This is not a proper occasion for saying anything about the adequateness of the catholic，or any other special manner of fostering and solacing the religious impulses of men. We have to assume that the instructed class believe the catholic dogmas to be untrue，and yet wishes the uninstructed to be handed over to a system that reposes on the theory that these dogmas are superlatively true. What then is to be said of the tenableness of such a position? To the plain man it looks like a deliberate connivance at a plan for the propagation of error—assuming，as I say，for the moment，that these articles of belief are erroneous and contrary to fact and evidence. Ah，but，we are told，the people make no explicit affirmation of dogma; that does nothing for them; they are indifferent to it. A great variety of things might be said to this statement. We might ask，for instance，whether the people ever made an explicit affirmation of dogma in the past，or whether it was always the hazy indifferent matter which it is supposed to be now. If so，whether we shall not have to re-cast our most fundamental notions of the way in which Christian civilisation has been evolved. If not，and if people did once explicitly affirm dogma，when exactly was it that they ceased to do so?
The answers to these questions would all go to show that at the time when religion was the great controlling and organising force in conduct，the prime elemental dogmas were accepted with the most vivid conviction of reality. I do not pretend that the common people followed all the inferences which the intellectual subtlety of the master-spirits of theology drew so industriously from the simple premisses of scripture and tradition. But assuredly dogma was at the foundation of the whole structure. When did it cease to be so? How was the structure supported，after you had altered this condition of things?
Apart from this historic issue，the main question one would like to put to the upholder of duality of religion on this plea，is the simple one，whether the power of the ceremonial which charms him so much is not actually at this moment drawn wholly from dogma and the tradition of dogma; whether its truth is not explicitly affirmed to the unlettered man，and whether the inseparable connection between the dogma and the ceremonial is not constantly impressed upon him by the spiritual teachers to whom the dual system hands him and his order over for all time? If any one of those philosophic critics will take the trouble to listen to a few courses of sermons at the present day，and the remark applies not less to protestant than to catholic churches，he will find that instead of that 'parole morale et consolante' which is so soothing to think of，the pulpit is now the home of fervid controversy and often exacerbated declamation in favour of ancient dogma against modern science. We do not say whether this is or is not the wisest line for the clergy to follow. We only press the fact against those who wish us to believe that dogma counts for nothing in the popular faith，and that therefore we need not be uneasy as to its effects.
Next，one would say to those who think that all will go well if you divide the community into two classes，one privileged to use its own mind，the other privileged to have its mind used by a priesthood，that they overlook the momentous circumstance of these professional upholders of dogmatic systems being also possessed of a vast social influence in questions that naturally belong to another sphere. There is hardly a single great controversy in modern politics，where the statesman does not find himself in immediate contact with the real or supposed interests，and with the active or passive sentiment，of one of these religious systems. Therefore if the instructed or intellectually privileged class cheerfully leave the field open to men who，exhypothesi，are presumed to be less instructed，narrower，more impenetrable by reason，and the partisans of the letter against the spirit，then this result follows. They are deliberately strengthening the hands of the persons least fitted by judgment，experience，and temper，for using such power rightly. And they are strengthening them not merely in dealing with religious matters，but，what is of more importance，in dealing with an endless variety of the gravest social and political matters. It is impossible to map out the exact dimensions of the field in which a man shall exercise his influence，and to which he is to be rigorously confined. Give men influence in one matter，especially if that be such a matter as religious belief and ceremonial，and it is simply impossible that this influence shall not extend with more or less effect over as much of the whole sphere of conduct as they may choose surrendering the common people without dispute or effort to organised priesthoods for religious purposes，you would be inevitably including a vast number of other purposes in the self-same destination. This does not in the least prejudice practical ways of dealing with certain existing circumstances，such as the propriety or justice of allowing a catholic people to have a catholic university. It is only an argument against erecting into a complete and definite formula the division of a society into two great castes，the one with a religion of the spirit，the other with a creed of the letter.
Again，supposing that the enlightened caste were to consent to abandon the common people to what are assumed to be lower and narrower forms of truth，which is after all little more than a fine phrase for forms of falsehood，—what can be more futile than to suppose that such a compromise will be listened to for a single moment by a caste whose first principle is that they are the possessors and ministers，not of an inferior or superior form of truth，but of the very truth itself，absolute，final，complete，divinely sent，infallibly interpreted? The disciples of the relative may afford to compromise. The disciples of the absolute，never.
