We formerly adverted to the distinction between Dogmatic and Skeptical Atheism; and, believing that the latter is the form in which it is most prevalent, as well as most insidious and plausible, we now propose to review some recent theories both of Certitude and Skepticism, which have sometimes been applied to throw doubt on the evidence of Christian Theism.

The Academy of Moral and Political Sciences in the French Institute announced in 1843 the theory of Certitude as the subject of a Prize Essay, and issued the following programme as a guide to the competitors in the selection of the principal topics of discussion:

“1. To determine the character of Certitude, and what distinguishes it from everything else. For example, Is Certitude the same with the highest probability?

“2. What is the faculty, or what are the faculties, which give us Certitude? If several faculties of knowledge are supposed to exist, to state with precision the differences between them.

“3. Of Truth and its foundations. Is truth the reality itself, the nature of things falling under the knowledge of man? or is it nothing but an appearance, a conception, necessary or arbitrary, of the human mind?

“4. To expound and discuss the most celebrated opinions, ancient and modern, on the problem of Certitude, and to follow them out into their theoretical and practical consequences. To subject to a critical and profound examination the great monuments of Skepticism, the writings of Sextus, Huet, Hume, and Kant.

“5. To inquire what are, in spite of the assaults of Skepticism, the certain truths which ought to subsist in the Philosophy of our times.”

Such was the comprehensive programme of the French Institute; and many circumstances concurred at the time to impart a peculiar interest to the competition. M. Franck’s volume contains the Report of the Section of Philosophy on the papers which had been prepared, and offers a careful analysis and critical estimate of their contents. Various other works not concerned in the competition appeared before and after it, showing how much the philosophical mind of France had been occupied with this great theme, while in Britain it was attracting little or no attention.

This is the most recent discussion, on a great scale, of the theory of Certitude. But the question, far from being a new or modern speculation, is as old as Philosophy itself, and has been perpetually reproduced in every age of intellectual activity. Plato discusses it, chiefly in the Theaetetus, Sophist, and Parmenides; it was agitated by Pyrrho, Enesidemus, and Sextus Empiricus, with that peculiar subtlety which belonged to the mind of Greece; and in more recent times it has reappeared in the writings of Montaigne and Bayle, Huet and Pascal, Glanville, Hume, and Kant. Even during the middle age, the controversy between the Nominalists and Realists had an important bearing on this subject: so that from the whole history of Philosophy we derive the impression of its fundamental importance, an impression which is deepened and confirmed by the transcendent interest of the themes to which it has been applied.

In our present argument, we are concerned with it only so far as it stands connected with the foundations of Theology, or as the right or wrong solution of the general question might affect the evidence for the Being and Perfections of God. We do not propose, therefore, to offer a full exposition of the philosophy of Certitude, still less to institute a detailed examination of the various theories which have been propounded respecting it. It will be sufficient for our purpose if we merely sketch a comprehensive outline of the subject, and select some of the more prominent points which have the most direct bearing on the grounds of our religious belief. Thus much may be accomplished by considering, first, the statement of the problem, and, secondly, the solution of it.

In regard to the statement of the problem, it is necessary, in the first instance, to ascertain its precise import, by determining the meaning of the term Certitude. The programme of the Academy very properly places this question on the foreground, Is Certitude the same with the highest probability? And it is the more necessary to give precedence to this part of the inquiry, because it is notorious that there is a wide difference between the philosophical and the popular sense of Certitude, a difference which has often occasioned mutual misunderstanding between disputants, and a profitless warfare of words. In the philosophical sense of the term, that only is said to be certain which is either an axiomatic truth, intuitively discerned, or a demonstrated truth, derived from the former by rigorous deduction; while all that part of our knowledge which is gathered from experience and observation, however credible in itself and however surely believed, is characterized as probable only. In the popular sense of the term, Certitude belongs to all those truths, of whatever kind and in whatever way acquired, in regard to which we have no reason to be in doubt or suspense, and which rest on sufficient and satisfactory evidence. A philosopher is certain, in his sense of the term, only of what he intuitively perceives or can logically demonstrate; a peasant is certain, in his sense of the term, of whatever he distinctly sees, or clearly remembers, or receives on authentic testimony. There is much reason, we think, to regret the existence of such a wide difference between the philosophical and the popular sense of an expression, which must occur so often both in speculative discussion and in the intercourse of common life. It may be doubted whether the metaphysician is entitled to borrow the language of society, and to engraft upon it an arbitrary definition of his own, different from and even inconsistent with that which it bears in common usage. Nor can he plead necessity as a sufficient excuse, or the accuracy of his definition as an effectual safeguard, since, however needful it may be to discriminate between different species of Certitude, by marking their peculiar characteristics and respective sources, surely this might be done more safely and satisfactorily by designating one kind of it as Intuitive, another as Demonstrative, another as Moral, or Experimental, or Historical, than it can be by any arbitrary restriction of the generic term to one or two of the many species which are comprehended under it. No doubt there is a real distinction, and one of great practical importance, between certitude and probability; but this distinction is not overlooked in the language of common life; it is only necessary to determine what truths belong respectively to each: whereas when all the truths of Experience, and even, in some cases, those of scientific Induction, are ranked under the head of probability merely, is it not evident that the language of Philosophy is in this respect at variance with the prevailing sense of mankind?

