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 AN ESSAY 
 
 IX AID OF 
 
 A GRAMMAR OF ASSENT.
 
 LONDON : 
 
 gilbert and iuvington, printkrs, 
 st. John's square.
 
 AN ESSAY 
 
 IN AID OF 
 
 A GRAMMAR OF ASSENT 
 
 BY 
 
 JOHN HENRY CARDINAL NEWMAN. 
 
 Xon in dialectica complacuit Deo salvum facere populum suura. 
 
 St. Ambrose. 
 
 . 
 
 FIFTH EDITION. 
 
 itoittJtm : 
 BURNS & OATES, 
 1881. 
 
 [.-^// rights reserved.
 
 
 
 -> 
 
 TO 
 
 EDWARD BELLASIS, 
 
 SERJEANT AT LAW, 
 
 IN REMEMBRANCE 
 OF A LONG, EQUABLE, SUNNY FRIENDSHIP; 
 
 IN GRATITUDE 
 
 FOR CONTINUAL KINDNESSES SHOWN TO ME, 
 
 FOR AN UNWEARIED ZEAL IN MY BEHALF, 
 
 FOR A TRUST IN ME WHICH HAS NEVER WAVERED, 
 
 AND A PROMPT, EFFECTUAL SUCCOUR AND SUPPORT 
 
 IN TIMES OF SPECIAL TRIAL, 
 
 FROM HIS AFFECTIONATE 
 
 J. II . N. 
 
 February 21, 1870. 
 
 o<r- 00
 
 / . . jl J L A/ &* CirHMtsnusivJl
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 PART I. 
 
 ASSENT AND APPREHENSION. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Modes of holding and apprehending Propositions .... 3 
 
 § 1. Modes of holding Propositions 3 
 
 § 2. Modes of apprehending Propositions .... 9 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 Assent considered as Apprehensive ..... 13 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 The Apprehension of Propositions ly 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 Notional and Real Assent 36 
 
 § 1. Notional Assents ........ 42 
 
 § 2. Real Assents ......... 75 
 
 § 3. Notional and Real Assents contrasted . . . .89 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 Apprehension and Assent in the matter of Religion . . . 98 
 
 § 1. Belief in one God 101 
 
 § 2. Belief in the Holy Trinity 122 
 
 § 3. Belief in Dogmatic Theology 142
 
 viii Contents. 
 
 PART II. 
 
 ASSENT AND INFERENCE. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 Assent considered as Unconditional ...... 157 
 
 § 1. Simple Assent ........ 159 
 
 § 2. Complex Assent . . 188 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 Certitude 210 
 
 § 1. Assent and Certitude contrasted ..... 210 
 
 § 2. Indefeetibility of Certitude 221 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 Inference 259 
 
 § 1. Formal Inference ........ 259 
 
 § 2. Informal Inference ....... 28S 
 
 § 3. Natural Inference 330 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 The Illative Sense . '. ■ . . . • ■ .343 
 
 § 1. The Sanction of the Illative Sense . . ' . . 346 
 
 -f^ § 2. The Nature of the Illative Sense 353 
 
 § 3. The Range of the Illative Sense 360 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 Inference and Assent in the matter of Religion . . . .384 
 
 § 1. Natural Religion 389 
 
 § 2. Revealed Religion 409
 
 PART I. 
 ASSENT AND APPREHENSION. 
 
 B
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 MODES OF HOLDING AND APPREHENDING PROPOSITIONS. 
 
 § 1. Modes op holding Propositions. 
 
 1. Propositions (consisting of a subject and predicate 
 united by the copula) may take a categorical, conditional, 
 or interrogative form. 
 
 (1) An interrogative, when they ask a Question, 
 (e.g. Does Free-trade benefit the poorer classes ?) and 
 imply the possibility of an affirmative or negative 
 resolution of it. 
 
 (2) A conditional, when they express a Cou elusion 
 (e. g. Free-trade therefore benefits the poorer classes), 
 and at once imply, and imply their dependence on, 
 other propositions. 
 
 (3) A categorical, when they simply make an Asser- 
 tion (e. g. Free-trade does benefit), and imply the 
 absence of any condition or reservation of any kind, 
 looking neither before nor behind, as resting in them- 
 selves and being intrinsically complete. 
 
 These three modes of shaping a proposition, distincl 
 as they are from each other, follow each other in natural 
 sequence. A proposition, which starts with being a 
 
 b 2
 
 4 Modes of holding Propositions. 
 
 Question, may become a Conclusion, and then be changed 
 into an Assertion ; but it has of course ceased to be a 
 question, so far forth as it has become a conclusion, and 
 has rid itself of its argumentative form — that is, has 
 ceased to be a conclusion, — so far forth as it has become 
 an assertion. A question has not yet got so far as to 
 be a conclusion, though it is the necessary preliminary 
 of a conclusion ; and an assertion has got beyond being 
 a mere conclusion, though it is the natural issue of a 
 conclusion. Their correlation is the measure of their 
 distinction one from another. 
 
 No one is likely to deny that a question is distinct 
 both from a conclusion and from an assertion ; and an 
 assertion will be found to be equally distinct from a 
 conclusion. For, if we rest our affirmation on argu- 
 ments, this shows that we are not asserting; and, when 
 we assert, we do not argue. An assertion is as distinct 
 from a conclusion, as a word of command is from a per- 
 suasion or recommendation. Command and assertion, 
 as such, both of them, in their different ways, dispense 
 Avith, discard, ignore, antecedents of any kind, though 
 antecedents may have been a sine qua non condition of 
 their being elicited. They both carry with them the 
 pretension of being personal acts. 
 
 In insisting on the intrinsic distinctness of these 
 three modes of putting a proposition, I am not main- 
 taining that they may not co-exist as regards one and 
 the same subject. For what we have already concluded, 
 we may, if we will, make a question of; and what we 
 are asserting, we may of course conclude over again. 
 We may assort, to one man, and conclude to another,
 
 Modes of holding Propositions. 5 
 
 and ask of a third ; still when we assert, we do not 
 conclude, and, when we assert or conclude, we do not 
 question. 
 
 2. The internal act of holding propositions is for the 
 most part analogous to the external act of enunciating 
 them ; as there are three ways of enunciating, so are 
 there three ways of holding them, each corresponding 
 to each. These three mental acts are Doubt, Inference, 
 and Assent. A question is the expression of a doubt ; 
 a conclusion is the expression of an act of inference ; 
 and an assertion is the expression of an act of assent. 
 To doubt, for instance, is not to see one's way to hold, 
 that Free-trade is or that it is not a benefit ; to infer, 
 is to hold on sufficient grounds that Free-trade may, 
 must, or should be a benefit; to assent to the propositiou, 
 is to hold that Free-trade is a benefit. 
 
 Moreover, propositions, while they are the material of 
 these three enunciations, are also the objects of the three 
 corresponding mental acts ; and as without a proposition, 
 there cannot be a question, conclusion, or assertion, so 
 without a proposition there is nothing to doubt about, 
 nothing to infer, nothing to assent to. Mental acts of 
 whatever kind presuppose their objects. 
 
 And, since the three euunciations are distinct from 
 each other, therefore the three mental acts also, Doubt, 
 Inference, and Assent, are, with reference to one and 
 the same proposition, distinct from each other ; else, 
 why should their several enunciations be distinct ? 
 And indeed it is very evident, that, so far forth as 
 we infer, we do not doubt, and that, when we assent,
 
 6 Modes of holding Propositions. 
 
 we are not inferring, and, when we doubt, we cannot 
 assent. 
 
 And in fact, these three modes of entertaining propo- 
 sitions, — doubting them, inferring them, assenting to 
 them, are so distinct in their action, that, when they 
 are severally carried out into the intellectual habits of 
 an individual, they become the principles and notes of 
 three distinct states or characters of mind. For instance, 
 iu the case of Revealed Religion, according as one or 
 other of these is paramount within him, a man is a 
 sceptic as regards it; or a philosopher, thinking it more 
 or less probable considered as a conclusion of reason; or 
 he has an unhesitating faith in it, and is recognized as 
 a believer. If he simply disbelieves, or dissents, then 
 he is assenting to the contradictory of the thesis, viz. 
 to the proposition that there is no Revelation. 
 
 Many minds of course there are, which are not under 
 the predominant influence of any one of the three. Thus 
 men are to be found of irreflective, impulsive, unsettled, 
 or again of acute minds, who do not know what they 
 believe and what they do not, and who may be by turns 
 sceptics, inquirers, or believers; who doubt, assent, infer, 
 and doubt again, according to the circumstances of the 
 season. Nay further, in all minds there is a certain co- 
 existence of these distinct acts ; that is, of two of them, 
 for we can at once infer and assent, though we cannot at 
 once either assent or infer and also doubt. Indeed, in 
 a multitude of cases we infer truths, or apparent truths, 
 before, and while, and after we assent to them. 
 
 Lastly, it cannot be denied that these three acts are 
 all natural to the mind; 1 mean, that, in exercising
 
 Modes of holding Propositions. 7 
 
 thern, we are not violating the laws of our nature, as 
 if they were in themselves an extravagance or weakness, 
 but are acting according to it, according to its legiti- 
 mate constitution. Undoubtedly, it is possible, it is 
 common, in the particular case, to err in the exercise of 
 Doubt, of Inference, and of Assent ; that is, we may be 
 withholding a judgment about propositions ou which 
 we have the means of coming to some definite conclu- 
 sion ; or we may be assenting to propositions which we 
 ought to receive only on the credit of their premisses, 
 or again to keep ourselves in suspense about ; but such 
 errors of the individual belong to the individual, not to 
 his nature, and cannot avail to forfeit for him his natural 
 right, under proper circumstances, to doubt, or to infer, 
 or to assent. We do but fulfil our nature in doubting, 
 inferring, and assenting; and our duty is, not to abstain 
 from the exercise of any function of our nature, but to 
 do what is in itself right rightly. 
 
 3. So far in general : — in this Essay I treat of pro- 
 positions only in their bearing upon concrete matter, 
 and I am mainly concerned with Assent; with In- 
 ference, in its relation to Assent, and only such inference 
 as is not demonstration ; with Doubt hardly at all. I 
 dismiss Doubt with one observation. I have here spoken 
 of it simply as a suspense of mind, in which sense of the 
 word, to have " no doubt " about a thesis is equivalent 
 to one or other of the two remaining acts, either to 
 inferring it or else assenting to it. However, the word 
 is often taken to mean the deliberate recognition of a 
 thesis as being uncertain; in this sense Doubt is nothing
 
 8 Modes of holding Propositions. 
 
 else than an assent, viz. an assent to a proposition 
 at variance with the thesis, as I have already noticed 
 in the case of Disbelief. 
 
 Confining myself to the subject of Assent and In- 
 ference, I observe two points of contrast between 
 them. 
 
 The first I have already noted. Assent is uncon- 
 ditional ; else, it is not really represented by assertion. 
 Inference is conditional, because a conclusion at least 
 implies the assumption of premisses, and still more, 
 because in concrete matter, on which I am engaged, 
 demonstration is impossible. 
 
 The second has regard to the apprehension necessary 
 for holding a proposition. We cannot assent to a pro- 
 position, without some intelligent apprehension of it; 
 whereas we need not understand it at all in order to 
 infer it. We cannot give our assent to the proposition 
 that " x is z," till we are told something about one or 
 other of the terms ; but we can infer, if " x is y, and 
 y is z, that x is z" whether we know the meaning of 
 x and z or no. 
 
 These points of contrast and their results will come 
 before us in due course : here, for a time leaving the 
 consideration of the modes of holding propositions, I 
 proceed to inquire into what is to be understood by 
 apprehending them.
 
 Modes of apprehending Propositions. 
 
 § 2. Modes of apprehending Propositions. 
 
 By our apprehension of propositions I mean our imposi- 
 tion of a sense on the terms of which they are composed. 
 Now what do the terms of a proposition, the subject and 
 predicate, stand for? Sometimes they stand for certain 
 ideas existing in our own minds, and for nothing 
 outside of them ; sometimes for things simply external 
 to us, brought home to us through the experiences and 
 informations we have of them. All things in the exterior 
 world are unit and individual, and are nothing else; but 
 the mind not only contemplates those unit realities, as 
 they exist, but has the gift, by an act of creation, of 
 bringing before it abstractions and generalizations, 
 which have no existence, no counterpart, out of it. 
 
 Now there are propositions, in which one or both of 
 the terms are common nouns, as standing for what is 
 abstract, general, and non-existing, such as "Man is an 
 animal, some men are learned, an Apostle is a creation 
 of Christianity, a line is length without breadth, to 
 err is human, to forgive divine." These I shall call 
 notional propositions, and the apprehension with which 
 we infer or assent to them, notional. 
 
 And there are other propositions, which are composed 
 of singular nouns, and of which the terms stand for
 
 i o Modes of apprehending Propositions. 
 
 things external to us, unit and individual, as " Philip 
 was the father of Alexander," " the earth goes round 
 the sun," " the Apostles first preached to the Jews ;" 
 and these I shall call real propositions, and their 
 apprehension real. 
 
 There are then two kinds of apprehension or inter- 
 pretation to which propositions may be subjected, 
 notional and real. 
 
 Next I observe, that the same proposition may admit 
 of both of these interpretations at once, having a notional 
 sense as used by one man, and a real as used by another. 
 Thus a schoolboy may perfectly apprehend, and construe 
 with spirit, the poet's words, "Dum Capitolium scandet 
 cum tacita Virgine Pontifex;" he has seen steep hills, 
 flights of steps, and processions; he knows what enforced 
 silence is ; also he knows all about the Pontifex Maxi- 
 mus, and the Vestal Virgins; he has an abstract hold 
 upon every word of the description, yet without the 
 words therefore bringing before him at all the living 
 image which they would light up in the mind of a con- 
 temporary of the poet, who had seen the fact described, 
 or of a modern historian who had duly informed himself 
 in the religious phenomena, and by meditation had 
 realized the Roman ceremonial, of the age of Augustus. 
 Again, " Dulce et decorum est pro patria niori," is a 
 mere common-place, a terse expression of abstractions 
 in the mind of the poet himself, if Philippi is to be the 
 index of his patriotism, whereas it would be the record 
 of experiences, a sovereign dogma, a grand aspiration, 
 inflaming the imagination, piercing the heart, of a 
 Wallace or a Tell.
 
 Modes of apprehending Propositions. 1 1 
 
 As the multitude of common nouns have originally 
 been singular, it is not surprising that many of them 
 should so remain still in the apprehension of particular 
 individuals. In the proposition " Sugar is sweet/' the 
 predicate is a common noun as used by those who have 
 compared sugar in their thoughts with honey or glyce- 
 rine; but it may be the only distinctively sweet thing 
 in the experience of a child, and may be used by him as 
 a noun singular. The first time that he tastes sugar, 
 if his nurse says, " Sugar is sweet " in a notional sense, 
 meaning by sugar, lump-sugar, powdered, brown, and 
 candied, and by sweet, a specific flavour or scent which 
 is found in many articles of food and many flowers, he 
 may answer in a real sense, and in an individual pro- 
 position " Sugar is sweet," meaning " this sugar is this 
 sweet thing." 
 
 Thirdly, in the same mind and at the same time, the 
 same proposition may express both what is notional and 
 what is real. When a lecturer in mechanics or chemistry 
 shows to his class by experiment some physical fact, he 
 and his hearers at once enunciate it as an individual 
 thing before their eyes, and also as generalized by their 
 minds into a law of nature. When Virgil says, " Varium 
 et mutabile semper fcemina," he both sets before his 
 readers what he means to be a general truth, and at the 
 same time applies it individually to the instance of Dido. 
 He expresses at once a notion and a fact. 
 
 Of these two modes of apprehending propositions, 
 notional and real, real is the stronger ; I mean by 
 stronger the more vivid and forcible. It is so to be 
 accounted for the very reason that it is concerned with
 
 1 2 Modes of apprehending Propositions. 
 
 what is either real or is taken for real ; for intellectual 
 ideas cannot compete in effectiveness with the expe- 
 rience of concrete facts. Various proverbs and maxims 
 sanction me in so speaking, such as, " Facts are 
 stubborn things," " Experientia docet," " Seeing is 
 believing ;" and the popular contrast between theory 
 and practice, reason and sight, philosophy and faith. 
 Not that real apprehension, as such, impels to action, 
 any more than notional ; but it excites and stimulates 
 the affections and passions, by bringing facts home 
 to them as motive causes. Thus it indirectly brings 
 about what the apprehension of large principles, of 
 general laws, or of moral obligations, never could 
 effect. 
 
 Reverting to the two modes of holding propositions, 
 conditional and unconditional, which was the subject of 
 the former Section, that is, inferences and assents, I 
 observe that inferences, which are con ditional acts, are 
 especially cognate to notional apprehension, and assents, 
 which are unconditional, to real. This distinction, too, 
 will come before us in the course of the following 
 chapters. 
 
 And now I have stated the main subjects of which I 
 propose to treat; viz. the distinctions in the use of 
 propositions, which I have been drawing out, and the 
 questions which those distinctions involve.
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 ASSENT CONSIDERED AS APPREHENSIVE. 
 
 I have already said of an act of Assent, first, that it is 
 in itself the absolute acceptance of a proposition without 
 any condition j and next that, in order to its being made, 
 it presupposes the condition, not only of some previous 
 inference in favour of the proposition, but especially of 
 some concomitant apprehension of its terms. I proceed 
 to the latter of these two subjects ; that is, of Assent 
 considered as apprehensive, leaving the discussion of 
 Assent as unconditional for a later place in this Essay. 
 By apprehension of a proposition, I mean, as I have 
 already said, the interpretation given to the terms of 
 which it is composed. When we infer, we consider a 
 proposition in relation to other propositions; when we 
 assent to it, we consider it for its own sake and in its 
 intrinsic sense. That sense must be in some degree 
 known to us ; else, we do but assert the proposition, 
 we in no wise assent to it. Assent I have described 
 to be a mental assertion ; in its very nature then it is 
 of the mind, and not of the lips. We can assert with- 
 out asseuting ; assent is more than assertion just by 
 this much, that it is accompanied by some apprehen-
 
 14 Assent considered as apprehensive. 
 
 sion of the matter asserted. This is plain ; and the only 
 question is, what measure of apprehension is sufficient. 
 And the answer to this question is equally plain : — it 
 is the predicate of the proposition which must be appre- 
 hended. In a proposition one term is predicated of 
 another ; the subject is referred to the predicate, and the 
 predicate gives us information about the subject; — there- 
 fore to apprehend the proposition is to have that infor- 
 mation, and to assent to it is to acquiesce in it as true. 
 Therefore I apprehend a proposition, when I apprehend 
 its predicate. The subject itself need not be apprehended 
 jper se in order to a genuine assent : for it is the very 
 thing which the predicate has to elucidate, and therefore 
 by its formal place in the proposition, so far as it is the 
 subject, it is something unknown, something which the 
 predicate makes known ; but the predicate cannot make 
 it known, unless it is known itself. Let the question 
 be, " What is Trade ? " here is a distinct profession of 
 ignorance about " Trade ;" and let the answer be, 
 " Trade is the interchange of goods -" — trade theu need 
 not be known, as a condition of assent to the proposi- 
 tion, except so far as the account of it which is given in 
 answer, " the interchange of goods/' makes it known ; 
 and that must be apprehended in order to make it 
 known. The very drift of the proposition is to tell us 
 something about the subject ; but there is no reason 
 why our knowledge of the subject, whatever it is, should 
 go beyond what the predicate tells us about it. Further 
 than this the subject need not be apprehended : as far 
 as this it must ; it will not be apprehended thus far, 
 unless we apprehend the predicate.
 
 Assent considered as apprehensive. 1 5 
 
 If a child asks, " What is Lucern?" and is answered, 
 "Lucern is niedicago sativa, of the class Diadelphia 
 and order Decandria ;" and henceforth says obediently, 
 " Lucern is medicago sativa, &c," he makes no act of 
 assent to the proposition which he enunciates, but 
 speaks like a parrot. But, if he is told, "Lucern is food 
 for cattle/' and is shown cows grazing in a meadow, 
 then though he never saw lucern, and knows nothing 
 at all about it, besides what he has learned from the 
 predicate, he is in a position to make as genuine an 
 assent to the proposition " Lucern is food for cattle," 
 on the word of his informant, as if he knew ever so 
 much more about lucern. And as soon as he has got 
 as far as this, he may go further. He now knows 
 enough about lucern, to enable him to apprehend pro- 
 positions which have lucern for their predicate, should 
 they come before him for assent, as, " That field is sown 
 with lucern/' or " Clover is not lucern." 
 
 Yet there is a way, in which the child can give an in- 
 direct assent even to a proposition, in which he under- 
 stood neither subject nor predicate. He cannot indeed 
 in that case assent to the proposition itself, but he can 
 assent to its truth. He cannot do more than assert that 
 "Lucern is medicago sativa," but he can assent to the 
 proposition, " That lucern is medicago sativa is true." 
 For here is a predicate which he sufficiently apprehends, 
 what is inapprehensible in the proposition being confined 
 to the subject. Thus the child's mother might teach 
 him to repeat a passage of Shakespeare, and when he 
 asked the meaning of a particular line, such as " The 
 quality of mercy is not strained," or "Virtue itself 
 
 1
 
 1 6 Assent considered as apprehensive. 
 
 turns vice, being misapplied/' she might answer him, 
 that he was too young to understand it yet, but that 
 it had a beautiful meaning, as he would one day know ; 
 and he, in faith on her word, might give his assent to 
 such a proposition, — not, that is, to the line itself which 
 he had got by heart, and which would be beyond him, 
 but to its being true, beautiful, and good. 
 
 Of course I am speaking of assent itself, and its in- 
 trinsic conditions, not of the ground or motive of it. 
 Whether there is an obligation upon the child to trust 
 his mother, or whether there are cases where such trust 
 is impossible, are irrelevant questions, and I notice 
 them in order to put them aside. I am examining the 
 act of assent itself, not its preliminaries, and I have 
 specified three directions, which among others the 
 assent may take, viz. assent immediately to a proposi- 
 tion itself, assent to its truth, and assent both to its 
 truth and to the ground of its being true, — "Lucern 
 is food for cattle/' — " That lucern is medicago sativa 
 is true/' — and "My mother's word, that lucern is medi- 
 cago sativa, and is food for cattle, is the truth." Now 
 in each of these there is one and the same absolute ad- 
 hesion of the mind to the proposition, on the part of the 
 child ; he assents to the apprehensible proposition, and 
 to the truth of the inapprehensible, and to the veracity 
 of his mother in her assertion of the inapprehensible. 
 I say the same absolute adhesion, because unless he did 
 assent without any reserve to the proposition that lucern 
 was food for cattle, or to the accuracy of the botanical 
 name and description of it, he would not be giving an 
 unreserved assent to his mother's word : yet, though
 
 Assent considered as apprehensive. i 7 
 
 these assents are all unreserved, still they certainly differ 
 in strength, and this is the next point to which I wish 
 to draw attention. It is indeed plain, that, though the 
 child assents to his mother's veracity, without perhaps 
 being conscious of his own act, nevertheless that par- 
 ticular assent of his has a force and life in it which the 
 other assents have not, insomuch as he apprehends the 
 proposition, which is the subject of it, with greater 
 keenness and energy than belongs to his apprehension 
 of the others. Her veracity and authority is to him no 
 abstract truth or item of general knowledge, but is 
 bound up with that image and love of her person which 
 is part of himself, and makes a direct claim on him for 
 his summary assent to her general teachings. 
 
 Accordingly, by reason of this circumstance of his 
 apprehension he would not hesitate to say, did his years 
 admit of it, that he would lay down his life in defence 
 of his mother's veracity. On the other hand, he would 
 not make such a profession in the case of the proposi- 
 tions, " Lucern is food for cattle," or " That lucern is 
 medicago sativa is true •" and yet it is clear too, that, 
 if he did in truth assent to these propositions, he would 
 have to die for them also, rather than deny them, when 
 it came to the point, unless he made up his mind to 
 tell a falsehood. That he would have to die for all 
 three propositions severally rather than deny them, 
 shows the completeness and absoluteness of assent in its 
 very nature; that he would not spontaneously challenge 
 so severe a trial in the case of two out of the three 
 particular acts of assent, illustrates in what sense one 
 assent may be stronger than another. 
 
 C 
 
 \\!
 
 1 8 Assent considered as apprehensive. 
 
 It appears then, that, in assenting to propositions, 
 an apprehension in some sense of their terms is not 
 only necessary to assent, as such, but also gives a dis- 
 tinct character to its acts. If therefore we would 
 know more about Assent, we must know more about 
 the apprehension which accompanies it. Accordingly 
 to the subject of Apprehension I proceed.
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 THE APPREHENSION OF PROPOSITIONS. 
 
 I have said in these Introductory Chapters that there can 
 be no assent to a proposition, without some sort of ap- 
 prehension of its terms ; next, that there are two modes 
 of apprehension, notional and real ; thirdly, that, while 
 assent may be given to a px-oposition on either appre- 
 hension of it, still its acts are elicited more heartily and 
 forcibly, when they are made upon real apprehension 
 which has things for its objects, than when they are 
 made in favour of notions and with a notional apprehen- 
 sion. The first of these three points I have just been 
 discussing; now I will proceed to the second, viz. the 
 two modes of apprehending propositions, leaving the 
 third for the Chapters which follow. 
 
 I have used the word apprehension, and not under- 
 standing, because the latter word is of uncertain mean- 
 ing, standing sometimes for the faculty or act of 
 conceiving a proposition, sometimes for that of com- 
 prehending it, neither of which come into the sense of 
 apprehension. It is possible to apprehend without un- 
 derstanding. I apprehend what is meant by saying 
 that John is Richard's wife's father's aunt's 1 m si. and j
 
 20 The apprehension of Propositions. 
 
 but, if I am unable so to take in these successive rela- 
 tionships as to understand the upshot of the whole, viz. 
 that John is great-uncle-in-law to Richard, I cannot be 
 said to understand the proposition. In like manner, I 
 may take a just view of a man's conduct, and therefore 
 apprehend it, and yet may profess that I cannot under- 
 stand it ; that is, I have not the key to it, and do not 
 see its consistency in detail : I have no just conception 
 of it. Apprehension then is simply an intelligent ac- 
 ceptance of the idea, or of the fact which a proposition 
 enunciates. " Pride will have a fall ;" " Napoleon died 
 at St. Helena j" I have no difficulty in entering into 
 the sentiment contained in the former of these, or into 
 the fact declared in the latter ; that is, I apprehend 
 them both. 
 
 Now apprehension, as I have said, has two subject- 
 matters : — according as language expresses things ex- 
 ternal to us, or our own thoughts, so is apprehension 
 real or notional. It is notional in the grammarian, it 
 is real in the experimentalist. The grammarian has to 
 determine the force of words and phrases ; he has to 
 master the structure of sentences and the composition of 
 paragraphs ; he has to compare language with language, 
 to ascertain the common ideas expressed under different 
 idiomatic forms, and to achieve the difficult work of re- 
 casting the mind of the original author in the mould of 
 a translation. On the other hand, the philosopher or 
 experimentalist aims at investigating, questioning, as- 
 certaining facts, causes, effects, actions, qualities: these 
 are things, and he makes his words distinctly subordi- 
 nate to these, as means to an end. The primary duty of
 
 The apprehension of Propositions. 2 1 
 
 a literary man is to have clear conceptions, and to be 
 exact and intelligible in expressing them ; but in a 
 philosopher it is a merit even to be not utterly vague, 
 inchoate and obscure in his teaching, and if he fails 
 even of this low standard of language, we remind 
 ourselves that his obscurity perhaps is owing to his 
 depth. No power of words in a lecturer would be suffi- 
 cient to make psychology easy to his hearers ; if they 
 are to profit by hitn, they must throw their minds into 
 the matters in discussion, must accompany his treatment 
 of them with an active, personal concurrence, and inter- 
 pret for themselves, as he proceeds, the dim suggestions 
 and adumbrations of objects, which he has a right to 
 presuppose., while he uses them, as images existing in 
 their apprehension as well as in his own. 
 
 In something of a parallel way it is the least pardon- 
 able fault in an Orator to fail in clearness of style, and 
 the most pardonable fault of a Poet. 
 
 So again, an Economist is dealing with facts : what- 
 ever there is of theory in his work professes to be 
 founded on facts, by facts alone must his sense be inter- 
 preted, and to those only who are well furnished with 
 the necessary facts does he address himself ; yet a clever 
 schoolboy, from a thorough grammatical knowledge of 
 both languages, might turn into English a French trea- 
 tise on national wealth, produce, consumption, labour, 
 profits, measures of value, public debt, and the circu- 
 lating medium, with an apprehension of what it was 
 that his author was stating sufficient for making it clear 
 to an English reader, while he had notthefaintestconcep- 
 tion himself what the treatise, which he was translating,
 
 6 
 
 22 7"^ appreltension of Propositions. 
 
 really determined. The man uses language as the 
 vehicle of things, and the boy of abstractions. 
 
 Hence in literary examinations, it is a test of good 
 , scholarship to be able to construe aright, without the 
 aid of understanding the sentiment, action, or historical 
 occurrence conveyed in the passage thus accurately ren- 
 dered, let it be a battle in Livy, or some subtle train of 
 thought in Virgil or Pindar. And those who have 
 acquitted themselves best in the trial, will often be dis- 
 posed to think they have most notably failed, for the 
 very reason that they have been too busy with the gram- 
 mar of each sentence, as it came, to have been able, as 
 they construed on, to enter into the facts or the feelings, 
 which, unknown to themselves, they were bringing out 
 of it. 
 
 To take a very different instance of this contrast be- 
 tween notions and facts ; — pathology and medicine, in 
 the interests of science, and as a protection to the prac- 
 titioner, veil the shocking realities of disease and physical 
 suffering under anotional phraseology,under the abstract 
 terms of debility, distress, irritability, paroxysm, and a 
 host of Greek and Latin words. The arts of medicine 
 and surgery are necessarily experimental ; but for 
 writing and conversing on these subjects they require 
 to be stripped of the association of the facts from which 
 they are derived. 
 
 Such are the two modes of apprehension. The terms 
 of a proposition do or do not stand for things. If they 
 do, then they are singular terms, for all things that are, 
 are units. But if they do not stand for things they must 
 stand for notions, and are common terms. Singular
 
 The apprehension of Propositions. 2 
 
 nouns come from experience, common from abstraction. 
 The apprehension of the former I call real, and of the 
 latter notional. Now let us look at this difference 
 between them more narrowly. 
 
 1. Real Apprehension, is, as I have said, in the first 
 instance an experience or information about the concrete. 
 Now, when these informations are in fact presented to 
 us, (that is, when they are directly subjected to our 
 bodily senses or our mental sensations, as when we say, 
 " The sun shines," or " The prospect is charming," or 
 indirectly by means of a picture or even a narrative,) 
 then there is no difficulty in determining what is meant 
 by saying that our enunciation of a proposition concern- 
 ing them implies an apprehension of things ; because 
 we can actually point out the objects which they 
 indicate. But supposing those things are no longer 
 before us, supposing they have passed beyond our field 
 of view, or the book is closed in which the description of 
 them occurs, how can an apprehension of things be said 
 to remain to us ? Yes, it remains on our minds by means 
 of the faculty of memory. Memory consists in a present 
 imagination of things that are past ; memory retains 
 the impressions and likenesses of what they were when 
 before us ; and when we make use of the proposition 
 which refers to them, it supplies us with objects by 
 which to interpret it. They are things still, as being 
 the reflections of things in a mental mirror. 
 
 Hence the poet calls memory " the mind's eye." I 
 am in a foreign country among unfamiliar sights ; at 
 will I am able to conjure up before me the vision of my 
 home, and all that belongs to it, its rooms and their f ur-
 
 24 The apprehension of Propositions. 
 
 iiiture, its books, its inmates, their countenances, looks 
 and movements. I see those who once were there and 
 are no more ; past scenes, and the very expression of the 
 features, and the tones of the voices, of those who took 
 part in them, in a time of trial or difficulty. I create 
 nothing ; I see the facsimiles of facts ; and of these fac- 
 similes the words and propositions which I use concern- 
 ing them are from habitual association the proper or the 
 sole expression. 
 
 And so again, I may have seen a celebrated painting, 
 or some great pageant, or some public man ; and I have 
 on my memory stored up and ready at hand, but latent, 
 an impress more or less distinct of that experience. The 
 words " the Madonna di S. Sisto," or " the last Corona- 
 tion," or kf the Duke of Wellington," have power to 
 revive that impress of it. Memory has to do with indi- 
 vidual things and nothing that is not individual. And 
 my apprehension of its notices is conveyed in a collec- 
 tion of singular and real propositions. 
 
 I have hitherto been adducing instances from (for the 
 most part) objects of sight; but the memory preserves 
 the impress, though not so vivid, of the experiences 
 which come to us through our other senses also. The 
 memory of a beautiful air, or the scent of a particular 
 flower, as far as any remembrance remains of it, is the 
 continued presence in our minds of a likeness of it, which 
 its actual presence has left there. I can bring before 
 me the music of the Adeste Fideles, as if I were actually 
 hearing it ; and the scent of a clematis as if I were in 
 my garden ; and the flavour of a peach as if it were in 
 season - } and the thought I have of all these is as of some-
 
 The apprehension of Propositions. 2 5 
 
 thing individual and from without, — as much as the 
 things themselves, the tune, the scent, and the flavour, 
 are from without, — though, compared with the things 
 themselves, these images (as they may be called) are 
 faint and intermitting. 
 
 Nor need such an image be in any sense an abstrac- 
 tion; though I may have eaten a hundred peaches 
 in times past, the impression, which remains on my 
 memory of the flavour, may be of any of them, of the 
 ten, twenty, thirty units, as the case may be, not a 
 general notion, distinct from every one of them, and 
 formed from all of them by a fabrication of my mind. 
 
 And so again the apprehension which we have of our 
 past mental acts of any kind, of hope, inquiry, effort, 
 triumph, disappointment, suspicion, hatred, and a hun- 
 dred others, is an apprehension of the memory of those 
 definite acts, and therefore an apprehension of things ; 
 not to say that many of them do not need memory, but 
 are such as admit of being actually summoned and re- 
 peated at our will. Such an apprehension again is 
 elicited by propositions embodying the notices of our 
 history, of our pursuits and their results, of our friends, 
 of our bereavements, of our illnesses, of our fortunes, 
 which remain imprinted upon our memory as sharply 
 and deeply as is any recollection of sight. Nay, and 
 such recollections may have in them an individuality and 
 completeness which outlives the impressions made by 
 sensible objects. The memory of countenances and of 
 places in times past may fade away from the mind; but 
 the vivid image of certain anxieties or deliverances never. 
 And by means of these particular and personal expe-
 
 26 The apprehension of Propositions. 
 
 riences,thus impressed upon us, we attain an apprehen- 
 sion of what such things are at other times when we 
 have not experience of them ; an apprehension of sights 
 and sounds, of colours and forms, of places and persons, 
 of mental acts and states, parallel to our actual expe- 
 riences, such, that, when we meet with definite proposi- 
 tions expressive of them, our apprehension cannot be 
 called abstract and notional. If I am told " there is a 
 raging fire in London," or " London is on fire/' " fire " 
 need not be a common noun in my apprehension more 
 than " London." The word may recall to my memory 
 the experience of a fire which I have known elsewhere, 
 or of some vivid description which I have read. It is of 
 course difficult to draw the line and to say where the 
 office of memory ends, and where abstraction takes its 
 place ; and again, as I said in my first pages, the same 
 proposition is to one man an image, to another a notion; 
 but still there is a host of predicates, of the most various 
 kinds, " lovely," " vulgar/' " a conceited man," " a 
 manufacturing town," "a catastrophe," and any num- 
 ber of others, which, though as predicates they would 
 be accounted common nouns, are in fact in the mouths 
 of particular persons singular, as conveying images of 
 things individual, as the rustic in Virgil says, — 
 
 " Urbem, quam dicunt Romain, Melibcee, putavi, 
 Stultus ego, buic nostra} siinileui." 
 
 And so the child's idea of a king, as derived from his 
 picture-book, will be that of a fierce or stern or vener- 
 able man, seated above a flight of steps, with a crown on 
 his head and a sceptre in his hand. In these two in- 
 stances indeed the experience does but mislead, when
 
 The apprehension of Propositions. 27 
 
 applied to the unknown ; but it often happens on the 
 contrary, that it is a serviceable help, especially when a 
 man has large experiences and has learned to distinguish 
 between them and apply them duly, as in the instance 
 of the hero " who knew many cities of men and many 
 minds/' 
 
 Further, we are able by an inventive faculty, or, as 
 I may call it, the faculty of composition, to follow the 
 descriptions of things which have never come before 
 us, and to form, out of such passive impressions as ex- 
 perience has heretofore left on our minds, new images, 
 which, though mental creations, are in no sense abstrac- 
 tions, and though ideal, are not notional. They - are 
 concrete units in the minds both of the party describing 
 and the party informed of them. Thus I may never 
 have seen a palm or a banana, but I have conversed 
 with those who have, or I have read graphic accounts 
 of it, and, from my own previous knowledge of other 
 trees, have been able with so ready an intelligence to 
 interpret their language, and to light up such an image 
 of it in my thoughts, that, were it not that I never was 
 in the countries where the tree is found, I should fancy 
 that I had actually seen it. Hence again it is the very 
 praise we give to the characters of some great poet or 
 historian that he is so individual. I am able as it 
 were to gaze on Tiberius, as Tacitus draws him, and to 
 figure to myself our James the First, as he is painted 
 in Scott's Eomance. The assassination of Csesar, his 
 " Et tu, Brute ?" his collecting his robes about him, 
 and his fall under Pompey's statue, all this becomes a 
 fact to me and an object of real apprehension. Thus
 
 28 The apprehension of Propositions. 
 
 it is that we live in the past and in the distant ; by 
 means of our capacity of interpreting the statements of 
 others about former ages or foreign climes by the lights 
 of our own experience. The picture, which historians 
 are able to bring before us, of Cassar's death, derives 
 its vividness and effect from its virtual appeal to the 
 various images of our memory. 
 
 This faculty of composition is of course a step beyond 
 experience, but we have now reached its furthest point; 
 it is mainly limited as regards its materials, by the sense 
 of sight. As regards the other senses, new images can- 
 not well be elicited and shaped out of old experiences. 
 No description, however complete, could convey to my 
 mind an exact likeness of a tune or an haimiony, which 
 I have never heard ; and still less of a scent, which I 
 have never smelt. Generic resemblances and meta- 
 phorical substitutes are indeed producible; but I should 
 not acquire any real knowledge of the Scotch air 
 " There's nae luck " by being told it was like " Auld 
 lang syne," or " Robin Gray •" and if I said that 
 Mozart's melodies wei*e as a summer sky or as the 
 breath of Zephyr, I should be better understood by 
 those who knew Mozart than by those who did not. 
 Such vague illustrations suggest intellectual notions, 
 not images. 
 
 And quite as difficult is it to create or to apprehend 
 by description images of mental facts, of which we 
 have no direct experience. I may indeed, as I have 
 already said, bring home to my mind so complex a fact 
 as an historical character, by composition out of my 
 experiences about character generally; Tiberius, James
 
 The apprehension of Propositions. 29 
 
 the First, Louis the Eleventh, or Napoleon ; but who 
 is able to infuse into me, or how shall I imbibe, a sense 
 of the peculiarities of the style of Cicero or Virgil, if 
 I have not read their writings ? or how shall I gain a 
 shadow of a perception of the wit or the grace ascribed 
 to the conversation of the French salons, being myself 
 an untravelled John Bull ? And so again, as regards 
 the affections and passions of our nature, they are sui 
 generis respectively, and incommensurable, and must be 
 severally experienced in order to be apprehended really. 
 I can understand the rabbia of a native of Southern 
 Europe, if I am of a passionate temper myself; and 
 the taste for speculation or betting found in great 
 traders or on the turf, if I am fond of enterprise or 
 games of chance ; but on the other hand, not all the 
 possible descriptions of headlong love will make me 
 comprehend the delirium, if I never have had a fit of 
 it ; nor will ever so many sermons about the inward 
 satisfaction of strict conscientiousness create in my 
 mind the image of a virtuous action and its attendant 
 sentiments, if I have been brought up to lie, thieve 
 and indulge my appetites. Thus we meet with men of 
 the world who cannot enter into the very idea of devo- 
 tion, and think, for instance, that, from the nature of 
 the case, a life of religious seclusion must be either 
 one of unutterable dreai'iness or abandoned sensuality, 
 because they know of no exercise of the affections but 
 what is merely human ; and with others again, who, 
 living in the home of their own selfishness, ridicule as 
 something fanatical and pitiable the self-sacrifices of 
 generous high-inindedness and chivalrous honour.
 
 30 The apprehension of Propositions. 
 
 They cannot create images of these things, any more 
 than children on the contrary can of vice, when they 
 ask whereabouts and who the bad men are ; for they 
 have no personal memories, and have to content them- 
 selves with notions drawn from books or from what 
 others tell them. 
 
 So much on the apprehension of things and on the 
 real in our use of language; now let us pass on to 
 the notional sense. 
 
 2. Experience tells us only of individual things, and 
 these things are innumerable. Our minds might have 
 been so constructed as to be able to receive and retain 
 an exact image of each of these various objects, one by 
 one, as it came before us, but only in and for itself, 
 without the power of comparing it with any of the 
 others. But this is not our case : on the contrary, to 
 compare and to contrast are among the most prominent 
 and busy of our intellectual functions. Instinctively, 
 even though unconsciously, we are ever instituting 
 comparisons between the manifold phenomena of the 
 external world, as we meet with them, criticizing, re- 
 ferring to a standard, collecting, analysing them. Nay, 
 as if by one and the same action, as soon as we perceive 
 them, we also perceive that they are like each other or 
 unlike, or rather both like and unlike at once. We 
 apprehend spontaneously, even before we set about 
 apprehending, that man is like man, yet unlike ; and 
 unlike a horse, a tree, a mountain, or a monument, yet 
 in some, though not the same respects, like each of 
 them. And in consequence, as I have said, we are ever 
 grouping and discriminating, measuring and sounding,
 
 The apprehension of Propositions. 3 1 
 
 framing cross classes and cross divisions, and thereby 
 rising from particulars to generals, that is from images 
 to notions. 
 
 In processes of this kind we regard things, not as 
 they are in themselves, but mainly as they stand iu 
 relation to each other. We look at nothing simply 
 for its own sake; we cannot look at any one thing 
 without keeping our eyes on a multitude of other 
 things besides. " Man " is no longer what he really 
 is, an individual presented to us by our senses, but as 
 we read him in the light of those comparisons and 
 contrasts which we have made him suggest to us. He 
 is attenuated into an aspect, or relegated to his place 
 in a classification. Thus his appellation is made to 
 suggest, not the real being which he is in this or that 
 specimen of himself, but a definition. If I might use 
 a harsh metaphor, I should say he is made the loga- 
 rithm of his true self, and in that shape is worked 
 with the ease and satisfaction of logarithms. 
 
 It is plain what a different sense language will bear 
 in this system of intellectual notions from what it has 
 when it is the representative of things : and such a 
 use of it is not only the very foundation of all science, 
 but may be, and is, carried out in literature and in the 
 ordinary intercourse of man with man. And thus it 
 comes to pass that individual propositions about the 
 concrete almost cease to be, and are diluted or starved 
 into abstract notions. The events of history and the 
 characters who figure in it lose their individuality. 
 States and governments, society and its component 
 parts, cities, nations, even the physical face of the
 
 32 The apprehension of Propositions. 
 
 country, things past, and things contemporary, all that 
 fulness of meaning which I have described as accruing 
 to language from experience, now that experience is 
 absent, necessarily becomes to the multitude of men 
 nothing but a heap of notions, little more intelligible 
 than the beauties of a prospect to the short-sighted, 
 or the music of a great master to a listener who has 
 no ear. 
 
 I suppose most men will recollect in their past years 
 how many mistakes they have made about persons, 
 parties, local occurrences, nations and the like, of 
 which at the time they had no actual knowledge of 
 their own : how ashamed or how amused they have 
 since been at their own gratuitous idealism when they 
 came into possession of the real facts concerning them. 
 They were accustomed to treat the definite Titus or 
 Sempronius as the quidam homo, the individuum 
 vagum of the logician. They spoke of his opinions, 
 his motives, his practices, as their traditional rule for 
 the species Titus or Sempronius enjoined. In order to 
 find out what individual men in flesh and blood were, 
 they fancied that they had nothing to do but to refer 
 to commonplaces, alphabetically arranged. Thus they 
 were well up with the character of a Whig statesman 
 or Tory magnate, a Wesleyan, a Congregationalist, a 
 parson, a priest, a philanthropist, a writer of controversy, 
 a sceptic; and found themselves prepared, without the 
 trouble of direct inquiry, to draw the individual after 
 the peculiarities of his type. And so with national 
 character ; the late Duke of Wellington must have 
 been impulsive, quarrelsome, witty, clever at repartee,
 
 The apprehension of Propositions. 
 
 1 1 
 
 00 
 
 for he was an Irishman ; in like manner, we must have 
 cold and selfish Scots, crafty Italians, vulgar Americans, 
 and Frenchmen, half tiger, half monkey. As to the 
 French, those who are old enough to recollect the 
 wars with Napoleon, know what eccentric notions were 
 popularly entertained about them in England ; how it 
 was even a surprise to find some military man, who 
 was a prisoner of war, to be tall and stout, because it 
 was a received idea that all Frenchmen were undersized 
 and lived on frogs. 
 
 Such again are the ideal personages who figure in 
 romances and dramas of the old school; tyrants, monks, 
 crusaders, princes in disguise, and captive damsels ; or 
 benevolent or angry fathers, and spendthrift heirs ; like 
 the symbolical characters in some of Shakespeare's plays, 
 " a Tapster/' or " a Lord Mayor," or in the stage direc- 
 tion " Enter two murderers." 
 
 What I have been illustrating in the case of persons, 
 might be instanced in regard to places, transactions, 
 physical calamities, events in history. Words which 
 are used by an eye-witness to express things, unless 
 he be especially eloquent or graphic, may only convey 
 general notions. Such is, and ever must be, the popular 
 and ordinary mode of apprehending language. On 
 only few subjects have any of us the opportunity of 
 realizing in our minds what we speak and hear about ; 
 and we fancy that we are doing justice to individual 
 men and things by making them a mere synthesis of 
 qualities, as if any number whatever of abstractions 
 would, by being fused together, be equivalent to one 
 concrete. 
 
 D
 
 34 The apprehension of Propositions. 
 
 Here then we have two modes of thought, both using 
 the same words, both having one origin, yet with nothing 
 in common in their results. The informations of sense 
 and sensation are the initial basis of both of them ; but 
 in the one we take hold of objects from within them, and 
 in the other we view them from outside of them ; we 
 perpetuate them as images in the one case, we transform 
 them into notions in the other. And natural to us as 
 are both processes in their first elements and in their 
 growth, however divergent and independent in their 
 direction, they cannot really be inconsistent with each 
 other ; yet no one from the sight of a horse or a dog 
 would be able to anticipate its zoological definition, nor 
 from a knowledge of its definition to draw such a picture 
 as would direct the eye to the living specimen. 
 
 Each use of propositions has its own excellence and 
 serviceableness, and each has its own imperfection. To 
 . apprehend notionally is to have breadth of mind, but to 
 be shallow ; to apprehend really is to be deep, but to be 
 narrow-minded. The latter is the conservative principle 
 of knowledge, and the former the principle of its advance- 
 ment. Without the apprehension of notions, we should 
 for ever pace round one small circle of knowledge; 
 without a firm hold upon things, we shall waste our- 
 selves in vague speculations. However, real apprehen- 
 sion has the precedence, as being the scope and end 
 and the test of notional ; and the fuller is the mind's 
 hold upon things or what it considers such, the more 
 fertile is it in its aspects of them, and the more practi- 
 cal in its definitions. 
 
 Of course, as these two are not inconsistent with each
 
 The apprehension of Propositions. 35 
 
 other, they may co-exist in the same mind. Indeed 
 there is no one who does not to a certain extent exercise 
 both the one and the other. Viewed in relation to Assent, 
 which has led to my speaking of them, they do not in 
 any way affect the nature of Assent itself, which is in 
 all cases absolute and unconditional ; but they give it an 
 external character corresponding respectively to their 
 own : so much so, that at first sight it might seem as if 
 Assent admitted of degrees, on account of the variation 
 of vividness in these different apprehensions. As 
 notions come of abstractions, so images come of experi- 
 ences ; the more fully the mind is occupied by an 
 experience, the keener will be its assent to it, if it 
 assents, and on the other hand, the duller will be its 
 assent and the less operative, the more it is engaged 
 with an abstraction ; and thus a scale of assents is con- 
 ceivable, either in the instance of one mind upon 
 different subjects, or of many minds upon one subject, 
 varying from an assent which looks like mere inference 
 up to a belief both intense and practical, — from the 
 acceptance which we accord to some accidental news 
 of the day to the supernatural dogmatic faith of the 
 Christian. 
 
 It follows to treat of Assent under this double aspect 
 of its subject-matter, — assent to notions, and assent to 
 things. 
 
 d 2
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 NOTIONAL AND EEAL ASSENT. 
 
 1. I have said that our apprehension of a proposition 
 varies in strength, and that it is stronger when it is con- 
 cerned with a proposition expressive to us of things than 
 when concerned with a proposition expressive of notions ; 
 and I have given this reason for it, viz. that what is 
 concrete exerts a force and makes an impression on the 
 mind which nothing abstract can rival. That is, I have 
 argued that, because the object is more powerful, there- 
 fore so is the apprehension of it. 
 
 I do not think it unfair reasoning thus to take the 
 apprehension for its object. The mind is ever stimulated 
 in proportion to the cause stimulating it. Sights, for 
 instance, sway us, as scents do not ; whether this be 
 owing to a greater power in the thing seen, or to a 
 greater receptivity and expansiveness in the sense of 
 seeing, is a superfluous question. The strong object 
 would make the apprehension strong. Our sense of 
 seeing is able to open to its object, as our sense of smell 
 cannot open to its own. Its objects are able to awaken 
 the mind, tako possession of it, inspire it, act through it,
 
 
 Notional and Real Assent. 
 
 37 
 
 with an energy and variousness which is not found in 
 the case of scents and their apprehension. Since we 
 cannot draw the line between the object and the act, I 
 am at liberty to say, as I have said, that, as is the thing 
 apprehended, so is the apprehension. 
 
 And so in like manner as regards apprehension of 
 mental objects. If an image derived from experience or 
 information is stronger than an abstraction, conception, 
 or conclusion — if I am more arrested by our Lord's 
 bearing before Pilate and Herod than by the " Justum et 
 tenacem " &c. of the poet, more arrested by His Voice 
 saying to us, " Give to him that asketh thee," than by 
 the best arguments of the Economist against indiscrimi- 
 nate almsgiving, it does not matter for my present pur- 
 pose whether the objects give strength to the apprehen- 
 sion or the apprehension gives large admittance into the 
 mind to the object. It is in human nature to be more 
 affected by the concrete than by the abstract ; it may be 
 the reverse with other beings. The apprehension, then, 
 may be as fairly said to possess the force which acts 
 upon us, as the object apprehended. 
 
 2. Real apprehension, then, may be pronounced 
 stronger than notional, because things, which are its 
 objects, are confessedly more impressive and affective 
 than notions, which are the objects of notional. Experi- 
 ences and their images strike and occupy the mind, as 
 abstractions and their combinations do not. Next, pass- 
 ing on to Assent, I observe that it is this variation in 
 the mind's apprehension of an object to which it 
 assents, and not any incompleteness in the assent itself 
 that leads us to speak of strong and weak assents, as
 
 38 Notional and Real Assent. 
 
 if Assent itself admitted of degrees. In either mode of 
 apprehension, be it real or be it notional, the assent 
 preserves its essential characteristic of being uncondi- 
 tional. The assent of a Stoic to the " Justum et tena- 
 ceni" &c. may be as genuine an assent, as absolute 
 and entire, as little admitting of degree or variation, as 
 distinct from an act of inference, as the assent of a 
 Christian to the history of our Lord's Passion in the 
 Gospel. 
 
 3. However, characteristic as it is of Assent, to be thus 
 in its nature simply one and indivisible, and thereby 
 essentially different from Inference, which is ever vary- 
 ing in strength, never quite at the same pitch in any two 
 of its acts, still it is at the same time true that it may be 
 difficult in fact, by external tokens, to distinguish given 
 acts of assent from given acts of inference. Thus, where- 
 as no one could possibly confuse the real assent of a 
 Christian to the fact of our Lord's crucifixion, with the 
 notional acceptance of it, as a point of history, on the 
 part of a philosophical heathen (so removed from each 
 other, toto coelo, are the respective modes of apprehend- 
 ing it in the two cases, though in both the assent is in 
 its nature one and the same), nevertheless it would be 
 easy to mistake the Stoic's notional assent, genuine 
 though it might be, to the moral nobleness of the just 
 man " struggling in the storms of fate," for a mere act 
 of inference resulting from the principles of his Stoical 
 profession, or again for an assent merely to the infer- 
 ential necessity of the nobleness of that struggle. 
 Nothing, indeed, is more common than to praise men 
 for their consistency to their principles, whatever those
 
 Notional and Real Assent. 39 
 
 principles are, that is, to praise them on an inference, 
 without thereby implying any assent to the principles 
 themselves. 
 
 The cause of this resemblance between acts so distinct 
 is obvious. Kesemblance exists only in cases of notional 
 assents ; when the assent is given to notions, then indeed 
 it is possible to hesitate in deciding whether it is assent 
 or inference, whether the mind is merely without doubt 
 or whether it is actually certain. And the reason is 
 this : notional Assent seems like Inference, because the 
 apprehension which accompanies acts of inference is 
 notional also, — because Inference is engaged for the 
 most part on notional propositions, both premiss and 
 conclusion. This point, which I have implied through- 
 out, I here distinctly record, and shall enlarge upon 
 hereafter. Only propositions about individuals are not 
 notional, and these are seldom the matter of inference. 
 Thus, did the Stoic infer the fact of our Lord's death 
 instead of assenting to it, that proposition as inferred 
 would have been as much an abstraction to him as the 
 "Justum," &c; nay further, the "Justus et tenax" was 
 at least a notion in his mind, but" Jesus Christ" would, 
 in the schools of Athens or of Rome, have stood for less, 
 for an unknown being, the x or y of a formula. Except 
 then in some of the cases of singular conclusions, in- 
 ferences are employed on notions, unless, I say, they are 
 employed on mere symbols ; and, indeed, when they are 
 symbolical, then are they clearest and most cogent, as I 
 shall hereafter show. The next clearest are such as 
 carry out the necessary results of previous classifica- 
 tions, and therefore may be called definitions or con-
 
 40 Notional and Real Assent. 
 
 elusions, as we please. For instance, having divided 
 beings into their classes, the definition of man is in- 
 evitable. 
 
 4. We may call it then the normal state of Inference 
 to apprehend propositions as notions ; and we may 
 call it the normal state of Assent to apprehend pro- 
 positions as things. If notional apprehension is most 
 congenial to Inference, real apprehension will be the 
 most natural concomitant on Assent. An act of Infe- 
 rence includes in its object the dependence of its thesis 
 upon its premisses, that is, upon a relation, which is 
 an abstraction ; but an act of Assent rests wholly on 
 the thesis as its object, and the reality of the thesis is 
 almost a condition of its unconditionality. 
 
 5. I am led on to make one remark more, and it 
 shall be my last. 
 
 An act of assent, it seems, is the most perfect and 
 highest of its kind, when it is exercised on propositions, 
 which are apprehended as experiences and images, 
 that is, which stand for things ; and, on the other hand, 
 an act of inference is the most perfect and highest of 
 its kind, when it is exercised on propositions which 
 are apprehended as notions, that is, which are creations 
 of the mind. An act of inference indeed may be made 
 with either of these modes of apprehension; so may 
 an act of assent ; but when inferences are exercised on 
 things, they tend to be conjectures or presentiments, 
 without logical force ; and when assents are exercised 
 on notions, they tend to be mere assertions without . 
 any personal hold on them on the part of those who 
 make them. If this be so, the paradox is true, that,
 
 Notio7ial and Real Assent. 4 1 
 
 when Inference is clearest, Assent may be least forcible, 
 and, when Assent is most intense, Inference may be 
 least distinct ; — for, though acts of assent require pre- 
 vious acts of inference, they require them, not as 
 adequate causes, but as sine qua non conditions ; and, 
 while the apprehension strengthens Assent, Inference 
 often weakens the apprehension.
 
 42 Notional Assents. 
 
 § I. Notional Assents. 
 
 I shall consider Assent made to propositions which 
 express abstractions or notions under five heads; which 
 I shall call Profession, Credence, Opinion, Presumption, 
 and Speculation. 
 
 1. Profession. 
 
 There are assents so feeble and superficial, as to be 
 little more than assertions. I class them all together 
 under the head of Profession. Such are the assents 
 made upon habit and without reflection ; as when a man 
 cdlls himself a Tory or a Liberal, as having been brought 
 up as such ; or again, when he adopts as a matter of 
 course the literary or other fashions of the day, admiring 
 the poems, or the novels, or the music, or the personages, 
 or the costume, or the wines, or the manners, which 
 happen to be popular, or are patronized in the higher 
 circles. Such again are the assents of men of wavering 
 restless minds, who take up and then abandon beliefs 
 so readily, so suddenly, as to make it appear that they 
 had no view (as it is called) on the matter they pro- 
 fessed, and did not know to what they assented or why.
 
 Profession. 43 
 
 Then, again, when men say they have no doubt of a 
 thing, this is a case, in which it is difficult to determine 
 whether they assent to it, infer it, or consider it highly 
 probable. There are many cases, indeed, in which it 
 is impossible to discriminate between assent, inference, 
 and assertion, on account of the otiose, passive, inchoate 
 character of the act in question. If I say that to- 
 morrow will be fine, what does this enunciation mean ? 
 Perhaps it means that it ought to be fine, if the glass 
 tells truly; then it is the inference of a probability. 
 Perhaps it means no more than a surmise, because it is 
 fine to-day, or has been so for the week past. And 
 perhaps it is a compliance with the word of another, in 
 which case it is sometimes a real assent, sometimes a 
 polite assertion or a wish. 
 
 Many a disciple of a philosophical school, who talks 
 fluently, does but assert, when he seems to assent to the 
 dicta of his master, little as he may be aware of it. 
 Nor is he secured against this self-deception by know- 
 ing the arguments on which those dicta rest, for he may 
 learn the arguments by heart, as a careless schoolboy 
 gets up his Euclid. This practice of asserting simply 
 on authority, with the pretence and without the reality 
 of assent, is what is meant by formalism. To say " I 
 do not understand a proposition, but I accept it on 
 authority," is not formalism, but faith ; it is not a direct 
 assent to the proposition, still it is an assent to the 
 authority which enunciates it ; but what I here speak 
 of is professing to understand without understanding. 
 It is thus that political and religious watchwords are 
 created ; first one man of name and then another
 
 44 Notional Assents. 
 
 adopts them, till their use becomes popular, and then 
 every oue professes them, because every one else does. 
 Such words are "liberality," "progress," "light," "civi- 
 lization;" such are "justification by faith only," "vital 
 religion," "private judgment," "the Bible and nothing 
 but the Bible." Such again are "Rationalism," "Galli- 
 canism," "Jesuitism," " Ultramontanism" — all of which, 
 in the mouths of conscientious thinkers, have a definite 
 meaning, but are used by the multitude as war-cries, 
 nicknames, and shibboleths, with scarcely enough of the 
 scantiest grammatical apprehension of them to allow of 
 their being considered in truth more than assertions. 
 
 Thus, instances occur now and then, when, in conse- 
 quence of the urgency of some fashionable superstition 
 or popular delusion, some eminent scientific authority is 
 provoked to come forward, and to set the world right 
 by his " ipse dixit." He, indeed, himself knows very 
 well what he is about ; he has a right to speak, and his 
 reasonings and conclusions are sufficient, not only for his 
 own, but for general assent, and, it may be, are as 
 simply true and impregnable, as they are authoritative ; 
 but an intelligent hold on the matter in dispute, such as 
 he has himself, cannot be expected in the case of men 
 in general. They, nevertheless, one and all, repeat and 
 retail his arguments, as suddenly as if they had not to 
 study them, as heartily as if they understood them, 
 changing round and becoming as strong antagonists of 
 the err or which their master has exposed, as if they had 
 never been its advocates. If their word is to be taken, 
 it is not simply his authority that moves them, which 
 would be sensible enough and suitable in them, both
 
 Profession. 45 
 
 apprehension and assent being in that case grounded 
 on the maxim " Cuique in arte sua credenduin/' but so 
 far forth as they disown this motive, and claim to judge 
 in a scientific question of the worth of arguments which 
 require some real knowledge, they are little better, not 
 of course in a very serious matter, than pretenders and 
 formalists. 
 
 Not only authority, but Inference also may impose on 
 us assents which in themselves are little better than as- 
 sertions, and which, so far as they are assents, can only 
 be notional assents, as being assents, not to the propo- 
 sitions inferred, but to the truth of those propositions. 
 For instance, it can be proved by irrefragable calcula- 
 tions, that the stars are not less than billions of miles 
 distant from the earth ; and the process of calculation, 
 upon which such statements are made, is not so difficult 
 as to require authority to secure our acceptance of both 
 it and of them ; yet who can say that he has any real, 
 nay, any notional apprehension of a billion or a trillion ? 
 We can, indeed, have some notion of it, if we analyze it 
 into its factors, if we compare it with other numbers, or 
 if we illustrate it by analogies or by its implications ; 
 but I am speaking of the vast number in itself. We 
 cannot assent to a proposition of which it is the predicate ; 
 we can but assent to the truth of it. 
 
 This leads me to the question, whether belief in a 
 mystery can be more than an assertion. I consider it 
 can be an assent, and my reasons for saying so are as 
 follows : — A mystery is a proposition conveying incom- 
 patible notions, or is a statement of the inconceivable. 
 Now we can assent to propositions (and a mystery is a
 
 46 Notional Assents. 
 
 proposition), provided we can apprehend them ; therefore 
 we can assent to a mystery, for, unless we in some sense 
 apprehended it, we should not recognize it to be a mys- 
 tery, that is, a statement uniting incompatible notions. 
 The same act, then, which enables us to discern that the 
 words of the proposition express a mystery, capacitates 
 us for assenting to it. Words which make nonsense, do 
 not make a mystery. No one would call Warton's line — 
 " Revolving swans proclaim the welkin near " — an 
 inconceivable assertion. It is equally plain, that the 
 assent which we give to mysteries, as such, is notional 
 assent j for, by the supposition, it is assent to proposi- 
 tions which we cannot conceive, whereas, if we had had 
 experience of them, we should be able to conceive them, 
 and without experience assent is not real. 
 
 But the question follows, Can processes of inference 
 end in a mystery ? that is, not only in what is incom- 
 prehensible, that the stars are billions of miles from each 
 other, but in what is inconceivable, in the co-existence 
 of (seeming) incompatibilities ? For how, it may be 
 asked, can reason carry out notions into their contra- 
 dictories ? since all the developments of a truth must 
 from the nature of the case be consistent both with it 
 and with each other. I answer, certainly processes of 
 inference, however accurate, can end in mystery ; and I 
 solve the objection to such a doctrine thus : — our notion 
 of a thing may be only partially faithful to the original ; 
 it may be in excess of the thing, or it may represent it 
 incompletely, and, in consequence, it may serve for it, 
 it may stand for it, only to a certain point, in certain 
 cases, but no further. After that point is reached, the
 
 Profession. 47 
 
 notion and the thing part company ; and then the 
 notion, if still used as the representative of the thing, 
 will work out conclusions, not inconsistent with itself, 
 but with the thing to which it no longer corresponds. 
 
 This is seen most familiary in the use of metaphors. 
 Thus, in an Oxford satire, which deservedly mado a 
 sensation in its day, it is said that Vice " from its hard- 
 ness takes a polish too." ! Whence we might argue, 
 that, whereas Caliban was vicious, he was therefore 
 polished ; but politeness and Caliban are incompatible 
 notions. Or again, when some one said, perhaps to Dr. 
 Johnson, that a certain writer (say Hume) was a clear 
 thinker, he made answer, "All shallows are clear.'" 
 But supposing Hume to be in fact both a clear and a 
 deep thinker, yet supposing clearness and depth are in- 
 compatible in their literal sense, which the objection seems 
 to imply, and still in their full literal sense were to be 
 ascribed to Hume, then our reasoning about his intellect 
 has ended in the mystery, " Deep Hume is shallow ;" 
 whereas the contradiction lies, not in the reasoning, but 
 in the fancying that inadequate notions can be taken 
 as the exact representations of things. 
 
 Hence in science we sometimes use a definition or a 
 formula, not as exact, but as being sufficient for our 
 purpose, for working out certain conclusions, for a 
 practical approximation, the error being small, till a 
 certain point is reached. This is what in theological 
 investigations I should call an economy. 
 
 A like contrast between notions and the things which 
 
 1 " The Oxford Spy," 1818 ; by J. S. Boone, p. 107.
 
 48 Notional Assents. 
 
 they represent is the principle of suspense and curiosity 
 in those enigmatical sayings which were frequent in the 
 early stage of human society. In them the problem 
 proposed to the acuteness of the hearers, is to find some 
 real thing which may unite in itself certain conflicting 
 notions which in the question are attributed to it : " Out 
 of the eater came forth meat, and out of the strong came 
 forth sweetness f or, ' ' What creature is that, which in 
 the morning goes on four legs, at noon on two, and on 
 three in the evening ? " The answer, which names the 
 thing, interprets and thereby limits the notions under 
 which it has been represented. 
 
 Let us take an example in algebra. Its calculus is 
 commonly used to investigate, not only the relations 
 of quantity generally, but geometrical facts in parti- 
 cular. Now it is at once too wide and too narrow 
 for such a purpose, fitting on to the doctrine of lines 
 and angles with a bad fit, as the coat of a short and 
 stout man might serve the needs of one who was tall 
 and slim. Certainly it works well for geometrical pur- 
 poses up to a certain point, as when it enables us to dis- 
 pense with the cumbrous method of proof in questions 
 of ratio and proportion, which is adopted in the fifth 
 book of Euclid ; but what are we to make of the fourth 
 power of a, when it is to be translated into geometrical 
 language ? If from this algebraical expression we deter- 
 mined that space admitted of four dimensions, we should 
 be enunciating a mystery, because we shouldbe applying 
 to space a notion which belongs to quantity. In this 
 case algebra is in excess of geometrical truth. Now let 
 us take an instance in which it falls short of geometry,
 
 Profession. 49 
 
 — What is the meaning of the square root of minus a ? 
 Here the mystery is on the side of algebra; and, in 
 accordance with the principle which I am illustrating, 
 it has sometimes been considered as an abortive effort 
 to express, what is really beyond the capacity of alge- 
 braical notation, the direction and position of lines in 
 the third dimension of space, as well as their length 
 upon a plane. When the calculus is urged on by the 
 inevitable course of the working to do what it cannot do, 
 it stops short as if in resistance, and protests by an 
 absurdity. 
 
 Our notions of things are never simply commensurate 
 with the things themselves ; they are aspects of them, 
 more or less exact, and sometimes a mistake ab initio. 
 Take an instance from arithmetic : — We are accustomed 
 to subject all that exists to numeration; but, to be 
 correct, we are bound first to reduce to some level of 
 possible comparison the things which we wish to num- 
 ber. We must be able to say, not only that they are ten, 
 twenty, or a hundred, but so many definite somethings. 
 For instance, we could not without extravagance throw 
 together Napoleon's brain, ambition, hand, soul, smile, 
 height, and age at Marengo, and say that there were 
 seven of them, though there are seven words ; nor will 
 it even be enough to content ourselves with what may 
 be called a negative level, viz. that these seven are a 
 non-existing or a departed seven. Unless numeration is 
 to issue in nonsense, it must be conducted on conditions. 
 This being the case, there are, for what we know, col- 
 lections of beings, to whom the notion of number 
 cannot be attached, except catachrestically , because, 
 
 E
 
 50 Notional Assents. 
 
 taken individually, no positive point of real agree- 
 ment can be found between them, by which to call 
 them. If indeed we can denote them by a plural noun, 
 then we can measure that plurality ; but if they agree 
 in nothing, they cannot agree in bearing a common 
 name, and to say that they amount to a thousand these 
 or those, is not to number them, but to count up a 
 certain number of names or words which we have 
 written down. 
 
 Thus, the Angels have been considered by divines to 
 have each of them a species to himself; and we may 
 fancy each of them so absolutely sui similis as to be 
 like nothing else, so that it would be as untrue to 
 speak of a thousand Angels as of a thousand Hannibals 
 or Ciceros. It will be said, indeed, that all beings but 
 One at least will come under the notion of creatures, 
 and are dependent upon that One ; but that is true of 
 the brain, smile, and height of Napoleon, which no one 
 would call three creatures. But, if all this be so, much 
 more does it apply to our speculations concerning the 
 Supreme Being, whom it may be unmeaning, not only 
 to number with other beings, but to subject to number 
 in regard to His own intrinsic characteristics. That 
 is, to apply arithmetical notions to Him may be as un- 
 philosophical as it is profane. Though He is at once 
 Father, Son, and Holy Ghost, the word " Trinity " 
 belongs to those notions of Him which are forced on 
 us by the necessity of our finite conceptions, the real 
 and immutable distinction which exists between Person 
 and Person implying in itself no infringement of His 
 real and numerical Unity. And if it be asked how,
 
 Profession. 5 1 
 
 if we cannot properly speak of Him as Three, we can 
 speak of Him as One, I reply that He is not One 
 in the way in which created things are severally units ; 
 for one, as applied to ourselves, is used in contrast to 
 two or three and a whole series of numbers ; but of the 
 Supreme Being it is safer to use the word,, monad " 
 than unit, for He has not even such relation to His 
 creatures as to allow, philosophically speaking, of our 
 contrasting Him with them. 
 
 Coming back to the main subject, which I have illus- 
 trated at the risk of digression, I observe, that an alleged 
 fact is not therefore impossible because it is incon- 
 ceivable; for the incompatible notions, in which consists 
 its inconceivableness, need not each of them really be- 
 long to it in that fulness which would involve their being- 
 incompatible with each other. It is true indeed that I 
 deny the possibility of two straight lines enclosing a 
 space, on the ground of its being inconceivable ; but I 
 do so because a straight line is a notion and nothing 
 more, and not a thing to which I may have attached a 
 notion more or less unfaithful. I have denned a straight 
 line in my own way at my own pleasure; the ques- 
 tion is not one of facts at all, but of the consistency 
 with each other of definitions and their logical conse- 
 quences. 
 
 " Space is not infinite, for nothing but the Creator is 
 such : " — starting from this thesis as a theological infor- 
 mation, to be assumed as a fact, though not one of ex- 
 perience, we arrive at once at an insoluble mystery; for, 
 if space be not infinite, it is finite, and finite space is a 
 contradiction in notions, space, as such, implying the 
 
 e 2
 
 52 Notional Assents. 
 
 absence of boundaries. Here again it is our notion that 
 carries us beyond the fact, and in opposition to it, show- 
 ing that from the first what we apprehend of space does 
 not in all respects correspond to the thing, of which 
 indeed we have no image. 
 
 This, then, is another instance in which the juxta- 
 position of notions by the logical faculty lands us in 
 what are commonly called mysteries. Notions are but 
 aspects of things ; the free deductions from one of these 
 aspects necessarily contradict the free deductions from 
 another. After proceeding in our investigations a cer- 
 tain way, suddenly a blank or a maze presents itself be- 
 fore the mental vision, as when the eye is confused by the 
 varying slides of a telescope. Thus, we believe in the 
 infinitude of the Divine Attributes, but we can have no 
 experience of infinitude as a fact ; the word stands for a 
 definition or a notion. Hence, when we try how to 
 reconcile in the moral world the fulness of mercy with 
 exactitude in sanctity and justice, or to explain that 
 the physical tokens of creative skill need not suggest 
 any want of creative power, we feel we are not masters 
 of our subject. We apprehend sufficiently to be able to 
 assent to these theological truths as mysteries ; did we 
 not apprehend them at all, we should be merely assert- 
 ing ; though even then we might convert that assertion 
 into an assent, if we wished to do so, as I have already 
 shown, by making it the subject of a proposition, and 
 predicating of it that it is true.
 
 Crede?ice. 5 3 
 
 2. Credence. 
 
 What I mean by giving credence to propositions is 
 pretty much the same as having " no doubt " about 
 them. It is the sort of assent which we give to those 
 opinions and professed facts which are ever presenting 
 themselves to us without any effort of ours, and which 
 we commonly take for granted, thereby obtaining a 
 broad foundation of thought for ourselves, and a medium 
 of intercourse between ourselves and others. This form 
 of notional assent comprises a great variety of subject- 
 matters ; and is, as I have implied, of an otiose and passive 
 character, accepting whatever comes to hand, from what- 
 ever quarter, warranted or not, so that it convey nothing 
 on the face of it to its own disadvantage. From the 
 time that we begin to observe, think and reason, to 
 the final failure of our powers, we are ever acquiring 
 fresh and fresh informations by means of our senses, 
 and still more from others and from books. The friends 
 or strangers whom we fall in with in the course of the 
 day, the conversations or discussions to which we are 
 parties, the newspapers, the light reading of the season, 
 our recreations, our rambles in the country, our foreign 
 tours, all pour their contributions of intellectual matter 
 into the storehouses of our memory ; and, though much 
 may be lost, much is retained. These informations, 
 thus received with a spontaneous assent, constitute the 
 furniture of the mind, and make the difference between 
 its civilized condition and a state of nature. They are 
 its education, as far as general knowledge can so be 
 called; and, though education is discipline as well as
 
 54 Notional Assents. 
 
 learning, still, unless the mind implicitly welcomes the 
 truths, real or ostensible, winch these informations 
 supply, it will gain neither formation nor a stimulus 
 for its activity and progress. Besides, to believe frankly 
 what it is told, is in the young an exercise of teach- 
 ableness and humility. 
 
 Credence is the means by which, in high and low, in 
 the man of the world and in the recluse, our bare and 
 barren nature is overrun and diversified from without 
 with a rich and living clothing. It is by such un- 
 grudging, prompt assents to what is offered to us so 
 lavishly, that we become possessed of the principles, 
 doctrines, sentiments, facts, which constitute useful, and 
 especially liberal knowledge. These various teachings, 
 shallow though they be, are of a breadth which secures 
 us against those lacunae of knowledge which are apt to 
 befall the professed student, and keep us up to the mark 
 in literature, in the arts, in history, and in public matters. 
 They give us in great measure our morality, our 
 politics, our social code, our art of life. They supply 
 the elements of public opinion, the watchwords of pa- 
 triotism, the standards of thought and action ; they are 
 our mutual understandings, our channels of sympathy, 
 our means of co-operation, and the bond of our civil 
 union. They become our moral language; we learn 
 them as we learn our mother tongue; they distingish 
 us from foreigners ; they are, in each of us, not indeed 
 personal, but national characteristics. 
 
 This account of them implies that they are received 
 with a notional, not a real assent ; they are too manifold 
 to be received in any other way. Even the most prac^
 
 Credence. 5 5 
 
 tised and earnest minds must needs be superficial in the 
 greater part of their attainments. They know just 
 enough on all subjects, in literature, history, politics, 
 philosophy, and art, to be able to converse sensibly on 
 them, and to understand those who are really deep in 
 one or other of them. This is what is called, with a 
 special appositeness, a gentleman's knowledge, as con- 
 trasted with that of a professional man, and is neither 
 worthless nor despicable, if used for its proper ends; but 
 it is never more than the furniture of the mind, as I 
 have called it ; it never is thoixmghly assimilated with 
 it. Yet of course there is nothing to hinder those who 
 have even the largest stock of such notions from de- 
 voting themselves to one or other of the subjects to which 
 those notions belong, and mastering it with a real 
 apprehension ; and then their general knowledge of all 
 subjects may be made variously useful in the direction 
 of that particular study or pursuit which they have 
 selected. 
 
 I have been speaking of secular knowledge ; but re- 
 ligion may be made a subject of notional assent also, 
 and is especially so made in our own country. Theology, 
 as such, always is notional, as being scientific : religion, 
 as being personal, should be real ; but, except within a 
 small range of subjects, it commonly is not real in Eng- 
 land. As to Catholic populations, such as those of medi- 
 eval Europe, or the Spain of this day, or quasi-Catholic 
 as those of Russia, among them assent to religious 
 objects is real, not notional. To them the Supreme 
 Being, our Lord, the Blessed Virgin, Angels and Saints, 
 heaven and hell, are as present as if they were objects of
 
 56 Notional Assents. 
 
 sight; but such a faith does not suit the genius of 
 modern England. There is in the literary world just 
 now an affectation of calling religion a " sentiment /' 
 and it must be confessed that usually it is nothing more 
 with our own people, educated or rude. Objects are 
 barely necessary to it. I do not say so of old Calvinism 
 or Evangelical Religion ; I do not call the religion of 
 Leighton, Beveridge, Wesley, Thomas Scott, or Cecil 
 a mere sentiment ; nor do I so term the high Anglican- 
 ism of the present generation. But these are only de- 
 nominations, parties, schools, compared with the national 
 religion of England in its length and breadth. " Bible 
 Religion " is both the recognized title and the best 
 description of English religion. 
 
 It consists, not in rites or creeds, but mainly in 
 having the Bible read in Church, in the family, and 
 in private. Now I am far indeed from undervaluing 
 that mere knowledge of Scripture which is imparted 
 to the population thus promiscuously. At least in Eng- 
 land, it has to a certain point made up for great and 
 grievous losses in its Christianity. The reiteration 
 again and again, in fixed course in the public service, 
 of the words of inspired teachers under both Covenants, 
 . and that in grave majestic English, has in matter of 
 fact been to our people a vast benefit. It has attuned 
 their minds to religious thoughts ; it has given them 
 a high moral standard ; it has served them in asso- 
 ciating religion with compositions which, even humanly 
 considered, are among the most sublime and beautiful 
 ever written ; especially, it has impressed upon them 
 the series of Divine Providences in behalf of man from
 
 Credence. 5 7 
 
 his creation to his end, and, above all, the words, 
 deeds, and sacred sufferings of Him in whom all the 
 Providences of God centre. 
 
 So far the indiscriminate reading of Scripture has 
 been of service ; still, much more is necessary than the 
 benefits which I have enumerated, to answer to the 
 idea of a religion : whereas our national form professes 
 to be little more than thus reading the Bible aud living 
 a correct life. It is not a religion of persons and things, 
 of acts of faith and of direct devotion ; but of sacred 
 scenes and pious sentiments. It has been comparatively 
 careless of creed and catechism ; and has in conse- 
 quence shown little sense of the need of consistency in 
 the matter of its teaching. Its doctrines are not so 
 much facts, as stereotyped aspects of facts ; and it is 
 afraid, so to say, of walking round them. It induces 
 its followers to be content with this meagre view of 
 revealed truth ; or, rather, it is suspicious and protests, 
 or is frightened, as if it saw a figure in a picture move 
 out of its frame, when our Lord, the Blessed Virgin, 
 or the Holy Apostles, are spoken of as real beings, 
 and really such as Scripture implies them to be. I 
 am not denying that the assent which it inculcates 
 and elicits is genuine as regards its contracted range 
 of doctrine, but it is at best notional. What Scripture 
 especially illustrates from its first page to its last, is 
 God's Providence ; and that is nearly the only doctrino 
 held with a real assent by the mass of religious English- 
 men. Hence the Bible is so great a solace and refuge 
 to them in trouble. I repeat, I am not speaking of 
 particular schools and parties in England, whether of
 
 58 Notional Assents. 
 
 the High Church or the Low, but of the mass of 
 piously-minded and well-living people in all ranks of 
 the community. 
 
 3. Opinion. 
 
 That class of assents which I have called Credence, 
 being a spontaneous acceptance of the various informa- 
 tions, which are by whatever means conveyed to our 
 minds, sometimes goes by the name of Opinion. When 
 we speak of a man's opinions, what do we mean, but the 
 collection of notions which he happens to have, and does 
 not easily part with, though he has neither sufficient 
 proof nor firm grasp of them ? This is true ; however. 
 Opinion is a word of various significations, and I prefer 
 to use it in my own. Besides standing for Credence, it 
 is sometimes taken to mean Conviction, as when we 
 speak of the " variety of religious opinions," or of being 
 "persecuted for religious opinions," or of our having 
 " no opinion on a particular point," or of another having 
 " no religious opinions." And sometimes it is used in 
 contrast with Conviction, as synonymous with a light 
 and casual, though genuine assent ; thus, if a man was 
 every day changing his mind, that is, his assents, we 
 might say, that he was very changeable in his opinions. 
 
 I shall here use the word to denote an assent, but an 
 assent to a proposition, not as true, but as probably true, 
 that is, to the probability of that which the proposition 
 enunciates ; and, as that probability may vary in 
 strength without limit, so may the cogency and moment 
 of the opinion. This account of Opinion may seem to 
 confuse it with Inference ; for the strength of an infe-
 
 Opinion. 59 
 
 rence varies with its premisses, and is a probability ; but 
 the two acts of mind are really distinct. Opinion, as 
 being an assent, is independent of premisses. We have 
 opinions which we never think of defending- by argu- 
 ment, though, of course, we think they can be so de- 
 fended. We are even obstinate in them, or what is 
 called " opinionated/'' and may say that we have a right 
 to think just as we please, reason or no reason; whereas 
 Inference is in its nature and by its profession con- 
 ditional and uncertain. To say that " we shall have a 
 fine hay-harvest if the present weather lasts/' does not 
 come of the same state of mind as, " I am of opinion 
 that we shall have a fine hay-harvest this year." 
 
 Opinion, thus explained, has more connexion with 
 Credence than with Inference. It differs from Credence 
 in these two points, viz. that, while Opinion explicitly 
 assents to the probability of a given proposition, 
 Credence is an implicit assent to its truth. It differs 
 from Credence in a third respect, viz. in being a reflex 
 act ; — when we take a thing for granted, we have 
 credence in it; when we begin to reflect upon our 
 credence, and to measure, estimate, and modify it, then 
 we are forming an opinion. 
 
 It is in this sense that Catholics speak of theological 
 opinion, in contrast with faith in dogma. It is much 
 more than an inferential act, but it is distinct from an 
 act of certitude. And this is really the sense which 
 Protestants give to the word, when they interpret it by 
 Conviction ; for their highest opinion in religion is, 
 generally speaking, an asent to a probability — as even 
 Butler has been understood or misunderstood to teach,
 
 60 Notional Assents. 
 
 — and therefore consistent with toleration of its con- 
 tradictory. 
 
 Opinion, being such as I have described, is a notional 
 assent, for the predicate of the proposition, on which 
 it is exercised, is the abstract word " probable/ 
 
 }} 
 
 4. T ^resumption. 
 
 By Presumption I mean an assent to first principles ; 
 and by first principles I mean the propositions with 
 which we start in reasoning on any given subject-matter. 
 They are in consequence very numerous, and vary in 
 great measure with the persons who reason, according 
 to their judgment and power of assent, being received 
 by some minds, not by others, and only a few of them 
 received universally. They are all of them notions, not 
 images, because they express what is abstract, not 
 what is individual and from direct experience. 
 
 1 . Sometimes our trust in our powers of reasoning 
 and memory, that is, our implicit assent to their telling 
 truly, is treated as a first principle; but we cannot 
 properly be said to have any trust in them as faculties. 
 At most we trust in particular acts of memory and 
 reasoning. We are sure there was a yesterday, and 
 that we did this or that in it ; we are sure that three 
 times six is eighteen, and that the diagonal of a square 
 is longer than the side. So far as this we may be said 
 to trust the mental act, by which the object of our assent 
 is verified ; but, in doing so, we imply no recognition 
 of a general power or faculty, or of any capability or 
 affection of our minds, over and above the particular
 
 Preswnption. 6 1 
 
 act. We know indeed that we have a faculty by which 
 we remember, as we know we have a faculty by which 
 we breathe ; but we gain this knowledge by abstraction 
 or inference from its particular acts, not by direct ex- 
 perience. Nor do we trust in the faculty of memory 
 or reasoning as such, even after that we have inferred 
 its existence ; for its acts are often inaccurate, nor do 
 we invariably assent to them. 
 
 However, if I must speak my mind, I have another 
 ground for reluctance to speak of our trusting memory 
 or reasoning, except indeed by a figure of speech. It 
 seems to me unphilosophical to speak of trusting our- 
 selves. We are what we are, and we use, not trust our 
 faculties. To debate about trusting in a case like this, is 
 parallel to the confusion implied in wishing I had had 
 a choice if I would be created or no, or speculating 
 what I should be like, if I were born of other parents. 
 " Proximus sum egomet mihi." Our consciousness of 
 self is prior to all questions of trust or assent. We act 
 according to our nature, by means of ourselves, when we 
 remember or reason. We are as little able to accept or 
 reject our mental constitution, as our being. We have 
 not the option ; we can but misuse or mar its functions. 
 We do not confront or bargain with ourselves ; and 
 therefore I cannot call the trustworthiness of the facul- 
 ties of memory and reasoning one of our first principles. 
 
 2. Next, as to the proposition, thajt there are things 
 existing external to ourselves, this I do consider a first 
 principle, and one of universal reception. It is founded 
 on an instinct ; I so call it, because the brute creation 
 possesses it. This instinct is directed towards individual
 
 62 Notional Assents. 
 
 phenomena, one by one, and has nothing of the character 
 of a generalization ; and, since it exists in brutes, the 
 gift of reason is not a condition of its existence, and it 
 may justly be considered an instinct in man also. What 
 the human mind does is what brutes cannot do, viz. to 
 draw from our ever-recurring- experiences of its testi- 
 ' mony in particulars a general proposition, and, because 
 this instinct or intuition acts whenever the phenomena 
 of sense present themselves, to lay down in broad terms, 
 by an inductive process, the great aphorism, that there 
 is an external world, and that all the phenomena of 
 sense proceed from it. This general proposition, to 
 which we go on to assent, goes (extensive, though not 
 intensive) far beyond our experience, illimitable as that 
 experience may be, and represents a notion. 
 
 3. I have spoken, and I think rightly spoken, of in- 
 stinct as a force which spontaneously impels us, not only 
 to bodily movements, but to mental acts. It is instinct 
 which leads the quasi-intelligent principle (whatever it 
 is) in brutes to perceive in the phenomena of sense a 
 something distinct from and beyond those phenomena. 
 It is instinct which impels the child to recognize in the 
 smiles or the frowns of a countenance which meets his 
 eyes, not only a being external to himself, but one whose 
 looks elicit in him confidence or fear. And, as he in- 
 stinctively interprets these physical phenomena, as 
 tokens of things beyond themselves, so from the sensa- 
 tions attendant upon certain classes of his thoughts and 
 actions he gains a perception of an external being, who 
 reads his mind, to whom he is responsible, who praises 
 und blames, who promises and threatens. As I am only
 
 Presumption. 63 
 
 illustrating a general view by examples, I shall take this 
 analogy for granted here. As then we have our initial 
 knowledge of the universe through sense, so do we in 
 the first instance begin to learn about its Lord and God 
 from conscience ; and, as from particular acts of that 
 instinct, which makes experiences, mere images (as they 
 ultimately are) upon the retina, the means of our per- 
 ceiving something real beyond them, we go on to draw 
 the general conclusion that there is a vast external world, 
 so from the recurring instances in which conscience acts, 
 forcing upon us importunately the mandate of a Superior, 
 we have fresh and fresh evidence of the existence of a 
 Sovereign Ruler, from whom those particular dictates 
 which we experience proceed ; so that, with limitations 
 which cannot here be made without digressing from my 
 main subject, we may, by means of that induction from 
 particular experiences of conscience, have as good a 
 warrant for concluding the Ubiquitous Presence of One 
 Supreme Master, as we have, from parallel experience 
 of sense, for assenting to the fact of a multiform and 
 vast world, material and mental. 
 
 However, this assent is notional, because we gene- 
 ralize a consistent, methodical form of Divine Unity and 
 Personality with Its attributes, from particular expe- 
 riences of the religious instinct, which are themselves, 
 only intensive, not extensive, and in the imagination, 
 not intellectually, notices of Its Presence ; though at the 
 same time that assent may become real of course, as may 
 the assent to the external world, viz. when we apply out- 
 general knowledge to a particular instance of that know- 
 ledge, as, according to a former remark, the general
 
 64 Notional Assents. 
 
 " varium et mutabile " was realized in Dido. And in 
 thus treating the origin of these great notions, I am not 
 forgetting the aid which from our earliest years we 
 receive from teachers, nor am I denying the influence of 
 certain original forms of thinking or formative ideas, 
 connatural with our minds, without which we could not 
 reason at all. I am only contemplating the mind as it 
 moves in fact, by whatever hidden mechanism ; as a 
 locomotive engine could not move without steam, but 
 still, under whatever number of forces, it certainly does 
 start from Birmingham and does arrive in London. 
 
 4. And so again, as regards the first principles 
 expressed in such propositions as "There is a right 
 and a wrong/' " a true and a false," " a just and an 
 unjust," a " beautiful and a deformed ; " they are 
 abstractions to which we give a notional assent in 
 consequence of our particular experiences of qualities in 
 the concrete, to which we give a real assent. As we 
 form our notion of whiteness from the actual sisrht of 
 snow, milk, a lily, or a cloud, so, after experiencing the 
 sentiment of approbation which arises in us on the sight 
 of certain acts one by one, we go on to assign to that 
 sentiment a cause, and to those acts a quality, and we 
 give to this notional cause or quality the name of virtue, 
 which is an abstraction, not a thing. And in like 
 manner, when we have been affected by a certain specific 
 admiring pleasure at the sight of this or that concrete 
 object, we proceed by an arbitrary act of the mind to 
 give a name to the hypothetical cause or quality in the 
 abstract, which excites it. We speak of it as beautiful- 
 ness, and henceforth, when we call a thing beautiful, we
 
 Presumption. 65 
 
 mean by the word a certain quality of thing-, which 
 creates in us this special sensation. 
 
 These so-called first principles, I say, are really con- 
 clusions or abstractions from particular experiences ; 
 and an assent to their existence is not an assent to 
 things or their images, but to notions, real assent being 
 confined to the propositions directly embodying those 
 experiences. Such notions indeed are an evidence 
 of the reality of the special sentiments in particular 
 instances, without which they would not have been 
 formed; but in themselves they are abstractions from 
 facts, not elementary truths prior to reasoning. 
 
 I am not of course dreaming of denying the objective 
 existence of the Moral Law, nor our instinctive recogni- 
 tion of the immutable difference in the moral quality of 
 acts, as elicited in us by one instance of them. Even 
 one act of cruelty, ingratitude, generosity, or justice 
 reveals to us at once intensive the immutable distinc- 
 tion between those qualities and their contraries ; that 
 is, in that particular instance and pro hae vice. From 
 such experience — an experience which is ever recurring 
 — we proceed to abstract and generalize ; and thus the 
 abstract proposition " There is a right and a wrong/' 
 as representing an act of inference, is received by the 
 mind with a notional, not a real assent. However, in 
 proportion as we obey the particular dictates which are 
 its tokens, so are we led on more and more to view it 
 in the association of those particulars, which are real, 
 and virtually to change our notion of it into the image 
 of that objective fact, which in each particular case 11 
 undeniably is.
 
