In the Presence of the Past: Essays in Honor of Frank Manuel (International Archives of the History of Ideas Archives internationales d'histoire des idées)

IN THE PRESENCE OF THE PAST

ARCHIVES INTERNATIONALES D'HISTOIRE DES IDEES INTERNATIONAL ARCHIVES OF THE HISTORY OF IDEAS

118

R.T. BIENVENU and M. FEINGOLD IN THE PRESENCE OF THE PAST

Directors: P. Dibon (Paris) and R. Popkin (Washington University, St. Louis) Editorial Board: J.F. Battail (Paris); F. Duchesneau (Montreal); A. Gabbey (Belfast); T. Gregory (Rome); S. Hutton (Hatfield Polytechnic); J.D. North (Groningen); M.J. Petry (Rotterdam); J. Popkin (Lexington) Advisory Editorial Board: J. Aubin (Paris); A. Crombie (Oxford); H. de la Fontaine Verwey (Amsterdam); H. Gadamer (Heidelberg); H. Gouhier (paris); K. Hanada (Hokkaido University); W. Kirsop (Melbourne); P.O. Kristeller (Columbia University); Elisabeth Labrousse (paris); A. Lossky (Los Angeles); J. Malarczyk (Lublin); E. de Olaso (C.LF. Buenos Aires); J. Orcibal (Paris); Wolfgang Rod (Miinchen); G. Rousseau (Los Angeles); H. Rowen (Rutgers University, N.J.); J.P. Schobinger (Ziirich); J. Tans (Groningen)

IN THE PRESENCE OF THE PAST Essays in Honor of Frank Manuel

edited by

RICHARD T. BIENVENU University of Missouri. Columbia. USA

and

MORDECHAI FEINGOLD Virginia Polytechnic Institute, Blacksburg. USA

tI...

"

KLUWER ACADEMIC PUBLISHERS

DORDRECHT j BOSTON j LONDON

Library of Congress Cataloging.in·Publication Data In tne presence of the past essays in honor of Frank Manuel I edited by Richard T. Bienvenu and Mordechai Feingold. p. cm. -- (International archives of the history of ideas Archlves lnternatlonales d'hlstolre des ldies ; v. 118) Includes bibllOgraphlcal references and index. ISBN 0-7923-1008-X (alk. paper) 1. Europe--H1story. 2. Europe--Intellectual life. 1. Manuel, Frank Edward. II. BIenvenu, RIchard. III. Feingold, Mordechai. IV. SerIes, ArchIves lnternatlonales d'hlstolre des idees; 118. 06.1453 1991 940--dc20 90-48482

=

ISBN O· 7923-1008-X

Published by Kluwer Academic Publishers, P.O. Box 17,3300 AA Dordrecht, The Netherlands. Kluwer Academic Publishers incorporates the publishing programmes of D. Reidel, Martinus Nijhoff, Dr W. Junk and MTP Press. Sold and distributed in the U.S.A. and Canada by Kluwer Academic Publishers, 101 Philip Drive, Norwell, MA 02061, U.S.A. In all other countries, sold and distributed by Kluwer Academic Publishers, P.O. Box 322, 3300 AH Dordrecht, The Netherlands.

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All Rights Reserved © 1991 Kluwer Academic Publishers No part of the material protected by this copyright notice may be reproduced or utilized in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system, without written permission from the copyright owner.

Table of Contents

Preface

vii

Frank Manuel: An Appreciation Martin Peretz

1

The Diffusion of Science and the Conversion of the Gentiles in the Seventeenth Century Michael T. Ryan

9

Good Aristocrats / Bad Aristocrats: Thomas Hobbes and Early Modem Political Culture Michael Walzer

41

John Selden and the Nature of Seventeenth-Century Science Mordechai Feingold

55

Reason and Revolution: Political Consciousness and Ideological Invention at the End of the Old Regime Keith M. Baker

79

Victor Considerant: The Making of a Fourierist Jonathan Beecher

93

Utopia and the Sharpest Anguish of the Age? Richard T. Bienvenu

121

Auguste Comte and the Nebular Hypothesis Silvan S. Schweber

131

The Profits of America: Early Nineteenth-Century British Travel in the United States Stephen R. Graubard

193

Hawthorne in Utopia Judith Shklar

215

vi

Table of Contents

Human Rights and Democracy Sanford A. Lakoff

233

Dilthey's Introduction to the Human Sciences: Liberal Social Thought in the Second Reich Jacques Kornberg

249

Above and Beyond Party: The Dilemma of Dossiers de l' Action Populaire in the 1930s John W. Padberg

269

Index

287

Preface

The broad canvas covered by the articles in the present volume celebrates the diversity and richness of the writings of Frank Manuel during a scholarly career that spans over five decades. The subjects of the articles - ranging from science to utopia, from theology to political thought - mirror many of the themes Manuel has written about with erudition, flair and uncommon perception. It is only fitting that in paying tribute to such a defiant intellect each author brings to his treatment a distinct perspective and texture, the result of his own original forays into the history of ideas. Yet underlying all the essays is the conviction that the study of the intersection of individuals and ideas still yields a rich harvest. Presented to Frank on the occasion of his eightieth birthday, In the Presence o/the Past honors a teacher, a friend and, above all, a scholar.

R.T. Bienvenu and M. Feingold (eds).ln the presence of the past. vii.

MARTIN PERETZ

Frank Manuel: An Appreciation

It was finally because of Frank Edward Manuel that I decided (however belatedly) to forgo a proper academic career. Since I had not left so much as a leafscar on the tree of the scholarly culture this is not a fact which anyone else would have reason to notice. It is also not, I am happy to add, something for which Manuel will be especially remembered. But I suspect that there are many others, besides myself, whom he deflected from misspent lives in university libraries and obscure archives. After class one day, some thirty-odd years ago, he said, in what sounded to me like unmistakably decisive terms, that "under no conditions" should I "do history." Oh, it was perfectly all right that I studied history as an undergraduate. But I certainly shouldn't pursue it as a graduate student, if, that is, I contemplated graduate work at all. I must have looked mystified and perhaps even hurt. He was obliged to say more, to explain himself, and he did. Rippling his hands casually over some text, he expounded further: "You read like this ... and not like that," by which time his hands seemed to be plumbing the depths to some infinite source. "Do you mean I skim," I asked anxiously. "You said it, not I," he responded. And then, offering not solace but salve, he concluded that, given my interests, I "might harmlessly still go on to study and teach politics." Manuel's deterrent did not always need to be so explicit. It operated, in fact, by example. Riveting teaching, luminous scholarship, sweeping erudition, incandescent generalizations are their own norms. They inspire and they also intimidate. How much more degraded the life of the mind in America would be if they did not do both. Only someone very arrogant or someone very gifted could really set Manuel up as a model. But he could be a challenge, a provocateur. In any case, there was, there is still, an aura about him, though I write inevitably from my first impressions, which date to the mid-fifties. But then those same memories include disparate impressions of other formidable intellectuals like Max Lerner, Irving Howe, Erich Heller, Herbert Marcuse, Paul Radin, Arnold Hauser, Marie Syrkin, E.H. Carr, Ludwig Lewisohn, Lewis Mumford, Philip Rahv, Louis Kronenberger and not just these who composed for a brief moment at Brandeis University a cohort so intensely engrossed with ideas (and in battle over ideas) that I cannot believe that such intensity has been R.T. Bienvenu and M. Feingold (eds),ln the presence of the past, 1-8. © 1991 Kluwer Academic Publishers.

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duplicated in any other institution, before or since. These were people, most of them, at least, who were convinced that ideas not only illumined; they also liberated. Still, even in a company like this, Manuel was somehow and all at once intellectually more austere and more daring, a man apart. Actually, he was that from childhood. Born in Boston's West End on September 18, 1910 Frank was already by the time he was six known as a boyorator. We can assume that his precocity did not inordinately endear him to his contemporaries. And why should it have? His prodigous little discourses on sacred texts, commentaries and themes were aimed, by dint of his sterling example, to induce the city's rich Jews to build and maintain schools of Torah learning for the immigrant young daily arriving from Eastern Europe. The disciplines of these schools, their subject matter and their social mannerisms, were, of course, at odds with the ways of the new country. It was hard to study talmud and play stickball too. Late nineteenth, early twentieth century Boston was a highly stratified city. The antagonism between the Protestant Brahmin and the Irish and Italian Catholics is the well-known stuff of its history, dating to the great potato famine. The mass of Jews, however, had come only later and in lesser numbers, though by the time Frank graduated from Harvard College in 1930 there were already 130,000 of them in the metropolitan area and no less than 50 synagogues. Indeed, already two decades earlier the president of Harvard, A. Lawrence Lowell, was so traumatized by the presence in the college of so many bright young Jews that he put in place a numerus clausus which survived through World War II. But that runs a bit ahead of the story and simplifies it too. There were, broadly seen, two Jewish communities in Boston. The first was of German origin and dated to the 1840's. Assimilation was the ideology of these Jews, and Reform Judaism their none-too-exacting mode of worship. They were also educationally and economically upwardly mobile in ways that marked them off (and was to mark off the later waves of Jewish immigrants) from both the Irish and Italians. None of this, however, admitted the newly arrived Jews into the great houses on Beacon Hill. A measure of their separateness, and a reminder of it too, was the nearly successful campaign mounted in 1916 by the Protestant elite of the area - its leading bankers and lawyers, its Adamses and LowelIs, including the aforementioned presidents of Harvard University - to defeat Woodrow Wilson's nomination to the U.S. Supreme Court of an eminent and scholarly Boston attorney named Louis Dembitz Brandeis the "people's attorney," a son of the earlier Jewish migration. And Brandeis was one of those rare Jews who had actually been to the great Brahmin houses on the Hill. The other Jews, who hardly noticed that there were great houses, came from Eastern Europe; among them were Manuel's parents. His father, a baker, in whom stirred some mild version of socialism, helped organize the local Hebrew Bakers Union, a rather militant contingent in its day. It is probably from his father that Frank got his pugnacious flair. Frank's mother ... well, she was doting, supportive, proud. If anyone took great pleasure in Frank's perfor-

Frank Manuel: An Appreciation

3

mances as a young genius it was probably her. At twelve he entered the Boston Latin School, the meritocratic academy of the local public education system which, since it opened its doors in 1635 with a program based on the classics, made intellectual rigor its own reward. From there Frank went to Harvard where he concentrated in History and Literature, possibly the first "interdisciplinary" major at an American university. It was there that a sixteen year-old freshman began to master the history and cultures of Christian Europe. At the same time, however, he was enrolled at the Hebrew Teachers' College (now called the Hebrew College), an expression of the Hebraist revival which was so central to the success of the Zionist revolution in Jewish life. The college's standards were apparently quite demanding, and it attracted to its rolls many quite brilliant young men and women. Among Frank's generation, for example, were two who went on to become accomplished Sinologists, the scholar Benjamin Schwartz and the journalist Theodore H. White. These are not idiosyncratic cases. Tied though he was to Jewish leaming the excitement in college was in discovering what was still for him a relatively unknown world. He did so with such zest and care that his promise was already widely noted among peers and teachers. Finishing his senior year Manuel enrolled as a graduate student, now in history proper, and received his Ph.D. barely three years later. The world outside the academy was not inviting. The depression seemed to sink both spirits and ambitions, to say nothing of the ways of ordinary life. In Europe, where Manuel travelled, the spectre of a rising fascism haunted just about everyone, except, of course, those who welcomed it. And even for committed Jews this wider peril made their own concerns appear narrow and indulgent. (Would they have seemed so had the ugly reapings of German fascism been then even dimly envisioned?) In any case, Manuel's psychological and intellectual universe had already been opened up at Harvard. He fell in with a group of young philosophers in the orbit of Alfred North Whitehead, among them Willard Van Orman Quine,the seminal American logician. And, thinking of himself as an economic historian, he began, with his friend Paul Sweezey, to read Marx or, to be more truthful to the superficiality of the enterprise, Sidney Hook's Towards an Understanding of Karl Marx. Then, under the tutelage of Edward S. Mason and in the company of Wasily Leontief and Shigeta Tsuru, he actually studied the Marxist classics and what went for Marxist scholarship, a remarkably primitive activity at the time. Manuel's academic career did not prosper. His teacher, Crane Brinton, did, it is true, secure for him some research money to take him to Europe. The chairman of the history department, Clarence Haring, succeeded in arranging that Manuel might teach in the summer school; and another of his teachers, Charles McIlwain, allowed him to teach a section or two on medieval political theory and English constitutionalism. But a half century ago it was just about inconceivable to think that a Jew might receive an appointment in Harvard's department of history. (In other departments it was inconceivable even years later.) If antisemitism was not a constant topic of conversation it was a constant

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Martin Peretz

reality. Faced with so breathtakingly learned a young scholar and so mesmerizing a teacher, Brinton and Haring contrived to beat the anti-semitic system: would Manuel go to Harry Austryn Wolfson and ask him to go in turn to Lucius N. Littauer to secure funds for a lectureship? Littauer, an 1878 graduate of Harvard (a champion rower, too) and millionaire glove manufacturer from Gloversville, New York, had a decade earlier endowed the Nathan Littauer Professorship in Hebrew Literature and Philosophy in memory of his father and with the understanding that Wolfson would be its first incumbent. This was how things were done for Jews at Harvard in those days. The suggestion by Manuel's patrons has to be seen, then, as a friendly gesture, and an enlightened one besides. It was also humiliating. Manuel would have none of it. While still at Harvard Manuel met Fritzie Prigenzy, a graduate student in medieval history at Radcliffe, then, unlike now, not an institutional fiction. The setting was the Radcliffe History Club where Manuel had come to give a talk. He was always a persuasive talker; his other relevant charms are characteristically not in the public domain. The courtship was not a long one. By the fall of 1936 they were married. In the preceding summer, without his intended, Manuel had been to Spain, sent there by Max Lerner, then editor of The Nation. The four insurgent generals had risen, and the republic was under siege although news during the early months brought encouraging accounts of workers' victories in Asturias and Madrid, in the countryside and the cities. Manuel's own reports back, vivid and vigorous, were not, however, optimistic. His first book, The Politics of Modern Spain, appeared during the civil war. Without satisfactory academic prospects Manuel took a job preparing historical studies on ethnic groups in New England, one of those New Deal improvisations which did more than provide work. Subsequently the young couple headed for Washington where Manuel became - difficult as it was for his friends to grasp - a government bureaucrat fonnulating and effecting policies on rent control and war-time housing. New Deal Washington was not then very heaven; but it did have jobs, and useful ones. Not long after the U.S. declared war on Japan and Gennany, Manuel was in the anned services. His first assignment was to the anny medical corps; perhaps it was his doctor's degree which landed him that appointment. It quickly became apparent that here was a man incapable of reading a thennometer. After training at Camp Ritchie, Maryland he was sent, more appropriately, as a combat intelligence officer with the Twenty-first Corps, U.S. Anny, to Europe. He fought in the Battle of the Bulge and found himself in liberated Gennany on V-E Day. For the next months he interrogated high ranking prisoners of war, among them the pro-fascist dictator of Hungary, Admiral Horthy. Back in the States after demobilization Manuel returned to the Washington bureaucracy as an official in the Office of Price Administration. Recurrent pain from a war-time injury finally revealed a tumor the treatment of which took Manuel out of commission for more than a year. No, he did not, as legend had it, lose his leg in the Spanish Civil War. It was during his recovery that he researched and wrote The Realities of American-Palestine

Frank Manuel: An Appreciation

5

Relations, still today an authoritative text on the diplomacy of the early Zionist

and anti-Zionist enterprises. By the winter of 1948-49 he was on the job market again. His passion for Zion and his expertise in emergency housing policy made him an ideal executive secretary for a study mission to newly independent Israel which was confronted with the problem of housing perhaps 600,000 immigrants living in tent cities. This was for Manuel an exhilarating episode in its way; it also taught him more about the cynicism of policy-makers for whom adding a zero or two might mean nothing. Still there was the tug to the academy. Brandeis University had been founded in 1948 by a group of Boston businessmen eager to have American Jewry make its sectarian contribution to non-sectarian higher education. At first they had sought out the help of Albert Einstein who counselled them to solicit Harold J. Laski, the British socialist intellectual, to be the university's first president. It is tempting to fantasize about what kind of intellectual community Laski might have drawn together. But it is not too tempting. At least with the benefit of hindsight it is clear that a Laski presidency would have left the university still-born. Whatever ultimately deflected these businessmen from Laski - maybe it was just plain good sense they settled on Abram Leon Sachar, a popularizing historian of the Jews who had been the national director of the B 'nai Brith Hillel Foundations which serviced the social and spiritual needs of young Jews on American campuses. Sachar had an uncanny sense of intellectual quality; he couldn't quite sing himself but he knew good singing when he heard it. He also knew that you couldn't build a new university which would attract serious attention unless you did unconventional things. That is one reason why a straight-man decided to preside over bohemia. Suffice it to say, this is what Brandeis was, an intellectually tense, even overwrought bohemia through its first decade and deep into its second. Manuel was among the very first of Sachar's stellar appointments, but it wouldn't be all that clear for a few years just how academically stellar he in fact was. But it would become clear soon enough. In the decade after 1956 Manuel published five path-breaking books in the history of ideas. Three from that especially creative period focused on the French enlightenment, one speculated on the religious speculations of Isaac Newton, the last was a contribution to the morphology of philosophical history. When Manuel harnessed his curiosity to research in the age of reason he unleashed in himself speCUlative instincts which have given form and content to all his subsequent work. The fix on Newton would result in two other works, and it would also be a spur to Manuel's ongoing later interests in psychobiography and psychohistory. But anyone who has read Manuel's writings on religion and myth could anticipate his way with the doctrine of Freud. He found it, it is fair to say, both provocative and arid, arid at least in the hands and minds of the epigoni. Still to come were books in the philosophy of history, essays on historical method, studies in theology and religious practice, science and myth. It seemed, in fact, from the dazzling diversity of the writings that some climatic and integrative effort was in process, and indeed it was. Manuel and his wife,

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Fritzie, who had collaborated with him on almost every scholarly venture, were working together, now as co-authors, on a most ambitious project, a history of the utopian imagination, benign and malign, from antiquity to our own era. Verging on 900 pages with a weighty academic apparatus that was in many places also a pleasure to read, Utopian Thought in the Western World appeared eleven years ago. Critical acclaim followed; but that was not different from what ensued after the publication of other Manuel volumes. Even non-scholarly publications could grasp the scholarly importance of Manuel's work one by one. But only the more sophisticated among them saw the significance of the cumulative achievement. Still, the utopia book had a valence the others didn't quite attain. This one did speak more directly to the zeitgeist which was still reeling from the silly and superficial but widely diffused utopianism of the sixties. Not that it was a popular book, God forbid, or on many coffeetables. But its scepticism seemed to distill what wisdom had emerged from the modern expectations of heady hope upon heady hope, and this wisdom was relished. At the same time it saw the wasteland in store for those who could not envision anything other than that which is. Which is to say, the book was also ambivalent not only between the great dreamers and their critics but about the consequences of their encounters. It surely rates at least a footnote in the intellectual history of this era that the Manuels' journey to and through utopias was awarded the National Book Award, the publishing industry's one annual tribute to seriousness. By then the long over-due honors had been already long in coming. He would spend nine years as Kenan Professor at New York University before returning to Brandeis as University Professor in 1977. In the meantime he had been visiting professor at Harvard, Chicago, U.C.L.A., the Institute of Advanced Study at Princeton, the Center for Advanced Studies in the Behavioral Sciences at Palo Alto, the Australian National University and, after Brandeis, at Boston University. In 1972-73 he held the Eastman Professorship at Oxford, a visitorship previously held by his teacher McIlwain and by his friend Felix Frankfurter. He has been a fellow of the American Academy of Arts and Sciences for almost thirty years. There is hardly a distinguished lectureship he has not held: the Lovejoy at Johns Hopkins, the Harper at Chicago, the Gauss seminars at Princeton, the Camp at Stanford, the Freemantle at Balliol, the Phi Beta Kappa. This by no menas exhausts the list. In 1980 he was awarded PBK's Emerson Award. He was, in his own way, Emerson's "American scholar." The most palpable source of Manuel's intellectual influence is, of course, his own scholarship. In the bright dusk of his life he is still curious and restless and relentless. Of late he has been writing about the Christian encounter with Jews and Judaism during the renaissance; one enormous manuscript is completed. When will he finally let go of it? As this little memoir is being written he is delivering lectures on Marx. Why did not Marx, Manuel asks, understand the phenomenon of the nation? Why his rancor to the Jews? Manuel's scope is always expanding. William Graham Sumner once taught a course in "all known knowledge" at Yale. Manuel would deride the presumption. But his own work

Frank Manuel: An Appreciation

7

encompasses more than that of your run-of-the-mill great scholar. Which is why his influence can be discerned in several disciplines and over many scholarly topics. Threads of his impact are apparent in the accompanying essays. Among the authors represented here are some who studied under and with him directly; others went to school to him rather more metaphorically. But his impact is in a way of looking at the world which his students, not represented here, have also absorbed, rejected, struggled against, come to terms with. The Yale psychiatrist Donald Cohen, Chancellor Joseph Murphy of the City University of New York, Harvard political theorist Michael Sandel, the moral philosopher Michael Walzer, the Arabist Nadav Safran each bear the distinctive mark of Manuel's teaching. But more than that: Manuel has exerted the influence on audiences large and small which great conversationalists always do, and he is a great conversationalist. We need no pretense here: he is a better talker than a listener. His conversations are not precisely two-sided affairs. They are not symmetrical. They are great conversations still, in the sense that listening to (and questioning) Isaiah Berlin constitutes a great conversation. You can live off it for months. To be fair though, Manuel's conversations are not exactly monologues either. He is too interested in the interests of others to be satisfied with declaiming to the atmosphere. As a teacher he had a strategy, a mystery to me this strategy, of being able to relate his own passions to the vulnerabilities of his students. So too with his conversations. They are not easy conversations. They are studded with allusion, paradox, irony, with questions thrown back on the questioner. Often his talk, his random talk, is simply stunning, as stunning as his lectures. There are some sentences of his I shall never forget, and moments that I will take to the grave. I remember once, within days of the start of the Hungarian revolution, in a climate affected by Herbert Marcuse's inevitable apologies for Soviet power, Manuel telling a student audience, with all the conviction and authority he could muster, that "I have come to tell you that a people can be crushed, that people disappear from history, some for decades, some forever." I have never doubted it. History is a grim account of our past. Manuel is not all highmindedness, not by a long shot. He is mischievous, sometimes even wicked, wickedly humorous and humorously wicked. Fritzie says they have bitter fights over punctuation, about which he knows little. He is militantly indifferent to the comma. He would leave the comma an orphan in literature. In other areas, too, he has quite firm ideas about what is important and what is not. He cares, for example, about good food and good wine, though his health regimens has curbed his instincts. He has nevertheless travelled far for both, and in search of both antiquity and the beauties of the present. He has even journeyed long distances to see the ugliness which men and women have built in the image of their hopes. And he has, several times and with some spiritual apprehension, returned to Zion, lamented its failings and flaws, and seen it nevertheless as a triumph of will and vision. He is still a great walker, even at eighty. I have seen Fritzie trip (and myself falter) worrying how he'd

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Martin Peretz

safely descend some slippery steps. He is also a sensationalist, not altogether unlike Condorcet about whom he wrote. The analogy is circumscribed: Condorcet's view of progress is not his. But look at the two illustrations of the great philosophe at the beginning of Manuel's The Prophets of Paris: the aquiline nose, the sensuous mouth, the enveloping eyes, the whole excited gestalt hungering after knowledge and also, at least so the pictures say, after pleasure. In any case I know it is so for Manuel. No complicated person I know has so evoked the uncomplicated loyalty of so many complicated people. One explanation is that, once given, his friendship, like the love of good parents for their children, is unconditional. The loyalty and affections felt for Frank Manuel even by those whom he somehow and unwillingly intimidated is likewise unconditional. It is as the Pirke Avoth or The Ethics of the Fathers put it, "Let the honor of your student be as dear to you as your own, and the honor of your comrade as the fear of your teacher, and the fear of your teacher as the fear of God."

MICHAELT. RYAN

The Diffusion of Science and the Conversion of the Gentiles in the Seventeenth Century

By the end of the sixteenth century, the Christian mission overseas had fallen on hard times. With the great geographical discoveries a little more than a century old, the rosy optimism of early missionaries that the new worlds could be converted quickly and easily had begun to sour. Second and third generation missionaries in areas of colonial control had to confront the fact that baptism and conversion were not always identical and that indigenous religions could neither be mandated nor persecuted out of existence. The tenacity of heathenism and the ignorance of earlier missionaries were refrains from an increasingly audible jeremaid. 1 · In Mexico, the Franciscan Bernardino de Sahagun meticulously compiled his religious ethnography of the Indians to show the manifold ways in which superstitution had survived the arrival of the Gospel. 2 To the south, in Peru, the influential Jesuit Jose de Acosta wrote his important missionary manual, De procuranda indorum salute (1588), both to console disappointed missionaries who found their work frustrated at every turn and to suggest ways by which the Indians might be more effectively proselytized. 3 In Asia, the situation was, if anything, worse. Christian missions in India remained stalled within the narrow perimeter of Portuguese control. Outside the Iberian orbit it was no different. The death of the sympathetic Akbar in 1605 seemed to have robbed the Jesuits of a Catholic Mughal Empire. Most alarming of all, however, was the sudden reversal of fortunes in Japan. With an estimated 300,000 Christians by the later sixteenth century, Japan represented the most spectacular triumph of the Christian mission. But suddenly, in 1601, the Jesuit historian Luis de Guzman gave Europe its first account of the grim news from Japan: the fickle Hideyoshi had issued an edict against the Society in 1587 and followed it up ten years later with a wave of bloody persecutions - events that portended the temporary closing of Japan to the West. 4 In the early seventeenth century, the news from Japan would read like a litany for the dead. These reversals had broad implications that went beyond the success or failure of particular missions. They called into question the forward momentum of the missionary enterprise and, by extension, the nature and direction of the entire Western imperial thrust. They also tended to undermine a set of assumptions that informed Europe's relationship with other cultures. The optimism of R.T. Bienvenu and M. Feingold (eds).ln the presence of the past. 9-40. © 1991 Kluwer Academic Publishers.

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Michael T. Ryan

early travelers and missionaries such as Christopher Columbus, Antonio Pigafetta, Francis Xavier, Martin de Valencia, and others that exotic peoples could be easily converted sprang from a combination of beliefs and traditions: ethnographic naivete, the expectation of the Millennium, the Aristotelian postulate that all men seek the truth (i.e., Christianity), Providential support, the precedent of ChristIanity's "conquest" of the ancient world, etc. Behind them all, however, lay the enduring belief in the unity and uniformity of mankind. The very identification of the new worlds as pagan worlds and hence as theatres of conversion was an implicit recognition of the ultimate similarity between European and exotic. No matter how different these new peoples seemed, their potential for conversion helped take the edge off that difference. It made possible sustained efforts at comprehending other peoples such as Sahagun's Historia. Ironically, it also supported the policy of forced conversions which civil authorities such as Cortes and Albuquerque favored, since those conversions assumed that changing religions could be done on command. The gulf between pagan and Christian was small and temporary. Belief in the unity of mankind did not imply the conviction of its mutual equality - to the contrary but it did establish similarity rather than difference as the lens through which new peoples were observed. And for one mankind there could only be one religion. This was the medieval Respublica Christiana writ large. Missionary setbacks did not rupture with this belief, but they did prompt some reconsiderations. Father Acosta began his missionary treatise by sketching a brief typology of barbarian peoples. Not only was this one of the earliest attempts to categorize systematically the new worlds, it was also a recognition of fundamental differences between peoples that had to be reckoned with by missionaries. Preaching to the savages of Peru should not be confused with Apostolic legations to the ancient pagans; the modem missionary must accommodate his message to the psychology of his audience. 5 Acosta's recommendations were part of a larger reorientation in missionary thinking which took place within the Jesuit order in the later sixteenth century and which resulted in the controversial program of cultural accommodation. 6 In retrospect, the method of accommodation seems a benign, even enlightened response to the new worlds, particularly when compared with the Deuteronomic fulminations of the Spanish Requiremento and the crude iconoclasm of earlier missionaries. But whatever its sensitivity to cultural difference, it rested squarely on the belief in mankind's unity and uniformity, and it was perfectly consistent with the traditions of the medieval papacy which asserted the Church's independence from local custom and thus affirmed the universality of the Christian society. The problem was that, by itself, the method of accommodation offered no easy road to missionary victories. Its most extraordinary achievements were short-lived or highly idiosyncratic: the Jesuits expelled from Japan; Roberto de Nobili, the Italian priest turned Indian guru, isolated and without epigoni. And so the problem remained: how was it possible to make sustained inroads among the heathen, especially those outside the sphere of colonial protection? By the early seventeenth century, however, there were a few who thought

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that they had found an answer: science. No doubt it was an unlikely aid to conversion. For missionaries who took their cues from the Acts of the Apostles, the substitution of human art for divine providence was disconcerting, at the very least. Nonetheless, it was a Jesuit, Matteo Ricci, who discovered the utility of Western science in the service of the gospel, when he established a toehold in Peking at the tum of the seventeenth century. Ricci's success and that of the mission he literally created were compelling because in penetrating China it had done something which Spanish authorities reluctantly agreed could not be done by armed invasion. Here was strong magic indeed, and by the end of the seventeenth century the Jesuit mission in China had achieved an almost legendary status. But the Jesuits were not alone in their enthusiasm for science as the new crusader's lance. As far back as the fourteenth century, the Mallorcan mystic, Raymund Lull, had attempted to discover the principles of all the sciences for the purpose of guiding the Jews and the Gentiles to the mysteries of Christianity through the use of reason alone. Lull's quest for a universal science which would lead men to God was continued in the seventeenth century by a succession of individuals whose vision of the role of science engulfed that of Lull and the Jesuits. For Tommaso Campanella, Jan Amos Comenius, and Leibniz himself, the new science of nature was more than an aid to conversion; for them it was the only way of realizing grand visions of universal order, harmony, and fraternity. Though none of them were actually missionaries, they did follow keenly the fortunes of the Christian mission abroad and were rarely without detailed plans for reorganizing them. The gospel of science would accomplish what the gospel of Christ alone could not, a universal imperium that would end division and difference and so establish the true unity of mankind. This essay is an attempt to follow through some of the threads of this story from Matteo Ricci's entrance into Peking to Leibniz' programs for outstripping the Jesuits at the end of the seventeenth century. And while these threads lead in many directions, they are all a part of the larger story of Europe's relationship with the new worlds in the early modem period. The possibility that science was a sure means to· conversions not only confirmed the belief in Christianity as the unviersal religion of mankind, it also gave new life to old assumptions about exotic peoples. Science vindicated the unity of mankind and so permitted some the lUXUry of believing that fundamental differences between Europe and the rest of the world were ephemeral and of no lasting consequence. Science helped preserve the new worlds as imperfect versions of older, more familiar ones.

The same book which first informed Europeans of the tragedy of Christianity in Japan also reported the sudden success of the Jesuit mission in ChinaJ In both cases the reversal in fortunes was equally dramatic. Barred from China since the initial moments of Portuguese contact in the early sixteenth century, Chris-

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tianity not only entered China; in the person of Matteo Ricci it took up residence in Peking with imperial blessing in 1600. The Jesuit's triumph had not come too soon. Some twenty years earlier, the able Alesandro Valignano, the Jesuit Visitor to the East, almost abandoned the China mission completely, just as he had written off India as a spiritual dead end. Frustrated Jesuits in Macao had urged him to do so, complaining that the task was impossible. 8 How then had Ricci done it? How had he succeeded where so many others had failed? Though answers to such questions are delicate and complex, a contemporary reader of Guzman's Historia or of Nicholas Trigault's edition of Ricci's journals might well have concluded that the Jesuit's journey from Macao to Peking was made possible only through the agency of Western science and technology. The reader might also have been surprised to find Ricci ignoring traditional missionary techniques. He never marched boldly into urban market places and preached the Word simply and directly like a proper apostle. It was only when Ricci and his companion Michele Ruggiere subordinated their rosary beads and crucifixes to world maps, compasses, clocks, astrolabes, and Euclidean geometry that the Jesuit mission found itself in the upper strata of Chinese society. Ricci was courted by the literati, entertained by Provincial governors, summoned periodically to the Emperor's residence to display his scientific wares, and after his death made the tutelary spirit of clocks. All this from a rigidly xenophobic people. It was a missionary story like no other. This magus from the West came laden with gadgets and learning that excited and delighted the curious Chinese. It was fitting that science assume a role in the Christian mission. After all, if science had guided Europe to the new worlds, why couldn't it be used to convert them as well? Other travelers before Ricci had seen in Western technology instruments of control capable of subduing indigenous populations without the bloodshed of armed conquest. In the late sixteenth century, the English polymath Thomas Harriot noted with smug satisfaction the impression which European technology made on the rude Indians of Virginia. Looking on the "Mathematical Instrument, sea compasses, the vertue of the loadstone in drawing yron, a perspective glasse whereby was showed manie strange sights, burning glasses, wilde fire workes, gunnes, bookes, writing and reading, spring clocks that seeme to goe of themselves and manie other thinges that we had," the savages took the English for a race of gods - an observation Hariot made no attempt to refute.9 Simple and childlike, the savage was commonly thought to be the easy dupe of Western scientific prowess. But in China the situation was different. The clocks and world maps that Ricci offered his mystified hosts might have aroused an initial desire to see more, but curiosity is short lived, and the Chinese were not a people disposed to cargo cults. Instead, Western science had struck a genuinely responsive chord in China, and the mission that Ricci established endured for a turbulent century and a half. In fact the original impetus to use science seems to have come from the Chinese themselves rather than from the Jesuits.1O Although after Ricci's

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death they were subject to periodic persecution and imprisonment, the Jesuits in Peking came to occupy positions of unusual importance on imperial tribunals, and one of them, Adam Schall von Bell, even became an intimate of the Manchurian emperor at mid-century. With the exception of Johann Terrenz Schreck, who once belonged to the Cesi Academy with Galileo and corresponded with Kepler, the Jesuit scientists were by and large men of modest scientific culture, able but hardly outstanding minds. Like Christoph Clavi us, his mentor at the Collegio Romano, Ricci taught the Ptolemaic system not the Copernican, though his successors smuggled in Galilean contraband. I I Yet in the context of a moribund Chinese science, Jesuit learning was sufficient to keep them in imperial favor. They could predict eclipses and correct the ephemerides, both of which were essential to Chinese ceremonials. They translated and printed Western scientific texts, introduced the latest instruments, and established small academies. And behind all this scientific activity stood the great dream, the inspiration, as Schall explained in his apology, of the entire mission: the conversion of the emperor. 12 Science would accomplish in China what had eluded more traditional techniques in Japan and the Mughal Empire. But how? Science had helped get them into China; how would it convert the Chinese? On this point the Jesuits maintained a consistent line throughout the seventeenth century. They took their cue from Ricci who claimed that it was only through science that missionaries were able to overcome the stigma of barbarism indiscriminately applied to all foreigners by the Chinese. I3 The scientific acumen of the Jesuits and the proclivity of the literati for certain forms of Western science established the Europeans as a wise people. And a wise people would surely possess a wise religion. Science was necessary as an entering wedge; it weakened resistance and diluted prejudice. Some seventeenthcentury missionaries would have called it a method of "attraction", the bait that drew the unsuspecting heathen into the net. Ricci made his converts through the mathematics classes he offered, and his journals celebrated the piety of native Chinese virtuosi who worked with his translating Clavius and Euclid. 14 Science was a pretext, a conversation starter; once the influential Schall had engaged the emperor in a discussion about astronomy or calendar reform, he could slowly and subtly maneuver the exchange in more Christian directions. IS As Ferdinand Verbiest, who presided over the astronomy tribunal in Peking, wrote to fellow Jesuits back home in 1678: "Astronomy and the other branches of mathematics, particularly those that are most pleasing here such as optics, statics, and mechanics, speculative as well as practical, along with their instruments and accessories, have the effect of Muses on the Chinese, able to convert them by their charms ... Moreover, our holy religion, adorned with the starry mantle of astronomy will find an easy access to the princes and prefects of the provinces, and in gaining their favor both churches and priests will be protected".16 Though Schall was maligned within the Order for emending the Chinese calendar so that the heathen could properly execute their "superstitions", the Peking mission could always reply that without the work of the fathers at the

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imperial court, Christianity would have been banished from China.l7 The science of the few became the umbrella that protected the mission of many - a mission that included ungrateful Dominicans and Franciscans. It provided the security missionaries needed in a land not under Iberian control, and it won the enthusiastic approval of at least two popes. Pragmatic and resourceful, the Jesuits seized on science as a utilitarian device. It was a practical tool for spreading the Gospel and nothing else. In their histories and relations from China there are no soaring manifestos about the experimental study of God in nature: Jesuit astronomers observed the heavens to predict eclipses, not to share with their hosts a glimpse of the divine handiwork. Science seemed to form no part of their apologetic program: it was always presented as a pretext, an occasion, rather than as a fIrst step in the ascent of the soul to God. Despite the fact that Ricci and his successors were willing to preach Christianity as the fulflllment of natural religion identifIed with the Confucian corpus, they never seem to have considered natural philosophy in a similar context. Trigault noted simply that "according to the disposition of Divine Providence various ways have been employed at different times and with different races to interest people in Christianity". 18 For whatever reason, they were careful to separate science and religion. The credibility of their astronomical calculations was apology enough for the truth of the Christian religion. Of course, science alone was not responsible for the success of Ricci's mission. That victory was the result of a total effort through which the Jesuits were able to assimilate themselves as wise men from the West to the society of Chinese literati. It involved a herculean effort of accommodation that included religious as well as social adjustments - contentious issues throughout the century.19 However, there could be no doubt that without science the mission would never have scaled the walls it did. And this raised a new possibility. Was science in fact that key which would unlock the door to spiritual rewards as generous as those bestowed by Providence on the early Church? Was China simply an isolated instance, or was science truly capable of winning all the world to Christianity? Verbiest had no doubts here: "it is to be hoped that our fathers in Europe will favor more greatly these sciences, because experience itself had taught us that not only Europe and China but also among other nations however barbarian or distant from civil life, missionaries will thus discover for themselves an easy entrance, particularly to nobles and princes on whom so much depends for a fruitful and successful mission".20 Missionaries must also be scientists. That was the new moral of an old story. Among the Jesuit missions outside China there were few imitators of Ricci's scientifIc apostolate. The Jesuit Sinologist Pasquale D'Elia unearthed the unspectacular example of Giovanni Antonio Rubino, an early seventeenth century missionary to India who worked on eclipses and the ephemerides and even presented a world map to the King of Basnaga only to suffer a martyr's fate in Japan. 21 Beyond the China mission, however, Verbiest's advice went largely unheeded. Nor should that come as any surprise. Propagating the Gospel

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through astrolabes and compasses was a radical technique that was tantamount to an admission of defeat: it declared that true religion could not make its own inroads into heathen worlds, that Christianity in and of itself had little intrinsic appeal. For the scrupulously orthodox, it defied those Apostolic models which defined once and for all the only true way of preaching the Word. Would not the heathen convert once they heard the Gospel preached simply and persuasively by humble men with few pretensions? An age that knew intimately the ravages of schism, heresy, and unbelief clung tenaciously to its fondest illusions. Within the China mission itself there was no easy consensus on Ricci's approach. Though he directed the mission after Ricci's death, Niccolo Longobardi was a man of different vision and temperament from his predecessor. He lacked Ricci's catholic learning, and, despite an initial enthusiasm over his co-worker's method, he was deeply suspicious of the propriety of spreading religion by means of Euclid and clocks. Like the Dominicans and Franciscans, who adopted him posthumously as one of their own in the Chinese Rites controversy, Longobardi believed that the missionary's place was with the poor and the humble and that the Gospel should be preached in the traditional manner, with rosary beads, crucifixes, and images. 22 Ricci included a portrait of Longobardi in his journals: the eternal missionary, crucifix in hand, preaching the commandments and battling idols, sending a native John the Baptist ahead to announce his arrival in the next community.23 To men of simple piety, there was something fraudulent about the Jesuit enterprise in China; it seemed a hoax, and worse, a hoax in the name of religion. It may be unfair to quote an English Protestant on a Jesuit subject, but Samuel Purchas summarized well a spectrum of opinion when he wrote (with considerable restraint): "As for the Christian Religion thither carried by the Jesuits, you have heard the whole substance of their once large Histories; I meane not of Miracles, and other like stuffe and stuffings, but the meanes of conveying the Gospel to the Chinois, which are merchandise, money, and gifts, Mathematiks, Memorative-art ... and other thinges innumerable pertayning rather to bodily exercise which profiteth little, than to Godlinesse ... ".24

II

Verbiest's call for missionaries to gird themselves with science before attempting to convert the gentiles abroad had been made before in the seventeenth century. But it had come from very different quarters and was part of a very different message. From Francis Bacon and Tommaso Campanella at the beginning of the century, through Jan Amos Comenius and his circle at midcentury to Leibniz at the end, the vision of a world converted to Christianity through the offices of a reformed natural philosophy was articulated in memoranda, pamphlets, and massive programatic works. Its authors were seventeenth century representatives of the pansophic tradition, a powerful but

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amorphous current of European thought that freely mixed magical, esoteric, and theosophical tendencies with the empiricism of the new science. 25 The Jesuits had exploited the fruits of science; these giants nurtured and cultivated the stalk alone in the knowledge that the fruit itself would be holy. They did not need carnivals of inventions to execute their dreams, for they had found in science an approach to the world that laid bare the mutuality of all men. Moreover, they understood the pursuit of science not as an aid to religion but as an act of religion, an act immediately accessible to the non-Christian world. They presented themselves as agents of a new reformation that would bring peace and piety to European and the world. With the collapse of the medieval scholastic synthesis, they stepped into the void to erect their own titanic systems of knowledge. They trained their guns on Aristotle and the schoolmen as arid, impious, and divisive, and offered the world in their stead a profoundly Christian learning that would, in Comenius' words, reconcile man with nature, man with man, and man with God. They saw in their science the dawn of a new age, the beginning of a truly Christian hegemony in the world. They attempted to reconstitute the unity of knowledge on a new basis that would serve as the foundation for a genuine global unity. They had ready supplies of blueprints outlining the Christian conquest of the world through knowledge; they needed only patrons to put them into action. Theirs was a vision of universal endeavor that dwarfed the Jesuit venture in China: Jesuit accommodation they countered with root-and-branch reformation. Francis Bacon saw in his new science something the Jesuits overlooked: an apology for Christianity, an avenue to the divine. A reformed natural philosophy that dispensed with the verbal obfuscations of received philosophies and destroyed the mental idols that stood between man and nature would put man in closer contact with God by giving him direct access to God's creation. Bacon's justification of the new science of the seventeenth century against charges of irreligion drew heavily on the medieval tradition of God's two books, nature and scripture. Since God was the author of both, man was under a positive injunction to study both - directly and without mediation. For polemical purposes Bacon was careful to keep the two books absolutely separate: the new science, still a supplicant, would never infringe on the mysteries of theology, just as it was hoped that faith would stick to its sublime realms and leave reason to ponder the creation. The book of nature recorded God through his works. It displayed his impress, his wisdom and omnipotence. Natural philosophy would never reveal the inscrutable essence of Bacon's Calvinist God, but its apologetic utility was not the less because of it: "if the matter be truly considered, natural philosophy is after the word of God at once the surest medicine against superstition, and the most appropriate nourishment for faith, and therefore she is rightly given to religion as her most faithful handmaid, since the one displays the will of God, the other his power. "26 A little philosophy, Bacon was fond of saying, can lead the mind to atheism; a little more will bring it back to religion. The new science would give man a "perfect image" of nature and thus a clearer understanding of its creator. Bacon's

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science offered glory to God and brought peace to men. Once it reopened the book of nature for all to read directly, the quarrels and divisions of the sects would end since men would behold the same world. Bacon's pronouncements helped define the program of science in England in the later seventeenth century. They were faithfully repeated as holy writ and institutionalized by Robert Boyle in the Bentley lectures, which summoned the unimpeachable testimony of Newtonian cosmology against the unbelievers.27 But if the new science was capable of rooting out atheism and superstition at home, why not abroad also? Though Bacon could often sound like the righteous missionary, preaching against idols and proposing to make tabulae rasae of men's minds, he never put forward his new science as a missionary tool. He was certainly aware of the new worlds abroad: geographical discovery was a favorite metaphor with him; he praised the Incas and defended the American Indians against charges of atheism. But for the missionary program of pansophia we must tum to Bacon's dark and mysterious contemporary, Tommaso Campanella, and to his enthusiastic admirer, Jan Amos Comenius. While Bacon and Ricci were promoting their schemes in high places, Campanella was reforming all of human knowledge in the isolation of his "crocodile pit", a prisoner of the Spaniards on charges of sedition and heresy, confined to a fetid Neopolitan dungeon. Ricci and Bacon were aristocrats Ricci a noble in two worlds; Campanella was the son of an illiterate cobbler from impoverished Calabria. Ever suspected of heresy, he passed most of his adult life in prisons, endured inhuman tortures, and when not in prison was condemned to exile. Comenius' beginnings were more favorable, but this Bishop of the Moravian Brethren was a refugee from the Thirty Years War, always the outsider, the rootless exile. Bacon described the intellectual chaos of Europe; they lived it and became its victims. From the fringes of Europe they felt acutely the pain of variety, diversity, and disharmony, the proliferation of sects and opinions, the awful spectacle of Christian Europe devouring itself. The tragedy was not limited to Euope; the "stink and corruption" were global. Campanella, who claimed to have examined all religions in the world, described the "universal comedy of sects and rites", while Comenius contemplated the "universal darkness" that covered the world, drwarfing the tiny Christian Empire. 28 To this Babel of confusion they responded with a passion for absolute unity, order, and control: the world reduced to one philosophy, one kingdom, and one religion. Like Bacon, they sought to end divisiveness by washing the film of opinion from men's eyes and reforming all of human learning according to the book of nature, but their understanding of nature differed somewhat from Bacon, whom they praised and cited. Bacon had separated God's two books but Campanella and Comenius were incapable of such a distinction. When Campanella wrote from prison in 1607 that he "had learned more contemplating the anatomy of an ant or a plant" than he had "from all the books that had been written since the beginning of the world", he was not simply venting his prejudices against the current state of learning. 29 He was expressing a

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profoundly religious vision of nature and the practice of science. Neither he nor Comenius distinguished sacred from profane. They approached nature as divine: the living book of nature was a visible representation of the ideas of God, the school of God, the temple of God. Studying Aristotle would always be just studying Aristotle. To behold an ant was to gaze upon the Lord. The books of men led to confusion; the book of nature led to God himself, and a science that gave men direct access to res would also give them, through sense and reason, access to the creator. Nature was a veil to be lifted, a door to be opened, a sign to be interpreted. These polymaths studied her not to accumulate data but to reach the absolute unity she concealed and share it with mankind. They would convert the world by demonstrating the unity of all knowledge founded on the unity of God and nature. The divisions between men, the experience of variety and diversity - these were superficial aberrations. Beneath appearances lay a reality within grasp: "For the world is naturally one; why isn't it morally one too? Europe is separated from Asia, Asia from Africa, and Africa from America. Similarly, kingdoms and provinces are separated from each other by mountains and valleys, rivers and seas, so that we cannot all pass freely back and forth between them. Mother earth gives birth to and nourishes all things everywhere ... Therefore fellow citizens of the world, what prevents us from uniting together in one commonwealth under one set of laws? What, I ask, prevents us from at least hoping that we will all come together in one well ordered union with the same laws and learning, bound together by the ties of true religion?"30 The enigmatic Campanella collects epithets as an emperor collects titles: poet, philosopher, astrologer, magician, prophet, theologian, heretic, revolutionary millennarian, utopian. 3 ! However, his letters from prison written after tortures that would have broken the spirit of a lesser man, present a dominant face: that of the zealous Catholic apologist. 32 To popes, cardinals, and princes he advertised himself and his formidable corpus of works as the only instruments that could heal the wounds of Christendom, restore the Papacy to its former splendor, and convert the gentiles abroad. This victim of the CounterReformation was at the same time its deepest expression. All of his projects, his every energy, seemed bent on achieving that which landed him in prison in the fIrst place: the establishment of a universal papal monarchy. The pretensions of Innocent III were small-time compared to Campanella's vision of the coming papal empire. To that end he had wiped the slate clean and rewritten di nuovo all the moral and natural sciences according to Scripture and nature. He had purged Christian learning of the baleful influence of Aristotle and other heathen philosophers, confronted heretics and schismatics, and proved defInitively from the sun, the stars, and the prophets that the age of the universal Catholic monarchy had arrived. Campanella's apologetic corpus was central to his grand strategy of converting all the nations of the world in preparation for the monarchy of the Messiah. The reformation of all learning would be incomplete unless it resulted in the return of all sheep to the fold. And this was the program of his imposing missionary opus, the Quod reminiscentur.

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Of all the projects Campanella concocted, none was so grandiose as this one. Though he completed the manuscript in prison in 1618, the plan of the Quod reminiscentur had been in his mind since before his aborted revolt against the Spanish in 1599.33 There are striking anticipations of it in the youthful Discorsi universali del governo ecclesiastico (1595), a field manual for the pope's use in bringing about his global empire. 34 The plan of the Quod reminiscentur is simple but typically ambitious. Campanella proposed nothing less than the convocation of a general council of the human race in Rome under the aegis of the pope. Legations would be dispatched to all the nations of the earth urging them to lay down their arms and come together for a massive disputation of the faith. There would be legations to God and his angels imploring their favor and protection, as well as legations to the devil requesting that he not impede the work of conversion. The priests, princes, and wise men from every land would communicate their laws and books of religion to the assembly which would examine them closely to sort out the true from the false. To avoid scandal, Christian Europe would put up a united front at his general assembly: plans for the conversion of Protestants and the reunion of Christendom under the pope were included pro forma. The agenda for the council was to be lifted straight from the Dominican's own works, principally the Metaphysica and the Theologica, so that Christian representatives would not be caught unawares. The points to be discussed included the standard theological fare - the existence and attributes of God, the Trinity, Providence and the problem of evil, the immortality of the soul and the afterlife, the Incarnation, and the general resurrection - all of which would be strained through Campanella's own peculiar theology. Here was an ecumenical vision with few parallels, more generous even than Pope Blanquerna's similar scheme in Raymund Lull's romance of the same name. It becomes all the more astounding when travelers' descriptions of those distant peoples are considered: would the unwashed savages from America and Africa carry themselves as philosophers and dispute the fine points of metaphysics with their brethern? Those people to whom missionaries were unable to teach even the Pater Noster? From his wretched prison, this lonely man assumed the fraternity of mankind; it did not have to be proved. There is a real enthusiasm, a sense of drama bordering on frenzy in Campanella's legislations to humanity. They are pregnant with great expectations; the air is heavy with the odor of success. How could Campanella be so sure of this? Where lay his confidence in this assembly? How, in short, would his great reformation convert the gentiles? Though ultimately the conversion of the world was predicted by the prophets and announced by the sun and the stars, there were other reasons to expect success. Since all nations believed that mutations in the heavens portended momentous events on earth, they would surely be persuaded by Campanella's catalogue of celestial alterations pointing to the imminent monarchy of the Messiah. 35 The Discorsi universali even suggested that when the heathens knew their conversion would bring about "that age of gold described by poets,

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that ottima republica described by philosophers", they would hasten to enter the fold. 36 Campanella's mission was unique in that it offered paradise in both lives. However, the heart of Campanella's theory of conversion is revealed in the full title of the Quod reminiscentur, which he borrowed from Psalm 22:27: "All the ends of the earth shall remember and tum unto the Lord: and all the kindreds of the nations shall worship before thee". Conversion was not the absolute rupture or total break missionaries commonly believed but an act of memory in which men recalled those innate notions impressed upon them by their creator, notions common to all menY What are they? Campanella's theory here is complex and involved, but its outline is at least visible. For the Dominican, there are no tabulae rasae in nature; not only man but all of creation retains traces of the Creator. These notitiae innatae constitute the natural religiosity of all things. For Campanella, who felt himself living in an animistic universe, all of nature was a religious symphony longing to return to the source of those notions. The flux and reflux of the seas, an elephant genuflecting before the moon, etc., all testified to the presence of religion throughout nature. 38 This was the starting point of Campanella's daring apology for Christianity, the Atheismus triumphatus, which he published in exile in Paris in 1636. Writing to refute the libertines (with whom he had become fast friends in Paris) and the "Machiavellians", both of whom reduced religion to political art, Campanella thought it imperative to prove that a religious sentiment exists naturally in all things. In man, these innate notions defined natural religion; they comprised the true and original religion of the world, implanted in man by God, and, not surprisingly, made up the agenda of Campanella's ecumenical council. The spirit of fraternity with which he welcomed the ends of the earth was not groundless: his reformation of the arts and sciences had proved exhaustively that all men naturally had only one religion. Once they saw it before them, they would "remember" it and return to it as their own, for all created things long to return to their source. The heathen must not be harrangued or rebutted, but rather led cautiously to remember that which lay deeply in them. Reminiscence made the idol-smashing missionary unnecessary. Where is Christianity in all this? In addition to a true, natural religion, men also have a superadded religion (religio addita) of positive laws and ceremonies, and it is this historical religion that accounts for the "universal comedy" of sects in the world. The problem is to determine whether the particular religio addita is God-given or the confection of men; for if it is Godgiven it will conform to, even perfect, the religio innata. And this was the great task of the Atheismus triumphatus: to demonstrate how Christianity alone conforms perfectly to natural religion and thus is uniquely true. 39 For Campanella, Christianity was the supremely rational religion accessible to all men. Even its "mysteries" - the Trinity, the Incarnation, etc., -lie within the domain of reason since they form part of the innate notions in all men. Standing behind this apparently radical interpretation of Christianity is a tortuous Christology that owes something to Alexandrian apologetics and transforms Christ into the

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"First Reason".40 Campanella could not accept a hard and fast distinction between the natural and the supernatural, human and divine reason. Insofar as men are reasonable, they participate in Christ who in tum permeates the created world. The upshot is irresistible: all men who live reasonably according to nature are implicitly Christian, for they follow those innate notions, traces of the Prima Ragione that Christianity embodies in positive law. 41 Indeed, what else does the religion of Campanella's felicitous Solarians in the City of the Sun demonstrate but the transparent Christianity of a purely natural religion? That utopia of science and magic was also a living portrait of nature "returning" and "remembering", the perfect companion piece to the Atheismus triumphatus. Thus Campanella's general council in Rome would be something of a homecoming at which the heathen would understand that Christianity was within not outside them, and that Christ alone, as the First Reason, transcended all sects. They would recognize that there is only one religion, one reason, one law, and one God. Campanella had cause to be excited: his works were to end humanity's millennia of amnesia. What has this to do with science? In Ricci's sense, nothing. But Campanella had conquered amnesia through the book of nature alone. The arguments he would use to move the heathen were drawn directly from things not from the opaque words of Aristotle. The book of nature was the book of the First Reason, and it had these advantages over Scripture: it was living where Scripture was dead; in it things and their meaning coincided, where Scripture contained only signs of things.42 In his sentient world, Campanella felt the movements of the divine. The heliocentric universe was for him but another proof that the earth was alive - and returning. Campanella insisted in several places that all clerics should be thoroughly instructed in the sciences; that was the only way they would convert the world. 43 His science was not the science of Galileo, whose cause he championed: it was closer to the traditions of natural magic which Peukert described than to the new mathematics of nature. His defense of Galileo confused the very issues Galileo wanted to separate. But Campanella's science did claim direct contact with nature, and missionaries skilled in the sciences would also be skilled in reading the book of nature. They would know that to convert the heathen, simple assertions of ecclesiastical authority would never do. That was the way of most sixteenth century missionaries. "I believe in the holy Church" is the wrong beginning. Rather, "it is necessary to start with an 'I believe in God' and natural philosophy, not authority".44 Despite repeated efforts, Campanella was unable to secure the necessary approbations to publish the Quod reminiscentur - the least heterodox piece in his volatile corpus. However, he never stopped lobbying for a massive missionary campaign. It has long been suggested that the manuscript of the Quod reminiscentur was influential in the founding of the Congregation for the Propagation of the Faith (1622), though conclusive evidence is lacking. 45 But the founding of the Congregation did not satisfy him. His works, the best spades for mission fields, remained largely unpublished, unread, unused. But with the

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accession of the Barbarini pope in 1623, Campanella secured a powerful though temporary patron. As Urban VIII, Maffeo Barbarini took a keen interest in Campanella and in the missions: he rescued the aging apologist from prison and brought him to Rome in 1626, and he established the Collegium Urbanum as a seminary for training missionaries. Campanella himself became the pope's astrologer and was given a papal pension. With his foot in the door and his star in the ascendant, he was now in a position to realize his own evangelical ambitions. Thus it was in 1630 that he wrote to Francesco Cardinal Barbarini proposing the establishment of a "Collegio Barbarino de propaganda fide" to carry out the grand design of the Quod reminiscentur. The college was to recruit exclusively Calabrian Dominicans trained in the prophets, the arts, and the sciences, in addition to having a solid knowledge of all the peoples and sects in the world. Fittingly, the seminary was dedicated to the "restoration of religion and science", and its graduates were to preach Campanella's version of the Summa The%gica. 46 Like most of Campanella's projects, nothing came of the Collegio Barbarino. Impervious to defeat, this driven friar continued his missionary campaign until his death in 1639. From exile in Paris, he corresponded with Urban vm and Francesco Ingoli, the secretary of the Propaganda, about the utility of his works in the assimilation of the gentiles, but after Campanella's defense of Galileo in 1622, the Vatican lost all patience with this erratic son. The prophet of universal reformation passed his final years in Paris as a creature of Richelieu, casting horoscopes and telling fortunes for the French nobility, still awaiting the arrival of the monarchy of the Messiah. Spurned by the Church whose imperial destiny he had prophesied and promoted, Campanella found a sympathetic ear among Protestants. Ironically, those whom he would have converted to the papal monarchy were those who found support in his works for their own reformation. In the case of Comenius, the links with Campanella were many. Campanella's junior by more than a generation, Comenius devoured his published works, citing them frequently, even incorporating sentences from the Monarchia messiae and the Atheismus triumphatus into his own texts. Though their paths never crossed, there may be something to the fact that Richelieu courted them both: two years after Campanella died in Paris, the first minister invited Comenius to come to France to establish a pansophic college in the service of the French monarchy.47 Comenius referred to Bacon and Campanella as "those two Hercules who happily undertook to purge the Augean stables of its warring monsters".48 He admired their attempts to wipe the slate clean and erect anew the edifice of human knowledge on the solid foundation of nature and Scripture. He too reveals an impatience with received authorities who had interposed themselves between man and reality, and his pedogogical reforms were composed with a view to replacing authority with direct experience of the world. Like Campanella, Comenius revered the book of nature as the living image of God, and expressed a passion for absolute unity: since there was only one God, there could be only one school (the world), one temple (Christianity), and one kingdom (universal

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theocracy).49 He too was under the sway of the prophets who foretold the universal reformation and conversion of the world at the end of the days. The restitutio omnia was imminent, but Comenius lacked that almost monomaniacal assurance of easy victory which Campanella possessed. A member of a small embattled sect, Comenius saw the world in terms of a constant struggle between the forces of darkness and light. But the wrath of the righteous was not his style: his sense of spiritual combat was tempered by the Lieblichkeit of a nascent Pietism. His reformation was part of the Reformation; his culture was biblical and his language lacked the scholastic turgidities characteristic of Campanella'S philosophical works. His pansophic and didactic texts, with their program of teaching all things to all men in all ways, have an egalitarian flavor foreign to Campanella. If Campanella caricatures the Counter-Reformation, Comenius took the Reformation to its furthest point: from the priesthood of believers to the omniscience of mankind. With Comenius Protestantism leaped from a religion of the elect to the creed of humanity. For Comenius, the new pagan worlds abroad were but a species of the threefold universal corruption in human affairs that set man against man, against nature, and against God. But as a Protestant proposing their conversion, the gentle bishop from Moravia encountered obstacles which Campanella could avoid as a Catholic. The reunion of Christendom as a prologue to the union of the world itself had to be prefaced by a reunion of bickering Protestant sects, and Comenius labored doggedly for a united Protestantdom. When Campanella thought of a united Christianity he could take as his model the medieval Respublica Christiana under the leadership of the pope, but where was there precedent for a Respublica Christiana based on a reformed religion without a visible head? Campanella's dreams of a universal papal monarchy were buoyed by the Spanish Empire and the work of Catholic missionaries abroad, but when Comenius surveyed the achievements of Protestant missions he had little cause for jubilation. Though Holland and England had both established themselves as powerful competitors for the trade and territory of the Iberian empire, reformed missions had barely left the starting gate. The founding of the Congregation for the Propagation of the Faith had only centralized a Catholic missionary preponderance that went largely unchallenged by feuding Protestants in the seventeenth century. Towards the end of his long life, Comenius took the Dutch and the English to task for fighting each other rather than joining together to conquer the darkness abroad. They had perpetuated the confusion of Babylon, and by their own commercial wars ran the risk of scandalizing the gentiles. But what was the alternative? How could they undertake the conversion of distant peoples? Comenius had the answer: "To this holy end the ineffable wisdom of God is preparing a new help with this title: Rerum Humanarum Emendatione Consultatio; or a rational investigation, and by the grace of God, decision as to the manner in which the destructive confusion that everywhere reigneth may finally be once and for all recognized from the root, abhorred from the root, and tom up by the root and how in this way the affairs of the world may be brought to a calm and pleasant condition".50

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Missionary concerns were never secondary to Comenius; they lay at the heart of his pansophic program. 51 His magnum opus, the Consultatio catholica, accomplished in two folio volumes what Campanella's disparate corpus accomplished in many: the total reformation of philosophy, religion, and politics as an instrument of conversion and peace. Though Comenius wanted his system of pansophia to be so clear and simple that an eight-year-old child could grasp it, the historian blanches at even characterizing this intellectual cyclops. It was not to be a summary of all knowledge - a useless bit of pedantry - but a systematic presentation of the essence, ends, and relationships of all things in the natural and spiritual worlds. 52 In seventeenth-century fashion, Comenius understood knowledge as ordering, and pan sophia would present for men the order of all things bound together in a "perpetual concatenation". There could be no question of competing orders since the end of all knowledge was God; there could be only one, inviolable order of things that would lead men infallibly through the created world to the divine. Where Campanella had depended on a collective religious unconscious, Comenius insisted on the efficacy of ordered progression. Campanella's peculiar theology was centered on nature, but pan sophia traversed the books of nature and man to arrive at faith and Scripture. Comenius took all the world as a school through which man must progress to reach the Godhead. Science and its object, the mundus materia lis, were more than just preparations for religion; they were necessary introductions. 53 Had not the Lord himself begun the Scriptures with the physics of creation! The man who would know the Lord must first know the system of his creation. Comenius had little patience with missionaries who emulated the Apostles and preached the Word alone. The Apostles had extraordinary arts in their mission, but the mere mortals who followed them would have to lead the heathen through the concatenation of natural truths before announcing the mysteries of faith to them. 54 To do otherwise would be to violate the natural order of things. Religion could not be imposed by authority. Like his missionary predecessors, Comenius consciously pursued the analogy between educating children and converting heathens. 55 But there the similarity ends. For just as the child, in Comenian pedagogy, progresses through a natural order from material things to the heavenly world, so too the pagan cannot simply be given faith; he must be taught to acquire it for himself through the ordered progression of truths. The heathen would become a Christian in the same moment he came a pansophist. Pansophic conversion was strictly a stadial process that conformed to the stadial order of the world. Pampaedia, the universal method for teaching all things to all men, was also a procedure for conversions: it would elevate the barbarians to civilization and the gentile to true religion. Comenius insisted ad nauseam on the clarity and invincibility to pansophia as well as on the universal aptitude of men to learn it. There was no barbarian so rude, no child so recalcitrant that he could not ascend the ladder of pansophia. 56 Since all had the same senses and faculties, the same common notions imprinted on them, all were capable of universal wisdom. The unity of pansophia was

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perfectly attuned to the unity of mankind. No more than Campanella was this irenicist able to glimpse the otherness of the world beyond Europe. His was the faith of the rationalist: "If only all men willieam to grasp the truth through the common foundations of human nature, that is, the light of reason, all choose good, and follow what they have once chosen in such a manner that they may also attain it; and this on the basis of such self-evident judgements, that no one would permit himself easily to resist, nor could so on account of the concatenation of truths in eternallinks".57 Comenius' great reformation was to be aided by projects with which his name has become more or less synonomous: universal schools, an encyclopedia of all things, and a universal language that would reflect the world rather than mental fictions. The institutions that were to embody pansophia are probably no more fantastic than pansophia itself. A College of Light, a Dicastory of Peace, and a Universal Consistory, each with branches in every kingdom of the world provided the structure of this Protestant monarchy of the Messiah. 58 Together, the members of these bodies constituted the guardians of humanity, overseeing the work of reformation and promoting peace. They formed a world Senate which would meet infrequently to discuss the program of light. Comenius' institutions were sufficiently decentralized not to smack of popery: they formed a carefully graded pyramid whose point was in heaven not on earth. Local autonomy was respected and men were bound together by the invisible ties of wisdom not by allegiance to some common earthly idol. The focus of pan sophia as a missionary tool was the College of Light, a Protestant response to Campanella's Collegio Barbarino and the Holy Propaganda. This was to be the institution from which the light of pansophia would illumine the four comers of the earth. Men trained here would be the executors of pansophia, the teachers of humanity, instructing "omnia, in omnibus, omnino". The professors of light were also prophets and ministers, scientist-priests of the type that presided over Bacon's New Atlantis and Campanella's solar city. Comenius concocted two versions of the College of Light. In the Consultatio catholica he created an amorphous body primarily charged with overseeing schools and the productions of books. But in the earlier Via lucis - written during his stay in England - he created a parent college in England and endowed it with more ambitious functions. There the scientistpriests became genuine missionaries: "Moreover, when they have settled things satisfactorily within their own borders, they will take thought for any left who ought to be saved from the dominion of darkness; and for this purpose they will be at pains to have definite and effective methods for convincing and converting Jews, Mahometans, idolaters and others".59 Armed with the system of pansophia, a reformed didactic, and a universal language, these missionaries would establish one culture and one religion throughout the world. Dispersed over the face of the earth, these wise men seemed less an academy than an amalgam of the Jesuits and the spurious Rosicrucian fraternity.60 Comenius was born into the Central European world of Rudolph II, and he always seemed the perfect child of that fragile, mysterious milieu. He remained

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the grand dreamer, the maker of systems and projects so stupendous that, as if by design, they defied implementation. But for a brief time it appeared as if his schemes might be realized. At the invitation of his friend and correspondent Samuel Hartlib, a transplanted Prussian, Comenius made the long trek from Poland to England in 1641, ostensibly to found a pansophic college and promote missionary activities. Though Comenius was misled into thinking he had been summoned to begin the great reformation by an act of Parliament, there is no doubt that the patriarchs of the "Puritan Party", on the eve of their own reformation, looked favorably on his projects. However, the deteriorating political situation in England quickly forced him to seek patronage in Sweden. Although Comenius' programs continued to be actively promoted in England by Hartlib and his fellow Prussian refugee John Dury. the Civil War was too powerful a distraction. Comenius' programs, like Campanella's, remained stillborn. 61 To my knowledge, neither Campanella or Comenius ever actually met one of the exotic pagans each was so sure he could convert. If they had, I'm not sure that it would have altered their vision or their programs. The new worlds which they confronted in travel and missionary reports were assimilated unselfconsciously to the secretarian divisions and differences they sawall around them in Europe. The otherness of the rude savage or the ceremonious Chinese differed little from the heterogeneity of opinion among Christian Europeans. Other peoples were only other sects. Comenian pedagogy would work equally well on the exotic barbarian and the local cobbler's son. Campanella's distant heathen would be able to discuss the burning religious questions of the moment as subtly as Protestants from Saxony. The persistence of difference in a world which was, as Comenius remarked, "physically one", did not mean that difference was inevitable. To the contrary, it only indicated that humanity had lost touch with realia which were common to all. Their own versions of pansophia were, from this angle, densely textured, elaborate denials that the new worlds were fundamentally new; and pansophia offered a universal method for mankind's reunion to prove it. Pansophia reassembled in grand fashion a world threatening to split irrevocably assunder. It kept the world a Western world. III

By the time Charles II chartered the Royal Society of London (1662), it was over sixty years since Ricci had entered Peking, but the China mission was still the exception rather than the rule. The creation of the Royal Society might have offered a new institutional base from which religion and learning could be spread around the world, a real Protestant challenge to the Catholic hegemony abroad. It was, after all, the most distinguished scientific body in Europe, composed of pious virtuosi who could write treatises on the apologetic utility of mites and lice. But the Royal Society was not interested in lending itself to the propagation of the Gospel. Thomas Sprat's History of the Royal Society (1667)

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dripped with familiar encomiums culled from Bacon about science as a hymn of divine praise, but the Society had declared the neutrality of science and thus proscribed extra-scientific pursuits. Not that it was oblivious to the new worlds: its early proceedings are dotted with references to them but mainly in so far as they provided members with information about exotic flora and fauna and astronomical data. The Society published Robert Knox's Historical Relation of the Island of Ceylon with a recommendation from Christopher Wren and a preface by its secretary Robert Hooke. Hooke proposed that the Society edit and publish collections of travel literature, with sufficient "Publick Incouragement", in addition to counselling travelers about the method of systematic observation. 62 The suggestion was in keeping with the Society's literal adherence to Bacon's program of collecting all known instances of a phenomenon, but the value of such compendia in rooting out unbelief was never touched on. Science praised religion publicly, but it also kept its distance. Of all the early members of the Society, it was principally Robert Boyle who took an active interest in spreading the faith. Nobleman, chemist, and first governor of the reorganized (1660) Corporation for the Propagation of the Gospel in New England, Boyle was the perfect Christian virtuoso, that ideal type of seventeenth century scientist whose experimental knowledge was surpassed only by his piety. It was no accident that Boyle came to playa significant role in the early history of the Protestant missions. His spiritual biography includes a dramatic conversion experience in Switzerland and a miraculous recovery from a near fatal childhood disease engineered by a mountebank Irish healer: Boyle was heavily in debt to the Lord. At least as early as 1646, Boyle had been in contact with Hartlib's circle in London. He had also been a member of an "invisible or (as they term themselves) the philosophicall college".63 Boyle's famous correspondence with Hartlib outlines the existence of a college directly inspired by Johann Valentine Andreae, Bacon, and Comenius, whose members took "the whole body of mankind for their care". An informal association of Anglo-Irish intellectuals centered around the Boyle family, this "college" or corresponding society should not be confused either with Hartlib's group or with John Wilkins' Oxford clique. 64 And yet it seemed to share with Hartlib a broad, expansive vision of science. The Boyle-Hartlib correspondence covered ground dear to the hearts of all pansophists: the utility of science, the need for charity, the quest for a real character, and the propagation of the Gospel. Boyle even recommended that the "Campanellas Civitas Solis and the same Respublica Christianopolitiana" (of Andreae) be translated into English.65 Boyle not only dreamed of missionary enterprises. He participated in and materially supported them. Aside from his long tenure at the helm of England's only missionary company, he underwrote the publication and distribution of Bibles in Gaelic, Algonquin, and Malayan. A bequest from his estate provided for the education of Indians at William and Mary College in Virginia. Late in life he requested and received from Thomas Hyde at the Bodleian Library "a transcript of the life of Raymund Lullius, according to two authers".66

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Boyle pursued his evangelizing interests outside the Royal Society. That institution was a resounding disappointment for those who thought that it would carry out a program of universal reformation. In fact, its narrow area of investigation was the object of a pointed rebuff by Comenius. In the Via Iuds, dedicated to the Royal Society, he chided its members for resting content with merely exploring the natural world. They had laid the foundations of a great edifice, but like an inverted tower it pointed towards the earth rather than heaven. The Royal Society had constructed a meagre bark when a massive ark was needed: "For since our aims are world wide, because it is the salvation of the whole world that we seek, we need not a fragment of a ship, but a whole ship for carrying Light, Peace, and Truth abroad to all the continents and islands of the world: We shall not be content to have set inquiries into things without us; our search must be directed to objects altogether greater: for the Truth of things is within us".67 Comenius' attack on the Royal Society focused on its atomistic, fragmented concept of knowledge. In proclaiming the neutrality of science it had established the study of nature as an end in itself, rupturing that ordered progression of knowledge which culminated in God. The College of Light knew no such boundaries; the Royal Society knew nothing else. Across the channel, Louis XIV and his first minister Colbert were better informed on the uses of scientist-priests as instruments of policy. Early in March, 1685, the King of France, at whose birth Campanella had hailed the coming of the new order of things, dispatched six Jesuit scientists and a modest ambassadorial retinue to Siam for the purpose of establishing diplomatic relations, negotiating trading privileges, conducting scientific experiments, and converting Phra Narai, the King of Siam.68 From Siam they were to proceed to China, there to support their fellow Jesuits in attempting to convert the emperor and to report on the state of the arts and sciences. It was an ambitious plan, and, unlike the fruitless projects of the pansophists, it was actually put into effect. Louis XIV had begun to eliminate superstition and misbelief abroad just as he would do it at home some seven months later when he revoked the Edict of Nantes. The origins of the French design for the spiritual conquest of Asia are hazy, but the idea may have been suggested to the king by the Jesuit Philippe Couplet who had returned from China in 1682 to recruit missionaries skilled in science. During an interview with the king, he reportedly stressed the need to send more Jesuit scientists to China both to increase the faith and promote the exchange of scientific confidences. 69 While there was nothing new in Couplet's mission - the Jesuits had often appealed for better-trained scientists - it received an unpredented royal response. The Sun King and his minister took seriously the triumphs of science in support of the Gospel, and they acted to bend those triumphs to their ends. The mission was enthusiastically greeted by the French scientific establishment. The astronomer Gian Domenico Cassini, a protege of Colbert, drew up a list of observations the Jesuits were to make at various spots in Asia, and the Academie des Sciences gave its blessing to the whole affair by making the six priests corresponding members on the eve of their departure. With so much

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official support the legation seemed sure to be a success. That it was not was probably just as well. Though the Jesuits performed their scientific duties diligently, the attempt to convert the king of Siam degenerated into a secondrate comedy of manners, replete with involved plots to smuggle more Jesuits into the country at the direction of a restless Greek adventurer acting as Phra Narai's first minister. But it was the attempt that mattered. Celebrated in several travel volumes, it caught the imagination of Europe. From his post in Hanover, Gottfried Wilhelm Leibniz followed intently the progress of the emissaries of Louis XN - the same king he had exhorted in vain some fifteen years earlier to lead a united Christian Europe in a crusade against the Turk. In almost every respect, the French legation was a paradigm of the type of mission the great German polymath longed to organize under Protestant auspices: an embassy to the Orient that united political, economic, scientific, and religious aims. It is in Leibniz that the various threads of our story converge. The French mission rekindled in him a deep interest in China, that country around which he centered so many dreams and projects. He had read widely in the travel relations from China; he knew well what the Jesuits had accomplished in Peking through science. He was their correspondent and, during the Chinese Rites controversy, one of their most notable defenders. But Bacon, Campanella, and especially Comenius - Comenius the irenicist in whose honor Leibniz once composed a poem - were also part of his intellectual heritage, and he shared with them that grand vision of science in the service of religion. The Jesuits had been in China for a century. Though they could boast an impressive number of converts there, the country remained largely unconverted. It was rumored, however, that the emperor was waffling between pagan and Christian. Verbiest sent out a call for more scientist-priests, and Louis XIV responded in kind. Leibniz in tum translated the message for Protestant Europe, the heartland of seventeenth-century science. The topic of Leibniz and China has been the subject of numerous monographs, and there is no need to tell the whole story again.7° However, it is worth noting that his interest in China spanned most of his life. From an early letter to the Pietist Spener in 1670 remarking on the Jesuit's use of science in China to the long epistle he composed for Remond de Montmort on Chinese philosophy as he lay sick and dying, Leibniz was haunted by the Middle Kingdom. His interest in China was diverse, but it was neither unfocussed nor a matter of simple curiosity. Though he know no Chinese, he shared with many contemporary philologists the conviction that the Chinese tongue contained valuable information on the origins of language. He seemed to accept Philippe Couplet's preface to the Confucius Sinarum Philosoph us (1687) and looked on China as a nation whose antiquity rivalled that of the Hebrews. 7 ! His lifelong search for a "caracteristica universalis", a universal language that would reduce thinking to calculating, led him from the combinatory art of Lull through Chinese ideograms to the mysterious hexagrams of the I-Ching. The empty vauntings of the orientalist Andreas Muller that he had discovered a "key to Chinese" angered and disappointed Leibniz, but he retained his belief that an

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understanding of Chinese would open the way to a universal characterJ2 There was a special urgency in Leibniz' quest to know and assimilate China. It was not the urgency born of an impending millennium - Leibniz parted company here with his pansophic predecessors. The apocalypse he sensed was of a different, more modem, order. He had a genuine fear of China, a real consciousness of its size and civilization, a sense that here the Christian West had finally met its match. In the preface to the Novissima sinica he wrote of China and Europe as "nearly equal" contestants in a "war", with first one side winning, then the other. It was not a real war, of course, but a war of comparative grandeurs, a contest of comparative civilizations. Though Leibniz assured himself that in the sciences Europe had the advantage, his correspondence during the years preceeding the publication of the Novissima sinica betrays his fear that even in science the West might soon lose its edge. His immediate concern was that the Jesuits were giving China the fruits of European science without receiving anything in return. What of the hidden knowledge this most ancient of peoples must surely possess? What were their secrets? Leibniz probably knew as much about China as any seventeenth century European; he also knew how paltry that knowledge was. China, on the other hand, knew all that was worth knowing about Europe. It was a one-way street. He tried to impress this on the Jesuit Grimaldi in Rome in 1689 by giving him a list of questions to answer from China, but Grimaldi turned out to be no more reliable than the librarian MUller. In their enthusiasm to win the favor of the Chinese the Jesuits were putting Europe in a precarious situation: "I do not know if it is right to bring a powerful people who are not Christian and who will not be so in the near future, all our mathematical and military secrets"J3 But beyond the failing Ottoman Empire was a potential adversary far greater than the decadent Turk. Leibniz was the last great spokesman for the missionary value of science. The many proposals he drafted throughout his life for the establishment of scientific societies were filled with deliberate echoes of Andreae, Bacon, Campanella, and Comenius. From his early preoccupation with founding a "Societas Theophilorum" through the memoirs he drafted for the Elector of Brandenburg founding the Berlin Academy, Leibniz proclaimed the ends of science to be the glory of God, the welfare of man, and the propagation of the faith.74 Science, like eros, would bind men together in a common pursuit leading to God; the chain of scientific societies he projected throughout Europe and Russia were eventually to join hands with the literati in China in a visible manifestation of their spiritual commonality. Protestant proposals for scientific societies or secret fraternities were often written with one eye on the Jesuits, and Leibniz' were no exception. Unlike his predecessors, however, he envisioned Catholics and Protestants working in harmony. While the Society of Jesus preached scholastic theology and philosophy, the Society of God-Lovers would reveal the secrets of nature as the prologue to a "theologica mystica", and each would augment the work of the otherJ5 Leibniz' academies were allembracing organizations, self-conscious amalgams of the Royal Society, the

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Academie Fran~aise, and the Congregation for the Propagation of the Faith. They embodied a practical dimension that set them apart from the airy creations of earlier pansophists, and the science they shared was closer to the science of Hooke, Boyle, and Newton than to the animistic chimera of Campanella and Comenius. Leibniz himself was anxious to differentiate his own schemes from the dreams of those in whose footsteps he followed. An early outline for a German academy of arts and science referred contemptuously to the utopian fantasies of Plato and Bacon and the metaphysical nonsense of the Lullists, Cabalists, and Rosicrucians.7 6 But if Leibniz dissociated himself from the more extravagant sides of the pansophists, his academies were usually inspired by their religious zeal and missionary enthusiasm. The colossus of Hanover straddled the Royal Society and the College of Light all his life. Among the many advantages Leibniz' missionaries were to have over their Catholic counterparts was a universal character, an alphabet of ideas that would put thinking and speaking on a par with adding and subtractingJ7 This character was not to be simply a universal but also a philosophical language that would mathematicize all conceptualization. Though he could speak disparagingly of Lull, this was Leibniz' version of Lull's ars combinatoria. He advertized his own "great art" to Duke Johann Friedrich of Hanover in 1679 as a cure for strife, discord, and unbelief, an apologetic weapon that would scientifically demonstrate the truths of Christianity to pagan and Christian alike: "My invention encompasses every use of reason: it is a judge of controversies, an interpreter of ideas, a scale for probabilities, a compass to guide us on the sea of experiences, an inventory of all things, a catalogue of thoughts, a microscope to examine things more closely, a telescope for discovering things distant, a universal calculus, an innocent magic, a non-chimerical cabala, a writing each man can read in his own language. It is a language which would be learned in a few weeks and thus which would soon spread around the world. It is one of the most important proposals to make to the Congregation de propaganda fide. Missionaries who would find a way - under the pretext of trade, for example of teaching this language would discover that through it the Christian religion (which is supremely reasonable) would already be half established. In so far as the people possessed a certain level of intelligence, such as the Orientals do, they would learn it as eagerly as the Chinese learned the elements of Euclid"J8 There may have been real reason for the elated tone of Leibniz' letter. Shortly before, he had composed a brief piece sketching his discovery of a binary number system in which all integers could be expressed in combinations of one and zeroJ9 Whether he had the binary system in mind when he wrote to the Duke of Hanover is uncertain, but that his invention assumed an important apologetic significance to him is beyond doubt. Although he did not publicly reveal his discovery until 1697, when he did it was its religious not its mathematical value that he stressed. In a New Year's letter to Duke Rudolph Augustus of Brunswick, Leibniz described the binary system as a mathematical representation of "one of the highest articles of Christian belief', the doctrine of creation. 8o The origin of numbers corresponded perfectly with the origin of

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reality itself: the procession of one from zero was the mathematical expression of the doctrine of creation from nothingness. The binary number system confirmed the intuitions of Plato, Pythagoras and the ancient wise men that the essence of reality was numerical and that God was indeed the supreme mathematician. Excited by his invention, Leibniz proposed an emblem for a medal to be struck in honor of His Highness illustrating this new apology for God's power and wisdom. The obverse side was to feature a bust of the Duke, while the reverse would arithmetically represent this "image of creation". A superscription, "omnibus ex nihilo ducendus SUFFICIT UNUM", explained the device which portrayed the spirit of the Lord hovering over the waters and a table of binary numbers flanked by examples of addition and multiplication. Leibniz saw other uses as well for his binary system. Thus he told Rudolph Augustus that he had written of his discovery to the Jesuit Grimaldi in the hope that the Emperor of China, an avid student of Euclid, might be persuaded to convert once he was shown a mathematical "imago creationis". He never referred to his binary system in terms of that elusive universal character, but its possible missionary uses were nonetheless exciting. If a point as difficult as creation from nothingness could be expressed mathematically, what was there to prevent other Christian mysteries from being reduced to number and ratio? For Leibniz, the period 1697-1702 was one of intense interest in China and the missions. His correspondence is laden with requests for more news from China, and he was forever asking about his distant friend Grimaldi. It was also a period of hopes raised and hopes mocked. He admired Eliot's work among the Indians in New England, but he was also aware that Protestants had made little progress overall in mounting a general missionary campaign. The Emperor of China had issued an edict of toleration (1692) allowing Christians freedom of worship - an unhappy contrast to the actions of the Most Christian King - but lethargic Protestants seemed to take no notice of the potentials it held forth. In the same year that Leibniz wrote of his binary system to Duke Rudolph Augustus, he also published his Novissima sinica, whose purpose, he explained to a correspondent, was "to inflame our countrymen to work for the propagation of true piety among distant peoples".81 However, these fires were difficult to start. But in 1700 a fortuitous series of events suddenly created new possibilities. As the Chinese Rites controversy exploded in public, jeopardizing the whole Jesuit achievement in China, the Elector of Brandenburg established the Berlin Academy with Leibniz as its first president. At long last, here was a Protestant learned society which could throw down a challenge to Rome. Its "General-Instruction" was a veritable catalogue of Leibniz' projects and dreams, and it included a substantial section on the propagation of the faith in Asia. 82 With confusion in the Catholic ranks over the status of the Jesuits in China, the time seemed ripe for the academicians of Berlin to launch their own scientific mission crusade. There were other causes for hope as well. Leibniz communicated his discovery of the binary system to Grimaldi in 1696-7, but it was not until 1700-01 that he saw in it a real "clavis sinicae". The meaning of the strange

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hexagrams of the I-Ching had eluded Jesuit missionaries, but the aura of mystery that surrounded them seemed proof enough of their place in the canon of the ancient theology.83 Although he could not read them, the Jesuit missionary Joachim Bouvet wrote to Leibniz that the hexagrams enclosed a sacred number system which the Emperor Fo Hi, their author, inherited from Plato, Pythagoras, Hermes Trismegistus, Moses, and the Patriarchs. The I Ching, in short, contained the original system of the universe. 84 For these illusions, Leibniz' binary system provided solid confirmation. The sixty-four hexagrams of the I-Ching were based on combinations of eight trigrams, each trigram in tum being composed of combinations of broken and unbroken lines. What else could these peculiar lines express except a number system with a base of two?85 The magnificent apology of the binary system was really an apology rediscovered: Fo Hi too had used this number system to portray the unity of God and the procession of all things from him. Science confirmed the primitive monotheism of the Chinese and seemed to promise a Christian China. Enraptured with Leibniz' interpretations of the hexagrams, Bouvet plunged headlong into the obscurities of Figurist exegesis: the I-Ching contained the totality of Christian reason and revelation, while Fo Hi was transmuted into a Chinese version of Hermes Trismegistus. 86 Leibniz, however, steered clear of Bouvet's fantasies. As a moderate partisan of the Jesuit vision of China, he was satisfied that the binary system had disclosed the pure monotheism of the ancient Chinese without committing himself to the fantasies of the Figurists. Leibniz was convinced that Fo Hi really intended to convey through the hexagrams the unity of God and the doctrine of creation. 87 The secret of the hexagrams also gave Leibniz new hope that his binary arithmetic would lead to a universal character that defined precisely the relationship between numbers and ideas. His correspondence from the tum of the eighteenth century breathes with the expectation that a careful scrutiny of Fo Hi's hexagrams would result in a conceptual calculus. And it was this calculus, not the exegetical nonsense of Bouvet, that would win converts in China. 88 In 1701 it had been one year since the Berlin Academy had been founded and still no delegation and been dispatched to the Orient. Protestant science had deciphered the hexagrams, yet the men of Berlin were glued to their chairs. Accordingly, Leibniz dashed off memoirs to the King of Prussia and members of the academy reminding them that this learned society had been established to carry out "the propagation of the faith through science".89 He celebrated Frederick I as God's chosen instrument in spreading the Gospel and assured academicians that they possessed the necessary "realen Wissenschaften" to penetrate China. He put forward his pet projects as preludes to a China mission - cooperation with England and Holland, commerce with Russia, in addition to a missionary seminary supported and maintained by all Protestant powers. He appealed to Frederick as he had earlier appealed to William of Orange to bring about a "new Protestant world" based squarely on a pacific science, but his petitions went unfulfilled. He even offered his interpretation of the hexagrams to Peter the Great as an enticement for the Czar to play his role as mediator

34

Michael T. Ryan

between China and the West. 90 But like Campanella and Comenius, he was always the disappointed suitor. Science may not have made many converts among the heathen, but for those who felt acutely the threat of a world without a center, without focus or continuity, it offered the consolation of underlying unities. Because of their strange manners and customs, the new worlds overseas presented a major challenge to a Christian civilization committed to making every world into an image of itself. Yet where the gospel had become stalled, science held out a new way to attain the triumph of Christianity and so affirm the unity of mankind. Of course, science was not the only defense against a world which threatened to fragment into pieces. Christian genealogists embellished in numerous ways the saga of Noah and the dispersal of the Noahides in their attempt to connect every race and tribe on earth with the original family of man. But science carried with it a method and a persuasion where genealogy did not. Science led man from nature to the divine; genealogy only returned to the first man. Toward the end of his life Leibniz wrote wistfully about his plans for China and referred to his "specieuse generale" as a youthful daydream. But he clung fast to his belief in the ability of science to promote harmony and piety throughout the world. In his famous letter on Chinese philosophy to Remond de Montmort, the aging philosopher plotted the geography of eternal wisdom: ''Truth is more diffused than is generally thought, but it is often quite hidden, even weakened, mutilated, and corrupted by additions that spoil it or render it less useful. In remarking on the traces of truth among the ancients one would take, to speak somewhat generally, the gold from the sludge the diamond from its mine, the light from darkness. And this in effect would be a perennis quaedam Philosophia".91 This was indeed the hope of the new science, the meaning of Leibniz' interpretation of the hexagrams: to find a certain perennial philosophy, to reveal the old in the new, the familiar in the unfamiliar, continuity in discontinuity. Science, in whatever dress, was that light which would illumine the gold and diamonds held by all men. Through science, the Christian West would find itself resplendent around the earth, mirrored from every distant nook and cranny. In Leibniz' mission to China as in Campanella's general council and Comenius' College of Light, natural philosophy would show men that, underneath it all, they really all had only one religion.

NOTES 1. Thus the laments of two missionaries in Mexico in the mid-sixteenth century: Toribio de Motolinia, Historia de los indios de la Nueva Espana, Edmundo O'Gorman (cd.),

(Mexico, 1969), p. 26, and Juan Focher, Itinerario del misionero en America, Antonio Esquiliz (ed.), (Madrid, 1960), p. 9. On the general problem, see, among others: Paul Klaiber, "The Posthumous Christianization of the Inca Empire in Colonial Peru", Journal of the History of Ideas, 37 (1976), pp. 507-520; James L. Axtell, "The European Failure to Convert the Indians: An Autopsy", Proceedings of the Sixth

The Diffusion of Science

35

Algonquin Conference, National Museum of Man, Mercury Series (Ottawa, 1975); and L. Nicolau D'Olwer, "Comments on the Evangelization of the New World", The Americas, 14 (1957), pp. 399-410. Jacques Lafaye's Quetzlcoatl et Guadeloupe (Paris,

1974) is a brilliant study of the wider implications of the fusion of native and European religious traditions in Mexico. Johann Specker, Die Missionsmethode in SpanischAmerika im 16. Jahrhundert (Schoneck-Beckenried, 1953), pp. 30-56 discusses the councils and decrees of the Church on the subject in Spanish colonial territories. 2. See, e.g., Sahagun's impatience with the ignorance of fellow missionaries: Historia de las cosas de la Nueva Espana, Angel Marfa Garibay (ed.), (Mexico, 1956), I, p. 27; III, pp. 355 ff. 3. Jose de Acosta, De procuranda indorum salute, in Obras, ed. Francisco Mateos (Madrid, 1954), pp. 389-390, 394 ff. See also Robert Ricard, La 'C6nquete spirituelle' du Mexique (Paris, 1933), pp. 285-344. 4. Luis de Guzman, Historia de las missiones que han hecho los religiosos de la compania de Iesus (Alcala, 1601), I, pp. 385-386; II, pp. 361 ff. See also Donald F. Lach, Asia in the Making of Europe, Vol. I, The Century of Discovery (Chicago, 1965), Book I, pp. 303-309; Book 2, pp. 674--688, 706-729. 5. Acosta, De procuranda, in Obras, pp. 390-394,409-415. 6. See Josef Franz SchUtte, Valignanos Missionsgrunsiitze fur Japan (Rome, 1951), I, Part I, esp. pp. 240-398. 7. Guzman, Historia, II, pp. 376 ff. 8. See Pasquale M. D 'Elia' s introduction to his edition of Ricci's journals, Fonti Ricciane (Rome, 1942-1949), I, esp. p. lxxxvii. It was Valignano who reorganized the Jesuit effort in China just as he had done previously in Japan - along the lines of cultural accommodation. 9. Thomas Hariot, A Brief and True Report of the New Found Land of Virginia (London, 1588), sig. E 4r. 10. Ricci was called to Macao by Valignano in 1582 at the urging of Ruggieri to help undertake a new China mission. Ricci was quickly assigned the task of preparing a short description of China which Valignano included in his Historia del principio y progresso de la Compania de Jesus en los Indios Orientales, 1542-64, Josef Wicki (ed.), (Rome, 1944), pp. 214-256. From that description it is clear that Ricci already knew well of the love of the literati for natural science, even though he referred superciliously to Chinese learning as being in a similar state of disrepair as Greek thought before Aristotle. Yet, science played no role in his early strategy. Rather, he and Ruggieri assimilated themselves to Buddhist bonzes and carried Bibles and images. See Henri Bernard, Le pere Matthiew Ricci et la societe chinoise de son temps (Tientsin, 1937) I, pp. 111-112. Whatever examples of Western technology they possessed were originally used as gifts to provincial governors. And from Ricci's journals it appears that it was a governor's enthusiastic response to a gift of a clock that planted in the Jesuits the idea of relying more heavily on science and technology. 11. On the general subject of Jesuit science abroad, see Pasquale M. D'Elia, Galileo in China, trans. Rufus Suter and Matthew Sciascia (Cambridge, 1960) and Henri Bernard, Matteo Ricci's Scientific Contribution to China, trans. Edward Chalmers Werner (peking, 1935). 12. Adam Schall von Bell, Relation historique, Henri Bernard (ed.), (Tientsin, 1942), pp. 269 ff. 13. Fonti Ricciani, I, p. 259. 14. Ibid., II, 51 ff. for Ricci's description of Doctor Paul, Doctor Leo, and his mathematics academy. 15. Schall, Relation historique, pp. 271 ff. Ferdinand Verbiest, the reigning Jesuit scientist after Schall, wrote similarly to Pope Innocent IX in 1678: "Nunc autem habeo prae manibus Dialecticam et Philosophia nostram, sub pallio sinico introducendum, id est praetextu quidem astronomiae facilius addiscendae revera autem religionis christianae

36

16.