An attempt has sometimes been made to draw a distinction between popular and philosophical Certitude, or, in other words, between the unreflecting belief of the many and the scientific belief of the few. Thus, M. Franck distinguishes Certitude, first of all, from the blind faith which commences with the earliest dawn of intelligence: then, from the doubt which supervenes on the initial process of inquiry; and then, from that half-knowledge, that middle term between doubt and certainty, which is called probability. And M. Javari speaks of Certitude “as the complete demonstration, acquired by reflection, of the legitimacy of any judgment, or of the reality of any object: this is definitive and scientific certitude, which is contrasted with that belief, however strong, which springs, not from the reflective, but the direct and spontaneous exercise of our faculties." It must be evident that, according to this definition of the term, Certitude, in the scientific sense of it, as the product of philosophical reflection, must be the privilege and prerogative of the few, who have been led by taste or education to cultivate the study of Psychology; while the vast majority of men, who are nevertheless as certain of the truths which they believe, and, to say the very least, as little liable to doubt or skepticism, as any class of philosophers whatever, must be held to have no Certitude, just because they have no Science. It seems to be assumed that Certitude is the creation of Science, the product of reflective thought; whereas it may be demonstrably shown that without Certitude, Science would be impossible, and that reflection can give forth nothing but what it finds previously existing in the storehouse of human consciousness. It surveys the streams of belief, and may trace up these streams to their highest springs; but it does not, it cannot, create a new truth, or give birth to a higher certitude. We have no disposition, assuredly, to underrate the value of philosophical reflection, or to disparage the science of Psychology; the former may collect the materials and the latter may attempt the construction, of a goodly and solid fabric: but we cannot admit that the certainty of all our knowledge depends upon either of them, or that it is confined exclusively to the metaphysical inquirer. Reflection adds nothing to the contents of human consciousness: it examines our fundamental beliefs, but originates none of them; it discerns the elements and sources of certainty, but can neither produce nor alter them. Its sole province is to examine and report. If Certitude, in the philosophical sense of it, belongs to the reflex, Certainty, in the popular sense, belongs to the direct and spontaneous, operations of the human mind. We see and believe, we remember and believe, we compare and believe, we hear and believe, and that, too, with a feeling of confidence which needs no argument to confirm it, and to which all the philosophy in the world could impart no additional strength. Certitude is not the creation of Philosophy, but the object of its study; it exists independently of Science, and is only recognized by it; and it would still exist as a constituent and indestructible element of human consciousness were Metaphysics scattered to the wind.

It appears, again, to have been assumed in some recent treatises, that Certitude belongs only to that portion of truth the denial of which would imply a contradiction, or amount to the annihilation of reason. Is it, then, to be restricted to necessary and absolute, as contrasted with contingent and relative truths? Am I not as certain that I see four objects before me, as that two and two make four? Yet the former is a contingent, the latter a necessary truth. Is not my personal consciousness infallibly certain? And yet can it be said to belong to the head of necessary truth? Surely Certitude is unduly restricted when we exclude from it many of our surest and strongest convictions, which relate to truths attested by experience, but the denial of which would involve no contradiction.

The question has been still further complicated by extreme opinions of another kind. It seems to have been assumed that there can be no Certitude, unless we can explain the rationale of our knowledge, and even account for the objects of our knowledge by tracing them up to their First Cause, as the ground and reason of their existence. Now, if the question were, Can you account for your own existence, or for the existence of the world around you, without having recourse to a supreme First Cause? we would answer, No: but if the question be, Can there be any Certitude prior to the idea of God, not deduced from it, and capable of existing without it? we would answer, Yes: the little child is certain of its mother’s existence before it is capable of knowing God, and the veriest Atheist is certain of his own existence and that of his fellow-men, even when he professes to doubt or to disbelieve the existence of God. It may be true that the essential nature and omniscient knowledge of God is the ultimate and eternal standard of truth and certainty, or, in the words of Fenelon, that “il n’y a qu’une seule verite, et qu’une seule maniere de bien juger, qui est, de juger comme Dieu meme;" and yet it may not be true that all our knowledge is derived by deduction from our idea of God, or that its entire certainty is dependent on our religious belief. Surely we may be certainly assured of the facts of consciousness, of the phenomena of Nature, and of many truths, both necessary and contingent, before we have made any attempt to explain the rationale of our knowledge, or to connect it with the idea of the great First Cause; nay, it may be, and we believe it is, by means of these inferior and subordinate truths that we rise to the belief of a supreme, omniscient Mind.

