To quite the contrary, he seemed to relish in the discomfort of others.
So was he a 'true gentleman'? That remains unanswered from my vantage point. — creativesoul
Having read two-thirds of the piece, I would like to make the following tentative remarks.
One is that I followed his reasoning and adhered to it, by and large. I share his analysis of presuppositions. I'm saying this just so my critiques below are taken for what they are: sympathetic overall.
You are right that there's lots of anger behind the sleek exterior of his prose. He lashes out at certain notions and thinkers in ways that sometimes may antagonize. I do the same here, often, so shouldn't I agree with his style?
The first element of response I find to his polemic tone is that this is an essay, and an essay is brief, written fast, and polemical. It's the nature of the paper and the circumstances of its writing (1940, on a liner sailing to Sydney) that explain the hastiness of some transitions, the approximations here or there, the hurried pace at which the writer proceeds.
The second, perhaps more interesting answer I am trying to figure out now is: Collingwood was on a mission. He took the fate of Western civilization very seriously, one of his assumptions was that it was threatened, and another that western civilization was grounded in good, systematic, logical thinking. Hence his defence of logic and metaphysics is ultimately a defense of civilization.
There is a parallel with Popper writing his defense of liberalism, the Open Society
and It's Enemies during the war, in New Zealand. He too is dead serious about the philosophical enemies of liberal, western civilization, which he calls (or idealised as) the open society. And it is easy to understand why. Funny though that Popper lambasts Aristotle in his defense of liberalism, and tends to deride metaphysics as unempirical hence useless, in a facile and superficial way which Collingwood rightly ties to a trope from renaissance anti-scholastic thinking, while trying to rehabilitate poor Aristotle... So the two interpretations are radically at odd with one another.
Any attempt to draw a broad brush macro picture of the history of philosophy and tie this to the situation at the onset of the second world war is bound to get some details wrong. It is bound to be polemical, and urgent in tone. And it is bound to be highly biased.
One could ask whether the question "arises". It presupposes that 1940's geopolitics can be usefully explained or understood as a moment in the development of philosophy, and that philosophers contributed to it... Collingwood thought so and I agree, but my villains are not exactly his. E.g. I agree with Popper that there was a strong element of power-fetishism in Hegel, and that Marxism also contributed in a roundabout way (Mussolini and Hitler copied the mass organization system invented by the communists for instance).
I would add that from Luther to Schopenhauer and beyond, there is no shortage of illiberal German thinkers, rabbid antisemitists, nationalists and other complaisant believers in the superiority of German culture. It is perhaps not a coincidence that Germany was such a highly philosophical country AND YET failed at democracy. Or that Heidegger was a member of the Nazi party. Perhaps a certain strand of German (and other) philosophers did contribute to the rise of Nazism.
Collingwood seems to be faulting other people. Mainly other professors in Oxford, or perhaps also in Cambridge. And beyond of course... broad brush it is, his "enemies" are far less defined than Popper's.
Long story short, RGC is arguing that positivism is the ghost haunting Europe. I am broadly sympathetic to this POV but I agree he's overstating it
To come back to your point, his anger is not focussed enough for a true gentleman, I agree.
One striking contradiction I noted is in his relation to psychology. He is careful to state that it is valid as a science of feelings but not as a science of thought, which is logic and other 'criterioligical sciences'. But when he attacks the anti-metaphysicians, one type after another (ch. XIII), he repeatedly makes use of
fear and even unconscious fear as a factor explaining their thought, as expressed in their books. And later on, in chapter XVI he comes back to similar argument about the fear of metaphysics.
In doing so he recognizes implicitly that feelings and emotions can alter and even motivate even our highest philosophical thoughts. Therefore, 1) a science of feelings would be tightly connected to a science of thoughts, not independent, and 2) beside logical presuppositions something else shapes our conscious thoughts: unconscious desires, fears and phobia. The very thesis of Freud...