17. 18.

19. 20. 21. 22.

23. 24. 25.

26.

27. 28. 29. 30. 31.

Michael T. Ryan stabiliendae gratia, quae hisce scientiis tamquam pedissequis formosissimis stipata latus, etiam Imperatoris Aulam liberius ingreditur, qui saepius de illa me non pauca interrogavit". (Correspondence de Ferdinand Verbiest, H. Josson and L. Willaert (eds.), (Brussels, 1938), p. 228). Ibid., Verbiest to the Society of Jesus, 15 August 1678, p. 238. On Schall's difficulties with fellow Jesuits, see George H. Dunne, Generation of Giants (Notre Dame, 1962), pp. 360-365, and Verbiest's 1661 account to his superior, Goswin Nickel, in Correspondence. pp. 41-103. China in the Sixteenth Century: The Journals of Matthew Ricci. trans. Louis J. Gallagher (New York. 1953). p. 166. On Ricci's method, see Johann Bettray's exhaustive study. Die Akkommodationsmethode des P. Matteo Ricci S. I. in China (Rome, 1955) and Fortunato Margiotti. Il cattolicismo nello Shansi dalle origini al1738 (Rome. 1958). pp. 55-81. Verbiest to the Society of Jesus. 15 August 1678, in Correspondence. p. 237. Fonti Ricciane. II. p. 474. note 7, where D'Elia cites from Rubino's unpublished manuscript at the Gregorian University. On Longobardi. see Bernard. Matthieu Ricci. II. pp. 50 ff. Longobardi's account of the China mission may be found in John Hay, De rebus Japonicus et Peruanis epistolae recentiores (Antwerp. 1605), pp. 913-934. His severely critical treatise on Ricci' s apologetic and the whole policy of accommodation was published later in the century by the Dominican Domingo Fernandez de Navarrete in his Tratados historicos. politicos. ethicos. y religiosos de la monarchia de China (Madrid. 1676). Tratado 5. Fonti Ricciane, II. pp. 193-194. Samuel Purchas. Purchas his Pi/grimes. 4th ed. (London. 1625). III. Book 2. p. 401. This account of the pansophic tradition in the seventeenth century takes its point of departure from Frank E. Manuel's suggestive essay. "Pansophia. a Seventeenth Century Dream of Science", in his Freedom from History (New York. 1971). The theosophical and occult foundations of pan sophia have been described in Will-Erich Peuckert's Pansophie: Ein Versuch zur Geschichte der weissen und schwarzen Magie. 2nd. ed. (Berlin. 1956). Also useful is Paolo Rossi's "Le origini della pansofia e illullismo del secolo XVII". in Eugenio Garin et al., Umanesimo e esoterismo (Padua, 1960). and his Cia vis universalis: Arte mnemoniche e logica combinatoria da Lullo a Leibniz (Milan and Naples. 1960). Charles Webster's recent synthesis, The Great Instauration: Science, Medicine, and Reform. 1626-1660 (London. 1975) describes the English context of pansophism. Francis Bacon, Novum organum in The Works of Francis Bacon. Spedding, Ellis. and Heath (eds.). (London. 1857-1874). VIII. p. 126; see also, Advancement of Learning in ibid., VI, pp. 96-97, 163. 212. In France. Bacon's younger contemporary Marin Mersenne envisaged a similar conterattack by science against "unbelievers"; see. Robert Lenoble, Mersenne. ou la naissance du mecanisme (Paris, 1942). pp. 200-281. On the tradition of the two books. see Eugenio Garin. "La nuova scienze e il simbolo del 'Iibro .. •• La cultura filosofica del rinascimento italiano (Florence. 1961). pp. 451-465. Thus. Richard S. Westfall, Science and Religion in Seventeenth Century England (New Haven. 1958) and Margaret Jacob. The Newtonians and the English Revolution (Ithaca. 1976). Tommaso Campanella. Atheismus triumphatus (Paris. 1636). pp. 8-9, 94 ff.; Jan Amos Comenius. De rerum humanarum emendatione consultatio catholica (1660; facsimile. Prague. 1966). I, cols. 5. 30. 35 ff. Campanella to Antonio Querenghi. 8 July 1607, in Lettere. ed. Vincenzo Spampanato (Bari. 1927). p. l35. Comenius. Consultatio catholica. I, col. 72. On Campanella. I have relied principally on Leon Blanchet. Campanella (Paris. 1920); Luigi Firpo. Ricerche Campanelliane (Florence, 1947); Romano Amerio, 11 sistema

The Diffusion of Science

37

te%gica de Tommaso Campanella (Milan and Naples, 1972); and Giovanni di Napoli's treatment of Campanella's missionary theories in his Studi sui rinascimento (Naples, 1973), pp. 755-815. 32. See, e.g., Campanella's lengthy autobiographical letter to Cardinal Odoardo Faroese of 30 August 1606, in Lettere, pp. 21 ff. I disagree with Blanchet's interpretation of Campanella's "Catholicism" as a mask for his "rationalism" and "naturalism" (Blanchet, pp. 333 ff.) and take seriously the Dominican's moving retraction of his former "errors", the "Oratio de Deus Deorum", inserted at the beginning of his Quod reminiscentur, Romano Amerio (ed.), (padua, 1939), pp. 33 ff. The question of Campanella's orthodoxy remains hotly contested. 33. In general, see Romano Amerio, "Circa il significato delle variazoni realazionali nell'elaborazione del 'Reminiscentur' di Fra Tommaso Campanella", Sophia, 7 (1939), pp. 419-453, and Luigi Firpo, Bibliografia degli scritti di Tommaso Campanella (Turin, 1940), pp. 153-157. 34. In Opere di Giordano Bruno e di Tommaso Campanella, Augusto Guzzo and Romano Amerio (eds.), (Milan and Nasples, 1956), esp. pp. 1126 ff. 35. Quod reminiscentur, pp. 16 ff. See also Campanella to Pope Paul V, 22 December 1618, in Lettere, p. 189. 36. Discorsi, in Opere, p. 1126. 37. Quod reminiscentur, pp. 7-8. 38. Atheismus triumphatus, Preface and pp. 95 ff. 39. Ibid., esp. Chapter X. 40. Ibid., pp. 23 ff. See also Amerio, /I sistemo te%gico, pp. 6-7. 41. Atheismus triumphatus, p. 105. 42. Amerio, /I sistemo te%gico, pp. 8-9. 43. Discorsi, in Opere, p. 1133; Quod reminiscentur, p. 59. 44. Campanella to Gaspar Schopp, 6 May 1607, in Lettere, p. 103; Atheismus triumphatus, Preface (n.p.). 45. Romano Amerio, "L'opera teologico-missionario del Campanella nei primordi di Propaganda Fide", Archivum Fratrum Praedicatorum, 5 (1935), pp. 174-193. See also A. Perbal, "Projets, fondation et debuts de la Sacree Congregation de la Propagande (1568-1649)", in Histoire universe lie des missions catholoques, Simon Delacroix et al. (eds.), (Paris), 1957), II, pp. 109-131. 46. Campanella to Francesco Barbarini, 14 February 1630, in Lettere, p. 228. 47. Milada Blekastad, Comenius (Oslo and Prague, 1969), p. 330. The offer was refused. The origins of this scheme are not clear. On Comenius' use of Campanella's natural philosophy, see Jaromir Cervenka, Die Naturphilosophie des Johann Amos Comenius (prague, 1970). 48. As cited in B1ekastad, p. 178. 49. Comenius, Consultatio catholica, I, col. 35. 50. Comenius, The Ange/ of Peace, trans. Milos Safranek (New York, n.d.), pp. 103-105. 51. See, e.g., G.W. Schulte-Nordholt, "Comenius and America", Acta Comeniana, 26 (1970), pp. 195-200, which discusses Comenius' interest in John Eliot's work among the American Indians, and J.M. van der Linde, "Jan Amos Comenius and die niederHindischen Missionstheologen seiner Zeit", Acta Comeniana, 26 (1970), pp. 183-193. 52. Consu/tatio catholica, I, col 222; II, cols. 604-605 (for Comenius' definition of pansophia). 53. Comenius' interpretation of the book of nature was firmly grounded in medieval monastic traditions: "Natural things must needs be taught, because they are the visible mirror of the invisible majesty of God, and the key to many mysteries of holy scriptures, and the ideas, forms, and standards of our actions if they are to be rational". Way of Light, trans. E.T. Campagnac (Liverpool, 1938), pp. 116-117. 54. Ibid., p. 122: "If then, I am to speak with an unbeliever about the mysteries of the faith,

38

55. 56.

57. 58. 59. 60.

61.

62. 63. 64. 65. 66. 67. 68.

Michael T. Ryan he must be predisposed to listen to me by his knowledge of things less important than faith; so that being familiar with the same terms as myself, and having learnt to keep himself within the .limits of harmony, he may the more patiently hear what remains ... ". Consultatio catholica, I, col. 558. Comenius chided the clergy of America for their authoritarian approach to the Indians. Ibid., II, col. 11; and Novissima linguarum methodus, in Opera didactica omnia (Amsterdam, 1657), I, Part 2, col. 267: "Quid enim Barbaries est? Mentis utique & Linguae & Morum, ruditas. Atqui Ruditati exuendi nihil Eruditione accomodatius cogitari potest, Haec ergo illis communicanda. Quod enim Lingua rudes, & Moribus agrester, ac beluini, sunt, id un ice a tenebris Mentium est. Non aliter scilicet agunt, quia non aliter intelligunt. Non intelligunt autem, quia non didicerunt. Non didicerunt, quia discendi occasiones defuerunt. Fac istas non deesse, non defore Mentibus lumen, Actionibus rationalibilitatem, Lingua nitorem, qualem qualem, videbis. Naturae humana ubique eadem est, idem ubique ingeniorum largitor Deus". Angel of Peace, p. 107. These institutions are described in his "Panorthosia", Consultatio catholica, II, cols. 536 ff. Way of Light, pp. 175-176. There were many possible models on which Comenius could have based his college: the scientific academies of Cesi in Florence and Jungius in Rostock, the Baltic Antilia Society, were all, according to Blekastad (pp. 150-153), candidates. Charles Webster, Samuel Hartlib and the Advancement of Learning (Cambridge, 1970), p. 32 thinks that Comenius was more inpressed with Bacon's proposal for a college of science in the De augmentis scientiarum than he was with the portrait of Solomon's House in the New Atlantis. This episode has often been recounted. See Blekastad, pp. 309-331; Robert Fitzgibbon Young, Comenius in England (London, 1932); G.H. Turnbull, Samuel Hartlib (London, 1920); Dagmar Capkova, "The Comenian Group in England and Comenius' Idea of Universal Reform", Acta Comeniana, 25 (1969), pp. 25-34; and Webster, The Great Instauration, esp. pp. 32-99. Hooke in Robert Knox, An Historical Relation of the Island of Ceylon (London, 1681), sigs. A2 r ff. Boyle to Francis Tallents, 20 February 1647, in The Works of the Honourable Robert Boyle, Thomas Birch (ed.), (London, 1772), I, p. xxxiv. Webster's patient investigation of the sources has dispelled a lot of nonsense about the "invisible college". See The Great Instauration, pp. 57-67. Boyle to Hartlib, 8 April 1746, in Works, I, p. xxxviii. Thomas Hyde to Boyle, 17 February 1678, in ibid., VI, p. 568. Comenius, Way of Light, Dedication, p. 25. Details of the voyage, its preparations and consequences, are fully discussed in Virgile Pinot, La Chine et la formation de l' esprit philosophique en France (paris, 1932), pp. 49-70, and in J.e. Gatty's introduction ot Voiage de Siam du pere Bouvet (Leyden, 1963). According to Gatty, Tachard's contemporary account of the mission, Voyage de Siam des peres Jesuites, envoyez par Ie Roy aux lndes & la Chine (paris, 1686) was taken largely from Joachim Bouvet's unpublished manuscript. Pinot, La Chine, pp. 44-45. Plans to send a French contingent to Siam probably go back to 1681 when the astronomer Cassini suggested to Colbert the utility of taking astronomical measurements in Asia. See Gatty, Voiage, pp. L-LI, and the Jesuit manuscript cited by Pinot, pp. 41-42. Olivier Roy, Leibniz et La Chine (Paris, 1972); Donald F. Lach, "Leibniz and China", Journal of the History of Ideas, 6 (1945), pp. 436-455 and his introduction to The Preface to Leibniz' "Novissima Sinica" (Honolulu, 1957); Ouo Franke, "Leibniz and China", Zeitschrift der deutschen morgenLandischen Gesellschaft, 82 (1928), pp. 155-178; Franz Rudolph Merkel, G.W. von Leibniz und die China-Mission (Leipzig,

a

69.

70.

The Diffusion of Science

39

1920); and Jean Baruzi, Leibniz et l' organisation religieuse de la terre (paris, 1907). 71. See his notice of the Jesuit Conficius in his letter to Landgraf Ernst von HessenRheinfels, 9/19 December 1687, in Siimtliche Schriften und Briefe, Preussischen Akademie der Wissenschaften, (ed.), (Darmstadt, 1923), Reihe I, Vol. 5, p. 26. 72. Thus he wrote to Maturin Veyssiere La Croze, librarian to the King of Prussia, 8 October 1707: "Vous m' aves rejoui en me mandant vostre application a la recherche des caracteres Chinois, et l'esperance que vous aves d'y faire progreso Cette recherche me paroit d'autant plus important que je m'imagine, que si nous pouvions decouvrir la clef des caracteres Chinois, nous trouverons quelque-chose qui serviroit a l'analyse des pensees". (Epistolae ad diversos, Christian Kortholt (ed.), (Leipzig, 1734-42), I, pp. 377-378). See also Leibniz to Joachim Bouvet, 3 April 1703, in Hans Zacher, Die Hauptschriften zur Dyadik von G.W. Leibniz (Frankfurt, 1973), pp. 275 ff. On Miiller and Leibniz' disappointments with him, see Donald F. Lach, "The Chinese Studies of Andreas Miiller", Journal of the American Oriental Society, 60 (1940), pp. 564-575, and Leibniz to Melchisedech Thevenot, 24 August 1691, in Siimtliche Schriften, Reihe I, Vol. 7, p. 357. 73. Leibniz to Landgraf Ernst von Hessen-Rheinfels, March 1690, in Siimtliche Schriften, Reihe I, Vol. 5, p. 558. This theme reappears frequently in his correspondence of the 1690's: see, e.g., Leibniz to Grimaldi, 31 May 1691, in ibid., Reihe I, Vol. 6, p. 520, and to the same, 21 March 1692, in ibid., Reihe I, Vol. 7, p. 618. 74. Adolph Harnack has reproduced a good many of these proposals in the second volume of his Geschichte der koniglich Preussischen Akademie der Wissenschaften zu Berlin (Berlin, 1900). 75. See especially the final section of his memoir of September 1678 to Duke Johann Friedrich entitled "De Republica", in Siimtliche Schriften, Reihe I, Vol. 2, pp. 76--77. 76. "Bedanken von aufrichtung einer Academie oder Societat in Teutschland zu aufnehmen der Kiinste und Wissenschaften", (1669nO), in Harnack, Geschichte, II, p. 19. 77. Louis Couturat, La logique de Leibniz (paris, 1901) remains the most thorough exposition of Leibniz' search for a universal character. Joquin Carreres y Artau's brief essay, De Ram6n Lull a los modernos ensayos de formacion de una lengua universal (Barcelona, 1946) and Paolo Rossi, "Lingue artificiali, classificazioni, nomenclature", in his Aspetti della rivoluzione scientifica (Naples, 1971), pp. 295 ff., are also useful. 78. Leibniz to Duke Johann Friedrich, April 1679, in Siimtliche Schriften, Reihe I, Vol. 2, p.168. 79. "De progressione dyadica", 15 March 1679, in Opuscules et fragments inedits de Leibniz, Louis Couturat (ed.), (Paris, 1903), p. 574, and "Summum Calculi Analytici fastigium" (1679), in Zacher, Drei Hauptschriften, pp. 218-224. On the general subject of Leibniz' discovery of the binary system and its immediate consequences, see Zacher's introduction, as well as Franz Vonessen's introduction to Zwei Briefe uber das biniire Zahlensystem und die chinesische Philosophie, Renate Loosen and Franz Vonessen, (eds.), (Stuttgart, 1968). 80. The text of the letter can be found in Loosen and Vonessen, Zwei Brie/e, pp. 19-23. 81. Leibniz to A. Morrell, 1 October 1697, cited in Merkel, Leibniz und die China-Mission, p. 40. On the hopes aroused in Leibniz by the Emperor's edict, see Leibniz' letter to the English mathematician John Wallis of 1697, in Die philosophischen Schriften von Gottfried Wilhelm Leibniz, C.J. Gerhardt (ed.), (Berlin, 1875-1890), III, p. 204: "Je souhaterois de pouvoir animer les Protestans a prendre part a cette grande mission, II fin que Ie parti Romain ne leur enleve tout l'avantage. Les Jesuites n'ont este estimes dans la Chine qu'll cause des sciences Mathematiques; et les Protestans les y surpassent sans contredit. Le Monarche de la Chine cherche avec passion d'attirer les habiles gens d'Europe, pourquoy donc n'en profitons nous pas?" 82. Leibniz and D.E. Jablonsky, "General-Instruction flir die Societat der Wissenschaften", in Harnack, Geschichte, II, esp. pp. 106--7. 83. On Leibniz, the Jesuits, and the idea of an ancient theology among the pagans, see D.P.

40

Michael T. Ryan

Walker, The Ancient Theology (London and Ithaca, 1972), pp. 194-230. 84. Joachim Bouvet to Louis Le Comte with a copy to Leibniz, 8 November 1700, in Kortholt (ed.), Epistolae ad diversos, III, pp. 7 ff. 85. See Leibniz' 1703 communication to the Paris Academy of Science, "Explication de I'arithmetique binaire", in Memoires de I'Academie des Sciences (Paris, 1705), pp. 85-89. 86. Bouvet to Leibniz, 4 November 1701, in Leibniz, Opera omnia, Ludwig Dutens (ed.), (Geneva, 1768), IV, pp. 152-164. 87. Bouvet to Leibniz, April 1703, in Zacher, Die Hauptschriften, pp. 275-286. 88. Thus he wrote to Bouvet that Fo Hi's characters provided "un champ libre pour inventer une Caracteristique nouvelle qui paraitra une suite de celie de Fohi et qui donnera Ie commencement de I'analyse des idees et de ce merveilleux calcul de la raison dont j'ai Ie projet. Cette Caracteristique secrete et sacree nous donnerait aussi moyen d'insinuer aux Chinois les plus importantes verites de la philosophie et de la theologie naturelle pour facilite la chemin a la revelee". (Cited in Baruzi, Leibniz, pp. 81-82). See also Leibniz to Daniel Bourguet, 15 December 1707, in Dutens, (ed.), Opera omnia, VI, pp. 202-3; Leibniz to Bartholome des Bosses, 1709, in Gerhardt (ed.), Die philosophischen Schriften, II, pp. 383-4; and Leibniz to the Jesuit, Verjus, 1703, as cited in Franke, "Leibniz und China", p. 163. 89. Harnack, Geschichte, II, pp. 141-147. 90. Leibniz, Oeuvres, A. Foucher de Careil (ed.), (paris, 1859-1875), VII, pp. 398-399. 91. Leibniz to Montmort, 26 August 1714, in Dutens (ed.), Opera omnia, V, p. 16.

MICHAEL WALZER

Good Aristocrats / Bad Aristocrats: Thomas Hobbes and Early Modem Political Culture

1. The best recent wntmg, the most illuminating and original wntmg, on Thomas Hobbes has been the work of philosophers. 1 It is a curious sort of work, for philosophers tend to treat Hobbes as if he were a contemporary, a philosopher like themselves, who recently got tenure (at Harvard, say) and then published Leviathan, a very promising but also a very difficult piece of political theory. The text is brilliantly clear in its individual sentences, complex and obscure in its transitions and its larger arguments. The important task, then, is to restate the arguments in as direct and simple a form as possible and to evaluate them: to get the arguments right and to figure out if they are in fact right. Or, to figure out how they are wrong, for one is unlikely to be overly respectful of one's contemporaries. What is the "logic" and the "anatomy" of Leviathan? How do the arguments work? What are their weak points? On the other hand, philosophers have little interest in the historical Hobbes or in what we might think of as the social meaning of his work, the values he expresses, the tensions he acts out as he writes. They make a clean break with history and historical consciousness, and so they have virtually nothing to say about the question that dominated the work of the immediately preceding generation of scholars, a question usually answered, with large implications, in the affirmative: is Hobbes a bourgeois political theorist?2 When we focus on that question, we tend to treat Leviathan as a cultural artifact. We read it in order to understand the world out of which it came, and if we are to reach that understanding, we must read much else besides. The philosopher just reads the text. He wants to know, for example, what Hobbes has to say about the grounds of political obligation, and for that the text alone is sufficient. The argument is there, and it is right or wrong. But for the social and intellectual historian, the text alone is never sufficient, even for an understanding of the text alone. The text has a context, and these two must be read altogether. I don't mean simply that Leviathan reflects or echoes a given social world. Rather, the social world is constituted by the act of writing Leviathan, and by many other acts too, less accessible than that one and even harder to "read". The historian's goal is to reconstruct Hobbes' world out of all its available artifacts, philosophical texts, public records, poems and plays, R.T. Bienvenu and M. Feingold (edsJ, In the presence of the past, 41-53. © 1991 Kluwer Academic Publishers.

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personal memoirs, physical remains of every sort. Each of these gives meaning to and takes meaning from the whole of which it is a part. And to reconstruct that whole, it isn't necessary to join or continue Hobbes' arguments but only to "place" and use them. Both these projects require, however, that the arguments first be understood. It does matter what Hobbes really says.3 So the philosopher can help the historian by describing how the arguments are put together and what they mean (on the assumption that the meaning of their words and phrases hasn't changed over time). Similarly, the historian can help the philosopher by setting limits to the range of meanings that can plausibly be said to connect with the intentions of the author or the conventions of his age. Now, recent philosophical work suggests an account of Leviathan that doesn't fit the older view of the text as a portrait of market society, bourgeois values, "possessive individualism", and so on. At the same time, philosophers don't have an alternative view. The implied question, as I have already said, is not a philosophical question, and so there is no philosophical answer to it. There is, however, an historical view of Hobbes within which the new account makes sense, and it is this alternative view that I want to elaborate and defend. It has more to do with the aristocracy than the bourgeoisie. I want to explore in Hobbes' work a set of attitudes toward the aristocracy that I take to be constitutive of early modern political culture. A certain view of good and bad aristocrats shapes the positive and negative ideals of Leviathan - and of much else that is written alongside of Leviathan, and after it too. But I will come to this argument about the social meaning of Hobbes' masterpiece by way of the arguments over its philosophical meaning. 2. The strongest sense that one comes away with after reading contemporary philosophical studies of Leviathan is the sense of dualism: the coexistence of incompatible moral and psychological arguments (or of arguments that can only be brought together with great ingenuity) within what Hobbes claims is a single philosophical system. The dualism seems more stark than it has ever seemed before because philosophers reading Hobbes have taken the moral arguments the definitions of rights and obligations, the account of promising and then of authorization, the first of Hobbes' two theories of punishment - more seriously than they have ever been taken before. 4 Seventeenth century readers tended to pass over the moral arguments; they were struck instead by Hobbes' materialist and egoist psychology, and they were eager to explore or eager to condemn the political positions that followed from the psychology. Quentin Skinner has recently argued that we should still be guided by those contemporaries (as most historians have been): Hobbes could not have meant what his contemporary readers did not take him to mean. 5 That's not an implausible claim. It is indeed likely that Hobbes thought he had so qualified his moral arguments that they could fit without contradiction into his psychology and his psychological politics. In this, however, I am inclined to say that he was wrong. For all the qualifications, his account of moral obligation has force and originality, and there is no room for it within or even alongside the arguments about appetite

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and aversion, deliberation and will. Emphasize, for example, the theory of deliberation, and Hobbes' defense of promise-keeping as a kind of moral consistency makes no sense at all. Psychological man, as he appears in Leviathan, is not a creature to whom consistency can have any appeal. He deliberates and promises (or doesn't promise). Later on, he deliberates again and keeps his promise (or doesn't keep his promise). What matters in each case, and all that matters, is the relative force of the alternating appetites and aversions. I don't doubt that it is possible to work out a coherent "Hobbist" position. Hobbes himself was the first philosopher to make the attempt, and a number of recent writers have followed after him, producing versions of "Hobbism" increasingly far from his own, though composed (more or less) out of the same sentences and paragraphs. It is as if Leviathan were a puzzle awaiting solution, whose disjoined and scattered pieces must somehow be fitted together. In principle, there is only one way to do that, but since the shape of the pieces as well as the shape of the whole is in dispute, there are in fact a number of different ways. Or, at least, there are a number of plausible but different proposals, all of them interesting because they force upon our attention different features of the original text. But to the historian it is not the proposed connections but the actual disconnections that are most interesting. The lines of disjuncture point toward the strains of Hobbes' argument. If we focus on them we may, perhaps, obscure the meaning of the text, but we illuminate the meaning of the writing of the text. Whether Leviathan is coherent or incoherent, the reality it both constitutes and expresses - so the strains suggest - was for Hobbes deeply ambivalent. Hobbes' clearest reference, perhaps his only reference, to the dualism of his work comes in the introduction to Leviathan where he writes that man is simultaneously the maker and the matter of the commonwealth. 6 Since the commonwealth is "made" by the signing of the social contract, we can plausibly connect the role of man-the-maker with the moral argument about promising and promise-keeping. Man-the-maker is a moral agent, and the moral agent is the only hero in Hobbes' anti-heroic philosophy. By binding himself to his fellows, by committing himself, he creates political society. Hobbes compares him - it is a piece of humanistic blasphemy - to the God of Genesis who said, "Let us make man". And as Hobbes is a kind of humanist, so he is also a kind of democrat. The comparison to God is not made for the sake of some great founder or legislator. Everyman is founder and legislator by virtue of his moral agency, hence godlike in his creative power. But not only godlike, fur Hobbes is, finally, committed to a kind of political pantheism. Man makes political society out of himself. Himself is all there is, and he (or it) is recalcitrant material. The self, conceived not morally but psychologically, is inert, passive, stubborn, resistant to political form, requiring manipulation and control. Manthe-maker is autonomous, man-the-matter heteronomous. The two of them fill the political universe, and it is their uneasy union that makes for the dualism of Leviathan.

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But the other leviathan, the state rather than the book, is dualistic only in a historical sense. If moral agency is dominant at its founding, materialism is dominant in its everyday existence. So long as leviathan survives, there is no need to repeat, but only to recall, the godlike creativity with which it began. Man is maker for a day, matter ever after; sovereign for a day, subjected to the sovereign of the leviathan state ever after. So far as the state is concerned, we can think of the creation story as a political myth. The myth is carried forward, as it were, by the doctrine of authorization according to which everyman is the author of whatever the sovereign does, a permanent moral agent but one who never acts, who is always acted for and acted upon.? He is a mythical maker, really only matter, moved by what Bentham would later call the twin sovereignties of pain and pleasure. The ruler of the leviathan state is a psychological engineer, and when we see him at work, we wonder what meaning the social contract could possibly have for his subjects. Why bother telling them that when they obey the sovereign they are really obeying themselves, when they are incapable of obeying anyone except under the threat of punishment (or in the hope of reward)? But Hobbes would hardly have told the creation story or given it such a prominent place in his philosophy if he did not think that it served some purpose. I assume that he believed it to be true, or at least to accord with some moral logic that existed somehow alongside the psychological theory. But he must also have believed that the account of man-the-maker would be persuasive - that it would appeal to the reader's sense of himself as a moral agent, capable of living up to his obligations and opting for political obedience. From the perspective of the psychology, however, there are only two arguments for obedience: one can summon up the specter of the state of nature and the war of all against all or one can simply point to the scaffold, visible from every vista. It is hardly necessary to explain the obligations of a subject, but only to evoke in one of these two ways the universal fear of violent and untimely death. Hobbes makes both these arguments, of course, but at the same time he lays enormous stress upon the fact of moral obligation. Perhaps he thought that all his readers shared the fundamental dualism of maker and matter. They wanted at least to think of themselves as moral agents, as we do too, even if they were commonly overmastered by pain and pleasure. 3. So far as the sovereign is concerned, "the passion to be reckoned upon is fear".8 He is concerned with the actual behavior of his subjects and not with their (self-flattering) self-conceptions. But there are, Hobbes tells us, a very few people whose day-to-day behavior is in fact shaped by what we might call their integrity. He describes these few with an older moral vocabulary. They possess a "generosity too rarely found to be presumed on, especially in the pursuers of wealth, command, or sensual pleasure ... " and "a certain nobleness or gallantness of courage ... by which a man scorns to be beholding for the contentment of his life to fraud, or breach of promise".9 These passages suggest that it is some notion of aristocratic honor that underlies the Hobbist account of moral

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consistency. In a brilliant essay on "the social origins of Hobbes' political thought", Keith Thomas has worked through all the references to honor, generosity, and magnanimity in Hobbes' work and persuasively argued that "his ethical ideal remained an aritocratic one".10 Thomas suggests that Hobbes took his practical examples from the circle of friends that met at Falkland's house at Great Tew during the decade before the revolution of 1640. The ideal was best embodied, perhaps, by Sidney Godolphin, honored in the dedication of Leviathan as the happy possessor of every virtue "that disposeth a man, either to the service of God, or to the service of his country, to civil society, or private friendship ... ".l1 Here is the good aristocrat, in whom Hobbes' moral theory comes alive. Whatever his immediate social context, the good aristocrat provides a moral model: he is a deontologist-of-every-day-life. His will is framed by the "justice", not "by the apparent benefit of what he is to do".12 He keeps his promises because he made them. His consciousness is not a mere succession of appetites and aversions, but a unified self, governed in accordance with an ideal picture of the self. Conceivably, one could manipulate the theory of deliberation so as to account for this picture of the self and so for the good aristocrat, but in truth he doesn't fit. On the other hand, the theory of promising is impossible without him. If there were no such people, or if the idea of honor and moral consistency had no general appeal, the social contract would be a meaningless instrument, a bond not merely weak (as Hobbes says it is) but incomprehensible. I mean here to make a theoretical point. Michael Oakeshott has argued that Hobbes requires the good aristocrat for a more practical reason. Without his commitment, the defense of the leviathan state, Oakeshott argues, cannot be guaranteed. 13 Other men will cut and run in the face of danger or make the best possible deal with the enemy. Only of the good aristocrat can it be said with certainty that he will risk his life for his sovereign and his country. He alone will be true to the contract, firm in the (moral) knowledge that "he hath not the liberty to submit to a new power, as long as the old one keeps the field ... ".14 This may be right; indeed, it is hard to see how leviathan might be defended if the only passion one could reckon upon was fear. But I intend a somewhat different argument. Not in practice alone, but in principle too, Hobbes' moral theory requires that we at least be able to imagine a man capable of "doing his duty". For Hobbes, this man is the good aristocrat, and without this figure in his mind's eye, he could not have written the book he wrote. It is equally important to stress that the good aristocrat is not an idiosyncratic construction. If we set Hobbes within the larger world of European moralists and philoshophers - which is surely where he would have wanted to be set - we will have no difficulty finding counterparts and analogues. Hobbes' brief phrases refer in fact to one of the dominant ideals of early modem political thought. The praise of generosity and honor is a common theme in the humanistic literature of the sixteenth century, where these characteristically aristocratic virtues are turned into the moral requirements of magistracy. IS And "nobleness or gallantness of courage" is a common theme in the neo-classical and

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republican literature of the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries. (Not only there: I am inclined to say that the celebration of the "noble savage" - in his North American rather than his South Sea incarnation - is also a way of focusing on the qualities of the good aristocrat, here the natural nobleman, honorable, generous, and brave). If we think of the good aristocrat as the man who keeps his promises, consents to the laws he obeys, is "author of his own punishment", and risks his life for his country, it is not difficult to locate him in republican theory: he is the committed or virtuous citizen. 16 Hobbes himself, of course, never intended to suggest any such location. He was never an admirer of the ancient republics, "the Greek and Roman anarchies", and it was no part of his program that good aristocrats should come together and govern themselves. He does say that if all men were as generous and honorable as they are, "there neither would be, nor need to be any civil government, or commonwealth at all; because there would be peace without subjection".17 And one might argue that peace without subjection, though within a commonwealth, is the central goal of republican theory. But Hobbes thought that goal impossible, and the whole purpose of his political theory was to hollow out the doctrines of consent and authorization, so that they are at the end purely formal. The good aristocrat indeed consents to the laws he obeys; that is why he obeys them; but he has at the same time nothing to say about their substance. Until his sovereign calls him to the service of his country, he lives happily on his rural estate. Like the aristocrat of seventeenth century garden poetry, whom Keith Thomas identifies as an alternative representation of the same ideal, he is a man of public virtue and political retirement. Still, the account of consent and authorization, however eviscerated in Hobbes' own work, provides the formal structure of later republicanism. Manthe-maker can have no practical existence except as a citizen, and it is as a citizen that he will one day appear. Hobbes works out a theory, but not yet an argument for republican politics. He gives republicanism a modern philosophical base, much as Calvin gives it a modern theological base. Rousseau, we might say, is their joint inheritor. 4. Good aristocrats are very few in number. The bulk of mankind, matter rather than makers, Hobbes divides into two groups, best described, I think, in his brief justification of preventive war: "there be some, that taking pleasure in contemplating their own power in the acts of conquest, which they pursue farther than their security requires; if others, that otherwise would be glad to be at ease within modest bounds, should not by invasion increase their power, they would not be able, long time, by standing only on their defense, to subsist".18 This suggests that the "general inclination of all mankind, a perpetual and restless desire of power after power, that ceaseth only in death" has a twofold psychological origin. For what I take to be the larger number of men and women, the inclination arises out of fear. These people are not by nature competitive. Left to themselves, their aversion to risk would consistently outweigh their appetite for power, and they would rest content within the

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modest bounds of their families and their possessions. But they are forced into the war of all against all by a smaller group of people who pursue power, not as an instrumental good, but for its own sake. This second group competes simply for the sake of winning, and it is to its members above all that Hobbes' famous account of life as a race applies: we are to conceive of them as having "no other goal, no other garland, but being foremost". 19 This too is no idiosyncratic description. The same division of mankind appears in Machiavelli - when, for example, he argues that so long as the prince does not attack the property or the women of his subjects, the great majority of them will live contentedly under his rule, and he will only have to worry about "the ambition of a few".20 Machiavelli provides the social reference of these two categories in The Discourses: "if we consider the objects of the nobles and of the people, we must see that the first have a great desire to dominate, whilst the latter have only the wish not to be dominated ... to live in the enjoyment of liberty".21 We can take Hobbes to intend the same social reference, but with a keener moral and psychological insight. For he sees that the desire for dominion is a special form of self-regard: the root cause of the war of all against all is the desire to see oneself in the act of exercising power. It is a kind of glorying over the weakness and defeat of another human being. This is the passion of the bad aristocrat. And for Hobbes, as for Machiavelli, it is incompatible with civil peace. Machiavellian princes and citizens alike are told that they must repress or (preferably) kill the aristocrats. Hobbes' leviathan state is designed to terrify and tame them. It is worth noting, I think, a certain similarity between good and bad aristocrats. They are both, as befits members of their class, children of pride, concerned above all with the way they appear ... to themselves. Writing in the eighteenth century, Baron d'Holbach provides an account of moral goodness that closely parallels Hobbes' account of aggression and conquest. Why, he asks, should a man be good in a corrupt society that offers him nothing but trouble in exchange for his goodness? He should be good in order to enjoy "the tranquil delight of contemplating his own actions with ... delicious complacency".22 When Hobbes writes of the nobleman who "scorns to be beholding ... " he is simply describing the other side of this complacency. Both the best behavior and the worst have their source in aristocratic self-regard, and the admiration for and fear of aristocrats is crucial to an understanding of Hobbes and Holbach alike and thus of some hundred years or more of political argument. Between the aristocracy and the people, there is no room for anything like a Marxist bourgeoisie. Hobbes' extraordinary account of human competition, like Machivelli's, owes hardly anything at all to the experience of the marketplace. It is sometimes expressed in the metaphors of the market, but these are ancient metaphors, long ago appropriated for general use, and of little value in specifying the social meaning of the texts within which they appear. Much has been made of one of Hobbes' definitions: "The value, or worth of a man, is as of all other things, his price ... " - as if this could only have been said in a bourgeois

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society.23 But the likely original of that definition occurs in the Maxims of Publius Syrus, written around 42 B.C. "Everything is worth what its purchaser will pay for it".24 (Since Publius Syrus wrote in a slave society, his maxim applies literally as well as metaphorically to men and women). Buying and selling are universal human activities, and the reference to commerce is a commonplace of virtually every human culture. In any case, it is not market value but self-valuation that is of crucial importance in the world that Hobbes sets out to describe. "For every man looketh that his companion should value him at the same rate he sets upon himself. And upon all signs of contempt or undervaluing, naturally endeavors as far as he dares ... to extort a greater value from his contemners ... ". Hence the duel, the most personal form of the war of all against all, which is fought "for trifles, as a word, a smile, a different opinion, and any other sign of undervalue, either direct in their persons, or by reflection in their kindred, their friends, their nation, their profession, or their name".25 But it is not the members of the bourgeoisie who fight duels, except in imitation of their betters. Duelling is a feature of the life of a latter-day aristocracy. Indeed, the marketplace is a world of peace and cooperation compared to what might be called the exchange economy of bad aristocrats. No doubt, Hobbes did have some sense of the dangers posed by bourgeois acquisitiveness to the peace of the commonwealth. In his Behemoth, for example, he could hardly avoid noticing those merchants of London who sided so resolutely with the enemies of the king. But he understands the motives of the merchants only by assimilating them to the class of bad aristocrats. The crucial passage comes in Part III of Behemoth, where Hobbes writes that "great capital cities" will always support rebellion because the grievances are but taxes, to which citizens, that is, merchants, whose profession is their private gain, are naturally mortal enemies; their only glory being to grow excessively rich by the wisdom of buying and selling. 26 It is not the case that taxes were resisted because they were onerous, or because they interfered in any significant way with the acquisition of wealth. There is no rational calculation here; the "wisdom of buying and selling" figures only indirectly in Hobbes' story. Gain is the glory of the bourgeoisie, and it was for that glory - "their only glory" - that the merchants of London rebelled, that is to say, like bad aristocrats, "for trifles". Even so, they did not take the lead in the rebellion: the "chief leaders", according to Hobbes, "were ambitious ministers and ambitious gentlemen"P Hobbes' account of individual ambition is extremist in both its style and content: alike provocative and radical. It would be difficult to find anything like it in bourgeois literature - or even in the anti-bourgeois literature of the nineteenth and twentieth centuries. Machiavelli provides a close parallel, political rather than psychological in form. Similar political parallels can be found in English writers reflecting upon the experience of bastard feudalism. Bacon's "overmighty subjects" are Hobbes' bad aristocrats. 28 What is even more striking, however, is the reiteration of Hobbes' psychological arguments

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by writers whose touchstone is the life of the great royal courts, for whom politics is nothing more than the intrigue of courtiers. Here is the most brutal competition of all, and when La Rochefoucauld, for example, writes about it, he exhibits the same commitment to tear away the veil of virtue and expose the naked ego behind the veil that seems to animate so much of Hobbes' work. Like Leviathan, La Rochefouceauld's Maxims is a portrait not only of politics, but of daily life too, as an infinitely subtle and devious warfare, where all that is at issue is the aggrandizement of the self and morality is never anything more than a kind of camouflage. 29 What passes for generosity is ... merely ambition in disguise ... Loyalty ... is simply a device invented by self-love in order to attract confidence ... Reconciliation with our enemies is nothing more than the desire to improve our position ... Gratitude is like commercial good faith: it keeps trade going, and we pay up, not because it is right to settle our account but so that people will be more willing to extend us credit. There speaks in that last maxim not the good bourgeois but the aristocrat in debt. The corrosive analysis of the virtues and the passions is a feature of seventeenth and early eighteenth century aristocratic culture, and the world it invites us to imagine is a world of heroic egotism in which everyone's secret ambition, it seems, is to rule over everyone else: not to contemplate his power in a single act of conquest, but in conquest after conquest, endlessly extorting honor and regard from the others. That is not, in fact, a plausible picture of social life, though one can more easily imagine a court made up of heroic egotists than a city or a country. Pascal suggested a useful qualification in one of his pensees: "Such is our presumption that we should like to be known by the whole world ... and we are so vain that the good opinion of five or six persons around us delights and comforts us".3D Hobbes and La Rochefoucauld suggest that some people are not so easily delighted. Theirs is not a portrait of mankind but of a particular group of men whom they knew well and who were particularly committed, as most of us are not, to a life of intrique and aggression. I have called these men heroes, and so I ought to point out that alongside the literary and philosophical exposure of their egotism, there also exists a perverse fascination with it. Once again, Machiavelli's view of the prince sets the tone. In England, from Marlowe's Tamburlane to Milton's Satan, the heroic conqueror or rebel whose aim is literally to rule the world (or the universe!) figures importantly in plays and poems. Formally condemned, he is often covertly admired - not for any morally redeeming features but for the very audacity and scope of his ambition. 31 There is a certain thrill in writing about him, presumably in reading about him too, a tremor of pleasurable fear. One would not, however, want to meet him in the street or live in a state that he had seized (or endure the wars that precede the seizure). The same figure plays a part in Hobbes' philosophical imagination (though he is never admired), and it is characteristic of philosophy as distinct from literature that his presence should

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be universalized: as if the ambition of Tamburlane lurked in the heart of everyman. But the deeper and more realistic claim of Hobbes' argument is that this ambition ("vainglory") is explicable within a psychological theory that can also account for the modesty ("fear") of more ordinary people. Like those ordinary people, the would-be princes, overmighty subjects, heroic egotists, and bad aristocrats are part of the psychological material out of which the leviathan state must be created. And the character of leviathan is determined by its most recalcitrant material: hence Hobbes' insistence on absolutism and his harsh and reiterated demand for terror. The Hobbist commonwealth looks back, as it were, to Tamburlane and is shaped by the need to repress rebellion and war - whereas the Lockeian commonwealth, by contrast, looks forward to someone more like Moll Flanders and is shaped by the need to control petty larcency and theft. But Hobbes, at least, would insist that the form of control is the same in both cases. The ruler must play upon and manipulate the appetites and aversions of his subjects. Mostly, this is accomplished through punishment and the threat of punishment. Hobbes is the first political theorist to treat statesmanship as the art (or the science) of deterrence. In this sense, his true heirs are Helvetius, Holbach, and Bentham, of whom Burke rightly said: "In the groves of their academy, at the end of every vista, you see nothing but the gallows".32 But it would be wrong simply to equate Hobbes with his heirs, for that would be to miss the special force of his ideas. Leviathan without the bad aristocrats is an unattractive book indeed, and the leviathan state is an unattractive reality when it represents, as T.S. Eliot wrote of the puritanism of his own time, "the survival of a restraint after the feelings which it restrained had gone".33 But Hobbist psychology is above all an account of dangerous feelings: vainglory, ambition, and covetousness, passions "perpetually incumbent and pressing". They make, Hobbes says, for individual "unquietness". Collectively, they represent "the seditious roaring of a troubled nation".34 And if they are not brutally repressed, they will inevitably produce the greater brutality of civil war.

5. But what if they are repressed? Here perhaps is the connection between Hobbes and later bourgeois theory. We might think of the respectable citizens of a liberal state as bad aristocrats successfully repressed. They still run the race and they still want to win, but they have been forced to accept a new set of constraints - so that winning is more a matter of outdistancing the Joneses than of ruling the world. They are content, as most of mankind always was, "to be at ease within modest bounds". To be sure, this modesty has no specific connection in Hobbes' mind with the life or consciousness of the bourgeoisie. "Denunciation of the heroic ideal", as Albert Hirschman has written, "was nowhere associated with the advocacy of a new bourgeois ethos".35 What Hobbes looked for was a classless modesty common to peasants, artisans, and merchants alike - and then to properly chastened aristocrats. He did believe, however, along with later bourgeois theorists, that these people are best conceived as individuals, not as members of a group; their deliberations are not

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only self-centered but solitary. The sovereign assures their obedience by threatening them one by one, as it were, with punishment, and he assures their happiness, so far as that is possible, by opening to them all those "contentments of life, which every man by lawful industry, without danger or hurt to the commonwealth, shall acquire to himself'.36 The singular pronoun is important. If Hobbes hates and fears the heroic egotism of bad aristocrats, he has no sense of a communalist alternative, no sense of the possible value of cooperative effort, shared decision-making, amour social. The only alternative to the heroic egotist is the repressed egotist. It is this contrast, then, that Hobbes bequeathes to his utilitarian heirs, who develop at great length an account of the legal and constitutional arrangements that ensure repression. We can think of it as a contrast between the bad aristocrat and the good bourgeois, but I would stress that in the Hobbist account, and still in Helvetius, Holbach, and Bentham, the good bourgeois has no qualities of his own. There is no feeling in any of these writers for the special forms of domesticity and sentimentality that shape his character. He is merely the matter of the commonwealth, its material base, worked up in a more or less satisfactory way. Helvetius even thought it possible to turn the repressed egotist into a brave soldier: it was only necessary to suspend one part of the repressive system and offer unlimited sexual gratification (instead of medals of honor) to returning heroes. 37 So public spirit might be generated by the manipulation of appetite, but not by any appeal to moral character or political commitment. Man-as-matter has no moral character and is incapable of commitment. He is, indeed, a creature of his passions, but these are no longer either noble or dangerous. Avarice is probably the chief among them, and once the dream of glory has been given up, avarice is, as Dr. Johnson wrote, "a uniform and tractable vice".38 So the repressed egotist is fairly easy to live with; so long as he isn't forced into the pursuit of power after power, he is a quiet and friendly sort. One must go to some lengths, as Helvetius suggests, to get him to fight. But for positive virtues, it is necessary to look to the good aristocrat. He remains throughout the early modern period the sole measure of human excellence. After one gets past the excitement of exposing his nerve endings, the repressed egotist isn't very interesting. Insofar as he is idealized, it is only by a kind of negative contrast. Thomas Mann's Tonio Kroger, looking back to Machiavelli rather than to Hobbes, makes the contrast very nicely: "He is nothing to [us], your Cesare Borgia ... No, life ... does not represent itself to us as a vision of savage greatness or ruthless beauty ... it is the normal, respectable, and admirable that is the kingdom of our longing".39 That was already true of Hobbes, and leviathan is the name of the kingdom. But it isn't what everyone longs for. In the history of political thought, the image of the good aristocrat greatness without savagery - remains a persistent if largely unarticulated theme. That image plays a vital part, as I have already said, in neo-classical and repUblican theory, where the commonwealth is suddenly populated not by figures like Cesare Borgia but by proud and public-spirited citizens dressed up

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as Roman senators: aristocrats reborn. And it is vital in republican practice too. When the deputies of the Third Estate took their famous oath, and when the delegates of the thirteen American states pledged their "sacred honor", were they not laying claim to that very "nobleness and gallantness of courage" that Hobbes thought too rare to be presumed upon? Were they not acting out the role of man-the-maker? That same self-image figures also in socialist thought, where a new contrast takes shape with which I can properly conclude my story of good and bad aristocrats. Beatrice Webb once sought to explain the difference between the Fabians and the guild socialists, between advocates of the welfare state, like herself and her husband, and advocates of industrial democracy, like the Coles (it is Margaret Cole who reports her words). The Fabians, she said, belonged to the B's of the world: they were bourgeois, bureaucratic, and benevolent. The guild socialists belonged to the A's: they were aristocratic, artistic, and arrogant. 40 The comparison is, perhaps, a bit self-mocking. It is an effort to anticipate criticism from leftist intellectuals for whom the bad aristocrat had long since vanished from view, and who found a new enemy in his anti-heroic successor, the good bourgeois. The Webbs still defended the leviathan state that had made this succession possible. Their opponents within the socialist movement sought to recover what we might think of as the repressed alternative, the good aristocrat. They looked to create a republic of moral agents, men and women capable of commitment - a possibility that Thomas Hobbes, in the first philosophical account of modem politics, had both affirmed and denied.

NOTES 1. See among others, Howard Warrender, The Political Philosophy of Hobbes (Oxford,

2.

3. 4. 5. 6. 7. 8. 9. 10. 11.

1957); Brian Barry, "Warrender and His Critics", Philosophy, April, 1968; F.S. McNeilly The Anatomy of Leviathan (London, 1968); David Gauthier, The Logic of Leviathan (Oxford, 1968); and Michael Oakeshott, Hobbes on Civil Association (Oxford, 1975). Keith Thomas lists the leading lights of this generation: Leo Strauss, Hannah Arendt, Lucien Febvre, Franz Borkenau, Christopher Hill, C.B. McPherson, in his "Social Origins of Hobbes' Political Thought", Keith Brown, (ed.), Hobbes Studies (Cambridge, Mass., 1965), p. 185 and 185n. This isn't true, of course, if my only purpose is to take Hobbes' argument as the starting point for my own reflections. Then all that matters is what he says to me. Barry's essay (note 1 above) is an especially forceful example. Skinner, "The Context of Hobbes' Theory of Political Obligation", in M. Cranston and R.S. Peters (eds.), Hobbes and Rousseau (Garden City, New York, 1972), p. 142. " ... the Matter thereof, and the Artificer; both which is man", Leviathan, introd. Leviathan, Chapter XVI. Leviathan, Chapter XIV. Leviathan, Chapters XIV, XV. "Social Origins", p. 202. Hobbes described Godolphin elsewhere as a man who embodied "clearness of judgment, and largeness of fancy; strength of reason, and graceful elocution; a courage

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for war, and a fear for the laws". He was Hobbes' "most noble and honored friend". Quoted in Thomas, "Social Origins", p. 206. 12. Leviathan, Chapter XV. 13. Oakeshott, "The Moral Life in the Writings of Thomas Hobbes," in Rationalism in Politics (New York, 1967), pp. 290-293. 14. Leviathan, review and conclusion. 15. Ruth Kelso, The Doctrine of the English Gentleman in the Sixteenth Century, University of Illinois Studies in Language and Literature (Urbana, Illinois, 1929), Vol. XIV, Nos. 1-2. 16. Among Hobbes' contemporaries, Harrington comes closest to presenting this figure, but he is most clearly visible in the later work of Montesquieu, Mably, Rousseau and Kant. 17. Leviathan, Chapter XVII. 18. Leviathan, Chapter XIII. 19. The Elements of Law, Part 1, Chapter 9. 20. The Prince, Chapter XIX; trans. Mark Musa (New York, 1964), p. 151. 21. The Discourses, Book I, Chapter v, trans. Christian Detmold (New York, 1940), p. 122. 22. Holbach, The System of Nature or, The Laws of the Moral and Physical World (London, 1817), Vol. I, p. 544. 23. Leviathan, Chapter X; Macpherson, The Political Theory of Possessive Individualism (Oxford, 1962), p. 37 - "A man's power is treated as a commodity ... " etc. 24. Dictionary of Quotations on Historical Principles, ed. H. L. Mencken (New York, 1947), p. 1241. 25. Leviathan, Chapter XIII. 26. Behemoth, William Molesworth (ed.), (New York, n.d.), pp. 158-59; for a very different interpretation of this passage, see Richard Ashcraft, "Ideology and Class in Hobbes' Political Theory", in Political Theory, Vol. 6 (February, 1978), pp. 46-49. 27. Behemoth, p. 30. 28. See The Essays, esp. "Of Seditions and Troubles" and "Of Ambition". 29. Maxims, trans., L.W. Tancock (Harmondsworth, England, 1959), nos. 246, 247, 82, 223. 30. The Pensees, trans., 1.M. Cohen (Harmondsworth, England, 1961), No. 151. 31. For a subtle account of these attitudes, see Thomas R. Edwards, Imagination and Power (New York, 1971), Chapter I. 32. Reflections on the Revolution in France, Conor Cruise O'Brien (ed.), (Harmondsworth, England, 1968), pp. 171-72. 33. Eliot, Selected Essays (London, 1951), p. 213 ("Philip Massinger"). 34. Leviathan, Chapters XXVII, VIII. 35. The Passions and the Interests (Princeton, 1977), p. 12. 36. Leviathan, Chapter XXX. 37. A Treatise on Man (London, 1810), Vol. II, p. 492. 38. Quoted in Hirschman, Passions and Interests, p. 55. 39. Death in Venice and Seven Other Stories, trans., H.T. Lowe-Porter (New York, 1954), p.104. 40. Margaret Cole, Beatrice Webb (London, 1946), pp. 65-66.

MORDECHAI FEINGOLD*

John Selden and the Nature of Seventeenth-Century Science

When James Ussher, the Archbishop of Armagh and a man renowned for his learning, was called upon in 1654 to deliver John Selden's funeral oration, he insisted that Selden was "so great a Scholar that [he] himself was scarce worthy to carry his books after him". Nor was Ussher alone in such praise for Selden. Contemporaries both in England and the entire republic of European letters regarded Selden as one of the towering intellectuals of the seventeenth century. To Hugo Grotius, he was "the Glory of England"; to Sir Edward Sherburne the "Great Dictator of Learning in this Country"; to Thomas Gataker a "Polymateotatos"; to Gilbert Burnet "one of the greatest men that any age had produced"; and to John Lightfoot "the Learnedst man upon the earth". As for his fellow members of the Long Parliament, they viewed Selden "somewhat in the light of a valuable piece of national property, like a museum, or a great public library".l The praise showered on Selden through the centuries has cited, almost in its entirety, his contribution to legal and historical scholarship, his erudition in Oriental languages and his vast, virtually unrivaled, knowledge of Judaic rituals and customs. His name is conspicuously absent from any historical narrative of English science. Nor do any of his published works suggest an interest in scientific subjects. For all these reasons Selden's isolation for study in the context of seventeenth-century science might appear somewhat puzzling. However, it is precisely this ostensible lack of evidence attesting to his interest in science that makes Selden representative of a significant community of scholars who have been consistently neglected - or misunderstood - by historians and philosophers of science. My purpose in the following pages is thus twofold: first, to illuminate a hitherto neglected aspect of Selden's corpus, one that was far more than a passing diversion. Second, to use the case of Selden as a corrective to the historical appreciation of other seventeenth-century intellectuals who also failed to conform to the term "scientist" as it has since evolved. Like Selden, these men also played a significant role in the evolution of new world views. However, before the role of science in Selden's corpus can be discussed, a brief introduction to the nature of scientific activity in the seventeenth century is necessary. R.T. Bienvenu and M. Feingold (edsJ,ln the presence o/the past, 55-78. © 1991 Kluwer Academic Publishers.

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During the seventeenth century the medieval concept of the unity of knowledge continued to animate the educational ideals of the scholarly community.2 Every university-educated man received instruction in the entire arts and science curriculum and was deemed capable of contributing to anyone of its constituents. The conviction that a solid grounding in the various arts and sciences was a prerequisite for the study of theology continued to command respect, as did the belief in the inherent interdependence of all the arts and sciences. The product of such an ideal of education was the "general scholar". In such an educational framework science was invariably pursued as one component in a many-faceted intellectual enterprise. This situation is validated by an examination of contemporaries interested in science, the vast majority of whom were practising divines, physicians, lawyers, antiquarians or orientalists. Even the most celebrated mathematicians of the period usually participated in such diverse studies as history, logic, philology, or chronology. This emphasis on unity of knowledge is not intended to dispute the unequal talent and devotion of various scientific practitioners: only to suggest that many of those who did not commit themselves fully to the sciences were stilI regarded as respectable members of the scientific community, capable of participating in the elucidation and dissemination of new ideas. Nor does the continued relevance of the general scholar well into the seventeenth century mean that competing ideas were lacking; throughout our period a tendency towards professionalization was becoming increasingly evident. By 1600 mathematics and astronomy were already what might be termed semi-liberated subjects in the univesity curriculum; although they were stilI grouped under the embracing umbrella of philosophy, they were considered autonomous subjects, albeit not on par with logic and rhetoric. And while it is inappropriate and misleading to treat mathematics as a professionally-restricted discipline in the first half of the seventeenth century, it would be equally inappropriate and misleading to ignore a trend that would lead to the full professionalization of mathematics by the close of the century. By its very nature, mathematics requires a high degree of dedication as well as what may be termed a special aptitude or inclination, and for this reason it was traditionally less appealing to many general scholars than other disciplines. Moreover, the inherent rigor and dedication demanded by the mathematical sciences advanced rapidly as the seventeenth century progressed until, as Ben-David has noted, "the activities of the individual scientists and the academies were public only in the sense that there were no attempts at concealment and mystification".3 Indeed, it is likely that this inevitable exclusion of most general scholars from active participation in the mathematical and physical sciences by the time Newton published his Principia in 1687 contributed to the opposition to the Royal Society and the debate over science during the last third of the seventeenth century. For the sake of distinction, brief mention ought also to be made of an additional tradition that emerged from the late sixteenth century - the virtuoso tradition. 4 Although Selden and other scholars partook of certain aspects of this

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tradition, they had a fundamentally different attitude toward knowledge. Put simply, the virtuosi were class-conscious men - and occasionally women - who used learning as a means of displaying wealth, rank, and leisure. For them knowledge was an ornament, a tangible source of delight, and consequently they exhibited little interest in its foundations or underlying principles. Not surprising, then, the most frequent expression of the virtuoso's fascination with science, history and the visual arts was indiscriminate acquisition. The act of collecting became an end in itself, a means of advertising taste, "civility" and rank. Mechanical toys and objets d' art, coins and medals, statues (both original and fake) were avidly pursued, to be exhibited in gardens and cabinets, but rarely to be systematically studied. Obviously, there existed a small, but important, minority of virtuosi for whom learning was not synonymous with fashion, and it was to this group that Selden, despite his humble origins, belonged. 5 His reputation as both lawyer and member of parliament contributed to his social advancement, while his intimacy with high-ranking members of government as well as noblemen especially the Earl and Duchess of Kent - provided him both with wealth and awesome political power.6 Not surprisingly, Selden shared in many of the preoccupations of his class: he kept a regular open-house; served as munificent patron to scores of aspiring scholars and literary men, including Meric Casaubon, Henry Jacob, John Greaves, and Edward Pococke; and was an avid collector. We learn from his will, for example, that to the Earl of Hertford he bequeathed a "crystal cabinet, with the two cases thereto belonging, together with all the agate stones, and the rest that are in it"; and to the Earl of Northumberland "a bason and ewer of silver gilt in yellow cases". Other benefactions included a "crystal ship, a galley, with all its tackling"; and a "cabinet, covered with crimson velvet, which is in perspective the representation of the entrance into Hampton court"'? In Selden's possession at the time of his death were also a small collection of marbles and "heads and statutes of Greek worth"; a unique and much valued map of China and paper compass; and a curious Arabic astrolabe. All eventually found their way into the Bodleian Library. Brief mention can also be made of Selden's extensive collection of manuscripts, which also included such collectors' gems as the "Codex Mendoza" and various Mexican hieroglyphics. 8 Yet, to classify Selden as a virtuoso, even in respect to the sciences, would be a mistake. He certainly crossed that imaginary boundary that separates the scholar from the mere dabbler. John Evelyn, who knew "something" about numismatics, claimed that Selden was one of the six people who truly understood medals,9 while Roger North believed that Selden was one of the very few who could not only collect, but also draw conclusions from the material he collected. lO As for Selden's extensive collection of manuscripts, they were never just ornaments, but put to continuous use. The same appreciation for roots and causes applies to his scientific interests. Selden was never one to be satisfied with the pleasing and utilitarian aspects of science, and he devoted himself to understanding their underlying assumptions. Selden, as will become

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increasingly clear in the following pages, was more akin to Boyle and Wilkins than he was to the caricatures painted by Shadwell and Swift. The role accorded to science in Selden's world view may be inferred via three avenues: his writings, his library and his correspondence. Selden's voluminous writings offer substantial evidence of the methodological assumptions governing his views on the growth of knowledge in general, and of scientific knowledge in particular. The preservation of his library, virtually intact, provides a unique opportunity to reconstruct his readings and intellectual development, at times even allowing us to document the chronology of his scientific interests. Finally, Selden's surviving correspondence, together with contemporary references to his activities, illuminates the scientific dimension of his scholarly pursuits. "Liberty above all things" was Selden's motto, and it applied equally to his politics and his scholarship. The identical concern for "freedom of expression" would lead Selden to remonstrate against the authority of Charles 1's personal rule before the Civil War and the dogmatism of the over-zealous Presbyterians in the 1640s. His insistence on intellectual freedom also explains why his political views did not stand in the way of his personal friendship with Archbishop Laud, a true patron of scholarship and learned men. Although Selden did not always agree with Laud's policies, his divergence of opinion did not prevent him from conferring with the Archbishop on scholarly matters. In fact, De successionibus (1631) was dedicated to Laud - who had provided some of the material for the work - while it was the Archbishop who helped procure the consent of Charles I for the publication of On the Dominion of the Seas (1636), a work banned by James I almost two decades earlier.ll Even in scriptural scholarship Selden advocated intellectual freedom, urging the expropriation of knowledge from the hands of the clergy. He even dared to suggest that it was precisely laymen such as Pico, Scaliger and Grotius who best interpreted the most difficult passages of the Bible. 12 With similar disregard for orthodox conventions, Selden rejected as ludicrous the accusation that his unordained status disqualified him for writing on the sensitive topic of tithes. Such a subject, he insisted: ... and not a few other inquiries of subjects too much unknown, fall only under a far more general study; that is, of true Philology, the only fit wife that could be found for the most learned of the Gods. She being well attends in her ... daily services in inquiry, but her two handmaids curious diligence, and watchful industry, discovers to us often from her raised tower of judgment, many hidden truths, that, on the level of anyone restrained profession, can never be discerned. 13 This opposition to sole claims upon true knowledge was completely compatible with yet another of Selden's views, namely his assertion that the "Jesuites & the Lawyers of France & the Law Country men have engrossed all learning, the rest of the world make nothing but Homilies" .14 He could appreciate and even publicly praise works by friends and foes, Catholics and Protestants. It is not surprising, then, that Selden was regarded by many contemporaries as a

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subversive challenge to the foundations of all good religion. In fact, so strong were contemporary perceptions of his heterodox opinions that it was even rumored that he had refused to allow a minister to visit him on his death-bed, on the advice of Thomas Hobbes, no less. 15 In his advocacy of intellectual freedom as the path to truth, Selden shared much common ground with the adherents of the new science. A quest for truth, insisted Selden, necessitated a pluralism of opinions for the simple reason that "[t]he way to find out the truth is by others mistakeings".16 Selden's younger contemporary, John Milton, succinctly formulated this attitude when he commented on: ... the chief of learned men reputed in this Land, Mr. Selden, whose ... [De jure naturali et gentium] proves, not only by great authorities brought together, but by exquisite reasons and theorems almost mathematically demonstrative, that all opinions, yea errors, known, read, and collated, are of main service & assistance toward the speedy attainment of what is truest. 17 Indeed, Selden made "truth" not only an ideological issue of sorts, but the very trademark of his writings. Already in his preface to Michael Drayton's PolyOlbion (1612) he asked the reader not to be deceived by the poetic nature of the book: What the Verse oft ... lets slip ... that suddaine conceipt cannot abstract a Forme of the clothed Truth, I have, as I might, Illustrated ... And indeed my Jealousie hath oft vext me with particular inquisition of Whatsoever occurrs, bearing not a marke of most apparent Truth, ever since I found so intollerable Antichronismes, incredible reports, and Bardish impostures, as well from Ignorance as assum' d liberty of Invention in some of our Ancients. 18 Two years later, in the dedication of the first edition of Titles of Honour to Edward Heyward, he exclaimed: "I call you not my patron. Truth in my references, Likelyhood in my conjectures, and the whole composture shall be instead of one, and of all else which, like invocations of Titulina, might be used".19 Even more telling is the following quotation from History of Tythes (1618), which deserves to be quoted in full: For I sought only truth; and was never so far engaged in this or ought else, as to torture my brains or venture my credit to make or create premisses for a chosen conclusion, that I rather would than could prove. My premisses made what conclusions or conjectures I have, and were not bred by them. And although both of them here not a little sometimes vary from what is vulgary received; yet that happened not at all from any desire to differ from common opinion, but from another course of disquisition that is commonly used; that is, by examination of the truth of those suppositions, which patient idleness too easily takes for clear and granted. For the old scepticks that never would profess that they had found a truth, shewed yet the best way to search for any, when they doubted as well of what those of the dogmatical sects too credulously received for infallible principles, as they did of the newest conclusions. They were indeed questionless too nice, and deceived themselves with the nimbleness of their own sophisms that permitted no kind of

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established truth, But plainly, h.! that avoids their disputing levity, yet, being able, takes to himself their liberty of inquiry, is in the only way that in all kinds of studies leads and lies open even to the sanctuary of truth, while others, that are servile to common opinion and vulgar suppositions, can rarely hope to be admitted nearer than into the base court of her temple, which too speciously often counterfeits her inmost sanctuary.20 The final statement, his self-composed epitaph, sums up his convictions: "He was happy in friendships with some of the best, most learned, and even most illustrious of each order; but not without the heavy enmity of some intemperate adversaries of truth and genuine liberty, under which he severely but manfully suffered".21 It was this high respect for truth and pluralism that caused Selden to regard such sensitive issues as heresy very differently than his contemporaries: "Tis a vaine thing to talke of an Heretick for a man", Selden reflected, "for his heart cann thinke no otherwise then hee does thinke".22 For Selden, heresy was a socially imposed action, the result of one of a few opinions prevalent at a particular time - and not necessarily the "truest" - being elevated to orthodoxy (as happened when Christianity was decreed the official religion by Constantine). Only after such an act can the adherents of one opinion check the growth of, and if necessary uproot, any idea they regard as subversive. Indeed, for Selden only such a process could explain why the church attempted to hinder the growth of knowledge when its prejudices were challenged by such men as Roger Bacon, Reuchlin, Budaeus or Erasmus. 23 Selden's methodological approach to knowledge was a natural outgrowth of his commitment to intellectual freedom. It reflects, to a high degree, the influence exerted upon him by three major traditions: the humanistic-philological tradition of the Renaissance; the sixteenth century methodological discussions conducted by French historians and jurists;24 and the revival of Greek skepticism. Selden's fertile and inquisitive mind grasped upon and consolidated these traditions into an idiosyncratic mode of inquiry that mandated rigorous procedures for scholarly endeavor. For Selden, the search for truth - even if such truth could not be known with absolute certainty - demanded integrity, objectivity and impartiality. Reliance on authority or heresy was to be replaced by the critical appraisal and elucidation of the sources. In fact, this issue of firsthand knowledge of the sources evoked particularly strong feelings in Selden, and he even went so far as to urge the presentation of sources to the reader in their original form and language. Not surprisingly, Selden's insistence on primary sources imposed equally rigorous standards on the reader; to adjudicate between conflicting accounts and expose that which was unreliable or mythical, he, too, had to have first-hand knowledge of the sources. Clearly, then, the underlying assumption behind Selden's methodological approach to know ledge was that "truth" would become increasingly clear if only sufficient information were gathered, sifted and weighed. Thus, for example, Selden concluded his study of the "correct" birthday of Christ (and affirmed it to be 25 December) with the words: "It rests,

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that we resolve on it, as upon as certain and clear a truth of tradition, as by rational inference, by express testimony of the antients, by common and continual practice of several churches, and by accurate inquiry, may be discovered".25 Unfortunately, the reverse side of this admirable insistence on the faithful representation of every aspect of an argument and every applicable source is utter confusion; time and again, his efforts, instead of clarifying the text under discussion, only obscured its meaning even more. 26 Selden's methodology was most compatible with - and derived much inspiration from - the "new science". His views on reasoning and demonstration correlated strongly with mathematical argumentation and imagery; and as we shall see, the new cosmologies provided him with not only raw material to be incorporated into his many studies, but also with powerful analogies to express his constant concern with the nature and growth of knowledge. Selden's receptivity to new world views may be gleaned from yet another of his discussions of truth: The Aristotlelians say, All truth is conteined in Aristotle, in one place or other; Galileo makes Simplicius say soe, but shewes the Obsurdity of that speech, by answering, That all truth is conteined in a lesser Compass viz!. in the Alphabett. Aristotle is not blam' d for mistakeing sometimes, but the Aristotlelians for maintaineing those mistakes. They should acknowledge the good they have from him & leave him when hee is in the wronge. There never breath'd that person to whom mankind was more beholding. 27 Clearly, what interested Selden, apart from the new ideas themselves, was the emphasis on empirical and experimental evidence as the key to knowledge and "truth". Tis a foolish thing for me to bee brought of from an opinion in a thing neither of us knowe, but are ledd only by some Cobwebb stuff, as in such a Case as this, Utrum Angeli invicem colloquuntur? If I forsake my side in such a Case, I shewe my selfe wonderfullie light or infinitely Complying or flattering the other partie. But if I bee in business of Nature, and I hold an Opinion one way, & some mans experiment had found out the contrary, I may with a safe reputacon give upp my side.28 Selden's methodology and approach to knowledge to some extent explain Francis Bacon's admiration for him. The two were intimately acquainted during the last two decades of Bacon's life, and assisted each other in their respective studies. And although legal and antiquarian interests were more probably chief among their interests, one cannot help but notice their striking affinity in philosophical and scientific matters. Indeed, it is significant that in an early version of his will Bacon named Selden, together with Herbert, as executors of his papers and the persons to decide which of the manuscripts should be published. 29 Although the above sources suggest Selden's responsiveness to the new modes of thought circulating at the time, other evidence offers a clearer indication of the precise nature of his world views and the depth of his scientific understanding. Even if Selden made no "discoveries" and wrote no scientific

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treatise per se, he immersed himself in the study of mathematics, astronomy, alchemy and medicine. Similarly, his studies in chronology and oriental language broached issues fundamental to "natural philosophy" - a fact noted by Selden himself. Selden's interest in mathematics was rooted not only in his fascination with its inherent rigor, but in the belief that mathematics offered a powerful medium for demonstration. Not surprisingly, Selden's writings are rich in mathematical imagery. However, additional indications of his grounding in mathematics also exist. In 1636 Selden, together with William Oughtred, Henry Gellibrand and Sir James Galloway, was nominated to sit on a committee charged with evaluating and passing learned judgement on the claim of Marmaduke Nelson that he had discovered the long sought after method of calculating longitudes. Although additional information on this committee of experts has not survived, Selden's nomination to serve alongside two of the foremost English mathematicians of the day is itself indicative of his standing in the scientific community. It should be noted that in the following century similar committees would include among their members such men as Sir Christopher Wren and Sir Isaac Newton. 3D The following anecdote also suggests Selden's mathematical reputation. Apparently Selden was one of those people who sided with John Wallis and Seth Ward against Hobbes's claims of being able to "square the circle". And Hobbes, not one to take criticism lightly, retaliated in kind: "Mr. Joyner says", recorded Thomas Hearne, "that, Mr. Hobbs us'd to say that Mr. Selden understood nothing of Mathematicks, wch Mr. Selden being inform'd off, he reply'd that if Mr. Hobbs understood no more mathematicks than he did Law, he understood nothing at all of them".3l Selden's library suggests the degree of mathematical sophistication at which he aimed. He possessed no less than eight different editions of Euclid's elements which, added to the works of Hero of Alexandria, Archimedes, Diophantus, Theon and Pappus, completed the cycle of the ancient mathematicians. Of the modems, very few of the important authors were lacking; Viete, Briggs, Oughtred, Roberval, Fermat, Harriot, Mydorge, Longomontanus, Cavalieri, Snell, Stevin, Torricelli and Clavius were all faithfully represented. 32 Astronomy and optics were equally richly represented in his library, which included works by Copernicus, Brahe, Kepler, Galileo, Scheiner, Mersenne, Risner, Riccioli, Alhazen, Dominis, Descartes, Gassendi and Gilbert, to name only the most famous. Significantly, Selden amassed his collection regularly throughout his life, and even in his last years he diligently acquired the most recent contributions to the sciences, including Ismael Boulliau's treatise on the 1652 comet and Seth Ward's critique of Boulliau's Astronomiae Philolaicae, both published in 1653. Admittedly, the ownership of a book indicates neither belief in its contents nor even that it was ever read. However, in the case of Selden, who so often quoted from - and made reference to - the books that he owned, it is quite certain that he read at least a very high proportion of the

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8000 volumes in his library, together with a good many not in his library! Even if Selden, like so many of his contemporaries, rarely indicated the precise cosmology to which he subscribed, his attitude toward contemporary astronomers and their discoveries nevertheless emerges in other ways. And for such evidence we have to thank Selden's fondness for digression - the byproduct of his ever-insistent pondering of every aspect of an issue. By collecting a few of his many quotations and references to the "new science", I hope to illustrate Selden's exhaustive efforts to keep abreast of the subject as well as his admiration for the authors he followed. Already in his first completed work, the Analecta Anglo Britannica (written by 1607 but not published until 1615), Selden displayed that voracious appetite for books that would later make him famous. Ostensibly a pioneer study of the annals of the early Britons prior to the Norman conquest, the work swells to include astronomy, astrology, and geography, all brought to bear upon such issues as the religion, customs and ceremonies of the ancients. Thus, for example, at one point Selden delineates his subject as ancient and modem views of dawn and twilight. However, using the Bible and medieval commentators as his starting point, Selden soon spins his web to include appropriate passages from the treatise mistakenly attributed to Alhazen, Liber de crepusculis (published in the Optica thesaurus of 1572), as well as the relevant chapter (Book II, ch. 13) of Copernicus's De revolutionibus. Also noteworthy is that in his preface, Selden refers approvingly to Kepler's De stella nova, published only the previous year (1606).33 Five years later, in 1612, appeared Michael Drayton's heroic poem PolyOlbion, for which Selden composed a learned commentary. This time Selden's attempt to account for the decline of Gloucestershire as a wine-producing region provides an interesting digression. Since some of the possible explanations related to astrology and astronomy, Selden embarked on a discussion of the declination of the sun and the precession of the equinoxes, ever ready to inject the discussion with the appropriate authorities. Copernicus is again consulted, and Selden clearly derived from him the information on the observations carried out by medieval astronomers. He proceeded, however, to criticize Copernicus, whom he regarded as a careless observer, basing his judgement on the authority of Tycho Brahe, the "most Honor'd Restorer of Astronomical Motions". Given Selden's propensity for accurate and methodical observations, it is not surprising that he found - appropriately - Brahe's results the more correct of the two. And this information, we similarly learn, he derived from Brahe's posthumous work (published by Kepler) Astronomiae instauratae progymnasmata (1602). Selden's admiration for the care and diligence employed by the Danish astronomer is evident from his adjoining comment: "[I]n these things I accompt that truth, which is warranted by most accurate Observation". Caught up in this digression, Selden suddenly recollects where he is and abruptly cuts short what he believes is "too heavenly a language for the common Reader". 34 Equally revealing is the comment Selden inserted into the second edition of

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Titles of Honour (1631). Arguing for the superior merit of modem CIVIC philosophy over its ancient counterpart, Selden embarks on a famous metaphor: ... if any of those great writers of Greece were now living again, they would in recognizing and fitting their politicks to present use, fIrst inform themselves of the several faces and forms of government, and the constitutions and customs of the present ages ... and according to them make instaurations of divers of their precepts and directions, no otherwise than they would new examine the lame astronomy of their ages with the later observations of Ptolemy, Copernicus, Tycho, Galileus, Kepler, and such more, or their learning of generation, corruption, digestion, transmutation and other like by the later experiments of chymists. Not only was Selden almost the very fIrst in the English language to use the term "instauration" in the sense given to it by Bacon, but his "progressive" views on the growth and accumulative nature of knowledge made him even more akin to the recently deceased Lord Verulam. 35 In later works Selden continued to introduce his views of old and new astronomy. De jure naturali (1640) afforded him numerous opportunities to cross the boundaries separating astrology and astronomy, as well as to exhibit his knowledge of geometry and optics. Into this work he interjected a description of Galileo's telescopic observations - including the sun spots and the four moons of Jupiter - employing as his sources the Sidereus nuncius and the 1635 Latin edition of the Dialogo. Several references to the works of Kepler were also woven in at various points. In the context of a discussion of harmonies and the music of the spheres, he quoted favourably from both the Mysterium cosmographicum and the Harmonice mundi, as well as referred to the recently published Harmonicorum libri (1635) of Mersenne. Elsewhere, addressing the subject of determining the visibility of the new moon, he quoted from Kepler's Epitome astronomiae Copernicanae and Ad Vittellionem Paralipomena. 36 Selden's last work, the three volumes of De Synedriis, is perhaps the best illustration of how the new astronomy provided him with a model for the attainment of knowledge and truth. For almost a decade now, Selden had been the focus of attacks by Presbyterians and other religious enthusiasts. His activities in both the Assembly of Divines and Parliament had been instrumental in thwarting many plans by the Presbyterians to create a new church government. Since the most frequent attack accused him of being an Erastian, Selden devoted many pages of De Synedriis to vindicating his name, as well as that of Erastus himself and other "Erastians". In one chapter, a lengthy discussion of excommunication, he made a most telling comparison between Copernicus and Erastus, and the similar fates that befell their followers. Selden pointed out that neither Erastus nor Copernicus invented the theories they became famous - or rather notorious - for; the ideas had existed for centuries. Yet, both become targets of narrow-minded bigots who sought to suppress such opinions. He dwelled at length upon the placing on the index of De revolutionibus and the works of Stunica and Foscarini, as well as the later condemnation of Galileo. In the course of addressing the issue, Selden affIrmed

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his own leanings toward the new cosmology, quoting approvingly from Kepler's Astronomia nova and the Epitome. Most important, Selden was one of the first Europeans to protest in print against Galileo's condemnation and the subsequent attempts to justify the verdict by the Roman curia. His purpose was not only to vindicate his own reputation, but to condemn the arbitrary use of power by the "clerics" to suppress knowledge via indiscriminate "excommunication". And once again, Selden's grasp of the sources is striking. Not only did he know - and of course possess - all the relevant works of the "Copernicans", but his reading of the official position of the Catholic church was equally extensive. He quoted the relevant Papal Bulls as well as the editions where the prohibitions could be found; he referred both to Melchior Inchofer's Tractatus Syl/epticus and to Giorgio Polacco's Anticopernicus catholicus and, of course, to the most famous of all, Riccioli's Almagestum novum. In addition, Selden's works contain telling references to recent scientific literature, including Ismael Boulliau's Astronomia Philolaica (1645), his (Boulliau's) edition of the Arithmetica of Theon of Smyrna (1644), as well as Christopher Scheiner's Rosa Ursina. 37 Selden's vast knowledge of Oriental languages, especially Arabic, provided another major point of contact with the sciences. Since the late sixteenth century there had existed an ever-increasing tendency to explore the corpus of knowledge possessed by the Arabs. In 1612, William Bedwell, the father of Arabic studies in England, insisted that it was Arabic "which next to Greek and Latin, could boast the largest array of works of learning and general knowledge". Bedwell then proceeded to comment on the wealth of ancient literature in mathematics, astronomy and medicine that existed in Arabic translation only, the original texts having been lost. Jacob Golius was even more strident in his insistence on the connection between Arabic and science. In his opinion the study of Arabic was essential "not only because the Arabs had conserved texts that could fill the gaps in our knowledge of Greek mathematical works ... but also because of the original contributions that Arabs had made to this science". 38 Thus, from the second half of the sixteenth century, we witness an intensive search for Oriental manuscripts on the part of European scholars, many of whom either traveled themselves to the Near East or engaged merchants and other agents to seek out and purchase books and manuscripts in Turkey, Egypt and Syria. Such a marriage of interests was evident in England as well as on the Continent. Bedwell, for example, became interested in Oriental languages as a by-product of his mathematical studies. His close friend Henry Briggs, the first Savilian professor of geometry at Oxford, wished to encourage a similar marriage of interests in other univesity members. In 1628 he wrote a letter to Samuel Ward, the scientifically-oriented Master of Sidney-Sussex College, Cambridge, in which, inter alia, he mentioned the recent Arabic lectures of the German Orientalist and mathematician Mathias Pasor, then resident in Oxford. In the letter he voiced the conviction that Pasor's lectures, "which findethe

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diverse constante hearers... shall have some here able to interprete our Arabicke Euclide or any ordinarie booke written withe pointes". In fact, it had been an ambition of Briggs to persuade the then Chancellor of Cambridge, the Duke of Buckingham, to endow Cambridge with an Arabic lectureship.39 At about the same time, John Bainbridge, the ftrst Savilian professor of astronomy, was also taking steps in a similar direction. Following an encounter with an Arabic astronomical work that eluded his comprehension, Bainbridge resolved on studying the language. In a letter to Archbishop Ussher, he justified his pursuit in the following manner: It is a difftcult thing which I undertake, but the great hopes I have in that happy Arabia to ftnd most precious Stones, for the adorning and enriching my [mathematical system] do overcome all difftculties, besides the great Satisfaction to see with mine own Eyes, (videre est octava scientia) and not to be led hoodwinkt by others, who tho they may be expert in that Tongue, yet without special skill in these particular Sciences, cannot truly translate the Arabick. 40 Brian Twyne, John Gregory, John Greaves and Edward Pococke were other university men to combine oriental studies and science. Selden's interests closely paralleled those of the above-mentioned contemporaries, all of whom were close friends and colleagues. As was the custom of the day, Selden actively pursued Arabic and other oriental manuscripts, a major part of which were astronomical, astrological or mathematical in content. Unlike certain other great collectors such as Archbishop Laud, however, Selden closely scrutinized these manuscripts, often collaborating with the abovementioned colleagues in the process. Thus, in 1627 as part of his studies, Selden wished to consult a certain Arabic manuscript he believed to be in the possession of his friend John Bainbridge. The Savilian professor replied that the manuscript had already been returned to their mutual colleague, William Bedwell. He nonetheless proceeded to relate the contents of the manuscript, adding that he had asked Bedwell to translate this "precious treasure". Two months later Selden wrote a letter to Bainbridge, thanking him for some notes on Ptolemy and divulging certain chronological issues with which he was then occupied. 41 John Greaves, who succeeded Bainbridge to the Savilian chair of astronomy in 1643, was another close friend to share Selden's interest in Arabic and the sciences. Greaves' notes appear on certain of Selden's manuscripts, and he dedicated to Selden his A Discourse of the Roman Foot (1647) and Elementa linguae Persicae (1649), the last of which was published at his patron's request. Selden, for his part, was instrumental in preserving certain of Greaves' books and manuscripts that had fallen into the hands of the Parliamentary Visitors of Oxford in 1648. 42 Brian Twyne, who might have become acquainted with Selden as early as the latter's days at Oxford, c. 1600, transcribed and collated for him various Arabic manuscripts. Moreover, certain of Twyne's scientiftc notebooks passed into Selden's hands following Twyne's death in 1644.43 We also know of at least

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one instance when Twyne collaborated with John Gregory in the collation of certain Arabic manuscripts for Selden. Gregory was also in correspondence with Selden concerning various astronomical, astrological and chronological matters. 44 Finally, the most celebrated English orientalist of the seventeenth century, Edward Pococke, was yet another of Selden's close colleagues, It was Selden who secured Pococke, a protege of Laud, his position as Laudian professor of Arabic when it was suddenly jeopardized by Laud's fall from power. The surviving letters exchanged between Selden and Pococke indicate that the two also discussed linguistics, astronomy and astrology.45 Although Selden never composed a treatise devoted to oriental science, his works demonstrate that such material had been digested for use both in his chronological studies and his discussions of Near Eastern customs and beliefs, especially astrology. In addition to the mathematical sciences, Arabic studies contributed greatly to medicine, and in the pursuit of Arabic medical manuscripts Selden revealed himself equally diligent. Eleven Arabic medical manuscripts were given by Selden to the College of Physicians of London, only to be destroyed in the Great Fire of 1666.46 The material contained in these manuscripts also appears to have been scrutinized by Selden, for one of Selden's notebooks contains copious notes on Galen's and Avicenna's works. Similarly, a manuscript of Avicenna had been previously lent to Sir George Digby in 1638. 47 Additional evidence of Selden's medical interests is to be gleaned from his library. Apart from the standard anatomical treatises of Galen, Hippocrates, Vesalius, Fernel, Bartholin, Highmore and Riolan, Selden acquired the works of Paracelsus, Severino, Helmont as well as other advocates of the chemical tradition. He also possessed the works of another close friend, William Harvey, with whom in the 1630s he shared views concerning the origins of Stonehenge. Harvey was singled out by Selden as the only physician in London to share his notions of melancholy.48 Finally, it is noteworthy that Selden's manuscripts in Lincoln Inn contain a catalogue of some 64 birds, transcribed in his own hand, while some manuscripts in the Bodleian contain dried flowers and other herbals, thus providing some indication of his interest in natural history.49 Apart from Arabic, another point of contact with the mathematical sciences derives from Selden's research into chronology, "a whole school of learning", as Manuel puts it, that "has often been dismissed as a mere curiosity of literature".50 Like Kepler, Oughtred, Lydiat and Newton, Selden followed in the tradition of Scaliger as he sought to authenticate the material found in literary texts by reference to data derived from astronomical and mathematical computations. References to eclipses in ancient texts, for example, were considered a legitimate and reliable means of dating them and ultimately, of computing their age, assuming of course that the ancient texts had credence with the chronologer. Selden's prodigious philological abilities together with his grounding in mathematics and astronomy well-equipped him for this task. Having developed an interest in chronology early in his life, Selden's acquaintance with James Ussher in 1609 strengthened this inclination. In his pursuit of

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chronology, the future archbishop of Annagh availed himself of the talents of Selden as well as of Briggs, Bainbridge and Lydiat. For Selden's part, during the 1620s and 1630s he corresponded on chronology with Ussher, Bainbridge and Peiresc. 51 Selden's first work to deal with chronology was the Marmora Arundelliana of 1629, in which he provided the transcription of the marbles conveyed to England by the Earl of Arundel. Despite certain mistakes in Selden's transcriptions of the marbles - which contain some previously unknown texts essential for chronology - the work was well-received; Gassendi even styled it Selden's "Golden Book". His next venture into chronology was the celebrated De anna civili of 1644. This book, which addresses the differences between Jewish and Karaite calendars, dwells at length on such issues as lunar and solar cycles, eclipses and the computations involved. In the course of his exposition, Selden refers to the research of Scaliger, Calvisius, Lydiat and Kepler, to name only the most frequently cited. He was greatly assisted in this work by the Cambridge Platonist Ralph Cudworth, whose surviving correspondence with Selden indicates the pains taken by both men to correlate the astronomical data contained in the ancient texts with contemporary astronomical tables such as those of Kepler. 52 The reception of De anna civili was also good. It even caused Edward Sherburne to claim that Selden deserved to be included among the noted astronomers whose biographies he compiled for the appendix to his translation of Manilius' Astronomia. 53 Selden's interests did not stop with chronology. Geography, which was closely allied with history and cosmography, also claimed his attention. Like his friend William Camden, Selden was an early convert to the notion that any historical account of a country should include a description of its topography. Hence, at the outset of his De diis Syris, Selden provided a geographical description of Syria. In later years he continued to study closely the geography of the Near East; al-Idrisi's Geographia Nubiensis and other geographical sources are frequently referred to in his correspondence and writings. Selden expressed a preoccupation with the physical descriptions of England in his learned notes on Michael Drayton's Poly-Olbion. In addition, he was the author of an epigram that prefaced the first edition of Purchas his Pilgrimage (1613), and, according to Thomas Gataker, was even the anonymous author of the notes appended to the text. In later years Selden continued to assist Purchas, composing the Treatise on the Jews in England for the 1617 edition and, following Purchas' death in 1624, Selden became the beneficiary of certain of his manuscripts. 54 On the Dominion of the Seas is yet another work indicative of Selden's geographical interests, while the English edition of Ferrarius's Lexicon Geographicum (1657) owed much to Selden's interest and encouragement. 55 Again, Selden not only owned all the relevant geographical books, both ancient and modern, but he also used them extensively in his various writings. Among modern authors, mention can be made of Ortelius, Mercator, Hakluyt, Dee, Merula, Cluver and Keckennann. Indicative of Selden's approach to science is the special position Roger

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Bacon occupied in his world view. Previously noted was Selden's regard for the thirteenth-century English monk, who for him typified the quest for true knowledge, the progress of which was checked by the more suspicious clergy. Selden's identification with the intellectual pursuits of Bacon ran even deeper. Both men esteemed the value of philological studies in advancing all branches of learning, including the sciences; both advocated the experimental method coupled with mathematics in natural philosophy, and both were devoted to chronology and the study of the calendar. 56 As becomes evident from Selden's notes appended to Arthur Hopton's Concordance of Years of 1614, by this date he was already well-versed in Bacon's works. In fact, for many years Selden contemplated bringing to fruit John Dee's unfulfilled dream of editing the works of Bacon and thus vindicate Bacon's reputation. Thanks to the survival of a letter of 2 February 1637 from Sir Kenelm Digby to Selden, we learn that Selden had labored intensively to this end. The letter indicates that Selden had offered Digby, who apparently had been contemplating a similar project, all the notes he himself had collected on Bacon's works together with a manuscript he had composed on the monk's life. Nothing came of the association, at least in part because Digby had no wish to avail himself of Selden's life of Bacon which, as Digby put it, "though it be the same in substance with [his], yet it is differently apparelled".57 Selden continued to cherish his ambition, and in 1653 he again attempted to bring it to fruit, this time with the assistance of Gerard Langbaine. The ill-fated project miscarried, however, owing to Selden's death in 1654 and Langbaine's death four years later. Although certain of the manuscripts collected by Selden for this purpose have survived, his life of Bacon has been lost. 58 Selden's adherence to the model provided by Bacon also suggests the manner in which his interest in the "positive" sciences was linked with an interest in the "occult" sciences. Clearly, any attempt to rigidly separate the two during the early modem period risks falling into the trap of anachronism; contemporaries still did not distinguish sharply between the two spheres, and most intellectuals, with varying degrees of commitment, showed a simultaneous interest in such subjects as alchemy, astrology or the cabala on the one hand, and mathematics and astronomy on the other. However, with this risk firmly in mind, I should still like to proceed with the distinction for two reasons. First, limitations of space prevent an integrative and comprehensive approach to the complex relationship that exists between the "scientific" and the "occult". Second, it is my impression that the elder Selden exhibited a noticeable shift away from convictions held in his earlier years. Although in old age he was far from ready to embark on a crusade against the "occult", he nonetheless approached the subject with far more skepticism and reserve. Be this as it may, quite evident is Selden's receptivity to the various occult traditions during the 1610s and 1620s. Neo-Platonic, Hermetic and Pythagorean influences are all discernible in his writings. Like Sir Francis Bacon and others, he believed that ancient texts conceal hidden meanings. Thus, his interpretations of such works as De diis Syris bordered on the allegorical; he attributed to

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the ancient Jews and Assyrians astrological/mathematical knowledge capable of unlocking the meaning of various biblical stories as well as ancient worships. Moreover, since "the Jews [made] great and hidden correspondencies betwixt things denote by one or two words", Selden worked hard to acquire the necessary tools that would allow him to decipher such mysteries and arrive at these hidden meanings. It is quite possible, as Ziskind suggests, that Selden first became interested in Hebraic studies because of his desire to penetrate the meaning of Jewish Cabala and numerology. And indeed, from his very first book Selden displayed his knowledge of the key texts of Reuchlin, Pico, Postel and the entire Hermetic corpus. 59 In later years Selden became more skeptical. Allegories and numerology lost at least some of their previous appeal, as the following quotation makes clear: "Number in it selfe is nothing, has not to doe with nature, but is a thing meerly of humane Imposicon, a meer sound".60 The reasons for this shift may be attributed to his application of the same rigorous criteria of demonstration and verification to the occult as well as to the accumulative effect upon him of the reasoning behind the "new science". However, despite a growing skepticism, Selden continued to keep pace with the developments in the occult sciences. On 8 April 1653 Elias Ashmole recorded in his diary: Dr: Langbane ... shewed me Mr: Seldens letter to him, wherein he said he should be glad to be acquainted with me, for he found by what I had published that I was affected to the furtherance of all good learning. Ashmole was referring to the two alchemical works he had edited between 1650-1652: the Fasciculus Chemicus of Arthur Dee and the Theatrum Chemicum Britannicum. A meeting between the two men was arranged some three months later and Ashmole recorded that Selden had treated him "very courteously, & encouraged [him] in his studies".61 Selden's relations with Robert Fludd provide an additional dimension to his chemical interests. The two probably became acquainted around 1606 when Fludd embarked upon a medical practice in London. Some years later, when Selden published his Titles of Honour (1614), he attributed his publication to Fludd's success in curing him of a very serious illness, thus suggesting his past readiness to entrust his welfare to Fludd's chemical medicine.62 More illuminating is a reference to Selden in Fludd's unpublished treatise, "The Philosophical Key", composed around 1619 in order to vindicate himself of the charges of atheism and magic brought against him. Seminal to Fludd's defence was the claim that his ideas concerning the microcosm and the macrocosm had been formulated some years before he had ever heard of the Rosicrucians. To substantiate his claim, Fludd cited the names of his "Worthy freends, Mr or Andrews, and the most learned Gentlemen of the Inner Temple, Mr Seldein", both of whom could testify he had completed the manuscript in his Historia Macrocosm; as early as 1611 or thereabouts. Selden's library contained a presentation copy of the Historia bearing the inscription "Ex dono authoris viri doctissimi, humanissimi, & de me optime meriti".63 Here again Roger Bacon provides an important link. According to Selden,

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what the "world hath of him, proceeds for the most part, from his chymick doctrin".64 And Selden indeed proceeded to cultivate these studies. Thomas Hearne later commented on Selden's admiration of Fludd and his chemistry "of wch Mr. Selden himself was an admirer, as may partly appear from some of his mss. in the [Bodleian]". Elsewhere Hearne continued: "Indeed, Selden was a follower of such sort of learning as the Dr. [Fludd] profest himself, & used very frequently to dive into the Books of Astrologers & Soothsayers. Whence 'tis that he so often quotes Julius Firmicus & Vettius Valens ... & divers besides, wch makes many of his Writings hardly intelligible, he being fond of even their very expressions" .65 Evidence of Selden's familiarity with the more esoteric sciences is corroborated by other facts. From the "Album Amicorum" of the Rosicrucian Joachim Morsius, it emerges that during the latter's visit to England in 1619, he had met Selden as well as such men as Fludd, Banfi Hunyades and Thomas Allen. 66 His library is again indicative of his immersion in these studies, for he possessed virtually complete runs of the works of Paracelsus, Dorn, Libavius, Helmont, Ficino, Lull, Bonatus, Giorgi as well as the Hermetic corpus. Selden's approach to astrology had much in common with his approach to other branches of "occult" science. Although increasingly critical of the subject and its practitioners, he was still unwilling to altogether deny its value; indeed, he even envisaged the possibility of the discipline's resurrection, if and when its false claims were weeded out and replaced with accurate observations and firm theoretical foundations. In his Titles 0/ Honour (1614), for example, Selden could write that "astrology, in itself, not abused, being a most honourable art".67 However, abuses abounded, and Selden proved to be as harsh a critic as Pico in denouncing them. Thus, following the publication of History of Tythes, James I demanded satisfaction on a number of issues, one of which related to the tradition of fixing the birth of Christ as 25 December. Selden's learned opinion was formulated c. 1619, but not published until 1652, when it appeared under the title Of the Birth-Day of Our Saviour. In this work Selden ridiculed astrologers who claimed to calculate the Nativity of Christ "out of astrology": "Doubtless, it is most vain (that we may speak no worse of it) both in regard of the art itself, and also of this application of it". Selden went on to attack what he believed were the empty claims of astrologers concerning the sound and respected theoretical base of their discipline as well as its solid and continuous body of observations: "What certainty therefore can there be in that art, whose professors do make no other pretence, than long continuance of constant observation of signs, and things signified, to justify themselves; and yet in truth they have no testimony of such continuance of observations?" As far as Selden was concerned, their claims for a solid body of knowledge were invalidated by the very lack of agreement between the various astronomical tables they drew upon - the Alphonsian and Prutenic tables, for example - and the uncertainty of their results. By pretending to base their art on solid theory and observations, when such do not exist, astrologers deceive both themselves and their clients. 68 As previously mentioned, however, the critical stance taken by Selden did

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not necessarily imply rejection of the discipline. Selden continued to exercise a cautious optimism based on the conviction that improved techniques of astronomical observations together with more rigorous criteria of verification would eventually place astrology on a much more solid footing. Until such time, however, people would do best to avoid far-reaching conclusions. For this reason, Selden advised against making predictions about the meaning of the great conjunction of Saturn and Jupiter that occurs every 800 years, the cycle being too long to allow a comparative study of the phenomenon: Astrologers can make noe experiment of it nor foretell what it means. Not but yt ye Starrs may mean some thing - but wee can not tell what because wee can not come att ym. 69 In this context, Selden may be compared with the "very learned and judicious" Kepler, whom he admired. Like the German astronomer, Selden also believed in the compelling power of observations and empirical evidence both in astronomy and astrology. No doubt, he also shared Kepler's aim "to divest astrology of its irrational character and make it a rational science based on experience".70 Despite this noticeable shift, Selden continued to read virtually every work available on astrology and incorporate the results of his research into his work. He also corresponded on astrology with such men as Sir George Digby, John Gregory and Brian Twyne, as well as assisted in the astrological research of many. Thus in 1647 we find him forwarding to Claude Salmasius a rare astrological manuscript of Vettius Valens in his possession in order to assist the latter in his De annis climactericis et antiqua astrologia diatribae published the following year.?l Selden was also familiar with William Lilly whose diary records some political advice given to him by Selden.72 To complete the wide range of Selden's scientific interests, mention should be made of his passion for music. Traditionally, music was an integral part of the quadrivium, occupying as it did an important place in mathematics. But music was also employed in astronomy and the "occult" sciences, owing to the notion of the "music of the spheres" and the possible effects of music. This latter idea was elaborated upon during the Renaissance by such men as Pico and Giorgi - both of whose works were well-known to Selden - and was given credence by Kepler and Fludd. Moreover, from the mid-sixteenth century the study of music underwent important changes as increasing recognition was given to the notion that the great advances made in instrumental and vocal music should be incorporated into traditional music theory. With the rapid assimilation of acoustics into physics, the study of music also became increasingly "scientific". To this rapid ferment, the works of Vincenzo Galilei, Mersenne and Kircher - again authors whose works were found in Selden's library and cited in his works - contributed greatly. Selden himself combined the two tendencies, his scientific grasp of music theory being complemented by his reputed ability as a musician. Thus, in 1627 Selden was assisted by Peter Turner, Gresham Professor of Geometry, in a project to collate the unpublished writing of some of the most important ancient authors of music, including

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Gaudentius, Alypius and Aristides Quintilian.7 3 Although it is not known whether Selden ever contemplated editing the manuscripts himself, he certainly employed the fruits of such research in both the Marmoria Arundelliana and in greater detail in De jure naturali (1640). Moreover, Marcus Meibomius, who included the Greek treatises in his edition of the Antiqui musici scriptores (Amsterdam, 1652), acknowledged the assistance given to him by Selden who had provided him with the transcriptions newly collated by Gerard Langbaine.74 Even less conspicuous than Selden's contribution to the above-mentioned disciplines was his contribution to another aspect of the "new science", namely the notion of "laws of nature". The concept of laws of nature in the "scientific" sense, to quote Rupert Hall, "seems to have arisen from a peculiar interaction between the religious, philosophic and legalistic ideas of the medieval European world. It is apparently related to the concept of natural law in the social and moral senses familiar to medieval jurists, and signifies a notable departure from the Greek attitude to nature. The use of the word 'law' in such contexts could have been unintelligible in antiquity, whereas the Hebraic and Christian belief in a deity who was at once Creator and Lawgiver rendered it valid".75 Historians have given little attention to the development of this concept, and this is not the place to initiate a detailed discussion. However, it is significant to note that Selden's Hebraic scholarship and his major contribution to the formulation of such notions as natural law, law of nations and common law helped place him in the vanguard of his evolving discipline. For one, Selden attributed the highest significance to the Divine Deity as creator and supreme legislator. This insistence carried him beyond the traditional Christian-legalistic tradition and into the realm of Jewish scholarship. The ideas of Maimonides, Selden's favorite Jewish commentator,76 as well as other Rabbinic writers made him receptive to another key element for Judaism, the explicit notion of "design" in nature. Although neither Selden nor any of his contemporaries dealt exclusively, or even mainly, with physical laws of nature, in his legalistic and Oriental writings Selden employed nearly all the elements necessary for the formulation of laws of nature. And in retrospect, only a short distance remained between the more general discussions of such men as Selden, Grotius or Locke on natural law and laws of nations, and the full and explicit crediting of God as provider of the external laws of the physical universe he had created. 77 Selden, then, both shared and contributed to the newly emerging concept. In this context he derived much inspiration from the writings of two of his favorite medieval philosophers: Roger Bacon and Moses Maimonides. These two not only made reference to such a concept, but in addition advanced an additional metaphor crucial for the scientific revolution - that of the "two books of God" and the relations between them. Upon this foundation Selden contributed the notion of the superiority of reason over revelation in man's search for natural knowledge. Reason, Selden insisted, was no slave to theology, but man's best tool for penetrating God's purpose in ordaining his divine laws, moral or natural. Thus, the combined effect of Selden's Rabbinic, legalistic and scientific

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erudition is most significant. Ideas concerning "order", "regularity" and "legislator" were both part and parcel of Selden's legalistic and methodological training as well as important for the "new science". And Selden was not unlike Grotius in his admiration for Galileo and the latter's approach to nature; moreover, like both Grotius and Pufendorf, he shared a precise - almost mathematical- treatment of the law. On the basis of this discussion of Selden's far-reaching interests, one might conclude that his example is unique: his contribution to the intellectual ferment of the seventeenth century cannot be applied to other members of the intellectual and scientific community. This is simply not true. John Selden provides an excellent illustration of the ideal of the "general scholar" at the very moment when this breed was entering its Indian summer. Admittedly, few contemporary scholars could rival Selden in breadth of knowledge or erudition. Yet the difference between Selden and a significant number of his contemporaries was one of degree only. Like Selden, these men studied and commented on the new scientific ideas and modes of thought, those who committed themselves solely to science being still a small minority. Together, their dedication to sharing a wide body of scholarship provided an important element in the collaborative atmosphere that characterized the early ferment in science. As regards the question of the "worth" of the scientific activity of these general scholars, I believe that by isolating for study only those men who made "positive" contributions or those aspects of a corpus that came subsequently to be regarded as directly consequential for the genesis of modem science, historians show themselves insensitive to the nature of scientific enterprise in the seventeenth century. Moreover, to reject the scientific contribution of the general scholar is to do an equal disservice to the fully committed man of science; such a treatment extracts him from the complex social and cultural milieu that nurtured him. Let it not be misunderstood; it is not my purpose to misrepresent Selden. He was no scientist. However, what Selden and others like him did do was to fulfil a no less important function. Their knowledge of the most recent findings in all the arts and sciences and their commitment to cooperative research equipped them to take an active part in the process of discussion and dissemination of ideas and world views. Undoubtedly, the liberal use Selden allowed to be made of his library and his manuscripts, not to mention his scholarship, provided many investigators with the materials necessary for their research. More important still, Selden's critical attitude towards texts and authors, his advocacy of liberal scholarship and his insistence on experimentalism as the proper investigatory mode helped to foster a climate receptive to scientific activity. Indeed, the use and encouragement of such methodological tools within the English intellectual community from the early seventeenth century onward to a large extent accounts for the outburst of scientific activity in the second half of the century as men increasingly turned to account the important scientific discoveries.