Some writers seem to confound Certitude with Infallibility, or at least to hold that there can be no Certitude without it. The impersonal reason of Cousin, the common sense or generic reason of Lamennais, and the authoritative tradition of the Church, have all been severally resorted to, for the purpose of obtaining a ground of Certitude in the matters both of Philosophy and Faith, such as is supposed to be unattainable by the exercise of our own proper faculties, or by the most careful study of evidence. According to these theories, Certitude belongs to our knowledge, only because that knowledge is derived from a reason superior to our own, a reason not personal, but universal; not individual, but generic. When they are applied, as they have been, to undermine the authority of private judgment, and to supersede the exercise of free inquiry; when they are urged as a reason why we should defer to the authority of the Race in matters of Philosophy and to the authority of the Church in matters of Faith; when we are told that the certainty of our own existence depends on our knowledge of God, and that our knowledge of God depends on the common consent or invariable traditions of mankind, we do feel that the grounds of Certitude, so far from being strengthened, are sapped and weakened by such speculations, and that we have here a new and most unexpected application of the Scottish doctrine of Common Sense, such as may be highly serviceable to the Church of Rome. Protestant writers, indeed, have sometimes appealed to common consent as a collateral proof, auxiliary to that which is more direct and conclusive; but they have done so merely because they regarded it as a part of the evidence, well fitted to prove what Dr. Cudworth calls “the naturality of the idea of God,” and not because they confounded it with the faculty by which alone that evidence can be discerned and appreciated. They never regarded it as the sole ground of certainty either in matters of Philosophy or Faith. Nor can it be so considered by any thoughtful mind. For how can I be more assured of an impersonal reason than of my own? How can I be more certain of the existence and the traditions of other men, than of the facts of my own consciousness, and the spontaneous convictions of my own understanding? or how can I be assured that, in passing from the impersonal reason to the individual mind, from the generic reason to the personal, the truth may not contract some taint of weakness or impurity from the vessel in which it is ultimately contained, from the finite faculties by which alone it is apprehended and believed?

The fact is that any attempt to prove the truth of our faculties must necessarily fail. Did we set ourselves to the task of proving by argument or by authority that we are not wrong in believing in our own existence or that of an external world, or did we attempt to establish the trustworthiness of our faculties by resolving it into the veracity of God, our effort must needs be as abortive as it is superfluous, since it involves the necessity not only of proving the fact, but of proving the proof itself, and that, too, by the aid of the very faculties whose trustworthiness is in question! There are certain ultimate facts beyond which it is impossible to push our speculative inquiries; certain first or fundamental principles of Reason, which are in themselves indemonstrable, but which constitute the ground or condition of all demonstration; certain intuitive perceptions, which are widely different from rational deductions, but which determine and govern every process of reasoning and every form of belief. To deny the certainty of our intuitive perceptions, merely because we cannot prove by argument the truth of our mental faculties, would virtually amount to a rejection of all evidence except such as comes to us only through one channel, and that the circuitous one of a process of reasoning; while, by the constitution of our nature, we are qualified and privileged to draw it fresh, in many cases, at its spring and fountain-head. It may be as impossible for man to prove the trustworthiness of his intellectual faculties as it is for the bee to prove the truth of its marvellous instinct; but, in either case, the reason may be that any such proof is unnecessary, that it is superseded by the laws of Instinct in the one, and by the laws of Thought in the other, and that by these laws a better and surer provision is made for our guidance than any that could have been found in a mere logical faculty, a natural and irresistible authority, which the Skeptic may dispute, but cannot destroy, and which, however disowned in theory, must be practically obeyed.

It must be evident that the various meanings which have been attached to the term Certitude must materially affect both the statement and solution of the general problem, and, more particularly, that they must have an important bearing on the question, whether the doctrine which affirms the Being, Perfections, and Providence of God, should be ranked under the head of certain, or only of probable, truth. If, in making use of the term Certitude, I mean to denote by it something different from the certainty which belongs to the most assured convictions of the human mind, something that arises, not from the spontaneous and direct exercise of its faculties, but from a process of reflective thought or philosophical speculation, something, in short, that is peculiar to the metaphysical inquirer, and is not the common heritage of the race at large; then, unquestionably, the problem, as thus understood, must leave out of view many of the surest and most universal beliefs of mankind, beliefs which may be illustrated and confirmed by Philosophy, but which are anterior to it in respect to their origin, and independent of it in respect of the evidence on which they severally rest. In the case of Certitude, just as in the case of every similar term expressive of a simple, elementary idea, the ultimate appeal must be made to individual consciousness. No one can convey to another a conception of Certitude by means of words, apart from an experimental sense of it in the mind of the latter, any more than he could give the idea of color to the blind or of music to the deaf. It is because we have had experience of it in our own breasts that we recognize and respond to the descriptions which others give of it. Every one knows what it is to be certain in regard to many things, just because, constituted as he is, he cannot doubt or disbelieve them. He is certain of his own existence, of the existence of other men, of the facts of his familiar consciousness, of many events long since past which are still clearly remembered, of certain abstract truths which are intuitively discerned or logically demonstrated. These various objects of his thought may differ in other respects, and may occasion a corresponding difference in the kind of Certitude which is conceived to belong to them; but they all possess the same generic character, and admit, therefore, of being classified under the same comprehensive category, as objects of our certain knowledge.

