, the minority must not scruple to lead
along against its will, if needs be, the stupid or selfish
“majority. But in order to do that it must have
reason on its side, otherwise it is an abominable
tyranny. The essential thing is not that the will
of the great majority should be carried out, but that
right should be done. What! there are people who,
in order to make a few sous the more, would sacri-
fice humanity and country, who would have the right
to say: ‘‘ You shall go no further; do not teach this,
it might stir up men’s minds and be injurious to
our business?’”’ ‘I'he only portion of humanity which
 >. 1 “, Sa 4 , a

404 The Future of Science.

deserves to be taken into consideration is the active
and living part, that is to say, the part which is not
well to do. It will, therefore, be quite in vain that
- our fathers, having become reasonable, will beg us no »
longer to think and to keep ourselves quiet, for fear
of throwing the delicate machine out of gear. We
ask for ourselves the liberty which they have taken
to themselves. We will let them be converted, and
we will appeal from Voltaire out of sorts to Voltaire
in good health.
Reflect, then, for a moment upon what you are
attempting to do, and remember that it is a sheer
impossibility, that which since the beginning of the
world all intelligent conservatives have attempted
without success; to check the human mind, to
deaden intellectual activity, to persuade youth that
all thought is dangerous and leads to evil. You have
had your liberty of thought, so will we; we will
admire, as you have taught us to do, the great men
of the past and the illustrious promoters of thought
whom now you repudiate. We will remind you of
what you have taught, we will protect you against
_ yourselves. You are old and sickly, and you can
become converted ; but we, your pupils in liberalism,
we, young and full of life, we to whom the future
belongs, why should we accept a share in your terrors ?
How can you expect that a rising generation should
be content to shrivel up with ill-humour and fear?
Hope is a thing of our age, and we prefer succumb-
ing in the struggle to dying of cold or fear.
There is something really comical in this ill-
humour which has suddenly been manifested against
the free thinkers, as if, after all, they could help the
result of their speculations, as if they could have
done different from what they have, as if they were |
free to see things different from what they are. One
might have supposed that it was out of pure caprice
and fancy that they suddenly attacked the beliefs
of the past, and as if it depended upon them whether
the world retained its faith or not. A book only
 The Future of Science. 405
succeeds when it responds to the secret thought of
all; an author does not destroy faiths; if they appa-
rently fall beneath his blows, it was because they
were already very much shaken. I have met people
who, imagining that the mischief comes from Ger-
many, regretted that there was no inquisition against
Kant, Hegel, Strauss. Sheer fatality this! You
admire Luther, Descartes, and Voltaire, and you
anathematize those who, without intending to imitate
them, carry on their work, and if there was in our
day a Luther, a Descartes or a Voltaire, you would
treat them as enemies of society, as dangerous inno-
vators. You condemn the eighteenth century which
you formerly liked so well; you should, to be logical,
condemn the Renaissance, the whole modern spirit
and fatality into the bargain. You may condemn
and curse as much as you please, but I defy you to
deaden the human mind beneath a perpetual charm,
I defy you to persuade it to remain idle, to rest
motionless for fear of risk, forthat isdeath. We will
not allow it, we will cry out to the people: ‘It is
false, it is false, you are being led astray,” rather
than tolerate this irreverent way-of treating truth as
being of less importance than the tranquillity of a
few cowards.
The whole secret of the intellectual situation of
the moment is, therefore, in this fatal truth, viz.
that intellectual labour has been degraded to the
rank of a pleasure, and that in the day of serious
things it has become insignificant like the pleasures
themselves. It is not, therefore, the fault of events,
for they should rather have had the effect of awaking
men’s minds and stirring them up to thought; the
whole fault is in the general depression brought
about by the exclusive attention given to repose ;
the shameful hedonism of which we gather the fruits
and of which communistic follies are, after all, but
the extreme consequence. There are times when
to amuse oneself is a crime, or at all events an
impossibility. The silly literature of coteries and
 406 The Future of Science.
salons, the science of the inquisitive and of amateurs
is much depreciated by these terrible spectacles;
the serial story loses much of its interest when it
appears in a paper containing the recital of the real
and passionate drama of the hour; the amateur may
well fear to see his collections carried off or blown
all over the place by the wind of the storm. In
order to appreciate these peaceful tastes, a man need
have nothing to do and nothing to fear; to seek out
such innocent diversions, time must hang heavy on
the hand. But nothing of that which contributes
to the awakening of humanity is lost to the true
progress of the mind; philosophical thought is never :
more free than in the great days of history. Intel-_ !
lectual exercise is more vigorous at those times, for
it is less tainted with amusement. It is imperative
|

that the world should school itself to maintain, amid —

no matter what cataclysms, the value of intellectual
culture, of science, of art, and of philosophy. What
is good is always good, and if we wait for tranquillity,
we may have to wait a long time. If our fathers had
reasoned in this way, they would have folded their
arms and done nothing, and we should not enjoy.
their inheritance. And what matters it, after all,
whether to-morrow be sure or not? What matters
it whether the future belongs to us or does not? Is
the sky less blue, Beatrice less beautiful, or God less
great? If the world were to collapse, it would still
be well to philosophize, and I am convinced that
if ever our planet is the victim of a fresh cataclysm,
{
which at this moment seems impending, it will find
some few minds of men which, amid this general
upheaval and chaos, will have disinterested and
scientific thoughts, and which, forgetting their im-
pending death, will discuss the phenomenon, and
endeavour to draw from it some consequences bear-
ing upon the general system of things (173).
 The Future of Science. 407

CHAPTER XXII.

I asx the reader to pardon numberless views to some

extent exaggerated which he will have encountered
in the preceding chapter, and I beg him to judge
this book not by an isolated passage, but by its
general spirit. A man can only give expression to
his mind by the successive delineation of various
points of view, each of which is only true when taken
as awhole. A single page is, as a matter of neces-
sity, false ; for it expresses only one thing, and truth
is only the compromise between an infinity of things
(174). Now what I have sought above all to inculcate
- in this book is faith in reason, faith in human nature.
“‘T would have it serve to react against the sort of
moral enfeeblement which is the malady of the rising
generation ; I would have it guide back into the true
road of life some of those enervated souls which com-
plain of being lacking in faith, which know not which
way to go and which search everywhere in vain for an
object of worship and devotion. Why complain so
bitterly that in the world, as it is constituted, there
is not enough employment for all intelligences? Is
not serious and calm study available ? and does not
it contain a hope and a career within the reach of
each one of us. Armed with this, we can endure
the evil days, without feeling the weight of them,
we can work out our own destiny, we can make a
noble use of life (175). That is what I have done,”
added the noble martyr to science from whom I have
borrowed these lines, ‘‘and what I would do again
408 The Future of Science.
if I had to recommence my journey. Blind and
suffering without hope of recovery, almost un-
ceasingly, I can bear this testimony which, from my
lips, will not be open to cavil: there is in the world
something better than fortune, better than health
itself, and that is devotion to science.”
I know that in the eyes of many people, this faith
in science and in the human intelligence will seem
a piece of absurdity, and that it will not please those |
who, too clever to believe in the truth, regard scep-
ticism itself as too doctrinal, and who, without. pay-
ing too much heed to these cumbrous categories of
truth and error, treat the enjoyments of life and the
calculations of intrigue as the serious business of life.
There is nothing but raillery for those who concern
themselves with the reality of things, and who, in
order to form an opinion upon morality, religion,
social and philosophical questions, are so simple
minded as to reflect upon objective reasons, instead
of addressing themselves to the much easier criterion
of interests and of good taste (176). Only the form
of expression is taken into account; the intrinsic
consideration of things is regarded as useless and in
bad taste; or else, if itis thought distingué to assume
the air of a believer, people accept some ready-made
system, the absurdities of which they see very clearly,
just because they think if amusing to admit these
absurdities in order to make sport of reason. In this
way, aman becomes all the grosser in the object of
his belief as he has been more sceptical and has
shown more levity in his motive for accepting it. It
would be bad ‘“‘form”’ to ask oneself for a moment
whether it -is true; it is accepted as one accepts a
certain shape of coat or hat; one becomes super-
stitious to a degree because one has been sceptical
—not to say frivolous. Pronounced scepticism has
never been very prevalent in France; our sceptics,
to begin with Montaigne and Pascal, have been
either men of wit or believers; two forms of scep-
ticism very close to each other and mutually inter-
 The Future of Science. 409
dependent. Pascal sought to borrow from Montaigne
his sceptical arguments and give them the first place
in his Apologia: ‘‘ One cannot,” he says, “ fail to see
with pleasure how, in this author, the magnificent
reasoning is so invincibly rumpled by his own arms
. and one would love with one’s whole heart the
ministry of so great a vengeance, if . . .” (177)
When scepticism has become a fashion, it does
not imply penetration of mind nor keenness of criti-
cism, but much rather dulness and incapacity to
understand the truth. ‘It is very convenient,”
says Fichte, ‘‘to cover with the high-sounding name
of scepticism lack of intelligence. It is pleasant to
pass off this lack of intelligence which prevents us
from seizing the truth for marvellous penetration of
mind, which reveals to us motives of doubt unknown
and inaccessible to the rest of mankind” (178). It
is easy, by placing oneself as outside all dogma, to
play the part of one in advance of his age, and the
stupid, who are more afraid of being dupes than of
anything else, carry this even further. Just as in
the eighteenth century it was the fashion not to
believe in feminine honour, so in our day there is
not a provincial person with pretensions who does
not make a glory of having no political creed and
of not being a believer in the probity of those who
govern. This is one way of having one’s revenge,
and also of making the world believe that one is
initiated into deep secrets.
It is the honour of philosophy to have always had
as its enemies the frivolous and the immoral. Who,
not having in themselves the instinct of what is
beautiful, boldly declare that human nature is ugly
and bad, and embrace with frenzy any doctrine
which humiliates man and keeps him entirely under
dependence. Therein lies the secret of the faith of
the ‘‘ golden youth” of the Catholic creed, thoroughly
sceptical, hard and scornful, which finds amusement
in calling itself Catholic, because by so doing it puts
an insult the more upon modern ideas. That dis-
410 The Future of Scvence.
penses it from harbouring noble thoughts; by dint
of saying to oneself that human nature is vile and
corrupt, one in the end resigns oneself to this and
takes it in good part (179). The Church will be
indulgent for errors of the heart, and then it 1s so
easy for aristocrat ic fatuity to believe that the mass
of mankind is absurd and ill-intentioned, and to have
under control a potent authority to cut short the
reasonings of these impertinent philosophers, who
dare to believe in truth and beauty. O sordid souls,
how dark you are within, seeing how few are the
things you love! And you will be called believers,
while we.are called impious! This is more than can
be endured.
God forbid that I should speak slightingly of those
who, devoid of the critical sense and impelled by
very powerful religious motives, are attached to one
or other of the great established systems of faith. I
love the simple faith of the peasant, the serious con-
viction of the priest. I am convinced, for the honour
of human nature, that Christianity is, with the im-
mense majority of those who profess it, a purely noble -
form of life. But I cannot help saying that, for a
great part of aristocratic youth, Catholicism is merely
a form of scepticism and frivolity. The first basis of
that sort of Catholicism is scorn, malediction, and
irony ; malediction against anything which has caused
the human mind to progress and which has broken ~
the old chain. Compelled to hate whatever has
aided the modern spirit to shake itself free of Catholi-
cism, these frenzied partisans are full of hatred for
everything and everybody: for Louis XIV. who, by
constituting the central unity of France, worked so
efficaciously for the triumph of the modern spirit, as.
for Luther, for science as for the industrial spirit, for —
humanity in short. They think that they are offer-
ing an apologia for Christianity when they make.
sport of all that is serious and philosophical.
It is impossible for me to express the physiological
and psychological effect this sort of parody which ~
| i al

The Future of Science. 411

has become so much the fashion in provincial circles
of late years has upon me. It irritates and annoys
me beyond endurance. It is so easy to elude in
this way anything serious or original. Barbarians
that you are, do you forget that we have had Voltaire,
and that we might fling in your face Father Nico-
demus, Abraham Chaumeix, Sabathier and Nonotte?
We do not do so, because you have told us that it
was unfair. But why, then, use against us a weapon
which you have reproached us with employing? Do
you suppose that if we wanted to make sport of
theologians, we should not have as fine an opening
as you, when, in order to raise a laugh from the
triflers, you put silly arguments into the mouths of
the philosophers ? I happened to take up a pamphlet
against eclecticism, in which Descartes is repre-
sented as a fool whose sole contribution to philosophy
is the question ‘‘ whether reason is not a thing which
reasons falsely,’ Kant as an idol who does not
know whether he exists and whether the world
exists, Fichte as an impertinent fellow who asserts
that ‘“‘he, Fichte, is at once God, nature, and
humanity,” all the philosophers, in short, as greater
lunatics than the magicians, the alchemists, and the
astrologers. I can fancy the light laughter which
the reading of these charming remarks would have
excited at some country fireside. ‘The author may
be assured of making his fortune much better than
dull-witted persons like us who are so stupid as to
take things seriously... .
It is time that all parties who have truth at heart
should abandon such unscientific ways. ‘There is, I
know, a philosophical form of merriment, which could
not be suppressed without doing injury to human
nature; and that is the merriment of the Greeks,
who liked to weep and to laugh over the same sub-
ject, to see the comedy after the tragedy, and often
the parody of the very piece they had just been wit-
nessing. But pleasantry in scientific matters is
always unreal, for it is the exclusion of elevated
412 The Future of Science.
criticism. Nothing is ridiculous in the works of
humanity; to give this aspect to serious things,
they must be looked at from a narrow side, and what
is majestic and true in them must be neglected.
Voltaire makes mock of the Bible, because he has
not the intuition of the primitive works of the human
mind. He would, in the same way, have made mock
of the Vedas, and no doubt of Homer. Banter com-
pels one to regard things solely from their gross
aspect ; ‘it is a baragainst delicate distinctions. The
first step in the philosophical career is to become
proof against ridicule. If a man allows himself to
become subject to vulgar jesters, and to take any
account of their frivolities, he shuts himself out from
all moral beauty, from all lofty aspirations, from all
elevation of character, for all these can be turned
into ridicule. The jester has the immense advantage
of being dispensed from furnishing proofs; he is free
to cast ridicule, at his will, upon what he pleases,
and this without appeal, at all events in countries
where, as in France, tyrannyis accepted as legitimate
authority. The only things which escape ridicule
are those which are commonplace and vulgar, so that
he who is weak enough to keep clear of anything
which may lend itself to ridicule, ipso facto cuts him-
self off from all that is lofty. The ages of reflection
risk seeing the noblest sentiments. and the most
sublime conditio ns of the soul distorted by stupid
plagiarists, the ridicule of whom sometimes recoils
upon the types which they aspire to imitate. A
certain amount of courage is required to resist the
reaction which these coxcombs excite among the
right-minded. It is unreasonable to resign oneself
to commonplace vulgarity, because in following up
an elevated type, one runs the risk of resembling
great men who have just missed their mark and the
unsuccessful aspirants after genius. One may regret.
the time when a great man was fashioned without
giving any thought to the matter, unconsciously so
to speak; but the ridiculous attitude of a few weak-
ia
The Future of Science. 413
headed persons cannot suffice to condemn those who -
with well-resolved and deliberate will set themselves
to accomplish something great and noble. The false
Rénés and the false Werthers should not cause us to
denounce the true ones. How many timid and
modest souls have been kept back from attaining the
beautiful for fear of resembling them! All praise to
the Olympian thinker, who, pursuing in all things
critical truth, has no need to become a dreamer in
order to escape the platitude of the bourgeois life, or
to become a bourgeois in order to avoid the ridicule
of the dreamers.
I sometimes regret that Molieére, when stigmatizing
the absurdities of the Hotel de Rambouillet, laid
himself open to the suspicion of setting up as models
types inferior in one way to those which he ridiculed.
The only defect in the pure affection of Armande and
of Bélise in the Femmes Savantes, even that of Cathos
and of Madelon in the Précieuses Ridicules, is that it
is affected, and serves as a cover to vacuousness under
the guise of a ridiculous pathos. If it were true, it
would be preferable to the commonplace love of
Clitandre and of Henriette. I prefer even the affec-
tation of what is elevated to mere triteness. Boileau
makes game of Clélie, ‘‘that admirable young woman,
who so conducted herself that she had not a lover
but was compelled to conceal himself under the guise
of a friend; for otherwise they would have been
turned out of the house.’’ Doubtless, subtlety is not
truth; but it is better to be ridiculous than vulgar,
and taking refuge in commonplace is a very easy
mode of escaping ridicule. It would be too much
that superficial jesters should have the power of
casting suspicion, whenever it pleased them, upon
whatsoever is noble, pure and elevated, of treating
enthusiasm as an extravagance, and morality as a
dupery. One thing only does not lend itself to jest,
and that is the atrocious. Let the mind travel over
the scale of moral characters; jests may have been
made of Socrates, Plato, Jesus Christ, God. Men
Al4 The Future of Science.
may have made mock of savants, poets, philosophers,
religious men, politicians, plebeians, nobles, rich
traders. No one has ever made mock of Nero or
Robespierre. Laughter cannot, therefore, be a cri-
terion. Action appears to many a means of avoiding
the dupery to which frivolous people suppose that
men of thought and sentiment fall victims. Itseems
as if the warrior, the politician, the financier are not
so open to attack as the philosopher or the poet.
But this is a mistake. All things equally lend them-
selves to ridicule, and if there is one thing really
serious, it is the critical thinker who looks at the
objectivity of things; for things are serious. Who
has not felt, in presence of a flower which blooms, of
a rivulet which is murmuring, of a bird watching
over its brood, of a rock in the midst of the sea, that
these things are sincere and true? Who has not felt
in certain moments of tranquillity, that the doubts
which are raised as to human morality, are merely
ways of searching beyond the limits of reason that
which is within them, and of placing oneself in a
false hypothesis for the pleasure of torturing oneself ?
Scepticism alone is entitled to jest, for it has no re-
prisals to fear. In what respect is it open to attack,
inasmuch as it is the first to make light of all things ?
But how can a believer who makes mock of another
believer fail to see that he lays himself open, by the
very fact of his being a believer, to the same ridicule ?
Let us, therefore, leave to negation and frivolity the
unenviable privilege of being invulnerable to attack,
and let us glory in the fact that, by reason of our
convictions and our seriousness, we lay ourselves open
to the jests of the sceptical.
Extreme reflection thus inevitably leads to a
species of insipidity and light scepticism, which would
be the death of humanity if it became universal. Of
all the intellectual states, this is the most dangerous
and the most incurable. Those who are attacked by
it are doomed to die. For how can they hope to
survive it, the unhappy beings who do not believe in
a
The Future of Science. 415
serious things, who, if they attempted to shake off
this intellectual paralysis, would be stopped by the
after thought that they, too, are going to be included
in the number of people at whom they have been in
the habit of laughing. But if there is no cure for
over-refining, humanity has methods of rejuvenation
and of oblivion which are impossible for individuals.
Young and keen generations, and sometimes even
new races, are constantly supplying it with sap, and
moreover this, by its very nature, could not last
more than a few years as a social evil. For, as its
essence is to take a purely arbitrary view of things,
those who come after do not feel themselves bound
by the views of the former; upon the contrary,
whatever is conventional provokes almost a reaction
in the opposite direction; it is impossible that a
fashion should be durable. Thus what is serious and
frivolous follow one upon the top of the other in the
records of fashion; frivolity in time becomes silly,
and ridicule can be adapted to any subject. So that
in time the world will make mock of these mockers
and recover its liking for the serious life. Then will
come an age made dogmatic by science; people will
recommence believing in the certain, and of resting
their feet firmly upon things, when they know that
they are on solid ground.
Religion, philosophy, morality, and politics all
have their sceptics ; there are not any in the physical
sciences (not at least as far as concerns that part of
them which is definitely accepted or their method).
The method of these sciences has thus become the
criterion of practical certainty in the present day,
and if the moral sciences seem to furnish results
which are less positive, this is because they do not
respond to that model of scientific certainty which
they have formed for themselves. This is the sheet-
anchor which will save our age from the shipwreck of
scepticism ; scientific certainty is accepted, the only
complaint being that this certainty is only applicable
to so few subjects. Effort should all be concentrated
416 The Future of Science.
upon enlarging this circle, but the great thing is that
the instrument is recognized, that people believe in
the possibility of believing. My conviction is that
results equally definite, though formulated in a
different way and arrived at by different methods,
will be attained in the moral sciences. There are
some natures which find pleasure in torturing them-
selves and in setting themselves insoluble problems.
The only proof of the morality and seriousness of
life is in our nature. To carry one’s investigations
beyond that and to doubt of the bases of human
nature is to vex one’s spirit designedly, is like irri-
tating the sensitive pulse for the doubtful pleasure
of scratching oneself.
Those who make a jest of things will never be
supreme. ‘The day is not distant when these would-
be fastidious people will be discovered so insignificant
in presence of the immensity of actual facts, so
incapable of producing, that they will collapse like an
empty bag. Only the eternal is of any value; whereas
these frivolous persons cling to successive offshoots,
knowing that both will fade away. Like the worn-.
out stomachs which soon turn against nourishment
and for which fresh culinary combinations have con-
stantly to be found, they concentrate all their interest
upon the various modes which succeed one another
every ten years. ‘Theirs is a literature of epicureans,
well calculated to please a class which is rich and
has no ideal, but which will never be the literature of
the people, for the people are frank, strong and sin-
cere. ‘This literature has no care for truth, but as a
mere matter of good taste and bon ton. The thing
is not to say what is, but what ought to be said.
‘He who believes nothing is worth nothing,” said
M. de Maistre. The ancient faith is impossible, but |
there remains faith by science, the critical faith.
Criticism is not scepticism, much less levity.
Criticism is keen and fine drawn, subtle and winged
without being frivolous. Germany was for a century
the country of criticism, and yet who would say.
 The Future of Science. ALT
that Lessing, Kant, and Hegel were frivolous men?
In France, it is not easy to conceive of a medium
between the heavy erudition of the seventeenth cen-
tury and the sharp-witted and sceptical manner of
modern critics (180). When people talk of serious-
ness, they are thinking of the simple wit of Rollin,
which is certainly not what we want. What we
want is not the bonhomie which excites suspicion,
because it infers shortness of view. What we want
is complete criticism, at once learned and elevated,
indulgent and pitiless. Narrowness of mind is very
dangerous in France because of the suspicion which
it awakens, and because this suspicion is extended to
whatever is dogmatic and moral. What people most
dread in France is being duped. A man prefers
having the character of being easy of conscience and
of scruples to that of an honest fool, and if any idea
of dulness of perception is associated with morality
that is sufficient for it to be regarded with suspicion.
This is why the term bon esprit has fallen into dis-
repute. A title which should be the highest possible
compliment has become almost synonymous with
weak-mindedness, and is bestowed with surprising
freedom. For, as a matter of fact, people are always
ready to accord to others the qualities which they do
not care about for themselves, and it is thought that,
in applying to others the term bon esprit, one will pass
for having a great or brilliant intellect oneself. We
are so afraid of being duped that we are perpetually
on the look out for attempts to deceive us, and we
are ready to think that if our forefathers had been
sharper, they would not have been so serious or so
honest. And yet, if morality were only an illusion,
it would be so fine a thing to allow oneself to be
duped by it! Domine, si error est, a te deceptr swmus.
Oh thou who hast made sport of my simplicity, I
shall thank thee for having stolen my virtue! __
We reject in the same way frivolous scepticism
and scholastic dogmatism; we are dogmatic critics.
We believe in truth, although we do not claim to
on8
 <— nt be a .3 ao
he: zi

