The scientific and speculative culture of the mind on the part of man, has often been regarded as a proud or conceited refinement.

This opinion was expressed by some writers of the seventeenth century--for instance, by Nicole, in the preface to the _Logique de Port Royal_:

"These sciences," he says, "have not only back-corners and secret recesses of very little use, but they are all useless when viewed in themselves and for themselves. Men were not born to spend their time measuring lines, examining the relations of angles, studying the divers movements of matter: their mind is too vast, their life too short, their time too precious, to occupy themselves with such small matters."

Malebranche expresses himself in about the same terms:

"Men were not born to become astronomers or chemists, to spend their whole life hanging on a telescope or fastened to a furnace, for no better purpose than to draw afterwards from their laborious observations useless consequences. Granting some astronomer was the first in discovering lands, seas, and mountains in the moon; that he was the first to perceive spots moving upon the sun, and that he has calculated their movements exactly. Granting some chemists to have finally discovered the secret of fixing mercury or to make that alkahest by means of which Van Helmont boasted he could dissolve all matter: were they the wiser and happier for it?"

In expressing themselves so disdainfully concerning the sciences, Nicole and Malebranche meant, in fact, only that one should not prefer speculative knowledge to the science of man or to the science of G.o.d; and it is most true that if we view the sciences from a standpoint of dignity, we must admit that the moral sciences have greater excellence than the physical sciences. But that which is equally true is, that we must not measure the merit of the sciences by their material or even moral or logical utility. Science is in itself, and without regard to any other end but itself, worthy to be loved and studied. Intelligence, in fact, was given to man that he might know the truth of things; investigation is its natural food. Man, in raising himself to science, increases thereby the excellence of his nature; he becomes a creature of a higher order; for in the order of divine creatures, the most perfect are at the same time those who know the most, and the highest degree of happiness promised to religious faith, is to know truth face to face. It is therefore no frivolous amus.e.m.e.nt to increase here below the sum of knowledge we are capable of, though this knowledge be only that of the things of this world, and not yet the higher and direct knowledge of G.o.d.

Without admitting that science is of itself a legitimate object of research, it will be recognized that it is lawful to study it, either in our own interest or for the love of others, or for the love of G.o.d. But this is not enough: to see in science nothing but a means to be useful to ourselves (as, for example, to make a living),[114] is a servile and mercenary view, which does not deserve to be discussed. To maintain that science should only be cultivated because of its utility to others, is the same as to say that man has no duties toward himself, and that he is not obliged, letting alone the interest of others, to respect or perfect his own self: a thing we have already refuted. Finally, to say that science should be cultivated as a gift from G.o.d, and for the love of G.o.d, may be true; but this is not any more applicable to that occupation than to any other; and the same may be said of any other kind of duty without exception. Certainly, science should not make one proud; but pride is only an advent.i.tious and not a necessary consequence, which, in speaking of cultivating science, should not be confounded with the fact itself.

Besides, when Malebranche says that the scientist is not any happier or wiser for his science, he is mistaken: for the greatest happiness is sometimes derived from science alone; and as to the wisdom of it, a taste for elevated thought is already a guarantee against the allurements of the pa.s.sions; finally, whilst we cultivate science, we are safe from other less innocent inclinations.

To the opinions of Nicole and Malebranche, let us oppose the testimony of two men who possessed in the highest degree the respect and love of science:

"It is unworthy of man," says Aristotle, "not to possess himself of all the science he can. If the poets are right, when they say that the Divinity is capable of jealousy, this jealousy would especially manifest itself in regard to philosophy, and then, all those who indulged in elevated thought would be unhappy. But it is not possible for the Divinity to be jealous, and the poets, as the proverb says, do not always tell the truth.

Let us now hear Descartes:

"Although in judging myself I find that I am more disposed to incline toward the side of distrust than presumption, and that regarding with a philosopher's eye the diverse actions and enterprises of men, there be scarcely any that do not seem to me vain and useless, yet does the progress which I think I have already made in the search for truth give me extreme satisfaction, and inspire me with such hopes for the future that if, among the more material occupations of men, there are any substantially good and important, I dare believe that it is the one I have chosen."[115]

If, from a standpoint of somewhat mystical piety, some minds of the seventeenth century regarded the sciences as useless, a paradoxical stoicism accused them in the eighteenth to be a cause of corruption and decay in society. Such is J. J. Rousseau's celebrated thesis in his first speech at the Academy of Dijon.

