Must philosophy therefore retire from this field, disappointed in its
hopes? Whilst in all other directions the dominion of forms is extended,
must this the most precious of all gifts be abandoned to a formless
chance? Must the contest of blind forces last eternally in the political
world, and is social law never to triumph over a hating egotism?
Not in the least. It is true that reason herself will never attempt
directly a struggle with this brutal force which resists her arms, and
she will be as far as the son of Saturn in the "Iliad" from descending
into the dismal field of battle, to fight them in person. But she
chooses the most deserving among the combatants, clothes him with divine
arms as Jupiter gave them to his son-in-law, and by her triumphing force
she finally decides the victory.
Reason has done all that she could in finding the law and promulgating
it; it is for the energy of the will and the ardor of feeling to carry it
out. To issue victoriously from her contest with force, truth herself
must first become a force, and turn one of the instincts of man into her
champion in the empire of phenomena. For instincts are the only motive
forces in the material world. If hitherto truth has so little manifested
her victorious power, this has not depended on the understanding, which
could not have unveiled it, but on the heart which remained closed to it
and on instinct which did not act with it.
Whence, in fact, proceeds this general sway of prejudices, this might of
the understanding in the midst of the light disseminated by philosophy
and experience? The age is enlightened, that is to say, that knowledge,
obtained and vulgarized, suffices to set right at least on practical
principles. The spirit of free inquiry has dissipated the erroneous
opinions which long barred the access to truth, and has undermined the
ground on which fanaticism and deception had erected their throne.
Reason has purified itself from the illusions of the senses and from a
mendacious sophistry, and philosophy herself raises her voice and exhorts
us to return to the bosom of nature, to which she had first made us
unfaithful. Whence then is it that we remain still barbarians?
There must be something in the spirit of man--as it is not in the objects
themselves--which prevents us from receiving the truth, notwithstanding
the brilliant light she diffuses, and from accepting her, whatever may be
her strength for producing conviction. This something was perceived and
expressed by an ancient sage in this very significant maxim: sapere aude
[dare to be wise.]
Dare to be wise! A spirited courage is required to triumph over the
impediments that the indolence of nature as well as the cowardice of the
heart oppose to our instruction. It was not without reason that the
ancient Mythos made Minerva issue fully armed from the head of Jupiter,
for it is with warfare that this instruction commences. From its very
outset it has to sustain a hard fight against the senses, which do not
like to be roused from their easy slumber. The greater part of men are
much too exhausted and enervated by their struggle with want to be able
to engage in a new and severe contest with error. Satisfied if they
themselves can escape from the hard labor of thought, they willingly
abandon to others the guardianship of their thoughts. And if it happens
that nobler necessities agitate their soul, they cling with a greedy
faith to the formula that the state and the church hold in reserve for
such cases. If these unhappy men deserve our compassion, those others
deserve our just contempt, who, though set free from those necessities by
more fortunate circumstances, yet willingly bend to their yoke. These
latter persons prefer this twilight of obscure ideas, where the feelings
have more intensity, and the imagination can at will create convenient
chimeras, to the rays of truth which put to flight the pleasant illusions
of their dreams. They have founded the whole structure of their
happiness on these very illusions, which ought to be combated and
dissipated by the light of knowledge, and they would think they were
paying too dearly for a truth which begins by robbing them of all that
has value in their sight. It would be necessary that they should be
already sages to love wisdom: a truth that was felt at once by him to
whom philosophy owes its name. [The Greek word means, as is known, love
of wisdom.]
It is therefore not going far enough to say that the light of the
understanding only deserves respect when it reacts on the character; to a
certain extent it is from the character that this light proceeds; for the
road that terminates in the head must pass through the heart.
Accordingly, the most pressing need of the present time is to educate the
sensibility, because it is the means, not only to render efficacious in
practice the improvement of ideas, but to call this improvement into
existence.