JOHN M. KELLY LIBRARY
in UHMORY o?
CARDINAL GCORGC FLAHIiT? CS
1905-1989
University of
St. Michael's College, Toronto
THE IDEA OF A UNIVERSITY
THE IDEA OF A UNIVERSITY
DEFINED AND ILLUSTRATED
I. IN NINE DISCOURSES DELIVERED TO THE CATHOLICS OF
DUBLIN
II. IN OCCASIONAL LECTURES AND ESSAYS ADDRESSED TO THE
MEMBERS OF THE CATHOLIC UNIVERSITY
BY
JOHN HENRY CARDINAL NEWMAN
NEW IMPXRSSlOlf
LONGMANS, GREEN AND CO.
39 PATERNOSTER ROW, LONDON
FOURTH AVENUE & 30TH STREET, NEW YORK
BOMBAY, CALCUTTA, AND MADRAS
1919
PREFACE.
view taken of a University in these Discourses
JL is the following : — That it is a place of teaching
universal knowledge. This implies that its object is, on
the one hand, intellectual, not moral ; and, on the other,
that it is the diffusion and extension of knowledge rather
than the advancement. If its object were scientific and
philosophical discovery, I do not see why a University
should have students ; if religious training, I do not see
how it can be the seat of literature and science.
Such is a University in its essence, and independently
of its relation to the Church. But, practically speaking,
it cannot fulfil its object duly, such as I have described
it, without the Church's assistance ; or, to use the theo
logical term, the Church is necessary for its integrity.
Not that its main characters are changed by this incor
poration : it still has the office of intellectual education ;
but the Church steadies it in the performance of that
office.
Such are the main principles of the Discourses which
follow; though it would be unreasonable for me to ex
pect that I have treated so large and important a field
of thought with the fulness and precision necessary to
secure me from incidental misconceptions of my meaning
on the part of the reader. It is true, there is nothing
x Preface.
novel or singular in the argument which I have been
pursuing, but this does not protect me from such mis
conceptions ; for the very circumstance that the views I
have been delineating are not original with me may lead
to false notions as to my relations in opinion towards
those from whom I happened in the first instance to
learn them, and may cause me to be interpreted by the
objects or sentiments of schools to which I should be
simply opposed.
For instance, some persons may be tempted to com
plain, that I have servilely followed the English idea of
a University, to the disparagement of that Knowledge
which I profess to be so strenuously upholding ; and
they may anticipate that an academical system, formed
upon my model, will result in nothing better or higher
than in the production of that antiquated variety of
human nature and remnant of feudalism, as they consider
it, called " a gentleman." * Now, I have anticipated this
charge in various parts of my discussion ; if, however,
any Catholic is found to prefer it (and to Catholics of
course this Volume is primarily addressed), I would have
him first of all ask himself the previous question, what
he conceives to be the reason contemplated by the Holy
See in recommending just now to the Irish Hierarchy
the establishment of a Catholic University? Has the
Supreme Pontiff recommended it for the sake of the
Sciences, which are to be the matter, and not rather of the
Students, who are to be the subjects, of its teaching?
Has he any obligation or duty at all towards secular
knowledge as such? Would it become his Apostolical
Ministry, and his descent from the Fisherman, to have a
zeal for the Baconian or other philosophy of man for its
* Vid. Huber's English Universities, London, 1843, vol. ii., part I., pp.
321, etc.
Preface. xi
own sake ? Is the Vicar of Christ bound by office or by
vow to be the preacher of the theory of gravitation, or
a martyr for electro-magnetism ? Would he be acquit
ting himself of the dispensation committed to him if he
were smitten with an abstract love of these matters, how
ever true, or beautiful, or ingenious, or useful? Or rather,
does he not contemplate such achievements of the intel
lect, as far as he contemplates them, solely and simply
in their relation to the interests of Revealed Truth ?
Surely, what he does he does for the sake of Religion ;
if he looks with satisfaction on strong temporal govern
ments, which promise perpetuity, it is for the sake of
Religion ; and if he encourages and patronizes art and
science, it is for the sake of Religion. He rejoices in
the widest and most philosophical systems of intellectual
education, from an intimate conviction that Truth is his
real ally, as it is his profession ; and that Knowledge
and Reason are sure ministers to Faith.
This being undeniable, it is plain that, when he sug
gests to the Irish Hierarchy the establishment of a Uni
versity, his first and chief and direct object is, not science,
art, professional skill, literature, the discovery of know
ledge, but some benefit or other, to accrue, by means of
literature and science, to his own children ; not indeed
their formation on any narrow or fantastic type, as, for
instance, that of an "English Gentleman" may be called,
but their exercise and growth in certain habits, moral or
intellectual. Nothing short of this can be his aim, if, as
becomes the Successor of the Apostles, he is to be able
to say with St. Paul, "Non judicavi me scire aliquid inter
vos, nisi Jesum Christum, et hunc crucifixum." Just as
a commander wishes to have tall and well-formed and
vigorous soldiers, not from any abstract devotion to the
military standard of height or age, but for the purposes
xii Preface.
of war, and no one thinks it any thing but natural and
praiseworthy in him to be contemplating, not abstract
qualities, but his own living and breathing men ; so, in
like manner, when the Church founds a University, she
is not cherishing talent, genius, or knowledge, for their
own sake, but for the sake of her children, with a view ro
their spiritual welfare and their religious influence and
usefulness, with the object of training them to fill their
respective posts in life better, and of making them more
intelligent, capable, active members of society.
Nor can it justly be said that in thus acting she sacri
fices Science, and, under a pretence of fulfilling the duties
of her mission, perverts a University to ends not its own,
as soon as it is taken into account that there are other
institutions far more suited to act as instruments of
stimulating philosophical inquiry, and extending the
boundaries of our knowledge, than a University. Such,
for instance, are the literary and scientific "Academies,"
which are so celebrated in Italy and France, and which
have frequently been connected with Universities, as
committees, or, as it were, congregations or delegacies
subordinate to them. Thus the present Royal Society
originated in Charles the Second's time, in Oxford; such
just now are the Ashmolean and Architectural Societies
in the same seat of learning, which have risen in our own
time. Such, too, is the British Association, a migratory
body, which at least at times is found in the halls of the
Protestant Universities of the United Kingdom, and the
faults of which lie, not in its exclusive devotion to science,
but in graver matters which it is irrelevant here to enter
upon, Such again is the Antiquarian Society, the Royal
Academy for the Fine Arts, and others which might be
mentioned. This, then, is the sort of institution, which
primarily contemplates Science itself, and not students :
Preface. xiii
and, in thus speaking, I am saying nothing of my own,
being supported by no less an authority than Cardinal
Gerdil. " Ce n'est pas," he says, " qu'il y ait aucune
veritable opposition entre Tesprit des Academies et celui
des Universite's ; ce sont seulement des vues differe'ntes.
Les Universite's sont e*tablies pour enseigner les sciences
aux Jteves qui veulent s'y former ; les Academies se
proposent de nouvelles recherches a faire dans la carriere
des sciences. Les Universite's d' Italic ont fourni des
sujets qui ont fait honneur aux Academies ; et celles-ci
ont donne* aux Universite's des Professeurs, qui ont rempli
les chaires avec la plus grande distinction."*
The nature of the case and the history of philosophy
combine to recommend to us this division of intellec
tual labour between Academies and Universities. To
discover and to teach are distinct functions ; they are
also distinct gifts, and are not commonly found united in
the same person. He, too, who spends his day in dispens
ing his existing knowledge to all comers is unlikely to
have either leisure or energy to acquire new. The com
mon sense of mankind has associated the search after
truth with seclusion and quiet. The greatest thinkers
have been too intent on their subject to admit of interrup
tion ; they have been men of absent minds and idosyn-
cratic habits, and have, more or less, shunned the lecture
room and the public school. Pythagoras, the light of
Magna Grsecia, lived for a time in a cave. Thales, the
light of Ionia, lived unmarried and in private, and refused
the invitations of princes. Plato withdrew from Athens
to the groves of Academus. Aristotle gave twenty years
to a studious discipleship under him. Friar Bacon lived
in his tower upon the Isis. Newton indulged in an intense
severity of meditation which almost shook his reason.
*0pcre, t. ui., p. 353.
xi\ Preface.
The great discoveries in chemistry and electricity were
not made in Universities. Observatories are more fre
quently out of Universities than in them, and even when
within their bounds need 4iave no moral connexion with
them. Person had no classes ; Elmsley lived good part
of his life in the country. I do not say that there are
not great examples the other way, perhaps Socrates,
certainly Lord Bacon; still I think it must be allowed on
the whole that, while teaching involves external engage
ments, the natural home for experiment and speculation
is retirement.
Returning, then, to the consideration of the question,
from which I may seem to have digressed, thus much I
think I have made good, — that, whether or no a Catholic
University should put before it, as its great object, to
make its students "gentlemen," still to make them some
thing or other is its great object, and not simply to pro
tect the interests and advance the dominion of Science.
If, then, this may be taken for granted, as I think it may,
the only pont which remains to be settled is, whether I
have formed a probable conception of the *ort of benefit
which the Holy See has intended to confer on Catholics
who speak the English tongue by recommending to the
Irish Hierarchy t*>e establishment of a University ; and
this I now proceed to consider.
Here, then, it is natural to ask those who are interested
in the question, whether any better interpretation of the
recommendation of the Holy See can be given than that
which I have suggested in this Volume. Certainly it
does not seem to me rash to pronounce that, whereas
Protestants have great advantages of education in the
Schools, Colleges, and Universities of the United King
dom, our ecclesiastical rulers have it in purpose that
Catholics should enjoy the like advantages, whatever they
Preface. xv
are, to the full. I conceive they view it as prejudicial to
the interests of Religion that there should be any culti
vation of mind bestowed upon Protestants which is not
given to their own youth also. As they wish their schools
for the poorer and middle classes to be at least on a par
with those of Protestants, they contemplate the same ob
ject also as regards that higher education which is given to
comparatively the few. Protestant youths, who can spare
the time, continue their studies till the age of twenty-one
or twenty-two ; thus they employ a time of life all-im
portant and especially favourable to mental culture. I
conceive that our Prelates are impressed with the fact
and its consequences, that a youth who ends his educa
tion at seventeen is no match (cceteris paribus) for one
who ends it at twenty-two.
All classes indeed of the community are impressed
with a fact so obvious as this. The consequence is, that
Catholics who aspire to be on a level with Protestants in
discipline and refinement of intellect have recourse to
Protestant Universities to obtain what they cannot find
at home. Assuming (as the Rescripts from Propaganda
allow me to do) that Protestant education is inexpedient
for our youth, — we see here an additional reason why
those advantages, whatever they are, which Protestant
communities dispense through the medium of Protest
antism should be accessible to Catholics in a Catholic
form.
What are these advantages ? I repeat, they are in one
word the culture of the intellect. Robbed, oppressed,
and thrust aside, Catholics in these islands have not been
in a condition for centuries to attempt the sort of educa
tion which is necessary for the man of the world, the
statesman, the landholder, or the opulent gentleman.
Their legitimate stations, duties, employments, have been
xvi Preface.
taken from them, and the qualifications withal, social
and intellectual, which are necessary both for reversing
the forfeiture and for availing themselves of the reversal.
The time is come when this moral disability must be
removed. Our desideratum is, not the manners and habits
of gentlemen ; — these can be, and are, acquired in various
other ways, by good society, by foreign travel, by the
innate grace and dignity of the Catholic mind ; — but the
force, the steadiness, the comprehensiveness and the
versatility of intellect, the command over our own powers,
the instinctive just estimate of things as they pass before
us, which sometimes indeed is a natural gift, but com
monly is not gained without much effort and the exercise
of years.
This is real cultivation of mind ; and I do not deny
that the characteristic excellences of a gentleman are
included in it. Nor need we be ashamed that they should
be, since the poet long ago wrote, that " Ingenuas didi-
cisse fideliter artes Emollit mores." Certainly a liberal
education does manifest itself in a courtesy, propriety,
and polish of word and action, which is beautiful in itself,
and acceptable to others ; but it does much more. It
brings the mind into form, — for the mind is like the body.
Boys outgrow their shape and their strength ; their limbs
have to be knit together, and their constitution needs
tone. Mistaking animal spirits for vigour, and over
confident in their health, ignorant what they can bear
and how to manage themselves, they are immoderate
and extravagant ; and fall into sharp sicknesses. This
is an emblem of their minds ; at first they have no prin
ciples laid down within them as a foundation for the
intellect to build upon ; they have no discriminating con
victions, and no grasp of consequences. And therefore
they talk at random, if they talk much, and cannot help
Preface. xvii
being flippant, or what is emphatically called "young?
They are merely dazzled by phenomena, instead of per
ceiving things as they are.
It were well if none remained boys all their lives ; but
what is more common than the sight of grown men,
talking on political or moral or religious subjects, in that
offhand, idle way, which we signify by the word unreal ?
" That they simply do not know what they are talking
about " is the spontaneous silent remark of any man of
sense who hears them. Hence such persons have no
difficulty in contradicting themselves in successive sen
tences, without being conscious of it Hence others,
whose defect in intellectual training is more latent, have
their most unfortunate crotchets, as they are called, or
hobbies, which deprive them of the influence which their
estimable qualities would otherwise secure. Hence others
can never look straight before them, never see the point,
and have no difficulties in the most difficult subjects.
Others are hopelessly obstinate and prejudiced, and, after
they have been driven from their opinions, return to them
the next moment without even an attempt to explain
why. Others are so intemperate and intractable that
there is no greater calamity for a good cause than that
they should get hold of it. It is very plain from the
very particulars I have mentioned that, in this delinea
tion of intellectual infirmities, I .am drawing, not from
Catholics, but from the world at large ; I am referring
to an evil which is forced upon us in every railway
carriage, in every coffee-room or table-d' hote, in every
mixed company, an evil, however, to which Catholics are
not less exposed than the rest of mankind.
When the intellect has once been properly trained and
formed to have a connected view or grasp of things, it
will display its powers with more or k>s effect according
xviii Preface.
to its particular quality and capacity in the individual.
In the case of most men it makes itself felt in the good
sense, sobriety of thought, reasonableness, candour, self-
command, and steadiness of view, which characterize it.
In some it will have developed habits of business, power
of influencing others, and sagacity. In others it will
elicit the talent of philosophical speculation, and lead
the mind forward to eminence in this or that intellectual
department. In all it will be a faculty of entering with
comparative ease into any subject of thought, and of
taking up with aptitude any science or profession. All
this it will be and will do in a measure, even when the
mental formation be made after a model but partially
true ; for, as far as effectiveness goes, even false views of
things have more influence and inspire more respect than
no views at all. Men who fancy they see what is not
are more energetic, and make their way better, than
those who see nothing ; and so the undoubting infidel,
the fanatic, the heresiarch, are able to do much, while the
mere hereditary Christian, who has never realized the
truths which he holds, is unable to do any thing. But, if
consistency of view can add so much strength even to
error, what may it not be expected to furnish to the
dignity, the energy, and the influence of Truth !
Some one, however, will perhaps object that I am
but advocating that spurious philosophism, which shows
itself in what, for want of a word, I may call "viewi-
ness," when I speak so much of the formation, and con
sequent grasp, of the intellect. It may be said that the
theory of University Education, which I have been
delineating, if acted upon, would teach youths nothing
soundly or thoroughly, and would dismiss them with
nothing better than brilliant general views about all
things whatever.
Preface. xix
This indeed, if well founded, would be a most serious
objection to what I have advanced in this Volume, and
would demand my immediate attention, had I any reason
to think that I could not remove it at once, by a simple
explanation of what I consider the true mode of educa
ting, were this the place to do so. But these Discourses
are directed simply to the consideration of the aims and
principles of Education. Suffice it, then, to say here, that
I hold very strongly that the first step in intellectual
training is to impress upon a boy's mind the idea of
science, method, order, principle, and system ; of rule
and exception, of richness and harmony. This is com
monly and excellently done by making him begin with
Grammar ; nor can too great accuracy, or minuteness
and subtlety of teaching be used towards him, as his
faculties expand, with this simple purpose. Hence it is
that critical scholarship is so important a discipline for
him when he is leaving school for the University. A
second science is the Mathematics : this should follow
Grammar, still with the same object, viz., to give him a
conception of development and arrangement from and
around a common centre. Hence it is that Chronology
and Geography are so necessary for him, when he reads
History, which is otherwise little better than a story
book. Hence, too, Metrical Composition, when he reads
Poetry ; in order to stimulate his powers into action in
every practicable way, and to prevent a merely passive
reception of images and ideas which in that case are
likely to pass out of the mind as soon as they have
entered it Let him once gain this habit of method,
of starting from fixed points, of making his ground
good as he goes, of distinguishing what he knows
from what he does not know, and I conceive he will be
gradually initiated into the largest and truest philoso-
xx Preface.
phical views, and will feel nothing but impatience and
disgust at the random theories and imposing sophistries
and dashing paradoxes, which carry away half-formed
and superficial intellects.
Such parti-coloured ingenuities are indeed one of the
chief evils of the day, and men of real talent are not slow
to minister to them. An intellectual man, as the world
now conceives of him, is one who is full of " views " on
all subjects of philosophy, on all matters of the day. It
is almost thought a disgrace not to have a view at a
moment's notice on any question from the Personal
Advent to the Cholera or Mesmerism. This is owing in
great measure to the necessities of periodical literature,
now so much in request Every quarter of a year, every
month, every day, there must be a supply, for the grati
fication of the public, of new and luminous theories on
the subjects of religion, foreign politics, home politics,
civil economy, finance, trade, agriculture, emigration,
and the colonies. Slavery, the gold fields, German
philosophy, the French Empire, Wellington, Peel, Ire
land, must all be practised on, day after day, by what
are called original thinkers. As the great man's guest
must produce his good stories 01 songs at the evening
banquet, as the platform orator exhibits his telling facts
at mid-day, so the journalist lies under the stern obliga
tion of extemporizing his lucid views, leading ideas, and
nutshell truths for the breakfast table. The very nature
of periodical literature, broken into small wholes, and
demanded punctually to an hour, involves the habit of
this extempore philosophy. "Almost all the Ramblers,"
says Boswell of Johnson, " were written just as they
were wanted for the press ; he sent a certain portion of
the copy of an essay, and wrote the remainder while the
former part of it was printing." Few men have the gifts
Preface. xxi
of Johnson, who to great vigour and resource of intellect,
when it was fairly roused, united a rare common-sense
and a conscientious regard for veracity, which preserved
him from flippancy or extravagance in writing. Few
men are Johnsons ; yet how many men at this day are
assailed by incessant demands on their mental powers,
which only a productiveness like his could suitably
supply ! There is a demand for a reckless originality of
thought, and a sparkling plausibility of argument, which
he would have despised, even if he could have displayed ;
a demand for crude theory and unsound philosophy,
rather than none at all. It is a sort of repetition of the
" Quid novi ? " of the Areopagus, and it must have an
answer. Men must be found who can treat, where it is
necessary, like the Athenian sophist, de omni scibili,
" Grammaticus, Rhetor, Geometres, Pictor, Aliptes,
Augur, Schoenobates, Medicus, Magus, omnia novit"
I am speaking of such writers with a feeling of real
sympathy for men who are under the rod of a cruel
slavery. I have never indeed been in such circumstances
myself, nor in the temptations which they involve ; but
most men who have had to do with composition must
know the distress which at times it occasions them to
have to write — a distress sometimes so keen and so
specific that it resembles nothing else than bodily pain.
That pain is the token of the wear and tear of mind ;
and, if works done comparatively at leisure involve such
mental fatigue and exhaustion, what must be the toil of
those whose intellects are to be flaunted daily before the
public in full dress, and that dress ever new and varied,
and spun, like the silkworm's, out of themselves ! Still,
whatever true sympathy we may feel for the ministers
of this dearly purchased luxury, and whatever sense we
xx ii Preface.
may have of the great intellectual power which the
literature in question displays, we cannot honestly close
our eyes to its direct evil.
One other remark suggests itself, which is the last I
shall think it necessary to make. The authority, which
in former times was lodged in Universities, now resides
in very great measure in that literary world, as it is
called, to which I have been referring. This is not satis
factory, if, as no one can deny, its teaching be so off
hand, so ambitious, so changeable. It increases the
seriousness of the mischief, that so very large a portion
of its writers are anonymous, for irresponsible power
never can be any thing but a great evil ; and, moreover,
that, even when they are known, they can give no better
guarantee for the philosophical truth of their principles
than their popularity at the moment, and their happy
conformity in ethical character to the age which admires
them. Protestants, however, may do as they will : it is
a matter for their own consideration ; but at least it
concerns us that our own literary tribunals and oracles
of moral duty should bear a graver character. At least
it is a matter of deep solicitude to Catholic Prelates that
their people should be taught a wisdom, safe from the
excesses and vagaries of individuals, embodied in institu
tions which have stood the trial and received the sanc
tion of ages, and administered by men who have no need
to be anonymous, as being supported by their consis
tency with their predecessors and with each other.
November 21, 1852.
UNIVERSITY TEACHING.
DISCOURSE PAGB
I. INTRODUCTORY • . I
n. THEOLOGY A BRANCH OF KNOWLEDGE . « • • . 19
in. BEARING OF THEOLOGY ON OTHER KNOWLEDGE 43
iv. BEARING OF OTHER KNOWLEDGE ON THEOLOGY ... 71
v. KNOWLEDGE ITS OWN END 99
vi. KNOWLEDGE VIEWED IN RELATION TO LEARNING . . . 124
vii. KNOWLEDGE VIEWED IN RELATION TO PROFESSIONAL SKILL . 151
vni. KNOWLEDGE VIEWED IN RELATION TO RELIGIOUS DUTY 179
ix. DUTIES OF THE CHURCH TOWARDS KNOWLEDGE . . . 212
L
UNIVERSITY TEACHING
CONSIDERED IN NINE DISCOURSES.
DISCOURSE I.
INTRODUCED RV
I.
IN addressing myself, Gentlemen, to the consideration
of a question which has excited so much interest,
and elicited so much discussion at the present day, as
that of University Education, I feel some explanation is
due from me for supposing, after such high ability and
wide experience have been brought to bear upon it,
that any field remains for the additional labours either
of a disputant or of an inquirer. If, nevertheless, I still
venture to ask permission to continue the discussion,
already so protracted, it is because the subject of Liberal
Education, and of the principles on which it must be
conducted, has ever had a hold upon my own mind ; and
because I have lived the greater part of my life in a
place which has all that time been occupied in a series
of controversies both domestic and with strangers, and
of measures, experimental or definitive, bearing upon it.
About fifty years since, the English University, of which
I was so long a member, after a century of inactivity, at
length was roused, at a time when (as I may say) it was
giving no education at all to the youth committed to its
keeping, to a sense of the responsibilities which its pro
fession and its station involved, and it presents to us
I
2 Discourse I.
the singular example of an heterogeneous and an inde
pendent body of men, setting about a work of self-refor
mation, not from any pressure of public opinion, but
because it was fitting and right to undertake it. Its
initial efforts, begun ano> carried on amid many ob
stacles, were met from without, as often happens in such
cases, by ungenerous and jealous criticisms, which, at
the very moment that they were urged, were beginning
to be unjust. Controversy did but bring out more
clearly to its own apprehension the views on which its
reformation was proceeding, and throw them into a
philosophical form. The course of beneficial change
made progress, and what was at first but the result of
individual energy and an act of the academical corpora
tion, gradually became popular, and was taken up and
carried out by the separate collegiate bodies, of which
the University is composed. This was the first stage of
the controversy. Years passed away, and then political
adversaries arose against it, and the system of education
which it had established was a second time assailed ; but
still, since that contest was conducted for the most part
through the medium, not of political acts, but of treatises
and pamphlets, it happened as before that the threatened
dangers, in the course of their repulse, did but afford
fuller development and more exact delineation to the
principles of which the University was the representative
In the former of these two controversies the charge
brought against its studies was their remoteness from
the occupations and duties of life, to which they are the
formal introduction, or, in other words, their inutility ; in
the latter, it was their connexion with a particular form of
belief, or, in other words, their religions cxclusivencss.
Living then so long as a witness, though hardly as an
actor, in these scenes of intellectual conflict, I am able
Introductory. 3
to bear witness to views of University Education, with
out authority indeed in themselves, but not without
value to a Catholic, and less familiar to him, as I con
ceive, than they deserve to be. And, while an argument
originating in the controversies to which I have referred,
may be serviceable at this season to that great cause in
which we are here so especially interested, to me per
sonally it will afford satisfaction of a peculiar kind ; for,
though it has been my lot for many years to take a
prominent, sometimes a presumptuous, part in theological
discussions, yet the natural turn of my mind carries me
off to trains of thought like those which I am now about
to open, which, important though they bejfor Catholic
objects, and admitting of a Catholic treatment, are
sheltered from the extreme delicacy and peril which
attach to disputations directly bearing on the subject-
matter of Divine Revelation.
2.
There are several reasons why I should open the
discussion with a reference to the lessons with which
past years have supplied me. One reason is this : It
would concern me, Gentlemen, were I supposed to have
got up my opinions for the occasion. This, indeed, would
have been no reflection on me personally, supposing I
were persuaded of their truth, when at length addressing
myself to the inquiry ; but it would have destroyed, of I
course, the force of my testimony, and deprived such
arguments, as I might adduce, of that moral persuasive
ness which attends on tried and sustained conviction.
It would have made me seem the advocate, rather than
the cordial and deliberate maintainer and witness, of the
doctrines which I was to support ; and, though it might
be said to evidence the faith I reposed in the practical
4 Discourse I.
judgment of the Church, and the intimate concurrence
of my own reason with the course she had authoritatively
sanctioned, and the devotion with which I could promptly
put myself at her disposal, it would have cast suspicion
on the validity of reasonings and conclusions which
rested on no independent inquiry, and appealed to no
past experience. In that case it might have been plau
sibly objected by opponents that I was the serviceable
expedient of an emergency, and never, after all, could
be more than ingenious and adroit in the management of
an argument which was not my own, and which I was
sure to forget again as readily as I had mastered it.
But this is not so. The views to which I have referred
have grown into my whole system of thought, and are,
as it were, part of myself. Many changes has my mind
gone through : here it has known no variation or vacilla
tion of opinion, and though this by itself is no proof of
the truth of my principles, it puts a seal upon conviction,
and is a justification of earnestness and zeal Those prin
ciples, which I am now to set forth under the sanction of
the Catholic Church, were my profession at that early-
period of my life, when religion was to me more a matter
of feeling and experience than of faith. They did but
take greater hold upon me, as I was introduced to the
records of Christian Antiquity, and approached in senti
ment and desire to Catholicism ; and my sense of their
correctness has been increased with the events of every
year since I have been brought within its pale.
And here J am brought to a second and more important
reason for referring, on this occasion, to the conclusions
at which Protestants have arrived on the subject of
Liberal Education ; and it is as follows : Let it be ob
served, then, that the principles on which I would conduct
the inquiry are attainable, as I have already implied, by
Introductory. 5
the mere experience of life. They do not come simply
of theology ; they imply no supernatural discernment ;
they have no special connexion with Revelation ; they
almost arise out of the nature of the case ; they are
dictated even by human prudence and wisdom, though a
divine illumination be absent, and they are recognized
by common sense, even where self-interest is not present
to quicken it ; and, therefore, though true, and just, and
good in themselves, they imply nothing whatever as to
the religious profession of those who maintain them.
They may be held by Protestants as well as by Catholics ;
nay, there is reason to anticipate that in certain times
and places they will be more thoroughly investigated,
and better understood, and held more firmly by Protest
ants than by ourselves.
It is natural to expect this from the very circumstance
that the philosophy of Education is founded on truths
in the natural order. Where the sun shines bright, in
the warm climate of the south, the natives of the place
know little of safeguards against cold and wet. They
have, indeed, bleak and piercing blasts ; they have chill
and pouring rain, but only now and then, for a day or a
week ; they bear the inconvenience as they best may, but
they have not made it an art to- repel it ; it is not worth
their while; the science of calefaction and ventilation is
reserved for the north. It is in this way that Catholics
stand relatively to Protestants in the science of Edu
cation ; Protestants depending on human means mainly,
are led to make the most of them : their sole resource is
to use what they have ; " Knowledge is " their " power"
and nothing else ; they are the anxious cultivators of a
rugged soil It is otherwise with us ; "funes ceciderunt
tnihi in prceclaris" We have a goodly inheritance. This
is apt to cause us — I do not mean to rely too much on
6 Discourse I .
prayer, and the Divine Blessing, for that is impossible, but
we sometimes forget that we shall please Him best, and get
most from Him, when, according to the Fable, we " put
our shoulder to the wheel," when we use what we have by
nature to the utmost, at the same time that we look out
for what is beyond nature in the confidence of faith anil
hope. However, we are sometimes tempted to let things
take their course, as if they would in one way or another
turn up right at last for certain ; and so we go on, living
from hand to mouth, getting into difficulties and getting
out of them, succeeding certainly on the whole, but with
failure in detail which might be avoided, and with much
of imperfection or inferiority in our appointments and
plans, and much disappointment, discouragement, and
collision of opinion in consequence. If this be in any
measure the state of the case, there is certainly so far
a reason for availing ourselves of the investigations
and experience of those who are not Catholics, when we
have to address ourselves to the subject of Liberal
Education.
Nor is there surely any thing derogatory to the position
of a Catholic in such a proceeding. The Church has
ever appealed and deferred to witnesses and authorities
external to herself, in those matters in which she
thought they had means of forming a judgment : and
that on the principle, Cuique in arte sua credendum.
She has even used unbelievers and pagans in evidence
of her truth, as far as their testimony went. She avails
herself of scholars, critics, and antiquarians, who are not
of her communion. She has worded her theological teach
ing in the phraseology of Aristotle; Aquila, Symmachus,
Theodotion, Origen, Eusebius, and Apollinaris, all more
or less heterodox, have supplied materials for primitive
exegetics. St. Cyprian called Tertullian his master;
Introductory. 7
St. Augustin refers to Ticonius ; Bossuet, in modern
times, complimented the labours of the Anglican Bull ;
the Benedictine editors of the Fathers are familiar with
the labours of Fell, Ussher, Pearson, and Beveridge.
Pope Benedict XIV. cites according to the occasion the
works of Protestants without reserve, and the late French
collection of Christian Apologists contains the writings
of Locke, Burnet, Tillotson, and Paley. If, then, I
come forward in any degree as borrowing the views of
certain Protestant schools on the point which is to be
discussed, I do so, Gentlemen, as believing, first, that the
Catholic Church has ever, in the plenitude of her divine
illumination, made use of whatever truth or wisdom she
has found in their teaching or their measures ; and next,
that in particular places or times her children are likely
to profit from external suggestions or lessons, which have
not been provided for them by herself.
3-
And here I may mention a third reason for appealing
at the outset to the proceedings of Protestant bodies in
regard to Liberal Education. It will serve to intimate
the mode in which I propose to handle my subject
altogether. Observe then, Gentlemen, I have no inten
tion, in any thing I shall say, of bringing into the argument
the authority of the Church, or any authority at all ; but
I shall consider the question simply on the grounds of
human reason and human wisdom. I am investigating
in the abstract, and am determining what is in itself right
and true. For the moment I know nothing, so to say,
of history. I take things as I find them ; I have no con
cern with the past ; I find myself here ; I set myself to
the duties I find here ; I set myself to further, by every
means in my power, doctrines and views, true in them-
8 Discourse I.
selves, recognized by Catholics as such, familiar to my
own mind ; and to do this quite apart from the consider
ation of questions which have been determined without
me and before me. I am here the advocate and the
minister of a certain, great principle ; yet not merely
advocate and minister, else had I not been here at all. It
has been my previous keen sense and hearty reception
of that principle, that has been at once the reason, as I
must suppose, of my being selected for this office,
and is the cause of my accepting it. I am told on
authority that a principle is expedient, which I have
ever felt to be true. And I argue in its behalf on its
own merits, the authority, which brings me here, being
my opportunity for arguing, but not the ground of my
argument itself.
And a fourth reason is here suggested for consulting
the history of Protestant institutions, when I am going
to speak of the object and nature of University Education.
It will serve to remind you, Gentlemen, that I am con
cerned with questions, not simply of immutable truth,
but of practice and expedience. It would ill have
become me to undertake a subject, on which points of
dispute have arisen among persons so far above me in
authority and name, in relation to a state of society,
about which I have so much to learn, if it involved an
appeal to sacred truths, or the determination of some
imperative rule of conduct It would have been pre
sumptuous in me so to have acted, nor am I so acting.
Even the question of the union of Theology with the
secular Sciences, which is its religious side, simple as it
is of solution in the abstract, has, according to difference
of circumstances, been at different times differently
decided. Necessity has no law, and expedience is often
one form of necessity. It is no principle with sensible
Introductory. 9
men, of whatever cast of opinion, to do always what is
abstractedly best Where no direct duty forbids, we
may be obliged to do, as being best under circumstances,
what we murmur and rise against, while we do it. We
see that to attempt more is to effect less ; that we must
accept so much, or gain nothing ; and so perforce we
reconcile ourselves to what we would have far otherwise,
if we could. Thus a system of what is called secular
Education, in which Theology and the Sciences are
taught separately, may, in a particular place or time, be
the least of evils ; it may be of long standing ; it may be
dangerous to meddle with ; it may be professedly a
temporary arrangement ; it may be under a process of
improvement ; its disadvantages may be neutralized by
the persons by whom, or the provisions under which, it is
administered.
Hence it was, that in the early ages the Church al
lowed her children to attend the heathen schools for the
acquisition of secular accomplishments, where, as no
one can doubt, evils existed, at least as great as can
attend on Mixed Education now. The gravest Fathers
recommended for Christian youth the use of Pagan
masters ; the most saintly Bishops and most authorita
tive Doctors had been sent in their adolescence by
Christian parents to Pagan lecture halls.* And, not to
take other instances, at this very time, and in this very
country, as regards at least the poorer classes of the
community, whose secular acquirements ever must be
limited, it has seemed best to the Irish Bishops, under
the circumstances, to suffer the introduction into the
country of a system of Mixed Education in the schools
called National. Such a state of things, however, is
passing away ; as regards University education at least,
* Vide M. L'Abbe Lalanne's recent work.
IO Discourse L
the highest authority has now decided that the plan,
which is abstractedly best, is in this time and country
also most expedient.
4-
And here I have an opportunity of recognizing once
for all that higher view of approaching the subject of
these Discourses, which, after this formal recognition, I
mean to dispense with. Ecclesiastical authority, not
argument, is the supreme rule and the appropriate guide
for Catholics in matters of religion. It has always the
right to interpose, and sometimes, in the conflict of
parties and opinions, it is called on to exercise that
right. It has lately exercised it in our own instance : it
has interposed in favour of a pure University system for
Catholic youth, forbidding compromise or accommodation
of any kind. Of course its decision must be heartily
accepted and obeyed, and that the more, because the
decision proceeds, not simply from the Bishops of Ire
land, great as their authority is, but the highest authority
on earth, from the Chair of St. Peter.
Moreover, such a decision not only demands our
submission, but has a claim upon our trust. It not only
acts as a prohibition of any measures, but as an ipso
facto confutation of any reasonings, inconsistent with it.
It carries with it an earnest and an augury of its own
expediency. For instance, I can fancy, Gentlemen,
there may be some, among those who hear me, disposed
to say that they are ready to acquit the principles of
Education, which I am to advocate, of all fault what
ever, except that of being impracticable. I can fancy
them granting to me, that those principles are most
correct and most obvious, simply irresistible on paper, but
maintaining, nevertheless, that after all, they are nothing
Introductory 1 1
more than the dreams of men who live out of the world,
and who do not see the difficulty of keeping Catholicism
anyhow afloat on the bosom of this wonderful nine
teenth century. Proved, indeed, those principles are, to
demonstration, but they will not work. Nay, it was
my own admission just now, that, in a particular in
stance, it might easily happen, that what is only second
best is best practically, because what is actually best is
out of the question.
This, I hear you say to yourselves, is the state of
things at present. You recount in detail the numberless
impediments, great and small, formidable or only vexa
tious, which at every step embarrass the attempt to carry
out ever so poorly a principle in itself so true and
ecclesiastical. You appeal in your defence to wise and
sagacious intellects, who are far from enemies to Catho
licism, or to the Irish Hierarchy, and you have no hope,
or rather you absolutely disbelieve, that Education can
possibly be conducted, here and now, on a theological
principle, or that youths of different religions can, under
the circumstances of the country, be educated apart from
each other. The more you think over the state of
politics, the position of parties, the feelings of classes,
and the experience of the past, the more chimerical
does it seem to you to aim at a University, of which
Catholicity is the fundamental principle. Nay, even if
the attempt could accidentally succeed, would not the
mischief exceed the benefit of it ? How great the
sacrifices, in how many ways, by which it would be
preceded and followed ! how many wounds, open and
secret, would it inflict upon the body politic ! And, if
it fails, which is to be expected, then a double mischief
will ensue from its recognition of evils which it has been
unable to remedy. These are your deep misgivings ;
1 2 Discourse L
and, in proportion to the force with which they come to
you, is the concern and anxiety which you feel, that
there should be those whom you love, whom you
revere, who from one cause or other refuse to enter
into them,
5-
This, I repeat, is what some good Catholics will say
to me, and more than this. They will express them
selves better than I can speak for them in their behalf, —
with more earnestness and point, with more force of
argument and fulness of detail ; and I will frankly and
at once acknowledge, that I shall insist on the high theo
logical view of a University without attempting to give
a direct answer to their arguments against its present
practicability. I do not say an answer cannot be given ;
on the contrary, I have a confident expectation that, in
proportion as those objections are looked in the face,
they will fade away. But, ho\vever this may be, it would
not become me to argue the matter with those who
understand the circumstances of the problem so much
better than myself. What do I know of the state of things
in Ireland, that I should presume to put ideas of mine,
which could not be right except by accident, by the side
of theirs, who speak in the country of their birth and
their home ? No, Gentlemen, you are natural judges of
the difficulties which beset us, and they are doubtless
greater than I can even fancy or forbode. Let me, for
the sake of argument, admit all you say against our
enterprise, and a great deal more. Your proof of its
intrinsic impossibility shall be to me as cogent as my
own of its theological advisableness. Why, then, should
I be so rash and perverse as to involve myself in trouble
not properly mine ? Why go out of my own place ?
Introductory. 13
Why so headstrong and reckless as to lay up for myself
miscarriage and disappointment, as though I were not
sure to have enough of personal trial anyhow without
going about to seek for it ?
Reflections such as these would be decisive even
with the boldest and most capable minds, but for one
consideration. In the midst of our difficulties I have
one ground of hope, just one stay, but, as I think, a
sufficient one, which serves me in the stead of all other
argument whatever, which hardens me against criticism,
which supports me if I begin to despond, and to
which I ever come round, when the question of the
possible and the expedient is brought into discussion.
It is the decision of the Holy See ; St. Peter has spoken,
it is he who has enjoined that which seems to us so
unpromising. He has spoken, and has a claim on us to
trust him. He is no recluse, no solitary student, no
dreamer about the past, no doter upon the dead and
gone, no projector of the visionary. He for eighteen
hundred years has lived in the world ; he has seen all
fortunes, he has encountered all adversaries, he has
shaped himself for all emergencies. If ever there was
a power on earth who had an eye for the times, who
has confined himself to the practicable, and has been
happy in his anticipations, whose words have been facts,
and whose commands prophecies, such is he in the
history of ages, who sits from generation to generation
in the Chair of the Apostles, as the Vicar of Christ, and
the Doctor of His Church.