 66 Notional Assents. 
 
 5. Another of these presumptions is the belief in 
 causation. It is to me a perplexity that grave authors 
 seem to enunciate as an intuitive truth, that every thing 
 must have a cause. If this were so, the voice of nature 
 would tell false ; for why in that case stop short at One, 
 who is Himself without cause ? The assent which we 
 give to the proposition, as a first principle, that nothing 
 happens without a cause, is derived, in the first instance, 
 from what we know of ourselves ; and we argue ana- 
 logically from what is within us to what is external to 
 us. One of the first experiences of an infant is that of 
 his willing and doing ; and, as time goes on, one of the 
 first temptations of the boy is to bring home to himself 
 the fact of his sovereign arbitrary power, though it be 
 at the price of waywardness, mischievousness, and dis- 
 obedience. And when his parents, as antagonists of 
 this wilfulness, begin to restrain him, and to bring his 
 mind and conduct into shape, then he has a second 
 series of experiences of cause and effect, and that upon 
 a principle or rule. Thus the notion of causation is one 
 of the first lessons which he learns from experience, 
 that experience limitiug it to agents possessed of intelli- 
 gence and will. It is the notion of power combined 
 with a purpose and an end. Physical phenomena, as 
 such, are without sense; and experience teaches us 
 nothing about physical phenomena as causes. Accord- 
 ingly, wherever the world is young, the movements and 
 changes of physical nature have been and are spontane- 
 ously ascribed by its people to the presence and will of 
 hidden agents, who haunt every part of it, the woods, 
 the mountains and the streams, the air and the stars,
 
 Presumption. 67 
 
 for good or for evil ; — just as children again, by beating 
 the ground after falling, imply that what has bruised 
 them has intelligence; — nor is there anything illogical 
 in such a belief. It rests on the argument from analogy. 
 As time goes on, and society is formed, and the idea 
 of science is mastered, a different aspect of the physical 
 universe presents itself to the mind. Since causation 
 implies a sequence of acts in our own case, and our 
 doing is always posterior, never contemporaneous or 
 prior, to our willing, therefore, when we witness invari- 
 able antecedents and consequents, we call the former 
 the cause of the latter, though intelligence is absent, 
 from the analogy of external appearances. At length 
 we go on to confuse causation with order ; and, because 
 we happen to have made a successful analysis of some 
 complicated assemblage of phenomena, which experience 
 has brought before us in the visible scene of things, 
 and have reduced them to a tolerable dependence on 
 each other, we call the ultimate points of this analysis, 
 and the hypothetical facts in which the whole mass of 
 phenomena is gathered up, by the name of causes, where- 
 as they are really only the formula under which those 
 phenomena are conveniently represented. Thus the 
 constitutional formula, " The king can do no wrong/' 
 is not a fact, or a cause of the Constitution, but a happy 
 mode of bringing out its genius, of determining the 
 correlations of its elements, and of grouping or regulat- 
 ing political rules and proceedings in a particular direc- 
 tion and in a particular form. And in like manner, 
 that all the particles of matter tlrroughout the universe 
 are attracted to each other with a force varying inversely 
 
 E 1
 
 68 Notional Assents. 
 
 with the square of their respective distances, is a pro- 
 found idea, harmonizing the physical works of the 
 Creator ; but even could it be proved to be a universal 
 fact, and also to be the actual cause of the movements 
 of all bodies in the universe, still it would not be an 
 experience, any more than is the mythological doctrine 
 of the presence of innumerable spirits in those same 
 physical phenomena. 
 
 Of these two senses of the word "cause," viz. that 
 which brings a thing to be, and that on which a thing 
 under given circumstances follows, the former is that 
 of which our experience is the earlier and more intimate, 
 being suggested to us by our consciousness of willing 
 and doing. The latter of the two requires a discrimi- 
 nation and exactness of thought for its apprehension, 
 which implies special mental training ; else, how do we 
 learn to call food the cause of refreshment, but day never 
 the cause of night, though night follows day more surely 
 than refreshment follows food ? Starting, then, from ex- 
 perience, I consider a cause to be an effective will; and, by 
 the doctrine of causation, I mean the notion, or first prin- 
 ciple, that all things come of effective will ; and the re- 
 ception or presumption of this notion is a notional assent. 
 
 6. As to causation in the second sense (viz. an ordi- 
 nary succession of antecedents and consequents, or what 
 is called the Order of Nature), when so explained, it falls 
 under the doctrine of general laws; and of this I proceed 
 to make mention, as another first principle or notion, 
 derived by us from experience, and accepted with what 
 I have called a presumption. By natural law I mean 
 the fact that things happen uniformly according to cer-
 
 Presumption. 69 
 
 tain circumstances, and not without them and at ran- 
 dom : that is, that they happen in an order ; and, as all 
 things in the universe are unit and individual, order 
 implies a certain repetition, whether of thing's or like 
 things, or of their affections and relations. Thus we 
 have experience, for instance, of the regularity of our 
 physical functions, such as the beating of the pulse and 
 the heaving of the breath ; of the recurring sensations 
 of hunger and thirst ; of the alternation of waking and 
 sleeping, and the succession of youth and age. In like 
 manner we have experience of the great recurring pheno- 
 mena of the heavens and earth, of day and night, sum- 
 mer and winter. Also, we have experience of a like 
 uniform succession in the instance of fire burning, water 
 choking, stones falling down and not up, iron moving 
 towards a magnet, frietion followed by sparks and crack- 
 ling, an oar looking bent in the stream, and compressed 
 steam bursting its vessel. Also, by scientific analysis, 
 we are led to the conclusion that phenomena, which 
 seem very different from each other, admit of being 
 grouped together as modes of the operation of one hypo- 
 thetical law, acting under varied circumstances. For 
 instance, the motion of a stone falling freely, of a pro- 
 jectile, and of a planet, may be generalized as one and 
 the same property, in each of them, of the particles of 
 matter ; and this generalization loses its character of 
 hypothesis, and becomes a probability, in proportion as 
 we have reason for thinking on other grounds that the 
 particles <*£ all matter really move and act towards each 
 other 'in one certain way in relation to space and time, 
 and not in half a dozen ways ; that is, that nature acts
 
 ;o Notional Assents. 
 
 by uniform laws. And thus we advance to the general 
 notion or first principle of the sovereignty of law 
 throughout the universe. 
 
 There are philosophers who go farther, and teach, not 
 only a general, but an invariable, and inviolable, and 
 necessary uniformity in the action of the laws of nature, 
 holding that every thing is the result of some law or 
 laws, and that exceptions are impossible ; but I do not 
 see on what ground of experience or reason they take up 
 this position. Our experience rather is adverse to 
 such a doctrine, for what concrete fact or phenomenon 
 exactly repeats itself? Some abstract conception of 
 it, more perfect than the recurrent phenomenon itself, 
 is necessary, before we are able to say that it has 
 happened even twice, and the variations which accom- 
 pany the repetition are of the nature of exceptions. 
 The earth, for instance, never moves exactly in the same 
 orbit year by year, but is in perpetual vacillation. It 
 will, indeed, be replied that this arises from the inter- 
 action of one law with another, of which the actual 
 orbit is only the accidental issue, that the earth is under 
 the influence of a variety of attractions from cosmical 
 bodies, and that, if it is subject to continual aberrations 
 in its course, these are accounted for accurately or suffi- 
 ciently by the presence of those extraordinary and vari- 
 able attractions : — science, then, by its analytical pro- 
 cesses sets right the primd facie confusion. Of course ; 
 still let us not by our words imply that we are appeal- 
 ing to experience, when really we are only accounting, 
 and that by hypothesis, for the absence of experience. 
 The confusion is a fact, the reasoning processes are not
 
 Presumption. 7 1 
 
 facts. The extraordinary attractions assigned to ac- 
 count for our experience of that confusion are not them- 
 selves experienced phenomenal facts, but more or less 
 probable hypotheses, argued out by means of an assumed 
 analogy between the cosmical bodies to which those 
 attractions are referred and falling bodies on the earth. 
 I say "assumed/' because that analogy (in other words, 
 the unfailing uniformity of nature) is the very point 
 which has to be proved. It is true, that we can make 
 experiment of the law of attraction in the case of bodies 
 on the earth ; but, I repeat, to assume from analogy 
 that, as stones do fall to the earth, so Jupiter, if let 
 alone, would fall upon the earth and the earth upon 
 Jupiter, and with certain peculiarities of velocity on 
 either side, is to have recourse to an explanation which 
 is not necessarily valid, unless nature is necessarily 
 uniform. Nor, indeed, has it yet been proved, nor 
 ought it to be assumed, even that the law of velocity of 
 falling bodies on the earth is invariable in its operation ; 
 for that again is only an instance of the general propo- 
 sition, which is the very thesis in debate. It seems 
 safer then to hold that the order of nature is not neces- 
 sary, but general in its manifestations. 
 
 But, it may be urged, if a thing happens once, it must 
 happen always ; for what is to hinder it ? Nay, on the 
 contrary, why, because one particle of matter has a cer- 
 tain property, should all particles have the same ? Why, 
 because particles have instanced the property a thousand 
 times, should the thousand and first instance it also ? 
 It is prima facie unaccountable that an accident should 
 happen twice, not to speak of its happening always. If
 
 72 Notional Assents. 
 
 we expect a thing to happen twice, it is because we think 
 it is not an accident, but has a cause. What has brought 
 about a thing once, may bring it about twice. What is 
 to hinder its happening ? rather, What is to make it 
 happen ? Here we are thrown back from the question 
 of Order to that of Causation. A law is not a cause, 
 but a fact ; but when we come to the question of cause, 
 then, as I have said, we have no experience of any cause 
 but Will. If, then, I must answer the question, What 
 is to alter the order of nature ? I reply, That which 
 willed it ; — That which willed it, can unwill it ; and the 
 invariableness of law depends on the unchangeableness 
 of that Will. 
 
 And here I am led to observe that, as a cause implies 
 a will, so order implies a purpose. Did we see flint celts, 
 in their various receptacles all over Europe, scored always 
 with certain special and characteristic marks, even though 
 those marks had no assignable meaning or final cause 
 whatever, we should take that very repetition, which 
 indeed is the principle of order, to be a proof of intelli- 
 gence. The agency then which has kept up and keeps 
 up the general laws of nature, energizing at once in 
 Sirius and on the earth, and on the earth in its primary 
 period as well as in the nineteenth century, must be 
 Mind, and nothing else, and Mind at least as wide and 
 as enduring in its living action, as the immeasurable 
 ages and spaces of the universe on which that agency 
 has left its traces. 
 
 In these remarks I have digressed from my immediate 
 subject, but they have some bearing on points which will 
 subsequently come into discussion.
 
 Speculation. 73 
 
 5. Speculation. 
 
 Speculation is one of those words which, in the ver- 
 nacular, have so different a sense from what they bear 
 in philosophy. It is commonly taken to mean a con- 
 jecture, or a venture on chances; but its proper meaning 
 is mental sight, or the contemplation of mental opera- 
 tions and their results as opposed to experience, experi- 
 ment, or sense, analogous to its meaning in Shakspeare's 
 line, " Thou hast no speculation in those eyes." In this 
 sense I use it here. 
 
 And I use it in this sense to denote those notional 
 assents which are the most direct, explicit, and perfect of 
 their kind, viz. those which are the firm, conscious ac- 
 ceptance of propositions as true. This kind of assent 
 includes the assent to all reasoning and its conclusions, 
 to all general propositions, to all rules of conduct, to all 
 proverbs, aphorisms, sayings, and reflections on men and 
 society. Of course mathematical investigations and 
 truths are the subjects of this speculative assent. So are 
 legal judgments, and constitutional maxiuis, as far as 
 they appeal to us for assent. So are the determinations of 
 science; so are the principles, disputations, and doctrines 
 of theology. That there is a God, that He has certain 
 attributes, and in what sense He can be said to have 
 attributes, that He has done certain works, that He has 
 made certain revelations of Himself and of His will, and 
 what they are, and the multiplied bearings of the parts 
 of the teaching, thus developed and formed, upon each 
 other, all this is the subject of notional assent, and of
 
 74 Notional Assents. 
 
 that particular department of it which I have called 
 Speculation. As far as these particular subjects can 
 be viewed in the concrete and represent experiences, 
 they can be received by real assent also ; but as ex- 
 pressed in general propositions they belong to notional 
 apprehension and assent.
 
 Real Assents, 75 
 
 § 2. Real Assents. 
 
 I have in a measure anticipated the subject of Real 
 Assent by what I have been saying about Notional. In 
 comparison of the directness and force of the apprehen- 
 sion, which we have of an object, when our assent is to 
 be called real, Notional Assent and Inference seem to be 
 thrown back into one and the same class of intellectual 
 acts, though the former of the two is always an uncon- 
 ditional acceptance of a proposition, and the latter is an 
 acceptance on the condition of an acceptance of its pre- 
 misses. In its notional assents as well as in its inferences, 
 the mind contemplates its own creations instead of things; 
 in real, it is directed towards things, represented by the 
 impressions which they have left on the imagination. 
 These images, when assented-to, have an influence both 
 on the individual and on society, which mere notions 
 cannot exert. 
 
 I have already given various illustrations of Real 
 Assent ; I will follow them up here by some instances 
 of the change of Notional Assent into Real. 
 
 1. For instance : boys at school look like each other, 
 and pursue the same studies, some of them with greater 
 success than others ; but it will sometimes happen, that
 
 7 6 Real Assents. 
 
 those who acquitted themselves but poorly in class, 
 when they come into the action of life, and engage in 
 some particular work, which they have already been 
 learning in its theory and with little promise of pro- 
 ficiency, are suddenly found to have what is called an 
 eye for that work — an eye for trade matters, or for en- 
 gineering, or a special taste for literature — which no one 
 expected from them at school, while they were engaged 
 on notions. Minds of this stamp not only know the 
 received rules of their profession, but enter into them, 
 and even anticipate them, or dispense with them, or 
 substitute other rules instead. And when new questions 
 are opened, and arguments are drawn up on one side 
 and the other in long array, they with a natural ease 
 and promptness form their views and give their decision, 
 as if they had no need to reason, from their clear appre- 
 hension of the lie and issue of the whole matter in dis- 
 pute, as if it were drawn out in a map before them. 
 These are the reformers, systematizers, inventors, in 
 various departments of thought, speculative and practi- 
 cal ; in education, in administration, in social and politi- 
 cal matters, in science. Such men indeed are far from 
 infallible ; however great their powers, they sometimes 
 fall into great errors, in their own special department, 
 while second-rate men who go by rule come to sound 
 and safe conclusions. Images need not be true; but I 
 am illustrating what vividness of apprehension is, and 
 what is the strength of belief consequent upon it. 
 
 2. Again : — twenty years ago, the Duke of Wellington 
 wrote his celebi'ated letter on the subject of the national 
 defences. His authority gave it an immediate circula-
 
 v ) 
 
 Real Assents. yy 
 
 tion among all classes of the community; none questioned 
 what he said, nor as if taking his words on faith merely, 
 but as intellectually recognizing their truth ; yet few 
 could be said to see or feel that truth. His letter lay, 
 so to say, upon the pure intellect of the national mind, 
 and nothing for a time came of it. But eleven years 
 afterwards, after his death, the anger of the French 
 colonels with us, after the attempt upon Louis Napo- 
 leon's life, transferred its facts to the charge of the 
 imagination. Then forthwith the national assent became 
 in various ways an operative principle, especially in its 
 promotion of the volunteer movement. The Duke, 
 having a special eye for military matters, had realized 
 the state of things from the first ; but it took a course 
 of years to impress upon the public mind an assent to 
 his warning deeper and more energetic than the reception 
 it is accustomed to give to a clever article in a news- 
 paper or a review. 
 
 3. And so generally : great truths, practical or ethical, 
 float on the surface of society, admitted by all, valued 
 by few, exemplifying the poet's adage, " Probitas lau- 
 datur et alget," until changed circumstances, accident, 
 or the continual pressure of their advocates, force them 
 upon its attention. The iniquity, for instance, of the 
 slave-trade ought to have been acknowledged by all men 
 from the first ; it was acknowledged by many, but it 
 needed an organized agitation, with tracts and speeches 
 innumerable, so to affect the imagination of men as 
 to make their acknowledgment of that iniquitousness 
 operative. 
 
 In like lu tinner, when Mr. Wilberl'ui cc, after succeeding
 
 78 Real Assents. 
 
 in the slave question, urged the Duke of Wellington 
 to use his great influence in discountenancing duelling, 
 he could only get from him in answer, "A relic of 
 barbarism, Mr. Wilberforce ;" as if he accepted a notion 
 without realizing a fact : at length, the growing intelli- 
 gence of the community, and the shock inflicted upon it 
 by the tragical circumstances of a particular duel, were 
 fatal to that barbarism. The governing classes were 
 roused from their dreamy acquiescence in an abstract 
 truth, and recognized the duty of giving it practical 
 expression. 
 
 4. Let us consider, too, how differently young and old 
 are affected by the words of some classic author, such as 
 Homer or Horace. Passages, which to a boy are but 
 rhetorical common-places, neither better nor worse than 
 a hundred others which any clever writer might supply, 
 which he gets by heart and thinks very fine, and 
 imitates, as he thinks, successfully, in his own flowing 
 versification, at length come home to him, when long 
 years have passed, and he has had experience of life, and 
 pierce him, as if he had never before known them, with 
 their sad earnestness and vivid exactness. Then he 
 comes to understand how it is that lines, the birth of 
 some chance morning or evening at an Ionian festival, 
 or among the Sabine hills, have lasted generation after 
 generation, for thousands of years, with a power over 
 the mind, and a charm, which the current literature of 
 his own day, with all its obvious advantages, is utterly 
 unable to rival. Perhaps this is the reason of the 
 medieval opinion about Virgil, as if a prophet or magi- 
 cian ; his single words and phrases, his pathetic half
 
 
 Real Assents. yg 
 
 lines, giving utterance, as the voice of Nature herself, 
 to that pain and weariness, yet hope of better things, 
 which is the experience of her children in every time. 
 
 5. And what the experience of the world effects for 
 the illustration of classical authors, that office the reli- 
 gious sense, carefully cultivated, fulfils towards Holy 
 Scripture. To the devout and spiritual, the Divine Word 
 speaks of things, not merely of notions. And, again, to 
 the disconsolate, the tempted, the perplexed, the suffer- 
 ing, there comes, by means of their very trials, an 
 enlargement of thought, which enables them to see in it 
 what they never saw before. Henceforth there is to 
 them a reality in its teachings, which they recognize as 
 an argument, and the best of arguments, for its divine 
 origin. Hence the practice of meditation on the Sacred 
 Text ; so highly thought of by Catholics. Reading, as 
 we do, the Gospels from our youth up, we are in danger 
 of becoming so familiar with them as to be dead to their 
 force, and to view them as a mere history. The purpose, 
 then, of meditation is to realize them ; to make the facts 
 which they relate stand out before our minds as objects, 
 such as may be appropriated by a faith as living as the 
 imagination which apprehends them. 
 
 It is obvious to refer to the unworthy use made of the 
 more solemn parts of the sacred volume by the mere 
 popular preacher. His very mode of reading, whether 
 warnings or prayers, is as if he thought them to be 
 little more than fine writing, poetical in sense, musical 
 in sound, and worthy of inspiration. The most awful 
 truths are to him but sublime or beautiful conceptions, 
 and are adduced and used by him, in season and out of
 
 8o Real Assents. 
 
 season, for his own purposes, for embellishing his style 
 or rounding his periods. But let his heart at length be 
 ploughed by some keen grief or deep anxiety, and Scrip- 
 ture is a new book to him. This is the change which so 
 often takes place in what is called religious conversion, 
 and it is a change so far simply for the better, by what- 
 ever infirmity or error it is in the particular case 
 accompanied. And it is strikingly suggested to us, to 
 take a saintly example, in the confession of the patriarch 
 Job, when he contrasts his apprehension of the Almighty 
 before and after his afflictions. He says he had indeed 
 a true apprehension of the Divine Attributes before 
 as well as after ; but with the trial came a great 
 change in the character of that apprehension : — " With 
 the hearing of the ear/' he says, " I have heard Thee, 
 but now mine eye seeth Thee ; therefore I reprehend 
 myself, and do penance in dust and ashes." 
 
 Let these instances suffice of real Assent in its relation 
 to Notional; they lead me to make three remarks in 
 further illustration of its character. 
 
 1 . The fact of the distinctness of the images, which are 
 required for real assent, is no warrant for the existence 
 of the objects which those images represent. A propo- 
 sition, be it ever so keenly apprehended, may be true or 
 may be false. If we simply put aside all inferential 
 information, such as is derived from testimony, from 
 general belief, from the concurrence of the senses, from 
 common sense, or otherwise, we have no right to con- 
 sider that we have apprehended a truth, merely because 
 of the strength of our mental impression of it. Hence
 
 Real Assents. 8 1 
 
 the proverb, " Fronti nulla fides/' An image, with the 
 characters of perfect veracity and faithfulness, may be 
 ever so distinct and eloquent an object presented before 
 the mind (or, as it is sometimes called, an " objectum 
 internum/' or a "subject-object") ; but, nevertheless, 
 there may be no external reality in the case, correspond- 
 ing to it, in spite of its impressiveness. One of the 
 most remarkable instances of this fallacious impressive- 
 ness is the illusion which possesses the minds of able 
 men, those especially who are exercised in physical in- 
 vestigations, in favour of the inviolability of the laws of 
 nature. Philosophers of the school of Hume discard the 
 very supposition of miracles, and scornfully refuse to 
 hear evidence in their behalf in given instances, from 
 their intimate experience of physical order and of the 
 ever-recurring connexion of antecedent and consequent. 
 Their imagination usurps the functions of reason ; and 
 they cannot bring themselves even to entertain as a hypo- 
 thesis (and this is all that they are asked to do) a thought 
 contrary to that vivid impression of which they are the 
 victims, that the uniformity of nature, which they witness 
 hour by hour, is equivalent to a necessary, inviolable law. 
 Yet it is plain, and I shall take it for granted here, 
 that when I assent to a proposition, I ought to have 
 some more legitimate reason for doing so, than the 
 brilliancy of the image of which that proposition is 
 the expression. That I have no experience of a thing 
 happening except in one way, is a cause of the intensity 
 of my assent, if I assent, but not a reason for my assent- 
 ing. In saying this, I am not disposed to deny the pre- 
 sence in some men of an idiosyncratic sagacity, which 
 
 a
 
 82 Real Assents. 
 
 really and rightly sees reasons in impressions which 
 common men cannot see, and is secured from the peril 
 of confusing truth with make-belief; but this is genius, 
 and beyond rule. I grant too, of course, that acciden- 
 tally impressiveness does in matter of fact, as in the 
 instance which I have been giving, constitute the motive 
 principle of belief ; for the mind is ever exposed to the 
 danger of being carried away by the liveliness of its 
 conceptions, to the sacrifice of good sense and conscien- 
 tious caution, and the greater and the more rare are its 
 gifts, the greater is the risk of swerving from the line of 
 reason and duty ; but here I am not speaking of trans- 
 gressions of rule any more than of exceptions to it, but 
 of the normal constitution of our minds, and of the 
 natural and rightful effect of acts of the imagination 
 upon us, and this is, not to create assent, but to 
 intensify it. 
 
 2. Next, Assent, however strong, and accorded to 
 images however vivid, is not therefore necessarily prac- 
 tical. Strictly speaking, it is not imagination that 
 causes action ; but hope and fear, likes and dislikes, 
 appetite, passion, affection, the stirrings of selfishness 
 and self-love. What imagination does for us is to find 
 a means of stimulating those motive powers ; and it 
 does so by providing a supply of objects strong enough 
 to stimulate them. The thought of honour, glory, duty, 
 self-aggrandisement, gain, or on the other hand of 
 Divine Goodness, future reward, eternal life, perse- 
 Veringly dwelt upon, leads us along a course of action 
 corresponding to itself, but only in case there be that in 
 our minds which is congenial to it. However, when
 
 lk 
 
 Real Assents. S$ 
 
 there is that preparation of mind, the thought does lead 
 to the act. Hence it is that the fact of a proposition 
 being accepted with a real assent is accidentally an 
 earnest of that proposition being carried out in conduct, 
 and the imagination may be said in some sense to be of 
 a practical nature, inasmuch as it leads to practice indi- 
 rectly by the action of its object upon the affections. 
 
 3. There is a third, remark suggested by the view 
 which I have been taking of real assents, viz. that they 
 are of a personal character, each individual having his 
 own, and being known by them. It is otherwise with 
 notions ; notional apprehension is in itself an ordinary 
 act of our common nature. All of us have the power of 
 abstraction, and. can be taught either to make or to enter 
 into the same abstractions ; and thus to co-operate in 
 the establishment of a common measure between mind 
 and mind. And, though for one and all of us to assent 
 to the notions which we thus apprehend in common, is 
 a further step, as requiring the adoption of a common 
 stand-point of principle and judgment, yet this too 
 depends in good measure on certain logical processes of 
 thought, with which we are all familiar, and on facts 
 which we all take for granted. But we cannot make 
 sure, for ourselves or others, of real apprehension and. 
 assent, because we have to secure first the images which 
 are their objects, and these are often peculiar and special. 
 They depend on personal experience; and the experience 
 of one man is not the experience of another. Real 
 assent, then, as the experience which it presupposes, is 
 proper to the individual, and, as such, thwarts rather 
 than promotes the intercourse of man witli man. It 
 
 g 2
 
 84 Real Assents. 
 
 shuts itself up, as it were, in its own home, or at least it 
 is its own witness and its own standard ; and, as in the 
 instances above given, it cannot be reckoned on, antici- 
 pated, accounted for, inasmuch as it is the accident of 
 this man or that. 
 
 I call the characteristics of an individual accidents, in 
 spite of the universal reign of law, because they are 
 sevei-ally the co-incidents of many laws, and there are 
 no laws as yet discovered of such coincidence. A man 
 who is run over in the street and killed, in one sense 
 suffers according to rule or law; he was crossing, he was 
 short-sighted or pre-occupied in mind, or he was looking 
 another way; he was deaf, lame, or flurried; and the cab 
 came up at a great pace. If all this was so, it was by a 
 necessity that he was run over; it would have been a 
 miracle if he had escaped. So far is clear ; but what is 
 not clear is how all these various conditions met together 
 in the particular case, how it was that a man, short- 
 sighted, hard of hearing, deficient in presence of mind, 
 happened to get in the way of a cab hurrying along to 
 catch a train. This concrete fact does not come under 
 any law of sudden deaths, but, like the earth's yearly 
 path which I spoke of above, is the accident of the 
 individual. 
 
 It does not meet the case to refer to the law of 
 averages, for such laws deal with percentages, not with 
 individuals, and it is about individuals that I am speak - 
 i ug. That this particular man out of the three millions 
 congregated in the metropolis, was to have the expe- 
 rience of this catastrophe, and to be the select victim to 
 appease that law of averages, no statistical tables could
 
 Real Assents. 85 
 
 foretell, even though they could determine that it was 
 in the fates that in that week or day some four persons 
 in the length and breadth of London should be run over. 
 And in like manner that this or that person should have 
 the particular experiences necessary for real assent on 
 any point, that the Deist should become a Theist, the 
 Erastian a Catholic, the Protectionist a Free-trader, the 
 Conservative a Legitimist, the high Tory an out-and-out 
 Democrat, are facts, each of which may be the result of 
 a multitude of coincidences in one and the same indi- 
 vidual, coincidences which we have no means of deter- 
 mining, and which, therefore, we may call accidents. 
 For— 
 
 " There's a Divinity that shapes our ends, 
 Rough hew them how we will." 
 
 Such accidents are the characteristics of persons, as 
 differentia and properties are the characteristics of 
 species or natures. 
 
 That a man dies when deprived of air, is not an 
 accident of his person, but a law of his nature ; that he 
 cannot live without quinine or opium, or out of the 
 climate of Madeira, is his own peculiarity. If all men 
 everywhere usually had the yellow fever once in their 
 lives, we should call it (speaking according to our 
 knowledge) a law of the human constitution; if the 
 inhabitants of a particular country commonly had it, 
 we should call it a law of the climate ; if a healthy man 
 has a fever in a healthy place, in a healthy season, we 
 call it an accident, though it be reducible to the coin- 
 cidence of laws, because there is no known law of their 
 coincidence. To be rational, to have speech, to pass
 
 86 Real Assents. 
 
 through successive changes of mind and body from 
 infancy to death, belong to man's nature ; to have a 
 particular history, to be married or single, to have 
 children or to be childless, to live a given number of 
 years, to have a certain constitution, moral tempera- 
 ment, intellectual outfit, mental formation, these and 
 the like, taken all together, are the accidents which 
 make up our notion of a man's person, and are the 
 ground-work or condition of his particular experiences. 
 Moreover, various of the experiences which befall 
 this man may be the same as those which befall that, 
 although those experiences result each from the com- 
 bination of its own accidents, and are ultimately trace- 
 able each to its own special condition or history. That 
 is, images which are possessed in common, with their 
 apprehensions and assents, may nevertheless be per- 
 sonal characteristics. If two or three hundred men are 
 to be found, who cannot live out of Madeira, that 
 inability would still be an accident and a peculiarity of 
 each of them. Even if in each case it implied delicacy of 
 lungs, still that delicacy is a vague notion, comprehend- 
 ing under it a great variety of cases in detail. If " five 
 hundred brethren at once " saw our risen Lord, that 
 common experience would not be a law, but a personal 
 accident which was the prerogative of each. And so 
 again in this day the belief of so many thousands in 
 His Divinity, is not therefore notional, because it is 
 common, but may be a real and personal belief, being 
 produced in different individual minds by various ex- 
 periences and disposing causes, variously combined; 
 such as a warm or stroug imagination, great sensibility,
 
 
 Real Assents. 87 
 
 compunction and horror at sin, frequenting the Mass 
 and other rites of the Church, meditating on the con- 
 tents of the Gospels, familiarity with hymns and re- 
 ligious poems, dwelling on the Evidences, parental 
 example and instruction, religious friends, strange pro- 
 vidences, powerful preaching. In each case the image 
 in the mind, with the experiences out of which it is 
 formed, would be a personal result ; and, though the 
 same in all, would in each case be so idiosyncratic in 
 its circumstances, that it would stand by itself, a special 
 formation, unconaected with any law ; though at the 
 same time it would necessarily be a principle of sym- 
 pathy and a bond of intercourse between those whose 
 minds had been thus variously wrought into a common 
 assent, far stronger than could follow upon any multi- 
 tude of mere notions which they unanimously held. 
 And even when that assent is not the result of con- 
 current causes, if such a case is possible, but has one 
 single origin, as the study of Scripture, careful teach- 
 ing, or a religious temper, still its presence argues a 
 special history, and a personal formation, which an 
 abstraction does not. For an abstraction can be made 
 at will, and may be the work of a moment ; but the 
 moral experiences which perpetuate themselves in 
 images, must be sought after in order to be found, and 
 encouraged and cultivated in order to be appropriated. 
 
 I have now said all that occurs to me on the subject 
 of Real Assents, perhaps not without some risk of 
 subtlety and minuteuess. They are sometimes called 
 beliefs, convictions, certitudes ; and, as given to moral
 
 88 Real Assents. 
 
 \ 
 
 objects, they are perhaps as rare as they are powerful. 
 Till we have them, in spite of a full apprehension and 
 assent in the field of notions, we have no intellectual 
 moorings, and are at the mercy of impulses, fancies, 
 and wandering lights, whether as regards personal 
 conduct, social and political action, or religion. These 
 beliefs, be they true or false in the particular case, form 
 the mind out of which they grow, and impart to it a 
 seriousness and manliness which inspires in other minds 
 a confidence in its views, and is one secret of persua- 
 siveness and influence in the public stage of the world. 
 They create, as the case may be, heroes and saints, 
 great leaders, statesmen, preachers, and reformers, the 
 pioneers of discovery in science, visionaries, fanatics, 
 knight-errants, demagogues, and adventurers. They 
 have given to the world men of one idea, of immense 
 energy, of adamantine will, of revolutionary power. 
 They kindle sympathies between man and man, and 
 knit together the innumerable units which constitute 
 a race and a nation. They become the principle of its 
 political existence ; they impart to it homogeneity of 
 thought and fellowship of purpose. They have given 
 form to the medieval theocracy and to the Mahometan 
 superstition ; they are now the life both of " Holy 
 Russia/' and of that freedom of speech and action 
 which is the special boast of Englishmen.
 
 Notional and Real Assents Contrasted. 89 
 
 § 3. Notional and Real Assents Contrasted. 
 
 It appears from what has been said, that, though Real 
 Assent is not intrinsically operative, it accidentally and 
 indirectly affects practice. It is in itself an intellectual 
 act, of which the object is presented to it by the imagi- 
 nation ; and though the pure intellect does not lead to 
 action, nor the imagination either, yet the imagination 
 has the means, which pure intellect has not, of stimu- 
 lating those powers of the mind from which action 
 proceeds. Real Assent then, or Belief, as it may be 
 called, viewed in itself, that is, simply as Assent, does 
 not lead to action ; but the images in which it lives, 
 representing as they do the concrete, have the power of 
 the concrete upon the affections and passions, and by 
 means of these indirectly become operative. Still this 
 practical influence is not invariable, nor to be relied on ; 
 for given images may have no tendency to affect given 
 minds, or to excite them to action. Thus, a philosopher 
 or a poet may vividly realize the brilliant rewards of 
 military genius or of eloquence, without wishing either 
 to be a commander or an orator. However, on the 
 whole, broadly contrasting Belief with Notional Assent 
 and with Inference, we shall not, with this explanation,
 
 90 Notional and Real Assents Contrasted, 
 
 be very wrong in pronouncing that acts of Notional 
 Assent and of Inference do not affect our conduct, and 
 acts of Belief, that is, of Eeal Assent, do (not necessarily, 
 but do) affect it. 
 
 I have scarcely spoken of Inference since my Intro- 
 ductory Chapter, though I intend, before I conclude, to 
 consider it fully ; but I have said enough to admit of 
 my introducing it here in contrast with Real Assent or 
 Belief, and that contrast is necessary in order to com- 
 plete what I have been saying about the latter. Let 
 me then, for the sake of the latter, be allowed here to 
 repeat, that, while Assent, or Belief, presupposes some 
 apprehension of the things believed, Inference requires V 
 no apprehension of the things inferred ; that in conse- 
 quence, Inference is necessarily concerned with surfaces 
 and aspects ; that it begins with itself, and ends with 
 itself ; that it does not reach as far as facts ; that it is 
 employed upon formulas ; that, as far as it takes real 
 objects of whatever kind into account, such as motives 
 and actions, character and conduct, art, science, taste, 
 morals, religion, it deals with them, not as they are, but 
 simply in its own line, as materials of argument or in- 
 quiry, that they are to it nothing more than major and 
 minor premisses and conclusions. Belief, on the other 
 hand, being concerned with things concrete, not abstract, 
 which variously excite the mind from their moral and 
 imaginative properties, has for its objects, not only 
 directly what is true, but inclusively what is beautiful, 
 useful, admirable, heroic; objects which kindle devotion, 
 rouse the passions, and attach the affections ; and thus it 
 leads the way to actions of every kind, to the establish-
 
 Notional and Real Assents Contrasted. 9 1 
 
 ment of principles, and the formation of character, and 
 is thus again intimately connected with what is indi- 
 vidual and personal. 
 
 I insisted on this marked distinction between Beliefs 
 on the one hand, and Notional Assents and Inferences 
 on the other, many years ago in words which it will be 
 to my purpose to use now. 1 I quote them, because, over 
 and above their appositeness in this place, they present 
 the doctrine on which I have been insisting, from a 
 second point of view, and with a freshness and force 
 which I cannot now command, and, moreover, (though 
 they are my own, nevertheless, from the length of time 
 which has elapsed since their publication), almost with 
 the cogency of an independent testimony. 
 
 They occur in a protest which I had occasion to write j~' 
 in February, 1841, against a dangerous doctrine main- 
 tained, as I considered, by two very eminent men of 
 that day, now no more — Lord Brougham and Sir Bobert 
 Peel. That doctrine was to the effect that the claims 
 of religion could be secured and sustained in the mass of 
 men, and in particular in the lower classes of society, by 
 acquaintance with literature and physical science, and 
 through the instrumentality of Mechanics' Institutes 
 and Reading Rooms, to the serious disparagement, as it 
 seemed to me, of direct Christian instruction. In the 
 course of my remarks is found the passage which I shall 
 here quote, and which, with whatever differences in 
 terminology, and hardihood of assertion, befitting the 
 
 Vide " Discussions and Arguments on Various Subjects," art. 4.
 
 92 Notional and Real Assents Contrasted. 
 
 circumstances of its publication, nay, as far as words go, 
 inaccuracy of theological statement, suitably illustrates 
 the subject here under discussion. It runs thus : — 
 
 " People say to me, that it is but a dream to suppose 
 that Christianity should reg'ain the organic power in 
 human society which once it possessed. I cannot help 
 that ; I never said it could. I am not a politician ; I 
 am proposing no measures, but exposing a fallacy and 
 resisting a pretence. Let Benthamism reign, if men 
 have no aspirations ; but do not tell them to be romantic 
 and then solace them with ( glory :' do not attempt by 
 philosophy what once was done by religion. The ascen- 
 dency of faith may be impracticable, but the reign of 
 knowledge is incomprehensible. The problem for states- 
 men of this age is how to educate the masses, and litera- 
 ture and science cannot give the solution. . . . 
 
 " Science gives us the grounds or premisses from 
 which religious truths are to be inferred ; but it does not 
 set about inferring them, much less does it reach the 
 inference — that is not its province. It brings before us 
 phenomena, and it leaves us, if we will, to call them 
 works of design, wisdom, or benevolence ; and further 
 still, if we will, to proceed to confess an Intelligent 
 Creator. We have to take its facts, and to give them a 
 meaning, and to draw our own conclusions from them. 
 First comes knowledge, then a view, then reasoning, 
 and then belief. This is why science has so little of a 
 religious tendency ; deductions have no power of per- 
 suasion. The heart is commonly reached, not through 
 the reason, but through the imagination, by means of 
 direct impressions, by the testimony of facts and events,
 
 Notional and Real Assents Contrasted. 93 
 
 by history, by description. Persons influence us, voices 
 
 melt us, looks subdue us, deeds inflame us. Many a 
 
 man will live and die upon a dogma : no man will be a 
 
 martyr for a conclusion. A conclusion is but an opinion ; 
 
 it is not a thing which is, but which we are ' quite sure 
 
 about ;' and it has often been observed, that we never say 
 
 we are sure and certain without implying that we doubt. 
 
 To say that a thing must be, is to admit that it may not 
 
 be. No one, I say, will die for his own calculations : he 
 
 dies for realities. This is why a literary religion is so 
 
 little to be depended upon ; it looks well in fair weather ; 
 
 but its doctrines are opinions, aud, when called to suffer 
 
 for them, it slips them between its folios, or burns them 
 
 at its hearth. And this again is the secret of the distrust 
 
 and raillery with which moralists have been so commonly 
 
 visited. They say and do not. Why ? Because they 
 
 are contemplating the fitness of things, and they live by 
 
 the square, when they should be realizing their high 
 
 maxims in the concrete. Now Sir Kobert Peel thinks 
 
 better of natural history, chemistry, and astronomy than 
 
 of such ethics ; but these too, what are they more than 
 
 divinity in posse ? He protests against ' controversial 
 
 divinity :' is inferential much better ? 
 
 " I have no confidence, then, in philosophers who can- 
 not help being- religious, and are Christians by implica- 
 tion. They sit at home, and reach forward to distances 
 which astonish us ; but they hit without grasping, and 
 arc sometimes as confident about shadows as about reali- 
 ties. They have worked out by a calculation the lie of a 
 country which they never saw, and mapped it by moans 
 of a gazetteer; and, like blind men, though they cau 

 
 94 Notional and Real Assents Contrasted. 
 
 put a stranger on his way, they cannot walk straight 
 themselves, and do not feel it quite their business to 
 walk at all. 
 
 " Logic makes but a sorry rhetoric with the multitude ; 
 first shoot round corners, and you may not despair of 
 converting by a syllogism. Tell men to gain notions of 
 a Creator from His works, and, if they were to set about 
 it (which nobody does) they would be jaded and wearied 
 by the labyrinth they were tracing. Their minds would 
 be gorged and surfeited by the logical operation. Logi- 
 cians are more set upon concluding rightly, than on right 
 conclusions. They cannot see the end for the process. 
 Few men have that power of mind which may hold fast 
 and firmly a variety of thoughts. We ridicule f men of 
 one idea/ but a great many of us are born to be such, 
 and we should be happier if we knew it. To most men 
 argument makes the point in hand only more doubtful, 
 and considerably less impressive. After all, man is not a 
 reasoning animal ; he is a seeing, feeling, contemplating, 
 acting animal. He is influenced by what is direct and 
 precise. It is very well to freshen our impressions and 
 convictions from physics, but to create them we must go 
 elsewhere. Sir Robert Peel ' never can think it possible 
 that a mind can be so constituted, that, after being 
 familiarized with the wonderful discoveries which have 
 been made in every part of experimental science, it can 
 retire from such contemplations without more enlarged 
 conceptions of God's providence, and a higher reverence 
 for His Name.' If he speaks of religious mind, he perpe- 
 trates a truism ; if of irreligious, he insinuates a paradox. 
 
 " Life is not long enough for a religion of inferences ;
 
 Notional and Real Assents Contrasted. 95 
 
 we shall never have done beginning, if we determine 
 to begin with proof. We shall ever be laying our 
 foundations ; we shall turn theology into evidences, 
 and divines into textuaries. We shall never get at 
 our first principles. Eesolve to believe nothing, and 
 you must prove your proofs and analyze your ele- 
 ments, sinking farther and farther, and finding 'in 
 the lowest depth a lower deep/ till you come to the 
 broad bosom of scepticism. I would rather be bound 
 to defend the reasonableness of assuming that Chris- 
 tianity is true, than to demonstrate a moral govern- 
 once from the physical world. Life is for action. If 
 we insist on proofs for every thing, we shall never 
 co me to action : to act you must assume, and that 
 assumption is faith. 
 
 " Let no one suppose, that in saying this I am main- 
 taining that all proofs are equally difficult, and all propo- 
 sitions equally debatable. Some assumptions are greater 
 than others, and some doctrines involve postulates larger 
 than others, and more numerous. I only say, that im- 
 pressions lead to action, and that reasonings lead from it. 
 Knowledge of premisses, and inferences upon them, — 
 this is not to live. It is very well as a matter of liberal 
 curiosity and of philosophy to analyze our modes of 
 thought : but let this come second, and when there is 
 leisure for it, and then our examinations will in many 
 ways even be subservient to action. But if we com- 
 mence with scientific knowledge and argumentative 
 proof, or lay any great stress upon it as the basis of 
 personal Christianity, or attempt to make man moral 
 and religious by libraries and museums, lot us in con-
 
 96 Notional and Real Assents Contrasted. 
 
 sistency take chemists for our cooks, and mineralogists 
 for our masons. 
 
 " Now I wish to state all this as matter of fact, to 
 be judged by the candid testimony of any persons 
 whatever. Why we are so constituted that faith, 
 not knowledge or argument, is our principle of action, 
 is a question with which I have nothing to do ; but 
 I think it is a fact, and, if it be such, we must 
 resign ourselves to it as best we may, unless we 
 take refuge in the intolerable paradox, that the mass 
 of men are created for nothing, and are meant to leave 
 life as they entered it. 
 
 " So well has this practically been understood in all 
 ages of the world, that no religion yet has been a 
 religion of physics or of philosophy. It has ever been 
 synonymous with revelation. It never has been a 
 deduction from what we know ; it has ever been an 
 assertion of what we are to believe. It has never lived 
 in a conclusion ; it has ever been a message, a history, 
 or a vision. No legislator or priest ever dreamed of 
 educating our moral nature by science or by argu- 
 ment. There is no difference here between true 
 religion and pretended. Moses was instructed not 
 to reason from the creation, but to work miracles. 
 Christianity is a history supernatural, and almost 
 scenic : it tells us what its Author is, by telling us 
 what He has done. . . . 
 
 " Lord Brougham himself has recognized the force 
 of this principle. He has not left his philosophical 
 religion to argument; he has committed it to the keep- 
 ing of the imagination. Why should he depict a great
 
 Notional and Real Assents Contrasted. 97 
 
 republic of letters, and an intellectual pantheon, except 
 that he feels that instances and patterns, not logical 
 reasonings, are the living conclusions which alone 
 have a hold over the affections or can form the 
 character ? " 
 
 H
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 APPREHENSION AND ASSENT IN THE MATTER OF 
 
 RELIGION. 
 
 We are now able to determine what a dogma of faith is, 
 and what it is to believe it. A dogma is a proposition; 
 it stands for a notion or for a thing ; and to believe it is 
 to give the assent of the mind to it, as it st ands for the 
 one or for the other. To give a real assent to it is an 
 act of religion ; to give a notional, is a theological act. 
 It is discerned, rested in, and appropriated as a reality, 
 by the religious imagination ; it is held as a truth, by 
 the theological intellect. 
 
 Not as if there were in fact, or could be, any line of 
 demarcation or party-wall between these two modes of 
 assent, the religious and the theological. As intellect 
 is common to all men as well as imagination, every 
 religious man is to a certain extent a theologian, and no 
 theology can start or thrive without the initiative and 
 abiding presence of religion. As in matters of this 
 world, sense, sensation, instinct, intuition, supply us 
 with facts, and the intellect uses them ; so, as regards 
 our relations with the Supreme Being, we get our 
 facts from the witness, first of nature, then of revelation,
 
 Apprehension and Assent in Religion. 99 
 
 and our doctrines, in which they issue, through the exer- 
 cise of abstraction and inference. This is obvious ; but 
 it does not interfere with holding that there is a theo- 
 logical habit of mind, and a religious, each distinct from 
 each, religion using theology, and theology using reli- 
 gion. This being understood, I propose to consider the 
 dogmas of the Being of a God, and of the Divine Trinity 
 in Unity, in their relation to assent, both notional and 
 real, and principally to real assent; — however, I have not 
 yet finished all I have to say by way of introduction. 
 
 Now first, my subject is assent, and not inference. 
 I am not proposing to set forth the arguments which 
 issue in the belief of these doctrines, but to investigate 
 what it is to believe in them, what the mind does, what 
 it contemplates, when it makes an act of faith. It is 
 true that the same elementary facts which create an 
 object for an assent, also furnish matter for an inference: 
 and in showing what we believe, I shall unavoidably be 
 in a measure showing why we believe ; but this is the 
 very reason that makes it necessary for me at the outset 
 to insist on the real distinction between these two con- 
 curring and coincident courses of thought, and to pre- 
 mise by way of caution, lest I should be misunderstood, 
 that I am not considering the question that there is a 
 God, but rather what God is. 
 
 And secondly, I mean by belief, not precisely faith, 
 because faith, in its theological sense, includes a belief, 
 not only in the thing believed, but also in the ground of 
 believing ; that is, not only belief in certain doctrines, 
 but belief in them expressly because God has revealed 
 them; but here I am engaged only with what is called 
 
 h 2
 
 • 
 
 ioo Apprehension and Assent in Religion. 
 
 the material object of faith, — with the thing believed, 
 not with the formal. The Almighty witnesses to Himself 
 in Revelation; we believe that He is One and that He is 
 Three, because He says so. We believe also what He 
 tells us about His Attributes, His providences and dis- 
 pensations, His determinations and acts, what He has 
 done and what He will do. And if all this is too much 
 for us, whether to bring at one time before our minds 
 from its variety, or even to apprehend at all or enunciate 
 from our narrowness of intellect or want of learning, 
 then at least we believe in globo all that He has revealed 
 to us about Himself, and that, because He has revealed 
 it. However, this " because He says it" does not enter 
 into the scope of the present inquiry, but only the truths 
 themselves, and these particular truths, " He is One," 
 " He is Three •/' and of these two, both of which are 
 in Revelation, I shall consider " He is One," not as a 
 revealed truth, but as, what it is also, a natural truth, 
 the foundation of all religion. And with it I begin.
 
 
 Belief in One God. 101 
 
 § 1. Belief in One God. 
 
 There is one God, such and such in Nature and 
 Attributes. 
 
 I say " such and such/' for, unless I explain what I 
 mean by ** one God," I use words which may mean any 
 thing or nothing. I may mean a mere anima mundi ; 
 or an initial principle which once was in action and now 
 is not ; or collective humanity. I speak then of the God 
 of the Theist and of the Christian : a God who is 
 numerically One, who is Personal; the Author, Sus- 
 tainer, and Finisher of all things, the life of Law and 
 Order, the Moral Governor ; One who is Supreme and 
 Sole; like Himself, unlike all things besides Himself 
 which all are but His creatures ; distinct from, inde- 
 pendent of them all ; One who is self-existing, absolutely 
 infinite, who has ever been and ever will be, to whom 
 nothing is past or future; who is all perfection, and the 
 fulness and archetype of every possible excellence, the 
 Truth Itself, Wisdom, Love, Justice, Holiness ; One who 
 is All-powerful, All-knowing, Omnipresent, Incompre- 
 hensible. These are some of the distinctive prerogatives 
 which I ascribe unconditionally and unreservedly to the 
 great Being whom I call God.
 
 102 Apprehension and Assent in Religion. 
 
 This being what Theists mean when they speak of 
 God, their assent to this truth admits without difficulty 
 of being what I have called a notional assent. It is an 
 assent following upon acts of inference, and other purely 
 intellectual exercises ; and it is an assent to a large de- 
 velopment of predicates, correlative to each other, or at 
 least intimately connected together, drawn out as if on 
 paper, as we might map a country which we had never 
 seen, or construct mathematical tables, or master the 
 methods of discovery of Newton or Davy, without being 
 geographers, mathematicians, or chemists ourselves. 
 
 So far is clear ; but the question follows, Can I attain 
 to any more vivid assent to the Being of a God, than 
 that which is given merely to notions of the intellect ? 
 Can I enter with a personal knowledge into the circle 
 of truths which make up that great thought. Can I 
 rise to what I have called an imaginative apprehension 
 of it ? Can I believe as if I saw ? Since such a high 
 assent requires a present experience or memory of the 
 fact, at first sight it would seem as if the answer must 
 be in the negative ; for how can I assent as if I saw, 
 unless I have seen? but no one in this life can see God. 
 Yet I conceive a real assent is possible, and I proceed 
 to show how. 
 
 When it is said that we cannot see God, this is unde- 
 niable ; but still in what sense have we a discernment of 
 His creatures, of the individual beings which surround 
 us ? The evidence which we have of their presence lies 
 in the phenomena which address our senses, and our 
 warrant for taking these for evidence is our instinctive 
 certitude that they are evidence. By the law of our
 
 Belief in One God. 10 
 
 a 
 
 nature we associate those sensible phenomena or impres- 
 sions with certain units, individuals, substances, whatever 
 they are to be called, which are outside andoutof the reach 
 of sense, and we picture them to ourselves in those phe- 
 nomena. The phenomena are as if pictures ; but at the 
 same time they give us no exact measure or character of 
 the unknown things beyond them ; — for who will say 
 there is any uniformity between the impressions which 
 two of us would respectively have of some third thing, 
 supposing one of us had only the sense of touch, and the 
 other only the sense of hearing ? Therefore, when we 
 speak of our having a picture of the things which are 
 perceived through the senses, we mean a certain repre- 
 sentation, true as far as it goes, but not adequate. 
 
 And so of those intellectual and moral objects which 
 are brought home to us through our senses : — that they 
 exist, we know by instiuct ; that they are such and such, 
 we apprehend from the impressions which they leave 
 upon our minds. Thus the life and writings of Cicero 
 or Dr. Johnson, of St. Jerome or St. Chrysostom, leave 
 upon us certain impressions of the intellectual and moral 
 character of each of them, sui generis, and unmistakable. 
 We take up a passage of Chrysostom or a passage of 
 Jerome ; there is no possibility of confusing the one with 
 the other; in each case we see the man in his language. 
 And so of any great man whom we may have known : 
 that he is not a mere impression on our senses, but a real 
 being, we know by instinct ; that he is such and such, 
 we know by the matter or quality of that impression. 
 
 Now certainly the thought of God, as Theists enter- 
 tain it, is not gained by an instinctive association of His
 
 
 104 Apprehension and Assent in Religion. 
 
 presence with any sensible phenomena ; but the office 
 which the senses directly fulfil as regards creation that 
 devolves indirectly on certain of our mental phenomena 
 as regards the Creator. Those phenomena are found 
 in the sense of moral obligation. As from a multitude 
 of instinctive perceptions, acting in particular instances, 
 of something beyond the senses, we generalize the notion 
 of an external world, and then picture that world in and 
 according to those particular phenomena from which we 
 started, so from the perceptive power which identifies the 
 intimations of conscience with the reverberations or 
 echoes (so to say) of an external admonition, we proceed 
 on to the notion of a Supreme Ruler and Judge, and 
 then again we image Him and His attributes in those 
 recurring intimations, out of which, as mental pheno- 
 mena, our recognition of His existence was originally 
 gained. And, if the impressions which His creatures 
 make on us through our senses oblige us to regard those 
 creatures as sui generis respectively, it is not wonderful 
 that the notices, which He indirectly gives us through 
 our conscience, of His own nature are such as to make us 
 understand that He is like Himself and like nothing 
 else. 
 
 I have already said I am not proposing here to prove 
 the Being of a God ; yet I have found it impossible to 
 avoid saying where I look for the proof of it. For I am 
 looking for that proof in the same quarter as that from 
 which I would commence a proof of His attributes and 
 character, — by the same means as those by which I show 
 how we apprehend Him, not merely as a notion, but as 
 a reality. The last indeed of these three investigations 
 
 "i
 
 Belief hi One God. 105 
 
 alone concerns me here, but I cannot altogether exclude 
 the two former from my consideration. However, I 
 repeat, what I am directly aiming at, is to explain how 
 we gain an image of God and give a real assent to the 
 proposition that He exists. And next, in order to do 
 this, of course I must start from some first principle ; — 
 and that first principle, which I assume and shall not 
 attempt to prove, is that which I should also use as a 
 foundation in those other two inquiries, viz. that we have 
 by nature a conscience. 
 
 I assume, then, that Conscience has a legitimate place 
 among our mental acts ; as really so, as the action of 
 memory, of reasoning, of imagination, or as the sense of 
 the beautiful; that, as there are objects which, when 
 presented to the mind, cause it to feel grief, regret, joy, 
 or desire, so there are things which excite in us approba- 
 tion or blame, and which we in consequence call right or 
 wrong; and which, experienced in ourselves, kindle in us 
 that specific sense of pleasure or pain, which goes by the 
 name of a good or bad conscience. This being taken for 
 granted, I shall attempt to show that in this special 
 feeling, which follows on the commission of what we call 
 right or wrong, lie the materials for the real apprehen- 
 sion of a Divine Sovereign and Judge. 
 
 The feeling of conscience (being, I repeat, a certain 
 keen sensibility, pleasant or painful, — self-approval and 
 hope, or compunction and fear, — attendant on certain of 
 our actions, which in consequence we call right or 
 wrong) is twofold : — it is a moral sense, and a sense of 
 duty; a judgment of the reason and a magisterial 
 dictate. Of course its act is indivisible ; still it has these
 
 1 06 Apprehension and Assent in Religion. 
 
 two aspects, distinct from each other, and admitting of 
 a separate consideration. Though I lost my sense of the 
 obligation which I lie under to abstain from acts of 
 dishonesty, I should not in consequence lose my sense 
 that such actions were an outrage offered to my moral 
 nature. Again ; though I lost my sense of their moral 
 deformity, I should not therefore lose my sense that they 
 were forbidden to me. Thus conscience has both a 
 critical and a judicial office, and though its promptings, 
 in the breasts of the millions of human beings to whom 
 it is given, are not in all cases correct, that does not 
 necessarily interfere with the force of its testimony and 
 of its sanction : its testimony that there is a right and a 
 wrong, and its sanction to that testimony conveyed in 
 the feelings which attend on right or wrong conduct. 
 Here I have to speak of conscience in the latter point of 
 view, not as supplying us, by means of its various acts, 
 with the elements of morals, such as may be developed 
 by the intellect into an ethical code, but simply as the 
 dictate of an authoritative monitor bearing upon the 
 details of conduct as they come before us, and complete 
 in its several acts, one bv one. 
 
 Let us then thus consider conscience, not as a rule of 
 right conduct, but as a sanction of right conduct. This 
 is its primary and most authoritative aspect ; it is the 
 ordinary sense of the word. Half the world would be 
 puzzled to know what was meant by the moral sense ; 
 but every one knows what is meant by a good or bad 
 conscience. Conscience is ever forcing on us by threats 
 and by promises that we must follow the right and 
 avoid the wrorig; so far it is one and the same in the
 
 Belief in One God. 107 
 
 mind of every one, whatever be its particular errors in 
 particular minds as to the acts which it orders to be done 
 or to be avoided ; and in this respect it corresponds to 
 our perception of the beautiful and deformed. As we 
 have naturally a seuse of the beautiful and graceful in 
 nature and art, though tastes proverbially differ, so we 
 have a sense of duty and obligation, whether we all 
 associate it with the same certain actions in particular 
 or not. Here, however, Taste and Conscience part 
 company : for the sense of beautifulness, as indeed the 
 Moral Sense, has no special relations to persons, but 
 contemplates objects in themselves ; conscience, on the 
 other hand, is concerned with persons primarily, and 
 with actions mainly as viewed in their doers, or rather 
 with self alone and one's own actions, and with others 
 only indirectly and as if in association with self. And 
 further, taste is its own evidence, appealing to nothing 
 beyond its own sense of the beautiful or the ugly, and 
 enjoying the specimens of the beautiful simply for their 
 own sake ; but conscience does not repose on itself, but 
 vaguely reaches forward to something beyond self, and 
 dimly discerns a sanction higher than self for its 
 decisions, as is evidenced in that keeu sense of obligation 
 and responsibility which informs them. And hence it 
 is that we are accustomed to speak of conscience as a 
 voice, — a term which we should never think of applying 
 to the sense of the beautiful ; and moreover a voice, or 
 the echo of a voice, imperative and constraining, like no 
 other dictate in the whole of our experience. 
 
 And again, in consequence of this prerogative of 
 dictating and commanding, which is of its essence,
 
 io8 Apprehension and Assent in Religion. 
 
 Conscience has an intimate bearing on our affections and 
 emotions, leading us to reverence and awe, hope and 
 fear, especially fear, a feeling which is foreign for the 
 most part, not only to Taste, but even to the Moral 
 Sense, except in consequence of accidental associations. 
 No fear is felt by any one who recognizes that his 
 conduct has not been beautiful, though he may be 
 mortified at himself, if perhaps he has thereby forfeited 
 some advantage ; but, if he has been betrayed into any 
 kind of immorality, he has a lively sense of responsibility 
 and guilt, though the act be no offence against society, 
 — of distress and apprehension, even though it may be 
 of present service to him, — of compunction aud regret, 
 though in itself it be most pleasurable, — of confusion of 
 face, though it may have no witnesses. These various 
 perturbations of mind, which are characteristic of a bad 
 conscience, and may be very considerable, — self-reproach, 
 poignant shame, haunting remorse, chill dismay at the 
 prospect of the future, — and their contraries, when the 
 conscience is good, as real though less forcible, self- 
 approval, inward peace, lightness of heart, and the like, 
 — these emotions constitute a specific difference between 
 conscience and our other intellectual senses, — common 
 sense, good sense, sense of expedience, taste, sense of 
 honour, and the like, — as indeed they would also 
 constitute between conscience and the moral sense, 
 supposing these two were not aspects of one and the 
 same feeling, exercised upon one and the same subject- 
 matter. 
 
 So much for the characteristic pheuomena, which 
 conscience presents, nor is it difficult to determine
 
 Belief in One God. 109 
 
 what they imply. I refer once more to our sense of 
 the beautiful. This sense is attended by an intellec- 
 tual enjoyment, and is free from whatever is of the 
 nature of emotion, except in one case, viz. when it is 
 excited by personal objects ; then it is that the tranquil 
 feeling of admiration is exchanged for the excitement 
 of affection and passion. Conscience too, considered 
 as a moral sense, an intellectual sentiment, is a sense 
 of admiration and disgust, of approbation and blame : 
 but it is something more than a moral sense ; it is 
 always, what the sense of the beautiful is only in cer- 
 tain cases; it is always emotional. No wonder then 
 that it always implies what that sense only sometimes 
 implies ; that it always involves the recognition of a 
 living object, towards which it is directed. Inanimate 
 things cannot stir our affections ; these are correlative 
 with persons. If, as is the case, we feel responsibility, 
 are ashamed, are frightened, at transgressing the voice 
 of conscience, this implies that there is One to whom 
 we are responsible, before whom we are ashamed, 
 whose claims upon us we fear. If, on doing wrong, 
 we feel the same tearful, broken-hearted sorrow which 
 overwhelms us on hurting a mother ; if, on doing right, 
 we enjoy the same sunny serenity of mind, the same 
 soothing, satisfactory delight which follows on our 
 receiving praise from a father, we certainly have within 
 us the image of some person, to whom our love and 
 veneration look, in whose smile we find our happiness, 
 for whom we yearn, towards whom we direct our 
 pleadings, in whose anger we are troubled and waste 
 away. These feelings in us are such as require for
 
 1 10 Apprehension and Assent in Religion. 
 
 their exciting cause an intelligent being : we are not 
 affectionate towards a stone, nor do we feel shame 
 before a horse or a dog ; we have no remorse or com- 
 punction on breaking mere human law : yet, so it is, 
 conscience excites all these painful emotions, confusion, 
 foreboding, self-condemnation ; and on the other hand 
 it sheds upon us a deep peace, a sense of security, a 
 resignation, and a hope, which there is no sensible, no 
 earthly object to elicit. " The wicked flees, when no 
 one pursueth ; " then why does he flee ? whence his 
 terror ? Who is it that he sees in solitude, in dark- 
 ness, in the hidden chambers of his heart ? If the 
 cause of these emotions does not belong to this visible 
 world, the Object to which his perception is directed 
 must be Supernatural and Divine ; and thus the 
 phenomena of Conscience, as a dictate, avail to impress 
 the imagination with the picture ' of a Supreme 
 Governor, a Judge, holy, just, powerful, all-seeing, 
 retributive, and is the creative principle of religion, 
 as the Moral Sense is the principle of ethics. 
 
 And let me here refer again to the fact, to which I 
 have already drawn attention, that this instinct of the 
 mind recognizing an external Master in the dictate of 
 conscience, and imaging the thought of Him in the 
 definite impressions which conscience creates, is parallel 
 to that other law of, not only human, but of brute 
 nature, by which the presence of unseen individual 
 beings is discerned under the shifting shapes and 
 colours of the visible world. Is it by sense, or by 
 
 1 Ou the Formation of Images, vide supr. ch. iii. 1, pp. 27, 28.
 
 Belief in One God. 1 1 r 
 
 reason, that brutes understand the real unities, 
 material and spiritual, which are signified by the 
 lights and shadows, the brilliant ever-changing cali- 
 doscope, as it may be called, which plays upon their 
 retina ? Not by reason, for they have not reason ; not 
 by sense, because they are transcending sense ; there- 
 fore it is an instinct. This faculty on the part of 
 brutes, unless we were used to it, would strike us as a 
 great mystery. It is one peculiarity of animal natures 
 to_be susceptible of phenomena through the channels 
 of sense; it is another to have in those sensible 
 phenomena a perception of the individuals to which 
 this or that group of them belongs. This perception 
 of individual things, amid the maze of shapes and 
 colours which meets their sight, is given to brutes 
 in large measures, and that, apparently from the 
 moment of their birth. It is by no mere physical 
 instinct, such as that which leads him to his mother 
 for milk, that the new-dropped lamb recognizes each 
 of his fellow lambkins as a whole, consisting of many 
 parts bound up in one, and, before he is an hour old, 
 makes experience of his and their rival individualities. 
 And much more distinctly do the horse and dog 
 recognize even the personality of their master. How 
 are we to explain this apprehension of things, which 
 are one and individual, in the midst of a world of 
 pluralities and transmutations, whether in the instance 
 of brutes or again of children ? But until we account 
 for the knowledge which an infant has of his mother or 
 his nurse, what reason have we to take exception at 
 the doctrine, as strange and difficult, that in the dictate
 
 
 1 1 2 Apprehension and Assent in Religion. 
 
 of conscience, without previous experiences or analo- 
 gical reasoning, lie is able gradually to perceive the 
 voice, or the echoes of the voice, of a Master, living, 
 personal, and sovereign ? 
 
 I grant, of course, that we cannot assign a date, ever 
 so early, before which he had learned nothing at all, 
 and formed no mental associations, from the words and 
 conduct of those who have the care of him. But still, 
 if a child of five or six years old, when reason is at 
 length fully awake, has already mastered and appro- 
 priated thoughts and beliefs, in consequence of their 
 teaching, in such sort as to be able to handle and 
 apply them familiarly, according to the occasion, as 
 principles of intellectual action, those beliefs at the 
 very least must be singularly congenial to his mind, if 
 not connatural with its initial action. And that such a 
 spontaneous reception of religious truths is common 
 with children, I shall take for granted, till I am con- 
 vinced that I am wrong in so doing. The child keenly 
 understands that there is a difference between right 
 and wrong ; and when he has done what he believes to 
 be wrong, he is conscious that he is offending One to 
 whom he is amenable, whom he does not see, who sees 
 him. His mind reaches forward with a strong presen- 
 timent to the thought of a Moral Governor, sovereign 
 over him, mindful, and just. It comes to him like an 
 impulse of nature to entertain it. 
 
 It is my wish to take an ordinary child, but still one 
 who is safe from influences destructive of his religious 
 instincts. Supposing he has offended his parents, he 
 will all alone and without effort, as if it were the most
 
 Belief in One God. 1 1 3 
 
 natural of acts, place himself in the presence of God, 
 and beg of Him to set him right with them. Let us 
 consider how much is contained in this simple act. 
 First, it involves the impression on his mind of an 
 unseen Being with whom he is in immediate relation, 
 and that relation so familiar that he can address 
 Him whenever he himself chooses; next, of One 
 whose goodwill towards him he is assured of, and 
 can take for granted — nay, who loves him better, 
 and is nearer to him, than his parents; further, of 
 One who can hear him, wherever he happens to be, 
 and who can read his thoughts, for his prayer need 
 not be vocal ; lastly, of One who can effect a critical 
 change in the state of feeling of others towards him. 
 That is, we shall not be wrong in holding that this 
 child has in his mind the image of an Invisible Being, 
 who exercises a particular providence among us, who 
 is present every where, who is heart-reading, heart- 
 changing, ever-accessible, open to impetration. What 
 a strong and intimate vision of God must he have 
 already attained, if, as I have supposed, an ordinary 
 trouble of mind has the spontaneous effect of leading 
 him for consolation and aid to an Invisible Personal 
 Power ! 
 
 Moreover, this image brought before his mental vision 
 is the image of One who by implicit threat and promise 
 commands certain things which he, the same child coin- 
 cidently, by the same act of his mind, approves ; which 
 receive the adhesion of his moral sense and judgment, as 
 right and good. It is the image of One who is good, 
 inasmuch as enjoining and enforcing what is right and 
 
 1
 
 
 1 14 Apprehension and Assent in Religion. 
 
 good, and who, in consequence, not only excites in the 
 child hope and fear, — nay (it may be added), gratitude 
 towards Him, as giving a law and maintaining it by 
 reward and punishment, — but kindles in him love to- 
 wards Him, as giving him a good law, and therefore as 
 being good Himself, for it is the property of goodness 
 to kindle love, or rather the very object of love is good- 
 ness ; and all those distinct elements of the moral law, 
 which the typical child, whom I am supposing, more or 
 less consciously loves and approves, — truth, purity, jus- 
 tice, kindness, and the like, — are but shapes and aspects 
 of goodness. And having in his degree a sensibility 
 towards them all, for the sake of them all he is moved 
 to love the Lawgiver, who enjoins them upon him. 
 And, as he can contemplate these qualities and their 
 manifestations under the common name of goodness, 
 he is prepared to think of them as indivisible, corre- 
 lative, supplementary of each other in one and the same 
 Personality, so that there is no aspect of goodness 
 which God is not; and that the more, because the 
 notion of a perfection embracing all possible excellences, 
 both moral and intellectual, is especially congenial to 
 the mind, and there are in fact intellectual attributes, 
 as well as moral, included in the child's image of God, 
 as above represented. 
 
 Such is the apprehension which even a child may 
 have of his Sovereign Lawgiver and Judge; which is 
 possible in the case of children, because, at least, some 
 children possess it, whether others possess it or no ; 
 and which, when it is found in children, is found to act 
 promptly and keenly, by reason of the paucity of their
 
 Belief in One God. 1 1 5 
 
 ideas. It is an image of the good God, good iu Him- 
 self, good relatively to the child, with whatever incom- 
 pleteness; an image, before it has been reflected on, and 
 before it is recognized by him as a notion. Though 
 he cannot explain or define the word " God," when 
 told to use it, his acts show that to him it is far more 
 than a word. He listens, indeed, with wonder and 
 interest to fables or tales ; he has a dim, shadowy sense 
 of what he hears about persons and matters of this 
 world • but he has that within him which actually 
 vibrates, responds, and gives a deep meaning to the 
 lessons of his first teachers about the will and the 
 providence of God. 
 
 How far this initial religious knowledge comes from 
 without, and how far from within, how much is natural, 
 how much implies a special divine aid which is above 
 nature, we have no means of determining, nor is it 
 necessary for my present purpose to determine. I am 
 not engaged in tracing the image of God in the mind 
 of a child or a man to its first origins, but showing that 
 he can become possessed of such an image, over and 
 above all mere notions of God, and in what that image 
 consists. Whether its elements, latent in the mind, 
 would ever be elicited without extrinsic help is very 
 doubtful ; but whatever be the actual history of the 
 first formation of the divine image within us, so far at 
 least is certain, that, by informations external to our- 
 selves, as time goes on, it admits of being* strengthened 
 and improved. It is certain too, that, whether it grows 
 brighter and stronger, or, on the other hand, is dimmed, 
 distorted, or obliterated, depends on each of us indi- 
 
 1 2
 
 1 1 6 Apprehension and Assent in Religion. 
 
 vidually, and on his circumstances. It is more than 
 probable that, in the event, from neglect, from the temp- 
 tations of life, from bad companions, or from the ur- 
 gency of secular occupations, the light of the soul will 
 fade away and die out. Men transgress their sense of 
 duty, and gradually lose those sentiments of shame and 
 fear, the natural supplements of transgression, which, 
 as I have said, are the witnesses of the Unseen Judge. 
 And, even were it deemed impossible that those who 
 had in their first youth a genuine apprehension of Him, 
 could ever utterly lose it, yet that apprehension may 
 become almost undistinguishable from an inferential 
 acceptance of the great truth, or may dwindle into a 
 mere notion of their intellect. On the contrary, the 
 image of God, if duly cherished, may expand, deepen, 
 and be completed, with the growth of their powers and 
 in the course of life, under the varied lessons, within 
 and without them, which are brought home to them 
 concerning that same God, One and Personal, by 
 means of education, social intercourse, experience, and 
 literature. 
 
 To a mind thus carefully formed upon the basis of its 
 natural conscience, the world, both of nature and of man, 
 does but give back a reflection of those truths about the 
 One Living God, which have been familiar to it from 
 childhood. Good and evil meet us daily as we pass 
 through life, and there are those who think it philoso- 
 phical to act towards the manifestations of each with 
 some sorb of impartiality, as if evil had as much right 
 to be there as good, or even a better, as having more 
 striking triumphs and a broader jurisdiction. And be-
 
 Belief in One God. 1 1 7 
 
 cause the course of things is determined by fixed laws, 
 they consider that those laws preclude the present 
 agency of the Creator in the carrying out of particular 
 issues. It is otherwise with the theology of a religious 
 imagination. It has a living hold on truths which are 
 really to be found in the world, though they are not 
 upon the surface. It is able to pronounce by antici- 
 pation, what it takes a long argument to prove — that 
 good is the rule, and evil the exception. It is able to 
 assume that, uniform as are the laws of nature, they are 
 consistent with a particular Providence. It interprets 
 what it sees around it by this previous inward teaching, 
 as the true key of that maze of vast complicated dis- 
 order ; and thus it gains a more and more consistent 
 and luminous vision of God from the most unpromising 
 materials. Thus conscience is a connecting principle 
 between the creature and his Creator; and the firmest 
 hold of theological truths is gained by habits of per- 
 sonal religion. When men begin all their works with 
 the thought of God, acting for His sake, and to fulfil 
 His will, when they ask His blessing on themselves and 
 their life, pray to Him for the objects they desire, and 
 see Him in the event, whether it be according to their 
 prayers or not, they will find every thing that happens 
 tend to confirm them in the truths about Him which 
 live in their imagination, varied and unearthly as those 
 truths may be. Then they are brought into His pre- 
 sence as that of a Living Person, and are able to hold 
 converse with Him, and that with a directness and sim- 
 plicity, with a confidence and intimacy, mutatis mutan- 
 dis, which we use towards an earthly superior ; so that
 
 1 1 8 Apprehension and Assent in Religion. 
 
 it is doubtful whether we realize the company of our 
 fellow-men with greater keenness than these favoured 
 minds are able to contemplate and adore the Unseen, 
 Incomprehensible Creator. 
 
 This vivid apprehension of religious objects, on which 
 I have been enlarging, is independent of the written 
 records of Revelation; it does not require any know- 
 ledge of Scripture, nor of the history or the teaching of 
 the Catholic Church. It is independent of books. But 
 if so much may be traced out in the twilight of Natural 
 Religion, it is obvious how great an addition in fulness 
 and exactness is made to our mental image of the 
 Divine Personality and Attributes, by the light of 
 Christianity. And, indeed, to give us a clear and 
 sufficient object for our faith, is one main purpose of 
 the supernatural Dispensations of Religion. This pur- 
 pose is carried out in the written Word, with an effec- 
 tiveness which inspiration alone could secure, first, by 
 the histories which form so large a portion of the Old 
 Testament ; and scarcely less impressively in the pro- 
 phetical system, as it is gradually unfolded and perfected 
 in the writings of those who were its ministers and 
 spokesmen. And as the exercise of the affections 
 strengthens our apprehension of the object of them, it 
 is impossible to exaggerate the influence exerted on the 
 religious imagination by a book of devotions so sub- 
 lime, so penetratiug, so full of deep instruction as the 
 Psalter, to say nothing of other portions of the Hagio- 
 grapha. And then as regards the New Testament, the 
 Gospels, from their subject, contain a manifestation of 
 the Divine Nature, so special, as to make it appear
 
 Belief in One God. 1 1 9 
 
 from the contrast as if nothing were known of God, 
 when they are unknown. Lastly, the Apostolic Epistles, 
 the long history of the Church, with its fresh and fresh 
 exhibitions of Divine Agency, the Lives of the Saints, 
 and the reasonings, internal collisions, and decisions of 
 the Theological School, form an extended comment on 
 the words and works of our Lord. 
 
 I think I need not say more in illustration of the 
 subject which I proposed for consideration in this Sec- 
 tion. I have wished to trace the process by which the 
 mind arrives, not only at a notional, but at an imaginative 
 or real assent to the doctrine that there is One God, that 
 is, an assent made with an apprehension, not only of 
 what the words of the proposition mean, but of the 
 object denoted by them. Without a proposition or 
 thesis there can be no assent, no belief, at all ; any more 
 than there can be an inference without a conclusion. 
 The proposition that there is One Personal and Present 
 God may be held in either way ; either as a theological 
 truth, or as a religious fact or reality. The notion and 
 the reality assented-to are represented by one and the 
 same proposition, but serve as distinct interpretations of 
 it. When the proposition is apprehended for the purposes 1 
 of proof, analysis, comparison, and the like intellectual 
 exercises, it is used as the expression of a notion ; when 
 for the purposes of devotion, it is the image of a reality. 
 Theology, properly and directly, deals with notional 
 apprehension ; religion with imaginative. 
 
 Here we have the solution of the common mistake of 
 supposing that there is a contrariety and antagonism 
 between a dogmatic creed and vital religion. People
 
 t 20 Apprehension and Assent in Religion. 
 
 urge that salvation consists, not in believing the pro- 
 positions that there is a God, that there is a Saviour 
 that our Lord is God, that there is a Trinity, but in 
 believing in God, in a Saviour, in a Sanctifier; and 
 they object that such propositions are but a formal and 
 human medium destroying all true reception of the 
 Gospel, and making religion a matter of words or of 
 logic, instead of its having its seat in the heart. They 
 are right so far as this, that men can and sometimes do 
 rest in the propositions themselves as expressing intel- 
 lectual notions ; they are wrong, when they maintain 
 that men need do so or always do so. The propositions 
 may and must be used, and can easily be used, as the 
 expression of facts, not notions, and they are necessary 
 to the mind in the same way that language is ever 
 necessary for denoting facts, both for ourselves as 
 individuals, and for our intercourse with others. Again, 
 they are useful in their dogmatic aspect as ascertaining 
 and making clear for us the truths on which the 
 religious imagination has to rest. Knowledge must 
 ever precede the exercise of the affections. We feel 
 gratitude and love, we feel indignation and dislike, when 
 we have the informations actually put before us which 
 are to kindle those several emotions. We love our 
 parents, as our parents, when we know them to be our 
 parents ; we must know concerning God, before we can 
 feel love, fear, hope, or trust towards Him. Devotion 
 must have its objects ; those objects, as being super- 
 natural, when not represented to our senses by material 
 symbols, must be set before the mind in propositions. 
 The formula, which embodies a dogma for the theologian,
 
 Belief in One God. 121 
 
 readily suggests an object for the worshipper. It seems 
 a truism to say, yet it is all that I have been saying, 
 that in religion the imagination and affections should 
 always be under the control of reason. Theology may 
 stand as a substantive science, though it be without the 
 life of religion ; but religion cannot maintain its ground 
 at all without theology. Sentiment, whether imaginative 
 or emotional, falls back upon the intellect for its stay, 
 when sense cannot be called into exercise ; and it is in 
 this way that devotion falls back upon dogma.
 
 122 Apprehension and Assent in Religion. 
 
 § 2. Belief in the Holy Trinity. 
 
 Op course I cannot hope to cany all inquiring minds 
 with me in what I have been laying down in the fore- 
 going Section. I have appealed to the testimony given 
 implicitly by our conscience to the Divine Being and 
 His Attributes, and there are those, I know, whose 
 experience will not respond to the appeal : — doubtless ; 
 but are there any truths which have reality, whether of 
 experience or of reason, which are not disputed by some 
 schools of philosophy or some bodies of men ? If we 
 assume nothing but what has universal reception, the 
 field of our possible discussions will suffer much con- 
 traction ; so that it must be considered sufficient in any 
 inquiry, if the principles or facts assumed have a large 
 following. This condition is abundantly fulfilled as 
 regards the authority and religious meaning of con- 
 science ; — that conscience is the voice of God has almost 
 grown into a proverb. This solemn dogma is recog- 
 nized as such by the great mass both of the young and of 
 the uneducated, by the religious few and the irreligious 
 many. It is proclaimed in the history and literature of 
 nations ; it has had supporters in all ages, places, creeds 
 forms of social life, professions, and classes. It has held
 
 Belief in the Holy Trinity. 1 2 
 
 d 
 
 its ground under great intellectual and moral disad- 
 vantages ; it has recovered its supremacy, and ultimately 
 triumphed in the minds of those who had rebelled 
 against it. Even philosophers, who have been antago- 
 nists on other points, agree in recognizing the inward 
 voice of that solemn Monitor, personal, peremptory, 
 unargumentative, irresponsible, minatory, definitive. 
 This I consider relieves me of the necessity of arguing 
 with those who would resolve our sense of right and 
 wrong into a sense of the Expedient or the Beautiful, or 
 would refer its authoritative suggestions to the effect of 
 teaching or of association. There are those who can see 
 and hear for all the common purposes of life, yet have no 
 eye for colours or their shades, or no ear for music • 
 moreover, there are degrees of sensibility to colours and 
 to sounds, in the comparison of man with man, while 
 some men are stone-blind or stone-deaf. Again, all men, 
 as time goes on, have the prospect of losing that keen- 
 ness of sight and hearing which they possessed in their 
 youth ; and so, in like manner, we may lose in manhood 
 and in age that sense of a Supreme Teacher and Judge 
 which was the gift of our first years ; and that the more, 
 because in most men the imagination suffers from the 
 lapse of time and the experience of life, long before the 
 bodily senses fail. And this accords with the advice of 
 the sacred writer to " remember our Creator in the days 
 of our youth," while our moral sensibilities are fresh* 
 " before the sun and the li^ht and the moon and the 
 stars be darkened, and the clouds return after the rain/' 
 Accordingly, if there be those who deny that the dictate 
 of conscience is ever more than a taste, or an association,
 
 124 Apprehension and Assent in Religion. 
 
 it is a less difficulty to me to believe that they are defi- 
 cient either in the religious sense or in their memory of 
 early years, than that they never had at all what those 
 around them without hesitation profess, in their own 
 case, to have received from nature. 
 
 So much on the doctrine of the Being and Attributes 
 of God, and of the real apprehension with which we can 
 contemplate and assent to it : — now I turn to the doc- 
 trine of the Holy Trinity, with the purpose of investi- 
 gating in like manner how far it belongs to theology, 
 how far to the faith and devotion of the individual ; how 
 far the propositions enunciating it are confined to the 
 expression of intellectual notions, and how far they 
 stand for things also, and admit of that assent which we 
 give to objects presented to us by the imagination* 
 And first I have to state what our doctrine is. 
 
 No one is to be called a Theist, who does not believe 
 in a Personal God, whatever difficulty there may be in 
 defining the word " Personal. " Now it is the belief of 
 Catholics about the Supreme Being, that this essential 
 characteristic of His Nature is reiterated in three distinct 
 ways or modes ; so that the Almighty God, instead of 
 being One Person only, which is the teaching of Natural 
 Religion, has Three Personalities, and is at once, accord- 
 ing as we view Him in the one or the other of them, the 
 Father, the Son, and the Spirit — a. Divine Three, who 
 bear towards Each Other the several relations which 
 those names indicate, and are in that respect distinct 
 from Each Other, and in that alone. 
 
 This is the teaching of the Athanasian Creed ; viz.
 
 Belief in the Holy Trinity, 125 
 
 that the One Personal God, who is not a logical or phy- 
 sical unity, but a Living Monas, more really one even 
 than an individual man is one — He (" unus," not 
 " unum," because of the inseparability of His Nature and 
 Personality), — He at once is Father, is Son, is Holy 
 Ghost, Each of whom is that One Personal God in the 
 fulness of His Being and Attributes ; so that the Father 
 is all that is meant by the word " God," as if we knew 
 nothing of Son, or of Spirit ; and in like manner the 
 Son and the Spirit are Each by Himself all that is 
 meant by the word, as if the Other Two were un- 
 known ; moreover, that by the word " God " is meant 
 nothing over and above what is meant by " the Father," 
 or by " the Son," or by " the Holy Ghost ;" and that 
 the Father is in no sense the Son, nor the Son the 
 Holy Ghost, nor the Holy Ghost the Father. Such is 
 the prerogative of the Divine Infinitude, that that One 
 and Single Personal Being, the Almighty God, is really 
 Three, while He is absolutely One. 
 
 Indeed, the Catholic dogma may be said to be summed 
 up in this very formula, on which St. Augustine lays so 
 much stress, " Tres et Unus," not merely " Unum ;" 
 hence that formula is the key-note, as it may be called, 
 of the Athanasian Creed. In that Creed we testify to 
 the Unus Increatus, to the Unus Immensus, Omuipo- 
 tens, Deus, and Dominus ; yet Each of the Three also 
 is by Himself Increatus, Immensus, Omnipotens, for 
 Each is that One God, though Each is not the Other ; 
 Each, as is intimated by Unus Increatus, is the One 
 Personal God of Natural Religion. 
 
 That this doctrine, thus drawn out, is of a notional
 
 126 Apprehension and Assent in Religion. 
 
 character, is plain ; the question before me is whether 
 in any sense it can become the object of real apprehen- 
 sion, that is, whether any portion of it may be con- 
 sidered as addressed to the imagination, and is able to 
 exert that living mastery over the mind, which is 
 instanced as I have shown above, as regards the 
 proposition, " There is a God." 
 
 " There is a God," when really apprehended, is the 
 object of a strong energetic adhesion, which works a 
 revolution in the mind ; but when held merely as a 
 notion, it requires but a cold and ineffective acceptance, 
 though it be held ever so unconditionally. Such in its 
 character is the assent of thousands, whose imaginations 
 are not at all kindled, nor their hearts inflamed, nor 
 their conduct affected, by the most august of all con- 
 ceivable truths. I ask, then, as concerns the doctrine of 
 the Holy Trinity, such as I have drawn it out to be, is it 
 capable of being apprehendedotherwise than notionally ? 
 Is it a theory, undeniable indeed, but addressed to the 
 student, and to no one else? Is it the elaborate, subtle, 
 triumphant exhibition of a truth, completely developed, 
 and happily adjusted, and accurately balanced on its 
 centre, and impregnable on every side, as a scientific 
 view, " totus, teres, atque rotundus," challenging all 
 assailants, or, on the other hand, does it come to the 
 unlearned, the young, the busy, and the afflicted, as a 
 fact which is to arrest them, penetrate them, and to sup- 
 port and animate them in their passage through life? 
 That is, does it admit of being held in the imagination, 
 and being embraced with a real assent ? I maintain it 
 does, and that it is the normal faith which every Chris-
 
 Belief in the Holy Trinity. 127 
 
 tian has, 011 which, he is stayed, which is his spiritual 
 life, there being nothing in the exposition of the dogma, 
 as I have given it above, which does not address the 
 imagination, as well as the intellect. 
 
 Now let us observe what is not in that exposition ; — 
 there are no scientific terms in it. I will not allow that 
 " Personal " is such, because it is a word in common use, 
 and though it cannot mean precisely the same when 
 used of God as when it is used of man, yet it is 
 sufficiently explained by that common use, to allow of 
 its being intelligibly applied to the Divine Nature. 
 The other words, which occur in the above account of 
 the doctrine, — Three, One, He, God, Father, Son, Spirit, 
 — are none of them words peculiar to theology, have 
 all a popular meaning, and are used according to that 
 obvious and popular meaning, when introduced into the 
 Catholic dogma. No human words indeed are worthy 
 of the Supreme Being, none are adequate ; but we have 
 no other words to use but human, and those in question 
 are among the simplest and most intelligible that are to 
 be found in language. 
 
 There are then no terms in the foregoing exposition 
 which do not admit of a plain sense, and they are there 
 used in that sense ; and, moreover, that sense is what I 
 have called real, for the words in their ordinary use 
 stand for things. The words, Father, Son, Spirit, He, 
 One, and the rest, are not abstract terms, but concrete, 
 and adapted to excite images. And these words thus 
 simple and clear, are embodied in simple, clear, brief, 
 categorical propositions. There is nothing abstruse 
 either in the terms themselves, or in their setting, ir
 
 1 28 Apprehension and Assent in Religion. 
 
 is otherwise of course with formal theological treatises 
 on the subject of the dogma. There we find such words 
 as substance, essence, existence, form, subsistence, no- 
 tion, circumincession ; and, though these are far easier 
 to understand than might at first sight be thought, 
 still they are doubtless addressed to the intellect, and 
 can only command a notional assent. 
 
 It will be observed also that not even the words 
 " mysteriousness " and " mystery " occur in the expo- 
 sition which I have above given of the doctrine; I 
 omitted them, because they are not parts of the Divine 
 Verity as such, but in relation to creatures and to the 
 human intellect ; and because they are of a notional 
 character. It is plain of course even at first sight that 
 the doctrine is an inscrutable mystery, or has an in- 
 scrutable mysteriousness ; few minds indeed but have 
 theology enough to see this ; and if an educated man, to 
 whom it is presented, does not perceive that mysterious- 
 ness at once, that is a sure token that he does not 
 rightly apprehend the propositions which contain the 
 doctrine. Hence it follows that the thesis "the doctrine 
 of the Holy Trinity in Unity is mysterious " is indirectly 
 an article of faith. But such an article, being a reflec- 
 tion made upon a revealed truth in an inference, ex- 
 presses a notion, not a thing. It does not relate to the 
 direct apprehension of the object, but to a judgment 
 of our reason upon the object. Accordingly the mys- 
 teriousness of the doctrine is not, strictly speaking, 
 intrinsical to it, as it is proposed to the religious appre- 
 hension, though in matter of fact a devotional mind, on 
 perceiving that mysteriousuess, will lovingly appropriate
 
 Belief in the Holy Trinity. 129 
 
 it, as involved in the divine revelation ; and, as such a 
 mind turns all thoughts which come before it to a 
 sacred use, so will it dwell upon the Mystery of the 
 Trinity with awe and veneration, as a truth befitting, 
 so to say, the Immensity and Incomprehensibility of 
 the Supreme Being. 
 
 However, I do not put forward the mystery as the 
 direct object of real or religious apprehension; nor 
 again, the complex doctrine (when it is viewed, per 
 modum unius,a,s one whole), in which the mystery lies. 
 Let it be observed, it is possible for the mind to hold a 
 number of propositions either in their combination as one 
 whole, or one by one ; one by one, with an intelligent 
 perception indeed of all, and of the general direction of 
 each towards the rest, yet of each separately from the 
 rest, for its own sake only, and not in connexion 
 and one with the rest. Thus I may know London 
 quite well, and find my way from street to street in any 
 part of it without difficulty, yet be quite unable to draw 
 a map of it. Comparison, calculation, cataloguing, 
 arranging, classifying, are intellectual acts subsequent 
 upon, and not necessary for, a real apprehension of the 
 things on which they are exercised. Strictly speaking 
 then, the dogma of the Holy Trinity, as a complex 
 whole, or as a mystery, is not the formal object of re- 
 ligious apprehension and assent; but as it is a number 
 of propositions, taken one by one. That complex whole 
 also is the object of assent, but it is the notional object; 
 and when presented to religious minds, it is received by 
 them notionally; and again implicitly, viz. in the real 
 assent which they give to the word of God as conveyed 
 
 K
 
 1 30 Apprehension and Assent in Religion. 
 
 to them through the instrumentality of His Church. 
 On these points it may be right to enlarge. 
 
 Of course, as I have been saying, a man of ordinary 
 intelligence will be at once struck with the apparent 
 contrariety between the propositions one with another 
 which constitute the Heavenly Dogma, and, by reason 
 of his spontaneous activity of mind and by an habitual 
 association, he will be compelled to view the Dogma in 
 the light of that contrariety, — so much so, that to hold 
 one and all of these separate propositions will be to such 
 a man all one with holding the mystery, as a mystery; 
 and in consequence he will so hold it ; — but still, I say, 
 so far he will hold it only with a notional apprehension. 
 He will accurately take in the meaning of each of the 
 dogmatic propositions in its relation to the rest of them, 
 combining them into one whole and embracing- what he 
 cannot realize, with an assent, notional indeed, but as 
 genuine and thorough as any real assent can be. But 
 the question is whether a real assent to the mystery, as 
 such, is possible ; and I say it is not possible, because, 
 though we can image the separate propositions, we can- 
 not image them all together. We cannot, because the 
 mystery transcends all our experience; we have no 
 experiences in our memory which we can put together, 
 compare, contrast, unite, and thereby transmute into an 
 image of the Ineffable Verity; — certainly; but whatt's 
 in some degree a matter of experience, what is presented 
 for the imagination, the affections, the devotion, the 
 spiritual life of the Christian to repose upon with a real 
 assent, what stands for things, not for notions only, is 
 each of those propositions taken one by one, and that,
 
 Belief in the Holy Trinity. 131 
 
 not in the case of intellectual and thoughtful minds only, 
 but of all religious minds whatever, in the case of a 
 child or a peasant, as well as of a philosopher. 
 
