of discovery. Only as a general rule they have not clearly recognised what
they were doing, and so have soon turned aside.

But on this point I cannot insist without going into lengthy detail, and am
obliged to refer the reader to the fourth chapter of "Creative Evolution",
where he will find the whole question dealt with.

One remark, however, has still to be made. Philosophy, according to Mr
Bergson's conception, implies and demands time; it does not aim at
completion all at once, for the mental reform in question is of the kind
which requires gradual fulfilment. The truth which it involves does not
set out to be a non-temporal essence, which a sufficiently powerful genius
would be able, under pressure, to perceive in its entirety at one view; and
that again seems to be very new.

I do not, of course, wish to abuse systems of philosophy. Each of them is
an experience of thought, a moment in the life of thought, a method of
exploring reality, a reagent which reveals an aspect. Truth undergoes
analysis into systems as does light into colours.

But the mere name system calls up the static idea of a finished building.
Here there is nothing of the kind. The new philosophy desires to be a
proceeding as much as, and even more than, to be a system. It insists on
being lived as well as thought. It demands that thought should work at
living its true life, an inner life related to itself, effective, active,
and creative, but not on that account directed towards external action.
"And," says Mr Bergson, "it can only be constructed by the collective and
progressive effort of many thinkers, and of many observers, completing,
correcting, and righting one another." (Preface to "Creative Evolution".)