in those cases in which the
sufferer has a half-consciousness that he has not escaped by legitimate
means. If in his despair he has clutched at a lie in order to extricate
himself as quickly as possible and at any price, it is no wonder that he
looks back with a shudder. When the disease has been driven inward by
throwing in abundant doses of Paley, Butler, with perhaps an oblique
reference to preferment and respectability, it continues to give many
severe twinges, and perhaps it may permanently injure the constitution.
But, if it has been allowed to run its natural course, and the sufferer
has resolutely rejected every remedy except fair and honest argument, I
think that the recovery is generally cheering. A man looks back with
something of honest pride at the obstacles through which he has forced
his way to a purer and healthier atmosphere. But, whatever the nature of
such crises generally, there is an obvious reason why, at the present
day, the process is seldom really painful. The change which takes place
is not, in fact, an abandonment of beliefs seriously held and firmly
implanted in the mind, but a gradual recognition of the truth that you
never really held them. The old husk drops off because it has long been
withered, and you discover that beneath is a sound and vigorous growth
of genuine conviction. Theologians have been assuring you that the world
would be intolerably hideous if you did not look through their
spectacles. With infinite pains you have turned away your eyes from the
external light. It is with relief, not regret, that you discover that
the sun shines, and that the world is beautiful without the help of
these optical devices which you had been taught to regard as essential.

This, of course, is vehemently denied by all orthodox persons; and the
hesitation with which the heterodox impugn their assumption seems to
testify to its correctness. "After all," the believer may say, with much
appearance of truth, "you don't really believe that I can walk by
myself, if you are so tender of removing my crutches." The taunt is fair
enough, and should be fairly met. Cynicism and infidelity are supposed
to be inseparably connected; it is assumed that nobody can attack the
orthodox creed unless he is incapable of sympathizing with the noblest
emotions of our nature. The adversary on purely intellectual grounds
would be awed into silence by its moral beauty, unless he were deficient
in reverence, purity, and love