of kindred nature with himself is perhaps only the more intimate, and his sympathy in their fates and fortunes only the more keen and constant, in proportion as their destiny and his own seem to him to be entirely dependent on him and them.
If it is objected to this picture (and it is an objection which might fairly be urged) that to realize it in actual life would be a task far beyond the common range of human energy and capability, I would reply that such a condition is no less essential in order that religious feelings become the groundwork, in a man's character, of a truly beautiful life, equally removed from coldness on the one hand and enthusiasm on the other. The force of this objection could only be admitted, moreover, if I had peculiarly recommended the cultivation of that harmony of being which I have just endeavoured to portray. But, as it is, my only object was to show that human morality, even the highest and most consistent, is not at all dependent on religion, or in general necessarily connected with it, and haply to contribute a few collateral reasons for removing the faintest shadow of spiritual intolerance, and for cherishing that profound respect which we should ever entertain for the individual thoughts and feelings of our fellow-men. If it were necessary still further to justify the view thus taken of morality, it were easy to delineate a contrasting picture of the pernicious influences of which an exclusive religious disposition, as well as its opposite, are capable. But it is painful to dwell on such ungrateful themes, and history only supplies us too abundantly with convincing illustrations. It may be more conducive to our present design, and furnish us a greater weight of evidence in favour of the principles we advocate, to cast a hasty glance at the nature of morality itself, and at the close relation of religious systems, as well as of religiousness, to the system of human sensation.
