On a similar ground of defence, we would take leave to remind mankind of the good old maxim, ‘Hear the other party.’  Familiar to most people, observed by some, there are multitudes who uniformly act as if they had never heard of it.  To be quite candid, we often catch ourselves neglecting it; and always, at the best, it takes a struggle to make it a reality in our conduct.  Experience, however, impresses us more and more with a sense of its being absolutely essential to the ascertainment of truth in any disputable case.  There is so much bias from self-love, so much recklessness about truth in general, and so much of even a sincere faithlessness of narration, that no partial account of anything is to be trusted.  It is but a small concession to the cause of truth, to wait till we hear the statement of the opposite party, or not to pronounce without it.  If anything were required to prove how little this is reflected on, it would be the readiness of nearly all persons to tell their own story, without intimating the slightest doubt that it is to be implicitly received on their own shewing.  One cannot walk along a street, but some friend will come up and inflict a narration, limited entirely to his own view of a case in which he is interested or aggrieved, practically ignoring that there can and must be another way of stating it.  And so great is the complaisance of mankind, that no one thinks of intimating any necessity for consulting another authority before giving judgment.  Here the vicious habit of thoughtless pronouncing is doubly bad, as it involves also a kind of flattery.

There are some novel doctrines and theories, which seem doomed to meet with prejudice and opposition, but which yet must have some vitality about them, seeing that they survive so much ill-treatment.  It is curious to observe how little regard to the rules of reasoning is usually felt to be necessary in opposing these theories—­how mere pronouncing comes to stand in their case in the stead of evidence and argument.  Although they may have been brought forward as mere forms of possible truth—­ideal points round which to rally the scattered forces of investigation—­and only advanced as far as facts would go, and no further—­you will find them denounced as visions, tending to the breach of the philosophic peace; while, on the other hand, those who oppose them, albeit on no sort of ground but a mere pronunciation of contrary opinion, obtain all the credit due to the genuine philosopher.  Abstractly, it would be generally admitted that any doctrine for which a certain amount of evidence is shewn, can only be overthrown by a superior force of evidence on the other side.  But practically this is of no avail.  Doubt and denial are so important to philosophy, and confer such an air of superior wisdom, that merely to doubt and deny will be pretty sure to carry both the educated and the uneducated vulgar.  To get a high character in that position is of course very easy.  Little more than pronouncing is required.  As to the respective positions of the affirmer and denier in some future time, when truth has attained the power of asserting her reign against prejudice, that is another thing.