1 by

418 The Future of Science.

possess absolute truth. We do not desire to pen up
humanity for ever within our formule; but we are
religious, in the sense that we are firmly attached to
the belief of the present, and that we are ready to
suffer for this belief in view of the future. Hnthu-
siasm and criticism are far from being incompatible.
We do not force ourselves upon the future any more
than we accept without verification the inheritance
of the past. We aspire to the high philosophical
impartiality which does not attach itself to any
party, not because it is indifferent to them, but
because it sees in each of them a mixture of truth
with error; which has no feeling of exclusiveness or
hatred for any one, because it sees the necessity of
all these various groupings and the right which each
one of them has, by virtue of the truth which it pos-
sesses, to make its appearance upon the world’s stage.
Error is not welcome to man; a dangerous error is a
contradiction like a dangerous truth. The reasoning
of Gamaliel (181) is unanswerable. If a doctrine is
true, it is not to be feared; if it is false still less so,
for it will explode of itself. Those who talk of doc-
trines as dangerous should add ‘‘ for me.” Cabet, I —
am sure, never provoked any man’s anger. Pure
error would only provoke in human nature, which
after all is kindly constituted, a sentiment of ridicule
or disgust.
What makes proselytism, what influences the
world, are incomplete truths. The complete truth
would be such a quintessence, would be so nicely
poised, that it would not excite the passions enough,
and would resemble scepticism. The breadth of
mind which eliminated in the declaration of its —
views all limit or exclusion would seem sheer
folly. The brain reels when one goes too close’
to identity ; the human mind can only have play
when within the limits of a finite frame and of
antithetical negation. Passion, while adoring its
object, must needs hate its counterpart. Would
France be so thoroughly herself if she had not the
|a al Fy

The Future of Science. 419

antithesis of England to keep her personality at high
pressure? Passion implies exclusion, antagonism
and partiality. Every doctrine, like every institution,
bears within itself the germ of life and the germ of
death. Called to life by its truth, the doctrine develops
with it a principle of death which becomes in time
intolerable and kills it. The fruit bears in it from
the very first hour the principle of its decay; hidden
at first during the period of growth by the organizing
forces, this principle declares itself at maturity, and
then gains the mastery, until complete decomposition
has set in. What any one system affirms is its share
of truth, what it denies is its share of error. It only
errs because it excludes whatever is not itself, be-
cause it participates in human weakness which
cannot embrace all things at once and creates science
by an analytical and gradual process. The critic is
he who examines all affirmations, and perceives the
reason of all things. The critic runs his rule over
all systems, not like the sceptic, in order to find them
false, but.to find them true in certain respects. And
that is why the critic is little adapted for proselytism.
For that which is partial is strongest; men only
become impassioned for that which is incomplete, or,
to speak more accurately, passion, attaching them
exclusively to one object, blinds them to all the rest.
Tt is like the everlasting dupery of the lover who
sees only his or her object. Hxclusive love is parallel
with hatred and anathema. ‘The critic sees too
clearly the distinctions to be energetic in action,
Even when he takes a side, he knows that his adver-
saries are not altogether wrong. Now to act with
vigour, one needs be more or less pitiless, believe -~.
that one is entirely in the right, and that those whom
one is opposing are blind or bad. If M. Cavaignac
or M. Changarnier had been as critical as I am, they
would not have done us the service of saving us in
June, for I confess that since February (the revolu-
tion of 1848) the question has never appeared clearly
enough defined to my judgment for me to have
 a weg

420 The Future of Science.

ventured taking sides one way or the other. For, I
said to myself, perhaps my brother is on that side;
perhaps I shall be killed by one whose will is as
mine.
Scepticism is thus graduated along the diverse
degrees of human intelligence, alternating with dog-
matism according to the more or less advanced
development of the intellectual faculties. At the
bottom of the ladder is the absolute dogmatism of
the ignorant and the simple, who affirm and believe
naturally, and have not seen any motives for doubt.
—When the mind, which has for a long time been
cradled in this simple faith, begins to discover that
it may have been the sport of its belief, it becomes
suspicious and imagines that the surest means of not
being deceived is to reject everything; a primitive
scepticism which is not devoid of naiveté (Sophists,
Montaigne, etc.).—Then a more extensive learning,
taking human nature in the mass, without concerning
itself as to radical problems, endeavours to build
upon common sense a reasonable but shallow dogma-
tism (Socrates, Th. Reid). More vigorous views
soon show what little ground there is for this fresh
attempt; the instrument itself is attached, and
thence arises a great, a terrible, a sublime scepticism
(Kant, Jouffroy, Pascal).—At last, the complete view —
of the human mind, the consideration of humanity
aspiring after the true and enriching itself by the
elimination of error, brings about the dogmatic
criticism, which has no further dread of scepticism,
for it has been through it, knows what its actual
value is, and, very different from the dogmatism of
the early ages, which had not even suspected the
existence of any motives for doubt, is strong enough
to live face to face with its enemy. Like all the
men of this century, I have had my periods of scep-
ticism; I have loved Lelia as much as Sténio did;
but I have found a foothold in criticism, and even
when such and such a creed does not appear to be as
scientific as might be desired, I still say without hesi-
 The Future of Science. 421
tation: There is some truth in it, although I do not
happen to possess the formula for extracting it. In
the eyes of the schoolmen, Goethe is a sceptic, but
he who is full of enthusiasm for all the flowers which
he meets on his way and takes them to be good and
genuine of their kind, is not to be confounded with
one who passes disdainfully by without looking down
at them. Goethe embraces the universe in the vast
affirmation of love; the sceptic has nothing but
narrow negation for everything.
While making the most liberal allowance to moral
scepticism, while admitting that life and the universe
are merely a series of phenomena of the same order,
and of which all one can say is that they exist, while
allowing that thought, feeling, passion, beauty and
virtue are merely facts, exciting different sentiments
in us, just like the various flowers of a garden or the
trees of a forest (whence it would result, as Byron
and Goethe thought, that everything is poetical),
while admitting that, having reached the final atom,
one is free, at will, to jest or to adore, so that the
option would depend upon the individual character
of each person, even from this point of view, from
which morality ceases to have any meaning, science
still would have. For what is certain is that these
phenomena are curious, that this world of manifold
movements interests and fascinates us. Morality is
also lacking in the world of insects which is all alive
in a sheet of water, and yet how delightful it is to
watch some flitting upwards to the sun, others, like
the salamanders, making for the bottom, and the
little worms forcing their way into the mud to seek
their prey. ‘This is life, and ever life (182). This
explains how science formed an essential part of the
intellectual system of Goethe. To investigate, to dis-
cuss, to regard, to speculate in a word, will always have
been the most attractive thing, whatever may be the
case with the reality (183). However much one may
be like Werther, there is so much pleasure in describ-
ing all this that life becomes as it were coloured with
 %
422 The Future of Science.
it. Goethe, Iam sure, was never tempted to shoot |
himself. It is not impossible that- humanity will —
some day come to an end, and that we shall have
been working for the benefit of the sea or voleanoes,
of iceor fame. But certain it is that the knowledge —
and the realizat ion of the beautiful will have had -
their use, and that science, like virtue, imports into
the world facts of unquestionable value. The mys-
tical Christians have developed in all its various
forms the favourite theory that Mary, the symbol of
contemplation, has, even in this world, the better
part, and that he who has embraced the perfect life
finds here below a sufficient reward. This is true to
the letter of science. One of the noblest minds of —
modern times, Fichte, assures us that he had reached _
. perfect happiness, and that at times he tasted such —
delight as almost to tremble (184). And yet, poor
man, he was at the same time almost dying of star-
vation. How often, in my modest room, surrounded
by my books, I have tasted the plenitude of happi-
ness, and have defied the whole world to procure for —
any one purer joys than those which I derived from
the calm and disinterested exercise of my thoughts.
How often, letting my pen drop, and surrendering
my soul to the thousand sentiments which, as they
come and go, bring about an instantaneous relief to
all our being, have I not said to heaven: Give me —
only life, and I can see to the rest for myself.
Would to God that all living and pure souls were
ae that the question of the future of humanity —
is-entirely one of doctrine and belief, and that phi-
losophy alone, that is to say rational research, is
capable of solving it. The really efficacious revolu-
tion,| that which will give its shape to the future,
will not be a political, it will be a religious and:
moral revolution. Politics have supplied all that —
they are capable of yielding, and they are now only a
barren and exhausted field, a battle-ground of passions
and intrigues to which humanity is quite indifferent
and which interest only those who take a share in
 The Future of Science. 423
them. There are epochs when the whole question of
the day is in politics; thus, for instance, at the
dividing line of the middle ages and of modern
times, at the epoch of Philippe-le-Bel, of Louis XL.,
the doctors and the thinkers were of little account,
or had only a real value in so far as they served
politics. It was the same at the beginning of this -
century. Politics then governed the world, the men
of intelligence whose ambition went beyond amusing
their contemporaries, had to become Statesmen, in ©
order to exercise their legitimate share of influence
upon their epoch. A thinker in the time of the
Empire was obliged to keep his thoughts to himself.
It was not a blameworthy ambition which carried off
into the melée all the intellectual notabilities of the
first half of this century; these eminent men did what
it was their duty to do in order to serve the society
of their time. But this age is reaching its close; the
leading part, as it seems to me, is more and more
devolving upon the thinkers. Beside the centuries ~
in which politics have occupied the centre of the
movement of humanity, there are others in which
they have been left to the petty world of intrigue,
and in which the main interest has been concentrated
upon things of the mind. Take, for instance, the
eighteenth century ; and consider who had the upper —
hand of humanity during this grand epoch! What
- are the names which strike one at a first glance over
the history of this period ? Not Choiseul, or Richelieu,
or Maupeou, or Fleury, but Voltaire, Rousseau, Mon-
tesquieu, and a whole school of thinkers who have
their hold upon the century, mould it according to
their will, and fashion the future. What are the War
of the Austrian succession, the Seven Years’ War,
the Family Compact, compared with such events as
the Oontrat Social or the Esprit des Lois? The affairs
of State were in the hands of an incapable king, of
insignificant courtiers, and of great noblemen with-
out views or grasp. ‘The true historical personages of
the period are writers, philosophers, men of intellect
AQ4 The Future of Science.
or of genius. But these latter did not take any
active part in the direction of public affairs, their
influence being indirect, and I imagine that, in the
same way, those who will restore us the great origin-
ality which has been lost will not be politicians but
thinkers, They will grow up and magnify outside
the official world, not even taking the trouble to
offer it any opposition, leaving it to expire within
its worn-out circle (185).
Upon the poor pasturages of the Brittany islands,
each ewe of the flock, tied to a stake in the centre,
could only nibble the scanty grass within a certain
narrow radius of the cord by which it is fastened.
Such appears to me to be the present condition of
politics; they have exhausted their resources for
solving the problem of humanity. Morality, philo-
sophy and true religion are not within their reach;
they are powerless to get beyond a certain circle.
Can it be honestly hoped that, if the salvation of the
present century was to be due to cleverness, or
ability, we shall find men more able than M. Guizot
or M. Thiers? Who would not shrug his shoulders»
at the idea of inexperienced beginners having the
presumption to think that they could, at the first
attempt, do better than such men as these? No,
they will be outrivalled not by doing like them, but
by doing different from them. If such men have
been rendered incapable, is this their fault, or was it
not rather because no amount of cleverness is on a
par with the situation ?
Let us take again the first three centuries of the
Christian era. Where do we find that the greatest
events were happening, where was the future being
founded, what were the names being marked out for
the respect of future generations? Not, surely, |
those of Tiberius or Sejanus, of Galba, Otho or
Vitellius. It was not they who occupied the centre
of humanity, as was doubtless believed in their time ;
the centre of the world was the most despised corner
of land in the Hast. The great men marked out
—- >

The Future of Seiziice: A495

for apotheosis were enthusiastic believers entirely
strangers to the secrets of high politics. Five cen-
turies later, the only men referred to in history as
having been famous were Peter, Paul, John and
Matthew, simple persons who, assuredly, made a very
modest figure in the world. What would Tacitus have
said if he had been told that all those personages
whom he brings so skilfully on to the front of the
stage would be completely effaced by the leaders of
the Christians whom he treats with so much con-
tempt; that the name of Augustus would only be
saved from oblivion because at the head of the records
of the Christian year would be read: Imperante
Cesare Augusto, Christus natus est in Bethlehem
Juda: that Nero would only be remembered because,
during his reign, Peter and Paul, the future masters of
Rome, are said to have suffered martyrdom; that the
name of Trajan would still be found in a few narra-
tives, not for his victory over the Dacians and for
having put back to the Tigris the limits of the Empire,
but because a credulous Bishop of Rome in the sixth
century took it into his head to pray for him? Here
then we have a vast development quietly in prepara-
tion for three centuries, growing in magnitude parallel
with the official society, persecuted by this latter, but
which, all at once, puts an extinguisher upon the
politics of the day, or, it may rather be said, remains
full of life and strength, while the official world is
dying of exhaustion. If St. Ambrose had remained
governor of Liguria, supposing even that he had
obtained promotion, and had become, like his father,
prefect of the Gauls, he would by this time have
been entirely forgotten. He did much better to
become a bishop. How can it be said after this that
there is no way of serving humanity except by join-
ing in the melée? I say, upon the contrary, that he
who embraces with his whole heart this humiliating
labour proves by that very fact that he has not a call
for the great work. What are politics in our day?|
Agitation without a principle or a law, a struggle of
426 The Future of Science.
rival ambitions, a vast stage of cabals and personal
competitions. What are the qualities requisite for
success, for ‘“‘becoming possible,’ as the saying
goes? Is it great originality, an ardent and power-
ful train of thought, impetuous conviction? These
are insurmountable obstacles in the way of success ; to
succeed, one must not think, or at all events not give
expression to one’s thoughts; one must makeso much .
use of one’s personality that one ceases to exist;
one must always be careful to say not that which 1s,
but that which it is expedient to say; in short one
must shut oneself up within a lifeless circle of con-
ventional phrases and official falsehoods. And you
would argue that it is from this that can proceed
what we so stand in need of: an original sap, a new
method of feeling, a dogma capable of stirring anew
the pulse of humanity? It would be as reasonable
to hope that scepticism will engender faith, and that
a new religion will be born out of the offices of a
ministry or the lobbies of an assembly.
The most important question in politics is ‘‘ Who
is to be Minister?” But will humanity, let me ask,
be any the better off if it is Mr. A instead of Mr. B
who holds office ? I assure you that Mr. A knows as ~
little as Mr. B the true secret of things, that the
problem will not be any nearer solution than it was
before, that all this is as of little importance as when
at Rome people speculated whether it would be
Didius Julianus or Flavius Sulpicianus who would
bid the higher, and that the 750 intelligent persons
who are grouped around this arena, following eagerly
all the different phases of the combat, waste their
time and their trouble. Not there is to be sought
the field for great achievements. What humanity
needs is a moral law and a creed; and it is from the
depths of human nature that they will emerge, and
not from the well-trodden and sterile pathways of
the official world.
_ Think for a moment how humiliating, in epochs
like our own, is the réle of the politician. Banished
 The Future of Science. 427
from the high regions of thought, disinherited of the
ideal, he passes his life in fruitless and ungrateful
labour, administrative cares, office complications,
mines and countermines of intrigue. Is that the
place for a philosopher? ‘The politician is the off-
scouring of humanity, not its inspired teacher. Who
is there with any pride in his perfection who would
let himself be inveigled into such an atmosphere of
suffocation ?
M. de Chateaubriand has, I think, maintained, in
one of his writings, that the intrusion of men of letters
Into active politics denotes a decline of political
intelligence in a nation. This is an error; it proves
the weakening of philosophical intelligence, of specu-
lation, of literature; it proves that the value and
dignity of the intelligence are no longer understood,
inasmuch as it no longer suffices to occupy the
thoughts of distinguished men; it proves, in short,
that supremacy has passed away from the mind and .
from doctrine to intrigue and petty activity. But
this activity will in due course declare itself to be
incompetent, and then it will be felt that the great
revolution can only come not from men of action, but
from men of thought and sentiment. This vulgar
kind of labour will be left to the uneasy spirits, and all -
noble and elevated minds, leaving the earth to those
who have a liking for it, regarding the form of govern-
ment as a matter of indifference, will take refuge upon
the lofty summits of human nature, and, burning with
enthusiasm for the beautiful and the true, will create
new force which, rapidly descending upon earth, will
upset the frail erections of politics, and will become
in its turn the law of humanity. It does not do to
expect too much from governments. It is not for
them to reveal to humanity the law of which it is in
search. All that can be expected of them in epochs ©
such as ours is to sustain as well as they can the
conditions of outward life so as to render it endurable.
It is more to be desired than anticipated, too, that
they will not be too severe upon the efforts which are
428 The Future of Science.
made in the new direction. Humanity will accom-
plish the remainder, without asking any one for per-
mission. No one can say from what part of the sky
will appear the star of this new redemption. The
one thing certain is that the shepherds and the magi
will be once more the first to perceive it, that the
germ of it is already formed, and that if we were able
to see the present with the eyes of the future, we
should be able to distinguish in the complication of
the hour the imperceptible fibre which will bear life
for the future. It is amid putrefaction that the germ
of future life is developed, and no one has the right
to say: This is a rejected stone, for that may be the
corner-stone of the future edifice. Could a sage of
the early ages have ever imagined that the future
belonged to that despised and unsociable sect, the
ban of the human race, which was associated in
the imagination with darksome mysteries and odious
orgies. The wits of the present day would have
shown all the antipathy for this doctrine that they
do for innovators of the modern age. These Chris-
tians would have seemed to them to be a vile, igno-
rant and superstitious set of people.
It is certain that several Christian sects justified
the calumnies of the pagans. The distinction which
has since been established between the orthodox
Church and the gnostic sects was at that time very
vague ; they all formed one body, and there was a
certain solidarity between them all. In the orthodox
sect itself, there are a great many defects which we
can see. The faculty has a name for those who
believe that they possess the gift of tongues, of
preaching and of prophecy. What are we to say
of those who are daily expecting the end of the
world: and the coming of a human body which will |
descend upon earth to reign? The extravagant ideas
of our maniacs of the phalanstery are nothing by
comparison with those of the early enthusiasts. Jean
Journet has recently been sent to the asylum at
Bicétre, but Jean Journet does not believe he can ~
ir
| The Future of Science. 429
perform miracles, or speak a language he has never
learnt. The Journal des Débats would have made
fine game of these people, and yet they succeeded,
while four centuries later the sharpest wits were
found to be their disciples, and even in the nine-
teenth century many gifted minds regard them as
being inspired. The bad complexion of a movement
is never a decisive argument. Even if I had before
me a popular movement of the most odious kind, a
regular Jacquerie, egotism saying to egotism ‘ Your
money or your life,” I should still exclaim: ‘“ Long
live humanity! here is the promise of great things
in the future.” Great apparitions are always accom-
panied by extravagances, they only reach a high
degree of power when philosophical minds have
given form and shape to them. Who can say that
phalanstery will not have been the gnosis, the wild
aberration of the new movement? It is at any rate
beyond question that the region is clearly enough
designated, that, in order to know whence will come
the religion of the future, we must always look in
the direction of Liberty, Equality and Fraternity.
It is, therefore, to the mind and to the thought
that we must revert. Now thought will in future
only find true scope in the form of rational science. -
It may seem, at first sight, as if science has had little
influence hitherto upon the development of things.
Reckon up the men of intelligence who have put
their shoulders to the wheel, and you will find
among them thinkers and writers like Luther, Vol-
taire, Rousseau, Chateaubriand and Lamartine, but
very few savants or technical philosophers. The four
words from Locke which Voltaire knew have had
more influence upon the course of the human mind
than the whole of Locke’s book. The few fragments
of German philosophy which have crossed the Rhine,
put together in a clear and superficial way, have
effected more than the doctrines themselves. That
is the French method; you take three or four words
of a system, just enough to indicate a tendency;
430 The Future of Science.
the rest is all guesswork, and the thing is done.
Humanity, it must be confessed, has not hitherto
marched with much method, and many things have
(if I may be permitted the expression) been jumbled
together, in the progress of the human intelligence.
But the one thing certain is that if the human race
were as much in earnest as it ought to be, enlightened
and competent reason in each order of things would
govern the world. But what is enlightened and
specially ‘competent reason if it is not science?
Supposing even that the erudite man were never
destined to have a place in the great history of
humanity, his work and its results, assimilated by
others and raised to their full height, will find their
place in history by means of that secret influence
and that inward infiltration which leads to no part
of humanity being closed for the rest.
Contemporary Germany offers one of the rare
instances of the direct effects of science upon the
march of political events. The idea of German unity |
came through science and literature. That nation
seemed resigned to death, it had lost all conscious- —
ness, and no longer counted as an individuality in
the world, when an incomparable group of geniuses,
Goethe, Schiller, Kant, and Beethoven came and
revealed it to itself. These are the true founders
of German unity; no sooner had the different parts
of that great country found each other once more in
the language, tongue, the glory and the geniusofthese
great men, than they felt the tie which bound them,
and were prompted to realize it in a political sense.
This has given rise to a characteristic incident, viz.
the learned, poetical and literary colour given to this
movement from the time of Arndt, Kleist and Sand
down to that gathering of doctors whose clumsiness —
and lack of adroitness may have made Europe smile
and have compromised for a time but not ruined
an idea which has been definitely set in motion.
 The Future of Science. 431
a

CHAPTER XXIII.