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NOTES

* I wish to thank Paul Christianson, Michael Hunter and Gerald Toomer for kindly providing me with useful comments. 1. R. Parr, The Life of .. James Usher, Late Lord Arch-Bishop of Armagh (London, 1686), p. 75, hereafter cited as Parr, Usher. Hugo Grotius, De Jure Belli ac Pacis libri tres, trans. F. W. Kelsey 3 Vols. (Oxford, 1925) 11.189 n.3; Edward Sherburne, The Sphere of Marcus Manilius made an English Poem (London, 1675) Appendix p. 94; Gilbert Burnet, The History of the Reformation of the Church of England, Nicholas Pocock (ed.), (Oxford, 1865) 1.423; The Table Talk of John Selden, S. W. Singer (ed.), 2nd edition (London, 1856), p.lxxvi; John Lightfoot, The Harmony, Chronicle and Order of the Old Testament (London, 1647), sig. B3; Some years later, Colomesius expressed a similar view: "Selden etoit prodigieusement savant ... C'est Ie plus grand homme que l' Angleterre ait jamais eu pour les Belles-Lettres". Pauli Colomes;;...Opera (Hamburg, 1709), p. 814. 2. The following remarks are drawn from - and elaborate upon - my The Mathematicians' Apprenticeship: Science, Universities and Society in England, 1560-1640 (Cambridge, 1984). See also Michael R.G. Spiller, 'Concerning Natural Experimental Philosophy': Meric Casaubon and the Royal Society (The Hague, 1980); Michael Hunter, Science and Society in Restoration England (Cambridge, 1981); Idem, "Ancients, Modems, Philologists, and Scientists", Annals of Science, 39 (1982), 187-92. 3. J. Ben David, "Scientific Growth: A Sociological View", Minerva II (1963-64) 464. 4. For a discussion of the movement, see W.E. Houghton, "The English Virtuoso in the Seventeenth Century", JHI III (1942) 51-73,190-219; R.L.-W. Caudil, "Some Literary Evidence of the Development of English Virtuoso Interests in the Seventeenth Century", Oxford University, D. Phil. Thesis, 1975. 5. There is no adequate, full-length study of Selden. For general information, see DNB; J. Aikin, The Lives of John Selden, Esq. and Archbishop Usher (London, 1832); David S. Berkowitz, John Selden's Formative Years (Washington, 1988). 6. As examples of his political power and influence we may mention the following instances. In 1648, Gerard Langbaine attributed to Selden alone the ability of Oxford to resist the Parliamentary Visitors for two whole years, while five years later Oliver Cromwell wanted Selden to compose the new English constitution. Similarly, both in Parliament and the Assembly of Divines, the mere prospect of facing Selden as an opponent was sufficient to instill fear in any potential adversary. J. Leland, Collectanea, T. Heame (ed.), 5 Vols. (Oxford, 1774), V. 283; Blair Worden, The Rump Parliament (Cambridge, 1974), p. 339. 7. John Selden, Opera Omnia, D. Wilkins (ed.), 3 Vols. in 6 (London, 1726) I. Iv. 8. W. D. Macray, Annals of the Bodleian Library Oxford, 2nd ed. (Oxford, 1890), pp. 110-12, Bodleian Library, Ms. Selden Ill, p. 123. 9. Diary ofJohn Evelyn, H. B. Wheatley (ed.), 4 Vols. (London, 1906), III. 442. 10. F. J. M. Korsten, Roger North (1651-1734) Virtuoso and Essayist (Amsterdam, 1981), p. 270 n. 311. 11. In Selden's dedication of De successionibus, Laud is lavishly praised as a "most wise, most splendid, and most unremitting protector of the doctrine and teaching of Christianity" and as "patron, and even the highest stimulator" of Hebraic studies in England. However, I could find no evidence to suggest that it was Laud who procured for Selden the Oxford seat in the Long Parliament. See H. R. Trevor-Roper, Archbishop Laud, 1573-1645 (New York, 1965), p. 337. Laud's intervention seems to have benefitted the other candidate, Sir Thomas Roe. M. B. Rex, University Representation in England 1604-1690 (London, 1954),pp. 143-46. 12. Table Talk ofJohn Selden, F. Pollock (ed.), (London, 1927), p. 10. 13. Selden, Opera, III. 1073.

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14. Selden, Table Talk, p. 71. 15. John Aubrey, Brief Lives, A. Clark (ed.), 2 Vols. (Oxford, 1898), II. 221. I hope to deal with "Selden's reputation as an Atheist" elsewhere. 16. Selden, Table Talk, p. 131. 17. John Milton, Complete Prose Works, 8 Vols. (New Haven 1953-84), I. 513. 18. Michael Drayton, Poly-Olbion (Oxford, 1961), p. vijj*; Selden, Opera, 111.1729. 19. Selden, Opera, III. 88. 20. Selden, Opera, III. 1072. 21. For the original Latin, see Selden, Opera, I. xlvii, The translation is by Aikin, Lives, p. 154. Also revealing is Selden's "Galileo-like" rejoinder to Tillesley's attack on History ofTythes: "Is there a syllable in it of less truth because I was sorry for the publishing of it?" Selden, Opera, 111.1371. 22. Table Talk, p. 88. 23. Selden, Opera, III. 1073. Significantly, Milton, who also shared the conviction that heresies were the work of ignorant clerics, was unwilling to follow the argument to the logical conclusion drawn by Selden, i.e., "the very idea of heresy and blasphemy as punishable offence" is to be abolished. C. Hill, Milton and the English Revolution (London, 1977), p. 102. 24. See P. Christianson, "Young John Selden and the Ancient Constitution, ca. 1610--18", Proc. American Phil. Soc. cxxviii (1984), 271-315. 25. Selden, Opera, III. 1450. 26. Selden's obscure style and manner of presentation was commented on by many. Bolingbroke called him an "over-learned writer", The Works of Lord Bolingbroke, 4 Vols. (London, 1844), iv. 206; Less charitable authors included LeClerc, who at times could be quite vicious, Aikin, Lives, pp. 193-95; and Colomesius who "civilly" wrote: "il ecrivoit d'une maniere un pue degoutante", Opera, op. cit. p. 814. 27. Table Talk, p. 131. 28. Table Talk, p. 88. 29. Baconiana, or Certaine Genuine Remains of Sr. Francis Bacon (London, 1679), pp. 203-4; D. R. Woolf, "John Selden, John Borough and Francis Bacon's History of Henry VII, 1621", HLQ, XLVII (1984), 47-53. 30. Cal. State Pap. Dom. Charles 1,1635-36, p. 445. 31. Remarks and Collections of Thomas Hearne, C. E. Doble, D. W. Rannie, H. E. Salter (eds.), 11 Vols. (Oxford, 1885-1921), I. 81. 32. For Selden's library catalogue, see Bod!. Ms Selden 111. 33. Selden, Opera, II. 888, 867. 34. Drayton, Poly-Olbion, pp. 300--301; Selden, Opera, III. 1850. 35. Selden, Opera, III. 104. Selden used the term as early as 1612 in his notes to the PolyOlbion, the second recorded usage in the OED. 36. Selden, Opera, I. 77-78, 221-25. 37. Selden, Opera, I. 974, 979, 1076-78. 38. For Bedwell, see A. Hamilton, William Bedwell, the Arabist (Leyden, 1984); The quotation from Golius is in J. Brugman, "Arabic Scholarship", in Leyden University in the Seventeenth Century (Leyden, 1975), p. 208. 39. Bod!. Ms. Tanner 72 f. 211. 40. Parr, Usher, p. 370. 41. Bod!. Ms. Seld. Supra 108, f. 230; Trinity College Dublin, Ms. 382, f. 92. Bainbridge cooperated on matters mathematical with Selden as early as 1617, for Selden acknowledged his gratitude to Bainbridge for his transcription of manuscripts in the possession of Sir Henry Savile. Selden. Opera, III. 1415. 42. The Miscellaneous Works of John Greaves, T. Birch (ed.), 2 Vols. (London, 1737), I. xxxiii, lxvii, 179; II. 365. Various manuscripts of Selden contain notes and comments by Greaves. See, for example, Mss. Arch. A. 1 f. 83; A .8 f.ii(. 43. Bod!. Ms. Seld. Supra 109, fols. 278a, 278c; Ms. Seld. Supra 79 contains Twyne's

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transcripts of Dee and Allen manuscripts. 44. Bodl. Ms. Seld. Supra 109, fols. 52, 74, 243. 45. Bodl. Ms. Seld. Supra 109, fols. 397-99v; "The Life of... Dr. Edward Pocock", in The Theological Works of the Learned Dr. Pocock, L. Twells (ed.), 2 Vols. (London, 1740), I. 7-55, passim. 46. A. Kippis ed. Biographia Britannica 6 Vols. (London, 1747-66) V. 3621-22. 47. Bodl. Ms. Seld. Supra 151. 48. Selden, Table Talk, p. 146. 49. Bodl. Ms. Arch. Seld. B.3; Ms. Seld. Supra 111, p. 123. 50. F. Manuel, Isaac Newton, Historian (Cambridge, Mass., 1963), p. 13. 51. Parr, Usher, passim; Bodl. Ms. Seld. Supra 109, fols. 93, 174-75v, 184, for Ussher; Ms. Supra 108 fols. 107a-107av, Bodl. Ms. Smith 74 fols. 165-66; W. Camden, Epistolae (London, 1691), pp. 385-87; Selden, Opera, III. 1696-1706, for Peiresc, whom Selden elsewhere styled as "my worthy and learned friend", III. 93. 52. Bodl. Ms. Seld. Supra 109 fols. 258-270; Many of Cudworth's notes are kept in Selden's copy of Kepler's Astronomia nova, Bodl. shelf mark A. 1. 2 Med. Seld. 53. Sherburne, Manilius, App. p. 94. 54. Aikin, Lives, p. 14; Selden, Opera I. 1707. 55. Sheffield University Library, Hartlib Papers, "Ephemerides", 1654 RR-RR7, quoted by the kind permission of their owner, Lord DeIamere. 56. Selden's high esteem for Bacon can be found in virtually all his works. 57. Bodl. Ms. Seld. Supra 108, f. 78. 58. Bodl. Ms. Seld. Supra 109, fols. 376, 380, 434-36, 444; In 1653 Ussher also sent Selden an optical manuscript by Bacon he had purchased for the large sum of £8 out of Sir John Heydon's library, Hartlib, "Ephemerides" 1653, EE-EE6. See also David S. Berkowitz, "Projects for a Biography and Edition of John Selden's Works, 1654-1766", Quaerendo, 4 (1974), 256. 59. Selden, Opera, III. 1080; M. A. Ziskind, "John Selden: Humanist Jurist", Univ. of Chicago Ph.D. dissertation, 1972, pp. 226-27. 60. Selden, Table Talk, p. 84. 61. Bodl. Ms. Seld. Supra 109, fols. 407, 456; C. H. Josten, Elias Ashmole (1617-1692), 5 Vols. (Oxford, 1966), II. 641, 653. Ashmole had such a high opinion of Selden that he commissioned his portrait and later bequeathed it to Oxford, R. L. Poole, Catalogue of Portraits in the possession of the University, City and Colleges of Oxford, 3 Vols. (Oxford, 1912), 1.179. 62. Selden, Opera, III. 87. 63. Robert Fludd and his Philosophicall Key, A. G. Debus (ed.), (New York, 1979), p. 73; The presentation volume is in the Bodleian, shelf mark S.1.20 Jur. Seld. 64. Selden, Opera, III. 1718-19. 65. Hearne, Collections, II. 277; VIII. 187. 66. H. Schneider, Joachim Morsius und sien kreis (Lubeck, 1929), p. 103. I Jan 1619. 67. Selden, Opera, III. 960 68. Selden, Opera, III. 1430-31 69. Selden, Table Talk, p. 34. 70. E. J. Aiton, "Johannes Kepler in the light of recent research", Hist. Sci. XIV (1976), 78. 71. The manuscript was delivered via the English Ambassador at the Hague (and Selden's friend) William Boswell, but by the time it arrived Salmasius's book had already been published. See Bodl. Ms. Seld. Supra 108, fols. 41, 35. The manuscript originally belonged to John Dee and was given c. 1617 to Selden by John Pontoys. It is now Bodl. Ms. Arch. Seld. B.19. 72. The Last of the Astrologers, K. M. Briggs (ed.), (London, 1974), p. 45. 73. Bodl. Ms. Seld. Supra 108, fols. 228,180. The transcripts are Ms. Seld. Supra 121. 74. Bodl. Ms. Seld. Supra 109, fols. 384, 325, 291, 283. Feingold, The Mathematicians' Apprenticeship, p. 156 n. 190.

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75. A. R. Hall, The Revolution in Science, new edition (London & New York, 1983), p. 180. 76. Witness the following praise of the Rambam: "Moses Maimonides tam Physices ac Mathematices quam Theologiae ac Jurisprudentiae Judicae magister quidem eximius", Selden, Opera, I. 437. 77. Of the few general studies on laws of nature, mention should be made ofE. Zilsel, "The Genesis of the Concept of Physical Law", Phil. Rev. LI (1942), 245-79; J. Needham, Science and Civilisation in China, Vol. 2 (Cambridge, 1962),518-83; John R. Milton, "The Origin and Development of the Concept of the 'Laws of Nature'," Arch. Europ. Sociol., XXII (1981), 173-95; Jane E. Ruby, "The Origins of Scientific 'Law' ", JHI, XLVII (1986), 341-59. For divergent versions concerning Selden's views on laws of nature in the political and legal spheres, see Richard Tuck, Natural Right Theories: Their Origin and Development (Cambridge, 1979); J. P. Sommerville, "John Selden, the Law of Nature, and the Origins of Government", The Historical Journal, XXVII (1984),437-47.

KEITH M. BAKER

Reason and Revolution: Political Consciousness and Ideological Invention at the End of the Old Regime*

A reviewer of a volume I recently edited on The Political Culture of the Old Regime drew from its papers the conclusion that if the French Revolution is over (in the now-celebrated phrase of Fran~ois Furet) so then is the Old Regime. 1 There are several senses in which this might seem to be true. "Old Regime" and "French Revolution" were invented, after all, as mutually defining terms, each requiring the other; their antithesis was essential to the definition of the French Revolution as constituting a radical rupture effected by a global repudiation of a corrupt and oppressive past. In the revolutionary narrative of time and place that gave meaning to the events of 1789, the Old Regime was characterized by the opposition between despotism, privilege and oppression on the one hand, misery and Enlightenment on the other. 1789, as the French revolutionaries understood it, marked the point at which the latter combined to destroy the former. This required a conceptualization of the "Old Regime" as a coherent system of social and political oppression; equation of absolute monarchy with despotic power; identification of the philosophers of the Enlightenment as the only true progenitors of revolutionary ideas. These characterizations seem less and less convincing in the light of recent research. While it is easy to identify forms of social oppression or political arbitrariness in eighteenth-century France, it has become increasingly difficult to conceptualize them as a coherent system. In recent years, scholars have been more inclined to emphasize the civil contradictions and political contestations within the Old Regime, suggesting the ways in which such figures of revolutionary rhetoric as the equation of absolutism and despotism, and the opposition between privilege and equality, were already central features of a public culture that was far from the nightmare of a silent, despotic wasteland conjured up by opponents of absolute monarchy. And they have also found ample evidence that the philosophers of the Enlightenment - while they were far from being the literary and academic arrivistes they have sometimes been portrayed - were certainly not alone in contesting the existing order of things. To the extent that this is true, it has also become increasingly difficult to identify the point of rupture at which the Old Regime gave way to the French Revolution. Indeed, much recent research has been concentrating on the extent to which a traditional political culture had been already transformed in the R.T. Bienvenu and M. Feingold (eds), In the presence o/the past, 79-91. © 1991 KilMer Academic Publishers.

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decades before 1789, in ways that gave force and meaning to the events of that year. In the volume on The Political Culture of the Old Regime to which I have already referred, for example, Mona Ozouf discussed the emergence under the Old Regime of that tribunal of public opinion before which the French monarchy was to be brought to judgment in 1788 and 1789; Dale Van Kley demonstrated the force in that debate - and beyond it - of a Jansenist political theory growing in force since mid-century; Jeremy Popkin analyzed the extent to which prerevolutionary journalism already exhibited features of the revolutionary press. In that same·volume, too, Fran~ois Furet and Ran Halevi stressed the manner in which the absolute monarchy, in organizing the elections to the Estates General, acted simultaneously to institute the principle of democracy and rigidify the claims of privilege, thereby structuring in the process the conflict between aristocracy and democracy that ensued when that assembly finally met. And Lynn Hunt, in tum, argued that the conceptual break with the past asserted by the Declaration of the National Assembly on 17 June had already been accomplished in prerevolutionary debate before the Estates General met. 2 Far from completely accomplished, I might add. For, as Marcel Gauchet has reminded us in his excellent new book, La Revolution des droits de l' homme, this declaration that the new National Assembly was one and indivisible involved an appropriation of a traditional logic of royal sovereignty as much as it did a repudiation of a traditional logic of representation. 3 And the language of the Tennis Court Oath that followed it still allowed for the possibility that, in fixing the French constitution, the deputies would strengthen the foundations of an ancient constitution rather than instituting an entirely new one. 4 Hence the intensity of the dispute over whether a Declaration of the Rights of Man and of the Citizen should precede the constitution, logically and chronologically. Hence, too, the program of Mounier and the Monarchiens, those advocates of an English style monarchy, to build a new constitution on the remnants of the old - which was not decisively repudiated until the critical assembly debates of August and September 1789. The defeat of the Monarchiens represented the definitive triumph of the rhetoric of radical rupture with the past, henceforth central to revolutionary ideology. But this rhetoric, too, was as much a creation of the Old Regime as a warrant for its destruction. Turgot concluded his Encyclopedie article, "Fondations," by comparing the entire historically constituted social order to an inexorably expanding graveyard in which the ashes of the dead were progressively stifling the living. The enlightened conviction that "there can be no grounds for perpetuating institutions created without reason"5 suffused his own plans for administrative reform as Controller-General, and found its echo elsewhere in the royal reforming program, most notably in the litany of an attack upon abuses offered the Notables by Calonne in 1787. Antipathy to the past became part of what Tocqueville called the "revolutionary education of the masses" conferred by the reforming monarchy in the last years of the Old Regime. 6

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It can hardly be denied, then, that our understanding of the Old Regime has become increasingly complex - and views of its relationship to the French Revolution increasingly muddied - in consequence of the research accomplished during the bicentennial season. But does it follow - as suggested in the review to which I referred at the outset - that this research is so far from revealing a pattern that we can see no possibility of arriving at a coherent account of the origins and character of the Revolution itself? In what follows, I would like to offer, in necessarily sketchy form, my own attempt at a response to this particular challenge. In doing so, I shall emphasize three principal factors: the radical transformation of French political culture in the decades preceding the French Revolution; the invention of public opinion, now understood as the ultimate source of authority in that transformed political culture; and the conceptual disaggregation, within that culture, of the traditional attributes of monarchical authority into a series of competing political discourses, each understood as offering a means of reconstituting social and political order. I have discussed these themes more fully elsewhere'? But there may be some virtue, despite the risk of repetition, in bringing them together in relatively schematic form. I tum first, then, to the radical transformation of French political culture that occurred in the last decades of the Old Regime. In the course of those years, a new dynamic of political contestation emerged in French public life. Many important features of that dynamic were not, of course, entirely novel. The issues that fed it - issues of religious, fiscal and constitutional policy, of public administration and political right, of military strength and social welfare - had deep roots in French history. Similarly, its patterns of parlementary resistance and pamphlet warfare had clear precedents in the political conflicts of the Fronde that had preceded Louis XIV's accomplishment of absolute rule, as in the conflicts that flared up during the Regency following that longest of reigns. Yet after the mid-eighteenth century, these issues and patterns became part of a radical transformation. French politics broke definitively - and, as it proved, irreversibly - out of the absolutist mold. Several features of this transformation are worth emphasizing. The first is that a politics of contestation became a systematic, rather than a merely occasional feature of the political culture of the Old Regime. Appropriately enough, given that absolute monarchy had found its classic justification in the need to contain the divisiveness of religious passions, the new political dynamic first erupted in relation to the constitutional questions regarding religious policy that became the obsessive center of French public life in the 1750s with the escalation of a bitter dispute between the church hierarchy and the civil courts (led by the parlement of Paris) over the refusal of sacraments to Jansenist dissenters. As Dale Van Kley has been demonstrating in detail in an increasingly compelling series of analyses, the crown proved powerless to control the many ramifications of this profoundly divisive issue. 8 Indeed, the more emphatic the government's efforts to bring the conflict to an authoritative

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resolution, the more radically royal sovereignty itself was placed in question. But issues of religious policy were not alone in bringing the monarch's ministers increasingly into conflict with his parlementary magistrates. The new dynamic of political contestation was fed by a profound civic contradiction, existing at the very heart of the French monarchy: a contradiction between the particularistic logic of a constituted social order underlying a traditional conception of royal government in the judicial mode, and the universalistic logic inherent in the development of the absolute monarchy, which sustained a conception of royal government in the administrative mode. Tocqueville long ago identified this contradiction as central to the political culture of the Old Regime. But his analysis assumed that the latter pole of this contradiction was already the dominant one at the end of the Old Regime, and that the principles and practices of administrative government had already virtually destroyed the traditional particularistic foundations of the social order, thereby inculcating in the French that taste for "democratic despotism" which was to defme the character of the Revolution and remain the essential feature of their political culture thereafter. Hence his contention that France had already become the country in which men were most like one another; that remaining juridical differentiations (most notably those relating to the aristocracy) had become increasingly empty of real social content, and thus all the more rigid and castelike; that the French of the eighteenth-century wanted equality far more (and far earlier) than they wanted liberty. Recent research, particularly that of David Bien and Gail Bossenga, has modified and refmed Tocqueville's views substantially, by suggesting that the growth of the administrative monarchy - far from simply undermining privilege and particularism in favor of uniformity and universality - in fact fostered an increasingly intense conflict between these two sets of principles.9 Because the sale of offices allowed the government to draw on the private credit of officeholders as an alternative to a system of public finance, thereby evading the political accountability that such a public system would require, the absolute monarchy continued to manufacture privileges and multiply corporate bodies of officeholders until the very end of the Old Regime. But as its financial situation became more pressing, it also turned with growing frequency to direct and indirect taxes imposed on privileged and unprivileged alike. If the burden of these taxes was progressively justified in terms of the common obligations of citizenship, so was the arbitrary manner of their imposition increasingly denounced in the name of the rights of citizens, thereby fostering the very demands for accountability that the absolute monarchy had sought to avoid by its recourse to loans secured by privileges. As its financial situation became more pressing, too, so the monarchy sought to stimulate economic growth and enhance the taxability of the population by radical measures of reform. Among the earliest and most disruptive was the liberalization of the grain trade, that desperate experiment first attempted in 1763 with the disastrous economic and political results analyzed by Steven Kaplan. 1O Abandoned in 1769, in the face of riot and disorder among the

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populace and growing resistance from the magistrates and lower police officials; reinstituted and repealed repeatedly until the Revolution, reform of the grain trade became part of that progressively more comprehensive - and more desperate - program for social transformation and administrative reorganization adopted by such successive reforming ministers as Turgot, Calonne, and Brienne. With each effort to implement this program for the reconstitution of social and political order, the institutional strains and ideological divisions, the administrative constraints and political limitations of the absolute monarchy became more evident. With each such effort, too, it became increasingly clear that the absolute monarchy could not itself resolve the fundamental contradiction inherent in its development: it could neither abandon the particularistic foundations upon which its claims to absolute authority rested, nor retreat from the universalistic implications of its fiscal and administrative policies. It could only oscillate uneasily between these poles, thereby intensifying the tension between them. Thus, within the traditional circuits of authority that linked the crown's administrative agents with its judicial officers in the formulation and implementation of the king's public will, government policies were met, from the 1750s on, by increasingly radical and defiant parlementary remonstrances, answered in turn by progressively more emphatic assertions of royal power. Frequently, these latter were countered by the magistrates' refusal to continue the normal administration of justice, to which the crown responded with lettres de cachet ordering their exile. On two occasions - with the Maupeou "revolution" of 1771 and Brienne' s May Edicts of 1788 - this dynamic of confrontation became so powerful that it forced the royal government into radical acts of authority, issuing in the virtual destruction of the parlements by royal fiat. Were these acts of "despotism" or "reform"? Historians have been no less divided on the question than were contemporaries. But in arguing the matter, they have scarcely gone beyond the terms in which contemporaries themselves debated the issue. For the important fact is that contemporaries did debate the issue. Indeed, it is a striking feature of the new political culture of the Old Regime that conflicts within the traditional circuits of power spilled progressively beyond them into a wider public sphere. I I Again, this development was not without its precedents. But while appeals from an institutional to an extra-institutional politics had hitherto been characteristic of the sporadic crises in the traditional body politic - the Fronde is only the most dramatic example - they now became a structural element of a new political culture. And they were given a powerful legitimacy by that great political invention of the eighteenth century, the concept of "public opinion". As early as the 1750s, servants of the monarchy were beginning to sense that the crown was in danger of losing the ideological initiative to the parlements, and that it would be necessary to mobilize the symbolic resources of absolutism in radically new ways in order to defend it. Jacob-Nicolas Moreau, soon to become historiographer-royal and dean of government propagandists, devoted an entire career to this new mode of ideological

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contestation. I2 As parlementary remonstrances denouncing royal despotism circulated illegally and sold in large numbers; as the government found itself compelled, willy-nilly, to follow the example of its critics in pressing pamphleteers into service to extend political debate on all sides; as magistrates and ministers jockeyed for coverage in the relatively independent international press; 13 as trial lawyers used the publicity of legal briefs to appeal increasingly notorious and explosive cases beyond the confines of the Palais de Justice,14 an alternative system of authority was created and vested in that new tribunal which emerged in the 1770s in the guise of "public opinion". From this perspective, it is important to emphasize that "public opinion" was not simply or even principally - a growing social force. It was important, above all, not as a sociological phenomenon but as a political category, a new form of political authority which became the defining feature of the political culture of the Old Regime in its last decades. In practice, "public opinion" was invoked with increasing frequency in the context of increasingly open political contestations. But it is a remarkable feature of the concept that it was construed by its theorists as rational, universal, impersonal, unitary: the depoliticized image of a rational consensus untroubled by the passions of willful human action. In this strange guise, it functioned historically as a kind of liminal concept between absolute monarchical authority and the revolutionary general will. The crown had already implicitly accepted the legitimacy of this alternate authority when it opened to public discussion the question of the forms of the convocation of the Estates General, thereby inviting the thousands of pamphlets that appeared in the last months of 1788. "Public opinion" had become the articulating concept of a transformed political culture, the symbolic key to a new political space with a legitimacy and authority apart from that of the crown. Within this new political space, the political discourse of the French Revolution took form. But in what terms? In approaching that question, I would emphasize the importance of exploring the elaboration, opposition, and interpenetration of an entire series of competing political discourses put into play before the court of public opinion during the last years of the Old Regime. Each of these discourses offered a resolution of the fundamental civic contradiction of the Old Regime through an imaginative reconstitution of the social and political order. And I have suggested elsewhere that each did so by emphasizing one aspect of royal authority as traditionally conceived: justice, reason, or will. IS Many features of French Revolutionary discourse - many of its tensions and contradictions, and much of its political dynamic - can be understood as a consequence of the competition between these discourses, and of the unstable synthesis among them that was the ultimate result of that competition. To illustrate the process I have in mind, I shall tum briefly to the creation of one of the most central revolutionary concepts: that of national sovereignty. It is a truism to say that the Revolution sought to reconstitute French political life by transferring sovereignty from the king to the nation. But the political discourses

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of the Old Regime already offered several possible ways of imagining the transformation of sovereign power and its reabsorption into the nation. The revolutionary's assertion of national sovereignty required complex choices and combinations among them.1 6 The discourse of justice, which found its principal expression in parlementary or pro-parlementary writings, drew on the conceptual resources of a French constitutional tradition effaced by the growth of absolutism since the sixteenth century - but dramatically revived and reworked in the constitutional conflicts of the late eighteenth. Reasserting the existence of fundamental laws as an essential limit on the exercise of royal sovereignty, parlementary theorists were forced in the course of political debate to take an increasingly aggressive stance in defending these laws as ramparts of a historical constitution to which both king and nation were party: a constitution therefore subject to change only with the consent of the nation. As they did so, parlementary registration of royal edicts, at first defended as an indispensable judicial form, was redefined as an expression of the principle of national consent in matters of legislation - a principle finally issuing in demands for the calling of the Estates General as the only and ultimate institutional expression of the national will. Within the discourse of justice, national sovereignty thus found its eventual place among those "rights of the nation" the magistrates claimed to defend. It became the ultimate limiting condition upon the exercise of royal power. It need hardly be said that the discourse of will exemplified by Rousseau cast the issue of national sovereignty into a very different language. Setting aside historical facts and juridical titles, the Citizen of Geneva dissolved the particularistic social order of the historically constituted nation into a multiplicity of individuals, to be reconstituted analytically as a political community of citizens equal before the law. He thereby transferred the sovereignty elaborated by theorists of absolute monarchy from the natural person of the king to the abstract, collective person of the people. In Rousseau's doctrine, as in that of monarchical theorists, sovereignty was indivisble and inalienable: it could be neither delegated nor represented without destroying the unity of person in which it inhered. In Rousseau's doctrine, as in that of monarchical theorists, sovereign authority, while absolute in the sense that it could not be bound by other wills or prior laws, was also limited. But it was limited not by divine law and natural law, which is to say the logic of particularistic justice in a corporate society of orders and Estates, but by the logic of generality inherent in the very nature of the social contract as an association of equal individuals. Hence the chapter of Du contrat social entitled "The Limits of Sovereign Power", which consisted precisely in explicating the requirement that the general will - to remain a truly general will, free of all particularity - be general in its object as in its source, that it emanate from all and apply to all without any taint of particularity whatsoever. In effect, then, Rousseau claimed sovereignty for the body of the people, understood as an abstract, collective person. His was a radically political, voluntarist language in which society was seen as an emanation of will. If this

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was true negatively in the case of the illegitimate order of modem society described in the Discours sur I'inegalite, in which each was dependent upon the corrupted particular wills of others, it was true positively in the case of the legitimate social order imagined in Du contrat social, in which each remained free in dependence upon the rightful general will. Creation of the general will was the act constituting true social order; maintenance of a truly general will was the condition of continuing social existence; its destruction implied simultaneous dissolution of the political body. In Rousseau's theory, the people simply ceases to exist as an abstract, collective being whenever the general will ceases to operate. Hence his radical repudiation of representation. The moment a people gives itself representatives, he insisted, "it is no longer free, it no longer exists" (Du contrat social, bk. 3, chap. 15; emphasis added). The theory of representation, in contrast, became one of the central features of the discourse of reason offered by the physiocratic movement. Where Rousseau imagined the dissolution of a society of orders and Estates into a community of equal citizens bound by the exercise of a common political will, the physiocrats sought to substitute a natural order of society based on the principles of propertied individualism. Where Rousseau imagined the transfer of sovereignty from the crown to the universality of the citizens, the physiocrats sought its transmutation into the rule of nature through the creation of a dynamic society of property holders actively pursuing individual welfare under the salutary guidance of a rational and enlightened administration. From a state as political power acting upon corporate society, they sought to arrive at a state as administrative agency deriving its authority from the rationality of modem civil society, constituted as a society of property-owning individuals whose interests it would articulate and whose needs it would serve. How much easier it would be to "make a living body move" by eliciting the representation of social interests in provincial assemblies, Le Trosne argued in his De l' administration provinciale et de la reforme de l'impot.n The introduction of representation through the creation of local assemblies of propertyholders became the key to the transformation of government anticipated by such figures as Turgot, Dupont de Nemours, Condorcet, Le Trosne and, eventually, Calonne. Through the articulation of social interests, power would be transformed into social reason. It is scarcely surprising that elements of each of these competing discourses

found their way into the most important work to emerge from the prerevolutionary debate, Sieyes's Qu' est-ce que Ie Tiers Etat? Sieyes's pamphlet stripped the historical nation of its constitutionalist trappings within the discourse of justice, grounded it in the social reason of the physiocratic order of nature, and endowed it with the active, immediate sovereignty of the people in Rousseauian theory. But this rather mechanical formulation does little justice to the sheer intellectual force and creativity of Sieyes's pamphlet, or to the rhetorical brilliance and power of his arguments. The crown's reluctant decision to summon an assembly that had not met for almost two hundred years called into question the entire nature of French society and politics as it existed at the end

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of the eighteenth-century. Indeed, by posing for public discussion the issue of how such a body might now be called - acknowledging, moreover, that it lacked the archival basis for deciding the issue on purely historical grounds the government opened up to explicit contestation all that had happened within the realm of France since 1614. The result was an immense confusion of claims, a veritable political Babel. Qu' est-ce que Ie Tiers Etat? became the most celebrated and important pamphlet of the prerevolutionary period (indeed, of the entire French Revolution) precisely because it ordered, clarified, and transformed the terms of this debate. By an act of intellectual power and creativity, it defined the revolutionary moment. There were powerful biographical springs to this act of political invention. We know of the frustrations experienced by this ambitious member of the Third Estate as his career advancement within the Church failed to proceed as rapidly as he felt he had the right to expect. We know, too, of the bitterness with which he reported to his father the failures of aristocratic patrons to place him more advantageously. "My protector is consoling himself for the failure of his big coup ... ", went one such letter. "His failure certainly hurts him less than it does me. If the business had turned out as he hoped, I would have been everything instead of being nothing".18 Other members of the Third Estate had surely experienced similar sentiments. But Sieyes was to find a moment and a language to give this experience of frustration a political force, transforming the ambition of an individual nothing to become something into a collective demand for the destruction of an entire social and political order. A moment - and a language. For it is not the least remarkable aspect of Sieyes's intellectual life that he had published nothing before he suddenly erupted into print in 1788. He had nourished profound ambitions; he had read voraciously in the writings of the Enlightenment; he had taken voluminous notes, planned and begun ambitious works of political economy. He even claimed to have anticipated Adam Smith's views regarding the division of labor. But the simple fact remains that until 1788 he had nothing in print to show for these ambitions; his intellectual career simply replicated the frustrations of his clerical career. In 1788 these intellectual and career frustrations suddenly converged and found release together in a white hot series of pamphlets that cut like a laser through the political and social tissue of the Old Regime. "What is the Third Estate?" Sieyes's answer was explosively (and deceptively) simple: "The Third Estate is a complete nation". But what is a nation? To this question, Sieyes responded in two quite different languages. In the first, which displayed an obvious affinity for the discourse of social reason favored by the physiocrats, the nation takes form as society: that system of personal interpendence and occupational differentiation emerging at the interface between physical nature and human action, where human industry serves the needs of life and the pursuit of happiness. From the nation-qua-society, actively engaged in useful functions, the privileged were excluded by very definition. Such a class, Sieyes insisted, was "assuredly alien to the nation because of its idleness".19

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Nor were the privileged less definitively excluded by Sieyes from the nationqua-polity, that nation construed within a discourse of will owing much to Rousseau. This nation was defined in terms of equality and universality: the equality inherent in the common status of citizens; the universality inherent in the exercise of their common will. Neither of these characteristics of nationhood were compatible with the existence of privileges or the separate representation of privileged persons within the political order. "A political society", Sieyes insisted, "can be only the collectivity of the associates. A nation cannot decide not to be the nation, or to be so only in a certain manner ... Similarly, a nation cannot decide that its common will shall cease to be its common will".20 Such arguments comprised a devastating repudiation of juridical claims to an ancient constitution requiring the division of orders within the Estates General, and the vote by order. Even if such a constitution existed, which Sieyes was scarcely willing to admit, it would be radically incompatible with that exercise of a unitary common will which the nation could never abandon. Even if such a constitution existed, he insisted, the nation must not be bound by it for a moment longer. "The nation is prior to everything, it is the origin of everything. Its will is always legal, it is the law itself...".21 Sieyes transformed the historically created nation into a primordial political reality, the metaphysical ground of all social being. No existing constitution, no putative previous contract between the nation and its ruler, no prior decision of the body of the nation or of its representatives, could henceforth bind the nation in the exercise of its inalienable sovereign will, or constrain the expression of that will within particular forms. "The manner in which the nation expresses its will does not matter, it is sufficient that it do so; any form is good, and its will is always the supreme law ... Let us not be afraid of repeating it: a nation is independent of any form; no matter how it expresses its will, that will need only become evident for all positive law to cease before it, as the supreme master of positive law".22 With these words, Sieyes invented the modem concept of national sovereignty together with its essential political corollary, the principle of revolutionary will. He had done so by repudiating parlementary constitutionalism through the logic of a radically new doctrine synthesizing elements of the physiocratic discourse of social reason and the Rousseauian discourse of political will. The resulting theory, given revolutionary expression through the creation of the National Assembly, destroyed the Old Regime. But it also presented profound conceptual difficulties for the French Revolution. For if the separate discourses from which the new principle of national sovereignty had been forged offered powerful arguments against privilege, particularism, and the claims of royal absolutism, there remained profound tensions between them - not least in respect to the issue of representation. These tensions were quickly to become apparent once the National Assembly turned from destroying an old order to creating a new one.

It is one of the most interesting features of the constitutional debates of the

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National Assembly in August and September 1789 that they involved a threeway argument over the nature of national sovereignty conducted in language that stilI owed much to the competing discourses I have identified as existing under the Old Regime. 23 From this perspective, Mounier and the Monarchiens can be seen as the last spokesmen for the eighteenth-century discourse of justice, defending a constitutional tradition now pared down to its barest essentials. In their view, the deputies' task was not to create a new form of government but to temper an existing one. If France lacked an ancient constitution complete in all its parts, they argued, it nevertheless possessed a longstanding tradition of monarchical government which could now be perfected in the light of reason and experience. The latter required a constitutional balance of powers ensured by a bicameral legislature and an absolute royal veto, arrangements justified by the fact that the nation was the residual source of sovereignty but could never be its active and immediate agent. The constitutional program of the Monarchiens was decisively repudiated in the September debates over the royal veto - and with it the last remnants of the discourse of justice that had been so powerful a force in bringing about the destruction of absolute monarchy. The revolutionary deputies now committed themselves to instituting an entirely new constitutional order in which national sovereignty was to be not the ultimate limit upon government but its active and immediate motivating force. But how was that exercise of national sovereignty to be achieved in a vast society where direct democracy was impossible? How was the indivisibility and inalienability of the nation's sovereignty to be sustained in the face of the necessity for representation? Sieyes argued in the assembly debates that the national will could find its expression only in a representative assembly, since only there was it possible to formulate a truly unitary will through discussion among the deputies of the entire nation, a common will free of the partial interests of a multiplicity of electoral constituencies. Since a truly general, national will could not exist outside the national assembly, or anterior to its deliberations, an external veto limiting the will of the assembly was unnecessary, nonsensical, and radically dangerous. This was a reformulation, in terms of the theory of representation, of Rousseau's requirement that the general will be general in its source and general in its object, which is to say that it would result from formal procedures of decision-making within the assembly rather than preceding, and being reflected by, them. Retreating from the more extreme voluntaristic claims of Qu' est-ce que Ie Tiers Etat?, and drawing more explicitly on the elements of the physiocratic discourse of social reason, Sieyes now argued, in effect, that the general will could not be understood as a primordial will existing independently of all forms; it was not a prior positive will to be transmitted from the primary assemblies to the national assembly through the device of representation, but a rational public will achieved only through the enlightened deliberation of the unitary representative body. From this perspective, representation was not simply a political device rendered necessary by the impossibility of direct democracy in a large state. Instead, it was an application to politics of the

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division of labor that was the organizing principle of modem civil society; a means of achieving enlightened decisions in a society characterized by differentiations of talent and enlightenment. Hence the absurdity, from this perspective, of an argument for a suspensive veto justified on the grounds that decisions of the national assembly must be continually scrutinized for the possibility of their deviation from the general will. A rational common will, Sieyes insisted, simply could not exist outside the representative assembly. The assembly's decision in favor of a suspensive royal veto was therefore a defeat for Sieyes no less than for Mounier and the Monarchiens. It expressed a very different understanding of the operation of national sovereignty, offered to the assembly in the terms of a Rousseauian discourse of will. On this view, the general will existed as a positive prior will inhering in the body of the nation as a whole. Deputies were elected to articulate that will in the national assembly, whose collective decisions were assumed to express it only in the absence of suspicion to the contrary. But once sovereignty was held to be inherent in the body of the nation in this way, the danger of its alienation from the nation to the representative assembly - the threatening possibility that a particular will might be substituted for the real will of the nation - became everpresent. The suspensive veto gave the kind the responsibility to delay acceptance, until the nation had effectively expressed itself, of any act of the legislative body that might be suspected of not conforming to the general will of the nation. It was a way of reconciling sovereignty and representation - a practice at once dangerous and unavoidable in a large state - within the language of a Rousseauian discourse of will. Elsewhere, I have argued that in voting for a suspensive royal veto, the revolutionary deputies opted, in the long run, for the Terror. 24 In reiterating that claim, I want to emphasize the "in the long run", because I do not want to minimize the significance of the subsequent issues and events that propelled the French from 1789 to 1793. But I remain convinced that the particular manner of combining representation and national sovereignty within the discourse of will that was adopted in September 1789 structured the subsequent political dynamic of the Revolution, and with it the underlying problem to which the Terror became the response. That problem, in a word, required securing within the assembly a unitary representative will identical to that embodied general will imputed to the nation as a whole. Unity within the assembly had, per impossibile, to mirror unity outside it. In their efforts to achieve this state, the revolutionaries were obliged either to purge the assembly or to purge the nation. The Terror was a combination of both. NOTES

* An earlier version of this paper was presented to the annual meeting of the American Historical Association in San Francisco, December 1989. I would like to thank William H. Sewell, Jr. for his comments on that occasion. Unless stated otherwise, translations from French are my own.

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1. David A. Bell, review of Keith Michael Baker (ed.), The French Revolution and the Creation of Modern Political Culture. Volume 1: The Political Culture of the Old Regime (Oxford, 1987), in French Politics and Society 7 (1989):145-156. 2. See the articles by these authors in Baker, Political Culture of the Old Regime. 3. Marcel Gauchet, La Revolution des droits de l' homme (Paris, 1989). 4. On this point see Baker, Inventing the French Revolution: Essays on French Political Culture in the Eighteenth Century (Cambridge, 1989), pp. 252-8. 5. Turgot, Memoire sur les municipalites, as translated in Baker, (ed.), The Old Regime and the French Revolution (Chicago, 1987), p. 98. 6. See Alexis de Tocqueville, The Old Regime and the French Revolution, trans., Stuart Gilbert (Garden City, NY, 1955), p. 188. 7. See the essays collected in Baker, Inventing the French Revolution. 8. Dale Van Kley, The Jansenists and the Expulsion of the Jesuits from France, 1757-65 (New Haven, 1975); "Church, State, and the Ideological Origins of the French Revolution: The Debate over the General Assembly of the Clergy in 1765", Journal of Modern History 51 (1979): 629-66; The Damiens Affair and the Unravelling of the Ancien Regime, 1750-1770 (princeton, 1984); and "The Jansenist Constitutional Legacy in the French Revolution", in Baker (ed.), The Political Culture of the Old Regime, pp. 169-201. 9. See David Bien, "Offices, Corps, and a System of State Credit: The Uses of Privilege under the Ancien Regime", in Baker (ed.), The Political Culture of the Old Regime, pp. 89-114; Gail Bossenga, "City and State: An Urban Perspective on the Origins of the French Revolution", idem, pp. 115-40. 10. Steven L. Kaplan, Bread, Politics and Political Economy in the Reign of Louis XV, 2 vols., (The Hague, 1976). 11. In the following paragraphs, I draw particularly on my essay, "Public Opinion as Political Invention", in Baker, Inventing the French Revolution, pp. 167-99; see also Mona Ozouf, "Opinion publique", in Baker (ed.), The Political Culture of the Old Regime, pp. 419-34. 12. See Baker, Inventing the French Revolution, pp. 59-85. l3. See especially Jeremy D. Popkin, News and Politics in the Age of Revolution: Jean Luzac's Gazette de Leyde (Ithaca, 1989). 14. See Sara Maza, "Le tribunal de la nation: Les memo ires judiciaires et I'opinion publique ala fin de l'ancien regime", Annales: ESC 47 (1987): 75-90. 15. Baker, Inventing the French Revolution, pp. 25-7; "Sieyes", in Franr;ois Furet and Mona Ozouf (eds.), Critical Dictionary of the French Revolution, trans. Arthur Goldhammer (Cambridge, MA, 1989), pp. 313-23. 16. In the following paragraphs I draw particularly on my articles, "Sovereignty" and "Sieyes", in Furet and Ozouf (eds.), Critical Dictionary, pp. 844-59, 3l3-23. 17. Le Trosne, De l' administration provinciale et de la reforme de l'impot (Basel, 1799), p. 318. 18. Paul Bastid, Sieyes et sa pensee (Paris, 1970), pp. 35-6. 19. Emmanuel Joseph Sieyes, Qu'est-ce que Ie Tiers Etat? Roberto Zapperi (ed.), (Geneva, 1970), p. 125. 20. Ibid., p. 188. 21. Ibid., p. 180. 22. Ibid., p. 183. 23. I have discussed these debates more fully in my essay, "Fixing the French Constitution", in Baker (ed.), Inventing the French Revolution, pp. 253-305. 24. Ibid., p. 305.

JONATHAN BEECHER

Victor Considerant: The Making of a Fourierist*

In Dostoevsky's great novel The Devils we are introduced at an early point to "the insignificant and almost abject figure of a little provincial official, a jealous husband and coarse family tyrant", named Liputin. When Liputin is visited by Nicholas Stavrogin, Stavrogin finds a book by the French utopian socialist Victor Considerant lying "very conspicuously" on his table. It soon turns out that the little man, "a miser and a moneylender, who locked up the remnants of meals and the candle-ends", was at the same time a Fourierist who spent his nights gloating ecstatically over "fantastic visions of a future Phalanstery". Stavrogin is mystified by the discovery of this utopian dreamer in a sleepy provincial town where, for perhaps a hundred miles around, "there was not a single man, himself included, who bore any resemblance to a future member of 'the universal social republic and harmony"'. Later we learn that Liputin is a "Fourierist with a strong leaning towards police work". But at the end of this first encounter we are left only with a question: '''Goodness knows where such people spring from,' wondered Nicholas, as he sometimes recalled the unlooked-for Fourierist".1 Stavrogin's question - "where do such people spring from?" - is worth asking of the Fourierists because, as Dostoevsky suggests, there was in fact a striking contrast between the drab, pinched lives of some of Fourier's earliest followers and the glorious vision of sensual gratification and emotional fulfillment that Charles Fourier sketched in his works. None of Fourier's early French disciples was as coarse or abject as Liputin. But they were for the most part ordinary people leading unspectacular lives - rentiers, notaries, doctors, functionaries, junior army officers, a few wealthy landowners - many of them from Franche-Comte where Fourier himself was born. The oldest of the disciples, Just Muiron, a petty functionary from Besans:on, did have a few traits in common with Liputin. What is most striking about the others is that, with a few exceptions, they were modest individuals of meager attainments and (apart from their fascination with Fourier's ideas) limited horizons. The large question this raises is that of Fourier's appeal. Why did a doctrine as sensationally eccentric as Fourier's appeal to the ordinary people who were in fact his first followers? R.T. Bienvenu and M. Feingold (eds),!n the presence of the past, 93-120. © 1991 Kluwer Academic Publishers.

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The present essay does not address this question directly. What is does offer is a close look at the early years of one of Fourier's disciples, Victor Considerant (1808-1893). It seeks to situate Considerant within the provincial and familial worlds that shaped him and to explain how and why he came to find both intellectual and emotional sustenance in the utopian vision of Cahrles Fourier. Considerant was by far the most gifted of Fourier's disciples, and he did more than any other single individual to make Fourier's ideas known to the world at large. He played an important role in the development of socialist journalism in the 1830s and ' 40s, and he was one of the leaders of the democratic socialist left during the Second Republic. He was a generous, quixotic, and attractive human being, capable of great eloquence in expounding Fourier's ideas. Yet by comparison with Fourier himself he had a prosaic mind and an earth-bound imagination. His main accomplishment as a popularizer of Fourier's theory was to weed out or suppress the boldest, most provocative ideas so as to make the doctrine palatable to a much wider audience than Fourier himself was ever able to reach. Victor Considerant was never the outsider that Fourier became. Although as a young man he sometimes complained about the narrowness and prejudice of his compatriots from Franche-Comte, he was as an adult bound to a number of them by friendship, by marriage, and by family loyalty. In his attempts in the 1830s and ' 40s to find funding for a whole series of newspapers and other publishing ventures and also for his own initial political campaigns he asked for, and often received, substantial support from friends and acquaintances in Franche-Comte, many of them connected with the region's important iron industry. There is a sense, then, in which the Fourierist movement always remained anchored to the provincial milieu in which it began. If a close study of Considerant's early years will not enable us to answer Stavrogin's question, it should at least shed light on the more specific problem of the appeal of Fourier's ideas within the provincial milieu from which Considerant, like many of Fourier's other early disciples, came. 2

Although Victor Considerant became a Parisian by adoption and later an American citizen, he never forgot that he was a native of Franche-Comte. And although he made his reputation as the chief exponent of an ideology that minimized the importance of birthplace and family and local tradition, his own ties with the land of his birth and his family were strong. Franche-Comte was a rugged, heavily forested region on France's eastern frontier. It was a region of mountains and trout streams, of sawmills and small wood-burning forges, and of dairy farms famous for their traditions of collective cheese production. Much of Franche-Comte was high plateau country, physically isolated and almost inaccessible in winter; and its inhabitants had long possessed a reputation for independence and for fierce devotion to their local liberties. The name "Free

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County" was of late medieval origin, and harked back to their struggle for independence from the French, the Burgundians and the Habsburgs. But Franche-Comte had been under the domination of all of these before it was definitively integrated within the kingdom of France by Louis XIV.3 The town of Salins, where Considerant was born, had been the second city of the province at the time of the French conquest. Even then, however, its population was under six thousand; and it was not much bigger in Considerant's time. Still it was, and remains, a lovely town - stretched out along the narrow valley of a normally placid river, quaintly named "La Furieuse", and overlooked by vineyards, forts, and great rocky promontories on either side. As the name suggests, Salins was the site of a saltworks, one of the oldest and best known in the east of France during the Old Regime. But it was also, like the neighboring towns of Arbois and Poligny, a city of wine-producers - the vignerons whose quarter Ie Matachin, with its casks and vaulted cellars and fifteenth-century houses, was to be celebrated, long after Considerant had left the region, by his young admirer, the writer Max Buchon.4 Considerants had been living at Salins for three generations prior to Victor's birth. A Jacques Considerant, who first appears in the local records around 1740 as a manant, subsequently worked at a variety of jobs ranging from bookbinder to marchand jripier and teneur de billard. His son, Victor's grandfather, JeanClaude Considerant (1748-1813), was a modest bookseller and bookbinder who was driven into bankruptcy in 1782 and finished his life as a worker in the Salins saltworks. Victor's father, Jean-Baptiste Considerant (1771-1827) was also involved in the book trade. He ran a printing shop for many years and also served as town librarian before becoming a professor at the College de Sal ins in 1812. He never became rich and was never known outside of Salins. But unlike his forbears he became an important, and ultimately revered, figure in the cultural life of his birthplace. 5 Considerant's mother, born Suzanne Courbe, was also a native of Salins. Although she was the daughter of a notary, her few surviving letters show her to have been poorly educated if literate. Her dowry seems to have been modest the Considerants were never rich - but she was related through her mother to two of the wealthiest and most influential families in the Jura, the Grea and Jobez families. Both were large landowners with close ties to the world of the ironmasters of Franche-Comte, and this was to prove important to Considerant on the 1830s and '40s when he was seeking support for the ideas of Charles Fourier and for his own efforts to enter politics. 6 Considerant's parents were married in 1790, and he was the youngest of four surviving children. Although the others - two girls and a boy - were much older than him, his relations with all three were warm and affectionate. He had a special fondness for his sister Justine who was almost old enough to be his mother, having been born in 1794. Married and widowed at a young age, Justine took a second husband in 1826. This was Henry Palas, the manager of a small wire-making factory (triftlerie) in Montarlot. In one of his earliest suriving letters Considerant wrote a friend of the relative affluence of this new

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brother-in-law. "He has a fixed income of a thousand francs", wrote Considerant. "He also has a big house with all the rooms and outbuildings you could ask for in the countryside. There's a cow-shed, a stable, a hayloft, etc., plus gardens and orchards around the house, plus fields and meadows nearby, plus wood for his own use and workers from the forge at his disposal".7 All this seemed like affluence indeed to Considerant, whose family took in boarders to make ends meet and whose father's highest salary as a teacher was 750 francs a year. In 1827, after the birth of their son Jules, Justine and her husband left Montarlot and settled in Poligny, where Palas went into business as an iron merchant. In later years Considerant's trips to Franche-Comte almost always included a visit with the Palas'; and he was to maintain a warm, if rather sporadic, correspondence with Justine until her death in 1880 at the age of eighty-six. Considerant was also to keep in touch with his other sister Julie, who died a spinster in the 1860s, and with his brother Gustave (also called "Bonhomme") who served for many years as professor of mathematics at the College de Saumur. 8 II

The most important influence in Considerant's early life was his father. JeanBaptiste Considerant was by all accounts an extraordinary person. He was at once a modest and extremely learned man, and a man of high principles who could lament "the sottises in the novel of my life".9 After his death his friends spoke of him as a character out of Plutarch, a "giant among pygmies". But the course of his life did not flow smoothly. He was educated, like his son Victor, at the College de Salins, where he was said to have shown a special love for Latin and Greek. In time he also mastered Italian and Spanish, and his English was good enough for him to publish translations of John Gay. He welcomed the French Revolution; and in 1792, after the invasion of French territory, he joined the first battalion of volunteers from the Jura, eventually becoming its quartermaster. After his release from the army he set himself up as a printer at Salins; and in 1797 he was also appointed town librarian. This was a modest position his salary was just 400 francs a year plus lodgings at the College - but during the next ten years he won a considerable local reputation both for his erudition and for his personal generosity. In 1810 he was enlisted by Jean-Jacques Ordinaire, the first rector of the Academie de Besanc;on, to help with the reestablishment of a university at Besanc;on. But after two years he was eager to return to Salins. In 1812 he was appointed professor of humanities at the College de Salins, where he soon came to be revered as a teacher of legendary eloquence and probity. For fourteen years he provided his students with what the principal of the College described as a model of learning and virtue. But his last few years as a teacher were clouded by the tightening hold on education exercized throughout France by the most reactionary elements within the Catholic Church. lO

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In politics Jean-Baptiste Considerant was a liberal and in religious matters a freethinker and a Voltairean. But as he grew older he became increasingly skeptical and disabused. He had initially supported the French Revolution, but was turned against it by the Terror. He was initially sympathetic to Napoleon Bonaparte, but was shocked by Napoleon's despotism as Emperor. He expected little from the Restoration, and Victor recalled long afterwards that on the return of the Bourbons his father had spoken of quitting France and emigrating with a few friends to the banks of the Ohio River in America. He wrote a friend in September 1815 that he had once believed that "patriotism, order, justice and humanity would eventually overcome all the petty passions", but "the experience of twenty years" had taught him that each new regime would only repeat "all the excesses and all the crimes" of its predecessors. He was no more attracted to an idealized past than to the regimes and rulers of his own time. But the spectacle of human cruelty never ceased to revolt him. I I Jean-Baptiste Considerant was a passionate, impUlsive man - a man of deep convictions and quixotic urges. He was capable of abruptly travelling all the way to Rome in 1798 to defend army comrades unjustly brought to trial for having denounced the graft of Massena and the other French generals in Italy. Ten years later, on the eve of Victor's birth, he again abandoned his wife and family to rejoin the army as private secretary to General Mouthon in Spain only to return home again after a few months because he found "the bloody spectacle" of the French intervention in Spain so repellant. His friend Charles Weiss, the Nestor of early nineteenth-century Franche-Comte, said of him: "I have never seen a man more eloquent than he when his speech was inspired by a generous feeling coming from his heart". And in a volume devoted to the "unrecognized monuments and forgotten glories" of Franche-Comte Charles Nodier, who had known him well, could pay tribute to the dedication, courage and learning of Jean-Baptiste Considerant, whose literary work and personal qualities had never received adequate recognition because "a noble lack of ambition which is characteristic of a certain type of Franc-comtois" had "distanced him from all the paths to wealth and glory ".12 The qualities that his contemporaries found most striking in Jean-Baptiste Considerant were his generosity and selflessness. What made him in their eyes a "hero of antiquity" was his readiness, like that of the virtuous republicans of old, to identify his own interests with those of the community and the nation. The most striking example of this was the story, repeated often after his death, of his heroic conduct during the great fire of 1825 that destroyed much of Salins. Organizing his students with the help of his elder son Gustave, who was also on the faculty, he managed to save the College and also most of the books in the town library while allowing his home and his printing shop to bum. Charles Nodier, who visited Salins immediately after the fire, wrote later that tales of Considerant' s virtue and courage "echoed over the ruins of Salins" .13 Much of the correspondence of Jean-Baptiste Considerant has survived; and it conveys a vivid sense not only of the character of the man but also of the values that he inculcated in his children. He scorned honors, decorations and

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titles; he refused a soldier's pension on the grounds that others were more deserving; and he never ceased being angered by signs of moral cowardice and hypocrisy. His letters to his wife were also full of instructions about the children and little sermons on morality. "I note with pleasure", he wrote in 1809, "that Bonhomme [Gustave] and his sisters are conforming to my desire to have them work. Be sure to encourage this taste in them. Take care that they never acquire a taste for dissipation. This would be the scourge of their honor and of their future existence". 14 Jean-Baptiste Considerant's letters are also one of the few sources we have concerning his son's earliest years. The impression they give is that Victor was a happy child, made much of by the family, full of "gaiety and pranks", but also frequently sick. In 1814, when Victor was six, he almost died of a childhood illness; and we have a letter which gives moving expression to his father's sense of relief at the boy's recovery: My fine and dear comrade, death has given up its prey, but all we still have is just a poor little mummy who looks like he belongs to the other world much more than to this one. Our poor Victor, after three weeks of grief, delirium, prostration and anguish, he is back among the living. A few rays of life are already playing in his eyes; a hint of a smile creeps over his pale lips. How many backward steps has he been obliged to take to regain this vale of tears. And then the father added, thinking of the trials of his own life: "If he is not going to be any happier than me, then he has made a big mistake". 15 Despite his father's anti-clericalism, Victor was raised as a Catholic and took his first communion at the age of ten. This does not necessarily mean that his mother was devout: it would have been a risky gesture for any teacher in a Restoration college to refuse to raise his child within the Church. In any case, Considerant ceased to think of himself as a member of the Church well before he reached adulthood. The persecution of his father by the Church was only the last straw. Indeed, his father wrote a friend in 1824 that Victor was "very much alarmed by the furies of the priests". And in January and February of the following year the sixteen year-old boy was probably already a scornful bystander when the city of Besanc;on was taken over by the celebrants of one of the most spectacular of the Restoration's Catholic "Missions" - grotesque exercises in public piety that involved huge religious processions and extravagant acts of collective penance. Considerant's compatriot, Pierre-Joseph Proudhon, was later to speak of the Mission of 1825 as having inspired his "first doubts" about the teachings of the Catholic Church. But Considerant's own first doubts had been awakened much earlier. A few months after his first communion in 1818 the bishop of his diocese had come to Salins to perform the sacrament of confirmation. Considerant recalled that the bishop arrived "with a train of lackeys, a retinue" which was "an unprecedented sight" in the little town of Salins. The next day the bishop gave "a superb sermon" on the value of poverty, humility and suffering, and the need "to scorn the riches of the world". The bishop was so eloquent, however, that he left the ten year-old Considerant

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at first confused and eventually "shocked" and "scandalized" by "the contradiction between his sermon and his retinue". 16 Between 1816 and 1824 Considerant attended the College de Salins. He was remembered as a good student and "a charming boy, open, affectionate, a quick learner, a boy on whom great hopes were placed" .17 But if he did well in school, he does not seem to have been particularly engaged by his schoolwork. Fishing and exploring the countryside were more appealing to him. A few years later he could describe himself as having been "a child of freedom" who "ran around as he pleased all over the countryside, in town, in the streets, even on the rooves of the houses". And in Destinee sociale he was speaking from his own experience when he wrote that children were not intended "to spend eight years of their youth indoors, bending wanly over grammar books, text books, Greek and Latin books, performing tedious tasks which they find neither useful nor agreeable, covering their fingers with ink, silently and gravely wearing out the bottoms of their pants on their school-benches". His own interests as a boy were more practical, utilitarian, and even scientific. I remember very well that as young children at the College ... we had very pronounced and useful vocations. I remember that we even pooled our modest resources in order to purchase small tools, saws, axes, planes, shovels, picks and rakes, hammers and anvils. We worked steadfastly and with great pleasure on our gardens and groves ... We forged, filed, and finished knives. One of us became an excellent cutler. We constructed water wheels and little pumps with leather valves and brass springs which worked marvellously well. Considerant and his comrades were not lacking in intellectual curiosity. But they were much more interested in "explanations drawn from physics, chemistry and natural history which related to our mechanical constructions" than in obscure points of French history or Latin grammar. I8 When Considerant came to take his examinations for the bachellor's degree in August 1824, he did very well in the humanistic disciplines that constituted the core of the curriculum. If his performance in Greek was only "adequate", he received grades of "good" in Latin, rhetoric and philosophy, and "fairly good" in history, geography and science. But what he really cared about was science and mathematics. Thus it was decided that he should complete his secondary education in Besan90n, studying advanced mathematics with Professor DeIly and doing the work in science necessary to qualify for admission to the Ecole Polytechnique, the greatest scientific school in France. 19 Considerant arrived in Besan~on in the fall of 1824. He was made welcome by friends of his father's such as the Thelmiers and the Delacroix family, whose sons Alphonse, Albert and Emile soon became good friends. From the start he also spent much of his time with the family of Clarisse Vigoureux, whose son Paul had become a friend of Victor's while boarding with the Considerants at Salins. Considerant spent the next two years at the College Royal de Besan90n, registered as an externe and studying advanced algebra, physics and chemistry. He did well enough that at the end of his first year he had already passed two of

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the three examinations necessary for admission to Polytechnique; the third he easily passed in his second year. 20 These were exciting years for Considerant. He discovered in himself a love of knowledge - especially scientific knowledge - that he was to carry with him to the grave. And he formed new friendships. One that endured was with Alphonse Tamisier from Lons-Ie-Saunier, who was to take the same path as Considerant to the Ecole Polytechnique and then to Metz. A future Fourierist and army officer and later a civil engineer, Tamisier was to serve as a legislator under both the Second and Third Republics. Fifty years later he was still writing "mon cher Siderant" in terms of undiminished affection. 21 But much the most important friendship established by Considerant during these years was with the family of Paul Vigoureux: his mother Clarisse, and his sisters Claire and Julie. It was in their house that Considerant discovered Fourier and met his future wife.

III

When Considerant arrived in Besan~on in 1824, Paul's mother, Clarisse Vigoureux, was just thirty-five, but she had already been widowed for seven years. Her husband had died tragically in 1817, committing suicide after being subjected to apparently unfounded attacks concerning his probity as a businessman. Clarisse Vigoureux, whose hair had turned white within a month after her husband's death, was left with three young children and a sizeable fortune. Entrusting the fortune to the care of her brother, Joseph Gauthier, a wealthy ironmaster, she devoted herself to the upbringing of her children. Claire, the oldest (born in 1809), was apparently her favorite. Her younger daughter Julie (born in 1812) posed few problems. But Paul (born in 1811) was an undisciplined boy and a slow and recalcitrant learner. She was unable to do much with him herself. Therefore around 1820 she had sent him to board with the Considerants while attending the College de Salins. It was also because of her problems with Paul that Clarisse Vigoureux began making inquiries concerning alternative modes of education. During the summer of 1821 or 1822, while she and the children were visiting her brother Joseph at his country estate, she had discussed problems of education with one of his friends. This was Just Muiron, a functionary at the Besan~on Prefecture who had become an enthusiastic partisan of the ideas of the still-unknown utopian thinker, Charles Fourier. Muiron told Clarisse Vigoureux that, at that moment, a book by Fourier was being published at Besan~on which described anew, non-coercive method of education that she should know about. It was called the Traite d' association domestique-agricole. 22 Although Clarisse Vigoureux did not make personal contact with Fourier until several years later, she read his book while it was still in proof - first the chapters on education, and then the whole book. She was overwhelmed by it.

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For she found in it much more than an attractive new method of education. She also found a theory of social organization, a natural philosophy, and even a theodicy that helped her make sense of the shocks and disappointments of her own life. As she wrote later, "This great book opened up for me the horizon of a new world in which the goal of life was revealed to me". She saw in Fourier's theory a "new holy ark" in which "everything [was] prepared to render a hitherto sterile and dreary life happy and enriching".23 This was the state of mind of Clarisse Vigoureux at the time of Considerant' s arrival at Besan~on. She had discovered a "new holy ark" which consoled her for her losses and gave a meaning to her life that it had not previously possessed. A reserved and some thought haughty person who had lived in relative isolation since her husband's death, she was no doubt eager to talk about her discovery. And in Considerant she had an ideal interlocutor - a bright, thoughtful, and remarkably responsive boy, who was a good friend of her son, but who possessed qualities of feeling and intellect utterly lacking in Paul. There was naturally no exchange of letters between Considerant and Clarisse Vigoureux as long as both were living in Besan~on, and there is little evidence on which to construct an account of the early development of their relationship. But what seems clear is that while Victor and Paul remained close friends throughout this period, their friendship had little of the intensity that came to characterise the relationship between Victor and Paul's mother. The tone of the letters that the two did exchange starting in 1826 leaves no doubt that in Victor Considerant Clarisse Vigoureux found an ideal son, and in Clarisse Victor found a mother no more affectionate perhaps than his own, but a mother with whom he could share and discuss a much wider range of ideas and feelings. What is also clear is that the mediating presence in this relationship - the means by which it became articulate - was the theory of Charles Fourier. The thirty-five year-old widow and the sixteen year-old schoolboy studied and discussed Fourier together; and at the end of the boy's two years in Besanc;on, he had come to count himself along with Clarisse Vigoureux and her friend, the deaf functionary, Just Muiron - as one of Fourier's most zealous admirers. Thus Considerant could write years later, in discussing the early development of the Fourierist movement, that at the beginning Fourier had just three real partisans: "a deaf man, a woman, and a schoolboy".24 Considerant's ties with Clarisse Vigoureux were not exclusive. It is evident, again from their correspondence, that his closeness with her did not diminish his continuing affection for his own mother. It is also evident that whatever erotic impulses Considerant may have felt with regard to Clarisse Vigoureux were safely sublimated into feelings of affection for the family as a whole, and especially for the two girls. Claire, her mother's favorite, was fifteen when Considerant met her; and although her death two years later makes her a very shadowy figure in the surviving sources, we know that by the time Considerant left Besan~on for Paris and the Ecole Poly technique, Victor and Claire considered themselves as engaged to be married - though obviously not in a very near future. 25

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So these two years at Besan~on were a time of intellectual and above all emotional awakening for Considerant. Yet the larger world intruded. And its intrusion was particularly painful as far as Victor's father was concerned. For during Victor's second year at the College de Besan~on Jean-Baptiste Considerant was informed that he would have to give up his teaching position at the College de Salins and accept a transfer to Sarlat hundreds of kilometers away. This punitive transfer was not a complete surprise. Already in 1821 a royal ordonnance had placed every college in France under the supervision of the bishop of its diocese "in order to provide religious and moral guidance to youths naturally prone to be seduced by apparently generous and noble theories". In 1823 the liberal Constitutional priest, Father Racle, had been replaced as principal of the College de Salins by an ultramontanist whose goal, in Jean-Baptiste Considerant's words, was to tum the college into "a little seminary". The following year the elder Considerant was denounced to university authorities as a "Jacobin" and a teacher of "impiety". Finally early in 1826, when word of his transfer came, Jean-Baptiste Considerant simply refused to go. He wished to remain in Salins, he said, and he would give up teaching altogether rather than allow himself to be sent to the other end of France. Ten years earlier he had already written his friend Thelmier: "From now on I'm going to stay in my hole, and I wish to be buried in my own cemetary. I cling to the bones of my ancestors like an American Indian".26 We can glimpse Victor's reaction to his father's dismissal from a letter he wrote to Clarisse Vigoureux from Salins during the Easter vacation of 1826. He was writing, he said, not because he had promised to do so, but because writing her was "almost a need for me". From the day I arrived, almost all the serious conversations that I have heard have focussed on an evil or on the effects of evil. What troubles me most is the exasperation of my father. He tries to appear calm, but this apparent tranquillity hides an agitation that breaks through from time to time. His thoughts are constantly pursuing him. You are aware of the strength of his deepest feelings. The intensity that they have for him, and their continual concentration on ... the spectacle of constantly renewed injustice, makes me fear for his health. Why must it be that those powers whose development ought to bring happiness to their possessor, bum him up more than they help him. How eager I am to see the end of our world's disorder! Victor went on to observe that his father was refusing to ask for help in gaining reinstatement. He would not write his friend Jean-Jacques Ordinaire in Paris because he had detected in Ordinaire "a hint of egotism". In any case the town council of Salins had already lodged an official protest which had been rejected. Now, Victor wrote, the college itself was "on the brink of ruin". His family would have to cease taking in students as boarders. His older brother Gustave, who now taught mathematics at the college, was likely to lose his certification. The only member of the family who seemed to have a future was now Victor himself. "I am full of hope", he wrote. "My father has high hopes for me too, and that pleases me very much. It calms the irritation produced in him by the

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sight of injustice and the arbitrary exercize of power".27 Jean-Baptiste Considerant lived long enough to see his son gain admission to the Ecole Polytechnique, but not much longer. He died on April 27, 1827, during Victor's first year at the Ecole. His funeral was the occasion not only for a remarkable outpouring of grief and admiration, but also for bitter attacks on the "hypocritical malevolence" of the religious and civil authorities who, in depriving this "Socrates" of his teaching position, had driven him to the grave.2 8 His son was always to cherish his memory.