This celebrated paradox, which has created so much excitement in the past century, and which is even an historical event (for it was the first attack against the society of the time), has since been so decried that it is useless to dwell on it. Let us make a brief _resume_ of J. J.

Rousseau's arguments:

1. Progress in letters and sciences serves for nothing else but to conceal the vices and put hypocrisy in the place of an ill-bred rusticity.

2. All great nations ceased to be invincible as soon as the sciences penetrated among them. Egypt, after the conquest of Cambyses; Greece, after Pericles; Rome, after Augustus. If, on the contrary, we look for examples of healthy, honest, vigorous nations, we find them among the ancient Persians, Scythians, Spartans, the first Romans, the Swiss.

3. The sciences and arts are born of and nourish idleness. Their least mischief is uselessness.[116]

4. The letters and arts engender luxury, and luxury is one of the powerful instruments of corruption in morals: it destroys courage, lowers the character, and, by another consequence, depraves and corrupts the taste even.

5. Another consequence: the culture of the mind engenders sophisms, false systems, and dangerous doubts about religion and morality.

These various arguments, taking them up one after the other, may be answered as follows:

1. It is nowise proved that in the age of ignorance vices were less numerous and less deeply rooted than in the more enlightened age. Decency is a good in itself, and is not always hypocrisy. Delicacy of mind robs at least vice of its grossest features; it diminishes and allays violence, which is a great source of crimes.

2. It is not true that military virtues (which, besides, are not the only admirable virtues) are destroyed by the culture of the mind: modern examples prove this sufficiently.

3. To say that the letters and sciences are born of and nourish idleness is an abuse of words. Wherein is the man who works mentally more idle than he who works with his hands?

4. The sciences and letters do not develop a taste for luxury: luxury would develop without them, and would be all the more frivolous and corrupting: they are concomitant, but not mutually related facts. Luxury, besides, is not absolutely bad in itself: the taste for elegance is a legitimate one. Is not nature herself adorned?

5. Science develops wrong opinions, false systems: so be it; but it also corrects them, and we should look at both sides of a thing and see its good parts as well as its bad. Otherwise it would be easy to prove that everything is wrong.

Rousseau's paradox, however, is not altogether false, and there are, unquestionably, many evils mixed up with the culture of the mind, but these evils do not come from the mind's being cultivated, but from its being badly cultivated; they do not come from people's seeking the true and the beautiful, but, on the contrary, from their not seeking them enough. The vanity derived from false science should not be imputed to true science, but to ignorance. The moral enfeeblement, which is the result of an over-refined culture of the mind, comes from our not sufficiently cultivating the mind in every direction; for example, from our neglecting the moral sciences for the industrial sciences, or the n.o.bler arts for the voluptuous arts. The remedy for the evils pointed out by Rousseau is, therefore, not ignorance, but, on the contrary, a greater abundance of light, and higher lights.

It is then for each of us a duty to instruct himself, but it is evident that this duty must be regarded as a broad duty--that is to say, that its application cannot be determined by precise formulas. No man is obliged by the moral law to be what is called a scholar; no one is obliged to learn astronomy or transcendental mathematics, still less metaphysics. But it can be said that it is a duty for each of us: 1. To learn as well as possible the principles of the art he will have to cultivate: for instance, the magistrate the principles of jurisprudence; the physician the principles of medicine; the artisan the principles of mechanics. In this respect young students, we must confess, have far too easy a conscience. They do not realize the responsibility they incur by their negligence and laziness. 2. It is a duty for all men, according to the means they can dispose of, to instruct themselves concerning their duties. 3. It is also a duty for each to go, as far as he can, beyond the strictly necessary in matters of education, and in proportion to the means he has at his disposal. It is then a duty to neglect no occasion of improving one's self.