I one day visited this palace transformed into a

museum on the frontispiece of which was written in
a spirit of broad electicism ‘‘ To all the glories of
France.’ I had passed through the Gallery of
Battles, the Hall of Marshals, those of various cam-
paigns; I had seen the coronation of kings and
emperors, royal ceremonies, the capture of towns,
princes, great lords, faces foolish or insolent, when
‘all of a sudden I asked myself: Where is the place of
talent? Here are men born to greatness, coxcombs, »
men without ideas, without morality, who never
did anything for humanity. But where is the
gallery of saints, the gallery of philosophers, the
gallery of poets, the gallery of savants, the gallery of
thinkers ? I see Louis XIV. founding I know not
what order of nobility, and I do not see Vincent de
Paul founding modern charity; I see court episodes
of more or less insignificance, and I do not see
Abelard in the midst of his disciples discussing the
problems of the day on Mount Sainte Genevieve; I
see the oath of the Tennis Court and I do not see
Descartes shut up in his room and swearing not to
relinquish his search until he had discovered the
true philosophy. I see brutal and vulgar physiogno-
mies with nothing ideal, and I cannot see Gerson,
Calvin, Moliére, Rousseau, Voltaire, Montesquieu,
Condorcet, Lavoisier, Laplace, Chénier. Bossuet
and Fénelon are there rather as courtiers than as men
of talent. Can it be that Rousseau and Montesquieu
432 The Future of Science.
did less for the glory of France than such or such
obscure general or long-forgotten courtier? It is all
over, said I to myself, talent has been disinherited.
_.. But no. Over the uniform terraces of the
palace-museum see where rises that majestic edifice
crowned by the sign of Christ. Enter and tell me
if any glory equals the glory of Him who is sitting
there. Napoleon , whose name worked miracles, is
not enthrone d on an altar. Thank God! the chief
place is reserved for talent. The others have the
palace, He has the temple.
In the eyes of the philosopher the glory of talent
is the only true glory and it is permitted to hope that
the philosophers and the savants will inherit the
glory, which during its period of brutality and
antagonism, humanity was obliged to award to
military exploits. I am unable to approve of the
commonplace objection urged against conquerors;
one must have a very superficial mind to see in
Alexander a madman who laid Asia in ashes. War
and conquest may have been in ages gone by instru-
ments of progress; a manner, in default of any other,
of bringing people into contact and of realizing the
unity of humanity. Where would humanity be with-
out the conquests of Alexander, without the Roman
conquests? But when the world becomes rationalist,
the greatest man will be the one who has done the
most for ideas, who has searched the most, who has
discovered the most. The battle will not be gastro-
sophical, as Fourier wished ; it will be philosophical.
From the beginning it is talent which has taken the
lead in all things (Christianity, Crusade, Reform,
Revolution) and yet talent has remained humble,
misunderstood, persecuted. Napoleon did not trouble
the world as deeply as Luther, and yet what was ©
Luther all his life? A poor unfrocked monk who
only escaped his enemies because it pleased some
little princes to take him under their protection. If
anything proves the intimate force of speculation —
which exists in the human mind it is that in spite
|jaa
The Future of Science. 433
of the hard lot endured up to the present by thinkers,
there have been men capable of devoting their lives
notwithstanding insult, persecution and poverty, to ~
the disinterested pursuit of truth. When one re-
flects that the whole intellectual movement accom-
plished up to our day has been realized by men
unfortunate, suffering, harassed by internal and ex-
ternal afflictions and that we ourselves preserve the
tradition, with agitated heart, in the midst of fear
and anguish, one conceives a greater esteem for that
human nature, capable of pursuing an ideal object
with so much energy.
It is time to return definitively to the simplicity
of life and to renounce all that artifice of convention,
remnant of our aristocratical distinctions and the
artificial society of the seventeenth century; it is
time to return to the simplicity of antique customs.
Take Plato, Socrates, Alcibiades, Aspasia; fancy them
alive, acting according to the ravishing description
handed down to us by antiquity, especially Plato.
Do they possess that cold and insignificant pride
which constitutes the tone of our aristocratic
salons? Have they that silly air, that vulgar laugh,
that dull and prosaic appearance, that manner of
treating life as an affair of business, like the middle
class? Have they that coarseness, that heavy look,
that degraded expression which, I say it with sadness
and without any idea of a reproach, marks our people?
No. They are simple, they are men.
Those honest minds of refined ages, Rousseau, for
example, Tacitus perhaps, through reaction against
what was artificial and false in their time, often
looked back with complacency on barbarous times
which they called the age of nature. Innocent illu-
sion which converted no one and which only inspires
refined persons with an easy sort of resignation. One
reads with pleasure those eloquent declamations: one
accepts them as given themes, but no matter what
Voltaire says, no one after reading Rousseau_ex-
periences the desire of walking on all iu It is
F
 cal aS
@
yn

434 The Future of Science.

puerile to compare a barbarous state to refined
civilization; it should be compared to the true
civilization of which Greece offers us an incomparable
example. What we require, in the way of civilization,
is Greece without the slave system. Where can one
find more freedom given to the individual, more
personal originality, more spontaneousness, more
dignity ? We understand only royal or aristocratical
majesty. The majesty of the ideal is blended by us
with that of religion which we place beneath humanity,
and as for the majesty of the people we do not under-
stand it, because it does not exist. Athens, on the
contrary, is pure humanity. M.de Maistre declared
majesty to be entirely Roman. Certainly not. The
Olympian Jupiter and the Grecian Pallas, Salamis
and the Pireus the Pnyx and the Acropolis have
their majesty ; but that majesty is real and popular ;
whereas the Roman majesty is made up and worked by
machinery. There were not two fashions at Athens ;
on the contrary, the fine manners of the time of
Augustus were much the same as those of our aris- —
tocracy, and alongside of all this was to be found a
ridiculous population.
Majesty is only to be found in true humanity,
poetry, religion, morality. All other prestige at a —
certain moment becomes ridiculous. It is in the
natural order of things that what has been imposed —
by force excites laughter as soon as its prestige is
destroyed. One likes to revenge oneself for one’s
past respect as soon as the scaffolding has been ~
stripped of its hangings. One requires, for the vulgar
illusions of external respect, a simplicity which we
no longer possess; we are too cunning not to lift
up the veil. We have demolished the old idol of
respect: an idol is not to be restored. How, I pray,
can one give oneself respect? How can one recall
to life by means of reflection that which only existed
owing to the absence of reflection? The child may
be afraid of the face he has besmeared ; but, once he
has laughed at it, will he not always remember that
it was to frighten himself that he besmeared it ?
 The Future of Science. 435
The essential condition for a show of performing
dolls is not to see the wire. The simple minded
look on the thing as serious, as if the dolls were real
persons ; the clever people are amused even when they
get a glimpse of the wire for they know that there
is one. But if the demi-clever people have the mis-
fortune to perceive it they laugh at the performance
to show that they are not dupes. It is the same with
respect: respect is natural with the simple, super-
ficial people resist it with comical self-conceitedness ;
it flourishes among the wise in consequence of their
perspicuity. The sages know of the existence of
the wire but do not think it worth while to make a
fuss over so simple a discovery. The superficial
minded, on the contrary shout and storm that
humanity must at any price be delivered from these
prejudices. ‘‘ One must havea hidden thought,” says
Pascal, ‘‘and judge of everything by that, at the same
time, however, speaking like the people.” But when
the number of artful people is too large cheating is
impossible, for it then becomes the fashion to pretend
to be knowing and to say to the simple, ‘‘Ah! how
foolish you are to allow yourself to be caught.”
Therefore one must go to work with simplicity and
demand respect only for things which are respectable.
The advent of the middle classes has operated,
it must be admitted a great simplification in our
manners. Our costume is very narrow and very
artificial when compared with the simple and noble
fulness of the antique costume however it is no
longer false like that of the old aristocracy. There
is still much to be done; it is necessary to simplify
and ennoble. The middle class has at times com-
mitted the error of wishing to return to the old airs
of the nobility; it in no way succeeded and merely
rendered itself ridiculous. For nothing is so ridi-
culous as a false imitation of majesty. What we
require is real politeness, real gentleness, simplicity
of life, virtue as shown by amenity and grace of
manners. The Republicans who pretend to be
436 The Future of Science.
austere delude themselves strangely in believing that.
the idea of majesty can be banished from humanity.
Better the ancient idolatry, surrounding some indi-
viduals with splendour, than that colourless life in
which the majesty of humanity is not represented.
But it were better still to return to the truth and to
recognize no other majesty than that of the nation
and the ideal.
These manners I would willingly call democratic
manners, in this sense that they do not repose upon
any artificial distinction (186) but simply upon the
natural and moral relations of men among themselves.
People often imagine that these democratic manners
are the manners of the wine shop and this is a little
the fault of those who have confiscated this expression
for their profit. But true democratic manners would
be the most charming, the most gentle, the most
amiable. They would be morality itself, more or
less attractive, more or less harmonious, according
as the individuals were more or less happily endowed.
They would be the manners of poems and of ideal
romances, where human sentiments would appear in
their primitive simplicity, without a bourgeois or
refined air.. The real democratic manner would
necessitate upon one hand the abolition of the
aristocratic salon and the café and on the other
hand the extension of family relations and of public
gatherings. It is true that with regard to the latter
our society offers a hiatus difficult to fill up. We
have nothing analogous to the antique school. Our —
school is exclusively destined for children and there-
fore condemned to be demi-ridiculous like everything
which is pedagogical; our club is entirely political
and yet man requires intellectual assemblies. The
ancient school was for persons of all ages the
gymnasium of the mind. The sage, like Socrates,
Stilpo, Antisthenes not writing but speaking to their
disciples or frequenters (o. cvvovres) is now impossible.
The philosophical conversation such as Plato has
given us in his dialogues (187), the antique Sympasie
Li
The Future of Science. 437
is not conceivable in our days (188). The Church
and the press have killed the school. Now that the
Church is no longer anything for the people, what
will replace her?
What is called society is far from being favourable
to good manners and noble characters. I would not
dare to say it, if M. Michelet had not said it before
me: “‘ After the conversation of men of genius and
savants that of the people is certainly the most
instructive. If one cannot talk with Béranger,
Lamennais or Lamartine, one must go into the fields
and converse with the peasants. What has one to
learn from the middle class? As for the salons I
never left them without finding that my heart had
been diminished and had grown colder.’ The im-
pression which I carry away with me on quitting
a salon is despair of civilization. If civilization were
destined to terminate in this abortion, if the people
in their turn were to exhaust themselves in this way,
and, at the expiration of a few centuries to grow
insipid in the bosom of vanity and pleasure, Cato
would be right, it would be necessary to regard as
instruments of feebleness and wisely to break every-
thing which in our eyes is an instrument of culture
and progress, but which, in this hypothesis, would
only serve to create generations greedy of servitude
in order to live at their ease. Nothing can equal,
especially in the provinces, the life of the middle class,
and I never see without sadness and a sort of terror
the physical and moral deterioration of the rising
generation; and yet these are the grandsons of the
heroes of a great epopee! I get on better with the
simple, with a peasant, with a working man, with
an old soldier. We speak to some extent the same
language, I can at a pinch converse with them: this
is radically impossible with a vulgar citizen: we are
not of the same clay.
Herman lived only for himself, his family and a
few friends. With them he is simple, natural, and
full of life; he reaches to heaven. In society he is
438 The Future of Science.
insupportably stupid and condemned to mutism in
the round of conversation which does not allow him —
to insert a single word. If he tries the strange
‘ sound of his voice causes every head to be raised;
it is discordant. It does not know how to give
change; does he wish to indulge in repartee, he
takes from his pocket gold instead of coppers. In
the Academy or the Portico, he would have held his
own, he would have had favourite disciples; he
would have figured in a dialogue of Plato like Lysis -
or Charmides. If he had seen Dorothea lovely
courageous and proud standing by the fountain he
would have dared to say—Allow me to drink. If,
like Dante, he had seen Beatrice with downcast eyes
coming out of the church at Florence, perhaps a
ray of light would have traversed his life and
perhaps the daughter of Falco Portinari would have
smiled at his trouble. Well! in presence of a young
lady he only experiences and causes awkwardness.—
Your Hermann, you will say, is a countryman let
him go to his village—not in the least. At his
village he would find vulgarity, ignorance and the —
impossibility of comprehending delicate and beautiful
things. Now, Hermann is polished and cultivated,
more refined even than the gentlemen who frequent
the salons, but not of an artificial and fictitious
refinement. ‘There is in him a world of thought and
sentiment which would be unable to understand.
coarse stupidity or frivolous scepticism. He is a true
and sincere man taking a serious view of his nature and
adoring the inspirations of God in those of his heart.
Intellectual work therefore only possesses all its
value when it is purely human, that is to say when
it corresponds to this fact in human nature: man
does not live by bread alone. The grand scientific
and religious feeling will only revive when people
return to a conception of life as true and as little
mixed | with what is fictitious as if it were formed
alone in the midst of the forests of America, or by |
some Brahmin, when, finding that he has lived long -
 The Future of Science. 439°
enough, he takes off his drawers, ascends the Ganges
and goes to die on the summits of the Himalayas.
Who has not experienced these moments of inward
solitude when the mind descending from stratum to
stratum pierces one after the other all the superposed
surfaces until it arrives at the real bottom, where
all convention expires and where one faces one’s self
without fiction or artifice? These moments are rare
and fugitive: we habitually live in presence of a
third person who hinders the fearful contact between
me and himself. Life is only sincere on condition
of piercing this intermediary veil and of constantly
reposing on the true depth of our nature, in order
to listen to the disinterested instincts which lead us
to learn to adore and to love.
This is why the sincere man so greatly admires
and tires himself out in adoration before simple life,
before the infant who believes in and smiles at every-
thing, before the young girl who does not know that
she is beautiful, before the bird which sings on the
branch merely for the sake of singing, before the
hen which struts out proudly in the midst of her
chickens. It is because God is seen there in sim-
plicity. The refined man considers as foolish the
things in which the people and men of genius take
the most interest, animals and children. Genius is
to possess at the same time the critical faculty and
the gifts of the simple. Genius is infant; genius is
people; genius is szmple.
The Brahminic life offers the most powerful model
of life exclusively devoted to religion, or rather the
serious conception of existence. I do not know if
the picture of the life of the first Christian recluses
of the Thebaid, so admirably traced by Fleury, offers
such a halo of idealism. Besides the Brahminical
life has this superiority over the cenobitical and
hermitical life that it is at the same time human
life, that is to say family life and that it is allied
to positive life, without lending it a value which
it does not possess: the Christian ascetic received
440 The Future of Science.
his food from a celestial raven; the Brahmin goes
into the forest and cuts his own wood; he must have
his hatchet and his basket to collect his wild fruits.
During the sojourn of the sons of Pandou in the forest
their wife Draupadi offers to the strangers whom
she has received in her hermitage the game which
her husbands have killed.* The Lives of the Fathers
of the desert offer nothing which can be compared
to the following sketch extracted from the Mahab-
harata: “‘The king advanced toward the sacred
grove, image of the celestial regions: the river was
filled with bands of pilgrims while the air resounded
with the voices of pious men who each one repeated
fragments of the sacred books. The King followed
by his minister and his high priest, advanced towards
the hermitage, animated with the desire of seeing
the holy man, inexhaustible treasure of religious
science; he looked at the solitary asylum, similar
to the region of Brahma; he heard mysterious
sentences, taken from the Vedas, pronounced in
rhythmic harmony... . This spot sparkled with glory
owing to the presence of a certain number of
Brahmins, . . . some of whom sang the Samaveda
while another band sang the Bharoundasama... .
All were men of cultivated mind and imposing
appearance. ... These places resembled the dwelling
otf Brahma. The king heard on all sides the voices
of these men instructed by long experience in the ©
rites of sacrifice, of those who possessed the prin-
ciples of morality and the science of the faculties of
the soul, of those who were skilled in conciliating
texts which do not harmonize, or who knew all the
private duties of religion; mortals whose minds
tended to free their souls from the necessity of re-
generation in this world. He heard also the voices —
of those who, by indubitable proof, had acquired a
knowledge of the supreme being; of those who knew
grammar, poetry and logic and who were versed in
* The sons of Pandou are supposed to have had but one wife—
Draupadi.—TRans.,
i

