DesCartes’ Method of Doubt

Abstract

Lord Acton, in his letter to the contributors to the Cambridge Modern History, wrote: “By Universal History, I understand that which is distinct from the combined histories of all countries … and is not a burden on the memory but an illumination of the soul.” If we replace “history” by the more general term “knowledge,” we get the statement of an ideal cherished by the great men of every age—those lonely pioneers to whom book-learning is an intellectual gloom more treacherous than the natural gloom of night, since it fools men into thinking that it is a light by which men can see. The pioneers in thought, or indeed in any field, have made a secret treaty with nature. They smile with her at the robed and tassled scholar who, (Goethe's words) “Bewundrung von Kindern und Affen,” can (DesCartes speaks) “lecture plausibly about anything and get himself admired by the less learned.” Those pioneers, those men who—as someone has said—have thought according to no one and have made the human race think according to them, see by an intuitive insight, an illumination of the soul. Einstein, in his prologue to Planck's book Where is Science Going?, writes: “There is only the way of intuition. … The state of mind which furnishes the driving power here resembles that of the devotee or the lover. The long-sustained effort is not inspired by any set plan or purpose. It arises from a hunger of the soul.” We have not quoted a poet, but the greatest of mathematical physicists.