“It is impossible,” said he, after a pause, “to affirm any thing on these subjects.”

“It is equally impossible?” said I, “to affirm nothing; on the contrary, you sceptics have two conclusions, though in a negative form, for every body else’s one,—­together with the pleasant addition, that they are contraries to one another; and as Pascal said that the man who attempted to be neuter between the sceptic and dogmatist was a sceptic par excellence, so the genuine sceptic may be called a dogmatist par excellence.”

“For my part,” said he, smiling sadly, “I hardly think it is very difficult either to believe nothing or every thing.  Fellowes, you see, has believed everything, and now he is in a fair way to believe nothing.  However, all I mean is, that the evidence on these subjects reduces one to a state of complete mental suspense, in which it is equally unreasonable to say that we believe, as to say that we believe not.  However, I grant you most of the paradoxes you mention; but a sceptic is not to be startled by paradoxes, I trow; alas! they prove nothing.”

“Prove nothing! nay, I think you do your system injustice; I think it is entitled to the distinction of making great discoveries.  You confess that the only truth on these subjects is, that there is no truth; that to act on this truth necessitates a conduct opposed to nature, to prudence, to happiness; that it is a knowledge worse than ignorance; that it is a truth that is worse than error; that it never did, will, or can be embraced by many, and that it makes the few who embrace it miserable; you admit further, with me, that men generally believe as they wish.  Why, then, do you not fly from so hideous a monster, on the very ground (only in this case it is stronger) on which you doubt all religious systems,—­that is, on account of the supposed paradoxes they involve?  It may be but a little argument with you, who seem to demand demonstration of religious truth; but for myself, I feel that, whatever be the truth, such a chimera as scepticism, bristling all over with paradoxes, must be—­a lie.”

“Well,” he replied, “but then which religion is the true?”

“Nay,” I said, “that is an after consideration; if you can but be brought to believe that any is true, I know you will believe but one.”

“You touched just now,” he replied, “on the very difficulty.  I shall believe as soon as any one gives me what you truly say I ask,—­ demonstration of the truth of some one of the thousand and one religious systems which men have believed.”

“And that, demonstration,” said I, “you cannot have; for God has not granted demonstration to man on that or any other subject in which duty is involved.”

“But why might I not have had it? and should I not have had it, if it had been incumbent on me to believe it?”

We had now come to the very knot of the whole argument.