We shall see other objections as we go on to this state of things，in which a minority holds true opinions and abandons the majority to false ones. At the bottom of the advocacy of a dual doctrine slumbers the idea that there is no harm in men being mistaken，or at least only so little harm as is more than compensated for by the marked tranquillity in which their mistake may wrap them. This is not an idea merely that intellectual error is a pathological necessity of the mind，no more to be escaped than the pathological necessities which afflict and finally dissolve the body. That is historically true. It is an idea that error somehow in certain stages，where there is enough of it，actually does good，like vaccination. Well，the thesis of the present chapter is that erroneous opinion or belief，in itself and as such，can never be useful. This may seem a truism which everybody is willing to accept without demur. But it is one of those truisms which persons habitually forget and repudiate in practice，just because they have never made it real to themselves by considering and answering the objections that may be brought against it. We see this repudiation before our eyes every day. Thus for instance，parents theoretically take it for granted that error cannot be useful，while they are teaching or allowing others to teach their children what they，the parents，believe to be untrue. Thus husbands who think the common theology baseless and unmeaning，are found to prefer that their wives shall not question this theology nor neglect its rites. These are only two out of a hundred examples of the daily admission that error may be very useful to other people. I need hardly say that to deny this，as the commonplace to which this chapter is devoted denies it，is a different thing from denying the expediency of letting errors alone at a given time. That is another question，to be discussed afterwards. You may have a thoroughly vicious and dangerous enemy，and yet it may be expedient to choose your own hour and occasion for attacking him. 'The passage from error to truth,' in the words of Condorcet，'may be accompanied by certain evils. Every great change necessarily brings some of these in its train; and though they may be always far below the evil you are for destroying，yet it ought to do what is possible to diminish them. It is not enough to do good; one must do it in a good way. No doubt we should destroy all errors，but as it is impossible to destroy them all in an instant，we should imitate a prudent architect who，when obliged to destroy a building，and knowing how its parts are united together，sets about its demolition in such a way as to prevent its fall from being dangerous.'[4]
Those，let us note by the way，who are accustomed to think the moral tone of the eighteenth century low and gross compared with that of the nineteenth，may usefully contrast these just and prudent word? of caution in extirpating error，with M. Renan's invitation to men whom he considers wrong in their interpretation of religion，to plant their error as widely and deeply as they can; and who are moreover themselves supposed to be demoralised，or else they would not be likely to acquiesce in a previous surrender of the universities to men whom they think in mortal error. Apart however from M. Renan，Condorcet's words merely assert the duty of setting to work to help on the change from false to true opinions with prudence，and this every sensible man admits. Our position is that in estimating the situation，in counting up and balancing the expediencies of an attack upon error at this or that point，nothing is to be set to the credit of error as such，nor is there anything in its own operations or effects to entitle it to a moment's respite. Every one would admit this at once in the case of physical truths，though there are those who say that some of the time spent in the investigation of physical truths might be more advantageously devoted to social problems. But in the case of moral and religious truths or errors，people，if they admit that nothing is to be set to the credit of error as such，still constantly have a subtle and practically mischievous confusion in their minds between the possible usefulness of error，and the possible expediency of leaving it temporarily undisturbed. What happens in consequence of such a confusion is this. Men leave error undisturbed，because they accept in a loose way the proposition that a belief may be 'morally useful without being intellectually sustainable,' They disguise their own dissent from popular opinions，because they regard such opinions as useful to other people. We are not now discussing the case of those who embrace a creed for themselves，on the ground that，though they cannot demonstrate its truth to the understanding，yet they find it pregnant with moralising and elevating characteristics. We are thinking of a very different attitude—that，namely，of persons who believe a creed to be not more morally useful than it is intellectually sustainable，so far as they themselves are concerned. To them it is pure and uncompensated error. Yet from a vague and general idea that what is useless error to them may be useful to others，they insist on doing their best to perpetuate the system which spreads and consecrates the error. And how do they settle the question? They reckon up the advantages，and forget the drawbacks. They detect and dwell on one or two elements of utility in the false belief or the worn-out institution，and leave out of all account the elements that make in the other direction.
Considering how much influence this vague persuasion has in encouraging a well-meaning hypocrisy in individuals，and a profound stagnation in societies，it may be well to examine the matter somewhat generally. Let us try to measure the force of some of the most usual pleas for error.
