of the Roman Church, particularly as exhibited in the decree of infallibility passed in 1870, and the recent deliverance of a representative Protestant body concerning the inerrancy of the Scriptures. In spite of the Vatican decree, however, the last ten years have witnessed in this country, at least, more marks of religious sympathy, more cooperation in philanthropy and civilization, between Protestants and Catholics than ever before. Theoretical differences have been kept in the background, in the interest of practical good. As to the other fact that appears to contradict our statement, we may venture to say that the circumstances of its origin and the sentiments it has evoked indicate that, whatever Christians may privately hold as to the Scriptures, no further official definitions are called for. Along with this abeyance of theory has come a remarkable bloom of the sense of obligation. It may be doubted whether the majesty of duty and the beauty of the kingdom of love were ever preached with greater directness and positiveness than at present, or whether the laity ever cared so little for theory and so much for practice.

But how far is this separation of the two practicable? Are we certain, after all, that one can be religious without settling for oneself, either by rational investigation or by choosing sides, the great questions concerning the fundamental truths of theology? How far can religion rest on feeling or volition without becoming irrational? Of course, feelings and volitions cannot be classed with, or deduced from, thought; they are each sui generis; and hence, in so far as they enter into religion, religion is extrarational. Yet, inasmuch as religious states and acts have reference to an object conceived as real, while the reality of objects would seem to be a matter for knowledge and reason, must we not infer that, after all, religion is as much theoretical as practical? There are four conflicting ways of answering this question, which we propose to consider in the light of the principles already adduced.

The first concludes that we may hold as true whatever we have religious motive for asserting, provided only it does not contradict knowledge. This is the popular solution of the difficulty, but it is inadequate. Of course, we may not, even if we could, believe anything that contradicts our most certain knowledge; but, on the same grounds, we may ask how we can

accept anything that contradicts even a slight preponderance of evidence. That for which we perceive such a preponderance is for us the probable, and is what we actually believe, as long as we continue to perceive this preponderance of evidence. And when the evidence for and against seems equal how can we incline to one side or the other without self-sophistication? If the reply be made that what is called knowledge is also in its elements assertion without grounds, the rejoinder is that, if religious truth puts itself on this basis, it must submit to rational tests and abjure the extrarational judgments for which it seems to contend. Middle ground between reason and feeling does not appear to exist.

Recognizing this difficulty, a second considerable school incline to surrender themselves to feeling and imagination, as though these were the norm of religious truth. Writers of the type of Ritschl, for instance, do not scruple to say that the unity of the world which concerns religion is "utterly indifferent to the world-order established by natural science." "The Christian idea of God," it is said, "exists only as a function of the moral nature;" and "just as certainly as volition and feeling cannot be reduced to cognition in ideas, so certain is it that the latter is not justified in imposing its laws upon them."

Religion, which presents itself in all three elementary functions of the soul, is under no obligation either to accommodate itself unqualifiedly to the logical conditions of theoretical knowledge, or to renounce itself." The defenders of this view claim that, since cognition itself exists only in response to impulses, it is only a means to a satisfactory, that is, moral, existence; and therefore that the primary thing in knowledge is moral feeling. This last then seems to be a law unto itself. Otherwise expressed, religious beliefs are founded solely on judgments of value, which have an independent right. But the difficulties of this view are near at hand. By what canons of reason are we allowed to infer that, because the belief in X has value, therefore X itself has reality? Evidently the basis of this procedure is not a judgment of value at all, but one of fact, namely, that the real universe is one of moral and æsthetic harmony. As, however, this is the very conclusion supposed to be inferred through judgments of value, the circle is obvions. But, it will be said, since, according to the preceding analysis,

even knowledge originates in impulse and is tested by feeling, is not the right of moral and religious impulses to assert themselves equal to the right of reason itself? The answer is, Yes; they have an equal right to assert themselves, but not to assert anything else. Confusion has arisen at this point. Since the criterion of knowledge is a judgment of value, why not hold all valuable judgments to be true? Because the criterion of knowledge certifies the process of cognition, not the content. At times we might find satisfaction in believing that God hates our enemies; but, to justify this or any belief, we must experience self-realization in the process of arriving at it, in distinction from its content.

