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