Theodore-Simon, an eminent French philosopher, was born in 1796 at the village of Pontets, near Mouthé, a town situated on the verdant slopes of the Jura Mountains. As soon as he was able to read, he perused with avidity the pages of Rollin’s History of Rome, and was to be found in the fields fighting over again the great battles of antiquity, by means of opposing rows of stones, arranged so as to represent the position of the hostile armies. At the age of ten he was placed under the care of one of his uncles in the College of Pontarlier, and afterwards removed to that of Dijon, where his skill in French composition attracted general notice. Some fragments of a five-act tragedy, which he composed at this early age, have been preserved among his papers. His precocious talents procured him admission to the Normal school, in which, at the age of twenty, he was appointed tutor in philosophy. He was shortly afterwards appointed to the chair of philosophy in the Collège Bourbon, from which, after a three years' tenure of office, he retired. When the Normal school was closed in 1822, Jouffroy opened in his own house a private course of lectures, embracing the whole range of the philosophical sciences, and began to write extensively on politics, literature, and even natural history, for the periodical press.

In 1826 he gave to the world his translation of Dugald Stewart's Sketches of Moral Philosophy, with a preface on the distinction between the facts of consciousness and those of the senses. Two years later he resumed his lectures on the history of ancient and modern philosophy in the Normal school, which had been reopened under a new name. The professorship of Greek philosophy and literature in the College of France was his next preferment, and he shortly afterwards entered the arena of politics as a member of the Chamber of Deputies. The duties of these multifarious offices undermined his constitution so seriously, that, not long after his reception into the Academy of Moral Science, he found it necessary to retire to Italy for the benefit of his health. Here he employed his time in completing the translation of Reid's works, the first volume of which had been published eight years before, in 1828. In 1838 he quitted the College of France to occupy the post of librarian of the university, and in 1840 he was summoned by Cousin to assist the Royal Council of Public Instruction. Meanwhile, his health, never robust, again began to give way, and after two years of continually increasing infirmities he died in February 1842, in the forty-seventh year of his age.

In the philosophy of Jouffroy we find, as in that of the Scottish school, a rational appeal to consciousness as the broad basis upon which the inquirer builds his superstructure. The grand object of his observations and speculations is man; and, adopting the most simple division, he views this moral being in a threefold aspect,—as having existed, as now existing, and as destined to exist hereafter. That he is destined to a future existence is deduced from a consideration of his nature. "Every being," says Jouffroy, "is predestined to a certain end, and that of man is indicated by the instinctive and primitive tendencies which result in knowing, acting, and loving." From the blind impulses of childhood he rises till he comes under the dominion of reason, in so far as regards the government of self, and thence to the still higher elevation of submission to universal order, in which we have the central point, the leading maxim of Jouffroy's ethical system. "The beautiful is order expressed, the true is order thought, and the good is order accomplished." All conflicting claims are to be determined by the answer to the question which involves the greatest amount of good, for that must be accordant with universal order. As we rise from this last to the notion of God, the author of order, it follows that morality and religion are different names for obedience to universal order. But in speaking of good, and the greatest amount of good, the old question arises, whence have we evil? The answer to this brings us to the Theodicee of Jouffroy, or scheme in which he defends the Divine government. Evil, according to him, is to be regarded as an obstacle in the path of man, necessary for the development of those very characteristics which make him what he is—a being possessing liberty and personality. He even ventures to take his station upon the slippery, if not untenable ground, that the difference between man and the lower animals consists in this, that while the latter are born and Jovellanos die animals, the former is born animal and dies a free being.

The psychological system of Jouffroy is developed in connection with the second of the leading divisions with which we started,—man as at present existing. Here again we have a simple threefold division into the soul as an intellectual agent, as desirous of action, and as it is per se, i.e., apart from the foregoing manifestations. As the source of intelligent acts, whether voluntary or involuntary, the soul possesses the two faculties of observation and reason (the former dividing itself into consciousness, external perception, and memory), and, by affording the knowledge of contingent truths, causes the development of reason, by which we reach the knowledge of absolute and necessary truths. To the soul, as acted upon and determined to will, Jouffroy applied the peculiar term receptivity, as he applied the term productivity to the soul in the aspect under which we have just been considering it. As liable to be acted upon, the ego is exposed to an irritation which, according as it is agreeable or the reverse, produces love, which is a positive desire, or hate, which is a negative desire,—desire being the last simple phenomenon of sensibility, and the only thing which can determine the soul to will. Putting out of view all the phenomena included under the productivity and receptivity of the ego, Jouffroy brings us to the ego itself, which is a force intelligent, free, simple, and always the same. The distinction between soul and body, or, as he preferred expressing it, the distinction between physiologic and psychologic life, was with him a favourite subject, and one which he approaches frequently from different directions, and illustrated in a variety of ways.

