in order to complete the rest of our knowledge. Even the knowledge that
appears to us to be most theoretical--that is to say, of least immediate
application to the non-intellectual necessities of life--answers to a
necessity which is no less real because it is intellectual, to a reason
of economy in thinking, to a principle of unity and continuity of
consciousness. But just as a scientific fact has its finality in the
rest of knowledge, so the philosophy that we would make our own has also
its extrinsic object--it refers to our whole destiny, to our attitude in
face of life and the universe. And the most tragic problem of philosophy
is to reconcile intellectual necessities with the necessities of the
heart and the will. For it is on this rock that every philosophy that
pretends to resolve the eternal and tragic contradiction, the basis of
our existence, breaks to pieces. But do all men face this contradiction
squarely?

Little can be hoped from a ruler, for example, who has not at some time
or other been preoccupied, even if only confusedly, with the first
beginning and the ultimate end of all things, and above all of man, with
the "why" of his origin and the "wherefore" of his destiny.

And this supreme preoccupation cannot be purely rational, it must
involve the heart. It is not enough to think about our destiny: it must
be felt. And the would-be leader of men who affirms and proclaims that
he pays no heed to the things of the spirit, is not worthy to lead them.
By which I do not mean, of course, that any ready-made solution is to be
required of him. Solution? Is there indeed any?

So far as I am concerned, I will never willingly yield myself, nor
entrust my confidence, to any popular leader who is not penetrated with
the feeling that he who orders a people orders men, men of flesh and