6.
These are not the words of rhetoric, Gentlemen, but of
history. All who take part with the Apostle, are on the
winning side. He has long since given warrants for the
14 Discourse 1.
confidence which he claims. From the first he has
looked through the wide world, of which he has the
burden ; and, according to the need of the day, and the
inspirations of his Lord, he has set himself now to one
thing, now to another ; but to all in season, and to no
thing in vain. He came first upon an age of refinement
and luxury like our own, and, in spite of the persecutor,
fertile in the resources of his cruelty, he soon gathered,
out of all classes of society, the slave, the soldier, the
high-born lady, and the sophist, materials enough to
form a people to his Master's honour. The savage hordes
come down in torrents from the north, and Peter went
out to meet them, and by his very eye he sobered them,
and backed them in their full career. They turned aside
and flooded the whole earth, but only to be more surely
civilized by him, and to be made ten times more his
children even than the older populations which they had
overwhelmed. Lawless kings arose, sagacious as the
Roman, passionate as the Hun, yet in him they found
their match, and were shattered, and he lived on. The
gates of the earth were opened to the east and west, and
men poured out to take possession ; but he went with
them by his missionaries, to China, to Mexico, carried
along by zeal and charity, as far as those children of
men were led by enterprise, covetousness, or ambition.
Has he failed in his successes up to this hour ? Did he,
in our fathers' day, fail in his struggle with Joseph of
Germany and his confederates, with Napoleon, a greater
name, and his dependent kings, that, though in another
kind of fight, he should fail in ours ? What grey hairs
are on the head of Judah, whose youth is renewed like
the eagle's, whose feet are like the feet of harts, and
underneath the Everlasting arms ?
Jn the first centuries of the Church all this practical
Introductory. 1 5
sagacity of Holy Church was mere matter of faith, but
every age, as it has come, has confirmed faith by actual
sight ; and shame on us, if, with the accumulated testi
mony of eighteen centuries, our eyes are too gross to
see those victories which the Saints have ever seen by
anticipation. Least of all can we, the Catholics of islands
which have in the cultivation and diffusion of Knowledge
heretofore been so singularly united under the auspices
of the Apostolic See, least of all can we be the men to
distrust its wisdom and to predict its failure, when it
sends us on a similar mission now. I cannot forget that,
at a time when Celt and Saxon were alike savage, it was
the See of Peter that gave both of them, first faith,
then civilization ; and then again bound them together
in one by the seal of a joint commission to convert and
illuminate in their turn the pagan continent. I cannot
forget how it was from Rome that the glorious St. Patrick
was sent to Ireland, and did a work so great that he
could not have a successor in it, the sanctity and learning
and zeal and charity which followed on his death being
but the result of the one impulse which he gave. I
cannot forget how, in no long time, under the fostering
breath of the Vicar of Christ, a country of heathen super
stitions became the very wonder and asylum of all people,
— the wonder by reason of its knowledge, sacred and
profane, and the asylum of religion, literature and
science, when chased away from the continent by the
barbarian invaders. I recollect its hospitality, freely
accorded to the pilgrim ; its volumes munificently pre
sented to the foreign student ; and the prayers, the
blessings, the holy rites, the solemn chants, which sancti
fied the while both giver and receiver.
Nor can I forget either, how my own England had
meanwhile become the solicitude of the same unwearied
1 6 Discourse L
eye : how Augustine was sent to us by Gregory ; how he
fainted in the way at the tidings of our fierceness, and,
but for the Pope, would have shrunk as from an
impossible expedition ; how he was forced on " in
weakness and in fear, and in much trembling," until he
had achieved the conquest of the island to Christ. Nor,
again, how it came to pass that, when Augustine died
and his work slackened, another Pope, unwearied still,
sent three saints from Rome, to ennoble and refine the
people Augustine had converted. Three holy men set
out for England together, of different nations : Theodore,
an Asiatic Greek, from Tarsus ; Adrian, an African ;
Bennett alone a Saxon, for Peter knows no distinction of
races in his ecumenical work. They came with theology
and science in their train ; with relics, with pictures, with
manuscripts of the Holy Fathers and the Greek classics ;
and Theodore and Adrian founded schools, secular and
monastic, all over England, while Bennett brought to the
north the large library he had collected in foreign parts,
and, with plans and ornamental work from France,
erected a church of stone, under the invocation of St.
Peter, after the Roman fashion, " which," says the his
torian,* " he most affected." I call to mind how St.
Wilfrid, St. John of Beverley, St. Bede, and other saintly
men, carried on the good work in the following genera
tions, and how from that time forth the two islands,
England and Ireland, in a dark and dreary age, were
the two lights of Christendom, and had no claims on each
other, and no thought of self, save in the interchange of
kind offices and the rivalry of love.
7-
Q memorable time, when St. Aidan and the Irish
Introductory. 1*1
monks went up to Lindisfarne and Melrose, and taught
the Saxon youth, and when a St. Cuthbert and a St.
Eata repaid their charitable toil ! O blessed days
of peace and confidence, when the Celtic Mailduf pene
trated to Malmesbury in the south, which has inherited
his name, and founded there the famous school which
gave birth to the great St. Aldhelm ! O precious seal
and testimony of Gospel unity, when, as Aldhelm in
turn tells us, the English went to Ireland " numerous as
bees ; " when the Saxon St. Egbert and St. Willibrod,
preachers to the heathen Prisons, made the voyage to
Ireland to prepare themselves for their work ; and when
from Ireland went forth to Germany the two noble
Ewalds, Saxons also, to earn the crown of martyrdom !
Such a period, indeed, so rich in grace, in peace, in love,
and in good works, could only last for a season ; but,
even when the light was to pass away from them, the
sister islands were destined, not to forfeit, but to transmit
it together. The time came when the neighbouring
continental country was in turn to hold the mission
which they had exercised so long and well ; and when
to it they made over their honourable office, faithful to
the alliance of two hundred years, they made it a joint
act. Alcuin was the pupil both of the English and of
the Irish schools ; and when Charlemagne would revive
science and letters in his own France, it was Alcuin, the
representative both of the Saxon and the Celt, who was
the chief of those who went forth to supply the need of
the great Emperor. Such was the foundation of the
School of Paris, from which, in the course of centuries,
sprang the famous University, the glory of the middle
ages.
The past never returns ; the course of events, old in
2
1 8 Discourse I.
its texture, is ever new in its colouring and fashion,
England and Ireland are not what they once were, but
Rome is where it was, and St. Peter is the same : his
zeal, his charity, his mission, his gifts are all the same.
He of old made the two islands one by giving them
joint work of teaching ; and now surely he is giving us
a like mission, and we shall become one again, while we
zealously and lovingly fulfil it.
IQ
DISCOURSE II.
THEOLOGY A BRANCH OF KNOWLEDGE.
;' TT^HERE were two questions, to which I drew your
JL attention, Gentlemen, in the beginning of my first
Discourse, as being of especial importance and interest
at this time: first, whether it is consistent with the idea
. of University teaching to exclude Theology from a place
among the sciences which it embraces ; next, whether it
is consistent with that idea to make the useful arts and
sciences its direct and principal concern, to the neglect
of those liberal studies and exercises of mind, in which
it has heretofore been considered mainly to consist.
These are the questions which will form the subject of
what I have to lay before you, and 1 shall now enter upon
the former of the two.
I.
It is the fashion just now, as you very well know, to
erect so-called Universities, without making any provi
sion in them at all for Theological chairs. Institutions
of this kind exist both here and in England. Such a
procedure, though defended by writers of the genera
tion just passed with much plausible argument and not
a little wit, seems to me an intellectual absurdity ; and
my reason for saying so runs, with whatever abruptness,
into the form of a syllogism : — A University, I should
2O Discourse II.
lay down, by its very name professes to teach universal
knowledge: Theology is surely a branch of knowledge :
how then is it possible for it to profess all branches of
knowledge, and yet to exclude from the subjects of its
teaching one which, to say the least, is as important
and as large as any of them ? I do not see that either
premiss of this argument is open to exception.
As to the range of University teaching, certainly the
very name of University is inconsistent with restrictions
of any kind. Whatever was the original reason of the
adoption of that term, which is unknown,* I am only
putting on it its popular, its recognized sense, when I say
that a University should teach universal knowledge.
That there is a real necessity for this universal teaching
in the highest schools of intellect, I will show by-and-by;
here it is sufficient to say that such universality is con
sidered by writers on the subject to be the very charac
teristic of a University, as contrasted with other seats of
learning. Thus Johnson, in his Dictionary, defines it to
be " a school where all arts and faculties are taught ; "
and Mosheim, writing as an historian, says that, before
the rise of the University of Paris, — for instance, at Padua,
or Salamanca, or Cologne, — " the whole circle of sciences
then known was not taught ; " but that the school of
Paris, "which exceeded all others in various respects,
as well as in the number of teachers and students, was
the first to embrace all the arts and sciences, and there
fore first became a University." f
If, with other authors, we consider the word to be
derived from the invitation which is held out by a Uni
versity to students of every kind, the result is the same ;
for, if certain branches of knowledge were excluded,
* In Roman law it means a Corporation. Viii Keuflel, de Sc holts.
4 Hist. vol. ii. p. 529. Ixmdon, 1841.
Theology a Branch of Knowledge. 21
those students of course would be excluded also, who
desired to pursue them.
Is it, then, logically consistent in a seat of learning
to call itself a University, and to exclude Theology
from the number of its studies ? And again, is it won
derful that Catholics, even in the view of reason, putting
aside faith or religious duty, should be dissatisfied with
existing institutions, which profess to be Universities,
and refuse to teach Theology ; and that they should in
consequence desire to possess seats of learning, which
are, not only more Christian, but more philosophical
in their construction, and larger and deeper in their
provisions ?
But this, of course, is to assume that Theology is a
science, and an important one : so I will throw my argu
ment into a more exact form. I say, then, that if a
University be, from the nature of the case, a place of
instruction, where universal knowledge is professed, and
if in a certain University, so called, the subject of Reli
gion is excluded, one of two conclusions is inevitable, —
either, on the one hand, that the province of Religion is
very barren of real knowledge, or, on the other hand, that
in such University one special and important branch of
knowledge is omitted. I say, the advocate of such an
institution must say this, or he must say that; he must own, [
either that little or nothing is known about the Supreme]
Being, or that his seat of learning calls itself what it is not.ll
This is the thesis which I lay down, and on which I shall
insist as the subject of this Discourse. I repeat, such a
compromise between religious parties, as is involved in
the establishment of a University which makes no reli
gious profession, implies that those parties severally
consider, — not indeed that their own respective opinions
are trifles in a moral and practical point of view — of
22 Discourse IL
course not ; but certainly as much as this, that they
are not knowledge. Did they in their hearts believe
that their private views of religion, whatever they are,
were absolutely and objectively true, it is inconceivable
that they would so insult them as to consent to their
omission in an Institution which is bound, from the
nature of the case — from its very idea and its name —
to make a profession of all sorts of knowledge whatever,
2.
I think this will be found to be no matter of words.
I allow then fully, that, when men combine together
for any common object, they are obliged, as a matter of
course, in order to secure the advantages accruing from
united action, to sacrifice many of their private opinions
and wishes, and to drop the minor differences, as they
are commonly called, which exist between man and man.
No two persons perhaps are to be found, however inti
mate, however congenial in tastes and judgments, how
ever eager to have one heart and one soul, but must
deny themselves, for the sake of each other, much which
they like or desire, if they are to live together happily.
Compromise, in a large sense of the word, is the first
principle of combination ; and any one who insists on
enjoying his rights to the full, and his opinions without
toleration for his neighbour's, and his own way in all
things, will soon have all things altogether to himself,
and no one to share them with him. But most true as
this confessedly is, still there is an obvious limit, on the
other hand, to these compromises, however necessary they
be ; and this is found in the proviso, that the differences
surrendered should be but " minor," or that there should
be no sacrifice of the main object of the combination, in
the concessions which are mutually made. Any sacrifice
Theology a Branch of Knowledge. 23
which compromises that object is destructive of the
principle of the combination, and no one who would be
consistent can be a party to it.
Thus, for instance, if men of various religious denomi
nations join together for the dissemination of what are
called " evangelical " tracts, it is under the belief, that,
the object of their uniting, as recognized on all hands,
being the spiritual benefit of their neighbours, no reli
gious exhortations, whatever be their character, can
essentially interfere with that benefit, which faithfully
insist upon the Lutheran doctrine of Justification. If,
again, they agree together in printing and circulating the
Protestant Bible, it is because they, one and all, hold to
the principle, that, however serious be their differences
of religious sentiment, such differences fade away before
the one great principle, which that circulation symbolizes
— that the Bible, the whole Bible, and nothing but tht
Bible, is the religion of Protestants. On the contrary,
if the committee of some such association inserted tracts
into the copies of the said Bible which they sold, and
tracts in recommendation of the Athanasian Creed or
the merit of good works, I conceive any subscribing
member would have a just right to complain of a pro
ceeding, which compromised the principle of Private
Judgment as the one true interpreter of Scripture.
These instances are sufficient to illustrate my general
position, that coalitions and comprehensions for an
object, have their life in the prosecution of that object,
and cease to have any meaning as soon as that object is
compromised or disparaged.
When, then, a number of persons come forward, not
as politicians, not as diplomatists, lawyers, traders, or
speculators, but with the one object of advancing Uni
versal Knowledge, much we may allow them to sacrifice.
24 Discourse II.
—ambition, reputation, leisure, comfort, party-interests,
gold ; one thing they may not sacrifice, — Knowledge
itself. Knowledge being their object, they need not of
course insist on their own private views about ancient or
modern history, or natiopal prosperity, or the balance of
power; they need not of course shrink from the co-ope
ration of those who hold the opposite views ; but stipulate
they must that Knowledge itself is not compromised ; —
and as to those views, of whatever kind, which they do
allow to be dropped, it is plain they consider such to be
opinions, and nothing more, however dear, however im
portant to themselves personally ; opinions ingenious,
admirable, pleasurable, beneficial, expedient, but not
worthy the name of Knowledge or Science Thus no
one would insist on the Malthusian teaching being a sine
qnd non in a seat of learning, who did not think it simply
ignorance not to be a Malthusian ; and no one would
consent to drop the Newtonian theory, who thought it
to have been proved true, in the same sense as the ex
istence of the sun and moon is true. If, then, in an
Institution which professes all knowledge, nothing is
professed, nothing is taught about the Supreme Being,
it is fair to infer that every individual in the number of
those who advocate that Institution, supposing him con
sistent, distinctly holds that nothing is known for certain
about the Supreme Being ; nothing such, as to have any
claim to be regarded as a material addition to the stock
of general knowledge existing in the world. If on the
other hand it turns out that something considerable is
known about the Supreme Being, whether from Reason
or Revelation, then the Institution in question professes
every science, and yet leaves out the foremost of them.
In a word, strong as may appear the assertion, I do not
see how I can avoid making it, and bear with me, Gentle-
Theology a Branch oj Knowledge. 25
men, while I do so, viz., such an Institution cannot be
what it professes, if there be a God. I do not wish to
declaim ; but, by the very force of the terms, it is very
plain, that a Divine Being and a University so circum
stanced cannot co-exist.
3-
Still, however, this may seem to many an abrupt con
clusion, and will not be acquiesced in : what answer,
Gentlemen, will be made to it ? Perhaps this : — It will
be said, that there are different kinds or spheres of
Knowledge, human, divine, sensible, intellectual, and the
like ; and that a University certainly takes in all varie
ties of Knowledge in its own line, but still that it has
a line of its own. It contemplates, it occupies a certain
order, a certain platform, of Knowledge. I understand
the remark ; but I own to you, I do not understand how
it can be made to apply to the matter in hand. I can
not so construct my definition of the subject-matter of
University Knowledge, and so draw my boundary lines
around it, as to include therein the other sciences com
monly studied at Universities, and to exclude the
science of Religion. For instance, are we to limit our
idea of University Knowledge by the evidence of our
senses ? then we exclude ethics ; by intuition ? we ex
clude history ; by testimony ? we exclude metaphysics ;
by abstract reasoning ? we exclude physics. Is not the
being of a God reported to us by testimony, handed
down by history, inferred by an inductive process, brought
home to us by metaphysical necessity, urged on us by
the suggestions of our conscience ? It is a truth in the
natural order, as well as in the supernatural. So much
for its origin ; and, when obtained, what is it worth ? Is
it a great truth or a small one ? Is it a comprehensive
26 Discourse II.
truth ? Say that no other religious idea whatever were
given but it, and you have enough to fill the mind ; you
have at once a whole dogmatic system. The word
" God " is a Theology in itself, indivisibly one, inex
haustibly various, from, the vastness and the simplicity
of its meaning. Admit a God, and you introduce
among the subjects of your knowledge, a fact encom
passing, closing in upon, absorbing, every other fact
conceivable. How can we investigate any part of any
order of Knowledge, and stop short of that which enters
into every order ? All true principles run over with it,
all phenomena converge to it ; it is truly the First and
the Last. In word indeed, and in idea, it is easy enough
to divide Knowledge into human and divine, secular and
religious, and to lay down that we will address ourselves
to the one without interfering with the other ; but it is
impossible in fact. Granting that divine truth differs in
kind from human, so do human truths differ in kind one
from another. If the knowledge of the Creator is in a
different order from knowledge of the creature, so, in like
manner, metaphysical science is in a different order from
physical, physics from history, history from ethics.
You will soon break up into fragments the whole circle
of secular knowledge, if you begin the mutilation with
divine.
I have been speaking simply of Natural Theology ;
my argument of course is stronger when I go on to
Revelation. Let the doctrine of the Incarnation be
true : is it not at once of the nature of an historical fact,
and of a metaphysical ? Let it be true that there are
Angels : how is not this a point of knowledge in the
same sense as the naturalist's asseveration, that myriads
of living things might co-exist on the point of a needle?
That the Earth is to be burned by fire, is, if true, as
Theology a Branch o/ Knowledge. 27
large a fact as that huge monsters once played amid its
depths ; that Antichrist is to come, is as categorical a
heading to a chapter of history, as that Nero or Julian
was Emperor of Rome ; that a divine influence moves
the will, is a subject of thought not more mysterious
than the result of volition on our muscles, which we
admit as a fact in metaphysics.
I do not see how it is possible for a philosophical mind,
first, to believe these religious facts to be true ; next, to
consent to ignore them ; and thirdly, in spite of this, to go
on to profess to be teaching all the while de omni scibili.
No ; if a man thinks in his heart that these religious facts
are short of truth, that they are not true in the sense in
which the general fact and the law of the fall of a stone to
the earth is true, I understand his excluding Religion from
his University, though he professes other reasons for its
exclusion. In that case the varieties of religious opinion
under which he shelters his conduct, are not only his
apology for publicly disowning Religion, but a cause of
his privately disbelieving it. He does not think that any
thing is known or can be known for certain, about the
origin of the world or the end of man.
4-
This, I fear, is the conclusion to which intellects, clear,
logical, and consistent, have come, or are coming, from
the nature of the case ; and, alas ! in addition to this
primA-facie suspicion, there are actual tendencies in the
same direction in Protestantism, viewed whether in its
original idea, or again in the so-called Evangelical move
ment in these islands during the last century. The reli
gious world, as it is styled, holds, generally speaking, that
Religion consists, not in knowledge, but in feeling or senti
ment. The old Catholic notion, which still lingers in the
28 Discourse IL
Established Church, was, that Faith was an intellectual
act, its object truth, and its result knowledge. Thus it
you look into the Anglican Prayer Book, you will find
definite credenda, as well as definite agenda ; but in pro-
portion as the Lutheran* leaven spread, it became fashion
able to say that Faith was, not an acceptance of revealed
doctrine, not an act of the intellect, but a feeling, an
emotion, an affection, an appetency; and, as this view
of Faith obtained, so was the connexion of Faith with
Truth and Knowledge more and more either forgotten
or denied. At length the identity of this (so-called)
spirituality of heart and the virtue of Faith was acknow
ledged on all hands. Some men indeed disapproved
the pietism in question, others admired it ; but whether
they admired or disapproved, both the one party and
the other found themselves in agreement on the main
point, viz. — in considering that this really was in sub
stance Religion, and nothing else ; that Religion was
based, not on argument, but on taste and sentiment, that
nothing was objective, every thing subjective, in doctrine.
I say, even those who saw through the affectation in
which the religious school of which I am speaking clad
itself, still came to think that Religion, as such, consisted
in something short of intellectual exercises, viz., in the
affections, in the imagination, in inward persuasions and
consolations, in pleasurable sensations, sudden changes,
and sublime fancies. They learned to believe and to
take it for granted, that Religion was nothing beyond a
supply of the wants of human nature, not an external
fact and a work of God. There was, it appeared, a
demand for Religion, and therefore there was a supply ;
human nature could not do without Religion, any more
than it could do without bread ; a supply was absolutely
necessary, good or bad, and, as in the case of the articles
Theology a Branch of Knowledge. 29
of daily sustenance, an article which was really inferior
was better than none at all. Thus Religion was useful,
venerable, beautiful, the sanction of order, the stay of
government, the curb of self-will and self-indulgence,
which the laws cannot reach : but, after all, on what was
it based? Why, that was a question delicate to ask,
and imprudent to answer ; but, if the truth must be
spoken, however reluctantly, the long and the short of
the matter was this, that Religion was based on custom,
on prejudice, on law, on education, on habit, on loyalty,
on feudalism, on enlightened expedience, on many,
many things, but not at all on reason ; reason was nei
ther its warrant, nor its instrument, and science had as
little connexion with it as with the fashions of the season,
or the state of the weather.
You see, Gentlemen, how a theory or philosophy,
which began with the religious changes of the sixteenth
century, has led to conclusions, which the authors of
those changes would be the first to denounce, and has
been taken up by that large and influential body which
goes by the name of Liberal or Latitudinarian ; and how,
where it prevails, it is as unreasonable of course to de
mand for Religion a chair in a University, as to demand
one for fine feeling, sense of honour, patriotism, grati
tude, maternal affection, or good companionship, pro
posals which would be simply unmeaning.
$•
Now, in illustration of what I have been saying, I will
appeal, in the first place, to a statesman, but not merely
so, to no mere politician, no trader in places, or in votes,
or in the stock market, but to a philosopher, to an orator,
to one whose profession, whose aim, has ever been to
cultivate the fair, the noble, and the generous. I cannot
30 Discourse 11.
forget the celebrated discourse of the celebrated man to
whom I am referring ; a man who is first in his peculiar
walk; and who, moreover (which is much to my purpose),
has had a share, as much as any one alive, in effecting
the public recognition in these Islands of the principle
of separating secular and religious knowledge. This
brilliant thinker, during the years in which he was exert
ing himself in behalf of this principle, made a speech
or discourse, on occasion of a public solemnity ; and in
reference to the bearing of general knowledge upon reli
gious belief, he spoke as follows :
"As men," he said, " will no longer suffer themselves
to be led blindfold in ignorance, so will they no more
yield to the vile principle of judging and treating their
fellow-creatures, not according to the intrinsic merit of
their actions, but according to the accidental and in
voluntary coincidence of their opinions. The great
truth has finally gone forth to all the ends of the earth,"
and he prints it in capital letters, " that man shall no more
render account to man for his belief, over which he has
himself no control. Henceforward, nothing shall prevail
upon us to praise or to blame any one for that which he
can no more change, than he can the hue of his skin or
the height of his stature."* You see, Gentlemen, if this
philosopher is to decide the matter, religious ideas are
just as far from being real, or representing anything
beyond themselves, are as truly peculiarities, idiosyn-
cracies, accidents of the individual, as his having the
stature of a Patagonian, or the features of a Negro.
But perhaps this was the rhetoric of an excited
moment. Far from it, Gentlemen, or I should not have
fastened on the words of a fertile mind, uttered so long
ago. What Mr. Brougham laid down as a principle in
* Mr. Brougham's? Glasgow Discourse.
Theology a Branch of Knowledge. 3*
1825, resounds on all sides of us, with ever-growing con
fidence and success, in 1852. I open the Minutes of
the Committee of Council on Education for the years
1848-50, presented to both Houses of Parliament by com
mand of Her Majesty, and I find one of Her Majesty's
Inspectors of Schools, at p. 467 of the second volume,
dividing " the topics usually embraced in the better class
of primary schools" into four : — the knowledge of signs,
as reading and writing ; of facts, as geography and
astronomy ; of relations and laivs, as mathematics ; and
lastly sentiment, such as poetry and music. Now, on
first catching sight of this division, it occurred to me to
ask myself, before ascertaining the writer's own resolu
tion of the matter, under which of these four heads
would fall Religion, or whether it fell under any of them.
Did he put it aside as a thing too delicate and sacred
to be enumerated with earthly studies ? or did he dis
tinctly contemplate it when he made his division? Any
how, I could really find a place for it under the first
head, or the second, or the third ; — for it has to do
with facts, since it tells of the Self-subsisting ; it has
to do with relations, for it tells of the Creator ; it
has to do with signs, for it tells of the due manner of
speaking of Him. There was just one head of the
division to which I could not refer it, viz., to sentiment ;
for, I suppose, music and poetry, which are the writer's
own examples of sentiment, have not much to do with
Truth, which is the main object of Religion. Judge then
my surprise, Gentlemen, when I found the fourth was
the very head selected by the writer of the Report in
question, as the special receptacle of religious topics.
"The inculcation of sentiment" he says, "embraces read
ing in its higher sense, poetry, music, together with
moral and religious Education." I am far from intro-
3 2 Discourse IL
ducing this writer for his own sake, because I have no
wish to hurt the feelings of a gentleman, who is but
exerting himself zealously in the discharge of anxious
duties ; but, taking him as an illustration of the wide-
spreading school of thought to which he belongs, I ask
what can more clearly prove than a candid avowal like
this, that, in the view of his school, Religion is not
knowledge, has nothing whatever to do with knowledge,
and is excluded from a University course of instruction,
not simply because the exclusion cannot be helped,
from political or social obstacles, but because it has no
business there at all, because it is to be considered
a taste, sentiment, opinion, and nothing more ?
The writer avows this conclusion himself, in the ex
planation into which he presently enters, in which he
says : " According to the classification proposed, the
essential idea of all religious Education will consist in the
direct cultivation ofthef&fagy." What we contemplate,
then, what we aim at, when we give a religious Educa
tion, is, it seems, not to impart any knowledge whatever,
but to satisfy anyhow desires after the Unseen which
will arise in our minds in spite of ourselves, to provide the
mind with a means of self-command, to impress on it the
beautiful ideas which saints and sages have struck out, to
embellish it with the bright hues of a celestial piety, to
teach it the poetry of devotion, the music of well-ordered
affections, and the luxury of doing good. As for the in
tellect, its exercise happens to be unavoidable, whenever
moral impressions are made, from the constitution of the
human mind, but it varies in the results of that exercise,
in the conclusions which it draws from our impressions,
according to the peculiarities of the individual.
Something like this seems to be the writer's mean
ing, but we need not pry into its finer issues in order to
Theology a Branch of Knowledge 33
gain a distinct view of its general bearing ; and taking
it, as I think we fairly may take it, as a specimen of the
philosophy of the day, as adopted by those who are not
conscious unbelievers, or open scoffers, I consider it
amply explains how it comes to pass that this day's phi
losophy sets up a system of universal knowledge, and
teaches of plants, and earths, and creeping things, and
beasts, and gases, about the crust of the earth and the
changes of the atmosphere, about sun, moon, and stars,
about man and his doings, about the history of the world,
about sensation, memory, and the passions, about duty,
about cause and effect, about all things imaginable,
except one — and that is, about Him that made all these
things, about God. I say the reason is plain because
they consider knowledge, as regards the creature, is
illimitable, but impossible or hopeless as regards the
being and attributes and works of the Creator.
6.
Here, however, it may be objected to me that this re
presentation is certainly extreme, for the school in ques
tion does, in fact, lay great stress on the evidence afforded
by the creation, to the Being and Attributes of the
Creator. I may be referred, for instance, to the words oi
one of the speakers on a memorable occasion. At the
very time of laying the first stone of the University of
London, I confess it, a learned person, since elevated to
the Protestant See of Durham, which he still fills, opened
the proceedings with prayer. He addressed the Deity, as
the authoritative Report informs us, " the whole sur
rounding assembly standing uncovered in solemn silence."
" Thou," he said, in the name of all present, " thou hast
constructed the vast fabric of the universe in so wonder
ful a manner, so arranged its motions, ajid so formed its
3
54 Discourse II.
productions, that the contemplation and study of thy
works exercise at once the mind in the pursuit of human
science, and lead it onwards to Divine Truth'.' Here is
apparently a distinct recognition that there is such a
thing as Truth in the province of Religion ; and, did the
passage stand by itself, and were it the only means we
possessed of ascertaining the sentiments of the powerful
body whom this distinguished person there represented,
it would, as far as it goes, be satisfactory. I admit it ;
and I admit also the recognition of the Being and cer
tain Attributes of the Deity, contained in the writings of
the gifted person whom I have already quoted, whose
genius, versatile and multiform as it is, in nothing has
been so constant, as in its devotion to the advancement
of knowledge, scientific and literary. He then certainly,
in his " Discourse of the objects, advantages, and plea
sures of science," after variously illustrating what he
terms its " gratifying treats," crowns the catalogue with
mention of " the highest of all our gratifications in the
contemplation of science," which he proceeds to explain
thus :
" We are raised by them," says he, " to an understand
ing of the infinite wisdom and goodness which the Creator
his displayed in all His works. Not a step can be taken
in any direction," he continues, "without perceiving the
most extraordinary traces of design ; and the skill, every
where conspicuous, is calculated in so vast a proportion
of instances to promote the happiness of living creatures,
and especially of ourselves, that we can feel no hesitation
in concluding, that, if we knew the whole scheme of
Providence, every part would be in harmony with a plan
of absolute benevolence. Independent, however, of this
most consoling inference, the delight is inexpressible, of
being able to follow, as it were, with our eyes, the mar-
Theology a Branch oj Knowledge. 35
vellous works of the Great Architect of Nature, to trace
the unbounded power and exquisite skill which are
exhibited in the most minute, as well as the mightiest
parts of His system. The pleasure derived from this
study is unceasing, and so various, that it never tires the
appetite. But it is unlike the low gratifications of sense
in another respect: it elevates and refines our nature,
while those hurt the health, debase the understanding,
and corrupt the feelings ; it teaches us to look upon all
earthly objects as insignificant and below our notice,
except the pursuit of knowledge and the cultivation of
virtue, that is to say, the strict performance of our duty
in every relation of society ; and it gives a dignity and
importance to the enjoyment of life, which the frivolous
and the grovelling cannot even comprehend."
Such are the words of this prominent champion of
Mixed Education. If logical inference be, as it un
doubtedly is, an instrument of truth, surely, it may be
answered to me, in admitting the possibility of inferring
the Divine Being and Attributes from the phenomena
of nature, he distinctly admits a basis of truth for the
doctrines of Religion.
7-
I wish, Gentlemen, to give these representations their
full weight, both from the gravity of the question, and
the consideration due to the persons whom I am arraign
ing ; but, before I can feel sure I understand them, I
must ask an abrupt question. When I am told, then, by
the partisans of Universities without Theological teaching,
that human science leads to belief in a Supreme Being,
without denying the fact, nay, as a Catholic, with full
conviction of it, nevertheless I am obliged to ask what
the statement means in their mouths, what they, the
36 Discourse II.
speakers, understand by the word " God." Let me not
be thought offensive, if I question, whether it means the
same thing on the two sides of the controversy. With
us Catholics, as with the first race of Protestants, as with
Mahometans, and all ,Theists, the word contains, as I
have already said, a theology in itself. At the risk of
anticipating what I shall have occasion to insist upon in
my next Discourse, let me say that, according to the
teaching of Monotheism, God is __an Individual, Self-
dependent, All-perfect, Unchangeable Being ; intelligent,
living, personal, and present ; almighty, all-seeing, all-
remembering ; between whom and His creatures there is
an infinite gulf ; who has no origin, who is all-sufficient
for Himself; who created and upholds the universe ; who
will judge every one of us, sooner or later, according to
that Law of right and wrong which He has written on
our hearts. He is One who is sovereign over, operative
amidst, independent of, the appointments which He has
made; One in whose hands are all things, who has a pur
pose in every event, and a standard for every deed, and
thus has relations of His own towards the subject-matter
of each particular science which the book of knowledge
unfolds ; who has with an adorable, never-ceasing energy
implicated Himself in all the history of creation, the
constitution of nature, the course of the world, the
origin of society, the fortunes of nations, the action of the
human mind ; and who thereby necessarily becomes the
subject-matter of a science, far wider and more noble than
any of those which are included in the circle of secular
Education.
This is the doctrine which belief in a God implies in
the mind of a Catholic : if it means any thing, it means
all this, and cannot keep from meaning all this, and a
great deal more ; and, even though there were nothing
Theology a Branch of Knowledge. 37
in the religious tenets of the last three centuries to dis
parage dogmatic truth, still, even then, I should have
difficulty in believing that a doctrine so mysterious, so
peremptory, approved itself as a matter of course to
educated men of this day, who gave their minds atten
tively to consider it. Rather, in a state of society such
as ours, in which authority, prescription, tradition, habit,
moral instinct, and the divine influences go for nothing,
in which patience of thought, and depth and consistency
of view, are scorned as subtle and scholastic, in which
free discussion and fallible judgment are prized as the
birthright of each individual, I must be excused if I
exercise towards this age, as regards its belief in this
doctrine, some portion of that scepticism which it
exercises itself towards every received but unscrutinized
assertion whatever. I cannot take it for granted, I must
have it brought home to me by tangible evidence, that
the spirit of the age means by the Supreme Being what
Catholics mean. Nay, it would be a relief to my mind
to gain some ground of assurance, that the parties in
fluenced by that spirit had, I will not say, a true apprehen
sion of God, but even so much as the idea of what a true
apprehension is.
Nothing is easier than to use the word, and mean no
thing by it The heathens used to say, "God wills,"
when they meant " Fate ;" " God provides," when they
meant " Chance ;" " God acts," when they meant " In
stinct" or " Sense ;" and " God is every where," when
they meant " the Soul of Nature." The Almighty is
something infinitely different from a principle, or a
centre of action, or a quality, or a generalization of
phenomena. If, then, by the word, you do but mean a
Being who keeps the world in order, who acts in it, but
only in the way of general Providence, who acts towards
38 Discourst II.
us but only through what are called laws of Nature,
who is more certain not to act at all than to act independ
ent of those laws, who is known and approached indeed,
but only through the medium of those laws ; such a God
it is not difficult for any one to conceive, not difficult for
any one to endure. If, I say, as you would revolu
tionize society, so you would revolutionize heaven, if you
have changed the divine sovereignty into a sort of con
stitutional monarchy, in which the Throne has honour
and ceremonial enough, but cannot issue the most
ordinary command except through legal forms and
precedents, and with the counter-signature of a minister,
then belief in a God is no more than an acknowledgment
of existing, sensible powers and phenomena, which none
but an idiot can deny. If the Supreme Being is power
ful or skilful, just so far forth as the telescope sho\\>
power, and the microscope shows skill, if His moral law
is to be ascertained simply by the physical processes of
the animal frame, or His will gathered from the im
mediate issues of human affairs, if His Essence is just as
high and deep and broad and long as the universe,
and no more ; if this be the fact, then will I confess
that there is no specific science about God, that theo
logy is but a name, and a protest in its behalf an
hypocrisy. Then is He but coincident with the laws of
the universe ; then is He but a function, or correlative,
or subjective reflection and mental impression, of each
phenomenon of the material or moral world, as it flits
before us. Then, pious as it is to think of Him, while
the pageant of experiment or abstract reasoning passes
by, still, such piety is nothing more than a poetry of
thought or an Ornament of language, and has not even
an infinitesimal influence upon philosophy or science, of
which it is rather the parasitical production.
Theology a Branch of Knowledge. 39
I understand, in that case, why Theology should require
no specific teaching, for there is nothing to mistake
about ; why it is powerless against scientific anticipations,
for it merely is one of them ; why it is simply absurd in
its denunciations of heresy, for heresy does not lie in the
region of fact and experiment. I understand, in that
case, how it is that the religious sense is but a " senti
ment," and its exercise a " gratifying treat," for it is like
the sense of the beautiful or the sublime. I understand
how the contemplation of the universe "leads onwards to
divine truth," for divine truth is not something separate
from Nature, but it is Nature with a divine glow upon
it. I understand the zeal expressed for Physical Theo
logy, for this study is but a mode of looking at Physical
Nature, a certain view taken of Nature, private and
personal, which one man has, and another has not, which
gifted minds strike out, which others see to be admirable
and ingenious, and which all would be the better for
adopting. It is but the theology of Nature, just as we
talk of the philosophy or the romance of history, or the
poetry of childhood, or the picturesque, or the sentimen
tal, or the humorous, or any other abstract quality, which
the genius or the caprice of the individual, or the fashion
of the day, or the consent of the world, recognizes in
any set of objects which are subjected to its contem
plation.
8.
Such ideas of religion seem to me short of Monotheism ;
I do not impute them to this or that individual who be
longs to the school which gives them currency ; but what
I read about the " gratification " of keeping pace in our
scientific researches with "the Architect of Nature;"
about the said gratification " giving a dignity and import
ance to the enjoyment of life," and teaching us that
40 Discourse II.
knowledge and our duties to society are the only earthly
objects worth our notice, all this, I own it, Gentlemen,
frightens me ; nor is Dr. Maltby's address to the Deity
sufficient to reassure me. I do not see much difference
between avowing that there is no God, and implying that
nothing definite can for certain be known about Him ;
and when I find Religious Education treated as the cul
tivation of sentiment, and Religious Belief as the acci
dental hue or posture of the mind, I am reluctantly but
forcibly reminded of a very unpleasant page of Meta
physics, viz., of the relations between God and Nature
insinuated by such philosophers as Hume. This acute,
though most low-minded of speculators, in his inquiry
concerning the Human Understanding, introduces, as is
well known, Epicurus, that is, a teacher of atheism, de
livering an harangue to the Athenian people, not indeed
in defence, but in extenuation of that opinion. His ob
ject is to show that, whereas the atheistic view is nothing
else than the repudiation of theory, and an accurate
representation of phenomenon and fact, it cannot be
dangerous, unless phenomenon and fact be dangerous.
Epicurus is made to say, that the paralogism of philo
sophy has ever been that of arguing from Nature in
behalf of something beyond Nature, greater than Nature ;
whereas, God, as he maintains, being known only
through the visible world, our knowledge of Him is ab
solutely commensurate with our knowledge of it, — is
nothing distinct from it, — is but a mode of viewing it.
Hence it follows that, provided we admit, as we cannot
help admitting, the phenomena of Nature and the world,
it is only a question of words whether or not we go on
to the hypothesis of a second Being, not visible but im
material, parallel and coincident with Nature, to whom
we give the name of God. " Allowing," he says, " the
Theology a Branch of Knowledge. 4 1
gods to be the authors of the existence or order of the
universe, it follows that they possess that precise degree
of power, intelligence, and benevolence, which appears
in their workmanship ; but nothing farther can be proved,
except we call in the assistance of exaggeration and
flattery to supply the defects of argument and reasoning.
So far as the traces of any attributes, at present, appear,
so far may we conclude these attributes to exist. The
supposition of farther attributes is mere hypothesis ;
much more the supposition that, in distant periods of
place and time, there has been, or will be, a more magni
ficent display of these attributes, and a scheme of admin
istration more suitable to such imaginary virtues."