 This is only one instance of a general principle which 
 holds good in all such real apprehension as is possible to 
 us, of God and His Attributes. Not only do we see 
 Him at best only in shadows, but we cannot bring even 
 those shadows together, for they flit to and fro, and are 
 never present to us at once. We can indeed combine 
 the various matters which we know of Him by an act of 
 the intellect, and treat them theologically, but such 
 theological combinations are no objects for the imagina- 
 tion to gaze upon. Our image of Him never is one, 
 but broken into numberless partial aspects, independent 
 each of each. As we cannot see the whole starry 
 firmament at once, but have to turn ourselves from east 
 to west, and then round to east again, sighting first one 
 constellation and then another, and losing these in order 
 to gain those, so it is, and much more, with such real 
 apprehensions as we can secure of the Divine Nature. 
 We know one truth about Him and another truth, — 
 but we cannot image both of them together ; we cannot 
 bring them before us by one act of the mind; we drop 
 the one while we turn to take up the other. None of 
 them are fully dwelt on and enjoyed, when they are 
 viewed in combination. Moreover, our devotion is tried 
 and confused by the long list of propositions which theo- 
 logy is obliged to draw up, by the limitations, ex- 
 planations, definitions, adjustments, balancings, cautions, 
 arbitrary prohibitions, which are imperatively required 
 by the weakness of human thought and the imperfections 
 
 k 2
 
 132 Apprehension and Assent in Religion. 
 
 of human languages. Such exercises of reasoning indeed 
 do but increase and harmonize our notional apprehension 
 of the dogma, but they add little to the luminousness 
 and vital force with which its separate propositions come 
 home to our imagination, and if they are necessary, as 
 they certainly are, they are necessary not so much for 
 faith, as against unbelief. 
 
 Break a ray of light into its constituent colours, each 
 is beautiful, each may be enjoyed ; attempt to unite 
 them, and perhaps you produce only a dirty white. The 
 pure and indivisible Light is seen only by the blessed 
 inhabitants of heaven; here we have but such faint 
 reflections of it as its diffraction supplies ; but they are 
 sufficient for faith and devotion. Attempt to combine 
 them into one, and you gain nothing but a mystery, 
 which you can describe as a notion, but cannot depict as 
 an imagination. And this, which holds of the Divine 
 Attributes, holds also of the Holy Trinity in Unity. 
 And hence, perhaps, it is that the latter doctrine is never 
 spoken of as a Mystery in the sacred book, which is 
 addressed far more to the imagination and affections than 
 to the intellect. Hence, too, what is more remarkable, 
 in the Creeds the dogma is not called a mystery ; not in 
 the Apostles' nor the Nicene, nor even in the Athanasian. 
 The reason seems to be, that the Creeds have a place in 
 the Ritual ; they are devotional acts, and of the nature 
 of prayers, addressed to God ; and, in such addresses, to 
 speak of intellectual difficulties would be out of place. 
 It must be recollected especially that the Athanasian 
 Creed has sometimes been called the " Psalmus Qui- 
 cunque." It is not a mere collection of notions, however
 
 Belief in the Holy Trinity. 133 
 
 momentous. It is a psalm or hymn of praise, of 
 
 confession, and of profound, self-prostrating homage, 
 
 parallel to the canticles of the elect in the Apocalypse. 
 
 It appeals to the imagination quite as much as to the 
 
 intellect. It is the war-song of faith, with which we 
 
 warn first ourselves, then each other, and then all those 
 
 who are within its hearing, and the hearing of the 
 
 Truth, who our God is, and how we must worship Him, 
 
 and how vast our responsibility will be, if we know what 
 
 to believe, and yet believe not. It is 
 
 " The Psalin that gathers in one glorious lay 
 All chants that e'er from heaven to earth found way; 
 Creed of the Saints, and Anthem of the Blest, 
 And calm-hreathed warning of the kindliest love 
 That ever heaved a wakeful mother's breast." 
 
 For myself, I have ever felt it as the most simple and 
 sublime, the most devotional formulary to which Chris- 
 tianity has given birth, more so even than the Veni 
 Creator and the Te Deum. Even the antithetical form 
 of its sentences, which is a stumbling-block to so many, 
 as seeming to force, and to exult in forcing a mystery 
 upon recalcitrating minds, has to my apprehension, 
 even notionally considered, a very different drift. It 
 is intended as a check upon our reasonings, lest they 
 rush on in one direction beyond the limits of the truth, 
 and it turns them back into the opposite direction. 
 Certainly it implies a glorying in the Mystery ; but it 
 is not simply a statement of the Mystery for the sake 
 of its mysteriousness. 
 
 What is more remarkable still, a like silence as to 
 the mysteriousness of the doctrine is observed in the 
 successive definitions of the Church concerning it.
 
 1 34 Apprehension and Assent in Religion. 
 
 Confession after confession, canon after canon is drawn 
 up in the course of centuries ; Popes and Councils have 
 found it their duty to insist afresh upon the dogma ; 
 they have enunciated it in new or additional propo- 
 sitions ; but not even in their most elaborate formu- 
 laries do they use the word " mystery," as far as I 
 know. The great Council of Toledo pursues the 
 scientific ramifications of the doctrine, with the exact 
 diligence of theology, at a length four times that of 
 the Athanasian Creed; the fourth Lateran completes, 
 by a final enunciation, the development of the sacred 
 doctrine after the mind of St. Augustine ; the Creed 
 of Pope Pius IV. prescribes the general rule of faith 
 against the heresies of these latter times ; but in none 
 of them do we find either the word " mystery/' or any 
 suggestion of mysteriousriess. 
 
 Such is the usage of the Church in its dogmatic 
 statements concerning the Holy Trinity, as if fulfilling 
 the maxim, " Lex orandi, lex credendi." I suppose it 
 is founded on a tradition, because the custom is other- 
 wise as regards catechisms and theological treatises. 
 These belong to particular ages and places, and are 
 addressed to the intellect. In them, certainly, the 
 mysteriousness of the doctrine is almost uniformly 
 insisted on. But, however this contrast of usage is 
 to be explained, the Creeds are enough to show that 
 the dogma may be taught in its fulness for the pur- 
 poses of popular faith and devotion without directly 
 insisting on that mysteriousness, which is necessarily 
 involved in the combined view of its separate pro- 
 positions. That systematized whole is the object of
 
 Belief in the Holy Trinity. 135 
 
 notional assent, and its propositions, one by one, are 
 the objects of real. 
 
 To show this in fact, I will enumerate the separate 
 propositions of which the dogma consists. They are 
 nine, and stand as follows : — 
 
 1. There are Three who give testimony in heaven, 
 the Father, the Word or Son, and the Holy Spirit. 
 
 2. From the Father is, and ever has been, the Son. 
 
 3. From the Father and Son is, and ever has been, the 
 Spirit. 
 
 4. The Father is the One Eternal Personal God. 
 5. The Son is the One Eternal Personal God. 6. The 
 Spirit is the One Eternal Personal God. 
 
 7. The Father is not the Son. 8. The Son is not 
 the Holy Ghost. 9. The Holy Ghost is not the 
 Father. 
 
 Now I think it is a fact, that, whereas these nine 
 propositions contain the Mystery, yet, taken, not as 
 a whole, but separately, each by itself, they are not 
 only apprehensible, but admit of a real apprehension. 
 
 Thus, for instance, if the proposition " There is One 
 who bears witness of Himself," or " reveals Himself/' 
 would admit of a real assent, why does not also the 
 proposition " There are Three who bear witness " ? 
 
 Again, if the word " God " may create an image in 
 our miuds, why may not the proposition " The Father 
 is God " ? or again, " The Son," or " The Holy Ghost 
 is God " ? 
 
 Again, to say that " the Son is other than the Holy 
 Ghost," or " neither Son nor Holy Ghost is the Father," 
 is not a simple negative, but also a declaration that
 
 136 Apprehension and Assent in Religion. 
 
 Each of the Divine Three by Himself is complete in 
 Himself, and simply and absolutely God as though the 
 Other Two were not revealed to us. 
 
 Again, from our experience of the works of man, we 
 accept with a real apprehension the proposition " The 
 Angels are made by God," correcting the word "made/' 
 as is required in the case of a creating Power, and a 
 spiritual work : — why then may we not in like matter 
 refine and elevate the human analogy, yet keep the 
 image, when a Divine Birth is set before us in terms 
 which properly belong to what is human and earthly ? 
 If our experience enables us to apprehend the essential 
 fact of sonship, as being a communication of being and 
 of nature from one to another, why should we not there- 
 by in a certain measure realize the proposition " The 
 Word is the Son of God " ? 
 
 Again, we have abundant instances in nature of the 
 general law of one thing* comiug from another or from 
 others : — as the child issues in the man as his successor, 
 and the child and the man issue in the old man, like 
 them both, but not the same, so different as almost to 
 have a fresh personality distinct from each, so we may 
 form some image, however vague, of the procession of 
 the Holy Spirit from Father and Son. This is what I 
 should say of the propositions which I have numbered 
 two and three, which are the least susceptible of a real 
 assent out of the nine. 
 
 So much at first sight ; but the force of what I have 
 been saying will be best understood, by considering 
 what Scripture aud the Ritual of the Church witness in 
 accordance with it. In referring to these two great
 
 Belief in the Holy Trinity. 137 
 
 store-houses of faith and devotion, I must premise, as 
 when I spoke of the Being of a God, that I am not 
 proving by means of them the dogma of the Holy 
 Trinity, but using the one and the other in illustra- 
 tion of the action of the separate articles of that 
 dogma upon the imagination, though the complex 
 truth, in which, when combined, they issue, is not 
 in sympathy or correspondence with it, but altogether 
 beyond it ; and next of the action and influence of 
 those separate articles, by means of the imagination, 
 upon the affections and obedience of Christians, high 
 and low. 
 
 This being understood, I ask what chapter of St. 
 John or St. Paul is not full of the Three Divine Names, 
 introduced in one or other of the above nine proposi- 
 tions, expressed or implied, or in their parallels, or in 
 parts or equivalents of them ? What lesson is there 
 given us by these two chief writers of the New Testa- 
 ment, which does not grow out of Their Persons and 
 Their Offices ? At one time we read of the grace of the 
 Second Person, the love of the First, and the commu- 
 nication of the Third ; at another we are told by the 
 Son, "I will pray the Father, and He will send you 
 another Paraclete ;" and then, ' ' All that the Father 
 hath are Mine ; the Paraclete shall receive of Mine." 
 Then again we read of "the foreknowledge of the 
 Father, the sanctification of the Spirit, the Blood of 
 Jesus Christ ;" and again we are to " pray in the Holy 
 Ghost, abide in the love of God, and look for the mercy 
 of Jesus." And so, in like manner, to Each, in one 
 passage or another, are ascribed the samo titles and
 
 138 Apprehension and Assent in Religion. 
 
 works : Each is acknowledged as Lord ; Each is eternal 
 Each is Truth ; Each is Holiness ; Each is all in all 
 Each is Creator ; Each wills with a Supreme Will 
 Each is the Author of the new birth ; Each speaks in 
 His ministers ; Each is the Revealer ; Each is the Law- 
 giver ; Each is the Teacher of the elect ; in Each the 
 elect have fellowship ; Each leads them on ; Each raises 
 them from the dead. What is all this, but ' ' the Father 
 Eternal, the Son Eternal, and the Holy Ghost Eternal ; 
 the Father, Son, and Holy Ghost Omnipotent ; the 
 Father, Son, and Holy Ghost God/' of the Athanasian 
 Creed ? And if the New Testament be, as it con- 
 fessedly is, so real in its teaching, so luminous, so 
 impressive, so constraining, so full of images, so 
 sparing in mere notions, whence is this but because, 
 in its references to the Object of our supreme wor- 
 ship, it is ever ringing the changes (so to say) on 
 the nine propositions which I have set down, and 
 on the particular statements into which they may 
 be severally resolved ? 
 
 Take one of them as an instance, viz. the dog- 
 matic sentence " The Son is God." What an illus- 
 tration of the real assent which can be given to this 
 proposition, and its power over our affections and 
 emotions, is the first half of the first chapter of St. 
 John's gospel ! or again the vision of our Lord in 
 the first chapter of the Apocalypse ! or the first 
 chapter of St. John's first Epistle ! Again, how 
 burning are St. Paul's words when he speaks of our 
 Lord's crucifixion and death ! what is the secret of 
 that flame, but this same dogmatic sentence, " The
 
 Belief in the Holy Trinity. 139 
 
 Son is God " ? why should the death of the Son be 
 more awful than any other death, except that He 
 though man, was God ? And so, again, all through 
 the Old Testament, what is it which gives an inter- 
 pretation and a persuasive power to so many pas- 
 sages and portions, especially of the Psalms and the 
 Prophets, but this same theological formula, " The 
 Messias is God," a proposition which never could 
 thus vivify in the religious mind the letter of the 
 sacred text, unless it appealed to the imagination, and 
 could be held with a much stronger assent than any 
 that is merely notional. 
 
 This same power of the dogma may be illustrated 
 from the Eitual. Consider the services for Christmas 
 or Epiphany; for Easter, Ascension, and (I may say) 
 pre-eminently Corpus Christi; what are these great 
 Festivals but comments on the words, " The Son is 
 God " ? Yet who will say that they have the subtlety, 
 the aridity, the coldness of mere scholastic science ? 
 Are they addressed to the pure intellect, or to the 
 imagination ? do they interest our logical faculty, or 
 excite our devotion ? Why is it that personally we 
 often find ourselves so ill-fitted to take part in them, 
 except that we are not good enough, that in our case 
 the dogma is far too much a theological notion, far too 
 little an image living within us ? And so again, as to 
 the Divinity of the Holy Ghost : consider the breviary 
 offices for Pentecost and its Octave, the grandest, per- 
 haps in the whole year ; are they created out of mere 
 abstractions and inferences, or what are sometimes 
 called metaphysical distinctions, or has not the cate-
 
 
 140 Apprehension and Assent in Religion. 
 
 gorical proposition of St. Athanasius, " The Holy Ghost 
 is God/' such a place in the imagination and the heart, 
 as suffices to give birth to the noble Hymns, Venl 
 Creator, and Veni Sancte Spiritus? 
 
 I sum up then to the same effect as in the preceding 
 Section. Religion has to do with the real, and the real 
 is the particular; theology has to do with what is 
 notional, and the notional is the general and systematic. 
 Hence theology has to do with the Dogma of the Holy 
 Trinity as a whole made up of many propositions ; but 
 Religion has to do with each of those separate propo- 
 sitions which compose it, and lives and thrives in the 
 contemplation of them. In them it finds the motives 
 for devotion and faithful obedience; while theology on 
 the other hand forms and protects them by virtue of 
 its function of regarding them, not merely one by one, 
 but as a system of truth. 
 
 One other remark is in place here. If the separate 
 articles of the Athanasian Creed are so closely con- 
 nected with vital and personal religion as I have shown 
 them to be, if they supply motives on which a man may 
 act, if they determine the state of mind, the special 
 thoughts, affections, and habits, which he carries with 
 him from this world to the next, is there cause to 
 wonder, that the Creed should proclaim aloud, that 
 those who are not internally such as Christ, by means 
 of it, came to make them, are not capable of the 
 heaven to which He died to bring them ? Is not the 
 importance of accepting the dogma the very explana- 
 tion of that careful minuteness with which the few 
 simple truths which compose it are inculcated, are
 
 Belief in the Holy Trinity. 141 
 
 reiterated, iu the Creed ? And. shall the Church of 
 God, to whom " the dispensation " of the Gospel is 
 committed, forget the concomitant obligation, " Woe 
 is unto me if I preach not the Gospel " ? Are her 
 ministers by their silence to bring upon themselves the 
 Prophet's anathema, " Cursed is he that doth the work 
 of the Lord deceitfully " ? Can they ever forget the 
 lesson conveyed to them in the Apostle's protestation, 
 " God is faithful, as our preaching which was among 
 you was not Yea and Nay. . . . For we are a good 
 odour of Christ unto God in them that are in the way 
 of salvation, and in them that are perishing. For we 
 are not as the many, who adulterate the word of God ; 
 but with sincerity, but as from God, in the presence of 
 God, so speak we in Christ " ?
 
 142 Apprehension and Assent iii Religion. 
 
 § 3. Belief in Dogmatic Theology. 
 
 It is a familiar charge against the Catholic Church in the 
 mouths of her opponents, that she imposes on herchildren 
 as matters of faith, not only such dogmas as have an 
 intimate bearing on moral conduct and character, but a 
 great number of doctrines which none but professed theo- 
 logians can understand, and which in consequence do 
 but oppress the mind, and are the perpetual fuel of con- 
 troversy. The first who made this complaint was no 
 less a man than the great Constantine, and on no less an 
 occasion than the rise of the Arian heresy, which he, as 
 yet a catechumen, was pleased to consider a trifling and 
 tolerable error. So deciding the matter, he wrote at 
 once a letter to Alexander, Bishop of Alexandria, and to 
 Arius, who was a presbyter in the same city, exhorting 
 them to drop the matter in dispute, and to live in peace 
 with one another. He was answered by the meeting of 
 the Council of Nicaea, and by the insertion of the word 
 " Consubstantial " into the Creed of the Church. 
 
 What the Emperor thought of the controversy itself, 
 that Bishop Jeremy Taylor thought of the insertion of 
 the " Consubstantial/' viz. that it was a mischievous 
 affair, and ought never to have taken place. He thus
 
 Belief in Dogmatic Theology. 143 
 
 quotes and comments on the Emperor's letter : " The 
 Epistle of CoDstantine to Alexander and Arius tells the 
 truth, and chides them both for commencing the ques- 
 tion, Alexander for broaching it, Arius for taking it up. 
 And although this be true, that it had been better for 
 the Church it had never begun, yet, being begun, what 
 is to be done with it ? Of this also, in that admirable 
 epistle, we have the Emperor's judgment (I suppose not 
 without the advice and privity of Hosius), . . . for first 
 he calls it a certain vain piece of a question, ill begun and 
 more unadvisedly published, — a question which no law or 
 ecclesiastical canon defineth; a fruitless contention; the 
 product of idle brains ; a matter so nice, so obscure, so 
 intricate, that it was neither to be explicated by the clergy 
 nor understood by the people; a dispute of words, a doc- 
 trine inexplicable, but most dangerous when taught, lest 
 it introduce discord or blasphemy ; and, therefore, the 
 objector was rash, and the answer unadvised, for it con- 
 cerned not the substance of faith or the worship of God, 
 nor the chief commandment of Scripture; and, therefore, 
 why should it be the matter of discord? for though the 
 matter be grave, yet, because neither necessary nor ex- 
 plicable, the contention is trifling and toyish. ... So 
 that the matter being of no great importance, but vain 
 and a toy in respect of the excellent blessings of peace and 
 charity it were good that Alexander and Arius should 
 leave contending, keep their opinions to themselves, ask 
 each other forgiveness, and give mutual toleration." 1 
 
 Moreover, Taylor is of opinion that " they both did 
 believe One God, and the Holy Trinity;" an opinion in 
 1 Liberty of Prophesying, § 2.
 
 1 44 Apprehension and Assent in Religion. 
 
 the teeth of historical fact. Also he is of opinion, that 
 " that faith is best which hath greatest simplicity, and 
 that it is better in all cases humbly to submit, than 
 curiously to inquire and pry into the mystery under the 
 cloud, and to hazard our faith by improving know- 
 ledge." He is, further, of opinion, that " if the Nicene 
 Fathers had done so too, possibly the Church would 
 never have repented it." He also thinks that their 
 insertion of the " Consubstantial " into the Creed was 
 a bad precedent. 
 
 Whether it was likely to act as a precedent or not, it 
 has not been so in fact, for fifteen hundred years have 
 passed since the Nicene Council, and it is the one 
 instance of a scientific word having been introduced into 
 the Creed from that day to this. And after all, the 
 word in question has a plain meaning, as the Council 
 used it, easily stated and intelligible to all ; for " con- 
 subtantial with the Father," means nothing more than 
 " really one with the Father," being adopted to meet 
 the evasion of the Arians. The Creed then remains now 
 what it was in the beginning, a popular form of faith, 
 suited to every age, class, and condition. Its declara- 
 tions are categorical, brief, clear, elementary, of the first 
 importance, expressive of the concrete, the objects of 
 real apprehension, and the basis and rule of devotion. 
 As to the proper Nicene formula itself, excepting the 
 one term " Consubstantial," it has not a word which 
 does not relate to the rudimental facts of Christianity. 
 The Niceno-Constantinopolitan and the various ante- 
 Nicene Symbols, of which the Apostles' is one, add 
 summarily one or two notional articles, such as " the
 
 Belief in Dogmatic Theology. 145 
 
 communion of Saints," and "the forgiveness of sins/' 
 which, however, may be readily converted into real pro- 
 positions. On the other hand, one chief dogma, which 
 is easy to popular apprehension, is necessarily absent 
 from all of them, the Real Presence ; but the omission 
 is owing to the ancient " Disciplina Arcani," which 
 withheld the Sacred Mystery from catechumens and 
 heathen, to whom the Creed was known. 
 
 So far the charge which Taylor brings forward has 
 no great plausibility ; but it is not the whole of his 
 case. I cannot deny that a large and ever- increasing 
 collection of propositions, abstract notions, not concrete 
 truths, become, by the successive definitions of Coun- 
 cils, a portion of the credenda, and have an imperative 
 claim upon the faith of every Catholic; and this being 
 the case, it will be asked me how I am borne out by 
 facts in enlarging, as I have done, on the simplicity 
 and directness, on the tangible reality, of the Church's 
 dogmatic teaching. 
 
 I will suppose the objection urged thus : — why has 
 not the Catholic Church limited her credenda to proposi- 
 tions such as those in her Creed, concrete and practical, 
 easy of apprehension, and of a character to win assent ? 
 such as " Christ is God ;" " This is My Body j" " Bap- 
 tism gives life to the soul ;" " The Saints intercede for 
 us;" "Death, judgment, heaven, hell, the four lasl 
 things ;" " There are seven gifts of the Holy Ghost," 
 " three theological virtues," " seven capital sins," and 
 the like, as they are found in her catechisms. On the 
 contrary, she makes it imperative on every one, prioi 
 and layman, to profess as revealed truth all the canons of 
 
 L
 
 
 1 46 Apprehension and Assent in Religion. 
 
 the Councils, and innumerable decisions of Popes, propo- 
 sitions so various, so notional, that but few can know 
 them, and fewer can understand them. What sense, for 
 instance, can a child or a peasant, nay, or any ordinary 
 Catholic, put upon the Tridentine Canons, even in 
 translation ? such as, " Siquis dixerit homines sine 
 Christi justitia, per quam nobis meruit, justificari, aut 
 per earn ipsam formaliter justos esse, anathema sit ;" or 
 "Siquis dixerit justificatum peccare, dum intuitu aeternae 
 mercedis bene operatur, anathema sit." Or again, con- 
 sider the very anathematism annexed by the Nicene 
 Council to its Creed, the language of which is so obscure, 
 that even theologians differ about its meaning. It runs 
 as follows : — " Those who say that once the Son was not, 
 and before He was begotten He was not, and that He was 
 made out of that which was not, or who pretend that He 
 was of other hypostasis or substance, or that the Son of 
 God is created, mutable, or alterable, the Holy Catholic 
 and Apostolic Church anathematizes." These doctrinal 
 enunciations are de fide ; peasants are bound to believe 
 them as well as controversialists, and to believe them as 
 truly as they believe that our Lord is God. How then 
 are the Catholic credenda easy and within reach of all 
 men ? 
 
 I begin my answer to this objection by recurring to 
 what has already been said concerning the relation of 
 theology with its notional propositions to religious and 
 devotional assent. Devotion is excited doubtless by the 
 plain, categorical truths of revelation, such as the articles 
 of the Creed ; on these it depends ; with these it is satis- 
 fied. It accepts them one by one ; it is careless about
 
 Belief in Dogmatic Theology. 147 
 
 intellectual consistency ; it draws from each of them the 
 spiritual nourishment which it was intended to supply. 
 Far different, certainly, is the nature and duty of the 
 intellect. It is ever active, inquisitive, penetrating ; it 
 examines doctrine and doctrine ; it compares, contrasts, 
 and forms them into a science ; that science is theology. 
 Now theological science, being thus the exercise of the 
 intellect upon the credenda of revelation, is, though not 
 directly devotional, at once natural, excellent, and neces- 
 sary. It is natural, because the intellect is one of our 
 highest faculties ; excellent, because it is our duty to use 
 our faculties to the full ; necessary, because unless we 
 apply our intellect to revealed truth rightly, others will 
 exercise their minds upon it wrongly. Accordingly, the 
 Catholic intellect makes a survey and a catalogue of the 
 doctrines contained in the depositam of revelation, as 
 committed to the Church's keeping ; it locates, adjusts, 
 defines them each, and brings them together into a 
 whole. Moreover, it takes particular aspects or portions 
 of them; it analyzes them, whether into first principles 
 really such, or into hypotheses of an illustrative charac- 
 ter. It forms generalizations, and gives names to them. 
 All these deductions are true, if rightly deduced, 
 because they are deduced from what is true ; and there- 
 fore in one sense they are a portion of the deposit um 
 of faith or credenda, while in another sense they are 
 additions to it : however, additions or not, they have, 
 I readily grant, the characteristic disadvantage of 
 being abstract and notional statements. 
 
 Nor is this all : the disavowal of error is far more 
 fruitful in additions than the enforcement of truth. 
 
 T 9
 
 148 Apprehension and Assent in Religion. 
 
 There is another set of deductions, inevitable also, and 
 also part or not part of the revealed credenda, according 
 as we please to view them. If a proposition is true, 
 its contradictory is false. If then a man believes that 
 Christ is God, he believes also, and that necessarily, 
 that to say He is not God is false, and that those who 
 so say are in error. Here then again the prospect 
 opens upon us of a countless multitude of propositions, 
 which in their first elements are close upon devotional 
 truth, — of groups of propositions, and those groups di- 
 vergent, independent, ever springing into life with an 
 inexhaustible fecundity, according to the ever-germinat- 
 ing forms of heresy, of which they are the antagonists. 
 These too have their place in theological science. 
 
 Such is theology in contrast to religion; and as follows 
 from the circumstances of its formation, though some of 
 its statements easily find equivalents in the language of 
 devotion, the greater number of them are more or less 
 unintelligible to the ordinary Catholic, as law-books to 
 the private citizen. And especially those portions of 
 theology which are the indirect creation, not of orthodox, 
 but of heretical thought, such as the repudiations of 
 error contained in the Canons of Councils, of which 
 specimens have been given above, will ever be foreign, 
 strange, and hard to the pious but uncontroversial mind; 
 for what have good Christians to do, in the ordinary 
 course of things, with the subtle hallucinations of the 
 intellect ? This is manifest from the nature of the case ; 
 but then the question recurs, why should the refutations 
 of heresy be our objects of faith ? if no mind, theolo- 
 gical or not, can believe what it cannot understand,
 
 Belief in Dogmatic Theology. 149 
 
 in what sense can the Canons of Councils and other 
 ecclesiastical determinations be included in those cre- 
 denda which the Church presents to every Catholic as 
 if apprehensible, and to which every Catholic gives his 
 firm interior assent ? 
 
 In solving this difficulty I wish it first observed, that, 
 if it is the duty of the Church to act as " the pillar 
 and ground of the Truth/' she is manifestly obliged 
 from time to time, and to the end of time, to denounce 
 opinions incompatible with that tr"uth, whenever able 
 and subtle minds in her communion venture to publish 
 such opinions. Suppose certain Bishops and priests at 
 this day began to teach that Islamism or Buddhism was 
 a direct and immediate revelation from God, she would 
 be bound to use the authority which God has given her 
 to declare that such a proposition will not stand with 
 Christianity, and that those who hold it are none of 
 hers ; and she would be bound to impose such a declara- 
 tion on that very knot of persons who had committed 
 themselves to the novel proposition, in order that, if 
 they would not recant, they might be separated from 
 her communion, as they were separate from her faith. 
 In such a case, her masses of population would either 
 not hear of the controversy, or they would at once take 
 part with her, and without effort take any test, which 
 secured the exclusion of the innovators ; and she on the 
 other hand would feel that what is a rule for some Catho- 
 lics must be a rule for all. Who is to draw the line 
 between who are to acknowledge that rule, and who are 
 not ? It is plain, there cannot be two rules of faith in 
 the same communion, or rather, as the case really would
 
 1 50 Apprehension and Assent in Religion. 
 
 be, an endless variety of rules, coming into force accord- 
 ing to the multiplication of heretical theories, and to 
 the degrees of knowledge and varieties of sentiment in 
 individual Catholics. There is but one rule of faith 
 for all ; and it would be a greater difficulty to allow of 
 an uncertain rule of faith, than (if that was "the alter- 
 native, as it is not), to impose upon uneducated minds 
 a profession which they cannot understand. 
 
 But it is not the necessary result of unity of profes- 
 sion, nor is it the fact, that the Church imposes dog- 
 matic statements on the interior assent of those who 
 cannot apprehend them. The difficulty is removed 
 by the dogma of the Church's infallibility, and of the 
 consequent duty of " implicit faith " in her word. The 
 " One Holy Catholic and Apostolic Church " is an 
 article of the Creed, and an article, which, inclusive of 
 her infallibility, all men, high and low, can easily 
 master and accept with a real and operative assent. 
 It stands in the place of all abstruse propositions in a 
 Catholic's mind, for to believe in her word is virtually 
 to believe in them all. Even what he cannot under- 
 stand, at least he can believe to be true; and he 
 believes it to be true because he believes in the 
 Church. 
 
 The rationale of this provision for unlearned devotion 
 is as follows : — It stands to reason that all of us, learned 
 and unlearned, are bound to believe the whole revealed 
 doctrine in all its parts and in all that it implies 
 according as portion after portion is brought home to 
 our consciousness as belonging to it ; and it also stands 
 to reason, that a doctrine, so deep and so various, as
 
 Belief in Dogmatic Theology. 1 5 1 
 
 the revealed depositum of faith, cannot be brought 
 home to us and made our own all at once. No mind, 
 however large, however penetrating, can directly and 
 fully by one act understand any one truth, however 
 simple. What can be more intelligible than that 
 " Alexander conquered Asia," or that " Veracity is a 
 duty " ? but what a multitude of propositions is in- 
 cluded under either of these theses ! still, if we profess 
 either, we profess all that it includes. Thus, as regards 
 the Catholic Creed, if we really believe that our Lord 
 is God, we believe all that is meant by such a belief; 
 or, else, we are not in earnest, when we profess to 
 believe the proposition. In the act of believing it at 
 all, we forthwith commit ourselves by anticipation to 
 believe truths which at present we do not believe, 
 because they have never come before us; — we limit 
 henceforth the range of our private judgment in pros- 
 pect by the conditions, whatever they are, of that 
 dogma. Thus the Arians said that they believed in 
 our Lord's divinity, but when they were pressed to 
 confess His eternity, they denied it : thereby showing 
 in fact that they never had believed in His divinity 
 at all. In other words, a man who really believes in 
 our Lord's proper divinity, believes implicite in His 
 eternity. 
 
 And so, in like manner, of the whole depositum of 
 faith, or the revealed word : — If we believe in the 
 revelation, we believe in what is revealed, in all that is 
 revealed, however it may be brought home to us, by 
 reasoning or in any other way. He who believes that 
 Christ is the Truth, and that the Evangelists are truth-
 
 152 Apprehension mid Assent in Religion. 
 
 ful, believes all that He has said through them, though 
 he has only read St. Matthew and has not read St. 
 John. He who believes in the depositum of Revela- 
 tion, believes in all the doctrines of the depositum ; 
 and since he cannot know them all at once, he knows 
 some doctrines, and does not know others ; he may- 
 know only the Creed, nay, perhaps only the chief por- 
 tions of the Creed ; but, whether he knows little or 
 much, he has the intention of believing all that there 
 is to believe, whenever and as soon as it is brought 
 home to him, if he believes in Revelation at all. All 
 that he knows now as revealed, and all that he shall 
 know, and all that there is to know, he embraces it all 
 in his intention by one act of faith; otherwise, it is but 
 an accident that he believes this or that, not because 
 it is a revelation. This virtual, interpretative, or pros- 
 pective belief is called a believing implicite ; and it 
 follows from this, that, granting that the Canons of 
 Councils and the other ecclesiastical documents and con- 
 fessions, to which I have referred, are really involved 
 in the depositum or revealed word, every Catholic, in 
 accepting the depositum, does implicite accept those 
 dogmatic decisions. 
 
 I say, " granting these various propositions are vir- 
 tually contained in the revealed word," for this is the 
 only question left ; and that it is to be answered in the 
 affirmative, is clear at once to the Catholic, from the 
 fact that the Church declares that they really belong 
 to it. To her is committed the care and the interpre- 
 tation of the revelation. The word of the Church is 
 the word of the revelation. That the Church is the
 
 Belief in Dogmatic Theology. 153 
 
 infallible oracle of truth is the fundamental dogma of 
 the Catholic religion ; and " I believe what the Church 
 proposes to be believed" is an act of real assent, 
 including all particular assents, notional and real; and, 
 while it is possible for unlearned as well as learned, it 
 is imperative on learned as well as unlearned. And 
 thus it is, that by believing the word of the Church 
 implicite, that is, by believing all that that word does 
 or shall declare itself to contain, every Catholic, accord- 
 ing to his intellectual capacity, supplements the short- 
 comings of his knowledge without blunting his real 
 assent to what is elementary, and takes upon himself 
 from the first the whole truth of revelation, progress- 
 ing from one apprehension of it to another according 
 to his opportunities of doing so.
 
 PART II. 
 ASSENT AND INFERENCE.
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 ASSENT CONSIDERED AS UNCONDITIONAL. 
 
 I have now said as much as need be said about the 
 relation of Assent to Apprehension ; and shall turn to 
 the consideration of the relation existing between 
 Assent and Inference. 
 
 As apprehension is a concomitant, so inference is 
 ordinarily the antecedent of assent ; — on this surely I 
 need not enlarge ; — but neither apprehension nor infer- 
 ence interferes with the unconditional character of the 
 assent, viewed in itself. The circumstances of an act, 
 however necessary to it, do not enter into the act ; 
 assent is in its nature absolute and unconditional, 
 though it cannot be given except under certain con- 
 ditions. 
 
 This is obvious ; but what presents some difficulty 
 is this, how it is that a conditional acceptance of a 
 proposition, — such as is an act of inference, — is able to 
 lead as it does, to an unconditional acceptance of it, — 
 such as is assent ; how it is that a proposition which is 
 not, and cannot be, demonstrated, which at the highest 
 can only be proved to be truth-like, not true, such as
 
 158 Assent considered as Unconditional, 
 
 "I shall die," nevertheless claims and receives our 
 unqualified adhesion. To the consideration of this 
 paradox, as it may be called, I shall now proceed ; 
 that is, to the consideration, first, of the act of assent 
 to a proposition, which act is unconditional ; next, of 
 the act of inference, which goes before the assent and 
 is conditional ; and, thirdly, of the solution of the 
 apparent inconsistency which is involved in holding 
 that an unconditional acceptance of a proposition can 
 be the result of its conditional verification.
 
 Simple Assent. 159 
 
 § 1. Simple Assent. 
 
 The doctrine which I have been enunciating requires 
 such careful explanation, that it is not wonderful that 
 writers of great ability and name are to be found who 
 have put it aside in favour of a doctrine of their own ; but 
 no doctrine on the subject is without its difficulties, and 
 certainly not theirs, though it carries with it a show of 
 common sense. The authors to whom I refer wish to 
 maintain that there are degrees of assent, and that, as 
 the reasons for a proposition are strong or weak, so is 
 the assent. It follows from this that absolute assent 
 has no legitimate exercise, except as ratifying acts of 
 intuition or demonstration. What is thus brought home 
 to us is indeed to be accepted unconditionally ; but, as 
 to reasonings in concrete matters, they are never more 
 than probabilities, and the probability in each conclu- 
 sion which we draw is the measure of our assent to that 
 conclusion. Thus assent becomes a sort of necessary 
 shadow, followinguponinference,which is the substance; 
 and is never without some alloy of doubt, because infer- 
 ence in the concrete never reaches more than probability. 
 Such is what may be called the a priori method of 
 regarding assent in its relation to inference. It con-
 
 1 60 Assent considered as Unconditional. 
 
 demns an unconditional assent in concrete matters on 
 what may be called the nature of the case. Assent 
 cannot rise higher than its source ; inference in such 
 matters is at best conditional, therefore assent is con- 
 ditional also. 
 
 Abstract argument is always dangerous, and this 
 instance is no exception to the rule ; I prefer to go by 
 facts. The theory to which I have referred cannot be 
 carried out in practice. It may be rightly said to prove 
 too much ; for it debars us from unconditional assent 
 in cases in which the common voice of mankind, the 
 advocates of this theory included, would protest against 
 the prohibition. There are many truths in concrete 
 matter, which no one can demonstrate, yet every one 
 unconditionally accepts ; and though of course there 
 are innumerable propositions to which it would be absurd 
 to give an absolute assent, still the absurdity lies in the 
 circumstances of each particular case, as it is taken by 
 itself, not in their common violation of the pretentious 
 axiom that probable reasoningcan never lead to certitude. 
 
 Locke's remarks on the subject are an illustration of 
 what I have been saying. This celebrated writer, after 
 the manner of his school, speaks freely of degrees of 
 assent, and considers that the strength of assent given 
 to each proposition varies with the strength of the 
 inference on which the assent follows ; yet he is obliged 
 to make exceptions to his general principle, — excep- 
 tions, unintelligible on his abstract doctrine, but de- 
 manded by the logic of facts. The practice of mankind 
 is too strong for the antecedent theorem, to which he 
 is desirous to subject it.
 
 Simple Assent. 161 
 
 First lie says, in his chapter " On Probability," 
 " Most of the propositions we think, reason, discourse, 
 nay, act upon, are such as we cannot have undoubted 
 knowledge of their truth ; yet some of them border so 
 near upon certainty, that we make no doubt at all about 
 them, but assent to them as firmly, and act according" to 
 that assent as resolutely, as if they were infallibly 
 demonstrated, and that our knowledge of them was 
 perfect and certain." Here he allows that inferences, 
 which are only " near upon certainty," are so near, that 
 we legitimately accept them with " no doubt at all," 
 and " assent to them as firmly as if they were infallibly 
 demonstrated. " That is, he affirms and sanctions the 
 very parodox to which I am committed myself. 
 
 Again ; he says, in his chapter on " The Degrees of 
 Assent," that " when any particular thing, consonant to 
 the constant observation of ourselves and others in the 
 like case, comes attested by the concurrent reports of all 
 that mention it, we receive it as easily, and build as 
 firmly upon it, as if it were certain knowledge, and we 
 reason and act thereupon, with as little doubt as if it were 
 perfect demonstration." And he repeats, " These pro- 
 babilities rise so near to certainty, that they govern our 
 thoughts as absolutely, and influence all our actions as 
 fully, as the most evident demonstration ; and in what 
 concerns us, we make little or no difference between 
 them and certain knowledge. Our belief thus grounded, 
 rises to assurance.'" Here again, " probabilities " may 
 be so strong as to (t govern our thoughts as absolutely" 
 as sheer demonstration, so strong that belief, grounded 
 on them, " rises to assurance," that is, to certitude. 
 
 M
 
 1 62 Assent considered as Unconditional. 
 
 I have so high a respect both for the character and 
 the ability of Locke, for his manly simplicity of mind 
 and his outspoken candour, and there is so much in his 
 remarks upon reasoning and proof in which I fully 
 concur, that I feel no pleasure in considering him in 
 the light of an opponent to views, which I myself have 
 ever cherished as true with an obstinate devotion ; and 
 I would willingly think that in the passage which 
 follows in his chapter on u Enthusiasm/' he is aiming at 
 superstitious extravagances which I should repudiate 
 myself as much as he can do ; but, if so, his words go 
 beyond the occasion, and contradict what I have quoted 
 from him above. 
 
 " He that would seriously set upon the search of 
 truth, ought, in the first place, to prepare his mind 
 with a love of it. For he that loves it not will not 
 take much pains to get it, nor be much concerned 
 when he misses it. There is nobody, in the common- 
 wealth of learning, who does not profess himself a lover 
 of truth, — and there is not a rational creature, that 
 would not take it amiss, to be thought otherwise of. 
 And yet, for all this, one may truly say, there are very 
 few lovers of truth, for truth-sake, even amongst those 
 who persuade themselves that they are so. How a man 
 may know, whether he be so, in earnest, is worth 
 inquiry ; and I think, there is this one unerring mark of 
 it, viz. the note ntertaining any proposition with greater 
 assurance than the proofs it is built on will warrant. 
 Whoever goes beyond this measure of assent, it is plain, 
 receives not truth in the love of it, loves not truth 
 for truth-sake, but for some other by-end. For the
 
 Simple Assent. 1 6 
 
 o 
 
 evidence that any proposition is true (except such as 
 are self-evident) lying only in the proofs a man has 
 of it, whatsoever degrees of assent he affords it beyond 
 the degrees of that evidence, it is plain all that surplusage 
 of assurance is owing to some other affection, and not to 
 the love of truth ; it being as impossible that the love 
 of truth should carry my assent above the evidence there 
 is to me that it is true, as that the love of truth should 
 make me assent to any proposition for the sake of that 
 evidence which it has not that it is true ; which is in 
 effect to love it as a truth, because it is possible or pro- 
 bable that it may not be true. 1 " 
 
 Here he says that it is not only illogical, but immoral 
 to " carry our assent above the evidence that a proposition 
 is true," to have " a surplusage of assurance beyond the 
 degrees of that evidence." And he excepts from this rule 
 only self-evident propositions. How then is it not incon- 
 sistent with right reason, with the love of truth for its 
 own sake, to allow, in his words quoted above, certain 
 strong " probabilities " to " govern our thoughts as 
 absolutely as the most evident demonstration " ? how 
 is there no " surplusage of assurance beyond the degrees 
 of evidence " when in the case of those strong proba- 
 bilities, we permit " our belief, thus grounded, to rise to 
 assurance," as he pronounces we are rational in doing ? 
 Of course he had in view one set of instances, when he 
 implied that demonstration was the condition of absolute 
 assent, and another set when he said that it was no such 
 condition ; but he surely cannot be acquitted of slovenly 
 
 1 Reference is made to Locke's statements in " Essay on Development 
 of Doctrine," ch. vii. § 2. 
 
 M 2
 
 1 64 Assent considered as Unconditional. 
 
 thinking in thus treating a cardinal subject. A philo- 
 sopher should so anticipate the application, and guard 
 the enunciation of his principles, as to secure them 
 against the risk of their being made to change places 
 with each other, to defend what he is eager to denounce, 
 and to condemn what he finds it necessary to sanction. 
 However, whatever is to be thought of his a priori 
 method and his logical consistency, his animus, I fear, 
 must be understood as hostile to the doctrine which I 
 am going to maintain. He takes a view of the human 
 mind, in relation to inference and assent, which to me 
 seems theoretical and unreal. Reasonings and convic- 
 tions which I deem natural and legitimate, he ap- 
 parently would call irrational, enthusiastic, perverse, 
 and immoral ; and that, as I think, because he consults 
 his own ideal of how the mind ought to act, instead of 
 interrogating human nature, as an existing thing, as it 
 is found in the world. Instead of going by the testi- 
 mony of psychological facts, and thereby determining 
 our constitutive faculties and our proper condition, and 
 being content with the mind as God has made it, he 
 would form men as he thinks they ought to be formed, 
 into something better and higher, and calls them irra- 
 tional and indefensible, if (so to speak) they take to the 
 water, instead of remaining under the narrow wings of 
 his own arbitrary theory. 
 
 1 . Now the first question which this theory leads me 
 to consider is, whether there is such an act of the mind 
 as assent at all. If there is, it is plain it ought to show 
 itself unequivocally as such, as distinct from other acts. 
 For if a professed act can only be viewed as the neces-
 
 Simple Assent. 165 
 
 sary and immediate repetition of another act, if assent is 
 a sort of reproduction and double of an act of inference, 
 if when inference determines that a proposition is some- 
 what, or not a little, or a good deal, or very like truth, 
 assent as its natural and normal counterpart says that 
 it is somewhat, or not a little, or a good deal, or very 
 like truth, then I do not see' what we mean by saying, 
 or why we say at all, that there is any such act. It is 
 simply superfluous, in a psychological point of view, and 
 a curiosity for subtle minds, and the sooner it is got out 
 of the way the better. When I assent, I am supposed, 
 it seems, to do precisely what I do when I infer, or 
 rather not quite so much, but something which is 
 included in inferring ; for, while the disposition of my 
 mind towards a given proposition is identical in assent 
 and in inference, I merely drop the thought of the pre- 
 misses when I assent, though not of their influence on 
 the proposition inferred. This, then, and no more after 
 all, is what nature prescribes ; and this, and no more 
 than this, is the conscientious use of our faculties, so to 
 assent forsooth as to do nothing else than infer. Then, 
 I say, if this be really the state of the case, if assent in 
 no real way differs from inference, it is one and the 
 same thing with it. It is another name for inference, 
 and to speak of it at all does but mislead. Nor can it 
 fairly be urged as a parallel case that an act of conscious 
 recognition, though distinct from an act of knowledge, 
 is after all only its repetition. On the contrary, such a 
 recognition is a reflex act with its own object, viz. the 
 act of knowledge itself. As well might it be said that 
 the hearing of the notes of my voice is a repetition of
 
 1 66 Assent considered as Unconditional. 
 
 the act of singing : — it gives no plausibility then to the 
 anomaly I am combating. 
 
 I lay it down, then, as a principle that either assent 
 is intrinsically distinct from inference, or the sooner 
 we get rid of the word in philosophy the better. If 
 it be only the echo of an inference, do not treat it 
 as a substantive act ; but on the other hand, suppos- 
 ing it be not such an idle repetition, as I am sure 
 it is not, — supposing the word " assent " does hold a 
 rightful place in language and in thought, — if it does 
 not admit of being confused with concluding and in- 
 ferring, — if the two words are used for two operations 
 of the intellect which cannot change their character, — if 
 in matter of fact they are not always found together, — if 
 they do not vary with each other, — if one is sometimes 
 found without the other, — if one is strong when the other 
 is weak, — if sometimes they seem even in conflict with 
 each other, — then, since we know perfectly well what an 
 inference is, it comes upon us to consider what, as dis- 
 tinct from inference, an assent is, and we are, by the 
 very fact of its being distinct, advanced one step 
 towards that account of it which I think is the true one. 
 The first step then towards deciding the point, will 
 be to inquire what the experience of human life, as it 
 is daily brought before us, teaches us of the relation to 
 each other of inference and assent. 
 
 (1 .) First, we know from experience that assents may 
 endure without the presence of the inferential acts upon 
 which they were originally elicited. It is plain, that, 
 as life goes on, we are not only inwardly formed and 
 changed by the accession of habits, but we are also en-
 
 Simple Assent. 167 
 
 riched by a great multitude of beliefs and opinions, and 
 that on a variety of subjects. These beliefs and opinions, 
 held, as some of them are, almost as first principles, are 
 assents, and they constitute, as it were, the clothing and 
 furniture of the mind. I have already spoken of them 
 under the head of " Credence " and " Opinion." Some- 
 times we are fully conscious of them ; sometimes they 
 are implicit, or only now and then come directly before 
 our reflective faculty. Still they are assents; and, when 
 we first admitted them, we had some kind of reason, 
 slight or strong, recognized or not, for doing so. How- 
 ever, whatever those reasons were, even if we ever 
 realized them, we have long forgotten them. Whether 
 it was the authority of others, or our own observation, 
 or our reading, or our reflections, which became the 
 warrant of our assent, any how we received the matters 
 in question into our minds as true, and gave them a 
 place there. We assented to them, and we still assent, 
 though we have forgotten what the warrant was. At 
 present they are self-sustained in our minds, and have 
 been so for long years; they are in no sense conclusions; 
 they imply no process of thought. Here then is a case 
 in which assent stands out as distinct from inference. 
 
 (2.) Again ; sometimes assent fails, while the reasons 
 for it and the inferential act which is the recognition of 
 those reasons, are still present, and in force. Our rea- 
 sons may seem to us as strong as ever, yet they do not 
 secure our assent. Our beliefs, founded on them, were 
 and are not ; we cannot perhaps tell when they went ; 
 we may have thought that we still held them, till some- 
 thing happened to call our attention to the state of our
 
 1 68 Assent considered as Unconditional. 
 
 minds, and then we found that our assent had become 
 an assertion. Sometimes, of course, a cause may be 
 found why they went; there may have been some vague 
 feeling that a fault lay at the ultimate basis, or in the 
 underlying conditions, of our reasonings ; or some mis- 
 giving that the subject-matter of them was beyond the 
 reach of the human mind ; or a consciousness that we 
 had gained a broader view of things in general than 
 when we first gave our assent ; or that there were strong 
 objections to our first convictions, which we had never 
 taken into account. But this is not always so ; some- 
 times our mind changes so quickly, so unaccountably, so 
 disproportionately to any tangible arguments to which 
 the change can be referred, and with such abiding recog- 
 nition of the force of the old arguments, as to suggest 
 the suspicion that moral causes, arising out of our con- 
 dition, age, company, occupations, fortunes, are at the 
 V_bottom. However, what once was assent is gone ; yet 
 the perception of the old arguments remains, showing 
 that inference is one thing, and assent another. 
 
 (3.) And as assent sometimes dies out without tan- 
 gible reasons, sufficient to account for its failure, so 
 sometimes, in spite of strong and convincing arguments, 
 it is never given. We sometimes find men loud in their 
 admiration of truths which they never profess. As, by 
 the law of our mental constitution, obedience is quite 
 distinct from faith, and men may believe without prac- 
 tising, so is assent also independent of our acts of in- 
 ference. Again, prejudice hinders assent to the most 
 incontrovertible proofs. Again, it not unfrequently 
 happens, that while the keenness of the ratiocinative
 
 Simple Assent. 169 
 
 faculty enables a man to see the ultimate result of a 
 complicated problem in a moment, it takes years for 
 hini to embrace it as a truth, and to recognize it as an 
 item in the circle of his knowledge. Yet he does at 
 last so accept it, and then we say that he assents. 
 
 (4.) Again; very numerous are the cases, in which 
 good arguments, and really good as far as they go, and 
 confessed by us to be good, nevertheless are not strong 
 enough to incline our minds ever so little to the conclu- 
 sion at which they point. But why is it that we do not 
 assent a little, in proportion to those arguments ? On 
 the contrary, we throw the full onus probandi on the 
 side of the conclusion, and we refuse to assent to it at 
 all, until we can assent to it altogether. The proof is 
 capable of growth ; but the assent either exists or does 
 not exist. 
 
 (5.) I have already alluded to the influence of moral 
 motives in hinderinsr assent to conclusions which are 
 logically unimpeachable. According to the couplet, — 
 
 "A man convinced against his will 
 Is of the same opinion still;" — 
 
 assent then is not the same as inference. 
 
 (6.) Strange as it may seem, this contrast between 
 inference and assent is exemplified even in the province 
 of mathematics. Argument is not always able to com- 
 mand our Assent, even though it be demonstrative. 
 Sometimes of course it forces its way, that is, when the 
 steps of the reasoning are few, and admit of being 
 viewed by the mind altogether. Certainly, one cannot 
 conceive a man having before him the series of con- 
 ditions and truths on which it depends that the three
 
 1 70 Assent considered as Unconditional. 
 
 angles of a triangle are together equal to two right 
 angles j and yet not assenting to that proposition. Were 
 all propositions as plain, though assent would not in 
 consequence be the same act as inference, yet it would 
 certainly follow immediately upon it. I allow then as 
 much as this, that, when an argument is in itself and 
 by itself conclusive of a truth, it has by a law of our 
 nature the same command over our assent, or rather the 
 truth which it has reached has the same command, as 
 our senses have. Certainly our intellectual nature is 
 under laws, and the correlative of ascertained truth is 
 unreserved assent. 
 
 But I am not speaking of short and lucid demonstra- 
 tions ; but of long and intricate mathematical investi- 
 gations ; and in that case, though every step may be 
 indisputable, it still requires a specially sustained atten- 
 tion and an effort of memory to have in the mind all at 
 once all the steps of the proof, with their bearings on 
 each other, and the antecedents which they severally 
 involve ; and these conditions of the inference may 
 interfere with the promptness of our assent. 
 
 Hence it is that party spirit or national feeling or 
 religious prepossessions have before now had power to 
 retard the reception of truths of a mathematical charac- 
 ter; which never could have been, if demonstrations 
 were ipso facto assents. Nor indeed would any mathe- 
 matician, even in questions of pure science, assent to his 
 own conclusions, on new and difficult ground, and in the 
 case of abstruse calculations, however often he went over 
 his work, till he had the corroboration of other judgments 
 besides his own. He would have carefully revised his
 
 Simple Assent. 1 7 1 
 
 inference, and would assent to the probability of his 
 accuracy in inferring, but still he would abstain from 
 an immediate assent to the truth of his conclusion. Yet 
 the corroboration of others cannot add to his perception 
 of the proof; he would still perceive the proof, even 
 though he failed in gaining their corroboration. And 
 yet again he might arbitrarily make it his rule, never 
 to assent to his conclusions without such corroboration, 
 or at least before the lapse of a sufficient interval. 
 Here again inference is distinct from assent. 
 
 I have been showing that inference and assent are 
 distinct acts of the mind, and that they may be made 
 apart from each other. Of course I cannot be taken to 
 mean that there is no legitimate or actual connexion 
 between them, as if arguments adverse to a conclusion 
 did not naturally hinder assent ; or as if the inclination 
 to give assent were not greater or less according as the 
 particular act of inference expressed a stronger or 
 weaker probability ; or as if assent did not always 
 imply grounds in reason, implicit, if not explicit, or 
 could be rightly given without sufficient grounds. 
 So much is it commonly felt that assent must be pre- 
 ceded by inferential acts, that obstinate men give their 
 own will as their very reason for assenting, if they can 
 think of nothing better ; " stat pro ratione voluntas." 
 Indeed, I doubt whether assent is ever given without 
 some preliminary, which stands for a reason ; but it 
 does not follow from this, that it may not be with- 
 held in cases when there are good reasons for giving 
 it to a proposition, or may not be withdrawn after 
 it has been given, the reasons remaining, or may
 
 172 Assent considered as Unconditional. 
 
 not remain when the reasons are forgotten, or must 
 always vaiy in strength, as the reasons vary; and 
 this substantiveness, as I may call it, of the act of 
 assent is the very point which I have wished to establish. 
 2. And in showing that assent is distinct from an act 
 of inference, I have gone a good way towards showing 
 in what it differs from it. If assent and inference are 
 each of them the acceptance of a proposition, but the 
 special characteristic of inference is that it is condi- 
 tional, it is natural to suppose that assent is uncon- 
 ditional. Again, if assent is the acceptance of truth, 
 and truth is the proper object of the intellect, and no 
 one can hold conditionally what by the same act he 
 holds to be true, here too is a reason for saying that 
 assent is an adhesion without reserve or doubt to the 
 proposition to which it is given. And again, it is to 
 be presumed that the word has not two meanings : 
 what it has at one time, it has at another. Inference 
 is always inference ; even if demonstrative, it is still 
 conditional ; it establishes an incontrovertible conclu- 
 sion on the condition of incontrovertible premisses. 
 To the conclusion thus drawn, assent gives its absolute 
 recognition. In the case of all demonstrations, assent, 
 when given, is unconditionally given. In one class of 
 subjects, then, assent certainly is always unconditional; 
 but if the word stands for an undoubting and unhesi- 
 tating act of the mind once, why does it not denote 
 the same always ? what evidence is there that it ever 
 means any thing else than that which the whole world 
 will unite in witnessing that it means in certain cases? 
 why are we not to interpret what is controverted by
 
 Simple Assent. 173 
 
 what is known ? This is what is suggested on the 
 first view of the question ; but to continue : — 
 
 In demonstrative matters assent excludes the pre- 
 sence of doubt : now are instances producible, on the 
 other hand, of its ever co-existing with doubt in cases 
 of the concrete ? As the above instances have shown, 
 on very many questions we do not give an assent at 
 all. What commonly happens is this, that, after hear- 
 ing and entering into what may be said for a proposi- 
 tion, we pronounce neither for nor against it. We may 
 accept the conclusion as a conclusion, dependent on 
 premisses, abstract, and tending to the concrete ; but 
 we do not follow up our inference of a proposition by 
 giving an assent to it. That there are concrete pro- 
 positions to which we give unconditional assents, I 
 shall presently show ; but I am now asking for instances 
 of conditional, for instances in which we assent a little 
 and not much. Usually, we do not assent at all. 
 Every day, as it comes, brings with it opportunities 
 for us to enlarge our circle of assents. We read the 
 newspapers ; we look through debates in Parliament, 
 pleadings in the law courts, leading articles, letters of 
 correspondents, reviews of books, criticisms in the fine 
 arts, and we either form no opinion at all upon the sub- 
 jects discussed, as lying out of our line, or at most we 
 have only an opinion about them. At the utmost we say 
 that we are inclined to believe this proposition or that, 
 that we are not sure it is not true, that much may be 
 said for it, that we have been much struck by it ; but we 
 never say that we give it a degree of assent. We might 
 as well talk of degrees of truth as of degrees of assent.
 
 1 74 Assent considered as Unconditional. 
 
 Yet Locke heads one of his chapters with the title 
 " Degrees of Assent ; " and a writer, of this century, 
 who claims our respect from the tone and drift of his 
 work, thus expresses himself after Locke's manner : 
 " Moral evidence," he says, " may produce a variety 
 of degrees of assents, from suspicion to moral certainty. 
 For here, the degree of assent depends upon the degree 
 in which the evidence on one side preponderates, or 
 exceeds that on the other. And as this preponderancy 
 may vary almost infinitely, so likewise may the degrees 
 of assent. For a few of these degrees, though but for a 
 few, names have been invented. Thus, when the evi- 
 dence on one side preponderates a very little, there is 
 ground for suspicion, or conjecture. Presumption, per- 
 suasion, belief, conclusion, conviction, moral certainty, 
 — doubt, wavering, distrust, disbelief, — are words 
 which imply an increase or decrease of this preponder- 
 ancy. Some of these words also admit of epithets 
 which denote a further increase or diminution of the 
 assent." 2 
 
 Can there be a better illustration than this passage 
 supplies of what I have been insisting on above, viz. 
 that, in teaching various degrees of assent, we tend to 
 destroy assent, as an act of the mind, altogether ? This 
 author makes the degrees of assent " infinite," as the 
 degrees of probability are infinite. His assents are 
 really only inferences, and assent is a name without 
 a meaning, the needless repetition of an inference. But 
 in truth " suspicion, conjecture, presumption, per- 
 
 2 Giiuibier 011 Moral Evidence, p. 6.
 
 < 
 
 Simple Assent. 175 
 
 suasion, belief, conclusion, conviction, moral certainty/' 
 are not " assents " at all ; they are simply more or less 
 strong inferences of a proposition ; and " doubt, waver- 
 ing distrust, disbelief," are recognitions, more or less 
 strong, of the probability of its contradictory. 
 
 There is only one sense in which we are allowed to 
 call such acts or states of mind assents. They are 
 opinions ; and, as being such, they are, as I have already 
 observed, when speaking of Opinion, assents to the 
 plausibility, probability, doubtfulness, or untrustworthi- 
 ness, of a proposition ; that is, not variations of assent 
 to an inference, but assents to a variation in inferences. 
 When I assent to a doubtfulness, or to a probability, 
 my assent, as such, is as complete as if I assented to a 
 truth ; it is not a certain degree of assent. And, in 
 like manner, I may be certain of an uncertainty ; that 
 does not destroy the specific notion convened in the 
 word " certain." 
 
 I do not know then when it is that we ever delibe- 
 rately profess assent to a proposition without meaning 
 to convey to others the impression that we accept it 
 unreservedly, and that because it is true. Certainly, 
 we familiarly use such phrases as a half-assent, as we 
 also speak of half-truths ; but a half-assent is not a 
 kind of assent any more than a half-truth is a kind of 
 truth. As the object is indivisible, so is the act. A 
 half-truth is a proposition which in one aspect is a 
 truth, and in another is not ; to give a half-assent is to 
 feel drawn towards assent, or to assent one moment and 
 not the next, or to be in the way to assent to it. It 
 means that the proposition in question deserves a hear- 

 
 i 76 Assent considered as Unconditional. 
 
 ing, that it is probable, or attractive, that it opens 
 important views, that it is a key to perplexing diffi- 
 culties, or the like. 
 
 3. Treating the subject then, not according to a priori 
 fitness, but according to the facts of human nature, as 
 they are found in the concrete action of life, I find 
 numberless cases in which we do not assent at all, none 
 in which assent is evidently conditional ; — and many, 
 as I shall now proceed to show, in which it is uncon- 
 ditional, and these in subject-matters which admit of 
 nothing higher than probable reasoning. If human 
 nature is to be its own witness, there is no medium 
 between assenting and not assenting. Locke's theory 
 of the duty of assenting more or less according to 
 degrees of evidence, is invalidated by the testimony of 
 high and low, young and old, ancient and modern, as 
 continually given in their ordinary sayings and doings. 
 Indeed, as I have shown, he does not strictly maintain 
 it himself; yet, though he feels the claims of nature 
 and fact to be too strong for him in certain cases, he 
 gives no reason why he should violate his theory in 
 these, and yet not in many more. 
 
 Now let us review some of those assents, which men 
 give on evidence short of intuition and demonstration, 
 yet which are as unconditional as if they had that 
 highest evidence. 
 
 First of all, starting from intuition, of course we all 
 believe, without any doubt, that we exist ; that we have 
 an individuality and identity all our own ; that we think, 
 feel, and act, in the home of our own minds ; that we 
 have a present sense of good and evil, of a right and a
 
 Simple Assent. 177 
 
 wrong, of a true and a false, of a beautiful and a hideous, 
 however we analyze our ideas of them, We have an 
 absolute vision before us of what happened yesterday 
 or last year, so as to be able without any chance of 
 mistake to give evidence upon it in a court of justice, 
 let the consequences be ever so serious. We are sure 
 that of many things we are ignorant, that of many 
 things we are in doubt, and that of many things we 
 are not in doubt. 
 
 Nor is the assent which we give to facts limited to 
 the range of self-consciousness. We are sure beyond 
 all hazard of a mistake, that our own self is not 
 the only being existing ; that there is an external 
 world; that it is a system with parts and a whole, a 
 universe carried on by laws ; and that the future is 
 affected by the past. We accept and hold with an 
 unqualified assent, that the earth, considered as a phe- 
 nomenon, is a globe; that all its regions see the 
 sun by turns ; that there are vast tracts on it of 
 land and water; that there are really existing cities 
 on definite sites, which go by the names of London, 
 Paris, Florence, and Madrid. We are sure that Paris 
 or London, unless suddenly swallowed up by an earth- 
 quake or burned to the ground, is to-day just what it 
 was yesterday, when we left it. 
 
 We laugh to scorn the idea that we had no parents, 
 though we have no memory of our birth ; that we shall 
 never depart this life, though we can have no experience 
 of the future ; that we are able to live without food, 
 though we have never tried ; that a world of men did 
 not live before our time, or that that world has had no 
 
 N
 
 178 Assent considered as Unconditional. 
 
 history ; that there has been no rise and fall of states, 
 no great men, no wars, no revolutions, no art, no 
 science, no literature, no religion. 
 
 We should be either indignant or amused at the re- 
 port of our intimate friend being false to us ; and we are 
 able sometimes, without any hesitation, to accuse cer- 
 tain parties of hostility and injustice to us. We may 
 have a deep consciousness, which we never can lose, 
 that we on our part have been cruel to others, and 
 that they have felt us to be so, or that we have been, 
 and have been felt to be, ungenerous to those who love 
 us. We may have an overpowering sense of our moral 
 weakness, of the precariousness of our life, health, 
 wealth, position, and good fortune. We may have a 
 clear view of the weak points of our physical constitu- 
 tion, of what food or medicine is good for us, and what 
 does us harm. We may be able to master, at least in 
 part, the course of our past history ; its turning-points, 
 our hits, and our great mistakes. We may have a sense 
 of the presence of a Supreme Being, which never has 
 been dimmed by even a passing shadow, which has in- 
 habited us ever since we can recollect any thing, and 
 which we cannot imagine our losing. We may be able, 
 for others have been able, so to realize the precepts and 
 truths of Christianity, as deliberately to surrender our 
 life, rather than transgress the one or to deny the other. 
 
 On all these truths we have an immediate and an 
 unhesitating hold, nor do we think ourselves guilty of 
 not loving truth for truth's sake, because we cannot 
 reach them through a series of intuitive propositions. 
 Assent on reasonings not demonstrative is too widely
 
 Simple Assent. 1 79 
 
 recognized an act to be irrational, unless man's nature 
 is irrational, too familiar to the prudent and clear-minded 
 to be an infirmity or an extravagance. None of us can 
 think or act without the acceptance of truths, not in- 
 tuitive, not demonstrated, yet sovereign. If our nature 
 has any constitution, any laws, one of them is this ab- 
 solute reception of propositions as true, which lie outside 
 the narrow range of conclusions to which logic, formal 
 or virtual, is tethered ; nor has any philosophical theory 
 the power to force on us a rule which will not work 
 for a day. 
 
 When, then, philosophers lay down principles, on 
 which it follows that our assent, except when given to 
 objects of intuition or demonstration, is conditional, that 
 the assent given to propositions by well-ordered minds 
 necessarily varies with the proof producible for them, 
 and that it does not and cannot remain one and the 
 same while the proof is strengthened or weakened, — 
 are they not to be considered as confusing together two 
 things very distinct from each other, a mental act or 
 state and a scientific rule, an interior assent and a set of 
 logical formulas? When they speak of degrees of assent, 
 surely they have no intention at all of defining the posi- 
 tion of the mind itself relative to the adoption of a given 
 conclusion, but they are recording their perception of the 
 relation of that conclusion towards its premisses. They 
 are contemplating how representative symbols work, not 
 how the intellect is affected to wards the thing which those 
 symbols represent. In real truth they as little mean 
 to assert the principle of measuring our assents by our 
 logic, as they would fancy they could record the refresh- 
 
 n 2
 
 i8o Assent considered as Unconditional. 
 
 ment which we receive from the open air by the readings 
 of the graduated scale of a thermometer. There is a 
 connexion doubtless between a logical conclusion and 
 an assent, as there is between the variation of the 
 mercury and our sensations ; but the mercury is not the 
 cause of life and health, nor is verbal argumentation the 
 principle of inward belief. If we feel hot or chilly, no one 
 will convince us to the contrary by insisting that the 
 glass is at 60°. It is the mmd that reasons and assents, 
 not a diagram on paper. I may have difficulty in the 
 management of a proof, while I remain unshaken in my 
 adherence to the conclusion. Supposing a boy cannot 
 make his answer to some arithmetical or algebraical 
 question tally with the book, need he at once distrust 
 the book? Does his trust in it fall down a certain 
 number of degrees, according to the force of his diffi- 
 culty ? On the contrary he keeps to the principle, im- 
 plicit but present to his mind, with which he took up 
 the book, that the book is more likely to be right than 
 he is ; and this mere preponderance of probability is 
 sufficient to make him faithful to his belief in its 
 correctness, till its incorrectness is actually proved. 
 
 My own opinion is, that the class of writers of whom 
 I have been speaking, have themselves as little mis- 
 giving about the truths which they pretend to weigh 
 out and measure, as their unsophisticated neighbours ; 
 but they think it a duty to remind us, that since the full 
 etiquette of logical requirements has not been satisfied, 
 we must believe those truths at our peril. They warn 
 us, that an issue which can never come to pass in matter 
 of fact, is nevertheless in theory a possible supposition.
 
 Simple Assent. 1 8 1 
 
 They do not, for instance, intend for a moment to imply 
 that there is even the shadow of a doubt that Great 
 Britain is an island, but they think we ought to know, 
 if we do not know, that there is no proof of the fact, in 
 mode and figure, equal to the proof of a proposition of 
 Euclid; and that in consequence they and we are all 
 bound to suspend our judgment about such a fact, 
 though it be in an infinitesimal degree, lest we should 
 seem not to love truth for truth's sake. Having made 
 their protest, they subside without scruple into that same 
 absolute assurance of only partially-proved truths, which 
 is natural to the illogical imagination of the multitude. 
 
 4. It remains to explain some conversational ex- 
 pressions, at first sight favourable to that doctrine of 
 degrees in assent, which I have been combating. 
 
 (1.) We often speak of giving a modified and quali- 
 fied, or a presumptive and prima facie assent, or (as I 
 have already said) a half-assent to opinions or facts ; 
 but these expressions admit of an easy explanation. 
 Assent, upon the authority of others is often, as I have 
 noticed, when speaking of notional assents, little more 
 than a profession or acquiescence or inference, not a real 
 acceptance of a proposition. I report, for instance, that 
 there was a serious fire in the town in the past night ; 
 and then perhaps I add, that at least the morning 
 papers say so; — that is, I have perhaps no positive doubt 
 of the fact ; still, by referring to the newspapers I imply 
 that I do not take on myself the responsibility of the 
 statement. In thus qualifying my apparent assent, I 
 show that it was not a genuine assent at all. In like 
 manner a. prima facie assent is an assent to an ante-
 
 1 82 Assent considered as Unconditional. 
 
 cedent probability of a fact, not to the fact itself; as I 
 might give a prima 'facie assent to the Plurality of worlds 
 or to the personality of Homer, without pledging myself 
 to either absolutely. " Half-assent/' of which I spoke 
 above, is an inclination to assent, or again, an intention 
 of assenting, when cei'tain difficulties are surmounted. 
 When we speak without thought, assent has as vague a 
 meaning as half-assent ; but when we deliberately say, 
 " I assent/' we signify an act of the mind so definite, 
 as to admit of no change but that of its ceasing to be. 
 (2.) And so, too, though we sometimes use the phrase 
 " conditional assent," yet we only mean thereby to say 
 that we will assent under certain contingencies. Of 
 course we may, if we please, include a condition in the 
 proposition to which our assent is given ; and then, 
 that condition enters into the matter of the assent, but 
 not into the assent itself. To assent to — " If this man 
 is in a consumption, his days are numbered/' — is as 
 little a conditional assent, as to assent to — " Of this 
 consumptive patient the days are numbered/' — which, 
 (though without the conditional form,) is an equivalent 
 proposition. In such cases, strictly speaking, the 
 assent is given neither to antecedent nor consequent 
 of the conditional proposition, but to their connexion, 
 that is, to the enthymematic inferentia. If we place 
 the condition external to the proposition, then the 
 assent will be given to " That ' his days are numbered ' 
 is conditionally true /' and of course we can assent to 
 the conditionality of a proposition as well as to its pro- 
 bability. Or again, if so be, we may give our assent 
 not only to the inferentia in a complex conditional pro-
 
 Simple Assent. 18 
 
 j 
 
 position, but to each of the simple propositions, of 
 which it is made up, besides. " There will be a storm 
 soon, for the mercury falls ;" — here, besides assenting 
 to the connexion of the propositions, we may assent 
 also to " The mercury falls/' and to " There will be a 
 storm/' This is assenting to the premiss, inferentia, 
 and thing inferred, all at once ; — we assent to the 
 whole syllogism, and to its component parts. 
 
 (3.) In like manner are to be explained the phrases, 
 i( deliberate assent," a "rational assent;" a " sudden," 
 " impulsive," or ' ' hesitating " assent. These expres- 
 sions denote, not kinds or qualities, but the circum- 
 stances of assenting. A deliberate assent is an assent 
 following upon deliberation. It is sometimes called a 
 conviction, a word which commonly includes in its 
 meaning two acts, both the act of inference, and the 
 act of assent consequent upon the inference. This sub- 
 ject will be considered in the next Section. On the 
 other hand, a hesitating assent is an assent to which 
 we have been slow and intermittent in coming ; or an 
 assent which, when given, is thwarted and obscured 
 by external and flitting misgivings, though not such as 
 to enter into the act itself, or essentially to damage it. 
 
 There is another sense in which we speak of a hesi- 
 tating or uncertain assent ; viz. when we assent in act, 
 but not in the habit of our minds. Till assent to a 
 doctrine or fact is my habit, I am at the mercy of 
 inferences contrary to it ; I assent to-day, and give up 
 my belief, or incline to disbelief, to-morrow. I may 
 find it my duty, for instance, after the opportunity of 
 careful inquiry and inference, to assent to another's
 
 184 Assent considered as Unconditional. 
 
 innocence, whom I have for years considered guilty ; 
 but from long prejudice I may be unable to carry my 
 new assent well about me, and may every now and then 
 relapse into momentary thoughts injurious to him. 
 
 (4.) Amore plausible objection to the absolute absence 
 of all doubt or misgiving in an act of assent is found in 
 the use of the terms firm and weak assent, or in the 
 growth of belief and trust. Thus, we assent to the 
 events of history, but not with that fulness and force 
 of adherence to the received account of them with which 
 we realize a record of occurrences which are within our 
 own memory. And again, we assent to the praise be- 
 stowed on a friend's good qualities with an energy which 
 we do not feel, when we are speaking of virtue in the 
 abstract : and if we are political partisans, our assent is 
 very cold, when we cannot refuse it, to representations 
 made in favour of the wisdom or patriotism of states- 
 men whom we dislike. And then as to religious sub- 
 jects we speak of "strong" faith and "feeble" faith; 
 of the faith which would move mountains, and of the 
 ordinaiy faith " without which it is impossible to please 
 God." And as we can grow in graces, so surely can 
 we inclusively in faith. Again we rise from one woi'k 
 on Christian Evidences with our faith enlivened and in- 
 vigorated; from another perhaps with the distracted 
 father's words in our mouth, "I believe, help my un- 
 belief." 
 
 Now it is evident, first of all, that habits of mind may 
 grow, as being a something permanent and continuous ; 
 and by assent growing, it is often only meant that the 
 habit grows and has greater hold upon the mind.
 
 Simple Assent. 185 
 
 But again, when we carefully consider the matter, it 
 will be found that this increase or decrease of strength 
 does not lie in the assent itself, but in its circumstances 
 and concomitants ; for instance, in the emotions, in the 
 ratiocinative faculty, or in the imagination. 
 
 For instance, as to the emotions, this strength of 
 assent may be nothing more than the strength of love, 
 hatred, interest, desire, or fear, which the object of the 
 assent elicits, and this is especially the case when that 
 object is of a religious nature. Such strength is adven- 
 titious and accidental ; it may come, it may go ; it is 
 found in one man, not in another ; it does not interfere 
 with the genuineness and perfection of the act of assent. 
 Balaam assented to the fact of his own intercourse with 
 the supernatural, as well as Moses; but, to use religious 
 language, he had light without love ; his intellect was 
 clear, his heart was cold. Hence his faith would popu- 
 larly be considered wanting in strength. On the other 
 hand, prejudice implies strong assents to the disad- 
 vantage of its object; that is, it encourages such assents, 
 and guards them from the chance of being lost. 
 
 Again, when a conclusion is recommended to us by 
 the number and force of the arguments in proof of it, 
 our recognition of them invests it with a luminousness, 
 which in one sense adds strength to our assent to it, 
 as it certainly does protect and embolden that assent. 
 Thus we assent to a review of recent events, which we 
 have studied from original documents, with a trium- 
 phant peremptoriness which it neither occurs to us, nor 
 is possible for us, to exercise, when we make an act of 
 assent to the assassination of Julius Caesar, or to the
 
 1 86 Assent considered as Unconditional. 
 
 existence of the Abipones, though we are as securely 
 certain of these latter facts as of the doings and occur- 
 rences of yesterday. 
 
 And further, all that I have said about the appre- 
 hension of propositions is in point here. We may 
 speak of assent to our Lord's divinity as strong or 
 feeble, according as it is given to the reality as im- 
 pressed upon the imagination, or to the notion of it as 
 entertained by the intellect. 
 
 (5.) Nor, lastly, does this doctrine of the intrinsic 
 integrity and indivisibility (if I may so speak) of 
 assent interfere with the teaching of Catholic theology 
 as to the pre-eminence of strength in divine faith, 
 which has a supernatural origin, when compared with 
 all belief which is merely human and natural. For first, 
 that pre-eminence consists, not in its differing from 
 human faith, merely in degree of assent, but in its being 
 superior in nature and kind 3 , so that the one does not 
 admit of a comparison with the other; and next, its 
 intrinsic superiority is not a matter of experience, but 
 is above experience 4 . Assent is ever assent 6 ; but in 
 
 3 " Supernaturalis mentis assensus, rebus fidei exhibitus, cum prtecipue 
 dependeat a gratia Dei intrinsecus meutem illuminante et commovente, 
 potest esse, et est, major quocunque assensu certitudini naturali praestito, 
 seu ex motivis naturalibus orto," &c. — Dmouski, Instit. t. i. p. 28. 
 
 4 " Hoc [viz. multo certior est homo de eo quod audit a, Deo qui falli non 
 potest, quam de eo quod videt propria ratione qua falli potest] intelli- 
 gendum est de certitudine fidei secundum appretiationem, non secundum 
 iutentiouem ; nam sa)pe contingit, ut scientia clarius percipiatur ab in- 
 telk'ctu, atque ut connexio scientiae cum veritate magis appareat, quam 
 connexio fidei cum eadem ; cognitiones enim naturales, utpote captui 
 nostro accommodate, magis animum auietant, delectant, et veluti 
 satiant."— Scavini, Theol. Moral, t. ii. p. 428. 
 
 * " Suppouo enim, veritatem fidei non esse certiorem veritate meta-
 
 Simple Assent. 1 8 7 
 
 the assent which follows on a divine announcement, 
 and is vivified by a divine grace, there is, from the 
 nature of the case, a transcendant adhesion of mind, 
 intellectual and moral, and a special self-protection, 6 
 beyond the operation of those ordinary laws of thought, 
 which alone have a place in my discussion. 
 
 physica. aut geometrica quoad modum assensionis, sed tantum quoad 
 rnoduin adbsesionis; quia utrinque intellectus absolute sine modo liuri- 
 tante assentitur. Sola autem adhsesio voluntatis diversa est ; quia in 
 actu fidei gratia seu habitus infusus roborat intellectum et voluutatem, 
 ne tam facile mutentur aut perturbentur." — Amort, Theol. t. i. p. 312. 
 
 " Ha?c distinctio certitudinis [ex diversitate rnotivorum] extrinsecarn 
 tantum differentiam importat, cum omnis naturalis certitudo, formaliter 
 spectata, sit sequalis ; debet enim essentialiter erroris periculum amovere, 
 exclusio autem periculi erroris in indivisibili consistit; aut enim babetur 
 aut non babetur." — Dmouski, ibid. p. 27. 
 
 6 " Fides est certior omni veritate naturali, etiam geometrice aut meta- 
 physice certa ; idque non solum certitudine adbtesionis sed etiam assen- 
 tionis. . . . Intellectus sentit se in multis veritatibus etiam metaphysice 
 certis posse per objectiones perturbari, e. g. si legat scepticos. . . . E 
 contra circa ea, qua3 constat esse revelata a Deo, nullus potest perturbari." 
 — Amort, ibid. p. 867.
 
 1 88 Assent considered as Unconditional. 
 
 § 2. Complex Assent. 
 
 I have been considering assent as the mental assertion 
 of an intelligible proposition, as an act of the intellect 
 direct, absolute, complete in itself, unconditional, arbi- 
 trary, yet not incompatible with an appeal to argument, 
 and at least in many cases exercised unconsciously. On 
 this last characteristic of assent I have not insisted, as 
 it has not come in my way; nor is it more than an 
 accident of acts of assent, though an ordinary accident. 
 That it is of ordinary occurrence cannot be doubted. 
 A great many of our assents are merely expressions of 
 our personal likings, tastes, principles, motives, and 
 opinions, as dictated by nature, or resulting from habit; 
 in other words, they are acts and manifestations of self: 
 now what is more rare than self-knowledge ? In pro- 
 portion then to our ignorance of self, is our unconscious- 
 ness of those innumerable acts of assent, which we are 
 incessantly making. And so again in what may be 
 almost called the mechanical operation of our minds, 
 in our continual acts of apprehension and inference, 
 speculation, and resolve, propositions pass before us and 
 receive Our assent without our consciousness. Hence it 
 is that we are so apt to confuse together acts of assent
 
 Complex Assent. 189 
 
 and acts of inference. Indeed, I may fairly say, that 
 those assents which we give with a direct knowledge of 
 what we are doing, are few compared with the multitude 
 of like acts which pass through our minds in long 
 succession without our observing them. 
 
 That mode of Assent which is exercised thus uncon- 
 sciously, I may call simple assent, and of it I have treated 
 in the foregoing Section ; but now I am going to speak 
 of such assents as must be made consciously and de- 
 liberately, and which I shall call complex or reflex 
 assents. And I begin by recalling what I have already 
 stated about the relation in which Assent and Inference 
 stand to each other, — Inference, which holds proposi- 
 tions conditionally, and Assent, which unconditionally 
 accepts them ; the relation is this : — ■ 
 
 Acts of Inference are both the antecedents of assent 
 before assenting, aud its usual concomitants after assent- 
 ing. For instance, I hold absolutely that the country 
 which we call India exists, upon trustworthy testimony ; 
 and next, I may continue to believe it on the same 
 testimony. In like manner, I have ever believed that 
 Great Britain is an island, for certain sufficient reasons ; 
 and on the same reasons I may persist in the belief. 
 But it may happen that I forget my reasons for what I 
 believe to be so absolutely true ; or I may never have 
 asked myself about them, or formally marshalled them 
 in order, and have been accustomed to assent without a 
 recognition of my assent or of its grounds, and then 
 perhaps something occurs which leads to my reviewing 
 and completing those grounds, analyzing and arranging 
 them, yet without on that account implying of necessity
 
 1 90 Assent considered as Unconditional. 
 
 any suspense, ever so slight, of assent, to the proposition 
 that India is in a certain part of the earth, and that 
 Great Britain is an island. With no suspense of assent at 
 all ; any more than the boy in my former illustration 
 had any doubt about the answer set down in his arith- 
 metic-book, when he began working out the question ; 
 any more than he would be doubting his eyes and his 
 common sense, that the two sides of a triangle are to- 
 gether greater than the third, because he drew out the 
 geometrical proof of it. He does but repeat, after his 
 formal demonstration, that assent which he made before 
 it, and assents to his previous assenting. This is what 
 I call a reflex or complex assent. 
 
 I say, there is no necessary incompatibility between 
 thus assenting and yet proving, — for the conclusiveness 
 of a proposition is not synonymous with its truth. A 
 proposition may be true, yet not admit of being con- 
 cluded; — it may be a conclusion and yet not a truth. 
 To contemplate it under one aspect, is not to contem- 
 plate it under another ; and the two aspects may be 
 consistent, from the very fact that they are two aspects. 
 Therefore to set about concluding a proposition is not 
 ipso facto to doubt its truth ; we may aim at inferring 
 a proposition, while all the time we assent to it. We 
 have to do this as a common occurrence, when we take 
 on ourselves to convince another on any point in which 
 he differs from us. We do not deny our own faith, 
 because we become controversialists; and in like manner 
 we may employ ourselves in proving what we already 
 believe to be true, simply in order to ascertain the pro- 
 ducible evidence in its favour, and in order to fulfil
 
 Co nip lex A ssent. 1 9 1 
 
 what is due to ourselves and to the claims and responsi- 
 bilities of our education and social position. 
 
 I have been speaking of investigation, not of inquiry; 
 it is quite true that inquiry is inconsistent with assent, 
 but inquiry is something more than the mere exercise of 
 inference. He who inquires has not found; he is in 
 doubt where the truth lies, and wishes his present pro- 
 fession either proved or disproved. We cannot without 
 absurdity call ourselves at once believers and inquirers 
 also. Thus it is sometimes spoken of as a hardship that 
 a Catholic is not allowed to inquire into the truth of 
 his Creed; — of course he cannot, if he would retain the 
 name of believer. He cannot be both inside and outside 
 of the Church at once. It is merely common sense to 
 tell him that, if he is seeking, he has not found. If 
 seeking includes doubting, and doubting excludes be- 
 lieving, then the Catholic who sets about inquiring, 
 thereby declares that he is not a Catholic. He has 
 already lost faith. And this is his best defence to him- 
 self for inquiring, viz. that he is no longer a Catholic, 
 and wishes to become one. They who would forbid him 
 to inquire, would in that case be shutting the stable- 
 door after the steed is stolen. What can he do better 
 than inquire, if he is in doubt ? how else can he become 
 a Catholic again ? Not to inquire is in his case to be 
 satisfied with disbelief. 
 
 However, in thus speaking, I am viewing the matter 
 in the abstract, and without allowing for the manifold 
 inconsistencies of individuals, as they are found in the 
 world, who attempt to unite incompatibilities ; who do 
 not doubt, but who act as if they did ; who, though they
 
 192 Assent considered as Unconditional. 
 
 believe, are weak in faith, and put themselves in the 
 way of losing it by unnecessarily listening to objections. 
 Moreover, there are minds, undoubtedly, with whom at 
 all times to question a truth is to make it questionable, 
 and to investigate is equivalent to inquiring; and again, 
 there may be beliefs so sacred or so delicate, that, if I 
 may use the metaphor, they will not wash without 
 shrinking and losing colour. I grant all this ; but here 
 I am discussing broad principles, not individual cases ; 
 and these principles are, that inquiry implies doubt, and 
 that investigation does not imply it, and that those who 
 assent to a doctrine or fact may without inconsistency 
 investigate its credibility, though they cannot literally 
 inquire about its truth. 
 
 Next, I consider that, in the case of educated minds, 
 investigations into the argumentative proof of the things 
 to which they have given their assent, is an obligatioD, 
 or rather a necessity. Such a trial of their intellects is 
 a law of their nature, like the growth of childhood into 
 manhood, and analogous to the moral ordeal which is 
 the instrument of their spiritual life. The lessons of 
 right and wrong, which are taught them at school, are 
 to be carried out into action amid the good and evil of 
 the woi"ld ; and so again the intellectual assents, in 
 which they have in like manner been instructed from the 
 first, have to be tested, realized, and developed by the 
 exercise of their mature judgment. 
 
 Certainly, such processes of investigation, whether in 
 religious subjects or secular, often issue in the reversal 
 of the assents which they were originally intended to 
 confirm ; as the boy who works out an arithmetical
 
 Complex Assent. 193 
 
 problem from his book may end in detecting, or think- 
 ing he detects, a false print in the answer. But the 
 question before us is whether acts of assent and of 
 inference are compatible ; and my vague consciousness 
 of the possibility of a reversal of my belief in the course 
 of my researches, as little interferes with the honesty 
 and firmness of that belief while those researches pro- 
 ceed, as the recognition of the possibility of my train's 
 oversetting is an evidence of an intention on my part 
 of undergoing so great a calamity. My mind is not 
 moved by a scientific computation of chances, nor can 
 any law of averages affect my particular case. To incur 
 a risk is not to expect reverse ; and if my opinions are 
 true, I have a right to think that they will bear exa- 
 mining. Nor, on the other hand, does belief, viewed in 
 its idea, imply a positive resolution in the party believing 
 never to abandon that belief. What belief, as such, 
 does imply is, not an intention never to change, but the 
 utter absence of all thought, or expectation, or fear of 
 changing. A spontaneous resolution never to change 
 is inconsistent with the idea of belief ; for the very force 
 and absoluteness of the act of assent precludes any such 
 resolution. We do not commonly determine not to do 
 what we cannot fancy ourselves ever doing. We should 
 readily indeed make such a formal promise if we were 
 called upon to do so ; for, since we have the truth, and 
 truth cannot change, how can we possibly change in our 
 belief, except indeed through our own weakness or 
 fickleness ? We have no intention whatever of being 
 weak or fickle ; so our promise is but the natural 
 guarantee of our sincerity. It is possible then, without 
 
 o
 
 1 94 Assent considered as Unconditional. 
 
 disloyalty to our convictions, to examine their grounds, 
 even though in the event they are to fail under the 
 examination, for we have no suspicion of this failure. 
 
 And such examination, as I have said, does but fulfil 
 a law of our nature. Our first assents, right or wrong, 
 are often little more than prejudices. The reasonings, 
 which precede and accompany them, though sufficient 
 for their purpose, do not rise up to the importance and 
 energy of the assents themselves. As time goes on, by 
 degrees aud without set purpose, by reflection and expe- 
 rience, we begin to confirm or to correct the notions and 
 the images to which those assents are given. At times 
 it is a necessity formally to undertake a survey and revi- 
 sion of this or that class of them, of those which relate 
 to religion, or to social duty, or to politics, or to the 
 conduct of life. Sometimes this review begins in doubt 
 as to the matters which we propose to consider, that is, 
 in a suspension of the assents hitherto familiar to us; 
 sometimes those assents are too strong to allow of being 
 lost on the first stirring of the inquisitive intellect, and 
 if, as time goes on, they give way, our change of mind, 
 be it for good or for evil, is owing to the accumulating 
 force of the arguments, sound or unsound, which bear 
 down upon the propositions which we have hitherto 
 received. Objections, indeed, as such, have no direct 
 force to weaken assent ; but, when they multiply, they 
 tell against the implicit reasonings or the formal infer- 
 ences which are its warrant, and suspend its acts and 
 gradually undermine its habit. Then the assent goes; 
 but whether slowly or suddenly, noticeably or impercep- 
 tibly, is a matter of circumstance or accident. How-
 
 Complex Assent. 195 
 
 ever, whether the original assent is continued on or not, 
 the new assent differs from the old in this, that it has 
 the strength of explicitness and deliberation, that it is 
 not a mere prejudice, and its strength the strength of 
 prejudice. It is an assent, not only to a given proposi- 
 tion, but to the claim of that proposition on our assent 
 as true; it is an assent to an assent, or what is com- 
 monly called a conviction. 
 
 Of course these reflex acts may be repeated in a series. 
 As I pronounce that " Great Britain is an island," and 
 then pronounce " That ' Great Britain is an island ' has 
 a claim on my assent/'' or is to " be assented-to," or to 
 be " accepted as true," or to be " believed," or simply 
 " is true " (these predicates being equivalent), so I may 
 proceed, " The proposition ' that Great-Britain-is- an- 
 island is to be believed' is to be believed/' &c, &c, and 
 so on to ad infinitum. But this would be trifling. The 
 mind is like a double mirror, in which reflexions of self 
 within self multiply themselves till they are undistin- 
 guishable, and the first reflexion contains all the rest. 
 At the same time, it is worth while to notice two other 
 reflex propositions : — " That ' Great Britain is an island ' 
 is probable " is true ; — and " That ' Great Britain is an 
 island ' is uncertain " is true : — for the former of these 
 is the expression of Opinion, and the latter of formal 
 or theological Doubt, as I have already determined. 
 
 I have one step farther to make — let the proposition 
 to which the assent is given be as absolutely true as the 
 reflex act pronounces it to be, that is, objectively true as 
 well as subjectively : — then the assent may be called a 
 
 2
 
 196 Assent considered as Unconditional. 
 
 perception, the conviction a certitude, the proposition or 
 truth a certainty, or thing known, or a matter of knoiv- 
 ledge, and to assent to it is to know. 
 
 Of course, in thus speaking, I opeu the all-important 
 question, what is truth, and what apparent truth ? what 
 is genuine knowledge, and what is its counterfeit ? what 
 are the tests for discriminating certitude from mere 
 persuasion or delusion ? Whatever a man holds to be 
 true, he will say he holds for certain ; and for the 
 present I must allow him in his assumption, hoping in 
 one way or another, as I proceed, to lessen the difficul- 
 ties which lie in the wav of calling him to account for 
 so doing. And I have the less scruple in taking this 
 course, as believing that, among fairly prudent and 
 circumspect men, there are far fewer instances of false 
 certitude than at first sight might be supposed. Men 
 are often doubtful about propositions which are really 
 true ; they are not commonly certain of such as are 
 simply false. What they judge to be a certainty is in 
 matter of fact for the most part a truth. Not that 
 there is not a great deal of rash talking even among the 
 educated portion of the community, and many a man 
 makes professions of certitude, for which he has no 
 warrant; but that such off-hand, confident language is 
 no token how thesepersons will express themselves when 
 brought to book. No one will with justice consider 
 himself certain of any matter, unless he has sufficient 
 reasons for so considering; aud it is rare that what is 
 not true should be so free from every circumstance and 
 token of falsity as to create no suspicion in his mind to 
 its disadvantage, no reason for suspense of judgment.
 
 Complex Assent. 197 
 
 However, I shall have to remark on this difficulty by 
 and by ; here I will mention two conditions of certitude, 
 in close connexion with that necessary preliminary of 
 investigation and proof of which I have been speaking, 
 which will throw some light upon it. The one, which 
 is a priori, or from the nature of the case, will tell us 
 what is not certitude ; the other, which is a posteriori, 
 or from experience, will tell us in a measure what 
 certitude is. 
 