I. A false opinion，it may be said，is frequently found to have clustering around it a multitude of excellent associations，which do far more good than the false opinion that supports them，does harm. In the middle ages，for instance，there was a belief that a holy man had the gift of routing demons，of healing the sick，and of working divers other miracles. Supposing that this belief was untrue，supposing that it was an error to attribute the sudden death of an incredible multitude of troublesome flies in a church to the fact of Saint Bernard having excommunicated them，what then? The mistaken opinion was still associated with a deep reverence for virtue and sanctity，and this was more valuable，than the error of the explanation of the death of the flies was noxious or degrading.
The answer to this seems to be as follows. First，in making false notions the proofs or close associates of true ones，you are exposing the latter to the ruin which awaits the former. For example，if you have in the minds of children or servants associated honesty，industry，truthfulness，with the fear of hellfire，then supposing this fear to become extinct in their minds，—which，being unfounded in truth，it is in constant risk of doing—the virtues associated with it are likely to be weakened exactly in proportion as that association was strong.
Second，for all good habits in thought or conduct there are good and real reasons in the nature of things. To leave such habits attached to false opinions is to lessen the weight of these natural or spontaneous reasons，and so to do more harm in the long run than effacement of them seems for a time to do good. Most excellences in human character have a spontaneous root in our nature. Moreover if they had not，and where they have not，there is always a valid and real external defence for them. The unreal defence must be weaker than the real one，and the substitution of a weak for a strong defence，where both are to be had，is not useful but the very opposite.
II. It is true，the objector would probably continue，that there is a rational defence for all excellences of conduct，as there is for all that is worthy and fitting in institutions. But the force of a rational defence lies in the rationality of the man to whom it is proffered. The arguments which persuade one trained in scientific habits of thought，only touch persons of the same kind. Character is not all pure reason. That fitness of things which you pronounce to be the foundation of good habits，may be borne in upon men，and may speak to them，through other channels than the syllogism. You assume a community of highly-trained wranglers and proficient sophisters. The plain fact is that，for the mass of men，use and wont，rude or gracious symbols，blind custom，prejudices，superstitions，however erroneous in themselves，—however inadequate to the conveyance of the best truth，—are the only safe guardians of the common virtues. In this sense，then，error may have its usefulness.
A hundred years ago this apology for error was met by those high-minded and interesting men，the French believers in human perfectibility，with their characteristic dogma，—of which Rousseau was the ardent expounder，—that man is born with a clear and unsophisticated spirit，perfectly able to discern all the simple truths necessary for common conduct by its own unaided light. His motives are all pure and unselfish and his intelligence is unclouded，until priests and tyrants mutilate the one and corrupt the other. We who have the benefit of the historic method，and have to take into account the medium that surrounds a human creature the moment it comes into the world，to say nothing of all the inheritance from the past which it brings within it into the world at the same moment，cannot take up this ground. We cannot maintain that everybody is born with light enough to see the rational defences of things for himself，without the education of institutions. What we do maintain is —and this is the answer to the plea for error at present under consideration —that whatever impairs the brightness of such light as a man has，is not useful but hurtful. Our reply to those who contend for the usefulness of error on the ground of the comparative impotence of rationality over ordinary minds，is something of this kind. Superstition，blind obedience to custom，and the other substitutes for a right and independent use of the mind，may accidentally and in some few respects impress good ideas upon persons who are too darkened to accept those ideas on their real merits. But then superstition itself is the main cause of this very darkness. To hold error is in so far to foster erroneous ways of thinking on all subjects; is to make the intelligence less and less ready to receive truth in all matters whatever. Men are made incapable of perceiving the rational defences，and of feeling rational motives，for good habits，—so far as they are thus incapable，—by the very errors which we are asked silently to countenance as useful substitutes for right reason. 'Erroneous motives,' as Condorcet has expressed this matter，'have an additional drawback attached to them，the habit which they strengthen of reasoning ill. The more important the subject on which you reason ill，and the more you busy yourself about it，by so much the more dangerous do the influences of such a habit become. It is especially on subjects analogous to that on which you reason wrongly，or which you connect with it by habit，that such a defect extends most powerfully and most rapidly. Hence it is extremely hard for the man who believes himself obliged to conform in his conduct to what he considers truths useful to men，but who attributes the obligation to erroneous motives，to reason very correctly on the truths themselves; the more attention he pays to such motives，and the more importance he comes to attach to them，the more likely he will be to go wrong.'[5] So，in short，superstition does an immense harm by enfeebling rational ways of thinking; it does a little good by accidentally endorsing rational conclusions in one or two matters. And yet，though the evil which it is said to repair is a trifle beside the evil which it is admitted to inflict，the balance of expediencies is after all declared to be such as to warrant us in calling errors useful!
