The “Mad” Philosopher, Auguste Comte

By Boris Sokoloff

Uncover the intriguing life and radical ideas of one of the most influential thinkers of the 19th century with Boris Sokoloff's The "Mad" Philosopher, Auguste Comte. This captivating biography delves into the complexities and eccentricities of Auguste Comte, the founder of positivism and a pioneer in the field of sociology.

Boris Sokoloff, a distinguished historian and writer, provides a thorough and engaging examination of Comte's life, from his early years in France to his intellectual development and eventual establishment of positivism. Sokoloff explores the personal and professional struggles that shaped Comte's philosophy, shedding light on the motivations and challenges behind his groundbreaking work.

The "Mad" Philosopher, Auguste Comte offers readers an in-depth look at Comte's major contributions to philosophy and social science. Sokoloff explains how Comte's ideas on the scientific method, the classification of sciences, and the law of three stages laid the foundation for modern sociology and influenced subsequent intellectual movements.

Sokoloff's narrative goes beyond Comte's public persona, delving into his often tumultuous personal life. The book reveals Comte's passionate relationships, his battles with mental health, and the controversies that surrounded his work. Through vivid storytelling and meticulous research, Sokoloff paints a comprehensive portrait of a man whose brilliance was often overshadowed by his eccentricities.

This biography is an essential read for students of philosophy, sociology, and intellectual history, as well as anyone interested in the lives of great thinkers. Sokoloff's insightful analysis and compelling narrative make The "Mad" Philosopher, Auguste Comte a valuable resource for understanding the enduring impact of Comte's ideas on contemporary thought.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Porirua Publishing
• Release date: Jun 14, 2024
• ISBN: 9781991312211

Book preview

INSTEAD OF INTRODUCTION

In spite of the progress of modern civilization, and the achievements in the fields of medicine, science and technology, the human race is confronted with a tragic situation. The number of mental cases is ever-increasing and hundreds of thousands of schizophrenic patients overcrowd hospitals in this country and Europe.

Millions of Americans, anxious to find an answer to their inner conflicts and mental confusion, are being treated by psychoanalysts, psychiatrists, and psychologists, often with very little, if any, success. Most of them belong to the so-called intellectual groups of the population: professional men and women, lawyers, businessmen, and educators. No wonder that the teachings of Zen are recently attracting much attention on the part of Americans. The writings of D. T. Suzuki as well as the articles of C. C. Jung and Karen Homey, both prominent practicing psychiatrists who enthusiastically endorsed the Zen teaching, permit us to understand and evaluate its essence and its postulates.

This is a natural reaction of modern man to the intellectualism of our civilization. It is not a new reaction. Again and again, one may find the signs of revolt against intellectualism in the writings of Pascal, James, Tolstoy and others. Modern man is not happy, in spite of all his achievements in his profession or business. He is unhappy because of his inability to live in the present. He escapes from the present, either to his past or to obsessive thoughts of his future. Actually he is trying to escape from the reality of his present-day existence. Dualism of the mind, a product of Western philosophy, seems to be the chief contributing factor, as many of us readily admit, to the present unhappiness of a large sector of our population.

Western traditions are essentially dualistic. They were crystallized under the influences of Greek and Hebrew civilizations. They divide reality into two parts, and set one part off against the other, as William Barrett admirably remarked. While the Greeks divided reality along intellectual lines, the Hebrews used religion and moral principles for the same purpose, with painful and devastating results to Western man.

Western philosophy, as it is now, as it has been for centuries, reflects the basic ideas of Plato, and is virtually their extension and supplementation. It makes reason the highest and the most valued function of man’s existence. It glorifies man’s intellect as the only factor in the progress of civilization. It considers the intellect as the omnipowerful center of human personality. The world of the emotions is considered of secondary, almost insignificant, importance—subordinated to the intellect.

As Martin Heidegger, the German Existentialist pointed out, Western philosophy was the greatest mistake of modern civilization, having contributed greatly to the dualistic spiritual life of the human race. For the dichotomizing intellect makes the unity of Self impossible. The disunity of Self, its duality, is an inexhaustible source of inner conflict, of split-personality and schizophrenia in many instances.

