ion that faith, in
some sense or other, is a necessary complement of every philosophy. One
thing is clear, that reconciliation can be effected, if at all, only by
a fair-minded admission of difficulties inseparable from either system,
and by a conscientious criticism of presuppositions. No one can deal
effectually with the idealist position to whom it is simply "absurd" or
"ridiculous;" who has not been to some degree intellectually entangled
in it; whose realism is not more or less of an effort. Else he is
dealing with some man of straw of his own fancy, and will be found, as
so often happens, assuming the truth of realism in every argument he
brings forward. Plainly the best minds of modern times have not been
victimized by a fallacy within the competence of a school-boy. And a
like intellectual self-denial is needed on the part of the idealist, who
is apt to dismiss all realism as crude, uncritical, or barbaric. We have
all our antinomies, our blind alleys, our crudities; and we have all to
fill up awkward interstices with assumptions and postulates.

However much we may dissent from Mr. D'Arcy's theology in certain
details; however little we personally may labour under the difficulties
of idealism, we cannot too strongly commend the endeavour to meet the
modern mind on its own platform; to speak to the cultivated in their own
language. Belief is caused by the wish to believe; but it is conditioned
by the removal of intellectual obstacles, different for different grades
of intelligence and education. To create the "wish to believe" is
largely a matter of example, of letting Christianity appear attractive
and desirable, and correspondent to the deeper needs of the soul. It is
also to some extent a work of exposition. But when this all-important
wish has been created, the intellect can hinder its effect. It is much
to know and feel that Christianity is good and useful and beautiful;
"But some time or other the question must be asked: _Is it true_?" And
to liberate the will by satisfying the intellect is work of what alone
is properly called apologetic. Unless we fall back into quietism which
would tell us to read a Kempis and say our prayers and wait, we must
address ourselves first of all to making Christianity attractive; and
then to making it intelligible. And if we do not find it against Gospel
simplicity to address ourselves, as we continually do, to the
intelligence of the semi-educated, we cannot allege that scru