 Certitude, as I have said, is the perception of a 
 truth with the perception that it is a truth, or the con- 
 sciousness of knowing, as expressed in the phrase," " I 
 know that I know/' or " I know that I know that I 
 know/' — or simply "I know;" forone reflex assertion of 
 the mind about self sums up the series of self-conscious- 
 nesses without the need of any actual evolution of them. 
 
 1. But if so, if by certitude about a thing is to 
 be understood the knowledge of its truth, let it 
 be considered that what is once true is always true, 
 and cannot fail, whereas what is once known need 
 not always be known, and is capable of failing. It 
 follows, that if I am certain of a thing, I believe it 
 will remain what I now hold it to be, even though 
 my mind should have the bad fortune to let it drop. 
 Since mere argument is not the measure of assent, 
 no one can be called certain of a proposition, whose 
 mind does not spontaneously and promptly reject, on 
 their first suggestion, as idle, as impertinent, as sophis- 
 tical, any objections which are directed against its 
 truth. No man is certain of a truth, who can endure 
 the thought of the fact of its contradictory existing or
 
 198 Assent considered as Unconditional. 
 
 occurring; and that not from any set purpose or effort to 
 reject that thought, but, as I have said, by the spontaneous 
 action of the intellect. What is contradictory to the truth, 
 with its apparatus of argument, fades out of the mind as 
 fast as it enters it ; and though it be brought back to the 
 mind ever so often by the pertinacity of an opponent, or 
 by a voluntary or involuntary act of imagination, still 
 that contradictory proposition and its arguments are 
 mere phantoms and dreams, in the light of our certitude, 
 and their very entering into the mind is the first step of 
 their going out of it. Such is the position of our minds 
 towards the heathen fancy that Enceladus lies under 
 Etna ; or, not to take so extreme a case, that Joanna 
 Southcote was a messenger from heaven, or the Emperor 
 Napoleon really had a star. Equal to this peremptory 
 assertion of negative propositions is the revolt of the 
 mind from suppositions incompatible with positive 
 statements of which we are certain, whether abstract 
 truths or facts ; as that a straight line is the longest 
 possible distance between its two extreme points, that 
 Great Britain is in shape an exact square or circle, 
 that I shall escape dying, or that my intimate friend is 
 false to me. 
 
 We may indeed say, if we please, that a man ought 
 not to have so supreme a conviction in a given case, or 
 in any case whatever ; and that he is therefore wrong 
 in treating opinions which he does not himself hold, 
 with this even involuntary contempt ; — certainly, we 
 have a right to say so, if we will ; but if, in matter of 
 fact, a man has such a conviction, if he is sure that 
 Ireland is to the West of England, or that the Pope is
 
 Complex Assent. 199 
 
 the Yicar of Christ, nothing is left to him, if he would 
 be consistent, but to carry his conviction out into this 
 magisterial intolerance of any contrary assertion ; and 
 if he were in his own mind tolerant, I do not say patient 
 (for patience and gentleness are moral duties, but I 
 mean intellectually tolerant), of objections as objections, 
 he would virtually be giving countenance to the views 
 which those objections represented. I say I certainly 
 should be very intolerant of such a notion as that I 
 shall one day be Emperor of the French ; I should 
 think it too absurd even to be ridiculous, and that I 
 must be mad before I could entertain it. And did a 
 man try to persuade me that treachery, cruelty, or in- 
 gratitude was as praiseworthy as honesty and tempe- 
 rance, and that a man who lived the life of a knave and 
 died the death of a brute had nothing to fear from 
 future retribution, I should think there was no call on 
 me to listen to his arguments, except with the hope of 
 converting him, though he called me a bigot and a 
 coward for refusing to inquire into his speculations. 
 And if, in a matter in which my temporal interests were 
 concerned, he attempted to reconcile me to fraudulent 
 acts by what he called philosophical views, I should say 
 to him, " Retro Satana," and that, not from any sus- 
 picion of his ability to reverse immutable principles, 
 but from a consciousness of my own moral changeable- 
 ness, and a fear, on that account, that I might not be 
 intellectually true to the truth. This, then, from the 
 nature of the case, is a main characteristic of certitude 
 in any matter, to be confident indeed that that certitude 
 will last, but to be confident of this also, that, if it did
 
 200 Assent considered as Unconditional. 
 
 fail, nevertheless, the thing itself, whatever it is, of 
 which we are certain, will remain just as it is, true and 
 irreversible. If this be so, it is easy to instance cases 
 of an adherence to propositions, which does not fulfil 
 the conditions of certitude ; for instance : — 
 
 (1 .) How positive and circumstantial disputants may 
 be on two sides of a question of fact, on which they 
 gi^e their evidence, till they are called to swear to it, 
 and then how guarded and conditional their testimony 
 becomes ! Again, how confident are they in their rival 
 accounts of a transaction at which they were present, 
 till a third person makes his appearance, whose word 
 will be decisive about it ! Then they suddenly drop 
 their tone, and trim their statements, and by provisos 
 and explanations leave themselves loopholes for escape, 
 in case his testimony should turn out to their dis- 
 advantage. At first no language could be too bold or 
 absolute to express the distinctness of their knowledge 
 on this side or that; but second thoughts are best, and 
 their giving way shows that their belief does not come 
 up to the mark of certitude. 
 
 (2.) Again, can we doubt that many a confident 
 expounder of Scripture, who is so sure that St. Paul 
 meant this, and that St. John and St. James did not 
 mean that, would be seriously disconcerted at the 
 presence of those Apostles, if their presence were pos- 
 sible, and that they have now an especial " boldness of 
 speech" in treating their subject, because there is no one 
 authoritatively to set them right, if they are wrong ? 
 
 (3.) Take another instance, in which the absence of 
 certitude is professed from the first. Though it is a
 
 Complex Assent. 201 
 
 matter of faith with Catholics that miracles never cease 
 in the Church, still that this or that professed miracle 
 really took place, is for the most part only a matter of 
 opinion, and when it is believed, whether on testimony 
 or tradition, it is not believed to the exclusion of all 
 doubt, whether about the fact or its miraculousness. 
 Thus I may believe in the liquefaction of St. Pantaleon's 
 blood, and believe it to the best of my judgment to be 
 a miracle, yet, supposing a chemist offered to produce 
 exactly the same phenomena under exactly similar cir- 
 cumstances by the materials put at his command by his 
 science, so as to reduce what seemed beyoud nature 
 within natural laws, I should watch with some suspense 
 of mind and misgiving the course of his experiment, as 
 having no Divine Word to fall back upon as a ground 
 of certainty that the liquefaction was miraculous. 
 
 (4.) Take another virtual exhibition of fear ; I mean 
 irritation and impatience of contradiction, vehemence of 
 assertion, determination to silence others, — these are the 
 tokens of a mind which has not yet attained the tranquil 
 enjoyment of certitude. No one, I suppose, would say 
 that he was certain of the Plurality of worlds : that 
 uncertitude on the subject is just the explanation, and 
 the only explanation satisfactory to my mind, of the 
 strange violence of language which has before now 
 dishonoured the philosophical controversy upon it. 
 Those who are certain of a fact are indolent disputants; 
 it is enough for them that they have the truth; and they 
 have little disposition, except at the call of duty, to 
 criticize the hallucinations of others, and much less 
 are they angry at their positiveness or ingenuity in
 
 202 Assent considered as Unconditional. 
 
 argument ; bat to call names, to impute motives, to 
 accuse of sophistry, to be impetuous and overbearing, is 
 the part of men who are alarmed for their own position, 
 and fear to have it approached too nearly. And in like 
 manner the intemperance of language and of thought, 
 which is sometimes found in converts to a religious 
 creed, is often attributed, not without plausibility (even 
 though erroneously in the particular case), to some flaw 
 in the completeness of their certitude, which interferes 
 with the harmony and repose of their convictions. 
 
 (5.) Again, this intellectual anxiety, which is incom- 
 patible with certitude, shows itself in our running back 
 in our minds to the arguments on which we came to 
 believe, in not letting our conclusions alone, in going 
 over and strengthening the evidence, and, as it were, 
 getting it by heart, as if our highest assent were only 
 an inference. And such too is our unnecessarily de- 
 claring that we are certain, as if to reassure ourselves, 
 and our appealing to others for their suffrage in behalf 
 of the truths of which we are so sure ; which is like 
 our asking another whether we are weary and hungry, 
 or have eaten and drunk to our satisfaction. 
 
 All laws are general ; none are invariable ; I am not 
 writing as a moralist or casuist. It must ever be re- 
 collected that these various phenomena of mind, though 
 signs, are not infallible signs of uncertitude ; they may 
 proceed, in the particular case, from other circum- 
 stances. Such anxieties and alarms may be merely 
 emotional and from the imagination, not intellectual; 
 parallel to that beating of the heart, nay, as I have been 
 told, that trembling of the limbs, of even the bravest
 
 Complex Assent. 203 
 
 men, before a battle, when standing still to receive the 
 first attack of the enemy. Such too is that palpitating 
 self-interrogation, that trouble of the mind lest it 
 should not believe strongly enough, which, and not 
 doubt, underlies the sensitiveness described in the 
 well-known lines, — 
 
 "With eyes too tremblingly awake, 
 To bear with dimness for His sake." 
 
 And so again, a man's over-earnestness in argument 
 may arise from zeal or charity ; his impatience from 
 loyalty to the truth; his extravagance from want of taste, 
 from enthusiasm, or from youthful ardour; and his rest- 
 less recurrence to argument, not from personal disquiet, 
 but from a vivid appreciation of the controversial talent 
 of an opponent, or of his own, or of the mere philoso- 
 phical difficulties of the subject in dispute. These are 
 points for the consideration of those who are concerned 
 in registering and explaining what may be called the 
 meteorological phenomena of the human mind, and do 
 not interfere with the broad principle which I would lay 
 down, that to fear argument is to doubt the conclusion, 
 and to be certain of a truth is to be careless of objections 
 to it ; — nor with the practical rule, that mere assent is 
 not certitude, and must not be confused with it. 
 
 2. Now to consider what Certitude is, not simply as 
 it must be, but in our actual experience of it. 
 
 It is accompanied, as a state of mind, by a specific 
 feeling, proper to it, and discriminating it from other 
 states, intellectual and moral, I do not say, as its prac- 
 tical test or as its differentia, but as its token, and in a 
 certain sense its form. When a man says he is certain,
 
 204 Assent considered as Unconditional. 
 
 he means he is conscious to himself of having this spe- 
 cific feeling. It is a feeling of satisfaction and self- 
 gratulation, of intellectual security, arising out of a sense 
 of success, attainment, possession, finality, as regards the 
 matter which has been in question. As a conscientious 
 deed is attended by a self-approval which nothing but 
 itself can create, so certitude is united to a sentiment sui 
 generis in which it lives and is manifested. These two 
 parallel sentiments indeed have no relationship with 
 each other, the enjoyable self-repose of certitude being 
 as foreign to a good deed, as the self-approving glow of 
 conscience is to the perception of a truth; yet knowledge, 
 as well as virtue, is an end, and both knowledge and 
 virtue, when reflected on, carry with them respectively 
 their own reward in the characteristic sentiment, which, 
 as I have said, is proper to each. And, as the perform- 
 ance of what is right is distinguished by this religious 
 peace, so the attainment of what is true is attested by 
 this intellectual security. 
 
 And, as the feeling of self-approbation, which is 
 proper to good conduct, does not belong to the sense or 
 to the possession of the beautiful or of the becoming, of 
 the pleasant or of the useful, so neither is the special 
 relaxation and repose of mind, which is the token of 
 Certitude, ever found to attend upon simple Assent, on 
 processes of Inference, or on Doubt ; nor on Investiga- 
 tion, conjecture, opinion, as such, or on any other state 
 or action of mind, besides Certitude. On the contrary, 
 those acts and states of mind have gratifications proper 
 to themselves, and unlike that of Certitude, as will 
 sufficiently appear on considering them separately.
 
 Complex Assent. 205 
 
 (1.) Philosophers are fond of enlarging on the pleasures 
 of Knowledge, (that is, Knowledge as such,) nor need I 
 here prove that such pleasures exist ; but the repose in 
 self and in its object, as connected with self, which I 
 attribute to Certitude, does not attach to mere knowing, 
 that is, to the perception of things, but to the conscious- 
 ness of having that knowledge. The simple and direct 
 perception of things has its own great satisfaction • but 
 it must recognize them as realities, and recognize them 
 as known, before it becomes the perception and has the 
 satisfaction which belong to certitude. Indeed, as far as 
 I see, the pleasure of perceiving truth without reflecting 
 on it as truth, is not very different, except in intensity 
 and in dignity, from the pleasure, as such, of assent or 
 belief given to what is not true, nay, from the pleasure of 
 the mere passive reception of recitals or narratives, which 
 neither profess to be true nor claim to be believed. 
 Eepresentations of any kind are in their own nature 
 pleasurable, whether they be true or not, whether they 
 come to us, or do not come, as true. We read a history, 
 or a biographical notice, with pleasure ; and we read a 
 romance with pleasure ; and a pleasure which is quite 
 apart from the question of fact or fiction. Indeed, when 
 we would persuade young people to read history, we tell 
 them that it is as interesting as a romance or a novel. 
 The mere acquisition of new images, and those images 
 striking, great, various, unexpected, beautiful, with 
 mutual relations and bearings, as being parts of a whole, 
 with continuity, succession, evolution, with recurring 
 complications and corresponding solutions, with a crisis 
 and a catastrophe, is highly pleasurable, quite indepen-
 
 206 Assent considered as Unconditional. 
 
 dently of the question whether there is any truth in them. 
 I am not denying' that we should be baulked and dis- 
 appointed to be told they were all untrue, but this seems 
 to arise from the reflection that we have been taken in ; 
 not as if the fact of their truth were a distinct element 
 of pleasure, though it would increase the pleasure, as 
 investing them with a character of marvellousness, and 
 as associating them with known or ascertained places. 
 But even if the pleasure of knowledge is not thus founded 
 on the imagination, at least it does not consist in that 
 triumphant repose of the mind after a struggle, which is 
 the characteristic of Certitude. 
 
 And so too as to such statements as gain from us a 
 half-assent, as superstitious tales, stories of magic, of 
 romantic crime, of ghosts, or such as we follow for the 
 moment with a faint and languid assent, — contemporary 
 history, political occurrences, the news of the day, — the 
 pleasure resulting from these is that of novelty or curi- 
 osity, and is like the pleasure arising from the excitement 
 of chance and from variety ; it has in it no sense of pos- 
 session : it is simply external to us, and has nothing 
 akin to the thought of a battle and a victory. 
 
 (2.) Again, the Pursuit of knowledge has its own 
 pleasure, — as distinct from the pleasures of knowledge, as 
 it is distinct from that of consciously possessing it. This 
 will be evident at once, if we consider what a vacuity 
 and depression of mind sometimes comes upon us on the 
 termination of an inquiry, however successfully termi- 
 nated, comparod with the interest and spirit with which 
 we carried it on. The pleasure of a search, like that of 
 a hunt, lies in the searching, and ends at the point at
 
 Complex Assent. 207 
 
 which the pleasure of Certitude begins. Its elements are 
 altogether foreign to those which go to compose the 
 serene satisfaction of Certitude. First, the successive 
 steps of discovery, which attend on an investigation, 
 are continual and ever-extending informations, and 
 pleasurable, not only as such, but also as the evidence 
 of past efforts, and the earnest of success at the last. 
 Next, there is the interest which attaches to a mystery, 
 not yet removed, but tending to removal, — the complex 
 pleasure of wonder, expectation, sudden surprises, sus- 
 pense, and hope, of advances fitful yet sure, to the 
 unknown. And there is the pleasure which attaches to 
 the toil and conflict of the strong, the consciousness 
 and successive evidences of power, moral and intellec- 
 tual, the pride of ingenuity and skill, of industry, 
 patience, vigilance, and perseverance. 
 
 Such are the pleasures of investigation and discovery ; 
 and to these we must add, what I have suggested in the 
 last sentence, the logical satisfaction, as it may be called, 
 which accompanies these efforts of mind. There is great 
 pleasure, as is plain, at least to certain minds, in pro- 
 ceeding from particular facts to principles, in general- 
 izing, discriminating, reducing into order and meaning 
 the maze of phenomena which nature presents to us. 
 This is the kind of pleasure attendant on the treatment of 
 probabilities which point at conclusions without reaching 
 them, or of objections which must be weighed and 
 measured, and adjusted for what they are worth, over 
 and against propositions which are antecedently evident. 
 It is the special pleasure belonging to Inference as 
 contrasted with Assent, a pleasure almost poetical, as
 
 2o8 Assent considered as Unconditional. 
 
 twilight has more poetry in it than noon-day. Such is 
 the joy of the pleader, with a good case in hand, and 
 expecting the separate attacks of half a dozen acute 
 intellects, each advancing from a point of his own. I 
 suppose this was the pleasure which the Academics had 
 in mind, when they propounded that happiness lay, not 
 in finding the truth, but in seeking it. To seek, indeed, 
 with the certainty of not finding what we seek, cannot 
 in any serious matter, be pleasurable, any more than the 
 labour of Sisyphus or the Danaides; but when the result 
 does not concern us very much, clever arguments and 
 rival ones have the attraction of a game of chance or 
 skill, whether or not they lead to any definite conclusion. 
 (3.) Are there pleasures of Doubt, as well as of Infer- 
 ence and of Assent? In one sense, there are. Not indeed, 
 if doubt simply means ignorance, uncertainty, or hopeless 
 suspense ; but there is a certain grave acquiescence in 
 ignorance, a recognition of our impotence to solve mo- 
 mentous and urgent questions, which has a satisfaction 
 of its own. After high aspirations, after renewed en- 
 deavours, after bootless toil, after long wanderings, after 
 hope, effort, weariness, failure, painfully alternating and 
 recurring, it is an immense relief to the exhausted mind 
 to be able to say, "At length I know that I can know 
 nothing about any thing," — that is, while it can main- 
 tain itself in a posture of thought which has no promise 
 of permanence, because it is unnatural. But here the 
 satisfaction does not lie in not knowing, but in knowing 
 there is nothing to know. It is a positive act of assent 
 or conviction, given to what in the particular case is an 
 untruth. It is the assent and the false certitude which
 
 Complex Assent. 209 
 
 are the cause of the tranquillity of mind. Ignorance 
 remains the evil which it ever was, but something of 
 the peace of Certitude is gained in knowing the worst, 
 and in having reconciled the mind to the endurance 
 of it. 
 
 I may seem to have been needlessly diffuse in thus 
 dwelling on the pleasurable affections severally attend- 
 ing on these various conditions of the intellect, but I 
 have had a purpose in doing so. That Certitude is a 
 natural and normal state of mind, and not (as is some- 
 times objected) one of its extravagances or infirmities, 
 is proved indeed by the remarks which I have made 
 above on the same objection, as directed against Assent; 
 for Certitude is only one of its forms. But I have 
 thought it well in addition to suggest, even at the ex- 
 pense of a digression, that as no one would refuse to 
 Inquiry, Doubt, and Knowledge a legitimate place 
 among our mental constituents, so no one can reasonably 
 ignore a state of mind which not only is shown to be 
 substantive by possessing a sentiment sui generis and 
 characteristic, but is analogical to Inquiry, Doubt, and 
 Knowledge, in the fact of its thus having a sentiment 
 of its own.
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 CERTITUDE. 
 
 § 1. Assent and Certitude contrasted. 
 
 In proceeding to compare together simple assent and 
 complex, that is, Assent and Certitude, I begin by 
 observing, that popularly no distinction is made between 
 the two ; or rather, that in religious teaching that is 
 called Certitude to which I have given the name of 
 Assent. I have no difficulty in adopting such a use of 
 the words, though the course of my investigation has 
 led me to another. Perhaps religious assent may be fitly 
 called, to use a theological term, " material certitude ;" 
 and the first point of comparison which I shall make 
 between the two states of mind, will serve to set me 
 right with the common way of speaking. 
 
 1. It certainly follows then, from the distinctions 
 which I have made, that great numbers of men must 
 be considered to pass through life with neither doubt 
 nor, on the other hand, certitude (as I have used the 
 words) on the most important propositions which can 
 occupy their minds, but with only a simple assent, that
 
 Assent and Certitude contrasted. 2 1 1 
 
 is, an assent which they barely recognize, or bring home 
 to their consciousness or reflect upon, as being assent. 
 Such an assent is all that religious Protestants com- 
 monly have to show, who believe nevertheless with 
 their whole hearts the contents of Holy Scripture. 
 Such too is the state of mind of multitudes of good 
 Catholics, perhaps the majority, who live and die in a 
 simple, full, firm belief in all that the Church teaches, 
 because she teaches it, — in the belief of the irreversible 
 truth of whatever she defines and declares, — but who, 
 as being far removed from Protestant and other dis- 
 sentients, and having but little intellectual training, 
 have never had the temptation to doubt, and never the 
 opportunity to be certain. There were whole nations in 
 the middle ages thus steeped in the Catholic Faith, who 
 never used its doctrines as matter for argument or re- 
 search, or changed the original belief of their childhood 
 into the more scientific convictions of philosophy. As 
 there is a condition of mind which is characterized by 
 invincible ignorance, so there is another which may be 
 said to be possessed of invincible knowledge ; and it 
 would be paradoxical in me to deny to such a mental 
 state the highest quality of religious faith, — I mean 
 certitude. 
 
 I allow this, and therefore I will call simple assent 
 material certitude ; or, to use a still more apposite term 
 for it, interpretative certitude. I call it interpretative, 
 signifying thereby that, though the assent in the indi- 
 viduals here contemplated is not a reflex act, still the 
 question only has to be started about the truth of the 
 objects of their assent, iu order to elicit from them an 
 
 p 2
 
 2 1 2 Certitude. 
 
 act of faith in response which will fulfil the conditions 
 of certitude, as I have drawn them out. As to the argu- 
 mentative process necessary for such an act, it is valid 
 and sufficient, if it be carried out seriously, and propor- 
 tionate to their several capacities : — " The Catholic 
 Religion is true, because its objects, as present to my 
 mind, control and influence my conduct as nothing else 
 does •" or " because it has about it an odour of truth and 
 sanctity sui generis, as perceptible to my moral nature as 
 flowers to my sense, such as can only come from heaven ;"' 
 or " because it has never been to me any thing but 
 peace, joy, consolation, and strength, all through my 
 troubled life." And if the particular argument used in 
 some instances needs strengthening, then let it be 
 observed, that the keenness of the real apprehension with 
 which the assent is made, though it cannot be the 
 legitimate basis of the assent, may still legitimately act, 
 and strongly act, in confirmation. Such, I say, would 
 be the promptitude and effectiveness of the reasoning, 
 and the facility of the change from assent to certitude 
 proper, in the case of the multitudes in question, did the 
 occasion for reflection occur ; but it does not occur ; and 
 accordingly, most genuine and thorough as is the 
 assent, it can only be called virtual, material, or inter- 
 pretative certitude, if I have above explained certitude 
 rightly. 
 
 Of course these remarks hold g'ood in secular subjects 
 as well as religious : — I believe, for instance, that I am 
 living in an island, that Julius Cassar once invaded it, 
 that it has been conquered by successive races, that it 
 has had great political and social changes, and that at
 
 Assent and Certitude contrasted. 2 1 3 
 
 this time it lias colonies, establishments, and imperial 
 dominion all over the earth. All this I am accustomed 
 to take for granted without a thought ; but, were the 
 need to arise, I should not find much difficulty in drawing 
 out from my own mental resources reasons sufficient to 
 justify me in these beliefs. 
 
 It is true indeed that, among the multitudes who are 
 thus implicitly certain, there may be those who would 
 change their assents, did they seek to place them upon 
 an argumentative footing ; for instance, some believers 
 in Christianity, did they examine into its claims, might 
 end in renouncing it. But this is only saying that 
 there are genuine assents, and assents that ultimately 
 become not genuine ; and again, that there is an assent 
 which is not a virtual certitude, and is lost in the attempt 
 to make it certitude. And of course we are not gifted 
 with that insight into the minds of individuals, which 
 enables us to determine before the event, when it is that 
 an assent is really such, and when not, or not a deeply 
 rooted assent. Men may assent lightly, or from mere 
 prejudice, or without understanding what it is to which 
 they assent. They may be genuine believers in 
 Revelation up to the time when they begin formally to 
 examine, — nay, and really have implicit reasons for their 
 belief, — and then, being overcome by the number of 
 views which they have to confront, and swayed by the 
 urgency of special objections, or biassed by their 
 imaginations, or frightened by a deeper insight into the 
 claims of religion upon the soul, may, in spite of their 
 habitual and latent grounds for believing, shrink back 
 and withdraw their assent. Or again, they may once
 
 2 1 4 Certitude. 
 
 have believed, but their assent has gradually become a 
 mere profession, without their knowing it ; then, when 
 by accident they interrogate themselves, they find no 
 assent within them at all to turn into certitude. The 
 event, I say, alone determines whether what is out- 
 wardly an assent is really such an act of the mind as 
 admits of being developed into certitude, or is a mere 
 self-delusion or a cloak for unbelief. 
 
 2. Next, I observe, that, of the two modes of ap- 
 prehending propositions, notional and real, assent, as I 
 have already said, has closer relations with real than 
 with notional. Now a simple assent need not be 
 notional ; but the reflex or confirmatory assent of cer- 
 titude always is given to a notional proposition, viz. to 
 the truth, necessity, duty, &c, of our assent to the 
 simple assent and to its proposition. Its predicate is a 
 general term, and .cannot stand for a fact, whereas the 
 original proposition, included in it, may, and often does, 
 express a fact. Thus, " The cholera is in the midst of 
 us " is a real proposition ; but (< That ' the cholera is in 
 the midst of us ' is beyond all doubt " is a notional. 
 Now assent to a real proposition is assent to an imagi- 
 nation, and an imagination, as supplying objects to our 
 emotional and moral nature, is adapted to be a principle 
 of action : accordingly, the simple assent to "The cholera 
 is among us," is more emphatic and operative, than the 
 confirmatory assent, " It is beyond reasonable doubt that 
 ' the cholera is among us. ; " The confirmation gives 
 momentum to the complex act of the mind, but the 
 simple assent gives it its edge. The simple assent would 
 still be operative in its measure, though the reflex assent
 
 Assent and Certitude contrasted. 2 1 5 
 
 was, not " It is undeniable/' but " It is probable " that 
 " the cholera is among us ;" whereas there would be no 
 operative force in the mental act at all, though the 
 reflex assent was to the truth, not to the probability of 
 the fact, if the fact which was the object of the simple 
 assent was nothing more than " The cholei*a is in China.'" 
 The reflex assent then, which is the characteristic of 
 certitude, does not immediately touch us ; it is purely 
 intellectual, and, taken by itself, has scarcely more force 
 than the recording of a conclusion. 
 
 I have taken an instance, in which the matter which 
 is submitted for examination and for assent, can hardly 
 fail of being interesting to the minds employed upon it ; 
 but in many cases, even though the fact assented-to has 
 a bearing upon action, it is not directly of a nature to 
 influence the feelings or conduct, except of particular 
 persons. And in such instances of certitude, the 
 previous labour of coming to a conclusion, and that 
 repose of mind which I have above described as attendant 
 on an assent to its truth, often counteracts whatever of 
 lively sensation the fact thus concluded is in itself 
 adapted to excite ; so that what is gained in depth and 
 exactness of belief is lost as regards freshness and vigour. 
 Hence it is that literary or scientific men, who may have 
 investigated some difficult point of history, philosophy, 
 or physics, and have come to their own settled conclusion 
 about it, having had a perfect right to form one, are far 
 more disposed to be silent as to their convictions, and to 
 let others alone, than partisans on either side of the 
 question, who take it up with less thought and serious- 
 ness. And so again, in the religious world, no one seems
 
 2 1 6 Certitude. 
 
 to look for any great devotion or fervour in contro- 
 versialists, writers on Christian Evidences, theologians, 
 and the like, it being taken for granted, rightly or 
 wrongly, that such men are too intellectual to be 
 spiritual, and are more occupied with the truth of doc- 
 trine than with its reality. If, on the other hand, we 
 would see what the force of simple assent can be, viewed 
 apart from its reflex confirmation, we have but to look at 
 the generous and uncalculating energy of faith as 
 exemplified in the primitive Martyrs, in the youths who 
 defied the pagan tyrant, or the maidens who were 
 silent under his tortures. It is assent, pure and simple, 
 ' which is the motive cause of great achievements ; it is 
 a confidence, growing out of instincts rather than argu- 
 ments, stayed upon a vivid apprehension, and animated 
 by a transcendent logic, more concentrated in will and 
 in deed for the very reason that it has not been sub- 
 jected to any intellectual development. 
 
 It must be borne in mind, that, in thus speaking, I 
 am contrasting with each other the simple and the 
 reflex assent, which together make up the complex act 
 of certitude. In its complete exhibition keenness in 
 believing is united with repose and persistence. 
 
 3. We must take the constitution of the human mind 
 as we find it, and not as we may judge it ought to be ; — 
 thus I am led on to another remark, which is at first 
 sight disadvantageous to Certitude. Introspection of our 
 intellectual operations is not the best of means for pre- 
 serving us from intellectual hesitations. To meddle with 
 the springs of thought and action is really to weaken 
 them ; and, as to that argumentation which is the pre-
 
 
 I 
 
 
 Assent and Certitude contrasted. 2 1 7 
 
 liminary to Certitude, it may indeed be unavoidable, but, 
 as in the case of other serviceable allies, it is not so easy 
 to discard it, after it has done its work, as it was in 
 the first instance to obtain its assistance. Questioning, 
 when encouraged on any subject-matter, readily becomes 
 a habit, and leads the mind to substitute exercises of 
 inference for assent, whether simple or complex. Rea- 
 sons for assenting suggest reasons for not assenting, and 
 what were realities to our imagination, while our assent 
 was simple, may become little more than notions, when 
 we have attained to certitude. Objections and difficulties 
 tell upon the mind ; it may lose its elasticity, and be 
 unable to throw them off. And thus, even as regards 
 things which it may be absurd to doubt, we may, in 
 consequence of some past suggestion of the possibility of 
 error, or of some chance association to their disadvantage, 
 be teazed from time to time and hampered by involun- 
 tary questionings, as if we were not certain, when we 
 are. Nay, there are those, who are visited with these 
 even permanently, as a sort of muscce volitantes of their 
 mental vision, ever flitting to and fro, and dimming 
 its clearness and completeness — visitants, for which they 
 are not responsible, and which they know to be unreal, 
 still so seriously interfering with their comfort and even 
 with their energy, that they may be tempted to com- 
 plain that even blind prejudice has more of quiet and 
 of durability than certitude. 
 
 As even Saints may suffer from imaginations in which 
 they have no part, so the shreds and tatters of former 
 controversies, and the litter of an argumentative habit, 
 may beset and obstruct the intellect, — questions which
 
 ( 
 
 
 
 218 Certitude. 
 
 have been solved without their solutions, chains of reason- 
 ing with missing links, difficulties which have their roots 
 in the nature of things, and which are necessarily left 
 behind in a philosophical inquiry because they cannot be 
 removed, and which call for the exercise of good sense 
 and for strength of will to put them down with a high 
 hand, as irrational or preposterous. Whence comes evil ? 
 why are we created without our consent ? how can the 
 Supreme Being have no beginning ? how can He need 
 skill, if He is omnipotent ? if He is omnipotent, why 
 does He permit suffering ? If He permits suffering, how 
 is He all-loving ? if He is all-loving, how can He be 
 just? if He is infinite, what has He to do with the 
 finite ? how can the temporary be decisive of the eter- 
 nal ? — these, and a host of like questions, must arise in 
 every thoughtful mind, and, after the best use of reason, 
 must be deliberately put aside, as beyond reason, as (so 
 to speak) no-thoroughfares, which, having no outlet 
 themselves, have no legitimate power to divert us from 
 the King's highway, and to hinder the direct course of 
 religious inquiry from reaching its destination. A 
 serious obstruction, however, they will be now and then 
 to particular minds, enfeebling the faith which they 
 cannot destroy, — being parallel to the uncomfortable 
 associations with which sometimes we regard one whom 
 we have fallen-in with, acquaintance or stranger, arising 
 from some chance word, look, or action of his which we 
 have witnessed, and which prejudices him in our imagi- 
 nation, though we are angry with ourselves that it 
 should do so. 
 
 Again, when, in confidence of our own certitude, and
 
 Assent and Certitude contrasted. 219 
 
 with a view to philosophical fairness, we have attempted 
 successfully to throw ourselves out of our habits of belief 
 into a simply dispassionate frame of mind, then vague 
 antecedent improbabilities, or what seem to us as such, 
 — merely what is strange or marvellous in certain truths, 
 merely the fact that things happen in one way and not 
 in another, when they must happen in some way, — may 
 disturb us, as suggesting to us, " Is it possible ? who 
 would have thought it ! what a coincidence ! " without 
 really touching the deep assent of our whole intellectual 
 beiug to the object, whatever it be, thus irrationally 
 assailed. Thus we may wonder at the Divine Mercy of 
 the Incarnation, till we grow startled at it, and ask why 
 the earth has so special a theological history, or why we 
 are Christians and others not, or how God can really 
 exert a particular governance, since He does not punish 
 such sinners as we are, thus seeming to doubt His 
 power or His equity, though in truth we are not doubt- 
 ing at all. 
 
 The occasion of this intellectual waywardness may be 
 slighter still. I gaze on the Palatine Hill, or on the 
 Parthenon, or on the Pyramids, which I have read of 
 from a boy, or upon the matter-of-fact reality of the 
 sacred places in the Holy Land, and I have to force my 
 imagination to follow the guidance of sight and of 
 reason. It is to me so strange that a lifelong belief 
 should be changed into sight, and things should be 
 so near me, which hitherto had been visions. And 
 so in times, first of suspense, then of joy ; (i When the 
 Lord turned the captivity of Sion, then" (according to 
 the Hebrew text) " we were like unto them that dream."
 
 220 Certitude. 
 
 Yet it was a dream which they were certain was a truth, 
 while they seemed to doubt it. So, too, was it in some 
 sense with the Apostles after our Lord's resurrection. 
 
 Such vague thoughts, haunting or evanescent, are in 
 no sense akin to that struggle between faith and unbelief, 
 which made the poor father cry out, " I believe, help 
 Thou mine unbelief ! " Nay, even what in some minds 
 seems like an undercurrent of scepticism, or a faith 
 founded on a perilous substratum of doubt, need not be 
 more than a temptation, though robbing Certitude of its 
 normal peacefulness. In such a case, faith may still 
 express the steady conviction of the intellect; it may 
 still be the grave, deep, calm, prudent assurance of 
 mature experience, though it is not the ready and im- 
 petuous assent of the young, the generous, or the 
 unreflecting. 
 
 4. There is another characteristic of Certitude, in 
 contrast with Assent, which it is important to insist 
 upon, and that is, its persistence. Assents may and do 
 change; certitudes endure. This is why religion demands 
 more than an assent to its truth ; it requires a certitude, 
 or at least an assent which is convertible into certitude 
 on demand. Without certitude in religious faith there 
 may be much decency of profession and of observance, 
 but there can be no habit of prayer, no directness of 
 devotion, no intercourse with the unseen, no generosity 
 of self-sacrifice. Certitude then is essential to the 
 Christian; and if he is to persevere to the end, his 
 certitude must include in it a principle of persistence. 
 This it has; as I shall explain in the next Section.
 
 Indcf edibility of Certitude. 221 
 
 § 2. Indefectibilitt of Certitude, 
 
 It is the characteristic of certitude that its object is a 
 truth, a truth as such, a proposition as true. There are 
 right and wrong convictions, and certitude is a right 
 conviction; if it is not right with a consciousness of 
 being right, it is not certitude. Now truth cannot 
 change ; what is once truth is always truth ; and the 
 human mind is made for truth, and so rests in truth, as 
 it cannot rest in falsehood. When then it once becomes 
 possessed of a truth, what is to dispossess it ? but this is 
 to be certain ; therefore once certitude, always certitude. 
 If certitude in any matter be the termination of all doubt 
 or fear about its truth, and an unconditional conscious 
 adherence to it, it carries with it an inward assurance, 
 strong though implicit, that it shall never fail. Inde- 
 fectibility almost enters into its very idea, enters into it 
 at least so far as this, that its failure, if of frequent 
 occurrence, would prove that certitude was after all and 
 in fact an impossible act, and that what looked like it 
 was a mere extravagance of the intellect. Truth would 
 still be truth, but the knowledge of it would be beyond 
 us and unattainable. It is of great importance then to 
 show, that, as a geueral rule, certitude does not fail ; that
 
 222 Certitude. 
 
 failures of wliat was taken for certitude are the exception; 
 that the intellect, which is made for truth, can attain 
 truth, and, having attained it, can keep it, can recognize 
 it, and preserve the recognition. 
 
 This is on the whole reasonable ; yet are the stipu- 
 lations, thus obviously necessary for an act or state of 
 certitude, ever fulfilled ? We know what conjecture is, 
 and what opinion, and what assent is, can we point out 
 any specific state or habit of thought, of which the dis- 
 tinguishing mark is unchangeableness ? On the con- 
 trary, any conviction, false as well as true, may last : and 
 any conviction, true as well as false, may be lost. A 
 conviction in favour of a proposition may be exchanged 
 for a conviction of its contradictory ; and each of them 
 may be attended, while they last, by that sense of security 
 and repose, which a true object alone can legitimately 
 impart. No line can be drawn between such real certi- 
 tudes as have truth for their object, and apparent cer- 
 titudes. No distinct test can be named, sufficient to 
 discriminate between what may be called the false 
 prophet and the true. What looks like certitude always 
 is exposed to the chance of turning out to be a mistake. 
 If our intimate, deliberate conviction may be counterfeit 
 in the case of one proposition, why not in the case of 
 another ? if in the case of one man, why not in the case of 
 a hundred ? Is certitude then ever possible without 
 the attendant gift of infallibility ? can we know what is 
 right in one case, unless we are secured against error in 
 any ? Further, if one man is infallible, why is he different 
 from his brethren ? unless indeed he is distinctly marked 
 out for the prerogative. Must not all men be infallible
 
 Indcfcctib ility of Certitude . 223 
 
 by consequence, if any man is to be considered as 
 certain ? 
 
 The difficulty, thus stated argumentatively, has only 
 too accurate a response in what actually goes on in the 
 world. It is a fact of daily occurrence that men change 
 their certitudes, that is, what they consider to be such, 
 and are as confident and well-established in their new 
 opinions as they were once in their old. They take up 
 forms of religion only to leave them for their contra- 
 dictories. They risk their fortunes and their lives on 
 impossible adventures. They commit themselves by word 
 and deed, in reputation and position, to schemes which 
 in the event they bitterly repent of and renounce ; they 
 set out in youth with intemperate confidence in prospects 
 which fail them, and in friends who betray them, ere 
 they come to middle age ; and they end their days in 
 cynical disbelief of truth and virtue any where ; — and 
 often, the more absurd are their means and their ends, so 
 much the longer do they cling to them, and then again 
 so much the more passionate is their eventual disgust 
 and contempt of them. How then can certitude be 
 theirs, how is certitude possible at all, considering it is 
 so often misplaced, so often fickle and inconsistent, so 
 deficient in available criteria ? And, as to the feelinsr of 
 finality and security, ought it ever to be indulged ? Is 
 it not a mere weakness or extravagance, a deceit, to be 
 eschewed by every clear and prudent mind ? With the 
 countless instances, on all sides of us, of human fallibility, 
 with the constant exhibitions of antagonist certitudes, 
 who can so sin against modesty and sobriety of mind, as 
 not to be content with probability, as the true guide of
 
 224 Certitude. 
 
 life, renouncing ambitious thoughts, which are sure 
 either to delude him, or to disappoint ? 
 
 This is what may be objected : now let us see what 
 can be said in answer, particularly as regards religious 
 certitude. 
 
 1. 
 
 First, as to fallibility and infallibility. It is very 
 common, doubtless, especially in religious controversy, 
 to confuse infallibility with certitude, and to argue that, 
 since we have not the one, we have not the other, for that 
 no one can claim to be certain on any point, who is not 
 infallible about all; but the two words stand for things 
 quite distinct from each other. For example, I remem- 
 ber for certain what I did yesterday, but still my memory 
 is not infallible; I am quite clear that two and two 
 makes four, but I often make mistakes in long addition 
 sums. I have no doubt whatever that John or Richard 
 is my true friend, but I have before now trusted those 
 who failed me, and I may do so again before I die. A 
 certitude is directed to this orthatparticularproposition; 
 it is not a faculty or gift, but a disposition of mind rela- 
 tively to a definite case which is before me. Infallibi- 
 lity, on the contrary, is just that which certitude is not; 
 it is a faculty or gift, and relates, not to some one truth 
 in particular, but to all possible propositions in a given 
 subject-matter. We ought in strict propriety, to speak, 
 not of infallible acts, but of acts of infallibility. A belief 
 or opinion as little admits of being called infallible, as a 
 deed can correctly be called immortal. A deed is done 
 and over; it may be great, momentous, effective, any-
 
 Indcfectibility of Certitude. 225 
 
 tiling but immortal ; it is its fame, it is the work "which 
 it brings to pass, which is immortal, not the deed itself. 
 And as a deed is good or bad, but never immortal, so a 
 belief, opinion, or certitude is true or false, but never 
 infallible. We cannot speak of things which exist or 
 things which once were, as if they were something in 
 posse. It is persons and rules that are infallible, not 
 what is brought out into act, or committed to paper. A 
 man is infallible, whose words are always true ; a rule is 
 infallible, if it is unerring in all its possible applications. 
 An infallible authority is certain in every particular case 
 that may arise ; but a man who is certain in some one . 
 definite case, is not on that account infallible. 
 
 I am quite certain that Victoria is our Sovereign, and 
 not her father, the late Duke of Kent, without laying 
 any claim to the gift of infallibility; as I may do a 
 virtuous action, without being impeccable. I may be 
 certain that the Church is infallible, while I am myself 
 a fallible mortal; otherwise, I cannot be certain that 
 the Supreme Being is infallible, until I am infallible 
 myself. It is a strange objection, then, which is some- 
 times urged against Catholics, that they cannot prove 
 and assent to the Church's infallibility, unless they first 
 believe in their own. Certitude, as I have said, is 
 directed to one or other definite concrete proposition. I 
 am certain of proposition one, two, three, four, or five, 
 one by one, each by itself. I may be certain of one of 
 them, without being certain of the rest ; that I am cer- 
 tain of the first makes it neither likely nor unlikely that 
 I am certain of the second ; but were I infallible, then I 
 should be certain, not only of one of them, but of all, 
 
 Q
 
 226 Certitude. 
 
 and of many more besides, which have never come before 
 me as yet. Therefore we may becertain of the infallibility 
 of the Church, while we admit that in many things we 
 are not, and cannot be, certain at all. 
 
 It is wonderful that a clear-headed man, like Chilling- 
 worth, sees this as little as the run of e very-day objec- 
 tors to the Catholic religion; for in his celebrated 
 " Religion of Protestants " he writes as follows: — "You 
 tell me they cannot be saved, unless they believe in your 
 proposals with an infallible faith. To which end they 
 must believe also your propounder, the Church, to be 
 simply infallible. Now how is it possible for them to 
 give a rational assent to the Church's infallibility, unless 
 they have some infallible means to know that she is infal- 
 lible ? Neither can they infallibly know the infallibility 
 of this means, but by some other ; and so on for ever, 
 unless they can dig so deep, as to come at length to the 
 Rock, that is, to settle all upon something evident of 
 itself, which is not so much as pretended. - " l 
 
 Now what is an " infallible means " ? It is a means 
 of coming at a fact without the chance of mistake. It 
 is a proof which is sufficient for certitude in the parti- 
 cular case, or a proof that is certain. "When then Chil- 
 lingworth says that there can be no ' ' rational assent to 
 the Church's infallibility " without " some infallible 
 means of knowing that she is infallible," he means 
 nothing else than some means which is certain ; he says 
 that for a rational assent to infallibility there must be an 
 absolutely valid or certain proof. This is intelligible ; 
 but observe how his argument will run, if worded 
 1 ii. n. 15 i. Vide Xote at the end of the volume.
 
 Indefectibility of Certitude. 227 
 
 according to this interpretation : " The doctrine of the 
 Church's infallibility requires a proof that is certain ; 
 and that certain proof requires another previous certain 
 proof, and that again another, and so on ad infinitum, 
 unless indeed we dig so deep as to settle all upon some- 
 thing evident of itself/' What is this but to say that 
 nothing in this world is certain but what is self-evident ? 
 that nothing can be absolutely proved ? Can he really 
 mean this ? What then becomes of physical truth ? of 
 the discoveries in optics, chemistry, and electricity, or 
 of the science of motion ? Intuition by itself will carry 
 us but a little way into that circle of knowledge which 
 is the boast of the present age. 
 
 I can believe then in the infallible Church without 
 my own personal infallibility. Certitude is at most 
 nothing more than infallibility pro hac vice, and promises 
 nothing as to the truth of any proposition beside its 
 own. That I am certain of this proposition to-day, is 
 no ground for thinking that I shall have a right to be 
 certain of that proposition to-morrow ; and that I am 
 wrong in my convictions about to-day's proposition, 
 does not hinder my having a true conviction, a genuine 
 certitude, about to-morrow's proposition. If indeed I 
 claimed to be infallible, one failure would shiver my 
 claim to pieces ; but I may claim to be certain of the 
 truth to which I have already attained, though I should 
 arrive at no new truths in addition as long as I 
 live. 
 
 Q 2
 
 228 Certitude. 
 
 2. 
 
 Let us put aside the word " infallibility ; " let us 
 understand by certitude, as I have explained it, nothing 
 more than a relation of the mind towards given propo- 
 sitions : — still, it may be urged, it involves a sense of 
 security and of repose, at least as regards these in parti- 
 cular. Now how can this security be mine, — without 
 which certitude is not, — if I know, as I know too well, 
 that before now I have thought myself certain, when I 
 was certain after all of an untruth ? Is not the very 
 possibility of certitude lost to me for ever by that one 
 mistake? What happened once, may happen again. 
 All my certitudes before and after are henceforth de- 
 stroyed by the introduction of a reasonable doubt, under- 
 lying them all. Ipso facto they cease to be certitudes, — 
 they come short of unconditional assents by the measure 
 of that counterfeit assurance. They are nothing more 
 to me than opinions or anticipations, judgments on the 
 verisimilitude of intellectual views, not the possession 
 and enjoyment of truths. And who has not thus been 
 V balked by false certitudes a hundred times in the course 
 of his experience ? and how can certitude have a legiti- 
 mate place in our mental constitution, when it thus 
 manifestly ministers to error and to scepticism ? 
 
 This is what may be objected, and it is not, as I think, 
 difficult to answer. Certainly, the experience of mistakes 
 in the assents which we have made are to the prejudice of 
 subsequent ones. There is an antecedent difficulty in our 
 allowing ourselves to be certain of something to-day, if 
 yesterday we had to give up our belief of something else,
 
 Indefcdibility of Certitude. 229 
 
 of which we had up to that time professed ourselves to 
 be certain. This is true; but antecedent objections to an 
 act are not sufficient of themselves to prohibit its exer- 
 cise ; they may demand of us an increased circumspec- 
 tion before committing ourselves to it, but may be met 
 with reasons more than sufficient to overcome them. 
 
 It must be recollected that certitude is a deliberate 
 assent given expressly after reasoning. If then my cer- 
 titude is unfounded, it is the reasoning that is in fault, 
 not my assent to it. It is the law of my mind to seal 
 up the conclusions to which ratiocination has brought 
 me, by that formal assent which I have called a certi- 
 tude. I could indeed have withheld my assent, but I 
 should have acted against my nature, had I done so when 
 there was what I considered a proof; and I did only 
 what was fitting, what was incumbent on me, upon 
 those existing conditions, in giving it. This is the pro- 
 cess by which knowledge accumulates and is stored up 
 both in the individual and in the world. It has some- 
 times been remarked, when men have boasted of the 
 knowledge of modern times, that no wonder we see more 
 than the ancients, because we are mounted upon their 
 shoulders. The conclusions of one generation are the 
 truths of the next. We are able, it is our duty, deli- 
 berately to take things for granted which our forefathers 
 had a duty to doubt about ; and unless we summarily 
 put down disputation on points which have been already 
 proved and ruled, we shall waste our time, and make no 
 advances. Circumstances indeed may arise, when a 
 question may legitimately be revived, whicb has already 
 been definitely determined; but a ro-cousideration of
 
 2 2,o Certitude. 
 
 such a question need not abruptly unsettle the existing 
 certitude of those who engage in it, or throw thern into 
 a scepticism about things in general, even though 
 eventually they find they have been wrong in a particu- 
 lar matter. It would have been absurd to prohibit the 
 controversy which has lately been held concerning the 
 obligations of Newton to Pascal ; and supposing it had 
 issued in their being established, the partisans of 
 Newton would not have thought it necessary to renounce 
 their certitude of the law of gravitation itself, on the 
 ground that they had been mistaken in their certitude 
 that Newton discovered it. « 
 
 If we are never to be certain, after having been once 
 certain wrongly, then we ought never to attempt a 
 proof because we have once made a bad one. Errors in 
 reasoning are lessons and warnings, not to give up 
 reasoning, but to reason with greater caution. It is 
 absurd to break up the whole structure of our knowledge, 
 which is the glory of the human intellect, because the 
 intellect is not infallible in its conclusions. If in any par- 
 ticular case we have been mistaken in our inferences and 
 the certitudes which followed upon them, we are bound 
 of course to take the fact of this mistake into account, in 
 making up our minds on any new question, before we 
 proceed to decide upon it. But if, while weighing the 
 arguments on one side and the other and drawing our 
 conclusion, that old mistake has already been allowed 
 for, or has been, to use a familiar mode of speaking, dis- 
 counted, then it has no outstanding claim against our 
 acceptance of that conclusion, after it has actually been 
 drawn. Whatever be the legitimate weight of the fact
 
 Indef edibility of Certitude. 231 
 
 of that mistake in our inquiry, justice has been done to 
 it, before we have allowed ourselves to be certain again. 
 Suppose I am walking out in the moonlight, and see 
 dimly the outlines of some figure among the trees ; — it is 
 a man. I draw nearer, — it is still a man ; nearer still, 
 and all hesitation is at an end, — I am certain it is a man. 
 But he neither moves, nor speaks when I address him ; 
 and then I ask myself what can be his purpose in hiding 
 among the trees at such an hour. I come quite close to 
 him, and put out my arm. Then I find for certain that 
 what I took for a man is but a singular shadow, formed 
 by the falling of the moonlight on the interstices of some 
 branches or their foliage. Am I not to indulge my 
 second certitude, because I was wrong in my first ? does 
 not any objection, which lies against my second from 
 the failure of my first, fade away before the evidence 
 on which my second is founded ? 
 
 Or again : I depose on my oath in a court of justice, 
 to the best of my knowledge and belief, that I was robbed 
 by the prisoner at the bar. Then, when the real offender 
 is brought before me, I am obliged, to my great confu- 
 sion, to retract. Because I have been mistaken in my 
 certitude, may I not at least be certain that I have been 
 mistaken ? And further, in spite of the shock which 
 that mistake gives me, is it impossible that the sight of 
 the real culprit may give me so luminous a conviction 
 that at length I have got the right man, that, were it 
 decent towards the court, or consistent with self-respect, 
 I may find myself prepared to swear to the identity of 
 the second, as I have already solemnly committed myself 
 to the identity of the first ? It is manifest that the two
 
 232 Certitude. 
 
 certitudes stand each on its own basis, and the antecedent 
 objection to my admission of a truth which was brought 
 home to me second, drawn from a hallucination which 
 came first, is a mere abstract argument, impotent when 
 directed against good evidence lying in the concrete. 
 
 3. 
 
 If in the criminal case which I have been supposing, 
 the second certitude, felt by a witness, was a legitimate 
 state of mind, so was the first. An act, viewed in itself, 
 is not wrong because it is done wrongly. False certi- 
 tudes are faults because they are false, not because they 
 are (supposed) certitudes. They are,, or may be, the 
 attempts and the failures of an intellect insufficiently 
 trained, or off its guard. Assent is an act of the mind, 
 congenial to its nature ; and it, as other acts, may be 
 made both when it ought to be made, and when it 
 ought not. It is a free act, a personal act for which 
 the doer is responsible, and the actual mistakes in 
 making it, be they ever so numerous or serious, have no 
 force whatever to prohibit the act itself. We are accus- 
 tomed in such cases, to appeal to the maxim, " Usum 
 non tollit abusus •" and it is plain that, if what may be 
 called functional disarrangements of the intellect are to 
 be considered fatal to the recognition of the functions 
 themselves, then the mind has no laws whatever and no 
 normal constitution. I just now spoke of the growth 
 of knowledge ; there is also a growth in the use of those 
 faculties by which knowledge is acquired. The intellect 
 admits of an education ; man is a being of progress ; he
 
 I ndefec tibility of Certitude. 2 * 
 
 Ov) 
 
 has to learn how to fulfil his end, and to be what facts 
 show that he is intended to be. His mind is in the first 
 instance in disorder, and runs wild ; his faculties have 
 their rudimental and inchoate state, and are gradually 
 carried on by practice and experience to their perfec- 
 tion. No instances then whatever of mistaken certitude 
 are sufficient to constitute a proof, that certitude itself 
 is a perversion or extravagance of his nature. 
 
 We do not dispense with clocks, because from time 
 to time they go wrong, and tell untruly. A clock, or- 
 ganically considered, may be perfect, yet it may require 
 regulating. Till that needful work is done, the moment- 
 hand perhaps marks the half-minute, when the minute- 
 hand is at the quarter-past, and the hour hand is just 
 at noon, and the quarter-bell strikes the three-quarters, 
 and the hour-bell strikes four, while the sun-dial pre- 
 cisely tells two o'clock. The sense of certitude may be 
 called the bell of the intellect ; and that it strikes when 
 it should not is a proof that the clock is out of order, 
 no proof that the bell will be untrustworthy and use- 
 less, when it comes to us adjusted and regulated from 
 the hands of the clock-maker. 
 
 Our conscience too may be said to strike the hours, 
 and will strike them wrongly, unless it be duly regu- 
 lated for the performance of its proper function. It is 
 the loud announcement of the principle of right in the 
 details of conduct, a3 the sense of certitude is the clear 
 witness to what is true. Both certitude and conscience 
 have a place in the normal condition of the mind. As a 
 human being, I am unable, if I were to try, to live with- 
 out some kind of conscience ; and I am as little able to
 
 234 Certitude. 
 
 live without those landmarks of thought which certitude 
 secures for me ; still, as the hammer of a clock may 
 tell untruly, so may my conscience and my sense of cer- 
 titude be attached to mental acts, whether of consent or 
 of assent, which have no claim to be thus sanctioned. 
 Both the moral and the intellectual sanction are liable to 
 be biassed by personal inclinations and motives ; both 
 require and admit of discipline ; and, as it is no dis- 
 proof of the authority of conscience that false con- 
 sciences abound, neither does it destroy the importance 
 and the uses of certitude, because even educated minds, 
 who are earnest in their inquiries after the truth, in many 
 cases remain under the power of prejudice or delusion. 
 
 To this deficiency in mental training a wider error ia 
 to be attributed, — the mistaking for conviction and 
 certitude states and frames of mind which make no 
 pretence to the fundamental condition on which con- 
 viction rests as distinct from assent. The multitude of 
 men confuse together the probable, the possible, and 
 the certain, and apply these terms to doctrines and 
 statements almost at random. They have no clear 
 view what it is they know, what they presume, what 
 they suppose, and what they only assert. They make 
 little distinction between credence, opinion, and profes- 
 sion ; at various times they give them all perhaps the 
 name of certitude, and accordingly, when they change 
 their minds, they fancy they have given up points of 
 which they had a true conviction. Or at least by- 
 standers thus speak of them, and the very idea of 
 certitude falls into disrepute. 
 
 In this day the subject-matter of thought and belief
 
 
 I iidcf edibility of Certitude. 235 
 
 lias so increased upon us, that a far higher mental for- 
 mation is required than was necessary in times past, 
 and higher than we have actually reached. The whole 
 world is brought to our doors every morning, and our 
 judgment is required upon social concerns, books, per- 
 sons, parties, creeds, national acts, political principles 
 and measures. We have to form our opinion, make 
 our profession, take our side on a hundred matters on 
 which we have but little right to speak at all. But we 
 do speak, and must speak, upon them, though neither 
 we nor those who hear us are well able to determine 
 what is the real position of our intellect relatively to 
 those many questions, one by one, on which we commit 
 ourselves ; and then, since many of these questions 
 change their complexion with the passing horn*, and 
 many require elaborate consideration, aud many are 
 simply beyond us, it is not wonderful, if, at the eud of 
 a few years, we have to revise or to repudiate our con- 
 clusions ; and then we shall be unfairly said to have 
 changed our certitudes, and shall confirm the doctrine, 
 that, except in abstract truth, no judgment rises higher 
 than probability. 
 
 Such are the mistakes about certitude among edu- 
 cated men \ and after referring to them, it is scarcely 
 worth while to dwell upon the absurdities and excesses 
 of the rude intellect, as seen in the world at large ; as 
 if any one could dream of treating as deliberate assents, 
 as assents upon assents, as convictions or certitudes, 
 the prejudices, credulities, infatuations, superstitions, 
 fanaticisms, the whims and fancies, the sudden irre- 
 vocable plunges into the unknown, the obstinate deter-
 
 236 Certitude. 
 
 ruinations, — the offspring, as they are, of ignorance, 
 wilfulness, cupidity, and pride, — which go so far to 
 make up the history of mankind ; yet these are often 
 set down as instances of certitude and of its failure. 
 
 4. 
 
 I have spoken of certitude as being assigned a definite 
 and fixed place among our mental acts ; it follows upon 
 examination and proof, as the bell sounds the hour, when 
 the hands reach it, — so that no act or state of the intel- 
 lect is certitude, however it may resemble it, which does 
 not observe this appointed law. This proviso greatly 
 diminishes the catalogue of genuine certitudes. Another 
 restriction is this : — the occasions or subject-matters of 
 certitude are under law also. Putting aside the daily 
 exercise of the senses, the principal subjects in secular 
 knowledge, about which we can be certain, are the 
 truths or facts which are its basis. As to this world, 
 we are certain of the elements of knowledge, whether 
 general, scientific, historical, or such as bear on our 
 daily needs and habits, and relate to ourselves, our 
 homes and families, our friends, neighbourhood, coun- 
 try, and civil state. Beyond these elementary points 
 of knowledge, lies a vast subject-matter of opinion, 
 credence, and belief, viz. the field of public affairs, of 
 social and professional life, of business, of duty, of 
 literature, of taste, nay, of the experimental sciences. 
 On subjects such as these the reasonings and conclusions 
 of mankind vary, — " mundum tradidit disputationi 
 eorum •" — and prudent men in consequence seldom
 
 I ndef edibility of Cei'titucle. 237 
 
 speak confidently, unless they are warranted to do so by 
 genius, great experience, or some special qualification. 
 They determine their judgments by what is probable, 
 what is safe, what promises best, what has verisimili- 
 tude, what impresses and sways them. They neither can 
 possess, nor need certitude, nor do they look out for it. 
 Hence it is that — the province of certitude being so 
 contracted, and that of opinion so large — it is common 
 to call probability the guide of life. This saying, when 
 properly explained, is true ; however, we must not 
 suffer ourselves to carry a true maxim to an extreme ; 
 it is far from true, if we so hold it as to forget that 
 without first principles there can be no conclusions at 
 all, and that thus probability does in some sense pre- 
 suppose and require the existence of truths which are 
 certain. Especially is the maxim untrue, in respect to the 
 other great department of knowledge, the spiritual, if 
 taken to support the doctrine, that the first principles 
 and elements of religion, which are universally received, 
 are mere matter of opinion ; though in this day, it is 
 too often taken for granted that religion is one of those 
 subjects on which truth cannot be discovered, and on 
 which one conclusion is pretty much on a level with 
 another. But on the contrary, the initial truths of 
 divine knowledge ought to be viewed as parallel to the 
 initial truths of secular : as the latter are certain, so too 
 are the former. I cannot indeed deny that a decent 
 reverence for the Supreme Being, an acquiescence in the 
 claims of Revelation, a general profession of Christian 
 doctrine, and some sort of attendance on sacred ordi- 
 nances, is in fact all the religion that is usual with even
 
 238 Certitude. 
 
 the better sort of men, and that for all this a sufficient 
 basis may certainly be found in probabilities ; but if 
 religion is to be devotion, and not a mere matter of senti- 
 ment, if it is to be made the ruling- principle of our lives, 
 if our actions, one by one, and our daily conduct, are to 
 be consistently directed towards an Invisible Being, we 
 need something higher than a mere balance of argu- 
 ments to fix and to control our minds. Sacrifice of 
 wealth, name, or position, faith and hope, self-conquest, 
 communion with the spiritual world, presuppose a real 
 hold and habitual intuition of the objects of Revelation, 
 which is certitude under another name. 
 
 To this issue indeed we may bring the main difference, 
 viewed philosophically, between nominal Christianity 
 on the one hand, and vital Christianity on the other. 
 Rational, sensible men, as they consider themselves, 
 men who do not comprehend the very notion of loving 
 God above all things, are content with such a measure 
 of probability for the truths of religion, as serves them 
 in their secular transactions ; but those who are delibe- 
 rately staking their all upon the hopes of the next 
 world, think it reasonable, and find it necessary, before 
 starting on their new course, to have some points, clear 
 and immutable, to stai't from ; otherwise, they will not 
 start at all. They ask, as a preliminary condition, to 
 have the ground sure under their feet ; they look for 
 more than human reasonings and inferences, for nothing 
 less than the "strong consolation/' as the Apostle 
 speaks, of those " immutable things in which it is im- 
 possible for God to lie," His counsel and His oath. 
 Christian earnestness may be ruled by the world to be
 
 I iidcf edibility of Certitude. 239 
 
 a perverseness or a delusion ; but, as long as it exists, 
 it will presuppose certitude as the very life which is to 
 animate it. 
 
 This is the true parallel between human and divine 
 knowledge ; each of them opens into a large field of 
 mere opinion, but in both the one and the other the 
 primary principles, the general, fundamental, cardinal 
 truths are immutable. In human matters we are 
 guided by probabilities, but, I repeat, they are proba- 
 bilities founded on certainties. It is on no probability 
 that we are constantly receiving the informations and 
 dictates of sense and memory, of our intellectual in- 
 stincts, of the moral sense, and of the logical faculty. 
 It is on no probability that we receive the generaliza- 
 tions of science, and the great outlines of history. These 
 are certain truths ; and from them each of us forms his 
 own judgments and directs his own course, according to 
 the probabilities which they suggest to him, as the navi- 
 gator applies his observations and his charts for the 
 determination of his course. Such is the main view to 
 be taken of the separate provinces of probability and 
 certainty in matters of this world ; and so, as regards 
 the world invisible and future, we have a direct and 
 conscious knowledge of our Maker, His attributes, 
 His providences, acts, works, and will, from nature, 
 and revelation ; and, beyond this knowledge lies the 
 large domain of theology, metaphysics, and ethics, on 
 which it is not allowed to us to advance beyond pro- 
 babilities, or to attain to more than an opinion. 
 
 Such on the whole is the analogy between our know- 
 ledge of matters of this world and matters of the world
 
 240 Certitude. 
 
 unseen ; — indefectible certitude in primary truths, mani- 
 fold variations of opinion in their application and dis- 
 position. 
 
 5. 
 
 I have said that Certitude, whether in human or divine 
 knowledge, is attainable as regards general and cardinal 
 truths; and that in neither department of knowledge, 
 on the whole, is certitude discredited, lost, or reversed ; 
 for, in matter of fact, whether in human or divine, 
 those primary truths have ever kept their place from 
 the time when they first took possession of it. How- 
 ever, there is one obvious objection which may be made 
 to this representation, and I proceed to take notice of 
 it. 
 
 It may be urged then, that time was when the primary 
 truths of science were unknown, and when in conse- 
 quence various theories were held, contrary to each 
 other. The first element of all things was said to be 
 water, to be air, to be fire; the framework of the 
 universe was eternal ; or it was the ever-new com- 
 bination of innumerable atoms : the planets were fixed 
 in solid crystal revolving spheres ; or they moved round 
 the earth in epicycles mounted upon circular orbits ; 
 or they were carried whirling round about the sun, 
 while the sun was whirling round the earth. About 
 such doctrines there was no certitude, no more than 
 there is now certitude about the origin of languages, 
 tho age of man, or the evolution of species, considered 
 as philosophical questions. Now theology is at present 
 in the very same state in which natural science was five
 
 Indefcctibility of Certitude. 241 
 
 hundred years ago ; and this is the proof of it, — that, 
 instead of there being one received theological science in 
 the world, there are a multitude of hypotheses. We 
 have a professed science of Atheism, another of Deism, a 
 Pantheistic, ever so many Christian theologies, to say 
 nothing of Judaism, Islamism, and the Oriental religions. 
 Each of these creeds has its own upholders, and these 
 upholders all certain that it is the very and the only 
 truth, and these same upholders, it may happen, pre- 
 sently giving it up, and then taking up some other 
 creed, and being certain again, as they profess, that it 
 and it only is the truth, these various so-called truths 
 being incompatible with each other. Are not Jews 
 certain about their interpretation of their law ? yet they 
 become Christians : are not Catholics certain about the 
 new law ? yet they become Protestants. At present 
 then, and as yet, there is no clear certainty anywhere 
 about religious truth at all ; it has still to be discovered ; 
 and therefore for Catholics to claim the right to lay down 
 the first principles of theological science in their own 
 way, is to assume the very matter in dispute. First let 
 their doctrines be universally received, and then they 
 will have a right to place them on a level with the 
 certainty which belongs to the laws of motion or of 
 refraction. This is the objection which I propose to 
 consider. 
 
 Now first as to the want of universal reception which 
 is urged against the Catholic dogmas, this part of the 
 objection will not require many words'. Surely a truth 
 or a fact may be certain, though it is not generally 
 received; — we are each of us ever gaining through our 
 
 it
 
 242 Certitude. 
 
 senses various certainties, which no one shares with us j 
 again, the certainties of the sciences are in the possession 
 of a few countries only, and for the most part only of 
 the educated classes in those countries ; yet the philo- 
 sophers of Europe and America would feel certain that 
 the earth rolled round the sun, in spite of the Indian 
 belief of its being supported by an elephant with a tor- 
 toise under it. The Catholic Church then, though not 
 universally acknowledged, may without inconsistency 
 claim to teach the primary truths of religion, just as 
 modem science, though but partially received, claims to 
 teach the great principles and laws which are the foun- 
 dation of secular knowledge, and that with a significance 
 to which no other religious system can pretend, because 
 it is its very profession to speak to all mankind, and its 
 very badge to be ever making converts all over the 
 earth, whereas other religions are more or less variable 
 in their teaching, tolerant of each other, and local, and 
 professedly local, in their habitat and character. 
 
 This, however, is not the main point of the objection; 
 the real difficulty lies not in the variety of religions, but 
 in the contradiction, conflict, and change of religious 
 certitudes. Truth need not be universal, but it must 
 of necessity be certain ; and certainty, in order to be 
 certainty, must endure; yet how is this reasonable 
 expectation fulfilled in the case of religion ? On the 
 contrary, those who have been the most certain in their 
 beliefs are sometimes found to lose them, Catholics as 
 well as others ; and then to take up new beliefs, perhaps 
 contrary ones, of which they become as certain as if they 
 had never been certain of the old.
 
 Indefectibility of Certitude. 243 
 
 In answering this representation, I begin with recur- 
 ring to the remark which I have already made, that 
 assent and certitude have refereuce to propositions, one 
 by one. We may of course assent to a number of pro- 
 positions all together, that is, we may make a number 
 of assents all at once ; but in doing so we run the risk 
 of putting upon one level, and treating as if of the same 
 value, acts of the mind which are very different from 
 each other in character and circumstance. An assent, 
 indeed, is ever an assent ; but given assents may be 
 strong or weak, deliberate or impulsive, lasting or 
 ephemeral. Now a religion is not a proposition, but a 
 system ; it is a rite, a creed, a philosophy, a rule of duty, ,. 
 all at once \ and to accept a religion is neither a simple 
 assent to it nor a complex, neither a conviction nor 
 a prejudice, neither a notional assent nor a real, not 
 a mere act of profession, nor of credence, nor of opinion, 
 nor of speculation, but it is a collection of all these 
 various kinds of assents, at once and together, some of 
 one description, some of another ; but, out of all these 
 different assents, how many are of that kind which I 
 have called certitude ? Certitudes indeed do not change, 
 but who shall pretend that assents are indefectible ? 
 
 For instance : the fundamental dogma of Protestant- 
 ism is the exclusive authority of Holy Scripture ; but in 
 holding this a Protestant holds a host of propositions, 
 explicitly or implicitly, and holds them with assents of 
 various character. Among these propositions, he holds 
 that Scripture is the Divine Revelation itself, that it is 
 inspired, that nothing is known in doctrine but what is 
 there, that the Church has no authority in matters 
 
 r 2
 
 244 
 
 Certitude. 
 
 of doctrine, that, as claiming it, it condemned long 
 ago in the Apocalypse, that St. John wrote the Apoca- 
 lypse, that justification is by faith only, that our Lord 
 is God, that there are seventy-two generations between 
 Adam and our Lord. Now of which, out of all these 
 propositions, is he certain ? and to how many of them 
 is his assent of one and the same description ? His 
 belief, that Scripture is commensurate with the Divine 
 Revelation, is perhaps implicit, not conscious ; as to 
 inspiration, he does not well know what the word means, 
 and his assent is scarcely more than a profession ; that 
 no doctrine is true but what can be proved from Scrip- 
 ture he understands, and his assent to it is what I have 
 called speculative ; that the Church has no authority he 
 holds with a real assent or belief; that the Church is 
 condemned in the Apocalypse is a standing prejudice ; 
 that St. John wrote the Apocalypse is his opinion ; that 
 justification is by faith only, he accepts, but scarcely can 
 be said to apprehend ; that our Lord is God perhaps he 
 is certain ; that there are seventy-two generations be- 
 tween Adam and Christ he accepts on credence. Yet, if 
 he were asked the question, he would most probably 
 answer that he was certain of the truth of l ' Protestant- 
 ism," though " Protestantism " means these things and 
 a hundred more all at once, and though he believes with 
 actual certitude only one of them all, — that indeed a 
 dogma of most sacred importance, but not the discovery 
 of Luther or Calvin. He would think it enough to say 
 that he was a foe to " Romanism " and " Socinianism," 
 and to avow that he gloried in the Reformation. He 
 looks upon each of these religious professions, Protes- 
 
 W£<
 
 I ndef edibility of Certitude. 245 
 
 tantisni, Romanism, Socinianism and Theism, merely as 
 units, as if they were not each made up of many ele- 
 ments, as if they had nothing in common, as if a transi- 
 tion from the one to the other involved a simple oblitera- 
 tion of all that had been as yet written on his mind, and 
 would be the reception of a new faith. 
 
 When, then, we are told that a man has changed 
 from one religion to another, the first question which we 
 have to ask, is, have the first and the second religions 
 nothing in common ? If they have common doctrines, 
 he has changed only a portion of his creed, not the 
 whole : and the next question is, has he ever made much 
 of any doctrines but such as are if otherwise common 
 to liis new creed and his old ? what doctrines was he 
 certain of among the old, and what among the new ? 
 
 Thus, of three Protestants, one becomes a Catholic, a 
 second a Unitarian, and a third an unbeliever : how is 
 this ? The first becomes a Catholic, because he assented, 
 as a Protestant, to the doctrine of our Lord's divinity, 
 with a real assent and a genuine conviction, and because 
 this certitude, taking possession of his mind, led him on 
 to welcome the Catholic doctrines of tlie Real Presence 
 and of the Theotocos, till his Protestantism fell off from 
 him, and he submitted himself to the Church. The 
 second became a Unitarian, because, proceding on the 
 pi'inciple that Scripture was the rule of faith and that a 
 man's private judgment was its rule of interpretation, 
 and finding that the doctrine of the Nicene and Athana- 
 sian Creeds did not follow by logical necessity from the 
 text of Scripture, he said to himself, "The word of God 
 has been made of none effect by the traditions of men," 
 
 X
 
 246 Certitude. 
 
 and therefore nothing was left for him but to profess 
 what he considered primitive Christianity, and to become 
 a Humanitarian. The third gradually subsided into in- 
 fidelity, because he started with the Protestant dogma, 
 cherished in the depths of his nature, that a priesthood 
 was a corruption of the simplicity of the Gospel. First, 
 then, he would protest against the sacrifice of the Mass ; 
 next he gave up baptismal regeneration, and the sacra- 
 mental principle; then he asked himself whether 
 dogmas were not a restraint on Christian liberty as well 
 as sacraments ; then came the question, what after all 
 was the use of teachers of religion ? why should any one 
 stand between him and his Maker ? After a time it 
 struck him, that this obvious question had to be answered 
 by the Apostles, as well as by the Anglican clergy ; so 
 he came to the conclusion that the true and only reve- 
 lation of God to man is that which is written on the 
 heart. This did for a time, and he remained a Deist. 
 I But then it occurred to him, that this inward moral law 
 \ was there within the breast, whether there was a God 
 or not, and that it was a roundabout way of enforcing 
 that law, to say that it came from God, and simply un- 
 necessary, considering it carried with it its own sacred 
 and sovereign authority, as our feelings instinctively 
 testified ; and when he turned to look at the physical 
 world around him, he really did not see what scientific 
 
 I proof there was there of the Being of God at all, and it 
 seemed to him as if all things would go on quite as well 
 as at present, without that hypothesis as with it; so 
 he dropped it, and became a,purus, putus Atheist. J 
 
 Now the world will say, that in these three cases old
 
 Indefectibility of Certitude. 247 
 
 certitudes were lost, and new were gained ; but it is 
 not so : each of the three men started with just one 
 certitude, as he would have himself professed, had hei, 
 examined himself narrowly ; and he carried it out and! 
 carried it with him into a new system of belief. He 
 was true to that one conviction from first to last ; and 
 on looking back on the past, would perhaps insist upon 
 this, and say he had really been consistent all through, 
 when others made much of his great changes in religious 
 opinion. He has indeed made serious additions to his 
 initial ruling principle, but he has lost no conviction 
 of which he was originally possessed. 
 
 I will take one more instance. A man is converted 
 to the Catholic Church from his admiration of its reli- 
 gious system, and his disgust with Protestantism. That 
 admiration remains ; but, after a time, he leaves his 
 new faith, perhaps returns to his old. The reason, if 
 we may conjecture, may sometimes be this : he has 
 never believed in the Church's infallibility ; in her doc- 
 trinal truth he has believed, but in her infallibility, no. 
 He was asked, before he was received, whether he held 
 all that the Church taught, he replied he did ; but he 
 understood the question to mean, whether he held those 
 particular doctrines "which at that time the Church in 
 matter of fact formally taught," whereas it really meant 
 " whatever the Church then or at any future time 
 should teach." Thus, he never had the indispensable 
 and elementary faith of a Catholic, and was simply no 
 subject for reception into the fold of the Church. This 
 being the case, when the Immaculate Conception is 
 defined, he feels that it is something more than he
 
 248 Certitude, 
 
 bargained for when he became a Catholic, and accord- 
 ingly he gives np his religious profession. The world 
 will say that he has lost his certitude of the divinity 
 of the Catholic Faith, but he never had it. 
 
 The first point to be ascertained, then, when we hear 
 of a change of religious certitude in another, is, what 
 the doctrines are on which his so-called certitude 
 before now and at present has respectively fallen. All 
 doctrines besides these were the accidents of his pro- 
 fession, and the indefectibility of certitude would not 
 be disproved, though he changed them every year. 
 There are few religions which have no points in com- 
 mon ; and these, whether true or false, when embraced 
 with an absolute conviction, are the pivots on which 
 changes take place in that collection of credences, 
 opinions, prejudices, and other assents, which make up 
 what is called a man's selection and adoption of a form 
 of religion, a denomination, or a Church. There have 
 been Protestants whose idea of enlightened Christianity 
 has been a strenuous antagonism to what they consider 
 the unmanliness and unreasonableness of Catholic 
 morality, an antipathy to the precepts of patience, 
 meekness, forgiveness of injuries, and chastity. All 
 this they have considered a woman's religion, the 
 ornament of monks, of the sick, the feeble, and the old. 
 Lust, revenge, ambition, courage, pride, these, they 
 have fancied, made the man, and want of them the 
 slave. No one could fairly accuse such men of any 
 great change of their convictions, or refer to them in 
 proof of the defectibility of certitude, if they were one 
 day found to have taken up the profession of Islam.
 
 hide f edibility of Certihide. 249 
 
 And if this intercommunion of religions holds good, 
 even when the common points between them are but 
 errors held in common, much more natural will be the 
 transition from one religion to another, without injury 
 to existing certitudes, when the common points, the 
 objects of those certitudes, are truths; and still stronger 
 in that case and more constraining will be the sympathy, 
 with which minds that love truth, even when they have 
 surrounded it with error, will yearn towards the 
 Catholic faith, which contains within itself, and claims 
 as its own, all truth that is elsewhere to be found, and 
 more than all, and nothing but truth. This is the 
 secret of the influence, by which the Church draws to 
 herself converts from such various and conflicting re- 
 ligions. They come, not so much to lose what they have, 
 as to gain what they have not ; and in order that, by 
 means of what they have, more may be given to them. 
 St. Augustine tells us that there is no false teaching 
 without an intermixture of truth ; and it is by the light 
 of those particular truths, contained respectively in the 
 various religions of men, and by our certitudes about 
 them, which are possible wherever those truths are 
 found, that we pick our way, slowly perhaps, but surely, 
 into the One Religion which God has given, taking 
 our certitudes with us, not to lose, but to keep them 
 more securely, and to understand and love their objects 
 more perfectly. 
 
 Not even are idolaters and heathen out of the range 
 of some of these religious truths and their correlative 
 certitudes. The old Greek and Roman polytheists had, 
 as they show in their literature, clear and strong notions,
 
 250 Certitude '. 
 
 nay, vivid mental images, of a Particular Providence, of 
 the power of prayer, of the rule of Divine Governance, 
 of the law of conscience, of sin and guilt, of expiation 
 by means of sacrifices, and of future retribution : I will 
 even add, of the Unity and Personality of the Supreme 
 Being. This it is that throws such a magnificent light 
 over the Homeric poems, the tragic choruses, and the 
 Odes of Pindar ; and it has its counterpart in the 
 philosophy of Socrates and of the Stoics, and in such 
 historians as Herodotus. It would be out of place to 
 speak confidently of a state of society which has passed 
 away, but at first sight it does not appear why the 
 truths which I have enumerated should not have re- 
 ceived as genuine and deliberate an assent on the part 
 of Socrates or Cleanthes, (of course with divine aids, 
 but they do not enter into this discussion,) as was 
 given to them by St. John or St. Paul, nay, an assent 
 which rose to certitude. Much more safely may it 
 be pronounced of a Mahometan, that he may have a 
 certitude of the Divine Unity, as well as a Christian ; 
 and of a Jew, that he may believe as truly as a Christian 
 in the resurrection of the body; and of a Unitarian 
 that he can give a deliberate and real assent to the fact 
 of a supernatural revelation, to the Christian miracles, 
 to the eternal moral law, and to the immortality of the 
 soul. And so, again, a Protestant may, not only in 
 words, but in mind and heart, hold, as if he were a 
 Catholic, with simple certitude, the doctrines of the 
 Holy Trinity, of the fall of man, of the need of re- 
 generation, of the efficacy of Divine Grace, and of the 
 possibility and danger of falling away. And thus it is
 
 Indef edibility of Certitude, 251 
 
 conceivable that a man might travel in his religious 
 profession all the way from heathenism to Catholicity, 
 through Mahornetanisrn, Judaism, Unitarianism, Pro- 
 testantism, and Anglicanism, without any one certitude 
 lost, but with a continual accumulation of truths, which 
 claimed from him and elicited in his intellect fresh and 
 fresh certitudes. 
 
 In saying all this, I do not forget that the same 
 doctrines, as held in different religions, may be and 
 often are held very differently, as belonging to distinct 
 wholes or forms, as they are called, and exposed to the 
 influence and the bias of the teaching, perhaps false, 
 with which they are associated. Thus, for instance, 
 whatever be the resemblance between St. Augustine's 
 doctrine of Predestination and the tenet of Calvin upon 
 it, the two really differ from each other toto coelo in sig- 
 nificance and effect, in consequence of the place they 
 hold in the systems in which they are respectively in- 
 corporated, just as shades and tints show so differently 
 in a painting according to the masses of colour to which 
 they are attached. But, in spite of this, a man may so 
 hold the doctrine of personal election as a Calvinist, as 
 to be able still to hold it as a Catholic. 
 
 However, I have been speaking' of certitudes which 
 remain unimpaired, or rather confirmed, by a change of 
 religion ; on the contrary there are others, whether we 
 call them certitudes or convictions, which perish in the 
 change, as St. Paul's conviction of the sufficiency of the 
 Jewish Law came to an end on his becoming a Christian. 
 Now how is such a series of facts to be reconciled with 
 the doctrine which I have been enforcing ? What
 
 252 Certitude. 
 
 conviction could be stronger tlian the faith of the Jews 
 in the perpetuity of the Mosaic system ? Those, then, 
 it may be said, who abandoned Judaism for the Gospel, 
 surely, in so doing, bore the most emphatic of testi- 
 monies to the defectibility of certitude. And, in like 
 manner, a Mahometan may be so deeply convinced that 
 Mahomet is the prophet of God, that it would be only 
 by a quibble about the meaning of the word " certitude" 
 that we could maintain, that, on his becoming a 
 Catholic, he did not unequivocally prove that certitude 
 is defeotible. And it may be argued, perhaps, in the 
 case of some members of the Church of England, that 
 their faith in the validity of Anglican orders, and the 
 invisibility of the Church's unity, is so absolute, so 
 deliberate, that their abandonment of it, did they be- 
 come Catholics or sceptics, would be tantamount to the 
 abandonment of a certitude. 
 
 Now, in meeting this difficulty, I will not urge (lest 
 I should be accused of quibbling), that certitude is a 
 conviction of what is true, and that these so-called cer- 
 titudes have come to nought, because, their objects being 
 errors, not truths, they really were not certitudes at all ; 
 nor will I insist, as I might, that they ought to be 
 proved first to be something more than mere prejudices, 
 assents without reason and judgment, before they can 
 fairly be taken as instances of the defectibility of 
 certitude ; but I simply ask, as regards the zeal of the 
 Jews for the sufficiency of their law, (even though it 
 implied genuine certitude, not a prejudice, not a mere 
 conviction,) still was such zeal, such professed certitude, 
 found iu those who were eventually converted, or in
 
 I ndef edibility of Certitude. 253 
 
 those who were not; for, if those who had not that 
 certitude became Christians and those who had it 
 remained Jews, then loss of certitude in the latter is not 
 instanced in the fact of the conversion of the former. 
 St. Paul certainly is an exception, but his conversion, as 
 also his after-life, was miraculous ; ordinarily speaking, 
 it was not the zealots who supplied members to the 
 Catholic Church, but those c ' men of good will," who, 
 instead of considering the law as perfect and eternal, 
 " looked for the redemption of Israel," and for " the 
 knowledge of salvation in the remission of sins.'" And, 
 in like manner, as to those learned and devout men 
 among the Anglicans at the' present day, who come so 
 near the Church without acknowledging her claims, I 
 ask whether there are not two classes among them also, 
 — those who are looking out beyond their own body for 
 the perfect way, and those on the other hand who teach 
 that the Anglican communion is the golden mean 
 between men who believe too much and men who 
 believe too little, the centre of unity to which East and 
 "West are destined to gravitate, the instrument and the 
 mould, as the Jews might think of their own moribund 
 institutions, through which the kingdom of Christ is to 
 be established all over the earth. And next I would 
 ask, which of these two classes supplies converts to the 
 Church ; for if they come from among those who never 
 professed to be quite certain of the special strength of 
 the Anglican position, such men cannot be quoted as 
 instances of the defectibility of certitude. 
 
 There is indeed another class of beliefs, of which I 
 must take notice, the failure of which may be taken at
 
 254 Certitude. 
 
 first sight as a proof that certitude may be lost. Yet 
 they clearly deserve no other name than prejudices, as 
 being founded upon reports of facts, or on arguments, 
 which will not bear careful examination. Such was the 
 disgust felt towards our predecessors in primitive times, 
 the Christians of the first centuries, as a secret society, 
 as a conspiracy against the civil power, as a set of mean, 
 sordid, despicable fanatics, as monsters revelling in blood 
 and impurity. Such also is the deep prejudice now exist- 
 ing against the Church among Protestants, who dress 
 her up in the most hideous and loathsome images, which 
 rightly attach, in the prophetic descriptions, to the evil 
 spirit, his agents and instruments. And so of the number- 
 less calumnies directed against individual Catholics, 
 against our religious bodies and men in authority,- 
 which serve to feed and sustain the suspicion and dislike 
 with which everything Catholic is regarded in this 
 country. But as a persistence in such prejudices is no 
 evidence of their truth, so an abandonment of them is 
 no evidence that certitude can fail. 
 
 There is yet another class of prejudices against the 
 Catholic Religion, which is far more tolerable and 
 intelligible than those on which I have been dwelling, 
 but still in no sense certitudes. Indeed, I doubt 
 whether they would be considered more than presumptive 
 opinions by the persons who entertain them. Such is 
 the idea which has possessed certain philosophers, 
 ancient and modern, that miracles are an infringement 
 and disfigurement of the beautiful order of nature. 
 Such, too, is tho persuasion, common among political 
 and literary men, that the Catholic Church is inconsistent
 
 Indefectibility of Certitude. 255 
 
 with the true interests of the human race, with social 
 progress, with rational freedom, with good government. 
 A renunciation of these imaginations is not a change in 
 certitudes. 
 
 So much on this subject. All concrete laws are general, 
 and persons, as such, do not fall under laws. Still, I 
 have gone a good way, as I think, to remove the 
 objections to the doctrine of the indefectibility of 
 certitude in matters of religion, though I cannot assign 
 to it an infallible token. 
 
 6. 
 
 One further remark may be made. Certitude does 
 not admit of an interior, immediate test, sufficient to 
 discriminate it from false certitude. Such a test is ren- 
 dered impossible from the circumstance that, when we 
 make the mental act expressed by " I know/' we sum 
 up the whole series of reflex judgments which might, 
 each in turn, successively exercise a critical function 
 towards those of the series which precede it. But still, 
 if it is the general rule that certitude is indefectible, 
 will not that indefectibility itself become at least in the 
 event a criterion of the genuineness of the certitude ? or 
 is there any rival state or habit of the intellect, which 
 claims to be indefectible also ? A few words will suffice 
 to answer these questions. 
 
 Premising that all rules are but general, especially 
 those which relate to the mind, I observe that indefecti- 
 bility may at least serve as a negative test of certitude, 
 or sine qua non condition, so that whoever loses his- 
 conviction on a given point is thereby proved not to 
 have been certain of it. Certitudo ought to stand all
 
 256 Certitude. 
 
 trial s, or it is not certitude. Its very office is to cherish 
 and maintain its object, and its very lot and duty is to 
 sustain rude shocks in maintenance of it without being 
 damaged by them. 
 
 I will take an example. Let us suppose we are told 
 on an unimpeachable authority, that a man whom we 
 saw die is now alive again and at his work, as it was his 
 wont to be; let us suppose we actually see him and 
 converse with him ; what will become of our certitude 
 of his death ? I do not think we should give it up ; how 
 could we, when we actually saw him die ? At first, 
 indeed, we should be thrown into an astonishment and 
 confusion so great, that the world would seem, to reel 
 round us, and we should be ready to give up the use of 
 our senses and of our memory, of our reflective powers, 
 and of our reason, and even to deny our power of 
 thinking, and our existence itself. Such confidence have 
 we in the doctrine that when life goes it never returns. 
 Nor would our bewilderment be less, when the first blow 
 was over; but our reason would rally, and with our 
 reason our certitude would come back to us. Whatever 
 came of it, we should never cease to know and to confess 
 to ourselves both of the contrary facts, that we saw him 
 die, and that after dying we saw him alive again. The 
 overpowering strangeness of our experience would have 
 no power to shake our certitude in the facts which 
 created it. 
 
 Again, let us suppose, for argument's sake, that 
 ethnologists, philologists, anatomists, and antiquarians 
 agreed together in separate demonstrations that there 
 were half a dozen races of men, and that they were all
 
 I ndcf edibility of Certitude. 257 
 
 descended from gorillas, or chimpanzees, or ourang- 
 outangs, or baboons; moreover, that Adam was an 
 historical personage, with a well-ascertained dwelling- 
 place, surroundings and date, in a comparatively modern 
 world. On the other hand, let me believe that the 
 Word of God Himself distinctly declares that there 
 were no men before Adam, that he was immediately 
 made out of the slime of the earth, and that he is the 
 first father of all men that are or ever have been. Here 
 is a contradiction of statements more direct than in the 
 former instance ; the two cannot stand together ; one 
 or other of them is untrue. But whatever means I 
 might be led to take, for making, if possible, the an- 
 tagonism tolerable, I conceive I should never give up 
 my certitude in that truth which on sufficient grounds 
 I determined to come from heaven. If I so believed, I 
 should not pretend to argue, or to defend myself to 
 others ; I should be patient ; I should look for better 
 days; but I should still believe. If, indeed, I had 
 hitherto only half believed, if I believed with an assent 
 short of certitude, or with an acquiescence short of 
 assent, or hastily or on light grounds, then the case 
 would be altered ; but if, after full consideration, and 
 availing myself of my best lights, I did think that beyond 
 all question God spoke as I thought He did, philoso- 
 phers and experimentalists might take their course for 
 me, — I should consider that they and I thought and 
 reasoned in different mediums, and that my certitude 
 was as little in collision Aviththemor damaged by them, 
 as if they attempted to counteract in some great matter 
 chemical action by the force of gravity, or to weigh 
 
 s
 
 258 Certitude. 
 
 magnetic influence against capillary attraction. Of 
 course, I am putting an impossible case, for philo- 
 sophical discoveries cannot really contradict divine •/' 
 revelation. 
 
 So much on the indefectibility of certitude ; as to the 
 question whether any other assent is indefectible besides 
 it, I think prejudice may be such; but it cannot be 
 confused with certitude, for the one is an assent previous 
 to rational grounds, and the other an assent given 
 expressly after careful examination. 
 
 It seems then that on the whole there are three con- 
 ditions of certitude : that it follows on investigation 
 and proof, that it is accompanied by a specific sense of 
 intellectual satisfaction and repose, and that it is irre- 
 versible. If the assent is made without rational grounds, 
 it is a rash judgment, a fancy, or a prejudice; if without 
 the sense of finality, it is scarcely more than an infer- 
 ence; if without permanence, it is a mere conviction.
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 INFERENCE. 
 
 § 1. Formal Inference. 
 
 Inference is the conditional acceptance of a proposition, 
 Assent is the unconditional ; the object of Assent is a 
 truth, the object of Inference is the truth-like or a 
 verisimilitude. The problem which I have undertaken 
 is that of ascertaining how it comes to pass that a 
 conditional act leads to an unconditional ; and, having 
 now shown that assent really is unconditional, I proceed 
 to show how inferential exercises, as such, always must 
 be conditional. 
 