IV

The Ecole Polytechnique, which Considerant entered in the fall of 1826, was founded in 1794 to train army officers and military engineers. But it had always been much more than a military school. Its original faculty members were some of the finest mathematicians and scientists in France, and from the beginning the curriculum went far beyond courses in engineering and military strategy. Rather the emphasis was on basic mathematics and science. Students were admitted to Polytechnique only after passing rigorous entrance examinations; and during their two years at the school they took courses in advanced geometry, physics and chemistry, as well as engineering and warfare. The aim was to give students a sufficient grounding in mathematics and theoretical science that they might be able, with further training, to do first-rate work in a variety of fields in the applied sciences. Although the system involved a kind of intellectual force-feeding that many students found brutal, it worked. In its first two decades the Ecole Polytechnique became one of the most admired scientific schools in Europe, training hundreds of young men for government service, not only in the army but also in many branches of civil administration. 29 Under the restored Bourbon monarchy the Ecole Poly technique underwent reorganization and political attacks, and it acquired a new generation of faculty. Still it retained both the prestige and the esprit de corps of the early years. A special slang was cultivated at the Ecole, and the "old boy network" that had already begun to develop among graduates of Polytechnique under Napoleon only became more fully elaborated under the Restoration. Two other features of life at Polytechnique that changed relatively little after the fall of Napoleon were the staggering workload and the regimentation. In 1804 Napoleon had imposed barrack residence and military drill on all Polytechniciens, and these remained requirements in Considerant's time. Living at the school as internes, the Polytechniciens slept within its walls, took their meals together, studied together, drilled together, and were only allowed out on Sundays and for a few hours on Wednesdays.30 Considerant had looked forward to attending the Ecole Polytechnique with high anticipation. For a bright young man of modest provincial background admission to the Ecole meant the beginning of a new intellectual and social life, and it was almost a guarantee of a successful career. But soon after his arrival in

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the fall of 1826 Considerant was describing the school as a "prison" and life in it as "slavery". As he wrote a family friend during his second year: Who will save me from these ridiculous rules! I have often cried out in my fury against the discipline here and the despotic beating of our drums. It's hard for a child who was born free to be in prison at the age of twenty when until the age of eighteen he was running all over the countryside, in town, on the streets, and even on the rooves of the houses. 31 Considerant's situation at the Ecole Poly technique was the more difficult in that, during the course of his first year, within the space of barely three months, he lost both his fiancee, Claire Vigoureux, and the father whom he idolized. Each of these deaths was extremely painful for him. Together they were devastating. Judging from Considerant's letters to Clarisse Vigoureux, the deaths of Claire and of his father threw him into a state of anguished reflection on evil and its causes and on the tragic inability of the living to make contact with the souls of the dead. But he found some consolation in Fourier's doctrine, and even in Fourier's writings on metempsychosis. These gave him the hope that, once "this monstrous civilization" was overcome, it would be possible to establish "communications with those who are in a higher world". Still he was tormented by the distance that separated him from those he cared for, both living and dead. "I go to sleep at night", he wrote Clarisse Vigoureux, "only after having thought a long time about you, about my mother, and about those whom we have lost". During the day I often share the gaiety of my comrades. But I am not happy".32 Gradually Considerant became caught up in his work and in the life of the Ecole. During the last years of the Bourbon monarchy Polytechnique became known as a "redoubt of liberal ideas", and it was easy for the son of JeanBaptiste Considerant to identify himself with the opposition to the government of Charles X. He participated in a collective student protest against repressive measures taken by the government against the Ecole. 33 And his already strong interest in Fourier's theory did not prevent him from describing himself, in a letter to a friend of his father's generation, as a "twenty year old liberal". We talk politics here all the time. Every day we smuggle in journals like the Constitutionnel and the Courrier. We discuss peace and war, we fight the Turks, we denounce their good friends the English, we discuss the laws proposed to our representatives, etc" '" and if you will permit me a serious reflection, I would say that while we are young and passionate, it's true, we are all attached to representative government. We want a monarchy, but one with free institutions that are in harmony with a great and liberal nation. But politics was not the only diversion of the Polytechniciens. Baudy novels were smuggled in along with the copies of the Constitutionnel. There were also all-night conversations and the elaborate practical jokes that were later to be known as canulars. All this provided some solace from "the integral calculus and other sciences that are not very rich in pleasures, at least for the common run of martyrs" .33

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Considerant never ceased to complain in his letters about the intellectual force-feeding that went on at the Ecole Poly technique - the discipline, the coercive teaching methods, and the cloistering of the students. For that very reason however, he, like most of his comrades, looked forward with particular relish to the moments of liberty that were permitted to the Polytechniciens - the jours de sortie that enabled them to get out from behind the bars of their "prison". Sunday was their free day; and Considerant learned to make the most of it. Often he spent part of the day writing letters to his family and friends. He also occasionally joined his comrades for trips to bals publiques andjetes in the villages on the outskirts of Paris. As he wrote Clarisse Vigoureux in July of 1828 while he was studying for his final examinations: Last Sunday ... I went out to Sceaux where I knew I would find several students from my division. I found them in the pretty park at Sceaux. It was the day of the village fete, and my comrades began the dancing early because there was no time to lose. They got the little peasant girls dancing. I joined them. But after three contra-dances we left .... There were hardly any other cavaliers at that time ... so I think the dancing had to stop.34 But on most Sundays Considerant stayed in Paris and went calling on a fairly extensive network of Franc-comtois, friends of his parents for the most part, who lived in Paris. Although Considerant's parents were not wealthy, they were well connected; and during his two years at Poly technique Considerant got to know, or was at least introduced to, many of the most important figures in the political and cultural life of Franche-Comtc. His closest ties were with two families of Franccomtois notables to whom he was related through his mother: the Orca and the Jobez families. Desirc-Adrien Orca (1787-1863) was a wealthy landowner, the possessor of a large estate at Rotalier in the Jura, whose father Fran<;oisAugustin Orca (1742-1824) was the uncle of Considerant' smother. 35 Emmanuel Jobez (1775-1828) was one of the most important maftres de forge in Franche-Comtc and the uncle of Orca's wife. In 1827 and 1828 Jobez, who was then a member of the Chamber of Deputies, made Considerant welcome in his household, where he was treated almost as a member of the family. Considerant also saw much of Orca, who was to succeed Jobez as deputy after the latter's accidental death in September 1828. Although he was not a man of ideas, Orca had some interest in Fourier's doctrine, and his relations with Considerant were cordia1. 36 During his years at Poly technique Considerant also began what was to be a lifelong relationship with the family of the writer Charles Nodier, whose salon at the Bibliotheque de l' Arsenal served as a gathering place for writers and artists from Franche-Comtc. Considerant's father had been close to Nodier for many years. Nodier had visited the Considerants at Salins and, by his own account, had "often held [young Victor] on his knees". Considerant had been reluctant to call on him because he knew that in his last years his father had "stopped seeing Nodier whose character he did not approve of'. When Considerant finally did call on the Nodiers, however, he was received with great

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wannth. "I went by myself to see them last Sunday", he wrote Clarisse Vigoureux. I was made to feel right at home. Madame Nodier exudes a kindness which is consistent with all the good things I had heard about her, and her husband has a Franc-comtois nonchalance which is channing in a Parisian salon ... He insisted that I come again and often. Why must it be that a man of such talent should not have a good character? Again, it's Civilization that spoils everything. It was at the Nodier salon that Considerant met another Franc-comtois, a "defender of Civilization, a great preacher of progress" whom Considerant described as a "counter-pivot of Charles Fourier". This was the celebrated professor Theodore Jouffroy. Considerant found him vain and long-winded. "He is as pedantic as Monsieur Fourier is simple", he wrote soon after this meeting. "I didn't tell him my name. All I did was listen to him talk. Oh really, people like that are strange".37 Another Franc-comtois whom Considerant got to know at this time possibly through Nodier - was Charles Magnin (1793-1862). A native of Salins and a friend of Considerant's father, Magnin was a librarian at the Bibliotheque Royale who also served as theater critic for the important journal the Globe. Although Magnin was a friend of the pompous Jouffroy, Considerant found him a far more appealing individual; and despite the fifteen-year difference in their ages a friendship developed between them that was to last for many years. While at the Ecole Poly technique, Considerant saw Magnin fairly often and attempted both to interest him in Fourier's ideas and also to enlist his help in publicizing a protest of the Polytechniciens against the government. 38 Considerant's two years at the Ecole Poly technique were important for him in many respects. They gave him a solid foundation in mathematics and science which he was to draw on for the rest of his life. They also enabled him to establish important contacts both inside and outside the school. Long after his resignation from the anny Considerant remained in touch with a network of graduates of the Ecole Polytechnique and also with two of the most distinguished figures in the French anny, the marshals Bugeaud and Soult, both of whom seem to have taken a liking to Considerant at an early point in his career. At the same time, the opportunity to get out occasionally from behind "the grills of my prison" and to explore Paris left Considerant with a love of the French capital that he was never to lose. "I miss Paris with all my heart", he wrote Charles Magnin from Metz in August of 1829. "I had such good, such agreeable acquaintances there. I could easily have met other people whom I very much desire to meet. .. In that great center of movement life is really life. There is ten times more intensity there than in our stagnant [provincial] cities. Ah, never come to live in the provinces!"39 There is one other respect in which Considerant's years at the Ecole Poly technique were important to him. As Friedrich Hayek and others have argued, Polytechnique offered its students much more than a solid grounding in the sciences and the opportunity for social and intellectual advancement. What the

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school also instilled in its students was a strong sense of optimism about the powers of the human mind and the utility of science. Students graduated from Polytechnique with a faith in man's ability to utilize the methods of science to harness and control the forces not only of nature but also of society. The strength of this faith varied of course from one individual to another. aut what was shared was the belief that problems in social organization could be solved in basically the same way as problems that came up in the building of a road or a bridge. This belief in the efficacy of scientific planning and what a later generation was to describe as "social engineering" was to be most dramatically exemplified by the Saint-Simonians.40 But it was also to become essential to Considerant's outlook. Throughout his life Considerant retained a faith in progress and a belief that the application of scientific knowledge to social problems was the key to progress. In this respect, as in several others, Considerant's attitudes were decisively shaped by his years at the Ecole Poly technique.

v In September of 1828 Considerant passed his final examinations at the Ecole Polytechnique. He ranked in the middle of his class, and this was good enough to allow him to go on to do advanced work at the military school of his choice. 41 Thus in the fall of 1828, having received his appointment as souslieutenant-eleve in the corps of engineers, he entered the Ecole d' application d'artillerie et du genie militaire de Metz as one of thirty-two Polytechniciens in the entering cohort of engineers. The Ecole d'application de Metz actually included two separate schools, a school of military engineering and a school of artillery. Students at both schools were normally graduates of the Ecole Polytechnique, but their work was more specialized than it had been at Poly technique. Required courses included topography, geology, surveying, and permanent field fortification as well as frequent time-consuming projects in military drawing. "We have lots of work to do here", Considerant wrote during his second year. It is the courses on permanent fortification and the drawing for these courses that keeps us busiest. Until five o'clock our days are completely full. There are six hours of required drawing to be done in the classrooms, and then there are exercizes, manoeuvres or riding lessons.42 As part of their training students at the Ecole d' application were also required to participate in elaborate exercizes in siege warfare in which fortified positions were subjected to artillery barrages that an American visitor from West Point could describe as impressive but also "mortifying" because of their superiority to contemporary American military manoeuvres. But to Considerant they were entertainments. "This evening we are having a night session", he wrote Paul Vigoureux in the fall of 1829. "We will begin by firing canons and big siege guns from four o'clock until nine. Then we will finish up by firing rockets,

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signal flares, fireballs, etc. The sky is clear and the session will be delightful. So far I've had a wonderful time listening to all that noise".43 Discipline at Metz was less strict than at Polytechnique. Students were allowed out in the evenings; they could dine in town if they wished and go to the theater and read what they wanted. Initially Considerant took little advantage of his new freedom. He wrote that at Metz he had begin to "feel once again the old thirst for learning" which had motivated him as a student at Besan~on and which he had lost during his "two years of slavery" at Polytechnique. So he preferred to work. In any case, the local theater company was unimpressive, he wrote Clarisse Vigoureux after a few months at Metz, and he was not yet "known" in the town. Every evening there are dances to which a certain number of students always go. As for me, I still don't know anyone here; and I am waiting impatiently for the letters [of introduction] that will open a few doors for me. Almost a month has gone by now during which I have seen no one but my comrades. I'm not used to this monotonous style of life. In due course the letters arrived and the doors opened. A year later Considerant was writing in a very different vein. There is not a town in France, I think, in which people dance as much as they do here at Metz during the winter... Every night there are two, three, sometimes four balls and dance evenings ... Besides all these private parties we dance at the prefecture on Thursdays, and every Saturday there is a ball at the city hall to which everyone comes. Those are the best ones. The rooms are huge, and when there is a double row of ladies all around the two big ballrooms it makes a magnificent spectacle. There is always a large number of officers there, and the variety of the uniforms adds to the effect created by the whole ... There are so many men at every ball that it is extremely rare for a woman to be left a wallflower. So all the ladies from out of town are delighted. 44 But finally none of this made much difference to Considerant. For increasingly the frenetic social life at Metz came to seem empty to him. And by the middle of his second year he could write that the dancing and the parties "do not prevent me from finding the life I lead detestable".44 One of the things that Considerant found most depressing about his life at Metz was quite simply the boredom and routine of peace-time army life. In several of his letters to friends in Franche-Comte he adopted tones foreshadowing those of Vigny and Musset, cursing the fate that had caused him to miss out on participating in the French military expedition to Algiers. He found himself falling into a state of "apathy", and he lamented the fact that at Metz "all our days are like one another". At the same time he found it increasingly difficult to be so far away from Paris, that "great center of movement" where "life is really life" and where there was "ten times as much intensity as in our stagnant [provincial] cities".45 In a letter of February 1830 to Charles Magnin he described Paris as "the object of all my desires". "I cannot stand the prospect of being employed indefinitely as an engineer in some corner of France. If my

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work makes a slave of me, it will be the torment of my life". A few months later, in a letter to Clarisse Vigoureux, he was asking himself whether his discontent might not spring from some deeper inner source. At one time I believed that I would be happy at the Ecole Polytechnique; at Poly technique I supposed that I would find happiness here at Metz; and now that I'm here the past sixteen months have convinced me that life at Metz is dull and monotonous. For a long time I blamed my condition as a soldier for the dark colors in which my life was painted. But now I have begun to think that most of the problems come from me rather than from my circumstances. After all I have many comrades who are not at all discontent. What the world calls "experience of life", which is something that the old Romans and their admirers have always valued so highly, seems to me to be a sad and useless thing, a brutalizing and destructive thing. In June of 1830 Considerant could write that his work at the Ecole had become more satisfying to him. "I don't mean to say that it makes me happy", he wrote, "but at least it absorbs me". But still it depressed him to think of making a career as a military engineer. And he now found himself equally depressed by the "bad faith" and pettiness of political controversy under Charles X. "For the past month I haven't read a line in a journal", he wrote Clarisse Vigoureux. ''The politics, the disputes, the ridiculous pretentions of the ultras and the liberals fill me with boredom and disgust".46 The Revolution of July 1830 briefly drew Considerant out of the state of torpor into which he had fallen by the end of his second year at Metz. Despite his earlier expressions of disgust at the pretentions of both ultras and liberals, he reacted with joy at the first reports of revolution at Paris. In the night of July 29 a placard appeared on the walls of the Hotel de Ville at Metz: "Charles X was King by virtue of the Charter which he had sworn to support. He has violated his oath. We must refuse to pay taxes. Long live the Nation". During the next day all kinds of rumors spread. The prefect of the Moselle, the comte de Vendeuvre, had just returned from a trip to Treves, and liberals accused him of having gone to plot with the Prussians against France. Considerant later wrote proudly that, in order to get the National Guard to arm itself, he had urged his comrades to spread rumors that the Prussians were attacking. Subsequently he helped organize demonstrations against Bourbon sympathizers - including the commander of the Ecole d' application - and participated in the removal of Bourbon flags and insignia from public buildings. In recounting all this to Clarisse Vigoureux a few days later Considerant described himself as having "a hundred times more physical strength and health than a week ago". He only regretted that there had not been "a little battle" that would have given him the opportunity to distinguish himself.47 But Considerant's euphoria did not last long. Within a few weeks his old discontents returned, and with them his doubts about a military career. Thus in late September 1830 he made a formal request for a leave of absence from the Ecole d' application. At the same time he wrote a long letter to a high army officer - probably Marshall Soult - explaining his situation and asking for help

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in securing a position as a tutor in science, possibly to one of the children of the Duke of Orleans. In many respects my situation pleases me. It would please me much more if, instead of the prospect of having to bury myself in some corner of France, I could look forward to several years of military action just as soon as I joined my regiment. However that may be, my present circumstances are thwarting a very powerful need which I feel in myself and which is impelling me to devote myself to certain studies and certain intellectual labors. My work here is thwarting that need by taking up too much of my time and by keeping me away from Paris where it would be easier and more possible for me to gratify this need. 48 Although the language is vague, it is clear that the studies Considerant wished to undertake in Paris concerned the doctrine of Charles Fourier. Considerant's request for leave was granted, and in October 1830 he returned to Paris. How he supported himself we don't know. In the letter cited above he wrote that while he possessed no wealth of his own, he was reluctant to take work that might be demeaning for a Polytechnicien. He did not wish to "fall from the rank in society" which he had acquired, and thus he hoped to tutor "an individual from a distinguished background". No such job materialized. But Clarisse Vigoureux was living in Paris at this time, and possibly she helped support Considerant. At any rate, it is likely that during the winter of 1830-1831 he saw much of her family and of Fourier, and that when he returned to Metz at the end of February he was much better versed in Fourier's theory. One result of Considerant's absorption in Fourier's theory, however, was that he now increasingly saw himself as estranged, not only from the army but also from most of his compatriots. He was reminded of this estrangement in midFebruary, shortly before his return to Metz, when he paid a brief visit to Salins to see his family. In his blue, red and black uniform he felt like an exotic creature from another world. The townspeople were impressed by the uniform. But since he had in the past made no secret of his admiration for Fourier and his ideas, he knew that many of them also regarded him as a madman. Even some of his relatives - his aunt Dupuy, for example - thought that he was "absolutely crazy". He had some friends like the Thiebaud sisters, Auguste and Mariette, who "understood" Fourier's system and "desired its application". But they were a minority. Thus he felt that his best course of action at Salins was to keep silent. I have resolved to say nothing at all [he wrote Clarisse Vigoureux], and I am sticking to my resolution as much as I can. However, I am not the object of attacks as contemptible as before, so far as [Fourier's] system is concerned. People still think of me as a madman, but my uniform and my "rank in the world" add something respectable to my folly. But Considerant added that his brother Gustave, who was then a teacher at the College de Salins, did not benefit from an impressive uniform. He was regarded "almost as a terrorist" at Salins because he had "taken the liberty of

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not having complete confidence in the Chamber and the government".49 Considerant himself did not have confidence in the Chamber and the government. He made that clear in March, shortly after returning to his regiment, when he joined dozens of his fellow-officers in signing a statement publicly supporting the Association Nationale, a liberal organization hostile to the conservative ministry of Casimir Perier. Created with the nominal aim of preventing another Bourbon restoration, the Association Nationale was in fact a rallying point for opponents of the July Monarchy. It has been conceived at Metz, but by March 1831 it had attracted support from liberal politicians, government functionaries and career army officers in half the departments in France. At the end of the month, however, the Perier government passed legislation forbidding all state functionaries and army officers from joining it and threatening those who had already done so with punishment. Thus on April 20, just a few weeks after his return to Metz, Considerant and many of his fellow-officers were placed on unpaid leave for an indefinite period. 50 Considerant was delighted to be able to return to Paris so quickly. This time he found a job teaching mathematics at a private school run by a former student of his father's. This school, the Institut Barbet, was located on the Impasse des Feuillantines and specialized in preparing students for the Ecole Polytechnique, Saint-Cyr, and other grandes ecoles. 51 Considerant apparently shared an apartment on the rue de Vaugirard with Paul Vigoureux and enjoyed an independent bohemian life - "an artist's life lived among artists" - that he later looked back on fondly. At the end of the year he described this life to ClaudeVictor Thelmier in the accents of a Rastignac recalling his own beginnings. This period of independence was one of the happiest of my life. Just imagine your crazy young man perched on the roof of a coach with one of his friends and setting our for Paris with no other resources than a hundred francs in his pocket, but more joyous and more full of laughter on this occasion that if he had received the citizen's crown that adorns with such dazzling, stunning, suffocating luster the gracious and sublime head of Louis Philippe, the chosen ruler of the sovereign people who are dying of hunger all over a wealthy France. Indeed, what happiness not to know what is going to become of one. What happiness to say: Here I am finally dependent on myself alone and without the crutch of a profession to support me. I have been disinherited by my paternal government. It's all up to me then, to me with my twenty-two years, to me alone. By all the saints that protect me, I swear that I will manage. 52 During these three or four months Considerant was in touch with the Nodiers. He was a regular at their salon, and in late August he dined with them and a group including the poet Antoine Fontaney, the critic Sainte-Beuve, and Nodier's collaborators Alphonse de Cailleux and Baron Taylor. With the help of Paul Vigoureux Considerant also created a circle of young people - "artists and others" - whom he managed to interest in Fourier's ideas. 53 But this "charming" life in Paris came to an end in September when Marshal Soult had all of the young officers who had been compromised by their support

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of the Association Nationale sent back to their regiments. Considerant was received at Metz with something less than open arms by his commanding officer who evaluated him in these terms immediately following his return: Absent for three months as a result of Associations. Unable to do exercizes in campaign and siege fortification. Good conduct, mediocre zeal. 54 If Considerant's zeal for military exercizes was mediocre, his general morale was much improved. This was because he was extremely successful, on his return to Metz, in interesting his fellow officers in Fourier's ideas. Indeed, most of his energies during the fall and winter of 1831-1832 went into the organization of what amounted to a Fourierist study group at Metz, and this was the beginning of a new career for Considerant.

VI

One of the many ironies in the history of the spread of Charles Fourier's ideas is that while Fourier himself became in his later years increasingly convinced that the only way he could gain support was to purge his theory of its esoteric cosmogony and its elaborate metaphysical foundations, his earliest disciples were in fact attracted to his doctrine precisely by the cosmogony and the metaphysics. Fourier's first real disciple, Just Muiron, came upon Fourier's doctrine at a moment of spiritual crisis. Deaf since childhood, Muiron had, by his own account, fallen at the age of twenty-five into a state of loneliness and depression in which his soul was mastered by "a deadly disgust and a universal skepticism". The reading of theosophists like Swedenborg and Saint-Martin helped put him back on the right track. But it was only in meditating upon Fourier's first work, the Theorie des quatre mouvements, that Muiron found true peace of mind. In reading Fourier, Muiron later wrote, he felt that he at least "understood the causes of evil and error" and that he "was going to learn the sense and purpose of everything".55 Like Muiron, many of Fourier's other early disciples were dabblers in the occult sciences who were attracted as much, or more, by his providentialism, his cosmogony, and his theory of metempsychosis, as by his economic ideas and social theory. And even those like Clarisse Vigoureux who turned to Fourier for specific forms of guidance or consolation found in his thought more than they were looking for. Clarisse Vigoureux first read Fourier in the hope of finding guidance on how to educate her children, but her reading revealed to her "the purpose of life" and "the horizon of a new world".56 Since Victor Considerant has often been regarded simply as a popularizer who purged Fourier's thought of its esoteric elements, reducing it to a scheme for the organization of labor, it is worth emphasizing that he too was initially attracted by the non-economic aspects of Fourier's doctrine. Fourier's theory of metempsychosis, for example, his providentalist metaphysics, and his writings on the theodicy question all engaged the imagination of the young Considerant. In 1826 and 1827 he found consolation in Fourier's doctrine for the deaths of

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his father and of Claire Vigoureux, and derived hope from Fourier's vision of a future world where the living and the dead might be reunited. At the same time, however, the young Considerant was also entranced by what he regarded as the rigorously scientific and "mathematical" character of Fourier's thought. For Considerant Fourier's doctrine had the appeal of an exact science which would place the study of human nature and human motivation on as firm a footing as that of physics or astronomy. Considerant's first introduction to the doctrine came in the fall of 1824 when he had just turned sixteen. Freshly arrived at Besanc;on to prepare for the Ecole Poly technique, he was, as we have seen, the first person with whom Clarisse Vigoureux was able to share her new-found enthusiasm for Fourier's ideas. Some sense of what these ideas meant to the seventeen year-old Considerant may be gained from a very long letter that he wrote to Clarisse's son, Paul, in May of 1826, near the end of his stay in Besanc;on. What is most immediately striking in this letter, in which Considerant attempts to explain the foundations of Fourier's thought to the younger Paul, is the absence of any reference to Fourier's ideal community, the Phalanx, or to his economic ideas. Instead all the emphasis is on Fourier's critique of philosophy, his psychological views, and above all his arguments concerning the nature of the deity and the necessity of a "divine social code". For Considerant the initial attractiveness of Fourier's system lay in part in the fact that it offered both an explanation and a cure for the individual suffering and the social ills that had scarred human history up to his own time. "Who is the author of evil?" asked Considerant rhetorically. It was not God; it was man himself with his reliance on the contrivances of human reason, who was the cause of evil. But "human reason has been judged", wrote Considerant. "The errors of the legislators have been demonstrated" since all their laws had done nothing to assure human happiness. "We must have no pity", wrote the seventeen year-old Considerant, "for all the systems" of the legislators and philosophers. What was needed, he argued, was the discovery of a plan of social organization consistent with the "intentions" of the deity. Can we really suppose, he asked, that God could have created all the lements and impulses of our social world - passions, tastes and attractions - without also creating a "code" of laws governing their proper interaction? Such an assumption was obviously insulting to God: it reduced him to the status of a distracted and incompetent carpenter, capable of gathering construction materials for a house without ever drawing up plans. Fourier's great insight, in Considerant's view, was to recognize that the surest guide to the study of the human passions and their proper interaction was furnished by the physical sciences. If the movements of matter were governed by the laws of gravitational attraction, Fourier argued, the movements of the passions must be determined by an analogous form of "passionate attraction". Fourier's accomplishment was to work out the laws of this new science of passionate attraction. This was a science of human motivation which included an elaborate classification of the basic human drives or passions and a de scrip-

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tion of the institutional framework within which these drives could attain their proper or predestined ends. It was this "scientific" argument for passionate attraction that Considerant attempted to explain to Paul Vigoureux in his letter of May 1826. The assumption on which the whole theory rested, Considerant wrote, was that the passions were meant to be harmonized and that, once institutions were organized in a manner consistent with God's plan, all human beings would lead a life rich in physical and emotional gratification. God's laws were not based on constraint, but on attraction and pleasure. And merely to recognize this was in itself a source of immense delight. Thus in expounding Fourier's ideas to his friend Paul, Considerant could hardly contain his own emotions. "I am sure that 1 have spoken to your heart", he wrote. "I am sure that you share the sweet emotion, the feeling of happiness in which I am engulfed at this moment".57 What made Fourier's doctrine particularly appealing to Considerant, what engaged his imagination, was its rigorously scientific and "mathematical" character. This aspect of the theory was foremost in the account he gave of it to his friend Charles Magnin in 1829, at the end of his first year at Metz. Systems, ideal republics, all the conceptions of a philosophical imagination, fall before a rigorous, mathematical science. Once man is analysed and once the passions are defined, classified, and discovered to tell the truth, one can grasp the riddles they pose and the ends they seek. Then we know the conditions necessary for [the creation of] the social mechanism we are looking for ... This is the procedure followed by any exact science; it is that of a mathematical problem. The formula is an admirable expression of the accordance of the laws of harmony in the material sphere and in the social sphere. 58 So while the young Polytechnicien found consolation in Fourier's theories of metempsychosis, what really excited him about Fourier's doctrine was its claim to bring a scientific understanding of human nature and society, and thus to replace philosophy with science.

VII

At Besan~on Considerant had already begun to think of himself as a partisan or "devotee" of Fourier's doctrine. But during his two years at the Ecole Polytechnique he became a proselytizer. "From the time of his arrival at the Ecole Polytechnique", recalled a friend, "Victor Considerant talked to his comrades about a theory which he had, so to speak, breathed in with the air of his birthplace". While at Polytechnique Considerant also had the opportunity to get to know Fourier himself. The man was not easily approachable, and even his oldest disciple, Just Muiron, was scarcely on terms of intimacy with him. But still by the time of his graduation from Poly technique, Considerant could speak of Fourier with affection as well as respect. In July of 1828, when Fourier had gone to Besan~on to oversee the publication of the Nouveau monde industriel,

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Considerant asked Clarisse Vigoureux to "give Monsieur Fourier all the homage that his genius merits, and tell me the interesting things that you learn from him". Then he added: "Ah, if I were still in Franche-Comte how happy I would be. I think he would be obliged to use the rod on his disciple as did the ancient Greeks. Fortunately he doesn't carry philosophy that far".59 At the Ecole Polytechnique Consideant's "Fourierism" (the word did not yet exist) was still broad and undogmatic. He had no trouble reconciling it with a lively interest in Mesmerist doctrines of animal magnetism. And in December 1826, as he was getting to know Fourier, Considerant could still write an admiring letter to - and apparently pay a call on - Joseph-Franc;ois Deleuze, a professor of natural history at the Jardin des Plantes who was one of Mesmer's leading French followers. While at Poly technique Considerant also made a study of works by and about Robert Owen. And in November 1829, having read the first ten issues of the Saint-Simonian journal the Organisateur, he was able to speak with enthusiasm about the "idees tres fortes" of the developing SaintSimonian movement. In the Organisateur, he wrote Clarisse Vigoureux, "there are pages that I would believe written by one of us". There were even Fourierist neologisms. But it was not likely that the Saint-Simonians were plagiarising Fourier "because everywhere there is an instinctive awareness of the need for a social change".60 It was during Considerant's years at Metz (1828-1832) that his commitment to Fourier's doctrine took on a dogmatic and exclusive character. He began to see himself as a member of an "ecole", as the defender of a "cause", and as one of the guardians and exponents of a new "science". Others began to see him in a new light too. Armand de Melun, who visited Metz in August 1829, later recalled that Considerant "was already conspicuous ... for his eccentric ideas and his grotesque doctrines which people made fun of even while they admired the seriousness of his convictions and the confused aspirations of his philanthropy". Two years later Considerant himself could write to Fourier from Metz: "We all have our nicknames here, and mine is 'Phalanstery"'.61 Until 1830 Considerant's major "Writings" in support of Fourier's ideas consisted of voluminous letters to friends like Paul Vigoureux and Charles Magnin. But in March of 1830 an article on Fourier appeared in a small Parisian literary journal called Le Mercure de France au XIXe siecle under the signature of "Victor Considerant, eleve-sous-lieutenant en genie". This article, a detailed analysis of Fourier's Nouveau monde industriel, was actually the first sympathetic and well-informed account of Fourier's ideas to appear in any Paris journal. It presented the book as "the fruit of thirty-seven years of meditation and labor" and credited Fourier with at last having discovered the "science" of social organization. Even Fourier's critical writing was praised by Considerant as a contribution to scientific understanding. "He has created", wrote Considerant, "the natural history of the views of our social world".62 One would expect the appearance of this article to have delighted Fourier. But judging from a letter Fourier later wrote to the editor of the Mercure his joy was less than complete: "Monsieur Considerant ... is a highly zealous disciple,"

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he wrote, "but one who often falls into the common error of mixing the sophisms of the philosophers with my theory. I found in his article thirty-five errors of this sort, every one of which could have required a refutation. 63 Fourier was obviously a hard man to please. But Considerant was undaunted. Throughout his years at Metz he kept up a running correspondence with Fourier, plying him with questions about fine points of the doctrine and also urging him to devote his time and energy to the publication of a full doctrinal treatise. At the same time Considerant worked hard at awakening interest in Fourier's ideas among his comrades at Metz. In September 1831 he embarked on a series of half-a-dozen lectures on Fourier's system to a select audience of his friends. "I consider [these lectures] as very important", he wrote Fourier, "because if I succeed with fifteen of my comrades, the others will be won over quickly, and next year, as these officers are dispersed all over France, they will serve our cause in spreading our science". The lectures were apparently a great success. After the first, which dealt with "the series as the unique and necessary law of the creation", Considerant reported triumphantly to Clarisse Vigoureux that all of his listeners had recognized the "fecundity" of Fourier's law of the series, and one of them had told him that he would be "crushed" if the argument of the subsequent lectures proved less rigorous than the first. At the end of the lecture Considerant's comrades congratulated him "like an orator coming down from the rostrum", and he could boast that "this meeting was a big event in our military world" and that "now the Phalanstery is regarded as something well thought out and well contrived". He added that he "shuddered" at Fourier's difficulty at finding supporters in Paris when he saw "how easy it is to present the discovery in a spontaneous and attractive manner". Two weeks later Considerant's reports were still jubilant. "I've had five sessions already", he wrote Fourier, "and we can only continue to increase our numbers and to make daily conquests ... People understand you here, and your name is pronounced with admiration".64 When he gave his first lectures at Metz Considerant was still a few days short of his twenty-third birthday. His grasp of Fourier's ideas was by his own account imperfect, and he was still learning how to speak in public. But in fact the lectures marked the beginning of a new career for Considerant. It soon became apparent both to Fourier's other disciples, and to Considerant himself, that he was able to present Fourier's ideas to the general public in a far more convincing and effective way than was Fourier himself. Considerant could translate Fourier's ideas into the romantic idiom of the 1830s, giving them a resonance that they had previously lacked. For the next twenty years the task of popularizing Fourier's theory was to absorb Considerant. In 1833 he embarked on what turned out to be his major treatise, the three-volume Destinee sociale. During the late 1830s and the 1840s Considerant also wrote numerous small books and brochures summarizing the major points of Fourier's theory. One of these, the Exposition abregee du systeme phalansterien de Fourier, which was reprinted for the last time in 1872, was probably the volume that Nicholas Stavrogin found lying conspicuously on

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Liputin's table in Dostoevsky's The Devils. When this novel appeared Considerant's career as a publicist was over. But his writings retained their power to touch the imaginations of a few real-life Liputins; and in 1873 Dostoevsky himself could look back wryly on the time, a quarter-century earlier, when he too had believed in "the whole truth" and "the holiness" of the "rejuvenated world" revealed by Fourier and Considerant.65 NOTES

* This article is adapted from a book in progress to be entitled Victor Considerant and the Rise and Fall 0/ French Romantic Socialism. The chance to work uninterruptedly on the article and the book was made possible by a Guggenheim Fellowship and a University of California President's Fellowship in the Humanities. I am grateful for both. I am also grateful to Frank Manuel whose writings flrst made me aware of the fascination of the French utopian socialists. Although my approach is different from his, his work has been a continuing inspiration for me. 1. Fyodor Dostoyevsky, The Devils (The Possessed), trans. by David Magarshack (Harmondsworth, 1973), 66--{j7, 229. 2. The standard works on Victor Considerant are Maurice Dommanget, Victor Considerant. Sa. vie, son oeuvre (Paris, 1929); Hubert Bourgin, Victor Considerant. Son oeuvre (Paris, 1909); Pierre Collard, Victor Considerant (1808-1893). Sa vie, ses idees (Dijon, 1910); Clarisse Coignet, Victor Considerant. Sa vie et son oeuvre (Paris, 1895); and Rondel Van Davidson, Did We Think Victory Great? The Life and Ideas o/Victor Considerant (Lanham, Md., 1988). None of these works sheds much light on Considerant's early years and his roots in Franche-Comte. On these subjects and many others my own knowledge has been greatly enriched by numerous conversations and exchanges of letters with Jean-Claude Dubos. 3. Three outstanding works of erudition which have greatly helped me to understand the milieu out of which Victor Considerant came are Michel Vernus, La Vie comtoise au temps de l' ancien regime (XVllle siecle), 2 Vols. (Lons-Ie-Saunier, 1983-1985); Eldon Kaye, Les Correspondants de Charles Weiss (Longueuil, Quebec, 1987); Marcel Vogne, La Presse periodique en Franche-Comte des origines a 1870, 7 Vols. (Besanr;on, 1977-1979). Each of these works offers much more than the title suggests. See also Lucien Fevre, Histoire de Franche-Comte (Paris, 1930). 4. Gaston Coindre, Le Vieux Satins. Promenades et causeries (Besanr;on, 1930); Just Tripard, Notices sur La ville et Les communes du canton de Salins, suivies de biographies salinoises (Paris, 1881),251-266; Max Buchon, "Le Matachin", Revue des deux mondes, 2nd ser. (June 15, 1854). 5. Michel Vernus, "Un libraire jurassien a la fin de l'ancien regime: Jean-Claude Considerant, marchand libraire a Salins (1782)", Societe d' emulation du Jura. Travaux presentes ... en 1979 et 1980 (Lons-Ie-Saunier, 1981), 133-167; Georges Gazier, "JeanBaptiste Considerant de Salins (1771-1827)", Memoires de La societe d'emuLation du Doubs, 8th ser., III (1908), 359-380. 6. Jean-Claude Dubos, "Les origines de Victor Considerant et de son epouse Julie Vigoureux" (unpublished paper); Archives Nationales (AN), Fonds Considerant WAS 29 (3), "Correspondance de famille". 7. Considerant to Paul Vigoureux, March 24,1826, AN lOAS 28 (6). 8. "Correspondance de famille", AN WAS 29 (3). 9. Jean-Baptiste Considerant to Suzanne Considerant, 27 fructidor (1798), AN WAS 29 (3).

10. Gazier, "Jean-Baptiste Considerant"; Kaye, Les Correspondants de CharLes Weiss, 138-140; Tripard, Notices sur La ville de Satins, 553-554; Emile Fourquet, Les

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II. 12. 13. 14.

Jonathan Beecher Hommes cilebres et les personnalites marquantes de Franche-Comte (Besan~on, 1921),293; Les Tablettesjranc-comtoises, I, 22 (May 6,1827). Gazier, "Jean-Baptiste Considerant", 363-364. Charles Weiss, Journal, April 27, 1827, cited in Gazier, "Jean-Baptiste Considerant", 359; Charles Nodier, J. Taylor and Alphonse de Cailleux, Voyages pittoresques et romantiques dans l'ancienne France. Franche-Comte (Paris, 1825 [sic for 1827]),164. Gazier, "Jean-Baptiste Considerant", 378; Nodier, Voyages pittoresques, 164. Jean-Baptiste Considerant to Suzanne Considerant, February 25, 1809, AN IOAS 29 (3).

15. Jean-Baptiste Considerant to Victor Thelmier, May 17, 1814, Archives Municipales de Besan~on (AMB), Ms. I4I9P, #17, also cited in Gazier, "Jean-Baptiste Considerant", 380. 16. Jean-Baptiste Considerant to Victor Thelmier, November 27, 1824, AMB, Ms. I4I9P, #112; Pierre Haubtmann, Pierre-Joseph Proudhon. Sa vie et sa pensee (1809-1849) (paris, 1982), 67-69; Victor Considerant, Destinee sociale, 3 Vols., II (Paris, 1838), Iv-Ivi. 17. Clarisse Coignet, Victor Considerant, 2. 18. Victor Considerant to Victor Thelmier, May 31, 1828, in Emile Ledoux, "Victor Considerant. Trois lettres inedites. Notes sur sa jeunesse", Memoires de la societe d' emulation du Doubs, 8th ser., III (1908), 386; Victor Considerant, Destinee sociale, II (paris, 1838),275. 19. Ledoux, "Victor Considerant", 383n; E. Delacroix, "Notice sur M. Deily, Professeur de mathematiques speciales a Besan~on", Memoires et comptes rendus de la Societe d' emulation du Doubs, I (1841), 68-69. 20. Liedoux, "Victor Considerant", 383n. 21. Alphonse Tamisier to Considerant, May 24, 1878, AN 10AS 42 (2). Another student at the College royale de Besan~on at this time, just one year behind Considerant, was his future antagonist, Pierre-Joseph Proudhon. According to Proudhon, they had no contact. See J.-A. Langlois (ed.), Correspondance de P.-J. Proudhon, 14 Vols. (Paris, 1875), II, 23. 22. My account of Clarisse Vigoureux's discovery of Fourier is based largely on an untitled twenty-one page manuscript in her hand in the Archives Victor Considerant (A VC) at the Ecole Normale Superieure (ENS), Carton 9 (I, I). On Clarisse Vigoureux see JeanClaude Dubos, "Un centcinquantenaire oublie: 'Paroles de Providence' de Clarisse Vigoureux", Le Jura Franqais, 185 (January-March 1985), 121-124. The complicated financial affairs of Joseph Gauthier, leading to his ruin and that of Clarisse Vigoureux in 1840, are masterfully untangled in Jean-Claude Dubos, "Une FamilJe de maitres de forges: les Gauthier", Bulletin de la Societe d' Agriculture, Lettres, Sciences et Arts de la Haute-Saone. New ser., 17 (1984), 61-114. See also Jeannine Joliot, "Clarisse Coignet, cousine des Considerant. Une adolescence fourieriste", Academie des sciences, belles-lettres et arts de Besanqon. Proces-verbaux et memoires, Vol. 185 (Annees 1982-1983),253-274. 23. Clarisse Vigoureux, untitled manuscript on Fourier, ENS, A VC, Carton 9 (I, I). 24. Considerant quoted in Just Muiron to Clarisse Vigoureux, May 15, 1852, ENS AVC, Carton 3 (XI, 1). For Considerant's letters to Clarisse Vigoureux see AN IOAS 28 (6) and (7) and ENS AVC, Carton 2 (I, 4 and 5). 25. Clarisse Coignet, Memoires, 4 Vols. (Lausanne, 1899-1903), I, 114,237-238; Jeannine Joliot, "Clarisse Coignet", 258-259. 26. Gazier, "Jean-Baptiste Considerant", 376-379; Kaye, Les Correspondants de Charles Weiss, 139-140. 27. Considerant to Clarisse Vigoureux, March 22,1826, AN IOAS 28 (6). 28. For the orations delivere(l at Jean-Baptiste Considerant's funeral by Father Racle and Dr. Broye see AN IOAS 29 (3) and Les Tablettes jranc-comtoises, I, 22 (May 6, 1827). 29. On the Ecole Poly technique see Gaston Pi net, Histoire de l' Ecole Polytechnique (Paris,

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1887); Gaston Pinet, Ecrivains et penseurs polytechniciens (Paris, 1902); Ecole Polytechnique. Livre du centenaire, 1794-1894, 3 Vols. (paris, 1895); and Terry Shinn, L' Ecole Polytechnique, 1794-1914: Sa voir scientifique et pouvoir social (paris, 1980). 30. In addition to the works cited above see Adeline Daumard, "Les Eleves de I'Ecole Poly technique de 1815 a 1848", Revue d' histoire moderne et contemporaine, V (1958), 226-234. 31. Considerant to Victor Thelmier, May 31,1828, in Ledoux, "Victor Considerant", 386. 32. Considerant to Clarisse Vigoureux, January 20, 1828, AN lOAS 28 (6). Claire Vigoureux died at the age of seventeen on January 15, 1827, just a year before this letter was written. In 1838 Considerant was to marry her younger sister Julie. Copies of Claire's birth and death certificates were carefully preserved among Considerant's paper until his death. AN lOAS 29 (1). 33. Pierre Chalmin, L' Ojficier jra1l{ais de 1815 a 1870 (Paris, 1957), 170; Considerant to Charles Magnin, n.d. (1828), Bibliotheque Municipale de Salins; Considerant to Victor Thelmier, May 31,1828, in Ledoux, "Victor Considerant", 386. 34. Considerant to Clarisse Vigoureux, July 15 (1828), ENS AVC, Carton 2 (I, 4). 35. Franc;;ois-Augustin Grea, a lawyer, was mentioned in 1806 in a list of "the sixty proprietors of the Jura most distinguished by their wealth and by their public and private virtues", cited in Jean-Claude Dubos, "Les Origines de Victor Considerant et de son epouse Julie Vigoureux" (unpublished paper). On Desire-Adrien Grea see Jonathan Beecher, Charles Fourier: The Visionary and his World (Berkeley, 1968), 163-164, 381-382,464, and passim. 36. On Considerant's relations with Jobez and Grea see Considerant to Clarisse Vigoureux, June 1828 and July 15 (1828), ENS AVC, Carton 2 (I, 4). On July 15 Considerant wrote: "My free days are just as pleasant as they could be. Very often I go to visit your deputy [Jobez] and his family. I am treated like a nephew there ... ". 37. Considerant to Clarisse Vigoureux, July 15 (1828), ENS AVC, Carton 2 (I, 4). On the Nodiers and their Sunday evenings at the Bibliotheque de l' Arsenal see Michel Salomon, Charles Nodier et Ie groupe romantique (paris, 1908), 116-224. 38. On Charles Magnin see Eldon Kaye, Les Correspondants de Charles Weiss, 298-301. Magnin's papers at the Bibliotheque Municipale de Salins include eleven letters from Considerant written between 1827 and 1851. 39. Considerant to Magnin, August 20, 1829, Bibliotheque Municipale de Salins. On Considerant's relations with Bugeaud and Soult see his file at the Archives historiques de I'armee at Vincennes (Ministere de la Guerre. Archives administratives, Celebrites.): especially Considerant to Soult, May 5, 1832; Burgeaud to Soult, September 14, 1835; Considerant to Soult, September 23, 1835. 40. F. A. Hayek, The Counter-Revolution of Science (Glencoe, IL, 1952), 94-116. 41. Considerant graduated 69th in a class of 123. At the end of his first year his rank was 57th out of 127. Ledoux, "Victor Considerant", 385. 42. Considerant to Victor Thelmier, February 21, 1830, in Ledoux, "Victor Considerant", 388. On the Ecole d'application de Metz see Frederick B. Arts, The Development of Technical Education in France, 1500-1850 (Cambridge, Mass., 1966),259-261. 43. Daniel Tyler: A Memorial Volume (New Haven, 1883), 10-11. Considerant to Paul Vigoureux, September 28,1829, AN lOAS 28 (6). 44. Considerant to Clarisse Vigoureux, January 26 or 27, 1829, ENS AVC, Carton 2 (I, 5). Considerant to Victor Thelmier, February 21, 1830, in Ledoux, "Victor Considerant", 388. 45. Considerant to Victor Thelmier, February 21, 1830, in Ledoux, "Victor Considerant", 389. Considerant to Charles Magnin, August 20, 1829, Bibliotheque Municipale de Salins. 46. Considerant to Charles Magnin, February 6, 1830, Bibliotheque Municipale de Salins. Considerant to Clarisse Vigoureux, May 3, 1830, AN lOAS 28 (7). Considerant to Clarisse Vigoureux, June 11, 1830, AN lOAS 28 (7).

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47. Henry Contamine, "La Revolution de 1830 a Metz", in Comite franc;ais des sciences historiques, 1830: Etudes sur les mouvements liberaux et nationaux de 1830 (Paris, 1932), 55-63. Considerant to Clarisse Vigoureux, August 3, 1830 and August 4, 1830, AN WAS 28 (7). 48. Considerant to Marshall [Soult], draft, September 30,1830, AN WAS 28 (7). 49. Considerant to Julie Vigoureux, May 1, 1832, ENS AVC, Carton 9 (III, 1). Considerant to Clarisse Vigoureux, February 15, 1831, ENS AVS, Carton 2 (I, 5). 50. Considerant to Victor Thelmier, December 14, 1831 (not 1832), in Ledoux, "Victor Considerant", 390. On the Association Nationale see Gabriel Perreux, La Propagande republicaine au debut de la Monarchie de iuillet (Paris, 1930),5-6, and Paul ThureauDangin, Histoire de la Monarchie de iuillet, 1 (Paris, 1888),415-416. 51. The Institut Barbet, which was founded in 1825, later became one of the most famous Parisian preparatory schools for students seeking to enter the grandes ecoles. On its founder, Jean-Franr,:ois Barbet (1799-1880) see Dictionnaire de biographe franr;aise, V (1951), 278-279. Although Considerant's stint as a teacher at Barbet's institute was brief, the two remained in touch for almost fifty years. Considerant's papers include a letter of condoleances for his wife's death written in a quavering hand on April 10, 1880 and signed "ton vieil ami Barbet". AN WAS 29 (1). See alse Ledoux, "Victor Considerant", 39On, and Sebastien Bottin (ed.), Almanach du commerce de Paris ... 1829 (Paris, 1829), 139-140. 52. Considerant to Victor Thelmier, December 14, 1831, in Ledoux, "Victor Considerant", 390-391. 53. Antoine Fontaney, Journal intime, Rene Jasinski (ed.), (Paris, 1925),4-5 (August 21, 1831). Considerant to Clarisse Vigoureux, September 11, 1831, AN WAS 28 (7). 54. Corps royale du genie. Rapport particulier sur M. Considerant, Metz, September 10, 1831, signed Cournault, Colonel du regiment. Note added by a General: "This officer is returning from leave in connection with the Associations. He shows little zeal in his activities". Archives historiques de I'armee (Vincennes). Ministere de la Guerre. Archives administratives. Celebrites. Dossier Victor Considerant. 55. [Virtomnius] Just Muiron, Les Nouvelles transactions sociale, religieuses et scientifiques (paris, 1832), 146-150. 56. Clarisse Vigoureux, Untitled manuscript, 21 pp. ENS AVC, Carton 9 (I, 1). See also Beecher, Charles Fourier: The Visionary and his World, 158-163. 57. Considerant to Paul Vigoureux, May 24,1826,13 pp., AN lOAS 28 (6). 58. Considerant to Charles Magnin, August 20, 1829, 8 pp., BibliotMque Municipale de Salins. 59. Jules LechevaIier, Etudes sur la science sociale (Paris, 1834), 15. Considerant to Clarisse Vigoureux, July 15 (1828), ENS AVC, Carton 2 (1,4). 60. Considerant to Deleuze, December 18,1826, in Les Annales Franc-comtoises, new ser., VII (1895), 363. On Considerant's interest in Owen see the large envelope of reading notes on works by and about Owen in AN lOAD 26. See also Considerant to Charles Magnin, August 20, 1829, p. 2, Bibliotheque Municipale de Salins. On the SaintSimonians see Considerant to Clarisse Vigoureux, November I, 1829. ENS AVC, Carton 2 (I, 5). 61. Comte Le Camus, Memoires du vicomte Armand de Melun, 2 Vols. (Paris, 1891), 1,48. Considerant to Fourier, September 7, 1831, AN 10AS 28 (7). 62. Victor Considerant, "Le Nouveau monde industriel et societaire de M. Charles Fourier", Le Mercure de France au X1Xe siecle, XXVIII (March 13, 1830),477-490. 63. Charles Fourier to the editors of the Mercure de France, December 20, 1831, draft, AN WAS 16 (42). 64. Considerant to Fourier, September 7, 1831, AN WAS 25 (3bis). Considerant to Clarisse Vigoureux, September 11, 1831, AN lOAS 28 (7). Considerant to Fourier, September 24, 1831, ENS AVC, Carton 2 (II, 2). 65. Fyodor Dostoevsky, The Diary of a Writer, trans. by Boris Brasol (New York, 1954), 148.

RICHARD T. BIENVENU

Utopia and the Sharpest Anguish of the Age?

Until fairly recently historians of utopia often found themselves in some discomfort when they were asked to explain why one should bother with fantasts whose maunderings were, unlike More's Utopia or Plato's Republic, neither literature nor philosophy. In fact, the typical responses to less illustrious or marginal utopians could range from ridicule to condescending dismissal. This is no longer the case. In the early '60s, when some of us were just beginning to work in the history of utopia, the appearance of Frank Manuel's Prophets of ParisI announced and sanctioned the study of utopians like Fourier and the Saint-Simonians, theorists who were usually treated seriously and sympathetically only by socialist writers. 2 By the middle of the '60s, however, utopia was considered ready for that peculiar apotheosis that the American Academy of Arts and Sciences reserves for weighty but "Timely Appraisal": a Daedalus symposium on Utopias and Utopian Thought. 3 Since then a steady stream of articles and books, translations and anthologies has welled up. One publisher4 launched a series of "Studies in the Libertarian and Utopian tradition", and even reprint houses committed only to commodity production have imperilled capital on the assumption that there existed a market for an uniformly-bound facsimile edition of nineteenth-century American utopian writing. And, of course, in 1979, Frank Manuel and Fritzie Manuel published their summa, Utopian Thought in the Western World. s We ought not, however, take too short or complacent a view of the development of contemporary utopian historiography, one of whose founding fathers this Festschrift celebrates. Fifty years ago - a brief time as historiographers reckon - the English-reader looking for an introduction to the general history of utopia would probably have turned to Lewis Mumford's The Story of Utopias. 6 This is an amusing book, and for the most part it treats utopians sympathetically, but it is certainly not the history of utopian writing its title seems to promise. Although Mumford's volume was given a new lease on life in facsimile reprint, his wilful and idiosyncratic decision to "skip here and there through utopia"7 now renders it of interest to no one but students of Mumford's own intellectual biography. (This, I hastily add, is a worthy subject in its own right, but it is not the history of utopia.) R.T. Bienvenu and M. Feingold (eds), In the presence of the past, 121-129. © 1991 Kluwer Academic Publishers.

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If, moreover, utopia moved beyond relative neglect in the years between the appearance of Mumford's Story and the Manuels' Utopian Thought in the Western World, historians have not universally accepted utopia as a subject fit for serious study. There is one example of a kind of dismissal of utopia, one which, despite its off-handedness, might well have discouraged historians who were studying the eighteenth-century and who admired the work of Alfred Cobban. In the course of his discussion of the Enlightenment's attempts to construct a basis for a moral philosophy independent of Christian revelation, Cobban broaches but soon abandons an assessment of Diderot's dialogue on the relationship between "certain physical acts" and "moral .ideas" because the Supplement to "The Voyage" of Bougainville, he argued, might represent only wishful thinking on Diderot's part. Moreover, he concluded, we do not really know whether Diderot meant us to take it seriously.8 Cobban's unwillingness to consider the Supplement a respectable member of the corpus of Enlightenment thought was not quite the same as the dramatically obtuse judgment that Thomas More wrote Utopia to ridicule the principle of communism and to praise the feudal aristocracy, but it nevertheless betrayed an uncomfortably narrow and chilling view of the proper subject matter of intellectual history. According to Cobban's implied criteria, most utopian writing had to be excluded from any serious history of ideas. These qualifying asides about the current acceptability and vigor of utopian studies require a final observation: professional historians should not take corporate credit either for all of the recent scholarly interest in utopia or for all of the books that make it manifest. Some of the intellectual energy and passion devoted to the study of utopia in the last twenty years flowed from broader social currents and were a response to needs that were perceived to be more urgent than the progress of an academic speciality. As Albert Fein noted in a discussion of the influence of Fourier on urban and park planning in the United States,9 the recovery of the history of utopian striving in nineteenth-century America became for some young historians a self-consciously social activity, a political act in the broad and generous sense of that term. For example, a serious scholarly book on the "architecture of communitarian socialism" from 1790 to 1975 was not beyond the technical capacities of the profession some twenty years ago, but no one then chose to write anything like Dolores Hayden's Seven American Utopias. Although Hayden, a working designer, feminist, and ancienne communarde tells us that she did not write her book to provide contemporary utopian experimenters with architectural ideas, at least one of the purposes she does avow - the study of what might result from environments designed to "reduce and collectivize traditional 'women's work'," attests eloquently to the extra-professional creative sources of her study. 10 Once these observations are made, however, we are left with the conclusion that the study of utopia by historians is well-established and has already produced a considerable body of significant work. The field has in fact achieved the kind of status that prompts reflection on certain tendencies in the way we study utopia and on the opportunities historians may not have yet exploited

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fully. If we restrict ourselves to literary utopias and exclude actual utopian communities past and present, one thing immediately catches the eye: the exegesis of utopian writing has apparently settled into a paradigm. It is now commonly, more or less automatically assumed that utopias express the frustrated desires and often unconscious longings of their creators. The trouble with this common assumption is not that it is false. On the contrary, it seems incontestable that utopias must in some way embody not merely the public and professed aspirations or programs of their authors, but also their quite private concerns and anxieties. One of the historian's first tasks consequently, is the search for more or less effectively disguised biographical elements. There are now-classic instances of the relationship between psyche and utopia. Thomas More's utopians, for example, obviously replicate not only the spirit of Christian monasticism, but also some of the very details of monastic life - which we will find attractive or repellent - such as communal meals accompanied by edifying viva voce readings. It is clear that More's unappeased longing for the monastic life was projected into nowhere. The same connection between a writer's longings, the reality he inhabited, and his description of the good-place may be seen, mutatis mutandis, in Diderot's description of the amorous code of the Tahitians. This code was based on the Tahitians' empirical observation that sexual attraction was transitory, mutable and unpreditable: nature herself, therefore, invalidated any human law that bound till death man and woman. In Diderot' s own biographical case, longing was not totally unappeased, merely frustrated. For what has been called Madame Diderot' s "narrow and fretful temper" II the editor of the Encyclopedie sought and found solace abroad in the person of Sophie Volland. But their long, intimate relationship was for all that illicit and therefore frustrating for a philosophe who was so deeply and publicaUy concerned with questions of morality and with the harmony he insisted must obtain between outward appearance and inner reality. In Fourier we encounter what may be the extreme case of personal frustration projected, though with a pitfully ineffectual disguise, into an unparalled utopian vision. As Jonathan Beecher and I - following Frank Manuel - have argued, Fourier's life was virtually a chronicle of frustration, of social, aesthetic, physical, intellectual, gastronomic, financial, sexual, affective and even avuncular frustration. 12 All of these frustrations figure in Fourier's utopian vision, but they appear there as appeased desire in the form of physical opulence, gastronomic delights elaborated and refined almost beyond imagining, an elegant conviviality reminiscent of a Watteau but integrated with the production of beautiful cabbages and attractive pears. And above all there is a decorous and ecumenical banquet of sexual pleasure sufficient to sate all appetites, including those of fetishists, perverts, and lonely old bachelors. The search for the psychic roots of utopia is thus a necessary and obvious first step in interpretation. Unfortunately, it can be a perilous step because too often it is the last we take. This danger exists even when we do not set out to reduce "the utopian personality" to an abstract, a-historical psychobiographical

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type 13 for there seems to exist a tendency to assume that most of the work of historical interpretation is over once we have uncovered the psychic roots of an utopian institution. As a minimal precaution we ought to carry out such psychobiographical digging with a deliberate resolve to avoid a mechanical approach. Because Frank Manuel's view that utopias are "private worlds whose geography and laws of movement are explicable in terms of their creator's life experience"14 we must also point out that he has also urged us to refrain from setting up even hypothetical general rules that we assume govern the interplay between biography and utopia. IS Caution is especially necessary in cases which strike us a straightforward examples of wish-fulfillment fantasies in the guise of utopian institutions. The existence of William Morris' essays and lectures, and our knowledge of his practical work as artist-craftsman at Morris and Company ought to have made it difficult for anyone to dismiss News From Nowhere as a slight romance inspired and dominated by the very personal loves, frustrations and hatreds of its author. Yet, until recently Morris' utopia has been slighted precisely because it was thought to be embarassingly self-indulgent. 16 The rococo assortment of sexual pleasures in Fourier's utopia appears so closely tied to his deprivations that we are tempted to offer a pat explanation of their origins. 17 It is, thus, chastening and salutary to learn that Fourier was from the beginning perfectly well aware of the causal relationship that this kind of exegesis cleverly lays bare. He was convinced, moreover, that his own frustrations had more than a narrow, merely biographical significance. "I was thirtyfive years old", he tells us, "when by chance I found myself in a situation which made me realize that I had a taste or mania for sapphianism. I discovered that I loved lesbians and was eager to do anything to please them. In the whole world there are 26,400 people like me". In Harmony, he promised his colleagues, they would be able to "form a cabalistic corporation", an association of like-psyched individuals whose members would "obtain all the advantages that any series offers for heightened pleasure and profit". 18 It is not necessary to accept Fourier's figure of 26,399 fellow-sapphianists as a trustworthy statistic for the history of early nineteenth century sexuality, but his contention ought at least to make us more curious about the connections between Fourier's utopia and the society in which he lived. When we do look more closely at Fourier's life, as Jonathan Beecher does in his definitive biography,19 we discover that both Fourier's attack on civilization's hypocritical sexual code and the amorous institutions he devised to put in its place had roots in lived experience. They thus possess a general historical significance which we have perhaps hitherto undervalued. 2o Although Peter Gay had Rousseau in mind when he warned that the psychogenesis of an idea neither explains nor exhausts its meaning and significance, his advice seems urgently appropriate for the study of utopia. 21 Thus far the subject has been what might be called the private relationship between the utopian and his utopia. There is a broader dimension to biography and it is clear that all utopians from the pedantic to the messianic are neces-

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sarily enmeshed in historically specific societies and their psychological structures. Their utopias, consequently, reflect, project and transform not only their personal concerns but also the values, reigning prejudices and anxieties of their time. In this light utopias are rather like mirrors that passively reflect their historical setting. For example, Frank Manuel and Fritzie Manuel have pointed out that the intense preoccupation with uniformity in the utopias of the Enlightenment is to be explained by a general desire to simplify and rationalize the chaotic structure of the old regime, while the regulated and rationalized character of work in these utopias is a rather complex reflection both of transitional guild practices and the eighteenth-century rationalist conception of the natural order. 22 Viewed from this angle, however, utopian studies would appear to be rather parasitical: in this case at least they seem to tell us nothing about the history of the eighteenth century or even about the history of the eighteenth-century mind that we cannot learn elsewhere and with less ambiguity. Indeed, their interpretation seems to depend on illumination from the study of the conventional sources for social, intellectual and cultural history. Diderot' s South Sea island paradise may serve as the ideal-type of the utopia that bristles with contradictions and confounds interpretation until we bring to it knowledge about Diderot and his times. One hardly knows what to make, for example, of the glaring contradiction between Diderot's praise of how wisely the Tahitians accommodated the erratic and imperious compulsions of the flesh and his unblinking acceptance of an utilitarian sexual economism which forbade intercourse to women assumed to be barren, both before and because of menopause. This is astounding and perplexing until we recall that there was in Diderot's time a widespread fear that the population of Europe was declining. This general concern together with Diderot's own disapproval of sexual libertinage - itself almost by definition antiprogenitive - as well as his sense of his role as a "family man, in the bourgeois sense of the word"23 render the contradiction both comprehensible and rather more historically significant. It may be taken as a methodological truism, then, that there exists a strong conditioning relationship between utopias and the societies in which their authors lived. But here too we should proceed warily. Just as we ought not to assume that a utopia can be counted on to reflect its author's personal desires in an uniform, predictable way, so too must we interpret carefully and tactfully the relationship between utopias and societies. The complexity may be illustrated by one minor aspect of News From Nowhere. While I cannot pretend that our ability to understand the network of relationships between Morris, his times and his utopia hinges on its correct interpretation, the problem illustrates well the dangers of over-hasty conclusions. In News From Nowhere, many of today's readers might be quick to argue, Morris exhibits a set of sexist prejudices, ones we used to label Victorian. The young women of his imagined socialist England set in the distant post-revolutionary future are, it is true, healthy, pretty, confident. Their gracious and open demeanor is clearly the result of a radical egalitarianism which is at once social,

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economic, and sexual. Yet these lovely comrades cook, sew and wait on tables. The conclusion seems inescapable: Victorian prejudices were so deeply implanted in this generous man that they made their way into and disfigured his utopia. There is, however, a less tidy interpretation of women's work in News From Nowhere: Morris did not project Victorian prejudices but rather quite consciously tried to imagine a society in which domestic work was neither considered demeaning nor restricted to a class apart. Before he wrote his utopia, Morris had come to feel that the deliberate, craftsman-like attention to the daily tasks of living was a potentially creative pleasure, one that ought to be available to all. "It seems to me", he wrote, "that the real way to enjoy life is to accept all its necessary ordinary details and tum them into pleasures by taking an interest in them: whereas modem civilization huddles them out of the way, and has them done in a venal and slovenly manner till they become real drudgery which people can't help trying to avoid".24 Although the women of the Morris family and others of their social class might well have declined to accept the particular emancipation he imagined for them, their place in nowhere was no simple projection of the Victorians' (and Morris') prejudices about the proper role for women. The study of utopia offers historians more than the interpretive difficulties I have discussed and more than the confirmation or embellishment of conclusions established more firmly by other sources. Indeed, even when utopias seem of interest primarily because they embody or merely reflect a society's values and concerns - and are distorted by them - they can often help us to a keener appreciation of the intensity and perdurability of certain problems. Diderot's personal sexual, marital and moral dilemmas are in themselves biographical facts of some historical interest; they become even more interesting when we learn that they were severe enough to make a logical shamble~ of his utopia. Similarly, the history of utopian speculation can reveal in ways that other sources often do not how really obdurate are many, or most, of the larger questions, even when attacked by audacious visionaries who were free to imagine the good place. Both Diderot and Fourier, for example, speculated freely on alternatives to the European institutions, ideas, and prejudices that governed or, as Fourier preferred to put it, pretended, to govern love and sexuality. At first it is puzzling and disappointing that both felt the need to erect their sexual theories on a crude physiological basis too narrow to support much of anything. Yet, this is not so much evidence of their failure to arrive at a more subtle, acceptably nuanced "modem" view,25 than it is a confirmation of the tenacity of the Christian mystification of sexuality, a mystification which had shaped their own psyches and which they believed they had to destroy, even at the cost of the coarse physiologism epitomized by the phrase Diderot borrows from Marcus Aurelius, one which reduces the erotic to the "pleasureable rubbing of two membranes".26 Examples such as these belong to the history of ways of thinking and of structures of feeling. And it is here, in the history of mentalities rather than in

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that of formal social theory, that the study of utopia probably has the most to offer. As Frank Manuel pointed out in his influential essay of more than twenty years ago, utopias have unerringly reflected the great mutations in aspiration and feeling. This is above all revealed dramatically in the most significant seachange in utopian morphology, the evolution of the pre-modem austere "utopia of calm felicity" into the "open-ended" utopia of the nineteenth century, one in which desire was to be fIrst multiplied and then appeased. In Frank Manuel's opinion, this transformation reflects so many other profound historical changes that only the psychoanalytical notion of over-determination adequately explains it.27 Even in this case, however, we encounter the limiting metaphor of utopia as an essentially passive reflecting surface, as a mental phenomenon which is itself the result of other, more general changes. As I have tried to argue, the relationship between utopias, their creators and the world is more complex and more reciprocal than the metaphor allows. Perhaps historians who study utopia should temporarily abandon the reflective metaphor and tum their attention to how utopias themselves contribute to the history of ideas and of feeling. Frank Manuel suggested a whole program of study along these lines when he wrote that "utopia may well be a sensitive indicator of where the sharpest anguish of an age lies".28 Unfortunately, this eloquent phrase might tempt us to assume that utopian anguish - or yearning - is to be studied primarily for what it reveals about the past, rather than for what it did in the past. In other words, the history of the anguish latent in utopia is not simply a tale of passive sufferers who are seeking release in the nowheres of their waking dreams. Utopia has been a creative force as well. I will attempt to illustrate this by turning to Fourier and the Saint Simonians, men and women whose utopian speculations and experience Frank Manuel explored so brilliantly in his Prophets of Paris. Virtually all eighteenth-century utopias had as their vital center the community of goods. 29 After the French revolution, however, the center of utopian attention was no longer the egalitarian sharing of the means of production and of the probably meager fruits of labor. Work itself and its relationship to human self-realization became the vital psychological and theoretical center of utopia. This is true for all of the utopian socialists, and it will be true for Marx and Morris after them. In the cases of Fourier and the Saint-Simonians, however, work, love and the social are combined in ways that were to fascinate, repel and inspire. And in both instances we are dealing not merely with aberrations or private fantasies but with currents which will flow into and swell a broader, if subterraenean stream. Our understandable contemporary interest in the Saint-Simonians' sexual radicalism and the trouble it got them into may tend to obscure the fact that it was the integration of a social and a sexual radicalism that caused the July Monarchy to move against the Saint Simonians. But their contemporary enemies were well aware of the connection. The caricaturists who took notice of the Saint-Simonians' foray into costume design and their mise en scene of a liturgy for the "Saint-Simonian Church", did, it is true, seize the opportunity

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provided by Enfantin' s preachments on the rehabilitation of the flesh and by his prognostications about la Femme, the prophetess who would come to provide the missing half of the sect's erotic doctrines. One drawing has her appear presumably in Paris, though the Saint-Simonians were to search for her in the Levant. She is dressed in Saint-Simonian garb, but she is in the form of a rather ugly monkey, from whose Yahoo-like embrace Enfantin attempts to escape, having encountered in the flesh what the caricaturist assumed was the unleashed feminine libido. 30 The visual wags of the Parisian press appear also to have been fascinated, however, by what they took to be the equally ludicrous spectacle of generally well-born Saint-Simonienne blacksmiths, roofers, and cobblers. Thus, in the minds of the Saint-Simonians' critics, both the rehabilitation of the flesh and the rehabilitation of manual labor were parts of a larger folly. That larger folly was to develop into nineteenth-century socialism's aspiration for a world in which the full development of each would depend on the self-realization of all within the realm of labor. Many of the utopians and the socialists who followed Fourier and the SaintSimonians would also hope that the new world would be a new amorous world as well as a new social one. Most were not, of course, as sanguine as Fourier and, for a brief time, the Saint-Simonians, had been. Indeed, even Fourier, long before the Saint-Simonians were to be tried, convicted, and sentenced for corrupting the French with their immoral doctrines, "censored" his own erotic speculations and presented to the pUblic, as Jonathan Beecher put is, "a reduced and expurgated version of his doctrine without those aspects he thought most likely to offend contemporaries. 3l But the hope that the good place would be a good place in which to love as well as to work persisted, modified both by the evolution, by no means necessarily progressive, of attitudes toward sex. This utopian hope was also inevitably tempered by the utopian's own experience of and disappointments in love. Thus, the news that William Morris brought back when he visited nowhere in a dream was that Fourier, the Saint-Simonians, and Marx had been right to argue that the answer to the question of how we might live depended on how we might work. How we might love, Morris seems to have admitted in some anguish, was a question far more difficult to answer than his predecessors had suspected. The only instance of crime he encountered in his utopian England was one caused by the passion of sexual jealousy. NOTES 1. (Cambridge, Mass., 1962). 2. For a survey of the literature on Fourier see Jonathan Beecher and Richard Bienvenu, eds., The Utopian Vision of Charles Fourier (Columbia, Mo., 1982). For the SaintSimonians, see Manuel, Prophets of Paris and Jean Walch, Bibliographie du SaintSimonisme (Paris, 1967). 3. "Utopia", Daedalus, Vol. 94, No.2 (1965). Readers familiar with Frank Manuel's work will know that I borrow the title for this essay from his contribution to that symposium,

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"Toward a Psychological History of Utopia". Schocken. (Cambridge, Mass.). (New York, 1922). See p. 5. In Search of Humanity (New York, 1960), p. 144. At a conference on "France and America: the Utopian Experience" held in 1977 at the University of Southwestern Louisiana. 10. (Cambridge, Mass., 1976), p. 4. 11. By the author of the article on Diderot in the 11 th edition of The Encyclopedia Britannica. 12. The Utopian Vision of Charles Fourier, "Introduction". 13. As does Raymond Ruyer, l' Utopie et les utopistes (Paris, 1950) who reduced the utopian to an ascetic who seeks to explain the world and who posesses the will to dominate others. 14. "Toward a Psychological History of Utopia", p. 296. 15. In an unpublished address delivered at the conference on "France and America: The Utopian Experience". See note 9. 16. See, for example, the "friendly" biographies of J. W. Mackail and Philip Henderson, friendly, that is, to everything but Morris' socialism. For example, Henderson, William Morris: His Life, Work and Friends (London, 1967), p. 328, announces that "it would be an insult to Morris' intelligence to suppose that he really believed in the possibility of such a society when the only work that appears to be going on is a linle haymaking at Kelmscot. ... It should be obvious that Morris was merely abolishing everything he disliked in the nineteenth century and replacing it with everything he nostalgically longed for". 17. This is, in fact, what Jonathan Beecher and I suggest in our anthology. 18. Beecher and Bienvenu, The Utopian Vision of Charles Fourier, p. 350. 19. Charles Fourier, The Visionary and His World (Berkeley, 1986), Chapter 7. 20. For an additional "possible reading Le nouveau monde amoureux" see Jonathan Beecher, "Parody and Liberation in The New Amorous World of Charles Fourier", History Workshop, 20 (Autumn, 1985), pp. 125-133. 21. The Party of Humanity (New York, 1964), p. 224. 22. French Utopias (New York, 1966), p. 7. 23. The phrase is Herbert Dieckmann's. See the introduction to his edition of the Supplement au "Voyage de Bougainville" (Geneva, 1955), xliii-xliv. Dieckmann is inclined to give the "economical" or demographical argument less weight. 24. Quoted in Henderson, William Morris, p. 329. 25. Peter Gay explores what he sees as the understandable limitations of Enlightenment speculation on these issues in his chapter, "Three Stages on Love's Way", in The Party of Humanity. 26. Dieckmann (ed.), Supplement, p. 59. I've rendered the original "deux intestins" as "membranes". 27. "Toward a Psychological History of Utopia", p. 303. 28. Ibid., p. 294. 29. Charles Rihs, Les philosophes utopistes (Paris, 1970), p. 52. 30. A substantial number of contemporary prints and drawings are reproduced in HenryRene d'Allemagne, Les Saint-Simonians, 1827-1837 (Paris, 1930). 31. Charles Fourier, p. 297. 4. 5. 6. 7. 8. 9.

SILVAN S. SCHWEBER

Auguste Comte and the Nebular Hypothesis*

INTRODUCTION

Although acknowledged as influential and seminal, Auguste Comte, except for the usual mention of the law of three stages, has not received the attention he merits during the present century. 1 He tends to be considered a social scientist by historians and he is usually studied because of his influence on J. S. Mill, Spencer, Marx and the development of the social sciences.2 Many of his most interesting and original methodological insights have remained unexplored because they fall between the usual fields of investigation. Few historians of science have accepted Tannery's evaluation that the synthetic exposition of the mathematical, physical and natural sciences, given by A. Comte in his Cours de Philosophie Positive, constitutes a historical document of invaluable importance on the state of the sciences and of scientific ideas at the beginning of the XIXth century. 3 Since Comte is an "outsider", and in the shadow of Cabanis, Bichat, Cuvier, de BIainville, Larmarck, G. St. Hilaire, most investigations of the internal history of the biological sciences of that period have neglected him. There exists no modern study which assesses Comte's contribution to evolutionary scientific thought.4 Yet as I shall show his influence was considerable. 5 In January 1835, August Comte read before the Academie des Sciences de Paris a Memoire entitled "Primitive Cosmogony or Verification of the Hypothesis of Herschel and Laplace on the Formation of our Planetary System".6 It was the only scientific paper Comte ever presented to the Academie. This Memoire played an important role in Comte's philosophy of science as he wanted it to be a paradigm to illustrate the role and nature of hypothesis in the sciences. The investigation was also to clarify the limits and nature of positive knowledge and, in particular, was to help answer the question whether a positive cosmology might ever be attempted. Comte's Memoire, however, contained a paralogism which was immediately detected by Person,7 and published in the Academie Royale de Rouen, a relatively obscure journal. This blunder undoubtedly affected the reception of R.T. Bienvenu and M. Feingold (eds),ln the presence of the past, 131-191. © 1991 Kluwer Academic Publishers.

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Comte's philosophic work in France and further frustrated his attempts to secure a professional position at the Ecole Poly technique. Comte's work and his research on the genesis of the solar system were introduced in Great Britain primarily through the favourable review David Brewster gave the first two volumes of the Cours de Philosophie Positive 8 in the July 1838 issue of the Edinburgh Review. 9 Robert Chamber's Vestiges of Creation,1O with its attempts to link cosmological and biological evolution refocused in 1844 the attention of the English scientific community to Comte's research on the nebular hypothesis. The fallacy in Comte's work, undetected in England until then, was once again exposed and scathingly attacked, this time by John F.W. Herschel in an influential presidential address before the British Association for the Advancement of Science in 1845. In the present article, I have focused on Comte's cosmogonic work to highlight various facets of his activities until 1845 and to gauge the impact of cosmology and cosmogony on evolutionary scientific thought in France and England. Section 1. deals briefly with background biographical material on Comte. Section 2. analyzes some aspects of Comte' s philosophy of science, particularly the role of hypothesis and the limits of positive knowledge. Section 3. reviews the status of the nebular hypothesis at the time Comte wrote his Memoire on Cosmogony and its relation to "transformism". Section 4. outlines the Memoire. Section 5. presents the reception of the Memoire in France and its consequences for Comte. Section 6. considers its reception in England. Section 7. focuses on the correspondence between J.S. Mill and J.W.F. Herschel following the latter's BAAS address in 1845 and its effect on the relationship between J.S. Mill and Comte. In an appendix to this section, the full text of the letters John Herschel wrote to J.S. Mill to explain his position regarding Comte's work on the "nebulous" hypothesis is presented. These letters demonstrate that Herschel had pointed out already in 1845, the famous angular momentum problem which Babinet in 1861 was to pose for the Laplacian nebular hypothesis; II namely, how to account for the fact that the planets while carrying only a small fraction of the mass of the solar system carry most of the angular momentum. Section 8. briefly attempts to interpret some of these developments by comparing the structure of scientific institutions in France and England and the different loci of scientific debates in the two countries. A concluding section speculates on what can be leamed from the above analysis about the genesis and receptivity of evolutionary theories in France and England. L. Laudan has recently called attention to Comte' s important contributions to the philosophy of science. 12 The present article gives a historical dimension to some aspects of Laudan's work. Much remains to be done, however, to obtain a complete picture - both structurally and historically - of Comte's vision. I am convinced that it will repay the labor and will yield a deeper insight into the fundamental transformation which took place in the first half of the nineteenth century in man's conception of nature and man's conception of his place in nature. I3

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1. BIOGRAPHICAL BACKGROUND14

Isidore, Auguste, Marie, Francois-Xavier Comte was born on the 19th of January 1798 in Montpellier in southern France. At the time of his birth, his mother - an emotional, domineering, sickly women - was 33 and his father a typical petit bourgois - was 20. Both were devout catholics and ardent royalists. 15 When barely in his teens Comte rebelled against his parents' beliefs and became an agnostic and a staunch repUblican. Comte's genius was recognized early. He was the outstanding student in every subject while at the Lycee in Montpellier. Too young to be admitted to the Poly technique, he was tutored by Daniel Encontre, the professor of mathematics at the Lycee. Encontre was a universalist, a man of wide erudition, deeply committed to the values of education, who made a profound impression on Comte and he clearly became a model for Comte to emulate. 16 In October 1814 Comte entered the Ecole Poly technique. At the Polytechnique he found an intellectual and political climate which nourished his deepest aspirations and a hubris which fed his self-confidence)7 But his high opinion of himself eventually evolved into delusions of grandeur and the rigidity of his character resulted in intractable relationships with others. His mental illness in 1826 was severe - he himself called it "une maladie grave" in the advertissement to the fIrst volume of the Cours - and he never fully recovered. His public writings and his private letters record his paranoid outbursts. 18 His accomplishments are the more remarkable when the internal and external perturbations which constantly threatened his equilibrium are kept in mind. In April 1816, Comte was expelled from the Polytechnique for his involvement in the Lefebvre affair and he returned home to Montpellier. While there, until his return to Paris in September of 1816, he studied physiology under Dumas at the medical school of Montpellier. Back in Paris, he attended the public lectures given at the Athenee, and in particular Delambre's course on astronomy. When after a few weeks of these lectures no auditors were left except for Comte, Delambre invited him to his own home to listen weekly to the rest of them. 19 In 1817 Comte met Saint-Simon and began his oftchronicled association with Ie pere Simon - a deeply rewarding relationship at fIrst, but one which ended in a bitter rupture. Disclaiming Saint-Simon's influence became an obsession with Comte for the rest of his life. In 1824, while in Saint-Simon's entourage, Comte met and befriended de Blainville whose work in physiology was to influence him deeply.20 By 1826, Delambre, Fourier, Guizot, J. B. Say, Dunoyer, Flourens, de Villele, Lamennais knew of Comte's writings, and were favourably impressed by them. Cuvier wrote him in the name of the Academie des Sciences congratulating him on the publication of the Systeme. 21 De Blainville, Poinsot, A. von Humboldt, Dunoyer, D'Eichtal, S. Carnot were in attendance when Comte began his lectures on Positive Philosophy in April of 1826 at his home. De Blainville, Poinsot, Fourier, Navier as well as Broussais, Esquirol and Binet were present when he resumed his course in

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January 1829 after his mental breakdown. With the help of Navier, Comte was appointed in 1832 as a tutor ("repetiteur") in mechanics and analysis at the Polytechnique. In 1835, when a chair in analysis became vacant at the Polytechnique, Comte offered his candidacy and was supported by Navier. Liouville however obtained the chair. In 1836, when Navier died and his chair at the Poly technique became vacant, Comte was again unsuccessful in obtaining the appointment 22 - even though he had proved himself an outstanding lecturer while serving as "interim". As a consolation prize, he was appointed examiner for admission to the Polytechnique. In 1840, Comte for the third and last time presented himself as a candidate for the vacancy in the chair of mathematical analysis - unsuccessfully.23 His difficult character and his abrasive manners cost him his post as examiner in 1844.24 Comte's prodigious memory is famous. Endowed with a photographic memory he could recite backwards the words of any page he had read but once. 25 His powers of concentration were such that he could sketch out an entire book without putting pen to paper. His lectures were all delivered without notes. When he sat down to write out his books he wrote everything from memory, writing continually and obsessively recording the time he began and completed the MS. Thus the three hundred pages on astronomy in the second volume of the Cours were written in 5 weeks, and the entire sixth volume of the Cours was written in a month's time. There was always but one copy of any manuscript, never any prior notes, never any corrections on the galley proofs. But the psychological price of his genius was high. Comte's rigidity and "inflexible character" were already apparent while he was a young student at Montpellier. Comte never escaped his early catholicism. It manifested itself in his immense esteem for the medieval church as an organizing and stabilizing entity, and in his later religion of humanity in the rigidity of his code of morality and the authoritarian organization of positive society. The recurrent trinities in his life are less obvious manifestations of the same syndrome - He became involved with three women in his lifetime; there are three stages in his fundamental and central law, the theological stage when decomposed further has three substages (fetishism, polytheism and monotheism); in his classification there are three "basic" sciences; biology is divided into three branches (anatomy, physiology and biotaxy); there is a tripartite division of man, three successive stages of intelligence, three stages of consciousness, three forms of social activity, etc. His catholic upbringing also reflected itself in his yearning for certainty and dogmatism. He consistently argued against probabilities and uncertainties were anathema to him. His writings are dogmatic,26 and a problem if considered solved is solved forever. In the effort to make himself absolutely clear, his writing style became more and more involuted. Piling sentences within sentences, with nouns and verbs which are in tum modified by inserted adjectives and adverbs, Comte guarded all his flanks. Tom between intellectual

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honesty and his needs for self-assertion, his sentences grew under his refusal to fully divulge his sources and his efforts to conceal his intellectual debt to others. His attachment to the Polytechnique became both a source of inspiration and frustration. A child of the French Revolution, Comte was always translating his philosophic tenets into educational policy and formulating educational policy to achieve philosophically determined ends.27 As a first approximation, his intellectual efforts can be interpreted as trying to reestablish the stability of the medieval period - as institutionalized by the Catholic Church - but based on the tenets of Science - as heralded by the Polytechnique. 2. SOME ASPECTS OF COMTE'S PHILOSOPHY OF SCIENCE

One of the distinctive characteristics of Comte's work is that many of the principal ideas which are elaborated in the Cours and in his later works were already present in his early writings, in particular in his Plan des Travaux Scientifiques Necessaires Pour Reorganiser la Societe. One hundred copies of that work were published in May of 1822 and it was reprinted in 1825 under the title of Systeme de Politique Positive. 28 The work was written during Comte's association with Saint-Simon. Though the influence of Saint-Simon is unmistakenly present, the Systeme is nonetheless the first statement of Comte's vision. In it Comte points to the moral crisis which is afflicting society - due to the break up of old institutions and belief systems - and the accompanying terrible and agonizing shocks. The resolution of this crisis will only come with the establishment of a new social order. To achieve this goal the theoretical foundations must first be laid - before practical steps can be undertaken, for the latter will depend on the conclusions of the theoretical underpinnings.29 Hence politics must be elevated to the rank of the positive sciences and based on observation. As all branches of human knowledge must, - "par la nature meme de l'esprit humain"30 - pass successively through three different theoretical states: the theological (or fictional); the metaphysical (or abstract); and finally the scientific (or positive) state, one must assess the stage in which politics is. Comte finds it to have passed through the first two stages and ready to reach the third. The scientific doctrine of politics considers the social state that mankind has been found in by observers as a necessary consequence of its organization. It conceives the goal of this social state as being determined by the rank that man occupies in the natural scheme of things, as it is fixed by the facts and without being envisaged as being susceptible of explication. It sees, in effect, as resulting from this fundamental relation the constant tendency of man to act on nature in order to modify it for his advantage. It thus considers the final goal of the social order to develop COllectively this natural tendency, to

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regulate it and to orchestrate it in order to maximize useful actions (Systeme 1825)31 Comte's hierarchical classification of the sciences, and their interdependence is adumbrated in the Systeme. The reasons for the particular order in which the various sciences pass to the positive stage (e.g. astronomy from astrology, chemistry from alchemy) is also briefly analyzed. Comte's fundamental tenet Toute science a pour but la prevoyance is likewise to be found in the Systeme. In the first volume of the Cours this motto becomes (Cours I, p. 63) science d'ou prevoyance; prevoyance, d'ou action Prediction moreover provides the criterion which distinguishes real science from simple erudition (Cours II, p. 18) - erudition being characterized as being limited to relating events which have happened, without any view of the future. Science "also consists in the coordination of facts, if the diverse observations were entirely isolated there would be no science" (Cours I, p. 131). Moreover, the human mind could never combine or even collect observations unless directed by some previously adopted speculations: thus the function of the three stages. As Laudan has stressed Comte's explication of what is scientific makes no reference to truth. 32 All that is required of a scientific statement is that it make general claims about how nature behaves, and that it be testable. How a proposition is discovered and how certain it is are not relevant criteria for making it scientific. To Comte, The explanation of facts, ... will henceforth only be the connection established between the various particular phenomena and some general facts, the number of which the progress of science more and more tends to reduce (Cours I, p. 5) Furthermore, positive explication will not entail any inquiry into first or final causes (Cours II, p. 18). In Volume II of the Cours, Comte indicates that there are three different methods to study nature, and that these make up the practice of observation: (l) observation strictly speaking, i.e. the direct examination of a phenomenon as it presents itself under natural conditions (2) experiment, i.e. the consideration of the phenomenon more or less modified by artificial circumstances, that we expressly create in order to probe it more perfectly (3) comparison, that is the gradual consideration of a series of analogous cases, in which the phenomenon becomes more and more simple (Cours II, p. 19) As phenomena become more complicated, they are capable of being studied in more than one way. Thus in astronomy one only uses observation; in physics one makes use of observation and of experiments; in biology one compares in addition to observing and experimenting. A fourth method was added later by Comte in the study of social phenomena: the historical method. 33 But a reliance

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on the above methods of observations characterizes only a stage in the evolution of science: facts, however exact and numerous ... , can only furnish the indispensible materials of science; true science far from consisting of bare observations, always tends to dispense as much as possible with them that rational prevision which is, in all respects the characteristic of the Positive Spirit (Traite, p. 16)34 As Comte stressed repeatedly the fundamental revolution which characterizes the virility of our intelligence consists essentially in everywhere substituting for the inaccessible determination of causes ... , the search of laws, i.e. the constant relations that exist between observed phenomena. Whether one is dealing with the least or the most sublime of effects, whether collisions or gravitation or thought or morality, we can really only know the various mutual connections necessary for their occurrence, without ever being able to penetrate the mystery of their production (Traite, p. 13) The discovery of laws and theories is the principal concern of science and science consists in the laws of phenomena, i.e. to say the constant relation of succession or similarity (Cours IT, p. 338). John Stuart Mill in his Westminster Review article on Auguste Comte and Positivism summarized the fundamental doctrine of Positive Philosophy as follows: We have no knowledge of anything but Phaenomena; and our knowledge of phaenomena is relative, not absolute. We know not the essence, nor the real mode of production, of any fact, but only its relations to other facts in the way of succession or of similitude. These relations are constant; that is, always the same in the same circumstances. The constant resemblances which link phaenomena together, and the constant sequences which unite them as antecedent and consequent, are termed their laws. The essential nature, and their ultimate causes, either sufficient or final, are unknown and inscrutable to us. The laws of phenomena are deterministic be they astronomical, physical, chemical, physiological, or political laws. Already in 1822 in the Plan Comte attacked the efforts that have been made to apply mathematical analysis to the social sciences, and particularly that of its branch which deals with the calculus of probabilities ... One can see, ... , that the efforts of geometers, to elevate the calculus of probabilities above its natural applications, have only resulted .. .in presenting ... , as the conclusion of long and painful algebraic work, some almost trivial propositions, whose correctness is perceived at first glance with perfect clarity by every man with good sense (Systeme 1825, Ecris de Jeunesse, p. 307) In the second volume of the Cours Comte in an important note indicated that he had been asked why, when treating the philosophy of mathematics in Vol. I of the Cours, he had not considered the analysis of probabilities. His reply was

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that The calculus of probabilities, only seems to me to have been a useful vehicle for ingenious and difficult numerical problems for its illustrious inventors ... As for the philosophic conception upon which such a theory rests, I believe it wrong in the extreme and susceptible to lead to absurd consequences ... I consider it [probability] as essentially improper to regulate our conduct under any circumstance (Cours II, p. 287) In the Discours sur I' esprit positif, which constitutes the first chapter of his Traite philosophique d' Astronomie Popu/aire he characterizes scornfully the "presumed" calculus of chance as implicitly supposing the absence of any real law with respect to certain phenomena, particularly when it relates to man (Traite p. 19) Admitting chance would be to admit lawless phenomena. But if one could conceive, under any circumstance, that under the influence of exactly similar conditions, phenomena would not recur perfectly exactly, not only in kind, but also in degree, all scientific theory would become radically impossible: we would be needlessly reduced to a sterile accumulation of facts, which would not have any systematic relation susceptible to lead to their prediction (Cours ill, p. 325) Chance and law are antithetical. There are two traditional ways to d~termine the invariable, deterministic law of any phenomena: by induction from phenomena or by deduction of the law from a more general known law. But Comte stressed that neither the inductive nor the deductive method would be effective if one did not first make a tentative hypothesis about the form the law would assume; if one did not often begin by anticipating the results by making a provisional supposition - at first essentially conjectural - even with respect to some of the very notions that constitute the final objects of our research. Hence, the strictly indispensable introduction hypothesis in natural philosophy (Cours II, p. 337) In Volume ill of the Cours, Comte returns to the question of hypothesis and their value in biology. In physiology, since it is always a case of determining the function of a given organ, or finding the organ corresponding to a given function one should in order to accelerate these discoveries construct directly and without scrupules the most plausible hypothesis (Cours ill, p. 321) To illustrate the procedure, Comte presents Broussais' hypothesis on the localization of the organ responsible for fevers. 36 Given their methodological importance the question immediately arises: "What kind of hypotheses are acceptable in the positive sciences?" Comte's investigation of the nebular hypothesis was to answer this question in the

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physical sciences, and probably was the precursor of the long section entitled: Theoriefondamentale des Hypotheses in Chapter 28 of Volume IT ofthe Cours. We shall consider the matter in detail in Section 4. His study of Broussais' hypothesis was to play the same role in the biological sciences. 37 One further point should be made here in connection with Comte's understanding of hypothesis. One of the characteristic feature of Comte's classificatory scheme is the diminishing role that mathematics plays as one goes to the higher levels of the hierarchy due to the increasing complexity of the phenomena. Nonetheless Comte emphasized that in principle, even in eminently complex phenomena as in the science of living bodies, each of the diverse truly elementary actions vary necessarily according to absolutely precise laws, i.e. to say mathematical ones, if you could in effect study each of them by themselves isolated from one another (Cours m, p. 325) Although he is "radically" opposed to bringing the calculus of probability into biology and totally rejects the use of statistics in medicine (Cours m, p. 329). Comte indicates that there may be another "interesting" way to introduce the mathematical spirit - whose foundation is logical thought - into biology. He suggests that the systematic and "sober" use of scientific fictions, - models -, a device familiar to geometers, might prove rewarding. Thus in many mathematical studies it often is useful to consider a series of purely hypothetical cases which illuminate the problem at hand. This procedure differs essentially from that of a hypothesis ... In the latter, the fiction refers only to the solution of the problem; whereas in the other the problem itself is radically idealized its solution being capable of being perfectly regular. Scientific fiction presents here all the principal characteristics of the poetic imagination: it is only more difficult (Cours m, p. 339) An example in biology would be to suppose the existence of fictive organism artificially imagined which would interpolate between known organisms in such a way as to facilitate their comparison by rendering the biological series more homogenous and continuous (Cours m, p. 340) The use of contrast and apposition to elucidate his methodological tenets is one of the beautiful didactic features of Comte's exposition. He uses it often and effectively throughout his writing. Before turning to Comte' s work on cosmogony we first examine the status of the nebular hypothesis when he undertook these researches. 3. STATUS OF THE NEBULAR HYPOTHESIS IN 1835

Writing in 1858, at a time when the Nebular Hypothesis was in disrepute, Spencer noted that: Inquiry into the pedigree of an idea is not a bad means of roughly estimating

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its value. To have come of respectable ancestry, is prima facie evidence of worth in a belief as in a person ... ... this [nebular] hypothesis has a concrete parentage of the highest character. Based as it is on the law of universal gravitation, it may claim for its remote progenitor the great thinker who established that law. It was first suggested by one who ranks high among philosophers. The man who collected evidence indicating that stars result from the aggregation of diffused matter, was the most diligent, careful, and original astronomical observer of modern times. And the world has not seen a more learned mathematician than the man who, setting out with this conception of diffused matter concentrating towards its center of gravity, pointed out the way in which there would arise, in the course of its concentration, a balanced group of sun, planets, and satellites, like that of which the Earth is a member. Thus, even were there but little direct evidence assignable for the Nebular Hypothesis, the probability of its truth would be strong. Its high derivation, ... would ... form a weighty reason for accepting it - at any rate, provisionally. The reference to "the most original astronomer of modern times" was to William Herschel;39 the learned mathematician was of course, Laplace. In the seventh and last note to the last chapter of the fifth edition of his Exposition du Systeme du Monde,40 the last one issued during his lifetime,41 Laplace summarized some of the findings of that chapter which was entitled: "Considerations on the System of the World, and on the Future Progress of Astronomy". In the note he remarks: we have the five following phenomena to assist us in investigating the cause of the primitive motions of the planetary system.42 The motion of the planets in the same direction, and very nearly in the same plane; the motions of the satellites in the same direction as those of the planets; the motions of rotation of these different bodies and also of the Sun, in the same direction as their motions of projection, and in planes very little inclined to each other; the same eccentricity of the orbits of the planets and satellites; finally, the great eccentricity of the orbits of the comets, their inclinations being at the same time entirely indetermine. 43 These facts Laplace noted could not have been the result of pure chance. All the editions of the Exposition give a detailed account of how he arrived at this conclusion. 44 In the 5th edition, noting the fact that all the planets as well as all their satellites move in the same direction, Laplace states: Phenomena so extraordinary, are not the effect of irregular causes. By subjecting their probability to computation, it is found that (a) there is more than two thousand to one against the hypothesis that they are the effect of chance, which is a probability much greater than that on which most of the events of history, respecting which there does not exist a doubt, depends. We ought therefore be assured with the same confidence, that a primitive cause has directed the planetary motions. 45

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Similarly commenting on the small eccentricity of the orbits of the planets: We are here again compelled to acknowledge the effect of a regular cause; chance alone could not have given a form nearly circular to the orbits of all the planets.46 and the same is true for the coplanarity of the orbits. 47 The first edition of Laplace's Exposition, published in 1796, had already contained a brief outline of his nebular hypothesis which was to account for these facts. Laplace conjectured that the sun originally was surrounded by a hot atmosphere and that the planets were formed at the successive limits of this atmosphere by the condensation of zones that it must have abandoned in the plane of its equator, as it cooled and condensed at the surface of this star ... One can also conjecture that the satellites were formed in a similar manner by the atmospheres of the planets. 48 The second and third editions of the Exposition 49 contain identical statements. The fourth and fifth edition of the Exposition which appeared in 1813 and 1824 respectively50 contained longer versions of the nebular hypothesis. These elaborations were the result of Laplace having become acquainted with William Herschel's impressive observations on nebulae and star clusters. William Herschel's paper of 1811 contained a full exposition of this work and also presented strong arguments for his own nebular hypothesis that stars resulted from the condensation of the extended self-luminous incandescant, nebular fluid that he had observed. In fact, by 1811 Herschel had accumulated such a large number of observations that he could arrange by such nearly allied intermediate steps as will make it highly probable that every succeeding state of the nebulous matter is the result of the action of gravitation upon it... 51 and thus was able to illustrate what he conceived to be the temporal development from nebular fluid to stars. In the first three editions of the Exposition Laplace only refers to Buffon's cosmogenic hypothesis52 - and he offers convincing arguments why this conjecture ought to be rejected -. Although it is unlikely that he knew Kant's work on the genesis of the solar system53 it is not unlikely that by 1796 he had heard of William Herschel's papers "On the Construction of the Heavens" which had appeared in 1784, 1785, and 1789 as well as Herschel's 1791 paper "On Nebulous Stars".54 By 1790, W. Herschel's astronomical work (both instrumental and observational) was so outstanding and well known that it is difficult to believe that Laplace would not at least have heard reports on whatever W. Herschel has written. 55 In fact, W. Herschel and Laplace had been in communication already in 1784 over the trajectory of Uranus. In a letter to Jeaurat in March 1784 Herschel asked him to thank Laplace "for having communicated to me the elements of the Gorgium Sidus [Uranus]. I wish very much that the celebrated mathematician would examine the nature of the curve which I have called "spherical conchoid" and of which he will find the description on the 229th page of the

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memoir which I take the liberty of sending to you for M. Dela Place".56 The memoir was "On the Proper Motion of the Sun and Solar System".57 In a postscript to that paper Herschel had drawn attention to a curve which he described as a "non-descript, as far as I can find at present and may be called a spherical conchoid from the manner of its generation". The last chapter of the first edition of the Exposition indicates that Laplace had certainly read Herschel's memoir "On the Proper Motion of the Sun and Solar System". He there comments that the ellucidation of this problem of the proper motion of the sun within our own galaxy should be pursued and notes that "it has been inferred that the bodies of the solar system are in motion toward the constellation Hercules",58 precisely the inference Herschel had drawn in his Memoir. Laplace also certainly studied Herschel's outstanding observations in 1789 and 1790 on the rings of Saturn. Laplace, at the time, had been working on the question of the stability of the rings of Saturn. 59 Direct correspondence between Laplace and W. Herschel dating as early as 1793 is extant in the Library of the Royal Astronomical Society, London. 60 When the Herschels visited Paris in July 1802 they "dined and breakfasted" several times with Laplace,6\ and Herschel and Laplace exchanged views on their respective nebular hypotheses. 62 Nonetheless the third edition of 1808 of the Exposition still does not mention Herschel's work. Only after Herschel's 1811 paper does Laplace comment on Herschel's cosmological work. He also incorporated it as further evidence for his nebular hypothesis in the fourth and fifth edition of the Exposition: Herschel, while observing the nebulae by means of his powerful telescopes, traces the progress of their condensation, not on one only, as their progress does not become sensible until after the lapse of ages, but on the whole of them, as in a vast forest we trace the growth of trees, in the individuals of different ages which it contains. He first observed the nebulous matter diffused in several masses, through various parts of the heavens, of which it occupied a great extent. In some of these masses he observed that this matter was fully condensed about one or more nuclei, a little more brilliant. In other nebulae, these nuclei shine brighter, relatively to the nebulosity which environs them. As the atmosphere of each nucleus separates itself by an ulterior condensation, there result several nebulae constituted of brilliant nuclei very near to each other, and each surrounded by its respective atmosphere; sometimes the nebulous matter being condensed in a uniform manner, produces the nebulae which are termed planetary. Finally, a greater degree of condensation transforms all these nebulae into stars. The nebulae, classed in a philosophic manner, indicate, with a great degree of probability, their future transformation into stars, and the interior state of the nebulosity of existing stars. Thus, by tracing the progress of condensation of the nebulous matter, we descend to the consideration of the sun, formerly surrounded by an immense atmosphere, to which consideration we can also arrive, from an examination of the solar system, as we shall see in our last note. Such a marked coincidence, arrived at by such different means, renders

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the existence of this anterior state of the Sun extremely probable. 63 Yet the simile "from the vegetable kingdom" Laplace draws upon sterns from Herschel's earlier work of 1789. Herschel's 1811 Memoir does not make it!64 In his second catalogue of Nebulae and Clusters of Stars published in 1789, which contained a "few introductory remarks on the construction of the heavens", Herschel stated that: Having then established that the clusters of stars of the 1st form and round nebulae are of a spherical figure, I think myself plainly authorized to conclude that they are thus formed by the action of central powers. To manifest the validity of this inference, the figure of the earth may be given as an instance; ... An obvious consequence that may be drawn from this consideration is, that we are enabled to judge of the relative age, maturity or climax of a sideral system from the disposition of its component parts ... But we are not to conclude from what has been said that every spherical cluster is of an equal standing in regard to absolute duration, since one that is composed of a thousand stars only, must certainly arrive to perfection of its form sooner than another, which takes in a range of a million. Youth and age are comparative expressions; and an oak of a certain age may be called very young, while a contemporary shrub is already on the verge of its decay ... This method of viewing the heavens seems to throw them into a new kind of light. They are now seen to resemble a luxuriant garden, which contains the greatest variety of productions, in different flourishing beds; and one advantage we may at least reap from it is, that we can, as it were, extend the range of our experience to an immense duration. For to continue the simile I have borrowed from the vegetable kingdom, is it not almost the same thing, whether we have successively to witness the germination, blooming, foliage, fecundity, fading, withering and corruption of a plant, or whether a vast number of specimens, selected from every stage through the plant passes in the course of its existence, be brought at once to our view?65 The impact of Herschel's views manifested itself also in other ways. Whereas in the first edition of the Exposition the brief account of the nebular hypothesis started out with an already formed Sun surrounded by a vast nebula extending beyond the orbits of the planets, in the fourth and fifth edition the nebular hypothesis is extended to account for the formation of the solar system starting from a totally nebulous state. It had become clear that Laplace's nebular hypothesis for the solar system was but a special case of Herschel's sideral nebular hypothesis. 66 Similarly, although in the early editions of the Exposition, Laplace was careful to append to the outline of his nebular hypothesis a warning that he is wary to present his explanation for the origin of the solar system with that diffidence which ought always to attach to whatever is not the result of observation and computation67 by the fifth edition, Laplace prefaces this remark with the suggestion that it appears to him that his hypothesis results

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with a great degree of probability from the preceeding phenomena68 In his "Essai Philosophique sur les Probabilites" which prefaced the third edition of the Theorie Analytique des Probabilites issued in 1820, Laplace devoted Chapter IX to Probabilities and Natural Philosophy. In it he reviewed many of his former applications of the calculus of probabilities to celestial mechanics. In particular, the regularities of planetary motion are again shown not to be the result of chance and his nebular hypothesis is advanced to account for the observed phenomena. The hypothesis is formulated in terms of an original ... nebulosity so diffuse that one would scarcely be able to suspect its existence69 In the fifth edition of the Essai Laplace added that since he had developed his nebular hypothesis at length in the Exposition he will content himself with considering that the angular velocity of rotation of the sun and the planets being accelerated by the successive condensation of their atmospheres at their surfaces, it ought to surpass the angular velocity of revolution of the nearest bodies which revolve about them. Observation has indeed confmned this with regard to the planets and satellites ... 70 In the fifth edition of the Exposition, Laplace also noted that Geology, ... studied under the point of view which connects it with astronomy, may, with respect to many objects, acquire both precision and certainty71 What he had in mind was the fact that an explanation of many geophysical processes followed from the assumption that the earth was originally an incandescent body which subsequently cooled and condensed; and in particular that the heat stored at the creation of the earth was the source of all subsequent tectonic and volcanic phenomena. After the appearance of the fifth edition of the Exposition and its translation into English in 1830, the nebular hypothesis, because of its "respectable ancestry", was widely accepted by the scientific community - "at any rate provisionally". Its greatest impact was on geological tenets.?2 Fourier's explanation of the observed geothermal gradient in mines as evidence of central heat secured the position of the nebular hypothesis as the most plausible explanation for the origin of the central heat.?3 Moreover, as Lawrence points out, the linking of the nebular hypothesis to the doctrine of central heat allowed a synthesis which was at once the explanation of earth history and the "case" history for all planets The relation of the Laplacian planetary nebular hypothesis to Herschel's sidereal nebular hypothesis also linked geology to cosmic history. There can be no question that the nebular hypothesis contributed significantly to the acceptance of evolutionary history as a mode of scientific explanation in the first half of the 19th century. William Herschel, in fact, considered himself a natural historian of the heavens. But it should be stressed that, as Lawrence has, that There was no chance or randomness in the progressive and directional

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processes encompassed by the nebular hypothesis. Everything that occurred was the result of the inexorable workings of the secondary laws of nature 74 It was precisely this fact which made the investigation of the geological and astronomical consequences of the nebular hypothesis acceptable in France and England. In terms of the scientific ethos of the period it was a necessary condition. In France, with its relatively highly developed institutional frameworks and specialized academic disciplines - as exemplified by the Institut, the Musee and the Ecole Polytechnique - the matter could be pursued "internally" by geologists and astronomers. In England with its characteristically different style of doing science - as indicated by the Geological and Astronomical Societies and the background of its practitioners - the deterministic aspect of the hypothesis was also the element which allowed "design" to enter. The confluence of internal and external interests is surely one of the reasons for the popularity of geological and astronomical research activities in the first third of the 19th century in England. But if the determinism of the nebular hypothesis allowed its interpretation as the manifestation of a divine designing hand, the hypothesis was also vulnerable to the charge of fostering irreligion because of its challenge to the Bible. Both Herschel's and Laplace's hypothesis implied that creation "was a long process, not a sudden and completed act"75 and thus posed problems for the literal interpreters of Genesis. Already in 1824, John Herschel wrote to Piazzi I understand from M. Arago that an article has appeared in the Bibliotheque Universelle from the pen of Prof. Pictet of Geneva, in which my father's doctrines respecting the condensation of the nebulous matter are characterized as tending to irreligion. The charge would be contemptible were it not associated with the name of Pictet; but I hope you will take care to let it be distinctly understood that my Father, so far from contemplating such consequences, was a sincere believer in, and worshipper of, a benevolent, intelligent and superintending Deity, whose glory he conceived himselfto be legitimately forwarding by investigating the magnificent structure of the Universe.16 Behind the accusations of irreligion loomed a further and larger specter: the conflation of the nebular hypothesis and its consequent geological history with an evolutionary history of species, and more particularly with transmutation viewed as a natural phenomenon resulting from the operation of the secondary laws of nature. In fact the conflation of nebular hypothesis, geological history and the apparent progression of living forms was already present in muted form in Laplace's presentation in l' Exposition du Systerne du Monde. Commenting on the stability of the solar system and on the possibility that there might exist in the heavenly regions another fluid besides light which might affect the motion of the planets and destroy their arrangement, he noted: And do not all those species of animals which are extinct, but whose existence Cuvier has ascertained with such singular sagacity, and also the organization in the numerous fossil bones which he has described indicate a

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tendency to change in things, which are apparently the most permanent in their nature? The magnitude and importance of the solar system ought not to except it from this general law; for they are relative to our smallness, and this system, extensive as it appears to be, is but an insensible point in the universe. If we trace the history of the progress of the human mind, and of its errors, we shall observe final causes perpetually receding, according as the boundaries of our knowledge are extended77 Moreover, the association of Laplace's name with the nebular hypothesis added to its vulnerability to the charge of fostering atheism. Laplace's reply to Napoleon's query why he never even mentioned the Creator in his "Systeme du Monde": "Je n'avais pas besoin de cette hypothese-Ia" was well known in Great Britain. 78 John W. Herschel, sensitive to this possible confiatiOn was always guarded in his acceptance of the nebular hypothesis. In 1829, in a presidential address before the Astronomical Society at which medals were awarded to Pearson, Bessel and Schmacher he remarked There is a general sense afloat among the continental astronomers, of the necessity of laying a foundation for future sidereal astronomy as deep and as wide as the visible constituents of the universe itself. Nothing less than ALL will be enough. - quicquid nitet notandum ... Who knows what motions may subsist, what activities may be found to prevail, in those mysterious swarms? Or if we find them to be composed of individuals at rest among themselvesif we are to regard them as quiescent societies of separate and independent suns, bound by no forcible tie like that of gravity, but linked by some more delicate and yet more incomprehensible cause of union and common interest - the wonder is all the greater. We walk among miracles, and the soul yearns with an intense desire to penetrate some portion of those secrets, whose full knowledge, after all we must refer to a higher state of existence, and an eternity of sublime contemplation. 79 To J. Herschel, "unless the individual objects are seen condensing, unless changes are observed and noted in the separate masses, the [nebular] hypothesis cannot be received".80 One can get an appreciation of the change in the attitude toward an evolutionary viewpoint which took place in England during the period from 1825 to 1835 by comparing the presidential address to the Astronomical Society given by J. W. Herschel in 1827 and that of Airy delivered in 1836. In 1827, J. Herschel remarked: If we ask to what end magnificent establishments are maintained by states and sovereigns, furnished with masterpieces of art and placed under the direction of men of first-rate talent, and high minded enthusiasm sought out for those qualities among the foremost in the ranks of science: - if we demand cui bono? for what good a Bradley has toiled, or a Maskelyne or a Piazzi worn out his venerable age in watching? the answer is, - ...

