Essay on the Development of Christian Doctrine; Apologia; Grammar of Assent

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 association has so much to do with memory, that we may not unfairly consider memory, as well as reaxoning, 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 indispensable 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 overburdened, and thereby treacherous, we cannot act otherwise; 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 them justly, variously, and fruitfully. Hence, too, it is, that in 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 undertaking, 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 we are thus using, 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 aclear 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 4 as it is manifested in ratiocination, is not equal to all 4 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 gravitation, 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 faculties under one name, there being really as many faculties 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 re in arguing in all subject-matters, de omni scibili, 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. Successful experimentalists need not have talent for legal | Z esearch or pleading. A shrewd man of business may _ bea bad arguer in philosophical questions. Able statesmen 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 knowledge of his subject. Priestley, great in electricity and chemistry, was but a poor ecclesiastical historian. The " z 2

| j Author of the Minute Philosopher is also the Author of the Analyst. Newton wrote not only his “ Principia,” f 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 iz 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 the: y have read, and can give volume and page, but have m nD a4 Natur al Inference. ‘ “sat ee nemory her 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 i. given year; or could recollect accurately the Chris- ' tian names of friends and strangers; or could enumerate

Im exact order the names on all the shops from Hyde

Park Corner to the Bank; or had so mastered the University Calender as to be able to bear an examination in | ‘the academical history of any M.A. taken at random. And I helieve 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 cher.

_ So is it with Ratiocination; and as we should betake 0 urselves to Newton for physical, not for theological conclusions, and to Wellington for his military expe- # ence, not for statesmauship, 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 demon- Strations; because, from their having the eye of experience, they behold the principles of things.”' In-) 1 Eth. Nicom. vi. 11, fin.

stead of 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 follow 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 or intellectual judgment, not by our skill in argumen-— tation.

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 to 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.

_ My object in the foregoing pages has been, not to form & theory which may account for those phenomena of the intellect of which they treat, viz. those which charac- _ terize inference and assent, but to ascertain what is the Renatier 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 my-

_ self unequal to antecedent reasonings in the instance

_ of a matter of fact. There are those, who, arguing

_ gism only to probabilities, certitude is ever a mistake.

_ There are others, who, while they deny this conclusion, grant the @ 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 forms, and the

One vit xs; > ee T= ae oa Say y like, which belong to us by nature, and may be considered to elevate our experience into something 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 @ 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 determine; for me it is sufficient that cer- _ titude is felt. This is what the schoolmen, I believe, call treating a subject in facto esse, in contrast with in jfiert. 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

| confine myself to the truth of things, and to the mi. d’s ¥ certitude of that truth. Certitude is a mental state: certainty is a quality of - propositions. Those propositions I call certain, which _ are such that I am certain of them. Certitude isnot a — ¥ passive impression made upon the mind from without,; by argumentative compulsion, but in all concrete questions (nay, even in abstract, for though the reasoning is _ a active recognition of propositions as true, sach as it is the duty of each individual himself to exercise at the bidding of reason,and,when reason forbids, to withhold.

lute proof; and 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 -eriterion 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 perfec- _ tion or virture of which I have called the Illative Sense, a use of the word “sense” parallel to our use of it in good sense, _ &c.;—and I own I do not see any way to go farther than this in answer to the question, However, I can 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.

abstract, the mind which judges of it is concrete) it is ge °. ’ And reason never bids us be certain except on an abso-

§ 1. Tae Sanction or tHe Itiative 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 tous. We — call them elements, and turn them to account, and make the mostof 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 1 what we have no command over, so is it much more unmeaning 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.

If I may not assume that I exist, and in a particular have nothing to speculate about, and 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 Tam.