In the current use both of philosophical and popular language, Certitude is spoken of in a twofold sense. We speak of a belief or conviction of our own minds as possessing the character of Certitude, when it is so strong, and so firmly rooted that it excludes all doubt or hesitation; we speak also of an object or event as possessing the same character, when it is so presented to our minds as to produce the full assurance of its reality. Hence the distinction between subjective and objective Certitude. The former is a fact of consciousness; it is simply the undoubting assent which we yield to certain judgments, whether these judgments be true or false; it exists in us, and not in the objects of thought; it denotes a condition of our minds, which may, or may not, be in accordance with the actual state of things. The latter is truth or certainty considered objectively, as existing in the objects of our knowledge; it is independent of us and of our conceptions; it is as it is, whether it be known or unknown to us; our belief cannot add to its reality, nor can our unbelief diminish or destroy it. Certitude, considered as a mental state, denotes simply the strength of our conviction or belief, as distinguished from doubt or mere opinion; but, considered as an objective reality, it denotes the ground or reason existing in the nature of things for the convictions which we cherish. Subjective certitude is not always the index or the proof of objective truth, for men often believe with the strongest assurance what they find reason afterwards to doubt or to disbelieve; and the prevalence of many false beliefs, sincerely cherished and zealously maintained, raises the question, how we may best discriminate between truth and error? Hence the various theories of Certitude, and hence also the antagonist theories of Skepticism.

The theories of Certitude may be reduced to three classes. The first places the ground of Certitude in Reason; the second in Authority; the third, in Evidence, including under that term both the external manifestations of truth, and the internal principles or laws of thought by which we are determined in forming our judgments in regard to them. Each of these theories, however, has appeared in various phases in the history of philosophical speculation. The Individual Reason of Martineau, the Generic Reason of Lamennais, the Impersonal Reason of Cousin, the Authority of the Race, and the Infallibility of the Church, are specimens of these varieties.

The theory which places the principle of Certitude in REASON has assumed at least two distinct shapes. In the one it discards all authority except that of private judgment or individual reason; in the other it appeals to a higher reason, which is said to be impersonal and infallible, and which is supposed to regulate and determine the convictions of the human mind. In the former shape, it appears in the speculations of Martineau; in the latter, it is advocated by Cousin; and in one or other of these shapes it constitutes the ground-principle of RATIONALISM. The theory, again, which places the principle of Certitude in AUTHORITY has also assumed two distinct shapes. In the one it speaks of a universal consent or Generic Reason, the reason not of the individual but of the race to which he belongs, and exhibits a singular combination of the Philosophy of Common Sense as taught by Dr. Reid and the Scottish School, with the principle of Authoritative Tradition as taught in the Popish Church; in the other, it refers more specifically, not to the infallibility of the race at large, but to the infallibility of a select body, regularly organized and invested with peculiar powers, into whose hands has been committed the sacred deposit and the sole guardianship of truth, whether in matters of philosophy or faith. In both forms it is presented in the writings of M. Gerbet and M. Lamennais, and in both it is necessary for the full maintenance of the Popish system of doctrine. The theory, again, which places the principle of Certitude in EVIDENCE, admits of being exhibited in two very distinct aspects. In the one, it has been treated as if Evidence were purely subjective, as if it belonged exclusively to thought, and not to the object of thought, or as if it depended solely on the perceptions of our minds, and not at all on any objective reality which is independent of them, and which is equally true whether it be perceived by our minds or not. In this form it is a theory of Individualism, and has a strong tendency towards Skepticism. In the other aspect, Evidence is regarded as the sole and sufficient ground of Certitude, but it is viewed both objectively and subjectively; objectively, as having its ground and reason in a reality that is independent of our perceptions, and that may or may not be perceived without being the less true or the less certain in itself; and yet subjectively also, as being equally dependent on certain principles of reason or laws of thought, without which no external manifestation would suffice to create the ideas and beliefs of the human mind, since the evidence which is exhibited externally must not only exist, but must be perceived, discerned, and appreciated, before it can generate belief: but when perceived, it produces conviction, varying in different cases in degree, and amounting in some to absolute certainty, which leaves no room either for denial or doubt.