 We reason, when we hold this by virtue of that; 
 whether we hold it as evident or as approximating or 
 tending to be evident, in either case we so hold it 
 because of holding something else to be evident or 
 tending to be evident. In the next place, our reasoning 
 ordinarily presents itself to our mind as a simple act, 
 not a process or series of acts. We apprehend the 
 antecedent and then apprehend the consequent, without 
 
 s 2
 
 260 Inference. 
 
 explicit recognition of the medium connecting the two, 
 as if by a sort of direct association of the first thought 
 with the second. We proceed by a sort of instinctive 
 perception, from premiss to conclusion. I call it in- 
 stinctive, not as if the faculty were one and the same 
 to all men in strength and quality (as we generally 
 conceive of instinct), but because ordinarily, or at least 
 often, it acts by a spontaneous impulse, as prompt and 
 inevitable as the exercise of sense and memory. We 
 perceive external objects, and we remember past events, 
 without knowing how we do so ; and in like manner we 
 reason without effort and intention, or any necessary 
 consciousness of the path which the mind takes in 
 passing from antecedent to conclusion. 
 
 Such is ratiocination, in what may be called a state of 
 nature, as it is found in the uneducated, — nay, in all 
 men, in its ordinary exercise; nor is there any antecedent 
 ground for determining that it will not be as correct in 
 its informations as it is instinctive, as trustworthy as are 
 sensibleperception andmemory, though its informations 
 are not so immediate and have a wider range. By 
 means of sense we gain knowledge directly ; by means 
 of reasoning we gain it indirectly, that is, by virtue of a 
 previous knowledge. And if we may justly regard the 
 universe, according to the meaning of the word, as one 
 Avhole, we may also believe justly that to know one part 
 of it is necessarily to know much more than that one 
 part. This thought leads us to a further view of 
 ratiocination. The proverb says, " Ex pede Herculem;" 
 and we have actual experience how the practised 
 zoologist can build up some intricate organization from
 
 Formal Inference . 261 
 
 the sight of its smallest bone, evoking the whole as if 
 it were a remembrance ; how, again, a philosophical 
 antiquarian, by means of an inscription, interprets the 
 mythical traditions of former ages, and makes the past 
 live; and how a Columbus is led, from considerations 
 which are common property, and fortuitous phenomena 
 which are successively brought to his notice, to have such 
 faith in a western world, as willingly to commit himself 
 to the terrors of a mysterious ocean in order to arrive at 
 it. That which the mind is able thus variously to bring 
 together into unity, must have some real intrinsic 
 connexion of part with part. But if this summa rerxtm 
 is thus one whole, it must be constructed on definite 
 principles and laws, the knowledge of which will enlarge 
 our capacity of reasoning about it in particulars ; — thus 
 we are led on to aim at determining on a large scale and 
 on system, what even gifted or practised intellects are 
 only able by their own personal vigour to reach piece- 
 meal and fitfully, that is, at substituting scientific 
 methods, such as all may use, for the action of individual 
 genius. 
 
 There is another reason for attempting to discover an 
 instrument of reasoning (that is, of gaining new truths 
 by means of old), which may be less vague and arbitrary 
 than the talent and experience of the few or the common- 
 sense of the many. As memory is not always accurate, 
 and has on that account led to the adoption of writing, 
 as being a memoria technica, unaffected by the failure of 
 mental impressions, — as our senses at times deceive us, 
 and have to be corrected by each other; so is it also with 
 our reasoning faculty. The conclusions of one man are
 
 262 Inference. 
 
 not the conclusions of another ; those of the same man 
 do not always agree together ; those of ever so many 
 who agree together may differ from the facts themselves, 
 which those conclusions are intended to ascertain. In 
 consequence it becomes a necessity, if it be possible, to 
 analyze the process of reasoning, and to invent a method 
 which may act as a common measure between mind and 
 mind, as a means of joint investigation, and as a 
 recognized intellectual standard, — a standard such as to 
 secure us against hopeless mistakes, and to emancipate 
 us from the capricious ipse dixit of authority. 
 
 As the index on the dial notes down the sun's course 
 in the heavens, as a key, revolving through the intricate 
 wards of the lock, opens for us a treasure-house, so let 
 us, if we can, provide ourselves with some ready 
 expedient to serve as a true record of the system of 
 objective truth, and an available rule for interpreting its 
 phenomena ; or at least let us go as far as we can in 
 providing it. One such experimental key is the science 
 of geometry, which, in a certain department of nature, 
 substitutes a collection of true principles, fruitful and 
 interminable in consequences,fortheguesses, prore nata, 
 of our intellect, and saves it both the labour and the 
 risk of guessing. Another far more subtle and effective 
 instrument is algebraical science, which acts as a spell in 
 unlocking for us, without merit or effort of our own 
 individually, the arcana of the concrete physical universe, 
 A more ambitious, because a more comprehensive con- 
 trivance still, for interpreting the concrete world is the 
 method of logical inference. What we desiderate is 
 something which may supersede the need of personal
 
 Formal Infer eiice. 263 
 
 gifts by a far-reaching and infallible rule. Now, with- 
 out external symbols to mark out and to steady its 
 course, the intellect runs wild; but with the aid of 
 symbols, as in algebra, it advances with precision and 
 effect. Let then our symbols be words : let all thought 
 be arrested and embodied in words. Let language have 
 a monopoly of thought ; and thought go for only so much 
 as it can show itself to be worth in language. Let every 
 prompting of the intellect be ignored, every momentum 
 of argument be disowned, which is unprovided with an 
 equivalent wording, as its ticket for sharing in the 
 common search after truth. Let the authority of 
 nature, common-sense, experience, genius, go for 
 nothing. Eatiocination, thus restricted and put into 
 grooves, is what I have called Inference, and the science, 
 which is its regulating principle, is Logic. 
 
 The first step in the inferential method is to throw 
 the question to be decided into the form of a proposi- 
 tion j then to throw the proof itself into propositions, 
 the force of the proof lying in the comparison of these 
 propositions with each other. When the analysis is 
 carried out fully and put into form, it becomes the 
 Aristotelic syllogism. However, an inference need not 
 be expressed thus technically ; an enthymeme fulfils the 
 requirements of what I have called Inference. So does 
 any other form of words with the mere grammatical 
 expressions, "for," " therefore," " supposing," " so that," 
 " similarly," and the like. Verbal reasoning, of whatever 
 kind, as opposed to mental, is what I mean by inference, 
 which differs from logic only inasmuch as logic is its 
 scientific form. And it will be more convenient here to
 
 264 Inference. 
 
 use the two words indiscriminately, for I shall say 
 nothing about losfic which does not in its substance also 
 apply to inference. 
 
 Logical inference, then, being such, and its office such 
 as I have described, the question follows, how far it 
 answers the purpose for which it is used. It proposes to 
 provide both a test and a common measure of reasoning ; 
 and I think it will be found partly to succeed and 
 partly to fail ; succeeding so far as words can in fact be 
 found for representing the countless varieties and sub- 
 tleties of human thought, failing on account of the fallacy 
 of the original assumption, that whatever can be thought 
 can be adequately expressed in words. 
 
 In the first place, Inference, being conditional, is 
 hampered with other propositions besides that which is 
 especially its own, that is, with the premisses as well as 
 the conclusion, and with the rules connecting the latter 
 with the former. It views its own proper proposition in 
 the medium of prior propositions, and measures it by 
 them. It does not hold a proposition for its own sake, 
 but as dependent upon others, and those others it 
 entertains for the sake of the conclusion. Thus it is 
 practically far more concerned with the comparison of 
 propositions, than with the propositions themselves. 
 It is obliged to regard all the propositions, with which 
 it has to do, not so much for their own sake., as for the 
 sake of each other, as regards the identity or likeness, 
 independence or dissimilarity, which has to be mutually 
 predicated of them. It follows from this, that the more 
 simple and definite are the words of a proposition, and 
 the narrower their meaning, and the more that meaning
 
 Formal Inference. 265 
 
 in each proposition is restricted to the relation which it 
 has to the words of the other propositions compared 
 with it, — in other words, the nearer the propositions 
 concerned in the inference approach to being mental 
 abstractions, and the less they have to do with the 
 concrete reality, and the more closely they are made to 
 express exact, intelligible, comprehensible, communi- 
 cable notions, and the less they stand for objective 
 things, that is, the more they are the subjects, not of 
 real, but of notional apprehension, — so much the more 
 suitable do they become for the pm^poses of Inference. 
 Hence it is that no process of argument is so perfect, 
 as that which is conducted by means of symbols. In 
 Arithmetic 1 is 1, and just 1, and never anything else 
 but 1 ; it never is 2, it has no tendency to change its 
 meaning, and to become 2; it has no portion, quality, 
 admixture of 2 in its meaning. And 6 under all circum- 
 stances is 3 times 2, and the sum of 2 and 4; nor can 
 the whole world supply anything to throw doubt upon 
 these elementary positions. It is not so with language. 
 Take, by contrast, the word ' ' inference," which I have 
 been using : it may stand for the act of inferring, as I 
 haveusedit; or for the connecting-principle, ovinferentia, 
 between premisses and conclusions; or for the conclusion 
 itself. And sometimes it will be difficult, in a particular 
 sentence, to say which it bears of these three senses. 
 And so again in Algebra, a is never x, or anything but 
 a, wherever it is found ; and a and b are always standard 
 quantities, to which x and y are always to be referred, 
 and by which they are always to be measured. In 
 Geometry again, the subjects of argument, points, lines,
 
 2 66 Inference. 
 
 and surfaces, are precise creations of the mind, suggested 
 indeed by external objects, but meaning nothing but 
 what they are defined to mean : they have no colour, no 
 motion, no heat, no qualities which address themselves 
 to the ear or to the palate ; so that, in whatever combi- 
 nations or relations the words denoting them occur, and 
 to whomsoever they come, those words never vary in 
 their meaning, but are just of the same measure and 
 weight at one time and at another. 
 
 What is true of Arithmetic, Algebra, and Geometry, 
 is true also of Aristotelic argumentation in its typical 
 modes and figures. It compares two given words sepa- 
 rately with a third, and then determines how they stand 
 towards each other, in a bond fide identity of sense. In 
 consequence, its formal process is best conducted by 
 means of symbols, A, B, and C. While it keeps to 
 these, it is safe ; it has the cogency of mathematical 
 reasoning, and draws its conclusions by a rule as un- 
 erring as it is blind. 
 
 Symbolical notation, then, being the perfection of the 
 syllogistic method, it follows that, when words are 
 substituted for symbols, it will be its aim to circum- 
 scribe and stint their import as much as possible, lest 
 perchance A should not always exactly mean A, and B 
 mean B ; and to make them, as much as possible, the 
 calculi of notions, which are in our absolute power, as 
 meaning just what we choose them to mean, and as 
 little as possible the tokens of real things, which are out- 
 side of us, and which mean we do not know how much, 
 but so much certainly as may run away with us, in 
 proportion as we enter into them, beyond the range of
 
 Formal Inference. 267 
 
 scientific management. The concrete matter of propo- 
 sitions is a constant source of trouble to syllogistic 
 reasoning, as marring the simplicity and perfection of 
 its process. Words, which denote things, have innu- 
 merable implications ; but in inferential exercises it is 
 the very triumph of that clearness and hardness of head, 
 ■which is the characteristic talent for the art, to have 
 stripped them of all these connatural senses, to have 
 drained them of that depth and breadth of associations 
 which constitute their poetry, their rhetoric, and their 
 historical life, to have starved each term down till it has 
 become the ghost of itself, and everywhere one and the 
 same ghost, " omnibus umbra locis/' so that it may 
 stand for just one unreal aspect of the concrete thing to 
 which it properly belongs, for a relation, a generaliza- 
 tion, or other abstraction, for a notion neatly turned out 
 of the laboratory of the mind, and sufficiently tame and 
 subdued, because existing only in a definition. 
 
 Thus it is that the logician for his own purposes, 
 and most usefully as far as those purposes are concerned, 
 turns rivers, full, winding, and beautiful, into navigable 
 canals. To him dog or horse is not a thing which he 
 sees, but a mere name suggesting ideas ; and by dog or 
 horse universal he means, not the aggregate of all indi- 
 vidual dogs or horses brought together, but a common 
 aspect, meagre but precise, of all existing or possible 
 dogs or horses, which all the while does not really corre- 
 spond to any one single dog or horse out of the whole 
 aggregate. Such minute fidelity in the representation 
 of individuals is neither necessary nor possible to his 
 art; his business is not to ascertain facts in the con-
 
 268 Inference. 
 
 crete, but to find and dress up middle terms ; and, 
 provided they and the extremes which they go between 
 are not equivocal, either in themselves or in their use, 
 and he can enable his pupils to show well in a viva voce, 
 disputation, or in a popular harangue, or in a written 
 dissertation, he has achieved the main purpose of his 
 profession. 
 
 Such are the characteristics of reasoning, viewed as a 
 science or scientific art, or inferential process, and we 
 might anticipate that, narrow as by necessity is its field 
 of view, for that reason its pretensions to be demon- 
 strative were incontrovertible. In a certain sense they 
 really are so ; while we talk logic, we are unanswerable ; 
 but then, on the other hand, this universal living scene 
 of things is after all as little a logical world as it is a 
 poetical ; and, as it cannot without violence be exalted 
 into poetical perfection, neither can it be attenuated into 
 a logical formula. Abstract can only conduct to ab- 
 stract ; but we have need to attain by our reasonings to 
 what is concrete ; and the margin between the abstract 
 conclusions of the science, and the concrete facts which 
 we wish to ascertain, will be found to reduce the force 
 of the inferential method from demonstration to the 
 mere determination of the probable. Thus, whereas 
 (as I have already said) Inference starts with conditions, 
 as starting with premisses, here are two reasons why, 
 when employed upon questions of fact, it can only con- 
 clude probabilities : first, because its premisses are 
 assumed, not proved ; and secondly, because its conclu- 
 sions are abstract, and not concrete. I will now con- 
 sider these two points separately.
 
 Formal Inference. 269 
 
 1. 
 
 Inference comes short of proof in concrete matters, 
 because it has not a full command over the objects to 
 which it relates, but merely assumes its premisses. In 
 order to complete the proof, we are thrown upon some 
 previous syllogism or syllogisms, in which the assump- 
 tions may be proved; and then, still farther back, we 
 are thrown upon others again, to prove the new assump- 
 tions of that second order of syllogisms. Where is 
 this process to stop ? especially since it must run upon 
 separated, divergent, and multiplied lines of argument, 
 the farther the investigation is carried back. At length 
 a score of propositionspresentthemselves,alltobeproved 
 by propositions more evident than themselves, in order 
 to enable them respectively to become premisses to that 
 series of inferences which terminates in the conclusion 
 which we originally drew. But even now the difficulty 
 is not at an end ; it would be something to arrive at 
 length at premisses which are undeniable, however long 
 we might be in arriving at them ; but in this case the 
 long retrospection lodges us at length at what are 
 called first principles, the recondite sources of all know- 
 ledge, as to which logic provides no common measure 
 of minds, — which are accepted by some, rejected by 
 others, — in which, and not in the syllogistic exhibitions, 
 lies the whple problem of attaining to truth, — and which 
 are called self-evident by their respective advocates 
 because they are evident in no other way. One of 
 the two uses contemplated in reasoning by rule, or in 
 verbal argumentation, was, as I have said, to establish
 
 2 jo Inference \ 
 
 a standard of truth and to supersede the ipse dixit of 
 authority : how does it fulfil this end, if it only leads us 
 back to first principles, about which there is interminable 
 controversy ? We are not able to prove by syllogism 
 that there are any self-evident propositions at all ; but 
 supposing there are (as of course I hold there are), still 
 who can determine these by logic ? Syllogism, then, 
 though of course it has its use, still does only the 
 minutest and easiest part of the work, in the inves- 
 tigation of truth, for when there is any difficulty, that 
 difficulty commonly lies in determining first principles, 
 not in the arrangement of proofs. 
 
 Even when argument is the most direct and severe of 
 its kind, there must be those assumptions in the process 
 which resolve themselves into the conditions of human 
 nature ; but how many more assumptions does that 
 process in ordinary concrete matters involve, subtle 
 assumptions not directly arising out of these primary 
 conditions, but accompanying the course of reasoning, 
 step by step, and traceable to the sentiments of the 
 age, country, religion, social habits and ideas, of the 
 particular inquirers or disputants, and passing current 
 without detection, because admitted equally on all hands ! 
 And to these must be added the assumptions which are 
 made from the necessity of the case, in consequence of 
 the prolixity and elaborateness of any argument which 
 should faithfully note down all the propositions which 
 go to make it up. We recognize this tediousness even 
 in the case of the theorems of Euclid, though mathe- 
 matical proof is comparatively simple. 
 
 Logic then does not really prove; it enables us to
 
 Formal Inference. 2 7 1 
 
 join issue with others ; it suggests ideas ; it opens views ; 
 it maps out for us the lines of thought ; it verifies nega- 
 tively; it determines when differences of opinion are 
 hopeless ; and when and how far conclusions are pro- 
 bable; but for genuine proof in concrete matter we 
 require an org anon more delicate, versatile, and elastic 
 than verbal argumentation. 
 
 I ought to give an illustration of what I have been 
 stating in general terms ; but it is difficult to do so 
 without a digression. However, if it must be, I look 
 round the room in which I happen to be writing, and 
 take down the first book which catches my eye. It is 
 an old volume of a Magazine of great name ; I open it at 
 random and fall upon a discussion about the then lately 
 discovered emendations of the text of Shakespeare. It 
 will do for my purpose. 
 
 In the account of Falstaff's death in " Henry V." 
 (act ii. scene 3) we read, according to the received text, 
 the well-known words, " His nose was as sharp as a pen, 
 and '& babbled of green fields." In the first authentic 
 edition, publishedin 1623, some years after Shakespeare's 
 death, the words, I believe, ran, " and a table of green 
 fields/' which has no sense. Accordingly, an anonymous 
 critic, reported by Theobald in the last century, corrected 
 them to "and 'a talked of green fields." Theobald 
 himself improved the reading into " and 'a babbled of 
 green fields," which since his time has been the received 
 text. But just twenty years ago an annotated copy of 
 the edition of 1632 was found, annotated perhaps by a 
 contemporary, which, among as many as 20,000 correc- 

 
 272 Inference. 
 
 tions of the text, substituted for the corrupt reading of 
 1623, the words " on a table of green frieze/' which has 
 a sufficient sense, though far less acceptable to an admirer 
 of Shakespeare, than Theobald's. The genuineness of 
 this copy with its annotations, as it is presented to us, I 
 shall here take for granted. 
 
 Now I understand, or at least will suppose, the 
 argument, maintained in the article of the Magazine in 
 question, to run thus : — " Theobald's reading, as at pre- 
 sent received, is to be retained, to the exclusion of the 
 text of 1623 and of the emendation made on the copy 
 of the edition of 1632 ; — to the exclusion of the text of 
 1623 because that text is corrupt; to the exclusion of 
 the annotation of 1632 because it is anonymous." I 
 wish it then observed how many large questions are 
 opened in the discussion which ensues, how many 
 recondite and untractable principles have to be settled, 
 and how impotent is logic, or any reasonings which 
 can be thrown into language, to deal with these 
 indispensable first principles. 
 
 The first position is, " The authoritative reading of 
 1623 is not to be restored to the received text, because 
 it is corrupt." Now are we to take it for granted, as a 
 first principle, which needs no proof, that a text may 
 be tampered with, because it is corrupt ? However the 
 corrupt reading arose, it is authoritative. It is found in 
 an edition, published by known persons, only six years 
 after Shakespeare's death, from his own manuscript, 
 as it appears, and with his corrections of earlier faulty 
 impressions. Authority cannot sanction nonsense, but 
 it can forbid critics from experimentalizing upon it. If
 
 Formal Inference. 273 
 
 the text of Shakespeare is corrupt, it should be published 
 as corrupt. 
 
 I believe the best editors of the Greek tragedians 
 have given up the impertinence of introducing their 
 conjectures into the text ; and a classic like Shakespeare 
 has a right to be treated with the same respect as 
 iEschylus. To this it will be replied, that Shakespeare 
 is for the general public and ^Eschylus for students of 
 a dead language ; that the run of men read for amuse- 
 ment or as a recreation, and that, if the editions of 
 Shakespeare were made on critical principles, they 
 would remain unsold. Here, then, we are brought to 
 the question whether it is any advantage to read 
 Shakespeare except with the care and pains which a 
 classic demands, and whether he is in fact read at all by 
 those whom such critical exactness would offend ; and 
 thus we are led on to further questions about cultivation 
 of mind and the education of the masses. Further, the 
 question presents itself, whether the general admiration 
 of Shakespeare is genuine, whether it is not a mere 
 fashion, whether the multitude of men understand him 
 at all, whether it is not true that every one makes 
 much of him, because every one else makes much of 
 him. Can we possibly make Shakespeare light reading, 
 especially in this day of cheap novels, by ever so much 
 correction of his text ? 
 
 Now supposing this point settled, and the text of 
 1623 put out of court, then comes the claim of the 
 Annotator to introduce into Shakespeare's text the 
 emendation made upon his copy of the edition of 1632 ; 
 why is he not of greater authority than Theobald, the 
 
 T
 
 2 74 Inference. 
 
 inventor of the received reading, and his emendation of 
 more authority than Theobald's ? If the corrupt reading 
 must any how be got out of the way, why should not the 
 Annotator, rather than Theobald, determine its substi- 
 tute ? For what we know, the authority of the anony- 
 mous Annotator may be very great. There is nothing 
 to show that he was not a contemporary of the poet ; 
 and if so, the question arises, what is the character of his 
 emendations ? are they his own private and arbitrary 
 conjectures, or are they informations from those who 
 knew Shakespeare, traditions of the theatre, of the actors 
 or spectators of his plays ? Here, then, we are involved in 
 intricate questions which can only be decided bya minute 
 examination of the 20,000 emendations so industriously 
 brought together by this anonymous critic. But it is 
 obvious that a verbal argumentation upon 20,000 cor- 
 rections is impossible : there must be first careful pro- 
 cesses of perusal, classification, discrimination, selection, 
 which mainly are acts of the mind without the interven- 
 tion of language. There must be a cumulation of argu- 
 ments on one side and on the other, of which only the 
 heads or the results can be put upon paper. Next come 
 in questions of criticism and taste, with their recondite 
 and disputable premisses, and the usual deductions 
 from them, so subtle and difficult to follow. All this 
 being considered, am I wrong in saying that, though 
 controversy is both possible and useful at all times, yet 
 it is not adequate to this occasion; rather that that sum- 
 total of argument (whether for or against the Annotator) 
 which is furnished by his numerous emendations, — or 
 what may be called the multiform, evidential fact, in
 
 Formal Inference. 275 
 
 which, the examination of these emendations results, — 
 requires rather to be photographed on the individual 
 mind as by one impression, than admits of delineation 
 for the satisfaction of the many in any known or 
 possible language, however rich in vocabulary and 
 flexible in structure ? 
 
 And now as to the third point which presents itself 
 for consideration, the claim of Theobald's emendation to 
 retain its place in the textus receptus. It strikes me 
 with wonder that an argument in its defence could have 
 been put forward to the following effect, viz. that true 
 though it be, that the Editors of 1 623 are of much higher 
 authority than Theobald, and that the Annotator's reading 
 in the passage in question is more likely to be correct 
 than Theobald's, nevertheless Theobald's has by this 
 time acquired a prescriptive right to its place there, the 
 prescription of more than ahundred years; — thatusurpa- 
 tion has become legitimacy ; that Theobald's words have 
 sunk into the hearts of thousands ; that in fact they have 
 become Shakespeare's; that it would be a dangerous inno- 
 vation and an evil precedent to touch them. If we begin 
 an unsettlement of the popular mind, where is it to stop ? 
 
 Thus it appears, in order to do justice to the question 
 beforeus, wehaveto betake ourselves to the consideration 
 of myths, pious frauds, and other grave matters, which 
 introduce us into a sylva, dense and intricate, of first 
 principles and elementary phenomena, belonging to the 
 domains of archeology and theology. Nor is this all ; 
 when such views of the duty of garbling a classic are 
 propounded, they open upon us a long vista of sceptical 
 interrogations which go far to disparage the claims upon 
 
 t 2
 
 276 Inference. 
 
 us, the genius, the very existence, of the great poet to 
 whose honour these views are intended to minister. For 
 perhaps, after all, Shakespeare is really but a collection 
 of many Theobalds, who have each of them a right to 
 his own share of him. There was a great dramatic 
 school in his day ; he was one of a number of first-rate 
 artists, — perhaps they wrote in common. How are we 
 to know what is his, or how much ? Are the best parts 
 his, or the worst ? It is said that the players put in 
 what is vulgar and offensive in his writings ; perhaps 
 they inserted the beauties. I have heard it urged years 
 ago, as an objection to Sheridan's claim of authorship to 
 the plays which bear his name, that they were so unlike 
 each other; is not this the very peculiarity of those 
 imputed to Shakespeare ? Were ever the writings of 
 one man so various, so impersonal ? can we form any one 
 true idea of what he wasinhistoryor character, by means 
 of them ? is he not in short " vox et prceterea nihil" ? 
 Then again, in corroboration, is there any author's life 
 so deficient in biographical notices as his ? We know 
 1 about Hooker, Spenser, Spelman, Raleigh, Harvey, his 
 1 contemporaries : what do we know of Shakespeare ? Is 
 \ he much more than a name ? Is not the traditional 
 object of an Englishman's idolatry after all a nebula of 
 genins, destined, like Homer, to be resolved into its 
 separate and independent luminaries, as soon as we have 
 a criticism powerful enough for the purpose ? I must 
 not be supposed for a moment to countenance such scep- 
 ticism myself, — though it is a subject worthy the atten- 
 tion of a sceptical age : here I have introduced it simply 
 to suggest how many words go to make up a thoroughly
 
 Formal Inference. 277 
 
 valid argument ; how short and easy a way to a true 
 conclusion is the logic of good sense ; how little syllo- 
 gisms have to do with the formation of opinion ; how 
 little depends upon the inferential proofs, and how much 
 upon those pre-existing beliefs and views, in which men 
 either already agree with each other or hopelessly differ, 
 before they begin to dispute, and which are hidden 
 deep in our nature, or, it may be, in our personal 
 peculiarities. 
 
 2. 
 
 So much on the multiplicity of assumptions, which 
 in spite of formal exactness, logical reasoning in concrete 
 matters is forced to admit, and on the consequent uncer- 
 tainty which attends its conclusions. Now I come to 
 the second reason why its conclusions are thus wanting 
 in precision. 
 
 In this world of sense we have to do with things, far 
 more than with notions. We are not solitary, left to 
 the contemplation of our own thoughts and their legiti- 
 mate developments. We are surrounded by external 
 beings, and our enunciations are directed to the concrete' 
 We reason in order to enlarge our knowledge of matters, 
 which do not depend on us for being what they are. 
 But how is an exercise of mind, which is for the most 
 part occupied with notions, not things, competent to 
 deal with things, except partially and indirectly ? This 
 is the main reason why an inference, however fully 
 worded, (except perhaps in some peculiar cases, which 
 are out of place here,) never can reach so far as to ascer- 
 tain a fact. As I have already said, arguments about
 
 2/8 Inference. 
 
 the abstract cannot handle and determine the concrete. 
 They may approximate to a proof, but they only reach 
 the probable, because they cannot reach the particular. 
 
 Even in mathematical physics a margin is left for 
 possible imperfection in the investigation. When the 
 planet Neptune was discovered, it was deservedly con- 
 sidered a triumph of science, that abstract reasonings 
 had done so much towards determining the planet and 
 its orbit. There would have been no triumph in success, 
 had there been no hazard of failure ; it is no triumph to 
 Euclid, in pure mathematics, that the geometrical 
 conclusions of his second book can be worked out and 
 verified by algebra. 
 
 The motions of the heavenly bodies are almost mathe- 
 matical in their precision ; but there is a multitude of 
 matters, to which mathematical science is applied, 
 which are in their nature intricate and obscure, and 
 require that reasoning by rule should be completed by the 
 living mind. Who would be satisfied with a navigator 
 or engineer, who had no practice or experience whereby 
 to carry on his scientific conclusions out of their native 
 abstract into the concrete and the real ? What is the 
 meaning of the distrust, which is ordinarily felt, of 
 speculators and theorists but this, that they are dead to 
 the necessity of personal prudence and judgment to 
 qualify and complete their logic ? Science, working by 
 itself, reaches truth in the abstract, and probability in the 
 concrete ; but what we aim at is truth in the concrete. 
 
 This is true of other inferences besides mathematical. 
 They come to no definite conclusions about matters of 
 fact, except as they are made effectual for their purpose
 
 Formal Inference. 279 
 
 by the living intelligence which uses them. ' ' All men 
 have their price ; Fabricius is a man ; he has his price •" 
 but he had not his price ; how is this ? Because he is 
 more than a universal ; because he falls under other 
 universals ; because universals are ever at war with each 
 other; because what is called a universal is only a 
 general ; because what is only general does not lead to 
 a necessary conclusion. Let us judge him by another 
 universal. "Men have a conscience; Fabricius is a 
 man; he has a conscience/'' Until we have actual 
 experience of Fabricius, we can only say, that, since he 
 is a man, perhaps he will take a bribe, and perhaps he 
 will not. Ci Latet dolus in generalibus ;" they are 
 arbitrary and fallacious, if we take them for more than 
 broad views and aspects of things, serving as our notes 
 and indications for judging of the particular, but not 
 absolutely touching and determining facts. 
 
 Let units come first, and (so-called) universals second ; 
 let universals minister to units, not units be sacrificed to 
 universals. John, Richard, and Robert are individual 
 things, independent, incommunicable. We may find 
 some kind of common measure between them, and we 
 may give it the name of man, man as such, the typical 
 man, the auto-anthropos. We are justified in so doing, 
 and in investing it with general attributes, and bestowing 
 on it what we consider a definition. But we think we 
 may go on to impose our definition on the whole race, 
 and to every member of it, to the thousand Johns, 
 Richards, and Roberts who are found in it. No ; each 
 of them is what he is, in spite of it. Not any one of 
 them is man, as such, or coincides with the auto-anthropos.
 
 280 Inference. 
 
 Another John is not necessarily rational, because " all 
 men are rational," for he may be an idiot ; — nor because 
 "man is a being of progress," does the second Bichard 
 progress, for he may be a dunce ; — nor, because " man is 
 made for society," must we therefore go on to deny 
 that the second Eobert is a gipsy or a bandit, as he 
 is found to be. There is no such thing as stereotyped 
 humanity; it must ever be a vague, bodiless idea, 
 because the concrete units from which it is formed are 
 independent realities. General laws are not inviolable 
 truths ; much less are they necessary causes. Since, as 
 a rule, men are rational, progressive, and social, there is a 
 high probability of this rule being true in the case of a 
 particular person ; but we must know him to be sure of it. 
 Each thing has its own nature and its own history. 
 When the nature and the history of many things are 
 similar, we say that they have the same nature ; but 
 there is no such thing as one and the same nature ; they 
 are each of them itself, not identical, but like. A law is 
 not a fact, but a notion. " All men die ; therefore Elias 
 Uas died;" but he has not died, and did not die. He 
 was an exception to the general law of humanity ; so 
 far, he did not come under that law, but under the law 
 (so to say) of Elias. It was the peculiarity of his 
 individuality, that he left the world without dying : 
 what right have we to subject the person of Elias to the 
 scientific notion of an abstract humanity, which we have 
 formed without asking his leave ? Why must the 
 tyrant majority find a rule for his individual history ? 
 " But all mon are mortal V not so ; what is really meant 
 by this universal is, that " man, as such, is mortal," that
 
 Forma I Inference. 2 8 1 
 
 is, the abstract, typical auto-anthropos ; to this major 
 premiss the minor, if Elias is to be proved mortal, 
 ought to be,, " Elias was the abstract man ; ; ' but he 
 was not, and could not be such, nor could any one 
 else, any more than the average man of an Insurance 
 Company is every individual man who insures his life 
 with it. Such a syllogism proves nothing about the 
 veritable Elias, except in the way of antecedent pro- 
 bability. If it be said that Elias was exempted from 
 death, not by nature, but by miracle, what is this to 
 the purpose, undeniable as it is ? Still, to have this 
 miraculous exemption was the personal prerogative of 
 Elias. We call it miracle, because God ordinarily acts 
 otherwise. He who causes men in general to die, gave 
 to Elias not to die. This miraculous gift comes into the 
 individuality of Elias. On this individuality we must 
 fix our thoughts, and not begin our notion of him by 
 ignoring it. He was a man, and something more than 
 " man " ; and if we do not take this into account, we 
 fall into an initial error in our thoughts of him. 
 
 What is true of Elias is true of every one in his own 
 place and degree. We call rationality the distinction of 
 man, when compared with other animals. This is true 
 in logic ; but in fact a man differs from a brute, not in 
 rationality only, but in all that he is, even in those 
 respects in which he is most like a brute ; so that his 
 whole self, his bones, limbs, make, life, reason, moral 
 feeling, immortality, and all that he is besides, is his 
 real differentia, in contrast to a horse or a dog. And in 
 like manner as regards John and Richard, when compared 
 with one another ; each is himself, and nothing else, and,
 
 282 Inference. 
 
 though, regarded abstractedly, the two may fairly be 
 said to have something in common, (viz. that abstract 
 sameness which does not exist at all,) yet strictly 
 speaking, they have nothing in common, for each of 
 them has a vested interest in all that he himself is ; and, 
 moreover, what seems to be common in the two, becomes 
 in fact so uncommon, so sui simile, in their respective 
 individualities — the bodily frame of each is so singled 
 out from all other bodies by its special constitution, 
 sound or weak, by its vitality, activity, pathological 
 history and chaDges, and, again, the mind of each is so 
 distinct from all other minds, in disposition, powers, and 
 habits, — that, instead of saying, as logicians say, that the 
 two men differ only in number, we ought, I repeat, rather 
 to say that they differ from each other in all that they 
 are, in identity, in incommunicability, in personality. 
 
 Nor does any real thing admit, by any calculus of 
 logic, of being dissected into all the possible general 
 notions which it admits, nor, in consequence, of being 
 recomposed out of them ; though the attempt thus to 
 treat it is more unpromising in proportion to the 
 intricacy and completeness of its make. We cannot see 
 through any one of the myriad beings which make up 
 the universe, or give the full catalogue of its belongings. 
 We are accustomed, indeed, and rightly, to speak of the 
 Creator Himself as incomprehensible ; and, indeed, He 
 is so by an incommunicable attribute ; but in a certain 
 sense each of His creatures is incomprehensible to us 
 also, in the sense that no one has a perfect understanding 
 of them but He. We recognize and appropriate aspects 
 of them, and logic is useful to us in registering these
 
 Formal Inference. 283 
 
 aspects and what they imply ; but it does not give us to 
 know even one individual being. 
 
 So much on logical argumentation; and in thus speak- 
 ing of the syllogism, I speak of all inferential processes 
 whatever, as expressed in language, (if they are such as 
 to be reducible to science,) for they all require general 
 notions, as conditions of their coming to a conclusion. 
 
 Thus, in the deductive argument, "Europe has no 
 security for peace, till its large standing armies in its 
 separate states are reduced ; for a large standing army 
 is in its very idea provocative of war," the conclusion is 
 only probable, for it may so be that in no country is that 
 pure idea realized, but in every country in concrete fact 
 there may be circumstances, political or social, which 
 destroy the abstract dangerousness. 
 
 So, too, as regards Induction and Analogy, as modes 
 of Inference ; for, whether I argue, " This place will 
 have the cholera, unless it is drained ; for there are a 
 number of well-ascertained cases which point to this 
 conclusion •" or, " The sun will rise to-morrow, for it 
 rose to-day ;" in either method of reasoning I appeal, in 
 order to prove a particular case, to a general principle or 
 law, which has not force enough to warrant more than a 
 probable conclusion. As to the cholera, the place in 
 question may have certain antagonist advantages, which 
 anticipate or neutralize the miasma which is the principle 
 of the poison ; and as to the sun's rising to-morrow, 
 there was a first day of the sun's rising, and therefore 
 there may be a last. 
 
 This is what I have to say on formal Inference, when
 
 284 Inference. 
 
 taken to represent Ratiocination. Science in all its 
 departments has too much simplicity and exactness, 
 from the nature of the case, to be the measure of fact. 
 In its very perfection lies its incompetency to settle 
 particulars and details. As to Logic, its chain of con- 
 clusions hangs loose at both ends ; both the point from 
 which the proof should start, and the points at which it 
 should arrive, are beyond its reach ; it comes short both 
 of first principles and of concrete issues. Even its most 
 elaborate exhibitions fail to represent adequately thesum- 
 total of considerations by which an individual mind is 
 determined in its judgment of things ; even its most 
 careful combinations made to beax on a conclusion want 
 that steadiness of aim which is necessarv for hitting it. 
 As I said when I began, thought is too keen and 
 manifold, its sources are too remote and hidden, its 
 path too personal, delicate, and circuitous, its subject- 
 matter too various and intricate, to admit of the tram- 
 mels of any language, of whatever subtlety and of 
 whatever compass. 
 
 Nor is it any disparagement of the proper value of 
 formal reasonings thus to speak of them. That they 
 cannot proceed beyond probabilities is most readily 
 allowed by those who use them most. Philosophers, 
 experimentalists, lawyers, in their several ways, have 
 commonly the reputation of being, at least on moral and 
 religious subjects, hard of belief; because, proceeding in 
 the necessary investigation by the analytical method of 
 verbal inference, they find within its limits no sufficient 
 resources for attaining a conclusion. Nay, they do not 
 always find it possible in their own special province
 
 Formal Inference. 285 
 
 severally ; for, even when in their hearts they have no 
 doubt about a conclusion, still often, from the habit of 
 their minds, they are reluctant to own it, and dwell upon 
 the deficiencies of the evidence, or the possibility of error, 
 because they speak by rule and by book, though they 
 judge and determine by common-sense. 
 
 Every exercise of nature or of art is good in its place ; 
 and the uses of this logical inference are manifold. It 
 is the great principle of order in our thinking; it 
 reduces a chaos into harmony ; it catalogues the ac- 
 cumulations of knowledge; it maps out for us the 
 relations of its separate departments ; it puts us in the 
 way to correct its own mistakes. It enables the in- 
 dependent intellects of many, acting and re-acting on 
 each other, to bring their collective force to bear upon 
 one and the same subject-matter, or the same question. 
 If language is an inestimable gift to man, the logical 
 faculty prepares it for our use. Though it does not go 
 so far as to ascertain truth, still it teaches us the 
 direction in which truth lies, and how propositions lie 
 towards each other. Nor is it a slight benefit to know 
 what is probable, and what is not so, what is needed 
 for the proof of a point, what is wanting in a theory, 
 how a theory hangs together, and what will follow, if it 
 be admitted. Though it does not itself discover the 
 unknown, it is one principal way by which discoveries 
 are made. Moreover, a course of argument, which is 
 simply conditional, wall point out when and where 
 experiment and observation should be applied, or testi- 
 mony sought for, as often happens both in physical and 
 legal questions. A logical hypothesis is the means of
 
 286 Inference. 
 
 holding facts together, explaining difficulties, and 
 reconciling the imagination to what is strange. And, 
 again, processes of logic are useful as enabling us to 
 get over particular stages of an investigation speedily 
 and surely, as on a journey we now and then gain 
 time by travelling by night, make short cuts when 
 the high-road winds, or adopt water-carriage to avoid 
 fatigue. 
 
 But reasoning by rule and in words is too natural to 
 us, to admit of being regarded merely in the light of 
 utility. Our inquiries spontaneously fall into scientific 
 sequence, and we think in logic, as we talk in prose, 
 without aiming at doing so. However sure we are of 
 the accuracy of our instinctive conclusions, we as in- 
 stinctively put them into words, as far as we can ; as 
 preferring-, if possible, to have them in an objective 
 shape which we can fall back upon, — first for our own 
 satisfaction, then for our justification with others. Such 
 a tangible defence of what we hold, inadequate as it 
 necessarily is, considered as an analysis of our ratioci- 
 nation in its length and breadth, nevertheless is in such 
 sense associated with our holdiugs, and so fortifies and 
 illustrates them, that it acts as a vivid apprehension 
 acts, giving them luminousness and force. Thus in- 
 ference becomes a sort of symbol of assent, and even 
 bears upon action. 
 
 I have enlarged on these obvious considerations, lest 
 I should seem paradoxical ; but they do not impair the 
 main position of this Section, that Inference, considered 
 in the sense of verbal argumentation, determines neither 
 our principles, nor our ultimate judgments, — that it is
 
 Formal Inference. 287 
 
 neither the test of truth, nor the adequate basis of 
 assent. 1 
 
 1 I have assumed throughout this Section that all verhal argumenta- 
 tion is ultimately syllogistic ; and in consequence that it ever requires 
 universal propositions and comes short of concrete fact. A friend refers 
 me to the dispute between Des Cartes and Gassendi, the latter main- 
 taining against the former that " Cogito ergo sum " implies the uni- 
 versal " All who think exist." I should deny this with Des Cartes ; but 
 I should say (as indeed he said), that his dictum was not an argument, 
 but was the expression of a ratiocinative instinct, as I explain below 
 under the head of " Natural Logic." 
 
 As to the instance " Brutes are not men ; therefore men are not 
 brutes," there seems to me no consequence here, neither a -prater nor a 
 propter, but a tautology. And as to " It was either Tom or Dick that 
 did it; it was not Dick, ergo," this may be referred to the one great 
 principle on which all logical reasoning is founded, but really it ought 
 not to be accounted an inference any more than if I broke a biscuit, 
 flung half away, and then said of the other half, " This is what remains." 
 It does but state a fact. So, when the 1st, 2nd, or 3rd proposition of 
 Euclid II. is put before the eyes in a diagram, a boy, before he yet has 
 learned to reason, sees with his eyes the fact of the thesis, and this seeing 
 it even makes it difficult for him to master the mathematical proof. 
 Here, then, a. fact is stated in the form of an argument. 
 
 However, I have inserted parentheses at pp. 277 and 283, in order to 
 say "transeat" to the questiou.
 
 288 Inference. 
 
 § 2. Informal Inference. 
 
 It is plain that formal logical sequence is not in fact 
 the method bv which we are enabled to become certain 
 of what is concrete ; and it is equally plain, from what 
 has been already suggested, what the real and necessary 
 method is. It is the cumulation of probabilities, in- 
 dependent of each other, arising out of the nature and 
 circumstances of the particular case which is under 
 review ; probabilities too fine to avail separately, too 
 subtle and circuitous to be convertible into syllogisms, 
 too numerous and various for such conversion, even were 
 they convertible. As a man's portrait differs from a 
 sketch of him, in having, not merely a continuous 
 outline, but all its details filled in, and shades and 
 colours laid on and harmonized together, such is the 
 multiform and intricate process of ratiocination, neces- 
 sary for our reaching him as a concrete fact, compared 
 with the rude operation of syllogistic treatment. 
 
 Let us suppose I wish to convert an educated, 
 thoughtful Protestant, and accordingly present for his 
 acceptance a syllogism of the following kind : — " All 
 Protestants are bound to join the Church ; you are 
 a Protestant : ergo." He answers, we will say, by
 
 I nf or ?nal Inference. 289 
 
 denying both premisses ; and he does so by means of 
 arguments, which branch out into other arguments, and 
 those into others, and all of them severally requiring to 
 be considered by him on their own merits, before the 
 syllogism reaches him. and in consequence mounting up, 
 taken altogethei*, into an array of inferential exercises 
 large and various beyond calculation. Moreover, he is 
 bound to submit himself to this complicated processfrom 
 the nature of the case ; he would act rashly, if he did 
 not ; for he is a concrete individual unit, and being so, 
 is under so many laws, and is the subject of so many 
 predications all at once, that he cannot determine, off- 
 hand, his position and his duty by the law and the 
 predication of one syllogism in particular. I mean he 
 may fairly say, " Distinguo," to each of its premisses : 
 he says, " Protestants are bound to join the Church, — 
 under circumstances/' and " I am a Protestant — in a 
 certain sense ; " and therefore the syllogism, at first 
 sight, does not touch him at all. 
 
 Before, then, he grants the major, he asks whether all 
 Protestants really are bound to join the Church — are 
 they bound in case they do not feel themselves bound; 
 if they are satisfied that their present religion is a safe 
 one j if they are sure it is true ; if, on the other hand, 
 they have grave doubts as to the doctrinal fidelity and 
 purity of the Church ; if they are convinced that the 
 Church is corrupt ; if their conscience instinctively 
 rejects certain of its doctrines; if history convinces 
 them that the Pope's power is not jure divino, but 
 merely in the order of Providence ? if, again, they 
 are in a heathen country where priests are not ? or 
 
 u
 
 290 Inference. 
 
 where the only priest who is to be found exacts of them, 
 as a condition of their reception, a profession, which the 
 Creed of Pope Pius IV. says nothing about ; for instance, 
 that the Holy See is fallible even when it teaches, or 
 that the Temporal Power is an anti- Christian corruption? 
 On one or other of such grounds he thinks he need not 
 change his religion; but presently he asks himself, Can 
 a Protestant be in such a state as to be really satisfied 
 with his religion, as he has just now been professing ? 
 Can he possibly believe Protestantism came from above, 
 as a whole ? how much of it can he believe came from 
 above ? and, as to that portion which he feels did come 
 from above, has it not all been derived to him from the 
 Church, when traced to its source ? Is not Protestantism 
 in itself a negation ? Did not the Church exist before 
 it? and can he be sure, on the other hand, that anyone 
 of the Church's doctrines is not from above ? Further, 
 he finds he has to make up his mind what is a corruption, 
 and what are the tests of it ; what he means by a 
 religion ; whether it is obligatory to profess any religion 
 in particular ; what are the standards of truth and 
 falsehood in religion ; and what are the special claims 
 of the Church. 
 
 And so, again, as to the minor premiss, perhaps he 
 will answer, that he is not a Protestant ; that he is a 
 Catholic of the early undivided Church; that he is a 
 Catholic, but not a Papist. Then he has to determine 
 questions about division, schism, visible unity, what is 
 essential, what is desirable; about provisional states; as 
 to the adjustment of the Church's claims with those of 
 personal judgment and responsibility; as to the soul of
 
 Informal Inference. 291 
 
 the Church contrasted with the body ; as to degrees of 
 proof, and the degree necessary for his conversion ; as 
 to what is called his providential position, and the 
 responsibility of change; as to the sincerity of his 
 purpose to follow the Divine Will, whithersoever it 
 may lead him ; as to his intellectual capacity of investi- 
 gating such questions at all. 
 
 None of these questions, as they come before him, 
 admit of simple demonstration ; but each carries with it 
 a number of independent probable arguments, sufficient, 
 when united, for a reasonable conclusion about itself. 
 And first he determines that the questions are such as he 
 personally, with such talents or attainments as he has, 
 may fairly entertain; and then he goes on, after delibe- 
 ration, to form a definite judgment upon them; and 
 determines them, one way or another, in their bearing on 
 the bald syllogism which was originally offered to his 
 acceptance. And, we will say, he comes to the conclusion, 
 that he ought to accept it as true in his case ; that he is 
 a Protestant in such a sense, of such a complexion, of 
 such knowledge, under such circumstances, as to be called 
 upon by duty to join the Church ; that this is a 
 conclusion of which he can be certain, and ou^ht to be 
 certain, and that he will be incurring grave responsi- 
 bility, if he does not accept it as certain, and act upon 
 the certainty of it. And to this conclusion he comes, 
 as is plaiu, not by any possible verbal enumeration of 
 all the considerations, minute but abundant, delicate but 
 effective, which unite to bring him to it; but by a 
 mental comprehension of the whole case, and a discern- 
 ment of its upshot, sometimes after much deliberation, 
 
 u 2
 
 292 Inference. 
 
 but, it may be, by a clear and rapid act of the intellect, 
 always, however, by an unwritten summing-up, some- 
 thing like the summation of the terms, plus and minus 
 of an algebraical series. 
 
 This I conceive to be the real method of reasoning in 
 concrete matters; and it has these characteristics: — 
 First, it does not supersede the logical form of inference, 
 but is one and the same with it ; only it is no longer an 
 abstraction, but carried out into the realities of life, its 
 premisses being instinct with the substance and the 
 momentum of that mass of probabilities, which, acting 
 upon each other in correction and confirmation, carry 
 it home definitely to the individual case, which is its 
 original scope. 
 
 Next, from what has been said it is plain, that such 
 a process of reasoning is more or less implicit, and 
 without the direct and full advertence of the mind 
 exercising it. As by the use of our eyesight we re- 
 cognize two brothers, yet without being able to express 
 what it is by which we distinguish them ; as at first 
 sight we perhaps confuse them together, but, on better 
 knowledge, we see no likeness between them at all; as 
 it requires an artist's eye to determine what lines and 
 shades make a counteuance look young or old, amiable, 
 thoughtful, angry or conceited, the principle of dis- 
 crimination beiug in each case real, but implicit ; — so is 
 the mind unequal to a complete analysis of the motives 
 which carry it on to a particular conclusion, and is 
 swayed and determined by a body of proof, which it 
 recognizes only as a body,and not in its constituent parts. 
 
 And thirdly, it is plain, that, in this investigation of
 
 Informal Inference. 293 
 
 the method of concrete inference, we have not advanced 
 one step towards depriving inference of its conditional 
 character; for it is still as dependent on premisses, as it 
 is in its elementary idea. On the contrary, we have 
 rather added to the obscurity of the problem; for a 
 syllogism is at least a demonstration, when the premisses 
 are granted, but a cumulation of probabilities, over and 
 above their implicit character, will vary both in their 
 number and their separate estimated value, according to 
 the particular intellect which is employed upon it. It 
 follows that what to one intellect is a proof is not so to 
 another, and that the certainty of a proposition does 
 properly consist in the certitude of the mind which 
 contemplates it. And this of course may be said 
 without prejudice to the objective truth or falsehood of 
 propositions, since it does not follow that these pro- 
 positions on the one hand are not true, and based on 
 right reason, and those on the other not false, and 
 based on false reason, because not all men discriminate 
 them in the same way. 
 
 Having thus explained the view which I would take 
 of reasoning in the concrete, viz. that, from the nature 
 of the case, and from the constitution of the human 
 mind, certitude is the result of arguments which, taken 
 in the letter, and not in their full implicit sense, are but 
 probabilities, I proceed to dwell on some instances and 
 circumstances of a phenomenon which seems to mo as 
 undeniable as to many it may be perplexing.
 
 294 Inference. 
 
 1. 
 
 Let us take three instances belonging respectively to 
 the present, the past, and the future. 
 
 1 . We are all absolutely certain, beyond the possibility 
 of doubt, that Great Britain is an island. We give to 
 that proposition our deliberate and unconditional ad- 
 hesion. There is no security on which, we should be 
 better content to stake our interests, our property, our 
 welfare, than on the fact that we are living in an island. 
 We have no fear of any geographical discovery which 
 may reverse our belief. We should be amused or angry 
 at the assertion, as a bad jest, did any one say that we 
 were at this time joined to the main-land in Norway or 
 in France, though a canal was cut across the isthmus. 
 We are as little exposed to the misgiving, " Perhaps we 
 are not on an island after all," as to the question, " Is it 
 quite certain that the angle in a semi-circle is a right- 
 angle ? " It is a simple and primary truth with us, if 
 any truth is such; to believe it is as ligitimate an 
 exercise of assent, as there are legitimate exercises of 
 doubt or of opinion. This is the position of our minds 
 towards our insularity ; yet are the arguments produci- 
 ble for it (to use the common expression) in black and 
 white commensurate with this overpowering certitude 
 about it ? 
 
 Our reasons for believing that we are circumnavigable 
 are such as these : — first, we have been so taught in our 
 childhood, and it is so in all the maps ; next, we have 
 never heard it contradicted or questioned ; on the con-
 
 Informal Inference. 295 
 
 trary, every one whom we have heard speak on the 
 subject of Great Britain, every book we have read, 
 invariably took it for granted ; our whole national 
 history, the routine transactions and current events of 
 the country, our social and commercial system, our 
 political relations with foreigners, imply it in one way 
 or another. Numberless facts, or what we consider 
 facts, rest on the truth of it ; no received fact rests on 
 its being otherwise. If there is anywhere a junction 
 between us and the continent, where is it ? and how do 
 we know it ? is it in the north or in the south ? There 
 is a manifest reductio ad absurdum attached to the notion 
 that we can be deceived on such a point as this. 
 
 However, negative arguments and circumstantial 
 evidence are not all, in such a matter, which we have a 
 right to require. They are not the highest kind of 
 proof possible. Those who have circumnavigated the 
 island have a right to be certain : have we ever ourselves 
 even fallen in with any one who has ? And as to the 
 common belief, what is the proof that we are not all of 
 us believing it on the credit of each other ? And then, 
 w T hen it is said that every one believes it, and every- 
 thing implies it, how much comes home to me personally 
 of this " every one " and " everything "? The question 
 is, Why do I believe it myself? A living statesman is 
 said to have fancied Demerara an island ; his belief was 
 an impression ; have we personally more than an 
 impression, if we view the matter argumentatively, a 
 lifelong impression about Great Brittain, like the belief, 
 so long and so widely entertained, that the earth was 
 immovable, and the sun careered round it ? I am not
 
 296 Inference. 
 
 at all insinuating: that we are not rational in our 
 certitude ; I only mean that we cannot analyze a proof 
 satisfactorily, the result of which good sense actually 
 guarantees to us. 
 
 2. Father Hardouin maintained that Terence's Plays, 
 Virgil's "iEneid," Horace's Odes, and the Histories of 
 Livy and Tacitus, were the forgeries of the monks of the 
 thirteenth century. That he should be able to argue in 
 behalf of such a position, shows of course that the proof 
 in behalf of the received opinion is not overwhelming. 
 That is, we have no means of inferring absolutely, that 
 Virgil's episode of Dido, or of the Sibyl, and Horace's 
 " Te quoque mensorem " and " Quern tu Melpomene," 
 belong to that Augustan age, which owes its celebrity 
 mainly to those poets. Our common-sense, however, 
 believes in their genuineness without any hesitation or 
 reserve, as if it had been demonstrated, and not in pro- 
 portion to the available evidence in its favour, or the 
 balance of arguments. 
 
 So much at first sight ; — but what are our grounds 
 for dismissing thus summarily, as we are likely to do, a 
 theory such as Hardouin's ? For let it be observed 
 first, that all knowledge of the Latin classics comes to us 
 from the medieval transcriptions of them, and they who 
 transcx-ibed them had the opportunity of forging or 
 garbling them. We are simply at their mercy ; for 
 neither by oral transmission, nor by monumental in- 
 scriptions, nor by contemporaneous manuscripts are the 
 works of Virgil, Horace, and Terence, of Livy and 
 Tacitus, brought to our knowledge. The existing copies, 
 whenever made, are to us the autographic originals.
 
 Informal Inference. 297 
 
 Next, it must be considered, that the numerous re- 
 ligious bodies, then existing over the face of Europe, 
 had leisure enough, in the course of a century, to 
 compose, not only all the classics, but all the Fathers 
 too. The question is, whether they had the ability. 
 This is the main point on which the inquiry turns, or 
 at least the most obvious ; and it forms one of those 
 arguments, which, from the nature of the case, are felt 
 rather than are convertible into syllogisms. Hardouin 
 allows that the Greorgics, Horace's Satires and Epistles, 
 and the whole of Cicero, are genuine : we have a standard 
 then in these undisputed compositions of the Augustan 
 age. We have a standard also, in the extant medieval 
 works, of what the thirteenth century could do ; and we 
 see at once how widely the disputed works differ from 
 the medieval. Now could the thirteenth century simu- 
 late Augustan writers better than the Augustan could 
 simulate such writers as those of the thirteenth ? No. 
 Perhaps, when the subject is critically examined, the 
 question may be brought to a more simple issue ; but as 
 to our personal reasons for receiving as genuine the 
 whole of Virgil, Horace, Livy, Tacitus, and Terence, 
 they are summed up in our conviction that the monks 
 had not the ability to write them. That is, we take for 
 granted that we are sufficiently informed about the 
 capabilities of the human inind, and the conditions of 
 genius, to be quite sure that an age which was fertile in 
 great ideas and in momentous elements of the future, 
 robust in thought, hopeful in its anticipations, of 
 singular intellectual curiosity and acumen, and of high 
 genius in at least one of the fine arts, could not, for the
 
 298 Inference. 
 
 very reason of its pre-eminence in its own line, have an 
 equal pre-eminence in a contrary one. We do not 
 pretend to be able to draw the line between what the 
 medieval intellect could or could not do ; but we feel 
 sure that at least it could not write the classics. An 
 instinctive sense of this, and a faith in testimony, are 
 the sufficient, but the undeveloped argument on which 
 to ground our certitude. 
 
 I will add, that, if we deal with arguments in the mere 
 letter, the question of the authorship of works in any 
 case has much difficulty. I have noticed it in the in- 
 stance of Shakespeare, and of Newton. We are all 
 certain that Johnson wrote the prose of Johnson, and 
 Pope the poetry of Pope ; but what is there but pre- 
 scription, at least after contemporaries are dead, to 
 connect together the author of the work and the owner 
 of the name ? Our lawyers prefer the examination of 
 present witnesses to affidavits on paper; but the ti-adition 
 of " testimonial' such as are prefixed to the classics and 
 the Fathers, together with the absence of dissentient 
 voices, is the adequate groundwork of our belief in the 
 history of literature. 
 
 3. Once more: what are my grounds for thinking 
 that I, in my own particular case, shall die ? I am as 
 certain of it in my own innermost mind, as I am that I 
 now live ; but what is the distinct evidence on which I 
 allow myself to be certain ? how would it tell in a court 
 of justice ? how should I fare under a cross-examination 
 upon the grounds of my certitude ? Demonstration of 
 course I cannot have of a future event, unless by means 
 of a Divine Voice ; but what logical defence can I make
 
 Informal Inference. 299 
 
 for that undoubting, obstinate anticipation of it, of 
 which I could not rid myself, if I tried ? 
 
 First, the Future cannot be proved a posteriori; there- 
 fore we are compelled by the nature of the case to put 
 up with a priori arguments, that is, with antecedent 
 probability, which is by itself no logical proof. Men 
 tell me that there is a law of death, meaning by law a 
 necessity; and I answer that they are throwing dust into 
 my eyes, giving me words instead of things. What is a 
 law but a generalized fact ? and what power has the 
 past over the future ? and what power has the case of 
 others over my own case ? and how many deaths have I 
 seen ? how many ocular witnesses have imparted to me 
 their experience of deaths, sufficient to establish what 
 is called a law ? 
 
 But let there be a law of death ; so there is a law, we 
 are told, that the planets, if let alone, would severally 
 fall into the sun — it is the centrifugal law which hinders 
 it, and so the centripetal law is never carried out. In 
 like manner I am not under the law of death alone, I 
 am under a thousand laws, if I am under one; and they 
 thwart and counteract each other, and jointly determine 
 the irregular line, along which my actual history runs, 
 divergent from the special direction of any one of them. 
 No law is carried out, except in cases where it acts 
 freely : how do I know that the law of death will be 
 allowed its free action in my particular case ? We often 
 are able to avert death by medical treatment : why 
 should death have its effect, sooner or later, in every 
 case conceivable ? 
 
 It is true that the human frame, in all instances
 
 300 Inference. 
 
 which come before nie, first grows, and then declines, 
 wastes, and decays, in visible preparation for dissolution. 
 We see death seldom, but of this decline we are witnesses 
 daily ; still, it is a plain fact, that most men who die, 
 die, not by any law of death, but by the law of disease ; 
 and some writers have questioned whether death is ever, 
 strictly speaking, natural. Now, are diseases necessary ? 
 is there any law that every one, sooner or later, must 
 fall under the power of disease ? and what would happen 
 on a large scale, were there no diseases ? Is what we 
 call the law of death anything more than the chance of 
 disease ? Is the prospect of my death, in its logical 
 evidence, — as that evidence is brought home to me — 
 much more than a high probability ? 
 
 The strongest proof I have for my inevitable mortality 
 is the reductio ad absurdum. Can I point to the man, 
 in historic times, who has lived his two hundred years? 
 What has become of past generations of men, unless it 
 is true that they suffered dissolution ? But this is a 
 circuitous argument to warrant a conclusion to which in 
 matter of fact I adhere so relentlessly. Anyhow, there 
 is a considerable "surplusage," as Locke calls it, of belief 
 over proof, when I determine that I individually must 
 die. But what logic cannot do, my own living personal 
 reasoning, my good sense, which is the healthy condition 
 of such personal reasoning, but which cannot adequately 
 express itself in words, does for me, and I am possessed 
 with the most precise, absolute, masterful certitude of 
 my dying some day or other. 
 
 1 am led on by these reflections to make another 
 remark. If it is difficult to explain how a man knows
 
 Informal Inference. 301 
 
 that he shall die, is it not more difficult for him to satisfy 
 himself how he knows that he was born ? His know- 
 ledge about himself does not rest on memory, nor on 
 distinct testimony, nor on circumstantial evidence. Can 
 he bring into one focus of proof the l'easons which make 
 him so sure ? I am not speaking of scientific men, who 
 have diverse channels of knowledge, but of an ordinary 
 individual, as one of ourselves. 
 
 Answers doubtless may be given to some of these 
 questions; but, on the whole, I think it is the fact that 
 many of our most obstinate and most reasonable certi- 
 tudes depend on proofs which are informal and personal, 
 which baffle our powers of analysis, and cannot be brought 
 under logical rule, because they cannot be submitted to 
 logical statistics. If we must speak of Law, this recog- 
 nition of a correlation between certitude and implicit 
 proof seems to me a law of our minds. 
 
 2. 
 
 I said just now that an object of sense presents itself 
 to our view as one whole, and not in its separate details : 
 we take it in, recognize it, and discriminate it from other 
 objects, all at once. Such too is the intellectual view 
 we take of the momenta of proof for a concrete truth ; 
 we grasp the full tale of premisses and the conclusion, 
 per modumunius, — by a sort of instinctive perception of 
 the legitimate conclusion in and through the premisses, 
 not by a formal juxta-position of propositions ; though 
 of course such a juxta-position is useful and natural, both 
 to direct and to verify, just as in objects of sight our
 
 o 
 
 02 Inference. 
 
 notice of bodily peculiarities, or the remarks of others 
 may aid us in establishing a case of disputed identity. 
 And, as this man or that will receive his own impression 
 of one and the same person, and judge differently from 
 others about his countenance, its expression, its moral 
 significance, its physical contour and complexion, so an 
 intellectual question may strike two minds very differ- 
 ently, may awaken in them distinct associations, may be 
 invested by them in contrary characteristics, and lead 
 them to opposite conclusions ; — and so, again, a body 
 of proof, or a line of argument, may produce a distinct, 
 nay, a dissimilar effect, as addressed to one or to the 
 other. 
 
 Thus in concrete reasonings we are in great measure 
 thrown back into that condition, from which logic pro- 
 posed to rescue us. We judge for ourselves, by our own 
 lights, and on our own principles ; and our criterion of 
 truth is not so much the manipulation of propositions, 
 as the intellectual and moral character of the person 
 maintaining them, and the ultimate silent effect of his 
 arguments or conclusions upon our minds. 
 
 It is this distinction between ratiocination as the 
 exercise of a living faculty in the individual intellect, 
 and mere skill in argumentative science, which is the 
 true interpretation of the prejudice which exists against 
 logic in the popular mind, and of the animadversions 
 which are levelled against it, as that its formulas make 
 a pedant and a doctrinaire, that it never makes converts, 
 that it leads to rationalism, that Englishmen are too 
 practical to be logical, that an ounce of common-sense 
 goes farther than many cartloads of logic, that Laputa
 
 Informal Inference. 303 
 
 is the land of logicians, and the like. Such maxims 
 mean, when analyzed, that the processes of reasoning 
 which legitimately lead to assent, to action, to certitude, 
 are in fact too multiform, subtle, omnigenous, too im- 
 plicit, to allow of being measured by rule, that they are 
 after all personal, — verbal argumentation beiug useful 
 only in subordination to a higher logic. It is this which 
 was meant by the Judge who, when asked for his advice 
 by a friend, on his being called to important duties 
 which were new to him, bade him always lay down the 
 law boldly, but never give his reasons, for his decision 
 was likely to be right, but his reasons sure to be 
 unsatisfactory. This is the point which I proceed to 
 illustrate. 
 
 1. I will take a question of the present moment. 
 " We shall have a European war, for Greece is auda- 
 ciously defying Turkey." How are we to test the 
 validity of the reason, implied, not expressed, in the 
 word "for"? Only the judgment of diplomatists, 
 statesmen, capitalists, and the like, founded on experi- 
 ence, strengthened by practical and historical knowledge, 
 controlled by self-interest, can decide the worth of that 
 ' ' for " in relation to accepting or not accepting the con- 
 clusion which depends on it. The argument is from 
 concrete fact to concrete fact. How will mere logical 
 inferences, which cannot proceed without general and 
 abstract propositions, help us on to the determination 
 of this particular case ? It is not the case of Switzer- 
 land attacking Austria, or of Portugal attacking Spain, 
 or of Belgium attacking Prussia, but a case without 
 parallels. To draw a scientific conclusion, the argument
 
 304 Inference. 
 
 must run somewhat iu this way : — " All audacious de- 
 fiances of Turkey on the part of Greece must end in a 
 European war ; these present acts of Greece are such : 
 ergo ;" — where the major premiss is more difficult to 
 accept than the conclusion, and the proof becomes an 
 " obscurum per obscurius." But, in truth, I should not 
 betake my self to some one universal proposition to defend 
 my own view of the matter; I should determine the 
 particular case by its particular circumstances, by the 
 combination of many uncatalogued experiences floating 
 in my memoiy, of many reflections, variously produced, 
 felt rather than capable of statement ; and if I had them 
 not, I should go to those who had. I assent in conse- 
 quence of some such complex act of judgment, or from 
 faith in those who are capable of making it, and practi- 
 cally syllogism has no part, even verificatory, in the 
 action of my mind. 
 
 I take this instance at random in illustration ; now 
 let me follow it up by more serious cases. 
 
 2. Leighton says, " What a full confession do we 
 make of our dissatisfaction with the objects of our 
 bodily senses, that in our attempts to express what we 
 conceiveof the bestof beings and the greatest of felicities 
 to be, we describe by the exact contraries of all that 
 we experience here, — the one as infinite, incomprehen- 
 sible, immutable, &c. ; the other as incorruptible, un- 
 defiled, and that passeth not away. At all events, this 
 coincidence, say rather identity of attributes, is sufficient 
 to apprise us that, to be inheritors of bliss, we must 
 become the children pf God." Coleridge quotes this 
 passage, and adds, "Another and more fruitful, per-
 
 Informal Inference. 305 
 
 haps more solid, inference from the facts would be, that 
 there is something in the human mind which makes it 
 know that in all finite quantity, there is an infinite, in 
 all measures of time an eternal ; that the latter are the 
 basis, the substance, of the former ; and that, as we truly 
 are only as far as God is with us, so neither can we 
 truly possess, that is, enjoy our being or any other 
 real good, but by living in the sense of His holy 
 presence 1 /' 
 
 What is this an argument for ? how few readers will 
 enter into either premiss or conclusion ! and of those 
 who understand what it means, will not at least some 
 confess that they understand it by fits and starts, not 
 at all times ? Can we ascertain its force by mood and 
 figure ? Is there any royal road by which we may 
 indolently be carried along into the acceptance of it ? 
 Does not the author rightly number it among his " aids " 
 for our "reflection/' not instruments for our compulsion? 
 It is plain that, if the passage is worth anything, we 
 must secure that worth for our own use by the personal 
 action of our own minds, or else we shall be only 
 professing and asserting its doctrine, without having 
 any ground or right to assert it. And our preparation 
 for understanding and making use of it will be the 
 general state of our mental discipline and cultivation, 
 our own experiences, our appreciation of religious 
 ideas, the perspicacity and steadiness of our intellectual 
 vision. 
 
 3. It is argued by Hume against the actual occurrence 
 of the Jewish and Christian miracles, that, whereas " it 
 1 " Aids to Reflection," p. 59, ed. 18D9. 
 
 X
 
 o 
 
 06 Inference. 
 
 is experience only which gives authority to human 
 testimony, and it is the same experience which assures 
 us of the laws of nature/' therefore, "when these two 
 kinds of experience are contrary " to each other, " we 
 are bound to subtract the one from the other;" and, in 
 consequence, since we have no experience of a violation 
 of natural laws, and much experience of the violation of 
 truth, c ' we may establish it as a maxim that no human 
 testimony can have such force as to prove a miracle, 
 and make it a just foundation for any such system of 
 religion/' 2 
 
 I will accept the general proposition, but I resist its 
 application. Doubtless it is abstractedly more likely 
 that men should lie than that the order of nature 
 should be infringed; but what is abstract reasoning to 
 a question of concrete fact ? To arrive at the fact of any 
 matter, we must eschew generalities, and take things 
 as they stand, with all their circumstances. A priori, 
 of course the acts of men are not so trustworthy as the 
 order of nature, and the pretence of miracles is in fact 
 more common than the occurrence. But the question is 
 not about miracles in general, or men in general, but 
 definitely, whether these particular miracles, ascribed 
 to the particular Peter, James, and John, are more 
 likely to have been or not ; whether they are unlikely, 
 supposing that there is a Power, external to the world, 
 who can bring them about ; supposing they are the only 
 means by which He can reveal Himself to those who need 
 a revelation; supposing He is likely to reveal Himself; 
 that He has a great end in doing so ; that the professed 
 2 Works, vol. iii. p. 178, ed. 1770.
 
 Informal Inference. 307 
 
 miracles in question are like His natural works, and such 
 as He is likely to work, in case He wrought miracles ; 
 that great effects, otherwise unaccountable, in the event 
 followed upon the acts said to be miraculous ; that they 
 were from the first accepted as true by large numbers 
 of men against their natural interests ; that the recep- 
 tion of them as true has left its mark upon the world, 
 as no other event ever did ; that, viewed in their effects, 
 they have — that is, the belief of them has — served to 
 raise human nature to a high moral standard, otherwise 
 unattainable : these and the like considerations are parts 
 of a great complex argument, which so far can be put into 
 propositions, but which, even between, and around, and 
 behind these, still is implicit and secret, and cannot by 
 any ingenuity be imprisoned in a formula, and packed into 
 a nut-shell: These various conditions may be decided 
 in the affirmative or in the negative. That is a farther 
 point ; here I only insist upon the nature of the argu- 
 ment, if it is to be philosophical. It must be no smart 
 antithesis which may look well on paper, but the living 
 action of the mind on a great problem of fact ; and we 
 must summon to our aid all our powers and resources, 
 if we would encounter it worthily, and not as if it were 
 a literary essay. 
 
 4. " Consider the establishment of the Christian 
 religion/' says Pascal in his "Thoughts." "Here is a 
 religion contrary to our nature, which establishes itself 
 in men's minds with so much mildness, as to use no 
 external force; with so much energy, that no tortures 
 could silence its martyrs and confessors ; and consider 
 the holiness, devotion, humility of its true disciples ; 
 
 x 2
 
 308 Inference. 
 
 its sacred books, their superhuman grandeur, their 
 admirable simplicity. Consider the character of its 
 Founder; His associates and disciples, unlettered men, 
 yet possessed of wisdom sufficient to confound the ablest 
 philosopher; the astonishing- succession of prophets who 
 heralded Him ; the state at this day of the Jewish peo- 
 ple who rejected Him and His religion ; its perpetuity 
 and its holiness ; the light which its doctrines shed upon 
 the contrarieties of our nature ; — after considering these 
 things, let any man judge if it be possible to doubt 
 about its being the only true one." 3 
 
 This is an argument parallel in its character to that 
 by which we ascribe the classics to the Augustan age. 
 We urge, that, though we cannot draw the line defi- 
 nitely between what the monks could do in literature, 
 and what they could not, anyhow Virgil's " ^Eneid ** 
 and the Odes of Horace are far beyond the highest 
 capacity of the medieval mind, which, however great, 
 was different in the character of its endowments. And 
 in like maimer we maintain, that, granting that we 
 cannot decide how far the human mind can advance 
 by its own unaided powers in religious ideas and senti- 
 ments, and in religious practice, still the facts of Chris- 
 tianity, as they stand, are beyond what is possible to 
 man, and betoken the presence of a higherintelligence, 
 purpose, and might. 
 
 Many have been converted and sustained in their 
 faith by this argument, which admits of being power- 
 fully stated; but still such statement is after all only 
 intended to be a vehicle of thought, and to open the 
 3 Taylor's Translation, p. 131.
 
 Informal Inference. 309 
 
 mind to the apprehension of the facts of the case, and to 
 trace them and their implications in outline, not to 
 convince by the logic of its mere wording. Do we not 
 think and muse as we read it, try to master it as we 
 proceed, put down the book in which we find it, fill out 
 its details from our own resources, and then resume the 
 study of it ? And, when we have to give an account of 
 it to others, should we make use of its language, or even 
 of its thoughts, and not rather of its drift and spirit ? 
 Has it never struck us what different lights different 
 minds throw upon the same theory and argument, nay, 
 how they seem to be differing in detail when they are 
 professing, and in reality showing, a concuiTence in it ? 
 Have we never found, that, when a friend takes up the 
 defence of what we have written or said, that at first we 
 are unable to recognize in his statement of it what we 
 meant it to convey ? It will be our wisdom to avail 
 ourselves of language, as far as it will go, but to aim 
 mainly by means of it to stimulate, in those to whom 
 we address ourselves, a mode of thinking and trains of 
 thought similar to our own, leading them on by their 
 own independent action, not by any syllogistic com- 
 pulsion. Hence it is that an intellectual school will 
 always have something of an esoteric character ; for it is 
 an assemblage of minds that think ; their bond is unity 
 of thought, and their words become a sort of tessera, 
 not expressing thought, but symbolizing it. 
 
 Recurring to Pascal's argument, I observe that, its 
 force depending upon the assumption that the facts of 
 Christianity are beyond human nature, therefore, accord- 
 ing as the powers of nature are placed at a high or low
 
 o 
 
 i o Inference. 
 
 standard, that force will he greater or less ; and that 
 standard will vary according to the respective disposi- 
 tions, opinions, and experiences, of those to whom the 
 argument is addressed. Thus its value is a personal 
 question ; not as if there were not an objective truth 
 and Christianity as a whole not supernatural, but that, 
 when we come to consider where it is that the super- 
 natural presence is found, there may be fair differences 
 of opinion, both as to the fact and the proof of what is 
 supernatural. There is a multitude of facts, which, 
 taken separately, may perhaps be natural, but, found 
 together, must come from a source above nature ; and 
 what these are, and how many are necessary, will be 
 variously determined. And while every inquirer has a 
 right to determine the question according to the best 
 exercise of his judgment, still whether he so determine it 
 for himself, or trust in part or altogether to the judgment 
 of those who have the best claim to judge, in either case 
 he is guided by the implicit processes of the reasoning 
 faculty, not by any manufacture of arguments forcing 
 their way to an irrefragable conclusion. 
 
 5. Pascal writes in another place, " He who doubts, 
 but seeks not to have his doubts removed, is at once the 
 most criminal and the most unhappy of mortals. If, 
 together with this, he is tranquil and self-satisfied, if he 
 be vain of his tranquillity, or makes his state a topic of 
 mirth and self-gratulation, I have not words to describe 
 so insane a creature. Truly it is to the honour of reli- 
 gion to have for its adversaries men so bereft of reason ; 
 their opposition, far from being formidable, bears testi- 
 mony to its most distinguishing truths ; for the great
 
 Informal Inference. 3 1 1 
 
 object of tlie Christian religion is to establish tlie cor- 
 ruption of our nature, and the redemption by Jesus 
 Christ." 4 Elsewhere he says of Montaigne, "He involves 
 everything in such universal, unmingled scepticism, as 
 to doubt of his very doubts. He was a pure Pyrrhonist. 
 He ridicules all attempts at certainty in anything. 
 Delighted with exhibiting in his own person the con- 
 tradictions that exist in the mind of a free-thinker, it is 
 all one to him whether he is successful or not in his 
 argument. The virtue he loved was simple, sociable, 
 gay, sprightly, and playful ; to use one of his own 
 expressions, ' Ignorance and incuriousness are two 
 charming pillows for a sound head.' " 5 
 
 Here are two celebrated writers in direct opposition 
 to each other in their fundamental view of truth and 
 duty. Shall we say that there is no such thing as truth 
 and error, but that anything is truth to a man which he 
 troweth ? and not rather, as the solution of a great 
 mystery, that truth there is, and attainable it is, but 
 that its rays stream in upon us through the medium of 
 our moral as well as our intellectual being ; and that 
 in consequence that perception of its first principles 
 which is natural to us is enfeebled, obstructed, per- 
 verted, by allurements of sense and the supremacy of 
 self, and, on the other hand, quickened by aspirations 
 after the supernatural ; so that at length two characters 
 of mind are brought out into shape, and two standards 
 and systems of thought, — each logical, when analyzed, 
 yet contradictory of each other, and only not antago- 
 
 * Ibid. pp. 108—110. 5 ibid. pp. 429—436.
 
 o 
 
 1 2 Inference. 
 
 nistic because they have no common ground on which 
 they can conflict ? , 
 
 6. Montaigne was endowed with a good estate, 
 health, leisure, and an easy temper, literary tastes, and 
 a sufficiency of books : he could afford thus to play 
 with life, and the abysses into which it leads us. Let 
 us take a case in contrast. 
 
 "I think/' says the poor dying factory-girl in the 
 tale, " if this should be the end of all, and if all I have 
 been born for is just to work my heart and life away, 
 and to sicken in this dree place, with those mill-stones 
 in my ears for ever, until I could scream out for them 
 to stop and let me have a little piece of quiet, and with 
 the fluff filling my lungs, until I thirst to death for one 
 long deep breath of the clear air, and my mother gone, 
 and I never able to tell her again how I loved her, aud 
 of all my troubles, — I think, if this life is the end, and 
 that there is no God to wipe away all tears from all 
 eyes, I could go mad ! " 6 
 
 Here is an argument for the immortality of the soul. 
 As to its force, be it great or small, will it make a figure 
 in a logical disputation, carried on secundum artem ? 
 Can any scientific common measure compel the intellects 
 of Dives and Lazarus to take the same estimate of it ? 
 Is there any test of the validity of it better than the 
 ipse dixit of private judgment, that is, the judgment 
 of those who have a right to judge, and next, the 
 agreement of many private judgments in one and the 
 same view of it ? 
 
 7. " In order to prove plainly and intelligibly/' says 
 
 6 "North and South."
 
 Informal Inference. 313 
 
 Dr. Samuel Clarke, " that God is a Being, which must 
 of necessity be endued with perfect knowledge, 'tis to 
 be observed that knowledge is a perfection, without 
 which the foregoing attributes are no perfections at all, 
 and without which those which follow can have no foun- 
 dation. Where there is no Knowledge, Eternity and 
 Immensity are as nothing, and Justice, Goodness, 
 Mercy, and Wisdom can have no place. The idea of 
 eternity and omnipresence, devoid of knowledge, is as 
 the notion of darkness compared with that of light. 
 'Tis as a notion of the world without the sun to illumi- 
 nate it ; 'tis as the notion of inanimate matter (which is 
 the atheist's supreme cause) compared with that of light 
 and spirit. And as for the following attributes of Jus- 
 tice, Goodness, Mercy, and Wisdom, 'tis evident that 
 without knowledge there could not possibly be any 
 such things as these at all." 7 
 
 The argument here used in behalf of the Divine 
 Attribute of Knowledge comes under the general pro- 
 position that the attributes imply each other, for the 
 denial of one is the denial of the rest. To some minds 
 this thesis is self-evident ; others are utterly insensible 
 to its force. Will it bear bringing out into words 
 throughout the whole series of its argumentative 
 links ? for if it does, then either those who maintain 
 it or those who reject it, the one or the other, will be 
 compelled by logical necessity to confess that they are 
 in error. " God is wise, if He is eternal ; He is good, 
 if He is wise ; He is just, if He is good." What skill 
 can so arrange these propositions, so add to them, so 
 
 7 Serai, xi. init.
 
 3 1 4 Inference. 
 
 o 
 
 combine them, that they may be able, by the force of 
 their juxta-position, to follow one from the other, and 
 become one and the same by an inevitable correlation. 
 That is not the method by which the argument be- 
 comes a demonstration. Such a method, used by a 
 Theist in controversy against men who are unprepared 
 personally for the question, will but issue in his re- 
 treat along a series of major propositions, farther and 
 farther back, till he and they find themselves in a land 
 of shadows, " where the light is as darkness." 
 
 To feel the true force of an argument like this, we 
 must not confine ourselves to abstractions, and merely 
 compare notion with notion, but we must contemplate 
 the God of our conscience as a Living Being, as one 
 Object and Reality, under the aspect of this or that 
 attribute. We must patiently rest in the thought of 
 the Eternal, Omnipresent, and All-knowing, rather than 
 of Eternity, Omnipresence, and Omniscience ; and we 
 must not hurry on and force a series of deductions, 
 which, if they are to be realized, must distil like dew 
 into our minds, and form themselves spontaneously 
 there, by a calm contemplation and gradual under- 
 standing of their premisses. Ordinarily speaking, 
 such deductions do not flow forth, except according as 
 the Image, 8 presented to us through conscience, on 
 which they depend, is cherished within us with the 
 sentiments which, supposing it be, as we know it is, 
 the truth, it necessarily claims of us, and is seen re- 
 flected, by the habit of our intellect, in the appoint- 
 ments and the events of the external world. And, in 
 8 Vide supr. ch. v. § 1, pp. 109, 113.
 
 Informal Inference. 3 1 5 
 
 their manifestation to our inward sense, they are 
 analogous to the knowledge which we at length attain 
 of the details of a landscape, after we have selected 
 the right stand-point, and have learned to accommo- 
 date the pupil of our eye to the varying focus neces- 
 sary for seeing them ; have accustomed it to the glare 
 of light, have mentally grouped or discriminated lines 
 and shadows and given them their due meaning, and 
 have mastered the perspective of the whole. Or they 
 may be compared to a landscape as drawn by the 
 pencil (unless the illustration seem forced), in which 
 by the skill of the artist, amid the bold outlines of 
 trees and rocks, when the eye has learned to take in 
 their reverse aspects, the forms or faces of historical 
 personages are discernible, which we catch and lose 
 again, and then recover, and which some who look on 
 with us are never able to catch at all. 
 
 Analogous to such an exercise of sight, must be our 
 mode of dealing with' the verbal expositions of an 
 argument such as Clarke's. His words speak to those 
 who understand the speech. To the mere barren 
 intellect they are but the pale ghosts of notions ; but 
 the trained imagination sees in them the representa- 
 tions of things. He who has once detected in his 
 conscience the outline of a Lawgiver and Judge, needs 
 no definition of Him, whom he dimly but surely con- 
 templates there, and he rejects the mechanism of 
 logic, which cannot contain in its grasp matters so 
 real and so recondite. Such a one, according to the 
 strength and perspicacity of his mind, the force of his 
 presentiments, and his power of sustained attention,
 
 
 
 1 6 Inference. 
 
 is able to pronounce about the great Sight which 
 encompasses him, as about some visible object; and, 
 in his investigation of the Divine Attributes, is not 
 inferring abstraction from abstraction, but noting 
 down the aspects and phases of that one thing on 
 which he is ever gazing. Nor is it possible to limit 
 the depth' of meaning, which at length he will attach to 
 words, which to the many are but definitions and ideas. 
 Here then again, as in the other instances, it seems 
 clear, that methodical processes of inference, useful as 
 they are, as far as they go, are only instruments of the 
 mind, and need, in order to their due exercise, that 
 real ratiocination and present imagination which gives 
 them a sense beyond their letter, and which, while 
 acting through them, reaches to conclusions beyond 
 and above them. Such a living org anon is a personal 
 gift, and not a mere method or calculus. 
 
 3. 
 
 That there are cases, in which evidence, not suffi- 
 cient for a scientific proof, is nevertheless sufficient for 
 assent and certitude, is the doctrine of Locke, as of 
 most men. He tells us that belief, grounded on suffi- 
 cient probabilities, "rises to assurance;" and as to 
 the question of sufficiency, that where propositions 
 " border near on certainty/' then "we assent to them 
 as firmly as if they were infallibly demonstrated." 
 The only question is, what these propositions are : this 
 he does not tell us, but he seems to think that they 
 are few in number, and will be without any trouble
 
 Informal Inference. 317 
 
 recognized at once by common-sense ; whereas, unless 
 I am mistaken, they are to be found throughout the 
 range of concrete matter, and that supra-logical judg- 
 ment, which is the warrant for our certitude about 
 them, is not mere common-sense, but the true healthy 
 action of our ratiocinative powers, an action more 
 subtle and more comprehensive than the mere appre- 
 ciation of a syllogistic argument. It is often called 
 the "judicium prudentis viri," a standard of certitude 
 which holds good in all concrete matter, not only in 
 those cases of practice and duty, in which we are 
 more familiar with it, but in questions of truth and 
 falsehood generally, or in what are called " specula- 
 tive" questions, and that, not indeed to the exclusion, 
 but as the supplement of logic. Thus a proof, except 
 in abstract demonstration, has always in it, more or 
 less, an element of the personal, because "prudence" 
 is not a constituent part of our nature, but a personal 
 endowment. 
 
 And the language in common use, when concrete 
 conclusions are in question, implies the presence of 
 this personal element in the proof of them. We are 
 considered to feel, rather than to see, its cogency ; and 
 we decide, not that the conclusion must be, but that 
 it cannot be otherwise. We say, that we do not see 
 our way to doubt it, that it is impossible to doubt, th;it 
 we are bound to believe it, that we should be idiots, if 
 we did not believe. We never should say, in abstract 
 science, that we could not escape the conclusion that 
 25 was a mean proportional between 5 and 125; or 
 that a man had no right to say that a tangent to
 
 3 1 8 Inference. 
 
 a circle at the extremity of the radius makes an acute 
 ansrle with it. Yet, thouorh our certitude of the fact 
 is quite as clear, we should not think it unnatural to 
 say that the insularity of Great Britain is as good as 
 demonstrated, or that none but a fool expects never to 
 die. Phrases indeed such as these are sometimes used 
 to express a shade of doubt, but it is enough for my 
 purpose if they are also used when doubt is altogether 
 absent. What, then, they signify, is, what I have so 
 much insisted on, that we have an'ived at these con- 
 clusions — not ex opere operato, by a scientific necessity 
 independent of ourselves, — but by the action of our 
 own minds, by our own individual perception of the 
 truth in question, under a sense of duty to those con- 
 clusions and with an intellectual conscientiousness. 
 
 This certitude and this evidence are often called 
 moral ; a word which I avoid, as having a very vague 
 meaning ; but using it here for once, I observe that 
 moral evidence and moral certitude are all that we can 
 attain, not only in the case of ethical and spiritual 
 subjects, such as religion, but of terrestrial and cos- 
 mical questions also. So far, physical Astronomy and 
 Revelation stand on the same footing. Vince, in his 
 treatise on Astronomy, does but use the language of 
 philosophical sobriety, when, after speaking of the 
 proofs of the earth's rotatory motion, he says, " When 
 these reasons, all upon different principles, are con- 
 sidered, they amount to a proof of the earth's rota- 
 tion about its axis, which is as satisfactory to the 
 mind as the most direct demonstration could be ; " or, 
 as he had said just before, "the mind rests equally
 
 Informal Inference . 319 
 
 satisfied, as if the matter was strictly proved." 9 That 
 is, first there is no demonstration that the earth 
 rotates; next there is a cluster of "reasons on different 
 principles," that is, independent probabilities in cumu- 
 lation ; thirdly, these " amount to a proof," and " the 
 mind " feels " as if the matter was strictly proved," 
 that is, there is the equivalent of proof; lastly, "the 
 mind rests satisfied," that is, it is certain on the point. 
 And though evidence of the fact is now obtained 
 which was not known fifty years ago, that evidence on 
 the whole has not changed its character. 
 
 Compare with this avowal the language of Butler, 
 when discussing the proof of Eevelation. " Probable 
 proofs," he says, " by being added, not only increase 
 the evidence, but multiply it. The truth of our religion, 
 like the truth of common matters, is to be judged by the 
 whole evidence taken together ... in like manner as, 
 if in any common case numerous events acknowledged 
 were to be alleged in proof of any other event disputed, 
 the truth of the disputed event would be proved, not 
 only if any one of the acknowledged ones did of itself 
 clearly imply it, but though no one of them singly did 
 so, if the whole of the acknowledged events taken 
 together could not in reason be supposed to have hap- 
 pened, unless the disputed one were true." ' Here, as 
 in Astronomy, is the same absence of demonstration of 
 the thesis, the same cumulating and converging indica- 
 tions of it, the same indirectness in the proof, as being 
 per impossibile, the same recognition nevertheless that 
 the conclusion is not only probable, but true. One other 
 
 9 Pp. 84, 85. > "Analogy," pp. 32'J, 330, ed. lS3u\
 
 320 Inference. 
 
 characteristic of the argumentative process is given, 
 which is unnecessary in a subject-matter so clear and 
 simple as astronomical science, viz. the moral state of the 
 parties inquiring or disputing. They must be " as much 
 in earnest about religion, as about their temporal affairs, 
 capable of being convinced, on real evidence, that there 
 is a God who governs the world, and feel themselves to 
 be of a moral nature and accountable creatures." 2 
 
 This being the state of the case, the question arises, 
 whether, granting that the personality (so to speak) of 
 the parties reasoning is an important element in proving 
 propositions in concrete matter, any account can be 
 given of the ratiocinative method in such proofs, over 
 and above that analysis into syllogism which is possible 
 in each of its steps in detail. I think there can ; though 
 I fear, lest to some minds it may appear far-fetched or 
 fanciful; however, I will hazard this imputation. I 
 consider, then, that the principle of concrete reasoning 
 is parallel to the method of proof which is the foundation 
 of modern mathematical science, as contained in the 
 celebrated lemma with which Newton opens his " Prin- 
 cipia." We know that a regular polygon, inscribed in 
 a circle, its sides being continually diminished, tends to 
 become that circle, as its limit; but it vanishes before 
 it has coincided with the circle, so that its tendency to 
 be the circle, though ever nearer fulfilment, never in fact 
 gets beyond a tendency. In like manner, the conclusion 
 in a real or concrete question is foreseen and predicted 
 rather than actually attained; foreseen in the number 
 and direction of accumulated premisses, which all con- 
 
 2 Ibid. p. 278.
 
 Informal Inference. 3 2 1 
 
 verge to it, and, as the result of their combination, 
 approach it more nearly than any assignable difference, 
 yet do not touch it logically, (though only not touching 
 it,) on account of the nature of its subject-matter, and 
 the delicate and implicit character of at least part of the 
 reasonings on which it depends. It is by the strength, 
 variety, or multiplicity of premisses, which are only 
 probable, not by invincible syllogisms, — by objections 
 overcome, by adverse theories neutralized, by diffi- 
 culties gradually clearing up, by exceptions proving the 
 rule, by unlooked-for correlations found with received 
 truths, by suspense and delay in the process issuing in 
 triumphant reactions, — by all these ways, and many 
 others, it is that the practised and experienced miud is 
 able to make a sure divination that a conclusion is in- 
 evitable, of which his lines of reasoning do not actually 
 put him in possession. This is what is meant by a pro- 
 position being "as good as proved," a conclusion as 
 undeniable " as if it were proved," and by the reasons 
 for it " amounting to a proof," for a px'oof is the limit 
 of converging probabilities. 
 
 It may be added, that, whereas the logical form of 
 this argument, is, as I have already observed, indirect, 
 viz. that " the conclusion cannot be otherwise," and 
 Butler says that an event is proved, if its antecedents 
 " could not in reason be supposed to have happened 
 unless it were true," and law-books tell us that the 
 principle of circumstantial evidence is the reductio ad 
 absurdum, so Newton too is forced to the same mode of 
 proof for the establishment of his lemma, about prime 
 and ultimate ratios. " If you deny that they become 
 
 Y
 
 322 Inference* 
 
 o 
 
 ultimately equal/' he says, " let them be ultimately 
 unequal ;" and the consequence follows, " which is 
 against the supposition." 
 