=149. Good sense.=--Between science and prudence, between _theoretical_ intelligence and _practical_ intelligence, Aristotle places the _critical_ faculty--in other terms, judgment, good sense, discernment. This faculty is distinguished from science in that it is only applied to things where doubt and deliberation come in; it treats then of the same objects as prudence; but it is distinguished from the latter in that prudence is practical and prescribes what should be done or not be done; good sense, on the contrary, is purely critical: it is limited to mere judging. It is, then, in some respects disinterested and does not induce to action; it is the art of appreciating things, men, and events. Good judgment may be found among men lacking practical prudence: one sees often very well the faults of others without seeing one's own; or, again, one may be aware of one's own faults and not be able to correct them. However, it is not to be denied that good sense or good judgment is a useful auxiliary to prudence; it is already in itself an estimable quality, and is far from being as well distributed among men as Descartes claims.[117] On the contrary, according to Nicole:

"Common sense is not so common a quality as one thinks.... Nothing is more rare than this exactness of judgment. Everywhere we meet false minds who have scarcely any discernment of what is true; who take everything the wrong way; who accept the worst kind of reasonings, and wish to make others accept them also; who allow themselves to be carried away by the least appearances of things; who are always excessive in their views and run into extremes; minds who either have no grasp to hold on to the truths they have acquired, because they have become attached to them through chance rather than solid knowledge; or who, on the contrary, persist in their ideas with such stubbornness that they listen to nothing that could undeceive them; who judge boldly of things neither they nor any one else, perhaps, ever understood; who make no difference between talking to the purpose and talking nonsense, and are guided in their judgment by mere trifles.... So that there are no absurdities, however incredible, that do not find approving adherents. Whoever intends duping people is sure to find people glad to be duped, and the most ridiculous nonsense is sure to find minds suited for it."

Here, the rules of morality are confounded with those of logic. It is the latter that teaches us how to avoid error, if not in science (which is the object of speculative logic), at least in life. The development of these rules will be found in the _Recherche de la verite_ of Malebranche. The _Logique de Port Royal_ will furnish us a _resume_ of them which will suffice here:

=150. Illusions coming from ourselves.=--1. A first cause of illusion in the judgments we pa.s.s upon things, is to take our interest for a motive of belief: "I am of such or such a country, _ergo_, I must believe that such or such a saint has preached the Gospel there; I belong to such or such a cla.s.s, _ergo_, I believe that such or such a privilege is a just one."

2. Our affections are another cause of illusion: "I love him, _ergo_, he is the cleverest man in the world; I hate him, _ergo_, he is n.o.body." This is what may be called the sophistry of the heart.

3. Illusions of self-love. There are some who decide about everything by the general and very convenient principle, that they must be in the right.

They listen but little to the reasons of others; they wish to carry everything before them by main authority, and treat all those who are not of their opinion as indifferent thinkers. Some even, without suspecting it, go so far as to say to themselves: "If it were so, I should not be the clever man I am: or, I am a clever man; _ergo_, it is not so."

4. Reciprocal reproaches which people may make to each other with the same right: for example, you are a caviler, you are selfish, blind, dishonest, etc. Whence this equitable and judicious rule of Saint Augustine: "Let us avoid in discussions mutual reproaching; reproaches which, though they may not be true at that moment, may justly be made by both parties."

5. A spirit of contradiction and dispute, so admirably depicted by Montaigne:

"We only learn to dispute that we may contradict, and every one contradicting and being contradicted, it falls out that the fruit of disputation is to lose and nullify the truth.... One flies to the east, the other to the west; they lose the princ.i.p.al, and wander in the crowd of incidents; after an hour of tempest, they know not what they seek; one is low, the other high, and a third wide; one catches at a word and a simile; another is no longer sensible of what is said in opposition to him, being entirely absorbed in his own notions, engaged in following his own course, and not thinking of answering you; another, finding himself weak, fears all, refuses all, and, at the very beginning, confounds the subjects, or, in the very height of the dispute, stops short, and grows silent; by a peevish ignorance affecting a proud contempt, or an unseasonable modest desire to shun debate...."

6. The contrary defect, namely, a sycophantic amiability, which approves of everything and admires everything: example, the _Philinte_ of Moliere.

Besides these different illusions which are due to ourselves and our own weaknesses, there are others engendered from without, or at least from the divers aspects under which things present themselves to us:

=151. Illusions arising from objects.=--1. The mixture of the true and the false, of good and evil which we see in things, is cause that we often confound them. Thus do the good qualities of the persons we esteem cause us to approve their defects, and _vice versa_. Now, it is precisely in this judicious separation of good from evil that a correct mind shows itself.

