This current of thought is marked by a vitality and a concreteness which are a striking contrast to the older eclectic spiritualism. Having submitted itself to the discipline of the sciences, it is acquainted with their methods and data in a manner which enables it to oppose the dogmatism of science, and to acclaim the reality of values other than those which are purely scientific. Ignoring a priori construction, or eclectic applications of doctrines, it investigates the outer world of nature and the inner life of the spirit.
We have said that these ideas are presented, not merely from a national standpoint, but from one which is deeply human and universal. “La Science,” re-marked Pasteur, “n’a pas de patrie.” We may add that philosophy, too, owns no special fatherland. There is not in philosophy, any more than in religion, “a chosen people,” even although the Jews of old thought themselves such, and among moderns the Germans have had this conceit about their Kultur. In so far as philosophy aims at the elucidation of a true view of the universe, it thereby tends inevitably to universality. But just as a conception of internationalism, which should fail to take into account the factors of nationality, would be futile and disastrous, so a conception of the evolution of thought must likewise estimate the characteristics which nationality produces even in the philosophical field.
Such characteristics, it will be found, are not definite doctrines, for these may be transferred, as are scientific discoveries, from one nation to another, and absorbed in such a manner that they become part of the general consciousness of mankind. They are rather differences of tone and colour, form or expression, which express the vital genius of the nation. There are features which serve to distinguish French philosophy from the development which has occurred in Germany, Italy, England and America.
Modern French thought does not deliberately profess to maintain allegiance to any past traditions, for it realises that such a procedure would be inconsistent with that freedom of thought which is bound up with the spirit of philosophy. It does, however, betray certain national features, which are characteristic of the great French thinkers from Descartes, Pascal and Malebranche onwards.
One of the most remarkable points about these thinkers was their intimacy with the sciences. Descartes, while founding modern philosophy, also gave the world analytic geometry; Pascal made certain physical discoveries and was an eminent mathematician. Malebranche, too, was keenly interested in science. In the following century the Encyclopaedists displayed their wealth of scientific knowledge, and in the nineteenth century we have seen the work of Comte based on science, the ability of Cournot and Renouvier in mathematics, while men like Boutroux, Hergson and Le Roy possess a thorough acquaintance with modern science.
These facts have marked results, and distinguish French philosophy from that of Germany, where the majority of philosophers appear to haye been theological students in their youth and to have suffered from the effects of their subject for the remainder of their lives. Theological study does not produce clearness; it does not tend to cultivate a spirit of precision, but rather one of vagueness, of which much German philosophy is the product. On the other hand, mathematics is a study which demands clearness and which in turn increases the spirit of clarity and precision.
There is to be seen in our period a strong tendency to adhere to this feature of clearness. Modern French philosophy is remarkably lucid. Indeed, it is claimed that there is no notion, however profound it may be, or however based on technical research it may be, which cannot be conveyed in the language of every day. French philosophy does not invent a highly technical vocabulary in order to give itself airs in the eyes of the multitude, on the plea that obscurity is a sign of erudition and learning. On the contrary, it remembers Descartes’ intimate association of clearness with truth, remembers, too, his clear and simple French which he preferred to the scholastic Latin. It knows that to convince others of truth one must be at least clear to them and, what is equally important, one must be clear in one’s own mind first. Clarity does not mean shallowness but rather the reverse, because it is due to keen perceptive power, to a seeing further into the heart of things, involving an intimate contact with reality.
French thought has always remained true to a certain “common sense.” This is a dangerous and ambiguous term. In its true meaning it signifies the general and sane mind of man free from all that prejudice or dogma or tradition, upon which, of course, “common sense” in the popular meaning is usually based. A genuine “common sense” is merely “liberté” for the operation of that general reason which makes man what he is. It must be admitted that, owing to the fact that philosophy is taught in the lycées, the French are the best educated of any nation in philosophical ideas and have a finer general sense of that spirit of criticism and appreciation which is the essence of philosophy, than has any other modern nation. Philosophy in France is not written in order to appeal to any school or class. Not limited to an academic circle only, it makes its pronouncements to humanity and thus embodies in a real form the principles of egalité and fraternité. It makes a democratic appeal both by its clarté and its belief that la raison commune is in some degree present in every human being.
Not only was clearness a strong point in the philosophy of Descartes, but there was also an insistence upon method. Since the time of his famous Discours de la Méthode there has always been a unique value placed upon method in French thought, and this again serves to distinguish it profoundly from German philosophy, which is, in general, concerned with the conception and production of entire systems. The idea of an individual and systematic construction is an ambitious conceit which is not in harmony with the principles of liberté, egalité, fraternité. Such a view of philosophical work is not a sociable one, from a human standpoint, and tends to give rise to a spirit of authority and tradition. Apart from this aspect of it, there is a more important consideration. All those systems take one idea as their starting-point and build up an immense construction a priori. But another idea may be taken and opposed to that. There is thus an immense wastage of labour, and the individual effort is never transcended. Yet an idea is only a portion of our intelligence, and that intelligence itself is, in turn, only a portion of reality. A wider conception of philosophy must be aimed at, one in which the vue d’ensemble is not the effort of one mind, but of many, each contributing its share to a harmonious conception, systematic in a sense, but not in the German sense. Modern French thought has a dislike of system of the individualistic type; it realises that reality is too rich and complex for such a rapid construction to grasp it. It is opposed to systems, for the French mind looks upon philosophy as a manifestation of life itself—life blossoming to self-consciousness, striving ever to unfold itself more explicitly and more clearly, endeavouring to become more harmonious, more beautiful, and more noble. The real victories of philosophical thought are not indicated by the production of systems but by the discovery or creation of ideas. Often these ideas have been single and simple, but they have become veritable forces, in the life of mankind.
French thinkers prefer to work collectively at particular problems rather than at systems. Hence the aim and tone of their work is more universal and human, and being more general is apt to be more generous. This again is the expression of liberte, égalité and fraternité in a true sense. The French prefer, as it were, in their philosophical campaign for the intellectual conquest of reality diverse batteries of soixante-quinze acting with precision and alertness to the clumsy production of a “Big Bertha.” The production of ambitious systems, each professing to be the final word in the presentation of reality, has not attracted the French spirit. It looks at reality differently and prefers to deal with problems in a clear way, thereby indicating a method which may be applied to the solution of others as they present themselves. This is infinitely preferable to an ambitious unification, which can only be obtained at the sacrifice of clearness or meaning, and it arises from that keen contact with life, which keeps the mind from dwelling too much in the slough of abstraction, from which some of the German philosophers never succeed in escaping. Their pilgrimage to the Celestial City ends there, and consequently the account of their itinerary cannot be of much use to other pilgrims.