Here is a reasoner, who would not hesitate to deny
that there is any distinct science or philosophy possible
concerning the Supreme Being ; since every single thing
we know of Him is this or that or the other phenomenon,
material or moral, which already falls under this or that
natural science. In him then it would be only consistent
to drop Theology in a course of University Education :
but how is it consistent in any one who shrinks from his
companionship ? I am glad to see that the author,
several times mentioned, is in opposition to Hume, in
one sentence of the quotation I have made from his
Discourse upon Science, deciding, as he does, that the
phenomena of the material world are insufficient for the
full exhibition of the Divine Attributes, and implying
that they require a supplemental process to complete
and harmonize their evidence. But is not this supple
mental process a science ? and if so, why not acknow
ledge its existence? If God is more than Nature,
Theology claims a place among the sciences : but, on the
other hand, if you are not sure of as much as this, how
do you differ from Hume or Epicurus ?
42 Dtscourst IL
9-
I end then as I began : religious doctrine is knowledge.
This is the important truth, little entered into at this day,
which I wish that all who have honoured me with their
presence here would allow me to beg them to take away
with them. I am not catching at sharp arguments, but
laying down grave principles. Religious doctrine is
knowledge, in as full a sense as Newton's doctrine is
knowledge. University Teaching without Theology is
simply unphilosophical. Theology has at least as good
a right to claim a place there as Astronomy.
In my next Discourse it will be my object to show
that its omission from the list of recognised sciences is
not only indefensible in itself, but prejudicial to all the
rest
43
DISCOURSE III.
BEARING OF THEOLOGY ON OTHER BRANCHES OF
KNOWLEDGE.
I.
WHEN men of great intellect, who have long and
intently and exclusively given themselves to the
study or investigation of some one particular branch of
secular knowledge, whose mental life is concentrated and
hidden in their chosen pursuit, and who have neither
eyes nor ears for any thing which does not immediately
bear upon it, when such men are at length made to realize
that there is a clamour all around them, which must be
heard, for what they have been so little accustomed to
place in the category of knowledge as Religion, and that
they themselves are accused of disaffection to it, they are
impatient at the interruption ; they call the demand
tyrannical, and the requisitionists bigots or fanatics.
They are tempted to say, that their only wish is to be
let alone; for themselves, they are not dreaming of offend
ing any one, or interfering with any one ; they are pur
suing their own particular line, they have never spoken a
word against any one's religion, whoever he may be,
and never mean to do so. It does not follow that they
deny the existence of a God, because they are not found
talking of it, when the topic would be utterly irrelevant
44 Discourse III.
All they say is, that there are other beings in the world
besides the Supreme Being ; their business is with them.
After all, the creation is not the Creator, nor things
secular religious. Theology and human science are two
things, not one, and have their respective provinces,
contiguous it may be and cognate to each other, but not
identical. When we are contemplating earth, we are not
contemplating heaven ; and when we are contemplating
heaven, we are not contemplating earth. Separate sub
jects should be treated separately. As division of labour,
so division of thought is the only means of successful
application. " Let us go our own way," they say, " and
you go yours. We do not pretend to lecture on Theology,
and you have no claim to pronounce upon Science."
With this feeling they attempt a sort of compromise,
between their opponents who claim for Theology a free
introduction into the Schools of Science, and themselves
who would exclude it altogether, and it is this : viz., that
it should remain indeed excluded from the public
schools, but that it should be permitted in private,
wherever a sufficient number of persons is found to
desire it. Such persons, they seem to say, may have it
all their own way, when they are by themselves, so that
they do not attempt to disturb a comprehensive system
of instruction, acceptable and useful to all, by the in
trusion of opinions peculiar to their own minds.
I am now going to attempt a philosophical answer to
this representation, that is, to the project of teaching
secular knowledge in the University Lecture Room, and
remanding religious knowledge to the parish priest, the
catechism, and the parlour ; and in doing so, you must
pardon me, Gentlemen, if my subject should oblige me
to pursue a lengthy and careful course of thought, which
may be wearisome to the hearer : — I begin then thus : —
Bearing of Theology on Other Knowledge. 45
Truth is the object of Knowledge of whatever kind ;
and when we inquire what is meant by Truth, I suppose
it is right to answer that Truth means facts and their
relations, which stand towards each other pretty much
as subjects and predicates in logic. All that exists, as
contemplated by the human mind, forms one large
system or complex fact, and this of course resolves itself/
into an indefinite number of particular facts, which, as
being portions of a whole, have countless relations of,
every kind, one towards another. Knowledge is the
^apprehension of these facts, whether in themselves, or in
fltheir mutual positions and bearings. And, as all taken
together form one integral subject for contemplation, so
there are no natural or real limits between part and
part ; one is ever running into another ; all, as viewed
by the mind, are combined together, and possess a
correlative character one with another, from the internal
mysteries of the Divine Essence down to our own sen
sations and consciousness, from the most solemn appoint
ments of the Lord of all down to what may be called the
accident of the hour, from the most glorious seraph down
to the vilest and most noxious of reptiles.
Now, it is not wonderful that, with all its capabilities,
the human mind cannot take in this whole vast fact at a
single glance, or gain possession of it at once. Like a
short-sighted reader, its eye pores closely, and travels
slowly, over the awful volume which lies open for its in
spection. Or again, as we deal with some huge structure
of many parts and sides, the mind goes round about it,
noting down, first one thing, then another, as it best may,
and viewing it under different aspects, by way of making
progress towards mastering the whole. So by degrees
46 f)i\(0in^ Ifl.
and by circuitous advances does it rise aloft and subject
to itself a knowledge of that universe into which it has
been born.
These various partial views or abstractions, by means
of which the mind looks out upon its object, are called
sciences, and embrace respectively larger or smaller por
tions of the field of knowledge ; sometimes extending far
and wide, but superficially, sometimes with exactness
over particular departments, sometimes occupied together
on one and the same portion, sometimes holding one part
in common, and then ranging on this side or that in abso
lute divergence one from the other. Thus Optics has for
its subject the whole visible creation, so far forth as it is
simply visible ; Mental Philosophy has a narrower pro
vince, but a richer one. Astronomy, plane and physical,
each has the same subject-matter, but views it or treats
it differently; lastly, Geology and Comparative Anatomy
have subject-matters partly the same, partly distinct.
Now the^e views or sciences, as being abstractions, have
far more to do with the relations of things than with
things themselves. They tell us what things are, only or
principally by telling us their relations, or assigning pre
dicates to subjects ; and therefore they never tell us all
that can be said about a thing, even when they tell some
thing, nor do they bring it before us, as the senses do.
They arrange and classify facts ; they reduce separate
phenomena under a common law ; they trace effects to a
cause. Thus they serve to transfer our knowledge from
the custody of memory to the surer and more abiding
protection of philosophy, thereby providing both for its
spread and its advance : — for, inasmuch as sciences are
forms of knowledge, they enable the intellect to master
and increase it ; and, inasmuch as they are instruments,
to communicate it readily to others. Still, after all, they
Btanng of Thtology on Other Knowicd^
proceed on the principie of a division of labour, even
though that division is an abstraction, not a literal
separation into parts ; and, as the maker of a bridle or
an epaulet has not, on that account, any idea of the
science of tactics or strategy, so in a parallel way, it is
not every science which equally, nor any one which fully,
ghtens the mind in the knowledge of things, as they
are, or brings home to it the external object on which it
wishes to gaze. Thus they differ in
according to their importance will be
not only on the mass of knowledge to which they all
. r. -...-_-: ..:. : :./.:.-. i _:t. :_: :r. — ;.. :.-.tr.
Since then sciences are the results of mental processes
___ _: ;:.t L:. _ : .- 5 .'..- - _ . ..'. : .^.. --.: ; -. _ _ .,-_-: ;
various aspects, and are true results, as far as they go,
yet at the same time separate and partial, it follows that
:.-. ;r.t :r.-_ ir.i -.j.ty r.--i 7;::-:..^. ^i.i =:ir.;t ir.t :y
tha: 1 3 aflord it to each other, by reason,
first, of their independence in themselves, and then of
their connexion in their subject-matter. Viewed E
gether, they approximate to a representation or sub
jective reflection of the objective truth, as nearly a-
possible to the human mind, which advances towards the
accurate apprehension of that object, in proportion to
number of sciences which it has mastered; and
which, when certain sciences are away, in such a case has
but a defective apprehension, in proportion to the value
of the sciences which are thus wanting, and the import-
" „_;_-. :..T --- -- ____ --L
3-
us take, for instance, man himself as our object of
contemplation ; tfari at once we gKall finH we r^n view
48 Discourse HI.
him in a variety of relations ; and according to those
relations are the sciences of which he is the subject-matter,
and according to our acquaintance with them is our pos
session of a true knowledge of him. We may view him
in relation to the material elements of his body, or to his
mental constitution, or to his household and family, or
to the community in which he lives, or to the Being who
made him ; and in consequence we treat of him respec
tively as physiologists, or as moral philosophers, or as
writers of economics, or of politics, or as theologians.
When we think of him in all these relations together, or
as the subject at once of all the sciences I have named,
then we may be said to reach unto and rest in the idea
of man as an object or external fact, similar to that which
the eye takes of his outward form. On the other hand,
according as we are only physiologists, or only politicians,
or only moralists, so is our idea of man more or less
unreal; we do not take in the whole of him, and the
defect is greater or less, in proportion as the relation is,
or is not, important, which is omitted, whether his relation
to God, or to his king, or to his children, or to his own
component parts. And if there be one relation, about
which we know nothing at all except that it exists, then
is our knowledge of him, confessedly and to our own
consciousness, deficient and partial, and that, I repeat,
in proportion to the importance of the relation.
That therefore is true of sciences in general which we
are apt to think applies only to pure mathematics, though
to pure mathematics it applies especially, viz., that they
cannot be considered as simple representations or in
formants of things as they are. We are accustomed to
say, and say truly, that the conclusions of pure mathe
matics are applied, corrected, and adapted, by mixed ;
but so too the conclusions of Anatomy, Chemistry,
Bearing of Theology on Other Knowledge. 49
Dynamics, and other sciences, are revised and completed
by each other. Those several conclusions do not represent
whole and substantive things, but views, true, so far
as they go ; and in order to ascertain how far they
do go, that is, how far they correspond to the object
to which they belong, we must compare them with the
views taken out of that object by other sciences. Did
we proceed upon the abstract theory of forces, we should
assign a much more ample range to a projectile than in
fact the resistance of the air allows it to accomplish.
Let, however, that resistance be made the subject of
scientific analysis, and then we shall have a new
science, assisting, and to a certain point completing, for
the benefit of questions of fact, the science of projection.
On the other hand, the science of projection itself, con
sidered as belonging to the forces it contemplates, is
not more perfect, as such, by this supplementary in
vestigation. And in like manner, as regards the whole
circle of sciences, one corrects another for purposes of
fact, and one without the other cannot dogmatize, except
hypothetically and upon its own abstract principles. For
instance, the Newtonian philosophy requires the admis
sion of certain metaphysical postulates, if it is to be more
than a theory or an hypothesis ; as, for instance, that
what happened yesterday will happen to-morrow ; that
there is such a thing as matter, that our senses are trust
worthy, that there is a logic of induction, and so on.
Now to Newton metaphysicians grant all that he asks ;
but, if so be, they may not prove equally accommodating
to another who asks something else, and then all his
most logical conclusions in the science of physics would
remain hopelessly on the stocks, though finished, and
never could be launched into the sphere of fact.
Again, did I know nothing about the movement of
4
50 Discourse III.
bodies, except what the theory of gravitation supplies,
were I simply absorbed in that theory so as to make
it measure all motion on earth and in the sky, I should
indeed come to many right conclusions, I should hit off
many important facts, Ascertain many existing relations,
and correct many popular errors : I should scout and
ridicule with great success the old notion, that light bodies
ilew up and heavy bodies fell down ; but I should go on
with equal confidence to deny the phenomenon of capil
lary attraction. Here I should be wrong, but only be
cause I carried out my science irrespectively of other
sciences. In like manner, did I simply give myself to
the investigation of the external action of body upon
body, I might scoff at the very idea of chemical affinities
and combinations, and reject it as simply unintelligible.
Were I a mere chemist, I should deny the influence of
mind upon bodily health ; and so on, as regards the
devotees of any science, or family of sciences, to the ex
clusion of others ; they necessarily become bigots and
quacks, scorning all principles and reported facts which
do not belong to their own pursuit, and thinking to effect
everything without aid from any other quarter. Thus,
before now, chemistry has been substituted for medicine ;
and again, political economy, or intellectual enlighten
ment, or the reading of the Scriptures, has been cried up
as a panacea against vice, malevolence, and misery.
4-
Summing up, Gentlemen, what I have said, I lay it
down that all knowledge forms one whole, because its
subject-matter is one ; for the universe in its length and
breadth is so intimately knit together, that we cannot
separate off portion from portion, and operation from
operation, except by a mental abstraction ; and then
Searing of Theology on Other Knowledge. 5 1
again, as to its Creator, though He of course in His own
Being is infinitely separate from it, and Theology has its
departments towards which human knowledge has no
relations, yet He has so implicated Himself with it, and
taken it into His very bosom, by His presence in it, His
providence over it, His impressions upon it, and His
influences through it, that we cannot truly or fully con
template it without in some main aspects contemplating
Him. Next, sciences are the results of that mental
abstraction, which I have spoken of, being the logical
record of this or that aspect of the whole subject-matter
of knowledge. As they all belong to one and the same
circle of objects, they are one and all connected to
gether ; as they are but aspects of things, they are
severally incomplete in their relation to the things them
selves, though complete in their own idea and for their
own respective purposes ; on both accounts they at once
need and subserve each other. And further, the com
prehension of the bearings of one science on another,
and the use of each to each, and the location and limi
tation and adjustment and due appreciation of them all,
one with another, this belongs, I conceive, to a sort of
science distinct from all of them, and in some sense a
science of sciences, which is my own conception of what
is meant by Philosophy, in the true sense of the word,
and of a philosophical habit of mind, and which in these
Discourses I shall call by that name. This is what I
have to say about knowledge and philosophical know
ledge generally ; and now I proceed to apply it to the
particular science, which has led me to draw it out.
I say, then, that the systematic omission of any one
science from the catalogue prejudices the accuracy and
completeness of our knowledge altogether, and that, in
proportion to its importance. Not even Theology itself,
52 Discourse III.
though it comes from heaven, though its truths were
given once for all at the first, though they are more
certain on account of the Giver than those of mathe
matics, not even Theology, so far as it is relative to us,
or is the Science of Religion, do I exclude from the law
to which every mental exercise is subject, viz., from that
imperfection, which ever must attend the abstract, when
it would determine the concrete. Nor do I speak only
of Natural Religion ; for even the teaching of the Catho
lic Church, in certain of its aspects, that is, its religious
teaching, is variously influenced by the other sciences.
Not to insist on the introduction of the Aristotelic philo
sophy into its phraseology, its explanation of dogmas
is influenced by ecclesiastical acts or events ; its inter
pretations of prophecy are directly affected by the issues
of history ; its comments upon Scripture by the con
clusions of the astronomer and the geologist ; and its
casuistical decisions by the various experience, political,
social, and psychological, with which times and places
are ever supplying it.
What Theology gives, it has a right to take ; or rather,
the interests of Truth oblige it to take. If we would not
be beguiled by dreams, if we would ascertain facts as
they are, then, granting Theology is a real science, we
cannot exclude it, and still call ourselves philosophers.
I have asserted nothing as yet as to the pre-eminent
dignity of Religious Truth ; I only say, if there be
Religious Truth at all, we cannot shut our eyes to it
without prejudice to truth of every kind, physical, meta
physical, historical, and moral ; for it bears upon all
truth. And thus I answer the objection with which I
opened this Discourse. I supposed the question put to
me by a philosopher of the day, " Why cannot you go
your way, and let us go ours ?" I answer, in the name
Bearing of Theology on Other Knowledge. 53
of the Science of Religion, "When Newton can dis
pense with the metaphysician, then may you dispense
with us." So much at first sight ; now I am going on to
claim a little more for Theology, by classing it with
branches of knowledge which may with greater decency
be compared to it,
5-
Let us see, then, how this supercilious treatment of so
momentous a science, for momentous it must be, if there
be a God, runs in a somewhat parallel case. The great
philosopher of antiquity, when he would enumerate the
causes of the things that take place in the world, after
making mention of those which he considered to be
physical and material, adds, " and the mind and every
thing which is by means of man."* Certainly ; it would
have been a preposterous course, when he would trace
the effects he saw around him to their respective sources,
had he directed his exclusive attention upon some one
class or order of originating principles, and ascribed
to these everything which happened anywhere. It
would indeed have been unworthy a genius so curious,
so penetrating, so fertile, so analytical as Aristotle's, to
have laid it duwn that everything on the face of the
earth could be accounted for by the material sciences,
without the hypothesis of moral agents. It is incredible
that in the investigation of physical results he could
ignore so influential a being as man, or forget that, not
only brute force and elemental movement, but know
ledge also is power. And this so much the more, inas
much as moral and spiritual agents belong to another,
not to say a higher, order than physical ; so that the
omission supposed would not have been merely an
* Arist, Ethic, Nicom., iii. 3.
54 Discourse III.
oversight in matters of detail, but a philosophical error,
and a fault in division.
However, we live in an age of the world when the
career of science and literature is little affected by what
was done, or would have been done, by this venerable
authority ; so, we will suppose, in England or Ireland, in
the middle of the nineteenth century, a set of persons of
name and celebrity to meet together, in spite of Aristotle,
in order to adopt a line of proceeding which they conceive
the circumstances of the time render imperative. We will
suppose that a difficulty just now besets the enunciation
and discussion of all matters of science, in consequence
of the extreme sensitiveness of large classes of the com
munity, clergy and laymen, on the subjects of necessity,
responsibility, the standard of morals, and the nature of
virtue. Parties run so high, that the only way of avoid
ing constant quarrelling in defence of this or that side of
the question is, in the judgment of the persons I am sup
posing, to shut up the subject of anthropology altogether.
This is accordingly done. Henceforth man is to be as if
he were not, in the general course of Education ; the moral
and mental sciences are to have no professorial chairs,
and the treatment of them is to be simply left as a matter
of private judgment, which each individual may carry out
as he will. I can just fancy such a prohibition ab
stractedly possible ; but one thing I cannot fancy pos
sible, viz., that the parties in question, after this sweeping
act of exclusion, should forthwith send out proposals on
the basis of such exclusion for publishing an Encyclo
paedia, or erecting a National University.
s It is necessary, however, Gentlemen, for the sake of the
illustration which I am setting before you, to imagine
what cannot be. I say, let us imagine a project for
organizing a system of scientific teaching, in which the
Bearing of Theology on Other Knowledge. 55
agency of man in the material world cannot allowably
be recognized, and may allowably be denied. Physical
and mechanical causes are exclusively to be treated of ;
volition is a forbidden subject. A prospectus is put out,
with a list of sciences, we will say, Astronomy, Optics,
Hydrostatics, Galvanism, Pneumatics, Statics, Dynamics,
Pure Mathematics, Geology, Botany, Physiology, Ana
tomy, and so forth ; but not a word about the mind and
its powers, except what is said in explanation of the
omission. That explanation is to the effect that the
parties concerned in the undertaking have given long and
anxious thought to the subject, and have been reluctantly
driven to the conclusion that it is simply impracticable
to include in the list of University Lectures the Philo
sophy of Mind. What relieves, however, their regret is
the reflection, that domestic feelings and polished man
ners are best cultivated in the family circle and in good
society, in the observance of the sacred ties which unite
father, mother, and child, in the correlative claims and
duties of citizenship, in the exercise of disinterested
loyalty and enlightened patriotism. With this apology,
such as it is, they pass over the consideration of the
human mind and its powers and works, "in solemn
silence," in their scheme of University Education.
/ Let a charter be obtained for it ; let professors be ap
pointed, lectures given, examinations passed, degrees
awarded : — what sort of exactness or trustworthiness,
what philosophical largeness, will attach to views formed
in an intellectual atmosphere thus deprived of some of
the constituent elements of daylight ? What judgment
will foreign countries and future times pass on the labours
of the most acute and accomplished of the philosophers
who have been parties to so portentous an unreality ?
Here are professors gravely lecturing on medicine, or
56 Discourse II L
history, or political economy, who, so far from being bound
to acknowledge, are free to scoff at the action of mind
upon matter, or of mind upon mind, or the claims of
mutual justice and charity. Common sense indeed and
public opinion set bounds at first to so intolerable a
licence ; yet, as time goes on, an omission which was
originally but a matter of expedience, commends itself
to the reason ; and at length a professor is found, more
hardy than his brethren, still however, as he himself main
tains, with sincere respect for domestic feelings and good
manners, who takes on him to deny psychology in toto,
to pronounce the influence of mind in the visible world
a superstition, and to account for every effect which is
found in the world by the operation of physical causes.
Hitherto intelligence and volition were accounted real
powers ; the muscles act, and their action cannot be repre
sented by any scientific expression ; a stone flies out of the
hand and the propulsive force of the muscle resides in the
will ; but there has been a revolution, or at least a new
theory in philosophy, and our Professor, I say, after speak
ing with the highest admiration of the human intellect,
limits its independent action to the region of speculation,
and denies that it can be a motive principle, or can exer
cise a special interference, in the material world. He
ascribes every work, every external act of man, to the
innate force or soul of the physical universe. He observes
that spiritual agents are so mysterious and unintelligible,
so uncertain in their laws, so vague in their operation, so
sheltered from experience, that a wise man will have
nothing to say to them. They belong to a different
order of causes, which he leaves to those whose pro
fession it is to investigate them, and he confines himself
to the tangible and sure. Human exploits, human devices,
human deeds, human productions, all that comes under
Bearing of Theology on Uiiier Knowledge. 57
the scholastic terms of" genius " and " art," and the meta
physical ideas of " duty/' " right," and " heroism," it is
his office to contemplate all these merely in their place
in the eternal system of physical cause and effect. At
length he undertakes to show how the whole fabric of
material civilization has arisen from the constructive
powers of physical elements and physical laws. He
descants upon palaces, castles, temples, exchanges, bridges,
causeways, and shows that they never could have grown
into the imposing dimensions which they present to us,
but for the laws of gravitation and the cohesion of part
with part. The pillar would come down, the loftier the
more speedily, did not the centre of gravity fall within its
base ; and the most admired dome of Palladio or of Sir
Christopher would give way, were it not for the happy
principle of the arch. He surveys the complicated
machinery of a single day's arrangements in a private
family ; our dress, our furniture, our hospitable board ;
what would become of them, he asks, but for the laws of
physical nature? Those laws are the causes of our
carpets, our furniture, our travelling, and our social inter
course. Firm stitches have a natural power, in propor
tion to the toughness of the material adopted, to keep
together separate portions of cloth ; sofas and chairs
could not turn upside down, even if they would ; and it
is a property of caloric to relax the fibres of animal
matter, acting through water in one way, through oil in
another, and this is the whole mystery of the most
elaborate cuisine: — but I should be tedious if I con
tinued the illustration.
6.
Now, Gentlemen, pray understand how it is to be here
applied. I am not supposing that the principles of
58 Discourse III.
Theology and Psychology are the same, or arguing from
the works of man to the works of God, which Paley has
done, which Hume has protested against. I am not
busying myself to prove the existence and attributes of
God, by means of the Argument from design. I am
not proving anything at all about the Supreme Being.
On the contrary, I am assuming His existence, and I do
but say this : — that, man existing, no University Pro
fessor, who had suppressed in physical lectures the idea
of volition, who did not take volition for granted, could
escape a one-sided, a radically false view of the things
which he discussed ; not indeed that his own definitions,
principles, and laws would be wrong, or his abstract
statements, but his considering his own study to be the
key of everything that takes place on the face of the
earth, and his passing over anthropology, this would be
his error. I say, it would not be his science which was
untrue, but his so-called knowledge which was unreal.
He would be deciding on facts by means of theories.
The various busy world, spread out before our eyes, is
physical, but it is more than physical ; and, in making
its actual system identical with his scientific analysis,
formed on a particular aspect, such a Professor as I have
imagined was betraying a want of philosophical depth,
and an ignorance of what an University Teaching ought
to be. He was no longer a teacher of liberal knowledge,
but a narrow-minded bigot. While his doctrines pro
fessed to be conclusions formed upon an hypothesis or
partial truth, they were undeniable ; not so if they pro
fessed to give results in facts which he could grasp and
take possession of. Granting, indeed, that a man's arm
is moved by a simple physical cause, then of course we
may dispute about the various external influences which,
when it changes its position, sway it to and fro, like a
Bearing oj 'I'iieology on Other Knowledge. 59
scarecrow in a garden ; but to assert that the motive
cause is physical, this is an assumption in a case, when
our question is about a matter of fact, not about the
logical consequences of an assumed premiss. And, in
like manner, if a people prays, and the wind changes, the
rain ceases, the sun shines, and the harvest is safely
housed, when no one expected it, our Professor may, if
he will, consult the barometer, discourse about the
atmosphere, and throw what has happened into an
equation, ingenious, even though it be not true ; but,
should he proceed to rest the phenomenon, in matter of
fact, simply upon a physical cause, to the exclusion of a
divine, and to say that the given case actually belongs to
his science because other like cases do, I must tell him,
Ne sutor ultra crepidam : he is making his particular
craft usurp and occupy the universe. This then is the
drift of my illustration. If the creature is ever setting in
motion an endless series of physical causes and effects,
much more is the Creator ; and as our excluding volition
from our range of ideas is a denial of the soul, so our
ignoring Divine Agency is a virtual denial of God.
Moreover, supposing man can will and act of himself in
spite of physics, to shut up this great truth, though one,
is to put our whole encyclopaedia of knowledge out of
joint ; and supposing God can will and act of Himself in
this world which He has made, and we deny or slur it
over, then we are throwing the circle of universal science
into a like, or a far worse confusion.
Worse incomparably, for the idea of God, if there be
a God, is infinitely higher than the idea of man, if there
be man. If to blot out man's agency is to deface the
book of knowledge, on the supposition of that agency
existing, what must it be, supposing it exists, to blot out
the agency of God ? I have hitherto been engaged in
to Discourse ///.
showing that all the sciences come to us as one, that
they all relate to one and the same integral subject-
matter, that each separately is more or less an abstrac
tion, wholly true as an hypothesis, but not wholly trust
worthy in the concrete, Conversant with relations more
than with facts, with principles more than with agents,
needing the support and guarantee of its sister sciences,
and giving in turn while it takes : — from which it follows
that none can safely be omitted, if we would obtain the
exactest knowledge possible of things as they are, and
that the omission is more or less important, in propor
tion to the field which each covers, and the depth to
which it penetrates, and the order to which it belongs ;
for its loss is a positive privation of an influence which
exerts itself in the correction and completion of the rest.
This is a general statement ; but now as to Theology in
particular, what, in matter of fact, are its pretensions,
what its importance, what its influence upon other
branches of knowledge, supposing there be a God, which
it would not become me to set about proving ? Has it
vast dimensions, or does it lie in a nutshell ? Will its
omission be imperceptible, or will it destroy the equili
brium of the whole system of Knowledge ? This is the
inquiry to which I proceed.
7-
Now what is Theology ? First, I will tell you what it
is not. And here, in the first place (though of course I
speak on the subject as a Catholic), observe that, strictly
speaking, I am not assuming that Catholicism is true,
while I make myself the champion of Theology.
Catholicism has not formally entered into my argument
hitherto, nor shall I just now assume any principle
peculiar to it, for reasons which will appear in the sequel,
Bearing of Theology on Other Knowledge. 61
though of course I shall use Catholic language. Neither,
secondly, will I fall into the fashion of the day, of identi
fying Natural Theology with Physical Theology ; which
said Physical Theology is a most jejune study, considered
as a science, and really is no science at all, for it is
ordinarily nothing more than a series of pious or polemical
remarks upon the physical world viewed religiously,
whereas the word " Natural " properly comprehends man
and society, and all that is involved therein, as the great
Protestant writer, Dr. Butler, shows us. Nor, in the third
place, do I mean by Theology polemics of any kind ; for
instance, what are called " the Evidences of Religion,"
or " the Christian Evidences ; " for, though these constitute
a science supplemental to Theology and are necessary
in their place, they are not Theology itself, unless an
army is synonymous with the body politic. Nor, fourthly,
do I mean by Theology that vague thing called " Chris
tianity," or "our common Christianity," or " Christianity
the law of the land," if there is any man alive who can
tell what it is. I discard it, for the very reason that it
cannot throw itself into a proposition. Lastly, I do not
understand by Theology, acquaintance with the Scrip
tures ; for, though no person of religious feelings can
read Scripture but he will find those feelings roused,
and gain much knowledge of history into the bargain,
yet historical reading and religious feeling are not science.
I mean none of these things by Theology, I simply
mean the Science of God, or the truths we know about
God put into system ; just as we have a science of the
stars, and call it astronomy, or of the crust of the earth,
and call it geology.
For instance, I mean, for this is the main point, that,
as in the human frame there is a living principle, acting
upon it and through it by means of volition, so, behind
02 Discourse III. .
the veil of the visible universe, there is an invisible,
intelligent Being, acting on and through it, as and when
He will. Further, I mean that this invisible Agent is in
no sense a soul of the world, after the analogy of human
nature, but, on the contrary, is absolutely distinct from
the world, as being its Creator, Upholder, Governor, and
Sovereign Lord. Here we are at once brought into the
circle of doctrines which the idea of God embodies. I
mean then by the Supreme Being, one who is simply
self-dependent, and the only Being who is such ; moreover,
that He is without beginning or Eternal, and the only
Eternal ; that in consequence He has lived a whole
eternity by Himself; and hence that He is all-sufficient,
sufficient for His own blessedness, and all-blessed, and
ever-blessed. Further, I mean a Being, who, having
these prerogatives, has the Supreme Good, or rather is
the Supreme Good, or has all the attributes of Good in
infinite intcnseness ; all wisdom, all truth, all justice, all
love, all holiness, all beautifulness ; who is omnipotent,
omniscient, omnipresent; ineffably one, absolutely perfect;
and such, that what we do not know and cannot even
imagine of Him, is far more wonderful than what we do
and can. I mean One who is sovereign over His own will
and actions, though always according to the eternal Rule
of right and wrong, which is Himself. I mean, moreover,
that He created all tilings out of nothing, and preserves
them every moment, mid could destroy them as easily as
He made them; and that, in consequence, He is separated
from them by an abyss, and is incommunicable in all
His attributes. And further, He has stamped upon all
things, in the hour of their creation, their respective
natures, and has given them their work and mission and
their length of days, greater or less, in their appointed
place. I mean, too, that He is ever present with His
Bearing of Theology on Other Knowledge. 63
works, one by one, and confronts every thing He has
made by His particular and most loving Providence, and
manifests Himself to each according to its needs ; and
has on rational beings imprinted the moral law, and
given them power to obey it, imposing on them the duty
of worship and service, searching and scanning them
through and through with His omniscient eye, and
putting before them a present trial and a judgment to
come.
Such is what Theology teaches about God, a doctrine,
as the very idea of its subject-matter presupposes, so
mysterious as in its fulness to lie beyond any system,
and in particular aspects to be simply external to nature,
and to seem in parts even to be irreconcileable with
itself, the imagination being unable to embrace what the
reason determines. It teaches of a Being infinite, yet
personal ; all-blessed, yet ever operative ; absolutely
separate from the creature, yet in every part of the
creation at every moment ; above all things, yet under
every thing. It teaches of a Being who, though the
highest, yet in the work of creation, conservation,
government, retribution, makes Himself, as it were, the
minister and servant of all ; who, though inhabiting
eternity, allows Himself to take an interest, and to huve
a sympathy, in the matters of space and time. His are
all beings, visible and invisible, the noblest and the vilest
of them. His are the substance, and the operation, and
the results of that system of physical nature into which
we are born. His too are the powers and achievements
of the intellectual essences, on which He has bestowed
an independent action and the gift of origination. The
laws of the universe, the principles of truth, the relation
of one thing to another, their qualities and virtues, the
order and harmony of the whole, all that exists, is from
64 Discourse III.
Him ; and, if evil is not from Him, as assuredly it is not,
this is because evil has no substance of its own, but is
only the defect, excess, perversion, or corruption of that
which has substance. Ail we see, hear, and touch, the re
mote sidereal firmament; as well as our own sea and land,
and the elements which compose them, and the ordinances
they obey, are His. The primary atoms of matter, their
properties, their mutual action, their disposition and
collocation, electricity, magnetism, gravitation, light, and
whatever other subtle principles or operations the wit of
man is detecting or shall detect, are the work of His
hands. From Him has been every movement which
has convulsed and re-fashioned the surface of the earth
The most insignificant or unsightly insect is from Him,
and good in its kind ; the ever-teeming, inexhaustible
swarms of animalculae, the myriads of living motes in
visible to the naked eye, the restless ever-spreading
vegetation which creeps like a garment over the whole
earth, the lofty cedar, the umbrageous banana, are His.
His are the tribes and families of birds and beasts, their
graceful forms, their wild gestures, and their passionate
cries.
And so in the intellectual, moral, social, and political
world. Man, with his motives and works, his languages,
his propagation, his diffusion, is from Him. Agriculture,
medicine, and the arts of life, are His gifts. Society,
laws, government, He is their sanction. The pageant of
earthly royalty has the semblance and the benediction
of the Eternal King. Peace and civilization, commerce
and adventure, wars when just, conquest when humane
and necessary, have His co-operation, and His blessing
upon them. The course of events, the revolution of
empires, the rise and fall of states, the periods and eras,
the progresses and the retrogressions of the worlds
Bearing of Theology on Other Knowledge. 65
history, not indeed the incidental sin, over-abundant as
it is, but the great outlines and the results of human
affairs, are from His disposition. The elements and
types and seminal principles and constructive powers of
the moral world, in ruins though it be, are to be referred
to Him. He " enlighteneth every man that cometh into
this world." His are the dictates of the moral sense, and
the retributive reproaches of conscience. To Him must
be ascribed the rich endowments of the intellect, the
irradiation of genius, the imagination of the poet, the
sagacity of the politician, the wisdom (as Scripture calls
it), which now rears and decorates the Temple, now
manifests itself in proverb or in parable. The old saws
of nations, the majestic precepts of philosophy, the
luminous maxims of law, the oracles of individual wis
dom, the traditionary rules of truth, justice, and religion,
even though imbedded in the corruption, or alloyed with
the pride, of the world, betoken His original agency, and
His long-suffering presence. Even where there is habi
tual rebellion against Him, or profound far-spreading
social depravity, still the undercurrent, or the heroic out
burst, of natural virtue, as well as the yearnings of the
heart after what it has not, and its presentiment of its
true remedies, are to be ascribed to the Author of all
good. Anticipations or reminiscences of His glory haunt
the mind of the self-sufficient sage, and of the pagan
devotee ; His writing is upon the wall, whether of the
Indian fane, or of the porticoes of Greece. He introduces
Himself, He all but concurs, according to His good plea
sure, and in His selected season, in the issues of unbelief,
superstition, and false worship, and He changes the cha
racter of acts by His overruling operation. He conde
scends, though He gives no sanction, to the altars and
shrines of imposture, and He makes His own fiat the
5
66 Discourse III.
substitute for its sorceries. He speaks amid the incan
tations of Balaam, raises Samuel's spirit in the witch's
cavern, prophesies of the Messias by the tongue of the
Sibyl, forces Python to recognize His ministers, and
baptizes by the hand of -the misbeliever. He is with the
heathen dramatist in his denunciations of injustice and
tyranny, and his auguries of divine vengeance upon
crime. Even on the unseemly legends of a popular
mythology He casts His shadow, and is dimly discerned
in the ode or the epic, as in troubled water or in fan
tastic dreams. All that is good, all that is true, all that
is beautiful, all that is beneficent, be it great or small, be it
perfect or fragmentary, natural as well as supernatural,
moral as well as material, comes from Him.
8.
If this be a sketch, accurate in substance and as far as
it goes, of the doctrines proper to Theology, and espe
cially of the doctrine of a particular Providence, which is
the portion of it most on a level with human sciences, I
cannot understand at all how, supposing it to be true, it
can fail, considered as knowledge, to exert a powerful
influence on philosophy, literature, and every intellectual
creation or discovery whatever. I cannot understand
how it is possible, as the phrase goes, to blink the ques
tion of its truth or falsehood. It meets us with a pro
fession and a proffer of the highest truths of which the
human mind is capable ; it embraces a range of subjects
the most diversified and distant from each other. What
science will not find one part or other of its province
traversed by its path ? What results of philosophic
speculation are unquestionable, if they have been gained
without inquiry as to what Theology had to say to them ?
Does it cast no light upon history ? has it no influence
Bearing of Theology on Other Knowledge. 67
upon the principles of ethics ? is it without any sort of
bearing on physics, metaphysics, and political science ?
Can we drop it out of the circle of knowledge, without
allowing, either that that circle is thereby mutilated, or on
the other hand, that Theology is really no science ?
And this dilemma is the more inevitable, because
Theology is so precise and consistent in its intellectual
structure. When I speak of Theism or Monotheism, I
am not throwing together discordant doctrines ; I am
not merging belief, opinion, persuasion, of whatever kind,
into a shapeless aggregate, by the help of ambiguous
words, and dignifying this medley by the name of
Theology. 1 speak of one idea unfolded in its just pro
portions, carried out upon an intelligible method, and
issuing in necessary and immutable results ; understood
indeed at one time and place better than at another,
held here and there with more or less of inconsistency,
but still, after all, in all times and places, where it is found,
the evolution, not of half-a-dozen ideas, but of one.
9-
And here I am led to another and most important
point in the argument in its behalf, — I mean its wide re
ception. Theology, as I have described it, is no accident
of particular minds, as are certain systems, for instance,
of prophetical interpretation. It is not the sudden birth of
a crisis, as the Lutheran or Wesleyan doctrine. It is not
the splendid development of some uprising philosophy,
as the Cartesian or Platonic. It is not the fashion of a
season, as certain medical treatments may be considered.
It has had a place, if not possession, in the intellectual
world from time immemorial ; it has been received by
minds the most various, and in systems of religion the
most hostile to each other. It has primd facie claims
68 Discourse III.
upon us, so imposing, that it can only be rejected on the
ground of those claims being nothing more than impos
ing, that is, being false. As to our own countries, it
occupies our language, it meets us at every turn in our
literature, it is the secret assumption, too axiomatic to be
distinctly professed, of all our writers ; nor can we help
assuming it ourselves, except by the most unnatural
vigilance. Whoever philosophizes, starts with it, and
introduces it, when he will, without any apology. Bacon,
Hooker, Taylor, Cudworth, Locke, Newton, Clarke,
Berkeley, and Butler, and it would be as easy to find
more, as difficult to find greater names among English
authors, inculcate or comment upon it. Men the most
opposed, in creed or cast of mind, Addison and Johnson,
Shakespeare and Milton, Lord Herbert and Baxter,
herald it forth. Nor is it an English or a Protestant
notion only ; you track it across the Continent, you
pursue it into former ages. When was the world with
out it ? Have the systems of Atheism or Pantheism, as
sciences, prevailed in the literature of nations, or received
a formation or attained a completeness such as Mono
theism ? We find it in old Greece, and even in Rome,
as well as in Judea and the East. We find it in
popular literature, in philosophy, in poetry, as a positive
and settled teaching, differing not at all in the appear
ance it presents, whether in Protestant England, or in
schismatical Russia, or in the Mahometan populations,
or in the Catholic Church. If ever there was a subject
of thought, which had earned by prescription to be
received among the studies of a University, and which
could not be rejected except on the score of convicted
imposture, as astrology or alchemy ; if there be a science
anywhere, which at least could claim not to be ignored,
but to be entertained, and either distinctly accepted or
Bearing of Theology on Other Knowledge. 69
distinctly reprobated, or rather, which cannot be passed
over in a scheme of universal instruction, without involv
ing a positive denial of its truth, it is this ancient, this
far-spreading philosophy.