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The stars are the land-marks of the universe; and amidst the endless and complicated fluctuations of our system, seem placed by its Creator as guides and records, not merely to elevate our minds by the contemplation of what is vast, but to teach us to direct our actions by reference to what is immutable in his works. 8 ] Where looking at the same phenomena, Herschel finds immutability, Airy finds nothing but change: The phenomena of the solar system impress upon us the notion not only of similarity, but of contemporaneity: at least, they seem to inform us that the time which has elapsed since the states of the planets were sensibly different must be immensely greater than the time during which a gradation of formation could have been sensible. But the contemplation of different nebulae suggests a new idea - the idea of change. In one we find nebulous matter in the wildest confusion: in another there are spots in which apparently a concentration of the matter has been formed by drawing together the nebula from a large space ... : in others we have rings of nebulous matter. .. But has astronomy yet observed any change in these bodies? We cannot say with any certainty that it has; yet the notion of change is not the less impressed upon us. To use the powerful illustration of Laplace, we look among them as among the trees of a forest: the change during the interval of a glance is undiscoverable yet we perceive that there are plants in all different stages: we see that these stages are probably related to each other in the order of time; and we are irresistibly led to the conclusion, that the vegetable world in one case, and the sidereal world in the other, exhibit to us, at one instant, a succession of changes requiring time, which the life of man, or the duration of a solar system, are alone sufficient to trace out in any one instance. 82 In this same address Airy endorsed the nebular hypothesis: ... the great nebula of Orion ... may, ... well contain a sufficiency of matter for the formation of a sun and a system of planets. With this consideration, the examination of nebulae acquires a new interest. It is not merely the inspection of a series of natural changes in which we have no greater interest than in the transitions from an egg to a moth, but it is the study of the successive steps by which worlds like that which we inhabit, and that which regulate our motions and our seasons, may have been organised from the most chaotic of all conceivable states. When to this we add, that the combination of relative motion of parts with gradual concentration of mass is sufficient to account generally for the formation of planets and satellites, possessing that remarkable property which is possessed by the bodies of our system, of revolving all in the same direction, and describing orbits nearly circular, we must acknowledge that the examination of nebulae, in all their stages, presents not merely a chance, but a highly plausible chance, of forming a distinct theory of cosmogony. And if we admire the genius of the mighty mathematician who first pointed out the simple reasoning by which the transition from nebulous fluid to discrete planets may be shewn to be

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physically possible and probable, let us at the same time pay our tribute of admiration to the great astronomer whose accurate observations and sagacious reflections gave the first ground for such a theory. Little time has elapsed since the first observation of these sidereal bodies: the observations of the greatest part of them have been made within our lifetimes: the first page in that part of the history of astronomy which relates to these subjects is hardly yet traced. But the history of astronomy may yet be long enough to comprehend a series of visible changes; and the most important element for the value of that particular branch of it will be the fulness and accuracy of the commencement. Happy would it be for other parts of the science, if the first pages of their history were as well traced. The initial suggestions of progression in the case of the nebulae by W. Herschel, and in living forms by Lamarck and others, were largely speculative. But the evidence in both fields became more convincing in the first third of the nineteenth century, largely as the result of William and John Herschel's astronomical observations, and the work of Cuvier, William Smith and other paleontologists and stratigraphists in the geological and biological field. The connection between geological history, fossil record and transmutation 83 was more apparent than that between nebular hypothesis and transformism. Still the parallel and possible analogy between the latter two was often noted, particularly with reference to the possible dynamics and the stability of the processes. In 1833 Whewell in his Bridgwater treatise dealing with Astronomy and General Physics - after coldly describing the Nebular Hypothesis and the reason Laplace had advanced it to account for the observable regularities of the solar system - stressed that the hypothesis was only a conjecture. Moreover, Whewell noted, the hypothesis did not account for organic life: Was man, with his thoughts and feeling, his powers and hope, his will and conscience, also produced as an ultimate result of the condensation of the solar atmosphere?84 In 1836, J. P. Nichol reviewed in the Westminster Review the "State of Discovery and Speculation Concerning the Nebulae".85 He undertook this task to bring "into popular form" the subject of the nebulae and in order to examine in all its singular bearings ... the kind and amount of evidence which exists for this adventurous hypothesis now commonly received among those astronomers who have studied the subject The review itself is a careful and sober assessment of both W. Herschel's and Laplace's hypothesis and of the observational data bearing on them. Commenting on Laplace's hypothesis he perceptively observed that this "curious speculation derives plausibility" from The generation of every scheme or portion of nature with which we are acquainted has reference to the production of those essential characteristics which constitute the strength of the arrangement and give it stability. Now it is precisely those striking circumstances - the almost circular shape and small inclination of the planetary orbits, the uniformity of direction of the

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motions of revolution and rotation of these bodies, which uniformity is also partaken of by the satellites - it is these constituent elements, flowing directly out of the hypothesis of nebular generation which give the machinery of the system its permanence ... An interesting aspect of Nichol's article is that he gives explicit proof of the conflation of nebular hypothesis, geological theorizing and "transformist" speculations. In a long footnote commenting on Sir John Hershel's "sterner regard for demonstration than should be cherished while conducting inquiries" like the nebular hypothesis - for Herschel "even the complete establishment of an uninterrupted gradation would not suffice as a confirmation of the nebular hypothesis" - Nichol remarks [Sir John Herschel] instances the supposed parallel case of the chain of organized being - a chain in which every link has been fancied to hang upon its neighbour - when, in fact, there is every aspect of a gradation of appearances, without, as is commonly believed, the possibility of one grade or one species merging into another. But Nichol indicates Further reflection, we think, would have convinced this eminent philosopher - than whom none knows better the exact value of an analogy - that the two cases are not absolutely parallel... A gradation, or collection of similar appearances gently shading into each other, can be met with nowhere without its flashing on our minds that there is something in that connexion more than meets the eye; and we are compelled, ... to ask ... what may resolve this singUlar and striking relationship .... But, surely that gradation in reference to which, as in the case of the nebulae, we know of powers capable of causing the transition of the imperfect into the more perfect state is a condition widely different from that other - the scale organized Being in respect of which, as naturalists have hitherto viewed it, there is not only no known energy to effectuate the transition, but a supposed demonstration of the absolute impossibility of such a transition. Sir John Herschel stopped too soon - he exalted a difference arising from what is believed concerning the second step of the inquiry, into a principle for the guidance of our judgments in the first stage; Nichol continues and this is more to be regretted, inasmuch as, if he had gone farther he would not have lent his authority, even indirectly, to stop zoological inquiries. The "intranspossibility" of what are termed the "limits of species" is by no means settled; and it seems that the holders of the dogmatic belief to this belief rest their chief authority on their power to ridicule Lamarck, who grasped at a philosophical conception before he knew of any facts by which it could be well illustrated. Zoology is too much in its infancy - too much a mere science of classification ... of observed differences - to permit a dogmatism on either side of this question; but, unquestionably, when Lamarck asserted in the face of much obloquy, that a "trans possibility" and a progression might exist, he was far nearer the truth than his noisy opponents. The duty of

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inquirers in this department is to investigate closely the powers of life, and to ask whether there, as with the nebulae, a plastic misno exists, capable of solving the mystery of this gradation, as established, not by the living creations, (for they are only as a few leaves left from an immense volume) but by these in connexion with the creatures whose relics have been preserved in their strong coffins. We need not remind the young zoologist that the inquiry is begun. Instead of a fanciful Lamarck, we have now a laborious St. Hilaire - a man who has done much, and will yet do more, towards the unveiling of Nautre's hidden face. It is full time that such speculations cease to be confounded with "Atheism" - at least by our Learned! Actually by 1836 John Herschel was willing to consider "the possibility of the introduction or origination of fresh species by a natural in contradiction to a miraculous process".86 In his famous letter from the Cape of Good Hope in 1836 to Charles Lyell concerning "that mystery of mysteries the replacement of extinct species by others" Herschel indicated: For my own part - I cannot but think it an inadequate conception of the Creator, to assume it as granted that his combinations are exhausted upon anyone of the theatres of their former exercise - though in this, as in all his other works we are led by all analogy to suppose that he operates through a series of intermediate causes & that in consequence, the origination of fresh species could it ever come under our cognizance would be found to be a natural in contradistinction to a miraculous process - although we perceive no indication of any process actually in progress which is likely to issue in such a process. 87 More than anyone else John Pringle Nichol, regius professor of Astronomy at Glasgow helped disseminate and popularize the nebular hypothesis and its astronomical and geological consequences among the reading public of England from the mid eighteen thirties on. 88 His Views of the Architecture of the Heavens first appeared in 1838 and went through seven editions in seven years. The later editions of the Architecture of the Heavens, - the ninth edition appeared in 1851 and was illustrated by David Scott - and of his System of the World chronicle the impact of Lord Rosse's observations using his high resolution telescope on the Nebular Hypothesis. Nichol, in all his books gave the deistic interpretation of the workings of nature - to be contrasted with the theistic presentation of the Bridgewater Treatises. 89 The completion - by its inclusion of living systems - and culmination of the deistic evolutionary interpretation of Nature along the lines outlined by Nichol was Chambers' "Vestiges of Creation" in 1844. It lacked the scientific perspicacity that Nichol had exhibited in differentiating between the fact of evolution and the mechanism of evolution, but it did impressively adumbrate an evolutionary and naturalistic interpretation of all of nature, including man, mind and society. Although the Laplacian nebular hypothesis had by 1838 developed a few difficuities 90 which Chambers had refused to admit and many of his scientific facts were questionable (thUS opening the Vestiges to strong attacks)

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this does not detract from the central importance Chambers' Vestiges played in the evolutionary debate that took place between 1840 and 1860.91 Darwin's assessment must be heeded: The work, from its powerful and brilliant style, though displaying in the earlier editions little accurate knowledge and a great want of scientific caution, immediately had a wide circulation. In my opinion it has done excellent service in this country in calling attention to the subject, in removing prejudices, and in this preparing the ground for the reception of analogous views.92 The prevalence of the conflation of nebular hypothesis, geological history and transmution of species by the beginning of 1840's is further indicated by Book X entitled "The Philosophy of Palaetiology" of Whewell's The Philosophy o/the Inductive Sciences. 93 The Palaetiological Sciences are those in which the object is to ascend from the present state of things to a more ancient condition, from which the present is derived by intelligible causes. As conspicuous examples of this class we may take Geology, Glossology or Comparative Philology, and Comparative Archaeology. These provinces of knowledge might perhaps be intelligibly described as Histories: The History of the Earth, - The History of Languages, - The History of Arts.94

In his chapter on palaetiology Whewell discusses at length the connection of the nebular hypothesis to the doctrine of central heat and the relation of the latter to the geological history of the earth. In particular Whewell assesses how "catastrophists" and "uniformitarian" view the nebular hypothesis. (Whewell, it will be recalled, had in his History introduced the appelation of "catastrophism" and "uniformitarianism".) But whereas by 1840 Whewell is willing to consider the merits of the nebular hypothesis as a possible explanation in geological history, his religious views do not permit such a naturalistic interpretation regarding the formation of new species: Nothing has been pointed out in the existing order of things which has any analogy or resemblance, of any valid kind, to that creative energy which must be exerted in the production of a new species. And to assume the introduction of new species as a part of the order of nature without pointing out any natural fact with which such an event can be classed, would be to reject creation, by an arbitrary act. .. Thus we are led by our reasonings to this view, that the present order of things was commenced by an act of creative powers entirely different to any agency which has been exerted since. None of the influences which have modified the present races of animals and plants since they were place in their habitation on the earth's surface can have any efficacy in producing them at first. 95 Whewell's personal assessment is the following: ... the uniformitarian doctrine on this subject (the nebular origin of the solar

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system) rests on most unstable foundations. We have as yet only very vague and imperfect reasonings to show that by such condensation a material system such as ours could result; and the introduction of organized beings into such a material system is utterly out of the reach of our philosophy.96 4. COMTE'S MEMOIRE ON POSITIVE COSMOGONY

Every year from 1830 until 1848, Comte presented to the "workers of Paris" a series of free public lectures on astronomy at the Mairie of the 3rd Arrondissement of Paris. 97 Except for Comte's account of positive cosmogony these lectures together with a lengthy introduction entitled "Discours Preliminaire Sur l' Esprit Positif' were published in 1844 as the Traite Philosophique d'Astronomie Popufaire. 98 In a letter to J. S. Mill in 1845 Comte indicated that he had stopped lecturing on positive cosmogony "since five or six years".99 These lectures were intended for an audience whose mathematical preparation included only elementary mathematics (trigonometry) and mechanics. The book - and the lectures on which it was based - had two purposes: To stimulate an interest in "some celestial speculations" as Fontenelle's Entretiens Sur la Pluralite des Mondes IOO had "so admirably done almost a century earlier", and once this was achieved to give a didactic presentation of the positive results of modem astronomy as Laplace had done in his Exposition du Systeme du Monde. More specifically Comte' s intention was to indicate how every astronomical question was reducible to a corresponding problem in geometry or abstract mechanics. 1OI In the preface to the Traite Comte indicated that he believed he would be more successful than Laplace because his own presentation would be more than an attempt to "painfully translate analytic formulae into ordinary language" which, it will be recalled, was Fourier's characterization of Laplace's Exposition. 102 The original lectures - i.e. with the positive cosmogony included - paralleled Laplace's Exposition: The high point of both was the presentation of the proof of the stability of the solar system. Both ended with cosmogonic considerations: Laplace with his nebular hypothesis and Comte with a presumed proof of the correctness of that hypothesis: a testament to the power of the positive approach. Comte wrote up his lectures on positive cosmogony as the Premier Memoire Sur la Cosmofogie Positive.103 These lectures were also incorporated in the astronomical section of Vol. II of the Cours. Comte had several purposes in mind when writing his Premier Memoire Sur fa Cosmogonie Positive. The first was to make his mathematical investigation of the Herschel-Laplace nebular hypothesis a paradigm of the role of hypothesis in research in the natural sciences. In the introduction to his PMCP Comte states: The hypotheses intended to facilitate our investigations in the natural sciences, must necessarily satisfy that fundamental condition, namely to

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admit in an obvious manner, by their nature, a positive verification, be it at present, or in the future ... But, this general principle of the theory of hypotheses - which though universally recognized today is, nonetheless, too often still ignored in applications - must be supplemented by an important corollary almost ignored until now, though its correctness (validity) is obvious. It consists in that positive verification - which every scientific hypothesis must be susceptible to - must have a degree of precision which matches that which the nature of the corresponding phenomena admits. Thus, astronomical phenomena - and especially those referring to the solar system of which we are a part - being, among all natural phenomena eminently susceptible to numerical determinations, it follows from this general rule that any hypothesis that refers to them would be radically vicious, if it would not admit of similar verifications. This, ... would not be a defect in a chemical, and a fortiori, a physiological hypothesis, where one only has to explain the kind and the connexion of phenomena without having to give reason for their quantity ... All hypotheses which have in fact brought about real progress in astronomy have always presented this characteristic of being able to be conftrmed or infrrmed without uncertainty by numerical comparisons. This condition, ... , was not satisfied in the construction of the cosmogonic hypothesis imagined by Herschel and perfected by Laplace. The explanation proposed by these two illustrious savants, permits no doubt a vague conception of the totality of the actual disposition of the celestial bodies, as could ... several other very different suppositions. But it does not present us with anything that can be calculated, and which could by a confrontation with measurable elements, testify with certainty for or against the reality of the original celestial state it presupposes. This defect of precision, and therefore of control, is probably the real reason for the instinctive repugnance, that one can notice among almost all astronomers and geometers to work on such a hypothesis, which nonetheless, by singular contrast, they consider as very plausible. The object of this Memoire is to remedy this imperfection. Comte indicates that his work had first been presented in his public course on Astronomy in August 1831. It constitutes the initial part of a research program on the formation of the solar system which he has not been able to complete because of his writing of the Cours. The second reason for the Memoire is to clarify the limits of positive knowledge, and in particular the limits of positive cosmogonic theories. Comte is quick to point out that any notion of creation must be set aside and that any cosmogonic theory in order to really be scientiftc can at most conceive of simple successive transmutations of an ensemble of molecules, without beginning and without any end as well. The question therefore becomes, is it possible to conceive the present state of the solar system as derived from a previous more simple state, of which there

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remain yet appreciable traces? Similarly this previous stage can be thought as having evolved from an earlier one. But that one can surely not be ascertained unless the most recent stage is determined. Moreover it is essential that all these transformations be the result of the simple action of the same general forces that operate at present. Comte thus differentiates between two different stages in planetary evolution: Stage 1: the formation of suns by the condensation of the nebulosity: Stage 2: the formation of planetary systems by the successive condensation of the stellar atmosphere. Comte argues that it is premature to speculate on stellar evolution and cosmogony in general, despite Herschel's "precious observations": How dare we conjecture with any confidence on the formation of the universe, when our real knowledge of this subject is so little advanced, that we have ignored completely up to now the question of whether there exist in effect but one universe, in the rigourous acceptance of this term, i.e. if the great natural [stellar] objects form really a unique system, and not a certain number, perhaps very large, of partial systems entirely independent one from the others? William Herschel had indicated that he believed in islands of universes - and Comte's question reflects his study of W. Herschel's works. Comte had argued elsewhere that our solar system could be considered an isolated system, the effects of other stellar objects on it being negligible. Thus any cosmogony must limit itself to considerations of our own solar system, the only planetary system about which enough is known to be able to advance useful hypotheses. Moreover one must first try to understand planetary formation, assuming the sun already formed, since that stage must be understood before one can attempt to understand the "evolution to that stage from an earlier stage of complete nubulosity". Thus Comte assumes as the initial state a sun surrounded by its atmosphere, the entire system rotating uniformly. (Comte conjectures that this is probably a consequence of our solar system moving in an elliptic motion around some stellar entity of a higher order.) The problem is then to find in the well known facts of the present constitution of the solar system "numerical testimonies of that origin". A discussion of the Laplacian model then follows: Upon cooling, the initially incandenscent solar atmosphere will contract and will thus increase its rotational speed (by the theorem of conversation of areas, i.e. conversation of angular momentum). At some stage in the contraction process, the outer ring will have the property that its centrifugal force will be exactly balanced by the gravitational attraction to the rest of the sun and will separate from the rest of the solar atmosphere. Such is the primitive state of the planets, successively thus separated from the ensemble of the solar atmosphere by the various condensations that produced that the various principal phases of its cooling. Comte claims only to have to consider this initial ring formation for the subsequent process of accretion to form the actual spherically shaped planets

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from this ring is "very simply" explained, and has been explained by Laplace. Moreover the same process is responsible for the formation of the planetary satellites. Comte is however careful to stress that the present Memoire deals only with the orbital motion, of planets and satellites and does not explain their spin. He promises another Memoire in which their spin is considered but indicates that this aspect of the theory has given him more trouble since one must take into account how much mass each ring contains at separation and not "simply the fact and place of separation, which suffices for the translational motion". Comte now draws two conclusions from his model: a) the planets were not simultaneously formed, but were successively generated in the order of their distance from the sun (analogous statements can be made for the satellites of the planets). b) the period of each planet must be equal - under the assumptions of the model - to the period of rotation of the sun when its atmosphere reached to that planet. Next Comte notes that under his hypothesis the centrifugal force of any molecule situated at each extreme limit of the solar atmosphere and in its equatorial plane must equal the weight of this molecule toward the center of the sun, so that a comparison of the expressions for these two forces can give the period of rotation of the sun at the time that its atmosphere extended to the planet under consideration, and the point is to see whether this period equals, if not exactly, at least very closely, the present period of this planet. Comte comments In fact, the execution of this calculation confirms, if I did not make any mistakes, in a remarkable fashion, this decisive coincidence. Comte notes that the theory is absolutely the same for the satellites of the planets, and does the calculation for the moon and obtains a value of 27.238 days for the period of moon (based on assumed moon-earth distance of 384544919 meters!) as compared to the observed period of 27.322 days. The same reasoning applied to the planets and the planetary satellites yields him results in remarkable agreements with the observed periods (the errors cluster around 1/45 for the planets, and are somewhat larger for the satellites because of uncertainties of the distances involved). These calculations are based on a formula which Comte derived as follows: Let X be the period of rotation of a planet. If the planet extended a distance d than a particle at that distance moving with constant speed V would have a centripetal acceleration equal to V2/d. Since 2nd = \IX, V2/d

=4n2d;XZ.

Comte calls the right hand side of this equation Huygens' theorem. The gravitational force per unit mass at that distance is equal to GM/d2. (M is the mass of the planet and G the gravitational constant.) Comte actually expresses the gravitational force in terms of the "acceleration due to gravity", g, at the

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surface of the planet. Let r be the observed radius of the planet, then

GM/r2 =g, so that the equality of the gravitational attraction and centrifugal force takes the form 47r 2 d X

2

GM

r2

= d:2 = gd 2

(A)

which is the formula derived by Comte (with the middle member of the equality excluded). Comte notes that (A) can be rewritten as d3

GM

gr2

(B)

The right hand side of Equation (B) is independent of the constants of the planet under consideration. Upon neglecting the variation of the solar mass as a result of each planetary formation Comte observes that he obtains Kepler's third law a priori as an immediate consequence of his cosmogonic hypothesis! Comte then speculates about the reasons for the deviations of the orbits from perfect circularity and from the plane of the ecliptic. Besides the complex nature of the formation process Comte attributes these deviations to the same actions as "Laplace had adduced". In addition, Comte speculates "they may actually be principally internal explosions, whose actions can affect all astronomic elements, and can occur at any time even when the star has become a solid on the exterior". As far as comets are concerned, Comte adopts the opinion of Lagrange "who believes them to be the result of planetary explosions". As a final comment on his approach Comte asks the following question: In the present state of the solar system, should we look upon its formation as final, or should we await the birth of some new planet, which would be closer to the sun than Mercury? To answer this question Comte proposes to apply his reasoning "in the reverse sense" and to deduce from the present state of rotation of the Sun, the mathematicallimit of its atmosphere. He argues that if this limit is less than the actual extent of its atmosphere as indicated by modem observations, then one may infer that the formation of a new planet is in the process of taking place; but if on the contrary, the solar atmosphere has a much smaller radius than the mathematical limit, no further planetary formation is possible under his hypothesis. Comte then computes the distance at which the gravitational force due to a solar mass would balance an object orbiting circularly with a period of 25 1/2 days (the present period of rotation of the sun) and finds this distance to be thirty six solar radii. Hence Comte concludes that in our theory, the planetary formation that we are part of is essentially complete. With this deduction Comte believes that the great philosophical results

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obtained by the developments of celestial mechanics concerning the stability of our solar system are completed. Comte however foresees that the ether's resistance will eventually result in "its complete disorganization". The slowing down of the planets due to the ether's drag will bring about the absorption by the sun of all the planets which will return to their source, until a new expansion of the solar mass will, in the immensity of future times, give birth to a new world, destined for an analogous career. Comte remarks that it is remarkable that in the present state of our knowledge we can conceive of these great alternations of destructions and regenerations as being local phenomena occurring independently of what happens in the rest of the universe. We can in fact never obtain any "real notions" about the birth and death of other suns. the interior life of our world [i.e. our solar system] is probably the only one that we may hope to know with some certainty, and by this, the only one whose knowledge is of importance to us ... ; ... our position forbids us essentially the universal viewpoint, .. .it interests really only our insatiable curiosity. There is thus in this respect, a necessary and fundamental harmony between the limits of our real knowledge and our real needs. In a postscript Comte remarks that he would not be surprised if the results of this Memoire seemed illusory to some people who cannot grasp its real sense. Furthermore, since he is preoccupied ("for long years") with philosophical works that constitute his "essential vocation" he will not get involved in any scientific specialty which constitutes but a "simple episodic incident" in his intellectual life. Comte comments that he could have published this Memoire earlier ("three years ago") but he wanted to convince himself that his results were not illusory and that he "was not taking out of his calculation what" he "had implicitly introduced". He concludes his P.S. with the announcement if this Memoire will give rise to some discussion I will not participate in any manner ... If by reason of this systematic silence, the comparison established in this Memoire will be labelled generally illusory, I have no doubt that this momentary inconvenience will pass entirely when I will make known, at the opportune moment, my cosmogonic analysis of rotation ...

5. THE RECEfYfION OF COMTE'S WORK IN FRANCE

Comte presented his Memoire Sur la Cosmogonie Positive to the Academie des Sciences. 104 It was read by him at the session of Monday the 19th of January 1835 and that of Monday the 26th of January 1835. In attendance at one or the other of the sessions were most of the Academicians in the fields of the natural sciences including Ampere, Biot, Gay-Lussac, Navier, Poisson, Dulong, Poinsot, de Lalande, Savary and Ponce let. Arago was not present at either of the sessions but together with Savary and Libri, he was appointed "to examine this

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Memoire". The issue of l'Institut lO5 dated the 28th of January 1835 carried a fairly detailed outline of the Memoire taken essentially verbatim from Comte's Memoire. The abstract emphasized the role of hypotheses and their possible verification in formulating theories, the nature of positive theories dealing with cosmogonies, and briefly outlined Comte's calculations of the orbital period of the moon, various planets, and the satellites of various planets based on his formula gr2/d2 = 4rc 2/)(2. His conclusion that "planetary formation is essentially complete" was included. The abstract also announced a second Memoire in which Comte would deal with the spin motion of the planets. On the first page of the manuscript Comte deposited at the Academie, Arago wrote the following note: "il n 'y a pa lieu arapport". H)6 The reason Arago did not have to make a report was undoubtedly the publication in the Precis Analytique des Travaux de /' Academie Royale des Sciences, Belles-Lettres et Arts de Rouen for 1835 of a report which Mr. Person had given there in the spring of 1835.107 Mr. des Alleurs, the secretary of the Rouen Academie for the Classe des Sciences in introducing the session indicates that We owe to Mr. Person an interesting note, which tends to prove that a presumed mathematical explication of the solar system by Laplace, read in a session of the Academy of Sciences by M. Comte, is but a vicious circle ... The abstract indicates that M. Person after having read certain passages of the Comte's Memoire, designed to present Laplace's hypothesis and the proposed verification, shows in a few words that this presumed verification is founded on a paralogism. Person, in a few paragraphs goes to the heart of the matter: Let us note, that in the motion of a planet, the centrifugal force at any given instant is necessarily equal to the (gravitational) attraction; otherwise, the planet would leave its orbit. The equality of these two forces gives an equation from which one can easily derive an expression for the period, provided the orbit is approximately circular, which is the case for the planets and satellites. It is precisely this formula which the author uses; ... ; it proves nothing with respect to the hypothesis to be verified ... The vicious circle that Mr. Comte fell into can be summarized as follows: "I assume, in my formula, that the sun rotates like the planet; and I find, after my calculations, that it rotates like the planet" . . . .this unfruitful attempt at verification does nothing for Herschel's and La Place's hypothesis; this hypothesis, which has made us forget Buffon's as well as numerous others' theories, remains with all its probability. The mistake in the Memoire probably became known to Comte, since he did not present his second Memoire to the Academie. The postscript to his first Memoire - in which he indicates that he would not be surprised if his results "seemed illusory to some people who cannot grasp its real sense" and that he would not participate in any discussion of his researches - very likely was the

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result of Comte having been apprised of Person's note. We can only speculate on the motives for Comte's submission of his Memoire to the Academie. Very probably Comte thought he had obtained an important result. It is also quite possible that Comte had submitted his first Memoire to obtain his "accreditation" as a working scientist. His efforts to have a chair in the history of science created at the College de France had aborted in 1833 after Guizot,108 then Minister of Education, turned the request down (after which Comte wrote an intemperate letter to a newspaper accusing Guizot of bad faith.) 109 Although a clear and competent lecturer, Comte by 1835 realized that instructional talents were neither necessary nor sufficient to obtain a position at the Poly technique. What mattered were accomplishments in research in one's field of specialization, membership in the Academie and whom one knew in the scientific community. Unsuccesful in 1835 and in 1836 Comte turned against the Academie. Writing to the President of the Academie he accused it of not discharging its responsibilities. Charged with nominating worthy candidates to the instructional posts of the Grandes Ecoles, Comte claimed that the Academie filled these positions as it were electing its membership, i.e. by considering as primary requirements memoires on particular points in Science. I 10 When another vacancy opened at the Poly technique in 1840 the scenario was repeated. A delegation of students went to see various members of the Council of the Polytechnique to support Comte' s nomination. The proceedings have a modem ring to them. As one member of the delegation reports it, the responses they got ... generally were evasive; a few indicated that they would take into account the wishes of the students; others, that it was not sufficient to give outstanding lectures to become professor at the Ecole, that one must principally be in intellectual communion with the other mathematicians. I II Arago put the matter succinctly: Je ne connais aMr. Comte aucun titre mathematique, ni grand ni petit I 12 6. RECEPTION IN ENGLAND

The Precis de l' Academie Royale de Rauen was not a widely circulated scientific journal. Thus the error in Comte's work which Person had pointed out did not become known outside France and had to be rediscovered. In England the mistake was again noted but only in the mid eighteen-forties. From 1837 when the first two volumes of Comte's Cours were introduced in England until 1845 - when Herschel pubJically attacked Comte's work - Comte's cosmogonic investigations were widely adduced in the United Kingdom as corroborating Laplace's nebular hypothesis. It thus played an important role in making evolutionary mechanisms an acceptable mode of scientific explanation. Alexander Bain, in his book on John Stuart Mill, records that Wheatstone

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"always claimed to be the means of introducing Comte in England".I13 Wheatstone in 1837 had brought from Paris the first two volumes of Comte's Cours de Philosophie Positive and mentioned the work to his scientific friends in Great Britain, and among others to David Brewster. Brewster proceeded to write a review article on these two first volumes which appeared in the Edinburgh Review in August 1838. Anyone acquainted with Brewster, Bain noted, would have predicted an indignant or else contemptuous exposure of the atheism, a fastening on the weak points in his own special subjects, as Optics, and a cold recognition of his [Comte's] systematic comprehensiveness. This, however, was to leave out of the account one element - Brewster's antipathy to Whewell. Bain further comments: Brewster found with joy a number of observations on Hypothesis and other points, that he could tum against Whewell; and the effect was, I have no doubt, to soften the adverse criticisms and to produce an article on the whole favorable to the book. This review by Brewster was read widely. It was an influential and important contribution to the debate over methodological issues which was being carried on in England and Scotland during the 1830's and 1840's. Herschel's "Preliminary Discourse on the Study of Natural Philosophy" 114 and Whewell's History115 and later his Philosophy of the Inductive Sciences I16 were the most influential tracts emanating from the Cambridge School. I 17 Both Herschel and Whewell, though differing in their "metaphysical" assumptions, advocated what could be characterized as a limited method of hypothesis. The members of the common-sense school of philosophy, and the Scottish universities where they taught, were the leading supporters of the method of induction. The Scots considered themselves the true disciples of Bacon and Newton. Thomas Reid 118 and Henry Brougham 119 were the leading protagonists of this school. Mill's "Logic"120 of 1843 in a certain sense, was the high point of these debates. 121 Although Brewster certainly was an inductivist, his views paralleled more closely those of Dugald Stewart than those of Thomas Reid, and he believed in a limited role for hypotheses in science. 122 The review Brewster wrote for the Edinburgh Review 123 was a succinct and accurate synopsis of Comte's first two volumes of the Cours. The law of the three states was sympathetically presented. It gave a sensitive presentation of Comte's hierarchical schemes and noted the superiority of this classification scheme. Comte's dualities of abstract and concrete, static and dynamic were reviewed. Comte's discussion of the role of observation, experiment and comparison in the ascending scheme of the sciences were ably summarized. Brewster emphasized Comte's fundamental axiom that "all science has for its object prediction" and dealt at length with Comte's "rational formation and true use of hypothesis". The review also prominently and lengthily featured Comte' s work on the nebular hypothesis, and this in a very favorable manner. To assuage his religious conscience Brewster however appended the caveat that even were the

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hypothesis proven, in no way does this when properly viewed, afford the smallest aid to those who are desirous of finding any substitute for the agency of an all-directing mind For although he considered the cosmogony of Laplace as merely an ingenious speculation, Brewster noted that we shall permit M. Comte to make it the basis of his argument; and we shall suppose ... that the characteristic circumstances of the [planetary] system thus formed, which produces stability, are the necessary consequences of this mode of formation. After all these admissions the argument for design remains unshaken, and the mind still turns itself to the great first cause. In his presentation of the Cours' lessons on Astronomy Brewster returns at great length to outline Comte's work on Laplacian Cosmogony and he comments on this work as follows: These views of the origin and destiny of the various systems of worlds which fill the immensity of space, break upon the mind with all the interest of novelty, and all the brightness of truth. Appealing to our imagination by their grandeur, and to our reason by the severe principles of science on which they rest, the mind feels as if a revelation had been vouchsafed to it of the past and future history of the universe. The role played by John Stuart Mill in promulgating Comte's work in Britain is well known. 124 Gustave d'Eichtal had met John Stuart Mill on May 30,1828 through their mutual friend Eyton Tooke and they quickly became good friends. It was d'Eichtal who introduced Mill to Comte's Systeme de Politique Positive and Mill was much impressed by it, though critical. 125 It was however only in 1837, when Mill read the first two volumes of the Cours that the full import and impact of Comte's views were felt by him. Right after reading the Cours he wrote his friend John Pringle Nichol on the 21st of December 1837: ... Meanwhile, have you read a book termed Cours de Philosophie Positive by Auguste Comte, the same Comte whose Traite de Politique Positive you have among the earlier of the St. Simonian tracts (by-the-by, I should like soon to have these St. Simonian books again, one is always wanting them)? This said book is, I think, one of the most profound books ever written on the philosophy of the sciences; ... I shall be much astonished if this book of Comte's does not strike you more than any logical speculations of our time. There are two enormous octavo volumes out, and two more to come. 126 Mill was at the time deeply involved in writing his Logic. In his Autobiography he states that he gained much from Comte with which to enrich my chapters in the subsequent rewriting; and his book was of essential service to me in the parts which still remained to be thought out. 127 His high opinion of the Cours is unabated in the fall of 1841 when he writes to Alexander Bain Have you looked into Comte's Cours de Philosophie Positive? He makes some mistakes, but on the whole, I think it very nearly the grandest work of this age. 128

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Mill's highly acclaimed A System of Logic was published in 1843 and it contributed much to the further dissemination of positive philosophy by its praise of Comte's Cours.129 Book ill, Chapter IV of the System of Logic deals with the limits to the explanation of laws and the nature and proper use of scientific hypotheses. In it Mill indicates that The celebrated speculation of Laplace concerning the origin of the earth and planets, participates essentially in the inductive character of modern geological theory. 130 After explaining the speculation at some length, Mill concludes There is thus, in Laplace's theory, nothing strictly, hypothetical: It IS an example of legitimate reasoning from a present effect to a possible past cause, according to the known laws of that cause. For a justification Mill refers the reader to Comte's Cours II pp. 378-383 (in which Comte's cosmogonic researches are to be found).131 As noted above, John Stuart Mill was responsible for John Pringle Nichol becoming acquainted with Comte's work on the Laplacian hypothesis as outlined in Volume II of the Cours. In his exceedingly popular "Views of the Architecture of the Heavens" which first appeared in 1838 Nichol comments on Herschel's nebular hypothesis as follows: The hypothesis would clearly induce us to expect a series of objects, beginning with a cluster of perfect regularity, in which various compressions will be exhibited, and upon which MUTABILITY is stamped. Now this series exists ... These objects [the nebulae] present a series quite unbroken. 132 Nichol was rhapsodic in his praise of Laplace's bold and brilliant induction (may I not now so name it?) which includes and resolves all. Almost a third of Nichol's "Views" is devoted to an explanation of the nebular hypothesis. In his presentation of the Laplacian nebular hypothesis Nichol notes that ... although it accounts for the origin of our system of individual bodies, the hypothesis must be tested by a still severer criticism and reconciled with the mechanism of the entire system . . . .it must show ... that the times of the revolution of the several planets, are consistent with the account given of their origin. Now the inquiry which contains the reply to this query ... has lately been taken up and completed by a young French geometer. .. Each planet revolves at present nearly in the time in which he must have rotated when the corresponding outer zone of his atmosphere was abandoned - a circumstance which Mr. Compte considers as bestowing almost demonstrative evidence on tlIe Nebular Cosmogony. I have said nearly, for the coincidence is not complete; the calculated time of the ring being shorter than the true time of the planet but about 1-45th part

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of the latter ... 133 In an appendix Nichol gives an exposition on "The relation of the Nebular

Hypothesis to Geological Change". The first American edition 134 published in 1840 contains further appendices on the relation between the nebular hypothesis, geological change, the fossil record and the evolutionary history of species, both extinct and extant. The third and subsequent British editions contain these notes and further elaborations on these themes. John Pringle Nichol, probably more than anyone else, was responsible for the conflation in the minds of the general reading public of the 1840's of the Laplacian nebular hypothesis, the geological history of the earth and the evolutionary history of living forms, all in a deistic framework. Chambers expanded on this theme and the Vestiges was the result. Chambers' Vestiges oj Creation 135 was published anonymously in 1844. Its importance in popularizing evolutionary doctrines has been fully documented. 136 The cosmic developmental hypothesis of the Vestiges was pegged at the planetary level on the Laplacian nebular hypothesis. In the first edition Chambers indicated that Mr. Compte, of Paris, has made some approach to the verification of the hypothesis ... The process by which he arrived at this conclusion is not readily to be comprehended by the unlearned; but men of science allow that it is a powerful support to the present hypothesis of the formation of the globes of space* .137 A lengthy footnote outlines "Compte'''s work as given the Vol. II of the Cours Chambers' spelling of Comte's name as "Compte" indicating that his source for this material was Nichol's first edition of the "Views of the Architecture of Heavens" where Comte is similarly referred to as "Compte". The reaction to the Vestiges from the scientific elite was swift, concerted and scathing. 138 Adam Sedgwick, reviewing the Vestiges in 1845 139 (it had gone through four editions by the time of this review!) comments: ... no man who has any name in science, properly so called, whether derived from profound study or original labor in the field, has spoken well of the book, or regarded it with any feelings but those of deep aversion. We say this advisedly, after exchanging thought with some of the best informed men in Britain. One of the men Sedgwick had consulted was J. W. HerscheJ.140 Sedgwick's attack on Chambers for brandishing Comte's work as demonstrating the Laplacian nebular hypothesis is based on the analysis that J. Herschel had communicated to him.141 Sedgwick sarcastically comments in the review: Our author bestows very unmerited praise upon the somewhat ostentatious calculations of M. Comte ... We owe M. Comte no thanks for proving an identical proposition, or telling us what we knew before. In addition Sedgwick pointed out some further difficulties that the nebular hypothesis must face, all of which had been raised in his correspondence with Herschel, namely the difference in densities between the outer and the inner planets, the retrograde motion of the satellite of Uranus, and the problem of the

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comets. The sharpest attack on the Vestiges and on Comte's cosmogonic work came from J. W. Herschel, the most respected of British scientists during the first half of the 19th century and one of the emminences grises in the conduct of scientific affairs in England during that period. 142 Using the podium of the BAAS meeting in Cambridge in June 1845 Herschel in his presidential address l43 strongly castigated transmutationist and evolutionary theorizing. His most contemptuous and sharpest remakrs were however reserved for Comte's work. The furor created by the Vestiges and more specifically the inquiry from Sedgwick concerning the nebular hypothesis were responsible for Herschel studying Comte's cosmogonic work as outlined in Vol. IT of the Cours. Comte's work had been called to his attention in 1843 by J. S. Milll44 - and he might have known of it from the review of Brewster in the Edinburgh Review in 1838. Herschel's reply to Sedgwick gives ample proof of his contempt of Comte's work. Herschel worked very hard on his replyl45 and the letter summarizes his views regarding the nebular hypothesis which he characterized as follows: The Nebular Hypothesis - i.e. that this firmanent with its stars suns planets mountains seas and little fishes have all crystallized from a red hot fog in vacuo. 146 As the "nebular hypothesis" I believe originated with my father and was from him taken up by Laplace* and dynamized into some such shape as that which has become current in relation to our system by the idea of rings gradually abandoned and shrinking up to planets. I am bound to treat it with respect and I readily admit that there is a certain happiness about it gratatis gratandis. Nonetheless I cannot help asking what evidence we have ... * Laplace said one day to me Arceuil "Monsieur Herschel - ces idees de M. votre pere sur la condensation des nebuleuses m'ont toujour paru tres philosophiques et tres vraies. Concerning Comte, Herschel has the following to say Now do pray lay on handsomely about Comte and his nonsensical calculations (by the bye the Author calls him Compte). The tottle of the whole is this - M. Comte has found a mare's nest and nothing more. His vaunted discovery is a mere identical proposition. After outlining some of his calculations indicating that the matter is much more complicated than indicated by Comte he concludes 1 hope you will show up M. Comte for this. 1 always suspected him to be a sciolist l47 & now I know it. 1 was sorry to see Mill's book so full of him. He has been taken in by his parable of mathematical profundity (which by the bye is becoming a serious pest). In this case any goose might detect the fallacy which is quite transparent. (I have Comte's by good luck by me & I have read what he says Vol. 2 p. 372-428. Herschel's Cambridge BAAS address reflects his investigations on the questions regarding the nebular hypothesis that had been posed by Sedgwick.

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The speech also reveals the intensity of his views concerning Comte. The subject is introduced by Herschel taking the occasion to congratulate the Earl of Rosse upon the successful completion of his "six-feet" reflector, which he considers an achievement of such magnitude, both in itself as a means of discovery, and in respect of the difficulties to be surmounted in its construction (difficulties which perhaps few persons here present are better able from experience to appreciate than myself), that I want words to express my admiration of it. Herschel thereafter broaches the subject of Nebulae. Making a distinction between the sideral nebular hypothesis and the planetary "nebulous" [sic] hypothesis he comments: Much has been said of late of the Nebulous Hypothesis, as a mode of representing the origin of our own planetary system. An idea of Laplace, of which it is impossible to deny the ingenuity, of the successive abandonment of planetary rings, collecting themselves into planets by a revolving mass gradually shrinking in dimension by the loss of heat, and finally concentrating itself into a sun, has been insisted on with some pertinacity and supposed to receive almost demonstrative support from considerations to which I shall presently refer. I am by no means disposed to quarrel with the nebulous hypothesis even in this form, as a matter of pure speculation, and without reference to any final causes; but if it is to be regarded as a demonstrated truth, or as receiving the smallest support from any observed numerical relations, which actually hold good among the elements of the planetary orbits, I beg leave to demur. Assuredly, it receives no support from observation of the effects of sideral aggregation, as exemplified in the formation of globular and elliptic clusters, supposing them to have resulted from such aggregation. For we see this cause, working itself out in thousands of instances, to have resulted, not in the formation of a single large central body, surrounded by a few much smaller attendants, disposed in one plane around it - but in systems of infinitely greater complexity, consisting of multitudes of nearly equal luminaries, grouped together in a solid elliptic or globular form. So far, then, as any conclusion from our observation of nebulae can go '" we clearly theorize in advance of all inductive observation. But if we go still farther, as has been done in a philosophical work of much mathematical pretension, which has lately come into a good deal of notice in this country, and attempt "to give a mathematical consistency" to such a cosmogony by the "indispensible criterion" of a "numerical verification", and to exhibit, "as necessary consequences of such a mode of formation" a series of numbers which observation has established independent of any such hypothesis, as primordial elements of our system - if, in pursuit of this idea, we find the author...in this computation, throwing overboard as troublesome all those essential considerations of the law of cooling, the change of

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spheroidal fonn, the internal distribution of density, the probable noncirculation of the internal and external shells in the same periodic time, on which alone it is possible to execute such a calculation correctly; and avowedly, as a short cut to a result, using as a basis of his calculation "the elementary Huyghenian theorems for the evaluation of centrifugal forces in combination with the law of gravitation" - a combination which, I need not explain to those who have read the first book of Newton, leads directly to Kepler's law; - and if we find him then gravely turning around upon us, and adducing the coincidence of the resulting periods compared with the distances of the planets with this law of Kepler, as being the numerical verification in question - where, I would ask, is there a student to be found who has graduated as a Senior Optime in this University, who will not at once lay his finger on the fallacy of such an argument, and declare it a vicious circle? I really should consider some apology needed for even mentioning an argument of the kind to such a meeting, were it not that this very reasoning, so ostentatiously put forward, and so utterly baseless, has been eagerly received among us as the revelation of a profound analysis. When such is the case, it is surely time to throw in a word of warning, and to reiterate our recommendation of an early initiation into mathematics, and the cherishing a mathematical habit of thought, as the safeguard of all philosophy. In a footnote, added to the printed text of the address Herschel refers to Comte ("Philosophie Positive", ii, 376 e&c) as the author of the reasoning alluded to. In this footnote Herschel goes through the mathematical steps of combining the Huyghenian measure of centrifugal force (Foe V2IR) with the law of gravitation (Foe MmIR2) and replacing V by its equivalent RIP (P is the period of the planet) to obtain Kepler's third law. Herschel further adds: Whether the sun threw off the planets or not, Kepler's law must be obeyed by them once fairly detached. How, then, can their actual observance of this law be adduced in proof of their origin, one way or the other? How is it proved that the sun must have thrown off planets at those distances, and at no others, where we find them, - no matter in what times revolving? That, indeed, would be a powerful presumptive argument; but what geometer would venture on such a tour d' analyse? And, lastly, how can be adduced as a numerical coincidence of an hypothesis with observed fact, to say that, at an unknown epoch, the sun's rotation (not observed) must have been so and so, if the hypothesis were a true one? David Brewster, in his review of the Vestiges in the North British Review148 likewise heaped scorn on the work. Chambers' "sexual" theory of planetary creation is sarcastically paraphrased as follows: an atom, destined ... to bring to manhood a numerous family of planets, each of which, some hapless eunuch excepted, has the power of generating grandchildren, in the fonn of moons, to the founder of the family... The theory of creation takes no notice of the illegitimate family of comets, these

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eccentric and lawless vagabonds, who, though they may claim a highland cousinship with different Systems, have no legal domicile in any ... Yet Brewster when commenting on the nebular hypothesis was probably mindful of his past "contribution" to the issue and noted: "With the hypothesis now described we must not confound what has been called the Cosmogony of Laplace, which M. Comte has so well illustrated in his Course of Positive Philosophy". It is the observations of the Earl of Rosse - the resolution of nebulae into starry conglomerates - which Brewster used against the nebular hypothesis. He comments the theory of planetary creations being thus left without any support from the nebular hypothesis, it is scarcely wothwhile to make any further exposure of it; but the magnitude of the heresy, and the use which has been made of it as a basis of other errors, renders necessary a more popular illustration of its absurdities. Most of Brewster's review concerns itself with the nebular hypotheses. Criticizing them, Brewster raised issues which were to be confronted by theories of planetary origins for the rest of the century: By what process can an agglomeration of nebulous matter give birth to a perennial flame, emitting those luminous, chemical and heat giving rays ... ? If these properties necessarily reside in the central mass, then every planet and every satellite ought to be suns of v,arious magnitudes ... What is important to notice in all the influential reviews of the Vestiges is the amount of space devoted to refuting the link between the nebular hypothesis and more correctly stated, between even a possibly correct nebular hypothesis and an evolutionary theory of the development of living forms. Clearly in the popular mind the two were closely identified and the reviewers took it as their task to indicate how tenuous the connection was. 149 The reviews ofthe Vestiges, particularly Herschel's presidential address were successful in discrediting Comte's cosmogonic work in England. 150 These attacks, coupled with the observations of the Earl of Rosse resolving many nebulae, were responsible for the scientific community regarding the planetary hypothesis as much more speCUlative thereafter. The publication of the first two volumes of the English edition of A. von Humboldt's Kosmosl 51 in 1845 gives further proof of this fact. Although highly complimentary of the work as a whole, J. Herschel, D. Brewster and J. D. Forbes all attack Humboldt's endorsement of the Laplacian Nebular Hypothesis I 52 in their reviews. The middle of the century marks a transition point for the Nebular Hypothesis during the nineteenth century. The clarification of the nature of heat and the advances in spectroscopy implied that thereafter the hypothesis is subjected to much more rigorous investigations and is more closely connected with researches concerning the origin of the sun's energy. It, however, never lost its appeal and fascination as the locus to probe first and final causes.

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The intellectual intercourse and emotional bond between Mill and Comte is recorded and chronicled in their lengthy and frequent correspondence exchanged between the fall of 1841 and the spring of 1847.1 53 Although their relationship by 1845 had become strained over deep differences of viewpoints,154 nonetheless when Herschel attacked Comte in his BAAS presidential address, Mill came to his defense. Mill probably felt some responsibility for the attack. For it was Mill who had introduced Herschel to Comte's work. Mill and Herschel had first corresponded in 1843 when Herschel had thanked Mill for sending him a copy of the just published "Logic". In this letter to Mill, Herschel had commented that he will look at Comte's Cours because of the Logic's high praise of it. In replying to Herschel for his "kind note" Mill added I feel little doubt of your finding Comte' s book worthy of your better knowledge. It is a book very likely to be undervalued on partial inspection, especially as those of his opinions which are most objectionable to most Englishmen (& now I believe even to Frenchmen) lie on the surface. 155 In 1844, in a letter to Comte indicating that he too had received Whewell's privately printed reply 156 to Herschel's review 157 of the History of the Inductive Sciences and the Philosophy of the Inductive Sciences, Mill adds Je ne sais (par parenthese) si je vous ai dit qu'il [Herschel] m'a mande que mon livre l'avait decide a etudier Ie votre: je ne sais s'ill'a fait avec fruit. 158 In his reply to Mill, dated 21 October 1844, Comte is doubtful that Herschel will be favorably impressed by the Cours despite the "efficacity" of Mill's recommendation and he notes: His [Herschel's] special prejudices will be personally offended by my just reprobation of the claims of sidereal astronomy, with which he occupied himself too much; and I doubt that he has enough philosophical momentum to overcome this antipathic disposition ... ; in the final analysis, from what I know of J. Herschel he offers the same kind of mind, but to a much higher degree, as Arago's: i.e. an intelligence more enlightening than profound. 159 In a reply dated November 25, 1844 160 Mill agreed with Comte's assessment of the type of mind Herschel possessed and indicated that he too does not have much hope as to the outcome of Herschel's reading the Cours. The full text of Herschel's presidential address at the 15th meeting of the Association, at Cambridge was published in the Athenaeum for June 21, 1845. 161 On the 9th of July 1845, Mill wrote Herschel: You have publicly imputed to M. Auguste Comte, not only a gross blunder in reasoning, but one inconsistent with the most elementary knowledge of the principles of astronomical dynamics. If M. Comte has been capable of such a blunder, he would have been quite incapable of writing anyone chapter of the Cours de Philosophie Positive & I am sure nothing is necessary but a more careful reference to that work, to convince you that he was never guilty of it. 162 Mill suggested further that perhaps if Herschel were to read the astronomical

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portions of Comte' s work he would see the thrust of the argument. For it would be difficult for even the shallowest person to give a philosophical outline of astronomy without being aware ... that Kepler's law of the relation between the distances & periodic times, was deduced from the law of gravitation combined with the Huyghenian measure of the centrifugal force. In fact, Mill continues if you refer to an earlier chapter in the same volume of M. Comte, ... , you will find (pp. 227-231) that all which you so contemptuously bring forward in condemnation of Mr. Comte, is brought forward by him. After indicating that he is not acquainted with Comte's Memoires, nonetheless he feels confident that A reference to them would doubtless show both the "steps" & the "data of his calculations" which could not have been given with any propriety in the Cours. Mill concluded his letter with the statement that A judgment from you, delivered with preparation, & on an occasion of so much pUblicity, must have a serious effect upon the scientific reputation of any author: and you cannot be unaware how little chance anyone, who may dispute its justice, would have of obtaining, from the scientific or from the general public of this country, even a hearing, against your authority. So great a power involves a proportional responsibility; and when it has been inadvertently exercized to the injury of anyone, I cannot doubt your being most desirous that the error should be pointed out. Behind Mill's letter to Herschel also lurked a more personal matter. In the printed text of his presidential address, at the point where he had said that Comte's reasoning, so ostentatiously put forward, and so utterly baseless, has been eagerly received among us. Herschel had appended a footnote and had referred the reader to p. 28 of Vol. IT of Mill's "Logic",163 and to page 17 of the Vestiges. The defence Mill had advanced on Comte' s behalf If M. Comte had been capable of such a blunder, he would have been quite incapable of writing anyone chapter of the Cours de Philosophie Positive. was not without its dangers. Anyone capable of "eagerly receiving" Comte's blunder, should have been quite incapable of writing anyone chapter of the "System of Logic". It will be recalled that the "Logic" had for its object to give "a connected view of the principles of evidence and the methods of scientific investigations" [italics mine]. If Comte was vulnerable, so was Mill. Furthermore Herschel's remark in his BAAS address that any Senior Optime l64 who had graduated from Cambridge would "at once lay his finger on the fallacy of such argument" might well have seemed a low blow by Mill. Mill, of course, was the product of his father's brain and books.165 Mill also had underestimated his opponent. Not having moved in scientific circles, he may have gauged English scientific standards by that of his friend John Princle Nichol, who though competent was not a first rate scientific mind.

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Although possibly aware of the awe Herschel imspired in his scientific colleagues, even men of the stature of Peacock, Airy and Babbage, Mill clearly did not appreciate the keenness of Herschel's intellectual and critical faculties. At his own risk he had accepted Comte' s assessment that Herschel's is an intelligence "more enlightening than profound". Herschel in his reply of July 10th tells Mill that he will find his criticism of Mr. Comte "not so easily disposed of as you appear to regard it".166 To prove the "nebulous hypothesis" Comte would have to go into "the formidable problem of the cooling and shrinking process". But to Herschel it is inconceivable that if Comte had "gone into or even made any tolerable attempt at the dynamical problem" Comte could have so "completely mis-stated his case". The problem is a most difficult one which science, Herschel believes, is not ready to tackle. What is to be demonstrated in any proof of the mechanism of planetary formation is succinctly and impressively spelled out by Herschel. On the 13th of July, 1845 Herschel writes Mill 167 Collingwood 13 July /45 Dear Sir It has occurred to me that considering the nature of the animadversions conveyed in my address - their communication to M. Comte as directly from myself may have some offensive appearance in his eyes which I should regret very much. If you have not therefore yet dispatched the copy of the Athenaeum I enclosed to you for him - pray do not mention my name to him as the sender. In all such cases I consider it highly unjust to remark on the writing of an author unfavorably without putting him early in possession of the upssisima verba of the remarks - but then it should be so done as to give no unnecessary offense of a personal nature. At all events should this reach you too late for its intended purpose it will have served to put you in possession of my feeling on the occasion. I remain Dear Sir Yours very truly J. F. W. Herschel Acknowledging the letter of July 10 and 13, Mill writes to Herschel on the 14th 168 asking him whether he will allow him to send Comte a copy of the Athenaeum reprint "with a copy of your last note which I think would be more agreeable to him ... " The rest of Mill's letter to Herschel again takes up the question of the verification of the hypothesis, but the tone has changed: Mill is much more deferential. Doubt colors the tone of the letter. Mill no longer states

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forcefully his views. He asks Herschel his interpretations of what Comte has written: What may be the value of what he does bring toward as a numerical verification I cannot pretend to say; I am not acquainted with what he has written expressedly on the subject; & if I were, it would become me to express myself much more modestly on that question. Mill then reiterates his understanding - or rather lack of understanding - of what Comte has done A proof (of the nebular hypothesis) it would not be; but M. Comte, you will observe, distinctly disclaims the pretension of having proved the hypothesis On the 16th, Herschel replies to Mill 169 ... as I think you do not quite clearly see the point at issue I will try to put it more distinctly than it would seem I have done Leading Mill by the hand, Herschel explains to him what would constitute a proof and what would have to be proved. It is a powerful demonstration of Herschel's mastery of the physics involved and a superbly lucid outline of a research program. In the final paragraph of his letter he notes that The period of the earth 165.26 days. The distance of the Earth from the Sun's center is 215 solar radii. On Comte's assumption Therefore the periodic time of a planet at the sun's surface would be 2h46m48s whereas the Sun actually revolves on its axis in 25d 1/2 rather a large leap in the progression of shrinkage. In his review of Volume I of Alexander von Humboldt's Cosmos in the Edinburgh Review of 1848, Herschel referred to these calculations and explained their implication for the nebular hypothesis: We know, moreover, that the time of its rotation [i.e. the sun's] (25 and a half days) stands in decided and pointed dissonance with the Keplerian law of the planetary revolutions, and therefore the sun has most certainly not been formed by the simple subsidence of regularly rotating planetary matter contracting in dimension by cooling; a fact which the advocates of the nebulous hypothesis must, therefore, render some other account of.170 On the 17th of July, 1845, Mill wrote Herschel to acknowledge his letter of the previous day. Its brevity is telling: My Dear Sir I have now nothing more to do than to thank you for the fullness and explicitness of your letter received this morning, & to say that I will immediately send a copy of it to M. Comte. Very truly yours, J. S. Milll71

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The events adumbrated above also had a chilling effect on the relationship between Mill and Comte and may well have been the proverbial straw that broke the camel's back. Comte' s refusal to enter into the debate to explain his cogmogonic work, his evident paranoia and his abrasive acknowledgment of Mill's help172 during this period (which was financial as well) all contributed to diminish Comte's stature in Mill's eyes. (Herschel had of course cut Comte down to Mill's size as a scientist and mathematician). The contrast in the length and tone of the letters exchanged between Mill and Comte after August 1845 is striking. Mill clearly delayed answering Comte's letters and when he did his letters are rather brief and curt, whereas those of Comte are still long and rambling - as if nothing had happened. There are no personal inquiries of any sort in Mill's letter of May 17, 1847 the last letter Mill wrote to Comte! 173

8. SOME CONCLUDING REMARKS

We have already indicated that the events we have related had important consequences for the individuals concerned, their interactions at the personal level, and the developments of their views and philosophy. For Comte the "nebular hypothesis" episode had severe professional repercussions. It probably wrecked whatever small chance he had in 1835 to obtain a chair at the Poly technique and isolated him further from the scientific community. The latter's silence was clearly a very difficult matter for Comte to adjust to.174 The details of how Comte's philosophy was affected is a matter which merits further investigation. Only some preliminary observations will be given here. In his letter to J. S. Mill in August of 1845 in which he divulges that he no longer mentions the nebular hypothesis in his lectures on Astronomy and hasn't lectured on it for at least five or sux years, Comte adds: Je suis tres convaincu maintenant qu 'une telle recherche est reellement inaccessible ... Cet effort est une concession vicieuse aux derniers habitudes d'atheisme metaphysique qui poursuivent, a leur maniere, des questions que la saine philo sophie doit finallement ecarter. 175 Nonetheless it is clear that his investigations originally were designed to support his views on the doctrine of final causes and to make more precise the limits of positive philosophy and thus to indicate what is really "inaccessible" in cosmology and cosmogony. Already in the Plan of 1822 176 Comte had transformed the doctrine of final causes into something closely resembling that of adaptation. The doctrine of final causes has been converted by the physiologists into the principle of the conditions of existence.177 In fact for Comte this transformation is an example of how notions originally suggested by theological and metaphysical philosophies are recast into "positive" principles. 178 In Volume II of the Cours this recasting of the doctrine

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of final causes is illustrated with the example of the relation of the "essential stability of our solar system" and living organisms. Comte notes - as have many before him - that this stability is what makes possible the continuous existence of living species. The theological explanation for the observed stability is that it makes life possible. Yet this stability is a simple necessary consequence, according to the mechanical laws of the world, of certain circumstances characteristic of our solar system: the extreme smallness of the planetary masses in comparison to the central mass, the small eccentricity of their orbits, the slight mutual inclination of their places; characteristics which, in their tum can be envisaged with much likelihood, as I will show later, follow the indication of Laplace as deriving naturally from the mode of formation of this system. One should, of course, expect in general such a result, since in fact we exist it must be that the system of which we form a part is so arranged to allow of this existence ... The so-called final cause would then reduce itself here, as on all analogous occasions to this childish remark: the only planets inhabited, in our solar system, are those which are habitable. We return in a word, to the principle of the conditions of existence which is the true transformation of the doctrine of final causes, and whose scope and fecundity are far superior.l 79 I believe there was an even more specific expectation and hope which animated Comte's research into the nebular hypothesis. Already in the first lecture of the Cours,I80 and particularly in Vol. ill of the Cours when dealing with biology Comte expounded de Blainville's distinction between the static point of view and the dynamic point of view as a deep insight. I81 In biology, every living organism can be analysed from two view points. The static point of view considers the elements of the organism in their relation of simultaneous connection - the anatomical viewpoint. The dynamic - physiological viewpoint analyzes and establishes the laws of their joint evolution. The two analyses are complimentary and unintelligible separately. The principle of the conditions of existence is nothing but the direct and general conception of the necessary harmony of these two analyses, that is to say of the agreement of these two orders of laws. If this harmony is not realized no living organism, no natural system of phenomena could subsist. I82 As Comte himself suggested his study of the nebular hypothesis was to demonstrate this necessary harmony between the static and dynamic viewpoints for astronomy. His failure implied that these two orders of law remained separate. Yet it is a testament to his powers as a philosopher of science that the failure - which was Comte's as a physicist and scientist - did not invalidate his philosophic insight!

EPILOGUE

What are some of the conclusions which can be drawn from our story? The tale once again points out how stringingly different the styles of doing science were

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in England and on the continent. By 1835, the scientific institutions in France were highly specialized. The only place where Comte could have published his Memoire was in a refereed scientific journal. It is thus not surprising that Comte's error was immediately detected. In England with its much less specialized scientific centers, its much more open scientific societies, its "amateur" scientists, its sizable literate public which supported both a network of unrefereed Victorian magazines and a considerable popular scientific book publishing enterprise, Comte's mistake was undetected for a long time and in fact, was used to support evolutionary theorizing. Our story also testifies to the drastic difference in the level of mathematical training in the United Kingdom and France. The episode sheds further light on the process of how evolutionary theories became acceptable and how the doctrine of final causes was abandoned in biology in the first half of the nineteenth century. It gives further proof of the broad disciplinary base on which evolutionary theory rests. It gives an insight into how the formulations of evolutionary theory reflect when and where they are formulated. It also gives an indication of how sizable the effect can be of the impact at any given time of anyone of the disciplines on which the theory of evolution is based (i.e. astronomy, geology, paleontology, botany, zoology, anatomy, physiology, ecology, political economy, etc.)!

ACKNOWLEDGMENT

I would like to thank Cambridge University, the Royal Society of London, l'Institut de France, and Yale University for permission to use their archives and for their assistance. I would also like to express my appreciation to my colleagues in the Physics Department at Brandeis for making it possible for me to expeditiously complete some of my historical researches. The warm hospitality of the Department of the History of Science at Harvard Univesity is gratefully acknowledged. The conversations I had with I. B. Cohen, R. Daston, E. Hiebert, F. Manuel, E. Mendelsohn, and J. Richards were helpful and fruitful. I thank them. My indebtness to D. Fleming is more difficult to express: His inspiring lectures on the intellectual history of the nineteenth century gave me a vision of what the enterprise is about.

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APPENDIX A

July 10, 1845 J. S. Mill Esq. - East India House Collingwood Dear Sir I am not at all surprised that you should have been somewhat startled by that passage in my address in which I speak of Mr. Comte' s argument in favor of the nebular hypothesis - still less that you should stand forward in his defense until he can reply for himself. I should (of course) have sent him a copy of my speech had I known how to address him. Perhaps you know, and will in that case oblige me by forwarding to him one of two copies of the Athenaeum in which it appeared & accepting the other yourself - they are corrected for some very absurd errors of the press. One affects the subject in question. As to that subject, I do not think you will find my criticism of Mr. Comte's position quite so easily disposed of as you appear to regard it. It was and is my deliberate opinion (formed it is true from the perusal of no other work of Mr. Comte's than his Phil. Pos.) that his whole reasoning as there stated is really vitiated by the fallacy which (whether clearly or not) I have endeavored to expose and I must be met by much stronger arguments (excuse the expression) than those you adduce, - to drive me from that persuasion. If, in some other work which I have not read, and which neither you nor the author of the "Vestiges" have quoted (for that alone is the ground on which I enter the lists with Mr. Comte from whom but for those quotations I should never have thought it worthwhile to express dissent.) If M. Comte have gone fairly into the formidable problem of the cooling and shrinking process of the Nebulous hypothesis - if he have shown, without making any arbitrary assumptions, or super-adding any additional hypothesis, that, as a necessary consequence from the shrinking of dimensions and rearrangements of parts resulting from the abstraction of heat, the period of Rotation of the Sun's surface on its axis at every instant during the shrinkage or at lest at those instants when the planets were detached must have been proportional to the 3/2 power of its equatorial diameter at that or those instants - if he have done so, I at once admit, he has proved the nebulous hypothesis and must rank with Newton as a discoverer and above Laplace and Lagrange as an analyst. But that is quite another case; and for that case (improbable, nay impossible as I conceive it to be in the present state of physical knowledge) I have expressly provided by the expression in my note appended to the passage in my address if his fundamental principle be really what he states (viz. a mere combination of Huygens v2/R, with Newton's k/R2). But it is inconceivable that if he had gone into or even made any tolerable attempt at the dynamical problem in question leading him to such conclusion, he should have so understated, or rather so completely mis-stated his case as on that supposition he must have done in the Cours de Phil. Pos.)

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Returning to your own work - I hope you will excuse me if I remark (and the remark is no way incompatible with the general high opinion I have formed & expressed of it in a Philosophical point of view) that I regard as the least felicitous portions of it, those in which points of physical science and mathematics are touched upon. I should have no objections, if you desire it, to specify some particular instances which have occurred to me inter legen dum to which this remark applied, provided always, that I were distinctly understood as only pointing them out for your own reconsideration and not holding myself obliged to defend, or even to explain my objections against them should I be so unfortunate as to state them obscurely - a thing for which I really have not time at my disposal. It was at one time my intention to have reviewed your book in the same sort of spirit that I did Whewell's (i.e. pointing out what I regarded as its defects with the same freedom as its merits) but want of time prevented me. Now I cannot but fancy that it must be useful to an author of a Philosophical work to know what parts a possible Reviewer would have raised objections to. I remain Dear Sir Yours very truly J. F. W. Herschel

APPENDIXB

From a draft for a letter in Vol. VI From: J. F. W. Herschel To: J. S. Mill July 16, 1845 My dear Sir: Pray do as you suggest if you think it will obviate any idea of personal disrespect. I did not intend to have entered into the question with you as a matter of correspondence but as I think you do not quite clearly see the point at issue I will try to put it more distinctly than it would seem I have done. M. Comte contends for a numerical coincidence between what? Between the periodic times of the planets as given by observation and as calculated on the nebular hypothesis. Now the assumption of the nebular hypothesis is that when the Sun had shrunk to the size of a planet's orbit it abandoned a portion of its exterior which became the planet, leaving it revolving in the orbit where it now is and of course in the period it now has and then had - and that for every planet in succession. But the period it then had was no other than the time of the Sun's rotation on

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its axis at that epoch (or at least of the rotation of its surface - which (pray observe) need not have been that of its interior). Therefore the assumption of the nebulous hypothesis is that when the Sun had shrunk to the size of the planet's orbit, its surface had a rotation on its axis of that identical duration which was then and now continued to be measured by that planetary revolution round the Sun Whoever then would prove the N hyp- must prove this assumption to be something more than an assumption - he must show it to be the result of dynamical laws combined with laws of shrinkage (by radiation of heat) of a gaseous or vaporous mass in a state of rotation. There are two ways in which this may be attempted. 1. The first is that which M. Comte declares he has not attempted it, by reason of the complicated considerations into which it leads. And that is to attack the problem on its correct dynamical principles. For such an attack (to say nothing of its mathematical difficulties) the present state of physical science affords no sufficient data. Fresh assumptions have to be made at every stepSuch as 1st The law of interior density 2nd The law of external and internal cooling 3rd The law of friction of gaseous periodic times - and perhaps 20 more laws of which we are in complete ignorance. 2. The second is by a short cut such as that which M. Comte has taken which if it give any result at all can only do so in virtue of a vicious circle in the reasoning or some equivalent fallacy. Mr. Comte's short cut is to combine the Huyghenian theorem of centrifugal forces (c = Vl/R) with the law of gravity. The law of gravity is that spherical bodies attract with the same force as if condensed into their centers. - Now the Sun is now a sphere and must have been in all its stages of condensation an Ellipsoid of revolution which by reason of the extreme slowness of rotation must for this argument be regarded as a sphere (for if not we get into all the complications of the real problem). Therefore the gravitation of a point at the Sun's surface towards that surface at any epoch must have been MJR2 neglecting the minute changes of M consequent to the successive abandonment of the planets. The nebulous hypothesis requires that these forces should be exactly balanced and therefore that Vl/R = M/R2 or since P (the period)

or

= 21tRIV, that

p2 =constant X R3 P = (21t/M) R3/2

but this is a pure requirement of the hypothesis. To "combine" the two equations therefore as as to give -P = a is in effect to assume the nebulous hypothesis. To "combine" them in any other way is to destroy it.

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The centrifugal force 41t2 R/p2 might have been in given proportion, constant or variable, less than gravity MlR2 for aught. M. Comte has shown or could show without implying a contradiction with the principles of the rotation of fluid bodies on their axis. The Sun revolving and shrinking - its gravity at a certain distance R will be a certain function of the distance depending on its spheroidal figure, i.e. some function of its radius and period. On the other hand the centrifugal force is greater or less as the time of rotation is shorter or longer. And it has to be proved not assumed that this time is such as to place a particle on the surface in the relation of a planet to its central mass (which is what we mean by equating these two - the centripetal and centrifugal forces). In short the centrifugal force has positively nothing at all to do with the matter. It is merely a result of the time of rotation and the distance and the question still remains one of period and dimension in which it has to be shown by some direct form of reasoning that a given dimension necessarily implies a given period, viz. that of planetary rotation. I will only add one remark. The period of the Earth is 365.26. The distance of the Earth from the Sun's center is 2/5 solar radii. - Therefore the periodic time of a planet at the Sun's surface would be 2h 46m 48s whereas the Sun actually revolves on its axis in 25 d 1/2 rather a large leap in the progression of shrinkage. APPENDIXC

J. S. Mill, Esq. Collingwood July 18/45 My dear Sir: As I before said I can have no objection to my note of the 13th July being communicated by you as proposed in yours of the 14th. In regards my last (of the 16th) - if my object were merely to come off victor in a controversy and if I were less assured than I am of the inexpugnable nature of my position, I think I should feel some unwillingness that you should (as you inform me you propose doing) communicate a copy of that, which was written only for your perusal and mercy as an endeavor to point out what, it struck me had in some degree escaped you. - the true gist of the argument. However you are quite at liberty to use your own judgment in the matter - and the more so, as it takes in the consideration of oblateness (which is neglected in the note appended to my address*) and shows that my argument is independent of that element & applies generally to an oblate as to a spherical sun. Believe me my dear Sir Yours very truly J. W. Herschel

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NOTES

* The article is dedicated to Frank with great respect and much affection. It was written in

1980 and owes much to his writings and to his encouragement. 1. See for example the bibliography on August Comte for Chapter VI in F. Manuel: The Prophets of Paris, Cambridge Mass.: Harvard University Press, 1962 and that given by L. Laudan: August Comte, in C. C. Gillispie (ed.), Dictionary of Scientific Biography, 9 Vol. New York: Scribner 1970-75 and P. Arbousse-Bastide: La doctrine de l' education universelle dans la philosophie d'Auguste Comte 2 Vol. Paris, 1957. 2. See for example R. Aron, Main Currents in Sociological Thought, Vol. I NY: Doubleday Anchor Book 1968. See also the introduction to G. Lenzer (ed.), Auguste Comte and Positivism: The Essential Writings, NY: Harper Torchbooks 1975 and P. Arnaud, Sociologie de Comte, Paris: Presses Universitaires de France 1969. P. Arnaud, La Pensee d'Auguste Comte, Paris: Bordas 1969. J. Habermas, Knowledge and Human Interests, Boston: Beacon Press 1971. 3. Paul Tannery: Comte et l' histoire des sciences: Revue gellt!rale des sciences XVI (1905), pp. 410-417. See however, George Sarton: "Auguste Comte, Historian of Science" Osiris X, (1952) pp. 328-357. 4. R. Mourge, La Philosophie Biologique d' Auguste Comte, Archives d' Anthropologie Criminelles et de Medicine Legale - Winter 1909 is the most complete statement to date! 5. For example, for the impact of Comte on Darwin in 1838, see S. S. Schweber, "The Origin of the Origin Revisited" J. Rist. Biology 10, No.2, (1977) pp. 219-316. 6. The Proces-Verbaux des Seances de l' Academie des Sciences, Institut de France, Tome X, Annees 1832-1835 records on p. 650 that at the Seance of Monday, Jan. 26, 1835 M. Aug. Comte read a Memoire entitled: Cosmogonie primitive ou verification de l' hypothese de Herschell et de Laplace sur la formation de notre systeme planetaire; on p. 653 the Proces-Verbaux records that at the Seance of Monday, Feb. 2, 1835 M. Aug. Comte finished the reading of his Memoire and that M. Arago, Savari and Libri would examine this Memoire. L'lnstitut, Vol. 90, Jan. 28, 1835 carried on pp. 31-33 an abstract of the Memoire. The full text of the Memoire is reprinted in Auguste Comte: Ecrits de Jeunesse 1816-1828 Suivis du Memoire sur la Cosmogonie de Laplace 135. Textes etablis et presentes par Paulo E. de Berredo Carneiro et Pierre Arnaud, Paris: Archives Positivistes 1970. 7. C. C. Person: Precis Analytique des Travaux de l' Academie Royale des Sciences, Belles-Lettres et Arts de Rouen 1835, pp. 51-2. 8. August Comte: Cours de Philosophie Positive. Tome Premier: Les preliminaires generaux et la philosophie mathematique Paris: Bachelier,1830. Tome Deuxieme: La philosophie astronomiqe et la philosophie de la physique Paris: Bachelier, 1835. An "anastaltic" reimpression of all of Comte's writing was reissued in Paris in 1971. This is the edition we shall refer to. Oeuvres d'August Comte: Paris: Editions 12 Vols. Anthropos 1969-1971. 9. David Brewster's review of the Cours de Philosophie Positive par M. Auguste Comte, 2 Tome, 8 Vol. Paris 1830-35, appeared as the unsigned Art 1 in the July 1838 issue of the Edinburgh Review Vol. LXVII, No. CXXXVI, pp. 271-308. 10. Robert Chambers: Vestiges of the Natural History of Creation, London: Churchill,

180

II. 12.

13.

14.

15. 16. 17.

18.

Silvan S. Schweber 1844. Reprinted with an introduction by Sir Gavin de Beer. Leicester: University Press 1969, New York: Humanities Press 1969. J. Babinet: Comptes Rendus Acad. Sci. (Paris) 52, 481. See also his Etudes et lectures sur les sciences d' observation et leurs application pratiques, Paris: Mallet-Bechelier 1865 Vol. VII, pp. 105-107. Larry Laudan: Towards a reassessment ofComte' s "Methode Positive" Philosophy of Science 37 (1970), pp. 35-53. This valuable investigation of Comte's methodology is "ahistorical" and "does not consider what ... is probably a profound debt on Comte's part to his predecessors in these matters". It is successful in making "clear that Comte's theory of scientific method deserves to be analysed rather more carefully than historians of philosophy of science have hitherto recognized". For an extensive bibliography on this subject see Robert Young: The Historiographic and Ideological Contexts of the NineteenthCentury Debate on Man's Place in Nature in Changing Perspectives in the History of Science: Essays in Honour of Joseph Needham, M. Teich and R. Young (eds.), London: Heineman, 1973. Henri Gouhier: La Vie d'Auguste Comte I e edition Paris: Gallimard 1931. 2e edition Paris: Librairie Philosophie J. Vrin 1965 is the only modem biography of A. Comte. For Comte's early life and his intellectual development Henri Gouhier: La jeunesse d'Auguste Comte et la formation du Positivisme, 3 volumes, I: Sous Ie Signe de la Liberte, Paris: 1933. II: Saint-Simon Jusqu' ala Restauration Ie edition Paris: 1936; 2e edition Paris: 1964; III: August Comte et Saint-Simon, Paris: 1941; are important and valuable. All three volumes were published by the Librarie Philosophique J. Vrin. See also Pierre Ducasse: Essai sur l' origine Intuitive du Positivisme, Paris: 1940. Older, and biased, biographies are those of E. Littre: Auguste Comte et fa Philosophie Positive, Paris 1877 G. Audiffrent: Auguste Comte: Notice sur sa vie et sa doctrine, Paris: Ritti 1894. See also George Dumas: Psychologie de deux messies positivistes: Saint Simon et Auguste Comte, Paris: 1900. There has been a renewed interest in Comte and the French utopians, through F. Manuel's important writings. See in particular F. Manuel: The Prophets of Paris, Cambridge, Mass: Harvard Univ. Press 1962. A useful overview is also given in F. A. Hayek: The Counter-Revolution of Science - Studies on the Abuse of Reason, Glencoe, Illinois: The Free Press 1952. Gouhier: La jeunesse d' Auguste Comte, Vol. I, Chapter I, pp. 31-61 Gouhier: La jeunesse d'Auguste Comte, Vol. I, pp. 78-92, see also in Tome XII of Oeuvres d'Auguste Comte - Anastaltic Reimpression in 1971 of the 1856 edition of the Synthese Subjective, pp. LV-LXVI, the Dedicace. Lettres d'Auguste Comte a M. Val at, Paris: Dunod 1870, pp. 1-21 Gouhier: Lajeunesse d'Auguste Comte, Vol. I, pp. 117-120. His attachment to the Poly technique is already in evidence in 1816 in the note which Comte presented to Lefebvre asking for his resignation: Sir: Though it is painful for us to take such a step toward an old pupil of the Ecole, we enjoin you not to set foot in it again Recall the famous introduction to Volume VI of the Cours. His letters are replete with

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examples; e.g. see Comte's letters to John Stuart Mill during 1845 in which he vents his wrath against Herschel, Sedgwick, and Arago among others. Lettres Inedites de John Stuart Mill a Auguste Comte publies avec les reponses de Comte et une introduction, par L. Levy-Bruhl, Paris: Felix A1can 1894, pp. 468-474. See also his letters to various officials of the Polytechnique in Vol. 4 of Correspondence Inedites d'Auguste Comte, Paris: 1903. All of Comte's correspondence is being issued in a three volume edition. The correspondence to March 1845 has appeared Auguste Comte: Correspondence Generale et Confessions Tome 1- 1814-1840 Paris (1973). Tome II - avril 1841 - mars 1845 Paris (1975). Textes etablis et prt!sentes par Paulo E. de Berredo Carniero et Pierre Arnaud, Paris: Archives Positivistes. 19. Gouhier: La jeunesse d' August Comte, Vol. III, pp. 234-235. Comte's source for much of his history of astronomy was J. B. Delambre: Histoire de l'Astronomie Moderne, 2 Vols. Paris 1821. A facsimile of this 1821 edition with a new introduction and table of contents by I. Bernard Cohen was issued by Johnson Reprint Corp. N.Y. 1969 as Vol. 25 in their "The Sources of Sciences". 20. As with all his friendships this one too soured. In 1850, while de Blainville was still alive, Comte wrote a funeral oration for him in which he attacked "the learned doctor as an egoist filled with theological opinions" quoted in Manuel, The Prophets of Paris. 21. Gouhier: La Vie, p. 109. See also Vol. 4, p. 143 of Correspondance Inedite d'August Comte, Paris: Au Siege de la Societe Positiviste 1904,4 volumes, for the letter Comte wrote in 1830 to Cuvier when he sent him the first lecture of the Cours de philosophie positive that he was delivering at the Athenee. "L'acceuil bienveillant que vous avec daigne faire, il a cinq ans, a la premiere partie de mon Systeme de politique positive m'en hardit a vous soumettre ce nouveau travail" 22. See the letters he wrote on that occasion to Dulong, Coriolis, Flourens, and Poinsot requesting their support Correspondance Inedite d' August Comte, Vol. 4, pp. 162-175 and that to the President of the Academie formally applying for the position on pp. 175-181 of the same volume. 23. See e.g. the letter Comte wrote to the President of the Academie. Correspondance Inedite d'August Comte, Vol. 4, pp. 198-206. The theme is repeated often thereafter see Correspondance Generale, v. I, p. 267, letter to General Bernard, Sept. 1836. Correspondance Generale, v. I, p. 345, letter to the President of the Academie. 24. The history of Comte's attempts at obtaining a position at the Poly technique is reviewed in Gouhier: La Vie Chapter X, pp. 149-164. Chapter XI, pp. 165-175. Audiffrent: A. Comte, Chapter IV, pp. 39-55. Littre: A. Comte, Chapters IV and VIII. For the 1844-45 episode see also Comte's account in his letters to Mill during 1945 and 1846. Levy-Bruhl (ed.), Lettres Inedites. 25. Gouhier: La Jeunesse d' A. Comte, Vol. I, p. 68. 26. See for example the footnote on p. 287 of Vol. II of the Cours in which Comte states: "Le caractere general de cet ouvrage est essentiellement dogmatique: la critique ne peut y etre admise que d'une maniere accessoire". 27. Paul Arbousse-Bastide: La doctrine de l' education universelle dans la philosophie d'Auguste Comte, 2 Vols., Paris: 1957. 28. Auguste Comte: Ecrits de J eunesse 1816-1828. Texte etablis et presentes par Paulo E. de Berredo Carneiro et Pierre Arnaud, Paris: 1970. Its third edition appeared as the Appendice general to Comte's Systeme de politique positive of 1854. 29. This was one of the points over which Comte and Saint-Simon parted ways: SaintSimon believed that one could not wait for the theory and one had to proceed with the practical steps. 30. Comte: Ecrit de jeunesse, p. 268. 31. Comte: EcrU de jeunesse, p. 269.

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32. Laudan: Towards de Reassessment ofComte, p. 37. 33. Comte: Cours. 34. Traite refers to A Comte: Traite Philosophique d'Astronomie Populaire, Paris: Carilian-Goeury et Dalmont, 1844. The first part of the Trait6, pp. 1-108, was entitled Discours Preliminaire sur I' Esprit Positif. This material was published separately by Comte in 1845 as the Discours sur l' Esprit Positif. 35. J. S. Mill: Auguste Comte and Positivism, 2nd ed., London 1866, pp. 14-15. 36. In 1828 Comte has reviewed Broussais's Sur l'lrritation in the Nouveau Journal de Paris, 4-11 August 1828. The review is reprinted in the Ecrits de Jeunesse, p. 399. 37. Comte: Cours III, pp. 261-263. See also the discussion of Broussais's hypothesis in the eighth edition of Mill's A System of Logic, Chapter XIV: Of the limits to the Explanation of Laws of Nature. Mill's attention was drawn to Broussais by his reading of Comte. The material is reprinted in John Stuart Mill's Philosophy of Scientific Method edited with an Introduction by E. Nagel, NY: Hagner, 1950, p. 266. 38. Herbert Spencer: The Nebular Hypothesis, The Westminster Review, July 1858 reprinted, with an Addenda in Herbert Spencer: Essays: Scientific, Political and Speculative New York: Appleton and Co. 1891. 39. Fourier, Joseph: Eloge Historique de Sir William Herschel Histoire de l'Academie Royale des Sciences de l'Institut de France, Vol. 6, 1823, p. lxi. 40. Pierre Simon Marquis de Laplace: Exposition Du Systeme Du Monde, 5e edition, revue et augmentee par l'auteur, Paris: Librairie Bachelier Janvier 1824. Unless otherwise stated, our quotations are from the English translation of this edition made by Henry Harte. M. Ie Marquis de Laplace, The System of the World, translated from the French by the Rev. Henry H. Harte, F.T.C.D. M.R.I.A., 2 Vol., Dublin: Longman, Reves, Orme, Brown and Green 1830. 41. Laplace was at work revising the fifth edition at the time of his death. Some of his notes and changes were found but were not incorporated into the sixth edition issued in 1827 and 1835, which in addition to the text of the 5th contained the eulogies delivered at Laplace's funeral and a "Notice sur la vie et l'ouvrage de l'auteur" in the Oeuvres de Laplace, Paris: Imprimerie Royale 1843-1847. The Exposition is that of the sixth edition as issued by Bachelier in 1835 and is reprinted in Vol. VI. 42. Laplace actually used the stronger language: "pour remonter a la cause des mouvements primitifs du systeme planetaire". 43. Laplace: Exposition 5th ed., Harte translation, Vol. 2, p. 354. 44. An accurate and valuable account of the nebular hypothesis in the first third of the nineteenth century is given in P. J. Lawrence: The Central Heat of the Earth, The Relation of the Nebular Hypothesis to Geology 1811-1840 Ph.D. dissertation Harvard University, 1973. Chapter I: Background, pp. 1-13 reviews the various editions of the Exposition. I thank Prof. S. Gould for making available to me a copy of this work. A detailed comparison of the various editions of the Exposition is given in S. L. Jaki: "The Five Forms of Laplace's Cosmogony", Am. J. Physics 44 (1976), pp. 4-11. After the completion of my manuscript two other works dealing with the history of the nebular hypothesis in the first half of the nineteenth century have come to my attention: Ronald C. Numbers: Creation by Natural Law: Laplace's Nebular Hypothesis in American Thought, Seattle: University of Washington Press 1977 and the stimulating article by Merleau-Ponty: Hypothese Cosmogonique chez Laplace, Rev. Hist. Sci. XXIX (1976), pp. 21-49. 45. Laplace: Exposition, 5th edition, Harte translation, Vol. 2, p. 327. 46. Laplace: Exposition, 5th edition, Harte translation, Vol. 2, pp. 327-328. 47. Recall that Buffon in his Histoire Naturelle, (paris, 1749), had already computed the probability (or rather the improbability) that the observed uniformities of the planets' motion were due to chance. 48. Pierre-Simon Laplace: Exposition du Systeme du Monde, Paris: L'an IV de Republique Fran~aise (1796), pp. 296-297.