The Future of Science. 441

chronology; who had penetrated the essence of
matter, of movement and of quality; who knew
causes and effects, who had studied the language
of birds and that of bees (the good and the evil
omens) who believed in the works of Vyasa, who
offered models for the study of books of sacred origin
and the principal personages who search out the
trials and troubles of the world (189).’’ -India in fact
represents to me the truest and most objective form
of human life, that where man, struck with the
beauty of things, pursues them without any personal
feeling and simply owing to the fascination which
they exercise over his nature.
fteligion is the word under which has been resumed,
up to the present, the life of the mind. Take the
Christian of the first ages; religion is his whole
spiritual life. Not a thought, not a feeling which is
not attached to it: material life is almost entirely
absorbed in this great movement of idealism. Sive
manducatis, sive bibitis, says St. Paul. What a
superb system of life, all ideal, all divine and really
worthy of the children of God. ‘There is no exclu-
sion there, the chain is not felt; for, although the
limit is narrow our wants do not go beyond.it. The
law, severe as it is, is entirely the expression of man.
In the Middle Ages this great equation still existed.
The fairs, the meeting for business or pleasure are
religious fétes; the scenic representations are mys-
teries; voyages are pilgrimages; wars are crusades.
Take, on the contrary, a Christian, even the most
severe,in the time of Louis XIV., Montausier, Arnauld,
Beauvilliers, you will find two divisions in his life:
the religious portion which, although the principal,
is not sufficiently strong to assimilate itself with the
rest ; the profane portion to which one must accord
some value. Then, but not before, the ascetics began
to preach renunciation. ‘The first Christian had no
need to renounce anything for his life was complete ;
his law was adequate to his wants. Afterwards,
religion, not being able to provide for everything,
 442 The Future of Science.
cursed what escaped it. I am sure that Beauvilliers
took a very delicate pleasure in the tragedies of
Racine, and perhaps even in the comedies of
Moliére; and yet it is certain that in going to see
them he did not consider that he was performing a |
religious act, perhaps he even thought that he was
sinning. This separation was a matter of necessity. —
At that epoch religion was received as a letter closed
and sealed, which was not to be opened, but which
one was bound to receive and transmit, and yet,
human life always opening up, it was necessary that
new wants should overcome all scruples, and that,
not being able to find a place in religion, they should
take up a position opposite to it. Hence a system
of life both colourless and indifferent. Religion is
respected but people guard against its znvasions; they
give it its share, to it which is only something on
condition of being everything. Hence these petty
\ theories concerning the separation of the two powers,
' of the respective rights of reason and faith.
The result must be that religion, being isolated, cut
off from the heart of humanity, no longer receiving
anything from the general circulation, ike a limb
which is bound, must wither and become an appen-
dage of secondary importance, while on the contrary —
profane life, in which all the actual and living ©
feelings, all discoveries, all new ideas, are concen-
trated, must become the master portion. Without
doubt the great men of the eighteenth century were
more religious than they thought; what they banished
under the name of religion was clerical despotism,
superstition, narrow forms. The reaction however
carried them too far; the religious colour was almost
entirely wanting in that century. The philosophers .
placed themselves without knowing it in the position
of their adversaries, and, under the empire of the’
association of obstinate ideas, appeared.to suppose
that the secularization of existence would bring
about the elimination of allreligious habits. I think, —
like the Catholics, that our society founded upon a
b
The Future of Science. 443
supposititious pact, and our atheistical law, are tem-
porary anomalies, and that until we can speak of “our
holy constitution”’ stability will not be conquered.
Now, the return to religion can be nothing else than
the return to the great unity of life, to the religion
of the intellect without exclusion and without limit. *
The sage has no need of praying at certain hours for
his whole life is a prayer. If religion is to have a
distinct place in life it must absorb life altogether.
The most rigorous asceticism is alone consistent.
Only superficial-minded or weak-hearted people, once
Christianity admitted, can take any interest in life
in science in poetry, in the things of this world.
The mystics look with pity upon this weakness, and
they areright. The true philosophical religion would |
not reduce this great tree, which has its roots in the
soul of man, to a few branches, it would only be a
manner of spending one’s whole life in seeing beneath
everything the ideal and divine sense, and in sancti-
fying one’s whole life by the purity of the soul and
the elevation of the heart.
Religion, as I understand it, is far removed from
what the philosophers call natural religion, kind of
petty theology without poetry, without action upon
humanity. All the attempts made in this direction
have been and will remain fruitless. Theodicy has no
meaning regarded as an individual science. Is there
any man of sense who can hope to make discoveries
in such an order of speculations? ‘'T'rue theodicy, is
the science of things physics, physiology, history
looked upon in a religious light, Religion is to know
and to love the truth of things. A proposition is only
of value in so far as it is understood and felt. What
signifies this sealed formula, this unknown tongue,
this a X 6 theology, which you present to humanity
saying “‘ This will preserve your soul for life eternal :
—a pill which you must
eat and you shall be healed,”
not bite on pain of feeling a cruel bitterness? Well!
what matters it to me if I do not taste it? Give me
a leaden bullet to swallow, that will have the same
444 The Future of Science.
effect. What to me are stereotyped phrases devoid
of sense, like the formulas of the alchemist and
the magicians which operate of themselves ex opere
operato, as the theologians say ? Black and scholastic
doctors occupied only with your Incarnation and
your real Presence, the time has come when you
shall worship the father, not on this mountain nor in :
Jerusalem, but in spirit and in truth (190). :
M. Proudhon is certainly a distinguished philo-
sopher of great intelligence. But I cannot pardon him
his airs of atheism and irreligion. It is to commit
suicide to write such phrases as this—‘‘ Man is des-
tined to live without religion. A number of symp-
toms show that society, by an internal work constantly
tends to shake off this envelope henceforward useless.”
That if you practice the worship of what is noble and
true, if the sanctity of morality speaks to your heart,
if all beauty, all truth, all goodness leads you to the
threshold of a holy life, to intelligence; that if, arrived
there, you refuse to speak, you wrap yourself up,
you purposely mix up your thought and your language ~
in order to say nothing limited in presence of the
infinite, how do you dare to speak of atheism? That
if your faculties, resounding simultaneously, have
never uttered that grand and unique rite, which we
call God, I have nothing more to say, you are devoid of
the essential and characteristic element of our nature.
Humanity is only converted when it falls in love
with the divine charm of beauty. Now beauty in
the moral order is religion. This is why a religion
dead and outstrippedis still more efficacious than all
the institutions which are purely profane; this is
why Christianity is still more creative, comforts more
suffering, acts more vigorously upon humanity than
all the principles acquired in modern times. The
men of the future will not be mean disputatious
reasoners, insulters, men of party, intriguers, without
ideal. They will be noble, they will be amiable,
they will be poetic. I, inflexible critic, I shall not
be suspected of flattery for a man who searches the
 a -
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|

The Future of Science. 445

Trinity in all things and who believes, God pardon
me, in the efficacy of the name of Jehovah; well!
I prefer Pierre Leroux, mistaken as he is, to these
pretended philosophers who would recast humanity
in the narrow mould of their scholastic ideas and
triumph with politics over the divine instincts of the
human heart.
The word God having taken possession of the
respect of humanity, this word having a long pre-
scription in its favour and having been employed
in beautiful poems, it would perplex humanity to
suppress it. Although it is not very univocal, as the
scholastics say, it corresponds to an idea sufficiently
clear: the swmmum and the ultimum, the limit where
the mind stops in the scale of the infinite. Suppose
even that we philosophers should prefer another word,
reason for example, in addition that these words are
too abstract and do not sufficiently express real
existence, there would be a great inconvenience to
deprive us thus of all the poetic sources of the past
and to separate us by our language from the simple
who adore so well after their fashion. Tell the
simple to live by aspiration after truth and beauty ;
these words would have no meaning for them. ‘lell
them to love God, not to offend God; they will under-
stand you perfectly. God, providence, soul, good old
words, rather heavy, but expressive and respectable,
which science will explain but will never replace with
advantage. What is God for humanity if not the
transcendent epitome of its suprasensitive wants, the
category of the ideal, that is to say the form under
which we conceive the ideal, as time and space are
categories, that is to say forms under which we conceive
bodies (191)? Everything reduces itself to this fact of
human nature ; man in presence of the divine is no
longer himself, he clings to a celestial’ charm, he
lays aside his paltry personality is carried away and
absorbed. What is that if it is not to adore ?
If one views the matter as regards substance and
asks oneself: This God does He or does He not exist ?
 a

446 The Future of Science.

—Oh, God would I reply, it is He who is and all
the rest which appears to be. If the word to be has
any meaning, it is assuredly applied to the ideal.
What, you would admit that matter exists, because
your hands and your eyes say so, and you would doubt
of the divine being which all your nature proclaims
from the first ? What is the meaning of this phrase:
‘“‘ Matter is’? ? what would remain of it in the hands
of a strict analysis? Ido not know and to tell the
truth I consider the question senseless; for one must
confine oneself to simple notions. Beyond is the
culf. Reason only attains a certain mean region;
above and below it loses itself as a sound which by
dint of becoming sharp or flat ceases to be a sound
or at least to be perceived. I like, for my own part
to compare the object of reason to those foaming or
frothy substances where the substance is hardly any-
thing and which only exist thanks to their effer-
vescence. If one pursues too closely the substantial
foundation nothing remains but the bare unity; as
mathematical formulas too closely pressed render all
identity fundamental and only mean something on ~
the condition of not being too simplified. Every
intellectual act, like every equation, reduces itself at
bottom to A= A. Now, with this limit, there is no
more knowledge there is no more intellectual work.
Science commences only with details. In order that
there should be any effort of the mind a superfices
is necessary, something variable, diverse, otherwise
one loses oneself in the infinite One. The One only
exists and is perceptible when developing itself in
diversity, that is to say in phenomena. Beyond, it
is repose, it is death. Knowledge is the infinite
poured into a finite mould. The knot alone has any
value. ‘The faces of the unity are alone an object of ©
science.
‘There is not a word in the philosophical language
which may not give rise to great errors if one takes
it in its substantial and vulgar sense, instead of using
it to design classes of phenomena. Realism and
 The Future of Science. 447
abstraction touch each other; Christianity may
have been turn about with good reason accused of
_ realism and of abstraction. Phenomenalism alone is
genuine. I hope that no one will ever accuse me of
being materialist and yet I regard the hypothesis of
two substances joined together to form man as one
of the most clumsy inventions made by philosophy.
The words body and soul remain perfectly distinct in
so far as they represent the orders of irreducible
phenomena, but to make this diversity, entirely
phenomenal, synonymous to an ontological distinc-
tion, is to fall into a ponderous realism and to
imitate the ancient hypotheses of physical sciences,
which suppose as many causes as different effects,
and explain by those real and substantial fluids facts
in which a more advanced science sees nothing but
various orders of phenomena. Of a truth it is much
more absurd to say in a spirit of exclusion: man is a
body: the truth is that there is a unique substance,
which is neither body nor soul, but which reveals
itself by two orders of phenomena, which are the
body and the soul, that these two words have no
“meaning except in their opposition, and that this
opposition exists only in acts. The spiritualist is
not him who believes in two substances coarsely
united; it is he who is persuaded that the acts of
the mind alone have a transcendental value. Man
is; he is matter, that is to say expanded, tangible,
endowed with physical properties; he is mind, that
is to say thinking, feeling, adoring. The mind is
the goal as the goal of the plant is the flower; with-
out roots, without leaves, there are no flowers.
The most simple act of intelligence comprehends
the perception of God; for it comprehends the per-
ception of being and the perception of the infinite.
The infinite exists in all our faculties and constitutes,
it is true, the distinctive feature of humanity, the
unique category of pure reason which distinguishes
man from the animal. This element may become
effaced in the vulgar acts of intelligence; but as it
 - s -

448 The Future of Science.

is to be found indubitably in the acts of the mind, —
this is a reason to conclude that it is to be found in —
all those acts; for that which exists in one degree
exists in all the others; and besides the infinite
shows itself much more energetically in the acts of
primitive humanity, in that life vague and without
conscience, in that spontaneous state, in that native
enthusiasm, in those temples and pyramids than in
our age of polished reflection and analytical view.
This is the God of whom we have an innate idea and
who does not require demonstration. Against this
God atheism is impossible; because people affirm
Him while denying Him. Everywhere man has out-
paced nature; everywhere, beyond the visible, he
has supposed the invisible. This is the only feature
which is truly universal, the identical foundation
upon which divers instincts have embroidered infinite
varieties, from the multiple forces of savages to
Jehovah, from Jehovah to the Indian Oum. To
look for a wniversal consent on the part of humanity |
to anything else but this psychological fact is to —
misuse terms. Humanity has always believed in |
something beyond the finite, this something, it is
suitable to call.God. Therefore all humanity has
believed in God. Very well. But do not, mis-
using a definition of words, pretend that humanity
has believed in such and such a God, in a moral and
personal God formed by anthropomorphic analogy.
That God is so little innate that the half of humanity
has not believed in Him and that it has required ages
to formulate this system in a complete manner, in
ordering man to love God. It is not that I entirely
blame the method of anthropomorphic psychology.
God being the ideal of every one, it is right that
every one should fashion Him after his manner and
on his own model. One must not therefore fear to
employ all the goodness and beauty that can be
imagined. But it is contrary to all criticism to pre-
tend to erect such a method into a scientific method
and to raise, out of an ideal construction, a discussion
 The Future of Science. 449
on the qualities of a being. Let us say that the
supreme being is eminently possessed of all that is
perfection ; let us say that he has in him something
analogous, to intelligence, to liberty; but do not let
us say that he is intelligent that he is free: this
would be trying to limit the infinite, to give a name
to the ineffable (192).
One is accustomed to consider monotheism as a
definitive and absolute conquest, beyond which there
can be no ulterior progress. In my eyes monotheism
is, like polytheism, only an age in the religion of
humanity. This word, besides, is far from designating
a doctrine absolutely identical. Our monotheism is
only a system like another, inferring it is true very
advanced notions. It is the Jewish system, it is
Jehovah. Neither the ancient polytheism, which
also contained a great portion of truth; nor India,
so learned in its conception of God, understood
things in. this manner. The deva of India is a
superior being to man, by no means our God.
Although the Jewish system has entered into our
— intellectual habits it should not make us forget all
that was profound and poetic in other systems. No
doubt, if the ancients had understood by God what
we ourselves understand, polytheism would have been
a contradiction of terms. But their terminology in
this matter reposed upon notions quite different from
ours respecting the government of the world. They
had not yet arrived at the conception of unity of
government in the universe. The Greek worship
representing at bottom the worship of human nature
and the beauty of things, and that without any
orthodox pretension, without any dogmatic organiza-
tion, is only a poetical form of universal religion
perhaps not far removed from that to which philo-
sophy will return (193). This is so true that where
the moderns have wished to make some trials of
natural worship they have been obligedto approach
it. The great moral superiority of Christianity makes
us too easily forget the breadth, the a ia the
G
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ae
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450 The Future of Science.

respect for all that was natural which existed in
Grecian mythologism. The origin of the severe
manner in which we have judged it lies in the
ridiculous way in which mytholog y has been pre-
sented to us. One imagines a religious body obliged
to enter our conceptio ns by force. A religion which
has a God for thieves, another for drunkards, appears
to us the height of absurdity. Now, as humanity
has never lost its common sense, we must admit that —
until we can conceive these fables naturally we do
not possess the key to the enigma. Polytheism only
appears absurd to us because we do not understand
it. Humanity is never absurd. The religions which —
do not pretend to repose upon a revelation, so inferior
as machines of action to religions organized dogmati-
cally, are, in one sense, more philosophical, or rather
they only differ from truly philosophical religion by a
more or less symbolical expression. ‘These religions
are, at bottom, only the State, the family, art and
morality elevated to a high and poetic expression.
They do not divide life in two; they have no sacred -
and profane. They know nothing of mystery, re-
nouncement and sacrifice since they accept and
sanctify nature at first sight. These were bonds,
but bonds of flowers. ‘There lies the secret of their —
feebleness in the work of humanity; they are not
strong but also less dangerous. They do not possess.
that prodigious psychological subtilty, that spirit of
limit, of intolerance, of particularism, if I dare say —
so, that force of abstraction, veritable vampire which
has gone on absorbing all that is gentle and mild in
humanity ever since it was given to the wan image
of the crucified One to fascinate the human con-
science. It sucked everything even to the last drop
out of poor humanity : juice and force, blood and life,
nature and art, family, people, country; everything
went down, and on the ruins of an exhausted world
there remained but the phantom of the Me, tottering
and distrustful. |
Up to the present, men as far as religion is con-
| aoe -, ©. §

The Future of Science. 451

cerned have been divided into two categories:
religious men believing in a positive dogma, and
irreligious men holding themselves aloof from all
revealed belief. This is insupportable. Henceforth
they must be classed thus: religious persons taking
a serious view of life and the sanctity of things;
frivolous men, without faith, without seriousness,
without morality. All those who adore something‘
are brothers, or certainly not such great enemies as
those who adore simply pleasure and interest. It
is indubitable that I resemble more a Catholic or
a Buddhist than a sceptical laugher and my intimate
sympathies are a proof of this. I love one, I detest
the other. I can even call myself a Christian, in
this sense that I admit being indebted to Christianity
for most of the elements of my faith, just as M.
Cousin might have called himself Platonician or
Cartesian without accepting all the inheritance of
Plato or Descartes, and above all without feeling
himself obliged to regard them as prophets. Do
- not say that I am twisting words when [| thus arro-
gate to myself a name the acceptation of which I
have greatly altered. No doubt if one understands
by religion a number of imposed dogmas and external
practices, then I admit that I am not religious; but
I also maintain that humanity is not essentially so
and will not always be so in that sense. What isa
part of humanity, and will consequently be as eternal
as itself, is the religious want, the religious faculty,
to which up to the present the great ensembles of
doctrine and ceremonies have corresponded but
which will be sufficiently satisfied with the pure
worship of good and beautiful things. We have
therefore the right to speak of religion, since we
have the analogy, if not the thing itself; since the
want which was formerly satisfied by positive re-
ligions is now satisfied by something equivalent
which has the right of being called by the same
name. If people absolutely persist in taking this
moral in a more restricted sense, we will not dispute
 - —— re ee, eee ee 7
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452 The Future of Science.