10.
And now, Gentlemen, I may bring a somewhat tedious
discussion to a close. It will not take many words to
sum up what I have been urging. I say then, if the
various branches of knowledge, which are the matter of
teaching in a University, so hang together, that none
can be neglected without prejudice to the perfection of
the rest, and if Theology be a branch of knowledge, of
wide reception, of philosophical structure, of unutterable
importance, and of supreme influence, to what con
clusion are we brought from these two premisses but
this ? that to withdraw Theology from the public
schools is to impair the completeness and to invalidate
the trustworthiness of all that is actually taught in them.
But I have been insisting simply on Natural Theology,
and that, because I wished to carry along with me those
who were not Catholics, and, again, as being confident,
that no one can really set himself to master and to
teach the doctrine of an intelligent Creator in its fulness,
without going on a great deal farther than he at present
dreams. I say, then, secondly : — if this Science, even
as human reason may attain to it, has such claims on
the regard, and enters so variously into the objects, of
the Professor of Universal Knowledge, how can any
Catholic imagine that it is possible for him to cultivate
Philosophy and Science with due attention to their
ultimate end, which is Truth, supposing that system of
revealed facts and principles, which constitutes the
Catholic Faith, which goes so far beyond nature, and
70 Discourse II L
which he knows to be most true, be omitted from among
the subjects of his teaching ?
In a word, Religious Truth is not only a portion, but
a condition of general knowledge. To blot it out is
nothing short, if I may so speak, of unravelling the web
of Univfrsity Teaching. It is, according to the Greek
proverb, to take the Spring from out of the year ; it is
to imitate the preposterous proceeding of those trage
dians who represented a drama with the omission of its
principal part.
DISCOURSE IV.
BEARING OF OTHER BRANCHES OF KNOWLEDGE ON
THEOLOGY.
I.
"XT OTHING is more common in the world at large
1 > than to consider the resistance, made on the part
of religious men, especially Catholics, to the separation
of Secular Education from Religion, as a plain token
that there is some real contrariety between human science
and Revelation. To the multitude who draw this infer
ence, it matters not whether the protesting parties avow
their belief in this contrariety or not ; it is borne in upon
the many, as if it were self-evident, that religious men
would not thus be jealous and alarmed about Science,
did they not feel instinctively, though they may not
recognize it, that knowledge is their born enemy, and
that its progress, if it is not arrested, will be certain to
destroy all that they hold venerable and dear. It looks
to the world like a misgiving on our part similar to that
which is imputed to our refusal to educate by means of
the Bible only ; why should you dread the sacred text,
men say, if it be not against you ? And in like man
ner, why should you dread secular education, except
that it is against you ? Why impede the circulation
of books which take religious views opposite to your
own ? Why forbid your children and scholars the free
?2 Discourse IV.
perusal of poems or tales or essays or other light
literature which you fear would unsettle their minds?
Why oblige them to know these persons and to shun
those, if you think that your friends have reason on their
side as fully as your opponents ? Truth is bold and un
suspicious ; want of self-reliance is the mark of false
hood.
Now, as far as this objection relates to any supposed
opposition between secular science and divine, which is
the subject on which I am at present engaged, I made a
sufficient answer to it in my foregoing Discourse. In it
I said, that, in order to have possession of truth at all,
we must have the whole truth ; and no one science, no
two sciences, no one family of sciences, nay, not even all
secular science, is the whole truth ; that revealed truth
enters to a very great extent into the province of
science, philosophy, and literature, and that to put it on
one side, in compliment to secular science, is simply,
under colour of a compliment, to do science a great
damage. I do not say that every science will be equally
affected by the omission ; pure mathematics will not
suffer at all ; chemistry will suffer less than politics,
politics than history, ethics, or metaphysics; still, that
the various branches of science are intimately connected
with each other, and form one whole, which whole is im
paired, and to an extent which it is difficult to limit, by
any considerable omission of knowledge, of whatever
kind, and that revealed knowledge is very far indeed
from an inconsiderable department of knowledge, this I
consider undeniable. As the written and unwritten word
of God make up Revelation as a whole, and the written,
taken by itself, is but a part of that whole, so in turn
Revelation itself may be viewed as one of the constituent
parts of human knowledge, considered as a whole, and
Searing of Oilier Knowledge on Theology. 73
its omission is the omission of one of those constituent
parts. Revealed Religion furnishes facts to the other
sciences, which those sciences, left to themselves, would
never reach ; and it invalidates apparent facts, which,
left to themselves, they would imagine. Thus, in the
science of history, the preservation of our race in Noah's
ark is an historical fact, which history never would
arrive at without Revelation ; and, in the province of
physiology and moral philosophy, our race's progress
and perfectibility is a dream, because Revelation con
tradicts it, whatever may be plausibly argued in its be
half by scientific inquirers. It is not then that Catho
lics are afraid of human knowledge, but that they are
proud of divine knowledge, and that they think the
omission of any kind of knowledge whatever, human or
divine, to be, as far as it goes, not knowledge, but
ignorance.
2.
Thus I anticipated the objection in question last week:
now I am going to make it the introduction to a further
view of the relation of secular knowledge to divine. I
observe, then, that, if you drop any science out of the
circle of knowledge, you cannot keep its place vacant for
it ; that science is forgotten ; the other sciences close
up, or, in other words, they exceed their proper bounds,
and intrude where they have no right. For instance, I
suppose, if ethics were sent into banishment, its territory
would soon disappear, under a treaty of partition, as it
may be called, between law, political economy, and
physiology ; what, again, would become of the pro
vince of experimental science, if made over to the Anti
quarian Society ; or of history, if surrendered out and
out to Metaphysicians ? The case is the same with the
74 Discourse
subject-matter of Theology ; it would be the prey of a
dozen various sciences, if Theology were put out of
possession ; and not only so, but those sciences would
be plainly exceeding their rights and their capacities in
seizing upon it. They would be sure to teach wrongly,
where they had no mission to teach at all. The enemies
of Catholicism ought to be the last to deny this : — for they
have never been blind to a like usurpation, as they have
called it, on the part of theologians ; those who accuse
us of wishing, in accordance with Scripture language, to
make the sun go round the earth, are not the men to
deny that a science which exceeds its limits falls into
error.
I neither then am able nor care to deny, rather I
assert the fact, and to-day I am going on to account for
it, that any secular science cultivated exclusively, may
become dangerous to Religion ; and I account for it on
this broad principle, that no science whatever, however
comprehensive it may be, but will fall largely into error,
if it be constituted the sole exponent of all things in
heaven and earth, and that, for the simple reason that it
is encroaching on territory not its own, and undertaking
problems which it has no instruments to solve. And I
set off thus :
3-
One of the first acts of the human mind is to take
hold of and appropriate what meets the senses, and here
in lies a chief distinction between man's and a brute's use
of them. Brutes gaze on sights, they are arrested by
sounds ; and what they see and what they hear are
mainly sights and sounds only. The intellect of man,
on the contrary, energizes as well as his eye or ear, and
perceives in sights and sounds something beyond them.
Bearing of Other Knowledge on Theology. 75
It seizes and unites what the senses present to it ; it
grasps and forms what need not have been seen or
heard except in its constituent parts. It discerns in lines
and colours, or in tones, what is beautiful and what is
not. It gives them a meaning, and invests them with
an idea. It gathers up a succession of notes into the
expression of a whole, and calls it a melody ; it has a
keen sensibility towards angles and curves, lights and
shadows, tints and contours. It distinguishes between
rule and exception, between accident and design. It
assigns phenomena to a general law, qualities to a subject,
acts to a principle, and effects to a cause. In a word,
it philosophizes ; for I suppose Science and Philosophy,
in their elementary idea, are nothing else but this habit
of viewing, as it may be called, the objects which sense
conveys to the mind, of throwing them into system, and
uniting and stamping them with one form.
This method is so natural to us, as I have said, as to be
almost spontaneous ; and we are impatient when we can
not exercise it, and in consequence we do not always
wait to have the means of exercising it aright, but we
often put up with insufficient or absurd views or inter
pretations of what we meet with, rather than have none
at all. We refer the various matters which are brought
home to us, material or moral, to causes which we happen
to know of, or to such as are simply imaginary, sooner
than refer them to nothing; and according to the activity
of our intellect do we feel a pain and begin to fret, if we
are not able to do so. Here we have an explanation of
the multitude of off-hand sayings, flippant judgments,
and shallow generalizations, with which the world
abounds. Not from self-will only, nor from malevolence,
but from the irritation which suspense occasions, is the
mind forced on to pronounce, without sufficient data for
76 Discourse
pronouncing. Who does not form some view or other,
for instance, of any public man, or any public event, nay,
even so far in some cases as to reach the mental delinea
tion of his appearance or of its scene ? yet how few have
a right to form any view-. Hence the misconceptions of
character, hence the false impressions and reports of words
or deeds, which are the rule, rather than the exception,
in the world at large ; hence the extravagances of un
disciplined talent, and the narrowness of conceited igno
rance ; because, though it is no easy matter to view things
correctly, nevertheless the busy mind will ever be viewing.
We cannot do without a view, and we put up with an
illusion, when we cannot get a truth.
4-
Now, observe how this impatience acts in matters of
research and speculation. What happens to the ignorant
and hotheaded, will take place in the case of every person
whose education or pursuits are contracted, whether they
be merely professional, merely scientific, or of whatever
other peculiar complexion. Men, whose life lies in the
cultivation of one science, or the exercise of one method
of thought, have no more right, though they have often
more ambition, to generalize upon the basis of their own
pursuit but beyond its range, than the schoolboy or the
ploughman to judge of a Prime Minister. But they must
have something to say on every subject ; habit, fashion,
the public require it of them : and, if so, they can only
give sentence according to their knowledge. You might
think this ought to make such a person modest in his enun
ciations; not so: too often it happens that, in proportion
to the narrowness of his knowledge, is, not his distrust
of it, but the deep hold it has upon him, his absolute
conviction of his own conclusions, and his positiveness in
Bearing oj Other Knowledge on Theology. 77
maintaining them. He has the obstinacy of the bigot,
whom he scorns, without the bigot's apology, that he has
been taught, as he thinks, his doctrine from heaven.
Thus he becomes, what is commonly called, a man of one
idea ; which properly means a man of one science, and
of the view, partly true, but subordinate, partly false,
which is all that can proceed out of any thing so partial.
Hence it is that we have the principles of utility, of
combination, of progress, of philanthropy, or, in material
sciences, comparative anatomy, phrenology, electricity,
exalted into leading ideas, and keys, if not of all know
ledge, at least of many things more than belong to them, —
principles, all of them true to a certain point, yet all
degenerating into error and quackery, because they are
carried to excess, viz. at the point where they require
interpretation and restraint from other quarters, and
because they are employed to do what is simply too
much for them, inasmuch as a little science is not deep
philosophy.
Lord Bacon has set down the abuse, of which I am
speaking, among the impediments to the Advancement
of the Sciences, when he observes that " men have used
to infect their meditations, opinions, and doctrines, with
some conceits which they have most admired, or some
Sciences which they have most applied; and give all things
else a tincture according to them utterly untrue and im
proper. ... So have the alchemists made a philo
sophy out of a few experiments of the furnace ; and
Gilbertus, our countryman, hath made a philosophy out
of the observations of a lodestone. So Cicero, when,
reciting the several opinions of the nature of the soul, he
found a musician that held the soul was but a harmony,
saith pleasantly, ' hie ab arte sua non recessit/ ' he was
true to his art' But of these conceits Aristotle speaketh
78 Discourse IV.
seriously and wisely when he saith, 'Qui respiciunt
ad pauca, de facili pronunciant/ ' they who contemplate
a few things have no difficulty in deciding.' "
5-
And now I have said enough to explain the incon
venience which 1 conceive necessarily to result from a
refusal to recognize theological truth in a course of
Universal Knowledge ; — it is not only the loss of Theo
logy, it is the perversion of other sciences. What it
unjustly forfeits, others unjustly seize. They have their
own department, and, in going out of it, attempt to do
what they really cannot do ; and that the more mis
chievously, because they do teach what in its place is
true, though when out of its place, perverted or carried to
excess, it is not true. And, as every man has not the
capacity of separating truth from falsehood, they per
suade the world of what is false by urging upon it what
is true. Nor is it open enemies alone who encounter us
here, sometimes it is friends, sometimes persons who, if
not friends, at least have no wish to oppose Religion, and
are not conscious they are doing so ; and it will carry
out my meaning more fully if 1 give some illustrations
of it.
As to friends, 1 may take as an instance the cultivation
of the Fine Arts, Painting, Sculpture, Architecture, to
which 1 may add Music. These high ministers of the
Beautiful and the Noble are, it is plain, special attendants
and handmaids of Religion ; but it is equally plain that
they are apt to forget their place, and, unless restrained
with a firm hand, instead of being servants, will aim at
becoming principals. Here lies the advantage, in an
ecclesiastical point of view, of their more rudimental
state, I mean of the ancient style of architecture, of Gothic
Bearing of Other Knowledge on Theology. 79
sculpture and painting, and of what is called Gregorian
music, that these inchoate sciences have so little innate
vigour and life in them, that they are in no danger of
going out of their place, and giving the law to Religion.
But the case is very different when genius has breathed
upon their natural elements, and has developed them
into what I may call intellectual powers. When Paint
ing, for example, grows into the fulness of its function as
a simply imitative art, it at once ceases to be a dependant
on the Church. It has an end of its own, and that cf
earth : Nature is its pattern, and the object it pursues is
the beauty of Nature, even till it becomes an ideal beauty,
but a natural beauty still. It cannot imitate that beauty
of Angels and Saints which it has never seen. At first,
indeed, by outlines and emblems it shadowed out the
Invisible, and its want of skill became the instrument of
reverence and modesty ; but as time went on and it at
tained its full dimensions as an art, it rather subjected
Religion to its own ends than ministered to the ends of
Religion, and in its long galleries and stately chambers,
did but mingle adorable figures and sacred histories with
a multitude of earthly, not to say unseemly forms, which
the Art had created, borrowing withal a colouring and a
character from that bad company. Not content with
neutral ground for its development, it was attracted by
the sublimity of divine subjects to ambitious and hazar
dous essays. Without my saying a word more, you will
clearly understand, Gentlemen, that under these circum
stances Religion was bound to exert itself, that the world
might not gain an advantage over it. Put out of sight
the severe teaching of Catholicism in the schools of Paint
ing, as men now would put it aside in their philosophical
studies, and in no long time you would have the hierarchy
of the Church, the Anchorite and Virgin-martyr, the
8o Discourse
Confessor and the Doctor, the Angelic Hosts, the
Mother of God, the Crucifix, the Eternal Trinity, sup
planted by a sort of pagan mythology in the guise of
sacred names, by a creation indeed of high genius, of
intense, and dazzling, and soul-absorbing beauty, in
which, however, there was nothing which subserved the
cause of Religion, nothing on the other hand which did
not cjirectly or indirectly minister to corrupt nature and
the powers of darkness.
6.
The art of Painting, however, is peculiar : Music and
Architecture are more ideal, and their respective arche
types, even if not supernatural, at least are abstract and
unearthly ; and yet what I have been observing about
Painting, holds, I think, analogously, in the marvellous
development which Musical Science has undergone in
the last century. Doubtless here too the highest genius
may be made subservient to Religion ; here too, still
more simply than in the case of Painting, the Science
has a field of its own, perfectly innocent, into which
Religion does not and need not enter; on the other
hand here also, in the case of Music as of Painting, it is
certain that Religion must be alive and on the defensive,
for, if its servants sleep, a potent enchantment will steal
over it. Music, I suppose, though this is not the place
to enlarge upon it, has an object of its own ; as mathe
matical science also, it is the expression of ideas greater
and more profound than any in the visible world, ideas,
which centre indeed in Him whom Catholicism mani
fests, who is the seat of all beauty, order, and perfection
whatever, still ideas after all which are not those on
which Revelation directly and principally fixes our gaze.
If then a great master in this mysterious science (if I
Bearing of Oiker Knowledge on Theology. 8 1
may speak of matters which seem to lie out of my own
province) throws himself on his own gift, trusts its in
spirations, and absorbs himself in those thoughts which,
though they come to him in the way of nature, belong
to things above nature, it is obvious he will neglect
everything else. Rising in his strength, he will break
through the trammels of words, he will scatter human
voices, even the sweetest, to the winds ; he will be borne
upon nothing less than the fullest flood of sounds which
art has enabled him to draw from mechanical contri
vances ; he will go forth as a giant, as far as ever his in
struments can reach, starting from their secret depths
fresh and fresh elements of beauty and grandeur as he
goes, and pouring them together into still more marvel
lous and rapturous combinations ; — and well indeed and
lawfully, while he keeps to that line which is his own ;
but, should he happen to be attracted, as he well may,
by the sublimity, so congenial to him, of the Catholic
doctrine and ritual, should he engage in sacred themes,
should he resolve by means of his art to do honour to
the Mass, or the Divine Office, — (he cannot have a more
pious, a better purpose, and Religion will gracefully
accept what he gracefully offers ; but) — is it not certain,
from the circumstances of the case, that he will be
carried on rather to use Religion than to minister to it,
unless Religion is strong on its own ground, and reminds
him that, if he would do honour to the highest of
subjects, he must make himself its scholar, must humbly
follow the thoughts given him, and must aim at the
glory, not of his own gift, but of the Great Giver ?
7
As to Architecture, it is a remark, if I recollect aright,
both of Fenelon and Berkeley, men so different, that it
82 Discourse
carries more with it even than the names of those cele
brated men, that the Gothic style is not as simple as
befits ecclesiastical structures. I understand this to be
a similar judgment to that which I have been passing
on the cultivation of Painting and Music. For myself,
certainly I think that that style which, whatever be its
origin, is called Gothic, is endowed with a profound an'4
a commanding beauty, such as no other style possesses
with which we are acquainted, and which probably the
Church will not see surpassed till it attain to the Celestial
City. No other architecture, now used for sacred pur
poses, seems to be the growth of an idea, whereas the
Gothic style is as harmonious and as intellectual as it is
graceful. But this feeling should not blind us, rather it
should awaken us, to the danger lest what is really a
divine gift be incautiously used as an end rather than as
a means. It is surely quite within the bounds of pos
sibility, that, as the renaissance three centuries ago
carried away its own day, in spite of the Church, into
excesses in literature and art, so that revival of an almost
forgotten architecture, which is at present taking place
in our own countries, in France, and in Germany, may
in some way or other run away with us into this or that
error, unless we keep a watch over its course. I am not
speaking of Ireland ; but to English Catholics at least it
would be a serious evil, if it came as the emblem and
advocate of a past ceremonial or an extinct nationalism.
We are not living in an age of wealth and loyalty, of
pomp and stateliness, of time-honoured establishments,
of pilgrimage and penance, of hermitages and convents
in the wild, and of fervent populations supplying the
want of education by love, and apprehending in form
and symbol what they cannot read in books. Our rules
and our rubrics have been altered now to meet the
Bearing of Other Knowledge on Theology. 83
times, and hence an obsolete discipline may be a
present heresy.
8.
I have been pointing out how the Fine Arts may pre
judice Religion, by laying down the law in cases where
they should be subservient. The illustration is analo
gous rather than strictly proper to my subject, yet I
think it is to the point. If then the most loyal and
dutiful children of the Church must deny themselves,
and do deny themselves, when they would sanctify to a
heavenly purpose sciences as sublime and as divine as
any which are cultivated by fallen man, it is not wonder
ful, when we turn to sciences of a different character, of
which the object is tangible and material, and the
principles belong to the Reason, not to the Imagination,
that we should find their disciples, if disinclined to the
Catholic Faith, acting the part of opponents to it, and
that, as may often happen, even against their will and
intention. Many men there are, who, devoted to one
particular subject of thought, and making its principles
the measure of all things, become enemies to Revealed
Religion before they know it, and, only as time proceeds,
are aware of their own state of mind. These, if they
are writers or lecturers, while in this state of unconscious
or semi-conscious unbelief, scatter infidel principles under
the garb and colour of Christianity; and this, simply
because they have made their own science, whatever it
is, Political Economy, or Geology, or Astronomy, to the
neglect of Theology, the centre of all truth, and view
every part or the chief parts of knowledge as if de
veloped from it, and to be tested and determined by its
principles. Others, though conscious to themselves of
their anti-christian opinions, have too much good feeling
84 Discourse IV.
and good taste to obtrude them upon the world. They
neither wish to shock people, nor to earn for themselves
a confessorship which brings with it no gain. They
know the strength of prejudice, and the penalty of in
novation ; they wish to go through life quietly ; they
scorn polemics ; they shrink, as from a real humiliation,
from being mixed up in religious controversy ; they are
ashamed of the very name. However, they have had
occasion at some time to publish on some literary or
scientific subject ; they have wished to give no offence ;
but after all, to their great annoyance, they find when
they least expect it, or when they have taken consider
able pains to avoid it, that they have roused by their
publication what they would style the bigoted and
bitter hostility of a party. This misfortune is easily
conceivable, and has befallen many a man. Before he
knows where he is, a cry is raised on all sides of him ;
and so little does he know what we may call the lie of
the land, that his attempts at apology perhaps only
make matters worse. In other words, an exclusive line
of study has led him, whether he will or no, to run
counter to the principles of Religion ; which principles
he has never made his landmarks, and which, whatever
might be their effect upon himself, at least would have
warned him against practising upon the faith of others,
had they been authoritatively held up before him.
9-
Instances of this kind are far from uncommon. Men
who are old enough, will remember the trouble which
came upon a person, eminent as a professional man in
London even at that distant day, and still more eminent
since, in consequence of his publishing a book in which
he so treated the subject of Comparative Anatomy as
Bearing of Other Knowledge on Theology. 85
to seem to deny the immateriality of the soul. I speak
here neither as excusing nor reprobating sentiments
about which I have not the means of forming a judg
ment ; all indeed I have heard of him makes me men
tion him with interest and respect ; anyhow of this I
am sure, that if there be a calling which feels its position
and its dignity to lie in abstaining from controversy and
in cultivating kindly feelings with men of all opinions,
it is the medical profession, and I cannot believe that
the person in question would purposely have raised the
indignation and incurred the censure of the religious
public. What then must have been his fault or mistake,
but that he unsuspiciously threw himself upon his own
particular science, which is of a material character, and
allowed it to carry him forward into a subject-matter,
where it had no right to give the law, viz., that of spiri
tual beings, which directly belongs to the science of
Theology ?
Another instance occurred at a later date. A living
dignitary of the Established Church wrote a History of
the Jews; in which, with what I consider at least bad
judgment, he took an external view of it, and hence was
led to assimilate it as nearly as possible to secular his
tory. A great sensation was the consequence among
the members of his own communion, from which he still
suffers. Arguing from the dislike and contempt of pole
mical demonstrations which that accomplished writer has
ever shown, I must conclude that he was simply betrayed
into a false step by the treacherous fascination of what
is called the Philosophy of History, which is good in its
place, but can scarcely be applied in cases where the
Almighty has superseded the natural laws of society and
history. From this he would have been saved, had he
been a Catholic ; but in the Establishment he knew of
86 Discourse IV.
no teaching, to which he was bound to defer, which
might rule that to be false which attracted him by its
speciousness.
10.
I will now take an instance from another science, and
will use more words about it. Political Economy is the
science, I suppose, of wealth, — a science simply lawful
and useful, for it is no sin to make money, any more
than it is a sin to seek honour ; a science at the same
time dangerous and leading to occasions of sin, as is the
pursuit of honour too ; and in consequence, if studied by
itself, and apart from the control of Revealed Truth,
sure to conduct a speculator to unchristian conclusions.
Holy Scripture tells us distinctly, that " covetousness,"
or more literally the love of money, " is the root of all
evils ; " and that "they that would become rich fall into
temptation ; " and that " hardly shall they that have
riches enter into the kingdom of God ;" and after draw
ing the picture of a wealthy and flourishing people, it
adds, "They have called the people happy that hath
these things ; but happy is that people whose God is the
Lord : " — while on the other hand it says with equal
distinctness, " If any will not work, neither let him eat;"
and, " If any man have not care of his own, and espe
cially of those of his house, he hath denied the faith,
and is worse than an infidel." These opposite injunc
tions are summed up in the wise man's prayer, who says,
" Give me neither beggary nor riches, give me only the
necessaries of life." With this most precise view' of a
Christian's duty, viz., to labour indeed, but to labour for
a competency for himself and his, and to be jealous of
wealth, whether personal or national, the holy Fathers
are, as might be expected, in simple accordance.
44 Judas/' says St. Chrysostom, "was with Him who
Bearing of Other Knowledge on Theology. 87
knew not where to lay His head, yet could not restrain
himself ; and how canst thou hope to escape the con
tagion without anxious effort ? " " It is ridiculous," says
St. Jerome, " to call it idolatry to offer to the creature
the grains of incense that are due to God, and not to
call it so, to offer the whole service of one's life to the
creature." "There is not a trace of justice in that
heart," says St. Leo, "in which the love of gain has
made itself a dwelling." The same thing is emphatically
taught us by the counsels of perfection, and by every
holy monk and nun anywhere, who has ever embraced
them ; but it is needless to collect testimonies, when
Scripture is so clear.
Now, observe, Gentlemen, my drift in setting Scripture
and the Fathers over against Political Economy. Of
course if there is a science of wealth, it must give rules
for gaining wealth and disposing of wealth, and can do no
thing more ; it cannot itself declare that it is a subordi
nate science, that its end is not the ultimate end of all
things, and that its conclusions are only hypothetical,
depending on its premisses, and liable to be overruled
by a higher teaching. I do not then blame the Political
Economist for anything which follows from the very
idea of his science, from the very moment that it is
recognized as a science. He must of course direct his
inquiries towards his end ; but then at the same time it
must be recollected, that so far he is not practical, but
only pursues an abstract study, and is busy himself in
establishing logical conclusions from indisputable pre
misses. Given that wealth is to be sought, this and
that is the method of gaining it. This is the extent to
which a Political Economist has a right to go ; he has
no right to determine that wealth is at any rate to be
sought, or that it is the way to be virtuous and the price
88 Discourse IV.
of happiness ; I say, this is to pass the bounds of his
science, independent of the question whether he be
right or wrong in so determining, for he is only con
cerned with an hypothesis.
To take a parallel case : — a physician may tell you,
that if you are to preserve your health, you must give
up your employment and retire to the country. He
distinctly says " if;" that is all in which he is concerned,
he is no judge whether there are objects dearer to you,
more urgent upon you, than the preservation of your
health ; he does not enter into your circumstances, your
duties, your liabilities, the persons dependent on you ,
he knows nothing about what is advisable or what is
not ; he only says, " I speak as a physician ; if you
would be well, give up your profession, your trade,
your office, whatever it is." However he may wish it, it
would be impertinent in him to say more, unless indeed
he spoke, not as a physician but as a friend ; and it
would be extravagant, if he asserted that bodily health
was the summum bonum, and that no one could be
virtuous whose animal system was not in good order.
II.
But now let us turn to the teaching of the actual
Political Economist, in his present fashionable shape. I
will take a very favourable instance of him : he shall be
represented by a gentleman of high character, whose
religious views are sufficiently guaranteed to us by his
being the special choice, in this department of science,
of a University removed more than any other Protes
tant body of the day from sordid or unchristian princi
ples on the subject of money-making. I say, if there
be a place where Political Economy would be kept in
order, and would not be suffered to leave the high road
Bearing of Other Knowledge on Theology. Sg
and ride across the pastures and the gardens dedicated
to other studies, it is the University of Oxford. And if
a man could anywhere be found who would have too
much good taste to offend the religious feeling of the
place, or to say any thing which he would himself allow
to be inconsistent with Revelation, I conceive it is the
person whose temperate and well-considered composi
tion, as it would be generally accounted, I am going. to
offer to your notice. Nor did it occasion any excite
ment whatever on the part of the academical or the re
ligious public, as did the instances which I have hitherto
been adducing. I am representing then the science of
Political Economy, in its independent or unbridled
action, to great advantage, when I select, as its specimen,
the Inaugural Lecture upon it, delivered in the Univer
sity in question, by its first Professor. Yet with all these
circumstances in it!s favour, you will soon see, Gentlemen,
into what extravagance, for so I must call it, a grave
lawyer is led in praise of his chosen science, merely
from the circumstance that he has fixed his mind upon
it, till he has forgotten there are subjects of thought
higher and more heavenly than it. You will find be
yond mistake, that it is his object to recommend the
science of wealth, by claiming for it an ethical quality,
viz., by extolling it as the road to virtue and happi
ness, whatever Scripture and holy men may say to the
contrary.
He begins by predicting of Political Economy, that
in the course of a very few years, " it will rank in public
estimation among the first of moral sciences in interest
and in utility." Then he explains most lucidly its
objects and duties, considered as " the science which
teaches in what wealth consists, by what agents it is
produced, and according to what laws it is distributed.
90 Discourse
and what are the institutions and customs by which pro
duction may be facilitated and distribution regulated, so
as to give the largest possible amount of wealth to each
individual." And he dwells upon the interest which
attaches to the inquiry,, "whether England has run her
full career of wealth and improvement, but stands safe
where she is, or whether to remain stationary is impos
sible." After this he notices a certain objection, which
I shall set before you in his own words, as they will
furnish me with the illustration I propose.
This objection, he says, is, that, "as the pursuit of
wealth is one of the humblest of human occupations,
far inferior to the pursuit of virtue, or of knowledge, or
even of reputation, and as the possession of wealth is
not necessarily joined, — perhaps it will be said, is not
conducive, — to happiness, a science, ^of which the only
subject is wealth, cannot claim to rank as the first, or
nearly the first, of moral sciences."* Certainly, to an
enthusiast in behalf of any science whatever, the temp
tation is great to meet an objection urged against its
dignity and worth ; however, from the very form of it,
such an objection cannot receive a satisfactory answer
by means of the science itself. It is an objection exter
nal to the science, and reminds us of the truth of Lord
Bacon's remark, " No perfect discovery can be made
upon a flat or a level ; neither is it possible to discover
the more remote and deeper parts of any science, if you
stand upon the level of the science, and ascend not to a
higher science." •(• The objection that Political Economy
is inferior to the science of virtue, or does not con
duce to happiness, is an ethical or theological objection;
the question of its " rank " belongs to that Architectonic
* Introd. Lecture on Pol. Econ. pp. n, 12.
f Advancement of Learning.
Bearing of Other Knowledge on Theology. 9 1
Science or Philosophy, whatever it be, which is itself the
arbiter of all truth, and which disposes of the claims
and arranges the places of all the departments of know
ledge which man is able to master. I say, when an
opponent of a particular science asserts that it does
not conduce to happiness, and much more when its
champion contends in reply that it certainly does con
duce to virtue, as this author proceeds to contend, the
obvious question which occurs to one to ask is, what
does Religion, what does Revelation, say on the point ?
Political Economy must not be allowed to give judg
ment in its own favour, but must come before a higher
tribunal. The objection is an appeal to the Theologian;
however, the Professor does not so view the matter ; he
does not consider it a question for Philosophy ; nor in
deed on the other hand a question for Political Economy ;
not a question for Science at all ; but for Private Judg
ment, — so he answers it himself, and as follows :
12.
"My answer," he says, "is, first, that the pursuit of
wealth, that is, the endeavour to accumulate the means of
future subsistence and enjoyment, is, to the mass of
mankind, the great source of moral improvement." Now
observe, Gentlemen, how exactly this bears out what I have
been saying. It is just so far true, as to be able to instil
what is false, far as the author was from any such design.
I grant, then, that, ordinarily, beggary is not the means of
moral improvement ; and that the orderly habits which
attend upon the hot pursuit of gain, not only may effect
an external decency, but may at least shelter the soul
from the temptations of vice. Moreover, these habits of
good order guarantee regularity in a family or household,
and thus are accidentally the means of good ; moreover,
92 Discourse IV.
they lead to the education of its younger branches, and
they thus accidentally provide the rising generation with
a virtue or a truth which the present has not : but with
out going into these considerations, further than to allow
them generally, and un4er circumstances, let us rather
contemplate what the author's direct assertion is. He
says," the endeavour to accumulate" the words should be
weighed, and for what? " for enjoyment ; " — " to accumu
late the means of future subsistence and enjoyment, is, to
the mass of mankind, the great source," not merely a
source, but tJte great source, and of what ? of social and
political progress ? — such an answer would have been
more within the limits of his art, — no, but of something
individual and personal, " of moral improvement" The
soul, in the case of " the mass of mankind," improves in
moral excellence from this more than any thing else, viz.,
from heaping up the means of enjoying this world in
time to come ! I really should on every account be
sorry, Gentlemen, to exaggerate, but indeed one is taken
by surprise, one is startled, on meeting with so very
categorical a contradiction of our Lord, St. Paul, St
Chrysostom, St Leo, and all Saints.
" No institution," he continues, " could be more bene
ficial to the morals of the lower orders, that is, to at least
nine-tenths of the whole body of any people, than one
which should increase their power and their wish to
accumulate ; none more mischievous than one which
should diminish their motives and means to save." No
institution more beneficial than one which should increase
the wish to accumulate ! then Christianity is not one of
such beneficial institutions, for it expressly says, " Lay
not up to yourselves treasures on earth ... for where
thy treasure is, there is thy heart also ;" — no institution
more mischievous than one which should diminish the
Bearing of Other Knowledge on Theology. 93
'motives to save! then Christianity is one of such mischiefs,
for the inspired text proceeds, " Lay up to yourselves
treasures in heaven, where neither the rust nor the moth
doth consume, and where thieves do not dig through,
nor steal."
But it is not enough that morals and happiness are
made to depend on gain and accumulation ; the practice
of Religion is ascribed to these causes also, and in the
following way. Wealth depends upon the pursuit of
wealth ; education depends upon wealth ; knowledge
depends on education ; and Religion depends on know
ledge ; therefore Religion depends on the pursuit of
wealth. He says, after speaking of a poor and savage
people, " Such a population must be grossly ignorant.
The desire of knowledge is one of the last results
of refinement ; it requires in general to have been im
planted in the mind during childhood ; and it is absurd
to suppose that persons thus situated would have the
power or the will to devote much to the education of
their children. A further consequence is the absence
of all real religion ; for the religion of the grossly igno
rant, if they have any, scarcely ever amounts to more
than a debasing superstition."* The pursuit of gain
then is the basis of virtue, religion, happiness ; though
it is all the while, as a Christian knows, the " root
of all evils," and the " poor on the contrary are blessed,
for theirs is the kingdom of God."
As to the argument contained in the logical Sorites
which I have been drawing out, I anticipated just now
what I should say to it in reply. I repeat, doutbtless
" beggary," as the wise man says, is not desirable ; doubt
less, if men will not work, they should not eat ; there is
doubtless a sense in which it may be said that mere
Intr. Lect., p. 16,
94 Discourse IV.
social or political virtue tends to moral and religious
excellence ; but the sense needs to be defined and the
statement to be kept within bounds. This is the very
point on which I am all along insisting. I am not
denying, I am granting^ I am assuming, that there is
reason and truth in the " leading ideas," as they are
called, and " large views " of scientific men ; I only
say that, though they speak truth, they do not speak the
whole truth ; that they speak a narrow truth, and think it
a broad truth ; that their deductions must be compared
with other truths, which are acknowledged to be truths,
in order to verify, complete, and correct them. They say
what is true, exceptis excipiendis ; what is true, but
requires guarding ; true, but must not be ridden too
hard, or made what is called a hobby ; true, but not the
measure of all things ; true, but if thus inordinately,
extravagantly, ruinously carried out, in spite of other
sciences, in spite of Theology, sure to become but a
great bubble, and to burst.
I am getting to the end of this Discourse, before I
have noticed one tenth part of the instances with which
I might illustrate the subject of it. Else I should have
wished especially to have dwelt upon the not unfrequent
perversion which occurs of antiquarian and historical re
search, to the prejudice of Theology. It is undeniable
that the records of former ages are of primary import
ance in determining Catholic doctrine ; it is undeniable
also that there is a silence or a contrariety abstractedly
conceivable in those records, as to an alleged portion of
that doctrine, which would be sufficient to invalidate its
claims on our acceptance ; but it is quite as undeniable
that the existing documentary testimony to Catholicism
Bearing of Other Knowledge on Theology. 95
and Christianity may be so unduly valued as to be
made the absolute measure of Revelation, as if no part
of theological teaching were true which cannot bring its
express text, as it is called, from Scripture, and authori
ties from the Fathers or profane writers, — whereas there
are numberless facts in past times which we cannot deny,
for they are indisputable, though history is silent about
them. I suppose, on this score, we ought to deny that
the round towers of this country had any origin, because
history does not disclose it ; or that any individual came
from Adam who cannot produce the table of his an
cestry. Yet Gibbon argues against the darkness at the
Passion, from the accident that it is not mentioned by
Pagan historians : — as well might he argue against the
existence of Christianity itself in the first century, be
cause Seneca, Pliny, Plutarch, the Jewish Mishna, and
other authorities are silent about it. Protestants argue
in a parallel way against Transubstantiation, and Arians
against our Lord's Divinity, viz., on the ground that
extant writings of certain Fathers do not witness those
doctrines to their satisfaction : — as well might they say
that Christianity was not spread by the Twelve Apostles,
because we know so little of their labours. The evidence
of History, I say, is invaluable in its place ; but, if it as
sumes to be the sole means of gaining Religious Truth,
it goes beyond its place. We are putting it to a larger
office than it can undertake, if we countenance the
usurpation ; and we are turning a true guide and bless
ing into a source of inexplicable difficulty and inter
minable doubt.
And so of other sciences : just as Comparative Ana
tomy, Political Economy, the Philosophy of History, and
the Science of Antiquities may be and are turned
against Religion, by being taken by themselves, as I
96 Discourse IV
have been showing, so a like mistake may befall any
other. Grammar, for instance, at first sight does not
appear to admit of a perversion ; yet Home Tooke
made it the vehicle of his peculiar scepticism. Law
would seem to have enough to do with its own clients, and
their affairs ; and yet Mr. Bentham made a treatise on
Judicial Proofs a covert attack upon the miracles of
Revelation. And in like manner Physiology may deny
moral evil and human responsibility ; Geology may deny
Moses ; and Logic may deny the Holy Trinity ; * and
other sciences, now rising into notice, are or will be
victims of a similar abuse.
14.
And now to sum up what I have been saying in a few
words. My object, it is plain, has been — riot to show
that Secular Science in its various departments may take
up a position hostile to Theology ; — this is rather the
basis of the objection with which I opened this Discourse ;
— but to point out the cause of an hostility to which all
parties will bear witness. I have been insisting then on
this, that the hostility in question, when it occurs, is
coincident with an evident deflection or exorbitance of
Science from its proper course ; and that this exorbi
tance is sure to take place, almost from the necessity of
the case, if Theology be not present to defend its own
boundaries and to hinder the encroachment The human
mind cannot keep from speculating and systematizing ;
and if Theology is not allowed to occupy its own territory,
adjacent sciences, nay, sciences which are quite foreign to
Theology, will take possession of it. And this occupation
is proved to be a usurpation by this circumstance, that
these foreign sciences will assume certain principles as
* Vid Abelaid, for instance.