Iam what Iam, orl 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 Icannot make myself anything else, and to change me is to destroy me. IfIdo not use myself, I have no other self to use. My only business is to ascertain what I am, in order to pufit to use. It is enough for the proof of tle 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

Truths such as these, which are too obvious to be — called irresistible, are illustrated by what we see in — universal nature. Every being is in a true seuse sufficient 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 asa 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. ‘he brute animals are found severally with limbs and organs, habits, instincts, appetites, surroundings, which play together for the safety and welfare of the whole; andj 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 au 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 antici- — pating that to use duly our own is our interest as well — as our necessity. | What is the peculiarity of our nature, in contrast —

Pinca: See oe ee ee The Sanction of the Iliative Sense. 349 ith the inferior animals aroundus? Itis that, though | man cannot change what he is born with, he is a being Ss of progress with relation to his perfection and characteristic good. Other beings are complete from their first existence, in that line of excellence which is allotted tothem; but man begins with nothing realized (to use the word), and he has to make capita! for himself by the exercise of those faculties which are his natural inheritance. Thus he gradually advances to the fulness of his original destiny. Nor is this progress mechanical, nor is it of necessity; it is committed tothe 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 perfection 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 selfmade. 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 remarks upon my subject. For this law of progress is - earried out by means of the acquisition of knowledge, of which inference and assent are the immediate instruments. 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 » Baceiedee of the law of progress by any @ 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 his intellectual nature, so too we must appeal to himself, 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, indirect, 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 prin- ~ at ciples which we cannot alter. So also is it in that ‘microcosm, the human mind. Let us follow Bacon more closely than 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. Ishould 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 accordmg to the subject-matter; but whether He has set before us in our particular 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 3 elements of matter and of life, or into the histor y 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

The Sanction of the [lative Sense. 351 mere opinion, the materials in due measure of proo and assent. q

And especially, by this disposition of things, sh all we learn, as regards religious and ethical inquiries, how 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 inflicted on our minds in finding Him, may mould them into due devotion to Him when He is found. “ Verily Thou art a hidden God, the God of Israel, the Saviour,” is the very law of His deilings 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 dealings of Wisdom with the elect soul. “She will bring upon him fear, and dread, and trial; and She will torture him with the tribulation of Her discipline, till She try him by Her laws, and trust his soul. Then She will strengthen aii _ make Her way sraigie to him, and give him joy.”

‘The Nature of the Ilative Sense. 353

§ 2. Taz Narure or tHe Iniative Sense.

Tr 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 [lative 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." He calls the faculty which

‘te Thongh Aristotle, in his Nicomachean Ethics, speaks of gpdvnois as __ the virtue of the dofarrixdv generally, and as being concerned generally with contingent matter (vi. 4), or what I have called the concrete, and _ ofits function being, as regards that matter, dAnQevew TE Karapavat h; dmopdvat (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 rd mpaxrd, guides the mind in matters a conduet, by the na’ me of phronesis, or judgment. ‘This is the directing, con-) trolling, and determining principle in such matters, mi: personal and social. What it is to be virtuous, ho v | 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, cautions, distinctions, solutions of critical or anxious difficulties; but who is to apply them to a particular A 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 searching 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 x mind of the individual, who is thus his own law, nis i own teacher, and his own judge in those special cases } of duty which are personal to him. It comes ot acquired habit, though it has its first origin in nature itself, and it is formed and matured by practice a - a The Nature of the Tliative 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 aud now, by this given person, under these given circumstances. 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 - todecide a second case now as it now decides a first; still its present act is for the present, not for the dis- 5 tant or the future. * State or public law is inflexible, but this mental _ ule is not only minute and particular, but has an. elasticity, which, in its application to individual cases, _ is, as I have said, not studious to maintain the appear-

- }.. ance 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 _ adjustment to the uneven surface of the stones brought together for the work. By such the philosopher

% illustrates 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 Ny never; but, though truth is ever one and the same, and the assent of certitude is immutable, still the __ Yeasonings which carry us on to truth and certitude are many and distinct, and vary with the inquirer; aAa2 and it is not with assent, but with the controlling principle in inferences that I am comparing phre is. 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 oe abstract, and in its principle and scope. To learn his” is own duty in his own case, each individual must have

3 recourse to his own rule; and if his rule is not suffi- _ ciently 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 re- | ceiving, 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- wee ance with this practical sense. Thus it is, and not by 3 science, that he perfects the virtues of justice, selfae command, magnanimity, generosity, gentleness, and “SH all others. Phronesis is the regulating principle of: every one of them. | These last words lead me to a further remark. doubt whether it is correct, strictly speaking, to con- 5 _ sider this phronesis as a general faculty, directing and perfecting all the virtues at once. So understood, i 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 a many kinds of phronesis as there are virtues; for th > et a

/ ing 9 oe so hic es “ mi tal Eel ' ue at. ry = an ative Sense. 357; judgment, good sense, or tact which is conspicuous f in a man’s conduct in one subject-matter, is not necessarily traceable in another. As in the parallel 4 eases 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; profligates have been great statesmen, or _ magnanimous political leaders.