over a free definition, we will merely remark that
religion thus understood is not essential and that it
will disappear from humanity, leaving vacant a place
which will be filled up by something analogous.
A great deal has been said within the last few
years of a religious revival, and I willingly admit
that this revival has generally shown itself in the
form of a return to Catholicism. This is as it should
be. Humanity feeling the imperious want of a religion
will always cling to that which it finds already made.
It is not to Catholicism, as Catholicism, that this
century has returned but to Catholicism as areligion.
Tt must’also be admitted that Catholicism with its
harsh and absolute forms, its rigorous rules and its
perfect centralization, must please a nation which saw
in it the most perfect model of its own government.
France which finds it quite natural that a law
emanating from Paris should become at once applic-
able to the Breton peasant, to the Alsatian workman,
to the nomad shepherd of the Landes, must also find
it quite natural that there should be at Rome an
infallible being who regulates the belief of the world.
This is very convenient. Delivered from the care of
making one’s creed and even of understanding it
one can, after that, attend in full security to one’s
affairs saying—that does not concern me; tell me
what I must believe; I believe it. Strange con-
tradiction, for, formulas having no value except the
sense they contain it is of no advantage to say—“I
trust to the Pope; he knows what to believe and I
believe as he does.” People believe that faith is
like a talisman which saves by its own virtue; that
they will be saved if they believe some unintelligible
proposition, without taking the trouble to understand
it; they do not feel that these things are only of
value according to the good which they do the soul,
by their personal application to the believer.
_ If a return towards Catholicism has taken place it
is therefore in no way because progress in the way of
criticism has brought it back, it is because the want
 The Future of Science. 453
of a religion has been more sharply felt and because
Catholicism alone was ready at hand. Catholicism
for the immense majority of those who profess it, is
no longer Catholicism ; itisreligion. It is repugnant
to pass one’s life like the brute, to be born, to con-
tract marriage, to die without any religious ceremony
consecrating these holy acts. Catholicism is there
to satisfy this want; then let us have Catholicism.
People do not examine matters more closely; they
do not enter into details of dogmas, they pity those
who undertake so sterile a task; they are heretics a
hundred times over without being aware of it. What
has made the fortune of Catholicism in our days, is
that it is little known. It is only seen through
certain imposing externals, one only takes into
consideration what is elevated and moral in its
dogmas; one does not enter into the brush-wood.
What is more, one bravely rejects or complacently
explains those dogmas which are too openly opposed
to modern ideas. If one were obliged to accept as
an article of faith every text of Scripture and every
decree of the Council of Trent, it would be a different
matter; one would be surprised to find oneself
incredulous. Those who have been led by peculiar
circumstances to wage a death-struggle on this
ground have reasons for not being accommodating.
This then is the explanation of the return to
Catholicism which appears to be so strongly opposed
to philosophy. The eighteenth century, having had
for its mission to destroy, found in it that pleasure
which every being experiences in accomplishing its
object. Scepticism and impiety were pleasing in
themselves. But we who are not intoxicated with
this first burst of joy, we who, having returned to the
soul, have found in it the external want of religion,
which is at the bottom of human nature, we have
looked round us, and, rather than remain in this
penury which has become intolerable, we have re-
turned to the past, and we have accepted, as it
stands, the doctrine handed down to us. When
454. The Future of Science.
one no longer knows how to create cathedrals one —
imitates them. For one can do without religious
originality ; but one cannot do without religion.
Individuals pass through analogous phases in their
inward life. In the age of force, when the critical
spirit is in all its vigour, when life appears like an
appetizing prey, and when the sun of youth sheds
its golden rays on everything, the religious instincts
are easily satisfied; one enjoys life without any posi-
tive doctrine; the charm of intellectual labour tones
down everything, even doubt. But when the horizon
comes closer ; when the old man endeavours to chase
the cold terrors which assail him; when the sick
man has exhausted the generous force which allowed ~
him to think boldly, then there is no rationalist how-
ever firm who does not turn towards the God of
women and children and ask the priest to comfort
him and to deliver him from the phantoms which
beset him under this pallid sun. Thus may be ex-
plained the weaknesses of so many philosophers in
their last days. ‘The death-bed requires a religion. ©
Which? no matter; but one is necessary. It seems —
to me at this moment that I should die contented in
the communion of humanity and the religion of the
future. Alas! I would not swear to this were I to
fall ill. Hach time that I feel myself enfeebled I
experience a nervous excitability and a kind of return —
to piety.
Mole sua stat: such in our days is the reason why
Christianity exists. Who has not stopped, while
passing through our ancient towns, become modern,
at the foot of those gigantic monuments of the faith
of ages past? Hverything has been renewed around
them; there is no longer a vestige of the dwellings
and customs of former times. The cathedral has
remained, somewhat damaged perhaps as far as the
hand of man can reach, but deeply rooted in the soil.
It has resisted the deluge which has swept everything
away around it, and the family of ravens which have
built. their nests in the steeple have not been dis-
 The Future of Science. 455
_ turbed. Its magnitude is its right. Strange pre-
scription! Those converted barbarians, those
builders of churches, Clovis, Rollo, William the
Conqueror tower over us still. We are Christians
because it pleased them to beso. We have reformed
their political institutions, become superannuated;
we have not dared to touch their religious establish-
ment. It is considered wrong that we who are
civilized should meddle with the dogma created by
barbarians. And what right have they which we do
not possess? Peter, Paul, Augustin lay down our
law, much as if we were still subject to the Salic
law and the Gombette law. So true is it that as far
as religious creation is concerned centuries are given
to calumniate themselves, and to refuse to them-
selves the privileges which they freely accord to
distant ages !
Hence the immense disproportion which can, at
certain epochs, exist between religion and the moral
social and political state. Religions are petrified
and customs are continually modified. Like those
granite rocks consolidated in swallowing up in their
still liquid mass foreign substances, which will form
a portion of their body for ever, Catholicism has
solidified itself for ever and henceforward no puri-
fication is possible. I know that there is a milder
Catholicism which has known how to compound with
the necessities of the times and to throw a veil over
truths too unpalatable. But of all the systems that
is the most inconsistent. JI can conceive orthodox
and incredulous people, but not the neo-catholics.
The profound ignorance which exists in France,
outside of the clergy, of biblical exegesis and theo-
logy, has alone given rise to that superficial school
so full of contradictions. It is in the Fathers and
in the Councils that true Christianity must be sought
for and not among those weak and light-minded
spirits who have perverted it in toning it down,
without rendering it more acceptable.
For the great majority of men the established
456 The Future of Science.
religion is only the ideal portion of human life and
looking at it in this light it is supremely respectable.
How charming to see in the cottages or in vulgar
houses, where everything appears to be buried under
the weight of useful preoccupations, pictures repre-
senting nothing real, saints and angels! What con-
solation amid the tears of our state of suffering, to
see unfortunate people, bowed down under the weight
of six days’ labour, come on the seventh day to repose
themselves on their knees, to look at lofty columns,
vaults, an altar, to hear and enjoy the singing, to listen
to a moral and consolatory sermon. Oh! barbarians
are those who call this lost time and speculate on
the gain of suppressed Sundays and féte-days! We
who have art, science and philosophy, we have no
need of the church. But the people, the temple is
their literature, their science, their art. The people
do not see what is dangerous and fatal in Christianity. —
The mind which aspires to a high and reflective
culture must first of all shake off Catholicism ; for
there are in Catholicism dogmas and tendencies in-
consistent with modern culture. But what is this
to the simple minded? ‘They only pluck the flower;
what does it matter to them that the roots are bitter?
I feel indignant on seeing a man however little ini-
tiated in the culture of the nineteenth century still
preserve the belief and the practices of the past.
On the contrary when I travel through the country
and I see at the angle of each road and in every
cottage signs of Catholic superstition my heart is
touched and I would rather hold my tongue all my
life than scandalize one of those children. A Holy
Virgin in the dwelling of a reflective man and in
that of a peasant, what a difference! In that of a
reflective man it appears to me to be a revolting
absurdity, the symbol of an exhausted art, the amulet
of a degrading devotion; in that of the peasant it
appears to me as a ray of the ideal which has pene-
trated beneath the cottage roof. I love this simple
faith as I love the faith of the Middle-Ages as I love
|
The Future of Science. ‘457
the Indian prostrating himself before Kali or
Kristna, or placing his head under the wheels of the
car of Juggernaut. I adore the ancient sacrifice;
I have no distaste for the foolish taurobolium of
Julian. The peasant without religion is the ugliest
of brutes, without any distinctive sign of humanity
(animal religiosum). Alas! a day will come when
they will undergo the common law and pass through
the hateful period of impiety. It will be for the
good of humanity; but, God, for nothing in the
world would I labour at such a work. Let the im-
proper undertake it! These good people not belong-
ing to the nineteenth century must not be blamed
for belonging to the religion of the past. This is my
manner of acting: in the village I go to mass; in
the town I laugh at those who go there.
I am sometimes tempted to shed tears when I
think that, by the superiority of my religion I isolate
myself in appearance from the great religious family
in which are all those I love, when I think that the
purest minds in the world must consider me impious,
wicked, damned; must do so, be it remarked, owing
to the very necessity of their faith. Fatal orthodoxy,
thou which formerly caused the peace of the world,
thou art only good now to work separation. The
man of a ripe age can no longer believe what the
child believes; the man can no longer believe what
the woman believes; and what is terrible is that the
woman and the child join their hands to say: In the
name of heaven, believe as we do or you will be
damned. Ah! not to believe them one must be very
- savant or very hardhearted !
A souvenir is recalled to my mind, it fills me with
sadness, without making me blush. One day at the
foot of the altar and under the hand of the bishop,
I said to the God of the Christians: Dominus pars
hereditatis mee et calicis mei; tu es qui restitues
hereditatem meam mihi. I was very young then and
yet I had reflected a great deal. At every step that
I took towards the altar doubt followed me; it was
458 The Future of Science.
science and, child that I was I called it the demon.
Assailed by contradictory ideas; tottering at twenty
years on the bases of my life, a luminous idea entered
my mind and for the moment re-established calm and
comfort: Whoever thou art, I exclaimed in my
heart, O God of noble minds I receive thee as the
portion of my lot. Up to the present I have called
thee by the name of a man; I believed on his word —
him who said: I am the truth and the life. Iwill
be faithful to him in following the truth wherever it
may lead me. I will be the true Nazarene, while,
renouncing the pomps and vanities of the world, I
shall love only what is good and shall exert my
activity for nothing else. Well! I do not repent of
these words to-day and I willingly repeat them:
Dominus pars hereditatis mee, and I am pleased to
think that I pronounced them during a religious
ceremony. The hair has grown again on my head;
but I still belong to that holy militia, the disinherited
of the earth. I shall not look upon myself as an
apostate until material interests usurp in my mind ~
the -place of what is holy, the day when, in thinking
of the Christ of the Gospel I no longer feel myself
his friend, the day when I prostitute my life to in-
ferior matters and when I become the companion of
the jovial of the earth.
Funes ceciderunt mihi in preclarist My lot will
always be with the disinherited: I shall belong to
the league of the poor of spirit. Let all those who ©
still adore something unite together in the object
they adore. ‘The day for little men and little things
has passed; the time for saints has arrived. The
atheist is the man who is frivolous; the impious and
the pagans are the profane; the egotists those who —
understand nothing concerning the things of God;
branded souls who affect to be clever and who laugh
at those who believe; base and terrestrial souls
destined to grow yellow from egotism and to perish
from nullity. How, O disciples of Christ, can you
enter into an alliance with those men? Oh! would
 The Future of Science. 459
it not be better for us to sit down side by side with
poor humanity, seated gloomy and silent on the
side of the dusty road, to raise its eyes to the mild
heaven which it no longer regards? For us the die
is cast: and even should superstition and frivolity,
henceforth inseparable auxiliaries, succeed in dead-
ening human conscience for a time, it will be said
in the nineteenth century, the century of fear, that
there were still men, who, in spite of common con-
tempt, liked to be called men of the other world;
men who believed in the truth, who were ardent in
its search, in the midst of an age, frivolous because
it was without faith and superstitious because it was
frivolous.
I was formed by the Church, I owe all to her and
I shall never forget her. The Church separated me
from profane men, and I thank her. He whom God
has touched will always be a being apart; he is, no
matter what he does, out of place among men, he is
known by a sign. For him young men have no joys
to offer, and young girls have no smile. Since he
has seen God his tongue is embarrassed, he no longer
knows how to speak of terrestrial things. O God of
my youth I have long hoped to return to Thee with
colours flying and in the pride of reason and perhaps
I shall return humble and vanquished like a feeble
woman. Formerly Thou listened to me; I hoped
some day to see Thy face for I heard Thee answer my
voice. And I have seen Thy temple crumble away
stone by stone; the sanctuary has no longer an echo,
and, instead of an altar ornamented with lights and
flowers, I have seen rise before me.an altar of brass
against which prayer, severe, unadorned, without
images, without tabernacle, blood-stained by fatality
shatters itself. Is it my fault? is it Thine? Ah!
how willingly I would beat my breast, if I could
hope to hear that beloved voice which formerly made
me tremble. But no, there is only inflexible nature;
when I search Thy fatherly eye I find only the orbit
of the infinite empty and baseless, when I search Thy
460 The Future of Science.
celestial brow I dash myself against a vault of brass
which coldly sends back my love. Farewell then,
O God of my youth! Perhaps wilt Thou be the God
of my death-bed. Farewell; although Thou hast
deceived me, I love Thee still! .
 NE OEPEY:

1. This tendency to place the ideal in the past is peculiar to ages

that repose on unassailed and traditional dogma. Ages of upheaval
like our own, on the other hand, in which the continuity of doctrinal
teaching has been broken, must of necessity appeal to the future,
seeing that to them the past is merely a mistake. All ancient
peoples placed the ideal of their nation at its origin ; the ancestors
were more than men (heroes, demi-gods). On the other hand, during
the Augustan period, when the disintegration of the ancient world
begins to manifest itself, observe the aspirations towards the future,
so eloquently expressed by the incomparable poet, in whose soul the
two worlds were locked in close embrace. Oppressed nations do
the same; “ Arthur is not dead ; Arthur will come again ;” they
exclaim. The most puissant cry towards the future, ever uttered by
any nation is the belief of the Jewish nation in the Messiah. That
belief had its birth and grew during the iron grip of alien persecu-
tion. The embryo is formed at Babylon, it gathers strength and
assumes a distinct character under the persecution of the Syrian
monarchs, it finds its climax under Roman oppression.
2. I have seen men of the people transported with genuine ecstasy
at the sight of the graceful movements of swans on a piece of water.
It is impossible to say at what depth the feelings of these two simple
lives were interpenetrated. But it is evident that the people, face to
face with the animal, regards it as his brother, as leading a life ana-
logous to his own. Lofty intellects, whose sympathies reunite them
with the masses, experience the same feeling.
3. How modest and amiable, for instance, is that declaration of
savants—often eminent—at the beginning of their works that they
have no intention of encroaching on the domain of religion, that they
are not theologians, and that the theologians can have no objection
to their attempts at unambitious natural philosophy. There are in
France, men who vastly admire the religious “establishment” of
England, because it is the most conservative of all. In my opinion
this system is the most illogical and the most irreverent with regard
to things divine.
4. This seems to me to be the true definition of the accidental in
history rather than Et guia sepe latent cause, fortuna vocatur.
462, Notes.

Gustavus Adolphus is struck down by a cannon ball at Lutzen, and

his death changes the face of things in Europe. Here we have
a fact, the cause of which is by no means unknown, but which never-
theless may be termed chance or the irrational part of history,
because the direction of a cannon ball a few centimetres one way or
the other is not a fact proportionate to the immense consequences
resulting from it. ;
5. Life is nothing else but this ; the aspiration of the being to be
all it can be ; the tendency to pass from potentiality to act. Dante,
who in his book “De Monarchia” expresses ideas on humanity
almost as advanced as those of the boldest humanitarians, had an
enlightened perception of this fact. Proprium opus humant generis
totaliter accepti est actuare semper totam potentiam intellectus
possibilis. (De Monarchia, I.) Herder says in the same way,
“The perfection of a thing consists in its being all that it should and
can be. Hence, the perfection of the individual is that he should be
himself in the whole of the successive phases of his existence”
(Ueber den Charakter der Menschheit).
6. The year 1789 will be in the history of humanity a holy year
as having been the first to trace the outline of this previously
unknown fact—with marvellous ingenuity and incomparable energy.
The place in which humanity proclaimed itself, the Tennis Court,
will be one day a temple. It will be visited by the pilgrim, like
Jerusalem, when distance shall have sanctified and characterised
particular facts in symbols of general facts. Golgotha only became
hallowed ground two or three centuries after Jesus.
7. See as eminently characteristic the Declaration of Rights in the |
Constitution of "91. It is the whole of the Eighteenth Century with
its claims to the control of nature and of things established, its
analysis, its craving for clearness and logical evidence.
8. What, for instance, shall we say of our university education,
reduced to pure outward discipline without the smallest regard for
the soul and moral culture ? As for other matters, is it surprising that
Napoleon should have conceived a college as a barracks or a
regiment ? Our system of education is still, without our being
aware of it, feature for feature, that of the Jesuits, based upon the
idea that man can be ‘‘licked” into moral shape by bringing
outward influences to bear upon him, totally forgetful of the soul
that imparts life, treating him, in short as a piece of intellectual
mechanism.
9. Languages afford a curious instance in point. Languages, mani-
pulated, twisted, remodelled by the hands of man, like French
show the indelible stamp of their treatment in their want of flexi-
bility, in their laboured construction, in their lack of harmony. The
French language, made by logicians is a thousand times less logical
than Hebrew or Sanskrit created by the instincts of primitive man.
I have developed this point in an “ Essay on the Origin of Language,”
published in the philosophical review, “ La Liberté de Penser” of
the 15th September and the 15th December 1848.
10. See for instance, “les Considerations sur la France” of M. de
 Notes. 463
Maistre. The ingenious writer has plainly perceived the defects of
the reformers, the artificiality, the formalism, the rage for writing
and publishing that which is much stronger when left unwritten.
But he has failed to perceive that these defects were a necessary
_ condition of ulterior progress.
11. Voltaire never professed to say anything else in his numerous
attacks on optimism ; they are just satires on the absurdities of his
century.
12. “ De la Démocratic en France” ; p. 76. A little further on,
the- principle is laid down that landed property is superior to any
other, because the proceeds of it depend less upon the exertions of
men, and more on blind causes.
13. The greater or lesser extent of a people’s belief in fate is the
test of her civilization. The Cossack blames no one for being
whipped, it is his fate ; the Turkish rayah bears no one a grudge,
on account of the burdens imposed upon him ; it is his fate. The
poverty-stricken Englishman nurses no grievance; if he starves to
death, it is his fate. The Frenchman revolts if he suspects that his
misery is the consequence of a social organisation capable of reforma-
tion.
14. By reason I do not solely mean human reason, but the reflec-
tion of every thinking being, extant or to come. If I could believe
in the endless perpetuation of humanity, I would unhesitatingly
infer that it must attain perfection. But it is physically possible
that humanity may be fated to perish or become exhausted, and that
the human species itself may gradually perish of atrophy when the
fountains of living force and new races shall have dried up. (Lucre-
tius has some weighty arguments on this point, V., 381, et seq.).
In that case it will have only been a transient form of the divine
progress of all things and of the evolution of the divine conscience.
For even if humanity should not exercise a direct influence on the
forms that will succeed it, it will have played its part in the
graduated progress as a branch necessary to the growth of higher
branches. For though these may not be offshoots of the first
branch, they will spread outwards from the same trunk. Hegel
has no foundation for attributing an exclusive role to humanity,
which is doubtless not the only conscious form of the divine, though
it may be the most advanced within our knowledge. To find the
eternal and perfect we must go beyond humanity and plunge into
the deep sea. Were I here to disclaim any tendency to pantheism, it,
would look as if I did so in deference to a suspicious timidity, and
that I admitted the right of somebody to demand a profession of
orthodoxy ; I will, therefore not do so. Sufficient be it for me ta
state my belief in a living reason for all things, and that I admit,
human freedom and personality as evident facts ; consequently every
doctrine logically advanced in order to deny them would, in my.
opinion, be false. I should add that if pantheism appears so absurd
to most people, it is because they do not understand it, and because
they interpret the principle ; ‘ Add is God,” in a distributive and not
in a collective sense. In this instance all is not synonymous with
464 Notes.

every any more than in the sentence; “ All the departments of

France constitute an area of so many square leagues.” There
would be few absurdities comparable to this : ‘‘ Every object is God.”
Hegel has very well explained this. (Cowrs d’esthétique, t. il., p-
108 ; Bénard’s translation.) :
15. What else in fact is the science of the Middle-Ages but dis-
putation ? Wrangling is so dear to the schoolmen that they preserve —
it like game, and provide one another with the opportunity for sport ;_
they dispose their canons so as never to lack material for it. There —
are propositions, acknowledged to be false, but which are, neverthe-
less, not condemned in order to afford an opportunity for disputation.
Read the treatise the theologians call; “ Les lieww Théologiques,”
and you will get an idea of that strange method. Never mind the
truth, the thing is to hit upon something lending itself to controversy ;
to know is nothing, to wrangle everything.
16. If-you wish for a typical instance of this irreverent manner of
treating science, of taking it as a jew d’esprit, fit at most to beguile
the tedium of an aimless life or to raise the inane laughter so dear
to those who are debarred from laughing genuinely, read the Journal
de Trevoux and in general the scientific works issued by the same
brotherhood, which, be it said by the way, has not produced a single
serious savant (except perhaps Kircher, who also drifts into sheer
folly at times, though his folly is at any rate that of his time), but
which on the other hand has produced some matchless types of
scientific charlatanism, Bougeant, Hardouin, ete. All this belongs
to the same order of things as the thoroughly innocent and twaddling
minor poetry of the members of the society ; Du Cerceau, Commire,
Rapin, etc. And though the works of the Benedictines are of an
altogether different order, they do not disprove my thesis. The need
of beguiling the leisure of a tranquil and retired existence with
useful work, a taste for study, the instinctive love for compiling and
collecting may render immense service to scholarship, but they do not
constitute a love of science.
17. Let us suppose that the considerations of Descartes for theology
were not solely inspired by political motives, which I do not admit ;
the intellect of Descartes was of the absolute order, altogether
devoid of the critical faculty ; and it is quite possible that he may
have fully believed in Christianity. :
18. This is so true that semi-critical intellects only resign them-
selves to admitting miracle in antiquity. Tales that would raise
a smile if they were related as contemporary, pass muster in virtue
of the enchantment lent by distance. It seems to be tacitly admitted
that primitive humanity lived under natural laws different from our
own.
19. The way in which every nation naively reflects herself in the
physiognomy of her miracles is truly marvellous. Compare the
miracle of the Hebrews, grave, severe, without variety like Jehovah
Himself ; the miracle of the Gospel, beneficent and moral ; the
Talmudic miracle, disgustingly vulgar ; the Byzantine miracle, dull
and devoid of poesy ; the miracle of the Middle-Ages, graceful and
 Notes. 465
sentimental; the Jesuit and Spanish miracle, materialistic, ener-
vating, immoral. This is not surprising seeing that each people
only puts upon the stage in its miracles the supernatural agents of
the government of the Universe, as it understands them ; and these
agents are fashioned by each race after its own model.
20. The study of Greek science and philosophy had already pro-
duced an analogous result among the Mussulmans in the Middle-
Ages. _Averroes may be considered a rationalist pure and simple.
But this splendid onward movement was checked by the rigid
Mussulmans. The numbers and the influence of the philosophers
were not sufficiently large to carry the day, as was the case in
Europe.
21. See the admirable description of the pietist reaction in the
beginning of the seventeenth century in Michelet’s “ Du Prétre, de
la Femme, de la Famille,’ Ch. I. and throughout the book; a
thoroughly vivid and original description of the most delicate and
indescribable facts. It contains a whole world of which people
scarcely care to speak with bated breath. See also the delicate
psychological analysis which M. Sainte-Beuve so unfortunately
entitled “ Volupté.” Nor should we forget Das ewig Weibliche at
the end of Faust, and Mephistopheles, though blaspheming, van-
quished with roses, and the admirable episode of Dorothée and Agnés
in the “ Pucelle.”
“ The damsel o’ercome by a contrite emotion
Determined a father confessor to seek;
For there’s only one step between love and devotion,
And dear are the weaknesses both—to the weak.”

