Having had an opportunity to discuss some of Descartes' Meditations on the discussion board, I'd like for you to create a slightly different sort of discussion for this Response Draft.

Following the model of Princess Elisabeth, I'd like for you to write a letter to Descartes wherein you ask him a question about the arguments made in the Meditations that you are genuinely curious/confused/grumpy about.  

THEN, I'd like for you to respond to your own letter as if you were Rene Descartes and do your best to answer your question from the Cartesian perspective.  

(Princess Elisabeth writes to Descartes)

My Dear Monsieur Descartes,

     I have thought of you constantly since our meeting a fortnight ago. Our twilight walk along the Hofvijver was so beautiful that I must admit my distraction‒ it was difficult to concentrate as you tried to fulfill my curiosities regarding your Meditations. I applaud you for your graciousness in the attempt, and hope you didn't feel as if you were engaged in a totally hopeless endeavour...

      There are so many questions still running through my mind, even as I have perused your brilliant essays daily since that evening; it has become something of an obsession for me to understand them. You speak with such confidence, yet humility, on these matters‒ and a quiet passion fuels them which has not escaped my notice, and in fact has infected my heart as well with a desire to be so enlightened.

      While I could continue for quite a while to express my gratitude for your kindness in corresponding with me (and now having visited me in person) since I was first emboldened to make contact; I know you are a busy man. I shall move on to my usual barrage of questions that you suffer with such kind and patient demeanour. You must sense by now that the more you answer, the more yet are raised by this impetuous girl, who considers herself your most devoted student. Merci mon cher professeur...

      I suppose that I am still most intrigued (and baffled) by your suggestion that our senses might be deceived, that everything is an illusion‒ or as you most eloquently state it:

“What then were these things? They were the earth, sky, stars and all other objects which I apprehended by means of the senses. But what did I clearly [and distinctly] perceive in them? Nothing more than that the ideas or thoughts of these things were presented to my mind... that there were objects outside of me... and it was in this that I erred.”

     I can hardly bear to think- that the many people and places I have witnessed and interacted with, the events experienced and objects encountered... are all some sort of farce (although during sadder times I might have wished them thus- you know of what I allude to). How can the fields of tulips I stroll by, or the moon under which you and I held our discourse, not be a reality? How is it that you and I (and indeed all of humanity) have words for these things we perceive; “flower”, “river”, “moonlight”... and can agree among ourselves on what we speak of? This “genius... malicious” deceiver you postulate, why would such an entity fool us so? I guess that is my underlying question beneath all you have made me think of thus far- quelle est la raison? Please do your best to explain it to me, René... these concepts have troubled my waking hours and even my dreams, (and I've begun to wonder if there is any difference between the two)...

Elisabeth

(René Descartes responds, opening with such a string of salutations and niceties directed to her Highness that it becomes apparent- there may have been more to their relationship than a “mere meeting of the minds”... and so the bulk of these “frivolités” are omitted here).

My Dear and Most Esteemed Princess Elisabeth,

     Our conversation and its setting by the lovely twilit waters near your home is a memory that has lingered within me as well. You do yourself injustice- to even imagine that I am anything but delighted to discourse with you on any subject... (and so on, at great length, until he finally shifts into a more philosophical mode):

     You have apparently become troubled by some passages in the early Part III of my Meditations, and I must apologize for making you question those finer sensory experiences you recount; (the likes of which one of your noble breeding and sophistication must be so attuned to). This thought experiment in which I bring the senses under scrutiny and cross-examination is simply part of the process. To determine what is truth, and its source; to be certain in my convictions of my own existence and a Creator who has placed you and I, and all our kindred beings into this world‒ I must question everything! I place myself in the shoes of those who doubt the existence of God, the better to portend their potential objections (as well as arm myself to defend Him from those same arguments).

      Perhaps you have not, as yet, read far enough- no doubt dismayed by my musings- for later in Part III I've reached some conclusions that should allay your worries. Look further for this passage:

“I recognize that it is not possible that my nature should be what it is, and indeed that I should have in myself the idea of a God, if God did not veritably exist—a God, I say, whose idea is in me, i.e. who possesses all those supreme perfections of which our mind may indeed have some idea but without understanding them all, who is liable to no errors or defect [and who has none of all those marks which denote imperfection]. From this it is manifest that He cannot be a deceiver”.

     Elisabeth, rest assured that there is a God, and that there are truths and realities in this world that we can rely on. Do not mistake my forays into questioning this validity as a reflection of my own beliefs, but rather as a means to solidify them ever more strongly into an edifice that cannot be dismantled. I shall look forward to your next correspondence, and hope for yet another honor of being in your presence in days to come. Such is a reality I would rue to be an illusion...

René Descartes