So, too, 1 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, | 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 4 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

= * P, works, than any which he could communicate to others sin even a series of treatises. And here again genius is indissolubly united to one definite subject-matte a poet is not therefore a painter, or an architect a x musical composer. | ~ And so, again, as regards the useful arts and peror sonal accomplishments, we use the same word “ skill,” but proficiency in engineering or in ship-building, or again in engraving, or again in singing, in playir o 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 ratiocination 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 Tllativel Ris Sense, and in explanation of its nature and claims; and on the whole, I have spoken of it in four respects, sas viewed in itself, in its subject-matter, in the pro-

‘sg cess it uses, and in its function and scope.

different measures. We do not reason in one ware in chemistry or law, in another in morals or religion; but im 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 subjectmatters, 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, vhich has so wonderfully extended the limits of abstract science.

Fourth)7, in no class of concrete 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 Lllative Sense that gives them its sanction; justas 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 committed. 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.

GREAT asare 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 penetrating and subtle action that the margin dis. appears, 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 4 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 Reais 310 eon: ne eon r ‘aie xii he sa) ai SS

The Range of the Lltative Sense. 361 m these is necessary, suitable, or expedient, when they are taken for granted; and this, either by means 5 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 necessary 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 contemplates 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, ‘s middle, and end of all verbal discussion and inquiry, ____ and in every step of the process. It is a rule to itself,

362 The Iilative Sense. and appeals to no judgment beyond its own; and attends upon the whole 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 7 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 reasoning 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 difference between them lies, how far it is immaterial, when it is worth while continuing an argue ment 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 measure 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 a: resolution of concrete questions. Here then it is left 0

; we 7 Panis of the Tllative Sense.

1e to illustrate its presence and action in relation to the elementary premisses, and, again, to the conduct ofan argument. And first of the latter.

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 be 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 _ tocommence with absolutely discarding all that has | a been received; or to retain it in outline; or to make selections from it; or to consider 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 admis- _ sible, 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 falsehood, what is probable, what suspicious, what promises 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 conclusion at all can be drawn, or whether — any before certain issues are tried and settled, or whether a probable conclusion oracertain. Itis plain — how incessant will be the call here or there for the exer- — cise of a definitive judgment, how little that judgmeut — will be helped on by logic, and how intimately it will be — dependent upon the intellectual complexion ofthe 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 superintended and directed by an intellectual instru-— ment far too subtle and spiritual to be scientific. — 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 interpret it. Prescription together with internal consis- _ tency 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 hypotheses 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 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 Niebukr’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, “ If

- What was N vabali’s ‘dea of the office he had under- — to our belief.’ ‘‘ Niebuhr,” says a writer nearly related ©

- other hand, Mr. Clinton lays down the general rule, abhorrent to the judicial temper of Sir George Lewis. — we are asked whether the Trojan war is not a ——

. raised upon a basis of truth,.. our answer mus be, that, as the possibility of it sabi be denied a neither can the reality of it be affirmed.” On the

** 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 4 those who defend them. ‘Historical evidence,” says the latter, “is founded on the testimony of credible

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 q 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.” ‘Rea- 4 sonable indulgence” to popular belief, ‘deference ” to ancient tradition, are principles of writing history

He considers the words “reasonable indulgence ” to be “ambiguous,” and observes that “the very poi int: ere

“which cannot be taken 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 observes to: the sam’ 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 wnderstanding is the key-stone of the ~ whole argument.” Iam 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 con- _ clusion at all; it is the “ tacit understandings ” which _ Mr. Grote speaks of, the vague and impalpable notions _ of “reasonableness”? 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 ai 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 frequently exist in respect to events attested by documentary evidence.” Mr. Grote corroborates this decision 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 contend against opposing preconceptions, and it creates a painful sensation of diffidence, when we read the expressions 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 witha the mental constitution 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 combining for the adop- one tion of a common national system of chronology in 776 3B.c.” Mr. Grote replies: “Nothing is more at variance with my conception,”—he just now spoke of _ the preconceptions of others,—“of the state of the > Hellenic world in 776 3.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’s words), of his “ unreasonable scepticism.” He cannot disprove by mere argument the conclusions of Mr. Grote; he can but have recourse _ toa personal criticism. He virtually says, “ We differ in our personal view of things.” Men become personal _ when logic fails; 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 narrative itself, independently of the testimony of a s truth.” And, “ Ingenuity and labour can produce __ Bb