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49. Pierre-Simon Laplace: Exposition du Systeme du Monde, revue et augmentee par l'auteur, 2e edition, Paris: Imprimerie de Crapelet, 1799. M. Laplace: Exposition du Systeme du Monde, Troisieme Edition, Paris: Courcier, 1808. 50. Pierre-Simon Laplace: Exposition du Systeme du Monde, 4e edition, Paris: Courcier, 1813. Pierre-Simon Laplace: Exposition du Systeme du Monde, 5e edition, Paris: Bachelier, Janvier 1824. 51. William Herschel: Observations Relating to the Constructions of the Heavens, Philosophical Transactions CI (1811), pp. 269-336. This paper is reprinted in The Scientific Papers of Sir William Herschel, J. L. E. (ed.), (London: 1912). An abbreviated version can be found in M. A. Hoskin: William Herschel and the Construction of the Heavens, London: Oldbourne, 1963, pp. 133-150. 52. Buffon: Histoire Naturelle, tome premier, pp. 127-167. 53. Kant: Universal Natural History and the Theory of the Heavens, see W. Hastie, translator, Kant's Cosmogony, revised and edited with an introduction and appendix by Willy Ley, NY: Greenwood Publ. Corp., N.Y. 1968. 54. See Dreyer: The Scientific Papers of William Herschel, where these papers are reprinted. 55. Lalande had visited Herschel in 1788 and must have become acquainted with his observations on the nebulae and his speculations about them. The events of the French Revolution - and Laplace's difficulty with English - made access to the Philosophical Transactions and other British scientific journals difficult. For some time after 1789 however, the Journal des Savans until 1791, and the Connaissance du Tems from 1792 on carried Lalande's articles on l' Histoire de l' Astronomie, for the various years during which scientific contact with foreign countries was interrupted. The Connaissance also carried resumes of the content of the Philosophical Transactions for the years these were not available in France. Thus the Connaissance des Tems for 1795 reported the discoveries by Herschel of the sixth and seventh satellites of Neptune, his observations on the rings of Saturn and "on nebulous stars properly so called". Moreover Bode's Jahrbuch carried summaries of all of Herschel's papers. However, Herschel's important 1791 paper was only reported in Bode's Jahrbuch for 1801. 56. The letter is quoted in C. Lubbock: The Herschel Chronicle: The Life Story of William Herschel and his Sister Caroline Herschel, Cambridge UK, Cambridge Univ. Press, 1933, p. 199. 57. W. Herschel: On the Proper Motion of the Sun and Solar System, Philosophical Transactions, 1783, p. 247. See also Bode's Jahrbuch, 1787, p. 194, p. 224. 58. Laplace: Exposition, 1st edition, p. 297. The English translation of the Exposition which appeared in 1809 P. S. Laplace: The System of the World translated from the French by J. Pond, 2 Vol., London: Phillips, 1809 has the following statement: Many observations are sufficiently well explained by supposing the solar system carried towards the constellation Hercules, Vol. 2, p. 371. 59. See H. Andoyer: L'Oeuvre Scientifique de Laplace, Paris: Payot, 1922, pp. 70-71. See also Laplace: Traite de Mechanique Celeste, Livre VIII. 60. Quoted in Maurice Crosland: The Society of Arcuei/ - A View of French Science at the Time of Napoleon, Cambridge, Mass: Harvard Univ. Press, p. 274. 61. J. P. Sidgwick: William Herschel Explorer of the Heavens, London: Faber and Faber Ltd., 1954, pp. 165-166. Sidgwick quotes Herschel's comments that Laplace's "lady received company abed, which to those who are not used to it appears very remarkable". 62. C. Lubbock: The Herschel Chronic/e, p. 310 indicates that cosmogony was discussed during Herschel's visit with Laplace and Rumford to Napoleon's country estate. In fact Herschel comments in his diary that Napoleon was more pleased with his views than Laplace's - because the Emperor wanted greater indications of the role of the Deity in the operation of Nature than Laplace's "chain of natural causes" which

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"would account for the construction and preservation of the wonderful system". 63. Laplace: Exposition, 4th edition, pp. 431-2. 64. In the 1811 paper Herschel proposes "assorting them [the nebulae] into as many classes as will be required to produce the most gradual affinity between the individuals contained in anyone class" and those preceding and following it. The difference between the different classes, Herschel notes, is probably not as much "as there would be in an annual description of the human figure, were it given from the birth of a child till he comes to be a man in his prime". 65. Quoted in Hoskins, p. 115. 66. Laplace: Exposition, Harte translation, Vol. 2. 67. Laplace: Exposition, 1st edition, p. 297. The System of the World translated from the French by J. Pond, 2 Vol., London 1809, Vol. 2, p. 365. Pond translates the passage as Which I offer with that distrust which everything ought to inspire that is not the result of observation or calculation. 68. Laplace: Exposition, Harte translation, Vol. 2, p. 328. 69. P. S. Ie Marquis Laplace: Theorie Analytique des Probabilites, Revue et Augmentee par I'auteur: Paris Courcier, 3e ed., 1820. The quoted statement actually already appears in the 1814 edition, the 2nd edition. For a stimulating and insightful discussion of the relation of Laplace's cosmogonic work to his researches in the theory probability and to his philosophy of science see J. Merleau-Ponty: Hypotheses Cosmogoniques Chez Laplace, Revue Hist. Science XXIX (1976), pp. 21-49. 70. P. S. Laplace: A Philosophical Essay on Probabilities, translated from the Sixth French Edition by F. W. Truscott and F. L. Emory with an introductory note by E. T. Bell, NY: Dover Publications 1951, p. 102. The sixth edition is identical to the fifth in this passage. 71. Laplace: Exposition, Harte translation, Vol. II, p. 365. 72. The relation of the Nebular Hypothesis to Geology from 1811 to 1840 has been carefully researched by P. J. Lawrence: The Central Heat of the Earth Ph.D. dissertation (Harvard, 1973). 73. C. Fourier: Sur Ie Refroidissement Seculaire du Globe Terreste. Bulletin des Sciences par la Societe Philomatique de Paris, 1820, p. 58. 74. Lawrence: The Central Heat of the Earth. 75. Constance A. Lubbock: The Herschel Chronicle, Cambridge 1933, p. 197. 76. Constance A. Lubbock: The Herschel Chronicle, p. 197. 77. Laplace: Exposition, Harte transbtion, Vol. 2, pp. 332-333. 78. See for example Henry Lord Brougham FRS: Dissertations on Subjects of Science connected with Natural Theology, London: Knight, 1839. The sceptical, or free-thinking, philosophers always lowered human nature as much as possible. They regarded it as something gained to their arguments against belief, if they could show the difference to be slighter than is supposed between men and brutes; and that there is a chain of being from the plant, nay almost from inorganic matter, up to man. They seem to have had a confused idea that this helped them even to account for the constitution of the universe, "without the hypothesis of a Deity" as Laplace is said to have termed it when Napoleon questioned him on the remarkable omission in the 'Mecanique Celeste'. Note the conflation! See also Augustus de Morgan: A Budget of Paradoxes, 2 Vol., Chicago: The Open Court Pub, 1915, Vol. II, pp. 1-2. For another association of Laplace with atheism see p. 17 of Vol. I of Thomas Chalmers: The Bridgewater Treatises on the Power, Wisdom and Goodness of God, as Manifested in the Creation, Treatise I: The Adaptation of External Nature to the Moral and Intellectual Constitution of Man, 2 Vol. 79. J. Herschel: Address to the Royal Astronomical Society, Feb. 13, 1829 reprinted in J. F. Herschel: Essays from the Edinburgh and Quarterly Reviews with Addresses and Other Pieces, London: Longman 1857, pp. 513-14.

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80. Quoted in J. P. Nichol: State of Discovery and Speculation Concerning The Nebulae, Westminster Review 25 (1836), pp. 390-409. See p. 405. 81. Herschel: Essays, pp. 469-470. 82. G. Airy: "The History and Present Knowledge of Nebulae", Monthly Notices Roy. Astr. Soc. III (1836), pp. 167-174 or Memoirs Roy. Astr. Soc. IX (1836), pp. 303-312. It is interesting to note that Airy attributes the evolutionary metaphor to Laplace rather than to William Herschel, its proper source. 83. That story has often and ably been told in recent years. See Charles C. Gillispie: Genesis and Geology, A Study in the Relations of Scientific Thought, Natural Theology, and Social Opinion in Great Britain 1790-1850, Cambridge Mass: 1951, reprinted NY: Harper Torchbooks, 1959. John C. Greene: The Death of Adam, Evolution and Its Impact on Western Thought, Iowa City: University of Iowa Press, 1959. Francis C. Haber: The Age of the World, Moses to Darwin, Baltimore: John Hopkins Univ. Press, 1959. R. Hooykaas: The Principle of Uniformity in Geology, Biology, and Theology, Leiden: E. J. Brill, 1963. M. J. S. Rudwick: The Meaning of Fossils, Episodes in the History of Paleontology, London: MacDonald or NY: American Elsevier, 1972. Peter J. Bowler: Paleontology and the Idea of Progressive Evolution in the Nineteenth Century, New York: Science History Publications, 1976. 84. W. Whewell: Astronomy and General Physics considered with reference to Natural Theology, London: Pickering 1833, p. 185. 85. J. P. Nichol: State of Discovery and Speculation Concerning the Nebulae, Westminster Review 25 (1836), pp. 390-409. 86. Walter Cannon: The Problem of Miracles in the 1830's, Victorian Studies, IV (1960), pp.5-32. 87. Walter F. Cannon: "The Impact of Uniformitariarism": Two letters from John Herschel to Charles Lyell, 1836-1837, Proc. Am. Phil. Soc., 105 (1961), pp. 301-314. Part of the 1836 letter was made public in the Proc. Geological Society of 1837 and in Charles Babbage's: Ninth Bridgewater Treatise 1837. 88. John Pringle Nichol was a prolific and successful writer popularizing science. His principal works were Views of the Architecture of the Heavens in a Series of Letters to a Lady - Edinburgh, 1838. Phenomena and Order of the Solar System, Edinburgh: Tait, 1838, 1844, 1847., Thoughts on Some 1mportant Points Relating to the System of the World, Edinburgh: W. Tait, 1846. First American edition: enlarged and revised, Boston and Cambridge: Munroe, 1848. Contemplation on the Solar System, Edinburgh: Johnstone, 1844. Other titles of books by Nichol were The Planetary System, The Stellar Universe, The Planet Neptune. Another popular work by Nichol was his Illustrations of the History and Structure of the Earth, Edinburgh: Tait, 1839. The American edition of Views of the Architecture of the Heavens appeared in 1840 and was published by Chapin in New York. To this edition were added notes and glossary, etc. by the American publishers. The publications of all his books in American editions and his visit to the United States in 1848-9 undoubtedly were important factors in the popularity of the Nebular Hypothesis there. See Numbers' Creation by Natural Law. 89. The relation between religious beliefs and attitudes toward certain scientific tenets has come under ever greater scrutiny in recent years. See in particular Walter Cannon: The Problem of Miracles in the 1830's, Victorian Studies R. Hooykaas: The Principle of Uniformity in Geology, Biology and Theology. An important recent study is that of J. H. Brooke: "Natural Theology and the Plurality of Worlds: Observations on the Brewster-Whewell Debate", Annals of Science 34 (1977), pp. 221-286. An interesting study with a somewhat narrower focus and of relevance to the present study is P. Baxter: Natural Law vs. Divine Miracle, The Scottish Evangelical Response to the "Vestiges" (to be published). I thank Mr. Baxter for a copy of his paper. 90. For example the retrograde motion of two of the satellites of Uranus See J. Herschel: "On the Satellites of Uranus", Roy. Ast. Society llJ, No.5 (1834), pp. 35-37. These

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are already noted in the first edition of Nichol's "Views of the Architecture of the Heavens" in 1838. 91. M. Millhauser: Just Before Darwin, Robert Chambers and Vestiges, Middletown Conn: Wesleyan Univ. Press, 1959. R. Hooykaas: "The Parallel Between the History of the Earth and the History of the Animal World", Arch. Int. His. Sci. 10 (1957), pp. 3-18. R. Hooykaas: The Principle of Uniformity. R. Young: The Historiographic and Ideological Contexts of the Nineteenth Century Debate on Man's Place in Nature. M. J. S. Hodge: "The Universal Gestation of Nature: Chambers' Vestiges and Explanations", J. Hist. Bio. V (1972), pp. 127-152. F. N. Egerton: "Refutations and Conjecture: Darwin's Response to Sedgwick's Attack on Chambers", Studies in History and Phil. of Science, (1970), pp. 176--183. 92. Charles Darwin: The Origin of Species by Means of Natural Selection, or the Preservation of Favoured Races in the Struggle for Life (1859) 6th edition, with additions and corrections, London: Murray 1895, p. xvii. 93. W. Whewell: The Philosophy of the Inductive Sciences founded upon their History, 2 Vol., London: Parker 1840. 94. Whewell: Philosophy, Vol. II, p. 95. See also W. Whewell: The History of the Inductive Sciences, 3 Vol., London: Parker 1837, Vol. 3, p. 481. 95. Whewell: The Philosophy, Vol. 2, pp. 133-134. 96. Whewell: The Philosophy, Vol. 1, p. 135. 97. See Comte's Preface to his Traite d'Astronomie Populaire, p. v. See also Comte's letter to the President de I' Association Poly technique dated Dec. 1830 in Correspondence Inedites d'Auguste Cornte, Paris 1904, Vol. 4, pp. 144-145. For a more detailed history of Comte's lectures on Cours d'Astronornie Populaire and its role in Comte's fight with the "pedantocracy" see Paul Arbousse - Bastide: La Doctrine de l' Education Universel!e dans la Philosophie d'Auguste Cornte, Tome 1, p.l64ff. 98. A. Comte: Traite Philosophique d'Astronornie Populaire, Paris: CarilIian-Goeury et Dalmont, 1844. 99. Levy-Bruhl: Lettres Inedites de J. S. Mill et A. Comte avec les Responses de Comte, Paris 1899. Letter from Comte to Mill dated August 8, 1845 see p. 469. 100. B. de Fontenelle: Entretients pur la Pluralites des Mondes (1686). See also L. M. Marsak: B. de Fontenelle: The Idea of Science in the French Enlightenment. Trans. Am. Phil. Soc. 49 (1959), Part 7. 101. Upon receiving a copy of the Traite, Mill wrote Comte that he thought that he had succeeded admirably in this task. In the same letter Mill points out that Herschel had written a popular treatise on Astronomy: "but in this treatise one does even try to make use of such memorable conquests of the human intelligence to investigate the manner in which it should proceed in order to make new ones". Complete works of J. S. Mill, Vol. XIII, Mill to Comte, 25 Nov. 1844, pp. 646--647. 102. Fourier: Eloge, Laplace. Memoire de I'Institut de France. 103. Comte: Ecrits de Jeunesse, p. 585-608, hereafter abbreviated as PMCP. 104. The Proces-Verbaux des Seances de I' Academie des Sciences, Institut de France, Vol. X, 1835, p. 650, detailing the Session of the 19th of January, contains the following note: M. Aug. Comte lit un Memoire entitule: Cosmogonie primitive ou verification de l'hypothese d'Herschell et de Laplace sur la formation de notre system planetaire. Page 653, the record of the session of the 26th of Jan. records: M. Aug. Comte termine la lecture de son Memoire entitule Cosmogonie primitive ou verification de l' hypothese d' Herschel! ... . M. M. Arago, Savary et Libri examineront ce Memoire. The actual text of the Memoire as reprinted in Ecrits de Jeunesse contains a closing date of October 10, 1834. The P.S. was thus added at a later date. 105. L'Institut 90 (1835), pp. 31-33. 106. Paulo E. de Berredo Canneiro made a copy of the ms in 1929 and it is reprinted in: Auguste Comte Ecrits de Jeunesse 1816--1828, Paris: Archives Positivistes 1970. The

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ms is no longer extant in the archives of the Academie des Sciences de Paris, possibly lost during the disruption caused by the Second World War. I thank Mme. Hautecoeur of the Academie for her assistance in trying to locate the manuscript. 107. I have not been able to find very much information on C. C. Person. He became professor of physics at the Universite de Rouen in 1835 and thereafter worked primarily on the thermal properties of matter. The date when Person delivered his paper on Comte's cosmogony is not specified. The Precis records that on the 20th of February 1935 Person gave his inaugural speech at a public session. 108. See the letter Comte wrote Guizot on March 30, 1833 in Correspondence Inedite d' A. Comte, Vol. 4, pp. 154-60. 109. E. Littn!: Auguste Comte et La Philosophie Positive, (Paris, 1877), pp. 214--216. 110. Correspondence Inedite d' August Comte, V. 4, p. 183, letter to General Bernard. 111. E. Littre: Auguste Comte et la Philosophie Positive, p. 244. 112. Arago was of course right. Comte's Traite Elementaire de Geometrie Analytique a Deux et a Trois Dimensions only appeared in 1843. 113. Alexander Bain: John Stuart Mill, A Criticism, With Personal Recollection, Longmans, Green & Co. (London: 1882). 114. John Herschel: A Preliminary Discourse on the Study of Natural Philosophy (London: 1830). 115. William Whewell: History of the Inductive Sciences, 3 Vol., London: Parker, 1837. 116. W. Whewell: The Philosophy of the Inductive Sciences Founded Upon Their History, (London: 1840). 117. David B. Wilson: "Herschell and Whewell's Version of Newtonianism", Journal of the History of Ideas 35 (1974), pp. 79-97. Walter B. Cannon: "Scientists and Broad Churchmen: An Early Intellectual Network", Journal of British Studies 4 (1964), pp. 65-88. 118. Thomas Reid: Essays on the Intellectual Powers of Man, (Edinburgh: 1785), see Chapter 3. L. L. Laudan: "Thomas Reid and the Newtonian Tum of British Methodological Thought", in The Methodological Heritage of Newton, R. E. Butts and J. W. Davis (eds.), (Oxford: 1970), pp. 103-131. 119. See for example G. Cantor: "Henry Brougham and the Scottish Methodological Tradition", Studies in History and Philosophy of Science 2 (1971), pp. 69-89. and G. Cantor: The Reception of the Wave Theory of Light in Britain: A Case Study Illustrating the Role of Methodology in Scientific Debate Historical Studies in the Physical Sciences, Vol. 6, Russell McCormack (ed.), Princeton Univ. Press, Princeton 1975. 120. J. S. Mill: A System of Logic, Ratiocinative and Inductive Being a connected view of the principles of evidence and the methods of scientific investigation. Two volumes. London: John W. Parker, West Strand 1843. See the introduction in John Stuart Mill's Philosophy of Scientific Method, edited with an introduction by Ernest Nagel, NY: Hafter Publishing Co., 1950. 121. For an overview see for example: L. L. Laudan: "Theories of Scientific Method from Plato to Mach", History of Science 7 (1968), pp. 1-63. 122. R. Olson: Scottish Philosophy and British Physics, 1750-1880, Princeton: Princeton Univ. Press 1975. 123. D. Brewster: unsigned review of A. Comte's "Cours de Philosophie Positive", Vol. 1 and 2, Edinburgh Review 67 (1838), pp. 271-308. 124. See for example W. M. Simon: European Positivism in the Nineteenth Century, An Essay in Intellectual History, Ithaca: Cornell University Press 1963. Particularly Chapter VII: England: The Ambiance of John Stewart Mill. 125. The earlier letters of J. S. Mill 1812-1848. Volume XII of the Collected Works of J. S. Mill, F. E. Mineka (eds.), Univ. of Toronto Press and Routledge Keegan Paul. See letters of J. S. Mill to d'Eichtal dated May 15, 1829 and Oct. 8, 1829 in Vol. XII of Collected Works of J. S. Mill. The Oct. 8, 1829 letter contains the detailed reaction to

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Mill's reading of the Traite by Comte. 126. Collected Works ofJ. S. Mill, Vol. XII, p. 363. 127. Autobiography of John Stuart Mill, published from the original ms in the Columbia Univ. Library with a preface by John Jacob Coss, NY: Columbia Univ. Press, 1924, p. 147. 128. Collected Works ofJ. S. Mill, Vol. XIII, p. 487. 129. The following are some of the characterizations of Comte's work in Mill's A System of Logic (1843), Vol. I, p. 540, "admirably characterized in the third volume of M. Comte's truly encycIopedical work". Vol. II, p. 8: "by so great a thinker as M. Comte". Vol. II, p. 17: "Mr. Comte (who of all philosophers seems to me to have approached the nearest to a sound view of this important subject [hypotheses])". 130. Mill: System of Logic (1843), Vol. II, p. 27. 13l. Mill: System of Logic (1843), Vol. II, p. 28. On p. 29 Mill refers the reader to Nichol. His footnote there reads: See, for an interesting exposition of this theory of Laplace, the Architecture of the Heavens by Prof. Nichol of Glasgow; a book profoundly popular rather than scientific; but the production of a thinker who, both in this and other departments, is capable of much more than merely expounding the speculations of his predecessors. It is of interest to compare the discussion of Laplace's work in the first edition with that of the famous eighth edition, the last one to be revised by Mill for publication. See also Mill's discussion "of the limits to the Explanation of laws of Nature, and of hypothesis" (pp. 257-269 in Nagel's edition of Mill's Philosophy of Scientific MethOd) wherein Mr. Darwin's remarkable speculation on the origin of species is discussed as 'another unimpeackable example of a legitimate hypothesis'." This attributation by Mill gave Darwin much pleasure. 132. J. P. Nichol: A View of the Architecture of the Heavens. 133. The spelling ofComte's name as Compte is to be noted. 134. J. P. Nichol: A View of the Architecture of the Heavens, NY: H. A. Chapin, 1840. 135. R. Chambers: Vestiges of the Natural History of Creation, (London: 1844). Reprinted with an introduction by Sir Gavin de Beer Leicester: University Press 1969, Vestiges of the Natural History of Creation, 4th edition, London 1845. 136. M. Millhauser: Just Before Darwin, Robert Chambers and Vestiges, Middletown Conn: Wesleyan Univ. Press 1959. M. S. J. Hodge: "The Universal Gestation of Nature, Chamber's Vestiges and Explanations", J. Hist. Biology V (1972), pp. 127-152. R. M. Young: The Histeriographic and Ideological Context of the Nineteenth Century Debate on Man's Place in Nature. 137. Chambers: Vestiges 1844, p. 17. 138. That the Vestiges incurred, almost without exception, the wrath of the scientific elite has been repeatedly noted. Although the scientific content and standards of the Vestiges justified such a critical reception, this is not the full story. That the scientific elite were members of the upper social and economic classes, and were affiliated with Church or Kirk is surely another dimension. See Cannon: Scientists and Broad Churchmen. 139. A. Sedgwick: unsigned review of Vestiges of the Natural History of Creation, Edinburgh Review CLXV (19845), pp. 1-85. 140. Agassiz, Lyell, Owen and Clark were others to whom Segwick wrote; see J. W. Clark and T. M. Hughes: The Life and Letters of the Rev. Adam Sedgwick, 2 Vol. Cambridge 1890, p. 87. The letter that Sedgwick wrote to Herschel is dated April 11, 1845 and is in the Herschel correspondence at the Library of the Royal Society. Unfortunately only part of the letter is extant. After telling Herschel that he had been reading the Vestiges which he characterizes as "a scrap of rank materialism - foul and fetid" and having "done some mischief' Sedgwick indicates that he is thinking of reviewing it. Sedgwick incidentally believed that the Vestiges "from its charm of manner & good

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dressing" to be "from a woman's pen ... clever but very shallow". 141. Herschel's letter is dated April 15, 1845 and is at the Library of the Royal Society of London. I thank Mr. N. H. Robinson for permission to quote from it. 142. For an appreciation of the stature of J. Herschel see Walter F. Cannon: "John Herschel and the Idea of Science", J. History of Ideas 22, (1961), pp. 215-239. Incidentally Sedgwick in his letter of inquiry to Herschel concerning the nebular hypothesis dated April 1845 addressed him as: "You who know everything and read everything". For another interesting appreciation of J. W. Herschel see the essay on Sir John Herschel as a Theorist in Astronomy in R. A. Proctor: Essays on Astronomy London: Longmans, 1872. Perhaps the best way to obtain an appreciation and insight into the esteem, respect, and adulation that Herschel commanded is to read the four page report in the Athenaeum of 1838, pp. 423-427 of the Herschel dinner held on June 15, 1838. Over 400 persons attended; the list published in the Athenaeum includes all the scientific elite, as well as high representatives from Church and Crown and an impressive sample of the upper class. Herschel was presented a vase upon his return from the Cape. 143. J. W. F. Herschel: "The Logic of Scientific Endeavor", British Ass. Report 15 (1845), pp. XVII-XLIV. See also Athenaeum, June 21,1845, pp. 612-617. It is also reprinted in Herschel's: Essays. 144. Collected Works of J. S. Mill. Vol. XIII - letter of Mill to 1. W. W. Herschel dated May 1, 1843, pp. 583-4. 145. The Library of The Royal Society has on deposit not only the actual letter Herschel wrote to Sedgwick - but also the original draft of the letter. The draft differs from the letter and reflects Herschel grappling with the difficult questions regarding the process of "shrinkage of a spherical syn (by cooling)". I thank Mr. Robinson, the librarian of The Royal Society for permission to quote from this letter. 146. Again note the conflation of nebular hypothesis, geological history, and biological evolution. 147. Sciolist: A superficial pretender to knowledge, a conceited smatterer. 148. D. Brewster: unsigned review of the "Vestiges of the Natural History of Creation", North British Review 3, (1845), p. 474. 149. David Brewster also reviewed Chambers' Explanations: A Sequel to Vestiges of the Natural History of Creation by the author of that work. London 1845, in the February 1846 issue of the North British Review 4 (1846), pp. 487-497. Although considerable space is devoted in that review to Plateau's beautiful experiments, and further observational data as they relate to the nebular hypothesis no further comments are made on Comte's work which had in the meantime been discredited by Herschel. 150. M. B. Ogilvie: "Robert Chambers and the Nebular Hypothesis", Brit. J. Hist. of Science 8 (1975), pp. 213-232. This paper contains a detailed analysis of eight reviews of Chambers' Vestiges and its treatment of the Nebular Hypothesis. It also chronicles Chambers' use of it in the later editions after his initial treatment and the hypothesis itself came under attack. 151. Alexander von Humboldt: Kosmos: EntwurJ einer physischen Weltbeschreibung, Erster Band, Stuttgart, 1845. Cosmos: Sketch of a Physical Description of the Universe, Vol. 1, Translated under the superintendence of Lt. Col. Sabine, London: Longman, 1846. 152. Herschel's review of Humboldt's Cosmos appeared in the Edinburgh Review for Jan. 1848 and is reprinted in his Essays, pp. 257-364. D. Brewster's review was published in the North British Review 4, (1845), pp. 202-254. J. D. Forbes' review of Humboldt's Cosmos is in the Quarterly Review 77 (1846), pp. 154-191. 153. Lettres Inedites de John Stuart Mill a Auguste Comte pubJiees avec les responses de Comte et une introduction par L. Levy-Bruhl, Paris: Felix A1can, Editeur 1899. Hereafter referred to as Mill et Comte: Lettres InCdites, Levy-Bruhl. The letters from Mill to Comte are also to be found in the Collected Works of John Stuart Mill, Vol.

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XIII. 154. One of their differences was on the issue of individualism versus collectivism. Mill, in a characteristically British approach defended the individual's rights against the increasingly authoritarian and reactionary nature of Comte's positive politics and the power of the state in that scheme of things. Another of their differences was over the role and place of women in society. See Collected Works J. S. Mill, Vol. XIII, Mill to Comte letters dated July 13, 1843, p. 588; August 30, 1843, p. 592; October 30,1843, p.604. 155. Collected Works J. S. Mill, Vol. XIII: J. S. Mill to Sir John F. W. Herschel, dated May 1, 1843, p. 584. 156. In 1842 Whewell had at his own expense printed and privately circulated a reply to Herschel's review of his History and his Philosophy of the Inductive Sciences. This reply was subsequently included in the second edition of the Philosophy of the Inductive Sciences, (London: 1847), II, pp. 667-79. 157. Herschel's review appeared in the Quarterly Review, Vol. 135, June 1841. It is reprinted in J. F. W. Herschel's Essays from the Edinburgh and Quarterly Reviews with addresses and other Pieces, London: Longman, 1857, pp. 142-256. 158. Collected Works J. S. Mill, Vol. XIII, Mill to Comte, Oct. 5,1844, pp. 636-639. 159. Mill et Comte: Lettres Indites, p. 367. 160. Collected Works of J. S. Mill, Vol. XIII, p. 648. 161. Athenaeum, June 21,1845, pp. 612--617. See also Bain:J. S. Mill, pp. 80--81. 162. Collected Works J. S. Mill, Vol. XIII, pp. 673--675. 163. J. S. Mill: Logic, (London: 1843). The reference is to Mill's presentation of the Laplacian Nebular Hypothesis and the reference therin to Comte's treatment of it in the Cours, Vol. II. 164. A senior optime from Cambridge University is a man who obtains honors but fails to get placed among the wranglers in the mathematical Tripos. 165. Mill: Autobiography. 166. The letter is reprinted in full in Appendix A. The original is in the possession of the Royal Society. I thank Mr. Robinson, the librarian of The Royal Society for permission to reprint it. The letter is based on Herschel's earlier one to A. Sedgwick. 167. The letter is in the possession of Yale University Library. I thank Yale University for permission to publish its content. 168. Collected Works, J. S. M., Vol. XIII, pp. 675--676. 169. See Appendix B for the full text of the letter. The original is in the Herschel Archives at the Library of The Royal Society. I thank Mr. Robinson, the librarian of The Royal Society for permission to publish it. 170. Herschel's review of the Kosmos is reprinted in Herschel: Essays (London: 1857), pp. 257-364. The quotation is on p. 295. For this reprinting of the review, Herschel added a footnote wherein he claimed that this objection ... offers no real difficulty to the advocates of that hypothesis. In their view the sun must be regarded as the centre of subsidence of all matter whose elastic movements have contradicted and terminated in collision Precisely the same calculation as Herschel's was presented to the Academie des Sciences by Babinet in 1861 in a famous Memoir in which he concluded that if the entire Sun had [at one stage] been dilated to the orbits of the planet, it had a rotational motion much too slow for the centrifugal force to balance gravitation and thus for the (separation/abandonment) from the total mass of an equatorial ring. Apparently Herschel never became aware of Babinet's results. Although the two corresponded in 1862 and thereafter - (letters are in the Herschel Archives at the Royal Society) the exchanges between them deal with technical questions on how to suspend mirrors from thin wires in order to measure small torques - no mention is made of nebular hypothesis nor of Babinet's 1861, Compte's Rendus article. J.

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171. 172.

173. 174.

175. 176.

177.

178. 179. 180. 181. 182. 183.

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Babinet: Comptes Rendus, Acad. Sci. (paris) 52, 481 (1861). see also his Etudes et lectures sur les sciences d' observation et leurs applications pratiques (MalletVechelier, Paris: 1865), Vol. VII, pp. 105-106. Collected Works J. S. Mill, Vol. XIII, p. 677. See in particular Comte's letters dated July 14, 1845. Mill et Comte: Lettres Inedites, p. 460 and the ones dated August 8, 1845 and Sept. 24, 1845 on pp. 468 and 476 respectively. Collected Works, J. S. Mill, Vol. XIII, pp. 716-719. The first review of Comte's Cours in France is 1844 in articles in the National by Littre. See Gouhier: Vie, p. 217 also E. Littre: De La Philosophie Positive (1845). Comte's letters to Valat in 1840 and to Mill in 1845 clearly indicate how pleased he was with Brewster's review in 1838. Comte: Correspondence gemffrale, Vol. 2, p. 410, Levy-Bruhl: Lettres Inedites, p. 473. A. Comte: Plans des travaux scientifiques necessaires pour reorganiser al societe (1822) (which is the Systeme de politique positive of 1825) reprinted in Eerits de Jeunesse, pp. 241-322. Appendice general du Systeme de politique positive, p. 17 also quoted in L. LevyBruhl: The Philosophy of Auguste Comte translated by F. Harrison, London: Sonnenschein, 1903, p. 91. The book has been reprinted in 1973. Clifton: Augustus Kelley, 1973. Another example, among many, by Comte: the positive notion of the mathematical laws of phenomena as stemming from the metaphysical conceptions of the Pythagoricians regarding the properties of numbers. Comte: Cours II, pp. 26-27. Cours I. Cours III, p. 366. Cours III, pp. 363-364. See also Cours IV, P. 274. Comte: Premier Memoire sur la Cosmogonie Positive in Ecrits de Jeunesse, p. 585.

STEPHEN R. GRAUBARD

The Profits of America: Early Nineteenth-Century British Travel in the United States

For more than forty years, from the time the American colonies declared their independence till Napoleon's safe incarceration on St. Helena, the British rarely came to visit or tour the North American territories they had once governed. During the years of rebellion, such travel was impossible; after Yorktown and the signing of the Peace of Paris, when opportunities existed, they were rarely taken. The incentives for the British to visit America were few; there was little interest in seeing how the former colonies were managing their affairs. Dramatic and important events closer at home - the fall of the Bastille, the execution of Louis XVI, the Terror, years of war with French revolutionary governments and with Napoleon - preoccupied the British to an extent that made America seem remote, almost inconsequential. Washington, Adams, Jefferson, and Madison had all come and gone as American presidents, and even the unfortunate events associated with the War of 1812, including the burning of the capital, had begun to recede from public memory before British travellers began to feel welcome in the United States, to think seriously of how the republic was faring. It was after 1815 that a new kind of British traveller appeared, intent on seeing the New World, interested in publishing a report on such travels, expecting to realize some commerical gain from his (or her) trans-Atlantic wanderings. Going abroad to see the principal American sights, keeping a diary or journal of one's impressions, and returning home to publish these became a respectable intellectual venture; a new small British industry was in the making. While few anticipated great profits from such book sales, and while there were many motives for crossing the Atlantic, for visiting the United States, even those who had political or ideological reasons for going were not wholly ignorant of the commercial value of the reports they returned with. Whether they went to praise or to find fault, remained faithful to an original utopian vision of the New World or abandoned it as a result of their experiences, they wrote principally for an audience at home. Indeed, this travel literature, essentially autobiographical, may be more revealing for what it tells about early nineteenth-century Britain than for what it tells about America. Those who choose to read these accounts principally to learn about the United States during R.T. Bienvenu and M. Feingold (eds),ln the presence o/the past, 193-213. © 1991 Kluwer Academic Publishers.

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the administrations of Monroe, John Quincy Adams, Jackson, van Buren, Harrison, and Tyler will almost certainly be disappointed. They are highly idealized or superbly contemptuous accounts of American traits; their chief significance may be that they are so revealing about early nineteenth-century British ideological preoccupations. Those who went abroad were overwhelmingly young. A trans-Atlantic ocean voyage, even in the 1840s, was not a "pleasure trip", and within the continental United States there was much to complain of. While a substantial part of this literature was the work of men, not a few of the accounts came from women. In narrative form, the reports were overwhelmingly social, descriptive more than analytical, and invariably ahistorical. Politics, agriculture, and business figured prominently, but almost always as a device for judging the virtues and vices of the society. No British traveller who went in this period was fired with the kind of intellectual ambition that had led Tocqueville to undertake his study of America. Few would have understood Tocqueville' s idea that the New World was itself a new creation, that it required a new kind of political science for its analysis. Prompted overwhelmingly by a concern to deliver some sort of judgment on British (or European) life, this literature, with its simple anthropological idiom, treated the more superficial aspects of American custom, habit, and belief. The purpose, for a good number, was not so much to describe America as to praise or criticize specific practices and institutions at home. The reports were sometimes passionate; those that were most critical of American manners and morals were expected to find little favor in the United States; they were written for a British audience. In their didactic preaching to the converted, they became political pamphlets, serving a domestic political interest in ways that were wholly comprehensible to those for whom they were intended. When, for example, the Edinburgh Review, with its preponderantly Whig readership, began to publish reviews of books dealing with the United States, it was Sydney Smith, one of the founding editors, who undertook to write the main essays. Like his colleagues, he knew America not at all; he had never been there. This did not deter him from reviewing in 1818 books written by Lt. Francis Hall, John Palmer, Henry Fearon, John Bradbury, John Duncan, and Adam Hodgson - men scarcely known at the time, who have not achieved celebrity since. Smith was not much interested in any of them; indeed, it was not always obvious that his habitual urbanity, wit, and common sense were even in the service of his putative subject, the United States. Sydney Smith's concern was Britain; books and individuals were only grist for his political mill. Of one author, he remarked that he was "an extraordinary" young man, "if he is not more than twenty-five years of age"; of another, he wrote that he is a "plain man, of good sense and slow judgment"; of a third, that he "is a botanist, who lived a good deal among the savages, but [is] worth attending to".1 With such exquisite tongue-in-cheek praise, Smith settled down to reflect on what the books told about the United States. One of them - Fearon's - identified the sections of the country most suited to British emigration and settlement. Smith

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used the information to ask the more fundamental question of who in Britain would be advantaged by emigrating. Not altogether surprisingly, he suggested that "any person with tolerable prosperity here had better remain where he is".2 Taking note of the rapid growth of America's cities, he thought it necessary to warn the British Cabinet against "the vice of impertinence", the creeping disdain that he noted in relations with the United States. The increased strength of the republic, he wrote, ought to "tend to extinguish pleasantry, and provoke thought".3 Genuinely impressed with what he saw as the "cheapness" of American government and law, and contrasting this with the lavishness and expense so characteristic of Britain, he clearly preferred the former. His chief complaint, however, was with the recent British suspension of the right of habeas corpus, a contemptible act that contrasted with the American record in all such matters. Indeed, the British might do well to take lessons from the Americans in such things. So, also, with regard to manners. While differences between acceptable behavior in the New World and in the Old were indeed substantial, and while many in Britain thought the Americans ill-mannered and almost barbarian, Smith found scant justification for such a view. Such praise, however, did not lead Smith also to take seriously the American claim to having created a distinctive and distinguished culture; that claim had no basis in fact. He wrote: Literature, the Americans have none - no native literature, we mean. It is all imported. They had a Franklin, indeed; and may afford to live for half a century on his fame. There is, or was a Mr. Dwight, who once wrote some poems; and his baptismal name was Timothy. There is also a small account of Virginia by Jefferson, and an epic by Joel Barlow; and some pieces of pleasantry by Mr. Irving. But why should the Americans write books, when a six weeks' passage brings them, in their own tongue, our sense, science, and genius, in bales and hogs-heads? Prairies, steam-boats, gristmills, are their natural objects for centuries to come. 4 There was then no "American civilization", and there would be none for decades or centuries to come. In the interim, Americans would do well to attend to their proper business; for Smith, the first item on their national agenda should be the abolition of slavery. Smith criticized his own society for its constitutional transgressions; with equal vigor, he condemned the American vice - slavery and the American failing - pride. He wrote: If nations rank according to their wisdom and their virtue, what right has the American, a scourger and murderer of slaves, to compare himself with the least and lowest of the European nations? - much more with this great and humane country, where the greatest lord dare not lay a finger upon the meanest peasant? What is freedom, where all are not free? Where the greatest of God's blessings is limited, with impious caprice, to the colour of the body? And these are the men who taunt the English with their corrupt Parliament, with their buying and selling votes. Let the world judge which is the most liable to censure - we who, in the midst of our rottenness, have torn off the manacles of slaves all over the world - or they who, with their idle

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purity and useless perfection, have remained mute and careless, while groans echoed and whips clanked round the very walls of their spotless Congress. 5 Smith, prepared to use the American example to bludgeon his own country in certain matters, saw no reason to hold his tongue when he cast his eye on an American institution that he found contemptible. There was no valid excuse of America's "special institution"; it would have to go. The Edinburgh Review, from almost its first days early in the nineteenth century, had opposed the slave trade; it was influential in securing its abolition. So, also, the Review gained a reputation for being adamant in its opposition to slavery. Smith, in chastising America, was arguing as Edinburgh Review authors had been doing for decades. Smith returned to his American theme again in 1820 and once more in 1824. In each instance, he repeated essentially what he had already said in 1818. There was no new learning to build on. Warning Americans lest they grow vain and ambitious, he begged them not "to be dazzled by the galaxy of epithets by which ... orators and newspaper scribblers endeavour to persuade their supporters that they are the greatest, the most refined, the most enlightened and most moral people upon earth".6 In terms no less emphatic than those used in 1818, Americans were told that since "their independence, they have done absolutely nothing for the Sciences, for the Arts, for Literature or even for the states-manlike studies of Politics or Political Economy".? Smith saw no great men on the American scene, and spared his American readers nothing when he wrote a paragraph that was to become memorable: In the four quarters of the globe, who reads an American book? or goes to an American play? or looks at an American picture or statue? What does the world yet owe to American physicians or surgeons? What new substances have their chemists discovered: or what old ones have they analyzed? What new constellations have been discovered by the telescopes of Americans? What have they done in mathematics? Who drinks out of American glasses? or eats from American plates? or wears American coats or gowns? or sleeps in American blankets? Finally, under which of the old tyrannical governments of Europe is every sixth man a slave, whom his fellow-creatures may buy and sell and torture? When these questions are fairly and favourably answered, their [the Americans] laudatory epthets may be allowed: but till that can be done, we would seriously advise them to keep clear of superlatives. 8 A sermon from Edinburgh? Not wholly, though perilously close. America, judged by traditional European standards, obviously measured very low on the scale of civilization. For Smith, as for most of the readers of the Edinburgh Review, civilization mattered greatly; it presumed a certain degree and level of refinement. The world could be divided into two large hemispheres - one civilized, the other barbarous. In matters of civilization, American had nothing to teach Europe. On the scale of virtue, so long as slavery continued, Britain could never take America for its model; the very idea seemed incongruous to Smith. Britain

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would achieve political reform with its own constitution; what was needed was the will to reform. While American progress was incontestable, the British, with their own political institutions, were capable of doing quite as well. Neither republicanism nor federalism interested Smith; his King Charles's head was slavery, the ultimate Edinburgh Review evil; its suppression ought to be America's first business. This was the whole of his message; Smith had remarkably little to say about how the country had come to develop as it did, or where indeed it might be tending. Smith, lacking knowledge of American history and having no great interest in the matter, reported on the observations of travellers who were scarcely better informed. These men and women had travelled abroad not to consult archives or to create them; they were witnesses; their accounts were exercises in autobiography. In 1824, Smith repeated his earlier praise for an American government that cost the citizens very little; he wrote with admiration of traditions that guaranteed broad religious toleration. The advantages enjoyed by a country that had no experience of feudal institutions or feudal restraints impressed Smith. It was easy for him to wax rhapsodic as he praised the American habit of supporting education; in such things the British might do well to follow American example. America's bad roads, inconvenient inns, and badly sprung coaches were also mentioned, but they clearly weighed less in a balance that included such accomplishments. Smith, sitting as judge, weighed the evidence, such as it was, apportioned praise and blame, and rendered a verdict quite in keeping with the values appropriate to a Whig journal like the Edinburgh Review. Others, of more radical inclinations, were searching for a country that would allow them to criticize Great Britain more explicitly, that would highlight the differences between the social vices and political injustices, characteristic of the Old World, and the more benign and congenial atmosphere of the New. The United States served their purposes admirably; they used the United States as the antipodal "other". This more radical approach, so congenial to the utilitarian disciples of Bentham, had its first major expression in the juvenile scribbling of a young woman, Frances (more familiarly known as Fanny) Wright, who first came to New York in 1818 as an unmarried woman of twenty-three. She, accompanied by a younger sister, Camilla, had been raised by an aunt in Devonshire; their father, James Wright, the only son of a prosperous Dundee merchant, had died before Fanny was three, his wife having predeceased him. Wright had left no fortune to his children; indeed, his affairs were in a disordered state at the time of his death, but the children had promise of a quite susbtantial inheritance from the estate of their maternal grandmother. While we know almost nothing about Fanny's early education, we are told that at age 16 she found a copy of Botta's Istoria della Rivoluzione Americana in her aunt's library, that she read the book, that it changed her whole life. Determined to visit the "country consecrated to freedom ... in which man might awake to the full knowledge and full exercise of his powers",9 she could not be certain that a place like the United States really existed. No one had ever mentioned the country to her; the book might simply be a romance. Writing about herself in

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the third person, Fanny Wright expressed her charged feelings: A panic terror seized upon her. She flew to examine every atlas in the library. The first was not of recent date and showed no trace of the United States. She opened with trembling hands another and another. At length she saw 'United States' marked along the Atlantic littoral of North America. Still, after all, was the story she had read a true one? She now sought carefully among the more modem authors in the library, and found Belsham's History of George III. Its perusal quieted her apprehensions. His heroes were true men and her land of promise had a local habitation and a name.IO Was this tale an invention, a mythic tale somewhat analogous to Gibbon's account of how he had come to write his history of the decline and fall of Rome? There is no way to know; in any case, it led Fanny and her sister to leave Devon - to run away, by some accounts - to go to live with a great-uncle on their father's side, James Mylne, Professor of Moral Philosophy at Glasgow College. From the settled and comfortable Tory world of the West country, Fanny Wright moved into a decidedly more astringent intellectual environment. In the college library, she found abundant materials concerning the American colonies and devoured them. While we know almost nothing of whom she met in Glasgow, of whether, for example, she had any significant contacts with the Dugald Stewart circle, we know that through her great-aunt she came to know Rabina Craig Millar, the widow of Mrs. Mylne's brother, who had lived in the United States for almost two years. Fanny Wright's wish was to visit the United States; her great-uncle thought that a trip to Italy and Greece might make better sense, but Fanny was adamant; she knew precisely where she wanted to go and who was to accompany her. In no sense the average British traveller - young and independently wealthy - Fanny arrived with letters of introduction that led her at once into what were said to be the higher reaches of New York society. She remained abroad for almost two years, travelling extensively, visiting many cities, and stopping at a good number of the more celebrated natural and historical sites that Americans took such pride in. She had uncritical admiration for almost everything that she saw in the United States; the country fulfilled her expectations wholly, as was evident in the long letters that she addressed to Mrs. Millar. These letters, in edited form, appeared as a book in 1821. Views of Society and Manners in America, published in London, established Fanny Wright's reputation. Jeremy Bentham was only one of many who sang the praises of the work. Indeed, his admiration of the book was such that he sought out its author and proceeded to introduce her to all the leading philosophical radicals of his day. From France, a letter from the aging Lafayette expressed great enthusiasm for the work, together with the wish that the two would one day meet. Fanny Wright, interpreting this as a command, crossed the Channel in September 1821 to meet America's greatest French friend. Despite certain objections from Lafayette's children, who never entirely understood such a relationship, the two developed a friendship. It led directly to Fanny Wright's second American

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voyage in 1824 to participate in the massive receptions that the Americans had prepared for their revolutionary French advocate. How was it that such a young and inexperienced woman came to write so extraordinary a work? Indeed, was the book really extraordinary? Not at all. While it was moderately well written and had an agreeable format, it was wholly uncritical, showing not the slightest understanding of the complexities of American political or social development. Indeed, it repeated essentially what patriotic Americans wished the world to believe both about themselves and their country. Penn, Jefferson, Franklin, and all the others in the Republic's pantheon were decked out in their democratic colors, showing neither contradiction not imperfection. Except for slavery - an evil and immoral system that the "children of liberty" could be depended on to do away with - there were scarcely any criticisms made. Fanny Wright discovered in the United States precisely what she had expected to find. If Sydney Smith, without going there, had provided judgments wholly congenial to traditional Whigs, Fanny Wright did the same for philosophic radicals like Francis Place, James Mill, and John Cartwright. While the book was never intended to be a "party manifesto", it denied Tory critiques of the country as it did the more measured Whig reservations. Sydney Smith and other of his Edinburgh Review friends worried about the absence of "civilization" in America; Fanny Wright had no such concerns. Such criticism, she believed, showed scant appreciation of the "direction of American genius". It was wrong to assert that "American wit and science" were of no account; as for the country being backward, that idea was held to be patronizing. "The simple morals, more equalized fortunes, and more domestic habits and attachments, generally found in this country as compared with Europe", Wright wrote, "doubtless bespeak a nation young in luxury, but do they bespeak a nation young in knowledge? It would say little for knowledge were this the case" .11 If the United States had not yet produced many eminent literary men, was it not because the country, given the abundant opportunities it afforded, provided small incentives for ambitious individuals to seek to make their way through authorship? Wright wrote: "It is true that authorship is not yet a trade in this country. Perhaps for the poor it is a trade everyWhere, and could men do better, they might seldom take it as a profession".12 This startling possibility was soon abandoned, however, as Fanny Wright suddenly remembered that the country was indeed young, that its cultural climate would necessarily reflect that condition; she wrote: As yet, we must remember that the country itself is not half a century old. The generation is barely passed away whose energies were engrossed by a struggle for existence. To the harrassing war of the Revolution succeeded the labors of establishing the national government and of recognizing that of the several states, and it must be remembered that, in America, neither war nor legislation is the occupation of a body of men, but of the whole community; it occupies every head and every heart, rouses the whole energy, and absorbs the whole genius ofthe nation. 13

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Wright's hyperbolic estimate of America's genius, so little understood by Europeans, could be explained by the fact that Europe had averted its eyes from America, having been totally absorbed by its own problems. The young republic, in the interim, "was actively employed in her education, in framing and trying systems of government, in eradicating prejudices, in vanquishing internal enemies, in replenishing her treasury, in liquidating her debts, in amending her laws, in correcting her policy, in fitting herself to enjoy that liberty which she had purchased with her blood, in founding seminaries of learning, in facilitating of internal navigation".14 America, she said, "bears the works of her genius about her; we must not seek them in volumes piled on the shelves of a library". In a final avowal of her regard for the American accomplishment, she added: "Her politicians are not ingenious theorists, but practical statesmen; her soldiers have not been conquerors but patriots; her philosophers not wise reasoners, but wise legislators".I 5 In her view of Americans as a people who serve their country rather than seek some kind of personal immortality, Wright imagined that she had discovered the well-spring of American genius. Americans were enlightened political men who could not be judged by the traditional literary canons of Europe. Throughout the work, Fanny Wright describes a society that was new, virtuous and free, different from any that existed in Europe. While a flaw might occasionally be detected in this paradise, such a blemish could never detract from the scale of America's achievement. When she urged that women be given the same opportunities for education as men, "taught the principles of government and liberty" so that these would be passed on to their children, with "a new race, nurtured under the watchful eye of judicious mothers and from them imbibing in tender youth the feelings of generous liberty and ardent patriotism" ,16 she recommended radical propositions that were known at home through the works of James Mill and others. In recommending increased physical training for women, she simply pursued an argument that Harriet Martineau was to make also, perhaps somewhat more eloquently. Fanny Wright's book, on one level, can be rcad as a conventional utopian fantasy, situated in a distant world called America. On another level, where she spoke of "the great and good Franklin, the Socrates of modem times, the father of independent America" ,17 she adopted the exaggerated language of her hosts. In expatiating on the "holy influence" of Franklin's works, both in building national character and creating wisdom in national councils, her hyperbole took her into treacherous depths. Wright arrived in America with certain fixed opinions; she recorded observations calculated to confirm those opinions. That the "discoveries" were congenial to philosophic radicals like Bentham cannot be surprising. Their own agenda for British reform paralleled closely what, according to Wright, the United States was in the process of achieving. For those in Britain, reacting to Tory criticism of democracy, Wright's book seemed a welcome corrective. The work was deliberately political; it had to do mostly with British politics. While the Tory critique of America was long standing, it took on new

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virulence in the second quarter of the nineteenth century. Allan Nevins, writing about this period, called it the time of "Tory Condescension".18 Two of the more successful travel books of the day reflected these Tory prejudices quite as openly as Wright's book reflected a Radical bias. Again, the accounts dealt only incidentally with the United States: their purpose seemed to be to reassure British opinion, to deny the accuracy of those works that dwelled on the excellence of America's political and social institutions. Captain Basil Hall and Frances Trollope, writing on their American travels in books that appeared in England in 1829 and 1832, achieved a certain fame on both sides of the Atlantic because of the vigor of their criticism. Hall's work, based on visits to both the United States and Canada in 1827 and 1828, was immediately successful; in its third British edition by 1830, it was widely reviewed, most often favorably, though rarely so in the United States. Indeed, it was the success of these three Hall volumes that encouraged Frances Trollope, who had gone abroad on quite other business, to set down to write and publish her Domestic Manners of the Americans, a book markedly different from Hall's, but no less critical of the United States, and no less inspired by Tory values. In their criticism of American manners, mores, beliefs, and institutions, they touched nerves known to be sensitive in the United States, but this only served to increase both their reputations and their sales. Hall, in his Preface, explained that he had gone abroad principally to see for himself what conditions in America were like. He wanted to judge the fairness of opinions then circulating in Britain about the United States. To avoid being influenced by those who had preceded him, he studiously avoided reading any of their accounts; he persisted in this "self-denial" even after his return home. His account, then, was wholly personal, uncontaminated by extraneous or additional reading. What, then, had he discovered in fifteen months of travel in America where he had gone together with his wife and infant daughter? Wishing to improve relations between the two countries, and believing that greater cordiality would serve the interests of each, Hall weRt abroad expecting to be impressed, believing that his observations might help create good will. He returned a disappointed man; he had not found what he had hoped for. Still, there was an obligation to tell everything, even if the result was not improved relations. Hall explained that he had no wish to offend Americans - such an idea was unthinkable to him - still, he had a duty to tell what he had seen. Having served in the Navy from 1802 to 1823, participated in scientific and other explorations, he thought himself eminently qualified as an objective observer; he wrote: I have no motive, and can have no motive to misrepresent things in America; still less to wound the feelings of any person in a country where I was received with such uniform kindness and hospitality, and towards which, as a nation, I undoubtedly felt the greatest good-will on first landing. If I no longer feel altogether as I did towards that country, the change is accompanied by far more sorrow than any other feeling; and the reluctance with which I now take up my pen to trace the gradual destruction of my best

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hopes on the subject, is most sincere, and such as nothing short of a conviction of its being a duty to my own country could overcome. 19 Remembering his first impressions of New York, he complained of the general lack of discipline, the noise and tumult created by frantic efforts to extinquish the many fIres that seemed to plague that unhappy city. The fIremen, quite self-satisfied, were entirely uninterested in a machine recently invented in Edinburgh that Hall informed them about, that would certainly have done much to save buildings of the kind constantly being lost through fIre. Disconcerted also by the pronunciation of the children whom he heard while visiting in schools, he thought it noteworthy that rapid service in so-called restaurants only increased the noise level. Scandalized by what offered itself as a picture gallery, he remembered a lecturer who had boasted that American sculpture rivalled that of Greece, American painting, that of Italy. The vanity of Americans seemed almost beyond believing. Sailing up the noble Hudson, Hall viewed the houses of the "ancient aristocracy, which is now rapidly withering away in that part of the country, as it has already done almost everywhere else in America, to the great exultation of the people, before the blighting tempest of democracy".20 A visit to the prison at Sing Sing - an obligatory stop for all travelers in this period - was fully described; so, also, was the equally obligatory visit to West Point. Hall, at the military academy, began to reflect on American knowledge and American power; while unwilling to prophesy the future, he felt sufficiently confident to predict "that fresh approximation to European knowledge, and consequently, to power and virtue, in America, will only strengthen our mutual goodwill and can never injure either party".21 The two would do well to grow more like each other; for Hall, this meant that America needed to become more like Europe. At West Point, he was asked only about those American traits that he found attractive; had he been asked to discuss also America's shortcomings, he would have certainly mentioned the obvious defIciencies in carriage and gait - the absence, in short, of anything that might be mistaken for a "military air". His comments about American stagecoaches and roads only confirmed what other travellers had also reported - they were terrible. Steamboats, on the other hand, deserved some praise, even if they lacked the great appeal of the railroads. The Falls at Niagara were praised. Crossing over into Canada, Hall emphasized the differences between the two countries. The Canadians, happily, were not so determined to prove their superiority. Also, and this was important to him, Canadians did not believe "that there is anything peculiar, or mysterious, or difficult to be understood about their character".22 Back in the United States, he reflected more on the consequences of the British not knowing the Americans, of the Americans not knowing the British. No American, in his experience, acknowledged this lack. What, he asked, might the British do so that they might know the Americans better? The events of the Revolution were much too painful for them to reflect on and there were few incentives to dwell on the events of that unhappy time. When the French Revolution "burst out like a volcano at our very doors, and, as a matter of necessity, from which there was no escape, engrossed all out thought",23 and

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when Napoleon and European war followed in its wake, the British had little time for the Americans. The fact that they "contributed no great share to the general stock of Letters, little to our stock of Science, and scarcely anything of importance to that of Fine Arts" gave additional reason for the British not taking Americans much into account. Then, revealing his Tory proclivities unmistakably, he added: "According to all our views of the matter, they [the Americans] had actually made a retrograde movement in the principles and practice of government".24 Given that the structure of the two societies was so fundamentally different, they could never be close. In the United States, there was no dearth of information about Britain; Hall went to great lengths to explain how much the Americans relied on Great Britain for their arts, letters, and science; their intellectual and economic dependence was overwhelming. This, however, did nothing to diminish America's distaste for monarchy; democracy, Hall hastened to explain, was no less offensive to Britons. The fact that Americans were reluctant to forget the Revolution, the source and very foundation of their identity, that they had no idea of how much that event served to create and perpetuate friction between the two countries, seemed an insurmountable barrier to good relations. The British, while prepared to admit that their knowledge of America was perhaps imperfect, were habitually meeting Americans who insisted that they both knew and understood Britain well. This, according to Hall, was the fundamental error. He believed the two countries to be more different in essential respects than any two countries in Europe. The Americans, because of their access to British publications, imagined that they had some knowledge of Britain. Hall, with characteristic impatience, wrote: "I am disposed to think that the Americans would be a happier people if this incongruous communication were at an end". He wrote: Are we not happier in this country, in all that concerns our relations with America, where the great mass of the people never read an American volume, and never even see or hear of one? Do we worry and fret ourselves about what is said of us in America? Certainly not! Yet this does not arise from indifference, but from ignorance. If American newspapers, books, pamphlets, and reviews, were by any strange revolution in letters, to be circulated and read in this country, I will answer for the sensation they would produce, being one of extreme irritation - perhaps not less than what is excited in America by our publications. While, after all, at bottom, the countries respectively may be writing not for each other at all, but for themselves exclusively, and thus, as I have explained, virtually using two different languages. 25 In his commentary on American politics, Hall emphasized the importance of "electioneering". The Americans appeared to be much more interested in the success of a specific candidate than in the measures he was purported to believe in. They accepted intrigue as the inevitable boon companion of politics. The candidate's fitness for office was rarely reflected on; what mattered was simply his ability to win. In Albany, Hall had been able to observe state politics at fairly close range; he was little taken with what he had seen.

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He wrote also of the dangers of alcoholic "spirits" through knowledge gained presumably from a more distant and safe range. Drink, he argued, was worse than yellow fever or negro slavery; the condition seemed almost irremediable. Dram-drinking, he wrote, has been "quaintly called the natural child, and the boon companion of democracy". He thought the habit "interwoven in the very structure of that political society which the Americans not only defend, but uphold as the wisest that has ever been devised, or ever put in practice, for the good of mankind".26 Hall wrote also of the temperance movement that had begun to establish itself, of its conviction that spirits contributed to producing some 200,000 paupers in the country, at a cost of some ten million dollars a year to the nation. Hall wrote: "It would be well, I think, if those writers and orators - on both sides of the Atlantic - who are so prompt at every movement to visit with unmitigated censure the operation of the English Poor Law System, would take the trouble to look at some of these things".27 Seeking to show how profligate America had become in its use of space, food, and manpower, Hall summed up his American experience in a handful of pithy sentences that showed some lightness of touch; he wrote: In America, an urchin, before he is much bigger than a cotton bobbin, is turned to some use. By and by, when he gets tired of school, he turns mutineer, buys an axe, and scampers off to the western forests, where he squats down on the fIrst piece of land which pleases him. He forthwith marries, and rears up a nestfull of children; who, in due course of time, play a similar round of independent pranks, and reap the same roving sort of success, in the same broad world which is all before them, where to choose their place of unquiet rest. 28 Hall's purpose was not to be flippant. Believing that the physical conditions of life in America militated against the establishment of civilizing agencies and forms, he made the point, reitereated many times, that American pride blinded the country to its defects. Like any other visitor, he was told about the number of schools the Americans had built. He knew that anyone who wished to achieve a certain minimal profIciency in reading and writing could achieve that purpose. Numbers, however, did not much impress Hall; places might indeed be available, but so long as classical studies were neglected, there could be no outstanding accomplishment. The Americans were interested only in movement; he explained: every thing and every body is on the move - and the field is so wide and so fertile, that no man, whatever be his age, if he possess the slightest spark of energy, can fail to reap from the virgin soil an adequate harvest. By the word adequate, I mean a suffIcient return for his own maintenance and that of a family. Thus the great law of our nature, Be fruitful and mUltiply, having no check, supersedes every other, carrying before it classics, science, the fine arts, letters, taste, and refinements of every description, in one great deluge of population ... What answer, for instance, can be made to a lad of sixteen, who sees before him so wide and tempting an area for his immediate exertions to expand themselves in? Who is certain that if he marries to-

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morrow, with scarcely a dollar in his pocket, he may rear up half-a-dozen children in as many years, and maintain them in abundance, till they are in a state to shift for themselves: Or who begs you to tell him in what respect Greek and Latin, or the differential calculus, will advance his project of demolishing the wilderness, and peopling the ground where it stood? Or how a knowledge of the Fine Arts will improve the discipline of a gang of negroes on a rice or cotton plantation? You can really say nothing in reply. For what instruction you give him in reading and writing he is most grateful; but for all the graces of literature, or the refinements of science, or the elegancies of polished societies, he cares not half a straw. 29 While Hall occasionally reported on an educational institution that had not yet been hopelessly corrupted - Yale, for example, was cited - he wondered how long that college would be able to maintain itself against the force of popular opinion. Democracy, in a society characterized by abundant opportunity, translated itself inevitably into mediocrity; this was the burden of his argument, and it was addressed as much to his British readers as to any Americans who might chance on his work. The Hall volumes were long; a great variety of themes fascinated him: political oratory in Washington; slavery in South Carolina; travel on the Mississippi. The work boasted kinds of detail not common in many earlier British travel accounts. What made Hall's work distinctive, however, was not its data on America but the author's reflections on the differences between American and British society. Hall concluded his third volume with a purported conversation with an unnamed American; the two compared the United States and Great Britain, and not surprisingly, Hall, who defended Britain, emerged the victor in every exchange. Reiterating what he had already hinted at, he recommended the two countries keep a certain distance. No profit would come to either from intimate association. Hall, addressing the anonymous American, said: Each of our countries loves its own institutions better than those of the other. You prefer a democracy, we choose to abide by our monarchy. You love to be chopping and changing, we desire to continue in our present path. Which is the best, time will show. But however that may be, it is quite clear, that as our views and wishes are so diametrically opposed, not merely in name but in substance, and in all that we respectively consider valuable in life, any closer contact could not possibly tend to advance the objects of either. 30 Hall, with many protestations of affection for his unnamed American friends, said a long goodbye to the New World. Prepared to receive the accolades of others who, like himself, preferred the Old World, he fully expected a hostile reception from America. While it would be wrong to say that he wrote simply to gain popularity at home, expecting also to cause some moderately profitable scandal abroad, Hall expected his work to please fellow-Britons whose Tory sympathies replicated his own. The work, ostensibly about America, was in fact about Britain. The Hall volumes set a standard that any other Tory author would necessarily

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be required to compete with. Not the least of Frances Trollope' s accomplishments was that she competed successfully. Anyone reading the Preface to Domestic Manners of the Americans, and lacking other information, would not have guessed how Mrs. Trollope and come to cross the Atlantic, why she had remained in the United States for more than three years, and what her Cincinnati residence had taught her about a region not much talked about by other travellers. She spoke of "a residence of three years and six months in different parts of the United States",31 and in the main body of the book acknowledged having come over with Miss Wright, the "radical" Fanny. Her references to Wright were tantalizingly elliptical; it was difficult to know what she intended to communicate in a paragraph that read: This lady, since become so celebrated as the advocate of opinions that make millions shudder, and some half-score admire, was at the time of my leaving England with her, dedicated to a pursuit widely different from her subsequent occupations. Instead of becoming a public orator in every town throughout America, she was about, as she said, to seclude herself for life in the deepest forest of the western world, that her fortune, her time, and her talents might be exclusively devoted to aid the cause of the suffering Africans. Her first object was to show that nature had made no difference between blacks and whites, excepting in complexion; and this she expected to prove by giving an education perfectly equal to a class of black and white children. Could this fact be once fully established, she conceived that the Negro cause would stand on firmer ground than it had yet done, and the degraded rank which they have ever held among civilized nations would be proved to be a gross injustice. This question of the mental equality or inequality between us and the Negro race, is one of great interest, and has certainly never yet been fairly tried; and I expected for my children and myself both pleasure and information from visiting her establishment, and watching the success of her experiment. 32 Trollope's explanation of how she had come to be associated with someone who made millions shudder was less than candid. To have explained how she came to know Fanny Wright would have compelled her to enter into details of an episode that was not wholly complimentary to her. Still, an account of how the two came to know each other needs to be given, if only to explain how the Trollopes came to live in Cincinnati for a time. Frances (or Fanny) Trollope, the daughter of a clergyman, had married a chancery barrister who at/the time seemed to have promise of a good career at the bar. Bearing children in quick succession, she became aware in the early l820s that her husband's career was not going well, that he had speculated badly both in land and in houses, that his earnings were scarcely sufficient to maintain a family that then included five children. Fanny Wright was a friend; she must have seemed the very model of the liberated young woman to the burdened Trollopes. Through Fanny Wright, the Trollopes met Lafayette; they heard of his plans to visit America and learned also of Fanny Wright's intention to buy property there to be used for the settlement of liberated slaves. The Trollopes, increasingly desperate, met

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Lafayette for a second time after his return from America; the idea began to take shape that one way for the family to recoup its fortunes might be to emigrate to the United States. Wright thought it a splended idea; they would set sail for New Orleans, spend time at her plantation there, and then set themselves up in business in Cincinnati, establishing a bazaar for the sale of British goods. Fanny Wright never doubted that the plan would succeed. As Fanny Trollope and her husband saw it, Fanny would go out initially with two of her daughters and a son, Henry, who was thought to have good head for business. The other boys, including Anthony, would remain behind, at school in Winchester. The senior Trollope, after some time in England to raise capital for the venture and to arrange for the export of the goods, would join the family in Cincinnati. The girls would probably stay for a time in Nashoba, the Wright settlement, and Henry might go to New Harmony, Robert Owen's utopian community. It all made good sense - at least to the Trollopes - and the party set sail for New Orleans on Christmas Day, 1827. 33 In America, disaster followed disaster. Nashoba was a nightmare; nothing had prepared the Trollopes for this unsightly clearing in a dense forest. Life was unspeakably primitive; disease was rampant and there was no planning of any kind. Mrs. Trollope recognized almost immediately that her only hope was to make her way to Cincinnati. There, with the help of August Hervieu, a French painter who had accompanied the party from England, wishing to make his own fortune in the New World, the family settled down to establish the business they had planned. Remittances from England, however, were slow in coming; the children were frequently ill; the Trollopes lacked letters of introduction to the "better families" of the city, and the circumstances of the menage - no father and a French painter in attendance - raised eyebrows among those who were at all disposed to look or to comment. The plans for the bazaar went wholly awry; Fanny Trollope told nothing of this in her book, neglecting to mention that her husband came later than was originally intended, that he had not in fact made the purchases initially agreed on, and that he was compelled in a very short time to return to England. When the goods did finally arrive, many months later, the contractor demanded immediate payment for the building he had constructed; the Trollopes, quite unable to pay, saw both the building and its contents impounded. The whole grandiose business enterprise fell to the ground. Trollope was in England at the time; his wife, consulting with Hervieu, saw no future for themselves in Cincinnati, and a new plan was concocted. If she settled down to write a book about America, and if he illustrated it, might it not sell? Having been resident in the United States for over two years, but knowing virtually nothing of the country except what they had seen in Cincinnati, they recognized the need to travel, visiting New York, Washington, Baltimore, Philadelphia, and other cities. Where were the funds to come from? Mrs. Trollope had an idea; she suddenly recalled a girlhood friend - a Mrs. Stone who lived in or near Washington, D.C. If Mrs. Stone were found, she would certainly help. Hervieu had his own idea; he had painted a picture of Lafayette landing at Cincinnati. Why not exhibit this painting, for a fee of course, to

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patriotic Americans interested in viewing it? The family made its way to Washington, found its Mrs. Stone, and experienced the generous hospitality that Fanny had so confidently expected. During the summer, she went to Philadelphia; in the autumn she fell ill, having been seriously unwell previously in Cincinnati. Mrs. Stone recommended that she winter in a salubrious place Alexandria, Virginia. In the spring, she visited New York, stopping also in Baltimore and Philadelphia. A trip to Niagara Falls, the foreign tourists' Mecca, was also fitted in. Returning home, Fanny Trollope had a manuscript that she quickly dispatched to Whittaker Treacher, the publisher. Captain Hall read it for Treacher and thought it excellent. It appeared as a book in March 1832 and was an immediate success. While Fanny Trollope herself was somewhat disappointed with her earnings - £250 for the first edition of 1,250 copies and £200 for the second edition of 1,000 copies - she later received additional monies, earning some £900 in all for the book.34 When the work was still in manuscript, she wrote: "My book is gossiping and without pretention, most faithfully true to the evidence of my senses, and written without a shadow of feeling for or against the things described".35 All this was true except for the last. Mrs. Trollope had written a witty, frivolous book that rankled her American readers but pleased her British public. If ever her fellow-countrymen had doubted their superiority to the Americans - and few had - the work served to allay any doubts. The Americans were indeed primitives; democracy was a sham. Captain Hall, when asked about the greatest difference between England and America, replied, "the want of loyalty".36 The statement seemed pregnant with meaning; in fact, it simply suggested that in the absence of a monarch - of someone to honor, esteem, and obey - loyalty was impossible. Mrs. Trollope, asked the same question, would have had another answer - "the want of refinement". The absence of charm and grace, the aggressive self-adulation, the jarring accents, the perpetual spitting and jostling, the excessive use of tobacco and spirits - these things offended her deeply. And, of course, there was no "culture" in the land. Politicians were crass; even those who had been presented to the world as paragons - men like Jefferson - lived privately in a way that would not bear scrutiny. She cared nothing for the reputed "learning" of America, for its religions; in describing a camp meeting, with its missionary zeal and pious fraud, she seemed close to attacking non-conformity more generally. Harriet Martineau found this chapter particularly offensive. But there was little in the book to offend most British readers. It confirmed their superiority, making the Americans appear vain and aggressive clods, lacking in culture, having little regard for quality or distinction. Mrs. Trollope' s final judgment was not very different from that of Captain Hall. America ought to be left alone; there was no profit in too close an association with her. However, should this ever change, "if refinement once creeps in among them, if they once learn to cling to the graces, the honours, the chivalry of life, then we shall say farewell to American equality, and welcome to European fellowship one of the finest countries on earth".37 Mrs. Trollope invited a "purified" and "civilized"

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America, should it ever become such, to join the others, presumably European, who had already achieved that distinction. The book appealed to those of Tory sentiment; it could never find favor with those who shared Radical or Whig beliefs. Harriet Martineau, who crossed the Atlantic in 1834 and remained in the United States for two years, published her Society in America in 1837, appealing explicitly to those who were inclined to dismiss Mrs. Trollope as a "snob" and a Tory. Martineau's work, with its reservations about specific American institutions, gave some offense to Americans, who imagined that they were simply being roasted again, but it was in fact a sympathetic rendering of America's many qualities. While Martineau might deplore the American orator's pandering to the views of the people, write scathingly of the "profligacy" of American newspapers and the apathy of too many Americans in regard to politics, it was the lawlessness of the country that particularly distressed her. Like other British commentators, she deplored slavery, but thought it to be a dying institution. "Abolitionism", she wrote, "is majestically passing through the land which is soon to be her throne".38 Martineau's passionate espousal of abolition made her a favorite with many British readers and not a few Americans. Her concern, however, was not only with the liberation of blacks, but also with the liberation of women. If women did not yet enjoy the rights promised by the Declaration of Independence, it was only a matter of time before they did. A country willing to do away with kings would, in time, also do away with sexual inequality and all the injustices that inevitably followed in its train. Whatever misgivings Martineau may have had about the United States, she never for a moment doubted the country's capacity for reform. 39 Unlike Captain Hall and Mrs. Trollope, who argued the advantages of a greater reserve in relations between the two societies, Martineau looked forward with anticipation to "increasing intercourse between Britain and America". She wrote: For, however fascinating to Americans may be the luxury, conversational freedom, and high intellectual cultivation of some portions of English society, they cannot fail to be disgusted with the aristocratic insolence which is the vice of the whole. The puerile and barbaric spirit of contempt is scarcely known in America: the English insolence of class to class, of individuals towards each other, is not even conceived of, except in the one highly disgraceful instance of the treatment of the people of colour. Nothing in American civilisation struck me so forcibly and so pleasurably as the invariable respect paid to man, as man. Nothing since my return to England has given me so much pain as the contrast there. Perhaps no Englishman can become fully aware, without going to America, of the atmosphere of insolence in which he dwells; of the taint of contempt which infects all the intercourses of his world. He cannot imagine how all that he can say that is truest and best about the treatment of people of colour in America is neutralised on the spot, by its spread over the whole of society here, which is there concentrated upon by the blacks.40

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The only vulgarity that Harriet Martineau detected in America was the vulgarity of wealth; she worried that many foreign travellers spent so much of their time with "the first people" in Boston, New York, and Philadelphia. They missed seeing the "natural aristocracy" of the country. Boston, she dubbed the "headquarters of Cant", where profligacy and infidelity masked themselves behind a pretended piety. In Boston, perhaps more than in other American cities, she found a coterie, influential and rich, who hoped that the republic might one day founder and be replaced by a monarchy, imagining that they would then be the aristocrats of the new social order. Martineau had her doubts. 41 She declared that the manners of Americans in America were the best she had ever seen; this was perhaps most evident in the American home. Americans were good-tempered, courteous, helpful; if they had a major fault, it was not that they chewed tobacco, spat, and were otherwise uncouth, but that they showed an insatiable desire to be flattered. This was a most objectionable quality in any people, and should be overcome.42 Harriet Martineau wrote as a friend of America. When she thought it useful to criticize, she did so, fulfilling what she thought to be the essential obligation of friendship. Given her views on slavery, she wrote in a way that any Liberal or Radical would. On her return to England, many were waiting who wished to publish her work. As a noted popularizer, she had already made a substantial reputation; both her religious and economic writings were widely read. A contract was quickly agreed to; offered £900 for the first edition of Society in America, £600 for her Retrospect of Western Travel, a more anecdotal travel account, she accepted both. 43 With such substantial sums available, it is not surprising that other established writers began to think also of going to America, realizing that the expenses of their voyage would be quickly met by the profits of publication. Charles Dickens, in deciding to make the trip, anticipated substantial financial benefits, but his principal reason for going, he wrote, was a wish to reverse what he saw as the rising tide of criticism of the United States. He wished to see America as it was, to put the Old World out of his mind, so that he might return with a just appraisal of the character of the new country. Dickens, perhaps the most popular novelist of his day, was certain of a warm welcome. He and his wife were indeed literally mobbed, scarcely able to move about in America's cities, where huge crowds invariably followed them. Americans liked what Dickens said, except when he told them that they were unconscionable in "stealing" the literary rights of others, that an international copyright agreement needed to be negotiated to protect both authors and publishers. The visit, while a triumphal pilgrimage, clearly disappointed Dickens; America, he wrote, was "not the republic of my imagination".44 It was not so much that the hotels overcharged, though they did; or that prison reform was less impressive than Americans pretended; not even that the slums of the American cities were quite as bad as any that existed in London. Dickens might have been able to accept and live with all these things. What he found hard to accept was the abuse he

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suffered, particularly in the American press, for his demand for copyright protection. The newspapers treated the issue as if he had abused American hospitality, that he was a greedy man simply looking out for himself. He also found offensive the general intolerance of criticism which he detected. What many others had written on this subject seemed to be true. The Americans were thin-skinned; they cared only to hear themselves praised. Dickens discovered little freedom of opinion in America, and this colored his whole view of the society. Slavery, for him, as for other English visitors, was an abomination; he dismissed the American rationalizations for the institution as intolerable. 45 Dickens's visit to America lasted just under five months. His American Notes, published in 1842, was not political. Yet, inevitably, it fueled acrimonious debate on both sides of the Atlantic. While Hall and Trollope might be ignored, Dickens was a celebrity; his opinions counted. Expecting the book to provoke hostility in America, his dedication told his purpose; he wrote: "I dedicate this book to those friends of mine who, giving me a welcome I must ever gratefully and proudly remember, left my judgment free; and who loving their country, can hear the truth, when it is told good-humouredly, and in a kind spirit".46 The book gave offense in the United States, particularly because of its concluding remarks. The observations throughout were thought political, not social, in the conventional sense. Many Americans believed that Dickens, despite his protestations, intended to wound, that he meant to give offense. In writing about Washington D.C., for example, Dickens spoke of the city as "the headquarters of tobacco-tinctured saliva", where politics was characterized by "despicable trickery at elections; underhanded tamperings with public officers; cowardly attacks upon opponents, with scurrilous newspapers for shields, and hired pens for daggers ... " He spoke of "dishonest faction in its most depraved and most unblushing form, stared out from every corner of the crowded [Congressional] hall". Remarking on the ever-present spitoons, he wrote, with amused but wounding malice, "I was surprised to observe that even steady old chewers of great experience, are not always good marksmen, which has rather inclined me to doubt that general proficiency with the rifle, of which we have heard so much in England".47 In his concluding remarks, after suggesting that Americans were "by nature frank, brave, cordial, hospitable, and affectionate",48 Dickens wrote of their faults. He deplored what he called their tendency to show universal distrust, to engage in "smart" (or sharp) dealing, and to cover all such deficiencies with the argument that Americans simply loved trade. He spoke fiercely of the "licentious press", which was more horrible than any that Europeans could imagine. "It would be well", Dickens wrote, "there can be no doubt, for the American people as a whole, if they loved the Real less, and the Ideal somewhat more. It would be well if there were greater encouragement to lightness of heart and gayety, and a wider cultivation of what is beautiful, without being eminently and directly useful".49 He did not think the Americans humorous; most seemed to him "of a dull and gloomy character". He wrote of being "quite

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impressed by the prevailing seriousness and melancholy air of business which was so general and unvarying, that at every new town I came to, I seemed to meet the very same people whom I had left behind me, at the last".50 There was no grace in America, little ease. What is one to make of such a collection of travel accounts? Do they accurately portray American society in the early nineteenth century? In one sense, certainly. If eyes and ears are sufficient witnesses to what a society is, these British travellers made use of both. If, however, a deeper analysis is looked for, there is little to be found in these books. The failure is easily explained: not one of the travellers came with a conceptual scheme at all adequate to the subject. They wrote hastily, essentially for an audience that existed principally at home. Their works were deliberately impressionistic; none of them sought or found "documents" in the conventional sense. They were uninterested in the evolution of the society they were visiting; they came as tourists, cared little about America's past, and only occasionally speculated about its future. They came with British political values; indeed, their British interests defined their missions more than they sometimes realized. In a curious sense, tourism more than exploration was their purpose, but tourism of a special kind, with a particular motive. Most were in one way or other political pilgrims, concerned to set the record straight. Few were wholly oblivious to the economic profit that they might make. They were overwhelmingly nineteenth-century literary entrepreneurs, selling themselves, interested in spreading knowledge, but concerned mostly with contributing to a debate that had much to do with the nature of democracy.

NOTES

Sydney Smith, Works (Boston, 1857), p. 107. Ibid. Ibid. Ibid., p. 112. Ibid., p. 114. Ibid., p. 141. Ibid. Ibid. A.J.G. Perkins and Theresa Wolfson, Frances Wright, Free Enquirer, The Study of a Temperament (New York, 1939), p. 12. 10. Ibid., p. 13. 11. Frances Wright, Views of Society and Manners in America, Paul R. Baker (ed.),

1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6. 7. 8. 9.

(Cambridge, Mass, 1963), p. 163. This edition, superbly edited by Paul Baker includes an excellent brief biographical introduction and very full notes. See also the most recent biography, Celia Morris Eckhardt, Fanny Wright: Rebel in America (Cambridge, 1984).

12. 13. 14. 15. 16.

Ibid. Ibid. Ibid., pp. 164-165. Ibid., p. 165. Ibid., p. 23.

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17. Ibid., p. 21l.

18. Allan Nevins, America Through British Eyes, rev. ed. (New York, 1948). 19. Basil Hall, Travels in North America in the Years 1827 and 1828 (Edinburgh, 1829), Vol. I, p. 16. 20. Ibid., Vol. I, p. 47. 21. Ibid., Vol.I, p. 87. 22. Ibid., Vol. I, p. 212. 23. Ibid., Vol. II, p. 15. 24. Ibid., Vol. II, p. 17. 25. Ibid., Vol. II, p. 49. 26. Ibid., Vol. II, pp. 84-85. 27. Ibid., Vol. II, p. 88. 28. Ibid., Vol. II, p. 137. 29. Ibid., Vol. II, pp. 170-173. 30. Ibid., Vol. III, p. 435. 31. Frances TroJlope, Domestic Manners of The Americans (London, 1832), p. iii. In this edition, intended for the American market, the American editor suggests that any impartial reader will accept that "Captain Basil All [sic] is Mrs. TroJlope in breches, or that Mrs. TroJlope is Captain Basil All [sic] in petticoats". It is inconceivable, he says, that this could be the work of an "English lady". 32. Ibid., pp. 33-34. 33. Una Pope-Hennessy, Three English Women in America (London, 1929), pp. 23-40,

passim. 34. Ibid., pp. 41-103,passim. 35. Ibid., p. 101. 36. Hall, Travels in North America in the Years 1827 and 1828, Vol. Ill, p. 393. 37. Trollope, Domestic Manners o/the Americans, p. 325. 38. Harriet Martineau, Society in America (New York, 1837), Vol. I, p. 148. 39. Ibid., Vol. I, pp. 148-154. 40. Ibid., Vol. II, pp. 167-168. 41. Ibid., Vol. II, pp. 169-175. 42. Ibid., Vol. II, pp. 187-196. 43. R. K. Webb, Harriet Martineau: A Radical Victorian (New York, 1960), p. 156. 44. The book, when it appeared in the United States, sold wildly; the sales in New York were 50,000 copies in the first two weeks; the Philadelphia consignment of 3,000 was exhausted in half an hour. 45. Dickens found particularly offensive the notion that "public opinion" would prevent any real cruelty being done to slaves. For him, in the slave states, slavery was the quintessential expression of public opinion. 46. Charles Dickens, American Notes for General Circulation (New York, 1842). 47. Ibid., p. 47. 48. Ibid., p. 89. 49. Ibid., pp. 90-91. 50. Ibid., p. 91.

JUDITH SHKLAR

Hawthorne in Utopia*

Readers of Frank Manuel's work will wonder how one could have tracked down so many utopians. Their number and variety seems almost inexhaustible, but we at least have a clear idea of the significant manifestations of the utopian mentality now. What, however, of the anti-utopian mind? Are those who reject utopia all alike? Are they all ultra-realistic revolutionaries or complacent pragmatists, incapable of any imaginative effort or even of hope? The enemies of utopia are generally recognized to be wise, but dangerous, or at the very least lacking in generosity and sympathy. These animadversions are by no means baseless, but they do not exhaust the more subtle possibilities of a moral consciousness that takes evil, especially cruelty, both physical and moral, seriously. Nathaniel Hawthorne was undeniably a devastating critic of utopia in all its forms, but this in no way reconciled him to the prevailing order. He fully shared and grasped the disgust which moved so many Americans of his generation to form what we would now call alternative societies or communes. Indeed, he briefly joined and heavily invested in Brook Farm. When he eventually turned his back on its aspirations and pretensions, he did not complacently rejoin the more comfortable members of society. On the contrary, he illuminated both the ambiguity of utopia and the faults of its foes. Hawthorne's position was especially complicated since he was confronted by more than one kind of utopianism. He was in many ways close to the last of the Jacksonian democrats who saw America as a redeeming nation, without a history to soil it, unique in its purity and thus unlike all the others. America as a nation was to be a vast utopia, to be made all but perfect, thanks to its exceptional character and good fortune. Providentially destined to be a beacon and a haven for all the peoples of the earth, America had only to fulfill the promise of the Declaration of Independence. These hopes were very different from those of the Blithedalers who had given up on American politics. This was the ideology of the far more popular radicalism of ultra-democratic Young America and more generally of a republican self-image that was to be shattered only by the Civil War. Hawthorne was in no way at odds with the democratic, egalitarian aspects of Young America, but he was as caustic about its extravagant expectations as he was about the dreamers at Brook Farm. 1 To really reject utopia in R.T. Bienvenu and M. Feingold (eds),ln the presence of the past, 215-231. © 1991 Kluwer Academic Publishers.