Such are the three grand theories of Certitude, and the several distinct forms or phases in which they have severally appeared. We have no hesitation in declaring our decided preference for the second form of the third theory, that which resolves the principle or ground of Certitude into EVIDENCE; but EVIDENCE considered both objectively and subjectively, objectively, as that which exists whether it is perceived or not, and is independent of the caprices of individual minds, and subjectively, as that which must be discerned before its proper impression can be produced, which must be judged of according to the laws of human thought, and which, when so discerned and judged of, imparts a feeling of assurance which no sophistry can shake and no philosophy strengthen.

According to some recent theories, Certitude belongs to our knowledge, only because that knowledge is derived from a reason superior to our own, a reason not personal, but universal, not individual but generic, which, although not belonging to ourselves, is supposed to hold communication with our minds: and if this were meant merely to remind us of the limitation of our faculties, and of our consequent liability to error, or even to teach us the duty of acknowledging our dependence on a higher power, it might be alike unobjectionable and salutary; but when it is applied to undermine the authority of private judgment and to supersede the exercise of free inquiry, they have a tendency to excite suspicion and distrust in every thoughtful mind. The capital error which pervades all these speculations consists in not distinguishing aright between the evidence which constitutes the ground of our belief, and the faculty by which that evidence is discerned and appreciated. The Generic Reason of Lamennais, as well as the uniform Tradition of the Church, may constitute, when duly improved, a branch of the objective evidence for the truth, and as such they have been applied even by Protestant writers when they have appealed to common consent as a collateral proof, auxiliary to that which is more direct and conclusive; but they cannot be regarded as the exclusive grounds of the certainty of human knowledge, since this arises from the fundamental, universal, and invariable laws of human thought.

The term Skepticism, again, may denote either a mere state of mind, a state of suspense or doubt in regard to some particular fact or opinion; or a system of speculative philosophy, relating to the principles of human knowledge or the grounds of human belief. In the former sense, it implies nothing more than the want of a sure and satisfactory conviction of the truth on the particular point in question. Were it expressed in words, it would simply amount to a verdict of “non liquet.” In the latter sense, it imports much more than this; it is not merely a sense of doubt respecting any one truth, but a system of doubt in regard to the grounds of our belief in all truth, a subtle philosophy which seeks to explain the phenomena of Belief by resolving them into their ultimate principles, and which often terminates in explaining them away. In both forms, it has existed, either continuously or in ever-recurring cycles, from the earliest dawn of speculative inquiry; and while it has seemed to retard or arrest the progress of human knowledge, it has really been overruled as a means of quickening the intellectual powers, and imparting at once greater precision and comprehensiveness to the matured results of Science.

Theoretical Skepticism may be divided into three distinct branches: First, Universal or Philosophical Skepticism, which professes to deny, or rather to doubt the certainty of all human knowledge; secondly, Partial or Religious Skepticism, which admits the possible certitude of human knowledge in other respects, but holds that religious truth is either altogether inaccessible to our faculties, or that it is not supported by sufficient evidence; thirdly, a mongrel system, which combines Philosophic Doubt with Ecclesiastical Dogmatism, and which may be aptly characterized as the Skeptico-Dogmatic theory.

We agree with Dr. Reid in thinking that Universal Skepticism is unanswerable by argument, and can only be effectively met by an appeal to consciousness. It might be shown, indeed, that in so far as it assumes, however slightly, the aspect of a positive or dogmatic system, it is self-contradictory and absurd; it might also be shown that doubt itself implies thought, and thought existence or reality: but the ultimate appeal must be to the facts of human consciousness, and the laws of thought which operate in every human breast. And when such an appeal is made, we can have no anxiety in regard to the result, nor any apprehension that philosophical skepticism can ever become the prevailing creed of the popular mind. There is a risk, however, of danger arising from a different source; it may not be always remembered that the theory of Skepticism must be universal to be either consistent or consequent; and hence it may be partially applied to some truths, while it is practically abandoned in regard to other truths, which are neither more certain nor less liable to objection than the former. Thus the skeptical difficulties which have been raised against the doctrines of Ontology are of such a kind that if they have any validity or force, they bear as strongly against the reality of an external world and the existence of our fellow-men, as against the doctrine which affirms the being of God: yet many will be found urging them against the latter doctrine, who do not profess to have any doubt in regard to the two former; and it is of paramount importance to show that this is a partial and therefore unfair application of their own principles, and that they cannot consistently admit the one without also admitting the other.

Atheism, in its skeptical form, must either be a mere sense of doubt in regard to the sufficiency of the evidence in favor of the being and perfections of God; or a speculative system, which attempts to justify that doubt by some theory of philosophical skepticism, either partial or universal. In the latter case, it may be best dealt with by showing that it affects the certainty of our common knowledge, not less than that of our religious belief, and that we cannot consistently reject Theology, and yet retain our convictions on other cognate subjects of thought. In the former case, it should be treated as a case of ignorance, by illustrating the evidence, and urging it on the attention of those who have hitherto been blind to its force; reminding them that their not seeing it is no proof that it does not exist, and that doubt itself on such a question, so nearly affecting their duty and welfare, involves a solemn obligation to patient, candid, and dispassionate inquiry.

