and to the amount of evidence which each may be expected to furnish. The subordinate philosophy professes to deal with truths which, as they were not originally derived from human speculation, so they need not necessarily be entirely within the range of human comprehension to understand, or of human reasoning to establish. They may be we do not say that they are, but the supposition is at least consistent with the pretensions of such a philosophy-adapted, in the mode of their revelation, to the capacities of the creature for whom they are designed; they may be represented in the way of mystery, or economy, or analogy, not exhibiting the truth in that aspect which is clearest and most perfect per se, but in that which is best suited to human apprehension, and which implies the existence of a higher and more absolute truth, of which it is the imperfect representative. Hence it is quite consistent with the pretensions of such a philosophy, both to admit the existence of difficulties which it is unable to explain and doubts which it is unable to solve, and also to supply the deficiencies of reason by an appeal to faith, showing us that there is cause to believe that these difficulties are not inherent in the things themselves, but arise from our imperfect power of apprehension; and bidding us look forward for their solution, not to the efforts of human philosophy in this life, but to that more perfect knowledge which shall be given us hereafter, when we shall know even as we are known. Such a course is not, in like manner, open to a philosophy which professes to deal with truths, not as received from above, but as discovered by man for himself. It may have its difficulties also, but they are difficulties precisely analogous to those which occur in any other department of science, and may be fairly supposed to be due, not to any limitation of our faculties, but only to the imperfection of our present state of knowledge. A science which is founded by man may be reasonably believed to present no difficulties but such as are soluble by man: the genius which has been sufficient for the original discovery may well be supposed competent to any amount of further prosecution. The only faith to which such a philosophy may be expected to appeal is a faith in the future progress of the human race, an expectation, grounded on the past history of science, that what is difficult to us will become easy to our successors. It is inconsistent with the pretensions of this philosophy to recognise such a thing as a permanently insoluble problem; or, at the utmost, it will admit such problems only as difficulties of words, not of things, arising, not from the limits of man's power of thought, but from the employment of terms which have no real significance. Under these circumstances, it is not unnatural that the subordinate and less pretentious philosophy should be regarded with dislike and suspicion by its more ambitious rival, as attempting to clip the soaring wings of speculation, to place a barrier in the way of progress, and to rob philosophy beforehand of the triumphs which she expects to achieve. And the readiest way in which this feeling of dislike will find utterance, is in the charge, already noticed, of merely negative results, or, if a more invidious term be sought for, of scepticism. We call this an invidious term, because it is one which inevitably insinuates far more than it expresses, and which, by the majority of readers, will be understood as conveying a far more odious charge than is probably intended by the person who employs it. There is a religious scepticism as well as a philosophical scepticism; and the two have not merely no natural connection with each other, but each may frequently be called into existence as the antagonist and antidote to the other. It may often be that the very despair which a man feels of finding the truths of which he is in need by philosophical speculation, may lead him to cling with a firmer belief to the doctrines of revelation it may also be that his doubt or disbelief in the possibility of revelation may make him a more eager disciple of that philosophy which best promises to supply its place. Sometimes, indeed, as in the instance of David Hume, both kinds of scepticism are found united in one distinguished representative; and this union has contributed, no doubt, to fix and extend the invidious import of the word, by associating its two different senses together, and involving them in one indiscriminate condemnation. But in themselves, as we have said, the two kinds of scepticism are distinct from, and may be antagonistic to each other; and it is important, in relation to an accusation of this kind, so readily and often so hastily made, to understand clearly what is the proper meaning of the term, and what are the objects to which it is legitimately applicable. : Scepticism, in the proper use of the term, cannot be employed to denote the doubt or denial of any single doctrine or system of doctrines, whether in philosophy or in religion. The doctrine may be true, and the denial may involve a grievous error; but such an error is not properly scepticism. Scepticism is not a particular doubt, but a general method of doubting; it does not consist in questioning the truth of a given conclusion, but in questioning the possibility of attaining to a true conclusion at all. In this sense of the term, scepticism may be either universal or particular, according as the doubt extends to the possibility of arriving at truth in any matter whatsoever, or is limited to the possibility of attaining it in relation to some special object of inquiry. In this point of view, there are two different kinds of doubt, which have, with different degrees of justice, been classed together under the common name of scepticism. The one is based on the assumption that the human mind is divided against itself, the testimony of one faculty contradicting that of another, the reason, for example, being opposed to the senses, and the senses to the reason; or the same faculty in different exercises contradicting itself,-reasonings equally legitimate, for example, establishing opposite conclusions. The other proceeds on the assumption that the human mind, though at unity with itself, is at variance with some higher truth unattainable by it, things as they seem to us being different from things as they are in themselves. The inference from the former assumption is that no reliance can be placed on human consciousness within its own sphere of exercise, inasmuch as what it affirms on one occasion it denies on another. The inference from the latter is that human consciousness, however trustworthy within its own sphere, is trustworthy as regards phenomena only, and is in error from the point of view of a higher intelligence, the nature of the phenomenon being different from that of the reality. The first of these is absolute and unconditional scepticism, and can only be met on its own ground by denying its assumption. The faculties of the human mind, it is replied, do not contradict themselves or each other: they only appear to do so when we misunderstand their testimony. To correct the misunderstanding, we must distinguish that which they really tell us from that which they only seem to tell us. The