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the decades before the Civil War, and to do so not only out of petty partiality, but in moral skepticism and anguish was therefore not an easy task. For it meant a double denial if it was to be consistent; a rejection of both the social perfectionism of Emersonian New England Reformers, more ardent than their master, and of the radical democrats who toiled on behalf of a more genuinely popular sovereignty . The Brook Farmers tended to be single-minded, liberal and dedicated to the spiritual transformation of a grossly materialistic society. Hawthorne knew them all and had hoped to be one of them, though he never quite accepted all their views. But when he spoke of himself as the "loco-foco surveyor" of the Salem Custom House he was also entirely candid. The friend of that apostle of democratic nationalism, the journalist John O'Sullivan, the champion of the rights of white workers, the biographer of Franklin Pierce and the sworn enemy of the Massachusetts Whigs was an obvious democrat. He was certainly not untouched by their intense patriotism and he never doubted that America's republican institutions were superior to, and the best future model for those of old aristocratic England. The difficulty was that he did not believe in progress, but only in a permanent balance between good and evil, with the scales weighted in favor of the latter. He could be as eager for a native democratic American literary culture as the editor of The United States Magazine and Democratic Review, to which he contributed frequently and for very small rewards. But he was not able to believe that America, though different, was an inherently and incomparably superior nation. That was not because of any aristocratic yearnings. There was not even a hint of an Emersonian individuality crushed by the crowd in Hawthorne. He simply could not accept the fantasy that collectivities would rise above the usual limits of their individual members. This knowledge did not come easily to him, and his three American novels are all hazardous voyages of exploration into areas of his own spiritual world - a world that had been unalterably shaped by his Puritan ancestors. Indeed, for all their overwhelming sense of sin and perdition, the Puritans' quest for righteousness was the fIrst and deepest of America's utopian efforts, the one from which all the others had directly or indirectly grown. Even the democratic rebellion which was meant to free America from its Puritan past was marked and enfeebled by the original and indelible character of New England. Hawthorne's fIrst and purest journey to utopia was to provide him with some, but by no means all of the elements of The Blithedale Romance. Nothing particularly painful or dramatic happened to him at Brook Farm, and the ideas which structure the novel had many other sources as well. Nevertheless, even if Coverdale, as narrator, is not Hawthorne, he also is an artist and a participating observer of a utopian community. It is difficult not to take his voice as Hawthorne's own, perhaps especially so because it is very self-critical. A man so revolted by hypocrisy, and so determined to avoid infatuation, could hardly fail to be ironical in observing himself. "Man's conscience was his theme", Henry James was to say in his intelligent but condescending essay on Hawthorne. It was not just other men's consciences, however, that were to be uncovered. His

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own, the artist's, the observer's, the perennial aloof outsider's moral structure was also revealed. The supra-utopian author here reviews his own state at the same time as his hero and alter-ego reveals all the absurdities of the utopians, no less than the meanness of the world from which they have tried to escape. Was a utopia possible at all? The Blithedalers scorned the label as denigrating, and indeed long before Engels the word itself had acquired a decidedly derogatory sound. More serious than its name was its remoteness from history. Was it really "a blessed state of brotherhood and sisterhood" created in half a day? Its members appeared to believe that they who had been "transported a world-wide distance from the system of society that shackled us at breakfast time" as soon as they arrived at Blithedale. All was cosy in their new kitchen, just like the ones the Pilgrims might have used. We are not warmed by that recollection, but we are left in no doubt about the earnestness of those gathered there. Nevertheless, this is merely "an oasis" and they all suffer from profound self-deceptions about themselves and their relations to the society into which they were born and where they were educated. This was for Hawthorne a relatively mild foible, and while it made Blithedale both ridiculous and impossible, it was not its most destructive aspect. The survival of the human passions may be more threatening in a closed community. They are not, however, in themselves the real danger, if they are openly recognized. Hawthorne was no puritan; he believed neither in original sin nor in the sinfulness of natural passion. Sex and pride should not be shunned or moralized away. They are not inherently destructive, even though they do open every tragic possibility for us. Passion is certainly dangerous, but it does not weaken us individually or socially. Utopia does not require denatured men and women, but it cannot protect its members against the sufferings of the heart, as the imperious and sexually intense Zenobia discovers. A community can survive the war between the sexes and the willfulness of the proud, but it will not and cannot be the calm haven that most utopians expect in their utter simplicity. The real ruin of a utopian community is not caused by unruly passions, but by cynicism and fanaticism which exploit and play upon these emotions. The disasters that tear utopia apart are all the more terrible because they do not only come in the form of commercial greed, but also in the guise of philanthropic zeal. In either case a conscienceless, cruel egotism is at work. "Self, self, self, you embodied yourself in a project" Zenobia finally cries out at the philanthropic blacksmith, Hollingsworth. And it is he, no less than his con man rival, who destroys utopia. Even though it was the economic folly of Fourier's scheme that ultimately shut Blithedale down, its heart stopped beating when Zenobia, "awaker, disenchanted, disenthralled" killed herself. It would, therefore, be far too facile to ascribe the failures of Blithdale simply to human nature generally. It is to be found in quite specific psychological dispositions, not in a general fear of physical passion or pride. Unlike other critics of utopia, moreover, Hawthorne did not prefer more conventional social arrangements, economic theories, or communal orders. He had no traditional or radical scheme of his own, and did not, therefore, blame

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the Blithedalers for following another path. He took no pleasure in their failures, even though he understood it with a chilling clarity. His scepticism was, indeed rooted in psychology and he found social and moral imbecility not so much among those who simply meant well, but in those who are obsessed by a passion for perfection. Dr. Rappacini who poisonously protects his daughter against all danger and Ethan Brand who seeks the "Unpardonable Sin" are both demons of destruction, a danger to themselves and to others. These urges made the Puritans cruel and their successors no better. To this must be added oppression and the cruelty of the strong toward the weak, horrible especially as it is generally well covered by hypocrisy. And hypocrisy is not only the Puritans' very own speciality, it is also the most characteristic vice of the democratic politicians who succeeded them. Between them, in short, the fanatic and the hypocrite defeat both the utopian reformer and the democrat - and not only from without, but also because these inherited psychological traits lurk within their own hearts and make them especially vulnerable. Neither Blithedale nor the Salem of The House of the Seven Gables could escape these threats, much to the regret of their most distinguished citizen. Psychological weakness is not like sin and our wickedness may not even be indelible. As the narrator of Earth's Holocaust exclaims, ... How sad a truth, if true it were, that man's age-long endeavor for perfection had served only to render him the mockery of the evil principle, from the fatal circumstance of an error at the very root of the matter! The heart, the heart, - there was the little yet boundless sphere wherein existed the original wrong of which the crime and misery of this outward world were merely types. Purify that inward sphere, and the many shapes of evil that haunt the outward, and which now seem almost our only realities, will tum to shadowy phantoms and vanish of their own accord; but if we go no deeper than the intellect, and strive, with merely that feeble instrument, to discern and rectify what is wrong, our whole accomplishment will be a dream, ... What is it in the heart that conscience should extirpate? It is not the seven deadly sins of Christianity. Sex and pride sustain us. They save Hester Prynne in The Scarlet Letter and make her a radiant moral heroine. It is the failure of pride and sex that kills Zenobia. Even dotty old Hepzibah in The House of the Seven Gables is well-served by her pride. There was in Hawthorne's moral world only on supreme vice: cruelty. Almost any occasion can give rise to it, and "there are few uglier traits of human nature than this tendency - to grow cruel, merely because (of) the power of inflicting harm". Cruelty, physical and psychic, is what makes "the heart" the seat of evil, for we need hardly learn to be cruel. Even children, indeed especially that "brood of baby friends ... (displays) an instinct of destruction," far more loathesome than the blodd-thirstiness of adult mankind. Every child enjoys tormenting the little Quaker in The Gentle Boy. But then all the adult fanatics are also without pity. Even his mother is too busy evangelizing to love her child. The Blithdale utopians were not such helpless victims of fanaticism and exploitation. They were, however, not well protected against these, and the attendant cruelties,

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because they lacked self-understanding. Utopians succumb so readily to external forces because they are so self-infatuated. The Blithedalers were enfeebled because they really thought that "they had left the rusty iron-frame work of society" behind them. The past was to be forsaken, and its bitter lesson was forgotten. Blithedale did not choose to remember the first annals of New England, where the founders of a new colony, whatever Utopia of human virtue and happiness they might originally project, have invariably recognized it among their earliest practical necessities to allot a portion of the virgin soil as a cemetery, and another portion as the site of a prison. In accordance with this rule, it may safely be assumed that the forefathers of Boston had built the first prison-house, somewhere in the vicinity of Cornhill, almost as seasonably as they marked out the first burial-ground, on Isaac Johnson's lot. The Blithedalers would not allow themselves to be depressed by "old, desolate, distrustful phantoms". They . .. had broken through many hindrances that are powerful enough to keep most people on the weary tread-mill of the established system, even while they feel its irksomeness almost as intolerable as we did. We had stept down from the pulpit; we had flung aside the pen; we had shut up the ledger; we had thrown off that sweet, bewitching, enervating indolence, which is better, after all, than most of the enjoyments within mortal grasp. It was our purpose - a generous one certainly, and absurd, no doubt, in full proportion with its generosity - to give up whatever we had heretofore attained, for the sake of showing mankind the example of a life governed by other than the false and cruel principles on which human society has all along been based ... And, first of all, we had divorced ourselves from pride, and were striving to supply its place with familiar love. We meant to lessen the laboring man's great burthen of toil, by performing our due share of it at the cost of our own thews and sinews. We sought our profit of mutual aid, instead of wresting it by the strong hand from an enemy, or filching it craftily from those less shrewd than ourselves (if, indeed, there were any such in New England), or winning it by selfish competition with a neighbor; in one or another of which fashions every son of woman both perpetrates and suffers his share of the common evil, whether he chooses it or no. And, as the basis of our institution, we purposed to offer up the earnest toil of our bodies, as a prayer no less than an effort for the advancement of our race. The members of this society were "persons of marked individuality, and they were very tolerant of each other's diverse opinions". But their union was marked by many ambiguities. It was negative, not affirmative. Blithedale was really 'an oasis', a fertile spot to which they had escaped from the world that each one had for some reason found to be a desert. That not only did not make their bond a positive one, but "as regarded society at large we stood in a position of a new hostility, rather than a new brotherhood", as Coverdale noted. How were they to set a model to others with such attitudes? Their contempt for

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those whom they professed to serve was, moreover, not the only doubtful aspect of their enterprise. Blithedale's determination to overcome the degradations of the division of labor by combining physical and intellectual work had its share of delusions. Working class men and women are obliged to work for their daily bread. The intellectual escapees from the world of competition and privilege, on the contrary, "cherished" the consciousness that "it was not by necessity, but by choice" that they dug the soil. They knew that at any moment they could throw away their mugs and return to porcelain and silver cutlery. At worst they ostentatiously strove to prove themselves the equal of the local farm laborers. Reprehensible as that was, it was not all. There was finally the belief that hard physical labor redeems the soul, that work was to be spiritualized. "Each stroke of the hoe was to uncover some aromatic sort of wisdom, heretofore hidden from the sun". But they soon discovered that "our labor symbolized nothing, and left us mentally sluggish". Coverdale found quite soon that he was not doing himself or anyone else any good by becoming "the Chambermaid of two yoke of oxen and a dozen cows". Sooner or later they would alileam that work does not ennoble us and that the spectacle of physically exhausted poets and preachers was not likely to convert the real rustics to the advantages of the Fourierist organization of labor. The tum to that fantasy, which ended Blithedale completely, was, one may guess, merely the last nail in its coffin of self-deception and moral extravagance. The artist was merely the first to be put off by the self-admiring airs of the utopians and prepared to admit that no man can long remain sane who lives "exclusively among reformers". Eventually Hawthorne said of himself that even the grossest, mindless animal of a man could be a relief "to a man who had known Alcott". Nevertheless, he never regretted that he had gone to Blithedale, nor did he deny the generosity of purpose that had moved him and his friends to create it. At the very least, it was an instructive experiment. The flaw in the midst of utopia is the perfecting temper. And Hawthorne never forgot its dangers. Young Goodman Brown remains an awful reminder of the misanthropy and joylessness that will haunt the man who cannot tolerate natural faults. In the economy of our passions it is not the life giving and lifesustaining ones, whether sex, pride, physical vanity, or the love of beauty and lUXUry that undo us. It is zeal. And there was no doubt in Hawthorne's mind that in America, puritanism was the fountain of this disfiguring urge. In the world at large and at other times there were, of course, other ways of seeking bliss, such as magic and art. But in all its forms the drive to perfection is a will to power and it is generally a masculine, rather than a feminine vice, though not always. There is in The Gentle Boy a memorable portrait of a woman fanatic. By and large, however, women are the victim of male perfectionism, precisely because they represent all the natural passions. Hollingsworth, immensely attractive to both women and men, comes to Blithedale for no other purpose than to exploit its members for his own social cause, the reform of criminals and prisons. In pursuit of this end he is utterly single-minded. It is his one and only concern and he cannot entertain any other feeling or interest. In this he is

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not only a representative of all single-minded reformers, but also of all those who give their entire energies to the removal of some moral or aethetic flaw. These are wholly negative people. In The Birthmark a man marries a perfectly beautiful woman who has a tiny mark on her face. He becomes so obsessed by the miniscule blot that he cannot think of anything but some way of removing it. Finally, after many scientific experiments he finds a way of getting it off, but the medicine kills her. He had "rejected the best the earth could offer", because he would not endure even "that sole token of human imperfection" and so had "flung away" all the happiness that life has to offer. It is not nature, or natural knowledge, but the alchemical hope of stepping outside passion, natural knowledge and probability that ruins everything. A utopian community is obviously likely to attract fanatics. Hollingsworth, the self-educated reformer had absolutely no interest in the ideology of the Blithedalers and considered Fourier's visions disgustingly selfish. In his eyes only his own cause was a triumph over egotism and injustice. We must assume that it was abolitionism. It was the only reform movement that could and did arouse such political intensity. And Hollingsworth also had apparently no personal acquaintance with the objects of his benevolence. We never hear of him actually talking to criminals or the like. What he does know is how to give spell-binding speeches which enthrall Zenobia and her timid half-sister, Priscilla. It is not difficult to see how hypnotizing a mixture of sexual and moral energy might be. In any ordinary natural way Hollingsworth was selfless. He had become his cause. This artifical passion had replaced all the natural ones. "He was not altogether human" any longer: This is always true of those men who have surrendered themselves to an overruling purpose. It does not so much impel them from without, nor even operate as a motive power within, but grows incorporate with all that they think and feel, and finally converts them into little else save that one principle. When such begins to be the predicament, it is not cowardice, but wisdom, to avoid these victims. They have no heart, no sympathy, no reason, no conscience. They will keep no friend, unless he make himself the mirror of their purpose; they will smite and slay you, and trample your dead corpse under foot, all the more readily, if you take the first step with them, and cannot take the second, and the third, and every other step of their terribly straight path. They have an idol, to which they consecrate themselves highpriest, and deem it holy work to offer sacrifices of whatever is most precious; and never once seem to suspect - so cunning has the devil been with them - that this false deity, in whose iron features, immitigable to all the rest of mankind, they see only benignity and love, is but a spectrum of the very priest himself, projected upon the surrounding darkness. And the higher and purer the original object, and the more unselfishly it may have been taken up, the slighter is the probability that they can be led to recognize the process by which godlike benevolence has been debased into alldevouring egotism. The besetting sin of a philanthropist, it appears to me, is apt to be a moral obliquity. His sense of honor ceases to be the sense of other

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honorable men. At some point of his course - I know not exactly when or where - he is tempted to palter with the right, and can scarcely forbear persuading himself that the importance of his public ends renders it allowable to throw aside his private conscience. The abstractness of Hollingsworth's prison reforms make him not merely intolerant; he is blind to the actual emotions and sufferings of the people closest to him. They exist for him only as aids or hindrances to his project. He was not even conscious of sacrificing them, since he could not acknowledge any personal claims. When it is finally brought home to him that his cold indifference has driven Zenobia to her death, he loses his convictions and is reduced to a helpless imbecility. No one is liberated by Hollingsworth, but those who are drawn to him are deeply injured. Like the philanthropist in The Christmas Banquet he was so busy with the ills of distant millions that he would not do "what little good lay immediately within his power". His futility, indeed that of all Blithedalers, was in any case predictable. They had not read Puritan history intelligently and knew nothing of the real cost of overrating one's moral prowess. Hollingsworth preached to his little band from a rock that was reputed to have served John Eliot as a pulpit. As a measure of success that apostle to the Indians was only a warning. If his successors were to free as many men as he had converted Indians their prospects were utterly discouraging. But since they took intentions for achievements, they were incapable of doing anything but repeating in various degrees of awfulness the failures of the Puritans whose spirit lived on in their frames. Hollingsworth was not Blithedale's only enemy. All utopias suffer from internal disruptions, each one a sign and proof of the failure to be an example to the unregenerate. But the outside world itself does not only fail to respond to the message of utopia, but is extremely hostile to it. Hollingsworth for all his public mania can, in an extremity, help a victim and act on behalf of a weak friend. His is by no means the worst presence in Blithedale. The real enemy to its survival is the world that its members think that they have abandoned, but which has not necessarily forgotten them. It appears in the person of Zenobia's presumed exlover, Westerveldt, that is the Western world or history in general. The villain of Blithedale is a figure as old as he is new, a modem necromancer. Westerveldt is a sham, a charlatan, a mesmerist, a snob, cruel, dishonest and extremely attractive to women. His cynicism is as deep and complete as Hollingsworth's fanaticism, but unlike the latter, Westerveldt has not a single redeeming virtue and he probably will never have the slightest occasion to regret the suffering he has caused, while Hollingsworth does repent. We need never doubt that there is a vast difference between the kinds of men who destroy out of moral zeal, and those who, like Westerveldt, simply deceive and steal for their personal gain. For Westerveldt is every real or potential enslaver, seducing the two sisters into joining his lurid hypnotic exhibitions. Hollingsworth at least saves one of them from the clutches of this confidence man. That does not mitigate the misery that he inflicts, but it does distinguish both its

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scope and character from the unending extortions of Westerveldt, who represents the sham and deceit that dominate everyday, ordinary social life. Westerveldt - who is worldliness personified - cannot be evaded and it is he who defeats Zenobia "on the broad battlefield of life". His indifference to her death or to any suffering is the sign of his power and that of the actual world. And such coldness also lives within "the oasis" of Blithedale. Even the man who observes and records, the poet Coverdale, is implicated in her death, since he does nothing to prevent disasters which at the very least were not unthinkable. Hawthorne never regretted his stay at Brook Farm and did not in the least care whether he had seemed ridiculous in trying the experiment. 2 His review of his far more conventional term in the Salem Customs House was much more venomous than his memories of the young dwellers in utopia. He may have been thrown out of his job as surveyor for being a "loco-foco" democrat, but it was there that he seems to have lost some of his Jacksonian faith in the future of America. The Custom House is a relic of the American Revolution. 3 "Over the entrance hovers an enormous specimen of the American eagle" which Hawthorne noted with wry humor was "an unhappy fowl", given its vile temper and vixenly looks, but which, nevertheless, was supposed to offer shelter to every job-seeker. As he discovered, she could not be relied on to protect these citizens. Nevertheless, in his and their eyes she is a figure of fun because she stands for nothing else but the fragile hopes of spoilsmen, himself among them. These were the spiritual leftovers from the revolutionary, republican soldiers, gone to seed. The very sight of these remnants of the revolutionary hope made it clear that "neither the front nor the back entrance of the Custom House opens on the road to Paradise". Neither America's past nor its future would measure up to the expectations of the republican imagination. Its house of customs, its habits and aspirations, were petty and commercial now, and likely to remain so. Its inhabitants had neither the virtues of their ancestors nor their phenomenal faults. And more immediately they were not the bearers of the politically transforming energies of the Declaration of Independence. His friend John O'Sullivan had in several celebrated articles announced not only that the American Revolution was the greatest of experiments, but that its aim was to achieve democracy and that this was "the cause of Humanity" which young Americans were destined to fulfill. The dynamism of the democratic idea had indeed only begun its career, and it was America's task to spread and nurture it so that mankind might eventually achieve it. To that end, America must ward off its own oligarchic and conservative tendencies, and forge a genuinely democratic national ethos, beginning with a truly national literature that would owe nothing to England or to any past at all. "America is destined for better deeds", than any of its predecessor, the "boundless future will be the era of American greatness", for "we are the nation of progress, of individual freedom, of universal enfranchisement", indeed "the great nation of futurity".4 Hawthorne had no quarrel with much of this. He certainly detested the oligarchic politics of the Judge Pyncheons of Salem, and he did more than

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merely call for a native literature. What he did reject was the belief that America was on the way to paradise, that the Revolution was the beginning of the millennium and that America could free itself from the past. America was in fact not unique; it also had its past and a limited future, like all the other nations. The evidence of the past is everywhere, and it is not always encouraging. It is in the surveyor himself, who is driven by instinct to remain in his native town where his awful Puritan ancestors were famous as persecutors of Quakers. Yet even these men in their great dignity and severity only revealed the feeble inconsequence of their successors who display "the half-dog look of a republican official, who, as the servant of the people, feels himself less than the least, and below the lowest, of his masters". Hawthorne did not think that he was an improvement upon his terrifying ancestors, and he thought the other specimens of republican virtue who inherited the Customs House were much worse; even the young men among them were "wearisome old souls". The oldest, the inspector son of a Revolutionary hero, was a mere stomach, food his only thought. The Collector, himself a military hero of a later encounter, was more or less a mental ruin, as ponderous as Old Ticonderoga, but at least very good natured. It is not with such as these that America would conquer the future, obviously. Indeed, the Customs House was sapping even his energies. He had at frrst been happy to remember that Chaucer and Bums had also been customs house officials, but he discovered that their service had not injured them as his was diminishing him. An effect - which I believe to be observable, more or less, in every individual who has occupied the position - is, that, while he leans on the mighty arm of the Republic, his own proper strength departs from him. He loses, in an extent proportioned to the weakness or force of his original nature, the capability of self-support. If he possess an unusual share of native energy, or the enervating magic of place do not operate too long upon him, his forfeited powers may be redeemable. The ejected officer - fortunate in the unkindly shove that sends him forth betimes, to struggle amid a struggling world - may return to himself, and become all that he has ever been. But this seldom happens. He usually keeps his ground just long enough for his own ruin, and is then thrust out, with sinews all unstrung, to totter along the difficult footpath of life as he best may. Salem's, indeed America's House of Customs, was not one likely to encourage heroes of the public life. The great eagle does not summon political warriors, revolutionary heroes of republican virtue, ready to spread the message of the Declaration of Independence around the world. That ill-disposed bird merely shelters incompetents. Salem itself had little to offer - except a past for which one could not possibly feel any nostalgia. If utopia was not in the future of America, it was certainly not in its past. The Revolution did not open a door to anything very marvelous. To be sure, England also was unregenerate. After he had lived there for several years, Hawthorne was convinced that England must soon become more democratic, and that politically America should set a

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republican example to the world. Unlike O'Sullivan, however, he had no intention of forgetting his literary past. His pilgrimage to Dr. Johnson's Litchfield renewed a deeply felt spiritual attachment. And he, again unlike his Jacksonian friends, feared that America's institutions might never fulfill their possibilities. The promise of democracy was for him, in any case, crystallized into one virtue, simplicity, an absence of distinctions and pretensions. 5 In its way, that is not an unambitious ideal, but it is not utopian. It explains why Hawthorne went to Blithedale, left it, and continued to find the Customs House, that epitome of the actual world, so disappointing. Its doors not only did not lead to a paradise, they did not even lead to the democratic vistas of which his fellow Jacksonians dreamed. America might never achieve those "deeds of simple greatness" which he valued far more than any grandiose visions. Simplicity was a possibility within our psychological powers. Although neither nostalgia nor Anglophilia troubled Hawthorne's view of the past, he was constantly aware of its presence. The past was not dead in the Customs House where he found the tattered scarlet letter nor was it dead in Salem. The past simply has the present in its grip. That meant not only that the future would not be perfect, that utopia was impossible, but also, that one could see the present in terms of the past and judge it from a distance, with perspective, rather than with mindless enthusiasm or loathing. The House of the Seven Gables is the tale of the past in its re-incarnation and The Scarlet Letter a measure of its survivors.6 The past bears down on New England as a double burden. Its Puritan founders left it a legacy of fanaticism and a powerful passion for wealth and power. Hollingsworth is clearly their heir, but by no means as dreadful a man as an original Puritan, such as Colonel Pyncheon, the first of a long line of Salem grandees. Born in England, he was as grasping as he was relentless in his persecutions. Endowed with common sense, as massive and hard as blocks of granite, fastened together by stem rigidity of purpose, as with iron clamps, he followed out his original design, probably without so much as imagining an objection to it. On the score of delicacy, or any scrupulousness which a finer sensibility might have taught him, the Colonel, like most of his breed and generation, was impenetrable. These qualities are not without advantage in a ruling class if they could be joined by imperturbable passions, but that is not the case, and Hawthorne's preference for democratic government rested substantially on his considered insight into the character of the New England oligarchy since its earliest days. Their participation in the witch-hunts of Salem should teach us among its other morals, that the influential classes, and those who take upon themselves to be leaders of the people, are fully liable to all the passionate error that has ever characterized the maddest mob. Clergyman, judges, statesmen - the wisest, calmest, holiest persons of their day - stood in the inner circle round about the gallows, loudest to applaud the work of blood, latest to confess themselves miserably deceived. If anyone part of their proceedings can be said to deserve less blame than another, it was the

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singular indiscrimination with which they persecuted, not merely the poor and aged, as in former judicial massacres, but people of all ranks; their own equals, brethren, and wives. Among the contemporary Pyncheons, there was at least one descendant of the Colonel who resembled him both physically and morally, and his position in Salem was still that of a member of the "influential classes". For the Pyncheons represent the most undemocratic of all political principles, hereditary social privilege. This is also the vehicle which conveys much of what is worst in the past to the present. Hawthorne had no doubt "of the folly of tumbling down an avalanche of ill-gotten gold, or real estate, on the heads of an unfortunate posterity, thereby to maim and crush them" and the entire public. One cannot help sympathizing with Holgrave, the young Jacksonian artist, when he exclaims "shall we never, never get rid of this Past", as he observes both the genteel helplessness of some of the Pyncheons and the ruthless power of other Pyncheons. He is after all the descendant of the old wizard whom the original Pyncheon had wronged so cruelly. Hawthorne did not share his young hero's scorn for history entirely: "Life is made up of marble and mud". Politically, however, Holgrave's point was well taken. The supremacy of the living people over the dead is the authentic claim of democracy. Tom Paine's and Jefferson's view that each generation must be free from the dead hand of its predecessors, was certainly not foreign to "the loco-foco" surveyor. No majority should be hindered by inherited powers or legacies. The world of democracy is the world of the eternal present. It imposes no burdens upon the future, and it refuses to suffer restrictions that the past might try to inflict upon it. Holgrave's hope that "we shall live to see the day ... when no man builds his house for posterity", when he rails against "that odious and abominable Past" is the faith of republican equality. "To plant a family! This idea is at the bottom of most of the wrong and mischief which men do". That is so for Holgrave not because it is a mark of pride, but because he distrusts everything fixed and unchanging. Hawthorne not only presents us with Holgrave's opinions, but also with his character and experiences. He is in constant flux. Democratic man escapes class and caste by moving from place to place and from job to job. Holgrave "had begun to be self-dependent while yet a boy", had supported himself by every means from peddling to dentistry, and was now a daguerreotypist. He had been all over Europe and America, but what was the most remarkable, and, perhaps, showed a more than common poise in the young man, was the fact that, amid all these personal vicissitudes, he had never lost his identity. Homeless as he had been - continually changing his whereabout, and, therefore, responsible neither to public opinion nor to individuals - putting off one exterior, and snatching up another, to be soon shifted for a third - he had never violated the innermost man, but had carried his conscience along with him. Holgrave has strong opinions and does tend to rave and rant, especially about the continuing power of dead men, but this is the normal enthusiasm of youth, not fanaticism. His conscience and inner balance would protect him against

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that, and allow him to become "the champion of some practicable cause". His magnanimity, though without faith or culture, was well grounded in a certain moral solidity and in this Hawthorne thought he "represented many compeers in his native land". Hawthorne himself looked upon him with far too much irony to take him quite seriously. For although Holgrave thinks that he will never "plant a family", his author knew better. The young radical matures, falls in love with the last of the Pyncheons, marries her and accepts their common past and future. Soon he also plans "to build a house for another generation". He will not, we are led to believe, become just like the Pyncheons, but he will not strive to undo the past entirely, or to build America all over again. The story of Phoebe and Holgrave is a very Jacksonian romance of spontaneous democratization. Phoebe, although a Pyncheon and eventually an heiress, has grown up in modest circumstances without any of the Pyncheon vices. She is the perfect example of that noble simplicity that Hawthorne hoped would replace genteel manners in America. She is not to be a lady, but a practical, intelligent woman who can cheerfully perform any task at hand. But she, unlike the heir of the Maules whom she marries, has a sense of place and time. She at first distrusts Holgrave's extravagances, and it is only when he accepts the past as it appears in her that he abandons them to settle-down again under the ironic mocking eye of his creator. Why should Holgrave not accept Phoebe's legacy and reconcile the resentful heirs of the victims to the chastened descendants of the old oligarchy? Social harmony was also a Jacksonian hope. There are, nevertheless, aspects of Holgrave's character and of Salem generally, with its awful Customs House, that are politically and morally inferior to their Puritan predecessors. Holgrave is unsteady. The later Pyncheons, excepting Phoebe, are feeble wrecks or unmitigated scoundrels. The denizens of the Customs House, the public servants of the repUblic, can charitably be described as clowns. In all this they not only put the long-range future consequences of the Revolution in doubt, they also suffer from comparisons with the remote colonial past. The Puritans did have qualities that were far from contemptible, and Holgrave lacks their tough integrity. Not that they were to be venerated. The present was in many ways better. Hawthorne did not claim that his America was as cruel as the New England of his ancestors, even though he saw a good deal of cruelty around him. But somehow the moral balance between good and evil remains fairly constant. The past that had taught Hawthorne so much was not to be valued as a tradition, as valuable in itself, but strictly as a point of reference. The back door of the Customs House led to no utopia either, but to memories of a prison house and pillory. The Bostonians of The Scarlet Letter are not likely to induce ancestor worship, even if they were not without admirable qualities. It was in fact a matter of political importance for Hawthorne not to present the Puritan world as a utopia or to overestimate his ancestors in any way. Such myths had become the ideological speciality of the Whigs. Indeed, one might well speak of an American Whig interpretation of history that may already be perceived in John Adams, and which burst into full flower in the orations of

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Rufus Choate, Hawthorne's contemporary. It was in Salem in 1833 that Choate delivered an address on "The Importance of Illustrating New England History by a Service of Romances like the Waverly Novels". The burden of this lecture and of several others dealing with the "heroic period" of America was that the Puritans were the source of everything fine and free in American public and private life. The revolutionary generation and the founding fathers were merely the beneficiaries of inherited values. Nowhere in the history of mankind was "such a specimen of character as this" produced, nor will there ever be one like it. Only poetry, not prosaic, fact-bound history can truly illuminate "such moral sublimity as this". One must celebrate not just the tragic epic of King Philip's War, but also their achievement in setting up republican, representative government and the provisions they made for "the mental and moral culture of the rising nation". Above all the love of liberty was brought along with a sublime religion to flourish in the harsh climate of New England. Clearly Choate perferred the colonial Puritans to any later generation of ancestors, even hoping that their memory, recalled with exciting fantasies, might serve to preserve the Union. As for such incidents as "the persecution of the Quakers, the controversies with Roger Williams and Mrs. Hutchinson ... a great deal of this is too tedious to be read, or it offends and alienates you. It is truth, fact; but it is just what you do not want to know and are none the wiser for knowing".7 Choate certainly got his romances, and they did owe something to Sir Walter Scott. Although Hawthorne surely wrote in a style of his own. His answer to Choate is Roger Williams' smile in Endicott and The Red Cross, as he watches the Puritan governor defend only his own religious liberty. And then there is the more universal truth of The Scarlet Letter, which re-enrolls the Puritans in the ranks of mankind. The great quality of the Puritans, especially as Hawthorne pictured them in The Scarlet Letter, was dignity. Hester Prynne on the platform of the Boston pillory was at least not subjected to frivolous "mocking infamy and ridicule". On the contrary, as she stood there, The scene was not without a mixture of awe, such as must always invest the spectable of guilt and shame in a fellow-creature, before society shall have grown corrupt enough to smile, instead of shuddering, at it. The witnesses of Hester Prynne's disgrace had not yet passed beyond their simplicity. They were stem enough to look upon her death, had that been the sentence, without a mumur at its severity, but had none of the heartlessness of another social state, which would find only a theme for jest in an exhibition like the present. Even had there been a disposition to tum the matter into ridicule, it must have been repressed and overpowered by the solemn presence of men no less dignified than the Governor, and several of his counsellors, a judge, a general, and the ministers of the town; all of whom sat or stood in a balcony of the meeting-house, looking down upon the platform. When such personages could constitute a part of the spectacle, without risking the majesty or reverence of rank and office, it was safely to be inferred that the infliction

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of a legal sentence would have an earnest and effectual meaning. Accordingly, the crowd was sombre and grave. There was of course a great price to be paid for this religious solemnity: "we have yet to learn the forgotten art of gayity" which they so thoroughly eliminated. There was moreover the Puritans' constant and daily cruelty to the sinner in their midst. "Quiet malice" as well as "coarser expressions" gave Hester daily pain; the clergy exhorted her at every opportunity; and worst of all, there were the "shrill cries" of children schooled in cruelty. Somewhere "little urchins" were always ready to sling mud at her. That and violent intolerance were one side of the moral scale. The other side was not without political weight, however. The rulers of Boston were wise and virtuous, stern and sagacious, "accomplishing so much, precisely because (they) imagined and hoped so little". They invested "the simple framework" of government with every dignity and stability of character. It was an age when what we call talent had far less consideration than now, but the massive materials which produce stability and dignity of character a great deal more. The people possessed, by hereditary right, the quality of reverence; which, in their descendants, if it survive at all, exists in smaller proportion, and with a vastly diminished force in the selection and estimate of public men. The change may be for good or ill, and is partly, perhaps, for both. These primitive statesmen, therefore, Bradstreet, Endicott, Dudley, Bellingham, and their compeers, - who were elevated to power by the early choice of the people, seem to have been not often brilliant, but distinguished by a ponderous sobriety, rather than activity of intellect. They had fortitude and self-reliance, and, in time of difficulty or peril, stood up for the welfare of the state like a line of cliffs against a tempestuous tide. So far as a demeanour of natural authority was concerned, the mother country need not have been ashamed to see these foremost men of an actual democracy adopted into the House of Peers, or made the Privy Council of the sovereign. These statesmen did not suffer from the avarice of Colonel Pyncheon, and so their public virtues stand out quite clearly. They were not able to transmit them to future generations of politicians, but then their equally enormous vices had also been abandoned to be replaced with less violent forms of cruelty. One could not really speak of progress, but merely of change. Compared to the Puritan past Hawthorne found his own age enfeebled and insubstantial, both in virtue and in vice. Holgrave had much to recommend him, but he clearly did not have the moral stamina of the old Puritans. He was not likely to have the qualities needed to really perfect America's social institutions. "The higher mode of simplicity than has been known to past ages" found its only representative in Phoebe, the last and the best of the Pyncheons. She at least was a purified legacy from the Puritan past. If Blithedale's simplicity had been false and pretentious, hers was perfectly genuine. It was not to be put at the service of a utopia, but of a family. The burden of America's hopes rests on her. Villainous Jeffrey Pyncheon and Holgrave are not likely to make American democracy realize all its possibilities, and certainly they would not have

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redeemed oppressed mankind. Both were in some bondage to a past that could not be evaded nor forgotten. It was present as a force and as a judgment in every custom and every house. It accompanied every utopian community and it was reincarnated in every Salem family - even that of a democrat. In these respects, America was just like the rest of humanity. It was not to be a great utopia, and it would not be composed of, or transformed by little ones. It is the political achievement of Hawthorne's art that he makes us understand why this must be so without exaggerated regret, contempt, or indifference. He was not prepared to answer the radical democrats' call for a new American literature that "would breathe the spirit of our republican institutions" and sing of "the matchless sublimity of our position amongst the nations of the world".8 He had more affection for these aspirations than for the myths of the Whigs, but he was too wise for any political illusions. There was no reason to suppose that the citizens of Salem were fit for vast political enterprises. Those who did attempt them were dangerous zealots. The little utopia and "the great nation of futurity" would not be realized, just as the righteous Puritan order had faded. If its heirs would not fail in the old way, they would only fail in another manner, but fail they undoubtedly must.

NOTES

* This is in no sense a complete reading of Hawthorne's novels. There is always a danger in thinking of imaginative fiction of the first order as if it were merely political. Hawthorne's art went far beyond the political themes which are discussed in this essay. That does not imply an unawareness of the more universal moral, aesthetic and psychological range of Hawthorne's art. Utopia does, however, playa sufficiently important part in all three of his American novels to warrant a separate study, and it is not wholly artificial to consider this one theme in isolation from its larger sphere, because it is sufficiently significant, both in its own right and for the America of the years preceding the Civil War. 1. For Hawthorne's relations to Young America and democratic radicalism, as well as for his rejection of the abolitionists, see Lawrence Sargent Hall, Hawthorne, Critic of Society (Yale University Press, New Haven, 1944). F. O. Mathiessen (ed.), American Renaisance (Oxford University Press, London, 1941),316-337 present an acute though slightly condescending analysis of Hawthorne's politics, arguing that Hawthorne could see evil in the world but not an evil world - in short, that neither original sin, nor revolutionary ideology informed his novels. The absence of these grandiose systems may at present constitute one of Hawthorne's greatest merits. 2. A valuable comparison of Hawthorne with Cooper shows just how little the former gloated over utopia's failure. See Taylor Stocher, "Art vs Utopia The Case of Nathaniel Hawthorne and Brook Farm", Antioch Review 36,1978,89-102. See A. N. Kaul (ed.), Hawthorne (Printice-Hall, Englewood Cliffs, 1966) 153-163 for a different view of Blithedale, which however, also sees it as not a complete rejection of the utopian enterprise. 3. For a brilliant essay that reveals many other dimensions of "The Customs House" see Larzer Ziff, "The Ethical Dimension of the Customs House" in A. N. Kaul op. cit., 123-128. 4. The United States and Democratic Review Vol. I, 1837, pp. 1-15 and Vol. VI, 1839, 426-430.

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5. Our Old Home, Centenary Edition of the Works of Nathaniel Hawthorne, (Ohio State University Press, 1970) v, 119,286, 6. The following is obviously not a full account of the Scarlet Letter, but merely a minor aspect of the whole. 7. The Works of Rufus Choate, Samuel Gilman Brown (ed.), (Boston, 1862), Vol. I, pp. 319-346 and also "The Age of the Pilgrims The Heroic Period of Our History", pp. 370-393. 8. "The Great Nation of Futurity", The United States Magazine and Democratic Review 6, 1839,426-430.

SANFORD A. LAKOFF

Human Rights and Democracy*

The modem democratic state differs from the republics of classical antiquity not only in size but in its animating principles, which are those of an ideal of human rights unknown in antiquity. The ancient republics sought such goals as selfsufficiency, the rule of law, and equilibrium among social classes, but they presupposed a subordination of the individual to the group, inequality in status among members of the community, and even sharper distinctions between citizens on the one hand and slaves and alien residents on the other. 1 Only in the modem democratic state, as it emerged from the revolutionary upheavals first felt in England in the seventeenth century and afterward on the continent of Europe and around the world, did the new belief in human rights become a declared foundation of political organization and behavior. At the center of this belief is the ideal of universal personal autonomy, expressed politically as the concept of self-government and more broadly as the belief in equal liberty, known in eighteenth century usage as "the rights of man". The doctrine of human rights is so vital to the interpretation and acceptance of democracy that its origins and development obviously need to be understood as well as possible especially because it is equally obvious that the doctrine is badly in need of restatement or reconstruction. Far from settling the question of social justice in favor of some commonly understood ideal, the doctrine of human rights has been made the vehicle for diverse and contradictory ideals. Even its premises have been called into question on the ground that the identification of any supposedly fixed and transcendent ideals is an act of arbitrary imposition. By retracing its origins and development, we may begin to discern a way to put the doctrine in more defensible terms. As will become evident, the very association of the belief in human rights with the ideal of democracy suggests a way of resolving the difficulties. Clearly, there is in this association an inherent and profound affinity. In principle, the democratic state is a system of institutions and behavioral rules designed to protect and promote the exercise of certain specified human rights by means of individual and collective decision-making. The non-democratic state, at its most extreme in dictatorial or totalitarian versions, is one in which both in principle and in practice this order is reversed: the state is controlled not R.T. Bienvenu and M. Feingold (eds),ln the presence o/the past, 233-247. © 1991 Kluwer Academic Publishers.

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by the citizens as a whole but by some self-appointed leader or faction whose dictates those subject to state power are constrained to obey. Properly speaking, such states do not respect human rights as such because they do not acknowledge the principle of autonomy which is the sine qua non of all notions of rights. This distinction points up the significance of the historical fact that the modem democratic state originated in the theory of natural rights and the social contract. Its raison d' etre was to serve certain fundamental common needs of those who were said to constitute it, whether as a matter of historical fact or legal fiction. Appropriately, the officers of government in democratic states have come to be known as civil or public servants, in explicit contrast to earlier absolutist regimes when such officers were considered agents of the crown. The principle of this relationship between the democratic state and its citizens is nicely symbolized in the response a French gendarme makes to an ordinary inquiry when he salutes and says, "A votre service!", startling as this practice is likely to be to an American visitor. Some American usages sometimes reflect the same principle. Our military forces are sometimes referred to as the armed services, and the department that administers social security programs is called the Department of Health and Human Services. The change in the name of this department may have reflected uneasiness over the connotations of the word "welfare", but all the same it was a change to a word which is more neutral and more appropriate. The modem democratic state, as these usages suggest, is in essence a service state, an instrument by which certain needs of citizens are provided for by the public authority. The character and reach of the service state depend upon the definition its citizens give to the ideal of human rights it is designed to implement. There is great uncertainty about just what this ideal means and requires even though in recent years it has come to figure more explicitly than ever in domestic and foreign policy. "The language of rights", Ronald Dworkin has observed, "now dominates political debate in the United States. Does the Government respect the moral and political rights of its citizens? Or does the Gov~rnment's foreign policy, or its race policy, fly in the face of these rights? Do the minorities whose rights have been violated have the right to violate the law in return? Or does the silent majority itself have rights, including the right that those who break the law be punished?"2 These allusions to the rights of minorities to violate the law and to "the silent majority" already have a somewhat dated quality, but Richard Flathman's similar observation still rings true: Few concepts are as prominent in contemporary moral and political discourse as rights. It is positively ubiquitous in political speeches, in the law, in the media, and indeed in the workplace and the marketplace. The right to work and to strike, the rights of consumers, of women, of children, of the accused and of the convicted, of homosexuals, of professors and students, the right to walk safely on the streets, the right to know what one's government is doing and why, the right to privacy, to medical care, to vacations

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with pay, to a good education, to free child care centers, to serve on juries and refuse to do so, to travel, to citizenship, to refuse to do military service all these and many more have been asserted and denied, exercised and waived, interpreted, violated, and respected, and above all extensively discussed and disputed in numerous contemporary societies. 3 To understand these contemporary disputes and what they imply for the role of the democratic state, it is useful to consider modem experience against the background of the historical development of the ideal of human rights. The record clearly indicates that like other value concepts which figure prominently in political discourse, the ideal of human rights has become a mirror of human disagreement rather than the declaration of universal justice it was intended to be. In order to approach the cause of human rights with the respect it deserves, it is necessary to be as critically honest as possible about this record, even if we risk succumbing to the temptation to conclude that it has become a hollow slogan. 1. THE TWO MEANINGS OF "RIGHT"

In its legal usages, the term right has had two distinct meanings, which may be

distinguished as general and particular, though not without arousing controversy. In the general sense, right is often used in the singular as a synonym for just. Lincoln used the word in this sense when he said, "With firmness in the right, as God gives us to see the right...". The second particular meaning is well expressed in one of the definitions given in the Oxford English Dictionary: "a legal, equitable title or claim to the possession of property or authority, the enjoyment of privileges or immunities".4 Particular rights, in other words, are claims which pertain to specified objects or opportunities, established with reference to some more general concept of what is "right" or just. Charles Fried argues that the two meanings of right are indeed logically related, because the claim of a particular right depends upon a prior acceptance of some general standard of what is right or just. 5 Historically, however, this relationship was recognized only within the context of particular legal systems until the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, when universal natural rights came to be recognized as corollaries of universal natural law. Until then, rights in the particularistic sense attached to status as defined by civil or customary law. A Roman citizen could make certain claims to hold property and to enforce his will upon the members of his household because Roman law allowed such claims to be made and enforced. Under this law, for example, male citizens enjoyed a patriarchal right, the patria potestas, which gave them authority over all their children regardless of age, and even over remote descendants, originally with license even to inflict capital punishment. In medieval times, particular rights were recognized as derivatives of other forms of law, including customary law. When a feudal lord claimed certain rights by succession or inheritance, for example, he was in effect claiming privileges that attached to a particular station and were sanctioned by the prevailing codes. Normally, the

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restriction of the particular notion of rights pertaining to status was a bulwark of the prevailing order, which was itself nothing so much as a recognition of the legitimacy of status. Potentially, however, even this restricted notion of rights was also an instrument of rebellion, if not revolution. The peasants who rose in revolt, especially in the later middle ages, claimed that they had been deprived of their "ancient rights", such as the opportunity to hunt in a meadow or forest that was now being enclosed. All such claims presupposed that particular rights were tied to social status. Even Magna Carta, when it spoke of rights and liberties, jura and libertates, claims them mainly for the barons who drew up the charter, and otherwise only codified the practices of feudalism. In itself the fact that some Roman legal theorists had speculated on the existence of a single higher and universal order of law that they called the law of nature did not affect the prevailing conception of rights as pertaining to status defined by civil law. The law of nature, as it was expounded first by the Roman lawyers and then by Christian canon lawyers, established norms by which actual laws and behavior might be tested, but it did not authorize claims to individual rights. The foremost authority on the Christian version of the law of nature was Saint Thomas Aquinas. For him, as Martin Golding has written, "there was natural right but no catalogue of specific natural rights".6 Even the use of the term natural right was shrouded in ambiguity. In Latin ius means both law and right, as is also the case in other European languages. Until the seventeenth century, references to natural right were generally not distinguished from references to natural law.

2. MODERN "NATURAL RIGHTS"

The modern notion of natural rights, understood first as a series of corollaries drawn from the belief in natural law, emerged only gradually. William of Ockham in the fourteenth century distinguished between the two senses of right and argued that particularistic rights could be derived from a general concept of rights, but he did not develop a doctrine of natural rights, nor did he link this doctrine with a conception of the state. Before that decisive step was taken by the theorists of the seventeenth and eighteenth century, it was preceded by the development of the right of resistance. There had long been a recognition, as a matter of theory, that all authority ultimately derived from the consent of the people. It had also long been theorized that a king who acted in violation of his authority or who usurped the title of king could be treated as a tyrant and could therefore be disobeyed or resisted. The Protestant theorists revived and reasserted these in formulating a right of resistance. The final transformation leading to the modern concept of rights occurred when the religious controversies of the sixteenth century were reenforced by political and economic strains, and the whole edifice of western society was given theoretical reconstruction. The political theory developed to provide the basis for that reconstruction was one in which the concept of human rights came

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to be a central element. Natural rights were said to be derived from natural law and to reflect not only the order of nature but the will of God as the creator of the natural order. These laws were held to be accessible to all men by virtue of their possession of reason. They were held to be obligatory in the fIrst instance because all men were equally parts of the natural order and because they were creatures of God. The natural order was considered to be prior, both in time and in moral standing, to the social order. By the time the French revolutionaries proclaimed the rights of man as the basis of a radical reorganization of the social order, it had come to be widely believed that the natural law was the source of natural rights - rights which could not be abrogated by social law because they derived their legitimacy from a higher or prior source. Although many theorists made important contributions to this intellectual effort, three are rightly credited with having played a major role in the development of natural rights-social contract theory: Hobbes, Locke, and Rousseau. Each of them set about the task rather differently. Hobbes is generally considered to have been the fIrst to have formulated a theory of natural right in the modem sense, but his conception is quite different from the one that inspired democratic revolutionaries to proclaim their allegiance to the rights of man. Hobbes allowed for only one right of nature, the right to preserve one's life. He did not derive this right from any higher or transcendental law of nature. On the contrary, he derived the law of nature from the right of nature, and the right of nature from what he supposed would be inevitable in a state of nature. He argued that since physical nature itself drives all of us to do whatever we possibly can to remain alive, the right of self-preservation should be acknowledged as the one universal claim that all men can reasonably make and that all others should be willing to acknowledge in their own self-interest. It followed that reason could suggest "rules of peace" by which this right could be made more secure. He did not suppose that mere agreement to these supposed laws would be suffIcient to protect the enjoyment of the natural right to life. For this it was necessary that all agree mutually to accept the rule of an omnipotent sovereign. In civil society, each person would retain his natural right to selfpreservation but each would give up his claim to be entitled to protect that right by whatever means he considered necessary. In exchange, he would receive protection for his life, and the civil right to do whatever the laws did not forbid. Any further claim, Hobbes argued, would defeat the purpose for which civil society had been created by jeopardizing survival. A different concept of natural rights began to emerge simultaneously in the ranks of the Puritan revolutionaries, when the appeal to ancient rights was recast in terms of belief in rights of nature. A Leveller pamphlet argued that "by natural birth all men are equally and alike born to like propriety, liberty and freedom".? This sentiment, which was by no means shared by all the Puritan factions, became more popular when it was given more rigorous and politically authoritative statement in Locke's Second Treatise on Civil Government later in the seventeenth century. As is well known, Locke argued that because in a state of nature the law of nature would ordain certain rights and obligations, it was

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unreasonable to suppose that people would agree to quit that state and establish civil society unless the same rights and obligations could be better protected. The social compact was therefore the device whereby the rights of nature became civil rights. Contrary to Hobbes, Locke derived the rights of nature from the law of nature, and he declared that there were other rights in addition to - or in extension of - the right to preserve one's life. Without liberty and property, he argued, self-preservation would be all but impossible to assure. An omnipotent sovereign such as Hobbes proposed would be an even greater menace to the life of subjects than their fellow men would be in a state of nature, just because the sovereign would command a monopoly of physical force and the authority to invade the liberty and property of subjects at will. The right to life alone would put all men in the condition of slaves, depriving them of any means to assure their survival except the pleasure of their master. Liberty, Locke implied, was also necessary because the exercise of the freedom of the will was also a part of the plan of nature. Property was a right because it was needed to sustain life, and because the fruits of labor ought to belong to those who cultivate them. There is in Locke's notion of natural rights a belief in deism coupled with Christian stewardship: men are put on earth not simply in order to maintain their existence but to implement the plan of the Creator by using their natural talents, including reason and the capacity to work. The right to govern their own lives and the right to keep the product of their labor are therefore just as important as the right to be allowed to live out the natural span of life. Locke implies that the enjoyment of all these rights is conditioned in society only by the need for reciprocity. No individual may deny another the right to life without impunity; no one may claim liberty if it interferes with the liberty of another; no one may claim so much private property as to deprive another of an opportunity to provide for his own needs. Rights therefore imply duties. As Maurice Cranston explains succinctly, "To speak of a universal right is to speak of a universal duty; to say that all men have a right to life, is to put all men under the duty of respecting human life, to put all men under the same prohibition against attacking, injuring, or endangering the life of any other human being".8 Contrary to Locke, Rousseau all but dispensed entirely with the notion of natural law.9 For it he substituted the concept of the general will, which he thought of as the social expression of a feeling of compassion as natural to man as self-interest. Natural rights were for Rousseau moral claims based on nothing so much as the appeal to this sense of compassion. In society, these precarious moral claims were exchanged for recognized civil rights declared in accordance with the general will. Ambiguous as the concept of the general will is, it is clear that Rousseau wished to suggest by it that the rights of individuals in society must be such as to assure equal liberty to all citizens. These rights are determined by the general will - that is, by the body of uncorrupted citizens guided by the promptings of their innermost feelings rather than by cold, self-interested calculation alone - and implemented by the state.

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3. EXTENSIONS AND MODIFICA nONS FROM THE FIRST DECLARAnONS TO THE UN DECLARAnON

On the basis of these theories, declarations of rights were made first in England in 1689, then a century later in America and France and afterward throughout much of the world. These declarations became the premises of democratic revolutions aimed at instituting the principle of human rights in place of the notions of privilege related to status that had previously prevailed. Skeptics had early warned that the effort to rely on the law of nature as a source of fixed and certain rights of nature would be in vain, and they were not long in being proved right. One of these was Henry Ireton, the Puritan Independent who expressed his doubts bluntly in response to the arguments of the Leveller agitators. Arguing that agreements alone or "engagements" established rights, Ireton warned that resort to the law of nature would invite moral anarchy: "When I do hear men speak of laying aside all engagements to consider only that wild or vast notion of what in every man's conception is just or unjust, I am afraid and do tremble at the boundless and endless consequences of it. .. If you do paramount to all constitutions hold up this Law of Nature, I would fain have any man show me their bounds, where you will end ... ".l0 One of the earliest major changes introduced into the doctrine of the rights of man was the effort to amend it to make clear that half the human race was not intentionally excluded. Mary Wollstonecraft's Vindication of the Rights of Women (1792) showed eloquently that the concept of natural rights could hardly be considered complete unless it included women. A more principled change was introduced by the radicals who formulated the 1795 version of the French Declaration of the Rights of Man and the Citizen when they introduced a right to employment. Tom Paine moved in the same direction when he argued that the rights of man must include the provision for what was later to be called social security. This tendency to add social and economic rights to the civil and political rights originally stipulated expressed itself forcefully in the socialist movements of the nineteenth century. Although Marx heaped scorn on all such merely idealist pronouncements and especially on the Lockean version, which Engels dismissed as an attempt to make the bourgeois belief in the right of property appear to be a principle of universal justice, many democratic socialists preferred to keep the traditional doctrine but modify it by eliminating or circumscribing the right of property and adding guarantees of social and economic rights. By the time the Universal Declaration of Human Rights was adopted in conjunction with the founding of the United Nations in 1948, it was possible to secure universal agreement only by including both the traditional menu of civil and political rights and the newer listing of social and economic rights which were of greater concern to those on the political left. The document also drops all reference to the law of nature, even by inference; the term "human rights" is substituted for "natural rights". "The rights of man" was rejected to avoid any semantic misconception that women were meant to be excluded. ** The rights

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enumerated are said to pertain to all human beings, without distinctions of any kind, including those of political jurisdiction or status. For the first time, then, in a political document, human rights were claimed on behalf even of those who are stateless or who reside in states that do not recognize them. Among the political rights guaranteed is the right to take part in the government of one's country of origin or citizenship, "directly or through freely chosen representatives". (Article 2l.) This provision and a subsequent one in the same article seem to require a very explicit guarantee of democracy, including "periodic and genuine elections which shall be by universal and equal suffrage and shall be held by secret vote or by equivalent free voting procedures". A long list of social and economic rights is also provided, including just recompense for labor and "other means of social security" (Article 23) and the right to form trade unions. As if not to sin by the slightest omission, the Declaration also stipulates that "everyone has the right to rest and leisure, including reasonable limitations of working hours and periodic vacations with pay". (Article 24). Cranston has strongly criticized the tendency to expand the content of those rights considered fundamental to include rights which cannot be enforced and do not proceed from any principle of mutual universal obligation. He is especially critical of the inclusion of social and economic rights on the ground that there is a fundamental difference between political and civil rights and social and economic rights. The first category of rights may properly be claimed for all human beings because in order to honor them it is only necessary to accord to others the same liberty each of us expects for himself. They are rights, in other words, that pertain to our status as human beings, irrespective of the countries we inhabit or any other condition of life we mayor may not enjoy. By contrast, Cranston contends, social and economic rights are claimed not as a matter of need but of desert and they may be claimed only in particular societies where mutual Obligations to respect such claims can be made operative. We owe each other the right to liberty, he argues, but we do not owe each other the right to a living, unless in a particular society this obligation is mutually accepted. "When the authors of the UN Declaration assert", Cranston asks, that "everyone has the right to social security", are they saying that everyone ought to subscribe to some form of world-wide social security system from which each in turn may benefit in case of need?" Evidently not, he suggests, because the convenants drafted to implement the declaration make no such provision. Such rights cannot be considered fundamental and universal, he argues, in the same sense as the traditional civil and political rights are so regarded. If there are social and economic rights, whether to social security or vacations with pay, it is because these rights have been earned and are recognized as earned rights by particular societies.I 2 They are thus the kinds of claims that have lately been referred to in this country as entitlements or earned rights. Cranston's argument reflects the view that generally prevails among those who lean to a traditional liberal position rather than to a socialist position or to some compromise along the lines of Leonard Hobhouse's "social liberalism".

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C. B. Macpherson distinguishes between the liberal position, which he calls the Lockean position, and two others, the socialist or Marxian view and the populist or Rousseauan view. He contends that no conception of human rights will find wide acceptability today unless it includes all three. 13 The UN Declaration is just such an eclectic document and as a result it satisfies neither liberals nor socialists nor Third World populists. Indeed, one spokesman for the developing countries contends that the Declaration could no longer be adopted in its present form, now that the balance of power in the UN has swung to the developing countries. As he puts it, I am convinced that were the Universal Declaration of Human Rights to be debated again in the General Assembly, the final draft would be significantly different from that which was adopted in 1948. Article 1, for example, which imposes the 'Rousseauan-Lockean' view on all states and peoples, could be omitted since the observance of human rights is not dependent upon its acceptance. 14 This is the article that reads, "All human beings are born free and equal in dignity and rights. They are endowed with reason and conscience and should act towards one another in a spirit of brotherhood". To eliminate this article would not necessarily mean the elimination of any specific right, but it would undermine the effort to establish as a foundation of all rights the belief that all people are equally entitled to dignity and to liberty. It is the emphasis on liberty more than that on reason and conscience which seems to be offensive. The same writer also suggests that Article 17, permitting the ownership of private property, and Article 18, guaranteeing the right to freedom of thought and expression, would also not be included, the latter because its spirit would invalidate one-party regimes and domestic legislation requiring permits for political rallies and demonstrations against the government. Equally unacceptable to the devloping countries, he suggests, would be Article 21, which requires periodic free elections. Instead, the emphasis should be placed on guarantees of social and economic rights aimed at ending poverty and hunger. The UN Declaration raises another thorny issue by including in its list of fundamental human rights certain rights that pertain to groups, notably the right of self-determination, which is said to belong to all "peoples" (Article 1). This right is said to entail the capacity of all such peoples to "determine their political status" and pursue their "economic, social and cultural development". But the Declaration does not explain whether any group can claim to be a people, on the basis of language, culture, or common experience, or whether, if it satisfies some such set of criteria, it can claim the right to secede from nations formed as composites of various peoples - nations which, presumably, also can claim to be peoples entitled to the right of self-determination. This is a burning issue in many parts of the world, and the UN Declaration only adds fuel to the fire. The claim has been made that even if the UN Declaration and the convenants designed to implement it do not settle any of these difficult issues, they "have at least laid down the legal foundation for a world order of human rights that had

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not existed before" .15 The word "legal" is ambiguous here, since it does not connote enforceable law but rather law that can be claimed to be binding because it is agreed to - law, in other words, that has a status like that of international law. But even this claim to have established legal foundations for human rights is open to serious challenge. The Declaration asserts that all individuals have the right to emigrate. The Soviet Union, which is a signatory to the Declaration, does not admit to being in defiance of this provision. Its spokesmen merely point out that all countries must set conditions under which the right of emigration may be exercised. The fact that an applicant may be asked to pay an effectively prohibitive tax, that he may be denied pennission for trumped-up reasons, that he may be deprived of employment and otherwise harassed while his application is held in abeyance, for months and even years, is presumably not a violation of the principle. The Soviet tactic, as Peter Reddaway observes, "has been to try to appear liberal by signing such agreements but then maneuvering vigorously to ensure that there is never any accountability under any of them".16 Given the ease with which such declarations of rights may be flouted, there is reason to wonder whether it would be better not to have them at all; at least no one would be under the illusion that they were actually operative. The same consideration applies to the UN itself, which is so selective in its approach to identifying human rights violations that the whole issue has been allowed to become a political charade. The same UN official who defends the Declaration because it establishes a legal basis for "a world order of human rights", condemns the Israeli rescue mission to Entebbe as a violation of international law, as though international law offers no recourse against violations of human rights when they are committed by sovereign states. Some of the difficulties raised by the UN Declaration are admittedly difficulties of implementation - difficulties that arise because of the weakness of international institutions, or because no supranational government exists to enforce the rights agreed upon. This problem raises the serious theoretical question, however, of whether attempts should be made to declare binding codes of human rights which cannot actually be made binding on particular communities. Can such non-enforceable codes properly be considered codes of human rights in the same sense as a bill of rights entrenched in the constitution of a democratic state? It would be both vain and logically misleading to treat them as identical and to expect them to function in the same way.

4. TOWARD ANIMAL RIGHTS?

With respect to substance, the UN Declaration takes a large and controversial step by adding social and economic rights to the more traditional civil and political rights and by including certain group rights along with individual political rights. The step beyond human rights to the assertion of the rights of all created life is an even larger and still more controversial step which threatens to unravel whatever is left of the traditional fabric of human rights.

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Shortly after Paine and W ollstonecraft had written their exposition of human rights, an English satirist wrote a Vindication of the Rights of Animals. A century later, a Victorian leader of the Humanitarian league took up this cause seriously. Henry Salt, in the book Animal Rights (1892), argued that the old western discrimination between human beings and other animals as higher and lower species was simply invalid. He pointed out that as a result of the spread of enlightenment laws had been adopted protecting certain domestic animals from abuse. Did this change of attitude not indicate a growing recognition, as he put it, that every creature has a right "to live one's own life - to realize one's true self... ?" Was it not an anthropomorphic delusion to deny that all animals have "individuality, character, reason" or to deny that "to have those qualities is to have the right to exercise them?".J7 Salt admitted that for the time being it was impossible as a practical matter for people to dispense with animal labor, as it was also impossible to dispense with human labor. The advent of the machine age, however, would ultimately make it possible to liberate animals as well as men from the necessity of work. To the argument that many animals are given life only because people need their labor, he answered that once they have life, they deserve to enjoy it. Against those who claimed that animals were different from people, and not entitled to rights because they are not capable of reason, Salt referred to Darwin's observation that "the senses and intuitions, the various emotions and faculties, such as love, memory, attention, curiosity, imitation, reason, etc., of which man boasts may be found in an incipient, or even sometimes in a welldeveloped condition in the lower animals".18 The point was not whether animals could reason, but whether they could feel pain. Bentham, true to his insistence that the capacity for pleasure and pain was the basis of all morality, supported the cause in some degree. "Why", he asked, "should the law refuse its protection to any sensitive beings? The time will come when humanity will extend its mantle over everything which breathes. We have begun by attending to the condition of slaves; we shall finish softening that of all the animals which assist our labour or supply our wants". Salt agreed with Bentham that it was precisely because they too were sentient creatures that animals had rights, but he went beyond Bentham's position to claim that these rights included the right not to be eaten for dinner. Bentham had stopped well short of vegetarianism, arguing that it was all right to use animals and even to consume them because "their pains do not equal our enjoyments".19 Salt felt that to allow for the eating of animals introduced an impossible inconsistency. As he put it, with fine understatement, "it is a difficult thing consistently to recognize or assert the rights of an animal on whom you purpose to make a meal." Thoreau, Salt reminded his readers, predicted that in the future we would all have a very different attitude towards animals. "Whatever my own practice may be", he wrote, "I have no doubt that it is part of the destiny of the human race, in its gradual improvement, to leave off eating animals, as surely as the savage tribes have left off eating each other then they came in contact with the more civilised".20 The great hope for the

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recognition of animal rights, Salt concluded, lay with democracy. It is to "the democratic sense of kinship and brotherhood", he wrote, "extending first to mankind and then to the lower races, that we must look for further progress. The emancipation of men will bring with it another, and still wider emancipation of animals".21 This book, written almost a century ago, has recently been reissued in Britain, appropriately by a publishing house calling itself the Centaur Press, to suggest the reconciliation of the species, and it is being taken very seriously by a group of philosophers in Britain and North America. One of them, Brigid Brophy, in a review of the reprint in the Times Literary Supplement of January 16, 1981, urges that the cause of animal rights be put high on the political agenda. Animals, she writes, "constitute the most grossly and bitterly exploited class in history, the permanent lower-than-slave class whom humans wantonly imprison, eat, torture, wear and use for target-practice". To the modem evils of racism and sexism must therefore be added that of "speciesism". "The issue belongs not to the fringes of politics", she writes, "but to the core. What is taking place is the systematic oppression of one class by another, and it is perpetrated by the accustomed mechanism in the tyrant class of convention, hypocrisy, snobbery, and superstition ... Is politics a matter of right and rights; or are we all in a conspiracy to talk political justice while secretly believing that the strong and cunning are wise to express all the blood lust they can get away with against the weak?"22 It would appear that we have not heard the end of the movement for animal rights. How far will the cause move even beyond this assertion? The satirist who first raised the issue expressed the tongue-in-cheek hope that his effort would lead to others "on the rights of vegetables and minerals, and that this doctrine of perfect equality will become universal".23 The new concern with revising attitudes toward the environment may yet fulfill this prophecy; at least one serious philosophical journal has already published an inquiry entitled, "Do Trees Have Rights?"

5. RIGHTS AND COMMUNITIES

John Passmore has addressed the campaign for animal rights and, more broadly, the attitude toward the distinction between man and animal in western culture, and has come to an interesting if not fully satisfying conclusion with respect to the claim of rights which has considerable bearing on the connection between human rights and democracy. Ordinarily, he points out, we think of rights as demands backed by law; if this is so, animals have no rights because they can make no articulate demands. This is due only in part to differences in capacities for communication. When we think of the social structure that makes it possible to have any conception of human rights, we recognize that only people are capable of this kind of organization because only they form a community founded upon voluntary moral obligation. "If it is essential to a community",

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Passmore writes, that the members of it have common interests and recognize mutual obligations then men, plants, animals and soil do not form a community. Viruses and men do not recognize mutual obligations, nor do they have common interests. In the only sense in which belonging to a community generates ethical obligation, they do not belong to the same community. And it can only create confusion to suppose that they do, or ought to.24 The effort to broaden the meaning of human rights until it loses all coherence will not have been altogether destructive if Passmore's insight into the essential objection against the claim for animal rights can be accepted as a basis for a more defensible position. Rights, as he suggests, arise within communities. Communities are groups of people with common interests who recognize mutual moral obligations. From these obligations both rights and duties arise. Without them, however, neither one can have any real, i.e., binding and enforceable, character. To make these assertions is not to resolve all the serious analytical problems that must be addressed in formulating a code of human rights. At least it may make the concept of rights proof against certain of the criticisms that were addressed against its earliest forms. Bentham's criticism is perhaps the best known. "There are no such things", he wrote, "as natural rights ... Natural rights is simple nonsense, natural and imprescriptible rights, rhetorical nonsense, - nonsense on stilts".25 The same complaint was echoed in the thinking of the influential school of American legal realists. Justice Holmes recalled that Professor Agassiz of the Harvard Law School liked to say that the German workers would rise in revolution if the price of beer were raised by two cents. It follows that for them, the price of beer was one of the fundamental rights of man. The implication was that the whole notion of fundamental unalterable human rights was a chimera: rights were simply whatever mobs of people chose to fight about. "For legal purposes", Holmes wrote, "a right is only the hypostasis of a prophecy - the imagination of a substance supporting the fact that the public force will be brought to bear upon those who do things said to contravene it.. .".26 It was just this skeptical attitude that led Holmes as a Supreme Court justice to shy away from embracing an absolute right to free speech but instead to defend it by developing the pragmatic clear and present danger test. In effect he was arguing that there was no absolute right to free speech or to anything else; everything depended upon the circumstances and upon whether in the case of a given utterance, society might or might not find it so threatening as to choose to disallow it. If there is a case to be made against this dismissal of rights, it is one that can be made only on the assumption that a community exists in which certain mutual undertakings have been universally accepted. From these undertakings arise rights and duties which are valid, meaningful, and enforceable. In a democratic society, where a state exists to serve the common needs defined by the body of citizens, it should be possible, at least in theory, to establish a code of human rights. This assertion, however, does not tell us what moral standard

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should be used to detennine these rights; whether they should pertain only to individuals or also to groups; whether there is some order of priority among rights which might warrant distinctions such as the distinction between a birthright and an earned right. Before we can claim to have rescued the concept of human rights from the historical confusion which has enveloped and obscured it, we must be sure that we can surmount these analytical hurdles as well. But at least if we can restrict the definition of human rights to apply only to the fundamental enactments of self-governing communities, we will have recovered the essence of the doctrine and made it safer against casual abuse. NOTES

* This essay is drawn from the first of several lectures delivered at the Florence Heller School of Advanced Social Welfare at Brandeis University. I am indebted to my friend Professor Robert Binstock for arranging the lectures and to him and other faculty and students at the Heller School for their stimulating questions and comments. ** The French text, however, retains the traditional reference to the rights of man - perhaps, as D. D. Raphael whimsically explains, "because the French can count on a general appreciation of legal and other niceties concerning relations between the sexes, and are familiar with the dictum that, in the language of the law, 'the male is presumed to embrace the female' ".11 1. Although Greek democracy has been justly celebrated as the first great effort to promote popular participation in government and personal liberty, even its admirers acknowledge that its underlying ideals were not the same as those of modem democracy. Thus G. H. Sabine points out that Greek democracy was based not on the modem notion of "a citizen as a man to whom certain rights are legally guaranteed" but on a belief in citizenship "as something shared, much like membership in family". For just this reason, citizenship could be denied to those classified as slaves and resident aliens, and restricted to the relatively small proportion of inhabitants who qualified by reason of ethnicity and class. G. H. Sabine, A History of Political Theory (New York: Holt, 1950), p. 4. The Roman Republic was no different. As F. R. Cowell remarks, the Romans never achieved real democracy because they "never achieved self-government in the modem sense". Even the Lex Hortensia, which greatly expanded participation, retained the division into plebeian and patrician classes and kept this division the basis of representation. F. R. Cowell, Cicero and the Roman Republic (Harrnondsworth, England: Penguin Books, 1964), p. 154. 2. Ronald Dworkin, Taking Rights Seriously (Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 1977), p. 184. 3. Richard E. Flathman, The Practice of Rights (Cambridge England: Cambridge University Press, 1976), p. 33. 4. Oxford English Dictionary (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1978), Vol. VIII, p. 669. 5. Charles Fried, Right and Wrong (Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 1978), p.3. 6. Martin Golding, "The concept of Rights: A Historical Sketch", E. and B. Bandman (eds.), Bioethics and Human Rights (Boston: Little, Brown, 1978), p. 46. 7. Quoted in David G. Ritchie, Natural Rights (New York: Macmillan, 1903), p. 9. 8. Maurice Cranston, "Human Rights: A Reply to Professor Raphael", D. D. Raphael (ed.), Political Theory and the Rights of Man (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1967), p. 96. 9. Cranston points out that the leading French commentator on Rousseau, Robert Derathe, has drawn attention to certain passages from Rousseau's writings in which he seems to

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attach importance to natural law. But as Cranston also points out, "it must be noticed that Rousseau in the Social Contract offers no possibility of an appeal to natural law. It is all very well to say, as he does, that the sovereign must not violate natural law, but this raises the question of who is to be judge of any such violation .... In the Social Contract the general will is the moral authority". M. Cranston, introduction to his edition of Jean-Jacques Rousseau, The Social Contract (Harmondsworth, England: Penguin Books, 1968), pp. 38-39. 10. "The Putney Debates", A. S. P. Woodhouse, (ed.), Puritanism and Liberty (Chicago: The University of Chicago Press, 1951), pp. 27, 58. 11. D. D. Raphael, "Human Rights, Old and New", Raphael, op. cit., p. 54. 12. Cranston, loco cit., pp. 95-100. 13. C. B. Macpherson, "Natural Rights in Hobbes and Locke", Raphael, op. cit., p. 11. 14. Eddison Zvobogo, "A Third World View", Donald P. Kommers and Gilburt D. Loescher (eds.), Human Rights and American Foreign Policy (Notre Dame, Ind.: University of Notre Dame Press, 1979), p. 95. 15. James Avery Joyce, The New Politics of Human Rights (New York: St. Martin's, 1978), p.46. 16. Peter Reddaway, "Theory and Practice of Human Rights in the Soviet Union", Kommers and Loescher, op. cit., p. 123. 17. Henry S. Salt, Animal Rights Considered in Relation to Social Progress (1892), (London: G. Bell, 1922), p. 13. 18. Quoted, ibid., p. 12. 19. Quoted, ibid., pp. 14,42. 20. Quoted, ibid., p. 49. 21. The Times Literary Supplement, Jan. 16, 1981, p. 48. 22. Quoted in Salt, op. cit., p. 81. 23. John Passmore, "The Treatment of Animals", Journal of the History of Ideas, Vol. XXXVI (April-May 1975), No.2, p. 213. 24. Jeremy Bentham, Anarchical Fallacies: Being an Examination of the Declarations of Rights Issued During the French Revolution, John Bowring, (ed.), The Works of Jeremy Bentham (New York: Russell & Russell, 1962), Vol. 2, pp. 500-501. 25. O. W. Holmes, Jr., "The Path of the Law", Harvard Law Review, Vol. X (March 25, 1897, No.8), p. 460. 26. O. W. Holmes, Jr., "Natural Law" (1918), reprinted in Max Lerner (ed.), The Mind and Faith of Justice Holmes (Boston: Little Brown, 1943), p. 397.

JACQUES KORNBERG*

Dilthey's Introduction to the Human Sciences: Liberal Social Thought in the Second Reich

Discussing the differences between the natural sciences and what he termed the sciences of man, society and the state, Dilthey acknowledged Comte's discovery that progress in the sciences moved on a line of logical dependence. 1 The more complex sciences rested upon simpler ones: mechanics combined its own inductions with deductions from mathematics; physics depended upon both these simpler sciences. Though true in the natural sciences, Dilthey insisted that Comte's formula could not be applied to the sciences of man, society and the state. These sciences instead were shaped by political and social developments - "discords in state and society, the aggressive force of interests wielded through public opinion".2 Indeed Dilthey believed that Comte's theory illustrated this very truth, for in arguing for the scientific supremacy of sociology, Comte was taking a political position. He was replacing the primacy of the state with the primacy of society. His theory was the political expression of the new European proletariat, for whom the state was merely an agency of class rule} For Dilthey the sciences of man, society and the state were both theory and political praxis. He stated his intentions in the opening pages of the Einleitllllg: Since the French Revolution, European society had endured a series of powerful "shock waves". Understanding their causes, discovering "the means of sound progress", had become a "life and death issue". The European crisis was similar to the one that had wracked the Greek Polis in the fifth and fourth centuries B.c., pitting the "negative theories of Sophist Natural Law" against the state theory of the Socratic schoo1. 4 As with the Sophists, Natural Law theory in the eighteenth century stood for the primacy of the individual and undermined the authority of state and society. Dilthey, in a role similar to that of the Socratic school, wished to restore the moral authority of state and society, an aim he believed accorded with the "social and moral feelings" of his contemporaries. 5 But the task of social reconstruction did not simply mean the restoration of the old order: "The old cannot be restored; loyalty, the divine right of kings, feudal privileges without public function, religion ruled by R.T. Bienvenu and M. Feingold (edsJ, In the presence of the past, 249-268. © 1991 Kluwer Academic Publishers.

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political and social power, orthodoxy in morals, didactic poetry, are all finished. Our task is to construct a new social epoch combining what is valid in individualism with a political order that emphasizes the social".6 Modern individualism had robbed the old order of its moral authority, without providing the basis for social reconstruction. Dilthey wished to formulate a praxisoriented social theory that would affirm modern individualism, while binding men to society. In the Einleitung Dilthey disengaged German social thought from its ties to metaphysical idealism. This break in favor of empiricism, was the methodological expression of Dilthey's liberalism. For Hegel Geist was a universal transcendent to individuals, unfolding according to its own objective laws; individuals as such lacked ontological significance. Dilthey's shift from metaphysics to empiricism enabled him to construct a subtle social psychology that recognized both the individual, and social or collective realities beyond the individual. From our contemporary perspective, Dilthey's social vision seems overly optimistic. He wished to give both society and the individual their due, and achieved this by positing the free individual, while closely re-integrating him into society. In so doing Dilthey presupposed that in the modern world individual and social need could be joined in a harmony and made mutually reinforcing: "there must be no conflict between the individual and society".? But while according generous space to the individual as a reality independent of society, Dilthey allowed insufficient room for conflicts and tensions between the individual and society. As an example, Dilthey considered society'S taming of human instinct not only salutary but relatively unproblematic. Modern social arrangements such as the division of labor, marriage, private property, provided channels for the "orderly satisfaction of drives" and freed men from the "frightful dominion" of instinct. 8 The constraints of society left no troublesome residue of individual unhappiness. To the modern reader Dilthey seems to affirm modern individualism while underrating the pains of the modern condition. Not only the sting of repressed instinct, but value conflicts and the problem of identity, as well as the divisive and dissociative aspects of modern life, all become manageable minor disturbances in the social cosmos. Similarly Dilthey judged that the increasingly complex modern division of labor promoted individuality, without plumbing the threat to individuality from the fragmented and alienating character of modern labor. II

The origins and ramifications of Dilthey's theory of the individual and society are best studied in the Introduction to the Human Sciences and in the essay of 1875, "On the Study of the History of the Sciences of Man, Society and the State". Other works, mostly from the 1890's, elaborate the social theory of the Einleitung. I shall draw from them too.

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Dilthey began by affirming man's social nature, using an empiricist approach that differed both from the empiricism of John Stuart Mill, the spokesman of abstract individualism, and from German Idealism, with its stress on the historical and social sources of human consciousness. He sought to carve out a middle ground between these two approaches. Dilthey noted in 1877 that German university students had become fascinated by Mill's Logic and were abandoning the speculative cobwebs of Hegel and Fichte. Though he himself was a passionate advocate of empiricism, Dilthey saw serious dangers in Mill's theoriesY For Mill the sciences of man - political economy, ethnography, history - had to be anchored in the analytic methodology so successful in the natural sciences, if they were to claim general validity. Inductions, or empirical generalizations, garnered through the study of human action in history and society, were to be checked against deductions made from the keystone science of human nature - psychology. Mill's position was in the English mold: Adam Smith had treated political economy as a deductive science grounded in laws of human nature; Bentham had approached the science of morals in the same way. Dilthey considered this approach ahistorical. Psychology posited an abstract human nature, the repository of drives, needs and tendencies logically prior to the shaping forces of history and society. But this meant that history and society - or for that matter, economic and ethical action - were the outcome of human action analytically reduced to the motives and drives of isolated individuals. History and society, in this mistaken view, were a mere sum total of the actions of individual atoms. lO Dilthey ranged Mill's positivism with the tendency towards abstraction and analysis in the human sciences, initiated in the "natural systems" of the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries - in natural law theory, political economy and natural religion. Such views, severing man from historical continuities and the social nexus, had acted as powerful social dissolvents. Useful in delegitirnizing old institutions, they provided no guide for recreating an enduring social order and disengaged humans from their intimate relationship to society and the state. Contract became the fundamental form of all political and social relationships, but what humans contracted to build, they could also decide to dissolve. II Dilthey believed that modern society faced the same intellectual challenge as did fifth-century Athens, beset by the "negative theory" of the Sophists. The modem version had engendered the vision of 'Natural Man', formulated by Rousseau. Untuned to the enduring realities of history and society, Rousseau wished to remake the world according to norms fashionable at a given moment in history. His view was a prescription for permanent revolution; unguided by history, each generation would remake the world from the ground up. Dilthey's response was a classic formula: "Only the historical consciousness that man cannot slough off his skin in order to discover his basic nature ... nor make a society (as little as he can a religion), can take us beyond this standpoint".I2 Natural man was to cede to historical man, who would "preserve that which has been so laboriously built up in society". I3 Dilthey's own logic of the moral

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sciences would rival Mill's, "monotonous and wearisome clattering about induction and deduction" .14 Dilthey's views on man's social and historical nature were influenced by German Idealism, chiefly by Schleiermacher. In an early essay on Schleiermacher, Dilthey traced the shift in the late eighteenth and early nineteenth century, from an individualism colored by the Enlightenment, stressing the need to free natural man from the tyrannies of state and society, to an Idealism emphasizing the complementary relationship between the individual and society.15 Schleiermacher himself had moved away from Kant's "subjective idealism". For Kant ethics was a matter of individual conscience; ethical theory concentrated upon the self-contained individual overcoming himself in free ethical action. Schleiermacher's Idealism was instead, rooted in the social and historical realm. Accordingly, the ethical: "manifests itself in the great objective forms of human existence"; it is not to be found: "through digging in the individual conscience". For Schleiermacher as for Hegel, the unity and identity of reason linked men in great "ethical spheres". Humanity as a unified subject, linked through reason, realized a world of ethical goods in history and society. Moreover, ethical spheres or communities united humans neither outwardly nor mechanically as in a contract relationship, but through the "binding power" grounded in their "inner aim". Human action - in these spheres - was bound to common ends, oriented toward coordination with others and towards furthering the whole. 16 Humans drew their substance from ethical communities. Schleiermacher stressed this aspect of his social thought unambiguously. Personality was to be shaped by the weight of education, institutions and public opinion. All these were to aid in "ordering the individual's will to the rules and ends marked out by society." Kant's ethic elaborated moral norms from above, as it were, meant to rule over mans' drives, discipline him. In Schleiermacher's doctrine, ethical norms did more than discipline man, they encompassed him, shaped his personality. Idealism stressed the individual's participation in the universal. Beyond the transitory and changeable self lay "the great objectifications ... in which humanity gives itself a lasting expression". These underlay individual existence and extended beyond it; they provided the self with stability and abiding ends'! 7 Though Schleiermacher stressed that men were shaped by history and social institutions, he did not see society as monolithic, but as organized toward an intricate balance between different claims - between the individual and the state as well as among the different social realms. There were many circles of human belonging; reason found expression in a variety of spheres. The family, the local community, religious communities, the nation, the race - were all ethical unities, bound by common purposes and norms. The good society would guarantee the free existence of a plurality of "ethical spheres" checking each others' tendency to dominion. Even the state was a "community among other communities" ceding space for the autonomous existence of other spheres. In contrast to Hegel, who had revived the political philosophy of Antiquity and

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bestowed overriding value upon the state, Schleiermacher did not believe the state encompassed the whole of ethical life. Alongside society and the state, Schleiermacher juxtaposed "free individuality". Morally autonomous, the individual was not wholly encompassed by society and the state, and set limits to their reach. 18 Dilthey saw in Schleiermacher's theory the "social ethic" his own generation sought.I 9 In the Einleitung he too insisted that the world of Geist was ruled by great ethical communities. This view did not belong to a late Hegelian phase - a more conservative phase - of Dilthey's thought; it characterized his brand of liberalism, and the Schleiermacher inheritance. As early as 1861, Dilthey had reflected that the "richness of inner life" was a collective product, shaped by the "atmosphere of historical being". Another diary entry several years later developed this notion further: History meant the work of one generation for the next, and "the individual's absorption in the substantive social ties serving this end".2o In the Einleitung, Dilthey gave systematic expression to his views. Man's social environment - in the broadest sense - is constituted by "objectifications". These are carried by ethical communities, become permanent, independent of individuals. Individuals come and go, the results of their collective activity abide, are preserved by institutions, and passed on. The products of men's collective activity attain in this way, a "massive objectivity" and shape successive generations. History does not begin afresh with each generation. Rather, "The substance and richness of human nature streams into every generation anew". In this sense men were formed by history.21 For example, Dilthey believed educational institutions were instruments of a great "process of social renewal" whereby a new generation is assimilated to the model of the old. Consequently: "In spite of the succession of individuals, society'S inheritance is maintained and passed on".22 Dilthey had absorbed a key element of Idealism. As Erich Franz expressed it: Ethical realization meant absorption in objective norms experienced as transcendental and superior to man. Freedom meant: "Release from subjectivity and binding onself to objective norms". Those norms were manifest in history and society, and carried by ethical communities. 23 Yet Dilthey was opposed to the notion that men were totally embedded in society, or that they were to wholly subordinate themselves to the great ethical unities manifest in history. For this reason he opposed not only Hegelian Idealism but also Comte's Positivist Sociology. Positivist Sociology, he believed, was the outcome of political radicalism. Industrialization had produced a working class asserting the autonomous power of socio-economic forces against the "restraining apparatus" of the state. While the old Staatswissenschaft placed the state at the centre of things and considered social groups dependent upon the state's sovereignty, now society was to be placed at the center, the state seen merely as an expression of dominant social forces. 24 But in demystifying the state and freeing man from its dominion, sociology ended up placing man under the unchecked sway of society and its laws. For

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Comte, culture and morality were creations of society, expressions of the sOlidarity of interests prevailing in it, and of its unifying and integrating character. Dilthey called Comte's view "metaphysical" in that it sought to blanket reality under one all-embracing principle.25 For Comte the individual only knew norms emanating from society. Accordingly religion perfected man's social nature and helped realize his need for community. By contrast Dilthey believed religion not only turned the individual toward society, but that it could also raise him above society in exclusive intercourse with God. 26 He insisted there was a sphere of life not socially bound, a sphere of ends and imperatives connected to original givens of human nature. As he argued in the Einleitung against both Hegel and Comte: "When the solitary soul struggles with its destiny, whatever it endures in the depth of its conscience is for its sake alone, not for the sake of the world-process nor for any social organism".27 In Dilthey's view, social theories that employed organic models were just as incorrect as those that employed mechanistic models. Society was neither a mere association of separate individuals, nor was it a substantial unity in which the parts were subordinate to the whole. He severely criticized the Austrian political economist Albert Schliffle for his wholesale use of organic analogies in social theory, which he applied to the family as well as to other institutions. Dilthey himself saw the family as an ethical unity, "a self-sacrificing community" held together by "powerful natural bonds of love and piety". But even this unity was only a relative one. Men were not wholly social beings, the individual was also, "free to be himself'. Social theory had to account for the reality of the individual. 28 In rejecting Hegelian metaphysical idealism and creating his own empiricist theory Dilthey insisted that ethical communities were not metaphysical realities submerging the individual, but were instead constituted by socially oriented individuals. The individual was not merely subordinated to the community, nor did the community merely serve the ends of the single individual. Individuals were both bound up in communities and to some degree independent of them. Empiricist social theory was to do justice to this complex reality. Dilthey achieved just this, through a masterful insight. Human action - human nature itself - was molded by historical, cultural and social collectivities, but these collectivities were produced by individuals. Human action was profoundly social. "The most immediate natural and powerful of human motives have to do with the individual's relation to the larger whole, from which not even the abstractions of individual psychology can detach him".29 The historical world involved a special form of human interaction; men fit their actions to collectivities - they orient action, reciprocally, to one another. Acting within these collectivities, they count on, and evoke corresponding acts from others. Men both "assimilate and impinge upon" the corresponding acts of others. In this way common concepts, a common universe of norms becomes transferable in the human world. There is then a special form of interaction not derived from isolated human nature, but from

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relations among social individuals. It is this that makes of man a social and historical being. Human need cannot be satisfied by the isolated activity of the individual; men adapt their actions to the heritage of the past and coordinate their acts with those of their contemporaries. By adhering to communities, men bind themselves to others. 30 The prior given in the sciences of man is neither the individual nor society but "individuals in social relationships". Delineating man's social nature in this way, allowed Dilthey to preserve the reality of the individual, for: "Neither the basis nor goal of the individual's existence can ... be reduced to society". In this multi-layered social theory, uniformities in human nature bound individuals together in coordinated activity, whose outcome was the objectifications. Men were also highly differentiated, heterogenous beings, and there was a point at which they were not "dovetailed" into this coordinated activity. Dilthey preserved the individual as a key theoretical unit, while affIrming the collective character of historical objectifications. To borrow a succint formula used to describe Max Weber's theory: Dilthey interpreted holistic images in nominalistic terms. 31 Dilthey's approach can be illustrated from his discussion of the concepts of the Volksseele (national soul) and Volksgeist (national spirit). Savigny, in his work on the historical sources of law, had insisted that law was a collective creation, arising from the non-rational depths of the national genius. The Volksgeist was a suprapersonal power transcendent to the individual who was, merely, its unconscious instrument. As Dilthey observed, the notion of the Volksgeist found support in metaphysical formulas of a transcendent Weltgeist (world-spirit), of which the individual was considered an unconscious organ. For Dilthey, the theory of the Volksgeist had to dispense with metaphysics and become empirical. The concept had a certain justifIcation as against the Abstract School and the advocates of Natural Law, for they ignored the profound union of individuals in society, but concepts such as the Volksgeist solved one problem only to create another. Taken literally the concept assumed a transcendental unity with characteristics of self-consciousness and unifIed action that could only be attributed to a soul or psychic entity. The Volksgeist was, however, no substantial reality of which the individual was merely an instrument or organ; it was an ethical unity, but one created by individuals. The Volksgeist was constituted by individuals experiencing a life in common as members of the nation. 32 Dilthey's treatment of the Volksgeist concept reveals his intellectual debt to the liberal and empiricist transmitters of the theory of objectivities - Lazarus and Steinthal. Lazarus considered all expressions for the unity of persons in society, mere metaphors, heuristic devices - illuminating, yet dangerously onesided if taken literally. The individual was both part of an ethical whole and in himself the sum and substance of the ethical. The relationship between the individual and historical objectivities was, as a consequence, enormously subtle and complex. Neither the individual nor the objectivity had primacy. Objectivities shaped individuals; they were, at the same time, produced by in-

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dividuals. Society was an ethical unity, but its aim was not simply to subordinate the parts to the whole, but also to nurture freedom and individuality. Dilthey's views accorded with those of Lazarus and Steinthal on these points. 33 In Dilthey's social theory, only individuals or groups of them were the legitimate subjects of science. There were constant forms of interaction among individuals in society, and these constituted the systems whose creations - in the form of historical objectivities - exercised their writ over the individual. In this web of interactions, the individual persisted, as an ultimate reality.

