Descartes had no way of knowing that he was inaugurating something that would be taught as “modern philosophy” four centuries later. In some ways, the Meditations presents a deliberate departure from what came before. In other ways, it feels Medieval.
The peculiar predicament of philosophy, according to Wittgenstein, is that we speak under the illusion that we’re making sense when in fact we’re mouthing empty words. The illusion of saying something profound is beguiling, which is why puncturing it, as he sees it, requires strength of character more than it requires intellect.
By never allowing themselves to be seen getting things wrong, cynics can maintain a sheen of cleverness. But if they were in fact clever, they’d investigate further. They might even discover that, in some cases, people aren’t so bad after all.
Thinking well about the things that concern me requires intelligence. Understanding these concerns and what motivates them requires wisdom. Philosophy, to the extent that it is rightly called the love of wisdom, is essentially concerned with self-knowledge.