II
My dear——,
You tell me that you fear your faith is far too roughly shaken to suffer now from anything that may be said against miracles: you are utterly convinced that they are false. As for the possibility of worshipping a non-miraculous Christ, "the very notion of it," you say, "is inconceivable: it seems like a new religion, and must surely be no more than a very transient phase of thought." But you would "very much like to know what processes of reasoning led to such a state of mind," and how long I have retained it.
I think I am hardly doing you an injustice in inferring from some other expressions in your letter, about "the difficulty which clergymen must necessarily feel in putting themselves into the mental position of the laity," that you entertain some degree of prejudice against my views, not only because they appear to you novel, but because—although you hardly like to say so—they come from a clerical source, and are likely to savour of clericalism. Let me see if I can put your thoughts into the plain words from which your own modesty and sense of propriety have caused you to refrain. "A clergyman," you say to yourself, "has enlisted; he has deliberately taken a side and is bound to fight for it. After twenty years of seeing one side of a question, or only so much of the other side as is convenient to see, how can even a candid, middle-aged cleric see two sides impartially? All his interests