III

Dilthey's career spanned the Second Reich. He was born in 1833, grew to manhood and middle age during the high tide of German liberalism from the 1850s to the 1870s, was called to a prestigious chair in philosophy at the University of Berlin in 1882 and died in 1911 on the eve of World War I. His views reflected the social and political perspectives of a German liberal. How did these perspectives translate into a concrete social theory? Dilthey's discussion of Verbande, of the relation between state and society, and of the division of labor, point more specifically to his vision of man and society. Verbiinde were what Dilthey termed the external organizations of society. These were a union of wills, imposing themselves upon individuals. Dilthey compared them to organisms, "enduring while individuals enter and pass on", just as a living organism endures while its atoms and molecules are perpetually being constituted and broken down. As such, Verbiinde possessed an authority conferred by tradition and history. Self-interest and compulsion are among the bases of human association, as Dilthey insisted, but he accented the feeling of community and sense of membership - the satisfaction of man's social needsas a primary determinant of the Verbiinde. These are unions reaching far beyond the petty calculation of interest. Indeed, ethical life attained its apex in sacrificial devotion to these social entities. Verbiinde were ethical communities, with a collective will voicing ethical commands emanating from group life. Included among them were the family, the local community, church and state and corporations. For Dilthey, group life was not an outcome of contractual association but unfolded from the family model. 34 Hans-Joachim Lieber has argued that Dilthey's theory of social organization foreshadowed the modern 'Functionalist' school in sociology, which stressed the functional articulation and tendency toward equilibrium of social institutions. Images of harmony and efficacy set the tone, in contrast to Marxist sociology with its stress on the oppressiveness of institutions and their human toll, their service in the interests of domination. 35 Lieber is right in part, though his interpretation is skewed in that he ignores the other side of Dilthey's social theory. Dilthey did emphasize the structural rationality of Verbande, characterizing them as efficacious unions of "aim, function and structure". He even insisted that the purposive and functionalist metaphors we apply to organic life,

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derive from our prior experience of social organization.3 6 Institutions could and did fulfill both individual and social need. But Dilthey did not neglect the possibility that institutions could be oppressive and he wished to shelter the individual from this tyranny. Dilthey's thinking was close to that of his colleague OUo Gierke, whose work he praised in the Einleitung. Gierke was a product of the German Historical School, who celebrated his nation's genius for association. From the Gemeinde - the local community of Teutonic antiquity - to the Genossenschaft, first in the form of the clan, then the guild, Germany had spawned a rich group life. For Gierke, German history was living proof of the notion that the isolated individual was a fiction and that men were born into communities. He saw these groups as supra-personal realities, "real unities", possessing an existence transcending their individual members. Like Dilthey, he also tried to steer a middle course between organic and mechanistic analogies in defining the relationship between the individual and the group. Men were conscious of themselves as a part of living wholes operative in them, extending down to their "inmost being"; they were also conscious of themselves as separate personalities with intrinsic value and individual purposes. Men were not merely means to a group end, neither was the group a mere means for the individual ends of its members.37 Lieber has also neglected the historical component in Dilthey's social theory. Institutions were not static entities; they were subject to historical change: "Society has its life in the creation and formation, separation and union of these enduring realities". Indeed, Dilthey's social theory was informed by a belief in progress; history was moving towards institutional pluralism. Antiquity had been dominated by the monolithic state; the Middle Ages by the monolithic church. By contrast, the modern era had spawned a plurality of groups, which were not to be subordinated one to the other. Moreover, these social groups were organized for more limited aims than in the past, and encompassed the person less and less. In this situation individual self-consciousness increased along with the sense of membership. Man, the bearer of many roles, the focus of many belongings, became ever more conscious of his individual reality. 38 Dilthey defined the relationship between the individual and the social in a key statement: "The individual is, at one and the same time, an element in social interactions, a crossing point in different systems of interaction, and consciously reacts to their influence through will and deed".39 Because he is a crossing point of many different systems of interactions, the individual also stands apart from them, aware of a self with its own unity and continuity, assimilating and integrating these various systems. As Dilthey put it: "there are different persons in each of us - family member, citizen, colleague". Amidst the plurality of his social belongings, man experiences himself both, "wielding power and subject to compulsion, in community and free to be himself, bound and free". Not only is the individual not submerged in anyone association, but he stands to them all as an active self-conscious subject, weighing their claims, resisting attempts by anyone of them to dominate him wholly. Individual

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identity and social pluralism were mutually reinforcing. The individual was thrown upon himself as an outcome of the plurality of claims upon him, while different social organizations preserved their independence from one another, by supporting the individual against rival social claims. 40 As to the state - our second theme - Dilthey insisted that the human sciences could not ignore its primacy. Evoking a Hobbesian image of man's unrestrained and unruly passions, Dilthey argued that social life required a sovereign power over-awing men. The state did not just fulfill a role society might otherwise perform, though perhaps less well; the state was the very pre-condition of social life. This did not mean that Dilthey shared Hegel's view of the state as the union of subjective and objective freedom, for he believed Hegel had overemphasized the state in considering it the very apex of ethical life. Dilthey's pedigree went back to Schleiermacher and Humboldt, both of whom had stressed the variety of groups and associations claiming men's allegiances. He had emphasized this in an early essay on Schleiermacher: "the state is not the highest good, but just one good among others, one ethical form among others".41 A range of systems and associations mediated between man and the state. Men did not stand to the state as "isolated atoms". In their relation to the state, intermediate structures enjoyed a relative autonomy whose boundaries had to be subtly delineated. On the one hand, the state possessed the instruments of sovereignty, and could order these structures in the interests of political and social harmony; intermediate associations were sustained and regulated by the state's "supreme power", and its legal dispositions. On the other hand, these structures were not wholly "dovetailed" into the state, for they were also "free powers" and subject to relationships that flowed from their own nature. 42 On this subject too, Dilthey's views were similar to Otto von Gierke's, and tracing von Gierke's argument on state and society will help clarify Dilthey's own theory. During the drafting of the civil code for the new German Reich, von Gierke had argued for a return to the heritage of Germanic law and against the incorporation of Roman Law principles. Roman Law recognized the absolute state and the individual's private rights; it did not acknowledge the legal inviolability of group life. In Roman Law groups were accorded legal recognition but as 'fictitious persons' - as legal bodies representing a collection of individuals. Moreover, this recognition was a concession on the part of the state, which was according a privilege rather than a right. On the other hand, Germanic law recognized groups and associations as inviolable legal entities existing independently of both individuals and the state. Gierke cannot be placed in the ranks of the modem political pluralists though. His theory of the real personality of groups went hand in hand with a strong attachment to the conception of the positive state. The state was not just one ethical form among others but sovereign above them all, supervising them, ensuring that their purposes harmonized with that of the state. Nevertheless the state had to recognize that it was dealing with "real persons" not just fictions - and proceed liberally in this realm.43

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Similarly, Dilthey believed that a series of collective wills existed side by side with the state - these included the family, the local community, the church, and corporations such as the university. But if Dilthey stressed this intermediate realm of human belonging, neither was he a political pluralist. With his positive conception of the state he hovered somewhere between pluralism and statism. He could admonish Waitz for subordinating the individual to the state conceived as an organism. Waitz did not see, Dilthey argued, that the individual was a member of communities standing outside the state, nor that society had a certain autonomy. The state must, after all, reflect society or risk a dangerous rigidity.44 It is exaggerated, however, to argue as Westphal does, that Dilthey gave greater weight to intermediate bodies than to the state, and advocated a new "social-liberalism" .45 As an example, in the Einleiting Dilthey criticized Robert von Mohl's excessive emphasis upon the autonomy of society and argued for the dependence of social groups upon the state's supervision and support. Society was not an organism standing outside the state. 46 Just because of the enhanced and varied claims of group life, a strong state was required to contain these claims. This did not mean the state was to be animated by a narrow view of political efficacy. The great lesson learned by the Prussian Reform Movement was as relevant now as ever. A state ruling robots was a state with diminished power. As Georg Iggers has characterized this liberal statist view: The state was the key force shaping society. However, it was to exercise restraint, respecting the integrity of society'S "ethical communities", allowing free scope to, "all that does not properly belong to it" .47 In this way the state would evoke the best of human capacities for the good of the whole. Concurrently, social groups stood under a double imperative: they were ethical agencies in their own right and they served the state's good. Dilthey's view of the relationship between social bodies and the state, is well illustrated by his discussion of educational ideals. As he believed, history was moving toward ever more finely wrought and complicated interconnections among the external organizations of society. Whereas previously the family or the church or the state had a monopoly on education, now scientific corporations (Le. schools of pedagogy and teachers' associations), the local community, the family, the church and the state were all involved. The plurality of associations operated as a system of countervailing forces. The state's law regarding obligatory schooling assured that family need would not force children prematurely out of school into the unskilled labor market. Strong family organization ensured that society did not become another Sparta, the children educated for the state's military need. Dilthey cited Dahlmann's ironic and telling remark: The Spartan system "sacrificed values to the state that were worth far more than a state that would require such sacrifice" .48 Each external organization embodied one of the aims of education: the family - personal happiness; the local community - vocational requirements; the state - citizens useful to the whole, "obedient to law and participating in its measured improvement"; the church - man alone before the Divinity, the person's "highest end"; the pedagogue - the student's individual development, the

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unfolding of his capacities. Each association checked the natural imperialism of all the others. 49 But though in Dilthey's formulation all external organizations seemed to have equal weight, the state was more equal than others. The state supervised and regulated the equilibrium of forces. It "incorporated the contributions of the family, local community and the church".50 What the state's primacy meant to Dilthey is more closely revealed in his arguments against the Zedlitz school bill of 1891. Zedlitz wished to return to the situation of the 1850's, erasing the liberal achievements of the 1870's. Convinced that only a religious education could stem the growing tide of atheism and socialism, he aimed at thorough confessionalism in the elementary school system, the restored hold of the churches over education. Dilthey helped draw up a public declaration against the bill, and mounting opposition torpedoed it. He explained his opposition in a letter to his friend Yorck von Wartenburg. He hardly opposed Zedlitz on the principle of a Christian State, but believed this bill would lead to monolithic religious control of education. Only the state's monopoly of education could ensure that special mix of homogeneity and heterogeneity Dilthey sought. The educational system was to heal the growing "soullessness of political life". A strong statist and religious element was to make itself felt. 51 Beyond that the state was to rule liberally and with restraint, allowing modem principles free play, recognizing the "intrinsic value of the person and his right to free development".52 As a matter of enlightened self-interest, the state that wisely enhanced individual initiative and talents, would do best in its rivalry with other states. From Verbiinde and state and society we move to another theme in Dilthey's social theory, the division of labor. Dilthey emphasized that the modem division of labor fostered individuality while harmonizing individual and social need. His most detailed account of his notion of individuality is in the "Ideas for a Descriptive and Analytic Psychology" ("Ideen tiber eine beschreibende und zergliedernde Psychologie"), his psychological treatise, for there he treated the individual as a reality methodologically disengaged from society. In that treatise, Dilthey elaborated a developmental theory of personality. The aim of development was autonomy through the creation of a unified self. In this lay the great achievement of personality, its self-transformation from object to subject. The person begins life as a passive object, "given over to the play of stimuli" and to moods, pushed and pulled by a chaos of short-range desires. 53 The child is driven now one way now another, by fleeting moods and changing external stimuli. The drive for food, defense against injuries, tender devotion, are all isolated from one another and unrelated to the whole of the child's needs; he has not evaluated their worth and claims. Tenderness flits across his face like a ray of sunshine and immediately gives way to other feelings and drives. Eventually the person becomes an active subject: "the center of psychic life existing independently of external influences and movements, becomes more powerful, more unified and experiences its solidified autonomy: man grows conscious of being an inherent aim".54 The primary determinants of human

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action are no longer the powerful stimuli of external reality, but come to be anchored within the self. Personality becomes selectively oriented to stimuli in terms of its own aims. Dilthey's concept of individuality drew heavily from Schleiermacher, who had effected a synthesis between the aesthetic individualism of Goethe and Humboldt and the moral idealism of Kant and Fichte. For Kant, particular personality had no ontological significance: the individual was a vessel of universal law. As Dilthey pointed out: for Schleiermacher the individual includes the ethical, not as a "colorless universal moral law, but in a unique individual manifestation".55 Schleiermacher remained solidly within the ranks of Idealism: the individual's task was to shape a "good and autonomous will".56 However, this was no longer to be achieved by embracing an abstract moral law, but by cultivating individual uniqueness. For Schleiermacher, man's goal was freedom both from the external power of the world and from the inner tyranny of drives and urges. Men's self-projections into the future were either ridden by fear and desire or, alternatively, served the freedom of personality by positing ideals or plans influencing action in the present. Lacking such ideals or plans, men were helpless before the power of the world. No longer subject to long-range aims appropriated by the self, the person's inner world became a whirl of ideas and sensations controlled by fear and desire, and by the external world. Schleiermacher's final caution was: "take heed, not to lose the self'. The task of life was to mark off a unique self from the world. 57 Dilthey's own theory of personality mirrored these themes - the preoccupation with inner development and inner harmony of personality and the stress upon ethical will. Dilthey insisted that, "life meant developing all the traits of one's being into a unified Gestalt". This is what made of existence "a work of art".58 The last was Humboldt's famous phrase, but Dilthey rejected Humboldt's egoistic ideal of personal Bildung, stressing instead man's social nature. Self-development no longer meant realizing all the rich facets of personality in a sublime harmony; instead development involved a sacrificial struggle. The unity of personality was purchased through hard self-limitation, the sacrifice of many inner possibilities for perfection in one sphere. Development involved a struggle between the shaping power of personality and man's boundless desires and sense of limitless possibilities, for men established a disciplined hierarchy of aims, limiting themselves for the sake of vocational tasks. The goal of personal development was not to build fences around the isolated individual as in the view of Humboldt and Goethe, but to join the individual to society. Only a finely tuned one-sided personality fitted to a vocational task, could both fulfill itself and serve society. 59 Dilthey's norms of psychological development emphasizing the unity of personality, steadiness and constancy of will, long range satisfactions - all pointed to a personality fulfilled through a vocation. From this, Dilthey went on to argue that the highly differentiated division of labor in modem society provided channels to accommodate individual variety. The division of labor had

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developed along lines set by the natural psychological differences among men in talents, dispositions and character. 60

IV

The individual and society were, in Dilthey's social theory, separate selfcontained realities. As autonomous agents, individuals were the bearers (Trager) of historical development; reacting to society, they affected the progress and vitality of Verbiinde. 61 There were periods when Verbande - the church, educational institutions, the state - no longer embodied new discoveries and achievements in the realm of intellect and moral conscience. This had been the case with the Church in the high Middle Ages and with the Absolutist State of the eighteenth century. As a result, criticism had eroded their power. But what is striking about Dilthey's social theory is his optimism about modern society. With its socio-political pluralism and complex division of labor, modern society could now balance individual and social need. Progress toward individualism would open no chasm between the individual and society, but would move instead within the channels society provided. While for Marx the division of labor cramped the individual's all-sided development, for Dilthey it was there that the individual both came to full development and served the whole in dutiful devotion. The specialization of labor in the modern world posed no threat to human personality. Similarly, in his discussion of Verbande, Dilthey concluded that increasing "socio-political differentiation" could successfully accomodate modern individualism. Since early modern times, a unique pattern of interconnections among the external organizations of society had emerged. In Antiquity and the Middle Ages, one organization - the state, then the church - was dominant and evoked a total and monolithic sense of membership. In the modern era, a plurality of associations had come to the fore, operating as a system of countervailing forces, checking the universal tendency toward dominion. As a result, external organizations now made more limited demands upon men, encompassing the individual less and less. Men became the bearers of many roles, the focus of many belongings, and correspondingly more conscious of their separate personalities. 62 Dilthey carved out a place for individual autonomy in the space created by the plurality of ethical communities. Faced by a variety of claims, the individual would manoeuvre among them, giving more or less of himself to church, or state, the family, the local community or the corporate life of his vocation. Modern society was constituted by an "equilibrium among these sovereign powers", and the interests of freedom required that no one of these forces exercise a limitless and monolithic writ over the individual. 63 Each had to provide space for individual judgment and initiative, for what Troeltsch was later to call "free, conscious and dutiful devotion to the ... whole". Individuals were to identify with these communities without being submerged in them. 64 If Dilthey emphasized the plurality of human belonging, he minimized the sources

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of conflict or uncertainty in this condition and the prospect of the erosion of Verbiinde in the face of a strengthened individuality. Instead he stressed the possibilities of an ordered freedom. With regard to the state, Dilthey was guided by the belief that pluralism and enhanced individualism could co-exist in a neat balance in the statist Second Reich. He posited a system of countervailing forces in which excessive and monopolistic claims emanating from the state, Verbiinde or the individual, would be mutually checked. It is illuminating to compare Dilthey's social thought to two German social thinkers who were to become seminal figures in modem sociological theory Simmel and Tonnies. Both were a generation removed from Dilthey; both were less sanguine about the possibilities engendered by modem society. Their works ftrst appeared in the late l880s and early l890s, and mirrored the swift currents of social change in a Germany caught up in accelerating industrialization. Fritz Ringer has spoken of their "heroic ideal of rational clariftcation in the face of tragedy". They recorded with regret and resignation a world gone under and the coming of new social realities. 65 Central to Tonnies GemeinschaJt und GesellschaJt, which appeared in 1887, was the notion that capitalism was eroding traditional communal structures the guilds, rural communal traditions, the family, the church - and moving Germany towards GesellschaJt; away from community to the far more limited and peripheral ties of society. Capitalism nurtured a new mode of individualism straining against communal norms, and the more this individualism was enhanced the more communal forms would be eroded. Germany would now see the rise of repressive "intellectually and spiritually empty" ideologies, as men tried to breath life into old communal forms. Only a "vital individualism" could combat the emergent forces of unfreedom. 66 Simmel too caught the emergent outlines of modernity. Sociological theory was to emphasize the contradictions, the "dialectical tension between the individual and society".67 In accord with Dilthey, Simmel saw man as both an individual and a social being, but he differed from Dilthey in emphasizing the seeds of tragedy in this double determination. Men were both shaped by communal forms - rendered social and ethical by them - and imprisoned and stultified by them. Doubtlessly, communal forms sheltered men from individual isolation and "misanthropic detachment".68 However, industrialization set the direction of modem life toward the expansion of individuality, and man now had to settle for the twin realities of freedom and atomization. The lure of freedom had set man against community. With Dilthey, Simmel considered multiple group ties a central feature of modem society, however, he emphasized the evils endemic to the new situation. Larger units such as the state free the individual from close supervision and control, but the space created for freedom, also established separation. Central organs arise with a life of their own, and confront the individual as a distant and alien power. Moreover, multiple group ties breed ambiguity and uncertainty, value conflicts and problems of identity, as men endeavor to reconcile diverse belongings. Sim-

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mel's vision of the dialectic of social life implied accepting the divisive and dissociative aspects of modem life as the harsh precondition of freedom. As for the division of labor in society, Simmel insisted that one-sided development stunted men, reduced them to cogs in a great machine. With specialization, productivity in the realms of culture and knowledge had soared, but because of the highly specialized character of this productivity and the individual's own onesidedness, personal culture had regressed. 69 By contrast Dilthey's sensibilities were formed in an earlier age when the achievements of the nineteenth century seemed less problematic. German society in his view, had created the possibility of a middle way, avoiding the evils of an isolated atomized individualism or of a despotism that suffocated the free individual. Dilthey held before his countrymen the prospect of a symbiotic relationship between the modem individual and the plurality of communities, one characterized by a freer, looser, but still stable and enduring sense of membership. In this best of all worlds the modem individual would remain anchored to ethical communities. NOTES

* I am indebted to Dr. Helmut 10hach of the Erlangen-Niirnberg University for his comments on an early draft of this paper. 1. In his Introduction to the Human Sciences (Einleitung in die Geisteswissenaften), the term Human Sciences was a broad designation that included aesthetics, philosophy and religion, but Dilthey's main concern was man, society and the state. Gesammelte Schriften, Vol. I: Einleitung in die Geisteswissenschaften (Stuttgart, 1959). In 1875 he had published a preliminary version of the later work, entitled, "On the Study of the History of the Sciences of Man, Society and the State". Gesammelte Schriften, Vol. V: Die Geistige Welt: Einleitung in die Philosophie des Lebens "Uber das Studium der Geschichte der Wissenschaften vom Menschen, der Gesellschaft und dem Staat". (Stuttgart, 1961). 2. "Uber das Studium", 32, 50-52. 3. Einleitung, 83-84. 4. Einleitung, 4, Helmut 10hach has argued that a marked change occurred in the last decade of Dilthey's life. In Der Aufbau der Geschichtlichen Welt in den Geisteswissenschaften Dilthey stressed philosophy over social science. The main problematic became understanding Geist in its timeless validity rather than demarcating the social sciences. Dilthey retreated from his commitment to shape politics and society, to an universalistic and quasi-aesthetic contemplation of timeless Geist. Helmut 10hach, Handelnder Mensch und objektiver Geist: Zur Theorie der Geistes - und Sozialwissenschaften bei Wilhelm Dilthey (Meisenheim am Glan, 1974),62,76-77,115. 5. "Uber das Studium" 35. Elsewhere Dilthey refers to "the social ethic the present aspires to". Gesammelte Schriften, Vol. XIV: Leben Schleiermachers. Zweiter Band: Schleiermachers System als Philosophie und Theologie. Zwei Halbande (Berlin, 1967),369. 6. Berliner Entwurf Nach c. 76, fol. 20, Riicks kursiv v.V. Quoted in 10hach, 97. The unpublished Entwurfwas written in 1890-95 to conclude the Einleitung. 10hach, 89-90. 7. Ulrich Herrmann, Die Piidagogik Wilhelm Diltheys (Gottingen, 1971),344. The quote comes from Dilthey's unpublished lecture notes. 8. Gesammelte Schriften, Vol. V: "Das Wesen der Philosophie", 409. 9. Gesammelte Schriften, Vol. XVII: Zur Geistesgeschichte des 19. lahrhunderts. Review

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of "Rowland G. Hazard, Zwei Briefe tiber Verursachung und Freiheit im Wollem, gerichtet an John Stuart Mill". (Gottingen, 1974),363. For Mill's reception in Germany and Dilthey's image of Mill, see my "John Stuart Mill: A View from the Bismarckian Reich", The Mill Newsletter XII (Winter, 1977),3-18. 10. "Ober das Studium", 42-43, 56-60. II. Einleitung, 113, 222-24. Gesammelte Schriften, Vol. II: Weltanschaung und Analyse des Menschen seit Renaissance und Reformation. "Die Autonomie des Denkens, der Konstruktive Rationalismus und der Pantheistische Monismus nach ihrem Zusamenhang im 17. Jahrhundert", (Stuttgart, 1957),244-45. 12. On Rousseau, see Gesammelte Schrijten, Vol. VIII: Weltanschaungslehre "Die Kultur der Gegenwart und die Philosophie", (Stuttgart, 1960), 203-04. Sigirid Schulenburg (ed.), Briefwechsel zwischen Wilhelm Dilthey und dem Grafen Paul Yorck v. Wartenburg 1877-1897 (Halle, 1923),239. 13. Gesammelte Schriften, Vol. VI: Die Geistige Welt "Die Einbildungskraft des Dichters", (Stuttgart, 1962), 240. 14. Einleitung, 108. IS. Gesammelte Schrijten, Vol. XII: Zur Preussischen Geschichte "Schleiermachers politische Gesinnung und Wirksamkeit", (Stuttgart, 1960),5-9. 16. Leben Schleiermachers, 243, 276, 370. 17. Ibid., 235, 245, 368. 18. Ibid., 370-72,365. 19. Ibid., 369. 20. Clara Misch geb. Dilthey (ed.), Der Junge Dilthey: Ein Lebensbild in Briefen und Tagebiichern, 1852-1870. (Stuttgart, 1960), 142-43, 190. 21. Einleitung, 50-51. 22. Gesammelte Schrijten, Vol. IV: Piidagogik: Geschichte und Grundlinien Des Systems (Stuttgart, 1961), 192. 23. Erich Franz, Deutsche Klassik und Reformation (Haale/Saale, 1937),367. 24. Einleitung, 83-84, 90. 25. Ibid., 422. Dilthey's opposition to sociology was to this version of the science, which viewed culture solely as the product of the social whole and ruled out both the individual and the state as autonomous entities. He considered sociology entirely legitimate so long as it allowed for the autonomy of other realms. 26. "Das Wesen", 377. Einleitung, 423. 27. Einleitung, 100. 28. Einleitung, 74, 124. For Dilthey's review of Schliffle's, Bau und Leben des Sozialen Korpers, 1875, see Zur Geistesgeschichte des 19 Jahrhunderts, 42-43. I have translated "Fursichsein" as "free to be himself'. The term goes back to Kant and Hegel and connotes human will and freedom in contrast to the determinations of nature and the objective world. In contemporary usage the term suggests "authenticity", "selfdirection" . 29. "Ober das Studium", 35. 30. Einleitung, 128,44. For a perceptive discussion of this theory, see Johach, 32-35. 31. Ibid., 422, 49. Werner Cahnman, "Max Weber and the Methodological Controversy in the Social Sciences" Werner Cahnman and Alvin Boskoff (eds.), Sociology and History (New York, 1964), 121. Weber defined sociology as the study of "social action", or action "meaningfully oriented to the action of others", 108. 32. "Ober das Studium", 62---M. Einleitung, 31. For an illuminating discussion of the liberal conception of the Volksgeist, see Wolfgang Hock, Liberales Denken in Zeitalter der Pauls-Kirche (Mtinster, 1957),50-51. 33. Julius Frankenberger, "Objektiver Geist und VOikerpsychologie", Zeitschrift fiir Philosophie und Philosophische Kritik, 154. (1914), 72-73, 156. Moritz Lazarus und Heymann Steinthal were among the founders of "ethnopsychology" (Volkerpsychologie). Persuaded that psychology should not confine itself to the study of the individual

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35. 36. 37.

38. 39. 40. 41. 42. 43. 44. 45. 46.

47. 48. 49. 50. 51. 52.

53. 54.

Jacques Kornberg consciousness, they posited a "group mind" not as an independent entity but as a functional explanation for the integration of individual minds. Both drew heavily from the study of language, mythology and comparative religion. Dilthey was close to both of them during the late 1850s and early 1860s. In his diaries he recorded his agreement with their ideas. Der junge Dilthey, 51, 69, 101. Einleitung, 47, 6~7. For the reference to "historic memories", see Gesammelte Schriften, Vol. XI: Yom Aufgang Des Geschichtlichen Bewusstseins, "Friedrich Christoph Schlosser", (Stuttgart, 1960), 158. 'Verbiind' has no English equivalent. 'Association' is too loose and contractual; 'social organism' is too cohesive and monolithic. I shall employ the German terminology. Hans-Joachim Lieber, "Geschichte und Gesellschaft 1m Denken Diltheys", KaIner Zeitschrift Fiir Soziologie und Sozial-Psychologie, 17 (1965), 717. Einleitung,71. Einleitung, 73. For Gierke's equally warm approval of the Einleitung, see Otto Gierke, "Eine Grundlegung fUr die Geisteswissenschaften", Preussische lahrbiicher, 53 (1884), 135-44. On Gierke, See John Lewis, The Genossenschaft-Theory of Otto von Gierke (Wisconsin, 1935), 28-31, 56-61. Ernest Barker "Introduction", Otto Gierke, Natural Law and the Theory of Society (Boston, 1957), xxxi, viii, xviii-xix. Ibid., 87, 82. "Uber das Studium", 63. Einleitung, 87, 65. Johach considers Dilthey's views a striking anticipation of role theory in contemporary sociology. Johach, 86-87. Ibid., 77. For the Schleiermacher reference, see "Schleiermachers politische Gesinnung",8. Ibid., 84-86. Lewis, 24, 39. Barker, xv, xxiv. Gesammelte Schriften, Vol. XVI: Zur Geistesgeschichte des 19. lahrhunderts "Ein System der Politik", 109-13. For a similar criticism of Droysen, see Vol. XVII: Zur Geistesgeschichte,78. Otto Westphal, Feinde Bismarcks: Geistige Grundlager Der Deutschen Opposition, 1848-1918 (Miinchen, 1930), 164. Einleitung, 86. Mohl was in a minority among liberals in his view of society's autonomy. Politically his position led to the demand for a parliamentary regime. See Heinrich Heffter Die Deutsche Selbstverwaltung im 19. lahrhundert (Stuttgart, 1950), 361. Georg Iggers, The German Conception of History (Middletown, Connecticut, 1968), 107,113. This view was common to the liberal "Prussian school" of historians. Gesammelte Schriften, Vol. IX: Piidagogik "Grundlinien eines systems der Padagogik". (Stuttgart, 1960), 194-196. Ibid., 196. Uber die Maglichkeit einer Allgemeingiiltigen Piidagogischen Wissenschaft "Entwurf einer Einleitung zur Geschichte des Preussischer Unterrichtswesen" (Weinheim, 1963),80. Briejwechsel, 142, 134-35. For Zedlitz's educational and political goals, see Ernst Rudolf Huber, Deutsche Verfassungsgeschichte seit 1789. Vol. IV: Struktur und Krisen des Kaiserreichs (Stuttgart, 1969), 890-94. "Entwurf einer Einieitung zur Geschichte des Preussischer Unterrichtswesens", 80. For another statement of Dilthey's educational views with important political implications, see the memo of 1905 to Friedrich Althoff, Prussian Minister of Education and Religious Affairs. "Wilhelm Dilthey: Gutachten" Neue Sammlung, 10 (1970), 110-21 etpassim. Gesammelte Schriften, Vol. V: "Ideen iiber eine beschreibende und ZergJiedernde Psychologie", 212. Gesammelte Schriften, Vol. VI: Die Geistige Welt "Uber die Moglichkeit einer

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allgemeingiiltigen padagogischen Wissenschaft", 65, 70. 55. "Schleiermachers politische Gesinnung", 5. 56. Leben Schleiermachers, Vol. I, Erster Halbband, (Berlin, 1970), 467. This edition is also available as Vol. XIII of the Gesammelte Schriften. 57. Ibid., 468, 475. Franz has pointed to the sources of Protestant Pietism in Schleiermacher's conception of Bildung or personal cultivation. The terms Bilden, Ausbilden, denoting - like Bi/dung - the cultivation that forms personality, also stood for an inward transformation through the imitation of Christ. Personality was inwardly transformed by embracing an image of ideal perfection. Franz, 391-92. 58. Der Junge Dilthey, 117. 59. "Ideen", 217, 225. "Grundlinien eines Systems der Padagogik", 197-99. Dilthey's view of personality was more than a theory for him; it was both theory and practice. In his diaries, the young Dilthey had recorded his reflections as he struggled with the question of personal vocation. We began life in half-darkness about ourselves. Self discovery meant getting in touch with "the depth of one's individuality" gauging that for which "one has been created", one's inner vocation. Only by wedding choice to lucid and intimate self-knowledge, would human action be animated by the full force of personal passion and powerful volitions. Following this path, men liberated themselves from "external fate" and the "chase after happiness"; they were no longer "playballs", thrown about in life. Dilthey's own preoccupation with personal uniqueness found expression in an intense and powerful sense of vocation: "the most inward mark of existence is the ideal feeling of my task". Der Junge Dilthey, 52, 44, 266, 62, 117. 60. Gesammelte Schriften, Vol. X: System der Ethik (Stuttgart, 1958), 118-19. Dilthey was an opponent of Herbartian pedagogical theory, which highlighted the many-sided interests and capacities of the child. See Otto Bollnow, "Dilthey's Padagogik", Neue Jahrbuch fur Wissenschaft und Jugendbi/ding, Heft 4 (1933), 298. For a similar view, see Emile Durkheim, The Division of Labor in Society (New York, 1964), 42. "We disapprove of those men whose unique care is to organize and develop all their faculties ... without sacrificing any of them ... this state of detachment and indetermination has something anti-social about it". According to Georg Simmel, thinkers in the eighteenth century posited a "natural man" at war with society, for society had suffocated man's natural goodness, natural intelligence and capacities. The concept of natural man assumed human nature to be basically homogenous and equal. The nineteenth century view stressed man's uniqueness and incomparability and accented the inequalities among men. Simmel considered Schleiermacher the foremost philosopher of this new individualism. Schleiermacher's stress on the uniqueness and incomparability of the individual, crowded out the universality of human needs and human rights and made "the principle of the social division of labour part of the metaphysical ground of reality itself'. Kurt Wolff (ed.), The Sociology of George Simmel, (New York, 1950),78,81. 61. Einleitung, 86-87. "-Cber das Studium", 63. 62. "Ideen", 236-237. "Grundlinien eines Systems der Padagogik", 197-99. 63. "Grundlinien eines Systems der Padagogik", 196. 64. Ernst Troeltsch, "Die deutsche Ideen von der Freiheit", Die neue Rundschau XXVII (1916),65-66. 65. Fritz Ringer, The Decline o/the German Mandarins (Cambridge, Massachusetts, 1969), 163. For an excellent study of the political ramifications of Germany's rapid industrialization, see Kenneth Barkin, The Controversy over German Industrialization, 1890-1902. (Chicago, 1970). 66. Ferdinand Tonnies, "Troeltsch und die Philosophie der Geschichte", Schmollers Jahrbuch,49 (1925), 183-91. Quoted in Ringer, 168. 67. Lewis Coser (ed.), Georg Simmel (New Jersey, 1965). For this interpretation of Simmel, see Coser. 10-18. For an illuminating discussion of some of the differences in the thought of Simmel and Dilthey. see Uta Gerhardt "Immanenz und Widerspruch: Die

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Philosophischen Grundlagen der Soziologie Georg Simmel und ihr Verhaltnis zur Lebensphilosophie Wilhelm Diltheys". ZeitschriJt fur Philosophische Forschung 25 (1971),276-92. 68. Donald Levine (ed.), Georg Simmel: On Individuality and Social Forms. "Group Expansion and the Development of Individuality", (Chicago, 1971), 270. 69. Levine (ed.), ''The Metropolis and Mental Life", 337.

JOHN W. PADBERG

Above and Beyond Party: The Dilemma of Dossiers de l' Action Popuiaire in the 19308

In any nation where free discussion of ideas and issues is part of the processes of the body politic, inevitably a whole series of organizations and groups grow up which attach themselves to no party, which do not seek direct political power, and yet which do attempt to exert an influence on public affairs. This influence may be brought to bear directly on a government itself; it may be exerted on the national temper, the milieu, the atmosphere, call it what you will, in which any government must operate. The vehicle for such influence is often some kind of publication, most often a journal. The study of such a publication helps much in assessing the currents, deep or shallow, broad or narrow, that flow through the body politic itself in a particular period. This paper proposes to investigate such a journal which was concerned with Catholic social teachings in their application to the contemporary scene, the biweekly, Dossiers de fAction Popuiaire. 1 It is a witness of a current of French thought and action that was caught in the ambiguities of the Left-Right dichotomy of the 1930's. Rene Remond, in speaking of the seemingly sudden changes in majorityminority status of the Left and Right in France, remarks shrewdly that they are in reality preceded, especially in the Church, by slow preparations. The ACJP, the Association Catholique de la Jeunesse Fran~aise, is an example of such slow preparation and sudden change. It was founded in a clearly counterrevolutionary spirit in 1886; by the 1920's it was identifying itself with the liberal and democratic spirit of social Catholicism. The beginning of this slow change Remond dates back to the first years of the twentieth century. Similarly he asks: At what moment did the Society of Jesus, after having incarnated the most intransigent tradition, begin to tum in France toward a more conciliatory attitude? Here also social preoccupations have been determinant, and in this important change for the history of the Church in France, the role played by the Action Popuiaire and its director, Father Desbuquois, cannot have been negligible. 2 As the decade of the 1930's began, Gustave Desbuquois, founder of the movement, was still director of Action Populaire, and editor of its principal R.T. Bienvenu and M. Feingold (eds), In the presence of/he past, 269-286. © 1991 Kluwer Academic Publishers.

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journal. His preoccupations and that of the journal with social Catholicism had, if anything, increased. Action Populaire constantly reiterated the phrase of Leo XIII and Pius XI, "en dehors et au-dessus des partis", but nonetheless, it could hardly fail to be cognizant of and react to the constant left-right struggle. This study attempts to explore its role in that struggle, and its reactions to the increasing political and social pressures which came in the 1930's to the bursting point. Over the course of half a century and more, De Mun and La Tour du Pin had done their pioneering work in French Catholic social thought; Leo XIII had written Rerum Novarum; Leon Harmel had tried to reduce principles to practice; "Christian Democracy" had lived vigorously and briefly; the Sillon had shown promise and now was no more; the Semaines Sociales, founded in 1904, were still flourishing and meeting every year; the ACJF was growing in number and depth; Action Franr;aise, reactionary not only in politics but also in social awareness and religious responsibility, had been condemned by the Church; the Jocists were everywhere the "new experience" for French Catholic youth. Yet, in 1930 the Dossiers de l'Action Populaire, then twenty-seven years old, was still for many a "good" Catholic rightist in France an advocate of new, unheard-of and dangerous social doctrines. For many a "good" Radical or Socialist of the left it was just another voice of clerical obscurantism. As a matter of fact, it was simply a journal working within the framework of the social and political problems inherited not only from the days of its founding, but reaching back to the beginning of the Third Republic and even beyond that. Two young Jesuits, Henri-Joseph Leroy and Gustave Desbuquois, started to publish in 1903 a monthly series of pamphlets, brochures and tracts, under the general name of Action Populaire. The two men were concerned, as many before them had been, with the economic and social conditions of French workingmen. The pamphlets were meant to be "a source of knowledge and especially of experience, a collection of necessary principles and stimulating lessons, theory and research",3 on the economic and social problems of the working classes. Quite soon the editors enlarged the scope of the work to embrace in general the social teachings of the Catholic Church. In 1908 they founded a journal, the Revue de l'Action Populaire properly so called. By 1914 they were also publishing several other periodicals, including Mouvement Sociale, a "grand revue" of current events from the viewpoint of their social relevance, Courrier des Cercles d'Etudes, Vie Syndicale, and Peuple de France. There were also such occasional items as Actes Sociaux, a collection of papal and legislative social documents, Tracts Populaires,feuilles volantes on current topics, Guide Social, a documentary collection, and Almanach de l' Action Populaire" an annual of social teachings designed for distribution at the parish level. An inquiry bureau, a legal bureau, various "Journees de l' Action Populaire" and national congresses, in addition to widespread lecturing, were part of the makeup of the organization. 4 So new and unusual an enterprise was open to attack. Pius X had condemned

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Modernism in 1907 and 1910, and some of those who had been most interested in Modernism were also quite concerned about social affairs. As a result, there were not wanting Catholics, even among the clergy, who suspected the worst of the dangerous social teachings espoused by Action Popu/aire such as the right to strike, the obligation of a just wage, and the legitimacy of unionization. In 1913 the editors felt constrained to put out as a special number of Actes Sociaux a collection of eulogistic letters that the work had received from bishops of France and from the Holy See. These early years are well summed up by Action Popu/aire itself fifty years after its founding: Action Popu/aire did not yet have the technically trained experts ... They were men who were linked in a superhuman task, rushing to that which was the most pressing need ... There was little of specialization. One had to do everything in this realm so new to Catholics. A few pioneers battled against incomprehension and hostility. With the years, Action popu/aire, without losing its view of action that was properly religious, centered itself more completely on social tasks. 5 In 1914 the bombardment of Rheims, where its headquarters were located, wiped out all the physical facilities of the organization, but it was re-established immediately after the war by Father Desbuquois. He had long been directing the work and he lived to see its fiftieth anniversay in 1953, the "true creator of Action Popu/aire", as it now calls him. In 1919 the reconstituted group established itself in Paris and began again the task which only the second world war was to interrupt. In the eyes of the men involved, all of this work received its public confirmation in 1931 with the publication of the great social encyclical of Pius XI, Quadragesimo Anno.6 The organization was obviously elated at the encyclical, saw in it a justification of its program, and devoted to it a whole issue of the journal. And well might Action Populaire feel this way. Except for the Bible, documents of the Holy See, and quotations from St. Thomas Aquinas, only one book was cited in the official notes published by the Vatican with the encyclical; that book was La Hierarchie catholique et la probleme social, a collection of documents edited by the International Union of Social Studies, a close collaborator of Action Popu/aire, and brought out by its publishing house, SPES.7 As it entered this period of the 1930's, the staff of Action Popu/aire consisted of a community of Jesuits recruited from all the provinces of the Society of Jesus in France. Learning from previous experience, the organization called upon men who had been specifically trained for this work. The group came to specialize more and more in the areas of economics and finance, agriculture and rural religious and social problems, labor unions, popularization of religious and social problems, and civic questions. With this full-time team lived several "apprentices", younger Jesuits, French and foreign. They were students at the University and at the various Institutes in Paris and they would eventually join this staff or become members of similar organizations in their own lands. 8

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Action Popu/aire also included the previously mentioned publishing house, SPES, for works concerned for the most part with the social sciences. 9 The group originated, too, and supplied the teachers for the lnstitut d' Etudes Sociales, affiliated with the Institut Catholique of Paris and it continued to edit and publish a series of pamphlets, tracts, and journals, chief among them the Dossiers de tAction Populaire. Each issue of the Dossiers contained several articles on current social topics. The subjects might range from social insurance through the Tennessee Valley Authority to the nature of the wage contract, the Viennese socialist city government, the Nazi press laws, the NRA, the British Labour Party or the social teachings of Rerum Novarum. A special section of the Dossiers reprinted significant articles and excerpts from other publications, from government documents, from episcopal or papal pronouncements, and at times, from the opinions of opposition journals or movements. Finally, the issues presented at intervals an extensive bibliography of recent and current books and articles on one of five particular fields, economics, sociology and social work, religion, jurisprudence and history. The place of Action Populaire in the tangled web of the French political scene in the 1930's gradually becomes clear from the various threads that run through almost two hundred and fifty issues of the Dossiers. After considering the position taken by Action Popu/aire on questions raised from the extreme right of Fascism in Italy and Germany through the Action Franfaise and the rightist parties in France, to the left-of-center parties such as the Radicals, and finally to Socialism and the extreme left of Communism, it will be possible to attempt to determine the place that it, in tum, occupies in this picture.

Just two months after the publication of Quadragesimo Anno in 1931, Pius XI made clear in Non Abbiamo Bisogno his firm protest at the activities of Fascism against the Church in Italy. Action Populaire took its cue from this encyclical in its reaction to Fascism in the 1930's. The journal had been concerned after the war with the recognized need for order in Italy, and had been afraid, as a result, of a leftist coup. As has been well said, "Wherever Fascism has raised its head ... the strength and purification of the particular nation involved has been in the center of ideological attention".10 This was time for Action Popu/aire, too, in the 1920's, and such strength and purification exercised for a while some attraction. But by 1931, any enchantment that might have existed earlier was thoroughly dissipated at the sight of "an ideology which explicitly turns itself into a truly and properly pagan worship of the state".l1 Action Populaire seemed to be careful, however, not to condemn explicitly the party as such, but, following the lead of the encyclical, only that which in its program was thought to be irreconcilable with Catholic teachings. There was more than enough of this, however, and from 1931 on, there were criticisms for instance, of Fascist statism, of Fascist use of nationalism, and of the relations of Fascism and Communism. The experiment in the so-called corporative state obviously interested Action Populaire. In looking at the disorder of the international

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economy in 1932, it saw the infIrmity of capitalism in the face of the international economic crisis, an infirmity arising from an "individualist liberalism", and it proposed as a solution an "economie dirigee", without at that point giving any clear idea of what such an economy would involve. 12 As that corporate state developed in Italy, however, the journal could see less and less in it of anything but a form of totalitarianism tricked out in highsounding phrases. As to religion, despite Mussolini's accommodation with the Church in the Lateran Treaty, his earlier comments on religion seemed to Action Populaire to express his real attitude, and they were anything but reassuring: We count only on our strength. We have shattered to pieces all revealed truths; we have spat upon all dogmas; we have rejected every paradise; we sneer at all charlatans - white, red or black - and their nostrums. We believe not in programs, nor plans, nor saints, nor apostles, and above all, not in happiness, salvation and a promised land. 13 As to the nature of the state, Action Populaire observed acutely that in the Dialogues of St. Catherine of Siena, God speaks of Himself in the same terms in which Mussolini speaks of the state. 14 Curiously enough, there is nothing in the journal itself throughout 1934 to 1936 on the "great Italian venture", the Ethiopian war, except for a remark here and there, and a totally non-committal reprint of an article on the geography and natural resources of Ethiopia. There is no condemnation but neither is there the slightest suggestion that this was was a civilizing mission, as Mussolini proclaimed, as some ecclesiastics in Italy strongly avowed, and as a group of French intellectuals at the time agreed. Even more curiously, while there are articles on the troubles in Spain during the early 1930's, given the strong commitment of the Spanish church to Franco and the atrocities which had been visited on the Jesuits under the Republic, there are no articles either against or for the government of the "Crusade" that Franco proclaimed and established. Meanwhile, a new specter had been rising on the right, of far more concern than Italian Fascism. Nazism from the first worried and revolted Action Populaire. The journal was uncompromisingly against the movement, fundamentally because of moral considerations. As early as 1930, it reprinted a letter from the Bishop of Mainz who said he felt conscience-bound to declare publicly to his diocese that in view of the immorality of Nazism, no Catholic could join Hitler's party, that no Nazis could assist as a group at Church functions, and that no Catholic who subscribed to the fundamentals of National Socialism could receive the sacraments of the Church. IS This was the first of a whole series of early documents and articles on National Socialism. In 1931 the Bishops of Bavaria dealt strongly with the Nazis too, and their letter was also reprinted. 16 The next year Action Populaire published a series of articles on the progress of the Nazis described its adherents as "adoring a calf of gold decked out in a brown shirt".17 The German Press Law, supposedly an example of corporativism in action, the organization of propaganda, the eugenic laws, and especially the racist teachings of the Nazis, all came in for extended and quite unfavorable treatment in the next two years. 18

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Even the Concordat negotiated between Pius XI and Hitler it seemed to see as, at best, an unfortunate necessity. In an article excerpted from Revue Industrielle, Action Popu/aire took pains to try to explain that the possibility of providing for at least a minimum of Christian life was the first obligation of the Church, that political parties could only be secondary (apropos of the dissolution of the Center Party) in the eyes of the Church, that confessional parties, which in any case had never worked well in any countries but Belgium and Germany, had weaknesses that at best balanced their strength, and that, finally, at least it was desirable to have down on paper definite contractual rights that the Holy See could point to if violations occurred. The tone of the article implied strongly that it was not "if' but "when". 19 The "when" of course was not slow in coming. In 1934 the collective letter of the German bishops which protested the Nazi religious policy and which the Nazis confiscated and suppressed in Germany, was commented on at length. 20 An item such as the following from a National Socialist catechism could seem nothing but blasphemous on several counts: "Every creed has a threefold symbol. For Marxism it is liberty, equality and fraternity; for Christian doctrine it is Father, Son and Holy Spirit; for National Socialism it is honor, justice and fatherland".21 The attempt to set up a Nazi Protestantism in the "German Christian Church" and the revival of pagan myths also came in for biting comments,22 as did, in a long, tripartite article the social doctrines and the "metaphysics of heroism" of the new Reich. 23 Of the other German-speaking rightist government of the time, that in Austria under Dollfuss and Schuschnigg, little is said in praise and less in blame, though the activities of the Socialist city government in Vienna met, as might be expected, with scant sympathy. Italy and Germany, Austria and Spain, however, were not the only examples of lands with rightist movements. France, too, had its share of them, and for a French journal they were a special cocnern. Among the most extreme, of course, was the Action Franr;aise. Pius XI had condemned the movement in 1926, and by 1930 references to it in the pages of Action Popu/aire were not frequent, but when they did occur, they referred back to a series of articles and books published at the time of condemnation. 24 Certainly one could work in collaboration with unbelievers and even with pagans for the common good. Just as a Catholic might work with Briand or Herriot, so he could possibly work with Maurras on some limited political measures. To embrace the ideology of Maurras, however, was to assent to the blasphemy he proclaimed in crying: Bravo Rome! The divine Rome of Marius and Julius Caesar has conquered the Galilean, the anarchist impostor of Nazareth. I prostrate myself with reverence before this Catholicism without Christ, I, a Catholic without the faith.25 As to common action with Christian members of Action Franr;aise, "In the morning they receive Holy Communion; in the evening they smear Marc Sangnier and spit on George Valois ... Is this what 'Christian' means?"26 For a succinct statement of what Action Franr;aise was against in the political and

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social realm, and what Action Populaire was for, there is the following comment: And the question of [opposition to] the League of Nations is only one detail. To let you see the spirit that animates the politics of Action Franf;aise it would be necessary to pass in review all the great common political questions since the war: the eight-hour law, unionism, the statute for government employees, social insurance, disarmament, the reconciliation of nations, reparations, etc., etc. ... Where and when has Action Franf;aise made a Christian voice heard on these burning questions? It is found in perfect accord with the nationalist and pagan press of Germany and Italy, but where and when in harmony with the desires of the Church, the suggestions of the Pope, the universal desire of Catholics of the whole world for a reconciliation of peoples and classes in a spirit of generous fairness and not of implacable justice?27 When in 1939 under the stress of imminent war the Vatican liften the ban on Action Franf;aise, Action Popuiaire simply printed the pertinent documents without a line of comment. The Ligues that seemed so important in their day were almost completely ignored save for incidental references in the course of articles on other subjects, especially in an article on the riots of February 6, 1934, in which the main emphasis was on the parties on the left and in which the Ligue activities were described again without comment. But the Right in France in the 1930's was not simply a congeries of dissidents who on the fringes of legality tried to trouble French politics. There were constitutional rightist parties too, such as the Federation Republicaine or the Alliance Democratique. Apparently wishing to be true to its constantly repeated comment that it was "en dehors et au-dessus des partis", Action Populaire in all this time published no article on these parties as parties, not even on the Popular Democratic party, the valiant attempt at a political party with a platform of "Christian Democratic" principles. 28 Regularly before each election Action Populaire did print the platforms adopted by these parties, but no farther would it venture in praising or blaming them. Yet as we shall see, it did comment directly on the parties of the Left. Politics and political parties were one matter; social reform was another. In that case Action Popuiaire could and did often find itself in quite the opposite camp from the conservative positions of the parties of the Right. On the international scene Action Popuiaire had long been strongly for every move that would bring Germany and France closer. Even despite the fact that Hitler was in power, it was seduced, as were so many others, by the thought that much could be hoped of the decent elements in Germany. It constantly supported the League of Nations as an organ which however imperfect was at least a giant stride toward the papal ideal of full and complete international cooperation, and it thought that France should join in measures to make it more effective. At home, contrary to the conservative Right, Action Popuiaire constantly supported social security and government welfare measures, the eight-hour day,

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and the extension and strengthening of unions. Significantly enough, a regularly designated section in the journal under which material from its pages could be filed was headed "Capitalist Disorders". A rather typical article on the French economic situation, entitled "The Errors of Capitalism",29 would be calculated to send tremors through any conservative group. It starts by calmly stating that the trouble with the world at the time was in large part due to the errors of capitalism. The fundamental error was in according an absolute primacy to monetary profit. This had brought in its train the subsidiary errors of a misconception of the true nature of work ("Industrial science does not consist in getting out of a human being the greatest amount of work at the lowest possible wage"),30 an exaggerated desire for production, and a faith in unlimited free competition. Those were the errors of the past; the present and future would tempt capitalism to other errors, too, in order to extricate itself from the depression and hold on to its precious profits. They were, either recourse to an economic dictatorship exercised by capitalism itself through monopolies and cartels, or recourse to massive state intervention in favor of industry, or, most erroneously, the sacrifice of the workers by reduction of salaries or social benefits.31 This, or a similar article on the moral problems of capitalist profit,32 was hardly calculated to overjoy a follower of classical economic liberalism which, incidentally, was also one of the topics under that heading of "Capitalist Disorders" . If Action Populaire was accused by the Right of espousing economic and social doctrines that were dangerously leftist, to the Left there could be no doubt that it was far, far to their right in politics. First among those parties of the Left (in politics, not necessarily in economic or social matters) was the Radical Socialist Party, so long dominant in the government of France. For it Action Populaire reserved some of its most scornful remarks, in part because of its bourgeois, totally inadequate social welfare program, but principally because of its anti-clericalism, Masonic domination and laicism. (Of course, the Radicals reciprocated, especially those who, as Brogan remarks, "could recognize an enemy only if he wore a cassock".33) For Action Populaire, Radical Socialism represented the past of France and bore responsibility for the straits in which the country found itself in this decade. It is this party which for thirty years has modeled France to its image - or rather fifty years, for the first of its opportunists ... those who founded the Third Republic, are singularly like the Radicals oftoday.34 Action Populaire saw the riots of February 6, 1934, as a complete upheaval in French politics, in which the gap between the old, comfortable doctrines and practices of the Radicals and the present political and economic facts had grown so wide that reconciliation was ultimately impossible. When in 1932 the Radicals had come back to power but in need of a coalition government, reason would seem to dictate that they tum to the Right for help. But that they would not do, for ... after fifty years of laicism the moderate parties had even called practicing Catholics, known as such, to head several ministries and gave important

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posts in the administration - where up to then no one but authentic Masons had penetrated - to those lukewarm to laicism. 35 This the Radicals would never forgive, and so they turned to the Socialists for help, but because the two parties disagreed so basically on what to do, they did nothing of worth in the face of a mounting crisis. The government of the cronies, however, had gone on so long that it seemed to them a permanent thing, until the people, utterly sick of corruption and incompetence, needed only the Stavisky scandal to trigger the riots of February 6. Such at least was Action Populaire's explanation of the situation. Basically, Action Populaire saw the Radical party as the political arm of Freemasonry, dedicated to the mystique of the Revolution, a mystique that made of reason and "laicite" a religion to which its adherents were honestly dedicated, and which could and did sustain them through life. "At the moment of death however", it drily added, "it is often found insufficient. Then one has to call in the priest".36 This link between the Radicals and the Masons concerned Action Populaire quite deeply,37 and all through these years articles on the Masons and their power in France, especially in the schools, appeared regularly.38 Action Populaire worried about the Radicals, but it feared the Socialists and, even more, it feared the Communists. The Socialists were, of course, one with the Radicals in their anti-clericalism and their espousal of the laic state. But besides that, their Marxist teachings on the totally material nature of man, on the abolition of private property, and on the necessity of class warfare made them even more dangerous. Their influence in the labor union movement and among the school teachers was the cause of greatest concern, at least until the Popular Front government became imminent, and then that eventuality took paramount place. Here too, as in the case of the Radicals, Action Populaire averred that its opposition was not in terms of either party qua party, but basically because of their underlying philosophies. This may also partially explain the absence of direct opposition by name to any of the constitutional parties of the Right. Did they even have a coherent philosophy underlying their programs? The ideological appeal of the Socialists and the practical appear of the unions both held attractions for some Christians,39 and Action Populaire was at pains to work against this. By 1935, Leon Blum was even saying that "the coexistence in the same conscience of religious faith and socialist conviction is a possible phenomenon",4o to which Action Populaire replied in another quotation from the same book: "It is necessary that they realize that in coming to our [Socialist] side they risk losing the faith of their fathers".41 It also hardly helped the cause of amity when Action Populaire could quote a Socialist paper called a series of Masses at the Shrine at Lourdes a Massmarathon, congratulated the Church on keeping up with the times, and compared that performance with the current dancing, egg-eating, cake-walking, and back-stepping marathons. 42 All of this became relatively unimportant as soon as it became clear that the

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Socialists would lead a Popular Front government. That term itself would hardly be conducive to calming the fears of a Catholic group with memories of the Popular Front in Spain. There was external evidence of abiding hostility in the increase in the scurrility of tone of articles in Socialist journals and the reminders in those same journals that the laws on the laicization of schools and charitable works were still on the books and should be rigorously enforced. There was also internal evidence, so Action Populaire thought, from the nature and position of the Popular Front, that boded ill for the Right, especially for the religious right. There were huge tasks ahead for the Socialists in reshaping the economic structure of France. If they carried out those tasks, the Radicals would desert the Popular Front; if they did not carry them out, the Communists would protest and eventually reap the benefits in the votes of the disillusioned working masses. How then keep the Popular Front functioning? Simply by throwing a sop to the politicians on both sides, and one to which the Socialists themselves were not averse, a swift enactment and militant enforcement of further anti-clerical and anti-religious measures. 43 As a matter of fact, the Popular Front did no such thing, and Action Populaire saw many of the social measures it had long advocated at last enacted as laws, even if not always in the form it would have desired. The journal responded by temperate comments on particular acts of the new government, for instance, on the Bank reform, the Wheat Board, and a monetary devaluation, now praising, now blaming, as it judged the case, but not at all totally condemning practice, though it still had grave reservations about theory.44 It commented, for instance, that the collective labor contract, while an excellent social measure, could not in Catholic eyes be the work of revolution, but of collaboration, and because such is the doctrine of the Church, equally distant from economic liberalism and class warfare, the duty of Catholics at the present moment is clearly marked out; they ought to be not the guardians and rearguard defenders of liberalism, but the generous resolute and peaceful workers of the new order. .. 45 The members of the editorial board of Action Populaire discussed at great length the worker occupation of the factories in sit-down strikes at this time. Many of their readers asked for comment on it. The editors could not at first agree on publishing a long text about the factory occupations. Desbuquois finally himself made the decision to do so. Briefly, it agreed that the workers' grievances were legitimate, that the new laws were what had long been sought, that the sit-downs in themselves were not without possible justification, but that as they had in fact taken place, they were to be condemned. Four reasons were given for this judgment. First, the circumstances were not right; secondly, they were in violation of social order and the rights of property; next, in their general character they exposed the country to grave danger; lastly their purpose, at least in the minds of the Communist directors behind the scenes, was not the professional advancement of the workers, but political and revolutionary upheaval. 46 Later that summer, the journal published another long text, this one

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addressed to employers. In it, Action Popuiaire recognized their problems with the new government and its policies, but thought that the best of the patrons, as was just, recognized the legitimate desires of the workers and the need for collective bargaining as in harmony with the social principles of the Church. 47 To tum now to the extreme Left, the Communists had never been far from the mind of Action Popuiaire. 48 "From 1930-31, articles are so numerous and so varied that it is impossible to do even an overview ... Each of the fathers of the house has dealt with Communism in multiple conferences, courses, social weeks, study circles and before the most varied audiences".49 Already in the 1920's the then general superior of the Jesuits, Wlodimir Ledochowski, thought that Action Popuiaire was not doing enough to denounce the danger of bolshevism, its radicals and its propaganda. 50 In 1936 at a meeting of Ledochowski and Desbuquois in Rome, the two disagreed, with Desbuquois arguing against simple denunciations and Ledochowski, striking the table for emphasis, declaring "Any dialogue with such men is impossible".51 The party had been growing slowly through the thirties, and in the climate of the Popular Front it was flourishing ever more vigorously. Earlier, from 1933 through 1935, Action Popuiaire had tried to analyze the attraction of Communism and had said that it could not see how Communism could fail if people did not embrace the social teachings of the Church. Somewhat disconcertingly, it had seen even here in the propagation and success of Communism the favoring hand of Masonry.52 It seemed to believe, too, that in June, 1936, the Communists had plotted to seize the government, and that the catastrophe had been avoided only at the last moment. 53 How important it judged the question of Communism to be is indicated in the most ambitious venture it undertook in this whole decade of the 1930's, an "Investigation of Communism". This was a series of twelve articles that ran throughout 1936 and part of 1937, based on responses to a three-page, twenty-item factual questionnaire sent to its more than ten thousands subscribers. 54 There were more than one thousand replies to the detailed questions which were grouped under five headings: I) Present state of the Communist movement in the observer's milieu; 2) Action and methods used by the Communists to organize and propagandize; 3) Mentality or viewpoints distinctive of Communists; 4) Reaction to Communist activities in this specific milieu; 5) Countermeasures and tactics proposed and/or used by Catholics. While scrupulously careful never to mention a name, either of observer or of those described in the reports, Action Popuiaire published at length several of the specific responses. They came, for instance, from a professor in a iycee, from an official in a rural departement, from an army officer concerned about the propaganda in the barracks before the last election, from a worker in a Paris industrial suburb, from a government employee in a Communist-controlled municipality, and from an observer in a rural area in Brittany. They make fascinating reading in their particularities, all the more so for being quite matter-of-fact in tone. Action Popuiaire attempted to synthesize all this material midway through the series in an article that portrayed vividly how socially concerned, politically middle-of-the-road Catholics saw Com-

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munism in the mid-1930's in France. Most surprising and disappointing to Action Popuiaire, and perhaps surprising today, too, was the conclusion that in the face of the Communist danger there was almost no serious action or reaction among the mass of Catholics. Most of them were concerned at the moment with the Ligues. Apart from small elite organizations, one of the few relatively large groups that did try to do something about Communism was the Christian trade union movement, and it was hampered more by conservative Catholic employers than by direct opposition from the Communists themselves. There were always, of course, those who saw Communism everywhere and in everything. An example was a Jesuit member of the French section of the Secretariat on Atheism which Ledochowski urged Action Popuiaire to set up at its headquarters near Paris. The editors did this in 1936, reluctantly and separately from Action Populaire. It only lasted into 1937. One can understand the reluctance and the very brief life when one notes the mind of one of its members, Fr. J. Catry. For example, he visited the director of the Catholic newspaper La Croix to propose '''a series of articles' against the true supporters of Communism: President Roosevelt and the American episcopate, AngloSaxon Freemasonry, Cardinal Pacelli, Pius XI, the Jews, the democrats and 'all our friends of the Semaines Sociales and the Christian labor unions, ... I had in front of me an excite, almost a madman".55 But just as with Socialism so with Communism, Action Populaire was concerned to show that it was indeed intrinsically evil, and that for that reasons before all others, even granting the obvious social injustices of the day, no one could subscribe to its tenets. Unfortunately, people were not going to be ruled by reason when such obvious injustices confronted and affected them every day. This concern to demonstrate the intrinsic unacceptability of Communism became even more urgent through late 1936 and 1937, as Maurice Thorez, the Communist leader, intensified the current strategy of the "open hand" extended in welcome to all fighters for justice, even to those intransigents of the Right, the Catholics. They could only have been astounded when Thorez publicly stated, "We hold out our hands to you, catholic, worker, employee, artisan, peasant, because you are our brother and you are overwhelmed by the same cares as we are".56 Catholics were no more astounded by this than were some of the Socialist and Radicals. The curiously ambivalent reactions of the two groups rather amused and at the same time irritated Action Populaire. Leon Blum, on coming to power, far from making a ringing declaration of iai'cite, had, in fact, been quite moderate. Mme. Brunschwig, a Socialist official in the government, had sought and obtained an audience with Pius XI; the Premier himself, his wife, and an entourage of government officials had ostentatiously attended a reception at the papal nunciature; Blum asked the bishops to serve on the departmental committees charged with urging subscriptions to the loans for defense. There was even a rumor that this government headed by a Socialist would offer Versailles to Pius XI as an extra-territorial official residence for the duration of

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his stay in France if he cared to come to the country for the special religious celebrations to be held at Lisieux in honor of St. Therese of the Infant Jesus. This last was, of course, utterly improbable from every point of view, and certainly took little account of Pius XI's astuteness which would never have allowed him to become involved in such a public-relations blunder. But what a delicious sight to contemplate: the toiling masses of the proletariat offering the symbol of the Ancien Regime to the chief purveyor of the opium of the people! Some of the Socialist organs, incensed at this travesty on principles but unable or unwilling to criticize Blum directly, took it out on the Communists who were the most fervent of the lovers of harmony: It is immoral that the Russian Communists throw themselves into an intense anti-religious policy while the French Communists deck themselves out as Children of the Virgin Mary. We who are anti-clerical, but by no means antireligious, we have no need to get down on our knees before St. Thorez of the Infant Jesus. 57 Examples such as that, or the "Ten Commandments of the Christian Trade Unions", a parody on the decalogue,58 left Action Popuiaire with no illusions that the lion was about to lie down with the lamb - at least for the present. Among the Radicals, too, there were surprises. First, of course, they themselves were surprised at the visits to the nuncio and to the Pope, and they observed that Blum was going to prove "that the program of the Popular Front was derived directly from Reum Novarum".59 Surprising too, and delightfully malicious, and uncomfortable for some of the Right, was the remark in the Chamber by a deputy, Campinchi, in the name of the Radical group: "We are not anti-clerical, M. Flandin. It has even occurred to us to point out to some colleagues of the Right certain encyclicals which they might read with profit".60 One such encyclical, brandished by the right ever since, was Divini Redemptoris, Pius XI's ringing condemnation of "atheistic Communism". Here, too, Action Populaire was involved. The Pope had asked the Jesuit General, Ledochowski, to help prepare it. In February, 1937 the General summoned to Rome for its preparation Jesuits from several nations. Among those consultants was Desbuquois, asked to attend several meetings and to go over the drafts of the document. He thought the first draft was too negative and would create difficulties. He wanted to deal with the actual concrete Communism as it really existed and operated, not with a theoretical "atheistic Communism". In the long run he helped to modify considerably the encyclical and he wrote most of the part that dealt with what to do positively and practically to deal with Communism. 61 But by now in 1937, time was growing short. The world stumbled and groped for the next two years from one international crisis to another in the dark and lengthening shadow of Hitler. As France went to war, Communist, Socialist, Radical, Republican, member of a Ligue or of Action Franc;aise, crypto-Fascists all- and Action Popuiaire with them - went down into the maelstrom that was disillusionment and defeat and surrender and resistance and shame and glory.

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How evaluate briefly the reactions of Action Populaire to the events of the decade? To take the negative first, Action Populaire was in a sense saving the already saved. Most of the people for whom it was writing were already in substantial agreement with its position. Yet, that is true, probably, of most journals of opinion that take definite stands on current events. The majority of subscribers and readers is hardly likely to be one's enemies. More seriously, Action Populaire misjudged the doctrinaire nature of French Socialism, or at least of important Socialists, when they had to head a responsible government. Too much ink was spilled and too many typewriter ribbons worn out on the dangers that were to follow the Socialist advent to power. Article after repetitious article repeated this theme in dealing with Socialism. Yet, who is to say what might have happened if such a government had held power in a more propitious situation and for a longer period? Would Action Populaire's fears then have been justified? To its honor, it must be said that it gave credit where it thought credit honestly due to the Blum government. As a general criticism, at first sight Action Populaire seemed in itself quite negative, always reacting against something. Perhaps it had to act thus if it sincerely thought, as it did, that the social and economic bases of French political life were diseased at the root. But that led to another general problem: How did one interest people in a social and economic program of reform except through politics and more specially, through partisan political appeals? Yet, Action Populaire repeatedly refused to become involved in supporting any political party, and indeed feared a strictly confessional party. But without supporting a party, it was unrealistic to expect that its plans and programs would get anywhere, at least in the short run, and the time for reform was all too short in the 1930's. But was it all simply reaction? Was there no action, no positive program which Action Populaire advocated? Yes, there was, but a comment on the Popular Democratic party is perhaps even truer of Action Populaire. It was "enamored of transforming in order to transcend, and of transforming by action at the moral and spirituallevel".62 But this is a long term process, perhaps too general and too long term to be comprehensible in the midst of everyday reality. More specifically and immediately, Action Populaire did make an important and successful attempt, as part of its program, to reach in Catholic circles the influential leaders in the organizations such as Young Catholic Workers (Jocists) and the Catholic Association of French Youth. For example, from the directing committee alone of the ACJF, as Remond says, came five future ministers of the Fourth Republic and militant fighters in the Resistance. 63 The opposition groups, too, must have thought Action Populaire was reaching important people; the journal took delight in reprinting items from their press warning of its machinations. In addition, Action Populaire was one of the more consistent voices in the Church against Fascism and Nazism in this decade. When others were in danger of seeing in the fasces at least a defense against the hammer and sickle, it saw the totalitarianism of the right for what it was. 64 For Catholics it was also a consistent, but intelligent voice against Socialism and Communism; it regarded both systems as evil but it refused to be stampeded

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into being against everything that its opponents were for, simply because they were for it. Action Popuiaire recognized, too, where lasting institutional reform really had to start, not in the hurly-burly of politics, but in the economic and social institutions within which Frenchmen lived, and it never tired of repeating this truth. Finally, Action Popuiaire did think it had a positive program, as specific as a Catholic journal that thought itself "above and beyond politics" could make it. That program called for an implementation of papal teachings in the economic and social order, not to be brought about simply by pious and empty mouthing of phrases from the papal letters, but by a careful and long-range study of the real life conditions in which such teachings would have to be implemented. For this, the first qualification was not religious fervor but careful training in the social sciences. 65 While such work, necessarily slow, was going on, at least the broad outlines of what had to be done were clear. More social welfare for modem man caught up in a depersonalized industrial civilization; more direction for an economy left previously to the caprice of the market and the acquisitive instincts of the capitalist; at least a living wage for the worker; the freedom to join a union and bargain collectively as an adult, even in cases where a benevolent but misguided paternalism had held sway; and finally, paradoxically enough, the opportunity to accomplish as much of this program as possible through "subsidiary organizations", without relying on an all-tooeager, omnicompetent state. This was an ambitious program indeed. It was also perhaps much too visionary a one. In the context of an alignment of political parties along a Left-Right spectrum, Action Popuiaire by its own principles had to be above and beyond such parties. Yet by those same principles it had to be on the left in social and economic matters while the pressure of history put it on the right in political matters.

NOTES 1. Dossiers de L'Action Populaire. Numbers 223 to 449. (Jan. 10,1930 to May 25, 1940).

Paris: Spes. These numbers cover the period dealt with in this paper, and go up to the last issue published during the second world war. Very useful was Revue de l'Action Populaire, 69 (June, 1953), a fiftieth-anniversary issue, which had a special article on the history of the movement since its beginning, a prospectus of future hopes and plans, and a list of the collections and works published since 1920 on social and economic matters by the members of the organization. Between 1969 and 1981 a two-volume history of the work of Action Populaire was published. Paul Droulers, Politique sociale et christianisme: Le P. Desbuquois et l'Action Populaire. I: 1903-1918; II: 1919-1946 (Paris: Edition Ouvrieres, 1969-1981). The first volume bears as title the first part of the combined title above; the seond volume has as title the latter part of the combined title. The name of the journal itself has been changed several times, just enough to cause confusion in indexing, cataloguing and shelving in libraries. Revue de l' Action Populaire was the name until World War I, (RAP), Dossiers from 1920 until it ceased publication in 1940 (DAP), Travaux from 1946 to 1949, (TAP), and Revue again since

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2. 3. 4.

5. 6.

7. 8. 9.

10. 11. 12.

13.

14. 15. 16. 17. 18.

19. 20. 21. 22. 23. 24.

John W. Padberg then. For the sake of convenience the general term Action Populaire will be used throughout this paper to stand for the journal and for the organization of which it was the principal voice. Rene Remond, La Droite en France de 1815 a nos jours (Paris: Aubier, 1954), pp. 241-242. "Cinquante annees d'apostolat social", RAP, 69 (June, 1953),482. Ibid., 484. From 1903 to 1914 Action Populaire published more than four hundred pamphlets and brochures, and fifty-nine books. The periodicals had a combined circulation of more than twenty-five thousand, and the throwaways had been distributed in the millions. Ibid., 485. DAP, 255 (June 10, 1931). For the full text of the encyclical, see Five Great Encyclicals (New York: Paulist Press, 1949), pp. 125-168. La Hierarchie catholique et Ie probleme social, Edited by Union Internationale d'Etudes Sociales (Paris: Spes, n.d.). For instance, Action Populaire trained members of the Institute of Social Order (United States), Fomento Social (Spain), Action Sociale Populaire (Canada), Catholic Social Order (India), and Centro Studi Sociali (Italy). In the period from 1930 to 1939 the works on social and economic questions written by actual members of Action Populaire (i.e. not including works written by others but published under the auspices of Action Populaire) came to more than seventy. A sampling of titles illustrates the range of topics treated: L' Application pratique de la loi sur les assurances sociales; Manuel social rural; Propriete privee et propriete institutionelle; Pour connaftre Ie communisme; Catholicisme social et organisation internationale du travail; Social parce que chretien; Classes moyennesjranqaises. Carl J. Friedrich and Zbigniew Brzezinski, Totalitarian Dictatorship and Autocracy (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1956), p. 77. DAP, 258 (July 25,1931),1541. "L'Etatisme fasciste", DAP. 259 (Aug. 15, 1931), 1620 ff. "Vues cavalieres sur une dictature: Ie fascisme italien", DAP, 330 (Nov. 25, 1934),2259-2282. "Le fascisme vu par Ie communisme", DAP, 361 (Apr. 10, 1936), 759-782. See also Droulers, op. cit., II,I77-178. Mussolini writing in Popolo d'Italia, Jan. I, 1922 as quoted in "Vues cavalieres", DAP, 330 (Nov. 25, 1934),2279. Ibid., 2282. DAP, 240 (Oct. 25,1930),1642. DAP, 251 (Apr. 10, 1931),809. "L' Allemagne de 1932: Impressions d'un temoin", DAP, 283 (Oct. 25, 1932), 1983. "Le Statut des 10urnalistes", DAP, 309 (Dec. 10, 1933),2371-2390. "L'Organisation de la propagande dans Ie IIIe Reich", DAP, 349 (Oct. 10, 1935), 1959-1966. "Racisme, natalite et eugenisme", DAP, 311 (Jan. 10, 1934), 15-34. "Le premier echec du racisme integral", DAP, 313 (Feb. 10, 1934),265-286, "La Communaute de peuple", DAP, 321 (June 10, 1934), 161-180. Revue Industrielle as quoted in DAP, 306 (Oct. 25,1933),2061-62. DAP, 325 (Aug. 15, 1934), 1697-1704. "Un Catechisme hitlerien", DAP, 345 (Oct. 7,1935),1491. Ibid., 1493-1494 and "Ref1exions sur Ie neo-paganisme allemand", DAP, 387 (June 10, 1937), 1279-1286. "La Doctrine sociale du Troisieme Reich", DAP, 384 (Apr. 25, 1937), 891-925. "La Metaphysique heroi'que de l'etat national socialiste", DAP, 404 (Apr. 10, 1938), 577-594; 405 (Apr. 25,1938),723-738; 406 (May 10, 1938),803-818. Cf. J. Boulier, S.J., L' Eglise et [,Action Franqaise (Paris: Spes, 1926). This book by an Action Populaire staff member sums up well the spirit and tone of its articles condemnatory of Action Fram;aise at the time.

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Ibid., p. 7. Ibid., p. 12. Ibid., pp. 18-19. Action Populaire was not singular in this silence; the party was regularly ignored by Catholic journals. 29. "Les erreurs du Capitalisme", DAP, 294 (Mar. 25, 1932), 581-604. 30. Ibid., p. 586. 31. Ibid., p. 602. 32. "Le Probleme moral du profit capitaliste", DAP, 336 (Feb. 25, 1935),409-434. 33. Denis W. Brogan, France under the Republic, 1870-1939 (New York: Harper and Brothers, 1940), p. 676. 34. "La Crise des Partis", DAP, 322 (June 25, 1934), 1300. This is one of the three articles on the implications of the February riots. It deals almost exclusively with the parties of the Left; there are no similar articles dealing with the Right. 35. Ibid., p. 303. 36. "Que'est-ce qu'un radical?" DAP, 362 (Apr. 25,1936),886. 37. See Remond, La Droite en France, p. 234, for a comment on the closeness of this link. 38. "L'Ordre nouveau, economique et social, selon Ie Grand Orient", DAP, 383 (Apr. 10, 1937), 835-852, and another article with the same title, DAP, 383 (Apr. 25, 1938), 701-710. The Masons returned the interest. DAP, 357 (Feb. 10, 1936) quotes as "ridiculous" a Mason, A. Lantoine, in his book, La Franc-mar;onnerie dans l' etat, p. 295: "There are two spiritual powers in France - two only - which are battling and will always battle each other: the Jesuits and the Masons. Do you think that our enemies and adversaries are controlled by the Church? .. No ... behind this Church there is an occult, secret power, the Jesuits". 39. For instance, a book called Socialiste parce que chretien by M. Marie-Fran<;ois appeared in 1933. DAP, 299 (June 10, 1933), 1161-1196 examined the book in a long article with the same title. 40. In his preface to a book by Marceau Pivert, L' Eglise et /' ecole, p. 11 as quoted in "Les Chretiens revolutionnaires", DAP, 347 (Aug. 15, 1935), 1649. 41. Pivert, p. 197 as quoted in DAP, ibid. 42. Ibid., p. 1651. 43. "Les Socialistes viennent au pouvoir", DAP, 368 (July 25, 1936), 1619-1640. 44. "L'Experience Blum", DAP, 369 (Aug. 15, 1936), 1783-1792. This article contains some interesting comparisons of the Blum government and New Deal in the United States, especially the comment that in France the experiment was directed by the masses, ignorant of economic realities, while in America the Roosevelt experiment was an intellectual one, directed by men with brains! 45. "L'Ordre nouveau devant la doctrine sociale catholique", DAP, 385 (May 10, 1937), 1000. 46. DAP, 360 (May 10, 1936), 1457-1464. See also Droulers, op. cit., II, 185-187. 47. DAP, 365 (JUly 10, 1936), 1573-1578. 48. They, too, had reciprocated. Already in 1931, in L'Humanite, the Communists had remarked that the Jesuits "had organized in France a movement called Action Populaire, which it was by all means necessary to combat". DAP, 253 (May 10, 1931), 1033. 49. Droulers, op. cit., 11,190-191. 50. Letter of Ledochowski to Desbuquois, October 16, 1935 from Archives of the Society of Jesus, Reg. Camp. as cited in Droulers, op. cit., II, 191. 51. Ibid. 52. Cf. for instance "L' Attrait du Communisme", DAP, 301 (July 10, 1933), 1393-1414. 53. Revue de Paris, Aug. 15, 1936 as quoted inDAP, 370 (Sept. 15, 1936) 1947-1956. 54. This series of articles ran through parts of 1936 and 1937 under the general title of "Enquete sur Ie communis me en France", DAP, 370-381. The synthesis, or summary, 25. 26. 27. 28.

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63. 64.

65.

John W. Padberg

with conclusions drawn from all the material received, was published in DAP, 377 (Jan. 10, 1937), 1 ff. Four of the factual reports themselves were published after the summary simply, it seems, because of reader interest. The whole report later came out as a book, Une enquete. (Paris: Spes, 1937). Archiv. Assompt., Rome, Cahiers Merklens, XX, 16, Fev. 1942 as quoted in Droulers, op. cit., 192, fn. As quoted in "La Politique de la 'main tendue' et ses repercussions", DAP, 402 (Mar. 10, 1938), 385. Socialiste du Cantal, as quoted in DAP, ibid., p. 392. La Reveil des wagon-tits, as quoted in DAP, 380 (Feb. 25, 1937),408. DAP, 402 (Mar. 10, 1938),395. Ibid. See Droulers, op. cit., II 196. Albert A. Mavrinac, The French Popular Democratic Party, (Cambridge, MA: Harvard doctoral dissertation, 1955), p. 316. Remond, La Droite en France, p. 242. After the French defeat, Vichy presented a difficult case for Action Populaire. Desbuquois, the editor, wanted the journal to stay in Paris. His Jesuit superiors asked him to move it to Lyons. After it finally settled there, he went in the first year after the defeat several times a week to Vichy and at least at its beginnings seemed amenable to working with its "moral reform" programs. Later he became quite mistrustful of the new order. He had one visit with Laval, to no effect. Years later, after the liberation, he admitted he had been wrong even to think that there was a possibility of a regenerated France from the Vichy source, but he also said that "even if the devil was at Vichy, it was right to stay there. Didn't we have the devil [Combes] at Paris and stay there?" He also said that if the Communists had been in power at Vichy, he would have acted the same. For a while at Lyons Action Populaire was published as Renouveaux and finally was suspended by the censors. Cf. L. Croizier, S.J., Pour jaire l' avenir: leqons du passe - devoirs d' aujourd' hui (paris: Spes, 1930). The author was a staff member of Action Populaire, and the book was referred to often in the journal.

Index

Acosta, Jose de 9, 10 Adams, John 227 Agassiz, Louis 245 Airy, George Biddell 146-7 Alhazen (Ibn al-Haytham) 63 Andrea, Johann Valentine 27 Aquinas, Thomas, Saint 236,271 Arago, Dominique-Fran~ois-Jean 145, 157-8 Aristotle 16,18,21,61 Ashmole, Elias 70 Aurelius Antoninus, Marcus 126

Brinton, Crane 3 Brophy, Brigid 244 Broussais, Fran~ois-Joseph- Victor 139 Buchon, Max 95 Bude, Guillaume 60 Buffon, Georges-Louis Leclerc, Comte de 141 Burke, Edmund 50 Burns, Robert 224 Cailleux, Alphonse de III Calonne, Charles Alexander 80, 83, 86 Calvin, John 46 Campanella, Tommaso 11,15,17,18-22, 23,24,25,26,30,31 Casaubon, Meric 57 Cassini, Gian Domenico 28 Chamber, Robert 132,150,151,163 Charles I 58 Charles II 26 Choate, Rufus 228 Cobban, Alfred 122 Cohen, Donald 7 Colbert, Jean-Baptiste 28 Cole, Margaret 52 Columbus, Christopher 10 Comenius,JanAmos 11,15,16,17,22-6, 27,28,29,30,31 Comte, Auguste 131-91,249,253,254 Condorcet, Marie Caritat, Marquis de 7, 86 Considerant, Gustave "Bonhomme" 96, 97,98,102,110 Considerant, Jean-Baptiste 95, 96-8, 102-4 Considerant, Jean-Claude 95 Considerant, Suzanne, nee Courbe 95 Considerant, Victor 93-120

Bacon, Sir Francis 15, 16-17,22,25,27, 30,31,48,61,64,69 Bacon, Roger 60,69,70 Bain, Alexander 161 Bainbridge, John 66,68 Bedwell, William 65, 66 Bell, Adam Schall von 13 Ben-David, Joseph 56 Bentham, Jeremy 44,50,51,198,243, 245,251 Bentley, Richard 17 Bien, David Blum, Leon 277,280,281,282 Borgia, Cesare 51 Bossenga, Gale 82 Boulliau, Ismael 65 Bouvet, Joachim 33 Boyle, Robert l7, 27, 28, 31 Brahe, Tycho 63,64 Brandeis, Louis Dombitz 2, 5 Brewster, David 132,160,161,166,167 Briand, Aristide 274 Brienne, Etienne-Charles de Lomenie de 83 Briggs, Henry 65,66,68

287

288 Copernicus, Nicolaus 63, 64 Couplet, Philippe 28, 29 Cranson, Maurice 240-1 Cudworth, Ralph 68 Cuvier, Georges 148 Darwin, Charles 151,243 Deleuze, Joseph-Franr;ois 115 Desbuquois, Gustave 269,270,271,278, 279,281 Dickens, Charles 210-12 Diderot, Denis 122, 123, 125, 126 Digby, Sir George 67,72 Digby, Sir Kenelm 69 Dilthey, Wilhelm 249-68 Dostoyevsky, Fyodor 93, 117 Drayton, Michael 59, 63, 68 Dury, John 26 Dworkin, Ronald 234 Einstein, Albert 5 Eliot, John 222 Eliot, T.S. 50 Engels, Friedrich 217 Erasmus, Desiderius 60 Erastus, Thomas 64 Euclid 13, 15,31 Evelyn, John 57 Fein, Albert 122 Flathman, Richard 234 Fludd, Robert 70-1 Fontaney, Antoine III Foscarini, Paolo Antonio 64 Fourier, Charles 93,94, 101, 104, 110, 112-17,121,122,124,126,127,128, 144,217,220,221 Franco, Francisco 273 Freud, Sigmund 5 Fried, Charles 235 Furet, Franr;ois 80 Galilei, Galileo 21,61,64,65,74 Galloway, Sir James 62 Gassendi, Pierre 68 Gataker, Thomas 55, 68 Gauchet, Marcel 80 Gauthier, Joseph 100 Gellibrand, Henry 62 Gierke, Otto 257,258 Godolphin, Sidney 45 Golius, Jacob 65 Grea, Augustin 105 Grea, Desire-Adrien 105

Index Grea, Emmanuel 105 Greaves, John 57,66 Gregory, John 66,67,72 Grimaldi, Francesco Maria 30, 32 Grotius, Hugo 55, 58, 74 Guzman, Luis de 9,12 Halevi, Ran 80 Hall, Basil 201-5,208 Haring, Clarence 3 Harmel, Leon 270 Harriot, Thomas 12 Hartlib, Samuel 26, 27 Harvey, William 67 Hawthorne, Nathaniel 215-31 Hayden, Dolores 122 Hegel, Georg Wilhelm Friedrich 250, 253, 258 Helvetius, Claude 50,51,66,67 Herschel, John F. W. 132, 145, 146, 148-50,160,163,164, 165-6, 168, 169,170-2,175-8 Herschel, William 140--45, 148, 153, 154, 158, 163 Hervieu, August 207 Heyward, Edward 59 Hirschman, Albert 50 Hitler, Adolf 273,281 Hobbes, Thomas 41-53,59,62,237-8 Hobhouse, Leonard 241 Holbach, Paul H. Baron d' 47,50,51 Holmes, Oliver Wendell 245 Hooke, Robert 27 Humboldt, Alexander von 167, 171,258, 261 Hunt, Lynn 80 Hutchinson, Lucy 228 Huygens, Christiaan 156 Hyde, Thomas 27 Inchofer, Melchior 65 Ingoli, Francesco 22 Ireton, Henry 239 Jacob, Henry 56 James, Henry 216 Jefferson, Thomas 226 Johann Friedrich (Duke of Hanover) 31 Johnson, Samuel 51 Jouffroy, Theodore 106 Kant, Immanuel 141,252,261 Kaplan, Steven 83 Kepler, Johannes 63,64,65,67,68,72,

289

Index 156, 166, 169 Knox, Robert 27 Lagrange, Joseph-Louis 156 Langbaine, Gerard 69,70,73 Laplace, Pierre-Simon, Marquis de 140--7, 152,154,155,156, 158, 159, 161, 162, 164, 165,167,173, 175 Laudan,Larry 132,136 La Rochefoucauld, Fran~ois de 49 Lasky, Harold J. 5 Laud, William, Abp of Canterbury 58 Lazarus, Moritz 255,256 Ledochowski, Wlodimir 279,280,281 Leibniz, Gottfried Wilhelm 12, 15,29-34 Leo XIII, Pope 270 Leontief, WasiJy 3 Lerner, Max 4 Leroy, Henry-Joseph 270 Lightfoot, John 55 Lilly, William 72 Lincoln, Abraham 235 Littauer, Lucius N. 4 Locke, John 237-8 Longobardi, Niccolo 15 Louis XIV 28,29,81 Lowell, A. Lawrence 2 Lull,Raymond 11,19,29,31 Lydiat, Thomas 67,68 Lyell, Charles 150 Machiavelli, Niccolo 47,48,49,51 Macpherson, C.B. 241 Magnin, Charles 106, 108, 114, 115 Maimonides, Moses 73 Mann, Thomas 51 Manuel, Frank 1-8,121-7,215 Manuel, Fritzie 4,5,7,121,125 Marcuse, Herbert 7 Marlow, Christopher 49 Martineau, Harriet 209-10 Marx, Karl 3,6,127,128,131,239 Mason, Edward S. 3 Maurras, Charles 274 Mellwain, Charles 3 Meibomius, Marcus 73 Mersenne, Marin 64 Mesmer, Franz Anton 115 Mill, John Stuart 131, 132, 137, 152, 160, 161,162,164,168-72,175-8,251 Milton, John 49, 59 Mohl, Robert von 259 Montmort, Remond de 29, 34 More, Sir Thomas 121, 123

Moreau, Jacob-Nicolas 83 Morris, William 124, 125-6, 127, 128 Morsius, Joachim 71 Mounier, Jean-Joseph 80,89,90 MUller, Andreas 29,30 Muiron, Just 93, 100, 112 Mumford, Lewis 121 Murphy, Joseph 7 Mussolini, Benito 273 Napoleon Bonaparte 97,103,146,193, 203 Navier, Claude-Louis-Marie-Henri 134 Nelson, Marmaduke 62 Newton, Sir Isaac 5,56,62,67, 166, 175 Nichol, John Pringle 148-50,161,162, 163, 169 Nobili, Roberto de 10 Nodier, Charles 97, 105-6, 111 North, Roger 57 Oakeshott, Michael 45 Ockham, William of 236 Ordinaire, Jean-Jacques 96, 102 O'Sullivan, John 216,223,225 Oughtred, William 62, 67 Owen, Robert 115 Ozouf, Mona 80 Paine, Thomas 226, 239 Palas, Henry 95-6 Palas, Justine, nee Considerant 95-6 Parsons, William, third Earl of Rosse 165, 167 Pascal, Blaise 49 Pasor, Mathias 65 Passmore, John 244-5 Pico della Mirandola, Giovanni 58,71 Pigafetta, Antonio 10 Pius X, Pope 270 Pius XI, Pope 270,271,272-3,274,280, 281 Plato 121 Pococke, Edward 57, 66, 67 Popkin, Jeremy 80 Ptolemy 64 Pufendorf, Samuel 74 Purchas, Samuel 15,68 Quine, Willard Van Orman 3 Reddaway, Peter 242 Remond, Rene 269, 282 Reuchlin, Johann 60

290 Richelieu, Annand Jean du Plessis, Cardinal 22 Ricci, Matteo 10, 11-15,21 Riccioli, Giovanni Battista 65 Rousseau, Jean-Jacques 46,85,86,88,89, 90,124,237-9,241,251 Rubino, Giovanni Antonio 14 Rudolph Augustus (Duke of Brunswick) 31, 32 Ruggiere, Michele 12 Sachar, Abram Leon 5 Safran, Nadav 7 Sahagun, Bernardino de 9 Saint-Martin, Louis-Claude, Marquis de 112 Saint-Simon, Claude, comte de 121,127, 128, 135 Salmasius, Claude 72 Salt, Henry 243 Sandel, Michael 7 Sangnier, Marc 274 Scaliger, Joseph Justus 58,67,68 Schleiennacher, Friedrich 252, 253, 258, 261 Schwartz, Benjamin 3 Scott, Sir Walter 228 Sedgwick, Adam 163, 164, 165 Selden, John 55-78 Sherburne, Sir Edward 55, 68 Shreck, Johann Terrenz 13 Sieyes, Emmanuel-Joseph 86--90 Simmel, Georg 263, 264 Skinner, Quentin 42 Smith, Adam 87,251 Smith, Sydney, 194-7, 199 Soult, Napoleon-Hector, Duke of Dalmatia 106, 109, 111 Spencer, Herbert 140 Sprat, Thomas 27 Steinthal, Heymann 255, 256 Swedenborg, Emanuel 112 Sweezey, Paul 3

Index Tamisier, Alphonse 100 Thomas, Keith 45,46 Thoreau, Henry David 243 Thorez, Maurice 280 Tocqueville, Alexis de 80, 82, 194 Tonnies, Ferdinand 263 TrigauJt, Nicholas 12, 14 Trollope, Frances 201, 206--9 Trosne, Guillaume-Fran~ois Ie 86 Tsuru, Shigeta 3 Turgot, Anne Robert Jacques 80, 83, 86 Turner, Peter 72 Twyne, Brian 66, 72 Urban VIII, Pope 22 Ussher, James, Abp of Annagh 55, 66, 67-8 Valignano, Alesandro 12 Valois, George 274 Van Kley, Dale 80,81 Verbiest, Ferdinand 13, 14, 15,29 Vigoureux, Clarisse 99,100-2, 104, 105, 106,108,109,110,112-13,115,116 Vigoureux, Claire 100, 10 1, 104, 113 Vigoureux, Paul 99, 100, 10 1, 107, 111, 113-14, 115 Wallis, John 62 Walzer, Michael 7 Ward, Samuel 65 Ward, Seth 62 Webb, Beatrice 52 Weiss, Charles 97 Whewell, William 148,151-2,160,168, 176 White, Theodore, H. 3 Whitehead, Alfred North 3 Williams, Roger 228 Wolfson, Harry Austryn 4 Wollstonecraft, Mary 239 Wren, Sir Christopher 27,62 Wright, Frances (Fanny) 197-201,206--7 Xavier, Francis 10

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INTERNATIONAL ARCHIVES OF THE HISTORY OF IDEAS 86. S.L. Kaplan: Bread, Politics and Political Economy in the Reign of Louis XV. 2 vols., 1976 Set ISBN 90-247-1873-2 87. M. Lienhard (ed.): The Origins and Characteristics of Anabaptism / Les debuts et les caracteristiques de /' Anabaptisme. With an Extensive Bibliography / Avec une bibliographie detaillee. 1977 ISBN 90-247-1896-1 88. R. Descartes: Regles utiles et claires pour la direction de l' esprit en la recherche de la verite. Traduction selon Ie lexique cartesien, et annotation conceptuelle par J.-L. Marion. Avec des notes matMmatiques de P. Costabel. 1977 ISBN 90-247-1907-0 89. K. Hardesty: The 'Supplement' to the 'EncyclopMie'. [Diderot et d' Alembert]. 1977 ISBN 90-247-1965-8 90. H.B. White: Antiquity Forgot. Essays on Shakespeare, [Francis] Bacon, and Rembrandt. 1978 ISBN 90-247-1971-2 91. P.B.M. Blaas: Continuity and Anachronism. Parliamentary and Constitutional Development in Whig Historiography and in the Anti-Whig Reaction between 1890 and 1930. 1978 ISBN 90-247-2063-X 92. S.L. Kaplan (ed.): La Bagarre. Ferdinando Galiani's (1728-1787) 'Lost' Parody. With an Introduction by the Editor. 1979 ISBN 90-247-2125-3 93. E. McNiven Hine: A Critical Study of [Etienne Bonnot de] Condillac's [1714-1780] 'Traite des Systemes'. 1979 ISBN 90-247-2120-2 94. M.R.G. Spiller: Concerning Natural Experimental Philosphy. Meric Casaubon [15991671] and the Royal Society. 1980 ISBN 90-247-2414-7 95. F. Duchesneau: La physiologie des Lumieres. Empirisme, modeles et tMories. 1982 ISBN 90-247-2500-3 96. M. Heyd: Between Orthodoxy and the Enlightenment. Jean-Robert Chouet [16421731] and the Introduction of Cartesian Science in the Academy of Geneva. 1982 ISBN 90-247-2508-9 97. James O'Higgins: Yves de Vallone [1666(7-1705]: The Making of an Esprit Fort. 1982 ISBN 90-247-2520-8 98. M.L. Kuntz: Guillaume Postel [1510-1581]. Prophet of the Restitution of All Things. His Life and Thought. 1981 ISBN 90-247-2523-2 99. A. Rosenberg: Nicolas Gueudeville and His Work (1652-172?). 1982 ISBN 90-247-2533-X 100. S.L. Jaki: Uneasy Genius: The Life and Work of Pierre Duhem [1861-1916]. 1984 ISBN Hb 90-247-2897-5; Pb (1987) 90-247-3532-7 101. Anne Conway [1631-1679]: The Principles of the Most Ancient Modern Philosophy. Edited and with an Introduction by P. Loptson. 1982 ISBN 90-247-2671-9 102. E.C. Patterson: [Mrs.] Mary [Fairfax Greig] Sommerville [1780-1872] and the Cultivation of Science (1815-1840).1983 ISBN 90-247-2823-1 103. C.J. Berry: Hume, Hegel and Human Nature. 1982 ISBN 90-247-2682-4 104. C.J. Betts: Early Deism in France. From the so-called 'deistes' of Lyon (1564) to Voltaire's 'Lettres philosophiques' (1734). 1984 ISBN 90-247-2923-8 105. R. Gascoigne: Religion, Rationality and Community. Sacred and Secular in the Thought of Hegel and His Critics. 1985 ISBN 90-247-2992-0

ARCHIVES INTERNATIONALES D'HISTOIRE DES IDEES

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INTERNATIONAL ARCHIVES OF THE HISTORY OF IDEAS 106. S. Tweyman: Scepticism and Belief in Hume's 'Dialogues Concerning Natural Religion'. 1986 ISBN 90-247-3090-2 107. G. Cerny: Theology, Politics and Letters at the Crossroads of European Civilization. Jacques Basnage [1653-1723] and the Baylean Huguenot Refugees in the Dutch Republic. 1987 ISBN 90-247-3150-X 108. Spinoza's: Algebraic Calculation of the Rainbow & Calculation of Changes. Edited and Translated from Dutch, with an Introduction, Explanatory Notes and an Appendix by M.J. Petry. 1985 ISBN 90-247-3149-6 109. R.G. McRae: Philosophy and the Absolute. The Modes of Hegel's Speculation. 1985 ISBN 90-247-3151-8 110. J.D. North and J.J. Roche (eds.): The Light of Nature. Essays in the History and Philosophy of Science presented to A.C. Crombie. 1985 ISBN 90-247-3165-8 111. C. Walton and P.J. Johnson (eds.): {Thomas} Hobbe's 'Science of Natural Justice'. 1987 ISBN 90-247-3226-3 112. B.W. Head: Ideology and Social Science. Destutt de Tracy and French Liberalism. 1985 ISBN 90-247-3228-X 113. A.Th. Peperzak: Philosophy and Politics. A Commentary on the Preface to Hegel's Philosophy of Right. 1987 ISBN Hb 90-247-3337-5; Pb ISBN 90-247-3338-3 114. S. Pines and Y. Yovel (eds.): Maimonides [1135-1204] and Philosophy. Papers Presented at the 6th Jerusalem Philosophical Encounter (May 1985). 1986 ISBN 90-247-3439-8 115. T.J. Saxby: The Quest for the New Jerusalem, Jean de Labadie [1610-1674] and the ISBN 90-247-3485-1 Labadists (1610-1744). 1987 116. C.E. Harline: Pamphlets, Printing, and Political Culture in the Early Dutch Republic. 1987 ISBN 90-247-3511-4 117. R.A. Watson and J.E. Force (eds.): The Sceptical Mode in Modern Philosophy. Essays ISBN 90-247-3584-X in Honor of Richard H. Popkin. 1988 118. R.T. Bienvenu and M. Feingold (eds.): In the Presence of the Past. Essays in Honor of Frank Manuel. 1991 ISBN 0-7923-1008-X 119. J. van den Berg and E.G.E. van der Wall (eds.): Jewish-Christian Relations in the 17th Century. Studies and Documents. 1988 ISBN 90-247-3617-X 120. N. Waszek: The Scottish Enlightenment and Hegel's Account of 'Civil Society'. 1988 ISBN 90-247-3596-3 121. To be announced later. 122. Henry More [1614-1687]: The Immortality of the Soul. Edited with Introduction and Notes by A. Jacob. 1987 ISBN 90-247-3512-2 123. P.B. Scheurer and G. Debrock (eds.): Newton's Scientific and Philosophical Legacy. 1988 ISBN 90-247-3723-0 124. To be announced later. 125. R.M. Golden (ed.): The Huguenot Connection. The Edict of Nantes, Its Revocation, and Early French Migration to South Carolina. 1988 ISBN 90-247-3645-5 126. S. Lindroth: Les chemins du savoir en Suede. De la fondation de I'Universite d'Upsal aJacob Berzelius. Etudes et Portraits. Traduit du suedois, presente et annote par J.-F. Battail. Avec une introduction sur Sten Lindroth par G. Eriksson. 1988 ISBN 90-247-3579-3

ARCHIVES INTERNATIONALES D'HISTOIRE DES IDEES

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INTERNATIONAL ARCHIVES OF THE HISTORY OF IDEAS 127. S. Hutton (ed.): Henry More (1614-1687). Tercentenary Studies. With a Biography and Bibliography by R. Crocker. 1989 ISBN 0-7923-0095-5 128. Y. Yovel (ed.): Kant's Practical Philosophy Reconsidered. Papers Presented at the 7th Jerusalem Philosophical Encounter (December 1986). 1989 ISBN 0-7923-0405-5 129. J.E. Force and R.H. Popkin: Essays on the Context, Nature, and 1nfluence of 1saac Newton's Theology. 1990 ISBN 0-7923-0583-3 130. N. Capaldi and D.W. Livingston (eds.): Liberty in Hume' s 'History of England'. 1990 ISBN 0-7923-0650-3

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