“A skeptic in religion,” says Bishop Earle, “is one that hangs in the balance with all sorts of opinions, whereof not one but stirs him, and none sways him. A man guiltier of credulity than he is taken to be; for it is out of his belief of everything that he fully believes nothing. Each religion scares him from its contrary, none persuades him to itself.... He finds reason in all opinions, truth in none; indeed, the least reason perplexes him, and the best will not satisfy him.... He finds doubts and scruples better than resolves them, and is always too hard for himself.... In sum, his whole life is a question, and his salvation a greater, which death only concludes, and then he is resolved."

This second phase or form of Skepticism, which we have designated as Partial or Religious Skepticism, admits the possible certitude of human knowledge in other respects, and especially in regard to secular and scientific pursuits, but holds that religious truth is either altogether inaccessible to man with his present faculties, or that its certainty cannot be evinced by any legitimate process of reasoning.

These two positions are in some respects widely different, although they are often combined, and always conducive to the same result, the practical negation of Religion. Many who never dream of doubting the certainty of human knowledge, in so far as it relates to their secular or scientific pursuits, are prone to cherish a skeptical spirit in regard to religious or spiritual truths; and this, not because they have examined and weighed the evidence to which Theology appeals, and found it wanting, but rather because they have a lurking suspicion that men, with their present faculties, are incapable of rising to the knowledge of supernatural things, and that they could attain to no certainty, while they might expose themselves to much delusion, by entering on the inquiry at all. This is their apology for ignoring Religion altogether, and contenting themselves with other branches of knowledge, which are supposed to be more certain in themselves as well as more conducive to their present welfare. In this respect, it is deeply instructive to remark that Infidelity has been singularly at variance with itself. At one time, in the age of Herbert, human reason was extolled, to the disparagement of Divine Revelation; it was held to be so thoroughly competent to deal with all the truths of Theology, and to arrive, on mere natural grounds, at such an assured belief in them, that no supernatural message was needed either to illustrate, or confirm, or enforce the lessons of Nature: but now, when the lessons of Nature herself are called in question, human reason is disparaged as incompetent to the task of deciphering her dark hieroglyphics, and while she can traverse with firm step every department of the material world, and soar aloft, as on eagle’s wings, to survey the suns and systems of astronomy, she is held to be incapable alike of religious inquiry and of divine instruction! There is, indeed, a striking contrast between the high pretensions of Reason in matters of philosophy, and the bastard humility which it sometimes assumes in matters of faith.

But there is another, and a still more subtle, form of Partial or Religious Skepticism. It does not absolutely deny the possibility of religious knowledge, nor does it dogmatically affirm that man, with his present faculties, can have no religious convictions; it contents itself with saying, and attempting to prove, that the certitude of religious truth cannot be evinced by any legitimate process of reasoning. It examines the proof, and detects flaws in it. It discusses, with a severe and critical logic, the arguments that have been employed to establish the first and most fundamental article of Theology, the existence of God; and discarding them one by one, it reaches the conclusion that, whether true or not, it cannot be proved. Strange as it may appear, these sentiments have been embraced and avowed by men who still continue to profess their belief in God and Religion. Some have held that proof by reasoning is impossible, but only because it is superfluous. They distinguish between reason and reasoning; and hold that while the latter is incompetent to the task of proving the existence of God, the former spontaneously suggests the idea of a Supreme Cause, and imparts to it all the certainty which belongs to a direct intellectual intuition. Others distinguish between the Speculative and the Practical Reason; and hold that while the former cannot prove by an unexceptionable argument the existence of God, the latter affords a sufficient groundwork for religious belief and worship. Others, again, speak not so much of reason or reasoning, as of sentiment and instinct, as the source of our religious beliefs; and instead of addressing arguments to the understanding, they would make their appeal to the feelings and affections of the heart. There is still another class of writers who resolve all human knowledge, whether relating to things secular or spiritual, into what they call the principle of faith (foi), and to this class belong two distinct parties who are widely different from each other in almost everything else. It is important, therefore, to mark the radical difference between their respective systems, since it is apt to be concealed or disguised by the ambiguous use of the same phraseology by both. The one party may be described as the disciples of a Faith-Philosophy of Reason, the other of a Faith-Philosophy of Revelation: the former resolving all our knowledge into the intuitive perceptions or first principles of the human intellect, considered as a kind of divine and infallible, though natural inspiration; the latter contending that in regard at least to the knowledge of theological truth, human reason is utterly powerless, and can only arrive at certainty by faith in the divine testimony. The two are widely different, yet there are points of resemblance and agreement betwixt them, and on this account they have sometimes been classed together under a wide and sweeping generalization.