 Such being the character of the mental process in 
 concrete reasoning, I should wish to adduce some good 
 instances of it in illustration, instances in which the 
 person reasoning confesses that he is reasoning on this 
 very process, as I have been stating it ; but these are 
 difficult to find, from the very circumstance that the 
 process from first to last is carried on as much without 
 words as with them. However, I will set down three 
 such. 
 
 1. First, an instance in physics. Wood, treating of 
 the laws of motion, thus describes the line of reasoning 
 by which the mind is certified of them. " They are not 
 indeed self-evident, nor do they admit of accurate proof 
 by experiment, on account of the effects of friction and 
 the air's resistance, which cannot entirely be removed. 
 They are, however, constantly and invariably suggested 
 to our senses, and they agree with experiment, as far as 
 experiment can go ; and the more accurately the experi- 
 ments are made, and the greater care we take to remove 
 all those impediments which tend to render the conclu- 
 sions erroneous, the more nearly do the experiments 
 coincide with these laws. 
 
 "Their truth is also established upon a different 
 ground : from these general principles innumerable 
 particular conclusions have been deducted ; sometimes 
 the deductions are simple and immediate, sometimes 
 they are made by tedious and intricate operations ; 
 yot they are all, without exception, consistent with
 
 Informal Inference. 
 
 3~0 
 
 each other and with experiment. It follows thereby, 
 that the principles upon which the calculations are 
 founded are true." 3 
 
 The reasoning of this passage (in which the uniformity 
 of the laws of nature is assumed) seems to me a good 
 illustration of what must be considered the principle 
 or form of an induction. The conclusion, which is its 
 scope, is, by its own confession, not proved; but it 
 ought to be proved, or is as good as proved, and a man 
 would be irrational who did not take it to be virtually 
 proved; first, because the imperfections in the proof arise 
 out of its subject-matter and the nature of the case, so 
 that it is proved interpretative; and next, because in 
 the same degree in which these faults in the subject- 
 matter are overcome here or there, are the involved 
 imperfections here or there of the proof remedied ; and 
 further, because, when the conclusion is assumed as an 
 hypothesis, it throws light upon a multitude of collateral 
 facts, accounting for them, and uniting them together 
 in one whole. Consistency is not always the guarantee 
 of truth; but there may be a consistency in a theory so 
 variously tried and exemplified as to lead to belief in it, 
 as reasonably as a witness in a court of law may, after a 
 severe cross-examination, satisfy and assure judge, jury, 
 and the whole court, of his simple veracity. 
 
 2. And from the courts of law shall my second illus- 
 tration be taken. 
 
 A learned writer says, ' ' In criminal prosecutions, the 
 circumstantial evidence should be such, as to produce 
 nearly the same degree of certainty as that which arises 
 
 3 "Mechanics," p. 31. 
 
 Y 2
 
 324 Inference. 
 
 from direct testimony, and to exclude a rational proba- 
 bility of innocence." 4 By degrees of certainty he seems 
 to mean, together with many other writers, degrees of 
 proof, or approximations towards proof, and not certi- 
 tude, as a state of mind; and he says that no one should 
 be pronounced guilty on evidence which is not equiva- 
 lent in weight to direct testimony. So far is clear; but 
 what is meant by the expression "rational probability" ? 
 for there can be no probability but what is rational. I 
 consider that the ' ' exclusion of a rational probability ' J 
 means the " exclusion of any argument in the man's 
 favour which has a rational claim to be called probable," 
 or rather, " the rational exclusion of any supposition 
 that he is innocent ; " and " rational " is used in contra- 
 distinction to argumentative, and means ' f resting on 
 implicit reasons," such as we feel, indeed, but which 
 for some cause or other, because they are too subtle or 
 too circuitous, we cannot put into words so as to satisfy 
 logic. If this is a correct account of his meaning, he 
 says that the evidence against a criminal, in order to be 
 decisive of his guilt, to the satisfaction of our conscience, 
 must bear with it, along with the palpable arguments for 
 that guilt, such a reasonableness, or body of implicit rea- 
 sons for it in addition, as may exclude any probability, 
 really such, that he is not guilty, — that is, it must be 
 an evidence free from anything obscure, suspicious, un- 
 natural, or defective, such as (in the judgment of a pru- 
 dent man) would hinder that summation and coalescence 
 of the evidence into a proof, which I have compared to 
 the running into alimit, in the case of mathematical ratios. 
 4 Phillipps' "Law of Evidence," vol. i. p. 456.
 
 Informal Inference. 325 
 
 Just as an algebraical series may be of a nature never to 
 terminate or admit of valuation, as being the equivalent 
 of an irrational quantity or surd, so there may be some 
 grave imperfections in a body of reasons, explicit or 
 implicit, which is directed to a proof, sufficient to in- 
 terfere with its successful issue or resolution, and to 
 balk us with an irrational, that is, an indeterminate, 
 conclusion. 
 
 So much as to the principle of conclusions made 
 upon evidence in criminal cases ; now let us turn to an 
 instance of its application in a particular instance. 
 Some years ago there was a murder committed, which 
 unusually agitated the popular mind, and the evidence 
 against the culprit was necessarily circumstantial. At 
 the trial the Judge, in addressing the Jury, instructed 
 them on the kind of evidence necessary for a verdict 
 of guilty. Of course he could not mean to say that 
 they must convict a man, of whose guilt they were not 
 certain, especially in a case in which two foreign 
 countries, Germany and the American States, were 
 attentively looking on. If the Jury had any doubt, 
 that is, reasonable doubt, about the man's guilt, of 
 course they would give him the benefit of that doubt. 
 Nor could the certitude, which would be necessary for 
 an adverse verdict, be merely that which is sometimes 
 called a " practical certitude," that is, a certitude indeed, 
 but a certitude, that it was a " duty," " expedient," 
 " safe," to bring in a verdict of guilty. Of course the 
 Judge spoke of what is called a " speculative certitude," 
 that is, a certitude of the fact that the man was guilty ; 
 the only question being, what evidence was sufficient for
 
 326 Inference. 
 
 the proof, for the certitude of that fact. This is what 
 the Judge meant ; and these are among the remarks 
 which, with this drift, he made upon the occasion : — 
 
 After observing that by circumstantial evidence he 
 meant a case in which " the facts do not directly prove 
 the actual crime, but lead to the conclusion that the 
 prisoner committed that crime," he went on to disclaim 
 the suggestion, made by counsel in the case, that the 
 Jury could not pronounce a verdict of guilty, unless they 
 were as much satisfied that the prisoner did the deed as 
 if they had seen him commit it. " That is not the cer- 
 tainty," he said, " which is required of you to discharge 
 your duty to the prisoner, whose safety is inyour hands." 
 Then he stated what was the " degree of certainty," that 
 is, of certainty or perfection of proof, which was neces- 
 sary to the question, " involving as it did the life of the 
 prisoner at the bar," — it was such as that " with which/' 
 he said, "you decide upon and conclude your own most 
 important transactions in life. Take the facts which are 
 proved before you, separate those you believe from 
 those which you do not believe, and all the conclusions 
 that naturally and almost necessarily result from those 
 facts, you may confide in as much as in the facts them- 
 selves. The case on the part of the prosecution is the 
 gtory of the murder, told by the different witnesses, 
 who unfold the circumstances one after another, according 
 to their occurrence, together with the gradual discovery 
 of some apparent connexion between the property that 
 was lost, and the possession of it by the prisoner." 
 
 Now here I observe, that whereas the conclusion 
 which is contemplated by the Judge, is what may be
 
 Informal Inference. 327 
 
 pronounced (on the whole, and considering all things, 
 and judging reasonably) a proved or certain conclusion, 
 that is, a conclusion of the truth of the allegation 
 against the prisoner, or of the fact of his guilt, on 
 the other hand, the motiva constituting this reasonable, 
 rational proof, and this satisfactory certitude, needed 
 not, according to him, to be stronger than those on 
 which we prudently act on matters of important interest 
 to ourselves, that is, probable reasons viewed in their 
 convergence and combination. And whereas the 
 certitude is viewed by the Judge as following on con- 
 verging probabilities, which constitute a real, though 
 only a reasonable, not an argumentative, proof, so it will 
 be observed in this particular instance, that, in illustra- 
 tion of the general doctrine which I have laid down, the 
 process is one of " line upon line, and letter upon letter," 
 of various detailsaccumulatinof and of deductions fitting 
 into each other ; for, in the Judge's words, there was a 
 story — and that not told right out and by one witness, 
 but taken up and handed on from witness to witness — 
 gradually unfolded, and tending to a proof, which of 
 course might have been ten times stronger than it was, 
 but was still a proof for all that, and sufficient for its 
 conclusion, — just as we see that two straight lines are 
 meeting, and are certain they will meet at a given dis- 
 tance, though we do not actually see the junction. 
 
 3. The third instance I will take is one of a literary 
 character, the divination of the authorship of a certain 
 anonymous publication, as suggested mainly by in- 
 ternal evidence, as I find it in a critique written some 
 twenty years ago. In the extract which I make from
 
 328 Inference. 
 
 
 
 it, we may observe the same steady march of a proof 
 towards a conclusion, which is (as it were) out of 
 sight; — a reckoning, or a reasonable judgment, that 
 the conclusion really is proved, and a personal certi- 
 tude upon that judgment, joined with a confession that 
 a logical argument could not well be made out for it, 
 and that the various details in which the proof con- 
 sisted were in no small measure implicit and impal- 
 pable. 
 
 " Kumour speaks uniformly and clearly enough in 
 attributing it to the pen of a particular individual. 
 Nor, although a cursory reader might well skim the 
 book without finding in it anything to suggest, &c, 
 .... will it appear improbable to the more attentive 
 student of its internal evidence ; and the improbabilty 
 will decrease more and more, in proportion as the 
 reader is capable of judging and appreciating the 
 delicate, and at first invisible touches, which limit, to 
 those ivho understand them, the individuals who can 
 have written it to a very small number indeed. The 
 utmost scepticism as to its authorship [which we do not 
 feel ourselves) cannot remove it farther from him than 
 to that of some one among his most intimate friends ; 
 so that, leaving others to discuss antecedent probabi- 
 lities," &c. 
 
 Here is a writer who professes to have no doubt at 
 all about the authorship of a book, — which at the same 
 time he cannot prove by mere argumentation set down 
 in words. The reasons of his conviction are too deli- 
 cate, too intricate ; nay, they are in part invisible ; 
 invisible, except to those who from circumstances have
 
 Informal Inference . 329 
 
 an intellectual perception of what does not appear to 
 the many. They are personal to the individual. This 
 again is an instance, distinctly set before us, of the 
 particular mode in which the mind progresses in con- 
 crete matter, viz. from merely probable antecedents to 
 the sufficient proof of a fact or a truth, and, after the 
 proof, to an act of certitude about it. 
 
 I trust the foregoing remarks may not deserve the 
 blame of a needless refinement. I have thought it 
 incumbent on me to illustrate the intellectual process 
 by which we pass from conditional inference to uncon- 
 ditional assent ; and I have had only the alternative 
 of lying under the imputation of a paradox or of a 
 subtlety.
 
 330 Inference. 
 
 § 3. Natural Inference. 
 
 I commenced my remarks upon Inference by saying* 
 that reasoning ordinarily shows as a simple act, not as 
 a process, as if there were no medium interposed be- 
 tween antecedent and consequent, and the transition 
 from one to the other were of the nature of an in- 
 stinct, — that is, the process is altogether unconscious 
 and implicit. It is necessary, then, to take some 
 notice of this natm*al or material Inference, as an 
 existing phenomenon of mind ; and that the more, 
 because I shall thereby be illustrating and supporting 
 what 1 have been saying of the characteristics of 
 inferential processes as carried on in concrete matter, 
 and especially of their being the action of the mind 
 itself, that is, by its ratiocinative or illative faculty, 
 not a mere operation as in the rules of arithmetic. 
 
 I say, then, that our most natural mode of reasoning 
 is, not from propositions to propositions, but from things 
 to things, from concrete to concrete, from wholes to 
 wholes. Whether the consequents, at which we arrive 
 from the antecedents with which we start, lead us to 
 assent or only towards assent, those antecedents com- 
 monly are not recognized by us as subjects for analy-
 
 Natural Inference. 331 
 
 sis; nay, often are only indirectly recognized as ante- 
 cedents at all. Not only is the inference with its pro- 
 cess ignored, but the antecedent also. To the mind 
 itself the reasoning is a simple divination or predic- 
 tion ; as it literally is in the instance of enthusiasts, 
 who mistake their own thoughts for inspirations. 
 
 This is the mode in which we ordinarily reason, 
 dealing with things directly, and as they stand, one by 
 one, in the concrete, with an intrinsic and personal 
 power, not a conscious adoption of an artificial instru- 
 ment or expedient ; and it is especially exemplified 
 both in uneducated men, and in men of genius, — in 
 those who know nothing of intellectual aids and rules, 
 and in those who care nothing for them, — in those 
 who are either without or above mental discipline. As 
 true poetry is a spontaneous outpouring of thought, 
 and therefore belongs to rude as well as to gifted 
 minds, whereas no one becomes a poet merely by the 
 canons of criticism, so this unscientific reasoning, 
 being sometimes a natural, uncultivated faculty, some- 
 times approaching to a gift, sometimes an acquired 
 habit and second nature, has a higher source than 
 logical rule, — " nascitur, non fit.'" When it is charac- 
 terized by precision, subtlety, promptitude, and truth, 
 it is of course a gift and a rarity : in ordinary minds 
 it is biassed and degraded by prejudice, passion, and 
 self-interest ; but still, after all, this divination comes by 
 nature, and belongs to all of us in a measure, to women 
 more than to men, hitting or missing, as the case may 
 be, but with a success on the whole sufficient to show 
 that there is a method in it, though it bo implicit.
 
 332 Inference. 
 
 A peasant who is weather- wise may yet be simply un- 
 able to assign intelligible reasons why he thinks it will 
 be fine to-morrow ; and if he attempts to do so, he 
 may give reasons wide of the mark ; but that will not 
 weaken his own confidence in his prediction. His mind 
 does not proceed step by step, but he feels all at once 
 and together the force of various combined phenomena, 
 though he is not conscious of them. Again, there are 
 physicians who excel in the diagnosis of complaints ; 
 though it does not follow from this, that they could 
 defend their decision in a particular case against a 
 brother physician who disputed it. They are guided 
 by natural acuteness and varied experience ; they have 
 their own idiosyncratic modes of observing, generaliz- 
 ing, and concluding ; when questioned, they can but 
 rest on their own authority, or appeal to the future 
 event. In a popular novel, 5 a lawyer is introduced, 
 who "would know, almost by instinct, whether an 
 accused person was or was not guilty; and he had 
 already perceived by instinct" that the heroine was 
 guilty. " I've no doubt she's a clever woman," he 
 said, and at once named an attorney practising at the 
 Old Bailey. So, again, experts and detectives, when 
 employed to investigate mysteries, in cases whether of 
 the civil or criminal law, discern and follow out indi- 
 cations which promise solution with a sagacity incom- 
 prehensible to ordinary men. A parallel gift is the 
 intuitive perception of character possessed by certain 
 men, while others are as destitute of it, as others 
 again are of an ear for music. What common measure 
 
 * "OrleyFarm."
 
 Natural Inference. ^^ 
 
 j 
 
 is there between the judgments of those who have this 
 intuition, and those who have not ? What but the 
 event can settle any difference of opinion which occurs 
 in their estimation of a third person ? These are 
 instances of a natural capacity, or of nature improved 
 by practice and habit, enabling the mind to pass 
 promptly from one set of facts to another, not only, I 
 say, without conscious media, but without conscious 
 antecedents. 
 
 Sometimes, I say, this illative faculty is nothing 
 short of genius. Such seems to have been Newton's 
 perception of truths mathematical and physical, though 
 proof was absent. At least that is the impression left 
 on my own mind by various stories which are told of 
 him, one of which was stated in the public papers a 
 few years ago. " Professor Sylvester," it was said, 
 "has just discovered the proof of Sir Isaac Newton's 
 rule for ascertaining the imaginary roots of equations. 
 . . . This rule has been a Gordian-knot amono- alsre- 
 braists for the last century and a half. The proof 
 being wanting, authors became ashamed at length of 
 advancing a proposition, the evidence for which rented 
 on no other foundation than belief in Newton's saga- 
 city." 6 
 
 Such is the gift of the calculating boys who now and 
 then make their appearance, who seem to have certain 
 short-cuts to conclusions, which they cannot explain to 
 themselves. Some are said to have been able to de- 
 termine off-hand what numbers are prime, — numbers, 
 I think, up to seven places. 
 
 6 Guardian, June 28, 1865.
 
 334 Inference. 
 
 In a very different subject-matter, Napoleon sup- 
 plies us with an instance of a parallel genius in reason- 
 ing, by which he was enabled to look at things in his 
 own province, and to interpret them truly, apparently 
 without any ratiocinative media. " By long experi- 
 ence/ ' says Alison, " joined to great natural quickness 
 and precision of eye, he had acquired the power of 
 judging, with extraordinary accuracy, both of the 
 amount of the enemy's force opposed to him in the 
 field, and of the probable result of the movements, 
 even the most complicated, going forward in the oppo- 
 site armies. . . . He looked around him for a little 
 while with his telescope, and immediately formed a 
 clear conception of the position, forces, and intention 
 of the whole hostile array. In this way he could, 
 with surprising accuracy, calculate in a few minutes, 
 according to what he could see of tbeir formation and 
 the extent of the ground which they occupied, the 
 numerical force of armies of 60,000 or 80,000 men ; 
 and if their troops were at all scattered, he knew at 
 once how long it would require for them to concen- 
 trate, and how many hours must elapse before they 
 could make their attack." 7 
 
 It is difficult to avoid calling such clear presenti- 
 ments by the name of instinct; and I think they may 
 so be called, if by instinct be understood, not a natural 
 sense, one and the same in all, and incapable of culti- 
 vation, but a perception of facts without assignable 
 media of perceiving. There are those who can tell at 
 once what is conducive or injurious to their welfare, 
 7 History, vol. x. pp. 286, 2S7.
 
 Natural Inference. 335 
 
 who are their friends, who their enemies, what is to 
 happen to them, and how they are to meet it. Presence 
 of mind, fathoming of motives, talent for repartee, are 
 instances of this gift. As to that divination of per- 
 sonal danger which is found in the young and inno- 
 cent, we find a description of it in one of Scott's 
 romances, in which the heroine, "without being able 
 to discover what was wrong either in the scenes of 
 unusual luxury with which she was surrounded, or in 
 the manner of her hostess," is said nevertheless to 
 have felt " an instinctive apprehension that all was not 
 right, — a feeling in the human mind/'' the author 
 proceeds to say, " allied perhaps to that sense of 
 danger, which animals exhibit, when placed in the 
 vicinity of the natural enemies of their race, and 
 which makes birds cower when the hawk is in the air, 
 and beasts tremble when the tiger is abroad in the 
 desert." 8 
 
 A religious biography, lately published, affords us an 
 instance of this spontaneous perception of truth in the 
 province of revealed doctrine. " Her firm faith/' says 
 the Author of the Preface, c< was so vivid in its cha- 
 racter, that it was almost like an intuition of the entire 
 prospect of revealed truth. Let an error against faith 
 be concealed under expressions however abstruse, and 
 her sure instinct found it out. I have tried this experi- 
 ment repeatedly. She might not be able to separate the 
 heresy by analysis, but she saw, and felt, and suffered 
 from its presence." 9 
 
 s " Peveril of the Peak." 
 
 9 "Life of Mother Margaret M. Hallahan," p. vii.
 
 336 Inference. 
 
 And so of the great fundamental truths of religion, 
 natural and revealed, and as regards the mass of religious 
 men : these truths, doubtless, may be proved and de- 
 fended by an array of invincible logical arguments, but 
 such is not commonly the method in which those same 
 logical arguments make their way into our minds. The 
 grounds, on which we hold the divine origin of the 
 Church, and the previous truths which are taught us 
 by nature — the being of a God, and the immortality of 
 the soul — are felt by most men to be recondite and im- 
 palpable, in proportion to their depth and reality. As 
 we cannot see ourselves, so we cannot well see intel- 
 lectual motives which are so intimately ours, and which 
 spring up from the very constitution of our minds; and 
 while we refuse to admit the notion that religion has 
 not irrefragable arguments in its behalf, still the at- 
 tempts to argue, on the part of an individual hie et nunc, 
 will sometimes only confuse his apprehension of sacred 
 objects, and subtracts from his devotion quite as much 
 as it adds to his knowledge. 
 
 This is found in the case of other perceptions besides 
 that of faith. It is the case of nature against art : of 
 course, if possible, nature and art should be combined, 1 ; 
 but sometimes they are incompatible. Thus, in the 
 case of calculating boys, it is said, I know not with 
 what truth, that to teach them the ordinary rules of 
 arithmetic is to endanger or to destroy the extraordinary 
 endowment. And men who have the gift of playing on 
 an instrument by ear, are sometimes afraid to learn by 
 rule, lest they should lose it. 
 
 There is an analogy, in this respect, between Katioci-
 
 Natural Inference. 337 
 
 nation and Memory, though the latter may be exercised 
 without antecedents or media, whereas the former 
 requires them in its very idea. At the same time asso- 
 ciation has so much to do with memory, that we may 
 not unfairly consider memory, as well as reasoning, as 
 depending on certain previous conditions. Writing, as I 
 have already observed, is a memoria technica, or logic of 
 memory. Now it will be found, I think, that indis- 
 pensable as is the use of letters, still, in fact, we weaken 
 our memory in proportion as we habituate ourselves to 
 commit all that we wish to remember to memorandums. 
 Of course in proportion as our memory is weak or over- 
 burdened, and thereby treacherous, we cannot act other- 
 wise ; but in the case of men of strong memory in any 
 particular subject-matter, as in that of dates, all artificial 
 expedients, from the " Thirty days has September/' &c, 
 to the more formidable formulas which are offered for 
 their use, are as difficult and repulsive as the natural 
 exercise of memory is healthy and easy to them; just 
 as the clear-headed and practical reasoner, who sees 
 conclusions at a glance, is uncomfortable under the drill 
 of a logician, being oppressed and hampered, as David 
 in Saul's armour, by what is intended to be a benefit. 
 
 I need not say more on this part of the subject. 
 What is called reasoning is often only a peculiar and 
 personal mode of abstraction, and so far, like memory, 
 may be said to exist without antecedents. It is a power 
 of looking at things in some particular aspect, and of 
 determining their internal and external relations 
 thereby. And according to the subtlety and versatility 
 of their gift, are men able to read what comes before 
 
 2
 
 33S Inference. 
 
 them justly, variously, and fruitfully. Hence, too, it is, 
 that iu our intercourse with others, in business and 
 family matters, in social and political transactions, a 
 word or an act on the part of another is sometimes a 
 sudden revelation ; light breaks in upon us, and our 
 whole judgment of a course of events, or of an under- 
 taking, is changed. We determine correctly or other- 
 wise, as it may be ; but in either case, it is by a sense 
 proper to ourselves, for another may see the objects 
 which weare thus usiug, and give them quite a different 
 interpretation, inasmuch as he abstracts another set 
 of general notions from those same phenomena which 
 present themselves to us also. 
 
 What I have been saying of Ratiocination, may be 
 said of Taste, and is confirmed by the obvious analogy 
 between the two. Taste, skill, invention in the fine 
 arts — and so, again, discretion or judgment in conduct 
 — are exerted spontaneously, when once acquired, and 
 could not give a clear account of themselves, or of their 
 mode of proceeding. They do not go by rule, though 
 to a certain point their exercise may be analyzed, and 
 may take the shape of an art or method. But these 
 parallels will come before us presently. 
 
 And now I come to a further peculiarity of this 
 natural and spontaneous ratiocination. This faculty, as 
 it is actually found in us, proceeding from concrete to 
 concrete, is attached to a definite subject-matter, accord- 
 ing to the individual. In spite of Aristotle, I will not 
 allow that genuine reasoning is an instrumental art ; and 
 in spite of Dr. Johnson, I will assert that genius, as far 
 as it is manifested in ratiocination, is not equal to all
 
 Natural Inference. 339 
 
 undertakings, but has its own peculiar subject-matter, 
 and is circumscribed in its range. No one would for 
 a moment expect that because Newton and Napoleon 
 both had a genius for ratiocination, that, in consequence, 
 Napoleon could have generalized the principle of gra- 
 vitation, or Newton have seen how to concentrate a 
 hundred thousand men at Austerlitz. The ratiocinative 
 faculty, then, as found in individuals, is not a general 
 instrument of knowledge, but has its province, or is 
 what may be called departmental. It is not so much 
 one faculty, as a collection of similar or analogous facul- 
 ties under one name, there being really as many facul- 
 ties as there are distinct subject-matters, though in the 
 same person some of them may, if it so happen, be 
 united, — nay, though some men have a sort of literary 
 power in arguing in all subject-matters, de omnisciblli, 
 a power extensive, but not deep or real. 
 
 This surely is the conclusion, to which we are brought 
 by our ordinary experience of men. It is almost pro- 
 verbial that a hard-headed mathematician may have no 
 head at all for what is called historical evidence. Suc- 
 cessful experimentalists need not have talent for legal 
 research or pleading. A shrewd man of business may 
 be a bad arguer in philosophical questions. Able states- 
 men and politicians have been before now eccentric or 
 superstitious in their religious views. It is notorious 
 how ridiculous a clever man may make himself, who 
 ventures to argue with professed theologians, critics, 
 or geologists, though without positive defects in know- 
 ledge of his subject. Priestley, great in electricity and 
 chemistry, was but a poor ecclesiastical historian. The 
 
 z 2
 
 34-Q Inference. 
 
 Author of the Minute Philosopher is also the Author of 
 the Analyst. Newton wrote not only his " Principia," 
 but his comments on the Apocalypse ; Cromwell, whose 
 actions savoured of the boldest logic, was a confused 
 speaker. In these, and various similar instances, the 
 defect lay, not so much in an ignorance of facts, as in an 
 inability to handle those facts suitably; in feeble or 
 perverse modes of abstraction, observation, comparison, 
 analysis, inference, which nothing could have obviated, 
 but that which was wanting, — a specific talent, and a 
 ready exercise of it. 
 
 I have already referred to the faculty of memory in 
 illustration ; it will serve me also here. We can form 
 an abstract idea of memory, and call it one faculty, 
 which has for its subject-matter all past facts of our 
 personal experience ; but this is really only an illusion ; 
 for there is no such gift of universal memory. Of 
 course we all remember in a way, as we reason, in all 
 subject-matters ; but I am speaking of remembering 
 rightly, as I spoke of reasoning rightly. In real fact 
 memory, as a talent, is not one indivisible faculty, but a 
 power of retaining and recalling the past in this or that 
 department of our experience, not in any whatever. 
 Two memories, which are both specially retentive, may 
 also be incommensurate. Some men can recite the 
 canto of a poem, or good part of a speech, after once 
 reading it, but have no head for dates. Others have 
 great capacity for the vocabulary of languages, but 
 recollect nothing of the small occurrences of the day or 
 year. Others never forget any statement which they 
 have read, and can give volume and page, but have no
 
 Natural Inference. 341 
 
 memory for faces. I have known those who could, 
 without effort, run through the succession of days on 
 which Easter fell for years back ; or could say where 
 they were, or what they were doing-, on a given day, in 
 a given year ; or could recollect accurately the Chris- 
 tian names of friends and strangers; or could enumerate 
 in exact order the names on all the shops from Hyde 
 Park Corner to the Bank ; or had so mastered the Uni- 
 versity Calendar as to be able to bear an examination in 
 the academical history of any M.A. taken at random. 
 And I believe in most of these cases the talent, in its 
 exceptional character, did not extend beyond several 
 classes of subjects. There are a hundred memories, as 
 there are a hundred virtues. Virtue is one indeed in the 
 abstract ; but, in fact, gentle and kind natures are not 
 therefore heroic, and prudent and self-controlled minds 
 need not be open-handed. At the utmost such virtue is 
 one only in posse ; as developed in the concrete, it 
 takes the shape of species which in no sense imply each 
 other. 
 
 So is it with Ratiocination ; and as we should betake 
 ourselves to Newton for physical, not for theological 
 conclusions, and to Wellington for his military expe- 
 rience, not for statesmanship, so the maxim holds good 
 generally, " Cuique in arte sua credendum est : " or, to 
 use the grand words of Aristotle, " We are bound to 
 give heed to the undemonstrated sayings and opinions 
 of the experienced and aged, not less than to demonstra- 
 tions ; because, from their having the eye of experience, 
 they behold the principles of things." l Instead of 
 1 Eth. Niconi. vi. 11, fin.
 
 i\2 Inference. 
 
 o 
 
 trusting logical science, we must trust persons, namely, 
 those who by long acquaintance with their subject have 
 a right to judge. And if we wish ourselves to share in 
 their convictions and the grounds of them, we must fol- 
 low their history, and learn as they have learned. We 
 must take up their particular subject as they took it up, 
 beginning at the beginning, give ourselves to it, depend 
 on practice and experience more than on reasoning, and 
 thus gain that mental insight into truth, whatever its 
 subject-matter may be, which our masters have gained 
 before us. By following this course, we may make 
 ourselves of their number, and then we rightly lean 
 upon ourselves, directing ourselves by our own moral op 
 intellectual judgment, not by our skill in argumentation. 
 This doctrine, stated in substance as above by the 
 great philosopher of antiquity, is more fully expounded 
 in a passage which he elsewhere quotes from Hesiod. 
 " Best of all is he," says that poet, " who is wise by his- 
 own wit; next best he who is wise by the wit of 
 others ; but whoso is neither able to see, nor willing tc 
 hear, he is a good-for-nothing fellow/'' Judgment then 
 in all concrete matter is the architectonic faculty ; and 
 what may be called the Illative Sense, or right judgment 
 in ratiocination, is one branch of it.
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 THE ILLATIVE SENSE. 
 
 My object in the foregoing pages has been, not to form 
 a theory which may account for those phenomena of the 
 intellect of which they treat, viz. those which characterize 
 inference and assent, but to ascertain what is the matter 
 of fact as regards them, that is, when it is that assent is 
 given to propositions which are inferred, and under what 
 circumstances. I have never had the thought of an 
 attempt which in me would be ambitious, and which 
 has failed in the hands of others, — if that attempt may 
 fairly be called unsuccessful, which, though made by 
 the acutest minds, has not succeeded in convincing 
 opponents. Especially have I found myself unequal to 
 antecedent reasonings in the instance of a matter of fact. 
 There are those, who, arguiug a priori, maintain, that, 
 since experience leads by syllogism only to probabilities, 
 certitude is ever a mistake. There are others, who, while 
 they deny this conclusion, grant the a priori principle 
 assumed in the argument, and in consequence are obliged, 
 in order to vindicate the certainty of our knowledge, to 
 have recourse to the hypothesis of intuitions, intellectual
 
 344 The Illative Sense. 
 
 o 
 
 forms, and the like, which belong to us by nature, and 
 may be considered to elevate our experience into some- 
 thing more than it is in itself. Earnestly maintaining, 
 as I would, with this latter school of philosophers, the 
 certainty of knowledge, I think it enough to appeal to 
 the common voice of mankind in proof of it. That is to 
 be accounted a normal operation of our nature, which men 
 in general do actually instance. That is a law of our 
 minds, which is exemplified in action on a large scale, 
 whether a priori it ought to be a law or no. Our hoping 
 is a proof that hope, as such, is not an extravagance ; 
 and our possession of certitude is a proof that it is not a 
 weakness or an absurdity to be certain. How it comes 
 about that we can be certain is not my business to deter- 
 mine ; for me it is sufficient that certitude is felt. This 
 is what the schoolmen, I believe, call treating a subject 
 in facto esse, in contrast with in fieri. Had I attempted 
 the latter, I should have been falling into metaphysics ; 
 but my aim is of a practical character, such as that of 
 Butler in his Analogy, with this difference, that he treats 
 of probability, doubt, expedience, and duty, whereas 
 in these pages, without excluding, far from it, the 
 question of duty, I would coufine myself to the truth 
 of things, aud to the mind's certitude of that truth. 
 
 Certitude is a mental state : certainty is a quality of 
 pi'opositions. Those propositions I call certain, which 
 are such that I am certain of them. Certitude is not a 
 passive impression made upon the mind from without, 
 by argumentative compulsion, but in all concrete ques- 
 tions (nay, even in abstract, for though the reasoning is 
 abstract, the mind which judges of it is concrete) it is
 
 The Illative Sense. 345 
 
 an active recognition of propositions as true, such as it 
 is the duty of each individual himself to exercise at the 
 bidding of reason, and, when reason forbids, to withhold. 
 And reason never bids us be certain except on an abso- 
 lute proof; aud such a proof can never be furnished to 
 us by the logic of words, for as certitude is of the mind, 
 so is the act of inference which leads to it. Every one 
 who reasons, is his own centre ; and no expedient for 
 attaining a common measure of minds can reverse this 
 truth ; — but then the question follows, is there any 
 criterion of the accuracy of an inference, such as may be 
 our warrant that certitude is rightly elicited in favour of 
 the proposition inferred, since our warrant cannot, as I 
 have said, be scientific ? I have already said that the 
 sole and final judgment on the validity of an inference 
 in concrete matter is committed to the personal action 
 of the ratiocinative faculty, the perfection or virtue of 
 which I have called the Illative Sense, a use of the word 
 " sense " parallel to our use of it in " good sense/' 
 " common sense," a " sense of beauty/' &c. ; — and I 
 own I do not see any way to go farther than this in 
 answer to the question. However, I can at least explain 
 my meaning more fully ; and therefore I will now speak, 
 first of the sanction of the Illative Sense, next of its 
 nature, and then of its range.
 
 346 The Illative Sense. 
 
 § 1. The Sanction of the Illative Sense. 
 
 We are in a world of facts, and we use them ; for there 
 is nothing else to use. We do not quarrel with them, 
 but we take them as they are, and avail ourselves of 
 what they can do for us. It would be out of place to 
 demand of fire, water, earth, and air their credentials, so 
 to say, for acting upon us, or ministering to us. We call 
 them elements, and turn them to account, and make the 
 most of them. We speculate on them at our leisure. 
 But what we are still less able to doubt about or annul, 
 at our leisure or not, is that which is at once their 
 counterpart and their witness, I mean, ourselves. We 
 are conscious of the objects of external nature, and 
 we reflect and act upon them, and this consciousness, 
 reflection, and action we call our rationality. And as 
 we use the (so called) elements without first criticizing 
 what we have no command over, so is it much more un- 
 meaning in us to criticize or find fault with our own 
 nature, which is nothing else than we ourselves, instead 
 of using it according to the use of which it ordinarily 
 admits. Our being, with its faculties, mind and body, 
 is a fact not admitting of question, all things being of 
 necessity referred to it, not it to other things.
 
 The Sanction of the Illative Sense. 347 
 
 If I may not assume that I exist, and in a particular 
 way, that is, with a particular mental constitution, I 
 have nothing- to speculate about, aud had better let 
 speculation alone. Such as I am, it is my all : this is 
 my essential stand-point, and must be taken for granted ; 
 otherwise, thought is but an idle amusement, not worth 
 the trouble. There is no medium between using my 
 faculties, as I have them, and flinging myself upon the 
 external world according to the random impulse of the 
 moment, as spray upon the surface of the waves, and 
 simply forgetting that I am. 
 
 I am what I am, or I am nothing. I cannot think, 
 reflect, or judge about my being, without starting from 
 the very point which I aim at concluding. My ideas 
 are all assumptions, and I am ever moving in a circle. 
 I cannot avoid being sufficient for myself, for I cannot 
 make myself anything else, and to change me is to 
 destroy me. If I do not use myself, I have no other 
 self to use. My only business is to ascertain what I 
 am, in order to put it to use. It is enough for the 
 proof of the value and authority of any function which 
 I possess, to be able to pronounce that it is natural. 
 What I have to ascertain is the laws under which I 
 live. My first elementary lesson of duty is that of 
 resignation to the laws of my nature, whatever they 
 are ; my first disobedience is to be impatient at what I 
 am, and to indulge an ambitious aspiration after what 
 I cannot be, to cherish a distrust of my powers, and to 
 desire to change laws which are identical with myself. 
 
 Truths such as these, which are too obvious to be 
 called irresistible, are illustrated by what we see in
 
 348 The Illative Sense. 
 
 universal nature. Every being is in a true sense suf- 
 ficient for itself, so as to be able to fulfil its particular 
 needs. It is a general law that, whatever is found as 
 a function or an attribute of any class of beings, or is 
 natural to it, is in its substance suitable to it, and 
 subserves its existence, and cannot be rightly regarded 
 as a fault or enormity. No being could endure, of 
 which the constituent parts were at war with each 
 other. And more than this ; there is that principle of 
 vitality in every being, which is of a sanative and 
 restorative character, and which brings all its parts 
 and functions together into one whole, and is ever 
 repelling and correcting the mischiefs which befall it, 
 whether from within or without, while showing no 
 tendency to cast off its belongings as if foreign to its 
 nature. The brute animals are found severally with 
 limbs and organs, habits, instincts, appetites, surround- 
 ings, which play together for the safety and welfare of 
 the whole; and, after all exceptions, may be said each 
 of them to have, after its own kind, a perfection of 
 nature. Man is the highest of the animals, and more 
 indeed than an animal, as having a mind ; that is, he 
 has a complex nature different from theirs, with a 
 higher aim and a specific perfection; but still the fact 
 that other beings find their good in the use of their 
 particular nature, is a reason for anticipating that 
 to use duly our own is our interest as well as our 
 necessity. 
 
 What is the peculiarity of our nature, in contrast 
 with the inferior animals around us ? It is that, though 
 man cannot chango what he is born with, he is a being
 
 The Sanction of the Illative Sense. 349 
 
 of progress with relation to his perfection and charac- 
 teristic good. Other beings are complete from their 
 first existence, in that line of excellence which is allotted 
 to them ; but man begins with nothing realized (to use 
 the word), and he has to make capital for himself by 
 the exercise of those faculties which are his natural 
 inheritance. Thus he gradually advances to the ful- 
 ness of his original destiny. Nor is this progress 
 mechanical, nor is it of necessity ; it is committed to 
 the personal efforts of each individual of the species ; 
 each of us has the prerogative of completing his inchoate 
 and rudimental nature, and of developing his own per- 
 fection out of the living elements with which his mind 
 began to be. It is his gift to be the creator of his own 
 sufficiency ; and to be emphatically self-made. This is 
 the law of his being, which he cannot escape; and 
 whatever is involved in that law he is bound, or rather 
 he is carried on, to fulfil. 
 
 And here I am brought to the bearing of these re- 
 marks upon my subject. For this law of progress is 
 carried out by means of the acquisition of knowledge, 
 of which inference and assent are the immediate instru- 
 ments. Supposing, then, the advancement of our 
 nature, both in ourselves individually and as regards 
 the human family, is, to every one of us in his place, a 
 sacred duty, it follows that that duty is intimately bound 
 up with the right use of these two main instruments of 
 fulfilling it. And as we do not gain the knowledge of 
 the law of progress by any a priori view of man, but 
 by looking at it as the interpretation which is provided 
 by himself on a large scale in the ordinary action of
 
 350 The Illative Sense. 
 
 his intellectual nature, so too we must appeal to him- 
 self, as a fact, and not to any antecedent theory, in 
 order to find what is the law of his mind as regards 
 the two faculties in question. If then such an appeal 
 does bear me out in deciding, as I have done, that the 
 course of inference is ever more or less obscure, while 
 assent is ever distinct and definite, and yet that what 
 is in its nature thus absolute does, in fact follow upon 
 what in outward manifestation is thus complex, in- 
 direct, and recondite, what is left to us but to take 
 things as they are, and to resign ourselves to what we 
 find ? that is, instead of devising, what cannot be, 
 some sufficient science of reasoning which may compel 
 certitude in concrete conclusions, to confess that there 
 is no ultimate test of truth besides the testimony born 
 to truth by the mind itself, and that this phenomenon, 
 perplexing as we may find it, is a normal and inevitable 
 characteristic of the mental constitution of a being like 
 man on a stage such as the world. His progress is a 
 living growth, not a mechanism ; and its instruments 
 are mental acts, not the formulas and contrivances of 
 language. 
 
 We are accustomed in this day to lay great, stress 
 upon the harmony of the universe; and we have well 
 learned the maxim so powerfully inculcated by our own 
 English philosopher, that in our inquiries into its laws, 
 we must sternly destroy all idols of the intellect, and 
 subdue nature by co-operating with her. Knowledge 
 is power, for it enables us to use eternal principles which 
 we cannot alter. So also is it in that microcosm, the 
 human mind. Let us follow Bacon more closely than
 
 The Sanction of the Illative Sense. 351 
 
 to distort its faculties according to the demands of an 
 ideal optimism, instead of looking out for modes of 
 thought proper to our nature, and faithfully observing 
 them in our intellectual exercises. 
 
 Of course I do not stop here. As the structure of 
 the universe speaks to us of Him who made it, so the 
 laws of the mind are the expression, not of mere con- 
 stituted order, but of His will. I should be bound by 
 them even were they not His laws ; but since one of 
 their very functions is to tell me of Him, they throw 
 a reflex light upon themselves, and, for resignation to 
 my destiny, I substitute a cheerful concurrence in an 
 overruling Providence. We may gladly welcome such 
 difficulties as are to be found in our mental constitution, 
 and in the interaction of our faculties, if we are able to 
 feel that He gave them to us, and He can overrule them 
 for us. We may securely take them as they are, and 
 use them as we find them. It is He who teaches us all 
 knowledge ; and the way by which we acquire it is His 
 way. He varies that way according to the subject- 
 matter ; but whether He has set before us in our par- 
 ticular pursuit the way of observation or of experiment, 
 of speculation or of research, of demonstration or of 
 probability, whether we are inquiring into the system 
 of the universe, or into the elements of matter and of 
 life, or into the history of human society and past 
 times, if we take the way proper to our subject-matter, 
 we have His blessing upon us, and shall find, besides 
 abundant matter for mere opinion, the materials in due 
 measure of proof and assent. 
 
 And especially, by this disposition of things, shall
 
 352 The Illative Sense. 
 
 we learn, as regards religious and ethical inquiries, now 
 little we can effect, however much we exert ourselves, 
 without that Blessing ; for, as if on set purpose, He 
 has made this path of thought rugged and circuitous 
 above other investigations, that the very discipline in- 
 flicted on our minds in finding Him, may mould them 
 into due devotion to Him when He is found. " Yerily 
 Thou art a hidden God, the God of Israel, the Saviour," 
 is the very law of His dealings with us. Certainly we 
 need a clue into the labyrinth which is to lead us to 
 Him ; and who among us can hope to seize upon the 
 true starting-points of thought for that enterprise, and 
 upon all of them, who is to understand their right 
 direction, to follow them out to their just limits, and 
 duly to estimate, adjust, and combine the various 
 reasonings in which they issue, so as safely to arrive 
 at what it is worth any labour to secure, without a 
 special illumination from Himself? Such are the deal- 
 ings of Wisdom with the elect soul. " She will bring 
 upon him fear, and dread, and trial ; and She will tor- 
 ture him with the tribulation of Her discipline, till She 
 try him by Her laws, and trust his soul. Then She 
 will strengthen him, and make Her way straight to 
 him, and give him joy."
 
 The Native of the Illative Sense. 353 
 
 
 § 2. The Nature op the Illative Sense. 
 
 It is the mind that reasons, and that controls its own 
 reasonings, not any technical apparatus of words and 
 propositions. This power of judging and concluding, 
 when in its perfection, I call the Illative Sense, and I 
 shall best illustrate it by referring to parallel faculties, 
 which we commonly recognize without difficulty. 
 
 For instance, how does the mind fulfil its function 
 of supreme direction and control, in matters of duty, 
 social intercourse, and taste ? In all of these separate 
 actions of the intellect, the individual is supreme, and 
 responsible to himself, nay, under circumstances, may 
 be justified in opposing himself to the judgment of 
 the whole world ; though he uses rules to his great 
 advantage, as far as they go, and is in consequence 
 bound to use them. As regards moral duty, the sub- 
 ject is fully considered in the well-known ethical 
 treatises of Aristotle. 1 He calls the faculty which 
 
 1 Though Aristotle, in his Nicomachean Ethics, speaks of <pp6vt\<n% as 
 the virtue of the 8o£a<rTtKbt> generally, and as being concerned generally 
 with contingent matter (vi. 4), or what I have called the concrete, and 
 of its function being, as regards that matter, aATjfltuetc t<£ Karatpdvai % 
 a-rrocpdvat (ibid. 3), he does not treat of it in that work in its general 
 relation to truth and the affirmation of truth, but only as it bears upon 
 ra wf>a.KTa. 
 
 A a
 
 354 The Illative Sense. 
 
 guides the mind in matters of conduct, by the name of 
 phronesis, or judgment. This is the directing, con- 
 trolling, and determining principle in such matters, 
 personal and social. What it is to be virtuous, how 
 we are to gain the just idea and standard of virtue, 
 how we are to approximate in practice to our own 
 standard, what is right and wrong in a particular case, 
 for the answers in fulness and accuracy to these and 
 similar questions, the philosopher refers us to no code 
 of laws, to no moral treatise, because no science of 
 life, applicable to the case of an individual, has been 
 or can be written. Such is Aristotle's doctrine, and it 
 is undoubtedly true. An ethical system may supply 
 laws, general rules, guiding principles, a number of 
 examples, suggestions, landmarks, limitations, cau- 
 tions, distinctions, solutions of critical or anxious 
 difficulties ; but who is to apply them to a particular 
 case ? whither can we go, except to the living intellect, 
 our own, or another's ? What is written is too vague, too 
 negative for our need. It bids us avoid extremes ; but 
 it cannot ascertain for us, according to our personal 
 need, the golden mean. The authoritative oracle, 
 which is to decide our path, is something more search- 
 ing and manifold than such jejune generalizations as 
 treatises can give, which are most distinct and clear 
 when we least need them. It is seated in the mind of 
 the individual, who is thus his own law, his own 
 teacher, and his own judge in those special cases of 
 duty which are personal to him. It comes of an ac- 
 quired habit, though it has its first origin in nature 
 itself, and it is formed and matured by practice and
 
 The Nature of the Illative Sense. 355 
 
 experience ; and it manifests itself, not in any breadth 
 of view, any philosophical comprehension of the mutual 
 relations of duty towards duty, or any consistency in 
 its teachings, but it is a capacity sufficient for the 
 occasion, deciding what ought to be done here and 
 now, by this given person, under these given circum- 
 stances. It decides nothing hypothetical, it does not 
 determine what a man should do ten years hence, or 
 what another should do at this time. It may indeed 
 happen to decide ten years hence as it does now, and 
 to decide a second case now as it now decides a first ; 
 still its present act is for the present, not for the dis- 
 tant or the future. 
 
 State or public law is inflexible, but this mental 
 rule is not only minute and particular, but has an elas- 
 ticity, which, in its application to individual cases, is, 
 as I have said, not studious to maintain the appearance 
 of consistency. In old times the mason's rule which 
 was in use at Lesbos was, according to Aristotle, not 
 of wood or iron, but of lead, so as to allow of its ad- 
 justment to the uneven surface of the stones brought 
 together for the work. By such the philosopher illus- 
 trates the nature of equity in contrast with law, and 
 such is that phronesis, from which the science of 
 morals forms its rules, and receives its complement. 
 
 In this respect of course the law of truth differs 
 from the law of duty, that duties change, but truths 
 never; but, though truth is ever one and the same, 
 and the assent of certitude is immutable, still the 
 reasonings which carry us on to truth and certitude 
 are many and distinct, and vary with the inquirer ; and 
 
 A a 2
 
 356 The Illative Sense. 
 
 it is not with assent, but with the controlling principle 
 in inferences that I am comparing phronesis. It is with 
 this drift that I observe that the rule of conduct for 
 one man is not always the rule for another, though the 
 rule is always one and the same in the abstract, and in 
 its principle and scope. To learn his own duty in his 
 own case, each individual must have recourse to his 
 own rule ; and if his rule is not sufficiently developed 
 in his intellect for his need, then he goes to some 
 other living, present authority, to supply it for him, 
 not to the dead letter of a treatise or a code. A 
 living, present authority, himself or another, is his 
 immediate guide in matters of a personal, social, or 
 political character. In buying and selling, in con- 
 tracts, in his treatment of others, in giving and receiv- 
 ing, in thinking, speaking, doing, and working, in 
 toil, in danger, in his recreations and pleasures, every 
 one of his acts, to be praiseworthy, must be in accord- 
 ance with this practical sense. Thus it is, and not by 
 science, that he perfects the virtues of justice, self- 
 command, magnanimity, generosity, gentleness, and all 
 others. Phronesis is the regulating principle of every 
 one of them. 
 
 These last words lead me to a further remark. I 
 doubt whether it is correct, strictly speaking, to con- 
 sider this •phronesis as a general faculty, directing and 
 perfecting all the virtues at once. So understood, it 
 is little better than an abstract term, including under 
 it a circle of analogous faculties, severally proper to 
 the separate virtues. Properly speaking, there are as 
 many kinds of 'phronesis as there are virtues ; for the
 
 The Nature of the Illative Sense. 357 
 
 judgment, good sense, or tact which is conspicuous in 
 a man's conduct in one subject-matter, is not neces- 
 sarily traceable in another. As in the parallel cases of 
 memory and reasoning, he may be great in one aspect 
 of his character, and. little-minded in another. He 
 may be exemplary in his family, yet commit a fraud 
 on the revenue ; he may be just and cruel, brave and 
 sensual, imprudent and patient. And if this be true 
 of the moral virtues, it holds good, still more fully when 
 we compare what is called his private character with 
 his public. A good man may make a bad. king ; pro- 
 fligates have been great statesmen, or magnanimous 
 political leaders. 
 
 So, too, I may go on to speak of the various callings 
 and professions which give scope to the exercise of 
 great talents, for these talents also are matured, not 
 by mere rule, but by personal skill and sagacity. 
 They are as diverse as pleading and cross-examining, 
 conducting a debate in Parliament, swaying a public 
 meeting, and commanding an army ; and here, too, I 
 observe that, though the directing principle in each 
 case is called by the same name, — sagacity, skill, tact, 
 or prudence, — still there is no one ruling faculty lead- 
 ing to eminence in all these various lines of action 
 in common, but men will excel in one of them, without 
 any talent for the rest. 
 
 The parallel may be continued in the case of the 
 Fine Arts, in which, though true and scientific rules 
 may be given, no one would therefore deny that Phi- 
 dias or Rafael had a far more subtle standard of taste 
 and a more versatile power of embodying it in his
 
 358 The Illative Sense. 
 
 works, than any which he could communicate to others 
 in even a series of treatises. And here again genius 
 is indissolubly united to one definite subject-matter; 
 a poet is not therefore a painter, or an architect a 
 musical composer. 
 
 And so, again, as regards the useful arts and per- 
 sonal accomplishments, we use the same word " skiil/' 
 but proficiency in engineering or in ship-building, or 
 again in engraving, or again in singing, in playing 
 instruments, in acting, or in gymnastic exercises, is as 
 simply one with its particular subject-matter, as the 
 human soul with its particular body, and is, in its own 
 department, a sort of instinct or inspiration, not an 
 obedience to external rules of criticism or of science. 
 
 It is natural, then, to ask the question, why ratio- 
 cination should be an exception to a general law which 
 attaches to the intellectual exercises of the mind ; why 
 it is held to be commensurate with logical science ; and 
 why logic is made an instrumental art sufficient for 
 determining every sort of truth, while no one would 
 dream of making any one formula, however generalized, 
 a working rule at once for poetry, the art of medicine, 
 and political warfare ? 
 
 This is what I have to remark concerning the Illative 
 Sense, and in explanation of its nature and claims ; 
 and on the whole, I have spoken of it in four respects, 
 — as viewed in itself, in its subject-matter, in the pro- 
 cess it uses, and in its function and scope. 
 
 First, viewed in its exercise, it is one and the same 
 in all concrete matters, though employed in them in 
 different measures. We do not reason in one way in
 
 The Nature of the Illative Sense. 359 
 
 chemistry or law, in another in morals or religion ; but 
 in reasoning on any subject whatever, which is con- 
 crete, we proceed, as far indeed as we can, by the logic 
 of language, but we are obliged to supplement it by the 
 more subtle and elastic logic of thought ; for forms by 
 themselves prove nothing. 
 
 Secondly, it is in fact attached to definite subject- 
 matters, so that a given individual may possess it in 
 one department of thought, for instance, history, and 
 not in another, for instance, philosophy. 
 
 Thirdly, in coming to its conclusion, it proceeds always 
 in the same way, by a method of reasoning, which, as I 
 have observed above, is the elementary principle of that / 
 mathematical calculus of modern times, which has so <- 
 wonderfully extended the limits of abstract science. 
 
 Fourthly, in ho class of conci'ete reasonings, whether 
 in experimental science, historical research, or theology, 
 is there any ultimate test of truth and error in our 
 inferences besides the trustworthiness of the Illative 
 Sense that gives them its sanction; just as there is no 
 sufficient test of poetical excellence, heroic action, or 
 gentleman-like conduct, other than the particular mental 
 sense, be it genius, taste, sense of propriety, or the moral 
 sense, to which those subject-matters are severally com- 
 mitted. Our duty in each of these is to strengthen and 
 perfect the special faculty which is its living rule, and 
 in every case as it comes to do our best. And such also 
 is our duty and our necessity, as regards the Illative 
 Sense.
 
 360 The Illative Sense. 
 
 § 3. The Range op the Illative Sense. 
 
 Great as are the services of language in enabling us to 
 extend the compass of our inferences, to test their validity, 
 and to communicate them to others, still the mind itself 
 is more versatile and vigorous than any of its works, of 
 which language is one, and it is only under its pene- 
 trating and subtle action that the margin disappears, 
 which I have described as intervening between verbal 
 argumentation and conclusions in the concrete. It 
 determines what science cannot determine, the limit of 
 converging probabilities and the reasons sufficient for a 
 proof. It is the ratiocinative mind itself, and no trick of 
 art, however simple in its form and sure in operation, 
 by which we are able to determine, and thereupon to 
 be certain, that a moving body left to itself will never 
 stop, and that no man can live without eating. 
 
 Nor, again, is it by any diagram that we are able to 
 scrutinize, sort, and combine the many premisses which 
 must be first run together before we answer duly a 
 given question. It is to the living mind that we must 
 look for the means of using correctly principles of what- 
 ever kind, facts or doctrines, experiences or testimonies, 
 true or probable, and of discerning what conclusion
 
 The Range of the Illative Sense. 361 
 
 from these is necessary, suitable, or expedient, when 
 they are taken for granted ; and this, either by means 
 of a natural gift, or from mental formation and practice 
 and a long familiarity with those various starting-points. 
 Thus, when Laud said that he did not see his way to 
 come to terms with the Holy See, " till Rome was other 
 than she was," no Catholic would admit the sentiment : 
 but any Catholic may understand that this is just the 
 judgment consistent with Laud's actual condition of 
 thought and cast of opinions, his ecclesiastical position, 
 and the existing state of England. 
 
 Nor, lastly, is an action of the mind itself less neces- 
 sary in relation to those first elements of thought which 
 in all reasoning are assumptions, the principles, tastes, 
 and opinions, very often of a personal character, which 
 are half the battle in the inference with which the 
 reasoning is to terminate. It is the mind itself that 
 detects them in their obscure recesses, illustrates them, 
 establishes them, eliminates them, resolves them into 
 simpler ideas, as the case may be. The mind contem- 
 plates them without the use of words, by a process which 
 cannot be analyzed. Thus it was that Bacon separated 
 the physical system of the world from the theological ; 
 thus that Butler connected together the moral system 
 with the religious. Logical formulas could never have 
 sustained the reasonings involved in such investigations. 
 
 Thus the Illative Sense, that is, the reasoning faculty, 
 as exercised by gifted, or by educated or otherwise well- 
 prepared minds, has its function in the beginning, middle, 
 and end of all verbal discussion and inquiry, and in every 
 step of the process. It is a rule to itself, and appeals to
 
 362 The Illative Sense. 
 
 no judgment beyond its own; and attends uponthewhole 
 course of thought from antecedents to consequents, with 
 a minute diligence and unwearied presence, which is 
 impossible to a cumbrous apparatus of verbal reasoning, 
 though, in communicating with others, words are the 
 only instrument we possess, and a serviceable, though, 
 imperfect instrument. 
 
 One function indeed there is of Logic, to which I have 
 referred in the preceding sentence, which the Illative 
 Sense does not and cannot perform. It supplies no 
 common measure between mind and mind, as being 
 nothing else than a personal gift or acquisition. Few 
 there are, as I said above, who are good reasoners on 
 all subject-matters. Two men, who reason well each in 
 his own province of thought, may, one or both of them, 
 fail and pronounce opposite judgments on a question 
 belonging to some third province. Moreover, all reason- 
 ing being from premisses, and those premisses arising 
 (if it so happen) in their first elements from personal 
 characteristics, in which men are in fact in essential and 
 irremediable variance one with another, the ratiocinative 
 talent can do no more than point out where the diffe- 
 rence between them lies, how far it is immaterial, when 
 it is worth while continuing an argument between them, 
 and when not. 
 
 Now of the three main occasions of the exercise of the 
 Illative Sense, which I have been insisting on, and which 
 are the measm^e of its range, the start, the course, and 
 the issue of an inquiry, I have already, in treating of 
 Informal Inference, shown the place it holds in the final 
 resolution of concrete questions. Here then it is left to
 
 The Range of the Illative Sense. 363 
 
 me to illustrate its presence and action in relation to 
 the elementary premisses, and, again, to the conduct 
 of an argument. And first of the latter. 
 
 1. 
 
 There has been a great deal written of late years on 
 the subject of the state of Greece and Rome during the 
 pre-historic period ; let us say before the Olympiads in 
 Greece, and the war with Pyrrhus in the annals of Rome. 
 Now, in a question like this, it is plain that the inquirer 
 has first of all to decide on the point from which he is to 
 start in the presence of the received accounts ; on what 
 side, from what quarter he is to approach them ; on what 
 principles his discussion is to be conducted ; what he is 
 to assume, what opinions or objections he is summarily 
 to put aside as nugatory, what arguments, and when, he 
 is to consider as apposite, what false issues are to be 
 avoided, when the state of his arguments is ripe for a 
 conclusion. Is he to commence with absolutely dis- 
 carding all that has hitherto been received ; or to retain 
 it in outline ; or to make selections from it ; or to con- 
 sider and interpret it as mythical, or as allegorical ; or 
 to hold so much to be trustworthy, or at least of 'prima 
 facie authority, as he cannot actually disprove; or never 
 to destroy except in proportion as he can construct ? 
 Then, as to the kind of arguments suitable or admissible, 
 how far are tradition, analogy, isolated monuments and 
 records, ruins, vague reports, legends, the facts or 
 sayings of later times, language, popular proverbs, to 
 tell in the inquiry ? what are marks of truth, what of
 
 364 The Illative Seiise. 
 
 falsehood, what is probable, what suspicious, what pro- 
 mises well for discriminating facts from fictions ? Then, 
 arguments have to be balanced against each other, and 
 then lastly the decision is to be made, whether any con- 
 clusion at all can be drawn, or whether any before 
 certain issues are tried and settled, or whether a pro- 
 bable conclusion or a certain. It is plain how incessant 
 will be the call here or there for the exercise of a 
 definitive judgment, how little that judgment will be 
 helped on by logic, and how intimately it will be de- | 
 pendent upon the intellectual complexion of the writer. 
 This might be illustrated at great length, were it 
 necessary, from the writings of any of those able men, 
 whose names are so well known in connexion with the 
 subject I have instanced; such as Niebuhr, Mr. Clinton, 
 Sir George Lewis, Mr. Grote, and Colonel Mure. These 
 authors have severally views of their own on the period 
 of history which they have selected for investigation, 
 and they are too learned and logical not to know and 
 to use to the utmost the testimonies by which the facts 
 which they investigate are to be ascertained. Why 
 then do they differ so much from each other, whether 
 in their estimate of those testimonies or of those facts? 
 because that estimate is simply their own, coming of 
 their own judgment ; and that judgment coming of 
 assumptions of their own, explicit or implicit ; and 
 those assumptions spontaneously issuing out of the state 
 of thought respectively belonging to each of them ; 
 and all these successive processes of minute reasoning 
 supei'intended and directed by an intellectual instru- 
 ment far too subtle and spiritual to be scientific.
 
 The Range of the Illative Sense. 365 
 
 What was Niebuhr's idea of the office he had under- 
 taken ? I suppose it was to accept what he found in 
 the historians of Rome, to interrogate it, to take it to 
 pieces, to put it together again, to re-arrange and in- 
 terpret it. Prescription together with internal con- 
 sistency was to him the evidence of fact, and if he pulled 
 down he felt he was bound to build up. Very different 
 is the spirit of another school of writers, with whom 
 prescription is nothing, and who will admit no evidence 
 which has not first proved its right to be admitted. 
 " We are able," says Niebuhr, " to trace the history of 
 the Roman constitution back to the beginning of the 
 Commonwealth, as accurately as we wish, and even 
 more perfectly than the history of many portions of the 
 middle ages." But, " we may rejoice," says Sir George 
 Lewis, " that the ingenuity or learning of Niebuhr 
 should have enabled him to advance many noble hypo- 
 theses and conjectures respecting the form of the early 
 constitution of Rome, but, unless he can support those 
 hypotheses by sufficient evidence, they are not entitled 
 to our belief. ' ' Niebuhr," says a writer nearly related 
 to myself, " often expresses much contempt for mere 
 incredulous criticism and negative conclusions ; . . yet 
 wisely to disbelieve is our first grand requisite in dealing 
 with materials of mixed worth." And Sir George 
 Lewis again, " It may be said that there is scarcely any 
 of the leading conclusions of Niebuhr's work which has 
 not been impugned by some subsequent writer." 
 
 Again, " It is true," says Niebuhr, " that the Trojan 
 war belongs to the region of fable, yet undeniably it has 
 an historical foundation." But Mr. Grote writes, ,f If
 
 366 The Illative Sense. 
 
 we are asked whether the Trojan war is not a legend 
 . . raised upon a basis of truth, . . our answer must 
 be, that, as the possibility of it cannot be denied, 
 so neither can the reality of it be affirmed." On the 
 other hand, Mr. Clinton lays down the general rule, 
 " We may acknowledge as real persons, all those whom 
 there is no reason for rejecting. The presumption is 
 in favour of the early tradition, if no argument can be 
 brought to overthrow it.'" Thus he lodges the onus 
 probandi with those who impugn the received accounts ; 
 but Mr. Grote and Sir George Lewis throw it upon 
 those who defend them. " Historical evidence," says 
 the latter, "is founded on the testimony of credible 
 witnesses." And again, " It is perpetually assumed in 
 practice, that historical evidence is different in its nature 
 from other sorts of evidence. This laxity seems to be 
 justified by the doctrine of taking the best evidence 
 which can be obtained. The object of [my] inquiry will 
 be to apply to the early Roman history the same rules of 
 evidence which are applied by common consent to modern 
 history." Far less severe is the judgment of Colonel 
 Mure : " Where no positive historical proof is affirmable, 
 the balance of historical probability must reduce itself 
 very much to a reasonable indulgence to the weight of 
 national conviction, and a deference to the testimony of 
 the earliest native authorities." " Reasonable indul- 
 gence " to popular belief, " deference " to ancient tradi- 
 tion, are principles of writing history abhorrent to the 
 judicial temper of Sir George Lewis. He considers the 
 words "reasonable indulgence " to be 6t ambiguous," and 
 observes that " the very point which cannot be taken
 
 The Range of the Illative Sense. 367 
 
 for granted, and in which writers differ, is, as to the extent 
 to which contemporary attestation may be presumed 
 without direct and positive proof, . . the extent to 
 which the existence of a popular belief concerning a 
 supposed matter of fact authorizes the inference that it 
 grew out of authentic testimony/' And Mr. Grote ob- 
 serves to the same effect : " The word tradition is an 
 equivocal word, and begs the whole question. It is 
 tacitly understood to imply a tale descriptive of some 
 real matter of fact, taking rise at the time when the fact 
 happened, originally accurate, but corrupted by oral 
 transmission.-" And Lewis, who quotes the passage, 
 adds, " This tacit tinder standing is the key-stone of the 
 whole argument.'" 
 
 I am not contrasting these various opinions of able 
 men, who have given themselves to historical research, 
 as if it were any reflection on them that they differ from 
 each other. It is the cause of their differing on which 
 I wish to insist. Taking the facts by themselves, 
 probably these authors would come to no conclusion at 
 all ; it is the " tacit understandings " which Mr. Grote 
 speaks of, the vague and impalpable notions of " reason- 
 ableness " on his own side as well as on that of others, 
 which both make conclusions possible, and are the pledge 
 of their being contradictory. The conclusions vary with 
 the particular writer, for each writes from his own point 
 of view and with his own principles, and these admit 
 of no common measure. 
 
 This in fact is their own account of the matter : 
 " The results of speculative historical inquiry," says 
 Colonel Mure, " can rarely amount to more than fair
 
 368 The Illative Sense. 
 
 presumption of the reality of the events in question, as 
 limited to their general substance, not as extending to 
 their details. Nor can there consequently be expected 
 in the minds of different inquirers any such unity 
 regarding the precise degree of reality, as may fre- 
 quently exist in respect to events attested by docu- 
 mentary evidence/' Mr. Grote corroborates this de- 
 cision by the striking instance of the diversity of 
 existing opinions concerning the Homeric Poems. "Our 
 means of knowledge," he says, " are so limited, that no 
 one can produce arguments sufficiently cogent to con- 
 tend against opposing preconceptions, and it creates a 
 painful sensation of diffidence, when we read the expres- 
 sions of equal and absolute persuasion with which the 
 two opposite conclusions have both been advanced." 
 And again, " There is a difference of opinion among 
 the best critics, which is probably not destined to be 
 adjusted, since so much depends partly upon critical 
 feeling, partly upon the general reasonings in respect 
 to ancient epical unity, with which a man sits down to 
 the study." Exactly so ; every one has his own 
 " critical feeling," his antecedent " reasonings," and 
 in consequence his own " absolute persuasion," coming 
 in fresh and fresh at every turn of the discussion ; and 
 who, whether stranger or friend, is to reach and affect 
 what is so intimately bound up with the mental con- 
 stitution of each ? 
 
 Hence the categorical contradictions between one 
 writer and another, which abound. Colonel Mure 
 appeals in defence of an historical thesis to the " fact of 
 the Hellenic confederacy combiniDg for the adoption of
 
 The Range of the Illative Sense. 369 
 
 a common national system of chronology in 776 B.C." 
 Mr. Grote replies : " Nothing is more at variance with 
 my conception," — he just now spoke of the precon- 
 ceptions of others, — " of the state of the Hellenic world 
 in 776 B.C., than the idea of a combination among all 
 the members of the race for any purpose, much more 
 for the purpose of adopting a common national system 
 of chronology." Colonel Mure speaks of the " bigoted 
 Athenian public;" Mr. Grote replies that "no public 
 ever less deserved the epithet of ' bigoted ' than the 
 Athenian." Colonel Mure also speaks of Mr. Grote's 
 "arbitrary hypothesis /'and again (in Mr. Grote'swords), 
 of his " unreasonable scepticism." He cannot disprove 
 by mere argument the conclusions of Mr. Grote ; he can 
 but have recourse to a personal criticism. He virtually 
 says, " We differ in our personal view of things." Men 
 become personal when logic fails 3 it is their mode of 
 appealing to their own primary elements of thought, 
 and their own illative sense, against the principles and 
 the judgment of another. 
 
 I have already touched upon Niebuhr's method of 
 investigation, and Sir George Lewis's dislike of it : it 
 supplies us with as apposite an instance of a difference in 
 first principles as is afforded by Mr. Grote and Colonel 
 Mure. " The main characteristic of his history," says 
 Lewis, " is the extent to which he relies upon internal 
 evidence, and upon the indications afforded by the nar- 
 rative itself, independently of the testimony of its truth." 
 And, " Ingenuity and labour can produce nothing but 
 hypotheses and conjectures, which may be supported by 
 analogies, but can never rest upon the solid foundation 
 
 b b
 
 370 The Illative Sense. 
 
 of proof." And it is undeniable, that, rightly or wrongly, 
 disdaining the scepticism of the mere critic, Niebuhr 
 does consciously proceed by the high path of divination. 
 " For my own part," he says, " I divine that, since the 
 censorship of Fabius and Decius falls in the same year, 
 that Cn. Flavius became mediator between his own class 
 and the higher orders." Lewis considers this to be a 
 process of guessing ; and says, " Instead of employing 
 those tests of credibility which are consistently applied 
 to modern history/' Niebuhr, and his followers, and 
 most of his opponents, " attempt to guide their judg- 
 ment by the indication of internal evidence, and assume 
 that the truth is discovered by an occult faculty of his- 
 toi-ical divination." Niebuhr defends himself thus : 
 " The real geographer has a tact which determines his 
 judgment and choice among different statements. He 
 is able from isolated statements to draw inferences re- 
 specting things that are unknown, which are closely 
 approximate to results obtained from observation of 
 facts, and may supply their place. He is able with 
 limited data to form an image of things which no eye- 
 witness has described." He applies this to himself. 
 The principle set forth in' this passage is obviously 
 the same as I should myself advocate ; but Sir George 
 Lewis, though not simply denying it as a principle, 
 makes little account of it, when applied to historical 
 research. " It is not enough/' he says, " for an historian 
 to claim the possession of a retrospective second-sight, 
 which is denied to the rest of the world — of a mysterious 
 doctrine, revealed only to the initiated." And he pro- 
 nounces, that " the history of Niebuhr has opened more
 
 The Range of the Illative Sense. 371 
 
 questions than it has closed, and it has set in motion a 
 large body of combatants, whose mutual variances are 
 not at present likely to be settled by deference to a 
 common principle/' ~ 
 
 We see from the above extracts how a controversy, 
 such as that to which they belong, is carried on from 
 starting-points, and with collateral aids, not formally 
 proved, but more or less assumed, the process of assump- 
 tion lying in the action of the Illative Sense, as applied 
 to primary elements of thought respectively congenial 
 to the disputants. Not that explicit argumentation on 
 these minute or minor, though important, points is not 
 sometimes possible to a certain extent ; but, as I have 
 said, it is too unwieldy an expedient l'or a constantly 
 recurring need, even when it is tolerably exact. 
 
 2. 
 
 And now secondly, as to the first principles them- 
 selves. In illustration, I will mention under separate 
 heads some of those elementary contrarieties of opinion, 
 on which the Illative Sense has to act, discovering them, 
 following them out, defending or resisting them, as the 
 case may be. 
 
 1. As to the statement of the case. This depends on 
 the particular aspect under which we view a subject, 
 that is, on the abstraction which forms our representa- 
 
 2 Niebuhr, " Roman History," vol. i. p. 177; vol. iii. pp. 2G2. 318. 322. 
 " Lectures," vol. iii. App. p. xxii. Lewis, " Roman History." vol. i. 
 pp. 11—17; vol. ii. pp. 189—492. P. W. Newman, "Regal Rome,'- 
 p. v. Grote, "Greece," vol. ii. pp. 67, 68. 218. 630—639. Mure, 
 "Greece," vol. iii. p 503; vol. iv. p. 318. Clinton, ap. Grote, supra. 
 
 Bb 2
 
 372 The Illative Sense. 
 
 tive notion of what it is. Sciences are only so many 
 distinct aspects of nature; sometimes suggested by 
 nature itself, sometimes created by the mind. (1) One 
 of the simplest and broadest aspects under which to view 
 the physical world, is that of a system of final causes, 
 or, on the other hand, of initial or effective causes. 
 Bacon, having it in view to extend our power over 
 nature, adopted the latter. He took firm hold of the 
 idea of causation (in the common sense of the word) as 
 contrasted with that of design, refusing to mix up the 
 two ideas in one inquiry, and denouncing such tradi- 
 tional interpretations of facts, as did but obscure the 
 simplicity of the aspect necessary for his purpose. He 
 saw what others before him might have seen in what 
 they saw, but who did not see as he saw it. In this 
 achievement of intellect, which has been so fruitful in 
 results, lie his genius and his fame. 
 
 (2) So again, to refer to a very different subject- 
 matter, we oftenhear of the exploits of some great lawyer, 
 judge or advocate, who is able in perplexed cases, when 
 common minds see nothing but a hopeless heap of facts, 
 foreign or contrary to each other, to detect the principle 
 which rightly interprets the riddle, and, to the admira- 
 tion of all hearers, converts a chaos into an orderly and 
 luminous whole. This is what is meant by originality 
 in thinking : it is the discovery of an aspect of a subject- 
 matter, simpler, it may be, and more intelligible than 
 any hitherto taken. 
 
 (3) On the other hand, such aspects are often unreal, 
 as being mere exhibitions of ingenuity, not of true ori- 
 ginality of mind. This is especially the case in what
 
 The Range of the Illative Sense. 373 
 
 are called philosophical views of history. Such seems to 
 me the theory advocated in a work of great learning, 
 vigour, and acuteness, Warburton's " Divine Legation 
 of Moses." I do not call Gibbon merely ingenious ; 
 still his account of the rise of Christianity is the mere 
 subjective view of one who could not enter into its 
 depth and power. 
 
 (4) The aspect under which we view things is often 
 intensely personal ; nay, even awfully so, considering 
 that, from the nature of the case, it does not bring 
 home its idiosyncrasy either to ourselves or to others. 
 Each of us looks at the world in his own way, and does 
 not know that perhaps it is characteristically his own. 
 This is the case even as regards the senses. Some men 
 have little perception of colours ; some recognize one or 
 two; to some men two contrary colours, as red and green, 
 are one and the same. How poorly can we appreciate 
 the beauties of nature, if our eyes discern, on the face 
 of things, only an Indian-ink or a drab creation ! 
 
 (5) So again, as regards form : each of us abstracts 
 the relation of line to line in his own personal way, — as 
 one man might apprehend a curve as convex, another as 
 concave. Of course, as in the case of a curve, there may 
 be a limit to possible aspects ; but still, even when we 
 agree together, it is not perhaps that we learn one from 
 another, or fall under any law of agreement, but that 
 our separate idiosyncrasies happen to concur. I fear I 
 may seem trifling, if I allude to an illustration which 
 has ever had a great force with me, and that for the 
 very reason it is so trivial and minute. Children, learn- 
 ing to read, are sometimes presented with the letters of
 
 374 The Illative Sense. 
 
 the alphabet turned into the figures of men in various 
 attitudes. It is curious to observe from such represen- 
 tations, how differently the shape of the letters strikes 
 different minds. In consequence I have continually 
 asked the question in a chance company, which way 
 certain of the great letters look, to the right or to the 
 left ; and whereas nearly every one present had his own 
 clear view, so clear that he could not endure the opposite 
 view, still I have generally found that one half of 
 the party considered the letters in question to look to 
 the left, while the other half thought they looked to 
 the right. 
 
 (6) This variety of interpretation in the very elements 
 of outlines seems to throw light upon other cognate 
 differences between one man and another. If they look 
 at the mere letters of the alphabet so differently, we 
 may understand how it is they form such distinct 
 judgments upon handwriting; nay, how some men may 
 have a talent for decyphering from it the intellectual and 
 moral character of the writer, which others have not. 
 Another thought that occurs is, that perhaps here lies 
 the explanation why it is that family likenesses are so 
 variously recognized, and how mistakes in identity may 
 be dangerously frequent. 
 
 (7) If we so variously apprehend the familiar objects 
 of sense, still more various, we may suppose, are the 
 aspects and associations attached by us, one with another, 
 to intellectual objects. I do not say we differ in the 
 objects themselves, but that we may have interminable 
 differences as to their relations and circumstances. I 
 have heard say (again to take a trifling matter) that at
 
 The Range of the Illative Sense. 375 
 
 the beginning of this century, it was a subject of serious, 
 nay, of angry controversy, whether it began with January 
 1800, or January 1801. Argument, which ought, if 
 in any case, to have easily brought the question to a 
 decision, was but sprinkling water upon a flame. I am 
 not clear that, if it could be fairly started now, it would 
 not lead to similar results ; certainly I kuow those who 
 studiously withdraw from giving an opinion on the sub- 
 ject, when it is accidentally mooted, from their experi- 
 ence of the eager feeling which it is sure to excite in some 
 one or other who is present. This eagerness can only 
 arise from an overpowering sense that the truth of the 
 matter lies in the one alternative, and not in the other. 
 
 These instances, because they are so casual, suggest 
 how it comes to pass, that men differ so widely from 
 each other in religious and moral perceptions. Here, I 
 say again, it does not prove that there is no objective 
 truth, because not all men are in possession of it ; or 
 that we are not responsible for the associations which 
 we attach, and the relations which we assign, to the 
 objects of the intellect. But this it does suggest to us, 
 that there is something deeper in our differences than 
 the accident of external circumstances ; and that we 
 need the interposition of a Power, greater than human 
 teaching and human argument, to make our beliefs 
 true and our minds one. 
 
 2. Next I come to the implicit assumption of definite 
 propositions in the first start of a course of reasoning, 
 and the arbitrary exclusion of others, of whatever kind. 
 Unless we had the right, when we pleased, of ruling that 
 propositions were irrelevant ©r absurd, I do not see how
 
 376 The Illative Sense. 
 
 we could conduct an argument at all; our way would be 
 simply blocked up by extravagant principles and 
 theories, gratuitous hypotheses,false issues, unsupported 
 statements, and incredible facts. There are those who 
 have treated the history of Abraham as an astronomical 
 record, and have spoken of our Adorable Saviour as the 
 sun in Aries. Arabian Mythology has changed Solomon 
 into a mighty wizard. Noah has been considered the 
 patriarch of the Chinese people. The ten tribes have 
 been pronounced still to live in their descendants, the 
 Red Indians ; or to be the ancestors of the Goths and 
 Vandals, and thereby of the present European races. 
 Some have conjectured that the Apollos of the Acts of 
 the Apostles was Apollonius Tyaneus. Able men have 
 reasoned out, almost against their will, that Adam was a 
 negro. These propositions, and many others of various 
 kinds, we should think ourselves justified in passing over, 
 if we were engaged in a work on sacred history ; and 
 there are others, on the contrary, which we should assume 
 as true by our own right and without notice, and with- 
 out which we could not set about or carry on our work. 
 (1) However, the right of making assumptions has 
 been disputed; but, when the objections are examined, I 
 think they only go to show that we have no right in 
 argument to make any assumption we please. Thus, 
 in the historical researches which just now came before 
 us, it seems fair to say that no testimony should be 
 received, except such as comes from competent witnesses, 
 while it is not unfair to urge, on the other side, that 
 tradition, though unauthenticated, being (what is called) 
 in possession, has a prescription in its favour, and may,
 
 The Range of the Illative Sense. 377 
 
 prima facie, or provisionally, be received. Here are 
 the materials of a fair dispute ; but there are writers 
 who seem to have gone far beyond this reasonable 
 scepticism, laying down as a general proposition that we 
 have no right in philosophy to make any assumption 
 whatever, and that we ought to begin with a universal 
 doubt. This, however, is of all assumptions the greatest, 
 and to forbid assumptions universally is to forbid this 
 one in particular. Doubt itself is a positive state, and 
 implies a definite habit of mind, and thereby necessarily 
 involves a system of principles and doctrines all its own. 
 Again, if nothing is to be assumed, what is our very 
 method of reasoning but an assumption ? and what our 
 nature itself? The very sense of pleasure and pain, 
 which is one of the most intimate portions of ourselves, 
 inevitably translates itself into intellectual assumptions. 
 Of the two, I would rather have to maintain that we 
 ought to begin with believing everything that is offered 
 to our acceptance, than that it is our duty to doubt of 
 everything. The former, indeed, seems the true way 
 of learning. In that case, we soon discover and discard 
 what is contradictory to itself ; and error having always 
 some portion of truth in it, and the truth having a 
 reality which error has not, we may expect, that when 
 there is an honest purpose and fair talents, we shall 
 somehow make our way forward, the error falling off 
 from the mind, and the truth developing and occupying 
 it. Thus it is that the Catholic religion is reached, as 
 we see, by inquirers from all points of the compass, as 
 if it mattered not where a man began, so that he had 
 an eye and a heart for the truth.
 
 2,jS The Illative Sense. 
 
 (2) An argument has been often put forward by unbe- 
 lievers, I think by Paine, to this effect, that "a revelation, 
 which is to be received as true, ought to be written on 
 the sun." This appeals to the common-sense of the many 
 with great force, and implies the assumption of a prin- 
 ciple which Butler, indeed, would not grant, and would 
 consider unphilosophical, and yet I think something may 
 be said in its favour. Whether abstractedly defensible 
 or not, Catholic populations would not be averse, mutatis 
 mutandis, to admitting it. Till these last centuries, the 
 Visible Church was, at least to her children, the light of 
 the world, as conspicuous as the sun in the heavens ; and 
 the Creed was written on her forehead, and proclaimed 
 through her voice, by a teaching as precise as it was 
 emphatical ; in accordance with the text, " Who is she 
 that looketh forth at the dawn, fair as the moon, bright 
 as the sun, terrible as an army set in array ? " It was 
 not, strictly speaking, a miracle, doubtless ; but in its 
 effect, nay, in its circumstances, it was little less. Of 
 course I would not allow that the Church fails in this 
 manifestation of the truth now, any more than in former 
 times, though the clouds have come over the sun ; for 
 what she has lost in her appeal to the imagination, she 
 has gained in philosophical cogency, by the evidence of 
 her persistent vitality. So far is clear, that if Paine's 
 aphorism has a prima facie force against Christianity, 
 it owes this advantage to the miserable deeds of the 
 fifteenth and sixteenth centuries. 
 
 (3) Another conflict of first principles or assumptions, 
 which have often been implicit on either side, has been 
 carried through in our day, and relates to the end and
 
 The Range of the Illative Sense. 379 
 
 scope of civil society, that is, whether government and 
 legislation ought to be of a religious character, or not ; 
 whether the state has a conscience ; whether Chris- 
 tianity is the law of the land j whether the magistrate, 
 in punishing offenders, exercises a retributive office or 
 a corrective ; or whether the whole structure of society 
 is raised upon the basis of secular expediency. The re- 
 lation of philosophy and the sciences to theology comes 
 into the question. The old time-honoured theory has, 
 during the last forty years, been vigorously contending 
 with the new ; and the new is in the ascendant. 
 
 (4) There is another great conflict of first principles, 
 and that among Christians, which has occupied a large 
 space in our domestic history, during the last thirty or 
 forty years, and that is the controversy about the Kule 
 of Faith. I notice it as affording an instance of an 
 assumption so deeply sunk into the popular mind, that 
 it is a work of great difficulty to obtain from its main- 
 tainors an acknowledgment that it is an assumption. 
 That Scripture is the Rule of Faith is in fact an assump- 
 tion so congenial to the state of mind aud course of 
 thought usual among Protestants, that it seems to them 
 rather a truism than a truth. If they are in controversy 
 with Catholics on any point of faith, they at once ask, 
 "Where do you find it in Scripture ? " and if Catholics 
 reply, as they must do, that it is not necessarily in 
 Scripture in order to be true, nothing can persuade them 
 that such an answer is not an evasion, and a triumph to 
 themselves. Yet it is by no means self-evident that all 
 religious truth is to be found in a number of works, 
 however sacred, which were written at different times,
 
 t 
 
 I 
 
 380 The Illative Sense. 
 
 and did not always form one book ; and in fact it is a 
 doctrine very hard to prove. So mnch so, that years 
 ago, when I was considering it from a Protestant point 
 of view, and wished to defend it to the best of my power, 
 I was unable to give any better account of it than the 
 following, which I here quote from its appositeness to 
 my present subject. 
 
 " It matters not," I said, speaking of the first Pro- 
 testants, " whether or not they only happened to come 
 right on what, in a logical point of view, are faulty 
 premisses. They had no time for theories of any kind ; 
 and to require theories at their hand argues an ignorance 
 of human nature, and of the ways in which truth is 
 struck out in the course of life. Common sense, chance, 
 moral perception, genius, the great discoverers of prin- 
 ciples do not reason. They have no arguments, no 
 grounds, they see the truth, but they do not know how 
 they see it ; and if at any time they attempt to prove 
 it, it is as much a matter of experiment with them, as 
 if they had to find a road to a distant mountain, which 
 they see with the eye; and they get entangled, embar- 
 rassed, and perchance overthrown in the superfluous 
 endeavour. It is the second-rate men, though most 
 useful in their place, who prove, reconcile, finish, and 
 explain. Probably, the popular feeling of the sixteenth 
 century saw the Bible to be the Word of God, so as 
 nothing else is His Word, by the power of a strong 
 sense, by a sort of moral instinct, or by a happy 
 augury." 3 
 
 That is, I considered the assumption an act of the 
 3 " Prophetical Office of the Church," pp. 347, 3 18, ed. 1837.
 
 The Range of the Illative Sense. 381 
 
 Illative Sense ; — I should now add, the Illative Sense, 
 acting on mistaken elements of thought. 
 
 3. After the aspects in which a question is to be 
 viewed, and the principles on which it is to be con- 
 sidered, come the arguments by which it is decided ; 
 among these are antecedent reasons, which are especially 
 in point here, because they are in great measure made 
 by ourselves and belong to our personal character, and 
 to them I shall confine myself. 
 
 Antecedent reasoning, when negative, is safe. Thus 
 no one would say that, because Alexander's rash heroism 
 is one of the leading characteristics of his' history, 
 therefore we are justified, except in writing a romance, 
 in asserting that at a particular time and place, he 
 distinguished himself by a certain exploit about which 
 history is altogether silent ; but, on the other hand, his 
 notorious bravery would be almost decisive against any 
 charge against him of having on a particular occasion 
 acted as a coward. 
 
 In like manner, good character goes far in destroying 
 the force of even plausible charges. There is indeed a 
 • degree of evidence in suppoi't of an allegation, against 
 which reputation is no defence ; but it must be singu- 
 larly strong to overcome an established antecedent 
 probability which stands opposed to it. Thus historical 
 personages or great authors, men of high and pure 
 character, have had imputations cast upon them, easy to 
 make, difficult or impossible to meet, which are indig- 
 nantly trodden under foot by all just and sensible men, 
 as being as anti-social as they are inhuman. I need not 
 add what a cruel and despicable part a husband or a son
 
 382 The Illative Sense. 
 
 would play, who readily listened to a charge against his 
 wife or his father. Yet all this being admitted, a great 
 number of cases remain which are perplexing, and on 
 which we cannot adjust the claims of conflicting and 
 heterogeneous arguments except by the keen and 
 subtle operation of the Illative Sense. 
 
 Butler's argument in his Analogy is such a presump- 
 tion used negatively. Objection being brought against 
 certain characteristics of Christianity, he meets it by 
 the presumption in their favour derived from their 
 parallels as discoverable in the order of nature, arguing 
 that they do not tell against the Divine origin of Chris- 
 tianity, unless they tell against the Divine origin of the 
 natural system also. But he could not adduce it as a 
 positive and direct proof of the Divine origin of the 
 Christian doctrines that they had their parallels in 
 nature, or at the utmost as more than a recommenda- 
 tion of them to the religious inquirer. 
 
 Unbelievers use the antecedent argument from the 
 order of nature against our belief in miracles. Here, 
 if they only mean that the fact of that system of laws, 
 by which physical nature is governed, makes it antece- 
 dently improbable that an exception should occur in it, 
 there is no objection to the argument ; but if, as is not 
 uncommon, they mean that the fact of an established 
 order is absolutely fatal to the very notion of an excep- 
 tion, they are using a presumption as if it were a proof. 
 They are saying, — What has happened 999 times one 
 way cannot possibly happen on the 1000th time another 
 way, because what has happened 999 times one way is 
 likely to happen in the same way on the 1000th. But 
 unlikely things do happen sometimes. If, however,
 
 The Range of the Illative Sense. 383 
 
 they mean that the existing order of nature constitutes 
 a physical necessity, and that a law is an unalterable fate, 
 this is to assume the very point in debate, and is much 
 more than asserting its antecedent probability. 
 
 Facts cannot be proved by presumptions, yet it is 
 remarkable that in cases where nothing stronger than 
 presumption was even professed, scientific men have 
 sometimes acted as if they thought this kind of argu- 
 ment, taken by itself, decisive of a fact which was in 
 debate. Thus in the controversy about the Plurality 
 of worlds, it has been considered, on purely antecedent 
 grounds, as far as I see, to be so necessary that the 
 Creator should have filled with living beings the lumi- 
 naries which we see in the sky, and the other cosmical 
 bodies which we imagine there, that it almost amounts 
 to a blasphemy to doubt it. 
 
 Theological conclusions, it is true, have often been 
 made on antecedent reasoning ; but then it must be 
 recollected that theological reasoning professes to be 
 sustained by a more than human power, and to be gua- 
 ranteed by a more than human authority. It may be 
 true, also, that conversions to Christianity have often 
 been made on antecedent reasons ; yet, even admitting 
 the fact, which is not quite clear, a number of antece- 
 dent probabilities, confirming each other, may make it 
 a duty in the judgment of a prudent man, not only to act 
 as if a statement were true, but actually to accept and 
 believe it. This is not unfrequently instanced in our 
 dealings with others, when we feel it right, in spite of 
 our misgivings, to oblige ourselves to believe their 
 honesty. And iu all these delicate questions there is 
 constant call for the exercise of the Illative Sense.
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 INFERENCE AND ASSENT IN THE MATTER OF 
 RELIGION. 
 
 And now I have completed my review of the second 
 subject to which I have given my attention in this 
 Essay, the connexion existing between the intellectual 
 acts of Assent and Inference, my first being the con- 
 nexion of Assent with Apprehension ; and as I closed 
 my remarks upon Assent and Apprehension by applying 
 the conclusions at which I had arrived to our belief in 
 the Truths of Religion, so now I ought to speak of its 
 Evidences, before quitting the consideration of the de- 
 pendence of Assent upon Inference. I shall attempt to 
 do so in this Chapter, not without much anxiety, lest I 
 should injure so large, momentous, and sacred a subject 
 by a necessarily cursory treatment. 
 
 I begin with expressing a sentiment, which is habi- 
 tually in my thoughts, whenever they are turned to the 
 subject of mental or moral science, and which I am as 
 willing to apply here to the Evidences of Religion as it 
 properly applies to Metaphysics or Ethics, viz. that in 
 these provinces of inquiry egotism is true modesty. In
 
 Inference and Assent in Religion. 385 
 
 religious inquiry each of as can speak only for himself, 
 and for himself he has a right to speak. His own 
 experiences are enough for himself, but he cannot 
 speak for others : he cannot lay down the law ; he can 
 only bring his own experiences to the common stock 
 of psychological facts. He knows what has satisfied 
 and satisfies himself; if it satisfies him, it is likely to 
 satisfy others ; if, as he believes and is sure, it is true, 
 it will approve itself to others also, for there is but 
 one truth. And doubtless he does find in fact, that, 
 allowing for the difference of minds and of modes of 
 speech, what convinces him, does convince others also. 
 There will be very many exceptions, but these will 
 admit of explanation. Great numbers of men refuse 
 to inquire at all; they put the subject of religion 
 aside altogether; others are not serious enough to 
 care about questions of truth and duty and to entertain 
 them ; and to numbers, from their temper of mind, or 
 the absence of doubt, or a dormant intellect, it does not 
 occur to inquire why or what they believe; many, 
 though they tried, would not be able to do so in any 
 satisfactory way. This being the case, it causes no un- 
 easiness to any one who honestly attempts to set down 
 his own view of the Evidences of Religion, that at 
 first sight he seems to be but one among many who 
 are all in opposition to each other. But, however that 
 may be, he brings together his reasons, and relies on 
 them, because they are his own, and this is his primary 
 evidence ; and he has a second ground of evidence, in 
 the testimony of those who agree with him. But his 
 best evidence is the former, which is derived from his 
 
 c c
 
 386 Inference and Assent in Religion. 
 
 own thoughts ; and it is that which the world has a 
 right to demand of him; and therefore his true 
 sobriety and modesty consists, not in claiming for his 
 conclusions an acceptance or a scientific approval 
 which is not to be found anywhere, but in stating 
 what are personally his own grounds for his belief in 
 Natural and Revealed Religion, — grounds which he 
 holds to be so sufficient, that he thinks that others do 
 hold them implicitly or in substance, or would hold 
 them, if they inquired fairly, or will hold if they listen 
 to him, or do not hold from impediments, invincible or 
 not as it may be, into which he has no call to inquire. 
 However, his own business is to speak for himself. He 
 uses the words of the Samaritans to their country- 
 woman, when our Lord had remained with them for 
 two days, " Now we believe, not for thy saying, for we 
 have heard Him ourselves, and know that this is in- 
 deed the Saviour of the world." 
 