2. Illusions arising from eloquence and flowery rhetoric.

3. Ill-natured interpretations of people's peculiar views founded on mere appearances or hearsay; as, for example: such a one goes with doubtful characters, _ergo_, he is a bad character himself; such another a.s.sociates with free-thinkers, _ergo_, he is a free-thinker likewise; a third criticises the government, _ergo_, he is a rebel; he approves its acts, _ergo_, he is a courtier, etc., etc.

4. False deductions drawn from a few accidental occurrences; as for instance: medicine does not cure all diseases, hence it cures none; there are frivolous women, hence all women are frivolous; there are hypocrites, hence piety is nothing but hypocrisy.

5. Error of judging of bad or good advice from subsequent events. As for example: Such or such an event followed upon such and such advice, hence it was good--it was bad.

6. Sophistry of authority. It consists in accepting men's opinions on the strength of certain qualities they may possess, although these qualities may have nothing to do with the matter in hand. For instance, by reason of their age, or piety, or, what is worse, of wealth and influence. Certainly we do not exactly say in so many words: such a one has a hundred pounds income, and must therefore be right; but there is nevertheless something similar going on in our minds, which runs away with our judgment without our being conscious of it.

In pointing out these various dangers upon which good judgment and upright reasoning are often wrecked, we indicate sufficiently the rules which ought to serve in the education of the mind: for it is enough to be warned against such errors, and be endowed with a certain amount of correct judgment, to recognize and avoid them.

=152. Prudence.=--From the faculty of judging and having an opinion about things, let us pa.s.s on to the third quality of the mind, namely: prudence, which consists, as Aristotle informs us, in deliberating well before doing anything, and which is the art of well discerning our interest in the things concerning us, and the interest of others in the things concerning them.

There are then two sorts of prudence: personal prudence, which is nothing more than self-interest well understood, and civil or disinterested prudence, which applies to the interests of others; thus, a prudent general, a prudent notary, a prudent minister, are not only prudent in their own interests, but for that of others. Prudence from this point of view is then but a duty toward others. As to personal prudence, it may be asked how far it is a question of morals, and whether it is not excluded from them by the very principle of morals, which is duty. But we have already solved that difficulty. Because prudence is not all virtue, it does not follow that it is not _a_ virtue. Certainly, we are too naturally inclined to seek our own interest, to make it necessary to set it down as a duty. But in case of struggle between self-interest and pa.s.sion,[118]

self-interest takes sometimes the character of duty. This is clear enough.

Interest, if properly understood, represents general interest; and pa.s.sion, private interest. To yield to pa.s.sion, is to satisfy at a given moment, and for a very short time, one of our desires only. Prudence, on the contrary, pleads the cause of the general interest of the entire man, and for all his life. Man may be represented (as Plato has represented him) figuratively as a city, a republic, a world; it has been said that he is a microcosm (little world). This little world represents in miniature the harmony of the great world. The individual to whom the government of this little world is intrusted, and who stands in regard to himself as Providence stands in regard to the universe, should not favor a part of it at the expense of the rest. Prudence is then the virtue by means of which man governs the affairs of the little State of which he is the king.

Prudence, moreover, is nothing more than foresight--that is to say, the faculty of foreseeing what is coming, of drawing from the past, consequences for the future, and acting conformably to the lessons of experience. Now, it is especially by this that man is distinguished from the animal: it is by this that he is capable of progress. He owes it then to himself to act according to the principles of reason, and not according to brute instincts.

Another difficulty of greater import, is that prudence does not represent a special virtue, but is nothing more than a common name given to several particular virtues. Thus, prudence being defined "the discernment between the useful and the hurtful," it may be said that discernment, in point of sensual pleasures, will be called moderation or temperance; in point of riches, economy; that true courage holding the mean between temerity and cowardice, is necessarily accompanied by prudence; we have seen that science itself must learn how to keep within bounds, and this also is a sort of prudence. We shall find therefore that prudence has not, like other virtues, a property of its own. It is in reality nothing more than a mode common to all personal virtues, each presenting two standpoints to be considered from: 1, from the standpoint of personal dignity, which is the highest principle; 2, from the standpoint of a proper self-interest, which, subordinate to the first, is a secondary and relative standpoint.