Jovellanos, Gaspar Melchor de, one of the most distinguished Spaniards of modern times, whether as a patriot, statesman, or writer, was born in 1744 at Gijon, in Asturia. Though sprung from an ancient and noble family, he early resolved to win fame and wealth for himself. Selecting the law as his profession, he went through the usual courses of study at the universities of Oviedo, Avila, and Alcala. A judicial appointment at Seville awaited him immediately on his leaving college; but so disinterested was his zeal for the public service that, though but a poor man, he could with difficulty be persuaded to accept the emoluments of his office. In 1778 his integrity and ability were rewarded with the chief judgeship of the King's Court at Madrid, where he gained the friendship of Camponanes, and the leading literati of Spain, and took a prominent part in most of the scientific societies. About this time he had made the acquaintance of the brilliant French adventurer Caburrus; and when that friend afterwards fell a victim to court-intrigue, Jovellanos was for a time involved in his fall. Retiring to the place of his birth, he devoted himself to carrying out many useful schemes for developing the internal resources of the country. He founded the Asturian Institution for the purpose of improving the agriculture, working the mines, and effecting social and educational reform throughout that province. This institution continued his darling project up to the latest hours of his life. Summoned again in 1799 to take his part once more in public affairs, he repaired to the capital, where he was made home secretary-of-state under Manuel de Godoy, the famous Prince of Peace. The looseness of Godoy's private life, and the miserable character of his policy, disgusted Jovellanos, who used his influence to have his principal dismissed. Intrigue followed intrigue; plot was met by counter-plot; and the final result was that the home-secretary was banished to the island of Majorca, and there kept a close prisoner, first in a Carthusian convent, and afterwards in the castle of Belver. He beguiled the seven years of his exile in collecting materials for a history of the island; and, in the intervals of these studies, wrote many bold and vigorous addresses to the king on the wretched policy of his prime minister. The French invasion changed the aspect of affairs. Jovellanos was recalled; and when Joseph Bonaparte mounted the throne, he was offered the portfolio of the interior. Many liberal and well-informed men had recognised the French king; but Jovellanos, sternly keeping aloof, joined the patriotic party, became a member of the central junta, and contributed to re-organize the cortes. As soon as the parliament had been reconstituted, the supreme junta fell into suspicion and was dissolved. Jovellanos, who had been the guiding spirit of its councils, was involved in its fall. To expose the conduct of the cortes, and to defend the junta and himself, were the last labours on which he exercised his pen. So great were his popularity and influence that it became necessary for his enemies to get rid of him. On the 27th Nov. 1811, the dagger of the assassin deprived Spain of one of her best benefactors and most enlightened patriots.

Jovellanos' literary faculties were of a very high order, and were proved by numerous compositions both in prose and verse. His poetical attempts comprised the tragedy of *El Pelago* (the valiant Goth who fought against the Moors for the freedom of Spain), a collection of miscellaneous pieces, and a translation of the first book of Milton's *Paradise Lost*. None of these, however, reflect any great credit on his name; and had his fame depended on any or all of them, he would have been long ago forgotten. It is especially as a political economist and legislator that Jovellanos will be remembered. A deep, sure thinker, he was, at the same time, a brilliant rhetorician; and, indeed, as a mere writer of Spanish prose, has no equal in modern times. His *Elogios* on the celebrated architect Ventura Rodriguez, and on the king, Charles III., with the vices inherent in that species of composition, combine a memorable depth of thought couched in language of extraordinary beauty. But the greatest of all his works is his *Informe Sobre un Proyecto de Ley Agraria*, a remarkable monument of political foresight and legislative sagacity. No one ever knew or explained better than Jovellanos did in this and some of his other works the causes of his country's downfall, or point out with greater clearness the true means of restoring it to its ancient greatness.