 In these words it is declared both that the Gospel 
 Revelation is divine, and that it carries with it the 
 evidence of its divinity; and this is of course the 
 matter of fact. However, these two attributes need 
 not have been united ; a revelation might have been 
 really given, yet given without credentials. Our 
 supreme Master might have imparted to us truths 
 which nature cannot teach us, without telling us that 
 He had imparted them, — as is actually the case now as 
 regards heathen countries, into which portions of re- 
 vealed truth overflow and penetrate, without their 
 populations knowing whence those truths came. But 
 the very idea of Christianity in its profession and
 
 Inference mid Assent in Religion. 387 
 
 history, is something- more than this ; it is a " Reve- 
 latio revelata;" it is a definite message from God to 
 man distinctly conveyed by His chosen instruments, 
 and to be received as such a message; and therefore 
 to be positively acknowledged, embraced, and main- 
 tained as true, on the ground of its being divine, not 
 as true on intrinsic grounds, not as probably true, or 
 partially true, but as absolutely certain knowledge, 
 certain in a sense in which nothing else can be certain, 
 because it comes from Him who neither can deceive 
 nor be deceived. 
 
 And the whole tenor of Scripture from beginning 
 to end is to this effect : the matter of revelation is not 
 a mere collection of truths, not a philosophical view, 
 not a religious sentiment or spirit, not a special 
 morality, — poured out upon mankind as a stream 
 might pour itself into the sea, mixing with the world's 
 thought, modifying, purifying, invigorating it ; — but 
 an authoritative teaching, which bears witness to itself 
 and keeps itself together as one, in contrast to the 
 assemblage of opinions on all sides of it, and speaks 
 to all men, as being ever and everywhere one and the 
 same, and claiming to be received intelligently, by 
 all whom it addresses, as one doctrine, discipline, and 
 devotion directly given from above. In consequence, 
 the exhibition of credentials, that is, of evidence, that 
 it is what it professes to be, is essential to Christianity, 
 as it comes to us ; for we are not left at liberty to pick 
 and choose out of its contents according to our judg- 
 ment, but must receive it all, as we find it, if we 
 accept it at all. It is a religion in addition to the 
 
 c c 2
 
 3S8 Inference and Assent in Religion. 
 
 religion of nature ; and as nature has an intrinsic 
 claim upon us to be obeyed and used, so what is over 
 and above nature, or supernatural, must also bring with 
 it valid testimonials of its right to demand our homage. 
 Next, as to its relation to nature. As I have said, 
 Christianity is simply an addition to it ; it does not 
 supersede or contradict it ; it recognizes and depends 
 on it, and that of necessity : for how possibly can it 
 prove its claims except by an appeal to what men 
 have already ? be it ever so miraculous, it cannot dis- 
 pense with nature ; this would be to cut the ground 
 from under it ; for what would be the worth of evi- 
 dences in favour of a revelation which denied the 
 authority of that system of thought, and those courses 
 of reasoning, out of which those evidences necessarily 
 grew ? 
 
 And in agreement with this obvious conclusion we 
 find in Scripture our Lord and His Apostles always 
 treating Christianity as the completion and supplement 
 of Natural Religion, and of previous revelations; as 
 when He says that the Father testified of Him ; that 
 not to know Him was not to know the Father ; and 
 as St. Paul at Athens appeals to the " Unknown 
 God," and says that " He that made the world " 
 cc now declareth to all men to do penance, because He 
 hath appointed a day to judge the world by the man 
 whom He hath appointed.'" As then our Lord and His 
 Apostles appeal to the God of nature, we must follow 
 them in that appeal ; and, to do this with the better 
 effect, we must first inquire into the chief doctrines 
 and the grounds of Natural Religion.
 
 Natural Religion. 389 
 
 § 1. Natural Eeligion. 
 
 By Eeligion I mean the knowledge of God, of His 
 "Will, and of our duties towards Him ; and there are 
 three main channels which Nature furnishes for our 
 acquiring this knowledge, viz. our own minds, the 
 voice of mankind, and the course of the world, that is, of 
 human life and human affairs. The informations which 
 these three convey to us teach us the Being and Attri- 
 butes of God, our responsibility to Him, our dependence 
 on Him, our prospect of reward or punishment, to be 
 somehow brought about, according as we obey or dis- 
 obey Him. And the most authoritative of these three 
 means of knowledge, as being specially our own, is 
 our own mind, whose informations give us the rule 
 by which we test, interpret, and correct what is pre- 
 sented to us for belief, whether by the universal testi- 
 mony of mankind, or by the history of society and of 
 the world. 
 
 Our great internal teacher of religion is, as I have 
 
 said in an earlier part of this Essay, our Conscience. 1 
 
 Conscience is a personal guide, and I use it because 
 
 I must use myself j I am as little able to think by 
 
 1 Supra, p. 105, &c. Vide also Univ. Serm. ii. 7—13.
 
 390 Inference and Assent in Religion. 
 
 any mind but ray own as to breathe with another's 
 lungs. Conscience is nearer to me than any other 
 means of knowledge. And as it is given to me, so 
 also is it given to others; and being carried about 
 by every individual in his own breast, and requiring 
 nothing besides itself, it is thus adapted for the com- 
 munication to each separately of that knowledge which 
 is most momentous to him individually, — adapted for 
 the use of all classes and conditions of men, for high 
 and low, young and old, men and women, independently 
 of books, of educated reasoning, of physical knowledge, 
 or of philosophy. Conscience, too, teaches us, not only 
 that Grod is, but what He is ; it provides for the mind a 
 real image of Him, as a medium of worship ; it gives us 
 a rule of right and wrong, as being His rule, and a code 
 of moral duties. Moreover, it is so constituted that, if 
 obeyed, it becomes clearer in its injunctions, and wider 
 in their range, and corrects and completes the accidental 
 feebleness of its initial teachings. Conscience, then, 
 considered as our guide, is fully furnished for its office. 
 I say all this without entering into the question how 
 far external assistances are in all cases necessary to 
 the action of the mind, because in fact man does not 
 live in isolation, but is everywhere found as a member 
 of society; I am not concerned here with abstract 
 questions. 
 
 Now Conscience suggests to us many things about that 
 Master, whom by means of it we perceive, but its most 
 prominent teaching, and its cardinal and distinguishing 
 truth, is that He is our Judge. In consequence, the 
 special Attribute under which it brings Him before us,
 
 Natural Religion. 391 
 
 to wliicli it subordinates all other Attributes, is that of 
 justice — retributivejustice. We learn from its informa- 
 tions to conceive of the Almighty, primarily, not as a 
 God of Wisdom, of Knowledge, of Power, of Benevolence, 
 but as a God of Judgment and Justice ; as One, who, not 
 simply for the good of the offender, but as an end good 
 in itself, and as a principle of government, ordains that 
 the offender should suffer for his offence. If it tells us 
 anything at all of the characteristics of the Divine 
 Mind, it certainly tells us this ; and, considering that 
 our shortcomings are far more frequent and important 
 than our fulfilment of the duties enjoined upon us, and 
 that of this point we are fully aware ourselves, it follows 
 that the aspect under which Almighty God is presented 
 to us by Nature, is (to use a figure) of One who is 
 angry with us, and threatens evil. Hence its effect is to 
 burden and sadden the religious mind, and is in contrast 
 with the enjoyment derivable from the exercise of the 
 affections, and from the perception of beauty, whether in 
 the material universe or in the creations of the intellect. 
 This is that fearful antagonism brought out with such 
 soul-piercing reality by Lucretius, when he speaks so 
 dishonourably of what he considers the heavy yoke of 
 religion, and the " astemas pcenas in morte timendum ; " 
 and, on the other hand, rejoices in his " Alma Venus," 
 "quasrerumnaturamsolagubernas." And we may appeal 
 to him for the fact, while we repudiate his view of it. 
 
 Such being the prima facie aspect of religion which 
 the teachings of Conscience bring before us individually, 
 in the next place let us consider what are the doctrines, 
 and what the influences of religion, as we find it embodied
 
 39 2 Inference cwid Assent in Religion. 
 
 in those various rites and devotions which have taken root 
 in the many races of mankind, since the beginning of 
 history, and before history, all over the earth. Of these 
 also Lucretius gives us a specimen ; and they accord in 
 form and complexion with that doctrine about duty and 
 responsibility, which he so bitterly hates and .loathes. 
 It is scarcely necessary to insist, that wherever Religion 
 exists in a popular shape, it has almost invariably worn 
 its dark side outwards. It is founded in one way or 
 other on the sense of sin ; and without that vivid sense 
 it would hardly have any precepts or any observances. 
 Its many varieties all proclaim or imply that man is in 
 a degraded, servile condition, and requires expiation, 
 reconciliation, and some great change of nature. This 
 is suggested to us in the many ways in which we are 
 told of a realm of light and a realm of darkness, of an 
 elect fold and a regenerate state. It is suggested in the 
 almost ubiquitous and ever-recurring institution of a 
 Priesthood ; for wherever there is a priest, there is the 
 notion of sin, pollution, and retribution, as, on the 
 other hand, of intercession and mediation. Also, still 
 more directly, is the notion of our guilt impressed upon 
 us by the doctrine of future punishment, and that 
 eternal, which is found in mythologies and creeds of such 
 various parentage. 
 
 Of these distinct rites and doctrines embodying the 
 severe side of Natural Religion, the most remarkable is 
 that of atonement, that is, ' ' a substitution of something 
 offered, or some personal suffering, for a penalty which 
 would otherwise be exacted ; " most remarkable, I say, 
 both from its close connexion with the notion of
 
 Natural Religion. 393 
 
 vicarious satisfaction, and, on the other hand, from its 
 universality. " The practice of atonement," says the 
 author, whose definition of the word I have just given, 
 " is remarkable for its antiquityand universality, proved 
 by the earliest records that have come down to us of all 
 nations, and by the testimony of ancient and modeim 
 travellers. In the oldest books of the Hebrew Scriptures, 
 we have numerous instances of expiatory rites, where 
 atonement is the prominent feature. At the earliest 
 date, to which we can carry our inquiries by means of 
 the heathen records, we meet with the same notion of 
 atonement. If we pursue our inquiries through the 
 accounts left us by the Greek and Roman writers of the 
 barbarous nations with which they were acquainted, 
 from India to Britain, we shall find the same notions 
 and similar practices of atonement. From the most 
 popular portion of our own literature, our narratives of 
 voyages and travels, every one, probably, who reads at 
 all will be able to find for himself abundant proof that 
 the notion has been as permanent as it is universal. 
 It shows itself among the various tribes of Africa, the 
 islanders of the South Seas, and even that most peculiar 
 race, the natives of Australia, either in the shape of 
 some offering, or some mutilation of the person.'" 2 
 
 These ceremonial acknowledgments, in so may dis- 
 tinct forms of worship, of the existing degradation of 
 the human race, of course imply a brighter, as well as a 
 threatening aspect of Natural Religion ; for why should 
 men adopt any rites of deprecation or of purification at 
 all, unless they had some hope of attaining to a better 
 1 Penny Cyclopaedia, art. " Atonement" (abridged).
 
 394 Inference and Assent in Religion. 
 
 condition than their present ? Of this happier side of 
 religion I will speak presently ; here, however, a question 
 of another kind occurs, viz. whether the notion of 
 atonement can be admitted among the doctrines of 
 Natural Religion, — I mean, on the ground that it is 
 inconsistent with those teachings of Conscience, which I 
 have recognized above, as the rule and corrective of 
 every other information on the subject. If there is any 
 truth brought home to us by conscience, it is this, that 
 we are personally responsible for what we do, that we 
 have no means of shifting our responsibility, and that 
 dereliction of duty involves punishment; how, it may be 
 asked, can acts of ours of any kind — how can even 
 amendment of life — undo the past ? And if even our 
 own subsequent acts of obedrfmce bring with them no 
 promise of reversing what has once been committed, 
 how can external rites, or the actions of another (as of a 
 priest), be substitutes for that punishment which is the 
 connatural fruit and intrinsic development of violation 
 of the sense of duty ? I think this objection avails as 
 far as this, that amendment is no reparation, and that 
 no ceremonies or penances can in themselves exercise 
 any vicarious virtue in our behalf ; and that, if they 
 avail, they only avail in the intermediate season of 
 probation ; that in some way we must make them our 
 own ; and that, when the time comes, which conscience 
 forebodes, of our being called to judgment, then, at 
 least, we shall have to stand in and by ourselves, what- 
 ever we shall have by that time become, and must bear 
 our own burden. But it is plain that in this final 
 account, as it lies between us and our Master, He alone
 
 Natural Religion. 395 
 
 can decide how the past aud the present will stand 
 together who is our Creator and our Judge. 
 
 In thus making it a necessary point to adjust the 
 religions of the world with the intimations of our con- 
 science, I am suggesting the reason why I confine 
 myself to such religions as have had their rise in 
 barbarous times, and do not recognize the religion of 
 what is called civilization, as having legitimately a part 
 in the delineation of Natural Religion. It may at first 
 sight seem strange, that, considering I have laid such 
 stress upon the progressive nature of man, I should take 
 my ideas of his religion from his initial, and not his 
 final testimony about its doctrines ; and it may be urged 
 that the religion of civilized times is quite opposite in 
 character to the rites and traditions of barbarians, and 
 has nothing of that gloom and sternness, on which I 
 have insisted as their characteristic. Thus the Greek 
 Mythology was for the most part cheerful and graceful, 
 and its new gods certainly more genial and indulgent 
 than the old ones. And, in like manner, the religion 
 of philosophy is more noble and more humane than those 
 primitive conceptions which were sufficient for early 
 kings and warriors. But my answer to this objection is 
 obvious : the progress of which man's nature is capable 
 is a development, not a destruction of its original state; 
 it must subserve the elements from which it proceeds, in 
 order to be a true development and not a perversion. 3 
 And those popular rituals do in fact subserve and 
 
 3 On these various subjects I have written in "University Sermons" 
 (Oxford), No. vi. "Idea of the University," Disc. viii. "History of 
 Turks," ch. iv. "Development of Doctrine," ch. i. sect. 3.
 
 396 Inference and Assent in Religion. 
 
 complete that nature with which man is born. It is 
 otherwise with the religion of so-called civilization ; 
 such religion does but contradict the religion of bar- 
 barism ; and since this civilization itself is not a de- 
 velopment of man's whole nature, but mainly of the 
 intellect, recognizing indeed the moral sense, but 
 ignoring the conscience, no wonder that the religion in / 
 which it issues has no sympathy either with the hopes / 
 and fears of the awakened soul, or with those frightful 
 presentiments which are expressed in the worship and 
 traditions of the heathen. This artificial religion, then, 
 has no place in the inquiry ; first, because it comes of 
 a one-sided progress of mind, and next, for the very 
 reason that it contradicts informants which speak with 
 greater authority than itself. 
 
 Now we come to the third natural informant on the 
 
 subject of Religion; I mean the system and the course 
 
 of the world. This established order of things, in which 
 
 we find ourselves, if it has a Creator, must surely speak 
 
 of His will in its broad outlines and its main issues. This 
 
 principle being laid down as certain, when we come to 
 
 apply it to things as they are, our first feeling is one of 
 
 surprise and (I may say) of dismay, that His control of I 
 
 this living world is so indirect, and His action so obscure. 
 
 This is the first lesson that we gain from the course of 
 
 human affairs. What strikes the mind so forcibly and 
 
 so painfully is, His absence (if I may so speak) from 
 
 His own world. 4 It is a silence that speaks. It is as 
 
 if others had got possession of His work. Why does 
 
 not He, our Maker and Ruler, give us some imme- 
 
 4 Vide "Apologia," p. 241.
 
 Natural Religion. 397 
 
 diate knowledge of Himself? Why does He not write 
 His Moral Nature in large letters upon the face of his- 
 tory, and bring the blind, tumultuous rush of its events 
 into a celestial, hierarchical order ? Why does He not 
 grant us in the structure of society at least so much of 
 a revelation of Himself as the religions of the heathen 
 attempt to supply ? Why from the beginning of time 
 has no one uniform steady light guided all families of 
 the earth, and all individual men, how to please Him ? 
 Why is it possible without absurdity to deny His will, 
 His attributes, His existence? Why does He not walk 
 with us one by one, as He is said to have walked with 
 His chosen men of old time ? We both see and know 
 each other ; why, if we cannot have the sight of Him, 
 have we not at least the knowledge ? On the contrary, 
 He is specially "a Hidden God;" and with our best 
 efforts we can only glean from the surface of the world 
 some faint and fragmentary views of Him. I see only 
 a choice of alternatives in explanation of so critical a 
 fact : — either there is no Creator, or He has disowned 
 His creatures. Are then the dim shadows of His 
 Presence in the affairs of men but a fancy of our own, 
 or, on the other hand, has He hid His face and the 
 light of His countenance, because we have in some 
 special way dishonoured Him ? My true informant, my 
 burdened conscience, gives me at once the true answer 
 to each of these antagonist questions : — it pronounces 
 without any misgiving that God exists : — and it pro- 
 nounces quite as surely that I am alienated from Him ; 
 that " His hand is not shortened, but that our iniquities 
 have divided between us and our God." Thus it solves
 
 \ 
 
 / 
 
 398 Inference and Assent in Religion. 
 
 the world's mystery, and sees in that mystery only a 
 confirmation of its own original teaching. 
 
 Let us pass on to another great fact of experience, 
 bearing on Religion, which confirms this testimony both 
 of conscience and of the forms of worship which pre- 
 vail among mankind ; — I mean, the amount of suffer- 
 ing, bodily and mental, which is our portion in this life. 
 Not only is the Creator far off, but some being of malig- 
 nant nature seems, as I have said, to have got hold of 
 us, and to be making us his sport. Let us say there 
 are a thousand millions of men on the earth at this 
 time ; who can weigh and measure the aggregate of 
 pain which this one generation has endured and will 
 endure from birth to death ? Then add to this all the 
 pain which has fallen and will fall upon our race through 
 centuries past and to come. Is there not then some / 
 great gulf fixed between us and the good God ? Here 
 again the testimony of the system of nature is more 
 than corroborated by those popular traditions about the 
 unseen state, which are found in mythologies and 
 superstitions, ancient and modern ; for those traditions 
 speak, not only of present misery, but of pain and evil 
 hereafter, and even without end. But this dreadful 
 addition is not necessary for the conclusion which I am 
 here wishing to draw. The real mystery is, not that 
 evil should never have an end, but that it should ever 
 have had a beginning. Even a universal restitution 
 could not undo what had been, or account for evil ■/ 
 being the necessary condition of good. How are we 
 to explain it, the existence of God being taken for 
 granted, except by saying that another will, besides / 
 
 H
 
 Natural Religion. 399 
 
 His, has had a part in the disposition of His work, that 
 there is a quarrel without remedy, a chronic alienation, 
 between God and man ? 
 
 I have implied that the laws on which this world is 
 governed do not go so far as to prove that evil will 
 never die out of the creation ; nevertheless, they look 
 in that direction. No experience indeed of life can 
 assure us about the future, but it can and does give us 
 means of conjecturing what is likely to be ; and those 
 conjectures coincide with our natural forebodings. 
 Experience enables us to ascertain the moral constitu- 
 tion of man, and thereby to presage his future from 
 his present. It teaches us, first, that he is not suffi- 
 cient for his own happiness, but is dependent upon the 
 sensible objects which surround him, and that these 
 he cannot take with him when he leaves the world ; 
 secondly, that disobedience to his sense of right is even 
 by itself misery, and that he carries that misery about 
 him, wherever he is, though no divine retribution fol- 
 lowed upon it ; and thirdly, that he cannot change his 
 nature and his habits by wishing, but is simply himself, 
 and will ever be himself and what he now is, wherever 
 he is, as long as he continues to be, — or at least that 
 pain has no natural tendency to make him other than he 
 is, and that the longer he lives, the more difficult he is to 
 change. How can we meet these not irrational antici- 
 pations, except by shutting our eyes, turning away from 
 them, and saying that we have no call, no right, to think 
 of them at present, or to make ourselves miserable 
 about what is not certain, and may be not true ? 5 
 
 5 Vide « Callista," ch. xix. 
 
 I
 
 4-00 Inference and Assent in Religion. 
 
 Such is the severe aspect of Natural Religion : also 
 it is the most prominent aspect, because the multitude 
 of men follow their own likings and wills, and not the 
 decisions of their sense of right and wrong. To them 
 Religion is a mere yoke, as Lucretius describes it ; not 
 a satisfaction or refuge, but a terror and a superstition. 
 However, I must not for an instant be supposed to 
 mean, that this is its only, its chief, or its legitimate 
 aspect. All Religion, so far as it is genuine, is a 
 blessing, Natural as well as Revealed. I have insisted 
 on its severe aspect in the first place, because, from 
 the circumstances of human nature, though not by the 
 fault of Religion, such is the shape in which we first 
 encounter it. Its large and deep foundation is the 
 sense of sin and guilt, and without this sense there is 
 for man, as he is, no genuine religion. Otherwise, it 
 is but counterfeit and hollow ; and that is the reason 
 why this so-called religion of civilization and philoso- 
 phy is so great a mockery. However, true as this judg- 
 ment is which I pass on philosophical religion, and 
 troubled as are .the existing relations between God and 
 man, as both the voice of mankind and the facts of 
 Divine Government testify, equally true are other 
 general laws which govern those relations, and they 
 speak another language, and compensate for what is 
 stern in the teaching of nature, without tending to 
 deuy that sternness. 
 
 The first of these laws, relieving the aspect of Natural 
 Religion, is the very fact that religious beliefs and in- 
 stitutions, of some kind or other, are of such general 
 acceptance in all times and places. Why should men
 
 Natural Religion. 401 
 
 subject themselves to the tyranny which Lucretius de- 
 nounces, unless they had either experience or hope of 
 benefits to themselves by so doing ? Though it be mere 
 hope of benefits, that alone is a great alleviation of the 
 gloom and misery which their religious rites presup- 
 pose or occasion ; for thereby they have a prospect, 
 more or less clear, of some happier state in reserve for 
 them, or at least the chances of it. If they simply 
 despaired of their fortunes, they would not care about 
 religion. And hope of future good, as we know, 
 sweetens all suffering. 
 
 Moreover, they have an earnest of that future in the 
 real and recurring blessings of life, the eujoyment of 
 the gifts of the earth, and of domestic affection and 
 social intercourse, which is sufficient to touch and to 
 subdue even the most guilty of men in his better 
 moments, reminding him that he is not utterly cast off 
 by Him whom nevertheless he is not given to know. 
 Or, in the Apostle's words, though the Creator once 
 " suffered all nations to walk in their own ways," still, 
 " He left not Himself without testimony, doing good 
 from heaven, giving rains and fruitful seasons, filling 
 our hearts with food and gladness. " 
 
 Nor are these blessings of physical nature the only 
 tokens in the Divine System, which in that heathen 
 time, and indeed in every age, bring home to our ex- 
 perience the fact of a Good God, in spite of the tumult 
 and confusion of the world. It is possible to give an 
 interpretation to the course of things, by which every 
 event or occurrence in its order becomes providential : 
 and though that interpretation does not hold good un- 
 
 Dd
 
 402 Inference and Assent in Religion. 
 
 less the world is contemplated from a particular point 
 of view, in one given aspect, and with certain inward 
 experiences, and personal first principles and judg- 
 ments, yet these may be fairly pronounced to be com- 
 mon conditions of human thought, that is, till they are 
 wilfully or accidentally lost ; and they issue in fact, in 
 leading the great majority of men to recognize the 
 Hand of unseen power, directing in mercy or in judg- 
 ment the physical and moral system. In the pro- 
 minent events of the world, past and contemporary, 
 the fate, evil or happy, of great men, the rise and fall 
 of states, popular revolutions, decisive battles, the 
 migTation of races, the replenishing of the earth, earth- 
 quakes and pestilences, critical discoveries and inven- 
 tions, the history of philosophy, the advancement of 
 knowledge, in these the spontaneous piety of the 
 human mind discerns a Divine Supervision. Nay, 
 there is a general feeling, originating directly in the 
 workings of conscience, that a similar governance is 
 extended over the persons of individuals, who thereby 
 both fulfil the purposes and receive the just recom- 
 penses of an Omnipotent Providence. Good to the 
 good, and evil to the evil, is instinctively felt to be, 
 even from what we see, amid whatever obscurity and 
 confusion, the universal rule of God's dealings with us. 
 Hence come the great proverbs, indigenous in both 
 Christian and heathen nations, that punishment is 
 sure, though slow, that murder will out, that treason 
 never prospers, that pride will have a fall, that honesty 
 is the best policy, and that curses fall on the heads of 
 those who utter them. To the unsophisticated appre-
 
 Natural Religion. 403 
 
 hension of the many, the successive passages of life,' 
 social or political, are so many miracles, if that is to 
 be accounted miraculous which brings before them the 
 immediate Divine Presence; and should it be objected 
 that this is an illogical exercise of reason, I answer, 
 that since it actually brings them to a right conclusion, 
 and was intended to bring them to it, if logic finds 
 fault with it, so much the worse for logic. 
 
 Again, prayer is essential to religion, and, where 
 prayer is, there is a natural relief and solace in all 
 trouble, great or ordinary : now prayer is not less 
 general in mankind at large than is faith in Provi- 
 dence. It has ever been in use, both as a personal and 
 as a social practice. Here again, if, in order to deter- 
 mine what the Religion of Nature is, we may justly 
 have recourse to the spontaneous acts and proceedings 
 of our race, as viewed on a large field, we may safely 
 say that prayer, as well as hope, is a constituent of 
 man's religion. Nor is it a fair objection to this 
 argument, to say that such prayers and rites as have 
 obtained in various places and times, are in their cha- 
 racter, object, and scope inconsistent with each other; 
 because their contrarieties do not come into the idea of 
 religion, as such, at all, and the very fact of their dis- 
 cordance destroys their right to be taken into account, 
 so far as they are discordant ; for what is not universal 
 has no claim to be considered natural, right, or of 
 divine origin. Thus we may determine prayer to be 
 part of Natural Religion, from such instances of the 
 usage as are supplied by the priests of Baal and by 
 dancing Dervishes, without therefore including in our 
 
 Dd 2
 
 404 Inference and Assent in Religion. 
 
 notions of prayer the frantic excesses of the one, or 
 the artistic spinning of the other, or sanctioning their 
 respective objects of belief, Baal or Mahomet. 
 
 As prayer is the voice of man to God, so Revelation 
 is the voice of God to man. Accordingly, it is another 
 alleviation of the darkness and distress which weigh 
 upon the religions of the world, that in one way or 
 other such religions are founded on some idea of ex- 
 press revelation, coming from the unseen agents whose 
 anger they deprecate; nay, that the very rites and 
 observances, by which they hope to gain the favour of 
 these beings, are by these beings themselves commu- 
 nicated and appointed. The Religion of Nature has not 
 been a deduction of reason, or the joint, voluntary mani- 
 festo of a multitude meeting together and pledging 
 themselves to each other, as men move resolutions 
 now for some political or social purpose, but it has been 
 a tradition or an interposition vouchsafed to a people 
 from above. To such an interposition men even as- 
 cribed their civil polity or citizenship, which did not 
 originate in any plebiscite, but in dii minores or heroes, 
 and was inaugurated with portents or palladia, and pro- 
 tected and prospered by oracles and auguries. Here is 
 an evidence, too, how congenial the notion of a revelation 
 is to the human mind, so that the expectation of it may 
 truly be considered an integral part of Natural Religion. 
 
 Among the observances imposed by these professed 
 revelations, none is more remarkable, or more general, 
 than the rite of sacrifice, in which guilt was removed or 
 blessing gained by an offering, which availed instead of 
 the merits of the offerer. This, too, as well as the notion
 
 Natural Religion. 405 
 
 of divine interpositions, may be considered almost an in- 
 tegral part of the Religion of Nature, and an alleviation 
 of its gloom. But it does not stand by itself; I have al- 
 ready spoken of the doctrine of atonement, under which it 
 falls, and which, if what is universal is natural, enters 
 into the idea of religious service. And what the nature 
 of man suggests, the providential system of the world 
 sanctions by enforcing. It is the law, or the permission, 
 given to our whole race, to use the Apostle's words, 
 to " bear one another's burdens ;" and this, as I said 
 when on the subject of Atonement, is quite consistent 
 with his antithesis that " every one must bear his own 
 burden." The final burden of responsibility when we 
 are called to judgment is our own; but among the 
 media by which we are prepared for that judgment are 
 the exertions and pains taken in our behalf by others. 
 On this vicarious principle, by which we appropi-iate to 
 ourselves what others do for us, the whole structure of 
 society is raised. Parents work and endure pain, that 
 their children may prosper ; children suffer for the sin 
 of their parents, who have died before it bore fruit. 
 " Delirant reges, plectuntur Achivi." Sometimes it is a 
 compulsory, sometimes a willing mediation. The punish- 
 ment which is earned by the husband falls upon the wife ; 
 the benefits in which all classes partake are wrought out 
 by the unhealthy or dangerous toil of the few. Soldiers 
 endure wounds and death for those who sit at home ; 
 and ministers of state fall victims to their zeal for their 
 countrymen, who do little else than criticize their actions. 
 And so in some measure or way this law embraces all of 
 us. We all suffer for each other, and gain by each other's
 
 4o6 Inference and Assent in Religion. 
 
 sufferings ; for man never stands alone here, though he 
 will stand by himself one day hereafter ; but here he is 
 a social being, and goes forward to his long home as 
 one of a large company. 
 
 Butler, it need scarcely be said, is the great master of 
 this doctrine, as it is brought out in the system of nature. 
 In answer to the objection to the Christian doctrine of 
 satisfaction, that it " represents God as indifferent 
 whether He punishes the innocent or the guilty/' he 
 observes that " the world is a constitution or system, 
 whose parts have a mutual reference to each other ; and 
 that there is a scheme of thing3 gradually carrying on, 
 called the course of nature, to the carrying on of which 
 God has appointed us, in various ways, to contribute. 
 And in the daily course of natural providence, it is 
 appointed that innocent people should suffer for the 
 faults of the guilty. Finally, indeed and upon the 
 whole, every one shall receive according to his personal 
 deserts ; but during the progress, and, for ought we 
 know, even in order to the completion of this moral 
 scheme, vicarious punishments may be fit, and absolutely 
 necessary. We see in what variety of ways one person's 
 sufferings contribute to the relief of another ; and being 
 familiarized to it, men are not shocked with it. So the 
 reason of their insisting on objections against the [doc- 
 trine of] satisfaction is, either that they do not consider 
 God's settled and uniform appointments as His appoint- 
 ments at all ; or else they forget that vicarious punish- 
 ment is a providential appointment of every day's expe- 
 rience." 6 I will but add, that, since all human suffering 
 6 " Analogy," Pt. ii. cb. 5 (abridged).
 
 Natural Religion. 407 
 
 is in its last resolution the punishment of sin, and punish- 
 ment implies a Judge and a rule of justice, he who 
 undergoes the punishment of another in his stead may 
 be said in a certain sense to satisfy the claims of justice 
 towai'ds that other in his own person. 
 
 One concluding remark has to be made here. In all 
 sacrifices it was specially required that the thing offered 
 should be something rare, and unblemished; and in like 
 manner in all atonements and all satisfactions, not only 
 was the innocent taken for the guilty, but it was a point 
 of special importance that the victim should be spotless, 
 and the more manifest that spotlessness, the more effica- 
 cious was the sacrifice. This leads me to a last principle 
 which I shall notice as proper to Natural Religion, and 
 as lightening the prophecies of evil in which it is 
 founded; I mean the doctrine of meritorious intercession. 
 The man in the Gospel did but speak for the human 
 race everywhere, when he said, " God heareth not sin- 
 ners ; but if a man be a woi'shipper of God, and doth 
 His will, him He heareth.-" Hence every religion has 
 had its eminent devotees, exalted above the body of the 
 people, mortified men, brought nearer to the Source of 
 good by austerities, self-inflictions, and prayer, who have 
 influence with Him, and extend a shelter and gain bless- 
 ings for those who become their clients. A belief like 
 this has been, of course, attended by numberless super- 
 stitions ; but those superstitions vary with times and 
 places, and the belief itself in the mediatorial power of 
 the good and holy has been one and the same every- 
 where. Nor is this belief an idea of past times only or of 
 heathen countries. It is one of the most natural visions of
 
 4o8 Inference and Assent in Religion. 
 
 the young and innocent. And all of us, the more keenly 
 we feel our own distance from holy persons, the more are 
 we drawn near to them, as if forgetting that distance, 
 and proud of them because they are so unlike ourselves, 
 as being specimens of what our nature may be, and with 
 some vague hope that we, their relations by blood, may 
 profit in our own persons by their holiness. 
 
 Such, then, in outline is that system of natural beliefs 
 and sentiments, which, though true and divine, is still 
 possible to us independently of Revelation, and is the 
 preparation for it ; though in Christians themselves it 
 cannot really be separated from their Christianity, and 
 never is possessed in its higher forms in any people 
 without some portion of those inward aids which 
 Christianity imparts to us, and those endemic traditions 
 which have their first origin in a paradisiacal illumi- 
 nation.
 
 Revealed Religion. 409 
 
 § 2. Revealed Religion. 
 
 In determining, as above, the main features of Natural 
 Religion, and distinguishing it from the religion of 
 philosophy or civilization, I may be accused of having 
 taken a course of my own, for which I have no sufficient 
 warrant. Such an accusation does not give me much 
 concern. Every one who thinks on these subjects takes 
 a course of his own, though it will also happen to be the 
 course which others take besides himself. The minds 
 of many separately bear them forward in the same direc- 
 tion, and they are confirmed in it by each other. This 
 I consider to be my own case ; if I have mis-stated or 
 omitted notorious facts in my account of Natural Reli- 
 gion, if I have contradicted or disregarded anything 
 which He who speaks through my conscience has told 
 us all directly fi-om Heaven, then indeed I have acted 
 unjustifiably and have something to unsay ; but, if I 
 have done no more than view the notorious facts of the 
 case in the medium of my primary mental experiences, 
 under the aspects which they spontaneously present to 
 me, and with the aid of my best illative sense, I only 
 do on one side of the question what those who think 
 differently do on the other. As they start with one
 
 410 Inference and Assent in Religion. 
 
 set of first principles, I start with another. I gave 
 notice just now that I should offer my own witness 
 in the matter in question ; though of course it would not 
 be worth while my offering it, unless what I felt myself 
 agreed with what is felt by hundreds and thousands 
 besides me, as I am sure it does, whatever be the measure, 
 more or less, of their explicit recognition of it. 
 
 In thus speaking of Natural Religion as in one sense 
 a matter of private judgment, and that with a view of 
 proceeding from it to the proof of Christianity, I seem to 
 give up the intention of demonstrating either. Cer- 
 tainly I do; not that I deny that demonstration is 
 possible. Truth certainly, as such, rests upon grounds 
 intrinsically and objectively and abstractedly demon- 
 strative, but it does not follow from this that the 
 arguments producible in its favour are unanswerable 
 and irresistible. These latter epithets are relative, and 
 bear upon matters of fact ; arguments in themselves 
 ought to do, what perhaps in the particular case they can- 
 not do. The fact of revelation is in itself demonstrably 
 true, but it is not therefore true irresistibly ; else, how 
 comes it to be resisted ? There is a vast distance between 
 what it is in itself, and what it is to us. Light is a 
 quality of matter, as truth is of Christianity ; but light 
 is not recognized by the blind, and there are those who 
 do not recognize truth, from the fault, not of truth, but 
 of themselves. I cannot convert men, when I ask for 
 assumptions which they refuse to grant to me; and 
 without assumptions no one can prove anything about 
 anything. 
 
 I am suspicious then of scientific demonstrations in a
 
 Revealed Religion. 4 1 1 
 
 question of concrete fact, in a discussion between fallible 
 men. However, let those demonstrate who have the 
 gift; "unusquisque in suo sensu abundet." For me, it 
 is more congenial to my own judgment to attempt to 
 prove Christianity in the same informal way in which I 
 can prove for certain that I have been born into this 
 world, and that I shall die out of it. It is pleasant to 
 my own feelings to follow a theological writer, such as 
 Amort, who has dedicated to the great Pope, Benedict 
 XIV., what he calls " a new, modest, aud easy way of 
 demonstrating the Catholic Religion." In this work 
 he adopts the argument merely of the greater proba- 
 bility; 1 I prefer to rely on that of an accumulation of 
 various probabilities ; but we both hold (that is, I hold 
 with him), that from probabilities we may construct 
 legitimate proof, sufficient for certitude. I follow him 
 in holding, that, since a Good Providence watches over 
 
 1 " Scopus operis est, planiorem Protestantibus aperire viam ad verara 
 Ecclesiam. Cum eniin bactenus Polemici nostri insudarint toti in 
 demonstrandis singulis Religiouis Catbolica? articulis, in id ego unurn 
 incumbo, ut bsec tria evincam. Priuio : Articulos fundameutales, Reli- 
 
 gionis Catbolicse esse evidenter credibiliores oppositis, &c. &c 
 
 Demonstratio autem bujus novae, modestae, ac facilis viae, qua ex articulis 
 fundamentalibus solum probabilioribus adstruitur sunmia Religionis 
 certitudo, base est : Deus, cum sit sapiens ac providus, teuetur, Reli- 
 gionem a se revelatam reddere evidenter credibiliorem religiouibus falsis. 
 Imprudenter enim vellet, suam Religionein ab bomiuibus recipi, nisi 
 earn redderet evidenter credibiliorem religiouibus ceteris. Ergo =illa 
 religio, qua? est evidenter credibilior cseteris, est ipsissima religio a Deo 
 revelata, adeoque certissime vera, seu demonstrata. Atqui, &c. . . . 
 Motivura aggrediendi novam banc, modestam, ac facilem viam illud 
 prsecipuum est, quod observem, Protestantium plurimos post iunumeros 
 concertationum ductus, in iis tandem consedisse syrtibus, ut credant, 
 nullaui dari religiouem uudtquaque demoustratam, &c. . . . Ratiocinate 
 denique opponuut ratiociuiu ; prsejudiciis prsejudicia ex majoriboa 
 sua," &c.
 
 4 1 2 Inference and Assent in Religion. 
 
 us, He blesses such means of argument as it has pleased 
 Him to give us, in the nature of man and of the world, 
 if we use them duly for those ends for which He has 
 given them ; and that, as in mathematics we are justified 
 by the dictate of nature in withholding our assent from 
 a conclusion of which we have uot yet a strict logical 
 demonstration, so by a like dictate we are not justified, 
 in the case of concrete reasoning and especially of 
 religious inquiry, in waiting till such logical demon- 
 stration is ours, but on the contrary are bound in con- 
 science to seek truth and to look for certainty by modes 
 of proof, which, when reduced to the shape of formal 
 propositions, fail to satisfy the severe requisitions of 
 science. 2 
 
 Here then at once is one momentous doctrine or prin- 
 ciple, which enters into my own reasoning, and which 
 another ignores, viz. the providence and intention of 
 God ; and of course there are other principles, explicit or 
 implicit, which are in like circumstances. It is not 
 wonderful then, that, while I can prove Christianity 
 
 2 " Docet naturalis ratio, Deum, ex ipsa natura bonitatis ac providentiae 
 sure, si velit in mundo habere religionem puram, eanique instituere ac 
 conservare usque in finein mundi, teneri ad earn religionem reddendam 
 
 evidenter credibiliorem ac verisimiliorem caeteris, &c. Sec Ex hoc 
 
 sequitnr ulterius; certitudinem moralem de vera Ecclesia elevari posse 
 ad certitudinem metaphysieam, si homo advertat, certitudinem moralem 
 absolute fallibilem substare in materia religionis circa ejus constitutive 
 fundamentalia special! providentiae divinse, praeservatrici ab omni errore. 
 .... Itaque homo semel ex serie historica actorum perductus ad 
 moralem certitudinem de auctore, fundatione, propagatione, et con- 
 tinuatione Ecclesiae Christians, per refiexionem ad existentiam certissi- 
 mam providential divina; in materia religionis, a priori lumine natura? 
 certitudine metaphysica notam, eo ipso eadem iufallibili ctrtitudine 
 intelliget, argunicnta de auctore," &c. — Amort. Ethica Christiana, 
 p. 252.
 
 Revealed Religion. 4 1 3 
 
 divine to my own satisfaction, I shall not be able to 
 force it upon any one else. Multitudes indeed I ought 
 to succeed in persuading of its truth without any force 
 at all, because they and I start from the same princi- 
 ples, and what is a proof to me is a proof to them ; but 
 if any one starts from any other principles but ours, I 
 have not the power to change his principles, or the con- 
 clusion which he draws from them, any more than I can 
 make a crooked man straight. Whether his mind will 
 ever grow straight, whether I can do anything towards 
 its becoming straight, whether he is not responsible, 
 responsible to his Maker, for being mentally crooked, 
 is another matter ; still the fact remains, that, in any 
 inquiry about things in the concrete, men differ from 
 each other, not so much in the soundness of their 
 reasoning as in the principles which govern its exercise, 
 that those principles are of a personal character, that 
 where there is no common measure of minds, there is 
 no common measure of arguments, and that the vali- 
 dity of proof is determined, not by any scientific test, 
 but by the illative sense. 
 
 Accordingly, instead of saying that the truths of 
 Eevelation depend on those of Natural Eeligion, it is 
 more pertinent to say that belief in revealed truths 
 depends on belief in natural. Belief is a state of mind ; 
 belief generates belief ; states of mind correspond to 
 each other; the habits of thought and the reasonings 
 which lead us on to a higher state of belief than our 
 present, are the very same which we already possess in 
 connexion with the lower state. Those Jews became 
 Christians in Apostolic times who were already what
 
 414 Inference and Assent in Religion. 
 
 may be called crypto- Christians ; and those Christians 
 in this day remain Christian only in name, and (if it so 
 happen) at length fall away, who are nothing deeper 
 or better than men of the world, savants, literary men, 
 or politicians. 
 
 That a special preparation of mind is required for 
 each separate department of inquiry and discussion 
 (excepting, of course, that of abstract science) is 
 strongly insisted upon in well-known passages of 
 the Nicomachean Ethics. Speaking of the variations 
 which are found in the logical perfection of proof in 
 various subject-matters, Aristotle says, "A well- 
 educated man will expect exactness in every class of 
 subjects, according as the nature of the thing admits; 
 for it is much the same mistake to put up with a 
 mathematician using probabilities, and to require 
 demonstration of an orator. Each man judges skil- 
 fully in those things about which he is well-informed ; 
 it is of these that he is a good judge; viz. he, in each 
 subject-matter, is a judge, who is well-educated in that 
 subject-matter, and he is in an absolute sense a judge, 
 who is in all of them well-educated." Again : " Young 
 men come to be mathematicians and the like, but they 
 cannot possess practical judgment; for this talent is 
 employed upon individual facts, and these are learned 
 only by experience ; and a youth has not experience, 
 for experience is only gained by a course of years. 
 And so, again, it would appear that a boy may be a 
 mathematician, but not a philosopher, or learned in 
 physics, and for this reason, — because the one study 
 deals with abstractions, while the other studies gain
 
 Revealed Religion. 4 1 5 
 
 their principles from experience, and in the latter sub- 
 jects youths do not give assent, but make assertions, 
 but in the former they know what it is that they are 
 handling. " 
 
 These words of a heathen philosopher, laying down 
 broad principles about all knowledge, express a general 
 rule, which in Scripture is applied authoritatively to the 
 case of revealed knowledge in particular ; — and that not 
 once or twice only, but continually, as is notorious. 
 For instance : — " I have understood," says the Psalmist, 
 " more than all my teachers, because Thy testimonies 
 are my meditation." And so our Lord : " He that 
 hath ears, let him hear." ' ' If any man will do His 
 will, he shall know of the doctrine." And " He that 
 is of God, heareth the words of God." Thus too the 
 Angels at the Nativity announce " Peace to men of 
 good will." And we read in the Acts of the Apostles 
 of "Lydia, whose heart the Lord opened to attend 
 to those things which were said by Paul." And 
 we are told on another occasion, that " as many as were 
 ordained," or disposed by God, " to life everlasting, 
 believed." And St. John tells us, " He that knoweth 
 God, heareth us ; he that is not of God, heareth us 
 not; by this we know the spirit of truth, and the 
 spirit of error." 
 
 1. 
 
 Relying then on these authorities, human and Divine, 
 I have no scruple in beginning the review I shall take 
 of Christianity by professing to consult for those only 
 whose minds are properly prepared for it ; and by being
 
 4 1 6 Inference and Assent in Religion. 
 
 prepared, I mean to denote those who are imbued with 
 the religious opinions and sentiments which I have 
 identified with Natural Religion. I do not address 
 myself to those, who in moral evil and physical see 
 nothing more than imperfections of a parallel nature; 
 who consider that the difference in gravity between 
 the two is one of degree only, not of kind ; that moral 
 evil is merely the offspring of physical, and that as we 
 remove the latter so we inevitably remove the former; 
 that there is a progress of the human race which tends 
 to the annihilation of moral evil ; that knowledge is 
 virtue, and vice is ignorance ; that sin is a bugbear, 
 not a reality ; that the Creator does not punish except 
 in the sense of correcting; that vengeance in Him 
 would of necessity be vindictiveness ; that all that we 
 know of Him, be it much or little, is through the laws 
 of nature; that miracles are impossible; that prayer to 
 Him is a superstition ; that the fear of Him is unmanly; 
 that sorrow for sin is slavish and abject ; that the only 
 intelligible worship of Him is to act well our part in 
 the world, and the only sensible repentance to do better 
 in future ; that if we do our duties in this life, we may 
 take our chance for the next ; and that it is of no use 
 perplexing our minds about the future state, for it is 
 all a matter of guess. These opinions characterize a 
 civilized age ; and if I say that I will not argue about 
 Christianity with men who hold them, I do so, not as 
 claiming any right to be impatient or peremptory with 
 any one, but because it is plainly absurd to attempt to 
 prove a second proposition to those who do not admit 
 the first.
 
 Revea led Religion . 417 
 
 I assume then that the above system of opinion is 
 simply false, inasmuch as it contradicts the primary 
 teachings of nature in the human race, wherever a 
 religion is found and its workings can be ascertained. 
 I assume the presence of God in our conscience, and the 
 universal experience, as keen as our experience of bodily 
 pain, of what we call a sense of sin or guilt. This 
 sense of sin, as of somethiug not only evil in itself, but 
 an affront to the good G-od, is chiefly felt as regards one 
 or other of three violations of His Law. He Himself 
 is Sanctity, Truth, and Love; and the three offences 
 against His Majesty are impurity, inveracity, and cruelty. 
 All men are not distressed at these offences alike ; but 
 the piercing pain and sharp remorse which one or other 
 inflicts upon the mind, till habituated to them, brings 
 home to it the notion of what sin is, and is the vivid 
 type and representative of its intrinsic hatefulness. 
 
 Starting from these elements, we may determine with- 
 out difficulty the class of sentiments, intellectual and 
 moral, which constitute the formal preparation for enter- 
 ing upon what are called the Evidences of Christianity. 
 These Evidences, then, presupposeabelief and perception 
 of the Divine Presence, a recognition of His attributes 
 and an admiration of His Person vieved under them ; a 
 conviction of the worth of the soul and of the reality 
 and momentousness of the unseen world, an understand- 
 ing that, in proportion as we partake in our own persons 
 of the attributes which we admire in Him, we are dear to 
 Him; a consciousness on the contrary that we are far from 
 exemplifying them, a consequent insight into our guilt 
 and misery, an eager hope of reconciliation to Him, a 
 
 E e
 
 4 1 8 Inference and Assent in Religion. 
 
 desire to know and to love Him, and a sensitive looking- 
 out in all that happens, whether in the course of nature 
 or of human life, for tokens, if such there be, of His 
 bestowing on us what we so greatly need. These are 
 specimens of the state of mind for which I stipulate in 
 those who would inquire into the truth of Christianity ; 
 and my warrant for so definite a stipulation lies in the 
 teaching, as I have described it, of conscience and the 
 moral sense, in the testimony of those religious rites 
 which have ever prevailed in all parts of the world, and 
 in the character and conduct of those who have com- 
 monly been selected by the popular instinct as the 
 special favourites of Heaven. 
 
 I have appealed to the popular ideas on the subject 
 of religion, and to the objects of popular admiration 
 and praise, as illustrating my account of the prepara- 
 tion of mind which is necessary for the inquirer into 
 Christianity. Here an obvious objection occurs, in 
 noticing which I shall be advanced one step farther in 
 the work which I have undertaken. 
 
 It may be urged, then, that no appeal will avail me, 
 which is made to religions so notoriously immoral as 
 those of paganism ; nor indeed can it be made without 
 an explanation. Certainly, as regards ethical teaching, 
 various religions, which have been popular in the world, 
 have not supplied any; and in the corrupt state in which 
 they appear in history, they are little better than schools 
 of imposture, cruelty, and impurity. Their objects of 
 worship were immoral as well as false, and their founders
 
 Revealed Religion. 4 1 9 
 
 and heroes have been in keeping with their gods. This 
 is undeniable, but it does not destroy the use that may- 
 be made of their testimony. There is a better side of 
 their teaching ; purity has often been held in reverence, 
 if not practised ; ascetics have been in honour ; hospi- 
 tality has been a sacred duty; and dishonesty and 
 injustice have been under a ban. Here then, as before, 
 I take our natural perception of right and wrong as the 
 standard for determining the characteristics of Natural 
 Eeligion, and I use the religious rites and traditions 
 which are actually found in the world, only so far as 
 they agree with our moral sense. 
 
 This leads me to lay down the general principle, which 
 I have all along implied : — that no religion is from Glod 
 which contradicts our sense of right and wrong. Doubt- 
 less ; but at the same time we ought to be quite sure 
 that, in a particular case which is before us, we have 
 satisfactorily ascertained what the dictates of our moral 
 nature are, and that we apply them rightly, and whether 
 the applying them or not comes into question at all. 
 The precepts of a religion certainly may be absolutely 
 immoral ; a religion which simply commanded us to lie, 
 or to have a community of wives, would ipso facto forfeit 
 all claim to a divine origin. Jupiter and Neptune, as 
 represented in the classical mythology, are evil spirits, 
 and nothing can make them otherwise. And I should 
 in like manner repudiate a theology which taught that 
 men were created in order to be wicked and wretched. 
 
 I alluded just now to those who consider the doctrine 
 of retributive punishment, or of divine vengeance, to be 
 incompatible with the true religion ; but I do not see 
 
 e e 2
 
 420 Inference and Assent in Religion. 
 
 how they can maintain their ground. In order to do 
 so, they have first to prove that an act of vengeance must, 
 as such, be a sin in our own instance; but even this is far 
 from clear. Anger and indignation against cruelty and 
 injustice, resentment of injuries, desire that the false, the 
 ungrateful, and the depraved should meet with punish- 
 ment, these, if not in themselves virtuous feelings, are at 
 least not vicious ; but, first from the certainty that, if 
 habitual, it will run into excess and become sin, and 
 next because the office of punishment has not been com- 
 mitted to us, and further because it is a feeling unsuitable 
 to those who are themselves so laden with imperfection 
 and guilt, therefore vengeance, in itself allowable, is for- 
 bidden to us. These exceptions do not hold in the case 
 of a perfect being, and certainly not in the instance of 
 the Supreme Judge. Moreover, we see that even men 
 on earth have different duties, according to theirpersonal 
 qualifications and their positions in the community. The 
 rule of morals is the same for all ; and yet, notwith- 
 standing, what is right in one is not necessai'ily right in 
 another. What would be a crime in a private man to 
 do, is a crime in a magistrate not to have done : still 
 wider is the difference between man and his Maker. 
 Nor must it be forgotten, that, as I have observed 
 above, retributive justice is the very attribute under 
 which God is primarily brought before us in the teach- 
 ings of our natural conscience. 
 
 And further, we cannot determine the character of 
 particular actions, till we have the whole case before us 
 out of which they arise; unless, indeed, they are in 
 themselves distinctively vicious. We all feel the force
 
 Revealed Religion. 42 1 
 
 of the maxim, " Audi alteram partem." It is difficult 
 to trace the path and to determine the scope of Divine 
 Providence. We read of a day when the Almighty will 
 condescend to place His actions in their completeness 
 before His creatures, and " will overcome when He is 
 judged/' If, till then, we feel it to be a duty to suspend 
 our judgment concerning certain of His actions or pre- 
 cepts, we do no more than what we do every day in the 
 case of an earthly friend or enemy, whose conduct in 
 some point requires explanation. It surely is not too 
 much to expect of us that we should act with parallel 
 caution,and be "memoresconditionis nostrae" as regards 
 the acts of our Creator. There is a poem of Pamelas 
 which strikingly brings home to us how differently the 
 divine appointments will look in the light of day, from 
 what they appear to be in our present twilight. An 
 Angel, in disguise of a man, steals a golden cup, 
 strangles an infant, and throws a guide into the stream, 
 and then explains to his horrified companion, that acts 
 which would be enormities in man, are in him, as 
 God's minister, deeds of merciful correction or of 
 retribution. 
 
 Moreover, when we are about to pass judgment on the 
 dealings of Providence with other men, we shall do well 
 to consider first His dealings with ourselves. We can- 
 not know about others, about ourselves we do know 
 something ; and we know that He has ever been good 
 to us, and not severe. Is it not wise to argue from what 
 we actually know to what we do not know ? It may 
 turn out in the day of account, that unforgiven souls, 
 while charging His laws with injustice in the case of
 
 \ 
 
 422 Inference and Assent in Religion. 
 
 others, may be unable to find fault with His dealings 
 severally towards themselves. 
 
 As to those various religions which, together with 
 Christianity, teach the doctrine of eternal punishment, 
 here again we ought, before we judge, to understand, not 
 only the whole state of the case, but what is meant by 
 the doctrine itself. Eternity, or endlessness, is in itself 
 only a negative idea, though punishment is positive. Its 
 fearful force, as added to punishment, lies in what it is 
 not ; it means no change of state, no annihilation, no 
 restoration. But it cannot become a quality of punish- 
 ment, any more than a man's living seventy years is a 
 quality of his mind, or enters into the idea of his virtues 
 or talents. If punishment be attended by continuity, by 
 a sense of duration and succession, by the mental presence 
 of its past and its future, by a sustained power of real- 
 izing it, 3 this must be because it is endless and some- 
 thing more ; such inflictions are an addition to its end- 
 lessness, and do not necessarily belong to it because it 
 is endless. As I have already said, the great mystery is, 
 not that evil has no end, but that it had a beginning. 
 But I submit the whole subject to the Theological School. 
 
 One of the most important effects of Natural Religion 
 on the mind, in preparation for Revealed, is the antici- 
 
 3 " De hac damnatorum saltern hominum respiratione, nihil adhuc certi 
 decretum est ab Ecclesia Catholica : ut propterea non temere, tanquain 
 absurda, sit explodenda sanctissimorum Patruin hsec opinio: quanivis a 
 coinmuni sensu Catbolicoruru hoc tempore sit aliena." — Petavius de 
 Angelis, fin.
 
 Revealed Religion . 423 
 
 pation which it creates, that a Revelation will be given. 
 That earnest desire of it, which religious minds cherish, 
 leads the way to the expectation of it. Those who know 
 nothing of the wounds of the soul, are not led to deal 
 with the question, or to consider its circumstances ; but 
 when our attention is roused, then the more steadily we 
 dwell upon it, the more probable does it seem that a 
 revelation has been or will be given to us. This pre- 
 sentiment is founded on our sense, on the one hand, of 
 the infinite goodness of God, and, on the other, of our 
 own extreme misery and need — two doctrines which 
 are the primary constituents of Natural Religion. It is 
 difficult to put a limit to the legitimate force of this 
 antecedent probability. Some minds will feel it to be 
 so powerful, as to recognize in it almost a proof, without 
 direct evidence, of the divinity of a religion claiming to 
 be the true, supposing its history and docrine are free 
 from positive objection, and there be no rival religion 
 with plausible claims of its own. Nor ought this trust 
 in a presumption to seem preposterous to those who are 
 so confident, on a priori grounds, that the moon is inha- 
 bited by rational beings, and that the course of nature is 
 never crossed by miraculous agency. Any how, very 
 little positive evidence seems to be necessary, when the 
 mind is penetrated by the strong anticipation which I 
 am supposing. It was this instinctive apprehension, as 
 we may conjecture, which carried on Dionysius and 
 Damaris at Athens to a belief in Christianity, though 
 St. Paul did no miracle there, and only asserted the 
 doctrines of the Divine Unity, the Resurrection, and the 
 universal judgment, while, on the other hand, it had had
 
 424 Inference and Assent in Religion. 
 
 no tendency to attach them to any of the mythological 
 rites in which the place abounded. 
 
 Here my method of argument differs from that adopted 
 by Paley in his Evidences of Christianity. This clear- 
 headed and almost mathematical reasoner postulates, 
 for his proof of its miracles, only thus much, that, under 
 the circumstances of the case, a revelation is not impro- 
 bable. He says, " We do not assume the attributes of 
 the Deity, or the existence of a future state." " It is 
 not necessary for our purpose that these propositions 
 (viz. that a future existence should be destined by God 
 for His human creation, and that, being so destined, He 
 should have acquainted them with it,) be capable of 
 proof, or even that, by arguments drawn from the light 
 of nature, they can be made out as probable ; it is 
 enough that we are able to say of them, that they are 
 not so violently improbable, so contradictory to what 
 we already believe of the divine power and character, 
 that [they] ought to be rejected at first sight, and to be 
 rejected by whatever strength or complication of evi- 
 dence they be attested." He has such confidence in 
 the strength of the testimony which he can produce in 
 favour of the Christian miracles, that he only asks to 
 be allowed to bring it into court. 
 
 I confess to much suspicion of legal proceedings and 
 legal arguments, when used in questions whether of 
 history or of philosophy. Rules of court are dictated by 
 what is expedient on the whole and in the long run; but 
 they incur the risk of being unjust to the claims of par- 
 ticular cases. Why am I to begin with taking up a 
 position not my own, and unclothing my mind of that
 
 Revealed Religion. 425 
 
 large outfit of existing thoughts, principles, likings, 
 desires, and hopes, which make me what I am ? If I 
 am asked to use Paley's argument for my own conver- 
 sion, I say plainly I do not want to be converted by a 
 smart syllogism ; 4 if I am asked to convert others by 
 it, I say plainly I do not care to overcome their reason 
 without touching their hearts. I wish to deal, not with 
 controversialists, but with inquirers. 
 
 I think Paley's argument clear, clever, and powerful ; 
 and there is something which looks like charity in going 
 out into the highways and hedges, and compelling men 
 to come in ; but in this matter some exertion on the 
 part of the persons whom I am to convert is a condition 
 of atrue conversion. They who have no religious earnest- 
 ness are at the mercy, day by day, of some new argu- 
 ment or fact, which may overtake them, in favour of one 
 conclusion or the other. And how, after all, is a man 
 better for Christianity, who has never felt the need of it 
 or the desire ? On the other hand, if he has longed for 
 a revelation to enlighten him and to cleanse his heart, 
 why may he not use, in his inquiries after it, that just 
 and reasonable anticipation of its probability, which such 
 longing has opened the way to his entertaining ? 
 
 Men are too well inclined to sit at home, instead of 
 stirring themselves to inquire whether a revelation has 
 been given ; they expect its evidences to come to them 
 without their trouble ; they act, not as suppliants, but 
 as judges. 5 Modes of argument such as Paley's, en- 
 courage this state of mind ; they allow men to forget 
 
 4 Ylde supra, p. 302. 
 
 5 Vide the author's Occasional Sernious, No. 5.
 
 426 Inference and Assent in Religion. 
 
 that revelation is a boon, not a debt on the part of the 
 Giver; they treat it as a mere historical phenomenon. 
 If I was told that some great man, a foreigner, whom I 
 did not know, had come into town, and was on his way 
 to call on me, and to go over my house, I should send to 
 ascertain the fact, and meanwhile should do my best 
 to put my house into a condition to receive him. He 
 would not be pleased if I left the matter to take its 
 chance, and went on the maxim that seeing was believing. 
 Like this is the conduct of those who resolve to treat 
 the Almighty with dispassionateness, a judicial temper, 
 clearheadedness, and candour. It is the way with some 
 men, (surely not a good way,) to say, that without these 
 lawyerlike qualifications conversion is immoral. It is 
 their way, a miserable way, to pronounce that there 
 is no religious love of truth where there is fear of error. 
 On the contrary, I would maintain that the fear of error 
 is simply necessary to the genuine love of truth. No 
 inquiry comes to good which is not conducted under a 
 deep sense of responsibility, and of the issues depending 
 upon its determination. Even the ordinary matters of 
 life are an exercise of conscientiousness ; and where 
 conscience is, fear must be. So much is this acknow- 
 ledged just now, that there is almost an affectation, in 
 popular literature, in the case of criticisms on the fine 
 arts, on poetry, and music, of insisting upon con- 
 scientiousness in writiug, painting, or singing ; and that 
 earnestness and simplicity of mind, which makes men 
 fear to go wi'ong in these minor matters, has surely a 
 place in the most serious of all undertakings. 
 
 It is on these grounds that, in considering Christianity,
 
 Revealed Religion. 427 
 
 I start with conditions different from Paley's ; not, 
 however, as undervaluing the force and the serviceable- 
 ness of his argument, but as preferring inquiry to 
 disputation in a question about truth. 
 
 4. 
 
 There is another point on which my basis of argument 
 differs from Paley's. He argues on the principle that the 
 credentials, which ascertain for us a message from above, 
 are necessarily in their nature miraculous ; nor have I 
 any thought of venturing to say otherwise. In fact, all 
 professed revelations have been attended, in one shape or 
 another, with the profession of miracles ; and we know 
 how direct and unequivocal are the miracles of both the 
 Jewish Covenant and of our own. However, my object 
 here is to assume as little as possible as regards facts, and 
 to dwell only on what is patent and notorious ; and there- 
 fore I will only insist on those coincidences and their 
 cumulations, which, though not in themselves miracu- 
 lous, do irresistibly force upon us, almost by the law of 
 our nature, the presence of the extraordinary agency of 
 Him whose being we already acknowledge. Though 
 coincidences rise out of a combination of general laws, 
 there is no law of those coincidences ; 6 they have a cha- 
 racter of their own, and seem left by Providence in His 
 own hands, as the channel by which, inscrutable to us, 
 He may make known to us His will. 
 
 For instance, if I am a believer in a God of Truth 
 and Avenger of dishonesty, and know for certain that a 
 
 6 Vide supra, p. 84.
 
 428 Inference and Assent in Religion. 
 
 market-woman, after calling on Him to strike her dead 
 if she had in her possession a piece of money not hers, 
 did fall down dead on the spot, and that the money was 
 found in her hand, how can I call this a blind coinci- 
 dence, and not discern in it an act of Providence over 
 and above its general laws ? So, certainly, thought the 
 inhabitants of an English town, when they erected a 
 pillar as a record of such an event at the place where 
 it occurred. And if a Pope excommunicates a great 
 conqueror ; and he, on hearing the threat, says to one of 
 his friends, " Does he think the world has gone back a 
 thousand years ? does he suppose the arms will fall from 
 the hands of my soldiers ? " and within two years, on the 
 retreat over the snows of Russia, as two contemporary 
 historians relate, " famine and cold tore their arms from 
 the grasp of the soldiers," " they fell from the hands of 
 the bravest and most robust/' and " destitute of the 
 power of raising them from the ground, the soldiers left 
 them in the snow ;" is not this too, though no miracle, 
 a coincidence so special, as rightly to be called a Divine 
 judgment ? So thinks Alison, who avows with religious 
 honesty, that " there is something in these marvellous 
 coincidences beyond the operation of chance, and which 
 even a Protestant historian feels himself bound to mark 
 for the observation of future years." 7 And so, too, of a 
 cumulation of coincidences, separately less striking ; 
 when Spelman sets about establishing the fact of the ill- 
 fortune which in a multitude of instances has followed 
 upon acts of sacrilege, then, even though in many in- 
 stances it has not followed, and in many instances he 
 
 7 History, vol. viii.
 
 Revealed Religion. 429 
 
 exaggerates, still there may be a large residuum of cases 
 which cannot be properly resolved into the mere accident 
 of concurrent causes, but must in reason be considered 
 the warning voice of God. So, at least, thought Gibson, 
 Bishop of London, when he wrote, " Many of the in- 
 stances, and those too well-attested, are so terrible in 
 the event, and in the circumstances so surprising, that 
 no considering person can well pass them over." 
 
 I think, then, that the circumstances under which 
 a professed revelation comes to us, may be such as to 
 impress both our reason and our imagination with a 
 sense of its truth, even though no appeal be made to 
 strictly miraculous intervention — in saying which I do 
 not mean of course to imply that those circumstances, 
 when traced back to their first origins, are not the 
 outcome of such intervention, but that the miraculous 
 intervention addresses us at this day in the guise of 
 those circumstances ; that is, of coincidences, which are 
 indications, to the illative sense of those who believe in 
 a Moral Governor, of His immediate Presence, especially 
 to those who in addition hold with me the strong 
 antecedent probability that, in His mercy, He will thus 
 supernaturally present Himself to our apprehension. 
 
 Now as to the fact; has what is so probable in anticipa- 
 tion actually been granted to us, or have we still to look 
 out for it? It is very plain, supposing it has been granted, 
 which among all the religions of the world comes from 
 God : and if it is not that, a revelation is not yet given, 
 and we must look forward to the future. There is only one
 
 430 Inference and Assent in Religion. 
 
 Eeligion in the world which tends to fulfil the aspirations, 
 needs, and foreshado wings of natural faith and devotion. 
 It may be said, perhaps, that, educated in Christianity, 
 I merely judge of it by its own principles; but this is not 
 the fact. For, in the first place, I have taken my idea of 
 what a revelation must be, in good measure, from the 
 actual religions of the world ; and as to its ethics, the 
 ideas with which I come to it are derived not simply 
 from the Gospel, but prior to it from heathen moralists, 
 whom Fathers of the Church and Ecclesiastical writers 
 have imitated or sanctioned ; and as to the intellectual 
 position from which I have contemplated the subject, 
 Aristotle has been my master. Besides, I do not here 
 single out Christianity with reference simply to its par- 
 ticular doctrines or precepts, but for a reason which is 
 on the surface of its history. It alone has a definite 
 message addressed to all mankind. As far as I know, 
 the religion of Mahomet has brought into the world no 
 new doctrine whatever, except, indeed, that of its own 
 divine origin ; and the character of its teaching is too 
 exact a reflection of the race, time, place, and climate in 
 which it arose, to admit of its becoming universal. The 
 same dependence on external circumstances is charac- 
 teristic, so far as I know, of the religions of the far 
 East ; nor am I sure of any definite message from God 
 to man which they convey and protect, though they 
 may have sacred books. Christianity, on the other 
 hand, is in its idea an announcement, a preaching; it 
 is the depository of truths beyond human discovery, 
 momentous, practical, maintained one and the same in 
 substance in every age from its first, and addressed to
 
 Revealed Religion . 431 
 
 all mankind. And it has actually been embraced and is 
 found in all parts of the world, in all climates, among 
 all races, in all ranks of society, under every degree of 
 civilization, from barbarism to the highest cultivation of 
 mind. Coming to set right and to govern the world, it 
 has ever been, as it ought to be, in conflict with large 
 masses of men, with the civil power, with physical force, 
 with adverse philosophies ; it has had successes, it has 
 had reverses ; but it has had a grand history, and has 
 effected great things, and is as vigorous in its age as in 
 its youth. In all these respects it has a distinction in 
 the world and a pre-eminence of its own ; it has upon it 
 prima facie signs of divinity ; I do not know what can 
 be advanced by rival religions to match prerogatives so 
 special ; so that I feel myself justified in saying either 
 Christianity is from God, or a revelation has not yet 
 been given to us. 
 
 It will not surely be objected, as a point in favour of 
 some of the Oriental religions, that they are older than 
 Christianity by some centuries; yet, should it be so 
 said, it must be recollected that Christianity is only the 
 continuation and conclusion of what professes to be an 
 earlier revelation, which may be traced back into pre- 
 historic times, till it is lost in the darkness that hangs 
 over them. As far as we know, there never was a time 
 when that revelation was not, — a revelation continuous 
 and systematic, with distinct representatives and an 
 orderly succession. And this, I suppose, is far more 
 than can be said for the religions of the East.
 
 432 Inference and Assent in Religion. 
 
 6. 
 
 Here, then, I am brought to the consideration of the 
 Hebrew nation and the Mosaic religion, as the first step 
 in the direct evidence for Christianity. 
 
 The Jews are one of the few Oriental nations who are 
 known in history as a people of progress, and their 
 line of progress is the development of religious truth. 
 In that their own line they stand by themselves among 
 all the populations, not only of the East, but of the 
 West. Their country may be called the classical home 
 of the religious principle, as Greece is the home of 
 intellectual power, and Rome that of political and prac- 
 tical wisdom. Theism is their life ; it is emphatically 
 their natural religion, for they never were without it, 
 and were made a people by means of it. This is a 
 phenomenon singular and solitary in history, and must 
 have a meaning. If there be a God and Providence, 
 it must come from Him, whether immediately or indi- 
 rectly ; and the people themselves have ever maintained 
 that it has been His direct work, and has been recog- 
 nized by Him as such. We are apt to treat pretences 
 to a divine mission or to supernatural powers as of 
 frequent occurrence, and on that score to dismiss them 
 from our thoughts ; but we cannot so deal with Judaism. 
 When mankind had universally denied the first lesson 
 of their conscience by lapsing into polytheism, is it 
 a thing of slight moment that there was just one excep- 
 tion to the rule, that there was just one people who, first 
 by their rulers and priests, and afterwards by their own 
 unanimous zeal, professed, as their distinguishing doc-
 
 Revealed Religion. 433 
 
 trine, the Divine Unity and Government of the world, 
 and that, moreover, not only as a natural truth, but as 
 revealed to them by that Grod Himself of whom they 
 spoke, — who so embodied it in their national polity, that 
 a Theocracy was the only name by which it could be 
 called ? It was a people founded and set up in Theism, 
 kept together by Theism, and maintaining Theism for a 
 period from first to last of 2000 years, till the dissolution 
 of their body politic ; and they have maintained it since 
 in their state of exile and wandering for 2000 years 
 more. They begin with the beginning of history, and 
 the preaching of this august dogma begins with them. 
 They are its witnesses and confessors, even to torture 
 and death ; on it and its revelation are moulded their 
 laws and government; on this their politics, philosophy, 
 and literature are founded ; of this truth their poetry is 
 the voice, pouring itself out in devotional compositions 
 which Christianity, through all its many countries and 
 ages, has been unable to rival; on this aboriginal truth, 
 as time goes on, prophet after prophet bases his further 
 revelations, with a sustained reference to a time when, 
 according to the secret counsels of its Divine Object and 
 Author, it is to receive completion and perfection, — till 
 at length that time comes. 
 
 The last age of their history is as strange as their first. 
 When thattime of destined blessing came, which they had 
 so accurately marked out, andwei-e so carefully waiting 
 for — a time which found them, in fact, more zealous for 
 their Law, and for the dogma it enshrined, than they ever 
 had been before — then, instead of any final favour coming 
 on them from above, they fell under the power of their 
 
 Ff
 
 434 Inference and Assent in Religion. 
 
 enemies, and were overthrown, their holy city razed to 
 the ground, their polity desti'oyed, and the remnant of 
 their people cast off to wander far and away through 
 every land except their own, as we find them at this day; 
 lasting on, century after century, not absorbed in other 
 populations, not annihilated, as likely to last on, as un- 
 likely to be restored, as far as outward appearances go, 
 now as a thousand years ago. What nation has so 
 grand, so romantic, so terrible a history ? Does it not 
 fulfil the idea of, what the nation calls itself, a chosen 
 people, chosen for good and evil ? Is it not an exhibi- 
 tion in a course of history of that primary declaration of 
 conscience, as I have been determining it, "With the 
 upright Thou shalt be upright, and with the froward 
 Thou shalt be froward " ? It must have a meaning, if 
 there is a Grod. We know what was their witness of 
 old time ; what is their witness now ? 
 
 Why, I say, was it that, after so memorable a career, 
 when their sins and sufferings were now to come to an 
 end, when they were looking out for a deliverance and 
 a Deliverer, suddenly all was reversed for once and for 
 all ? They were the favoured servants of God, and yet 
 a peculiar reproach and note of infamy is affixed to their 
 name. It was their belief that His protection was un- 
 changeable, and that their Law would last for ever ; — 
 it was their consolation to be taught by an uninterrupted 
 tradition, that it could not die, except by changing into 
 a new self, more wonderful than it was before ; — it was 
 their faithful expectation that a promised King was 
 coming, the Messiah, who would extend the sway of 
 Israel over all peoplo ; — it was a condition of their cove-
 
 Revealed Religion. 435 
 
 nant, that, as a reward to Abraham, their first father, 
 the day at length should dawn when the gates of their 
 narrow land should open, and they should pour out for 
 the conquest and occupation of the whole earth; — and, 
 I repeat, when the day came, they did go forth, and 
 they did spread into all lands, but as hopeless exiles, 
 as eternal wanderers. 
 
 Are we to say that this failure is a proof that, after all, 
 there was nothing providential in their history ? For 
 myself, I do not see how a second portent obliterates a 
 first ; and, in truth, their own testimony and their own 
 sacred books carry us on towards a better solution of the 
 difficulty. I have said they were in God's favour under 
 a covenant, — perhaps they did not fulfil the conditions 
 of it. This indeed seems to be their own account of 
 the matter, though it is not clear what their breach of 
 engagement was. And that in some way they did sin, 
 whatever their sin was, is corroborated by the well- 
 known chapter in the Book of Deuteronomy, which so 
 strikingly anticipates the nature of their punishment. 
 That passage, translated into Greek as many as 350 
 years before the siege of Jerusalem by Titus, has on it 
 the marks of a wonderful prophecy ; but I am not now 
 referring to it as such, but merely as an indication that 
 the disappointment, which actually overtook them at the 
 Christian era, was not necessarily out of keeping with 
 the original divine purpose, or again with the old pro- 
 mise made to them, and their confident expectation of 
 its fulfilment. Their national ruin, which came instead 
 of aggrandizement, is described in that book, in spite 
 of all promises, with an emphasis and minuteness which 
 
 if 2
 
 436 Inference and Assent in Religion. 
 
 prove that it was contemplated long before, at least as 
 a possible issue of the fortunes of Israel. Among other 
 inflictions which should befall the guilty people, it was 
 told them that they should fall down before their ene- 
 mies, and should be scattered throughout all the king- 
 doms of the earth ; that they never should have quiet in 
 those nations, or have rest for the sole of their foot ; 
 that they were to have a fearful heart and languishing 
 eyes, and a soul consumed with heaviness ; that they 
 were to suffer wrong, and to be crushed at all times, 
 and to be astonished at the terror of their lot ; that their 
 sons and daughters were to be given to another people, 
 and they were to look and to sicken all the day, and their 
 life was ever to hang in doubt before them, and fear to 
 haunt them day and night ; that they should be a pro- 
 verb and a by-word of all people among whom they were 
 brought ; and that curses were to come on them, and to 
 be signs and wonders on them and their seed for ever. 
 Such are some portions, and not the most terrible, of 
 this extended anathema ; and its partial accomplishment 
 at an earlier date of their history was a warning to them, 
 when the destined time drew near, that, however great 
 the promises made to them might be, those promises 
 were dependent on the terms of the covenant which 
 stood between them and their Maker, and that, as they 
 had turned to curses at that former time, so they might 
 turn to curses again. 
 
 This grand drama, so impressed with the characters 
 of supernatural agency, concerns us here only in its 
 bearing upon the evidence for the divine origin of 
 Christianity; and it is at this point that Christianity
 
 Revealed Religion. 437 
 
 comes upon the historical scene. It is a notorious fact 
 that it issued from the Jewish land and people; and, had 
 it no other than this historical connexion with Judaism, 
 it would have some share in the prestige of its original 
 home. But it claims to be far more than this ; it pro- 
 fesses to be the actual completion of the Mosaic Law, 
 the promised means of deliverance and triumph to the 
 nation, which that nation itself, as I have said, has since 
 considered to be, on account of some sin or other, with- 
 held or forfeited. It professes to be, not the casual, 
 but the legitimate offspring, heir, and successor of the 
 Mosaic covenant, or rather to be Judaism itself, de- 
 veloped and transformed. Of course it has to prove its 
 claim, as well as to prefer it ; but if it succeeds in doing 
 so, then all those tokens of the Divine Presence, which 
 distinguish the Jewish history, at once belong to it, and 
 are a portion of its credentials. 
 
 And at least the prima facie view of its relations 
 towards Judaism is in favour of these pretensions. It 
 is an historical fact, that, at the very time that the Jews 
 committed their unpardonable sin, whatever it was, and 
 were driven out from their home to wander over the 
 earth, their Christian brethren, born of the same stock, 
 and equally citizens of Jerusalem, did also issue forth 
 from the same home, but in order to subdue that same 
 earth and make it their own ; that is, they undertook the 
 very work which, according to the promise, their nation 
 actually was ordained to execute ; and, with a method of 
 their own indeed, and with a new end, and only slowly 
 and painfully, but still really and thoroughly, they did 
 it. And since that time the two children of the promise
 
 438 Inference and Assent in Religion. 
 
 have ever been found together — of the promise forfeited 
 and the promise fulfilled ; and whereas the Christian has 
 been in high place, so the Jew has been degraded and 
 despised — the one has been " the head/' and the other 
 " the tail j" so that, to go no farther, the fact that 
 Christianity actually has done what Judaism was to 
 have done, decides the controversy, by the logic of facts, 
 in favour of Christianity. The prophecies announced 
 that the Messiah was to come at a definite time and 
 place; Christians point to Him as coming then and 
 there, as announced ; they are not met by any counter 
 claim or rival claimant on the part of the Jews, only by 
 their assertion that He did not come at all, though up 
 to the event they had said He was then and there coming. 
 Further, Christianity clears up the mystery which hangs 
 over Judaism, accounting fully for the punishment of 
 the people, by specifying their sin, their heinous sin. If, 
 instead of hailing their own Messiah, they crucified Him, 
 then the strange scourge which has pursued them after 
 the deed, and the energetic wording of the curse before 
 it, are explained by the very strangeness of their guilt; — 
 or rather, their sin is their punishment; for in rejecting 
 their Divine King, they ipso facto lost the living prin- 
 ciple and tie of their nationality. Moreover, we see what 
 led them into error; they thought a triumph and an 
 empire were to be given to them at once, which were 
 given indeed eventually, but by the slow and gradual 
 growth of many centuries and a long warfare. 
 
 On the whole, then, I observe, on the one hand, that, 
 Judaism having been the channel of religious traditions 
 which are lost in the depth of their antiquity, of course
 
 Revealed Religion. 439 
 
 it is a great point for Christianity to succeed in proving 1 
 that it is the legitimate heir to that former religion. 
 Nor is it, on the other, of less importance to the signifi- 
 cance of those early traditions to be able to determine 
 that they were not lost together with their original store- 
 house, but were transferred, on the failure of Judaism, to 
 the custody of the Christian Church. And this apparent 
 correspondence between the two is in itself a presump- 
 tion for such correspondence being real. Next, I 
 observe, that if the history of Judaism is so wonderful 
 as to suggest the presence of some special divine agency 
 in its appointments and fortunes, still more wonderful 
 and divine is the history of Christianity ; and again it is 
 more wonderful still, that two such wonderful creations 
 should span almost the whole course of ages, dui^ing 
 which nations and states have been in existence, and 
 should constitute a professed system of continued 
 intercourse between earth and heaven from first to last 
 amid all the vicissitudes of human affairs. This pheno- 
 menon again carries on its face, to those who believe in 
 a God, the probability that it has that divine origin 
 which it professes to have ; and, (when viewed in the 
 light of the strong presumption which I have insisted 
 on, that in God's mercy a revelation from Him will be 
 granted to us, and of the contrast presented by other 
 religions, no one of which professes to be a revelation 
 direct, definite, and integral as this is,) — this pheno- 
 menon, I say, of cumulative marvels raises that proba- 
 bility, both for Judaism and Christianity, in religious 
 minds, almost to a certainty.
 
 440 Inference and Assent in Religion. 
 
 7. 
 
 If Christianity is connected with Judaism as closely as 
 I have been supposing, then there have been, by means 
 of the two, direct communications between man and his 
 Maker from time immemorial down to this day — a great 
 prerogative such, that it is nowhere else even claimed. 
 No other religion but these two professes to be the organ 
 of a formal revelation, certainly not of a revelation which 
 is directed to the benefit of the whole human race. Here 
 it is that Mahometanism fails, though it claims to carry 
 on the line of revelation after Christianity; for it is the 
 mere creed and rite of certain races, bringing with it, as 
 such, no gifts to our nature, and is rather a reformation 
 of local corruptions, and a return to the ceremonial wor- 
 ship of earlier times, than a new and larger revelation. 
 And while Christianity was the heir to a dead religion, 
 Mahometanism was little more than a rebellion against 
 a living one. Moreover, though Mahomet professed to 
 be the Paraclete, no one pretends that he occupies a place 
 in the Christian Scriptures as prominent as that which 
 the Messiah fills in the Jewish. To this especial promi- 
 nence of the Messianic idea I shall now advert; that is, 
 to the prophecies of the Old Scriptures, and to the argu- 
 ment which they furnish in favour of Christianity ; and 
 though I know that argument might be clearer and more 
 exact than it is, and I do not pretend here to do much 
 more than refer to the fact of its existence, still so far 
 forth as we enter into it, will it strengthen our convic- 
 tion of the claim to divinity both of the Religion which
 
 Revealed Religion. 441 
 
 is the organ of those prophecies, and of the Religion 
 which is their object. 
 
 Now that the Jewish Scriptures were in existence long 
 before the Christian era, and were in the sole custody of 
 the Jews, is undeniable ; whatever then their Scriptures 
 distinctly say of Christianity, if not attributable to chance 
 or to happy conjecture, is prophetic. It is undeniable 
 too, that the Jews gathered from those books that a 
 great Personage was to be born of their stock, and to 
 conquer the whole world and to become the instrument 
 of extraordinary blessings to it; moreover, that he would 
 make his appearance at a fixed date, and that, the very 
 date when, as it turned out, our Lord did actually come. 
 This is the great outline of the prediction, and if nothing 
 more could be said about them than this, to prove as 
 much as this is far from unimportant. And it is unde- 
 niable, I say, both that the Jewish Scriptures contain 
 thus much, and that the Jews actually understood them 
 as containing it. 
 
 First, then, as to what Scripture declares. From the 
 book of Genesis we learn that the chosen people was set 
 up iu this one idea, viz. to be a blessing to the whole 
 earth, and that, by means of one of their own race, a 
 greater than their father Abraham. This was the mean- 
 ing and drift of their being chosen. There is no room 
 for mistake here; the divine purpose is stated from the 
 first with the utmost precision. At the very time of 
 Abraham's call, he is told of it : — " I will make of thee 
 a great nation, and in thee shall all tribes of the earth be 
 blessed." Thrice is this promise and purpose announced 
 in Abraham's history ; and after Abraham's time it is
 
 442 Inference and Assent in Religion. 
 
 repeated to Isaac, " In thy seed shall all the nations of 
 the earth be blessed ;" and after Isaac to Jacob, when a 
 wanderer from his home, ' c In thee and in thy seed shall 
 all the tribes of the earth be blessed/' And from Jacob 
 the promise passes on to his son Judah, and that with 
 an addition, viz. with a reference to the great Person 
 who was to be the world-wide blessing, and to the date 
 when He should come. Judah was the chosen son of 
 Jacob, and his staff or sceptre, that is, his patriarchal 
 authority, was to endure till a greater than Judah came, 
 so that the loss of the sceptre, when it took place, was 
 the sign of His near approach. " The sceptre," says 
 Jacob on his death-bed, " shall not be taken away from 
 Judah, until He come for whom it is reserved," or "who 
 is to be sent," "and He shall be the expectation of the 
 nations." 8 
 
 Such was the categorical prophecy, literal and un- 
 equivocal in its wording, direct and simple in its scope. 
 
 8 Before and apart from Christianity, the Samaritan Version reads, 
 " donee veniat Pacificus, et ad ipsum congregabuutur populi." The Tar- 
 gum, "donee veniat Messias, cujus est regnum, et obedient populi." The 
 Septuagint, "donee veniant qua? reservata sunt illi" (or " donee veniat 
 cui reservatuin est "), " et ipse expectatio gentium." And so again the 
 Vulgate, "donee veniat qui mittendus est, et ipse erit expectatio gentium." 
 
 The ingenious translation of some learned men (" donee venerit Juda 
 Siluntem," i. e. " the tribe-sceptre shall not depart from Judah till 
 Judah comes to Shiloh "), with the explanation that the tribe of Judah 
 had the leadership in the war against the Canaanites, vide Judges i. 1, 
 2 ; xx. 18 (i. e. after Joshua's death), and that possibly, and for what we 
 know, the tribe gave up that war-command at Shiloh, vide Joshua 
 xviii. 1 (i. e. in Joshua's life-time), labours under three grave difficulties : 
 1. That the patriarchal sceptre is a temporary war-command. 2. That 
 this command belonged to Judah at the very time that it belonged to 
 Joshua. And 3. That it was finally lost to Judah (Joshua living), before 
 it had been committed to Judah (Joshua dead).
 
 Revealed Religion. 443 
 
 One man, born of the chosen tribe, was the destined 
 minister of blessing to the whole world ; and the race, 
 as represented by that tribe, was to lose its old self in 
 gaining a new self in Him. Its destiny was sealed 
 upon it in its beginning. An expectation was the 
 measure of its life. It was created for a great end, and 
 in that end it had its ending. Such were the initial 
 communications made to the chosen people, and there 
 they stopped ; — as if the outline of promise, so sharply 
 cut, had to be effectually imprinted on their minds, 
 before more knowledge was given to them ; as if, by the 
 long interval of years which passed before the more 
 varied prophecies in type and figure, after the manner of 
 the East, were added, the original notices might stand 
 out in the sight of all in their severe explicitness, as 
 archetypal truths, and guides in interpreting whatever 
 else was obscure in its wording or complex in its 
 direction. 
 
 And in the second place it is quite clear that the 
 Jews did thus understand their prophecies, and did 
 expect their great Ruler, in the very age in which our 
 Lord came, and in which they, on the other hand, were 
 destroyed, losing their old self without gaining their 
 new. Heathen historians shall speak for the fact. 
 " A persuasion had possession of most of them," says 
 Tacitus, speaking of their resistance to the Romans, 
 " that it was contained in the ancient books of the 
 priests that at that very time the East should prevail, 
 and that men who issued from Judea should obtain the 
 empire. The common people, as is the way with 
 human cupidity, having once interpreted in their own
 
 444 Inference and Assent in Religion. 
 
 favour this grand destiny, were not even by their 
 reverses brought round to the truth of facts." And 
 Suetonius extends the belief : — "The whole East was 
 rife with an old and persistent belief, that at that time 
 persons who issued from Judea, should possess the 
 empire." After the event of course the Jews drew 
 back, and denied the correctness of their expectation, 
 still they could not deny that the expectation had existed. 
 Thus the Jew Josephus, who was of the Koman party, 
 says that what encouraged them in the stand they made 
 against the Romans was " an ambiguous oracle, found 
 in their sacred writings, that at that date some one of 
 them from that country should rule the world." He 
 can but pronounce that the oracle was ambiguous ; he 
 cannot state that they thought it so. 
 
 Now, considering that at that very time our Lord did 
 appear as a teacher, and founded not merely a religion, 
 but (what was then quite a new idea in the world) a 
 system of religious warfare, an aggressive and militant 
 body, a dominant Catholic Church, which aimed at the 
 benefit of all nations by the spiritual conquest of all ; 
 and that this warfare, then begun by it, has gone on 
 without cessation down to this day, and now is as living 
 and real as ever it was ; that that militant body has 
 from the first filled the world, that it has had wonderful 
 successes, that its successes have on the whole been of 
 extreme benefit to the human race, that it has imparted 
 an intelligent notion about the Supreme God to millions 
 who would have lived and died in irreligion, that it has 
 raised the tone of morality wherever it has come, has 
 abolished great social anomalies and miseries, has elevated
 
 Revealed Religion. 445 
 
 the female sex to its proper dignity, has protected the 
 poorer classes, has destroyed slavery, encouraged litera- 
 ture and philosophy, and had a principal part in that 
 civilization of human kind, which, with some evils, has 
 still on the whole been productive of far greater good, — 
 considering, I say, that all this began at the destined, 
 expected, recognized season when the old prophecy said 
 that in one Man, born of the tribe of Judah, all the 
 tribes of the earth were to be blessed, — I feel I have a 
 right to say (and my line of argument does not lead me 
 to say more), that it is at the very least a remarkable 
 coincidence ; that is, one of those coincidences which, 
 when they are accumulated, come close upon the idea of 
 miracle, as being impossible without the Hand of God 
 directly and immediately in them. 
 
 When we have got as far as this, we may go on a 
 great deal farther. Announcements, which could not 
 be put forward in the front of the argument, as being 
 figurative, vague, or ambiguous, may be used validly and 
 with great effect, when they have been interpreted for 
 us, first by the prophetic outline, and still more by the 
 historical object. It is a principle which applies to all 
 matters on which we reason, that what is only a maze of 
 facts, without order or drift prior to the due explanation, 
 may, when we once have that explanation, be located 
 and adjusted with great facility in all its separate parts, 
 as we know is the case as regards the motions of the 
 heavenly bodies since the hypothesis of Newton. In 
 like manner the event is the true key to prophecy, and 
 reconciles conflicting and divergent descriptions by em- 
 bodying them in one common representative. Thus it
 
 446 Inference and Assent in Religion. 
 
 is that we learn how, as the prophecies said, the Messiah 
 could both suffer, yet be victorious; His kingdom be 
 Judaic in structure, yet evangelic in spirit; and His 
 people the children of Abraham, yet " sinners of the 
 Gentiles." These seeming paradoxes, are only parallel 
 and akin to those others which form so prominent a 
 feature in the teaching of our Lord and His Apostles. 
 As to the Jews, since they lived before the event, it is 
 not wonderful, that, though they were right in their 
 general interpretation of Scripture as far as it went, 
 they stopped short of the whole truth ; nay, that even 
 when their Messiah came, they could not recognize Him 
 as the promised King as we recognize Him now ; — for 
 we have the experience of His history for nearly two 
 thousand years, by which to interpret their Scriptures. 
 We may partly understand their position towards those 
 prophecies, by our own at present towards the Apocalypse. 
 Who can deny the superhuman grandeur and impressive- 
 ness of that sacred book ! yet, as a prophecy, though 
 some outlines of the f utureare discernible, how differently 
 it affects us from the predictions of Isaiah ! either 
 because it relates to undreamed-of events still to come, 
 or because it has been fulfilled long ago in events which 
 in their detail and circumstance have never become 
 history. And the same remark applies doubtless to 
 portions of the Messianic prophecies still ; but, if their 
 fulfilment has been thus gradual in time past, we must 
 not be surprised though portions of them still await 
 their slow but true accomplishment in the future.
 
 Revealed Religion. 447 
 
 8. 
 