Bearing of Other Knowledge on Theology. 97
true, and act upon them, which they neither have
authority to lay down themselves, nor appeal to any
other higher science to lay down for them. For example,
it is a mere unwarranted assumption if the Antiquarian
says, " Nothing has ever taken place but is to be found in
historical documents ; " or if the Philosophic Historian
says, " There is nothing in Judaism different from other
political institutions ; " or if the Anatomist, " There is
no soul beyond the brain ; " or if the Political Economist,
" Easy circumstances make men virtuous." These are
enunciations, not of Science, but of Private Judgment ;
and it is Private Judgment that infects every science
which it touches with a hostility to Theology, a hostility
which properly attaches to no science in itself whatever.
If then, Gentlemen, I now resist such a course of
acting as unphilosophical, what is this but to do as men
of Science do when the interests of their own respective
pursuits are at stake ? If they certainly would resist the
divine who determined the orbit of Jupiter by the
Pentateuch, why am I to be accused of cowardice or
illiberality, because I will not tolerate their attempt in
turn to theologize by means of astronomy ? And if ex
perimentalists would be sure to cry out, did I attempt
to install the Thomist philosophy in the schools of astro
nomy and medicine, why may not I, when Divine Science
is ostracized, and La Place, or Buffon, or Humboldt, sits
down in its chair, why may not I fairly protest against
their exclusiveness, and demand the emancipation of
Theology ?
X5' qe
And now I consider I have said enough in proof of
the first point, which I undertook to maintain, viz., the
claim of Theology to be represented among the Chairs
7
98 Discourse
of a University. I have shown, I think, that exclusive-
ness really attaches, not to those who support that claim,
but to those who dispute it. I have argued in its behalf,
first, from the consideration that, whereas it is the very
profession of a University to teach all sciences, on this
account it cannot exclude Theology without being untrue
to its profession. - Next, I have said that, all sciences
being connected together, and having bearings one on
another, it is impossible to teach them ail thoroughly,
unless they all are taken into account, and Theology
among them. Moreover, I have insisted on the important
influence, which Theology in matter of fact does and must
exercise over a great variety of sciences, completing and
correcting them ; so that, granting it to be a real science
occupied upon truth, it cannot be omitted without great
prejudice to the teaching of the rest. And lastly, I have
urged that, supposing Theology be not taught, its
province will not simply be neglected, but will be actually
usurped by other sciences, which will teach, without
warrant, conclusions of their own in a subject-matter
which needs its own proper principles for its due forma
tion and disposition.
Abstract statements are always unsatisfactory ; these,
as I have already observed, could be illustrated at far
greater length than the time allotted to me for the
purpose has allowed. Let me hope that I have said
enough upon the subject to suggest thoughts, which
those who take an interest in it may pursue for them
selves.
99
DISCOURSE V.
KNOWLEDGE ITS OWN END.
A UNIVERSITY may be considered with reference
either to its Students or to its Studies ; and the
principle, that all Knowledge is a whole and the sepa
rate Sciences parts of one, which I have hitherto been
using in behalf of its studies, is equally important when
we direct our attention to its students. Now then I
turn to the students, and shall consider the education
which, by virtue of this principle, a University will give
them ; and thus I shall be introduced, Gentlemen, to
the second question, which I proposed to discuss, viz.
whether and in what sense its teaching, viewed relatively
to the taught, carries the attribute of Utility along with it.
1 have said that all branches of knowledge are con- ^
nected together, because the subject-matter of knowledge
is intimately united in itself, as being the acts and the
work of the Creator. Hence it is that the Sciences, into
which our knowledge may be said to be cast, have multi
plied bearings one on another, and an internal sympathy,
and admit, or rather demand, comparison and adjustment.
They complete, correct, balance each other. This con
sideration, if well-founded, must be taken into account,
n.ot only as regards the attainment of truth, which is
roo Discourse V.
their common end, but as regards the influence which
they exercise upon those whose education consists in the
study of them. I have said already, that to give undue
prominence to one is to be unjust to another ; to neglect
or supersede these i$ to divert those from their proper
object. It is to unsettle the boundary lines between
science and science, to disturb their action, to destroy
the harmony which binds them together. Such a pro
ceeding will have a corresponding effect when introduced
into a place of education. There is no science but tells
a different tale, when viewed as a portion of a whole,
from what it is likely to suggest when taken by itself,
without the safeguard, as I may call it, of others.
Let me make use of an illustration. In the combination
of colours, very different effects are produced by a
difference in their selection and juxta-position ; red, green,
and white, change their shades, according to the contrast
to which they are submitted. And, in like manner, the
drift and meaning of a branch of knowledge varies with
the company in which it is introduced to the student.
If his reading is confined simply to one subject, however
such division of labour may favour the advancement of a
particular pursuit, a point into which I do not here enter,
certainly it has a tendency to contract his mind. If it is
incorporated with others, it depends on those others as
to the kind of influence which it exerts upon him. Thus
the Classics, which in England are the means of refining
the taste, have in France subserved the spread of revolu
tionary and deistical doctrines. In Metaphysics, again,
Butler's Analogy of Religion, which has had so much to
do with the conversion to the Catholic faith of members
of the University of Oxford, appeared to Pitt and others,
who had received a different training, to operate only in
the direction of infidelity. And so again, Watson, Bishop
Knowledge its Own End. IOI
of Llandaff, as I think he tells us in the narrative of his
life, felt the science of Mathematics to indispose the
mind to religious belief, while others see in its investiga
tions the best parallel, and thereby defence, of the Chris
tian Mysteries. In like manner, I suppose, Arcesilas
would not have handled logic as Aristotle, nor Aristotle
have criticized poets as Plato ; yet reasoning and poetry
are subject to scientific rules.
It is a great point then to enlarge the range of studies
which a University professes, even for the sake of the
students ; and, though they cannot pursue every subject
which is open to them, they will be the gainers by living
among those and under those who represent the whole
circle. This I conceive to be the advantage of a seat of
universal learning, considered as a place of education.
An assemblage of learned men, zealous for their own
sciences, and rivals of each other, are brought, by familiar
intercourse and for the sake of intellectual peace, to
adjust together the claims and relations of their respective
subjects of investigation. They learn to respect, to
consult, to aid each other. Thus is created a pure and
clear atmosphere of thought, which the student also
breathes, though in his own case he only pursues a few
sciences out of the multitude. He profits by an intel
lectual tradition, which is independent of particular
teachers, which guides him in his choice of subjects, and
duly interprets for him those which he chooses. He
apprehends the great outlines of knowledge, the principles
on which it rests, the scale of its parts, its lights and its
shades, its great points and its little, as he otherwise
cannot apprehend them. Hence it is that his education
is called " Liberal." A habit of mind is formed which
lasts through life, of which the attributes are, freedom,
equitableness, calmness, moderation, and wisdom ; or
102 Discourse V.
what in a former Discourse I have ventured to call a
philosophical habit Xhis_thejnJ[ would assign as the
spe^jaL-fruit of the education furnished at a University;
as contrasted with other places of teaching or modes of
teaching. This is the* main purpose of a University in
its treatment of its students.
And now the question is asked me, What is the use
of it ? and my answer will constitute the main subject of
the Discourses which are to follow.
2.
Cautious and practical thinkers, I say, will ask of me,
what, after all, is the gain of this Philosophy, of which I
make such account, and from which I promise so much.
Even supposing it to enable us to exercise the degree of
trust exactly due to every science respectively, and to
estimate precisely the value of every truth which is any
where to be found, how are we better for this master view
of things, which I have been extolling ? Does it not re
verse the principle of the division of labour ? will prac
tical objects be obtained better or worse by its culti
vation ? to what then does it lead ? where does it end ?
what does it do? how does it profit? what does it
promise ? Particular sciences are respectively the basis
of definite arts, which carry on to results tangible and
beneficial the truths which are the subjects of the know
ledge attained ; what is the Art of this science of
sciences ? what is the fruit of such a Philosophy ? what
are we proposing to effect, what inducements do we hold
out to the Catholic community, when we set about the
enterprise of founding a University ?
I am asked what is the end of University Education,
and of the Liberal or Philosophical Knowledge which 1
conceive it to impart : I answer, that what I have already
Knowledge its Own End. 103
said has been sufficient to show that it has a very tan
gible, real, and sufficient end, though the end cannot be
divided from that knowledge itself. Knowledge is capa
ble of being its own end. Such is the*constitution of the
human mind, that any kind of knowledge, if it be really
such, is its own reward. And if this is true of all know
ledge, it is true also of that special Philosophy, which
I have made to consist in a comprehensive view of truth
in all its branches, of the relations of science to science,
of their mutual bearings, and their respective values.
What the worth of such an acquirement is, compared
with other objects which we seek, — wealth or power or
honour or the conveniences and comforts of life, I do not
profess here to discuss ; but I would maintain, and
mean to show, that it is an object, in its own nature so
really and undeniably good, as to be the compensation
of a great deal of thought in the compassing, and a
great deal of trouble in the attaining.
Now, when I say that Knowledge is, not merely a
means to something beyond it, or the preliminary of
certain arts into which it naturally resolves, but an end
sufficient to rest in and to pursue for its own sake, surely
I am uttering no paradox, for I am stating what is both
intelligible in itself, and has ever been the common
judgment of philosophers and the ordinary feeling of
mankind. I am saying what at least the public opinion
of this day ought to be slow to deny, considering how
much we have heard of late years, in opposition to
Religion, of entertaining, curious, and various knowledge.
I am but saying what whole volumes have been written
to illustrate, viz., by a " selection from the records of Phi
losophy, Literature, and Art, in all ages and countries,
'of a body of examples, to show how the most unpropitious
circumstances have been unable to conquer an ardent
104 Discourse V.
desire for the acquisition of knowledge." * That further
advantages accrue to us and redound to others by its
possession, over and above what it is in itself, I am very
far indeed from denying ; but, independent of these, we
are satisfying a direct need of our nature in its very
acquisition ; and, whereas our nature, unlike that of the
inferior creation, does not at once reach its perfection,
but depends, in order to it, on a number of external aids
and appliances, Knowledge, as one of the principal of
these, is valuable for what its very presence in us does
for us after the manner of a habit, even though it be
turned to no further account, nor subserve any direct
end.
3-
Hence it is that Cicero, in enumerating the various
heads of mental excellence, lays down the pursuit of
Knowledge for its own sake, as the first of them. " This
pertains most of all to human nature," he says, " for we
are all of us drawn to the pursuit of Knowledge ; in
Vvhich to excel we consider excellent, \\hereas to mis
take, to err, to be ignorant, to be deceived, is both an
evil and a disgrace."! And he considers Knowledge
the very first object to which we are attracted, after the
supply of our physical wants. After the calls and duties
of our animal existence, as they may be termed, as re
gards ourselves, our family, and our neighbours, follows,
he tells us, " the search after truth. Accordingly, as
soon as we escape from the pressure of necessary cares,
forthwith we desire to see, to hear, and to learn ; and
consider the knowledge of what is hidden or is wonder
ful a condition of our happiness."
* Pursuit of Knowledge under Difficulties. Introd.
+ Cicer. Offic. init.
Knowledge its Own End. 105
This passage, though it is but one of many similar
passages in a multitude of authors, I take for the very
reason that it is so familiarly known to us ; and I wish
you to observe, Gentlemen, how distinctly it separates
the pursuit of Knowledge from those ulterior objects to
which certainly it can be made to conduce, and which
are, I suppose, solely contemplated by the persons who
would ask of me the use of a University or Liberal
Education. So far from dreaming of the cultivation of
Knowledge directly and mainly in order to our physical
comfort and enjoyment, for the sake of life and person,
of health, of the conjugal and family union, of the social
tie and civil security, the great Orator implies, that it is
only after our physical and political needs are supplied,
and when we are "free from necessary duties and cares,"
that we are in a condition for " desiring to see, to hear,
and to learn." Nor does he contemplate in the least
degree the reflex or subsequent action of Knowledge,
when acquired, upon those material goods which we set
out by securing before we seek it ; on the contrary, he
expressly denies its bearing upon social life altogether,
strange as such a procedure is to those who live after the
rise of the Baconian philosophy, and he cautions us
against such a cultivation of it as will interfere with our
duties to our fellow-creatures. " All these methods," he
says, " are engaged in the investigation of truth ; by the
pursuit of which to be carried off from public occupa
tions is a transgression of duty. For the praise of virtue
lies altogether in action ; yet intermissions often occur,
and then we recur to such pursuits ; not to say that the
incessant activity of the mind is vigorous enough to
carry us on in the pursuit of knowledge, even without
any exertion of our own." The idea of benefiting
society by means of " the pursuit of science and know-
106 Discourse V.
ledge " did not enter at all into the motives which he
would assign for their cultivation.
This was the ground of the opposition which the elder
Cato made to the introduction of Greek Philosophy
among his countrymen, when Carneades and his com
panions, on occasion of their embassy, were charming
the Roman youth with their eloquent expositions of it
The fit representative of a practical people, Cato esti
mated every thing by what it produced; whereas the
Pursuit of Knowledge promised nothing beyond Know
ledge itself. He despised that refinement or enlargement
of mfnd of which he had no experience.
4-
Thirigs, which can bear to be cut off from every thing
else and yet persist in living, must have life in themselves;
pursuits, which issue in nothing, and still maintain their
ground for ages, which are regarded as admirable, though
they have not as yet proved themselves to be useful,
must have their sufficient end in themselves, whatever it
turn out to be. And we are brought to the same con
clusion by considering the force of the epithet, by which
the knowledge under consideration is popularly desig
nated. It is common to speak of " liberal knowledge,"
of the " liberal arts and studies," and of a "liberal edu
cation," as the especial characteristic or property of a
University and of a gentleman ; what is really meant
by the word ? Now, first, in its grammatical sense it is
opposed to servile; and by "servile work" is understood,
as our catechisms inform us, bodily labour, mechanical
employment, and the like, in which the mind has little
or no part. Parallel to such servile works are those arts,
if they deserve the name, of which the poet speaks,*
* T^x1'7? r^r)C'1v (arep^e KCd rt/^T? rtyvrjv,
Vid. Arist Nic. Ethic, vi.
Knowledge its Own End. 107
which owe their origin and their method to hazard, not
to skill ; as, for instance, the practice and operations of
an empiric. As far as this contrast may be considered
as a guide into the meaning of the word, liberal educa
tion and liberal pursuits are exercises of mind, of reason,
of reflection.
But we want something more for its explanation, for
there are bodily exercises which are liberal, and mental
exercises which are not so. For instance, in ancient
times the practitioners in medicine were commonly
slaves ; yet it was an art as intellectual in its nature, in
spite of the pretence, fraud, and quackery with which it
might then, as now, be debased, as it was heavenly in its
aim. And so in like manner, we contrast a liberal
education with a commercial education or a professional ;
yet no one can deny that commerce and the professions
afford scope for the highest and most diversified powers
of mind. There is then a great variety of intellectual
exercises, which are not technically called " liberal ; " on
the other hand, I say, there are exercises of the body
which do receive that appellation. Such, for instance,
was the palaestra, in ancient times ; such the Olympic
games, in which strength and dexterity of body as well
as of mind gained the prize. In Xenophon we read ol
the young Persian nobility being taught to ride on horse-,
back and to speak the truth ; both being among the
accomplishments of a gentleman. War, too, however
rough a profession, has ever been accounted liberal,
unless in cases when it becomes heroic, which would
introduce us to another subject.
Now comparing these instances together, we shall
have no difficulty in determining the principle of this
apparent variation in the application of the term which
I am examining. Manly games, or games of skill, or
io8 Discourse V.
military prowess, though bodily, are, it seems, accounted
liberal ; on the other hand, what is merely professional,
though highly intellectual, nay, though liberal in com
parison of trade and manual labour, is not simply called
liberal, and mercantile occupations are not liberal at all
Why this distinction ? because that alone is liberal know
ledge, which stands on its own pretensions, which is
independent of sequel, expects no complement, refuses
to be informed (as it is called) by any end, or absorbed
into any art, in order duly to present itself to our con
templation. The most ordinary pursuits have this specific
character, if they are self-sufficient and complete ; the
highest lose it, when they minister to something beyond
them. It is absurd to balance, in point of worth and
importance, a treatise on reducing fractures with a game
of cricket or a fox-chase ; yet of the two the bodily
exercise has that quality which we call " liberal," and
the intellectual has it not. And so of the learned pro
fessions altogether, considered merely as professions ;
although one of them be the most popularly beneficial,
and another the most politically important, and the third
the most intimately divine of all human pursuits, yet
the very greatness of their end, the health of the body,
or of the commonwealth, or of the soul, diminishes, not
increases, their claim to the appellation " liberal," and
that still more, if they are cut down to the strict exigen
cies of that end. If, for instance, Theology, instead of
being cultivated as a contemplation, be limited to the
purposes of the pulpit or be represented by the cate
chism, it loses, — not its usefulness, not its divine character,
not its meritoriousness (rather it gains a claim upon these
titles by such charitable condescension), — but it does lose
the particular attribute which I am illustrating; just as
a face worn by tears and fasting loses its beauty, or a
Knowledge its Own End 109
labourer's hand loses its delicateness ; — for Theology
thus exercised is not simple knowledge, but rather is
an art or a business making use of Theology. And
thus it appears that even what is supernatural need not
be liberal, nor need a hero be a gentleman, for the plain
reason that one idea is not another idea. And in like
manner the Baconian Philosophy, by using its physical
sciences in the service of man, does thereby transfer them
from the order of Liberal Pursuits to, I do not say the
inferior, but the distinct class of the Useful. And, to
take a different instance, hence again7 as Is evident,
whenever personal gain is the motive, still more distinc
tive an effect has it upon the character of a given pursuit ;
thus racing, which was a liberal exercise in Greece, for
feits its rank in times like these, so far as it is made the
occasion of gambling.
All that I have been now saying is summed up in a
few characteristic words of the great Philosopher. " Of
possessions," he says, " those rather are useful, which
bear fruit ; those liberal, which tend to enjoyment. By
fruitful, I mean, which yield revenue ; by enjoyable,
where nothing accrues of consequence beyond the using"*
5-
Do not suppose, that in thus appealing to the ancients,
I am throwing back the world two thousand years, and
fettering Philosophy with the reasonings of paganism.
While the world lasts, will Aristotle's doctrine on these
matters last, for he is the oracle of nature and of truth.
While we are men, we cannot help, to a great extent,
being Aristotelians, for the great Master does but analyze
the thoughts, feelings, views, and opinions of human kind.
He has told us the meaning of our own words and ideas,
* Aristot, Rhet. i. 5.
no Discourse V,
before we were born. In aiany subject-matters, to think
correctly, is to think like Aristotle , and we are his dis
ciples whether we will or no, though we may not know
it. Now, as to the particular instance before us, the
word " liberal " as applied to Knowledge and Education,
expresses a specific idea,* which ever has been, and ever
will be, while the nature of man is the same, just as the
idea of the Beautiful is specific, or of the Sublime, or of
the Ridiculous, or of the Sordid. It is in the world
now, it was in the world then ; and, as in the case of
the dogmas of faith, it is illustrated by a continuous
historical tradition, and never was out of the world, from
the time it came into it. There have indeed been dif
ferences of opinion from time to time, as to what pur
suits and what arts came under that idea, but such
differences are but an additional evidence of its reality.
That idea must have a substance in it, which has main
tained its ground amid these conflicts and changes,
which has ever served as a standard to measure things
withal, which has passed from mind to mind unchanged,
when there was so much to colour, so much to influence
any notion or thought whatever, which was not founded
in our very nature. Were it a mere generalization, it
would have varied with the subjects from which it was
generalized ; but though its subjects vary with the age,
it varies not itself. The palaestra may seem a liberal
exercise to Lycurgus, and illiberal to Seneca ; coach-
driving and prize-fighting may be recognized in Elis,
and be condemned in England ; music may be despica
ble in the eyes of certain moderns, and be in the highest
place with Aristotle and Plato, — (and the case is the
same in the particular application of the idea of Beauty,
or of Goodness, or of Moral Virtue, there is a difference
of tastes, a difference of judgments) — still these varia
Knowledge its Ckvn End. 1 1 1
tions imply, instead of discrediting, the archetypal idea,
which is but a previous hypothesis or condition, by
means of which issue is joined between contending
opinions, and without which there would be nothing to
dispute about.
I consider, then, that I am chargeable with no para
dox, when I speak of a Knowledge which is its own end,
when I call it liberal knowledge, or a gentleman's know
ledge, when I educate for it, and make it the scope of a
University. And still less am I incurring such a charge,
when I make this acquisition consist, not in Knowledge
in a vague and ordinary sense, but in that Knowledge
which I have especially called Philosophy or, in an ex
tended sense of the word, Science ; for whatever claims
Knowledge has to be considered as a good, these it has
in a higher degree when it is viewed not vaguely, not
popularly, but precisely and transcendently as Philo
sophy. Knowledge, I say, is then especially liberal, or
sufficient for itself, apart from every external and ulterior
object, when and so far as it is philosophical, and this 1
proceed to show.
6.
Now bear with me, Gentlemen, if what I am about to
say, has at first sight a fanciful appearance. Philosophy,
then, or Science, is related to Knowledge in this way : —
Knowledge is called by the name of Science or Philoso
phy, when it is acted upon, informed, or if I may use a
strong figure, impregnated by Reason. Reason is the
principle of that intrinsic fecundity of Knowledge, which,
to those who possess it, is its especial value, and which
dispenses with the necessity of their looking abroad for
any end to rest upon external to itself. Knowledge, in
deed, when thus exalted into a scientific form, is also
1 1 2 Discourse V.
power ; not only is it excellent in itself, but whatever
such excellence may be, it is something more, it has a
result beyond itself. Doubtless ; but that is a further
consideration, with which I am not concerned. I only
say that, prior to its being a power, it is a good ; that it
is, not only an instrument, but an end. I know well it
may resolve itself into an art, and terminate in a
mechanical process, and in tangible fruit ; but it also
may fall back upon that Reason which informs it, and
resolve itself into Philosophy. In one case it is called
Useful Knowledge, in the other Liberal. The same person
may cultivate it in both ways at once ; but this again
is a matter foreign to my subject ; here I do but say
that there are two ways of using Knowledge, and in
matter of fact those who use it in one way are not likely
to use it in the other, or at least in a very limited mea
sure. You see, then, here are two methods of Education ;
the end of the one is to be philosophical, of the other to
be mechanical ; the one rises towards general ideas, the
other is exhausted upon what is particular and external.
Let me not be thought to deny the necessity, or to decry
the benefit, of such attention to what is particular and
practical, as belongs to the useful or mechanical arts; life
could not go on without them ; we owe our daily welfare
to them ; their exercise is the duty of the many, and we
owe to the many a debt of gratitude for fulfilling that
duty. I only say that Knowledge, in proportion as it
tends more and more to be particular, ceases to be
Knowledge. It is a question whether Knowledge can
in any proper sense be predicated of the brute creation ;
without pretending to metaphysical exactness of phrase
ology, which would be unsuitable to an occasion like this,
1 say, it seems to me improper to call that passive sen
sation, or perception of things, which brutes seem to
Knowledge its Own End. i 1 3
possess, by the name of Knowledge. When I speak of
Knowledge, I mean something intellectual, something
which grasps what it perceives through the senses ; some
thing which takes a view of things ; which sees more
than the senses convey ; which reasons upon what it
sees, and while it sees ; which invests it with an idea.
ft expresses itself, not in a mere enunciation, but by an
enthymeme : it is of the nature of science from the first,
and in this consists its dignity. The principle of real
dignity in Knowledge, its worth, its desirableness, con
sidered irrespectively of its results, is this germ within it
of a scientific or a philosophical process. This is how
it comes to be an end in itself ; this is why it admits of
being called Liberal. Not to know the relative dispo
sition of things is the state of slaves or children ; to have
mapped out the Universe is the boast, or at least the
ambition, of Philosophy.
Moreover, such knowledge is not a mere extrinsic or
accidental advantage, which is ours to-day and another's
to-morrow, which may be got up from a book, and
easily forgotten again, which we can command or com
municate at our pleasure, which we can borrow for the
occasion, carry about in our hand, and take into the
market ; it is an acquired illumination, it is a habit, a
personal possession, and an inward endowment. And
this is the reason, why it is more correct, as well as more
usual, to speak of a University as a place of education,
than of instruction, though, when knowledge is concerned,
instruction would at first sight have seemed the more
appropriate word. We are instructed, for instance, in
manual exercises, in the fine and useful arts, in trades,
and in ways of business ; for these are methods, which
have little or no effect upon the mind itself, are contained
in rules committed to memory, to tradition, or to use,
S
u 4 Discourse V
and bear upon an end external to themselves. But
education is a higher word ; it implies an action upon
our mental nature, and the formation of a character ; it
is something individual and permanent, and is commonly
spoken of in connexign with religion and virtue. When,
then, we speak of the communication of Knowledge as
being Education, we thereby really imply that that
Knowledge is a state or condition of mind ; and since
cultivation of mind is surely worth seeking for its own
sake, we are thus brought once more to the conclusion,
which the word " Liberal " and the word " Philosophy "
have already suggested, that there is a Knowledge,
which is desirable, though nothing come of it, as being
of itself a treasure, and a sufficient remuneration of year?
of labour.
7-
This, then, is the answer which I am prepared to give
to the question with which 1 opened this Discourse.
Before going on to speak of the object of the Church in
taking up Philosophy, and the uses to which she puts it,
I am prepared to maintain that Philosophy is its own
end, and, as I conceive, I have now begun the proof of
it. I am prepared to maintain that there is a knowledge
worth possessing for what it is, and not merely for what
it does ; and what minutes remain to me to-day I shall
devote to the removal of some portion of the indistinct
ness and confusion with which the subject may in some
minds be surrounded.
It may be objected then, that, when we profess to
seek Knowledge for some end or other beyond itself,
whatever it be, we speak intelligibly ; but that, what
ever men may have said, however obstinately the idea
may have kept its ground from age to age, still it is
Knowledge its Own End. 115
simply unmeaning to say that we seek Knowledge for
its own sake, and for nothing else ; for that it ever leads
to something beyond itself, which therefore is its end,
and the cause why it is desirable ; — moreover, that this
end is twofold, either of this world or of the next ; that
all knowledge is cultivated either for secular objects or
for eternal ; that if it is directed to secular objects, it is
called Useful Knowledge, if to eternal, Religious or
Christian Knowledge ; — in consequence, that if, as I have
allowed, this Liberal Knowledge does not benefit the
body or estate, it ought to benefit the soul ; but if the
fact be really so, that it is neither a physical or a secular
good on the one hand, nor a moral good on the other, it
cannot be a good at all, and is not worth the trouble
which is necessary for its acquisition.
And then I may be reminded that the professors of this
Liberal or Philosophical Knowledge have themselves, in
every age, recognized this exposition of the matter, and
have submitted to the issue in which it terminates ; for
they have ever been attempting to make men virtuous ;
or, if not, at least have assumed that refinement of mind
was virtue, and that they themselves were the virtuous
portion of mankind. This they have professed on the
one hand ; and on the other, they have utterly failed in
their professions, so as ever to make themselves a proverb
among men, and a laughing-stock both to the ^rave and
the dissipated portion of mankind, in consequence of
them. Thus they have furnished against themselves both
the ground and the means of their own exposure, with
out any trouble at all to any one else. In a word, from
the time that Athens was the University of the world,
what has Philosophy taught men, but to promise without
practising, and to aspire without attaining? What has
the deep and lofty thought of its disciples ended in but
1 1 6 Discourse V.
eloquent words ? Nay, what has its teaching ever medi
tated, when it was boldest in its remedies for human ill,
beyond charming us to sleep by its lessons, that we
might feel nothing at all? like some melodious air, or
rather like those strojig and transporting perfumes, which
at first spread their sweetness over every thing they
touch, but in a little while do but offend in proportion as
they once pleased us. Did Philosophy support Cicero
under the disfavour of the fickle populace, or nerve Seneca
to oppose an imperial tyrant ? It abandoned Brutus, as he
sorrowfully confessed, in his greatest need, and it forced
Cato, as his panegyrist strangely boasts, into the false
position of defying heaven. How few can be counted
among its professors, who, like Polemo, were thereby
converted from a profligate course, or like Anaxagoras,
thought the world well lost in exchange for its posses
sion ? The philosopher in Rasselas taught a superhuman
doctrine, and then succumbed without an effort to a trial
of human affection.
" He discoursed," we are told, " with great energy on
the government of the passions. His look was venerable,
his action graceful, his pronunciation clear, and his
diction elegant. He showed, with great strength of
sentiment and variety of illustration, that human nature
is degraded and debased, when the lower faculties pre
dominate over the higher. He communicated the
various precepts given, from time to time, for the con
quest of passion, and displayed the happiness of those
who had obtained the important victory, after which
man is no longer the slave of fear, nor the fool of hope . . .
He enumerated many examples of heroes immoveable
by pain or pleasure, who looked with indifference on
those modes or accidents to which the vulgar give the
names of good and evil."
Knowledge its Own End. 1 1 7
Rasselas in a few days found the philosopher in a
room half darkened, with his eyes misty, and his face
pale. " Sir/' said he, " you have come at a time when
all human friendship is useless ; what I suffer cannot be
remedied, what I have lost cannot be supplied. My
daughter, my only daughter, from whose tenderness I
expected all the comforts of my age, died last night of
a fever." " Sir," said the prince, " mortality is an event
by which a wise man can never be surprised ; we know
that death is always near, and it should therefore always
be expected." " Young man," answered the philosopher,
"you speak like one who has never felt the pangs of
separation." " Have you, then, forgot the precept," said
Rasselas, " which you so powerfully enforced ? . . . con
sider that external things are naturally variable, but
truth and reason are always the same." " What comfort,"
said the mourner, " can truth and reason afford me ?
Of what effect are they now, but to tell me that my
daughter will not be restored ? "
8.
Better, far better, to make no professions, you will
say, than to cheat others with what we are not, and to
scandalize them with what we are. The sensualist, or
the man of the world, at any rate is not the victim of fine
words, but pursues a reality and gains it. The Philo
sophy of Utility, you will say, Gentlemen, has at least
done its work ; and I grant it, — it aimed low, but it has
fulfilled its aim. If that man of great intellect who has
been its Prophet in the conduct of life played false to
his own professions, he was not bound by his philosophy
to be true to his friend or faithful in his trust. Moral
virtue was not the line in which he undertook to instruct
men ; and though, as the poet calls him, he were the
1 1 8 Discourse V.
"meanest" of mankind, he was so in what may be called
his private capacity and without any prejudice to the
theory of induction. He had a right to be so, if he chose,
for any thing that the Idols of the den or the theatre
had to say to the contrary. His mission was the
increase of physical enjoyment and social comfort ; *
and most wonderfully, most awfully has he fulfilled his
conception and his design. Almost day by day have
we fresh and fresh shoots, and buds, and blossoms,
which are to ripen into fruit, on that magical tree of
Knowledge which he planted, and to which none of
us perhaps, except the very poor, but owes, if not his
present life, at least his daily food, his health, and
general well-being. He was the divinely provided
minister of temporal benefits to all of us so great, that,
whatever I am forced to think of him as a man, I have-
not the heart, from mere gratitude, to speak of him
severely. And, in spite of the tendencies of his philoso
phy, which are, as we see at this day, to depreciate, or
to trample on Theology, he has himself, in his writings,
gone out of his way, as if with a prophetic misgiving
of those tendencies, to insist on it as the instrument of
that beneficent Father, f who, when He came on earth in
visible form, took on Him first and most prominently
* It will be seen that on the whole I agree with Lord Macaulay in his
Essay on Bacon'> Philosophy. I do not know whether he would agree
with me.
f De Augment, iy. 2, vid. Macaulay's Essay; vid. also "In principle
opens ad Deum Patrem, Deum Verbum, Deum Spiritum, preces fundimus
humillimas et ardentissimas, ut humani generis aemmnarum memores, et
peregrinationis istius vitae, in qua dies paucos et malos terimus, novis suis
eleemosynis, per manus nostras, familiam humanam dotare dignentur.
Atque illud insuper supplices rogamus, ne humaiw divinis officiant : neve
ex reseratione viarum scns£st et accensione majore luminis naturalis, aliquid
incredulitntis et noctis, animis nostris erga divina mysteria oboriatur." etr..
Pra:f. Instaur. Magn.
Knowledge its Own End. \ \ 9
the office of assuaging the bodily wounds of human
nature. And truly, like the old mediciner in the tale,
"he sat diligently at his work, and hummed, with
cheerful countenance, a pious song ; " and then in turn
" went out singing into the meadows so gaily, that those
who had seen him from afar might well have thought it
was a youth gathering flowers for his beloved, instead
of an old physician gathering healing herbs in the
morning dew." *
Alas, that men, in the action of life or in their heart
of hearts, are not what they seem to be in their moments
of excitement, or in their trances or intoxications of
genius, — so good, so noble, so serene ! Alas, that Bacon
too in his own way should after all be but the fellow of
those heathen philosophers who in their disadvantages
had some excuse for their inconsistency, and who surprise
us rather in what they did say than in what they did
not do ! Alas, that he too, like Socrates or Seneca, must
be stripped of his holy-day coat, which looks so fair, and
should be but a mockery amid his most majestic gravity
of phrase ; and, for all his vast abilities, should, in the
littleness of his own moral being, but typify the intel
lectual narrowness of his school ! However, granting
all this, heroism after all was not his philosophy : — I
cannot deny he has abundantly achieved what he
proposed. His is simply a Method whereby bodily dis
comforts and temporal wants are to be most effectually
removed from the greatest number ; and already, before
it has shown any signs of exhaustion, the gifts of nature,
in their most artificial shapes and luxurious profusion
and diversity, from all quarters of the earth, are, it is
undeniable, by its means brought even to our doors, and
we rejoice in them.
* Fouque's Unknown Patient,
120 Discourse V.
9-
Useful Knowledge then, 1 grant, has done its work ;
and Liberal Knowledge as certainly has not done its
work, — that is, supposing, as the objectors assume, its
direct end, like Religious Knowledge, is to make men
better; but this I will not for an instant allow, and,
unless I allow it, those objectors have said nothing to
the purpose. I admit, rather I maintain, what they have
been urging, fo reconsider Knowledge to have its end in
itself. For all its friends, or its enemies, may say, T
insist upon it, that it is as real a mistake to burden it
with virtue or religion as with the mechanical arts. Its
direct business is not to steel the soul against temptation
or to console it in affliction, any more than to set the
loom in motion, or to direct the steam carriage ; be it
ever so much the means or the condition of both ma
terial and moral advancement, still, taken by and in
itself, it as little mends our hearts as it improves our
temporal circumstances. And if its eulogists claim for
it such a power, they commit the very same kind of
encroachment on a province not their own as the
political economist who should maintain that his science
educated him for casuistry or diplomacy. Knowledge
is one thing, virtue is another ; good sense is not con
science, refinement is not humility, nor is largeness and
justness of view faith. Philosophy, however enlightened,
however profound, gives no command over the passions,
no influential motives, no vivifying principles. Liberal j
Education makes not_the Christian, not the Catholic, I
but the_gentleman. It is well to be a gentlemen, it is
well to have a cultivated intellect, a delicate taste, a
candid, equitable, dispassionate mind, a noble and
Courteous bearing in the conduct of life ; — these are the
Knowledge its Own End. \ 2 1
connatural qualities of a large knowledge ; they are the
objects of a University ; I am advocating, I shall illus
trate and insist upon them ; but still, I repeat, they are
no guarantee for sanctity or even for conscientiousness,
they may attach to the man of the world, to the profli
gate, to the heartless, — pleasant, alas, and attractive as
he shows when decked out in them. Taken by them
selves, they do but seem to be what they are not ; they
look like virtue at a distance, but they are detected by
close observers, and on the long run ; and hence it is
that they are popularly accused of pretence and hypo
crisy, not, I repeat, from their own fault, but because
their professors and their admirers persist in taking them
for what they are not, and are officious in arrogating for
them a praise to which they have no claim. Quarry the
granite rock with razors, or moor the vessel with a
thread of silk ; then may you hope with such keen and
delicate instruments as human knowledge and human
reason to contend against those giants, the passion and
the pride of man.
Surely we are not driven to theories of this kind, in
order to vindicate the value and dignity of Liberal
Knowledge. Surely the real grounds on which its pre
tensions rest are not so very subtle or abstruse, so very
strange or improbable. Surely it is very intelligible to
say, and that is what I say here, that JLiberal Education,
viewed in itself, is simply the cultivation of the intellect,
as such, and its object is nothing more or less than
^intellectual excellence. Every thing has its own perfec
tion, be it higher or lower in the scale of things ; and the
perfection of one is not the perfection of another.
Things animate, inanimate, visible, invisible, all are good
in their kind, and have a best of themselves, which is an
object of pursuit. Why do you take such pains with
122 Discourse V.
your garden or your park ? You see to your walks and
turf and shrubberies ; to your trees and drives ; not as
if you meant to make an orchard of the one, or corn or
pasture land of the other, but because there is a special
beauty in all that is goodly in wood, water, plain, and
slope, brought all together by art into one shape, and
grouped into one whole. Your cities are beautiful, your
palaces, your public buildings, your territorial mansions,
your churches ; and their beauty leads to nothing beyond
itself. There is a physical beauty and a moral : there is
a beauty of person, there is a beauty of our moral being,
which is natural virtue ; and in like manner there is a
beauty, there is a perfection, of the intellect. There is
an ideal perfection in these various subject-matters,
towards which individual instances are seen to rise, and
which are the standards for all instances whatever. The
Greek divinities and demigods, as the statuary has
moulded them, with their symmetry of figure, and
their high forehead and their regular features, are the
perfection of physical beauty. The heroes, of whom
history tells, Alexander, or Csesar, or Scipio, or Saladin,
are the representatives of that magnanimity or self-
mastery which is the greatness of human nature. Chris
tianity too has its heroes, and in the supernatural order,
and we call them Saints. The artist puts before him
beauty of feature and form ; the poet, beauty of mind ;
the preacher, the beauty of grace : then intellect too, I
repeat, has its beauty, and it has those who aim at it.
To open the mind, to correct it, to refine it, to enable it
to know, and to digest, master, rule, and use its know-
e, to give it power over its own faculties, application,
flexibility, method, critical exactness, sagacity, resource,
address, eloquent expression, is an object as intelligible
(for. here we are inquiring, not what the object of a
Knowledge its Own End. 1 23
Liberal Education is worth, nor what use the Church
makes of it, but what it is in itself), I say, an object as
intelligible as the cultivation of virtue, while, at the
same time, it is absolutely distinct from it
10.
This indeed is but a temporal object, and a transitory
possession : but so are other things in themselves which
we make much of and pursue. The moralist will tell
us that man, in all his functions, is but a flower which
blossoms and fades, except so far as a higher principle
breathes upon him, and makes him and what he is im
mortal. Body and mind are carried on into an eternal
state of being by the gifts of Divine Munificence ; but
at first they do but fail in a failing world ; and if the
powers of intellect decay, the powers of the body have
decayed before them, and, as an Hospital or an Alms-
house, though its end be ephemeral, may be sanctified
to the service of religion, so surely may a University,
even were it nothing more than I have as yet described
it. We attain to heaven by using this world well,
though it is to pass away ; we perfect our nature, not by
undoing it, but by adding to it what is more than nature,
and directing it towards aims higher than its own.
124
DISCOURSE VI
KNOWLEDGE VIEWED IN RELATION TO LEARNING.