should myself advocate; but Sir George Lewis, though —

iokhihe but hypotheses and conjectures, which may be supported by analogies, but can never rest upon the — solid fonndation 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, — “1 divine that, siwce 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 guess- | ing; and says, “ Instead of employing those tests of q credibility which are consistently applied to modern history,” Niebuhr, and his followers, and most of his opponents, “ attempt to guide. their judgment by the 4 indication of internal evidence, and assume that the © truth is discovered by an occult faculty of historical 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 respecting things that are unknown, which are closely approxi- — mate 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 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 de-

The Benge of the Mative Sense.

F e; to the rest of the world—of a mysterious doctrine, revealed only to the initiated.’ And he pronounces, that “the history of Niebuhr has opened more questions than it has closed, wad 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 assumption 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 for a constantly recurring need, even when it is tolerably exact.

And now secondly, as to the first principles themselves. 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 representative notion of what itis. 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 traditional 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 q 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 subjectmatter, we often hear 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 admiration 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 Shee: hand, such papas are often unrea al, as being mere exhibitions of ingenuity, not of true originality of mind. This is especially the case in what 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.” Ido 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

Range of the Illative Sense. 373 for the very reason it is so trivial and minute. Children, learning to read, are sometimes presented with the letters of the alphabet turned into the figures of men in various attitudes. It is curious to observe from such representations, 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 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 deciphering 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 intermin- able differences as to their relations and circumstances.

I have heard say (again to take a trifling matter) that at the beginning of this century, it was a subject of serious, nay, of angry controversy, whether it began with J anuary 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 know those who studiously withdraw from giving an opinion on the subject, when it is accidentally mooted, from theirexperience of the eager feeling which it is sure toexcite 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.

Range of the itlative Sense. we 375 a

Unless we had the right, when we pleased, of ruling tha t propositions were irrelevant or absurd, I do not see how — 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 histtry 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 passingover, — 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 without 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 competentwitnesses, 4 while it is not unfair to urge, on the other side, that »

“tradition, Noun unauthenticated Selig (what is sailed | _ in possession, has a prescription in its favour, and may, | primd 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 A 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, 4 and to forbid assumptions universally is to forbid this ws 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 x shall somehow make our way forward, the error. falling

_ off from the mind, and the truth developing and oceu- | 7 pying 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) An argument has been often put forward by un-— believers, I think by Paine, to this effect, that “a reve-— lation, 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 principle 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 isclear, 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, os which have often been implicit on either side, has been carried through in our day, and relates to the end and 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 Christianity is the law of the land; 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 relation 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) here 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 Rule 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 maintainers an acknowledgment that it is an assumption. That Scripture is the Rule of Faith is in fact an assumption so congenial to the state of mind and course of thought usual among Protestants, that it seems to them rather a truism thana 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 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 diffe- — rent times, and did not always form one book; and in fact it is a doctrine very hard to prove. So much 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, £ was unable to give any better account of it than the following, which I here quote from its appositeness to my present subject. “Tt matters not,” I said, speaking of the first Protestants, “ whether or not they only happened to come right on what, ina 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 principles 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 « road to a distant mountain, which they see with the eye; and they get entangled, embarrassed, 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.” *; That is, I considered the assumption an act of th = ‘ i Mative Sense;—I should now add, the Illative Sense, acting on mistaken elements of thought.

8. After the aspects in which a question is to be viewed, and the principles on which it is to be considered, 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 support of an allegation, against which reputation is no defence; but it must be singularly 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 indignantly trodden under foot by all _ just and sensible men, as being as anti-social as they

‘are inhuman. I need not add what acruel and despic- _ able part a husband or a son 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 heterogeneousargumentsexcept — by the keen and subtle operation of the Illative Sense.