 When I implied that in some points of view Chris- 
 tianity has not answered the expectations of the old 
 prophecies, of which it claims to be the fulfilment, I had 
 in mind principally the contrast which is presented to 
 us between the picture which they draw of the univer- 
 sality of the kingdom of the Messiah, and that partial 
 development of it through the world, which is all the 
 Christian Chui-ch can show ; and again the contrast 
 between the rest and peace which they said He was to 
 introduce, and the Church's actual history, — the conflicts 
 of opinion which have raged within its pale, the violent 
 acts and unworthy lives of many of its rulers, and the 
 moral degradation of great masses of its people. I do 
 not profess to meet these difficulties here, except by 
 saying that the failure of Christianity in one respect in 
 corresponding to those prophecies cannot destroy the 
 force of its correspondence to them in others; just as we 
 may allow that the portrait of a friend is a faulty 
 likeness to him, and yet be quite sure that it is his 
 portrait. What I shall actually attempt to show here 
 is this, — that Christianity was quite aware from the 
 first of its own prospective future, so unlike the ex- 
 pectations which the prophets would excite concerning 
 it, and that it meets the difficulty thence arising by 
 anticipation, by giving us its own predictions of what it 
 was to be in historical fact, predictions which are at once 
 explanatory comments upon the Jewish Scriptures, and 
 direct evidences of its own prescience. 
 
 I think it observable then, that, though our Lord
 
 44 8 Inference and Assent in Religion. 
 
 claims to be the Messiah, He shows so little of con- 
 scious dependence on the old Scriptures, or of anxiety to 
 fulfil them ; as if it became Him, who was the Lord of 
 the Prophets, to take His own course, and to leave their 
 utterances to adjust themselves to Him as they could, 
 and not to be careful to accommodate Himself to them. 
 The evangelists do indeed show some such natural zeal 
 in His behalf, and thereby illustrate what I notice in 
 Him by the contrast. They betray an earnestness to 
 trace in His Person and history the accomplishment of 
 prophecy, as when they discern it in His return from 
 Egypt, in His life at Nazareth, in the gentleness and 
 tenderness of His mode of teaching, and in the various 
 minute occurrences of His passion ; but He Himself 
 goes straight forward on His way, of course claiming to 
 be the Messiah of the Prophets, 9 still not so much 
 recurring to past prophecies, as uttering new ones, with 
 an antithesis not unlike that which is so impressive in 
 the Sermon on the Mount, when He first says, "It has 
 been said by them of old time," and then adds, " But I 
 say unto you." Another striking instance of this is seen 
 in the Names under which He spoke of Himself, which 
 have little or no foundation in any thing which was said 
 of Him beforehand in the Jewish Scriptures. They 
 speak of Him as Ruler, Prophet, King, Hope of Israel, 
 Offspring of Judah, and Messiah ; and His Evangelists 
 and Disciples call Him Master, Lord, Prophet, Son of 
 
 9 He appeals to the prophecies in evidence of His Divine mission, in 
 addressing the people of Nazareth (Luke iv. 18), St. John's disciples 
 (Matt. xi. 5), and the Pharisees (Matt. xxi. 42, and John v. 39), hut 
 not in details. The appeal to details He reserves for His disciples. Vide 
 Matt. xi. 10; xxvi. 21. 31. 51: Luke xxii. 37; xxiv. 27. 46.
 
 Revealed Religion. 449 
 
 David, King of Israel, King of the Jews, and Messiah 
 or Christ; but He Himself, though, I repeat, He 
 acknowledges these titles as His own, especially that of 
 the Christ, chooses as His special designations these two, 
 Son of God and Son of Man, the latter of which is only 
 once given Him in the Old Scriptures, and by which 
 He corrects any narrow Judaic interpretation of them ; 
 while the former was never distinctly used of Him 
 before He came, and seems first to have been announced 
 to the world by the Angel Gabriel and St. John the 
 Baptist. In those two Names, Son of God and Sou of 
 Man, declaratory of the two natures of Emmanuel, He 
 separates Himself from the Jewish Dispensation, in 
 which He was born, and inaugurates the New Covenant. 
 
 This is not an accident, and I shall now give some 
 instances of it, that is, of what I may call the indepen- 
 dent autocratic view which He takes of His own reli- 
 gion, into which the old Judaism was melting, and of 
 the prophetic insight into its spirit and its future which 
 that view involves. In quoting His own sayings 
 from the Evangelists for this purpose, I assume (of 
 which there is no reasonable doubt) that they wrote 
 before any historical events had happened of a nature to 
 cause them unconsciously to modify or to colour the 
 language which their Master used. 
 
 1 . First, then, the fact has been often insisted on as a 
 bold conception, unheard of before, and worthy of divine 
 origin, that He should even project a universal religion, 
 and that to be effected by what may be called a pro- 
 pagandist movement from one centre. Hitherto it had 
 been the received notion in the world, that each nation 
 
 G g
 
 450 Inference and Assent in Religion. 
 
 had its own gods. The Romans legislated upon that 
 basis, and the Jews had held it from the first, holding 
 of course also, that all gods but their own God were idols 
 and demons. It is true that the Jews ought to have been 
 taught by their prophecies what was in store for the world 
 and for them, and that their first dispersion through the 
 Empire centuries before Christ came, and the proselytes 
 which they collected around them in every place, were a 
 kind of comment on the prophecies larger than their 
 own ; but we see what was, in fact, when our Lord came, 
 their expectation from those prophecies, in the passages 
 which I have quoted above from the Roman historians of 
 His day. But He from the first resisted those plausible, 
 but mistaken interpretations of Scripture. In His cradle 
 indeed He had been recognized by the Eastern Sages as 
 their king ; the Angel announced that He was to reign 
 over the house of Jacob ; Nathanael, too, owned Him as 
 the Messiah with a regal title ; but He, on entering 
 upon His work, interpreted these anticipations in His 
 own way, and that not the way of Theudas and Judas of 
 Galilee, who took the sword, and collected soldiers about 
 them, — nor the way of the Tempter, who offered Him 
 " all the kingdoms of the world. " In the words of the 
 Evangelists, He began, not to fight, but " to preach ;" 
 and further, to " preach the kingdom of heaven," saying, 
 ,e The time is accomplished, and the kingdom of God is 
 at hand ; repent, and believe the Gospel." This is the 
 significant title, " the kingdom of heaven," — the more 
 significant, when explained by the attendant precept of 
 repentance and faith, — on which He founds the polity 
 which He was establishing from first to last. One of
 
 Revealed Religion. 45 1 
 
 His last sayings before He suffered was, " My kingdom 
 is not of this world." And His last words, before He 
 left the earth, when His disciples asked Him about His 
 kingdom, were that they, preachers as they were, and 
 not soldiers, should "be His witnesses to the end of 
 the earth, " should " preach to all nations, beginning 
 with Jerusalem," should " go into the world and preach 
 the Gospel to every creature," should " go and make dis- 
 ciples of all nations till the consummation of all things." 
 
 The last Evangelist of the four is equally precise in 
 recording the initial purpose with which our Lord began 
 His ministry, viz. to create an empire, not by force, but 
 by persuasion. "Light is come into the world: every 
 one that doth evil, hateth the light, but he that doth 
 truth, cometh to the light." " Lift up your eyes, and 
 see the countries, for they are white already to harvest." 
 "No man can come to Me, except the Father, who 
 hath sent Me, draw him." " And I, if I be lifted up 
 from the earth, will draw all things to Myself." 
 
 Thus, while the Jews, relying on their Scriptures 
 with great appearance of reason, looked for a deliverer 
 who should conquer with the sword, we find that Chris- 
 tianity, from the first, not by an after-thought upon 
 trial and experience, but as a fundamental truth, magis- 
 terially set right that mistake, transfiguring the old 
 prophecies, and bringing to light, as St. Paul might 
 say, " the mystery which had been hidden from ages 
 and generations, but now was made manifest in His 
 saints, the glory of this mystery among the Gentiles, 
 which is Christ in you," not simply over you, but in 
 you, by faith and love, " the hope of glory." 
 
 G g 2
 
 452 Inference and Assent in Religion. 
 
 2. I have partly anticipated uiy next remark, which 
 relates to the means by which the Christian enterprise 
 was to be carried into effect. That preaching was to 
 have a share in the victories of the Messiah was plain 
 from Prophet and Psalmist ; but then Charlemagne 
 preached, and Mahomet preached, with an army to 
 back them. The same Psalm which speaks of those 
 " who preach good tidings," speaks also of their King's 
 "foot being dipped in the blood of His enemies;" but 
 what is so grandly original in Christianity is, that on 
 its broad field of conflict its preachers were to be simply 
 unarmed, and to suffer, but to prevail. If we were not 
 so familiar with our Lord's words, I think they would 
 astonish us. " Behold, I send you as sheep in the midst 
 of wolves/' This was to be their normal state, and so 
 it was; and all the promises and directions given to 
 them imply it. " Blessed are they that suffer perse- 
 cution '" " blessed are ye when they revile you ;" " the 
 meek shall inherit the earth;" "resist not evil;" " you 
 shall be hated of all men for My Name's sake;" "a 
 man's enemies shall be they of his own household ;" 
 " he that shall persevere to the end, he shall be saved." 
 What sort of encouragement was this for men who were 
 to go about an immense work ? Do men in this way 
 send out their soldiers to battle, or their sons to India 
 or Australia? The King of Israel hated Micaiah, 
 because he always " prophesied of him evil." " So 
 persecuted they the Prophets that were before you," 
 says our Lord. Yes, and the Prophets failed; they 
 were persecuted and they lost the battle. " Take, my 
 brethren/' says St. James, " for an example of suffering
 
 Revealed Religion. 453 
 
 evil, of labour and patience, the Prophets, who spake in 
 the Name of the Lord." They were " racked, mocked, 
 stoned, cut asunder, they wandered about, — of whom 
 the world was not worthy/' says St. Paul. What au 
 argument to encourage them to aim at success by 
 suffering, to put before them the precedent of those 
 who suffered and who failed ! 
 
 Yet the first preachers, our Lord's immediate dis- 
 ciples, saw no difficulty in a prospect to human eyes 
 so appalling, so hopeless. How connatural this strange, 
 unreasoning, reckless courage was with their regenerate 
 state is shown most signally in St. Paul, as having been 
 a convert of later vocation. He was no personal asso- 
 ciate of our Lord's, yet how faithfully he echoes back 
 our Lord's language ! His instrument of conversion 
 is "the foolishness of preaching;''' "the weak things 
 of the earth confound the strong;" "we hunger and 
 thirst, and are naked, and are buffeted, and have no 
 home ;" " we are reviled and bless, we are persecuted, 
 and blasphemed, and are made the refuse of this world, 
 and the offscouring of all things." Such is the intimate 
 comprehension, on the part of one who had never seen 
 our Lord on earth, and knew little from His original 
 disciples of the genius of His teaching ; — and consider- 
 ing that the prophecies, upon which he had lived from 
 his birth, for the most part bear on their surface a 
 contrary doctrine, and that the Jews of that day did 
 commonly understand them in that contrary sense, we 
 cannot deny that Christianity, in tracing out the method 
 by which it was to prevail in the future, took its own, 
 independent line, and, in assigning from the first a rule
 
 454 Inference and Assent in Religion. 
 
 and a history to its propagation, a rule and a history 
 which have been carried out to this day, rescues itself 
 from the charge of but partially fulfilling those Jewish 
 prophecies, by the assumption of a prophetical character 
 of its own. 
 
 3. Now we come to a third point, in which the 
 Divine Master explains, and in a certain sense corrects, 
 the prophecies of the Old Covenant, by a more exact 
 interpretation of them from Himself. I have granted 
 that they seemed to say that His coming would issue 
 in a period of peace and religiousness. " Behold/'' says 
 the Prophet, "a king shall reign in justice, and princes 
 shall rule in judgment. The fool shall no more be 
 called prince, neither shall the deceitful be called great. 
 The wolf shall dwell with the lamb, and the leopard 
 lie down with the kid. They shall not hurt nor kill 
 in all My holy mountain, for the earth is filled with 
 the knowledge of the Lord, as the covering waters of 
 the sea." 
 
 These words seem to predict a reversal of the con- 
 sequences of the fall, and that reversal has not yet been 
 granted to us, it is true; but let us consider how dis- 
 tinctly Christianity warns us against any such anticipa- 
 tion. While it is so forcibly laid down in the Gospels 
 that the history of the kingdom of heaven begins in 
 suffering and sanctity, it is as plainly said that it results 
 in unfaithfulness and sin ; that is to say, that, though 
 there are at all times many holy,manyreligious men in it, 
 and though sanctity, as at the beginning, is ever the life 
 and the substance and the germinal seed of the Divine 
 Kingdom, yet there will ever be many too, there will be
 
 Revealed Religion . 455 
 
 more, who by their lives ai*e a scandal and injury to 
 it, not a defence. This again is an astonishing- an- 
 nouncement, and the more so when viewed in contrast 
 with the precepts delivered by our Lord in His Sermon 
 on the Mount, and His description to the Apostles of 
 their weapons and their warfare. So perplexing to 
 Christians was the fact when fulfilled, as it was in no 
 long time on a large scale, that three of the early here- 
 sies more or less originated in obstinate, unclmstian 
 refusal to readmit to the privileges of the Gospel those 
 who had fallen into sin. Yet our Lord's words are 
 express : He tells us that " Many are called, few are 
 chosen;" in the parable of the Marriage Feast, the 
 servants who are sent out gather together "all that they 
 found, both bad and good;" the foolish virgins " had 
 no oil in their vessels ;" amid the good seed an enemy 
 sows seed that is noxious or worthless ; and " the king- 
 dom is like to a net which gathered together all kind 
 of fishes •" and " at the end of the world the Angels 
 shall go forth, and shall separate the wicked from 
 among the just." 
 
 Moreover, He not only speaks of His religion as des- 
 tined to possess a wide temporal power, such, that, as 
 in the case of the Babylonian, " the birds of the air 
 should dwell in its branches/' but He opens on us the 
 prospect of ambition and rivalry in its leading mem- 
 bers, when He warns His disciples against desiring the 
 first places in His kingdom ; nay, of grosser sins, in 
 His description of the Ruler, who " began to strike his 
 fellow-servants, and to eat and drink and be drunken," 
 — passages which have an awful significance, consider-
 
 456 Inference and Assent in Religion. 
 
 ing what kind of men have before now been His chosen 
 representatives, and have sat in the chair of His 
 Apostles. 
 
 If then it be objected that Christianity does not, as 
 the old prophets seem to promise, abolish sin and irre- 
 ligion within its pale, we may answer, not only that it 
 did not engage to do so, but that actually in a pro- 
 phetical spirit it warned its followers against the 
 expectation of its so doing. 
 
 9. 
 
 According to our Lord's announcements before the 
 event, Christianity was to prevail and to become a great 
 empire, and to fill the earth ; but it was to accomplish 
 this destiny, not as other victorious powers had done, 
 and as the Jews expected, by force of arms or by other 
 means of this world, but by the novel expedient of 
 sanctity and suffering. If some aspiring party of this 
 day, the great Orleans family, or a branch of the Hohen- 
 zollern, wishing to found a kingdom, were to profess, as 
 their only weapon, the practice of virtue, they would 
 not startle us more than it startled a Jew eighteen 
 hundred years ago, to be told that his glorious Messiah 
 was not to fight, like Joshua or David, but simply to 
 preach. It is indeed a thought so strange, both in its 
 prediction and in its fulfilment, as urgently to suggest 
 to us that some Divine Power went with him who con- 
 ceived and proclaimed it. This is what I have been 
 saying ; — now I wish to consider the fact, which was 
 predicted, in itself, without reference to its being the 
 subject whether of a prediction or of a fulfilment ; that
 
 Revealed Religion. 457 
 
 is, the history of the rise and establishment of Chris- 
 tianity ; and to inquire whether it is a history that 
 admits of being resolved, by any philosophical ingenuity, 
 into the ordinary operation of moral, social, or political 
 causes. 
 
 As is well known, various writers have attempted to 
 assign human causes in explanation of the phenomenon : 
 Gibbon especially has mentioned five, viz. the zeal of 
 Christians, inherited from the Jews, their doctrine of a 
 future state, their claim to miraculous power, their vir- 
 tues, and their ecclesiastical organization. Let us briefly 
 consider them. 
 
 He thinks these five causes, when combined, will fairly 
 account for the event; but he has not thought of account- 
 ing for their combination. If they are ever so available 
 for his purpose, still that availableness arises out of their 
 coincidence, and out of what does that coincidence 
 arise ? Until this is explained, nothing is explained, 
 and the question had better have been let alone. 
 These presumed causes are quite distinct from each 
 other, and, I say, the wonder is, what made them 
 come together. How came a multitude of Gentiles 
 to be influenced with Jewish zeal ? How came zealots 
 to submit to a strict, ecclesiastical regime ? What con- 
 nexion has a secular regime with the immortality of the 
 soul? Why should immortality, a philosophical doctrine, 
 lead to belief in miracles, which is a superstition of the 
 vulgar ? What tendency had miracles and magic to 
 make men austerely virtuous ? Lastly, what power 
 was there in a code of virtue, as calm and enlightened 
 as that of Antoninus, to generate a zeal as fierce as that
 
 458 Inference and Assent in Religion. 
 
 of Maccabseus ? Wonderful events before now have 
 apparently been nothing but coincidences, certainly ; 
 but they do not become less wonderful by cataloguing 
 their constituent causes, unless we also show how these 
 came to be constituent. 
 
 However, this by the way; the real question is this, — 
 are these historical characteristics of Christianity, also in 
 matter of fact, historical causes of Christianity ? Has 
 Gibbon given proof that they are ? Has he brought 
 evidence of their operation, or does he simply conjecture 
 in his private judgment that they operated ? Whether 
 they were adapted to accomplish a certain work, is a 
 matter of opinion ; whether they did accomplish it is a 
 question of fact. He ought to adduce instances of 
 their efficiency before he has a right to say that they 
 are efficient. And the second question is, what is this 
 effect, of which they are to be considered as causes ? 
 It is no other than this, the conversion of bodies of 
 men to the Christian faith. Let us keep this in view. 
 We have to determine whether these five characteristics 
 of Christianity were efficient causes of bodies of men 
 becoming Christians ? I think they neither did effect 
 such conversions, nor were adapted to do so, and for 
 these reasons : — 
 
 1 . For first, as to zeal, by which Gibbon means party 
 spirit, or esprit de corps ; this doubtless is a motive 
 principle when men are already members of a body, but 
 does it operate in bringing them into it ? The Jews 
 were born in Judaism, they had a long and glorious 
 history, and would naturally feel and show esprit de 
 corps ; but how did party spirit tend to transplant Jew
 
 Revealed Religion. 459 
 
 or Gentile out of his own place into a new society, and 
 that a society which as yet scarcely was formed in a 
 society ? Zeal, certainly, may be felt for a cause, or 
 for a person ; on this point I shall speak presently ; but 
 Gibbon's idea of Christian zeal is nothing better than 
 the old wine of Judaism decanted into new Christian 
 bottles, and would be too flat a stimulant, even if it 
 admitted of such a transference, to be taken as a cause 
 of conversion to Christianity without definite evidence 
 in proof of the fact. Clmstians had zeal for Chris- 
 tianity after they were converted, not before. 
 
 2. Next, as to the doctrine of a future state. Gibbon 
 seems to mean by this doctrine the fear of hell; now 
 certainly in this day there are persons converted from 
 sin to a religious life, by vivid descriptions of the future 
 punishment of the wicked ; but then it must be recol- 
 lected that such persons already believe in the doctrine 
 thus urged upon them. On the contrary, give some 
 Tract upon hell-fire to one of the wild boys in a large 
 town, who has had no education, who has no faith ; and 
 instead of being startled by it, he will laugh at it as 
 something frightfully ridiculous. The belief in Styx 
 and Tartarus was dying out of the world at the time 
 that Christianity came in, as the parallel belief now seems 
 to be dying out in all classes of our own society. The 
 doctrine of eternal punishment does only anger the mul- 
 titude of men in our large towns now, and make them 
 blaspheme ; why should it have had any other effect on 
 the heathen populations in the age when our Lord came? 
 Yet it was among those populations, that He and His 
 made their way from the first. As to the hope of eternal
 
 460 Inference and Assent in Religion. 
 
 life, that doubtless, as well as the fear of hell, was a 
 most operative doctrine in the case of men who had been 
 actually converted, of Christians brought before the 
 magistrate, or writhing under torture, but the thought 
 of eternal glory does not keep bad men from a bad life 
 now, and why should it convert them then from their 
 pleasant sins, to a heavy, mortified, joyless existence, 
 to a life of ill-usage, fright, contempt, and desolation ? 
 
 3. That the claim to miracles should have any wide 
 influence in favour of Christianity among heathen popu- 
 lations, who had plenty of portents of their own, is an 
 opinion in curious contrast with the objection against 
 Christianity which has provoked an answer from Paley, 
 viz. that " Christian miracles are not recited or appealed 
 to, by early Christian writers themselves, so fully or so 
 frequently as might have been expected." Paley solves 
 the difficulty as far as it is a fact, by observing, as I 
 have suggested, that " it was their lot to contend with 
 magical agency, against which the mere production of 
 these facts was not sufficient for the convincing of their 
 adversaries :" " I do not know," he continues, "whether 
 they themselves thought it quite decisive of the contro- 
 versy." A claim to miraculous power on the part of 
 Christians, which was so unfrequent as to become now 
 an objection to the fact of their possessing it, can hardly 
 have been a principal cause of their success. 
 
 4. And how is it possible to imagine with Gibbon 
 that what he calls the " sober and domestic virtues " of 
 Christians, their " aversion to the luxury of the age," 
 their " chastity, temperance, and economy," that these 
 dull qualities were persuasives of a nature to win and
 
 Revealed Religion. 461 
 
 melt the hard heathen heart, in spite too of the dreary- 
 prospect of the barathrum, the amphitheatre, and the 
 stake ? Did the Christian moi-ality by its severe beauty 
 make a convert of Gibbon himself ? On the contrary, 
 he bitterly says, "It was not in this world that the 
 primitive Christians were desirous of makiug themselves 
 either agreeable or useful." " The virtue of the primi- 
 tive Christians, like that of the first Romans, was very 
 frequently guarded by poverty and ignorance/'' " Their 
 gloomy and austere aspect, their abhorrence of the 
 common business and pleasures of life, and their fre- 
 quent predictions of impending calamities, inspired the 
 Pagans with the apprehension of some danger which 
 would ai-ise from the new sect." Here we have not 
 only Gibbon hating their moral and social bearing, but 
 his heathen also. How then were those heathen over- 
 come by the amiableness of that which they viewed 
 with such disgust ? We have here plain proof that the 
 Christian character repelled the heathen ; where is the 
 evidence that it converted them ? 
 
 5. Lastly, as to the ecclesiastical organization, this, 
 doubtless, as time went on, was a special characteristic of 
 the new religion; but how could it directly contribute to 
 its extension ? Of course it gave it strength, but it did 
 not give it life. We are not born of bones and muscles. 
 It is one thing to make conquests, another to consolidate 
 an empire. It was before Constantine that Christians 
 made their great conquests. Rules are for settled times, 
 not for time of war. So much is this contrast felt in 
 the Catholic Church now, that, as is well known, in hea- 
 then countries and in countries which have thrown off
 
 462 Inference and Assent in Religion. 
 
 her yoke, she suspends her diocesan administration and 
 her Canon Law, and puts her children under the extra- 
 ordinary, extra-legal jurisdiction of Propaganda. 
 
 This is what I am led to say on Gibbon's Five Causes. 
 I do not deny that they might have operated now and 
 then ; Simon Magus came to Christianity in order to 
 learn the craft of miracles, and Peregrinus from love of 
 influence and power ; but Christianity made its way, 
 not by individual, but by broad, wholesale conversions, 
 and the question is, how they originated ? 
 
 It is very remarkable that it should not have oc- 
 curred to a man of Gibbon's sagacity to inquire, what 
 account the Christians themselves gave of the matter. 
 Would it not have been worth while for him to have let 
 conjecture alone, and to have looked for facts instead ? 
 Why did he not try the hypothesis of faith, hope, and 
 charity ? Did he never hear of repentance towards God, 
 and faith in Christ ? Did he not recollect the many words 
 of Apostles, Bishops, Apologists, Martyrs, all forming 
 one testimony ? No; such thoughts are close upon him, 
 and close upon the truth ; but he cannot sympathize 
 with them, he cannot believe in them, he cannot even 
 enter into them, because he needs the due formation for 
 such an exercise of mind. 1 Let us see whether the facts 
 of the case do not come out clear and unequivocal, if 
 we will but have the patience to endure them. 
 
 A Deliverer of the human race through the Jewish 
 
 nation had been promised from time immemorial. The 
 
 day came when He was to appear, and He was eagerly 
 
 expected ; moreover, One actually did make His appear- 
 
 1 Tide supra, pp. 341, 375, 413—416.
 
 Revealed Religion. 463 
 
 ance at that date in Palestine, and claimed to be He. 
 He left the earth without apparently doing much for 
 the object of His coming. But when He was gone, His 
 disciples took upon themselves to go forth to preach to 
 all parts of the earth with the object of preaching Him, 
 and collecting converts in His Name. After a little while 
 they are found wonderfully to have succeeded. Large 
 bodies of men in various places are to be seen, professing 
 to be His disciples, owning Him as their King, and 
 continually swelling in number and penetrating into 
 the populations of the Roman Empire; at length they 
 convert the Empire itself. All this is historical fact. 
 Now, we want to know the farther historical fact, viz. 
 the cause of their conversion ; in other words, what were 
 the topics of that preaching which was so effective ? If 
 we believe what is told us by the preachers and their 
 converts, the answer is plain. They " preached Christ ;" 
 they called on men to believe, hope, and place their 
 affections, in that Deliverer who had come and gone ; 
 and the moral instrument by which they persuaded them 
 to do so, was a description of the life, character, mission, 
 and power of that Deliverer, a promise of His invisible 
 Presence and Protection here, and of the Vision and 
 Fruition of Him hereafter. From first to last to 
 Christians, as to Abraham, He Himself is the centre 
 and fulness of the dispensation. They, as Abraham, 
 " see His day, and are glad." 
 
 A temporal soveieign makes himself felt by means of 
 his subordinate administrators, who bring his power and 
 will to bear upon every individual of his subjects who 
 personally know him not; the universal Deliverer, long
 
 464 Inference and Assent in Religion. 
 
 expected, when He came, He too, instead of making and 
 securing subjects by a visible graciousness or majesty, 
 departs ; — but is found, through His preachers, to have 
 imprinted the Image 2 or Idea of Himself in the minds of 
 His subjects individually ; and that Image, apprehended 
 and worshipped in individual minds, becomes a principle 
 of association, and a real bond of those subjects one 
 with another, who are thus united to the body by being 
 united to that Image ; and moreover that Image, which 
 is their moral life, when they have been already con- 
 verted, is also the original instrument of their conversion. 
 It is the Image of Him who fulfils the one great need 
 of human nature, the Healer of its wounds, the Physician 
 of the soul, this Image it is which both creates faith, 
 and then rewards it. 
 
 When we recognize this central Image as the vivify- 
 ing idea both of the Christian body and of individuals 
 in it, then, certainly, we are able to take into account 
 at least two of Gibbon's causes, as having, in connexion 
 with that idea, some influence both in making converts 
 and in strengthening them to persevere. It was the 
 Thought of Christ, not a corporate body or a doctrine, 
 which inspired that zeal which the historian so poorly 
 comprehends ; and it was the Thought of Christ which 
 gave a life to the promise of that eternity, which with- 
 out Him would be, in any soul, nothing short of an 
 intolerable burden. 
 
 Now a mental vision such as this, perhaps will be 
 called cloudy, fanciful, unintelligible ; that is, in other 
 words, miraculous. I think it is so. How, without 
 2 Vide supra, pp. 23—30 and 75—80.
 
 Revealed Religion. 465 
 
 the Hand of God, could a new idea, one and the same, 
 enter at once into myriads of men, women, and chil- 
 dren of all ranks, especially the lower, and have power 
 to wean them from their indulgences and sins, and to 
 nerve them against the most cruel tortures, and to last 
 in vigour as a sustaining influence for seven or eight 
 generations, till it founded an extended polity, broke 
 the obstinacy of the strongest and wisest government 
 which the world has ever seen, and forced its way from 
 its first caves and catacombs to the fulness of imperial 
 power ? 
 
 In considering this subject, I shall confine myself to 
 the proof, as far as my limits allow, of two points, — first, 
 that this Thought or Image of Christ was the principle 
 of conversion and of fellowship ; and next, that among 
 the lower classes, who had no power, influence, reputa- 
 tion, or education, lay its principal success. 3 
 
 As to the vivifying idea, this is St. Paul's account of 
 it : ' ' 1 make known to you the gospel which I preached 
 to you, which also you have received, and wherein you 
 stand ; by which also you are saved. For I delivered 
 to you first of all that which I also received, how that 
 Cln-ist died for our sins according to the Scriptures/' 
 &c, &c. "I am the least of the Apostles; but, whether 
 I or they, so we preached, and so you believed.'" " It 
 has pleased God by the foolishness of preaching to save 
 them that believe." " We preach Christ crucified." 
 
 3 Had my limits allowed it, I ought, as a third subject, to have de- 
 scribed the existing system of impure idolatry, and the wonderful 
 phenomenon of such multitudes, who had been slaves to it, escaping from 
 it by the power of Christianity,— under the guidance of the great work 
 ("On the Gentile and the Jew ") of Dr. Dollinger. 
 
 H h
 
 466 Inference arid Assent in Religion. 
 
 " I determined to know nothing among you, but Jesus 
 Christ, and Him crucified." " Your life is hid with 
 Christ in God. When Christ, who is your life, shall 
 appear, then you also shall appear with Him in glory." 
 " I live, but now not I, but Christ liveth in me." 
 
 St. Peter, who has been accounted the master of a 
 separate school, says the same : " Jesus Christ, whom 
 you have not seen, yet love ; in whom you now believe, 
 and shall rejoice." 
 
 And St. John, who is sometimes accounted a third 
 master in Christianity : " It hath not yet appeared what 
 we shall be ; but we know that, when He shall appear, 
 we shall be like to Him, because we shall see Him as 
 He is." 
 
 That their disciples followed them in this sovereign 
 devotion to an Invisible Lord, will appear as I proceed. 
 
 And next, as to the worldly position and character 
 of His disciples, our Lord, in the well-known passage, 
 returns thanks to His Heavenly Father "because," He 
 says, " Thou hast hid these things" — the mysteries of 
 His kingdom — "from the wise and prudent, and hast 
 revealed them to little ones." And, in accordance with 
 this announcement, St. Paul says that " not many wise 
 men according to the flesh, not many mighty, not many 
 noble," became Christians. He, indeed, is one of those 
 few ; so were others his contemporaries, and, as time 
 went on, the number of these exceptions increased, so 
 that converts were found, not a few, in the high places 
 of the Empire, and in the schools of philosophy and 
 learning; but still the rule held, that the great mass of 
 Christians were to be found in those classes which were
 
 Revealed Religion . 467 
 
 of no account in the world, whether on the score of 
 rank or of education. * 
 
 We all know this was the case with our Lord and His 
 Apostles. It seems almost irreverent to speak of their 
 temporal employments, when we are so simply accus- 
 tomed to consider them in their spiritual associations ; 
 but it is profitable to remind ourselves that our Lord 
 Himself was a sort of smith, and made ploughs and 
 cattle-yokes. Four Apostle3 were fishermen, one a 
 petty tax collector, two husbandmen, and another is 
 said to have been a market gardener. 4 When Peter and 
 John were brought before the Council, they are spoken 
 of as being, in a secular point of view, "illiterate men, 
 and of the lower sort," and thus they are spoken of in 
 a later age by the Fathers. 
 
 That their converts were of the same rank as them- 
 selves, is reported, in their favour or to their discredit, 
 by friends and enemies, for four centuries. " If a man 
 be educated/' says Celsus in mockery, " let him keep 
 clear of us Christians ; we want no men of wisdom, no 
 men of sense. We account all such as evil. No ; but, if 
 there be one who is inexperienced, or stupid, or untaught, 
 or a fool, let him come with good heart." " They are 
 weavers," he says elsewhere, " shoemakers, fullers, illi- 
 terate,clowns." "Fools, low-born fellows," saysTrypho. 
 "The greater part of you," says Cascilius, "are worn 
 with want, cold, toil, and famine; men collected from 
 the lowest dregs of the people ; ignorant, credulous 
 
 4 On the subjects which follow, vide Lami, De Eruditions Aposto- 
 lorum ; Mamachius, Origines Christ.; Ituinart, Act. Mart. ; Laruner, 
 Credibility, &c. ; Fleury, Eccles. Hist. ; Kortholt, Column. Pagan. ; and 
 I)e Morib. Christ., &.c. 
 
 H h 2
 
 468 Inference and Assent in Religion. 
 
 women ;" " unpolished, boors, illiterate, ignorant even 
 ofHhe sordid arts of life ; they do not understand even 
 civil matters, how can they understand divine ? " " They 
 have left their tongs, mallets, and anvils, to preach 
 about the things of heaven/' says Libanius. " They 
 deceive women, servants, and slaves," says Julian. The 
 author of Philopatris speaks of them as " poor creatures, 
 blocks, withered old fellows, men of downcast and pale 
 visages/' As to their religion, it had the reputation 
 popukxly, according to various Fathers, of being an 
 anile superstition, the discovery of old women, a joke, 
 a madness, an infatuation, an absurdity, a fanaticism. 
 
 The Fathers themselves confirm these statements, so 
 far as they relate to the insignificance and ignorance of 
 their brethren. Athenagoras speaks of the virtue of their 
 " ignorant men, mechanics, and old women." " They are 
 gathered/' says St. Jerome, " not from the Academy or 
 Lyceum, but from the low populace." " They are white- 
 smiths, servants, farm-labourers, woodmen, men of 
 sordid trades, beggars/' says Theodoret. "We are 
 engaged in the farm, in the market, at the baths, wine- 
 shops, stables, and fairs ; as seamen, as soldiers, as 
 peasants, as dealers," says Tertullian. How came such 
 men to be converted ? and, being converted, how came 
 such men to overturn the world ? Yet they went forth 
 from the first, " conquering and to conquer." 
 
 The first manifestation of their formidable numbers is 
 made just about the time when St. Peter and St. Paul 
 sulfered martyrdom, and was the cause of a terrible per- 
 secution. We have the account of it in Tacitus. "Nero," 
 ho s.'ivs, "to put an end to the common talk [that Home
 
 Revealed Religion. 469 
 
 had been set on fire by his order], imputed it to others, 
 visiting with a refinement of punishment those detestable 
 criminals who went by the name of Christians. The 
 author of that denomination was Christus, who had been 
 executed in Tiberius's time by the procurator, Pontius 
 Pilate. The pestilent superstition, checked for a while, 
 burst out again, not only throughout Judea, the first 
 seat of the evil, but even throughout Rome, the centre 
 both of confluence and outbreak of all that is atrocious 
 and disgraceful from every quarter. First were arrested 
 those who made no secret of their sect; and by this clue 
 a vast multitude of others, convicted not so much of 
 firing the city, as of hatred to the human race. Mockery 
 was added to death ; clad in skins of beasts, they were 
 torn to pieces by dogs ; they were nailed up to crosses ; 
 they were made inflammable, so that, when day failed, 
 they might serve as lights. Hence, guilty as they 
 were, and deserving of exemplary punishment, they 
 excited compassion, as being destroyed, not for the 
 public welfare, but from the cruelty of one man." 
 
 The two Apostles suffered, and a silence follows of a 
 whole generation. At the end of thirty or forty years, 
 Pliny, the friend of Trajan, as well as of Tacitus, is sent 
 as that Emperor's Proprastor into Bithynia, and is 
 startled and perplexed by the number, influence, and 
 pertinacity of the Christians whom he finds there, and 
 in the neighbouring province of Poutus. He has the 
 opportunity of being far more fair to them than his 
 friend the historian. He writes to Trajan to know 
 how he ought to deal with them, and I will quote some 
 portions of his letter.
 
 470 Inference and Assent in Religion. 
 
 He says he does not know how to proceed with them, 
 as their religion has not received toleration from the 
 state. He never was present at any trial of them ; he 
 doubted whether the children among them, as well as 
 grown people, ought to be accounted as culprits; whether 
 recantation would set matters right, or whether they 
 incurred punishment all the same ; whether they were 
 to be punished, merely because Christians, even though 
 no definite crime was proved against them. His way 
 had been to examine them, and put questions to them ; 
 if they confessed the charge, he gave them one or two 
 chances, threatening them with punishment; then, if 
 they persisted, he gave orders for their execution. 
 " For," he argues, " I felt no doubt that, whatever 
 might be the character of their opinions, stubborn and 
 inflexible obstinacy deserved punishment. Others 
 there were of a like infatuation, whom, being citizens, I 
 sent to Rome." 
 
 Some satisfied him ; they repeated after him an invo- 
 cation to the gods, and offered wine and incense to the 
 Emperor's image, and in addition, cursed the name of 
 Christ. " Accordingly," he says, " I let them go ; for 
 I am told nothing can compel a real Christian to do 
 any of these things." There were others, too, who 
 sacrificed ; who had been Christians, some of them for 
 as many as twenty years. 
 
 Then he is curious to know something more definite 
 about them. " This, the informers told me, was the 
 whole of their crime or mistake, that they were accus- 
 tomed to assemble on a stated day before dawn, and to 
 say together a hymn to Christ as a god, and to bind
 
 Revealed Religion. 4 7 1 
 
 themselves by an oath [sacramento] (not to any crime, 
 but on the contrary) to keep from theft, robbery, adul- 
 tery, breach of promise, and making free with deposits. 
 After this they used to separate, and then to meet again 
 for a meal, which was social and harmless. However, 
 they left even that off, after my Edict against their 
 meeting." 
 
 This information led him to put to the torture two 
 maid-servants, " who were called ministers," in order 
 to find out what was true, what was false in it ; but he 
 says he could make out nothing, except a depraved and 
 excessive superstition. This is what led him to consult 
 the Emperor, " especially because of the number who 
 were implicated in it ; for these are, or are likely to be, 
 many, of all ages, nay, of both sexes. For the con- 
 tagion of this superstition has spread, not only in the 
 cities, but about the villages and the open country/' 
 He adds that already there was some improvement. 
 " The almost forsaken temples begin to be filled again, 
 and the sacred solemnities after a long intermission are 
 revived. Victims, too, are again on sale, purchasers 
 having been most rare to find." 
 
 The salient points in this account are these, that, at 
 the end of one generation from the Apostles, nay, 
 almost in the lifetime of St. John, Christians had so 
 widely spread in a large district of Asia, as nearly to 
 suppress the Pagan religions there ; that they were 
 people of exemplary lives; that they had a name for 
 invincible fidelity to their religion ; that no threats or 
 sufferings could make them deny it ; and that their 
 only tangible characteristic was the worship of our Lord.
 
 472 Inference and Assent in Religion. 
 
 This was at the beginning of the second century ; 
 not a great many years after, we have another account 
 of the Christian body, from an anonymous Greek Chris- 
 tian, in a letter to a friend whom he was anxious to 
 convert. It is far too loug to quote, and difficult to 
 compress ; but a few sentences will show how strikingly 
 it agrees with the account of the heathen Pliny, espe- 
 cially in two points, — first, in the numbers of the 
 Christians, secondly, on devotion to our Lord as the 
 vivifying principle of their association. 
 
 " Christians," says the writer, " differ not from other 
 men in country, or speech, or customs. They do not 
 live in cities of their own, or speak in any peculiar 
 dialect, or adopt any strange modes of living. They 
 inhabit their native countries, but as sojour-ners ; they 
 take their part in all burdens, as if citizens, and in all 
 sufferings, as if they were strangers. In foreign coun- 
 tries they recognize a home, and in every home they 
 see a foreign country. They marry like other men, but 
 do not disown their children. They obey the established 
 laws, but they go beyond them in the tenor of their lives. 
 They love all men, and are persecuted by all ; they are 
 not known, and they are condemned ; they are poor, and 
 make many rich : they are dishonoured, yet in dishonour 
 they are glorified ; they are slandered, and they are 
 cleared ; they are called names, and they bless. By the 
 Jews they are assailed as aliens, by the Greeks they 
 are persecuted, nor can they who hate them say why. 
 
 " Christians are in the world, as the soul in the body. 
 The soul pervades the limbs of the body, and Christians 
 the cities of the world. The flesh hates the soul, and
 
 Revealed Religion. 473 
 
 wars against it, though suffering no wrong from it ; and 
 the world hates Christians. The soul loves the flesh 
 that hates it, and Christians love their enemies. Their 
 tradition is not an earthly invention, nor is it a mortal 
 thought which they so carefully guard, nor a dispensa- 
 tion of human mysteries which is committed to their 
 charge ; but God Himself, the Omnipotent and Invisible 
 Creator, has from heaven established among men His 
 Truth and His Word, the Holy and Incomprehensible, 
 and has deeply fixed the same in their hearts ; not, as 
 might be expected, sending any servant, angel, or prince, 
 or administrator of things earthly or heavenly, but the 
 very Artificer and Demiurge of the Universe. Him God 
 hath sent to man, not to inflict terror, but in clemency 
 and gentleness, as a King sending a King who was His 
 Son; He sent Him as God to men, to save them. He 
 hated not, nor rejected us, nor remembered our guilt, 
 but showed Himself long-suffering, and, in His own 
 words, bore our sins. He gave His own Son as a ran- 
 som for us, the just for the unjust. For what other 
 thing, except His Righteousness, could cover our guilt? 
 In whom was it possible for us, lawless sinners, to find 
 justification, save in the Son of God alone ? sweet 
 interchange ! heavenly workmanship past finding 
 out! benefits exceeding expectation ! Sending, then, 
 a Saviour, who is able to save those who of themselves 
 are incapable of salvation, He has willed that we should 
 regard Him as our Guardian, Father, Teacher, Counsellor, 
 Physician ; our Mind, Light, Honour, Glory, Strength, 
 and Life." 5 
 
 5 Ep. ad Diognet.
 
 474 Inference and Assent in Religion. 
 
 The writing from which I have been quoting is of the 
 early part of the second century. Twenty or thirty 
 years after it St. Justin Martyr speaks as strongly of 
 the spread of the new Religion : ' ' There is not any one 
 race of men/' he says, " barbarian or Greek, nay, of 
 those who live in waggons, or who ai*e Nomads, or 
 Shepherds in tents, among whom prayers and eucharists 
 are not offered to the Father and Maker of the Universe, 
 through the name of the crucified Jesus. " 
 
 Towards the end of the century, Clement : — " The 
 word of our Master did not remain in Judea, as philo- 
 sophy remained in Greece, but has been poured out 
 over the whole world, persuading Greeks and Barbarians 
 alike, race by race, village by village, every city, whole 
 houses, and hearers one by one, nay, not a few of the 
 philosophers themselves." 
 
 And Tertullian, at the very close of it, could in his 
 Ajwlogia even proceed to threaten the Roman Govern- 
 ment : — " We are a people of yesterday/' he says ; 
 li and yet we have filled every place belonging to you, 
 cities, islands, castles, towns, assemblies, your very 
 camp, your tribes, companies, palaces, senate, forum. 
 We leave you your temples only. We can count your 
 armies, and our numbers in a single province will be 
 greater. In what war with you should we not be 
 sufficient and ready, even though unequal in numbers, 
 who so willingly are put to death, if it were not in this 
 Religion of ours more lawful to be slain than to slay ?" 
 
 Once more, let us hear the great Origeu, in the 
 early part of the next century : — " In all Greece and 
 in all barbarous races within our world, there are tens
 
 Revealed Religion . 475 
 
 of thousands who have left their national laws and cus- 
 tomary gods for the law of Moses and the word of Jesus 
 Christ; though to adhere to that law is to incur the 
 hatred of idolaters, and the risk of death besides to 
 have embraced that word. And considering how, in 
 so few years, in spite of the attacks made on us, to 
 the loss of life or property, and with no great store 
 of teachers, the preaching of that word has found its 
 way into every part of the world, so that Greek and 
 barbarians, wise and unwise, adhere to the religion of 
 Jesus, doubtless it is a work greater than any work of 
 man." 
 
 We need no proof to assure us that this steady and 
 rapid growth of Christianity was a phenomenon which 
 startled its contemporaries, as much as it excites the 
 curiosity of philosophic historians now ; and they too 
 had their own ways then of accounting for it, different 
 indeed from Gibbon's, but quite as pertinent, though 
 less elaborate. These were principally two, both lead- 
 ing them to persecute it, — the obstinacy of the Chris- 
 tians and their magical powers, of which the former 
 was the explanation adopted by educated minds, and 
 the latter chiefly by the populace. 
 
 As to the former, from first to last, men in power 
 magisterially reprobate the senseless obstinacy of the 
 members of the new sect, as their characteristic offence. 
 Pliny, as we have seen, found it to be their only fault, 
 but one sufficient to merit capital punishment. The 
 Emperor Marcus seems to consider obstinacy the ulti- 
 mate motive-cause to which their unnatural conduct 
 was traceable. After speaking of the soul, as " ready,
 
 476 Inference and Assent in Religion. 
 
 if it must now be separated from the body, to be extin- 
 guished, or dissolved, or to remain with it •/' he adds, 
 " but the readiness must come of its own judgment, not 
 from simple perverseness, as in the case of Christians, 
 but with considerateness, with gravity, and without 
 theatrical effect, so as to be persuasive." And Diocletian, 
 in his Edict of persecution, professes it to be his 
 " earnest aim to punish the depraved persistence of 
 those most wicked men." 
 
 As to the latter charge, their founder, it was said, had 
 gained a knowledge of magic in Egypt, and had left 
 behind him in his sacred books the secrets of the art. 
 Suetonius himself speaks of them as " men of a magical 
 superstition;" and Celsus accuses them of "incantations 
 in the name of demons." The officer who had custody 
 of St. Perpetua, feared her escape from prison " by 
 magical incantations." When St. Tiburtius had walked 
 barefoot on hot coals, his judge cried out that Christ 
 had taught him magic. St. Anastasia was thrown into 
 prison as dealing in poisons ; the populace called out 
 against St. Agnes, " Away with the witch ! away 
 with the sorceress ! " When St. Bonosus and St. 
 Maximilian bore the burning pitch without shrink- 
 ing, Jews and heathen cried out, " Those wizards and 
 sorcerers ! " " What new delusion," says the magistrate 
 concerning St. Romanus, in the Hymn of Prudentius, 
 " has brought in these sophists who deny the worship 
 of the Gods ? how doth this chief sorcerer mock us, 
 skilled by his Thessalian charm to laugh at punish- 
 ment?" 6 
 
 6 Essay 011 Development of Doctrine, eh. iv. § 1.
 
 Revealed Religion . 477 
 
 It is indeed difficult to enter into the feelings of 
 irritation and fear, of contempt and amazement, which 
 were excited, whether in the town populace or in the 
 magistrates in the presence of conduct so novel, so un- 
 varying, so absolutely beyond their comprehension. 
 The very young and the very old, the child, the youth 
 in the heyday of his passions, the sober man of middle 
 age, maidens and mothers of families, boors and slaves 
 as well as philosophers and nobles, solitary confessors 
 and companies of men and women, — all these were seen 
 equally to defy the powers of darkness to do their worst. 
 In this strange encounter it became a point of honour 
 with the Roman to break the determination of his 
 victim, and it was the triumph of faith when his most 
 savage expedients for that purpose were found to be in 
 vain. The martyrs shrank from suffering like other 
 men, but such natural shrinking was incommensurable 
 with apostasy. No intensity of torture had any means 
 of affecting what was a mental conviction ; and the 
 sovereign Thought in which they had lived was their 
 adequate support and consolation in their death. To 
 them the prospect of wounds and loss of limbs was not 
 more terrible than it is to the combatant of this world. 
 They faced the implements of torture as the soldier 
 takes his post before the enemy's battery. They cheered 
 and ran forward to meet his attack,' and as it were 
 dared him, if he would, to destroy the numbers who 
 kept closing up the foremost rank, as their comrades 
 who had tilled it fell. And when Rome at last found 
 she had to deal with a host of Scasvolas, then the 
 proudest of earthly sovereignties, arrayed in the com-
 
 478 Inference and Assent in Religion. 
 
 pleteness of her material resources, humbled herself 
 before a power which was founded on a mere sense of 
 the unseen. 
 
 In the colloquy of the aged Ignatius, the disciple of 
 the Apostles, with the Emperor Trajan, we have a sort of 
 type of what went on for three, or rather four centuries. 
 He was sent all the way from Antioch to Rome to be 
 devoured by the beasts in the amphitheatre. As he 
 travelled, he wrote letters to various Christian Churches, 
 and among others to his Roman brethren, among whom 
 he was to suffer. Let us see whether, as I have said, the 
 Image of that Divine King, who had been promised from 
 the beginning, was not the living principle of his obstinate 
 resolve. The old man is almost fierce in his determina- 
 tion to be martyred. " May those beasts," he says to 
 his brethren, " be my gain, which are in readiness for 
 me ! I will provoke and coax them to devour me quickly, 
 and not to be afraid of me, as they are of some whom 
 they will not touch. Should they be unwilling, I will 
 compel them. Bear with me ; I know what is my gain. 
 Now I begin to be a disciple. Of nothing of things 
 visible or invisible am I ambitious, save to gain Christ. 
 "Whether it is fire or the cross, the assault of wild beasts, 
 the wrenching of my bones, the crunching of my limbs, 
 the crushing of my whole body, let the tortures of the 
 devil all assail me, if I do but gain Christ Jesus." Else- 
 where in the same Epistle he says, " I write to you, still 
 alive, but longing to die. My Love is crucified ! I have 
 no taste for perishable food. I long for God's Bread, 
 heavenly Bread, Bread of life, which is Flesh of Jesus 
 Christ, the Son of God. I long for God's draught, His
 
 Revealed Religion. 479 
 
 Blood, which is Love without corruption, and Life for 
 evermore." It is said that, when he came into the 
 presence of Trajan, the latter cried out, " Who are you, 
 poor devil, who are so eager to transgress our rules V 3 
 "That is no name/' he answered, "for Theophorus." 
 " Who is Theophorus ?" asked the Emperor. " He who 
 bears Christ in his breast/' In the Apostle's words, 
 already cited, he had "Christ in him, the hope of glory." 
 All this may be called enthusiasm ; but enthusiasm 
 affords a much more adequate explanation of the con- 
 fessorship of an old man, than do Gibbon's five reasons. 
 
 Instances of the same ardent spirit, and of the living 
 faith on which it was founded, are to be found wherever 
 we open the Acta Marty rum. In the outbreak at Smyrna, 
 in the middle of the second century, amid tortures which, 
 even moved the heathen bystanders to compassion, 
 the sufferers were conspicuous for their serene calmness. 
 " They made it evident to us all," says the Epistle of 
 the Church, " that in the midst of those sufferings 
 they were absent from the body, or rather, that the 
 Lord stood by them, and walked in the midst of them." 
 
 At that time Poly carp, the familiar friend of St. John, 
 and a contemporary of Ignatius, suffered in his extreme 
 old age. When, before his sentence, the Proconsul 
 bade him " swear by the fortunes of Caesar, and have 
 done with Christ," his answer betrayed that intimate 
 devotion to the self-same Idea, which had been the 
 inward life of Ignatius. " Eighty and six years," he 
 answered, " have I been His servant, and He has never 
 wronged me, but ever has preserved me ; and how can 
 I blaspheme my King and my Saviour ? " When they
 
 480 Inference and Assent i7i Religion. 
 
 would have fastened him to the stake, he said, " Let 
 alone ; He who gives me to bear the fire, will give me 
 also to stand firm upon the pyre without your nails. " 
 
 Christians felt it as an acceptable service to Him who 
 loved them, to confess with courage and to suffer with 
 dignity. In this chivalrous spirit, as it may be called, 
 they met the words and deeds of their persecutors, as 
 the children of men return bitterness for bitterness, and 
 blow for blow. " What soldier," says Minucius, with a 
 reference to the invisible Presence of our Lord, " does 
 not challenge danger more daringly under the eye of 
 his commander ? " In that same outbreak at Smyrna, 
 when the Proconsul urged the young Grermanicus to 
 have mercy on himself and on his youth, to the astonish- 
 ment of the populace he provoked a wild beast to fall 
 upon him. In like manner, St. Justin tells us of Lucius, 
 who, when he saw a Christian sent off to suffer, at once 
 remonstrated sharply with the judge, and was sent off 
 to execution with him ; and then another presented 
 himself, and was sent off also. When the Christians 
 were thrown into prison, in the fierce persecution at 
 Lyons, Vettius Epagathus, a youth of distinction who 
 had given himself to an ascetic life, could not bear the 
 sight of the sufferings of his brethren, and asked leave 
 to plead their cause. The only answer he got was to 
 be sent off the first to die. W r hat the contemporary 
 account sees in his conduct is, not that he was zealous 
 for his brethren, though zealous he was, nor that he 
 believed in miracles, though he doubtless did believe ; 
 but that he " was a gracious disciple of Christ, following 
 the Lamb whithersoever He went."
 
 Revealed Religion. 48 1 
 
 In that memorable persecution, when Blandina, a 
 slave, was seized for confessorship, her mistress and her 
 fellow- Christians dreaded lest, from her delicate make, 
 she should give way under the torments ; but she even 
 tired out her tormentors . It was a refreshment and relief 
 to her to cry out amid her pains, " I am a Christian." 
 They remanded her to prison, and then brought her out 
 for fresh suffering a second day and a third. On the 
 last day she saw a boy of fifteen brought into the am- 
 phitheatre for death ; she feared for him, as others had 
 feared for her ; but he too went through his trial gene- 
 rously, and went to God before her. Her last sufferings 
 were to be placed in the notorious red-hot chair, and 
 then to be exposed in a net to a wild bull ; they finished 
 by cutting her throat. Sanctus, too., when the burning 
 plates of brass were placed on his limbs, all through his 
 torments did but say, "I am a Clmstian," and stood 
 erect and firm, " bathed and strengthened," say his 
 brethren who write the account, " in the heavenly well 
 of living water which flows from the breast of Christ," 
 or, as they say elsewhere of all the martyrs, "refreshed 
 with the joy of martyrdom, the hope of blessedness, love 
 towards Christ, and the spirit of God the Father.'" 
 How clearly do we see all through this narrative what 
 it was which nerved them for the combat ! If they love 
 their brethren, it is in the fellowship of their Lord ; if 
 they look for heaven, it is because He is the Light of it. 
 
 Epipodius, a youth of gentle nurture, when struck by 
 the Prefect on the mouth, while blood flowed from it, 
 cried out, " I confess that Jesus Christ is God, together 
 with the Father and the Holy Ghost." Symphorian, of 
 
 1 i
 
 482 Inference and Assent in Religion. 
 
 Autun, also a youth, and of noble birth, when told to 
 adore an idol, answered, " Give me leave, and I will 
 hammer it to pieces." When Leonidas, the father of the 
 young- Origen, was in prison for his faith, the boy, then 
 seventeen, burned to share his martyrdom, and his mother 
 had to hide his clothes to prevent him from executing 
 his purpose. Afterwards he attended the confessors in 
 prison, stood by them at the tribunal, and gave them 
 the kiss of peace when they were led out to suffer, and 
 this, in spite of being several times apprehended and put 
 upon the rack. Also in Alexandria, the beautiful slave, 
 Potamiaena, when about to be stripped in order to be 
 thrown into the cauldron of hot pitch, said to the Pre- 
 fect, " I pray you rather let me be dipped down slowly 
 into it with my clothes on, and you shall see with what 
 patience I am gifted by Him of whom you are ignorant, 
 Jesus Christ." When the populace in the same city 
 had beaten out the aged Apollonia's teeth, and lit a 
 fire to burn her, unless she would blaspheme, she 
 leaped into the fire herself, and so gained her crown. 
 When Sixtus, Bishop of Rome, was led to martyrdom, 
 his deacon, Laurence, followed him weeping and com- 
 plaining, " my father, whither goest thou without 
 thy son ? ' And when his own turn came, three days 
 afterwards, and he was put upon the gridiron, after a 
 while he said to the Prefect, " Turn me ; this side is 
 done." Whence came this tremendous spirit, scaring, 
 nay, offending, the fastidious criticism of our delicate 
 days ? Does Gibbon think to sound the depths of the 
 eternal ocean with the tape and measuring-rod of his 
 merely literary philosophy ?
 
 Revealed Religion. 483 
 
 When Barulas, a child of seven years old, was 
 scourged to blood for repeating his catechism before 
 the heathen judge — viz. " There is but one God, and 
 Jesus Christ is true God" — his mother encouraged 
 him to persevere, chiding him for asking for some 
 drink. At Merida, a girl of noble family, of the age of 
 twelve, presented herself before the tribunal, and over- 
 turned the idols. She was scourged and burned with 
 torches ; she neither shed a tear, nor showed other 
 signs of suffering. When the fire reached her face, 
 she opened her mouth to receive it, and was suffocated. 
 At Caesarea, a girl, under eighteen, went boldly to ask 
 the prayers of some Christians who were in chains 
 before the Prsetorium. She was seized at once, and 
 her sides torn open with the iron rakes, preserving 
 the while a bright and joyous countenance. Peter, 
 Dorotheus, Gorgonius, were boys of the imperial bed- 
 chamber ; they were highly in favour with their masters, 
 and were Christians. They too suffered dreadful tor- 
 ments, dying under them, without a shadow of waver- 
 ing. Call such conduct madness, if you will, or magic : 
 but do not mock us by ascribing it in such mere chil- 
 dren to simple desire of immortality, or to any eccle- 
 siastical organization. 
 
 When the persecution raged in Asia, a vast multitude 
 of Christians presented themselves before the Proconsul, 
 challenging him to proceed against them. " Poor 
 wretches ! " half in contempt and half in affright, he 
 answered, " if you must die, cannot you find ropes or 
 precipices for the purpose ? " At Utica, a hundred and 
 fifty Christians of both sexes and all ages were martyrs 
 
 1 i 2
 
 484 Inference and Assent in Religion. 
 
 in one company. They are said to have been told to 
 burn incense to an idol, or they should be thrown into 
 a pit of burning lime ; they without hesitation leapt 
 into it. In Egypt a hundred and twenty confessors, 
 after having sustained the loss of eyes or of feet, en- 
 dured to linger out their lives in the mines of Palestine 
 and Cilicia. In the last persecution, according to the 
 testimony of the grave Eusebius, a contemporary, the 
 slaughter of men,, women, and children, went on by 
 twenties, sixties, hundreds, till the instruments of exe- 
 cution were worn out, and the executioners could kill 
 no more. Yet he tells us, as an eye-witness, that, as 
 soon as any Christians were condemned, others ran 
 from all parts, and surrounded the tribunals, confessing 
 the faith, and joyfully receiving their condemnation, 
 and singing songs of thanksgiving and triumph to the 
 last. 
 
 Thus was the Eoman power overcome. Thus did 
 the Seed of Abraham, and the Expectation of the 
 Gentiles, the meek Son of man, " take to Himself His 
 great power and reign " in the hearts of His people, in 
 the public theatre of the world. The mode in which 
 the primeval prophecy was fulfilled is as marvellous, as 
 the prophecy itself is clear and bold. 
 
 " So may all Thy enemies perish, Lord ; but let 
 them that love Thee shine, as the sun shineth in his 
 rising ! " 
 
 I will add the memorable words of the two great 
 Apologists of the period : —
 
 Revealed Religion. 485 
 
 " Your cruelty/' says Tertullian, " though each act 
 be more refined than the last, doth profit you nothing. 
 To our sect it is rather an inducement. We grow up 
 in greater numbers, as often as you cut us down. The 
 blood of the martyrs is their seed for the harvest/' 
 
 Origen even uses the language of prophecy. To the 
 objection of Celsus that Christianity from its principles 
 would, if let alone, open the whole empire to the irruption 
 of the barbarians, and the utter ruin of civilization, he 
 replies, " If all Romans are such as we, then too the 
 barbarians will draw near to the Word of God, and will 
 become the most observant of the Law. And every 
 worship shall come to nought, and that of the Christians 
 alone obtain the mastery, for the Word is continually 
 gaining possession of more and more souls.'" 
 
 One additional remark : — It was fitting that those 
 mixed unlettered multitudes, who for three centuries 
 had suffered and triumphed by virtue of the inward 
 Yision of their Divine Lord, should be selected, as we 
 know they were, in the fourth, to be the special champions 
 of His Divinity and the victorious foes of its impugners, 
 at a time when the civil power, which had found them 
 too strong for its arms, attempted, by means of a por- 
 tentous heresy in the high places of the Church, to rob 
 them of that Truth which had all along been the prin- 
 ciple of their strength. 
 
 10. 
 
 I have been forestalling all along the thought with 
 which I shall close these considerations on the subject 
 of Christianity ; and necessarily forestalling it, because
 
 486 Inference and Assent in Religion. 
 
 it properly comes first, though the course which my 
 argument has taken has not allowed me to introduce it 
 in its natural place. Revelation begins where Natural 
 Religion fails. The Religion of Nature is a mere 
 inchoation, and needs a complement, — it can have but 
 one complement, and that very complement is Chris- 
 tianity. 
 
 Natural Religion is based upon the sense of sin ; it 
 recognizes the disease, but it cannot find, it does but look 
 out for the remedy. That remedy, both for guilt and for 
 moral impotence, is found in the central doctrine of Re- 
 velation, the Mediation of Christ. I need not go into 
 a subject so familiar to all men in a Christian country. 
 
 Thus it is that Christianity is the fulfilment of the 
 promise made to Abraham, and of the Mosaic revelations ; 
 this is how it has been able from the first to occupy the 
 world and gain a hold on every class of human society 
 to which its preachers reached; this is why the Roman 
 power and the multitude of religions which it embraced 
 could not stand against it ; this is the secret of its sus- 
 tained energy, and its never-flagging martyrdoms ; this 
 is how at present it is so mysteriously potent, in spite of 
 the new and fearful adversaries which beset its path. It 
 has with it that gift of staunching and healing the one 
 deep wound of human nature, which avails more for its 
 success than a full encyclopedia of scientific knowledge 
 and a whole library of controversy, and therefore it must 
 last while human nature lasts. It is a living truth which 
 never can grow old. 
 
 Some persons speak of it as if it were a thing of his- 
 tory, with only indirect bearings upon modern times ; I
 
 Revealed Religion. 487 
 
 cannot allow that it is a mere historical religion. Cer- 
 tainly it has its foundations in past and glorious 
 memories, but its power is in the present. It is no 
 dreary matter of antiquarianisni ; we do not contemplate 
 it in conclusions di'awn from dumb documents and dead 
 events, but bj' faith exercised in ever-living objects, and 
 by the appropriation and use of ever-recurring gifts. 
 
 Our communion with it is in the unseen, not in tbe 
 obsolete. At this very day its rites and ordinances are 
 continually eliciting the active interposition of that Om- 
 nipotence in which the Eeligion long ago began. First 
 and above all is the Holy Mass, in which He who once 
 died for us upon the Cross, brings back and perpetuates, 
 by His literal presence in it, that one aud the same 
 sacrifice which cannot be repeated. Next, there is the 
 actual entrance of Himself, soul and body, and divinity, 
 into the soul and body of every worshipper who comes 
 to Him for the gift, a privilege more intimate than if we 
 lived with Him during His long-past sojourn upon eai-th. 
 And then, moreover, there is His personal abidance in 
 our churches, raising earthly service into a foretaste of 
 heaven. Such is the profession of Christianity, and, I 
 repeat, its very divination of our needs is in itself a proof 
 that it is really the supply of them. 
 
 Upon the doctrines which I have mentioned as central 
 truths, others, as we all know, follow, which rule our per- 
 sonal conduct and course of life, and our social and civil 
 relations. The promised Deliverer, the Expectation of 
 the nations, has not done His woi-k by halves. He 
 has given us Saints and Angels for our protection. He 
 has taught us how by our prayers and services to bene-
 
 488 Inference and Assent in Religion. 
 
 fit our departed friends, and to keep up a memorial of 
 ourselves when we are gone. He has created a visible 
 hierarchy and a succession of sacraments, to be the 
 channels of His mercies, and the Crucifix secures the 
 thought of Him in every house and chamber. In all 
 these ways He brings Himself before us. I am not 
 here speaking of His gifts as gifts, but as memorials; 
 not as what Christians know they convey, but in their 
 visible character ; and I say, that, as human nature itself 
 is still in life and action as much as ever it was, so He 
 too lives, to our imaginations, by His visible symbols, 
 as if He were on earth, with a practical efficacy which 
 even unbelievers cannot deny, so as to be the corrective 
 of that nature, and its strength day by day, — and that 
 this power of perpetuating His Image, being altogether 
 singular and special, and the prerogative of Him and 
 Him alone, is a grand evidence how well He fulfils to 
 this day that Sovereign Mission which, from the first 
 beginning of the world's history, has been in prophecy 
 assigned to Him. 
 
 I cannot better illustrate this argument than by re- 
 curring to a deep thought on the subject of Christianity, 
 which has before now attracted the notice of philosophers 
 and preachers 7 , as coming from the wonderful man who 
 swayed the destinies of Europe in the first years of this 
 century. It was an argument not unnatural in one who 
 had that special passion for human glory, which has 
 been the incentive of so mauy heroic careers and of so 
 many mighty revolutions in the history of the world. 
 In the solitude of his imprisonment, and in the view of 
 T- Fr. Lacordairo and M. Nicolas.
 
 Revea led Religion . 489 
 
 death, he is said to have expressed himself to the 
 following effect : — 
 
 " I have been accustomed to put before me the 
 examples of Alexander and Cassar, with the hope of 
 rivalling' their exploits, and living in the minds of men 
 for ever. Yet, after all, in what sense does Cassar, in what 
 sense does Alexander live ? Who knows or cares any- 
 thing about them ? At best, nothing but their names is 
 known ; for who among the multitude of men, who hear 
 or who utter their names, really knows anything about 
 their lives or their deeds, or attaches to those names 
 any definite idea ? Nay, even their names do but flit up 
 and down the world like ghosts, mentioned only on 
 particular occasions, or from accidental associations. 
 Their chief home is the schoolroom ; they have a fore- 
 most place in boys' grammars and exercise-books ; they 
 are splendid examples for themes ; they form writing- 
 copies. So low is heroic Alexander fallen, so low is 
 imperial Ceesar, f ut pueris placeant et declamatio fiant.' 
 
 " But, on the contrary " (he is reported to have con- 
 tinued), "there is just One Name in the whole world 
 that lives; it is the Name of One who passed His 
 years in obscurity, and who died a malefactor's death. 
 Eighteen hundred years have gone since that time, 
 but still it has its hold upon the human mind. It 
 has possessed the world, and it maintains possession. 
 Amid the most varied nations, under the most diver- 
 sified circumstances, in the most cultivated, in the 
 rudest races and intellects, in all classes of society, the 
 Owner of that great Name reigns. High and low, rich 
 and poor, acknowledge Him. Millions of souls are con-
 
 490 Inference and Assent in Religion. 
 
 versing with Him, are venturing on His word, are look- 
 ing for His presence. Palaces, sumptuous, innumerable, 
 are raised to His honour ; His image, as in the hour of 
 His deepest humiliation, is triumphantly displayed in 
 the proud city, in the open country, in the corners of 
 streets, on the tops of mountains. It sanctifies the an- 
 cestral hall, the closet, and the bedchamber ; it is the 
 subject for the exercise of the highest genius in the 
 imitative arts. It is worn next the heart in life ; it is 
 held before the failing eyes in death. Here, then, is One 
 who is not a mere name, who is not a mere fiction, who 
 is a reality. He is dead and gone, but still He lives, — 
 lives as the living, energetic thought of successive 
 generations, as the awful motive-power of a thousand 
 great events. He has done without effort what others 
 with life-long struggles have not done. Can He be 
 less than Divine ? Who is He but the Creator Himself ; 
 who is sovereign over His own works, towards whom 
 our eyes and hearts turn instinctively, because He is 
 our Father and our God ? " 8 
 
 Here I end my specimens, among the many which 
 might be given, of the arguments adducible for Chris- 
 tianity. I have dwelt upon them, in order to show how 
 I would apply the principles of this Essay to the proof 
 of its divine origin. Christianity is addressed, both as 
 regards its evidences and its contents, to minds which 
 are in the normal condition of human nature, as be- 
 lieving in God and in a future judgment. Such minds 
 it addresses both through the intellect and through the 
 imagination ; creating a certitude of its truth by argu- 
 8 Oceas. Serin., pp. 49 — 51.
 
 Revealed Religion. 49 1 
 
 merits too various for enumeration, too personal and 
 deep for words, too powerful and concurrent for re- 
 futation. Nor need reason come first and faith second 
 (though this is the logical order), but one and the same 
 teaching is in different aspects both object and proof, 
 and elicits one complex act both of inference and of 
 assent. It speaks to us one by one, and it is received 
 by us one by one, as the counterpart, so to say, of our- 
 selves, and is real as we are real. 
 
 In the sacred words of its Divine Author and Object 
 concerning Himself, "I am the Good Shepherd, and I 
 know Mine, and Mine know Me. My sheep hear My 
 voice, and I know them, and they follow Me. And I 
 give them everlasting life, and they shall never perish ; 
 and no man shall pluck them out of My hand."
 
 NOTE I. 
 
 1. On the first publication of this volume, a Correspondent did 
 me the favour of marking for me a list of passages in Chilling- 
 worth's celebrated work, besides that which I had myself quoted, 
 in which the argument was more or less brought forward, on 
 which I have animadverted in ch. vii. § 2, p. 226. He did this 
 with the purpose of showing, that Chillingworth's meaning, when 
 carefully inquired into, would be found to be in substantial 
 agreement with the distinction I had myself made between in- 
 fallibility and certitude ; those inaccuracies of language into which 
 he fell, being necessarily involved in the argumentum ad Tiominem, 
 which he was urging upon his opponent, or being the accidental 
 result of the peculiar character of his intellect, which, while full 
 of ideas, was wanting in the calmness and caution which are con- 
 spicuous in Bishop Butler. Others more familiar with Chilling- 
 worth than I am must decide on this point ; but I can have no 
 indisposition to accept an explanation, which deprives controver- 
 sialists of this day of the authority of a vigorous and acute mind in 
 their use of an argument, which is certainly founded on a great 
 confusion of thought. 
 
 I subjoin the references with which my Correspondent has supplied 
 me : — - 
 
 (1.) Passages tending to show an agreement of Chillingworth's 
 opinion on the distinction between certitude and infallibility 
 with that laid down in the foregoing essay : — 
 
 1. " Religion of Protestants," ch. ii. § 121 (vol. i. p. 243, 
 
 Oxf. ed. 1838), " For may not a private man," &c. 
 
 2. Ibid. § 152 (p. 205). The last sentence, however, after 
 
 " when they thought they dreamt," is a fall into the 
 error which he had been exposing. 
 
 3. Ibid. § 160 (p. 275). 
 
 4. Ch. iii. § 26 (p. 332), " Neither is your argument," &c.
 
 494 Note I. 
 
 5. Ibid. § 36 (p. 346). 
 
 6. Ibid. § 50 (p. 363), " That Abraham," &c. 
 
 7. Ch. v. § 63 (vol. ii. p. 215). 
 
 8. Ibid. § 107 (p. 265). 
 
 9. Ch. vii. § 13 (p. 452). 
 
 Vide also vol. i. pp. 115, 121, 196, 236, 242, 411. 
 (2.) Passages inconsistent with the above : — 
 
 1. Ch. ii. § 25 (vol. i. p. 177). An argumentum ad hominem. 
 
 2. Ibid. § 28 (p. 180). 
 
 3. Ibid. § 45 (p. 189). An argumentum ad hominem. 
 
 4. Ibid. § 149 (p. 263). An argumentum ad hominem. 
 
 5. Ibid. § 154 (p. 267). Quoted in the text, p. 226. 
 
 6. Ch. v. § 45 (vol. ii. p. 391). He is arguing on his 
 
 opponent's principles. 
 
 2. Also, I have to express my obligation to another Corre- 
 spondent, who called my attention to a passage of Hooker 
 ("Eccles. Pol." ii. 7) beginning "An earnest desire," &c, which 
 seemed to anticipate the doctrine of Locke about certitude. It 
 is so difficult to be sure of the meaning of a writer whose style 
 is so foreign to that of our own times, that I am shy of attempting 
 to turn this passage into categorical statements. Else, I should 
 ask, does not Hooker here assume the absolute certainty of the 
 inspiration and divine authority of Scripture, and believe its 
 teaching as the very truth unconditionally and without any 
 admixture of doubt ? Yet what had he but probable evidence as 
 a warrant for such a view of it? Again, did he receive the 
 Athanasian Creed on any logical demonstration that its articles 
 were in Scripture ? Yet he felt himself able without any mis- 
 giving to say aloud in the congregation, "Which faith except every 
 one do keep whole and undefiled, without doubt he shall perish 
 everlastingly." In truth it is the happy inconsistency of his school 
 to be more orthodox in their conclusions than in their premisses ; 
 to be sceptics in their paper theories, and believers in their own 
 persons. 
 
 3. Also, a friend sends me word, as regards the controversy on 
 the various readings of Shakespeare to which I have referred 
 (supra, ch. viii. § 1, p. 271) in illustration of the shortcomings of 
 Formal Inference, that, since the date of the article in the magazine, 
 of which I have there availed nryself, the verdict of critics has been 
 unfavourable to the authority and value of the Annotated Copy, 
 discovered twenty years ago. I may add, that, since my first edition,
 
 Note II. 495 
 
 T have had the pleasure of reading Dr. Ingleby's interesting disser- 
 tation on the " Traces of the Authorship of the Works attributed to 
 Shakespeare." 
 
 NOTE II. 
 
 December, 1880. 
 
 As I am sending the last pages of the New Edition of this Essay 
 to the press, I avail myself of an opportunity which its subject 
 makes apposite, to explain a misunderstanding, as appearing in a 
 London daily print, of a statement of mine used in controversy, 
 which has elicited within the last few days a prompt and effective 
 defence from the kind zeal of Mr. Lilly. I should not think it 
 necessary to make any addition to what he has said so well, except 
 that it may be expected that what is a great mistake concerning me 
 should be set right under my own hand and in my own words. 
 
 It has been said of me that " Cardinal Newman has confined his 
 defence of his own creed to the proposition that it is the only 
 possible alternative to Atheism.'' I understand this to mean, that 
 I have given up, both in my religious convictions and my controver- 
 sial efforts, any thought of bringing arguments from reason to 
 bear upon the question of the truth of the Catholic faith, and that 
 I do but rely upon the threat and the consequent scai-e, that, unless 
 a man be a Catholic he ought to be an Atheist. And I consider it 
 to be said, not only that I use no argument in controversy in behalf 
 of my creed besides the threat of atheism as its alternative ; but 
 also that I have not even attempted to prove by argument the 
 reasonableness of that threat. 
 
 Now, what do I hold, and what do I not hold ? The present 
 volume supplies an answer to this question. From beginning to 
 end it is full of arguments, of which the scope is the truth of the 
 Catholic religion, yet no one of them introduces or depends upon 
 the alternative of Catholicity or Atheism ; how, then, can it be said 
 that that alternative is the only defence that I have proposed for my 
 creed ? The Essay begins with refuting the fallacies of those who 
 say that we cannot believe what we cannot understand. No appeal to 
 the argument from Atheism here. Incidentally and obiter reasons
 
 496 Note II. 
 
 are given for saying that causation and law, as we firjd them in the 
 universe, bespeak an infinite Creator; still no argumentum ab 
 atJteismo. This portion of the work finished, I proceed to justify 
 certitude as exercised upon a cumulation of proofs, short of demon- 
 stration separately ; nothing about atheism. Then I go to a direct 
 proof of theism (which, indeed, has been in a great measure antici- 
 pated in a former chapter) as a conclusion drawn from three depart- 
 ments of phenomena; still the threat of atheism is away. I pass 
 on to the proof of Christianity ; and where does the threat of 
 atheism come in here ? I begin it with prophecy ; then I proceed 
 to the coincident testimony of the two covenants, and thence to the 
 overpowering argument from the testimony borne to the divinity 
 of Catholicism by the bravery and endurance of the primitive 
 martyrs. And there 1 end. 
 
 Nor is this my only argumentative work in defence of my 
 " creed " which I have given to the public. I have published an 
 " Essay on Development of Doctrine," " Theological Tracts," " A 
 Letter to Dr. Pusey," " A Letter to the Duke of Norfolk," works 
 all more or less controversial, all defences of the Catholic creed ; 
 does the very word " atheism '' occur in any one of them ? 
 
 So much, then, on what I do not hold and have not said : — now 
 as to what I have avowed and do adhere to. This brings me at 
 once to the saying to which T have committed myself in "Apologia," 
 page 198, viz., " that there is no medium, in true philosophy, 
 between Atheism and Catholicity, and that a perfectly consistent 
 mind, under those circumstances in which it finds itself here below, 
 must embrace either the one or the other;" — a saying which doubt- 
 less my critic has in mind, and which, I am aware, has been before 
 now a difficulty with readers whom I should be sorry to perplex. 
 
 Now, if we found it asserted in Butler's Analogy that there is 
 no consistent standing or logical medium between the acceptance of 
 the Gospel and the denial of a Moral Governor, for the same difficul- 
 ties can be brought against both beliefs, and if they are fatal as 
 against Christianity, they are fatal against natural religion, should 
 we not have understood what was meant? It might be taken, 
 indeed, as a threat against denying Christianity, but would it not 
 have an argumentative basis and meaning, and would such an in- 
 terpretation be fair ? It would be quite fair indeed to say, as some 
 have said, " It drives me the wrong way," and its advocates could
 
 Note II. 497 
 
 only reply, " What is one man's meat is another man's poison," but 
 would it be fair to accuse Butler of putting aside all scientific 
 reasoning for a threat P No one would say, " Butler confines the 
 defence of his own creed to tue proposition that it is the only 
 possible alternative of the denial of the Moral Law," putting aside 
 as nothing to the purpose his Sermons at the Rolls' Chapel. Yet 
 what have I said more dangerous or more obscure than Butler's 
 argument? Could he be said to destroy all logical proof of a God, 
 because he paralleled the difficulties of grace to the difficulties of 
 nature ? Nay, even should he go on to say with me, " if on account 
 of difficulties we give up the gospel, then on account of parallel 
 difficulties we must give up nature, or there is no standing ground 
 between putting up with the one trial of faith, and putting up with 
 the other ? " 
 
 Nor is this all. It seems insistence on this analogy between the 
 mysteries of nature and those of grace is my sole argument for 
 the truth of my creed. How can this be, from the very nature of 
 the case ? The argument from Analogy is mainly negative, but 
 argument which tends to prove must be positive. Butler does not 
 prove Christianity to be true by bis famous argument, but he 
 removes a great obstacle of a prima facie character to listening to 
 the proofs of Christianity. It is like the trenches soldiers dig to 
 shield them when they propose to storm a fort. No one would say 
 that such trenches dispense with soldiers. So far, then, from " con- 
 fining " myself to the argument from Analogy in behalf of my 
 creed, I absolutely imply the presence and the use of independent 
 arguments, positive arguments, by the fact of using what is mainly 
 a negative one. And that I was quite aware of this, and acted upon 
 it, the following passage from my Sermon on Mysteries shows 
 beyond mistake : — 
 
 " If I must submit my reason to mysteries, it is not much matter 
 whether it is a mystery more or a mystery less ; the main difficulty 
 is to believe at all ; the main difficulty for an inquirer is firmly to 
 hold that there is a living God, in spite of the darkness which sur- 
 rounds Him, the Creator, Witness, and Judge of men. When 
 once the mind is broken in, as it must be, to the belief of a Power 
 above it, when once it understands that it is not itself the measure 
 of all things in heaven and earth, it will have little difficulty in 
 going forward. I do not say it will, or can, go on to other truths 
 
 k k
 
 498 Note II. 
 
 without conviction ; I do not say it ought to believe the Catholic 
 Faith without grounds and motives; but I say that, when once it 
 believes in God, tbe great obstacle to faith has been taken away, a 
 proud, self-sufficient spirit, &c.'' — (Discourses.) 
 
 I must somewhat enlarge what I have last been saying, but it is 
 in order to increase the force and fulness of this explanation. There 
 is a certain sense in which Analogy may be said to supply a positive 
 argument, though it is not its primary and direct purpose. The 
 coincidence of two witnesses independently giving the same account 
 of a transaction is an argument for its truth ; the likeness of two 
 effects argues one cause for both. The fact of Mediation so promi- 
 nent in Scripture and in the world, as Butler illustrates it, is a 
 positive argument that the God of Scripture is the God of the world. 
 This is the immediate sense in which I speak in the " Apologia " 
 of the objective matter of Religion, Natural and Revealed, and the 
 character of the evidence, and the legitimate position and exercise of 
 the intellect relatively towards it. Religion has, as such, certain 
 definite belongings and surroundings, and it calls for what Aristotle 
 would call a nenaiSevfievos investigator, and a process of investi- 
 gation sui similis. This peculiarity I first found in the history of 
 doctrinal development; in the first instance it had presented itself to 
 me as a mode of accounting for a difficulty, viz. for what are called 
 " the Variations of Popery," but next I found it a law, which was 
 instanced in the successive developments through which revealed 
 truth has passed. And then I reflected that a law implied a law- 
 giver, and that so orderl} r and majestic a growth of doctrine in the 
 Catholic Church, contrasted with the deadness and helplessness, or 
 the vague changes and contradictions in the teaching of other 
 religious bodies, argued a spiritual Presence in Rome, which was 
 nowhere else, and which constituted a presumption that Rome was 
 right ; if the doctrine of the Eucharist was not from heaven, why 
 should the doctrine of Original Sin? If the Athanasian Creed was 
 from heaven, why not the Creed of Pope Pius? This was a use of 
 Analogy beside and beyond Butler's use of it ; and then, when I 
 had recognized its force in the development of doctrine, I was led to 
 apply it to the Evidences oi Religion, and in this sense I came to 
 say what I have said in the "'Apologia." " There is no medium in 
 true philosophy," "to a perfectly consistent miud," "between 
 Atheism and Catholicity."
 
 Note II. 499 
 
 The multitude of men indeed are not consistent, logical, or 
 thorough ; they obey no law in the course of their religious views ; 
 and while they cannot reason without premisses, and premisses 
 demand first principles, and first principles must ultimately be (in 
 one shape or other) assumptions, they do not recognize what this 
 involves, and are set down at this or that point in the ascending or 
 descending scale of thought, according as their knowledge of facts, 
 prejudices, education, domestic ties, social position, and opportunities 
 for inquiry determine; but nevertheless there is a certain ethical 
 character, one and the same, a system of first principles, sentiments 
 and tastes, a mode of viewing the question and of arguing, which is 
 formally and normally, naturally and divinely, the organum in- 
 vestigandi given us for gaining religious truth, and which would lead 
 the mind by an infallible succession from the rejection of atheism 
 to theism, and from theism to Christianity, and from Christianity 
 to Evangelical Religion, and from these to Catholicity. And again 
 when a Catholic is seriously wanting in this system of thought, we 
 cannot be surprised if he leaves the Catholic Church, and then in 
 due time gives up religion altogether. I will add, that a main 
 reason for my writing this Essay on Assent, to which I am adding 
 the last words, was, as far as I could, to describe the organum 
 investigandi which I thought the true one, and thereby to illustrate 
 and explain the sajing in the "Apologia" which has been the sub- 
 ject of this Note. 
 
 I have only one remark more before concluding. I have said of 
 course there was a descending as well as an ascending course of 
 inquiry and of faith. However, speaking in my " Apologia " of 
 Evidences, and, following the lead of what I have said there about 
 doctrinal development, I have mainly in view the ascending scale, 
 not the descending. I have meant to say "I am a Catholic, for the 
 reason that I am not an Atheist." This makes the misinterpreta- 
 tion of my words which I am exposing the more striking, for it 
 paraphrases me into a threat and nothing else, viz. " If you are 
 not a Catholic, you must be an Atheist, and will go to hell." Mr. 
 Lilly, in his letter in my defence sees this, and most happily adopts 
 the positive interpretation which is the true one. 
 
 This explanation, also, is an answer to some good, but easily 
 frightened men, who have fancied that I was denying that the 
 Being of a God was a natural truth, because I said that to deny 
 
 k k 2
 
 500 Note II 
 
 revelation was the way to deny natural religion. I Lave but argued 
 that the same sophistry which denies the one may deny the other. 
 
 That the ascending scale of my abstract alternative has been the 
 prominent idea in iwj mind, vany be argued from the following 
 passage of a Lecture delivered many years before the " Apologia :" — 
 
 "A Protestant is already reaching forward to the whole truth, 
 from the very circumstance of his really grasping any part of it. 
 So strongly do I feel this, that I account it no paradox to say th'at, 
 let a man but master the one doctrine of the Being of a God, let him 
 really and truly, and not in words only, or by inherited profession, 
 or in the conclusions of reason, but by a direct apprehension, be a 
 Monotheist," (that is, with what in the foregoing Essay I have 
 called a " real assent" as following upon "Inference," and acting 
 as a fresh start) and he is already three-fourths of the way towards 
 Catholicism." 
 
 I end by placing before the reader Mr. Lilly's apposite Letter, 
 dated Nov. 18. 
 
 " SiK, — I observe in your issue of this evening a statement against 
 which I must beg your permission to protest in the strongest 
 manner as a most serious, although, I am quite sure, an unin- 
 tentional, misrepresentation of my deeply venerated friend Cardinal 
 Newman. The statement is that 'he has confined his defence 
 of his own creed to the proposition that it is the only possible 
 alternative to atheism.' It certainly is true that Cardinal 
 Newman has paid, 'There is no medium, in true philosophy, 
 between Atheism and Catholicism' ('Apologia,' p. 198, Third 
 Edition) ; and it as certainly is not true that he confines his 
 defence of his creed to this proposition. He expressly recognizes 
 ' the formal proofs on which the being of a God rests ' (they may 
 be seen in any text-book of Catholic theology) as affording ' irre- 
 fragable demonstration' (' Discourses to Mixed Congregations,' 
 p. 262, Fourth Edition); but the great argument which conies home 
 to him personally with supreme force is that derived from the wit- 
 ness of Conscience— 'the aboriginal Vicar of Christ, a prophet in 
 its informations, a monarch in its peremptoriness, a priest in its 
 blessings and anathemas.' The existence of God, * borne in upon 
 him irresistibly ' by the voice within, is ' the great truth of which 
 his whole being is full ' (' Apologia,' p. 241).' 
 
 After quoting the words of M. Kenan, Mr. Lilly proceeds, " This
 
 Note II. 501 
 
 is the point from which he (Cardinal Newman) starts. Conscience, 
 the ' great internal teacher,' ' nearer to us than any other means of 
 knowledge,' informs us (as he judges) that God is; 'the special 
 Attribute under which it brings Him before us, to which it sub- 
 ordinates all other Attributes, being that of justice — retributive 
 justice.' ('Grammar of Assent,' p. 385, Third Edition). 'The 
 sense of ri^ht and wrong: ' he considers to be ' the first element ' in 
 natural religion (Letter to the Duke of Norfolk, p. 67, Fourth 
 Edition). And Catholicism, which he regards as the sole form of 
 Christianity historically or philosophically tenable, is for him the 
 only possible complement of natural religion. I cannot venture to 
 ask you to allow me space to do more than thus indicate the nature 
 of the argument by which he ascends from his first to his final 
 religious idea. I would refer those who would follow it step by 
 step to his 'Grammar of Assent,' 'Apologia,' and ' Discourses to 
 Mixed Congregations; ' or, if a mere summary will suffice, to an 
 article of my own in the Fortnightly Beview of Julj% 1879. 
 Cardinal Newman's main defence — not his sole defence — of his creed 
 amounts, then, to this : that religion is an integral part of our 
 nature, and that Catholicism alone adequately fulfils the expectation 
 of a revelation which natural religion raises. This may be a good 
 or a bad defence ; but, whether good or bad, it is very different from 
 the nude proposition ' that Catholicism is the onfy possible alterna- 
 tive to atheism.' " He ends with a few kind words about myself 
 personally. 
 
 THE END. 
 
 G1LUKKT AND lilVINGTON, PBINTEES, ST. JOHN'b SQUAKE, LONDON.
 
 CARDINAL NEWMAN'S WORKS. 
 
 1. SERMONS. 
 
 1 — 8. Parochial and Plain Sermons. (Rivingtons.) 
 9. Sermons on Subjects of the Day. {Rivingtons.) 
 
 10. University Sermons. {Rivingtons.) 
 
 11. Sermons to Mined Congregations. {Burns arid Oates.) 
 
 12. Occasional Sermons. (Bums and Oates.) 
 
 2. TREATISES. 
 
 13. On the Doctrine of Justification. {Rivingtons.) 
 
 14. On the Development of Christian Doctrine. (Pickering.) 
 
 15. On the Idea of a University. (Pickering.) 
 
 16. On the Doctrine of Assent. (Burns and Oates.) 
 
 3. ESSAYS. 
 
 17. Two Essays on Miracles. 1. Of Scripture. 2. Of Eccle- 
 
 siastical History. (Pickering.) 
 
 18. Discussions and Arguments. 1. How to accomplish it. 
 
 2. The Antichrist of the Fathers. 3. Scripture and the 
 Creed. 4. Tamworth Reading-Room. 5. Who's to blame ? 
 6. An Argument for Christianity. (Pickering.) 
 19,20. Essays Critical and Historical. Two Volumes with 
 Notes. 1. Poetry. 2. Rationalism. 3. De la Mennais. 
 4. Palmer on Faith and Unity. 5. St. Ignatius. 6. Pro- 
 spects of the Anglican Church. 7. The Anglo- American 
 Church. 8. Countess of Huntingdon. 9. Catholicity of 
 the Anglican Church. 10. The Antichrist of Protestants. 
 11. Milman's Christianity. 12. Reformation of the Eleventh 
 Century. 13. Private Judgment. 14. Davison. lo. 
 Keble. (Pickering.)
 
 \iM c 
 
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 l^. 
 
 jt <jo ~JZ 
 
 4. HISTORICAL. 
 
 21—23. Three Volumes. 1. The Turks. 2. Cicero. 3. Apol- 
 lonius. 4. Primitive Christianity. 5. Church of the 
 Fathers. 6. St. Chrysostoin. 7. Theodoret. 8. St. 
 Benedict. 9. Benedictine Schools. ■ 10. Universities. 
 11. Noi*thmen and Normans. 12. Medieval Oxford. 13. 
 Convocation of Canterbury. {Pickering.) 
 
 5. THEOLOGICAL. 
 
 24. The A titans of the Fourth Century- {Pickering.) 
 25, 26. Annotated Translation of Athana.sius. Two Yolumes. 
 {Pickering.) 
 27. Tracts. 1. Dissertatiunculae. 2. On the Text of the 
 Seven Epistles of St. Ignatius. 3. Doctrinal Causes of 
 Arianism. 4. Apollinarianism. 5. St. Cyril's Formula. 
 6. Ordo de Tempore. 7. Douay Version of Scripture. 
 {Pickering.) 
 
 6. POLEMICAL. 
 
 28, 29. Via Media. Two Volumes with Notes. 1. Vol. Pro- 
 phetical Office of the Church. 2. Vol. Occasional Letters 
 and Tracts. {Pickering.) 
 
 30, 31. Difficulties of Anglicans. Two Volumes. ]. Vol. 
 Twelve Lectures. 2. Vol. Letters to Dr. Pusey con- 
 cerning the Bl. Virgin, and to the Duke of Norfolk in 
 defence of the Pope and Council. {Bums and Oates, and 
 Pickering.) 
 
 32. Present Position of Catholics in England. {Burns 
 
 and Oates.) 
 
 33. Apologia pro Vita Sua. {Longmans.) 
 
 7. LITERARY. 
 
 34. Verses on Various Occasions. {Burns and Oates.) 
 
 35. Loss and Gain. {Burns and Oates, and Pickering.) 
 
 36. Callista. {Burns and Oates.) 
 
 ^[ It is scarcely necessary to say that the Author submits all that 
 he has written to the judgment of the Church, whose gift and 
 prerogative it is to determine what is true and what i,s false in 
 religious teaching. 
 
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