of knowledge, as surely becomes the death of
falsehood. A method--the soundness of which is so
evident that to argue in favour of it is almost absurd--
might be expected to have been applied as a matter of
course to the one subject on which mistake is supposed
to be fatal, where to come to wrong conclusions is held
to be a crime for which the Maker of the universe has
neither pardon nor pity. Yet many reasons, not difficult
to understand, have long continued to exclude
theology from the region where free discussion is
supposed to be applicable. That so many persons have a
personal interest in the maintenance of particular views,
would of itself be fatal to fair argument. Though they
know themselves to be right, yet right is not enough for
them unless there is might to support it, and those who
talk most of faith show least that they possess it. But
there are deeper and more subtle objections. The
theologian requires absolute certainty, and there are no
absolute certainties in science. The conclusions of
science are never more than in a high degree probable;
they are no more than the best explanations of phenomena
which are attainable in the existing state of
knowledge. The most elementary laws are called laws
only in courtesy. They are generalizations which are
not considered likely to require modification, but which
no one pretends to be in the nature of the cause
exhaustively and ultimately true. As phenomena become
more complicated, and the data for the interpretation
of them more inadequate, the explanations offered are
put forward hypothetically, and are graduated by the
nature of the evidence. Such modest hesitation is
altogether unsuited to the theologian, whose certainty
increases with the mystery and obscurity of his matter;
his convictions admit of no qualification; his truth is
sure as the axioms of geometry; he knows what he
believes, for he has the evidence in his heart; if he
inquire, it is with a foregone conclusion, and serious
doubt with him is sin. It is in vain to point out to him
the thousand forms of opinions for each of which the
same internal witness is affirmed. The Mayo peasant,
crawling with bare knees over the flint points on Croagh
Patrick, the nun prostrate before the image of St. Mary,
the Methodist in the spasmodic extasy of a revival, alike
are conscious of emotions in themselves which correspond
to their creed: the more passionate--or, as some would
say--the more unreasoning the