IT were well if the English, like the Greek language,
possessed some definite word to express, simply and
generally, intellectual proficiency or perfection, such as
" health," as used with reference to the animal frame, and
" virtue," with reference to our moral nature. I am not
able to find such a term ; — talent, ability, genius, belong
distinctly to the raw material, which is the subject-matter,
not to that excellence which is the result of exercise and
training. When we turn, indeed, to the particular kinds
of intellectual perfection, words are forthcoming for our
purpose, as, for instance, judgment, taste, and skill ; yet
even these belong, for the most part, to powers or
liaoks bearing upon practice or upon art, and not to any
perfect condition of the intellect, considered in itself.
Wisdom, again, is certainly a more comprehensive word
than any other, but it has a direct relation to conduct,
and to human life. Knowledge, indeed, and Science
express purely intellectual ideas, but still not a state
or quality of the intellect ; for knowledge, in its ordinary
sense, is but one of its circumstances, denoting a posses
sion or a habit ; and science has been appropriated to
the subject-matter of the intellect, instead of belonging
in English, as it ought to do, to the intellect itself. The
Knowledge viewed in Relation to Learning. 125
consequence is that, on an occasion like this, many words
are necessary, in order, first, to bring out and convey
what surely is no difficult idea in itself, — that of the
cultivation of the intellect as an end ; next, in order to
recommend what surely is no unreasonable object ; and
lastly, to describe and make the mind realize the particular
perfection in which that object consists. Every one
knows practically what are the constituents of health or
of virtue ; and every one recognizes health and virtue as
ends to be pursued ; it is otherwise with intellectual
excellence, and this must be my excuse, if I seem to
any one to be bestowing a good deal of labour on
a preliminary matter.
In default of a recognized term, I have called the
perfection or virtue of the intellect by the name of philo
sophy, philosophical knowledge, enlargement of mind,
or illumination ; terms which are not uncommonly given
to it by writers of this day : but, whatever name we
bestow on it, it is, I believe, as a matter of history, the
business of a University to make this intellectual culture
its direct scope, or to employ itself in the education ot
the intellect, — just as the work of a Hospital lies in
healing the sick or wounded, of a Riding or Fencing
School, or of a Gymnasium, in exercising the limbs, of
an Almshouse, in aiding and solacing the old, of an
Orphanage, in protecting innocence, of a Penitentiary,
in restoring the guilty. I say, a University, taken in its
bare idea, and before we view it as an instrument of the
Church, has this object and this mission ; it contemplates
neither moral impression nor mechanical production ; it
professes to exercise the mind neither in art nor in
duty ; its function is intellectual culture ; here it may
leave its scholars, and it has done its work when it
has done as much as this. It educates the intellect
126 Discourse VL
to reason well in all matters, to reach Out towards
truth, and to grasp it.
2.
This, I said in my foregoing Discourse, was the object
j of a University, viewed in itself, and apart from the
Catholic Church, or from the State, or from any other
power which may use it ; and I illustrated this in various
ways. I said that the intellect must have an excellence
of its own, for there was nothing which had not its
specific good ; that the word " educate" would not be
used of intellectual culture, as it is used, had not the
intellect had an end of its own ; that, had it not such an
end, there would be no meaning in calling certain
intellectual exercises "liberal," in contrast with "useful,"
as is commonly done ; that the very notion of a philo
sophical temper implied it, for it threw us back upon
research and system as ends in themselves, distinct from
effects and works of any kind ; that a philosophical
scheme of knowledge, or system of sciences, could not,
from the nature of the case, issue in any one definite art
or pursuit, as its end ; and that, on the other hand, the
discovery and contemplation of truth, to which research
and systematizing led, were surely sufficient ends, though
nothing beyond them were added, and that they had
ever been accounted sufficient by mankind.
Here then I take up the subject ; and, having deter
mined that the cultivation of the intellect is an end distinct
and sufficient in itself, and that, so far as words go it
is an enlargement or illumination, I proceed to inquire
what this mental breadth, or power, or light, or philo
sophy consists in. A Hospital heals a broken limb or
cures a fever : what does an Institution effect, which
professes the health, not of the body, not of the soul.
Knowledge viewed in Relation to Learning. 127
but of the intellect ? What is this good, which in
former times, as well as our own, has been found worth
the notice, the appropriation, of the Catholic Church ?
I have then to investigate, in the Discourses which
follow, those qualities and characteristics of the intellect
in which its cultivation issues or rather consists ; and,
with a view of assisting myself in this undertaking, 1
shall recur to certain questions which have already been
touched upon. These questions are three : viz. the
relation of intellectual culture, first, to mere knowledge ;
secondly, to professional knowledge ; and thirdly, to
religious knowledge. In other words, are acquirements
and attainments the scope of a University Education ?
or expertness in particular arts and pursuits f or moral
ami religious proficiency •_£_ or something besides these
three ? These questions I shall examine in succession,
with the purpose I have mentioned ; and I hope to be
excused, if, in this anxious undertaking, I am led to
repeat what, either in these Discourses or elsewhere, I
have already put upon paper. And first, of Mere
Knowledge, or Learning, and its connexion with intel
lectual illumination or Philosophy.
3
I suppose the primd-faae view which the public at
large would take of a University, considering it as a place
of Education, is nothing more or less than a place for
acquiring a great deal of knowledge on a great manv
subjects. Memory is one of the first developed of the
mental faculties ; a boy's business when he goes to
school is to learn, that is, to store up things in his
memory. For some years his intellect is little more
than an instrument for taking in facts, or a receptacle for
storing them ; he welcomes them as fast as they come to
128 Discourse VI.
him ; he lives on what is without ; he has his eyes ever
about him ; he has a lively susceptibility of impressions ;
he imbibes information of every kind ; and little does he
make his own in a true sense of the word, living rather
upon his neighbours all around him. He has opinions,
religious, political, and literary, and. for a boy, is very
positive in them and sure about them ; but he gets them
from his schoolfellows, or his masters, or his parents, as
the case may be. Such as he is in his other relations,
such also is he in his school exercises ; his mind is obser
vant, sharp, ready, retentive ; he is almost passive in the
acquisition of knowledge. I say this in no disparage
ment of the idea of a clever boy. Geography, chronology,
history, language, natural history, he heaps up the matter
of these studies as treasures for a future day. It is the
seven years of plenty with him : he gathers in by hand-
fuls, like the Egyptians, without counting ; and though,
as time goes on, there is exercise for his argumentative
powers in the Elements of Mathematics, and for his
taste in the Poets and Orators, still, while at school, or
at least, till quite the last years of his time, he acquires,
and little more ; and when he is leaving for the Univer
sity, he is mainly the creature of foreign influences and
circumstances, and made up of accidents, homogeneous
or not, as the case may be. Moreover, the moral habits,
which are a boy's praise, encourage and assist this
result ; that is, diligence, assiduity, regularity, despatch,
persevering application ; for these are the direct conditions
of acquisition, and naturally lead to it Acquirements,
again, are emphatically producible, and at a moment ;
they are a something to show, both for master and
scholar ; an audience, even though ignorant themselves
of the subjects of an examination, can comprehend
when questions are answered and when they are not
Knowledge viewed in Relation to Learning. 1 29
Here again is a reason why mental culture is in the minds
of men identified with the acquisition of knowledge.
The same notion possesses the public mind, when it
passes on from the thought of a school to that of a
University : and with the best of reasons so far as this,
that there is no true culture without acquirements, and
that philosophy presupposes knowledge. It requires a
great deal of reading, or a wide range of information, to
warrant us in putting forth our opinions on any serious
subject ; and without such learning the most original
mind may be able indeed to dazzle, to amuse, to
refute, to perplex, but not to come to any useful result
or any trustworthy conclusion. There are indeed persons
who profess a different view of the matter, and even
act upon it. Every now and then you will find a
person of vigorous or fertile mind, who relies upon his
own resources, despises all former authors, and gives the
world, with the utmost fearlessness, his views upon
religion, or history, or any other popular subject. And
his works may sell for a while ; he may get a name in
his day ; but this will be all. His readers are sure to
find on the long run that his doctrines are mere theories,
and not the expression of facts, that they are chaff in
stead of bread, and then his popularity drops as suddenly
as it rose.
Knowledge then is the indispensable condition of
expansion of mind, and the instrument of attaining to it ;
this cannot be denied, it is ever to be insisted on; 1
begin with it as a first principle ; however, the very truth
of it carries men too far, and confirms to them the notion
that it is the whole of the matter. A narrow mind is
thought to be that which contains little knowledge ; and
an enlarged mind, that which holds a great deal ; and
what seems to put the matter beyond dispute is, the
9
130 Discourse VI.
fact of the great number of studies which are pursued
in a University, by its very profession. Lectures are
given on every kind of subject; examinations are held-,
prizes awarded. There are moral, metaphysical, phy
sical Professors ; Professors of languages, of history,
of mathematics, of experimental science. Lists of ques
tions are published, wonderful for their range and
depth, variety and difficulty ; treatises are written, which
carry upon their very face the evidence of extensive
reading or multifarious information ; what then is want
ing for mental culture to a person of large reading and
scientific attainments? what is grasp of mind but ac
quirement? where shall philosophical repose be found,
but in the consciousness and enjoyment of large intel
lectual possessions ?
And yet this notion is, I conceive, a mistake, and my
present business is to show that it is one, and that the end
of a Liberal Education is not mere knowledge, or know
ledge considered in its matter ; and I shall best attain my
object, by actually setting down some cases, which will
be generally granted to be instances of the process of
enlightenment or enlargement of mind, and others which
are not, and thus, by the comparison, you will be able
to judge for yourselves, Gentlemen, whether Knowledge,
that is, acquirement, is after all the real principle of the
enlargement, or whether that principle is not rather
something beyond it.
4-
For instance,* let a person, whose experience has
hitherto been confined to the more calm and unpretend-
* The pages which follow are taken almost verbatim from the author s
I4th (Oxford) University Sermon, which, at the time of writing this
Discourse, he did not expect ever to reprint.
Knowledge viewed in Relation to Learning. 1 3 1
ing scenery of these islands, whether here or in England,
go for the first time into parts where physical nature
puts on her wilder and more awful forms, whether at
home or abroad, as into mountainous districts ; or let one,
who has ever lived in a quiet village, go for the first
time to a great metropolis, — then I suppose he will have
a sensation which perhaps he never had before. He has
a feeling not in addition or increase of former feelings,
but of something different in its nature. He will perhaps
be borne forward, and find for a time that he has lost his
bearings. He has made a certain progress, and he has
a consciousness of mental enlargement ; he does not
stand where he did, he has a new centre, and a range of
thoughts to which he was before a stranger.
Again, the view of the heavens which the telescope
opens upon us, if allowed to fill and possess the mind,
may almost whirl it round and make it dizzy. It brings
in a flood of ideas, and is rightly called an intellectual
enlargement, whatever is meant by the term.
And so again, the sight of beasts of prey and other
foreign animals, their strangeness, the originality (if I
may use the term) of their forms and gestures and habits
and their variety and independence of each other, throw
us out of ourselves into another creation, and as if under
another Creator, if I may so express the temptation
which may come on the mind. We seem to have new
faculties, or a new exercise for our faculties, by this
addition to our knowledge ; like a prisoner, who, having
been accustomed to wear manacles or fetters, suddenly
finds his arms and legs free.
Hence Physical Science generally, in all its depart
ments, as bringing before us the exuberant riches and
resources, yet the orderly course, of the Universe, elevates
and excites the student, and at first, I may say, almost
132 Discourse VI.
takes away his breath, while in time it exercises a
tranquilizing influence upon him.
Again, the study of history is said to enlarge and
enlighten the mind, and why ? because, as I conceive, it
gives it a power of judging of passing events, and of all
events, and a conscious superiority over them, which
before it did not possess.
And in like manner, what is called seeing the world,
entering into active life, going into society, travelling,
gaining acquaintance with the various classes of the
community, coming into contact with the principles and
modes of thought of various parties, interests, and races,
their views, aims, habits and manners, their religious
creeds and forms of worship, — gaining experience how
various yet how alike men are, how low-minded, how
bad, how opposed, yet how confident in their opinions ;
all this exerts a perceptible influence upon the mind,
which it is impossible to mistake, be it good or be it
bad, and is popularly called its enlargement.
And then again, the first time the mind comes across
the arguments and speculations of unbelievers, and feels
what a novel light they cast upon what he has hitherto
accounted sacred ; and still more, if it gives in to them
and embraces them, and throws off as so much prejudice
what it has hitherto held, and,. as if waking from a
dream, begins to realize to its imagination that there is
now no such thing as law and the transgression of law,
that sin is a phantom, and punishment a bugbear, that it
is free to sin, free to enjoy the world and the flesh ; and
still further, when it does enjoy them, and reflects that
it may think and hold just what it will, that " the world
is all before it where to choose," and what system to
build up as its own private persuasion ; when this torrent
of wilful thoughts rushes over and inundates it, who will
Knowledge viewed in Relation to Learning. 133
deny that the fruit of the tree of knowledge, or what the
mind takes for knowledge, has made it one of the gods,
with a sense of expansion and elevation, — an intoxication
in reality, still, so far as the subjective state of the mind
goes, an illumination ? Hence the fanaticism of individuals
or nations, who suddenly cast off their Maker. Their eyes
are opened ; and, like the judgment-stricken king in the
Tragedy, they see two suns, and a magic universe, out of
which they look back upon their former state of faith and
innocence with a sort of contempt and indignation, as if
they were then but fools, and the dupes of imposture.
On the other hand, Religion has its own enlargement,
and an enlargement, not of tumult, but of peace. It is
often remarked of uneducated persons, who have hitherto
thought little of the unseen world, that, on their turning
to God, looking into themselves, regulating their hearts,
reforming their conduct, and meditating on death and
judgment, heaven and hell, they seem to become, in
point of intellect, different beings from what they were.
Before, they took things as they came, and thought no
more of one thing than another. But now every event
has a meaning; they have their own estimate of whatever
happens to them ; they are mindful of times and seasons,
and compare the present with the past ; and the world,
no longer dull, monotonous, unprofitable, and hopeless,
is a various and complicated drama, with parts and an
object, and an awful moral.
5-
Now from these instances, to which many more might
be added, it is plain, first, that the communication of
knowledge certainly is either a condition or the means
of that sense of enlargement or enlightenment, of which
at this day we hear so much in certain quarters : this
134 Di scour sf
cannot be denied ; but next, it is equally plain, that such
communication is not the whole of the process. The
enlargement consists, not merely in the passive reception
into the mind of a number of ideas hitherto unknown to
it, but in the mind's energetic and simultaneous action
upon and towards and among those new ideas, which are
rushing in upon it. It is the action of a formative power,
reducing to order and meaning the matter of our acquire
ments ; it is a making the objects of our knowledge
subjectively our own, or, to use a familiar word, it is a
digestion of what we receive, into the substance of our
previous state of thought ; and without this no enlarge
ment is said to follow. There is no enlargement, unless
there be a comparison of ideas one with another, as they
come before the mind, and a systematizing of them.
We feel our minds to be growing and expanding then,
when we not only learn, but refer what we learn to what
we know already. It is not the mere addition to our
knowledge that is the illumination ; but the locomotion,
the movement onwards, of that mental centre, to which
both what we know, and what we are learning, the ac
cumulating mass of our acquirements, gravitates. And
therefore a truly great intellect, and recognized to be
such by the common opinion of mankind, such as the
intellect of Aristotle, or of St. Thomas, or of Newton, or
of Goethe, (I purposely take instances within and with
out the Catholic pale, when I would speak of the intellect
as such,) is one which takes a connected view of old and
new, past and present, far and near, and which has an
insight into the influence of all these one on another;
without which there is no whole, and no centre. It
possesses the knowledge, not only of things, but also of
their mutual and true relations ; knowledge, not merely
considered as acquirement, but as philosophy.
Knowledge viewed in Relation to Learning. 135
Accordingly, when this analytical, distributive, har
monizing process is away, the mind experiences no
enlargement, and is not reckoned as enlightened or
comprehensive, whatever it may add to its knowledge.
For instance, a great memory, as I have already said,
does not make a philosopher, any more than a dictionary
can be called a grammar. There are men who embrace
in their minds a vast multitude of ideas, but with little
sensibility about their real relations towards each other.
These may be antiquarians, annalists, naturalists ; they
may be learned in the law; they may be versed in
statistics ; they are most useful in their own place ; I
should shrink from speaking disrespectfully of them ;
still, there is nothing in such attainments to guarantee
the absence of narrowness of mind. If they are nothing
more than well-read men, or men of information, they
have not what specially deserves the name of culture of
mind, or fulfils the type of Liberal Education.
In like manner, we sometimes fall in with persons who
have seen much of the world, and of the men who, in
their day, have played a conspicuous part in it, but who
generalize nothing, and have no observation, in the true
sense of the word. They abound in information in
detail, curious and entertaining, about men and things ;
and, having lived under the influence of no very clear or
settled principles, religious or political, they speak of
every one and every thing, only as so many phenomena,
which are complete in themselves, and lead to nothing,
not discussing them, or teaching any truth, or instructing
the hearer, but simply talking. No one would say that
these persons, well informed as they are, had attained to
any great culture of intellect or to philosophy.
The case is the same still more strikingly where the
persons in question are beyond dispute men of inferior
136 Discourse VL
powers and deficient education. Perhaps they have
been much in foreign countries, and they receive, in a
passive, otiose, unfruitful way, the various facts which are
forced upon them there. Seafaring men, for example,
range from one end of the earth to the other ; but the
multiplicity of external objects, which they have encoun
tered, forms no symmetrical and consistent picture upon
their imagination ; they see the tapestry of human life,
as it were on the wrong side, and it tells no story. They
sleep, and they rise up, and they find themselves, now in
Europe, now in Asia ; they see visions of great cities and
wild regions; they are in the marts of commerce, or amid
the islands of the South ; they gaze on Pompey's Pillar,
or on the Andes ; and nothing which meets them carries
them forward or backward, to any idea beyond itself.
Nothing has a drift or relation ; nothing has a history or
a promise. Every thing stands by itself, and comes and
goes in its turn, like the shifting scenes of a show, whicli
leave the spectator where he was. Perhaps you are near
such a man on a particular occasion, and expect him to
be shocked or perplexed at something which occurs ;
but one thing is much the same to him as another, or, if
he is perplexed, it is as not knowing what to say, whether
it is right to admire, or to ridicule, or to disapprove,
while conscious that some expression of opinion is ex
pected from him ; for in fact he has no standard of judg
ment at all, and no landmarks to guide him to a conclu
sion. Such is mere acquisition, and, I repeat, no one
would dream of calling it philosophy.
6.
Instances, such as these, confirm, by the contrast, the
conclusion I have already drawn from those which pre
ceded them. That only is true enlargement of mind
Knowledge viewed in Relation to Learning. 137
which is the power of viewing many things at once as
one whole, of referring them severally to their true place
in the universal system, of understanding their respective
values, and determining their mutual dependence. Thus
is that form of Universal Knowledge, of which I have on
a former occasion spoken, set up in the individual intel
lect, and constitutes its perfection. Possessed of this
real illumination, the mind never views any part of the
extended subject-matter of Knowledge without recol
lecting that it is but a part, or without the associations
which spring from this recollection. It makes every
thing in some sort lead to every thing else ; it would
communicate the image of the whole to every separate
portion, till that whole becomes in imagination like a
spirit, every where pervading and penetrating its com
ponent parts, and giving them one definite meaning.
Just as our bodily organs, when mentioned, recall their
function in the body, as the word " creation " suggests
the Creator, and " subjects " a sovereign, so, in the mind
of the Philosopher, as we are abstractedly conceiving of
him, the elements of the physical and moral world,
sciences, arts, pursuits, ranks, offices, events, opinions,
individualities, are all viewed as one, with correlative
functions, and as gradually by successive combinations
converging, one and all, to the true centre.
To have even a portion of this illuminative reason and
true philosophy is the highest state to which nature can
aspire, in the way of intellect ; it puts the mind above
the influences of chance and necessity, above anxiety,
suspense, unsettlement, and superstition, which is the lot
of the many. Men, whose minds are possessed with
some one object, take exaggerated views of its impor
tance, are feverish in the pursuit of it, make it the
measure of things which are utterly foreign to it, and
138 Discourse VL
are startled and despond if it happens to fail them.
They are ever in alarm or in transport. Those on the
other hand who have no object or principle whatever to
hold by, lose their way, every step they take. They are
thrown out, and do jiot know what to think or say, at
every fresh juncture ; they have no view of persons, or
occurrences, or facts, which come suddenly upon them,
and they hang upon the opinion of others, for want of
internal resources. But the intellect, which has been
disciplined to the perfection of its powers, which knows,
and thinks while it knows, which has learned to leaven
the dense mass of facts and events with the elastic force
of reason, such an intellect cannot be partial, cannot be
exclusive, cannot be impetuous, cannot be at a loss, cannot
but be patient, collected, and majestically calm, because it
discerns the end in every beginning, the origin in every
end, the law in every interruption, the limit in each delay ;
because it ever knows where it stands, and how its path lies
from one point to another. It is the Tfrpaywvog of the
Peripatetic, and has the " nil admirari " of the Stoic, —
Felix qui potuit rerum cognoscere causas,
Atque metus omnes, et inexorabile fatum
Subjecit pedibus, strepitumque Acherontis avari.
There are men who, when in difficulties, originate at the
moment vast ideas or dazzling projects ; who, under the
influence of excitement, are able to cast a light, almost
as if from inspiration, on a subject or course of action
which comes before them ; who have a sudden presence
of mind equal to any emergency, rising with the occasion,
and an undaunted magnanimous bearing, and an energy
and keenness which is but made intense by opposition.
This is genius, this is heroism ; it is the exhibition of a
natural gift, which no culture can teach, at which no
Knowledge viewed in Relation to Learning. 13$
Institution can aim ; here, on the contrary, we are con
cerned, not with mere nature, but with training and
teaching. That perfection of tie Intellect, which is the
result of Education, and its beau ideal, to be imparted
to individuals in their respective measures, is the clear,
calm, accurate vision and comprehension of all things,
as far as the finite mind can embrace them, each in its
place, and with its own characteristics upon it. It is
almost prophetic from its knowledge of history ; it is
almost heart-searching from its knowledge of human
nature ; it has almost supernatural charity from its
freedom from littleness and prejudice ; it has almost the
repose of faith, because nothing can startle it ; it has
almost the beauty and harmony of heavenly contem
plation, so intimate is it with the eternal order of things
and the music of the spheres.
7-
And now, if I may take for granted that the true and
adequate end of intellectual training and of a University
is not Learning ot Acquirement, but rather, is Thou^iu
or Reason exercised upon Knowledge, or what may be
called Philosophy, I shall be in a position to explain the
various mistakes which at the present day beset the
subject of University Education.
I say then, if we would improve the intellect, first of
all, we must ascend ; we_cannot gain real knowledge on
a level ; we must generalize, we must reduce to method,
we must have a grasp of principles, and group and shape
our acquisitions by means of them. It matters not
whether our field of operation be wide or limited ; in
every case, to command it, is to mount above it. Who
has not felt the irritation of mind and impatience
created by a deep, rich country, visited for the first time,
140 Discourse VI.
with winding lanes, and high hedges, and green steeps,
and tangled woods, and every thing smiling indeed, but
in a maze ? The same feeling comes upon us in a strange
city, when we have no map of its streets. Hence you
hear of practised travellers, when they first come into a
place, mounting some high hill or church tower, by way
of reconnoitring its neighbourhood. In like manner, you
must be above your knowledge, not under it, or it will
oppress you ; and the more you have of it, the greater
will be the load. The learning of a Salmasius or a
Burnian, unless you are its master, will be your tyrant
" Imperat aut servit ; " if you can wield it with a strong
arm, it is a great weapon ; otherwise,
Vis consili expers
Mole ruit sua.
You will be overwhelmed, like Tarpeia, by the heavy
wealth which you have exacted from tributary
generations.
Instances abound ; there are authors who are as
pointless as they are inexhaustible in their literary
resources. They measure knowledge by bulk, as it lies
in the rude block, without symmetry, without design.
How many commentators are there on the Classics, how
many on Holy Scripture, from whom we rise up, won
dering at the learning which has passed before us, and
wondering why it passed ! How many writers are there
of Ecclesiastical History, such as Mosheim or Du Pin,
who, breaking up their subject into details, destroy its
life, and defraud us of the whole by their anxiety about
the parts ! The Sermons, again, of the English Divines
in the seventeenth century, how often are they mere
repertories of miscellaneous and officious learning ! Of
course Catholics also may read without thinking ; and
Knowledge viewed in Relation to Learning. 141
in their case, equally as with Protestants, it holds good,
that such knowledge is unworthy of the name, knowledge
which they have not thought through, and thought out.
Such readers are only possessed by their knowledge, not
possessed of it ; nay, in matter of fact they are often
even carried away by it, without any volition of their
own. Recollect, the Memory can tyrannize, as well as
the Imagination. Derangement, I believe, has been
considered as a loss of control over the sequence of
ideas. The mind, once set in motion, is henceforth
deprived of the power of initiation, and becomes the
victim of a train of associations, one thought suggesting
another, in the way of cause and effect, as if by a
mechanical process, or some physical necessity. No
one, who has had experience of men of studious habits,
but must recognize the existence of a parallel phe
nomenon in the case of those who have over-stimulated
the Memory. In such persons Reason acts almost as
feebly and as impotently as in the madman ; once fairly
started on any subject whatever, they have no power of
self-control ; they passively endure the succession of
impulses which are evolved out of the original exciting
cause ; they are passed on from one idea to another and
go steadily forward, plodding along one line of thought
in spite of the amplest concessions of the hearer, or wan
dering from it in endless digression in spite of his remon
strances. Now, if, as is very certain, no one would envy the
madman the glow and originality of his conceptions, why
must we extol the cultivation of that intellect, which is
the prey, not indeed of barren fancies but of barren facts,
of random intrusions from without, though not of morbid
imaginations from within ? And in thus speaking, I an]
not denying that a strong and ready memory is in itself
a real treasure; I am not disparaging a well-stored
£42 Discourse VI.
mind, though it be nothing besides, provided it be sober,
any more than I would despise a bookseller's shop : — it
is of great value to others, even when not so to the
owner. Nor am I banishing, far from it, the possessors
of deep and multifarious learning from my ideal
University ; they adorn it in the eyes of men ; I do but
say that they constitute no type of the results at which
it aims ; that it is no great gain to the intellect to have
enlarged the memory at the expense of faculties which
are indisputably higher.
8.
Nor indeed am I supposing that there is any great
danger, at least in this day, of over-education ; the danger
is on the other side. I will tell you, Gentlemen, what has
been the practical error of the last twenty years, — not to
load the memory of the student with a mass of undigested
knowledge, but to force upon him so much that he has
rejected all. It has been the error of distracting and
enfeebling the mind by an unmeaning profusion of
subjects ; of implying that a smattering in a dozen
branches of study is not shallowness, which it really is,
but enlargement, which it is not ; of considering an ac
quaintance with the learned names of things and persons,
and the possession of clever duodecimos, and attendance
on eloquent lecturers, and membership with scientific in
stitutions, and the sight of the experiments of a platform
and the specimens of a museum, that all this was not
dissipation of mind, but progress. All things now are to
be learned at once, not first one thing, then another, not
one well, but many badly. Learning is to be without
exertion, without attention, without toil ; without ground
ing, without advance, without finishing. There is to be
nothing individual in it ; and this, forsooth, is the wonder
Knowledge viewed in Relation to Lear rung. 143
of the age. What the steam engine does with matter,
the printing press is to do with mind ; it is to act
mechanically, and the population is to be passively, almost
unconsciously enlightened, by the mere multiplication
and dissemination of volumes. Whether it be the
school boy, or the school girl, or the youth at college,
or the mechanic in the town, or the politician in the
senate, all have been the victims in one way or other of
this most preposterous and pernicious of delusions.
Wise men have lifted up their voices in vain; and at
length, lest their own institutions should be outshone
and should disappear in the folly of the hour, they have
been obliged, as far as they could with a good conscience,
to humour a spirit which they could not withstand, and
make temporizing concessions at which they could not
but inwardly smile.
It must not be supposed that, because I so speak,
therefore I have some sort of fear of the education of the
people : on the contrary, the more education they have,
the better, so that it is really education. Nor am I an
enemy to the cheap publication of scientific and literary
works, which is now in vogue: on the contrary, I consider
it a great advantage, convenience, and gain ; that is, to
those to whom education has given a capacity for using
them. Further, I consider such innocent recreations as
science and literature are able to furnish will be a very
fit occupation of the thoughts and the leisure of young
persons, and may be made the means of keeping them
from bad employments and bad companions. Moreover,
as to that superficial acquaintance with chemistry, and
geology, and astronomy, and political economy, and
modern history, and biography, and other branches of
knowledge, which periodical literature and occasional
lectures and scientific institutions diffuse through the
144 Discourse VL
community, I think it a graceful accomplishment, and
a suitable, nay, in this day a necessary accomplishment,
in the case of educated men. Nor, lastly, am I dis
paraging or discouraging the thorough acquisition of
any one of these studies, or denying that, as far as it
goes, such thorough' acquisition is a real education of
the mind. All I say is, call things by their right names,
and do not confuse together ideas which are essentially
different. A thorough knowledge of one science and a
superficial acquaintance with many, are not the same
thing ; a smattering of a hundred things or a memory
for detail, is not a philosophical or comprehensive view.
Recreations are not education; accomplishments are
not education. Do not say, the people must be edu
cated, when, after all, you only mean, amused, refreshed,
soothed, put into good spirits and good humour, or kept
from vicious excesses. I do not say that such amuse
ments, such occupations of mind, are not a great gain ;
but they are not education. You may as well call draw
ing and fencing education, as a general knowledge of
botany or conchology. Stuffing birds or playing stringed
instruments is an elegant pastime, and a resource to the
idle, but it is not education ; it does not form or cultivate
the intellect. Education is a high word ; it is the prepara
tion for knowledge, and it is the imparting of knowledge
in proportion to that preparation. We require intellec
tual eyes to know withal, as bodily eyes for sight. We
need both objects and organs intellectual ; we cannot
gain them without setting about it ; we cannot gain
them in our sleep, or by hap-hazard. The best telescope
does not dispense with eyes ; the printing press or the
lecture room will assist us greatly, but we must be true
to ourselves, we must be parties in the work. A Uni
versity is, according to the usual designation, an Alma
Knowledge viewed in Relation to Learning. 145
Mater, knowing her children one by one, not a foundry,
or a mint, or a treadmill
9-
Lprptest to you, Gentlemen, that if I had to choose
between a so-called University, which dispensed with
residence and tutorial superintendence, and gave its
degrees to any person who passed an examination in a
wide range of subjects, and a University which had no
professors or examinations at all, but merely brought a
number of young men together for three or four years,
and then sent them away as the University of Oxford is
said to have done some sixty years since, if I were asked
which of these two methods was the better discipline of
the intellect, — mind, I do not say which is morally the
better, for it is plain that compulsory study must be a
good and idleness an intolerable mischief, — but if I
must determine which of the two courses was the more
successful in training, moulding, enlarging the mind,
which sent out men the more fitted for their secular
duties, which produced better public men, men of the
world, men whose names would descend to posterity, I
have no hesitation in giving the preference to that Uni
versity which did nothing, over that which exacted of its
members an acquaintance with every science under the
sun. And, paradox as this may seem, still if results be
the test of systems, the influence of the public schools
and colleges of England, in the course of the last century,
at least will bear out one side of the contrast as I have
drawn it. What would come, on the other hand, of the
ideal systems of education which have fascinated the
imagination of this age, could they ever take effect, and
whether they would not produce a generation frivolous,
narrow-minded, and resourceless, intellectually considered,
10
146 Discourse VL
is a fair subject for debate ; but so far is certain, that the
Universities and scholastic establishments, to which I
refer, and which did little more than bring together first
boys and then youths in large numbers, these institutions,
with miserable deformities on the side of morals, with a
hollow profession of Christianity, and a heathen code
of ethics, — I say, at least they can boast of a succession
of heroes and statesmen, of literary men and philosophers,
of men conspicuous for great natural virtues, for habits
of business, for knowledge of life, for practical judgment,
for cultivated tastes, for accomplishments, who have
made England what it is, — able to subdue the earth,
able to domineer over Catholics.
How is this to be explained ? I suppose as follows :
When a multitude of young men, keen, open-hearted,
sympathetic, and observant, as young men are, come
together and freely mix with each other, they are sure
to learn one from another, even if there be no one to
teach them ; the conversation of all is a series of lectures
to each, and they gain for themselves new ideas and
views, fresh matter of thought, and distinct principles
for judging and acting, day by day. An infant has to
learn the meaning of the information which its senses
convey to it, and this seems to be its employment. It
fancies all that the eye presents to it to be close to it,
till it actually learns the contrary, and thus by practice
does it ascertain the relations and uses of those first
elements of knowledge which are necessary for its
animal existence. A parallel teaching is necessary for
our social being, and it is secured by a large school or a
college ; and this effect may be fairly called in its own
department an enlargement of mind. It is seeing the
world on a small field with little trouble; for the
pupils or students come from very different places, and
Knowledge viewed in Relation to Learning. 147
with widely different notions, and there is much to
generalize, much to adjust, much to eliminate, there are
inter-relations to be defined, and conventional rules to
be established, in the process, by which the whole
assemblage is moulded together, and gains one tone and
one character.
Let it be clearly understood, I repeat it, that I am not
taking into account moral or religious considerations ; I
am but saying that that youthful community will con
stitute a whole, it will embody a specific idea, it will
represent a doctrine, it will administer a code of conduct,
and it will furnish principles of thought and action. It
will give birth to a living teaching, which in course of
time will take the shape of a self-perpetuating tradition,
or a genius loci, as it is sometimes called ; which haunts
the home where it has been born, and which imbues and
forms, more or less, and one by one, every individual
who is successively brought under its shadow. Thus it
is that, independent of direct instruction on the part of
Superiors, there is a sort of self-education in the academic
institutions of Protestant England ; a characteristic tone
of thought, a recognized standard of judgment is found
in them, which, as developed in the individual who is
submitted to it, becomes a twofold source of strength to
him, both from the distinct stamp it impresses on his
mind, and from the bond of union which it creates
between him and others, — effects which are shared by
the authorities of the place, for they themselves have
been educated in it, and at all times are exposed to the
influence of its ethical atmosphere. Here then is a real
teaching, whatever be its standards and principles, true
or false ; and it at least tends towards cultivation of the
intellect ; it at least recognizes that knowledge is some
thing more than a sort of passive reception of scraps and
148 Discourse VL
details ; it is a something, and it does a something, which
never will issue from the most strenuous efforts of a set
of teachers, with no mutual sympathies and no inter
communion, of a set of examiners with no opinions which
they dare profess, and with no common principles, who
are teaching or questioning a set of youths who do not
know them, and do not know each other, on a large
number of subjects, different in kind, and connected by
no wide philosophy, three times a week, or three times a
year, or once in three years, in chill lecture-rooms or on
a pompous anniversary.
10.
Nay, self-education in any shape, in the most restricted
sense, is preferable to a system of teaching which, pro
fessing so much, really does so little for the mind. Shut
your College gates against the votary of knowledge,
throw him back upon the search ings and the efforts of
his own mind ; he will gain by being spared an entrance
into your Babel. Few indeed there are who can dis
pense with the stimulus and support of instructors, or
will do any thing at all, if left to themselves. And fewer
still (though such great minds are to be found), who
will not, from such unassisted attempts, contract a self-
reliance and a self-esteem, which are not only moral
evils, but serious hindrances to the attainment of truth.
And next to none, perhaps, or none, who will not be
reminded from time to time of the disadvantage
under which they lie, by their imperfect grounding, by
the breaks, deficiencies, and irregularities of their know
ledge, by the eccentricity of opinion and the confusion
of principle which they exhibit. They will be too often
ignorant of what every one knows and takes for granted,
of that multitude of small truths which fall upon the
Knowledge viewed in delation to Learning. 149
mind like dust, impalpable and ever accumulating ; they
may be unable to converse, they may argue perversely,
they may pride themselves on their worst paradoxes or
their grossest truisms, they may be full of their own
mode of viewing things, unwilling to be put out of their
way, slow to enter into the minds of others ; — but, with
these and whatever other liabilities upon their heads,
they are likely to have more thought, more mind, more
philosophy, more true enlargement, than those earnest
but ill-used persons, who are forced to load their minds
with a score of subjects against an examination, who
have too much on their hands to indulge themselves in
thinking or investigation, who devour premiss and con
clusion together with indiscriminate greediness, who
hold whole sciences on faith, and commit demonstra
tions to memory, and who too often, as might be ex
pected, when their period of education is passed, throw
up all they have learned in disgust, having gained
nothing really by their anxious labours, except perhaps
the habit of application.
Yet such is the better specimen of the fruit of that
ambitious system which has of late years been making
way among us : for its result on ordinary minds, and on
the common run of students, is less satisfactory still ;
they leave their place of education simply dissipated
and relaxed by the multiplicity of subjects, which they
have never really mastered, and so shallow as not even
to know their shallowness. How much better, I say, is
it for the active and thoughtful intellect, where such is
to be found, to eschew the College and the University
altogether, than to submit to a drudgery so ignoble, a
mockery so contumelious ! How much more profitable
for the independent mind, after the mere rudiments of
education, to range through a library at random, taking
150 Discourse VI.
down books as they meet him, and pursuing the trains
of thought which his mother wit suggests ! How much
healthier to wander into the fields, and there with the
exiled Prince to find " tongues in the trees, books in the
running brooks!" How much more genuine an educa
tion is that of the poor boy in the Poem* — a Poem,
whether in conception or in execution, one of the most
touching in our language — who, not in the wide world,
but ranging day by day around his widowed mother's
home, "a dexterous gleaner" in a narrow field, and
with only such slender outfit
" as the village school and books a few
Supplied,"
contrived from the beach, and the quay, and the fisher's
boat, and the inn's fireside, and the tradesman's shop,
and the shepherd's walk, and the smuggler's hut, and
the mossy moor, and the screaming gulls, and the rest
less waves, to fashion for himself a philosophy and a
poetry of his own !
But in a large subject, I am exceeding my necessary
limits. Gentlemen, I must conclude abruptly ; and
postpone any summing up of my argument, should that
be necessary, to another day.
* Crabbe's Tales of the Hall. This Poem, let me say, I read on its
first publication, above thirty years ago, with extreme delight, and have
never lost my love of it ; and on taking it up lately, found I was even more
touched by it than heretofore. A work which can please in youth and age,
seems to fulfil (in logical language) the accidental definition of a Classic.
[A further course of twenty years has past, and I bear the same witness in
favour of this Poem.]
DISCOURSE VII.
KNOWLEDGE VIEWED IN RELATION TO PROFESSIONAL
SKILL.
I.
