Perhaps we may take a suggestion from that prudent man and acute philosopher, Descartes.  Discontented with the teachings of the schools as they had been presented to him, he resolved to set out upon an independent voyage of discovery, and to look for a philosophy of his own.  It seemed necessary to him to doubt, provisionally at least, all that he had received from the past.  But in what house should he live while he was reconstructing his old habitation?  Without principles of some sort he could not live, and without reasonable principles he could not live well.  So he framed a set of provisional rules, which should guide his life until he had new ground beneath his feet.

When we examine these rules, we find that, on the whole, they are such as the experience of mankind has found prudent and serviceable.  In other words, we discover that Descartes, until he was in a position to see clearly for himself, was willing to be led by others.  He was a unit in the social order, and he recognized that truth.

It does not seem out of place to recall this fact to the consciousness of those who are entering upon the reflective life.  Those who are rather new to reflection upon philosophical matters are apt to seize single truths, which are too often half-truths, and to deduce their consequences remorselessly.  They do not always realize the extreme complexity of society, or see the full meaning of the relations in which they stand to the state and to the church.  Breadth of view can only come with an increase of knowledge and with the exercise of reflection.

For this reason I advise patience, and a willingness to accept the established order of things until one is very sure that one has attained to some truth—­some real truth, not a mere truth of election—­which may serve as the basis of a reconstruction.  The first glimpses of truth cannot be depended upon to furnish such a foundation.

Thus, we may suspend judgment, and, nevertheless, be ready to act.  But is not this a mere compromise?  Certainly.  All life is a compromise; and in the present instance it means only that we should keep our eyes open to the light, whatever its source, and yet should nourish that wholesome self-distrust that prevents a man from being an erratic and revolutionary creature, unmindful of his own limitations.  Prudent men in all walks in life make this compromise, and the world is the better for it.

NOTES

CHAPTER I, sections 1-5.  If the student will take a good history of philosophy, and look over the accounts of the different systems referred to, he will see the justice of the position taken in the text, namely, that philosophy was formerly synonymous with universal knowledge.  It is not necessary, of course, to read the whole history of philosophy to attain this end.  One may take such a text-book as Ueberweg’s “History of Philosophy,” and run over the summaries contained in the large print.  To see how the conception of what constitutes universal knowledge changed in successive ages, compare Thales, the Sophists, Aristotle, the Schoolmen, Bacon, and Descartes.  For the ancient philosophy one may consult Windelband’s “History of the Ancient Philosophy,” a clear and entertaining little work (English translation, N.Y., 1899).