A rigorous psychological analysis would class the innate religious

instinct of women in the same category with the sexual instinct.
The first manifestation of all this occurs in a characteristic manner
in the Middle-Ages in the case of the lollards, béguards, fraticelli,
“poor men of Lyons,” humiliati, flagellants, etc.
22. This opposition sometimes produces strange effects. Certain
weaknesses of the fiercest rationalists can only be explained in this
way. There are in life ‘melting moments” when everything thaws
—becomes moist, limp, deliquescent. Ihave often thought that this
type (of fierce intellectual pride combined with the most feminine
weakness) might be taken as the subject for a psychological novel.
Faust only corresponds to a part of my idea. The ancients dis-
tinguished between dry heat and moist heat by one of those distinc-
tions banished by our physical system, because they are not based on
sufficiently accurate facts, but which contained nevertheless a great
deal of truth. This distinction is perfectly just, at any rate in
chology.
3. I oe heard a very excellent person rejoice over the cholera ;
“for,” said he ; “those calamities are sure to bring in their wake
a return to religious ideas.” After all, this is perfectly consistent.
What matter, so long as souls are saved ?
24. In reality, the divergences between religious sects rhenot less
H
466 Notes.

great. But they do not strike one so much, because they do not
exist simultaneously in the same country, while philosophy is looked
at synoptically, as inter-connected in all its parts. As a matter of
course in countries where several sects confront one another, scepti-
cism is never far behind.
25. Finding it impossible to define these ideas with accuracy,
I refer to the hymn, in which in my earliest youth, I tried to express
my religious ideas, at the end of the volume. (Jt has been suppressed.)
26. Such for instance are Descartes’ proofs of the existence of
God. No mind laying claim to any subtelty has taken them
seriously, and I should deeply pity the man whose religious faith nas
no better basis than this scholastic scaffolding. Still these proofs
are really true, all equally true, however narrow the spirit in which
they are expressed.
27. It is in this that Germany excels. The views of her writers
are thoroughly individual and absolutely untranslatable. Change
the form in which they are expressed however slightly, they vanish,
like the essence that evaporates in being transferred from one vase
to another. Certain German works of the highest order are intoler-
ably heavy in French ; take away the fragrance of rosewater and it
becomes worse than erdinary water. Take, for instance, the admir-
able introduction of Wilhelm von Humboldt to his essay on Kawi,
in which the most subtle views of German writers on the science of
language are brought together ; well, this essay, translated into
French, would have lost all meaning and would emerge simply as
a monumental platitude. This constitutes its very claim to praise,
because it proves the delicacy of the style.
28. Fichte, for instance, in his “ Method to attain a happy life,”
is never tired of repeating ; “Is not this as clear as daylight? Can
any well-ordered mind fail to understand this?” When a sincere
man speaks in this tone, I always believe him. For how can a
straightforward mind, applying itself seriously to its object, fail to
see right ? It is, therefore, certain that Fichte’s system was per-
feetly true to him, from his own standpoint.
29. Thus the hypotheses on electricity and magnetism, afford an
explanation of the phenomena ; they supply a convenient connection
between the facts; but they are not to be taken as possessing an
absolute value, and as correspondent to physical realities.
30. “I see the sea, rocks, islands ;” says he who looks through
the windows on the northern side of the castle. ‘I see fields and
trees and meadows ;” says he who looks through the windows on
the south. ~They would make a mistake to dispute ; both are right.
31. The typical representative of this kind of intellect is assuredly
Joseph de Maistre, a grand seigneur who has no patience with the
slow discussions of philosophy. “In God’s name, give us a decision,
and let there be an end of it. True or false it matters not, so long
as Tam at peace. An infallible pope, that is the shortest way and
the best! What do I say, an infallible pope? That would be
honouring those vile mortals too much! No, no; a pope from
whom there is no appeal.”
| eat
Notes. 467
32. The most naively touching thing I know is the effort made
by the faithful, forcibly carried away by the scientific current of the
modern spirit, to reconcile their old doctrines with that formidable
power which dominates them, do what they may. If one could lay
. bare this or that conscience, one would find in it hoards of pious
subtelties, truly edifying and indicating an exceedingly amiable code
of morality.
33. One of those who have most vigorously insulted human nature
in the interests of revelation has said somewhere (See L’ Univers of
26th March, 1849) that he greatly preferred Rabelais, Parny and
Pigault-Lebrun to Lamartine. I can easily believe it. Voltaire
also got along better with the Curé of Versailles who petted and
fleeced his flock in turns than with St. Vincent de Paul or St.
Francis de Sales.
34. A eurious inquiry might be made into the higher or lower
price of human life at different phases of the development of
humanity. It would be found that this price has always been
estimated according to the real value, that is, that human life was
much more respected at the periods when it really was worth more.
Human conscience is very gradually developed, and traverses sundry
different stages. The value of a conscience therefore is in direct
proportion to the advancement of its development. Civilized man
who is so energetically conscious of himself is much more man, if
I may be permitted to say so, than the savage who is scarcely con-
scious of his own existence, and whose life is only a small compara-
tively valueless phenomenon. This is why the savage sets so little
store by life, relinquishes it with such strange unconcern and deprives
others of it in mere sport. With him the feeling of individuality
has scarcely commenced. The animal, and to a certain extent the
child, looks upon the death of one of his fellows without alarm.
The price one sets upon one’s own life is generally the price one sets
upon that of others. Several facts of our Revolution can only be
explained on this theory. Human life had become dreadfully cheap.
35. Christianity by its universal and catholic tendencies has been
instrumental in diminishing the antique love of ‘country. The Chris-
tian forms a part of a much more extensive and holier society, which
if needs be he must prefer to his country.
36. Heaven forbid that I should insult so distinguished an intellect
as Franklin. But it is difficult to conceive how a man endowed
with the least moral and philosophical feeling could have written
chapters, entitled ; “ Advice how to make a fortune.”—* Necessary
advice to those who wish to be rich.”—‘‘ The means always to have
money in your pocket.” “Thanks to these means,” he adds, “the
sky will be more bright to you, and a feeling of pleasure will cause
your heart to throb. Make haste to adopt these rules and to be
happy.” Truly a charming way of ennobling human nature.
37. Of all the usages of antiquity libation seems to me the most
poetical and the most religious ; it is the sacrifice (sheer waste the
positivists would say) of the first fruits to the invisible powers.
38. The same irrational, but withal energetic and beautiful appli-
 463 Notes.

cation of human nature may be noticed in the ideas of the religious

on expiation. The need for expiation after an immoral or frivolous
life is indeed very legitimate ; the error consists in having enter-
tained the belief that it was a question of punishing one’s self. The
only rational penance is repentance and a more impassioned:return to
a beautiful and earnest existence. i
39. Small minds which conceive perfection as a state of medio-
erity resulting from the reciprocal neutralisation of extremes call
this excess, but this is a narrow and paltry way of explaining such
facts. The blame lies, not in the abundance of energy, but in the
wrong direction given to powerful instincts.
40. These harmonious complaints have become one of the most
fruitful themes of modern poesy. With the exception of that of
Jouffroy, I know of none more sincere than those of Louis Feuer-
bach, one of the most advanced representatives of the ultra-~-Hegelian
school (“Recollections of my religious life’”—a continuation of
“The Religion of the Future”). This regret is not noticeable —
among the first sceptics (such for instance, as the philosophers of the
eighteenth century) who destroy with a marvellous joy without
feeling the need of any belief, engrossed as they are with their work
of destruction and the vivid consciousness of exerting their strength.
41. Heraclitus conceived the stars as meteors lighting themselves
at certain times at receptacles prepared for the purpose, as a kind of
eauldrons which by turning their dark side to us produced phases,
eclipses, etc. Anaxagoras thinks that the vault of the sky is of
stone and conceives the sun and stars as so many stones on fire..
Cosmos Indicopleustes pictures to himself the world as an oblong
chest, of which the earth constitutes the bottom, at the four sides
rise strong walls and the sky forms the arched lid. The Hebrews
conceived the sky as a molten looking glass (Job xxxvii. 18) sup-
ported by pillars (Job xxvi. 11); above which are the upper waters,
dropping through it by means of channels or grated windows~and
thus making the rain (Psalms Ixxviii. 23; Gen. vii. 113; viii. 2).
Strepsiades concocts for himself a system of similar meteorology,
only a little more burlesque (Aristoph., Clouds, line 372).
42. Shall I say that we are justified in already suspecting some-
thing of the kind? The final term of progress being, in fact, a con-
dition in which there will be only one being, a state in which all
existing matter will beget a unique resultant, which will be God;
in which God the universe will be the sow! of the universe, and the
universe the body of God, and in which, the period of individuality
having been traversed, the unity which is not the exclusion of the.
‘individuality, but the harmony and combination of individualities,
shall reign alone ; we may conceive, I say, that in such a condition,
which will be the result of the blind efforts of all that has lived, in
which exact individuality down to the tiniest insect will have had
its share, every individuality will be found again, as in the distant
sound of an immense concert. This, at any rate, is the way in which
I like to understand it. See some admirable pages of Spiridion,
though they are presented in too substantial a form.
 Notes. 469
43. An admirable expression of Schiller.
44. I am specially alluding here to France. The successes of M.
Ronge and of the German Catholics prove that a religious move-
ment is not altogether impossible in Germany. The constant
apparition of new sects, with which the Catholics twit the Protes-
- tants as a sign of weakness, proves on the contrary that the sentiment
of religion is still alive among them, seeing that it still possesses the
power of creating. There is no danger of such a thing happening
in France, everything has been battened down for ever and aye.
There is nothing more dead than that which no longer stirs. Several
facts also attest that the religious power of production is not extinct
in England. As for the East, the Arabs show that the list of pro-
phets is not closed, and the successes of the Wahhabites proved that
the advent of another Mahomet is not among the impossibilities. I
have often thought that a clever European acquainted with Arabic
and presenting a legend professing to have some connection with a
branch of the Prophet’s family, and in addition to this preaching the
doctrines of fraternity and equality, so likely to be properly under-
stood by the Arabs, might with eight or ten thousand men conquer
the Mussulman East, and create a movement analogous to that of
Islamism.
45. Fichte in the-work in which he shows at its best his admir-
able moral sense, has forcibly expressed this priestly mission of
science. (“ Of the Destiny of the Savant and the Man of Letters,” 4th
Lesson. See also his “ Method to attain a happy life,” 4th Lesson.)
46. This is so true that entire peoples have been without such a
religious system, for instance the Chinese who have never known
anything but a code of natural morality, without the slightest mythi-
cal belief. The worship of Fo or of Buddha is, as is well known,
utterly foreign to China.
47. How can one help regretting at the same time the deplorable
nullity to which the provinces seem condemned, for want of a great
literary movement and institutions? When we come to consider
that every small town in the Italy of the sixteenth century had its
grand master painter and master musician, and that every town of
3000 inhabitants in Germany is a literary centre with a printing
press, devoted to works of science, a library and often a university ;
when we consider all this we feel grieved at the want of initiative of
a great country, reduced to the servile imitation of her capital. The
distinction between Parisian good taste and provincial bad taste is
the consequence of the same intellectual organization ; but it so
happens that this distinction is as mischievous to the capital as to the
provinces ; it invests the question of ¢aste with an exaggerated im-
portance. All this is a proof of the somewhat melancholy proposi-
tion that art, science and literature do not flourish among us in con-
' sequence of an innate and spontaneous need, as in ancient Greece, as
in fifteenth century Italy ; for with us, in the absence of stimulation
from without there is no production.
48. The Germans who have studied our system of public educa-
tion maintain that there are ouly certain courses at the lyceums, such
470 Notes.
as for instance those of philosophy, that remind them of German
University teaching. See L. Hahn, “ Das Unterrichtswesen in Frank-
reich,” Breslau, 1848. 2‘ Theil.
49. The following is the programme of a University Commemora-
tion at.Koenigsberg. “ Conditi Prussiarum regni memoriam anni-
versariam die xvui Jan. MDCCOXL in auditorio maximo celebrandam
indicunt, prorector, director, cancellarius et Senatus Academie
Albertine. Inest dissertatio de nominum tertia declinationis vicis-
situdine. . . G. B. Winer made up the programmes of a dozen
academical solemnities with a series of dissertations on the use of
verbs compounded with a preposition in the New Testament.
50. See the Transactions of the Annual Congresses of the Ger-
man philologists. Verhandlungen der Versammlungen Deutscher
Philologen und Schulmeenner.
51. Malebranche in his admirable but too severe chapter.on Mon-
taigne, had already called him wn pedant a la cavaliere (a free and
easy pedant). Pascal, the Logicians of Port-Poyal and Malebranche
thoroughly appreciated this innocent pretension on the part of the
author of “ the Essays.”
52. This is so true, that the same sentiment can furnish poesy,
eloquence, philosophy, according to the manner in which it is made
to vibrate, almost in the same way as the divers vibrations of the
same fluid produce heat and light.
538. “Stobaeus, Apophth.,” 8. ii. p. 44, Edit Gaisford.
54. Quintilian was perfectly right when he said ; Grammatica
plus habet in recessu quam fronte promittit.
55. See the history of classical philology in antiquity (“ Ge-
schichte der Klassissichen Philologie im Altherthum’”’), by M.
Graefenhan, Bonn, 1843-46. The following are the various sub-
jects he includes in it: 1° GRAMMAR and its various branches;
Rhetoric, Lexilogy (Etymology, Synonymy, Lexicography, Glosso-
graphy, Onomatology, Dialectography).—2° Exxnessis, allegorical,
verbal, Commentaries of the Rhetoricians, of the Grammarians, of
the Sophists, Scholia, Paraphrases, Translations, Imitations—3°
Criticism of Texts, literary criticism (authenticity, ete.) criticism,
aesthetics —4° Erupition, Theology, Mythology, Politics, Chro-
nology, Geography, Literature (Compilers, Abridgers, Bibliography,
Biography, Literary History), History and Theory of the Fine Arts.
—M. Haase in the Jena Journal smartly criticises the use of so vast
a syllabus. (Neue Jenuische Literatur-Zeitung, Febr. 1845, N°
35-87). The school of Heyne and of Wolf understood by philology
the thorough knowledge of the antique world (Greek and Roman) |
in all its aspects, so far as it is necessary to the perfect understand-
ing of these two literatures.
56. This is how antiquity understood it. Grammar was the ency-
clopedia not for positive science itself, but as a necessary means to
the understanding of authors. Everything was reduced to this
literary aim. The most complete enumeration of all that an antique
grammarian had to know will be found in the elogium of Statius on
his father (“ Sylv.”)
|

Notes. 471
57. An epigram of Crates of Mallos; “The grammarian is the
mason, the critic is the architect.”” Wegener, ‘De aula Attalica ;”
Collection of the fragments of Crates.
58. I am speaking only of the Scholastic Middle-Ages—from the,
eleventh to the fifteenth centuries. The rhetoricians of the Carlo-
vingian period are truly the successors of the Roman grammarians
and are, if anything, too philological in the narrow and literal sense.
Roger Bacon in whom we find the first spark of the modern spirit
and who almost alone, during the space of ten centuries, understood
science as we understand it, already foresaw the benefits of philology.
He devoted the third part of the “Opus Majus” to demonstrating
the usefulness of the study of ancient languages (Greek, Arabic,
Hebrew) and propounds perfectly just views on this delicate subject.
The study of languages is to him no longer a means of exercising
the trade of interpreter or translator, as it nearly always was in the
Middle-Ages ; it is an instrument of scientific and literary criticism.
59. We can say as much with regard to the knowledge of Greek
literature possessed by the Syrians, the Arabs and other Orientals,
(except perhaps the Armenians). It was crude in the extreme,
because it was not philological.
60. These are his words: “‘I have placed the prince of poets by
the side of Plato, the prince of philosophers ; and I am obliged to
content myself with looking at them, seeing that Sergius is absent
and that death has deprived me of Barlaam, my old master. Some-
times I console myself by casting a glance at that masterpiece, at
others I embrace it and exclaim with a sigh. ‘ With what pleasure,
oh, great man, would I listen to thee, if death had not closed one of
my ears (Barlaam) and absence had not rendered the other useless
(Sergius) !” (Epist. Var., xx. Opp. pp. 998, 999).
61. To get a clear understanding of the character of ancient criti-
cism, see the excellent article of M. Egger on Aristarchus (Revue
des deux Mondes, 1 Feb. 1846).
62. Aristarchus Homeri versum negat quem non probat. One
could have wished that Porson, Brunck, and a good many other
German critics had not chosen this strange means of becoming
‘Aristarchi.
63. It is thus that European students of Arabic literature are
quite justified in believing that they understand the Koran better
than the Arabs. It is thus again that the modern Hebrew scholar
corrects several explanations of ancient texts given in Hebrew books
of more modern composition, such as for instance in the “ Chronicles ”
(or Paraleipomena) and point out in the ancient books themselves
etymologies more than doubtful. None of our philologists pretend
to know Greek better than Plato, or Latin better than Varro, yet
not one among them scruples to correct the etymologies of Plato
and Varro.
64. The real “ manuals” of antiquity are the compilations of the
fifth and sixth centuries, those of Marcianus Capella, of Isidore of
Seville, of Boethius, etc. The deluge of elementary books is also
with us but a recent fact and decidedly not a sign of progress. In
A472, ‘ Notes.

a system of education pretending to any vitality the child has to per-

form for himself the labour spared to him by these artificial means—
a labour of immense advantage to his originality. The seventeenth
century acquired a better knowledge of Latin in the authors them-
selves, or even in Despauteres than we did in Lhomond or than
others are likely to do in even better grammars. In this as in many
other things people have been beguiled by the sophism; “One
fathers did wonders with comparatively imperfect methods. What
will not our children do when everything is regulated and perfected.”
In gymnastic exercises the perfection of the dumb-bell or Indian
club is of no importance.
65. Polybius devotes a book of his history to the most elementary
notions of geography and pauses to explain the four points of the
compass, etc., as curiosities of great interest. Strabo (*‘ Géogr.,”
Book VIII. init.) tells us that Ephorus and several others did the
same, lLet-us suppose for a moment M. Thiers beginning his “ His-
tory of the Revolution” with a short course of cosmography. The
undergraduate of to-day smiles at the animated controversy of
Cicero against Tiro on the knotty question whether all the cities of
the Peloponnesus are seaports and whether there are any ports in
Arcadia. (‘ Letter to Atticus,” Book iv. 2.)
66. The ancients never definitely departed from the narrow point
of view according to which aesthetics are supposed to supply the
rules of literary composition, as if every work ought to be judged
according to its conformity with a given type, and not by the amount
of positive beauty it presents. One single rule may be given for the .
production of the beautiful ; “ Elevate your soul, fee! nobly and say
what you feel.” ‘The beauty of a work lies in the philosophy it
contains.
67. The reformers of the sixteenth century are philologists. In
the eighteenth century the work is accomplished under the banner
of the positive sciences. D’Alembert and the “ Encyclopédie” are
characteristic of this new spirit.
68. What, then, would be the result if to scientific experiment
one could add practical experiment on life? Saint-Simon as an
introduction to philosophy led the most active life possible, trying
all kind of conditions, all kind of enjoyments, all the ways of seeing
and feeling, nay, creating for himself fictitious relations that do not
exist or rarely present themselves in reality. There is no doubt
that the habit of life does teach as much as books, and constitutes
a culture to those who have no other. The only uncultivated man
(inhumanus) is he who has not been able to partake of either
practical or scientific culture.
69. To avoid a misunderstanding which would strangely distort
my real views, I must repeat that in the whole of the foregoing I
have taken the word “philology” in the sense of the ancients, as
synonymous with polymathy ; @s ¢iAddoyds eore Kai ToAVADyos (Plato,
Legg. i., 641, E).—“ Que quidem erant girodoya et dignitatis mee,”
says Cicero speaking of certain demands he had addressed to Cleo-
patra. (“Ad Atticum,” lib. xv., ep. Xv.)
ih ig

Notes. , 473
70. Thus (tom. v., pp. 47, 48) M. Comte prophesies a priori that
the comparative study of language will lead to the recognition of
their unity as a historical fact; “for,” he says; “each kind of
animal has only one cry.” As a matter of fact, the result has been
precisely the reverse.
71. The visions of the pseudo Daniel are in my opinion the~most
ancient essay on the philosophy of history, and on that account
remain very interesting.
72. The trouble taken by M. Jouffroy to invest the word “ philo-
sophy” with a special meaning arises from his not having paid
sufficient attention to the conventional sense attributed to the word
in France. (See his memoir on “The Organisation of the Philosophical
Sciences.”)
73. “Cicero, Tuscul,” v. 3, there attributed to Pythagoras.
74. M. Villemain, after having read the general part of his “‘ Cours
sur les Mammiferes,” wrote to Geoffroy Saint-Hilaire ; “Natural
history thus understood is the foremost of all philosophies.” One
might say the same of all the sciences, were they treated by Geoffroy
Saint-Hilaires.
75. This must be admitted even in the ideas of ancient theism,
since according to that conception of the system of things, God is
considered as no longer creating in time, but as having created
everything in the beginning.
76. The true psychology is the poem, the novel, the comedy.
There are a great many things that can only be expressed in that
way. What we call psychology, for instance that of the Scotch, is
only a ponderous and abstract way, without any corresponding
advantages, of expressing that which subtle intellects had felt long
before the theorists reduced it to formulas.
77. Says M. Michelet ; ‘Let us gather round, and listen to, this
young master of olden times. He has no need, in order to instruct
us, to go very deeply into what he says, but he is like a living eye-
witness; he was there, he knows the whole story best.” (‘Du
Peuple,” p. 212.)
78. M. Ozanam shows clearly enough, without any special plead-
ing, that Dante conceived the unity of humanity in a manner almost
as advanced as that of the moderns. Christianity in virtue of its
catholicity made a long stride in the direction of this idea, Never-
theless it is only towards the latter end of the eighteenth century
that it appears to us in distinct outline. Old French humanity was
a virtue or a moral quality but with a good many shades that explain
the transition. “I give it you in the name of humanity ;” says
Moliére’s Don Juan. “I know no word written in the seventeenth
century which conveys a more advanced idea.”
79. M. de Maistre pushes the paradox so far as to deny the very
existence of human nature and its unity. “I know Frenchmen,
Englishmen, Germans,” he says; “I do not know men.” We out-
siders are under the impression that the aim of nature is enlightened
man, be he French, English, or German.
80. The psychological analysis of the faculties as given by the
A474 Notes.