I HAVE been insisting, in my two preceding Dis
courses, first, on_ the cultivation of the intellect, as
an_end which may reasonably be pursued for its own
*ike 5 and next, on the nature of that cultivation, or
what that cultivation consists in. Truth of whatever
kind is the proper object of the intellect; its cultivation
then lies in fitting it to apprehend and contemplate
truth. Now the intellect in its present state, with
exceptions which need not here be specified, does not
discern truth intuitively, or as a whole. We know, not
by a direct and simple vision, not at a glance, but, as it
were, by piecemeal and accumulation, by a mental pro
cess, by going round an object, by the comparison, the
combination, the mutual correction, the continual adap
tation, of many partial notions, by the employment, ^
concentration, and joint action of many faculties and ^
exercises of mind. Such a union and concert of the
intellectual powers, such an enlargement and develop
ment, such a comprehensiveness, is necessarily a matter
of training. And again, such a training is a matter of
rule ; it is not mere application, however exemplary,
which introduces the mind to truth, nor the reading VT
152 Discourse VI L
many books, nor the getting up many subjects, nor the
witnessing many experiments, nor the attending many
lectures. All tiiis is short of enough ; a man may have
done it all, yet be lingering in the vestibule of know
ledge : — he may not realize what his mouth utters ; he
may not see with his 'mental eye what confronts him; he
may have no grasp of things as they are ; or at least he
may have no power at all of advancing one step forward
of himself, in consequence of what he has already ac
quired, no power of discriminating between truth and
falsehood, of sifting out the grains of truth from the
mass, of arranging things according to their real value,
and, if I may use the phrase, of building up ideas.
Such a power is the result of a scientific formation of
mind ; it is an acquired faculty of judgment, of clear
sightedness, of sagacity, of wisdom, of philosophical
reach of mind, and of intellectual self-possession and
repose, — qualities which do not come of mere acquire
ment. The bodily eye, the organ for apprehending
material objects, is provided by nature ; the eye of the
mind, of which the object is truth, is the work of dis
cipline and habit.
This process of training, by which the intellect,
instead of being formed or sacrificed to some particular
or accidental purpose, some specific trade or profession,
or study or science, is disciplined for its own sake, for
the perception of its own proper object, and for its own
highest culture, is called Liberal Education ; and though
there is no one in whom it is carried as far as is con
ceivable, or whose intellect would be a pattern of what
intellects should be made, yet there is scarcely any one
but may gain an idea of what real training is, and at
least look towards it, and make its true scope and
result, not something else, his standard of excellence \
Knowledge and Professional Skill. 153
and numbers there are who may submit themselves to it,
and secure it to themselves in good measure. And to
set forth the right standard, and to train according to it,
and to help forward all students towards it according to
their various capacities, this I conceive to be the business
of a University.
2.
Now this is what some great men are very slow to
allow ; they insist that Education should be confined to
some particular and narrow end, and should issue in
some definite work, which can be weighed and measured.
They argue as if every thing, as well as every person,
had its price ; and that where there has been a great
_outlay, they have a right to expect a return in kind.
This they call making Education and Instruction
"useful," and " Utility " becomes their watchword.
With a fundamental principle of this nature, they very
naturally go on to ask, what there is to show for the
expense of a University ; what is the real worth in the
market of the article called "a Liberal Education," on
the supposition that it does not teach us definitely how
to advance our manufactures, or to improve our lands,
or to better our civil economy ; or again, if it does not
at once make this man a lawyer, that an engineer, and
that a surgeon ; or at least if it does not lead to dis
coveries in chemistry, astronomy, geology, magnetism,
and science of every kind.
This question, as might have been expected, has been
keenly debated in the present age, and formed one main
subject of the controversy, to which I referred in the
Introduction to the present Discourses, as having been
sustained in the first decade of this century by a cele-
Hrated Northern Review on the one hand, and defenders
154 Discourse VIL
of the University of Oxford on the other. Hardly had
the authorities of that ancient seat of learning, waking
from their long neglect, set on foot a plan for the edu
cation of the youth committed to them, than the repre
sentatives of science and literature in the city, which
has sometimes been called the Northern Athens, remon
strated, with their gravest arguments and their most
brilliant satire, against the direction and shape which
the reform was taking. Nothing would content them,
but that the University should be set to rights on the
basis of the philosophy of Utility ; a philosophy, as
they seem to have thought, which needed but to be pro
claimed in order to be embraced. In truth, they were
little aware of the depth and force of the principles on
which the academical authorities were proceeding, and,
this being so, it was not to be expected that they would
be allowed to walk at leisure over the field of contro
versy which they had selected. Accordingly they were
encountered in behalf of the University by two men of
great name and influence in their day, of very different
minds, but united, as by Collegiate ties, so in the clear
sighted and large view which they took of the whole
subject of Liberal Education ; and the defence thus
provided for the Oxford studies has kept its ground to
this day.
3-
Let me be allowed to devote a few words to the
memory of distinguished persons, under the shadow of
whose name I once lived, and by whose doctrine I am now
profiting. In the heart of Oxford there is a small plot
of ground, hemmed in by public thoroughfares, which has
been the possession and the home of one Society for
above five hundred years. In the old time of Boniface
the Eighth and John the Twenty-second, in the age of
Knowledge and Professional Skill. 155
Scotus and Occam and Dante, before Wiclif or Huss had
kindled those miserable fires which are still raging to the
ruin of the highest interests of man, an unfortunate king
of England, Edward the Second, flying from the field of
Bannockburn, is said to have made a vow to the Blessed
Virgin to found a religious house in her honour, if he
got back in safety. Prompted and aided by his
Almoner, he decided on placing this house in the city
of Alfred ; and the Image of our Lady, which is oppo
site its entrance-gate, is to this day the token of the
vow and its fulfilment. King and Almoner have long
been in the dust, and strangers have entered into their
inheritance, and their creed has been forgotten, and
their holy rites disowned ; but day by day a memento is
still made in the holy Sacrifice by at least one Catholic
Priest, once a member of that College, for the souls
of those Catholic benefactors who fed him there for so
many years. The visitor, whose curiosity has been
excited by its present fame, gazes perhaps with some
thing of disappointment on a collection of buildings
which have with them so few of the circumstances of
dignity or wealth. Broad quadrangles, high halls and
chambers, ornamented cloisters, stately walks, or um
brageous gardens, a throng of students, ample revenues,
or a glorious history, none of these things were the
portion of that old Catholic foundation ; nothing in
short which to the common eye sixty years ago would
have given tokens of what it was to be. But it had at
that time a spirit working within it, which enabled its
inmates to do, amid its seeming insignificance, what no
other body in the place could equal ; not a very abstruse
gift or extraordinary boast, but a rare one, the honest
purpose to administer the trust committed to them in
such a way as their conscience pointed out as best So,
156 Discourse VI 1.
whereas the Colleges of Oxford are self-electing bodies,
the fellows in each perpetually filling up for themselves
the vacancies which occur in their number, the members
of this foundation determined, at a time when, either
from evil custom or from ancient statute, such a thing
was not known else\vhere, to throw open their fellow
ships to the competition of all comers, and, in the choice
of associates henceforth, to cast to the winds every per
sonal motive and feeling, family connexion, and friend
ship, and patronage, and political interest, and local
claim, and prejudice, and party jealousy, and to elect
solely on public and patriotic grounds. Nay, with a
remarkable independence of mind, they resolved that
even the table of honours, awarded to literary merit by
the University in its new system of examination for
degrees, should not fetter their judgment as electors ;
but that at all risks, and whatever criticism it might
cause, and whatever odium they might incur, they
would select the men, whoever they were, to be children
of theu Founder, whom they thought in their consciences
to be most likely from their intellectual and moral
qualities to please him, if (as they expressed it) he were
still upon earth, most likely to do honour to his College,
most likely to promote the objects which they believed
he had at heart. Such persons did not promise to be
the disciples of a low Utilitarianism ; and consequently,
as their collegiate reform synchronized with that reform
of the Academical body, in which they bore a principal
part, it was not unnatural that, when the storm broke
upon the University from the North, their Alma Mater,
whom they loved, should have found her first defenders
within the walls of that small College, which had first
put itself into a condition to be her champion.
These defenders, I have said, were two, of whom the
Knowledge and Professional Skill. 157
more distinguished was the late Dr. Copleston, then a
Fellow of the College, successively its Provost, and Pro
testant Bishop of Llandaff. In that Society, which owes
so much to him, his name lives, and ever will live, for
the distinction which his talents bestowed on it, for the
academical importance to which he raised it, for the
generosity of spirit, the liberality of sentiment, and the
kindness of heart, with which he adorned it, and which
even those who had least sympathy with some aspects
of his mind and character could not but admire and
love. Men come to their meridian at various periods of
their lives ; the last years of the eminent person I am
speaking of were given to duties which, I am told, have
been the means of endearing him to numbers, but
which afforded no scope for that peculiar vigour and
keenness of mind which enabled him, when a young
man, single-handed, with easy gallantry, to encounter
and overthrow the charge of three giants of the North
combined against him. I believe I am right in saying
that, in the progress of the controversy, the most
scientific, the most critical, and the most witty, of that
literary company, all of them now, as he himself re
moved from this visible scene, Professor Play fair, Lord
Jeffrey, and the Rev. Sydney Smith, threw together
their several efforts into one article of their Review, in
order to crush and pound to dust the audacious contro-
vertist who had come out against them in defence of
his own Institutions. To have even contended with
such men was a sufficient voucher for his ability, even
before we open his pamphlets, and have actual evidence
of the good sense, the spirit, the scholar-like taste, and
the purity of style, by which they are distinguished.
He was supported in the controversy, on the same
general principles, but with more of method and distinct-
TOO Discourse VI I.
ness, and, I will add, with greater force and beauty and
perfection, both of thought and of language, by the other
distinguished writer, to whom I have already referred,
JVlr. Davison ; who, though not so well known to the
world in his day, has left more behind him than the
Provost of Oriel, to make his name remembered by pos
terity. This thoughtful man, who was the admired and
intimate friend of a very remarkable person, whom,
whether he wish it or not, numbers revere and love as
the first author of the subsequent movement in the Pro
testant Church towards Catholicism,* this grave and
philosophical writer, whose works I can never look into
without sighing that such a man was lost to the Catholic
Church, as Dr. Butler before him, by some early bias or
some fault of self-education — he, in a review of a work
by Mr. Edgeworth on Professional Education, which
attracted a good deal of attention in its day, goes leisurely
over the same ground, which had already been rapidly
traversed by Dr. Copleston, and, though professedly em
ployed upon Mr. Edgeworth, is really replying to the
northern critic who had brought that writer's work into
notice, and to a far greater author than either of them,
who in a past age had argued on the same side.
4-
The author to whom I allude is no other than Locke.
That celebrated philosopher has preceded the Edinburgh
Reviewers in condemning the ordinary subjects in which
boys are instructed at school, on the ground that they
are not needed by them in after life ; and before quoting
what his disciples have said in the present century, I
will refer to a few passages of the master. " 'Tis matter
* Mr. Keble, Vicar of Hursley, late Fellow of Oriel, and Professor of
Poetry in the University of Oxford.
Knowltdge and Professional Skill. 159
of astonishment/' he says in his work on Education,
" that men of quality and parts should suffer themselves
to be so far misled by custom and implicit faith. Reason,
if consulted with, would advise, that their children's time
should be spent in acquiring what might be useful to
them, when they come to be men, rather than that their
heads should be stuffed with a deal of trash, a great part
whereof they usually never do ('tis certain they never
need to) think on again as long as they live ; and so
much of it as does stick by them they are only the
worse for."
And so again, speaking of verse-making, he says, " I
know not what reason a father can have to wish his son
a poet, who does not desire him to bid defiance to all
other callings and business ; which is not yet the worst
of the case ; for, if he proves a successful rhymer, and
gets once the reputation of a wit, 1 desire it to be con
sidered, what company and places he is likely to spend
his time in, nay, and estate too ; for it is very seldom
seen that any one discovers mines of gold or silver in
Parnassus. Tis a pleasant air, but a barren soil"
In another passage he distinctly limits utility in edu
cation to its bearing on the future profession or trade of
the pupil, that is, he scorns the idea of any education of
the intellect, simply as such. " Can there be any thing
more ridiculous," he asks, "than that a father should
waste his own money, and his son's time, in setting him
to learn the Roman language, when at the same time he
designs him for a trade, wherein he, having no use of
Latin, fails not to forget that little which he brought
from school, and which 'tis ten to one he abhors for the
ill-usage it procured him ? Could it be believed, unless
we have every where amongst us examples of it, that a
child should be forced to learn the rudiments of a
l6o Discourse VI L
language, which he is never to use in the course of life that
he is designed to, and neglect all the while the writing
a good hand, and casting accounts, which are of great
advantage in all conditions of life, and to most trades
indispensably necessary ? " Nothing of course can be
more absurd than to neglect in education those matters
which are necessary for a boy's future calling ; but the
tone of Locke's remarks evidently implies more than
this, and is condemnatory of any teaching which tends
to the general cultivation of the mind.
Now to turn to his modern disciples. The study of
the Classics had been made the basis of the Oxford
education, in the reforms which I have spoken of, and
the Edinburgh Reviewers protested, after the manner
of Locke, that no good could come of a system which
was not based upon the principle of Utility.
" Classical Literature/' they said, " is the great object
at Oxford. Many minds, so employed, have produced
many works and much fame in that department ; but if
all liberal arts and sciences, useful to human life, had
been taught there, if some had dedicated themselves to
chemistry, some to mathematics, some to experimental
philosophy, and if every attainment had been honoured in
the mixt ratio of its difficulty and utility, the system of
such a University would have been much more valuable,
but the splendour of its name something less."
Utility may be made the end of education, in two
respects : either as regards the individual educated, or the
community at large. In which light do these writers
regard it ? in the latter. So far they differ from Locke,
for they consider the advancement of science as the
supreme and real end of a University. This is brought
into view in the sentences which follow.
" When a University has been doing useless things for
Knowledge and Professional Skill. 161
a long time, it appears at first degrading to them to be
tiseful. A set of Lectures on Political Economy would
be discouraged in Oxford, probably despised, probably
not permitted. To discuss the inclosure of commons,
and to dwell upon imports and exports, to come so near
to common life, would seem to be undignified and con
temptible. In the same manner, the Parr or the Bentley
of the day would be scandalized, in a University, to be
put on a level with the discoverer of a neutral salt ; and
yet, what other measure is there of dignity in intellectual
labour but usefulness ? And what ought the term
University to mean, but a place where every science
is taught which is liberal, and at the same time useful
to mankind ? Nothing would so much tend to bring
classical literature within proper bounds as a steady and
invariable appeal to utility in our appreciation of all
human knowledge .... Looking always to real utility
as our guide, we should see, with equal pleasure, a
studious and inquisitive mind arranging the produc
tions of nature, investigating the qualities of bodies, or
mastering the difficulties of the learned languages. We
should not care whether he was chemist, naturalist, or
scholar, because we know it to be as necessary that
matter should be studied and subdued to the use of
man, as that taste should be gratified, and imagination
inflamed."
Such then is the enunciation, as far as words go, of the
theory of Utility in Education ; and both on its own
account, and for the sake of the able men who have
advocated it, it has a claim on the attention of those
whose principles I am here representing. Certainly it is
specious to contend that nothing is worth pursuing but
what is useful ; and that life is not long enough to ex
pend upon interesting, or curious, or brilliant trifles.
II
1 62 Discourse I'll.
Nay, in one sense, I will grant it is more than specious
it is true ; but, if so, how do I propose directly to mtet
the objection ? Why, Gentlemen, I have really met it
already, viz., in laying down, that intellectual culture is
its own end ; for wha| has its end in itself, has its use in
itself also. I say, if a Liberal Education consists in the
culture of the intellect, and if that culture be in itself a
good, here, without going further, is an answer to Locke's
question ; for if a healthy body is a good in itself, why
is not a healthy intellect ? and if a College of Physicians
is a useful institution, because it contemplates bodily
health, why is not an Academical Body, though it were
simply and solely engaged in imparting vigour and
beauty and grasp to the intellectual portion of our
nature ? And the Reviewers I am quoting seem to
allow this in their better moments, in a passage which,
putting aside the question of its justice in fact, is sound
and true in the principles to which it appeals : —
" The present state of classical education," they say,
" cultivates the imagination a great deal too much,
and other habits of mind a great deal too little, and
trains up many young men in a style of elegant imbe
cility, utterly unworthy of the talents with which nature
has endowed them .... The matter of fact is, that a
classical scholar of twenty-three or twenty-four is a man
principally conversant with works of imagination. His
feelings are quick, his fancy lively, and his taste good.
Talents for speculation and original inquiry he has none,
nor has he formed the invaluable habit of pushing things
up to tJieir first principles, or of collecting dry and un-
amusing facts as the materials for reasoning. All the
solid and masculine parts of his understanding are left
wholly without cultivation ; he hates the pain of thinking,
and suspects every man whose boldness and originality
Knowledge and Professional Skill. 1 63
call upon him to defend his opinions and prove his
assertions."
5-
Now, I am not at present concerned with the specific
question of classical education ; else, I might reasonably
question the justice of calling an intellectual discipline,
which embraces the study of Aristotle, Thucydides, and
Tacitus, which involves Scholarship and Antiquities,
imaginative ; still so far I readily grant, that the culti
vation of the " understanding," of a " talent for specu
lation and original inquiry," and of " the habit of pushing
things up to their first principles," is a principal portion
of a good or liberal education. If then the Reviewers
consider such cultivation the characteristic of a useful
education, as they seem to do in the foregoing passage,
it follows, that what they mean by " useful " is just what
I mean by "good" or "liberal:" and Locke's question
becomes a verbal one. Whether youths are to be
taught Latin or verse-making will depend on the fact,
whether these studies tend to mental culture ; but, how
ever this is determined, so far is clear, that in that
mental culture consists what I have called a liberal or
non-professional, and what the Reviewers call a useful
education.
This is the obvious answer which may be made to
those who urge upon us the claims of Utility in our
plans of Education ; but I am not going to leave the
subject here : I mean to take a wider view of it. Let
us take " useful," as Locke takes it, in its proper and
popular sense, and then we enter upon a large field of
thought, to which I cannot do justice in one Discourse,
though to-day's is all the space that I can give to it. I
say, let us take " useful " to mean, not what is simply
1 64 Discourse VI L
good, but what tends to good, or is the instrument of
good ; and in this sense also, Gentlemen, I will show
you how a liberal education is truly and fully a useful,
though it be not a professional, education. " Good "
indeed means one thing, and " useful " means another ;
but I lay it down as a principle, which will save us a
great deal of anxiety, that, though the useful is not
always good, the good is always useful. Good is not
only good, but reproductive of good ; this is one of its
attributes ; nothing is excellent, beautiful, perfect, desir
able for its own sake, but it overflows, and spreads the
likeness of itself all around it. Good is prolific ; it is
not only good to the eye, but to the taste ; it not only
attracts us, but it communicates itself; it excites first
our admiration and love, then our desire and our grati
tude, and that, in proportion to its intenseness and
fulness in particular instances. A great good will im
part great good. If then the intellect is so excellent a
portion of us, and its cultivation so excellent, it is not
only beautiful, perfect, admirable, and noble in itself,
but in a true and high sense it must be useful to the
possessor and to all around him ; not useful in any low,
mechanical, mercantile sense, but as diffusing good, or
as a blessing, or a gift, or power, or a treasure, first to
the owner, then through him to the world. I say then,
if a liberal education be good, it must necessarily be
useful too.
6.
You will see what I mean by the parallel of bodily
health. Health is a good in itself, though nothing came
of it, and is especially worth seeking and cherishing.;
yet, after all, the blessings which attend its presence are
so great, while they are so close to it and so redound
Knowledge and Professional. Skill. 165
back upon it and encircle it, that we never think of it
except as useful as well as good, and praise and prize it
for what it does, as well as for what it is, though at the
same time we cannot point out any definite and distinct
work or production which it can be said to effect And
so as regards intellectual culture, I am far from denying
utility in this large sense as the end of Education, when
I lay it down, that the culture of the intellect is a good
in itself and its own end ; I do not exclude from the
idea of intellectual culture what it cannot but be, from
the very nature of things ; I only deny that we must be
able to point out, before we have any right to call it
useful, some art, or business, or profession, or trade, or
work, as resulting from it, and as its real and complete
end. The parallel is exact : — As the body may be
sacrificed to some manual or other toil, whether mode
rate or oppressive, so may the intellect be devoted to
some specific profession ; and I do not call this the culture
of the intellect. Again, as some member or organ of
the body may be inordinately used and developed, so
may memory, or imagination, or the reasoning faculty ;
and this again is not intellectual culture. On the other
hand, as the body may be tended, cherished, and exer
cised with a simple view to its general health, so may
the intellect also be generally exercised in order to its
perfect state ; and this is its cultivation.
Again, as health ought to precede labour of the body,
and as a man in health can do what an unhealthy man
cannot do, and as of this health the properties are
strength, energy, agility, graceful carriage and action,
manual dexterity, and endurance of fatigue, so in like
manner general culture of mind is the best aid to pro
fessional and scientific study, and educated men can do
what illiterate cannot ; and the man who has learned to
1 66 Discourse V1L
think and to reason and to compare and to discriminate
and to analyze, who has refined his taste, and formed his
judgment, and sharpened his mental vision, will not in
deed at once be a lawyer, or a pleader, or an orator, or
a statesman, or a physician, or a good landlord, or a
man of business, OP a soldier, or an engineer, or a
chemist, or a geologist, or an antiquarian, but he will be
placed in that state of intellect in which he can take up
any one of the sciences or callings I have referred to, or
any other for which he has a taste or special talent, with
an ease, a grace, a versatility, and a success, to which
another is a stranger. In this sense then, and as yet I
have said but a very few words on a large subject, mental
culture is emphatically useful.
If then I am arguing, and shall argue, against Profes
sional or Scientific knowledge as the sufficient end of a
University Education, let me not be supposed, Gentle
men, to be disrespectful towards particular studies, or
arts, or vocations, and those who are engaged in them.
In saying that Law or Medicine is not the end of a
University course, I do not mean to imply that the
University does not teach Law or Medicine. What in
deed can it teach at all, if it does not teach something
particular ? It teaches all knowledge by teaching all
branches of knowledge, and in no other way. I do but
say that there will be this distinction as regards a Pro
fessor of Law, or of Medicine, or of Geology, or of
Political Economy, in a University and out of it, that
out of a University he is in danger of being absorbed
and narrowed by his pursuit, and of giving Lectures which
are the Lectures of nothing more than a lawyer, physi
cian, geologist, or political economist; whereas in a Uni
versity he will just know where he and his science stand,
he has come to it, as it were, from a height, he has taken
Knowledge and Professional Skill. 167
a survey of all knowledge, he is kept from extravagance
by the very rivalry of other studies, he has gained from
them a special illumination and largeness of mind and
freedom and self-possession, and he treats his own in con
sequence with a philosophy and a resource, which belongs
not to the study itself, but to his liberal education. JJ
This then is how I should solve the fallacy, for^so
must call it, by which Locke and his disciples would
frighten us from cultivating the intellect, under the notion
that no education is useful which does not teach us some
temporal calling, or some mechanical art, or some phy
sical secret. I say that a cultivated intellect, because it
is a good in itself, brings with it a power and a grace
to every work and occupation which it undertakes, and
enables us to be more useful, and to a greater number.
There is a duty we owe to human society as such, to the
state to which we belong, to the sphere in which we
move, to the individuals towards whom we are variously
related, and whom we successively encounter in life ;
and that philosophical or liberal education, as I have
called it, which is the proper function of a University, if
it refuses the foremost place to professional interests,
does but postpone them to the formation of the citizen,
and, while it subserves the larger interests of philan
thropy, prepares also for the successful prosecution of
those merely personal objects, which at first sight it
seems to disparage.
7-
And now, Gentlemen, I wish to be allowed to enforce
in detail what I have been saying, by some extracts
from the writings to which I have already alluded, and to
which I am so greatly indebted.
" It is an undisputed maxim in Political Economy,"
168 Discourse VIL
says Dr. Copleston, " that the separation of" professions
and the division of labour tend to the perfection of
every art, to the wealth of nations, to the general com
fort and well-being of the community. This principle
of division is in some instances pursued so far as to
excite the wonder of "people to whose notice it is for the
first time pointed out. There is no saying to what ex
tent it may not be carried ; and the more the powers of
each individual are concentrated in one employment, the
greater skill and quickness will he naturally display in
performing it. But, while he thus contributes more
efTectually to the accumulation of national wealth, he
becomes himself more and more degraded as a rational
being. In proportion as his sphere of action is narrowed
his mental powers and habits become contracted ; and
he resembles a subordinate part of some powerful ma
chinery, useful in its place, but insignificant and worth
less out of it. If it be necessary, as it is beyond all
question necessary, that society should be split into
divisions and subdivisions, in order that its several duties
may be well performed, yet we must be careful not to
yield up ourselves wholly and exclusively to the guidance
of this system ; we must observe what its evils are, and we
should modify and restrain it, by bringing into action
other principles, which may serve as a check and coun
terpoise to the main force.
" There can be no doubt that every art is improved by
confining the professor of it to that single study. But,
although the art itself is advanced by this concentration of
mind in its service, the individual who is confined to it
goes back. The advantage of the community is nearly in
an inverse ratio with his own.
" Society itself requires some other contribution from
each individual, besides the particular duties of his
Knowledge and Professional Skill. 1 69
profession. And, if no such liberal intercourse be estab
lished, it is the common failing of human nature, to be
engrossed with petty views and interests, to underrate
the importance of all in which we are not concerned, and
to carry our partial notions into cases where they are
inapplicable, to act, in short, as so many unconnected
units, displacing and repelling one another.
" In the cultivation of literature is found that common
link, which, among the higher and middling departments
of life, unites the jarring sects and subdivisions into one
interest, which supplies common topics, and kindles
common feelings, unmixed with those narrow prejudices
with which all professions are more or less infected. The
knowledge, too, which is thus acquired, expands and
enlarges the mind, excites its faculties, and calls those
limbs and muscles into freer exercise which, by too
constant use in one direction, not only acquire an
illiberal air, but are apt also to lose somewhat of their
native play and energy. And thus, without directly
qualifying a man for any of the employments of life, it
enriches and ennobles all. Without teaching him the
peculiar business of any one office or calling, it enables
him to act his part in each of them with better grace and
more elevated carriage ; and, if happily planned and con
ducted, is a main ingredient in that complete and
generous education which fits a man ' to perform justly,
skilfully, and magnanimously, all the offices, both private
and public, of peace and war.' "*
8.
The view of Liberal Education, advocated in these
extracts, is expanded by Mr. Davison in the Essay to
which I have already referred. He lays more stress on
* Vid. Milton on Education.
170 Discourse VII.
the " usefulness" of Liberal Education in the larger sense
of the word than his predecessor in the controversy.
Instead of arguing that the Utility of knowledge to the
individual varies inversely with its Utility to the public,
he chiefly employs himself on the suggestions contained
in Dr. Copleston's fast sentences. He shows, first, that
a Liberal Education is something far higher, even in
the scale of Utility, than what is commonly called a
Useful Education, and next, that it is necessary or useful
for the purposes even of that Professional Education which
commonly engrosses the title of Useful. The former of
these two theses he recommends to us in an argument
from which the following passages are selected : —
" It is to take a very contracted view of life," he says,
"to think with great anxiety how persons may be
educated to superior skill in their department, compara
tively neglecting or excluding the more liberal and
enlarged cultivation. In his (Mr. Edgeworth's) system,
the value of every attainment is to be measured by its
subserviency to a calling. The specific duties of that
calling are exalted at the cost of those free and indepen
dent tastes and virtues which come in to sustain the
common relations of society, and raise the individual in
them. In short, a man is to be usurped by his profession.
He is to be clothed in its garb from head to foot His
virtues, his science, and his ideas are all to be put into a
gown or uniform, and the whole man to be shaped,
pressed, and stiffened, in the exact mould of his technical
character. Any interloping accomplishments, or a faculty
which cannot be taken into public pay, if they are to be
indulged in him at all, must creep along under the cloak
of his more serviceable privileged merits. Such is the
state of perfection to which the spirit and general ten
dency of this system would lead us.
Knowledge and Professional Skill. 1 7 1
"But the professional character is not the only one
which a person engaged in a profession has to support.
He is not always upon duty. There are services he owes,
which are neither parochial, nor forensic, nor military,
nor to be described by any such epithet of civil regulation,
and yet are in no wise inferior to those that bear these -
authoritative titles; inferior neither in their intrinsic value,
nor their moral import, nor their impression upon society.
As a friend, as a companion, as a citizen at large ; in
the connections of domestic life ; in the improvement and
embellishment of his leisure, he has a sphere of action,
revolving, if you please, within the sphere of his profes
sion, but not clashing with it ; in which if he can show
none of the advantages of an improved understanding,!
whatever may be his skill or proficiency in the other, he'
is no more than an ill-educated man.
" There is a certain faculty in which all nations of any
refinement are great practitioners. It is not taught at
school or college as a distinct science ; though it deserves
that what is taught there should be made to have some
reference to it ; nor is it endowed at all by the public ;
everybody being obliged to exercise it for himself in
person, which he does to the best of his skill. But in
nothing is there a greater difference than in the manner
of doing it. The advocates of professional learning will
smile when we tell them that this same faculty which we
would have encouraged, is simply that of speaking good
sense in English, without fee or reward, in common con
versation. They will smile when we lay some stress
upon it ; but in reality it is no such trifle as they
imagine. Look into the huts of savages, and see, for
there is nothing to listen to, the dismal blank of their
stupid hours of silence ; their professional avocations of
war and hunting are over ; and, having nothing to do,
172 Discourse VI L
they have nothing to say. Turn to improved life, and you
find conversation in all its forms the medium of some
thing more than an idle pleasure ; indeed, a very active
agent in circulating and forming the opinions, tastes, and
feelings of a whole people. It makes of itself a con
siderable affair. Its'topics are the most promiscuous —
all those which do not belong to any particular province.
As for its power and influence, we may fairly say that it
is of just the same consequence to a man's immediate
society, how he talks, as how he acts. Now of all those
who furnish their share to rational conversation, a mere
adept in his own art is universally admitted to be the
worst. The sterility and uninstructiveness of such a
person's social hours are quite proverbial. Or if he
escape being dull, it is only by launching into ill-timed,
learned loquacity. We do not desire of him lectures or
speeches ; and he has nothing else to give. Among
benches he may be powerful ; but seated on a chair he
is quite another person. On the other hand, we may
affirm, that one of the best companions is a man who,
to the accuracy and research of a profession, has joined
a free excursive acquaintance with various learning, and
caught from it the spirit of general observation."
9-
Having thus shown that a liberal education is a real
benefit to the subjects of it, as members of society, in the
various duties and circumstances and accidents of life,
he goes on, in the next place, to show that, over and
above those direct services which might fairly be ex
pected of it, it actually subserves the discharge of those
particular functions, and the pursuit of those particular
advantages, which are connected with professional exer
tion, and to which Professional Education is directed.
Knowledge and Professional Skill. 173
" We admit," he observes, " that when a person makes
a business of one pursuit, he is in the right way to emi
nence in it ; and that divided attention will rarely give
excellence in many. But our assent will go no further.
For, to think that the way to prepare a person for excel
ling in any one pursuit (and that is the only point in
hand), is to fetter his early studies, and cramp the first
development of his mind, by a reference to the exigencies
of that pursuit barely, is a very different notion, and one
which, we apprehend, deserves to be exploded rather than
received. Possibly a few of the abstract, insulated kinds
of learning might be approached in that way. The ex
ceptions to be made are very few, and need not be
recited. But for the acquisition of professional and
practical ability such maxims are death to it. The
main ingredients of that ability are requisite knowledge
and cultivated faculties ; but, of the two, the latter is by
far the chief. A man of well improved faculties has the
command of another's knowledge. A man without them,
has not the command of his own.
" Of the intellectual powers, the judgment is that which
takes the foremost lead in life. How to form it to the
two habits it ought to possess, of exactness and vigour, is
the problem. It would be ignorant presumption so
much as to hint at any routine of method by which
these qualities may with certainty be imparted to every
or any understanding. Still, however, we may safely
lay it down that they are not to be got 'by a gatherer of
simples,' but are the combined essence and extracts of
many different things, drawn from much varied reading
and discipline, first, and observation afterwards. For if
there be a single intelligible point on this head, it is that
a man who has been trained to think upon one subject
or for one subject only, will never be a good judge even
174 Discourse VII.
in that one : whereas the enlargement of his circle gives
him increased knowledge and power in a rapidly in
creasing ratio. So much do ideas act, not as solitary
units, but by grouping and combination ; and so clearly
do all the things that fall within the proper province of
the same faculty of the mind, intertwine with and support
each other. Judgment lives as it were by comparison
and discrimination. Can it be doubted, then, whether
the range and extent of that assemblage of things upon
which it is practised in its first essays are of use to its
power ?
" To open our way a little further on this matter, we
will define what we mean by the power of judgment ;
and then try to ascertain among what kind of studies
the improvement of it may be expected at all
"Judgment does not stand here for a certain homely,
useful quality of intellect, that guards a person from
committing mistakes to the injury of his fortunes or
common reputation ; but for that master-principle of
business, literature, and talent, which gives him strength
in any subject he chooses to grapple with, and enables
him to seize the strong point in it. Whether this definition
be metaphysically correct or not, it comes home to the
substance of our inquiry. It describes the power that
every one desires to possess when he comes to act in a
profession, or elsewhere ; and corresponds with our best
idea of a cultivated mind.
41 Next, it will not be denied, that in order to do any
good to the judgment, the mind must be employed
upon such subjects as come within the cognizance of
that faculty, and give some real exercise to its percep
tions. Here we have a rule of selection by which the
different parts of learning may be classed for our purpose.
Those which belong to the province of the judgment
Knowledge and Professional Skill. 175
are religion (in its evidences and interpretation), ethics,
history, eloquence, poetry, theories of general speculation,
the fine arts, and works of wit. Great as the variety of
these large divisions of learning may appear, they are all
held in union by two capital principles of connexion.
First, they are all quarried out of one and the same great
subject of man's moral, social, and feeling nature. And
secondly, they are all under the control (more or less
strict) of the same power of moral reason."
" If these studies," he continues, " be such as give a
direct play and exercise to the faculty of the judgment,
then they are the true basis of education for the active
and inventive powers, whether destined for a profession
or any other use. Miscellaneous as the assemblage may
appear, of history, eloquence, poetry, ethics, etc., blended
together, they will all conspire in an union of effect.
They are necessary mutually to explain and interpret
each other. The knowledge derived from them all will
amalgamate, and the habits of a mind versed and
practised in them by turns will join to produce a richer
vein of thought and of more general and practical
application than could be obtained of any single one, as
the fusion of the metals into Corinthian brass gave the
artist his most ductile and perfect material. Might we
venture to imitate an author (whom indeed it is much
safer to take as an authority than to attempt to copy),
Lord Bacon, in some of his concise illustrations of the
comparative utility of the different studies, we should
say that history would give fulness, moral philosophy
strength, and poetry elevation to the understanding.
Such in reality is the natural force and tendency of the
studies ; but there are few minds susceptible enough
to derive from them any sort of virtue adequate to
those high expressions. We mast be content there
176 Discourse F//.
fore to lower our panegyric to this, that a person cannot
avoid receiving some infusion and tincture, at least, of
those several qualities, from that course of diversified
reading. One thing is unquestionable, that the elements
of general reason are not to be found fully and truly ex
pressed in any one kind of study; and that he who would
wish to know her idiom, must read it in many books.
" If different studies are useful for aiding, they are still
more useful for correcting each other ; for as they have
their particular merits severally, so they have their
defects, and the most extensive acquaintance with one
can produce only an intellect either too flashy or too
jejune, or infected with some other fault of confined
reading. History, for example, shows things as they are,
that is, the morals and interests of men disfigured and
perverted by all their imperfections of passion, folly, and
ambition ; philosophy strips the picture too much; poetry
adorns it too much ; the concentrated lights of the three
correct the false peculiar colouring of each, and show us
the truth. The right mode of thinking upon it is to be
had from them taken all together, as every one must
know who has seen their united contributions of thought
and feeling expressed in the masculine sentiment of our
immortal statesman, Mr. Burke, whose eloquence is
inferior only to his more admirable wisdom. If any
mind improved like his, is to be our instructor, we must
go to the fountain head of things as he did, and study
not his works but his method ; by the one we may
become feeble imitators, by the other arrive at some
ability of our own. But, as all biography assures us, he,
and every other able thinker, has been formed, not by
a parsimonious admeasurement of studies to some
definite future object (which is Mr. Edgeworth's maxim),
but by taking a wide and liberal compass, and thinking
Knowledge and Professional Skill. 1 7 ?
a, great deal on many subjects with no better end in
view than because the exercise was one which made
them more rational and intelligent beings."
10.
But I must bring these extracts to an end. To-day I
have confined myself to saying that that training of the
intellect, which is best for the individual himself, best
enables him to discharge his duties to society. The
Philosopher, indeed, and the man of the world differ in
their very notion, but the methods, by which they are re
spectively formed, are pretty much the same. The Philoso
pher has the same command of matters of thought, which
the true citizen and gentleman has of matters of business
and conduct. If then a practical end must be assigned to a
University course, I say it is that of training good mem
bers of society. Its art is the art of social life, and its end is
fitness for the world. It neither confines its views to parti
cular professions on the one hand, nor creates heroes or
inspires genius on the other. Works indeed of genius fall
under no art; heroic minds come under no rule; a Univer
sity is not a birthplace of poets or of immortal authors, of
founders of schools, leaders of colonies, or conquerors of
nations. It does not promise a generation of Aristotles or
Newtons, of Napoleons or Washingtons, of Raphaels or
Shakespeares, though such miracles of nature it has before
now contained within its precincts. Nor is it content on the
other hand with forming the critic or the experimentalist,
the economist or the engineer, though such too it includes
within its scope. But a University training is the great
ordinary means to a great but ordinary end; it aims at
raising the intellectual tone of society, at cultivating the
public mind, at purifying the national taste, at supplying
true principles to popular enthusiasm and fixed aims to
12
J Discourse VII.
popular aspiration, at giving enlargement and sobriety to
the ideas of the age, at facilitating the exercise of political
power, and refining the intercourse of private life. It is
the education which gives a man a clear conscious view
of his own opinions and judgments, a truth in developing
them, an eloquence in expressing them, and a force in
urging them. It teaches him to see things as they are,
to go right to the point, to disentangle a skein of thought,
to detect what is sophistical, and to discard what is irre
levant. It prepares him to fill any post with credit, and
to master any subject with facility. It shows him how
to accommodate himself to others, how to throw himself
into their state of mind, how to bring before them his
own, how to influence them, how to come to an under
standing with them, how to bear with them. He is at
home in any society, he has common ground with every
class ; he knows when to speak and when to be silent ;
he is able to converse, he is able to listen ; he can ask a
question pertinently, and gain a lesson seasonably, when
he has nothing to impart himself ; he is ever ready, yet
never in the way ; he is a pleasant companion, and a
comrade you can depend upon ; he knows when to be
serious and when to trifle, and he has a sure tact which
enables him to trifle with gracefulness and to be serious
with effect. He has the repose of a mind which lives in
itself, while it lives in the world, and which has resources
for its happiness at home when it cannot go abroad. He
has a gift which serves him in public, and supports him
in retirement, without which good fortune is but vulgar,
and with which failure and disappointment have a charm.
The art which tends to make a man all this, is in the
object which it pursues as useful as the art of wealth or the
art of health, though it is less susceptible of method, and
less tangible, less certain, less complete in its result
179
DISCOURSE VIII.
KNOWLEDGE VIEWED IN RELATION TO RELIGION.
I.
WE shall be brought, Gentlemen, to-day, to the
termination of the investigation which I com
menced three Discourses back, and which, I was well
aware, from its length, if for no other reason, would make
demands upon the patience even of indulgent hearers.