The form of Partial Skepticism to which these remarks apply is perhaps more common than it is generally supposed to be. On what other principle, indeed, can we account, at least in the case of religious men, for the indifference and even aversion with which they turn away from any attempt to prove by natural evidence the existence and providence of God? The prevalence of such feelings even within the Christian community has been admitted and deplored by one of the most profound spiritual teachers of modern times; and it can only be explained, where Religion is cherished and professed, on the supposition that they regard proof by argument as superfluous, either because it is superseded by the natural instincts and intuitions of the human mind, or by the authoritative teaching of Divine Revelation. But it ought to be seriously considered, on the one hand, that the instincts and intuitions of human reason are not altogether independent of the natural evidence which is exhibited in the constitution and course of Nature; and, on the other hand, that Revelation itself refers to that natural evidence, and recommends it to our careful and devout study.

Besides the theories of Partial Skepticism to which we have already referred, there is a mongrel system which seems to combine the two opposite extremes of Doubt and Dogmatism, and which, for that reason, may be not inaptly designated as Skeptico-Dogmatic. Ever since the era of the Reformation, when the principle of free inquiry, and the right or rather the duty of private judgment in matters of Religion, were so strenuously affirmed and so successfully maintained, there has been a standing controversy between the Popish and Protestant Churches respecting the rival claims of Reason and Authority as the ultimate arbiter on points of faith. Extreme opinions on either side were advanced. One party, repudiating all authority, whether human or divine, rejected alike the testimony of Scripture and the decrees of the Church, and, receiving only what was supposed to be in accordance with the dictates of Reason, sought to establish a scheme of Rationalism in connection with at least a nominal profession of Christianity. The opposite party, not slow to detect the error into which extreme Protestants had fallen, and intent seemingly on fastening that error on all who had separated themselves from the Catholic Church, affirmed and endeavored to prove that Rationalism, in its most obnoxious sense, is inherent in and inseparable from the avowed principles of the Reformation, and that the recognition of the right of private judgment is necessarily subversive of all authority in matters of faith. They did not see, or if they did see, they were unwilling to acknowledge that Rationalism is a very different thing from the legitimate use of Reason; and that while the former repudiates all authority, whether human or divine, the latter may bow with profound reverence to the supreme authority of the Inspired Word, and even listen with docility to the ministerial authority of the Church, in so far as her teaching is in accordance with the lessons of Scripture. It may be safely affirmed that the Confessions and Articles of all the Protestant Churches in Europe and America do recognize the authority both of God and the Church, and are as much opposed to Rationalism, considered as a system which makes Reason the sole standard and judge, as they are to the opposite extreme of lordly domination over the faith and consciences of men. But such a controversy having arisen, it was to be expected that while eager partisans, on the one side, might unduly exalt and extol the powers and prerogatives of Reason, the adherents of Romanism, which claims the sanction of infallibility for her doctrines and decrees, would be tempted to follow an opposite course, and would seek to disparage the claims of Reason with the view of exalting the authority of the Church. Hence arose what has been called POPISH PYRRHONISM, a system which attempts to combine Doubt with Dogmatism, and to establish the certitude of religious knowledge on the sole basis of authority, which is somehow supposed to be more secure and stable when it rests on the ruins of human reason. Not a few significant symptoms of a tendency in this direction have appeared from age to age. It was apparent in some of the writings, otherwise valuable, of Huet, Bishop of Avranches; some traces of it are discernible in the profound “Thoughts of Pascal;” but it was reserved for the present age to elaborate this tendency into a theory, and to give it the form of a regular system. This task was fearlessly undertaken by the eloquent but versatile Lamennais, while as yet he held office in the Church, and was publicly honored as one who was worthy to be called “the latest of the Fathers.” His “Essay on Indifference in Matters of Faith,” exhibits many proofs of a profound and vigorous intellect, and contains many passages of powerful and impressive eloquence. We heartily sympathize with it in so far as it is directed against that Liberalism which makes light of all definite articles of faith; but we deplore the grievous error into which he has been seduced by his zeal for the authority of the Church, when he attempts to undermine the foundations of all belief in the trustworthiness of the human faculties. In opposition to the claims of private judgment, he contends for the necessity of a Reason more elevated and more general as the only ground of Certitude, the supreme rule and standard of belief. This normal Reason he finds in the doctrine and decrees of an Infallible Church, wherever the Church is known; but where the Church is yet unknown, or while it was yet non-existent in its present organized form, he seeks this more general Reason in the common sense or unanimous consent of the race at large, and affirms that this is the sole ground of Certitude, and the ultimate standard of appeal in every question respecting the truth or falsity of our individual opinions. He holds that the authority both of the Church and of the Race is infallible; and that its infallibility neither requires nor admits of proof. With the view of establishing this one and exclusive criterion of Certitude, he assails the evidence of sense, the evidence of consciousness, the evidence of memory, the evidence even of axiomatic truths and first principles, and involves everything except ecclesiastical authority or general reason in the same abyss of Skepticism. He ventures even to affirm that “Geometry itself, the most exact of all the Sciences, rests, like every other, on common consent!” No wonder, then, that he should also found exclusively on authority our belief in the existence and government of God.