Indian philosophers is utterly different from our own. The names

of their faculties are untranslatable for us ; at times their faculties
comprise several of ours under a common name ; at others they
subdivide ours. I have heard M. Burnouf compare this divergence
to that of pieces cut by a punch out of the same surface, or, better
still, out of two maps of the same region, drawn at different periods,
and placed above one another. Place a map of Europe according
to the treaties of 1815 above a map of Europe in the sixth century ;
the rivers, the seas, the mountains will coincide, but not the ethno-
graphical and political divisions, though even there certain groups
remain unchanged.
81. “A Dissertation on the Theology of the Chinese, with a view
to the Elucidation of the most appropriate term for expressing the
Deity in the Chinese Language, by M. H. Medhurst, 1847, in 8°.”
See also the report of M. Mohl, Asiztie Journal, Aug. 1848, p. 160.
82. “Cours de Littérature Dramatique,” vol. i. ch. xvii.
83. Kados in the Greek sense.
84. The defect of most of our elementary grammars lies in their
substituting rules and processes for a rational history of the mechan-
ism of the language. This is especially disgusting in the case of
ancient languages, which, properly speaking, had no rules but a
living organization the actual consciousness of which still existed.
85. “When once one has found what is fitting and beautiful, one
ought never to change,” says Fleury. There are still people who
regret that the world no longer writes in the style of Louis X1Vth's
time, as if that style were suitable to our mode of thought.
86. The same progress has occurred in mathematics. The ancients
considered quantity in its actual being, the moderns take it in its
generation, in its infinitesimal element. It is the immense revolution
of the differential calculus.
87. India alone deserves in some respects serious consideration as
capable of furnishing positive documents to science. We have still
much to learn from Indian metaphysics. The most advanced pro-
positions of modern philosophy which here are within the ken of
only a very small minority, are there official doctrines. India ought
to have nearly as good a right as Greece to furnish themes for art.
I have not given up all hope that one day our painters will borrow
subjects from Indian mythology as they do from Greek mythology.
Narayana lying on his lotus bed, contemplating Brahma who slowly
emerges from his navel, Lachmi reposing under his eyes, would not
this afford a picture comparable to the most beautiful Greek con-
ceptions ? Mathematicians will also find in the Indian theory a
number of highly original algorithms.
88. The modern East is a corpse. There has been no education
for the East. It is as little ripe to-day for liberal institutions as in
the first days of history. It has been the lot of Asia to have enjoyed
a charming and poetic childhood, and to perish before arriving at
manhood. It seems like a dream to think that Hebrew poesy the
Moallacat and the admirable literature of India have sprung from a
soil, in our own day so dead, so utterly burnt up. The sight of a
 Notes. A75
Levantine excites in me the most painful feelings when I reflect
that this pitiful personification of stupidity or eunning hails from
the country of Isaiah and of Antara, from the country of the
mourners for Thammuz, of the worshippers of Jehovah, where
Mosaism and Islamism first appeared, where Jesus preached !
89. Hence the aversion to, or the suspicion of, the literatures of
the East, to profess which is considered good taste in France, an
aversion no doubt due to a certain extent to the worthless criticism
too often brought to bear upon these literatures, but still more to
our national habit of thought, which is too exclusively literary and
not sufficiently scientific. “Do what we will,” says M. Saint-Beuve,
“we in France do not care to lose sight of the Hellenie horizon
without knowing the reason why.” Be it so, but why this incurable
distrust in presence of methods offering every guarantee? Dugald
Stewart in his “ Philosophy of the Human Understanding” (1827)
is still under the impression that Sanskrit is a worthless jargon com-
pounded haphazard of Greek and Latin.
90. After all Voltaire only followed the track of the apologists.
The latter took the Bible in the light of an absolute work, irre-
spective of time and space ; Voltaire criticizes it as he would have
criticized a work of the eighteenth century, and from that point of
view he finds in it, as a matter of course, not a few absurdities.
91. Hence the pedantry of all classical pretension. We must
leave each century to create its own form and original expression.
Literature goes on devouring its forms in proportion to their be-
coming exhausted by the wear and tear to which it subjects them,
for literature is bound to be contemporary with the nation. M.
Guizot justly points out that the true literature of the fifth and
sixth centuries consists no longer of colourless essays by the belated
rhetoricians of the Roman schools, but of popular works embodying
the Christian legend.
92. “Lecture of M. Burnouf at the Meeting of the Five Acadé-
mies,” 25th October, 1848.
93. The great progress of literary history in our days consists in
its having drawn attention to origins and declines. That which
occupies us most was never so much as thought of by Laharpe.
94. “ Verhandlungen der Versammlungen Deutscher Philologen
and Schulminner,” Bonn, 1841.—See also a lecture of M. Creuzer
on the same subject, at the Congress at Mannheim, 1839.
95. That which interests us most in ancient writings is the very
thing to which their contemporaries never gave a thought; namely,
peculiar manners and customs, historical traits, linguistic facts, ete.
96. It is not unusual in Brittany to enclose the head of the dead
in a box of wood shaped like a small chapel, with a heartshaped
opening in front, and it is through this that the head is supposed
to look upon the outer world. Care is taken to dispose the head
in such a fashion as only to show the eye from the outside. From
time to time those relics are buried and the procession passes round
the place of interment every Sunday.
97. It is on this account that the man of the people is far more
476 Notes.
sensitive to patriotic glory than the more deeply thinking man, who
possesses a pronounced individuality of his own. The latter may
stand out from the masses by his personal qualities, by his talents,
his titles, his wealth. The man of the people, on the contrary, who
possesses none of these takes unto himself, as a patrimony, as it
were, the national glory and identifies himself with the masses who
have accomplished these great things. It is his own, his patent of
nobility, and herein lies the secret of this almost universal adoption
of Napoleon by the people. The glory of Napoleon is the glory of
those who can lay claim to no other.
98. And, again, those who know how most of these reviews are
written are of opinion that in many cases, the monographer cannot
reckon on having a single reader. The great art of reviewing con-
sists no longer, as in the time of Fréron, in judging of the whole
from the preface. The modern reviewer merely takes the title as
a peg on which to hang any amount of rigmarole on the same
subject as the author.
99. The historians of the seventeenth century who professed to
write and flattered themselves that they were read, Mézerai, Velly,
Daniel, are nowadays completely shelved, while the works of Du
Cange, Baluze, Duchesse and the Benedictines who never professed
to do more than collect materials are still as fresh as on the day
they were published.
100. The perfection of the Parthenon consists above all in the
fact that the parts not intended to be seen are as carefully executed
as those intended to be seen. So in science.
101. Eugéne Burnouf. “Comment on the Yacna,” pref. p. v.
See also in the Journal des Savants, Ap. 1848, some excellent
reflections by M. Biot on the respect due to anterior works.
102. We are compelled to say as much with regard to the know-
ledge of Greek literature of the Arabs of the Middle-Ages.
103. Herewith an example which will prove interesting to others
besides theologians. With reference to the celebrated passage ;
“ Regnum meum non est de hoe mundo.” NUNC AUTEM regnum
meum non est hine (John xviii. 36) several schools with widely
different intentions have insisted on the voy 6¢, and, translating it
by now have deduced different consequences from it. This inaccurate
remark would not have been so frequently repeated if it had been
known that this idiom vdy dé is the literal translation of a Hebrew
locution (ve-atta) which serves as an adversative conjunction con-
noting no idea of time. The same locution in Greek and Latin is em-
ployed to denote ; and, moreover, but. The passage, therefore, should
simply be translated; “ Bué my kingdom is not of this world.”
Another of the most important and liveliest discussions in the whole
of Biblical exegesis (“ Isaiah,” ch. liii.) turns entirely on the use of
a pronoun (damo).
104. Translation of the Bhagavata-Purana by M. Burnouf, tom.
i. pref. pp. iv., clxii., elxiii.
105. M. Auguste Comte has paid great attention to this difficult
problem and proposes as a remedy for the dispersion caused by
—_
Notes. | 477
specialities the creation of an additional speciality, namely that of
savants who without being specialists in any particular department,
should oceupy themselves with the generalities of all the sciences.
ee oa de Philosophie Positive,” tom. i., lst Lesson, pp. 30, 31,
ete.
106. By the way, I can see only one means of saving this precious
collection and keeping it available for use, that is, to close it to all
further publications and to declare that no book posterior, say, to
1850 shall be admitted. A separate library should be established
for more recent publications. There is evidently a limit beyond
which the wealth of a library becomes an obstacle to research, when
its abundance becomes truly poverty on account of the impossibility
of finding one’s way about it. This limit, I believe has already been
reached.
107. The burdens imposed on the taxpayer to this intellectual
end are in reality a service rendered to him. He profits by the
outlay of his money in a way for which he was not sufficiently
enlightened to wish deliberately. The state affords the taxpayer,
often an inveterate materialist, the opportunity—a rare one in his
life—of performing an idealistic work. The day he pays his taxes
is really the best in his life, for on that day he expiates his egotism
and sanctifies his property, often ill-gotten and as often ill-applied.
As a rule rates and taxes are the best applied part of the fortune of
the layman and sanctify the rest. It is analogous to libation among
the customs of antiquity—an art of high idealism, a touching offer-
ing to the invisible, the useless, the unknown, which transforms a
vulgar into an ideal act. Taxes, almost wholly applied to civilizing
purposes, legitimize, as it were, by their supra-sensible significance
the wealth of the farmer and the tradesman; at any rate they are
the best employed part of it. Weaith, under such conditions, from
being profane, becomes to a certain extent sacred. In our days taxes
are the equivalent of the part devoted under the old system by each
man to the Church and to pious works, “for the sake of his soul.”
For the sake of the taxpayer himself we ought to make this part as
large as possible, without, however, giving the taxpayer the true
reason which he would never understand.
108. It must be admitted that in that case they would not have
existed at all. The thinker never lives by the produce of his thought.
Copernicus did not live by his discoveries, he lived by his strict
attendance in the choir at Thorn, where he was a canon. The
Benedictines of the seventeenth century lived upon ancient founda-
tions designed solely for monastic practices. In our days the thinker
and the savant live by their teaching, a social employment which
has scarcely anything in common with science.
109. The typical sample of that science of the grand seigneur
who flourishes a horsewhip is M. de Maistre. One could make a
collection of the blunders he perpetrates with the infallibility of a
perfect gentleman. Oratio he tells us, comes from os and ratio (the
reasoning from the lips, which he fancies is admirably profound),
cecutire, cecus ut ire; sortir, sehorstir ; maison is a Celtic word;
478 Notes.

sopha comes from the Hebrew, from the root saphan, which, he says,
means to elevate, whence comes the word sofetim, judge, the educa-
tors of the peoples (another profound meaning)! Unfortunately the
root saphan is unknown to any student of Hebrew, and the root
schafat, whence is derived the word “judges” does in no way
mean to elevate or to educate. What matters? It is thus that
genius coruscates. ;
110. See a magnificent page at the end of Laplace, “ Systeme du
Monde ;” Ist Edition.
111. See in the work of an English missionary, Robert Moffat
(“Twenty-three Years in South Africa,” pp. 84, 157, 158), some
curious instances of myth improvised on the spot. “I saw one day
a child who after thinking for some time all at once seriously main-
tained, and with strange persistency that a few days before it had seen
a human head in the sun. Now, it was very patent that this idea
had just sprung up in his mind, in combination perhaps with some
reminiscence of a passage in an almanac.” This is the process that
presides at the formation of the most ancient myths; the dream
affirmed.
112. Where is life more simple than in the animal? Malebranche,
one day kicks a bitch who is about to litter. Fontenelle is shocked.
“What does it matter?” replies the hard Cartesian, “do not you
know she does not feel it?” Father Poirson thus proves that
animals have no soul; suffering is the penalty of sin; now, animals
have not sinned, ergo, they cannot suffer; ergo, they are mere
machines. Father Bongeant traverses the proposition by supposing |
that animals are demons, consequently, that they have sinned.
113. No one has demonstrated these laws better than M. Fauriel.
See the analysis of his course of lectures in 1836 by M. Egger in a
series of articles in the Journal de l' Instruction Publique of that
year, and the excellent notice by M. Ozanam of his illustrious
predecessor (Correspondant 10 May 1845).
114. “ Antar” though it has become the centre of a very
characteristic cycle, is not an epic. Everything in it is individual
and though the national pride of Arabia is its primary texture, no
national cause is sufficiently brought into play to justify us in rank-
ing this beautiful composition in any higher category than that of
the novel.
115. As a set-off, the Semites with remarkable facility have con-
ceived in God other relations, such as paternal, filial, distinctions of
power, of attributes (‘‘ Cabbala,” ete.).
116. The efforts that have been made to trace back the laws which
determine the succession of the Greek systems to Indian philosophy,
are almost chimerical. It cannot be maintained that the law of the
development of the Semitic languages is from synthesis to analysis,
as is the case in the Indo-Germanic languages. In the same way
modern Armenian appears to have much more syntax and synthetic
construction than ancient Armenian in which the dissection of
thought is pushed to a much more extended limit. Nor can we say
that modern Chinese is more analytic than ancient Chinese, seeing
 Notes. 479
that on the contrary, the inflections in the latter are richer, and the
expression of relations more exact. On these different sides the
laws are analogous but not the same, albeit they are always perfectly
rational, because of the individual element of each race which
modifies the result. All formulas are partial because they are only
moulded on certain particular cases.
117. M. Auguste Comte, for instance, claims to have found the
definite law of the human understanding in the succession of three
conditions, theological, metaphysical and scientific. This is, no doubt,
a formula containing a great part of the truth; but how can we
eredit it with explaining everything? M. Comte commences by
saying that he only treats of Western Europe (‘Philosophie Posi-
tive,” tom. v. pp. 4, 5). Everything beyond is a mere imper-
tinence not worth considering. And in Europe he only concerns
himself with the development of science. Poetry, religion, imagina-
tion, all these are ignored.
118. By taking the history of philosophy to mean the history of
the human intellect, and not the history of a certain number of
speculations.
119. Most of the popular judgments and proverbs are of this kind,
and express a true fact, complicated by a fictitious cause. The
simple statement of fact is one of the most difficult things to the
people ; they always mix some apparent explanation with it. When
nursemaids aver that an angel watches over children, they express
a true fact, viz. ; that little children do not hurt themselves in the
least under circumstances in which grown up people would hurt
themselves severely, but not pereeiving the cause of this, they con-
sider it more easy to ascribe the cause to a guardian angel. The
explanation of illnesses by attributing them to devils, which is so
continually taken for granted in the Gospels has its own origin in
the same intellectual process.
120. Islamism only began to gather strength one or two centuries
after the death of the prophet, and since then it has always gone on
consolidating itself by the power of established dogma. It has been
proved that the immense majority of those who followed the hardy
Koreishite had not the slightest religious faith in him. After his
death it was seriously discussed whether they should not abandon
his religious work and only continue his political work.
121. This, of course, does not impair the originality of that divine
product. The learned Jews often try to prove that Jesus has stolen
the whole of his doctrine from Moses and the prophets, and -that
what has been ealled Christian morality is in reality nothing but
Jewish morality. This would be true if a religion consisted of a
given number of dogmatic propositions, and morality of sundry
aphorisms. Most of those aphorisms being very simple and ofall
ages, there are no new discoveries to be made as regards morality.
Originality in morals lies merely in an indefinable touch and in a
new way of feeling. In order to test this we have merely to place
side by side the Gospel and the collection of moral apophthegms of
the rabbis contemporary with Jesus, the Pirké-Avoth, and 10 compare
the moral impression resulting from these two books.
480 Notes.

