PAGE 6
Auguste Comte
by
Comte was so saturated with this theme–so immersed in it–that it consumed him like a fever. Three lectures were given, but at the third, without warning, the man’s nerves snapped–he stopped, sat down, and the audience filed out perplexed, thinking they had merely seen an exhibition of one of the eccentricities of genius. The philosopher’s mind was a blank, and kind friends sent him away to a hospital.
It was two years before he regained his reason. The enforced rest did him good. Nervous Prostration is heroic treatment on the part of Nature. It is an intent to do for the man what he will never do for himself.
* * * * *
Unkind critics, hotly intent on refuting the Positive Philosophy, seized upon the fact of Comte’s mental trouble and made much of it. “Look you!” said they, “the man is insane!”
This is convenient, but not judicial. Comte’s philosophy stands or falls on its own merits, and what the author did before, after, or during the writing of his theses matters not. Madmen are not mad all the time, and the fact that Sir Isaac Newton was for a time unbalanced does not lessen our regard for the “Principia,” nor consign to limbo the law of gravitation. Ruskin’s work is not the less thought of because the man had his pathetic spells of indecision. Martin Luther had visions of devils before he saw the truth, and Emerson’s love for Longfellow need not be disparaged because he looked down on his still, white face and said, “A dear gentle soul, but I really can not remember his name.”
Men write on physiology, and then die, but this does not disprove the truth they expressed, but failed, possibly, to fully live. The great man always thinks further than he can travel–even the rest of us can do that. We can think “Chicago” in a second, but to go there takes time, strength and money.
When Comte’s mental trouble was at its height, and two men were required to care for him, Lamennais persuaded his wife to have their marriage solemnized by the Church, and this was done. This performance was such a violation of sanctity and decency that in after-years Comte could not believe it was true, until he consulted the church records. “They might as well have had me confirmed,” said Comte, grimly. And we can well guess that the action did not increase his regard for either his wife or the Church. The trick seems quite on a par with that of the astute colored gentleman who anxiously asks for love-powders at the corner drugstore; or the good wives who purchase harmless potions from red-dyed rogues to place in the husband’s coffee to cure him of the liquor habit.
However, the incident gives a clew to the mental processes of Madame Comte–she would accomplish by trickery what she had failed to do by moral suasion, and this in the name of religion!
Two years of enforced rest, and the glowing mind of the philosopher awoke with a start. He rubbed his eyes after his Rip-Van-Winkle sleep, and called for his manuscripts–he must prepare for the fourth lecture!
The rest of the course was given, and in Eighteen Hundred Thirty the first volume of Positive Philosophy was issued.
The sixth and last volume appeared in Eighteen Hundred Forty-two–twelve years of intense application and ceaseless work. This was the happiest time of Comte’s life; he had the whole scheme in his head from the start, but he now saw it gradually taking form, and it was meeting with appreciation from a few earnest thinkers, at least. His services were in demand for occasional lectures on scientific subjects. In astronomy, especially, he excelled, and on this theme he was able to please a popular assembly.
The Polytechnic School had now grown to large proportions, and the institution that Comte had helped to slide into dissolution now called him back to serve as examiner and professor.