An intelligent member of his own communion propounds a very different, and much more reasonable, opinion: “Il n’y a pas d’autorite morale qui n’ait besoin de se prouver ellememe, d’une maniere quelconque, et d’etablir sa legitimite. En definitive, c’est a l’individu qu’elle s’addresse, car on ne croit pas par masse, on croit chacun pour soi. L’individu reste donc toujours juge, et juge inevitable de l’autorite intellectuelle qu’il accepte, où de celle qui s’offre a lui. Nous n’avons pas a examiner si cette disposition constitutive de l’esprit humain est bonne où mauvaise; la seule question que l’on en fait est vaine et sterile. Nous sommes necessairement amenes par l’observation physchologique a constater qu’il faut que l’homme croie a la fidelite du temoignage de ses sens individuels, et a la valeur de sa raison personelle, avant de faire un pas au-delà."

We think it unnecessary to enter into a detailed discussion of this strange and startling theory, especially as the altered position of the writer in his relation to the Church before his death may be held to indicate that to a large extent it had been abandoned by himself. Nor should we have thought it worthy even of this transient notice, had we not discerned symptoms of an incipient tendency in a similar direction among some writers in the Protestant ranks. It should be remembered by divines of every communion that the rational faculties of man and their general trustworthiness are necessarily presupposed in any Revelation which may be addressed to them; and that in Scripture itself frequent appeals are made to the works of Creation and Providence, as affording at once a body of natural evidence, and a signal manifestation of His adorable perfections. It were a vain thing to hope that faith in God may be strengthened by a spirit of Skepticism in regard to Reason, which constitutes part of His own image on the soul of man.

It is but common justice to add that the speculations of Lamennais, so far from being sanctioned, were openly censured, by some of the most distinguished of his fellow-ecclesiastics. Such writers as Valroger, Gioberti, and the late Archbishop of Paris, gave forth their public protest against them, and have thereby done much to vindicate their Church from the imputation of conniving at the progress of Skepticism.

Valroger’s testimony is strong and decided: “M. de Lamennais pretendait que la raison individuelle est incapable de nous donner la Certitude. Cette pretention est, suivant, nous absurde et funeste. N’est ce pas par notre raison individuelle que la verite-arrive a nous et devient notre bien? Quel moyen plus immediat pourrons-nous avoir de saisir la verite? Quel principe de connaisance où de Certitude pourrait-on placer entre nous et notre raison? Et comment pourrions-nous l’employer, si ce ne’est avec notre raison? N’est ce pas une contradiction flagrante de vouloir persuader quelque chose a des hommes que l’on a declares incapables de connaître certainement quoi que ce soit? A quoi bon une methode, une autorite infaillible, un enseignement Divin, si nous n’avons que des facultes trompeuses pour user de ces secours? Nous croyons, nous, que la raison individuelle peut connaître avec certitude toutes les verites necessaires a l’accomplissement de notre destinee. Si nous avons besoin de la Grace, de la Revelation, de la Tradition, et de l’Église pour atteindre le but supreme de notre vie, sur une foule de questions subalternes, nous peuvons arriver a une certitude complete, sans recourir a aucune exterieure, a aucun secours surnaturel."

Gioberti is equally explicit: “M. de Lamennais dans sa theorie sur la Certitude, confond les deux methodes, Ontologique et Physiologique; il les rejette toutes les deux, et leur substitue la seule methode d’Autorite. Mais la methode d’Autorite est impossible sans un fondement Ontologique, et c’est une manifeste petition de principe que d’etabler l’Ontologie sur l’Autorite."

And the late Archbishop of Paris, the same who fell before the barricades, a martyr to Charity if not to Truth, and who seems to have had a wakeful eye on the progress of philosophic speculation, took occasion, in a preface to the Abbe Maret’s “Theodicee,” to declare that Lamennais’ system was obnoxious to the Church, because of its opposition to the doctrine of Rational Certitude: “Tout le monde sait que le clerge de France avait repousse le systeme de M. de Lamennais precisement a cause de son opposition a la Certitude Rationnelle constanment professee dans nos ecoles; et tout le monde peu savoir que les Bossuet, les Fenelon, les Descartes out raisonne, et que nous aussi nous raisonnons et discutons avec nos accusateurs,” ... “preuve irrecusable que LE RATIONALISME ET LA RAISON SONT DEUX CHOSES FORT DIFFERENTES."

PERRONE has given a similar testimony, and we cannot doubt that the more thoughtful adherents of Romanism must be sensible of the danger which is involved in any attempt to combine Rational Skepticism with Dogmatic Authority.

It were well, however, if they would reconsider their position with reference to this whole question, in its more general bearings in conection with their doctrine as to the rule of faith; and weigh, with candid impartiality, the arguments which have been adduced by Protestant writers on the subject.