that writers whose philosophy had its legitimate parent in Hume, or in themselves, were labelled “Comtists” or “Positivists” by public writers, even in spite of vehement protests to the contrary.  It has cost Mr. Mill hard rubbings to get that label off; and I watch Mr. Spencer, as one regards a good man struggling with adversity, still engaged in eluding its adhesiveness, and ready to tear away skin and all, rather than let it stick.  My own turn might come next; and, therefore, when an eminent prelate the other day gave currency and authority to the popular confusion, I took an opportunity of incidentally revindicating Hume’s property in the so-called “New Philosophy,” and, at the same time, of repudiating Comtism on my own behalf.[13]

The few lines devoted to Comtism in my paper on the “Physical Basis of Life” were, in intention, strictly limited to these two purposes.  But they seem to have given more umbrage than I intended they should, to the followers of M. Comte in this country, for some of whom, let me observe in passing, I entertain a most unfeigned respect; and Mr. Congreve’s recent article gives expression to the displeasure which I have excited among the members of the Comtian body.

Mr. Congreve, in a peroration which seems especially intended to catch the attention of his readers, indignantly challenges me to admire M. Comte’s life, “to deny that it has a marked character of grandeur about it;” and he uses some very strong language because I show no sign of veneration for his idol.  I confess I do not care to occupy myself with the denigration of a man who, on the whole, deserves to be spoken of with respect.  Therefore, I shall enter into no statement of the reasons which lead me unhesitatingly to accept Mr. Congreve’s challenge, and to refuse to recognise anything which deserves the name of grandeur of character in M. Comte, unless it be his arrogance, which is undoubtedly sublime.  All I have to observe is, that if Mr. Congreve is justified in saying that I speak with a tinge of contempt for his spiritual father, the reason for such colouring of my language is to be found in the fact, that, when I wrote, I had but just arisen from the perusal of a work with which he is doubtless well acquainted, M. Littre’s “Auguste Comte et la Philosophic Positive.”

Though there are tolerably fixed standards of right and wrong, and even of generosity and meanness, it may be said that the beauty, or grandeur, of a life is more or less a matter of taste; and Mr. Congreve’s notions of literary excellence are so different from mine that, it may be, we should diverge as widely in our judgment of moral beauty or ugliness.  Therefore, while retaining my own notions, I do not presume to quarrel with his.  But when Mr. Congreve devotes a great deal of laboriously guarded insinuation to the endeavour to lead the public to believe that I have been guilty of the dishonesty of having criticised Comte without having read him, I must be permitted to remind him that he has neglected the well-known maxim of a diplomatic sage, “If you want to damage a man, you should say what is probable, as well as what is true.”