as those of more accurate critics.  Now what I want to know is, whether you would admit that these superficial inquirers—­the bulk of your decent countrymen, recollect—­can be said to have an intelligent belief in any such history; whether you think them justified in saying that they are certain of the substantial accuracy of their impressions, and that they may laugh in your face (which they assuredly would do) if you told them that it is possible that Alfred may have existed, and been a wise and patriotic prince; and that probably Oliver Cromwell was Protector of England, and died in 1658; but that really they know nothing about the matter.”

“Of course they would affirm that they are as assured of the substantial accuracy of their impressions as of their own existence,” replied Fellowes.

“But what answer do you think they ought to give, my friend?  Do you think that they can affirm a reasonable ground of belief in these things?”

“I confess I think they can.”

“Ah! then I fear you are grossly inconsistent with Mr. Newman’s principles, and must so far distrust his argument against historic religion.  If you think that this ready assent to remote historic events may pass for a reasonable conviction and an intelligent belief, I cannot see why it should be more difficult to attain a similar confidence in the general results of a religious history; and in that case it may also become men’s duty to act upon that belief.  On the other hand, if it be not possible to obtain this degree of satisfaction in the latter case, neither for similar reasons will it be in the former.  If you hold Mr. Newman’s principles consistently, seeing that neither in the one case nor the other can the bulk of mankind attain that sort of critical knowledge which he supposes necessary to certainty, you ought to deny that any common man has any business to say that he believes that he is certain of the main facts in the history either of Alfred or Cromwell.”

“You do not surely mean to compare the importance of a belief in the one case with the importance of a belief in the other?” rejoined Fellowes.

“I do not; and can as little disguise from myself that such a question has nothing to do with the matter.  The duty in the one case depends entirely on the question whether such a conviction of the accuracy of the main facts and more memorable events, as may pass for moral certainty, and justify its language and acts, be possible or not.  If, from a want of capacity and opportunity for a thorough investigation of all the conditions of the problem, it be not in the one case, neither will it be in the other.  If this be a fallacy, be pleased to prove it such,—­I shall not be sorry to have it so proved.  But at present you seem to me grossly inconsistent in this matter.  I have also my doubts (to speak frankly) whether we must not apply Mr. Newman’s principle (to the great relief of mankind) in other most momentous questions,