seventeenth century they are called "les honnetes gens"[3202] and
from now on a writer, even the most abstract, addresses himself to them.
"A gentleman," says Descartes, "need not have read all books nor have
studiously acquired all that is taught in the schools;" and he entitles
his last treatise, "A search for Truth according to natural light, which
alone, without aid of Religion or Philosophy, determines the truths
a gentleman should possess on all matters forming the subjects of his
thoughts."[3203] In short, from one end of his philosophy to the other,
the only qualification he demands of his readers is "natural good sense"
added to the common stock of experience acquired by contact with the
world.--As these make up the audience they are likewise the judges. "One
must study the taste of the court," says Moliere,[3204] "for in no place
are verdicts more just. . . With simple common sense and intercourse
with people of refinement, a habit of mind is there obtained which,
without comparison, forms a more accurate, judgment of things than the
rusty attainments of the pedants." From this time forth, it may be said
that the arbiter of truth and of taste is not, as before, an
erudite Scaliger, but a man of the world, a La Rochefoucauld, or a
Treville.[3205] The pedant and, after him, the savant, the specialist,
is set aside. "True honest people," says Nicole after Pascal, "require
no sign. They need not be divined; they join in the conversation
going on as they enter the room. They are not styled either poets
or surveyors, but they are the judges of all these."[3206] In the
eighteenth century they constitute the sovereign authority. In the great
crowd of blockheads sprinkled with pedants, there is, says Voltaire,
"a small group apart called good society, which, rich, educated and
polished, forms, you might say, the flower of humanity; it is for this
group that the greatest men have labored; it is this group which accords
social recognition."[3207] Admiration, favor, importance, belong not to
those who are worthy of it but to those who address themselves to this
group. "In 1789," said the Abbe Maury, "the French Academy alone enjoyed
any esteem in France, and it really bestowed a standing. That of the
Sciences signified nothing in public opinion, any more than that of
Inscriptions. . . The languages is considered a science for fools.
D'Alembert was ashamed of belonging to the Academy of Sciences. Only a
handful of people li