In the field of religion, Western man also does not find the unity of Self. The basic principles of Hebrew traditions still dominate the Western religion of today. God is separated from the world. He transcends it. Human beings are not a part of God, who is distant and unapproachable, embodying moral principles which man has to follow obediently and in servitude. Man’s world of emotions and feelings is repressed, if not rejected altogether. This creates a constant source of antagonistic emotions, conflicting with the moral principles of religion. Thus Western man in his inbred driving for the unity of Self, in his natural desire to escape from his dualistic existence, finds no solace either in intellectualism or in religion.

Intellectualism is often associated with the introvert complex, which sooner or later induces explosive affective drivings, as a rule of a compulsory nature. It is in this respect that the dramatic life of Auguste Comte, French philosopher, offers unusually rich and intriguing material for study of the intellectual’s psychology. He was a man of powerful brain and dynamic personality, a brilliant mathematician, the creator of the Philosophy of Positivism, which influenced the development of scientific and philosophic progress of the Nineteenth Century. His philosophy, which was a part of his personality, reflecting the intrinsic structure of his nature, his behavior and drivings, was that of an avowed intellectual who denied all emotions, who rejected any religious or meta-physical inclinations. His philosophy was in this respect an extreme form of intellectualism, for to him The Intellect was my Lord.

One would have expected that in his case, as was often the case with other philosophers, his deeper subconscious life would have found its expression in the type of religion which might be called the cosmic interpretation. Nothing of this kind of psychological evolution occurred with Comte. For in his case, his love for a woman, who was neither his wife nor his mistress (a woman whom he knew hardly more than one year) was the major factor in the change of his personality.

The long-repressed affective element shaped his unconscious projection to a religion in its extreme form. At the age of forty-seven, he completely reversed his credo, his basic philosophy. He adhered to a new philosophy, a philosophy of religion, with his beloved as a Saint of this movement. Under the influence of his love for Madame de Vaux, the affective element in Comte assumed gigantic proportions. Dead, she remained alive in his imagination, as Beatrice remained alive to Dante.

His introvertive tendencies swung over wholly and irrevocably to the ambivalent impulses of extroversion. The pattern of his personality was altered to such an extent that a completely new personality emerged from this spiritual revolution. He changed his habits, his attitudes toward men. He created a new religion of which he became the High Priest. In his Positive Polity, he reversed his stand in regard to everything he had defended and preached in his Positive Philosophy. It was an open revolt, of extreme intensity, against intellectualism, against himself, in fact. It was a craving of incredible force for an emotional existence which he had denied himself all his life.

The life of Comte, as extreme as it might have been in its manifestations, reveals the underlying psychologic factors inbred in human nature, factors which are at work in millions of modern men,—for, man was born to be happy, in spite of all the unhappiness which besets him. And when man is unable any longer to bear the inner conflicts, he escapes to the world of unreality, where his imagination creates a life apart, unrelated to his actual existence, and full of sparks of true happiness. Psychiatry often classifies this desire for human happiness as a mental ailment, but actually it is nothing but a powerful stirring on the part of man to find unity of Self.

Some French psychiatrists expressed the opinion that Auguste Comte was mentally disturbed during the last ten years of his life, that he was mad. Such a diagnosis might be correct, if made on a strictly formalistic basis. But actually his mental aberrations were only the reflection of his emotional drivings, a challenge to his own intellect.

The tragic story of Auguste Comte’s life offers additional proof that the secular philosophy, with which most Westerners have been living in practice for the last three hundred years, is proving to be an inadequate guide for the human race, and that a spiritual reawakening in the West seems to be inevitable.

Chapter 1 — THE LUXEMBOURG

The end of the year II of the French Republic—the day 7th Nivôse, December 27, 1793:

In his rooms at the Hotel Philadelphia, Passage des Petits Pères, a middle-aged man, with long graying hair, and a sharp longish nose was feverishly writing the last few lines of his manuscript, Part I of The Age of Reason. He was in a hurry. Any minute he expected the hatchetmen of Robespierre to come after him.

About six months before, on June 7th, the Convention had passed a law, at Robespierre’s motion, ordering the imprisonment of all foreigners. Two foreigners were excluded from this law, both members of the Convention, Thomas Paine and Anacharis Clootz. But on July 13th of the same year, the beautiful girl, Charlotte Corday, killed Marat.

