for him, had him interred in the cemetery for foreigners,
and placed a long eulogium upon his tomb. His remains were subsequently
(1666) carried from Sweden into France, and buried with great ceremony
in Ste. Genevieve du Mont.

Descartes was a great thinker; but having said this, we have almost
exhausted the praise we could bestow upon him as a man. In disposition
he was timid to servility. When promulgating his proofs of the existence
of the Deity, he was in evident alarm lest the Church should see
something objectionable in them. He had also written an astronomical
treatise; but hearing of the fate of Galileo, he refrained from
publishing, and always used some chicane in speaking of the world's
movement. He was not a brave man, nor was he an affectionate man. But he
was even-tempered, placid, and studious not to give offence.

It has already been indicated that the great work performed by Descartes
was, like that of Bacon, the promulgation of a new method. This was
rendered necessary by their separation from the ancient philosophy and
their exclusion of authority. If inquiry is to be independent, if reason
is to walk alone, in what direction must she walk? Having relinquished
the aid of the Church, there were but two courses open: the one to tread
once more in the path of the ancients, and to endeavor by the ancient
methods to attain the truth; or else to open a new path, to invent a new
method. The former was barely possible. The spirit of the age was deeply
imbued with a feeling of opposition against the ancient methods; and
Descartes himself had been painfully perplexed by the universal anarchy
and uncertainty which prevailed. The second course was therefore chosen.

Uncertainty was the disease of the epoch. Scepticism was widespread, and
even the most confident dogmatism could offer no criterion of certitude.
This want of criterion we saw leading, in Greece, to scepticism,
Epicureanism, Stoicism, the New Academy, and finally leading the
Alexandrians into the province of faith, to escape from the dilemma. The
question of a criterion had long been the vital question of philosophy.
Descartes could get no answer to it from the doctors of his day. Unable
to find firm ground on any of the prevalent systems, distracted by
doubts, mistrusting the conclusions of his own understanding,
mistrusting the evidences of his senses, he determined to make a _tabula
rasa_, and reconstruct his knowledge. He resolved to examine the