Let us try a third view, that the rationally allowable is simply the rationally probable, and that religious feeling and volition are to stop with this. This is apparently the position of the "religion of science." Like the preceding views, it is onesided, though in the opposite direction. It proposes that our extrarational functions shall be like flatboats towed by a steam. tug; they are to have no power of motion within themselves. Yet they are as original as reason; and since reason itself is, in final analysis, merely impulse of a particular kind, there appears no ground for the assumption of superior authority.

The defects of these three views may be schematized as follows: The second allows religious feeling an undue lordship over reason; the first is loyal to knowledge in its higher degrees, but not in its lower; the third concedes the rights of knowledge in all its degrees, but places unconstitutional limitations upon other functions. A fourth adjustment, free from both kinds of one-sidedness, is still conceivable. We may recognize the exclusive authority of rational criteria in respect to all judgments,' not excepting those concerning the objects of religion; but, at the same time, we may recognize the right of feeling to accent itself as feeling, of impulse to go forth as impulse, of imagination to luxuriate in its own realm, of will to assert itself as personal choice. That is, we may allow the extrarational to functionate freely, but not to invade the sphere of fact and truth. There may be wonder, awe, hope, fear, and even joyful contemplation and glad self-surrender, at the very moment we recognize the lack of even probable evidence for the existence of the objects we have conceived. Just as we can act as though

the next premier of Great Britain would certainly be a liberal, though there is no such certainty, so we can live as though there were a God, irrespective of the fact. We can even cultivate a habit of religious feeling, as well as activity, by mere contemplation of religious ideas; just as we can enjoy music without asking whence it comes, or whether it conforms to the laws of æsthetics. In short, faith, as distinguished from knowledge, is not assertiveness concerning facts or truths, but is the living as though we knew that which we confess to ourselves we do not know. In this there is no intimation that God is unknowable, but only that religion has a basis which need not be imperiled by changes of philosophy and theology. Nor has it been intimated that suspension of judgment as to religious truth is either desirable in itself or even consistent with high religious development. On the contrary, nothing human is at its best until it is thoroughly suffused by knowledge. Our inquiry has concerned, rather, the minimum of knowledge essential to a rudimentary religious life, and this we find to be merely the perception of the desirability of the life that religion enjoins.

Even then, if the religious world should become uncertain of its theology or its philosophy, this would not necessarily indicate lack of faith. There is ground for the suspicion that those who fear that a decay of faith is setting in have not understood the signs of the times. Perhaps the emphasis our age puts upon the practical ought to distinguish it from all preceding times as the true age of faith.

George A. love.

ART. VII.-THE PERSONAL ELEMENT IN SOCIAL REFORM.

ONE of the theories which for a long time has exercised a considerable influence upon our political thinking is that of socalled "natural rights." In substance this theory assumes that, behind all social laws and definitions, the individual, independently of the will of his fellows, is the possessor of certain inherent rights and privileges which are simply because he is a man. Belonging to him thus in the ordinary course of nature, rather than because of his personal effort to obtain them, society has no right to take them from him nor to abridge or alter them without his consent. Among these natural rights are life, personal freedom, choice of occupation, participation in making laws, and self-defense against insult or danger. "We hold these truths to be self-evident," says the Declaration of Independence, "that all men are created equal; that they are endowed by their Creator with certain inalienable rights; that among these are life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness." Under this theory the functions of society are such only as the individual is pleased to turn over to it, and none others, with the further important reservation that, in case of question as to the right of society to do this or that, the presumption must be in favor of the individual.

This theory of natural, inborn, and inalienable political and social rights has taken strong hold of the minds of Englishspeaking peoples, and seems to underlie a great amount of important legislation. But under the influence of recent social discussion the notion has received not a few rude shocks, and it is now freely intimated that before correct expression can be given to present social relations the old doctrine must be quite essentially modified, if not given up altogether. In proof of this attention is called to the undoubted historical fact that in the progress of civilization society is seen to have taken over one function after another-in each case with a consequent restriction of the field for individual activity-until, instead of the individual being looked upon as the possessor of "natural and inalienable" rights, it is actually beginning to appear that he has in fact only such rights as are granted to him by society,