Butler’s argument in his Analogy is such a presumption 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 Christianity, unless they tell against the Divine origin of the natural system also. But he could not adduce it asa 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 recommendation 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 antecedently 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 exception, 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 some- ~ times. If, however, they mean that the existing order —

The Range of the [lative Sense. 383 of nature constitutes a physical necessity, and that a law is an unalterable fact, 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 argument, 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 luminaries 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 reasonings; but then it must be recollected that theological reasoning professes to be sustained by a more than human power, and to be _ guaranteed 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 antecedent probabilities, confirming each other, may make it _ a duty in the judgment of a prudent man, uot 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 in all these delicate questions there is _ constant call for the exercise of the Illative Sense.

Anp 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 © dependence of Assent upon Inference. Ishall 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. a

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 ¢ willing to apply here to the Evidences of Religion as 7 | properly applies to Metaphysics or Ethics, viz. that ir 4 _ these provinces of inquiry egotism is true modesty. in

- religious inquiry each of us 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 uneasiness 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 b _ evidence; and he has a second ground of evidence, in the testimony of those who agree with him. Bat his best evidence is the former, which is derived from his ‘ cc ce” ate |: wee Sa eee woes

Inference and Assent in Religion. 385 — ys ate Be. sent in R eligton ee own se and it is that which the world has ‘ 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 countrywoman, 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 indeed 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 revealed truth overflow and penetrate, without their populations knowing whence those truths came. Bee t the very idea of Christianity in its profession. 12

«7 Pee eae ee tier ae es ee be, e: v= yference ai 1 Assent on Religion. SORE h ory, is something more than this; it is a “ Reve atio 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 maintained as true, on the ground of its being divine, not s true on intrinsic grounds, not as probably true, or rs partially true, but as absolutely certain knowledge, 4 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 -amere 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, f as it comes to us; for we are not left at liberty to pick | and choose out of its contents according to our judg- 2 r nent, but must receive it all, as we find it, if we ~ cept it at all. It is a religion in addition tothe ce oe;

and the grounds of Natural Religion. ia 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 dispense with nature; this would be to cut the ground from under it; for what would be the worth of evidences in favour of a revelation which denied the au- — thority 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” “now de- — clareth to all men to do penance, because He hath ap- — pointed 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; und, to do this with the better — effect, we must first inquire into the chief doctrines

_ By Religion 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 Attributes of God, our responsibility to Him, our _ dependence on Him, our prospect of reward or pun- _ ishment, to be somehow brought about, according as we obey or disobey 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 presented to us for belief, whether by the universal testimony of mankind, or by the history of society aud

Our great internal teacher of religion is, as I have said in an earlier part of this Essay, our Conscience.’ _ Conscience is a personal guide, and I use it because I must use myself; I am as little able to think by

‘= any mind but my 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 a by every individual in his own breast, and requiring © nothing besides itself, it is thus adapted for the communication 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, independ- — ently of books, of educated reasoning, of physical | knowledge, or of philosuphy. Conscienée, too, teaches _ us, not only that God 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 codé of moral duties. More-— over, 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 tact 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. to which it subordinates all other Attributes, is that of justice—retributive justice. We learn from its - informations 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 “ zternas poenas in morte timen- _ dum;” and, on the other hand, rejoices in his “ Alma Venus,” “ we may appeal to him for the fact, while we repudiate his view of it. Such being the prima facie aspect of religion which que rerum naturam sola gubernas.” And — the teachings of Conscience bring before us individu-

: oe a. ins pete ee re oe fot se i le 92 Inference and Assent in Religion i ally, i in the next place let us consider what are the doctrines, and what the influences of religion, as we find it embodied 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 out- — wards. It is founded in one way or other onthe 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, reconcilia- — tion, 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 a severe side of Natural Religion, the most remarkable ~ is that of atonement, that is, “a substitution of some- thing 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 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 antiquity and universality, proved by the earliest records that have come down to us of all nations, and by the testimony of ancient and modern 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 beable 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.” * These ceremonial acknowledgments, in so many distinct forms of worship, of the existing degradation of the human race, of course imply a brighter, as well as a ehiesteking aspect of Natural Religion; for why should men adopt any rites of deprecation or of purifi- — cation at all, unless they had some hope of attaining to a better 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 obedience 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- WF ‘ 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 can decide how the past and 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 conscience, 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, | 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