looked at as mere history, are not so great as those of other histories, or that the discrepancies are greater; and I think even you will not venture to assert that.  But if you do, and choose to put it on that issue, I shall be most happy to try the criterion by examining Luke and Paul, Matthew and Mark, on the one side; and Clarendon and May, or Hume, Lingard, and Macaulay, on the other; or, if you prefer them, Livy and Polybius, or Tacitus and Josephus.”

“But I have bethought me of another answer,” said Robinson.  “Suppose the sacred writers affirm that every syllable they utter is infallibly true, being inspired?”

“Why, then,” said Harrington, “first, you must find such a passage, which many say you cannot; secondly, you must find one which says that every syllable would remain always infallibly true, in spite of all errors of transcription and corruptions of time, otherwise your discrepancies will not touch the writers; and lastly, it does not affect my argument whether you find any such absurdities or not, since you and I would know what to say, though the Christian would not like to say it; namely, that these writers were mistaken in the notion of their plenary inspiration.  It would still leave the mass of their history to be dealt with like any other history.  Now I want to know why, if I reject the mass of that on the ground of certain discrepancies, I must not reject the mass of this on the score of equal or greater.”

After a few minutes Harrington turned to Fellowes and said,—­“That in relation to the bulk of mankind there can be no authentic history of remote events plainly appears from a statement of Mr. Newman.  He says, you know, after having relinquished the investigation of the evidences of Christianity, that he might have spared much weary thought and useless labor, if, at an earlier time, this simple truth had been pressed upon him, that since the ’poor and half-educated cannot investigate historical and literary questions, therefore these questions cannot constitute an essential part of religion.’  You, if you recollect, mentioned it to my uncle the other night; and, in spite of what he replied, it does appear a weighty objection; on the other hand, if I admit it to be conclusive, I seem to be driven to the most paradoxical conclusions, at direct variance with the experience of all mankind,—­at least so they say.  For why cannot an historical fact constitute part of a religion?”

“Because, as Mr. Newman says, it is impossible that the bulk of people call have any ’certainty in relation to such remote facts of history,” said Fellowes.

“And, therefore, in relation to any other remote history; for if the bulk of men cannot obtain certainty on, such historical questions, neither can they obtain certainty on other historical questions.”

“Perhaps not; but then what does it matter, in that case, whether they can obtain certainty or not?”