With his death, Robespierre was again in control of France, a man who was not timid in exercising his power, and who was craving for the bloody purge of all moderate members of the Convention. On October 31, the great execution of Girondists took place. On December 24th, on the eve of Christmas Day, Bourdon de l’Oise, the most savage of the Terrorists, denounced Paine and demanded his expulsion from the Convention, at the order of Robespierre. He accused Paine of being a traitor to the Revolution. He demanded his punishment in the interest of America as much as of France.

Paine later wrote conceiving after this that I had but a few days of liberty, I sat down and brought the work to a close as speedily as possible. Never did an author spur his pen so much. Paine was greatly puzzled, indeed unable to understand the reasons underlying his impending arrest and execution for the interest of America. At that time, he did not know that the United States Minister to France, Gouverneur Morris, was behind this conspiracy against him.

They arrived at three in the morning, the five agents of the Public Surety, and announced to him that he was arrested at the order of the Convention. The agents searched his room very carefully, looking everywhere for the conspiracy documents. They found nothing except the manuscript he had just finished.

Lamy, Deputy-Secretary of the Surety took the manuscript, written in English, and glanced through the pages. "C’est rien...Quelque chose de la religion" he declared.

May I keep the manuscript? Paine asked.

Why not?...You may.

Paine requested their permission to stop at the Great Britain Hotel, on the rue Jacob, where his friend Joel Barlow lived. Lamy made no objections. In fact, he decided that this visit would give them the opportunity of searching Barlow’s suite. While the agents went through the papers of Barlow, finding nothing of importance, the friends exchanged a few words.

Citizen Lamy, Paine asked, Is there any objection on your part to my leaving my manuscript here with my friend?

None! Lamy answered. Thus The Age of Reason was safely transferred into the hands of Barlow. Soon it was published, first in Paris.

The party thereafter went to the house on the Faubourg Saint-Denis, 63, which was actually Paine’s residence. He had taken the room at the Hotel Philadelphia in order to escape from his numerous friends and visitors, who often interfered with his work. After an elaborate going-through of Paine’s belongings, the agents regretfully admitted that they were unable to find any incriminating papers in Paine’s possession. The protocol, signed by all the agents said: None of them were found suspicious, neither in French nor in English. Now the party started for the Luxembourg prison, on the way picking up Anacharis Clootz, another member of the Girondist group of the Convention. The arrested were received by Benoit, who was in charge of the jail. He gave a receipt:

"I have received from the Citizens Martin and Lamy, Deputy-Secretaries of the Committee of General Surety of the National Convention, the Citizens Thomas Payne{1} and Anacharis Clootz, formerly Deputies; by order of the said Committee.

At the Luxembourg, this day 8th Nivôse, year II of the French Republic. One and Indivisible.

(Signed:) Benoit, Concierge."

Paine was prepared for arrest and even execution; but he did not expect to find such deplorable and tragic conditions of imprisonment as existed in the Luxembourg.

The Bastille, the infamous prison of the French monarchy was destroyed on July 14th, the same day that Louis XVI made an entry in his diary that he had killed forty-one birds and commented on the interruption occasioned "par les événements" Instead of the Bastille, a new prison was created—this time for enemies of the revolution.

The luxurious palace of Marie de Médici on the rue de Toumon, near the Luxembourg garden, was transformed into a fantastic jail—the Luxembourg prison. As such, it was unique. Where, in the past, royalty and aristocracy had gathered for parties and festivals, hundreds of prisoners were housed in rooms, in basements and in attics.

The Luxembourg had an extraordinary existence. It was truly a Palace of Death, for there the inevitability of death was accepted by everyone. Very few among the prisoners escaped execution preceded by the macabre march to the Place of the Revolution{2} for the meeting with the guillotine. All prisoners were ready for the tragic moment. Each one expected the call any day, any hour, any moment.

In his letter to George Washington, Paine gave a vivid picture of the life in the Luxembourg:

"The state of things in the prison was a continuous scene of horror. No man could count upon life for twenty-four hours. To such a pitch of rage and suspicion had Robespierre and his committee arrived, that it seemed as if they feared to leave a man to live. Scarcely a night passed in which ten, twenty, thirty,