senses, says the Pyrrhonist, contradict themselves the eye sees the same tower at one distance as square, at another as round, at one distance as larger, at another as smaller: the palate, in different states of health, will taste the same thing at one time as sweet, at another time as bitter. These seeming contradictions, replies the antagonist, are not due to the testimony of the senses, but to erroneous inferences from that testimony. That which we really see is not the tower, but the rays of light in contact with the eye; and these, by the laws of vision, actually do present different sizes and shapes in different positions. What we perceive in taste is not a quality of the object, but an affection produced by it on the nerves of taste; and this affection is really different in different states of the organism. There is no contradiction; for it is necessary to contradiction that the testimony should be de eodem, and where the object is different, this condition is not fulfilled. But it is evident that in this reply the second form of scepticism is partially employed as an antidote to the first. The senses are cleared from the charge of contradiction, on the plea that they inform us, not of the nature of things in themselves, but of the appearances which those things present to us. If the apparent contradictions which arise in other modes of consciousness are to be solved in the same manner, we arrive at the conclusion that the human mind, so far as these seeming contradictions meet it, may indeed be at unity with itself, but is at unity with regard to phenomena only, and cannot attain to realities. There are two modes by which philosophy may seek to avoid this alternative. The first is by an assumption which, under various forms, has been the foundation of all dogmatic philosophy from the days of Plato down to the present time-the assumption, namely, that, though the senses and the lower faculties of man are cognisant only of phenomena, his reason, the highest faculty, is privileged to attain to a knowledge of the real and absolute nature of objects in themselves, and thus to establish a philosophy of realities as the supplement to and corrective of the philosophy of appearances. This is in effect the theory figuratively represented in Plato's allegory of the prisoners in the cave: the senses, and the empirical faculties in general, are condemned, like those prisoners, to see shadows and to mistake them for substances; but beyond the region of sensible phenomena there is an upper world of real existences, which can be discerned by the eye of the soul, released from the bondage of sense and brought face to face with the true objects of reason. To effect this release is the purpose of philosophy, by which the powers of the reason are trained and strengthened for the contemplation of pure and absolute truth. Such a method will completely establish its own validity, if it can succeed in showing that the distinction which it supposes to exist. between the senses and the reason is confirmed by the actual features of each; that the exercise of reason is not impeded by any discrepancies or apparent contradictions similar to those which beset the exercise of sense; that we have not the same ground for supposing a difference between things as they are and things as they seem to our thought, that we have for supposing a distinction between. things as they are and things as they seem to our senses. If this can be proved, the dogmatic philosophy, if not completely secured from assault, has at least established a reasonable claim to acceptance in preference to any other system. But on the other hand, if any such apparent contradictions remain unsolved, it is obvious that this philosophy may lead by natural consequence to a scepticism deeper and more radical than any other. The assumption, that our reason is privileged to behold its objects in their real and absolute nature, naturally leads to the conclusion that such contradictions, if they exist at all, exist in the very nature and essence of the objects contemplated, and are not due to any limitation. or imperfection in our mode of contemplating them. The plea on which the senses are cleared from the charge of self-contradiction becomes unavailable in behalf of the reason; for the senses acknow ledge a distinction between their phenomena and the things themselves; the reason abjures such a distinction, and declares that its conceptions express the absolute reality of things. By virtue of this declaration, it is limited to a choice between two alternatives: it must either show that its own conceptions involve no inconsistency or contradiction, or it must admit that inconsistency and contradiction are inherent in the absolute nature of things. There is a class of thinkers who shrink from both these alternatives. On the one hand, they despair of being able to clear the conceptions of the reason from every appearance of contradiction, or of proving that such contradictions are in appearance only; and on the other hand, they are unwilling to admit that there is a contradiction in the very nature of things, and delusion in the belief that they exist. Unable to find a refuge from scepticism in knowledge and in reason, they endeavour to find it in ignorance and in faith. We do not know, they say, what is the absolute nature of things, but we believe that there is an absolute nature above and beyond the range of our knowledge. The apparent contradictions, which beset the exercise of our reason when it strives to attain to the absolute, may not be capable of solution in this world; yet we believe that they are apparent only and not real; and we are justified in that belief on several grounds. For, first, it is borne out by the analogy of our lower faculties, which are in harmony with themselves and with each other when their testimony is limited to the phenomena of which they are directly cognisant; and which only appear to fall into contradictions when they are assumed to be cognisant of the absolute nature of things. Secondly, it is supported by the testimony of the reason itself, which is involved in these contradictions, not on all occasions, but only when it attempts to rise to a knowledge of the absolute. Thirdly, if our conceptions are partial and relative, it is reasonable to believe that the defects of those conceptions are partial and relative also, and would disappear were our knowledge complete and absolute. Fourthly, these seeming contradictions present a feature which distinguishes them from those real contradictions which are incompatible with belief. The latter are one-sided, and necessitate a belief in the opposite direction; the former are two-sided, and appear to press equally in opposite directions, from both of which together we find it practically impossible to exclude belief. For, to take an example of the unilateral kind, I find a contradiction in the conception of a circular square, and I cannot believe in its possible existence; but then, on the other hand, I am compelled to believe that every existing square is not circular. Whereas, to take an example of the bilateral kind, I find a seeming contradiction in the conception of an unlimited duration of time, but I find also a seeming contradiction in the opposite concep |