Page:The Harvard Classics Vol. 51; Lectures.djvu/135



How charming is divine philosophy! Not harsh and crabbed, as dull fools suppose, But musical as is Apollo's lute, And a perpetual feast of nectar'd sweets, Where no crude surfeit reigns.

INCE Milton wrote thus gallantly in its behalf, philosophy has fairly succeeded in living down its reputation for being "harsh and crabbed." No one who has made the acquaintance of Scholastic Philosophy, the philosophy of the Middle Ages, and still the established philosophy in Milton's day, can escape a secret sympathy with the view of these "dull fools." But in the course of the last three centuries, philosophy, especially English and French philosophy, has become more free in form, more imaginative, and more self-expressive. So that the critics and belittlers of philosophy to-day, too numerous, alas! to make it safe to call names, have taken up new ground. Philosophy is condemned, not for being unmusical but for being unpractical. The music of Apollo's lute is itself under suspicion, being too unsubstantial and too remote to suit the temper of an age of efficiency and common sense.

I sincerely wish that I could recommend philosophy on grounds of efficiency and common sense. I should be listened to, understood, and believed. I should at once insinuate myself into the confidence of my reader. If I could but say: "Now look here! Philosophy is just a matter of plain, hard-headed common sense"; or, "If you want to succeed, try philosophy. It will help you to make and to