122. See in Voltaire’s “ Dictionnaire Philosophique ” the charm-

ing article “ Gargantua” in which by arguments similar to those of
the apologists it is proved that the marvellous exploits recorded in
the history of Gargantua admit of no doubt. Rabelais bears witness
to them; no historian has refuted them; the sceptical Lamotte Le
Vayer was inspired with such respect for them, as not to have
breathed a single word concerning them. These prodigies were
performed in the sight of the whole world. Rabelais, who testifies
to having seen them, was neither deceived nor a deceiver. If he
had departed from the truth, the newspapers would have soon
brought him to book. And, if that history were not true, who
would have dared to imagine it? The great proof of its being
worthy of belief is that it is incredible, ete. In fact, the defect of
the critical system of the supernaturalists is to judge all the periods
of the human understanding by the same test.
123. When the Arabs had adopted Aristotle as the grand master
of science they wove around him a miraculous legend as if he had
been a prophet. They pretended that he had been taken away from
heaven on a column of fire, ete.
124. It is strange that Europe should have adopted as the basis
of her spiritual life the books least adapted to her, the literature of
the Hebrews, the work of another race and emanating from a spirit
different from her own. As a matter of course she only accom-
modates herself to them by entirely misconceiving their meaning.
The Vedas would by far have a better claim to be the sacred book
of Europe than the Bible. They at least are truly the work of our .
forefathers.
125. In the East an ancient book is always inspired, whatever
may be its contents. There is no other criterion with regard to the
canonicity of a book. As for primitive epochs, every book, from the
very fact of its being a written book, was sacred. For did it not
treat of things divine ? Was not its author a priest, in direct com-
munication with the gods? The conception of the profane book,
the individual work, good, bad or indifferent, of this man or that,
belongs to a later period.
126. A few months ago, I heard a much-admired preacher in the
pulpit of Notre-Dame classify the religions in the following manner ;
“‘ There are three religions : Christianity, Mahometanism, Paganism.”
This is exactly as if someone were to classify the animal kingdom
by saying; “There are three kind of animals : men, horses, and
plants.”
127. I am not referring to China. That strange nation is perhaps
the least religious and the least supernaturalistic of all. Her sacred
books are nothing more than classics, much the same as “the
ancients ” are to us, or at least as they were to our classical scholars.
In this lies perhaps the secret of Chinese mediocrity. It is a beau-
tiful thing to dream, not like India, for ever, but to have dreamt
during one’s childhood; there remains a beautiful perfume of it
during our waking hours and a whole tradition of poesy on which to
fall back when age has chilled the imagination.
 Notes. A481
128. The religion of the Nomadic Semites is exceedingly simple.
It is the patriarchal worship of the only God, pure, chaste, without
ereed or symbols, without mysteries, without orgies. All those
grand systems of Assyrian, Persian, Egyptian symbolism are not of
Semitic origin, and disclose a different kind of spirit, much deeper,
bolder, more inquiring. It is only in the sixth century before the
Christian era that ideas of this kind were introduced among the
Semites. There is a world-wide difference between the all-ruling
and solitary God of Job, of Abraham, of the Arabs and those grand
pantheistic poems, disclosed to us by the Egyptian and Assyrian
monuments. It appears, moreover, that the primitive worship of
Egypt came very near Semitic simplicity and that the polytheistic
symbolism was a foreign importation.
128a. The Arabs, to use the accepted phrase, have certainly
shown a philosophic and scientifie development, but their science is
wholly borrowed from Greece. We should, moreover, point out that
Greco-Arab science by no means flourished in Arabia; it flourished
in the non-Semitic countries under Islamite sway which adopted
Arabic as a learned language, in Persia, in the provinces of the
Oxus, in Morocco, in Spain. The Arabian peninsula has remained
almost free from Hellenism and has never understood aught but the
Koran and the ancient poems.
129. The real mythology of the moderns ought to be-Christianity,
the monuments of which are still alive among us. But the age of
Louis XIVth, which dogmatically took this mythology as a theology,
could not make a poetic machinery of it. Boileau is right. To
invest sacred truths with the semblance of fable, is a sin. I paid a
visit one day to M. Michelet, he led me round his drawing-room and
pointed out for my admiration the most beautiful Christian subjects
of the great masters, the Saint-Paul of Albert Diirer ; the Prophets
and Sibyls of Michael-Angelo, the “ Disputa del Sacramento,” etc.,
and then he began to comment upon them. I am certain that
Racine, who was a believer, had Pagan images in his drawing-room,
If he had had Christian engravings he would have treated them as
devotional images. Syracuse did not consider it an act of bigotry
to stamp her medals with the beautiful head of Arethusa, nor Athens
with that of Minerva. Why then should there be an outcry about
encroachment if we were to put Saint Martin or Saint Remi on our
moneys? Until people ceased to look upon Christianity as a
Theology, they were unable to begin looking upon it as a Poesy,
and I have often asked myself whether Chateaubriand aimed at any-
thing more than at a literary revolution.
130. The Mosaic prescriptions, for instance, on the abstention
from the flesh of certain animals killed in a certain fashion, respect-
able enough when looked at as a means of educating humanity, and
all of which had a highly moral and highly political justification
with an ancient tribe of the East, to what do they amount when
transferred to our modern States? Merely to a good deal of incon-
venience which obliges people of a certain religion to have their
particular butchers who are obliged to purvey cattle according to
21
482 . Notes. ;
certain rules; simply a question of the slaughter-house and the
kitchen. ;
131. The Latin authors of the Decadence, the tragedies of Seneca,
for instance, often sound better when translated into French, than
the masterpieces of the grand epoch. oe
132. As a typical instance of this imbecile admiration consult the
Preface to the Translation of the Psalms by La Harpe. M. de
Maistre has very naively remarked, “To get a conception of the
beauties of the Vulgate, select a friend who has no knowledge of
Hebrew and you will find how a simple syllable, a simple word, and
an undefinable lightness of touch imparted to the phrase, will cause
to spring forth under your very eyes beauties of the highest order.”
(“Soirées de Saint-Petersbourg,” 7th Conversation.) With such a
system, and especially with the aid of a friend who knows nothing
of Greek, I -will undertake to find beauties of the highest order in
the most worthless translation of Homer or Pindar, independent of
those that are there. This reminds one of Madame Dacier going
into ecstasies about a certain passage of Homer, because it is
susceptible of five or six different interpretations, all equally
beautiful.
133. I will only point out one trait among many. We shall not
disparage the glory of the illustrious author of “Le Génie du
Christianisme ’’ by refusing him the title of Hellenist. He admires
(“ Génie du Christ.,” Book v., ch. i. or ii.) the simplicity of Homer
in describing the grotto of Calypso by the simple epithet, “‘ carpeted
with lilac.” And now let us look at the passage ; év oréoou yAadv- -
potot, AAaopevy Toow eivar (Od. i. 15). I believe, Heaven forgive |
me, that he saw lilacs in ArAqopevn.
134. Unless one has read the exegetical works of this great man |
one can conceive no idea of his radical want of the critical faculty.
He is exactly on a par with Saint Augustin, his master. To quote
only one instance in point; did not he write a book to justify the
policy of Louis XIV. by the Bible? The annoyance shown by
Bossuet at the works of Ellies Dupin, Richard Simon, Doctor Lan-
noy in which they sounded the first notes of higher criticism, and
the persecution he aroused against those intelligent pioneers are,
with the exception of the revocation of the Edict of Nantes, the
most deplorable episode in the history of the Gallican church in the
seventeenth century.
185. Says M. Michelet ; “ The simple-minded are fond of con-
necting and linking ; they rarely divide and analyse. Not only is
all kind of division repugnant to their mind, but it pains them, they
look upon it as a dismemberment. They do mot like to divide life
and to them everything seems endowed with life. Not only do they
not divide, but the moment they find a divided or partial thing, they
either neglect it or else join it mentally to the whole from which it
is divided. In this lies their existence as the simple of the earth.”
See the whole of this admirable passage (‘‘ Du Peuple,” pp. 242, 243).
One consequence of this simple mode of taking life is the perception
of the physiognomy of things, which is never vouchsafed to the
 Notes. 488
learned analysts, who only see the inanimate element. Most of the
categories of ancient science which the moderns have excluded cor-
responded to outward characteristics of nature which are no longer
considered, though indeed they contain their share of the truth.
136. Poetry itself shows an analogous onward movement. In
primitive poesy, all the styles were confounded ; the lyrical, elegiac,
didactic, epic elements co-existed in it in a confused harmony. Then
came the epoch of distinguishing styles, during which. objections
would have been raised to the introduction of lyricism into the drama,
or of the elegy into the epic. This was succeeded by the higher
form in the grand poesy of Goethe, of Byron, of Lamartine, admit-"
ting the simultaneous introduction of all the styles. “Faust,” “Don
Juan,” “Jocelyn” do not fall into any particular literary category.
137. This turn, peculiar to the German genius, explains the
strange progress of ideas in that country for something like the last
quarter of a century and how after the lofty and ideal speculations
of the grand school, Germany is now enacting her eighteenth century
after the French manner ; hard, bitter, negative, scoffing, swayed by
the instinct of the finite. For Germany, Voltaire comes after
Herder, Kant, Fichte, Hegel. The writings of the young school are
definite, destructive, realistic, materialistic. They boldly deny “the
beyond” (das Jenseits), that is, the supra-sensible, the religions
under all its forms, they declare that it is fooling mankind to make
him live in that fantastic world. Such is the sequel of the most
idealistic literary movement presented by the history of the human
intellect, a sequel not arrived at by logical deduction or as a neces-
sary consequence, but by a deliberate contradiction, and in virtue of
this foregone conclusion ; the great school has been idealistic, we are
going to produce a reaction towards the realistic.
138. Languages present an analogous development. Let us take
a group of languages, comprising several dialects, such as for
instance, the Semitic group. Certain linguists suppose that, at the
origin, there was only one Semitic language, from which all the
dialects are derived by alteration; others suppose all the dialects
equally primitive. The truth is, it seems, that at the origin the
various characteristics, which, by forming themselves into groups,
became the Syriac, the Hebrew, etc., existed syncretically, though
without, as yet, constituting independent dialects. For instance;
1° Confused and simultaneous existence of the dialectal varieties;
2° Tsolated existence of the dialects ; 3° Fusion of the dialects into
a more extensive unity.
139. The divine Spherus of Empedocles, in which everything
exists at first in the syncretic condition under the domination of the
giAfa, previous to passing under that of Discord, vetkos (analysis)
presents a beautiful picture of this grand law of divine evolution.
140. “ Le Peuple,” p. 251.
141. The most curious instance of this is M. de Talleyrand
becoming converted at the close of his life. He had been sharp
‘enough to outwit all the diplomatists of Europe, and bold enough to
celebrate the mass of liberty and to constitute himself a schismatic ;
 Poigae Notes.
but when it came to a theoretical question, he becomes weak-minded ——
and credulous, seeing nothing strange in Nebuchadnezzar being
changed into an animal, Balaam’s ass. conversing with his master, or
the diplomatists of the Council of Trent receiving the aid of the
Holy Ghost. Talleyrand, it will be said, did not admit all this.
No; but he would have had to admit it, if he had been consistent ~
with himself.
142. Fichte, who (in France, I of course mean) would have been
set down as impious, always had family prayer in the evening;
after which a few verses of a hymn were sung to the accompaniment
‘of the piano. The philosopher then delivered a short homily to his
family upon some few pages of the Gospel of St. John, adding, as
the opportunity suggested itself, some words of consolation or pious
exhortation.
143. Can‘a rag-picker, as he passes in front of the Tuileries,
exclaim: “This is my work?” Can we realize the sentiment of
the artisans and the land tillers of Attica in presence of these
monuments which belonged to them, which they appreciated, and
which were in reality the expression of their thought ?
144. One of the benefits of the Empire was that it gave the
people heroic souvenirs and a name easy to understand and to
idolize. Napoleon, so frankly adopted by the popular imagination,
providing it, as he did, with a grand subject for national enthusiasm,
_ will have powerfully contributed to the intellectual elevation of the
ignorant classes, and has become for them what Homer was for
Greece : the initiator of great deeds, causing the pulse to vibrate and
the eye to sparkle.
145. It is needless to say that this excuse, if it be one, never
applies to the silly plagiarists, who imitate in cold blood the furies of
another age. Jam glad to say once for all that those who credit
me with sympathies for any political party, especially with that
one, would quite misinterpret my ideas. I am. for France and the
right ; for them and for nothing else.
146. How can a member of the Academy of Moral and Political
Sciences have come to write, now in the middle of the nineteenth
century, such axioms as these: “Society is not human kind; it is
only their union. Men live for themselves and not for this chimera,
this vain abstraction styled humanity. The destiny of a free
state could not possibly be subordinated to any other destiny.” (See
LI’Homme et la Société, pp. 53,81. And yet fifty years after Herder
had written : “ Man could not, even if he so willed it, live for himself
alone. ‘The beneficent influence of man upon his fellow man is
the aim of all human society. In addition to the individual fund
which each one brings into play, there is the mass of capital, shies
ever accumulating, forms the common fund of the species, ete.” Sen
Ueber den Charakter der Menscheit.) The bee’s cell could not
exist without the hive, so the hive has a claim to make upon the bee
147. What folly to take any interest in such degraded creatures,
.Says the master when speaking of the negroes, though it is he who
keeps them in a state of degradation.
 _ 149, If it were only for political or external reasons that such
important engines should be kept a close watch over. No doubt,
but there is another question. Let me add that it is somewhat
strange to find modern and unconcerned politicians giving salaries
to their mortal enemies, to those who have fought them to the death,
to those who embrace them only to stifle them or to get a profit
out of them. ;
150. The Inquisition is the logical consequence of the whole
orthodox system. The Church will be bound, when she has the
chance, to bring back the Inquisition, and if she does not, it is
because she cannot. For why is this kind of repression less neces-
sary to-day than it was in former times? Is our opposition less
dangerous ? Assuredly not. The reason must, therefore, be that
the Church is weaker. We are tolerated because we cannot be
strangled. If the Church became once more what she was in the
Middle Ages, an absolute Sovereign, she would be bound to resume
her maxims of the Middle Ages, inasmuch as it is declared that
these maxims were good and beneficent. Power has always been
the measure of the Church’s toleration. In reality, this is not a
reproach; this is asit shouldbe. It isa mistake to rate the orthodox
with regard to tolerance. Ask them to renounce orthodoxy, if you
like, but do not ask them, while remaining orthodox, to put up
with heterodoxy. With them, it is a question of life or death.
151. See Bossuet’s admirable sermon upon the profession made
‘ by Mlle. de la Valliére and for the festival of Presentation.
152. The first impression which Christianity produced upon
barbarous peoples, subject to aristocratic and gross prejudices, was
one of repulsion for the spiritualistic and democratic part of its
precepts. In the Irish legends, Ossian, singing of wars, heroes,
grand hunts, ete., is often brought forward in comparison with St,
Patrick and his psalm-singing flock. Mihir-Nerseh, in a proclama-
tion addressed to the Armenians, in order to dissuade them from
becoming Christians, asks them how they can put any faith in ill-
clad vagabonds, who prefer men of humble. estate, to persons of
quality, and who are foolish enough to attach little importance to
wealth.
153. This change generally occurs in this wise. A day comes
when the retrograde party is obliged to pose as being persecuted
and to lay claim to the principles which it had fought against ; for
instance, the principles of the sovereignty of the people and of liberty.
Even those who had so strongly repudiated them when they were
contrary to them have found themselves brought by. the force of
things to invoke them and to insist that the heresies which they
thad dethroned should be carried to their extreme consequences.
The new ideas can only be vanquished by themselves, or rather it is
they which vanquish their opponents by compelling the latter to
have recourse to them in order to triumph. Children rig ues are;
I
486 Notes.
do you not see that, when you think you are drawing the chariot
of humanity backward, that it is the chariot which is dragging you
along with it ?
154, Cadit et sic aperiuntur oculi ejus (Num. ch. xxiv. v. 4).
155. How singular! a month after the constitution has begun to
work, it stands in need of being interpreted. It is violated, says the
one side.—Not at all, says the other. Who is to decide? M. de
Maistre is right ;to cut down disputes at the root, you must have
infallibility, The worst of the business is that infallibility does not
exist. Principles only apply to a certain extent. So we must give
up the idea of discovering the definite ulterior, and maintain well-
considered reason as the final authority. Yet it is so easy to find
repose in the infinite, to embrace with one’s whole soul a narrow and
finite formula. The immensity of humanity excites awe; the brain
reels before this deep abyss. Rs
156. The result would be a very poetical situation and one as
yet unknown ; a system of slavery felt and endured with delicacy
and resignation. The slave of old was not poetical, because he was
not regarded as a moral being. The slave of ancient comedies is an
infamous and vile character; he has only his baseness to console
him ; he is not susceptible to virtuous feelings. The slave as here
conceived would be the superior of his master, because he would
have a better perception of what is divine and would find in love an
escape from the hideous reality.
157. One is sometimes tempted to ask oneself whether humanity
was not emancipated too soon. Strong and intellectual consciences
like our own are with much more difficulty brought to set themselves
to a great work, being too much attached to their own will and to life.
How is humanity, with an individual liberty as highly developed as
ours, to conquer the desert places ? Will it be said that humanity
has become incapable of subduing the whole universe because it has
been prematurely set free? Any great enterprise of this kind
demands a first supply of men. Think of what the English colonies
cost, those of the Presbyterians and Methodists in the United States,
for instance. Such sacrifices have become impossible now, for the
price of human life has gone up; the world has got into the way of
counting the cost too closely. If a score or so of settlers fall ill
when a colony is founded, there is at once a great outcry. Yet one
must remember that the first generations of colonists have nearly
everywhere been scarificed. The Icaria of M. Cabel might have
succeeded two hundred years ago; but in our day, and especially
with Frenchmen, it was an absurdity. The greatest things cannot
be done without sacrifice, and religion, which prompts sacrifice, no
‘longer exists. I sometimes delude myself with the hope that
machinery and the progress of applied science will one day com-
pensate for what humanity has lost in the way of aptitude for
sacrifice by the progress of reflection. Man is always ready to run
a risk, but he is less ready to face certain death.
co for instance, that chemistry were now to
s for rendering the acquisition of good food so easy
 Notes. 487
that one would only have to stretch out the hand to take it; it is
certain that three-fourths of the human race would give itself over
to idleness, that is to barbarism. One might then use the whip to
compel them to build great social monuments, pyramids, ete. ; tyranny
would be legitimate to secure the triumph of the mind.
159. We are indignant at the way in which man is treated in the
East and in barbarian States, and at the small value set on human
life. This is not so revolting when it is remembered that the
barbarian has but little command over himself and possesses, as a
matter of fact, much less value than civilized man. The death of a
Frenchman is an event in the moral world; that of a Cossack is
little more than a physiological fact; a machine was in motion
which is in motion no longer. And as to the death of a savage, it is
scarcely of more importance in the march of events than when a
watch-spring breaks, and even this latter occurrence may have much
graver consequences, owing to the very fact that the watch in
question arrests the thought and excites the activity of civilized
men. The deplorable thing is that a portion of humanity should be
so degraded that it scarcely counts for more than the animals; for
all men are called to have a moral value.
160. For instance ; it was essential for humanity that the Jewish
nation should exist, should be hard, indestructible, made of bronze
as it has been. By the second or third century, they had answered
their purpose ; humanity had no further need for the Jews. The
Jews nevertheless continue to exist like a dead branch, while, if the
matter is looked at rather more closely, it will be seen that this dead
branch has not been so useless as may be imagined.
161. The picturesque is not taken sufficiently into account in the
guidance of humanity. And yet this is of at least as much impor-
tance as happiness. I have heard of an engineer who, in the tracing
of roads, endeavoured to secure for those who travelled over them
pretty views, at the cost of convenience and of time. That is the
sort of man I should have liked.
162. I do not allow that it is an unanswerable proof of immortality
to say that it is a necessity for divine justice to repair, in another
world, the acts of injustice which the general order of the universe
entuils in this. Our forefathers suffered and we inherit the fruits
of their suffering. The future will gain by this. Who knows but
that it will one day be said : “In those times there must have been
faith, for humanity then laid the foundations, by its sufferings, of
the better state of things which we enjoy. But for that, our fathers
would not have had the courage to endure the heat of the day.
But now we have the key of the enigma, and God is justified by
the greater good of the species.” So long as belief in immortality
will have been necessary in order to render life endurable, so long it
will have been believed.
163. As a general rule, the barbarians were received with open
arms. The Bishops and all the most enlightened men such as
St. Augustine, Salvian, etc., opened their arms to them. — Upon the
other hand, the last representatives of the old society, polite, corrupt
488 Notes.
oe ee ES ee eee
and effete, Sidonius Apollinaris and Aurelius Victor, heap insults
‘upon them and cling to the abuses of the old Empire, without seeing
that it was inevitably condemned to perish.
164. Mendelssohn, already celebrated, already one of the first
critics in Germany, was still a warehouseman in a silk shop.
Lessing, who had come on purpose to see him, found him at the
counter, measuring out the silk.
165. The sordid or so-called low character of certain occupations
might also indicate them to persons devoted to literary labour ; for
this character would be likely to correspond either to a higher rate
of pay; or, what amounts to the same thing, to fewer hours of
labour. Lowness of condition, according to worldly ideas, does not
exist for man, regarded from a moral point of view.
166. Gymnastics, for instance, are considered by many people as
a useful diversion for indoor work. But would it not be more useful
and pleasanter to follow for two or three hours the calling of
carpenter or gardener, than to tire oneself out with movements
which have no sort of aim ?
167. Aristotle, Polit., book i. ch. ii. 5. (See Translation by M.
Barthélemy St. Hilaire.)
168. I depict to myself the mind as a tree the branches of which
are studded with iron -hooks. Study is, as it were, a cornucopia
pouring out from the top upon this tree objects of a thousand different
colours and shapes. ‘The hooks do not catch all these objects
or hold them for an indefinite time. Such an object, after haying
hung to one of the hooks for a certain time, drops, and then ~
comes the turn for another. So the mind, at its different epochs, is
as it were provided with a various assortment of things, and that,
added to the inward modifications of its being, causes the diversity
of its aspects.
169. I carry the respect of the individuality so far that_I should
like to see women given a share in critical and scientific work, being
persuaded that they would open up new views of which we have no
idea. If we are better critics than the savants of the seventeenth
century, it is not that we know more than they did, but that we see
more clearly. Well, I am convinced that women would import into
this their individuality, and would reflect the object in fresh colours.
The socialists are quite mistaken as to the intellectual réle of
woman ; they would like to make a man of her. But woman will
never be more than a poor sort of man. She must remain what she
is, but must be pre-eminently what she is. She is different from but
not inferior to man. A perfect woman is quite as good as a perfect
man. But she should be perfect in her own way, and not by
resembling man. She differs from him like positive from negative
electricity, that is to say as regards sense and direction, not as
regards essence. The negative is not inferior to the positive, but it
goes in the opposite direction ; any quantity may be considered either
as negative or positive at pleasure. The negative and the positive
combined form the complete, Everything seeks for its complement,
the positive naturally attracts the negative, the inner angle invites
 Notes. 489
thé outward angle. Thus life is divided ; all have the better part,
_._ and there is room for love.
170. In his beautiful piece le Crépuscule.
171. “ We shall have all that in Paradise” a clever answer made
by kind-hearted nuns, rather out of patience, to a scientific maniac,
who, having gone into a hospital, bored the worthy sisters who were
nursing him with his misplaced elucubrations.
172. Wherever you go in our towns and public promenades, you
will come upon barriers and notices, which are necessary, it is true,
for the preservation of order, but which make anything like free
action impossible. We all of us must have felt the humiliating and
disagreeable effect which a prohibitive notice produces, even when
one knows that it is general; it is a limit fixed. When I walk
through the gardens at Versailles, with a hedge on each. side
of me, I am never satisfied. I should like to go in among the
shrubs, and that is forbidden. How monotonous our broad, straight
roads are! I prefer by far the crooked roads of Brittany, with the
sheep feeding at the sides. What is more distasteful than a high
road, what can be more charming than a pathway ?
173. One of the most beautiful deaths conceivable is that of the
inquisitive man, indifferent to his end, and with his attention wholly
fixed upon the rising of the curtain which is about to take place, and
upon the mighty problems about to be solved for him.
174. “ When he thinks he has put forth something exaggerated,”
says Goethe speaking of Albert, “something too general or doubtful,
he keeps on limiting, modifying, adding or retrenching until nothing
is left of his proposition.” Many people will no doubt distort my
idea, because I have not adopted that plan.
175. Augustin Thierry, Dix Années d’Etudes Historiques,
preface.
176. Study the characters of Polus and of Kallicles in Plato’s
Gorgius.
177. See the curious conversation with Le Maistre de Sacy pre-
served by Fontaine.
178. Méthode pour arriver a la vie bienheureuse, last lesson.
The whole of this lesson is an admirable one. Never did the pious
wrath of honest souls against scepticism find more eloquent expression.
179. One of the characteristic traits of the men about whom I am
speaking is to affect a profound contempt for ideal art, pure and
noble passion. They make mock at it, and are ready to say with
Byron: “Oh! Plato, you were onlya pimp.” They regard idealism
as a piece of stupidity, and declare that they much prefer frank
epicureanism.
180. Or else the clever erudition of Barthélemy, which, though
of a more elevated order, is nevertheless not the grand philosophical
and scientific method.
181. Acts of the Apostles, ch v., verses 38 and 39.
182. I once saw in a wood a swarm of nasty little insects, which
had surrounded with their webs and were sucking its green shoots
with such a character of parasitism that one could not help feeling
 Oe ee
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490 | 3 Notes.
disgust. I was for a moment tempted to destroy them, but. then I —
said to myself: It is not their fault if they are ugly: itis one
b

way of life. It shows narrowness of mind to moralize nature and

impose one’s judgments upon her. But now I see that I was wrong:
I ought to have killed them; for the mission of man in nature is
to reform what is ugly and immoral. 2 Fhahis
183. The science which is the most devoid of an object, mathe-
matics, is the very one which excites the most ardour, not so much by a
its truth as by the play of faculties and the power of combination
which it implies. The pleasure which mathematics procure is of
the same kind as that of a game of chess. None is more despotic. |
When Archimedes was absorbed in his demonstration table his slaves
had to tear him away from it to rub him over with oil, and even
then he would trace geometrical figures upon the oily surface of his —
body.
184. See Note 178.
185. “Some, seeing the place of the political government invaded
by incapable men, withdrew. And he who asked how long it was
necessary to go on philosophizing, received this answer: ‘ Until
there are no more donkey-drivers to lead our armies.’”’ (Montaigne,
book i. ch. xxiv.)
186. The wars of the giants of the Revolution have made nobles
of us all. We are the sons of a race of heroes. Each of our fathers-
was entitled to say of himself: “I am an ancestor.” You are the
great grandchildren of crusaders ; I am the son of a soldier of the
Revolution, and am as good as you.
187. I assume that one of Plato’s dialogues represents a conversa-
tion in Athens really held, very different from the similar com-
positions of Cicero, Lucian and so many others, who merely use the
dialogue as a factitious form for embodying their ideas, without
seeking to render any scene in real life.
188. The presence and the essential part played by woman in our
modern society is no doubt the cause of this. As nothing must be
said which would go above the heads of this part of the audience,
the circle of speech is somewhat limited. If the seven sages, at
their banquet, had been subjected to this condition, I doubt whether
their dissertation would have been as elevated as it was.
189. Nouveau Journal Asiatique, vol. i. p. 345.—Compare in the
Saint-Brandon poem the description of that marvellous island in
which the monks do not grow old and receive their bread from
heaven, in which the lamps light of themselves ; a life of silence, of
liberty, of calm, the ideal of the monastic life amid the water-floods. -
190. Chateaubriand was altogether wrong in looking for poetry’
in the present state of Christianity. His achievement was the
revealing to criticism of a view of beauty which had been unnoticed
in the Christian dogma and worship ; but he ought to have confined
himself to the past and not have sought for poetry in the common-
places of Jesuitism. Christianity has lost its poesy since the six-
teenth century, and this has put him quite out of tune. Admirable
as he is when touching the high religious string, he lapses into
 = ' - = a - - y
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Notes. : 491
the trivialities of the preacher and the apologist when he enters into
what I may call vestry details. In this respect Madame de Stael is
far superior to him.
191. I would without hesitation have taken Malebranche’s formula
Dieu est le lien des esprits comme Vespace est le lien des cor ps if it
were not conceived from the substantial point of view, this giving it
a somewhat céarse and ‘inaccurate meaning. God, the spirit, the
Tans are, in the sense he attaches to them, too objective words.
-192. It is said, for.instance, that God is a spirit, that He has all
the attributes of aspirit. As spirit merely signifies everything which
is not body, this reasoning is equivalent to saying that there are
two classes of animals; those which are horses and those which are
not horses. The bird is a “not-horse.” The fish is a not-horse.
Therefore the bird and the fish are of the same species, and what is
said of the one will also apply to the other.
~ 193. Christianity only received its full development in the hands
of the Greeks ; so that it did not, in its definite form, gain the
sympathy of oriental peoples. If, upon the contrary, it had remained
what it was-for the early Judzo-Christians, for St. James let us
say, it would have conquered the East and there would have been
no Islam. But then, again, it would never have acquired any
influence in Europe.

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