First I employed myself in establishing the principle
that Knowledge is its own reward ; and I showed that,
when considered in this light, it is called Liberal Know
ledge, and is the scope of Academical Institutions. * ft
Next, I examined what is meant by Knowledge, when
it is said to be pursued for its own sake ; and I showed
that, in order satisfactorily to fulfil this idea, Philosophy
must be its form ; or, in other words, that its matter
must not be admitted into the mind passively, as so much
acquirement, but must be mastered and appropriated as a
system consisting of parts, related one to the other, and
interpretative of one another in the unity of a whole.
Further, I showed that such a philosophical contem
plation of the field of Knowledge as a whole, leading, as
it did, to an understanding of its separate departments,
and an appreciation of them respectively, might in con
sequence be rightly called an illumination ; also, it was
rightly called an enlargement of mind, because it was a
i8o Discourse VIIL
distinct location of things one with another, as if in
space ; while it was moreover its proper cultivation and
its best condition, both because it secured to the intellect
the sight of things as they are, or of truth, in opposition
to fancy, opinion, and theory ; and again, because it pre
supposed and involved the perfection of its various
^ powers.
Such, I said, was that Knowledge, which deserves to
be sought for its own sake, even though it promised no
ulterior advantage. But, when I had got as far as this, I
went farther, and observed that, from the nature of the
case, what was so good in itself could not but have a
number of external uses, though it did not promise them,
simply because it was good ; and that it was necessarily
the source of benefits to society, great and diversified in
proportion to its own intrinsic excellence. Just as in
morals, honesty is the best policy, as being profitable in
a secular aspect, though such profit is not the measure
of its worth, so too as regards what may be called the
virtues of the Intellect, their very possession indeed is a
substantial good, and is enough, yet still that substance
has a shadow, inseparable from it, viz., its social and
political usefulness. And this was the subject to which
I devoted the preceding Discourse.
One portion of the subject remains : — this intellectual
culture, which is so exalted in itself, not only has a
bearing upon social and active duties, but upon Religion
also. The educated mind may be said to be in a certain
sense religious ; that is, it has what may be considered a
religion of its own, independent of Catholicism, partly co
operating with it, partly thwarting it ; at once a defence
yet a disturbance to the Church in Catholic countries, —
and in countries beyond her pale, at one time in open
warfare with her, at another in defensive alliance. The
Knowledge and Religious Duty. 1 8 1
history of Schools and Academies, and of Literature and
Science generally, will, I think, justify me in thus speak
ing. Since, then, my aim in these Discourses is to
ascertain the function and the action of a University,
viewed in itself, and its relations to the various instru
ments of teaching and training which are round about it,
my survey of it would not be complete unless I attempted,
as I now propose to do, to exhibit its general bearings
upon Religion.
2.
Right Reason, that is, Reason rightly exercised, leads
the mind to the Catholic Faith, and plants it there, and
teaches it in all its religious speculations to act under its
guidance. But Reason, considered as a real agent in the
world, and as an operative principle in man's nature, with
an historical course and with definite results, is far from
taking so straight and satisfactory a direction. It
considers itself from first to last independent and
supreme ; it requires no external authority ; it makes a
religion foi itself. Even though it accepts Catholicism,
it does not go to sleep ; it has an action and development
of its own, as the passions have, or the moral sentiments,
or the principle of self-interest. Divine grace, to use the
language of Theology, does not by its presence supersede
nature ; nor is nature at once brought into simple concur
rence and coalition with grace. Nature pursues its course,
now coincident with that of grace, now parallel to it, now
across, now divergent, now counter, in proportion to its
own imperfection and to the attraction and influence
which grace exerts over it. And what takes place as
regards other principles of our nature and their develop
ments is found also as regards the Reason. There is, we
know, a Religion of enthusiasm, of superstitious ignorance
1 82 Discourse VI II.
of statecraft ; and each has that in it which resembles
Catholicism, and that again which contradicts Catho
licism. There is the Religion of a warlike people, and
of a pastoral people ; there is a Religion of rude times,
and in like manner there is a Religion of civilized times,
of the cultivated intellect, of the philosopher, scholar,
and gentleman. This is that Religion of Reason, of
which I speak. Viewed in itself, however near it comes
to Catholicism, it is of course simply distinct from it ; for
Catholicism is one whole, and admits of no compromise
or modification. Yet this is to view it in the abstract ;
in matter of fact, and in reference to individuals, we
can have no difficulty in conceiving this philosophical
Religion present in a Catholic country, as a spirit in
fluencing men to a certain extent, for good or for bad
or for both, — a spirit of the age, which again may be
found, as among Catholics, so with still greater sway
and success in a country not Catholic, yet specifically
the same in such a country as it exists in a Catholic
community. The problem then before us to-day, is to
set down some portions of the outline, if we can ascertain
them, of the Religion of Civilization, and to determine
how they lie relatively to those principles, doctrines, and
rules, which Heaven has given us in the Catholic
Church.
And here again, when I speak of Revealed Truth, it
is scarcely necessary to say that I am not referring to
the main articles and prominent points of faith, as con
tained in the Creed. Had I undertaken to delineate a
philosophy, which directly interfered with the Creed, I
could not have spoken of it as compatible with the pro
fession of Catholicism. The philosophy I speak of,
whether it be viewed within or outside the Church, does
not necessarily take cognizance of the Creed. Where
Knowledge and Religious Duly. 183
the country is Catholic, the educated mind takes its
articles for granted, by a sort of implicit faith; where
it is not, it simply ignores them and the whole subject-
matter to which they relate, as not affecting social and
political interests. Truths about God's Nature, about
His dealings towards the human race, about the
Economy of Redemption, — in the one case it humbly
accepts them, and passes on ; in the other it passes them
over, as matters of simple opinion, which never can be
decided, and which can have no power over us to make
us morally better or worse. I am not speaking then of
belief in the great objects of faith, when I speak of
Catholicism, but I am contemplating Catholicism chiefly
as a system of pastoral instruction and moral duty; and
I have to do with its doctrines mainly as they are sub
servient to its direction of the conscience and the con
duct. I speak of it, for instance, as teaching the ruined
state of man ; his utter inability to gain Heaven by any
thing he can do himself; the moral certainty of his
losing his soul if left to himself ; the simple absence of
all rights and claims on the part of the creature in the
presence of the Creator; the illimitable claims of the
Creator on the service of the creature; the imperative
and obligatory force of the voice of conscience ; and
the inconceivable evil of sensuality. I speak of it as
teaching, that no one gains Heaven except by the free
grace of God, or without a regeneration of nature ; that
no one can please Him without faith ; that the heart is
the seat both of sin and of obedience ; that charity is
the fulfilling of the Law ; and that incorporation into
the Catholic Church is the ordinary instrument of salva
tion. These are the lessons which distinguish Catholi
cism as a popular religion, and these are the subjects to
which the cultivated intellect will practically be turned ;—
1 84 Discourse VIII
I have to compare and contrast, not the doctrinal, but
the moral and social teaching of Philosophy on the one
hand, and Catholicism on the other.
3-
Now, on opening the subject, we see at once a momen
tous benefit which the philosopher is likely to confer on
the pastors of the Church. It is obvious that the first
step which they have to effect in the conversion of man
and the renovation of his nature, is his rescue from that
fearful subjection to sense which is his ordinary state.
To be able to break through the meshes of that thral
dom, and to disentangle and to disengage its ten thou
sand holds upon the heart, is to bring it, I might almost
say, half way to Heaven. Here, even divine grace, to
speak of things according to their appearances, is ordi
narily baffled, and retires, without expedient or resource,
before this giant fascination. Religion seems too high
and unearthly to be able to exert a continued influence
upon us : its effort to rouse the soul, and the soul's effort
to co-operate, are too violent to last. It is like holding
out the arm at full length, or supporting some great
weight, which we manage to do for a time, but soon are
exhausted and succumb. Nothing can act beyond its
own nature ; when then we are called to what is super
natural, though those extraordinary aids from Heaven
are given us, with which obedience becomes possible, yet
even with them it is of transcendent difficulty. We are
drawn down to earth every moment with the ease and
certainty of a natural gravitation, and it is only by
sudden impulses and, as it were, forcible plunges that we
attempt to mount upwards. Religion indeed enlightens,
terrifies, subdues ; it gives faith, it inflicts remorse, it in
spires resolutions, it draws tears, it inflames devotion, but
Knowledge and Religious Duty. 1 85
only for the occasion. I repeat, it imparts an inward
power which ought to effect more than this ; I am not
forgetting either the real sufficiency of its aids, nor the
responsibility of those in whom they fail. I am not
discussing theological questions at all, I am looking at
phenomena as they lie before me, and I say that, in
matter of fact, the sinful spirit repents, and protests it
will never sin again, and for a while is protected by disgust
and abhorrence from the malice of its foe. But that foe
knows too well that such seasons of repentance are wont
to have their end : he patiently waits, till nature faints
with the effort of resistance, and lies passive and hope
less under the next access of temptation. What we
need then is some expedient or instrument, which at least
will obstruct and stave off the approach of our spiritual
enemy, and which is sufficiently congenial and level
with our nature to maintain as firm a hold upon us as
the inducements of sensual gratification. It will be our
wisdom to employ nature against itself. Thus sorrow,
sickness, and care are providential antagonists to our
inward disorders ; they come upon us as years pass on,
and generally produce their natural effects on us, in pro
portion as we are subjected to their influence. These,
however, are God's instruments, not ours ; we need a
similar remedy, which we can make our own, the object
of some legitimate faculty, or the aim of some natural
affection, which is capable of resting on the mind, and
taking up its familiar lodging with it, and engrossing it,
and which thus becomes a match for the besetting power
of sensuality, and a sort of homoeopathic medicine for the
disease. Here then I think is the important aid which
intellectual cultivation furnishes to us in rescuing the
victims of passion and self-will. It does not supply re
ligious motives ; it is not the cause or proper antecedent
1 86 Discourse VIII.
of any thing supernatural ; it is not meritorious of
heavenly aid or reward ; but it does a work, at least
materially good (as theologians speak), whatever be its
real and formal character. It expels the excitements^ of
sense by the introduction of those of the intellect.
This then is the primd facie advantage of the pursuit
of Knowledge ; it is the drawing the mind off from
things which will harm it to subjects which are worthy
a rational being ; and, though it does not raise it above
nature, nor has any tendency to make us pleasing to our
Maker, yet is it nothing to substitute what is in itself
harmless for what is, to say the least, inexpressibly
dangerous ? is it a little thing to exchange a circle of
ideas which are certainly sinful, for others which are
certainly not so ? You will say, perhaps, in the words
of the Apostle, " Knowledge puffeth up :" and doubtless
this mental cultivation, even when it is successful for the
purpose for which I am applying it, may be from the
first nothing more than the substitution of pride for
sensuality. I grant it, I think I shall have something to
say on this point presently ; but this is not a necessary
result, it is but an incidental evil, a danger which may
be realized or may be averted, whereas we may in most
cases predicate guilt, and guilt of a heinous kind, where
the mind is suffered to run wild and indulge its thoughts
without training or law of any kind ; and surely to turn
away a soul from mortal sin is a good and a gain so
far, whatever comes of it. And therefore, if a friend in
need is twice a friend, I conceive that intellectual employ
ments, though they do no more than occupy the mind
with objects naturally noble or innocent, have a special
claim upon our consideration and gratitude.
Knowledge and Religious Duty. 187
4-
Nor is this all : Knowledge, the discipline by which it
is gained, and the tastes which it forms, have a natural
tendency to refine the mind, and to give it an indispo
sition, simply natural, yet real, nay, more than this, a
disgust and abhorrence, towards excesses and enormi
ties of evil, which are often or ordinarily reached at
length by those who are not careful from the first to
set themselves against what is vicious and criminal. It
generates within the mind a fastidiousness, analogous to
the delicacy or daintiness which good nurture or a sickly
habit induces in respect of food ; and this fastidiousness,
though arguing no high principle, though no protection
in the case of violent temptation, nor sure in its operation,
yet will often or generally be lively enough to create
an absolute loathing of certain offences, or a detestation
and scorn of them as ungentlemanlike, to which ruder
natures, nay, such as have far more of real religion in
them, are tempted, or even betrayed. Scarcely can we
exaggerate the value, in its place, of a safeguard such as
this, as regards those multitudes who are thrown upon
the open field of the world, or are withdrawn from its
eye and from the restraint of public opinion. In many
cases, where it exists, sins, familiar to those who are
otherwise circumstanced, will not even occur to the
mind : in others, the sense of shame and the quickened
apprehension of detection will act as a sufficient obstacle
to them, when they do present themselves before it.
Then, again, the fastidiousness I am speaking of will
create a simple hatred of that miserable tone of conver
sation which, obtaining as it does in the world, is a con
stant fuel of evil, heaped up round about the soul : more
over, it will create an irresolution and indecision in doing
1 88 Discourse VI1L
wrong, which will act as a remora till the danger is past
away. And though it has no tendency, I repeat, to
mend the heart, or to secure it from the dominion in
other shapes of those very evils which it repels in the
particular modes of approach by which they prevail over
others, yet cases may occur when it gives birth, after sins
have been committed, to so keen a remorse and so intense
a self-hatred, as are even sufficient to cure the particular
moral disorder, and to prevent its accesses ever after
wards ; — as the spendthrift in the story, who, after gazing
on his lost acres from the summit of an eminence, came
down a miser, and remained a miser to the end of his
days.
And all this holds good in a special way, in an age
such as ours, when, although pain of body and mind
may be rife as heretofore, yet other counteractions of evil,
of a penal character, which are present at other times, are
away. In rude and semi-barbarous periods, at least in a
climate such as our own, it is the daily, nay, the principal
business of the senses, to convey feelings of discomfort
to the mind, as far as they convey feelings at all. Expo
sure to the elements, social disorder and lawlessness, the
tyranny of the powerful, and the inroads of enemies, are
a stern discipline, allowing brief intervals, or awarding a
sharp penance, to sloth and sensuality. The rude food,
the scanty clothing, the violent exercise, the vagrant life,
the military constraint, the imperfect pharmacy, which
now are the trials of only particular classes of the
community, were once the lot more or less of all. In the
deep woods or the wild solitudes of the medieval era,
feelings of religion or superstition were naturally pre
sent to the population, which in various ways co-operated
with the missionary or 'pastor, in retaining it in a noble
simplicity of manners. But, when in the advancement-
Knowledge and Religious Duty. 1 89
of society men congregate in towns, and multiply in con
tracted spaces, and law gives them security, and art
gives them comforts, and good government robs them of
courage and manliness, and monotony of life throws
them back upon themselves, who does not see that
diversion or protection from evil they have none, that
vice is the mere reaction of unhealthy toil, and sensual
excess the holyday of resourceless ignorance ? This is
so well understood by the practical benevolence of the
day, that it has especially busied itself in plans for sup
plying the masses of our town population with intel
lectual and honourable recreations. Cheap literature,
libraries of useful and entertaining knowledge, scientific
lectureships, museums, zoological collections, buildings
and gardens to please the eye and to give repose to the
feelings, external objects of whatever kind, which may
take the mind off itself, and expand and elevate it in
liberal contemplations, these are the human means, wisely
suggested, and good as far as they go, for at least parrying
the assaults of moral evil, and keeping at bay the enemies,
not only of the individual soul, but of society at large.
Such are the instruments by which an age of advanced
civilization combats those moral disorders, which Reason
as well as Revelation denounces ; and I have not been
backward to express my sense of their serviceableness
to Religion. Moreover, they are but the foremost of a
series of influences, which intellectual culture exerts
upon our moral nature, and all upon the type of Chris
tianity, manifesting themselves in veracity, probity,
equity, fairness, gentleness, benevolence, and amiable-
ness ; so much so, that a character more noble to look
at, more beautiful, more winning, in the various relations
of life and in personal duties, is hardly conceivable, than
may, or might be, its result, when that culture is bestowed
Discourse VI1L
upon a soil naturally adapted to virtue. If you would
obtain a picture for contemplation which may seem to
fulfil the ideal, which the Apostle has delineated under
the name of chanty, in its sweetness and harmony, its
generosity, its courtesy to others, and its depreciation of
self, you could not have recourse to a better furnished
studio than to that of Philosophy, with the specimens of
it, which with greater or less exactness are scattered
through society in a civilized age. It is enough to refer
you, Gentlemen, to the various Biographies and Remains
of contemporaries and others, which from time to time
issue from the press, to see how striking is the action of
our intellectual upon our moral nature, where the moral
material is rich, and the intellectual cast is perfect
Individuals will occur to all of us, who deservedly attract
our love and admiration, and whom the world almost
worships as the work of its own hands. Religious
principle, indeed, — that is, faith, — is, to all appearance,
simply away ; the work is as certainly not supernatural
as it is certainly noble and beautiful. This must be
insisted on, that the Intellect may have its due ; but
it also must be insisted on for the sake of conclusions
to which I wish to conduct our investigation. The
radical difference indeed of this mental refinement from
genuine religion, in spite of its seeming relationship, is
the very cardinal point on which my present discussion
turns ; yet, on the other hand, such refinement may
readily be assigned to a Christian origin by hasty or
distant observers, or by those who view it in a particular
light And as this is the case, I think it advisable,
before proceeding with the delineation of its character
istic features, to point out to you distinctly the elemen
tary principles on which its morality is based.
Knowledge and Religious Duty. 191
5-
You will bear in mind then, Gentlemen, that I spoke
just now of the scorn and hatred which a cultivated mind
feels for some kinds of vice, and the utter disgust and
profound humiliation which may come over it, if it
should happen in any degree to be betrayed into them.
Now this feeling may have its root in faith and love, but
it may not ; there is nothing really religious in it, con
sidered by itself. Conscience indeed is implanted in the
breast by nature, but it inflicts upon us fear as well as
shame ; when the mind is simply angry with itself and
nothing more, surely the true import of the voice of
nature and the depth of its intimations have been
forgotten, and a false philosophy has misinterpreted
emotions which ought to lead to God. Fear implies
the transgression of a law, and a law implies a lawgiver
and judge ; but the tendency of intellectual culture is to
swallow up the fear in the self-reproach, and self-reproach
is directed and limited to our mere sense of what is fitting
and becoming. Fear carries us out of ourselves, whereas
shame may act upon us only within the round of our
own thoughts. Such, I say, is the danger which awaits
a civilized age ; such is its besetting sin (not inevitable,
God forbid ! or we must abandon the use of God's own
gifts), but still the ordinary sin of the Intellect ; con
science Jends_to become what is called a moral sense ;
the_jcornma.njd of duty is a sort of taste ; sin is not an
offence against God, but against human nature.
The less amiable specimens of this spurious religion
are those which we meet not unfrequently in my own
country. I can use with all my heart the poet's words,
44 England, with all thy faults. I love thee still ; *
192 Discourse VI 1L
but to those faults no Catholic can be blind. We find
there men possessed of many virtues, but proud, bashful,
fastidious, and reserved. Why is this ? it is because
they think and act as if there were really nothing
objective in their religion ; it is because conscience to
them is not the word of a lawgiver, as it ought to be,
but the dictate of their own minds and nothing more ;
it is because they do not look out of themselves, because
they do not look through and beyond their own minds
to their Maker, but are engrossed in notions of what is
due to themselves, to their own dignity and their own
consistency. Their conscience has become a mere self-
respect. Instead of doing one thing and then another,
as each is called for, in faith and obedience, careless of
what may be called the keeping of deed with deed, and
leaving Him who gives the command to blend the por
tions of their conduct into a whole, their one object,
however unconscious to themselves, is to paint a smooth
and perfect surface, and to be able to say to themselves
that they have done their duty. When they do wrong,
they feel, not contrition, of which God is the object, but
remorse, and a sense of degradation. They call them
selves fools, not sinners ; they are angry and impatient,
not humble. They shut themselves up in themselves ;
it is misery to them to think or to speak of their own
feelings; it is misery to suppose that others see them, and
their shyness and sensitiveness often become morbid. As
to confession, which is so natural to the Catholic, to them
it is impossible; unless indeed, in cases where they have
been guilty, an apology is due to their own character, is
expected of them, and will be satisfactory to look back
upon. They are victims of an intense self-contemplation.
There are, however, far more pleasing and interesting
forms of this moral malady than that which I have been
Knowledge and Religious Duty. 193
depicting : I have spoken of the effect of intellectual
culture on proud natures ; but it will show to greater
advantage, yet with as little approximation to religious
faith, in amiable and unaffected minds. Observe, Gentle
men, the heresy, as it may be called, of which I speak,
is the substitution of a moral sense or taste for con
science in the true meaning of the word ; now this error
may be the foundation of a character of far more
elasticity and grace than ever adorned the persons whom
I have been describing. It is especially congenial to men
of an imaginative and poetical cast of mind, who will
readily accept the notion that virtue is nothing more
than the graceful in conduct Such persons, far from
tolerating fear, as a principle, in their apprehension of
religious and moral truth, will not be slow to call it
simply gloom and superstition. Rather a philosopher's,
a gentleman's religion, is of a liberal and generous
character ; it is based upon honour; vice is evil, because
it is unworthy, despicable, and odious. This was the
quarrel of the ancient heathen with Christianity, that,
instead of simply fixing the mind on the fair and the
pleasant, it intermingled other ideas with them of a sad
and painful nature ; that it spoke of tears before joy, a
cross before a crown; that it laid the foundation of
heroism in penance ; that it made the soul tremble with
the nevvs of Purgatory and Hell ; that it insisted on views
and a worship of the Deity, which to their minds was
nothing else than mean, servile, and cowardly. The
notion of an All-perfect, Ever-present God, in whose
sight we are less than atoms, and who, while He deigns
to visit us, can punish as well as bless, was abhorrent to
them ; they made their own minds their sanctuary, their
own ideas their oracle, and conscience in morals was but
parallel to genius in art, and wisdom in philosophy.
'3
194 Discourse VII L
6.
Had I room for all that might be said upon the subject,
I might illustrate this intellectual religion from the history
of the Emperor Julian, the apostate from Christian Truth,
the foe of Christian education. He, in whom every
Catholic sees the shadow of the future Anti-Christ, was
all but the pattern-man of philosophical virtue. Weak
points in his character he had, it is true, even in a merely
poetical standard; but, take him all in all, and I cannot
but recognize in him a specious beauty and nobleness of
moral deportment, which combines in it the rude great
ness of Fabricius or Regulus with the accomplishments
of Pliny or Antoninus. His simplicity of manners, his
frugality, his austerity of life, his singular disdain of
sensual pleasure, his military heroism, his application to
business, his literary diligence, his modesty, his clemency,
his accomplishments, as I view them, go to make him
one of the most eminent specimens of pagan virtue
which the world has ever seen.* Yet how shallow, how
meagre, nay, how unamiable is that virtue after all, when
brought upon its critical trial by his sudden summons
into the presence of his Judge ! His last hours form a
unique passage in history, both as illustrating the help
lessness of philosophy under the stern realities of our
* I do not consider I have said above any thing inconsistent with the
following passage from Cardinal Gerdil, though I have enlarged on the favour
able side of Julian's character. " Du g£nie, des conn lissances, de rhabilite"
dans le metier de la guerre, du courage et du desint6ressement dans le com-
mandement des armees, des- actions plutdt que des qualit&i estimates,
mais le plus souvent gatees par la vanitS qui en e"tait le principe, la super
stition jointe k 1'hypocrisie ; un esprit fecond en ressources 6claire, mais sus
ceptible de petitesse ; des fautes essentielles dans le gouvernement ; des in-
rocens sacriftes a la vengeance ; une haine envenimee contre le Christianisme,
qu'il avait abandonne ; un attachement passionne" aux folies de la Theurgie ;
tels etaient les traits sous lesquels on nous preignait Julien." Op. t. x. p. 54.
Knowledge and Religious Duty. 195
being, and as being reported to us on the evidence of an
eye-witness. " Friends and fellow-soldiers," he said, to
use the words of a writer, well fitted, both from his
literary tastes and from his hatred of Christianity, to be
his panegyrist, " the seasonable period of my departure
is now arrived, and I discharge, with the cheerfulness of
a ready debtor, the demands of nature .... I die with
out remorse, as I have lived without guilt. I am pleased
to reflect on the innocence of my private life ; and I can
affirm with confidence that the supreme authority, that
emanation of the divine Power, has been preserved in
my hands pure and immaculate ... I now offer my
tribute of gratitude to the Eternal Being, who has not
suffered me to perish by the cruelty of a tyrant, by the
secret dagger of conspiracy, or by the slow tortures uf
lingering disease. He has given me, in the midst of an
honourable career, a splendid and glorious departure
from this world, and I hold it equally absurd, equally
base, to solicit, or to decline, the stroke of fate . . .
" He reproved the immoderate grief of the spectators,
and conjured them not to disgrace, by unmanly tears,
the fate of a prince who in a few moments would be
united with Heaven and with the stars. The spectators
were silent ; and Julian entered into a metaphysical
argument with the philosophers Priscus and Maximus
on the nature of the soul. The efforts which he made,
of mind as well as body, most probably hastened his
death. His wound began to bleed with great violence ;
his respiration was embarrassed by the swelling of the
veins ; he called for a draught of cold water, and as soon
as he had drank it expired without pain, about the
hour of midnight."* Such, Gentlemen, is the final!
exhibition of the Religion of Reason : in the insensibility}
* Gibbon, Hist., ch. 24.
196 Discourse VIII.
of conscience, in the ignorance of the very idea of sin, in
the contemplation of his own moral consistency, in the
simple absence of fear, in the cloudless self-confidence,
in the serene self-possession, in the cold self-satisfaction,
we recognize the mere Philosopher.
7-
Gibbon paints with pleasure what, conformably with
the sentiments of a godless intellectualism, was an his
torical fulfilment of his own idea of moral perfection;
I Lord Shaftesbury had already drawn out that idea in a
theoretical from, in his celebrated collection of Treatises
which he has called " Characteristics of men, manners,
opinions, views ;" and it will be a further illustration of
the subject before us, if you will allow me, Gentlemen, to
make some extracts from this work.
One of his first attacks is directed against the doctrine
of reward and punishment, as if it introduced a notion
into religion inconsistent with the true apprehension of
the beauty of virtue, and with the liberality and noble
ness of spirit in which it should be pursued. " Men
have not been content," he says, " to show the natural
advantages of honesty and virtue. They have rather
lessened these, the better, as they thought, to advance
another foundation. They have made virtue so mer
cenary a thing, and have talked so much of its rewards,
that one can hardly tell what there is in it, after all, which
can be worth rewarding. For to be bribed only or
terrified into an honest practice, bespeaks little of real
honesty or worth." " If," he says elsewhere, insinuating
what he dare not speak out, " if through hope merely of
reward, or fear of punishment, the creature be inclined
to do the good he hates, or restrained from doing the ill
to which he is not otherwise in the least degree averse,
l£now ledge and Religious Duty. 197
there is in this case no virtue or goodness whatever.
There is no more of rectitude, piety, or sanctity, in a
creature thus reformed, than there is meekness or
gentleness in a tiger strongly chained, or innocence and
sobriety in a monkey under the discipline of the whip
. . . . While the will is neither gained, nor the inclination
wrought upon, but awe alone prevails and forces obedi
ence, the obedience is servile, and all which is done
through it merely servile." That is, he says that
Christianity is the enemy of moral virtue, as influencing
the mind by fear of God, not by love of good.
The motives then of hope and fear being, to say the
least, put far into the background, and nothing being
morally good but what springs simply or mainly from a
love of virtue for its own sake, this love-inspiring quality
in virtue is its beauty, while a bad conscience is not
much more than the sort of feeling which makes us
shrink from an instrument out of tune. " Some by mere
nature," he says, " others by art and practice, are masters
of an ear in music, an eye in painting, a fancy in the
ordinary things of ornament and grace, a judgment in
proportions of all kinds, and a general good taste in
most of those subjects which make the amusement and
delight of the ingenious people of the world. Let such
gentlemen as these be as extravagant as they please, or
as irregular in their morals, they must at the same time
discover their inconsistency, live at variance with them
selves, and in contradiction to that principle on which
they ground their highest pleasure and entertainment.
Of all other beauties which virtuosos pursue, poets
celebrate, musicians sing, and architects or artists of
whatever kind describe or form, the most delightful,
the most engaging and pathetic, is that which is drawn
from real life and from the passions. Nothing affects
198 Discourse VII L
the heart like that which is purely from itself, and
of its own nature : such as the beauty of sentiments,
the grace of actions, the turn of characters, and the
proportions and features of a human mind. This lesson
of philosophy, even a romance, a poem, or a play ma)
teach us .... Let poets or the men of harmony deny,
if they can, this force of nature, or withstand this moral
magic .... Every one is a virtuoso of a higher or
lower degree ; every one pursues a grace ... of one
kind or other. The venustum, the honestum, the decorum
of things will force its way .... The most natural
beauty in the world is honesty and moral truth ; for all
beauty is truth."
Accordingly, virtue being only one kind of beauty, the
principle which determines what is virtuous is, not con
science, but taste. " Could we once convince ourselves,"
he says, " of what is in itself so evident, viz., that in the
very nature of things there must of necessity be the
foundation of a right and wrong taste, as well in respect
of inward character of features as of outward person, be
haviour, and action, we should be far more ashamed of
ignorance and wrong judgment in the former than in
the latter of these subjects .... One who aspires to the
character of a man of breeding and politeness is careful
to form his judgment of arts and sciences upon right
models of perfection .... He takes particular care to
turn his eye from every thing which is gaudy, luscious,
and of false taste. Nor is he less careful to turn his ear
from every sort of music, besides that which is of the
best manner and truest harmony. 'Twere to be wished
we had the same regard to a right taste in life and
manners .... If civility and humanity be a taste ; if
brutality, insolence, riot, be in the same manner a taste,
. who would not endeavour to force nature as well
Knowledge and Religious Duty. 1 99
in this respect as in what relates to a taste or judgment
in other arts and sciences ? "
Sometimes he distinctly contrasts this taste with prin
ciple and conscience, and gives it the preference over
them. "After all," he says, "'tis not merely what we
call principle, but a taste, which governs men. They
may think for certain, ' This is right/ or ' that wrong ; '
they may believe * this is a virtue,' or ' that a sin ; ' ' this
is punishable by man,' or ' that by God ; ' yet if the
savour of things lies cross to honesty, if the fancy be
florid, and the appetite high towards the subaltern
beauties and lower orders of worldly symmetries and
proportions, the conduct will infallibly turn this latter
way." Thus, somewhat like a Jansenist, he makes the
superior pleasure infallibly conquer, and implies that,
neglecting principle, we have but to train the taste to a
kind of beauty higher than sensual. He adds: "Even
conscience, I fear, such as is owing to religious discipline,
will make but a slight figure, when this taste is set
amiss."
And hence the well-known doctrine of this author,
that ridicule is the test of truth ; for truth and virtue
being beauty, and falsehood and vice deformity, and the
feeling inspired by deformity being that of derision, as
that inspired by beauty is admiration, it follows that
vice is not a thing to weep about, but to laugh at
" Nothing is ridiculous," he says, " but what is deformed ;
nor is any thing proof against raillery but what is hand
some and just. And therefore 'tis the hardest thing in
the world to deny fair honesty the use of this weapon,
which can never bear an edge against herself, and bears
against every thing contrary."
And hence again, conscience, which intimates a Law
giver, being superseded by a moral taste or sentiment,
200 Discourse VIII.
which has no sanction beyond the constitution of our
nature, it follows that our great rule is to contemplate
ourselves, if we would gain a standard of life and morals.
Thus he has entitled one of his Treatises a " Soliloquy,"
with the motto, " Nee te quaesiveris extra ; " and he
observes, " The chief interest of ambition, avarice,
corruption, and every sly insinuating vice, is to prevent
this interview and familiarity of discourse, which is
consequent upon close retirement and inward recess.
'Tis the grand artifice of villainy and lewdness, as well
as of superstition and bigotry, to put us upon terms of
greater distance and formality with ourselves, and evade
our proving method of soliloquy .... A passionate
lover, whatever solitude he may affect, can never be truly
by himself .... Tis the same reason which keeps the
imaginary saint or mystic from being capable of this
entertainment. Instead of looking narrowly into his own
nature and mind, that he may be no longer a mystery to
himself, he is taken up with the contemplation of other
mysterious natures, which he never can explain or
comprehend."
8.
U I fr
Taking these passages as specimens of what I call the
Religion of Philosophy, it is obvious to observe that
there is no doctrine contained in them which is not in a
certain sense true ; yet, on the other hand, that almost
every statement is perverted and made false, because it
is not the whole truth. They are exhibitions of truth
under one aspect, and therefore insufficient ; conscience
is most certainly a moral sense, but it is more ; vice
again, is a deformity, but it is worse. Lord Shaftesbury
may insist, if he will, that simple and solitary fear cannot
effect a moral conversion, and we are not concerned to
Knowledge and Religious Duty. 201
answer him ; but he will have a difficulty in proving that
any real conversion follows from a doctrine which makes
virtue a mere point of good taste, and vice vulgar and
ungentlemanlike.
Such a doctrine is essentially superficial, and such will
be its effects. It has no better measure of right and
wrong than that of visible beauty and tangible fitness.
Conscience indeed inflicts an acute pang, but that pang,
forsooth, is irrational, and to reverence it is an illiberal
superstition. But, if we will make light of what is deepest
within us, nothing is left but to pay homage to what is
more upon the surface. To seem becomes to be ; what
looks fair will be good, what causes offence will be evil ;
virtue will be what pleases, vice what pains. As well
may we measure virtue by utility as by such a rule.
Nor is this an imaginary apprehension ; we all must
recollect the celebrated sentiment into which a great and
wise man was betrayed, in the glowing eloquence of his
valediction to the spirit of chivalry. " It is gone," cries
Mr. Burke ; " that sensibility of principle, that chastity
of honour, which felt a stain like a wound ; which inspired
courage, while it mitigated ferocity; which ennobled
whatever it touched, and under which vice lost half its
evil by losing all its grossness? In the last clause of this
beautiful sentence we have too apt an illustration of the
ethical temperament of a civilized age. It is detection,
not the sin, which is the crime ; private life is sacred,
and inquiry into it is intolerable ; and decency is virtue.
Scandals, vulgarities, whatever shocks, whatever disgusts,
are offences of the first order. Drinking and swearing,
squalid poverty, improvidence, laziness, slovenly disorder,
make up the idea of profligacy : poets may say any
thing, however wicked, with impunity ; works of genius
may be read without danger or shame, whatever their
202 Discourse VIII.
principles ; fashion, celebrity, the beautiful, the heroic,
will suffice to force any evil upon the community. The
splendours of a court, and the charms of good society,
wit, imagination, taste, and high breeding, the prestige
of rank, and the resources of wealth, are a screen, an
instrument, and an apology for vice and irreligion. f And
\ \ thus at length we find, surprising as the change may be,
that that very refinement of Intellectualism, which began
by repelling sensuality, ends by excusing it. Under the
shadow indeed of the Church, and in its due development,
Philosophy does service to the cause of morality ; but,
when it is strong enough to have a will of its own, and is
lifted up with an idea of its own importance, and attempts
to form a theory, and to lay down a principle, and to
carry out a system of ethics, and undertakes the moral
education of the man, then it does but abet evils to
which at first it seemed instinctively opposed.; True
Religion is slow in growth, and, when once planted, is
difficult of dislodgement ; but its intellectual counterfeit
has no root in itself : it springs up suddenly, it suddenly
withers. It appeals to what is in nature, and it falls
under the dominion of the old Adam. Then, like
dethroned princes, it keeps up a state and majesty,
when it has lost the real power. Deformity is its abhor
rence ; accordingly, since it cannot dissuade men from
vice, therefore in order to escape the sight of its deformity,
it embellishes it. It " skins and films the ulcerous
place," which it cannot probe or heal,
*4 Whiles rank corruption, mining all within,
Infects unseen."
(And from this shallowness of philosophical Religion
it comes to pass that its disciples seem able to fulfil certain
precepts of Christianity more readily and exactly than
Knowledge and Religious Duty. 203
Christians themselves. St. Paul, as I have said, gives us
a pattern of evangelical perfection ; he draws the Chris
tian character in its most graceful form, and its most
beautiful hues. He discourses of that chanty which is
patient and meek, humble and single-minded, disinter
ested, contented, and persevering. He tells us to prefer
each the other before himself, to give way to each other,
to abstain from rude words and evil speech, to avoid self-
conceit, to be calm and grave, to be cheerful and happy, to
observe peace with all men, truth and justice, courtesy and
gentleness, all that is modest, amiable, virtuous, and of
good repute. Such is St. Paul's exemplar of the Chris
tian in his external relations ; and, I repeat, the school of
the world seems to send out living copies of this typical
excellence with greater success than the Church. At
this_day the " gentleman " is the creation, not of Chris
tianity, but of civilization. But the reason is obvious.
The world is content with setting right the surface of
things ; the Church aims at regenerating the very depths
of the heart. She ever begins with the beginning ; and,
as regards the multitude of her children, is never able
to get beyond the beginning, but is continually employed
in laying the foundation. She is engaged with what is
essential, as previous and as introductory to the orna
mental and the attractive. She is curing men and keep
ing them clear of mortal sin ; she is " treating of justice
and chastity, and the judgment to come:" she is insist
ing on faith and hope, and devotion, and honesty,
and the elements of charity; and has so much to do with
precept, that she almost leaves it to inspirations from
Heaven to suggest what is of counsel and perfection.
She aims at what is necessary rather than at what is de
sirable. She is for the many as well as for the few. She
is putting soul? in the way of salvation, that they may
204 Discourse Vtll.
then be in a condition, if they shall be called upon, to
aspire to the heroic, and to attain the full proportions, as
well as the rudimentst of the beautiful
9-
Such is the methocl, or the policy (so to call it), of the
Church ; but Philosophy looks at the matter from a very
different point of view : what have Philosophers to do
with the terror of judgment or the saving of the soul ?
Lord Shaftesbury calls the former a sort of u panic fear."
Of the latter he scoffingly complains that "the saving of
souls is now the heroic passion of exalted spirits." Of
course he is at liberty, on his principles, to pick and
choose out of Christianity what he will ; he discards the
theological, the mysterious, the spiritual ; he makes
selection of the morally or esthetically beautiful. To
him it matters not at all that he begins his teaching
where he should end it ; it matters not that, instead of
planting the tree, he merely crops its flowers for his ban
quet ; he only aims at the present life, his philosophy
dies with him ; if his flowers do but last to the end of
his revel, he has nothing more to seek. When night
comes, the withered leaves may be mingled with his own
ashes ; he and they will have done their work, he and
they will be no more. Certainly, it costs little to make
men virtuous on conditions such as these ; it is like
teaching them a language or an accomplishment, to
write Latin or to play on an instrument, — the profession
of an artist, not the commission of an Apostle.
This embellishment of the exterior is almost the be
ginning and the end of philosophical morality. This is
why it aims at being modest rather than humble ; this
is how it can be proud at the very time that it is unas
suming To humility indeed it does not even aspire;
Knowledge and Religious Duty. 205
humility is one of the most difficult of virtues both to
attain and to ascertain. It lies close upon the heart
itself, and its tests are exceedingly delicate and subtle.
Tts counterfeits abound ; however, we are little concerned
with them here, for, I repeat, it is hardly professed even
by name in the code of ethics which we are reviewing.
As has been often observed, ancient civilization had
not the idea, and had no word to express it : or rather,
it had the idea, and considered it a defect of mind, not
a virtue, so that the word which denoted it conveyed a
reproach. As to the modern world, you may gather its
ignorance of it by its perversion of the somewhat
parallel term " condescension." Humility or condescen
sion, viewed as a virtue of conduct, may be said to con
sist, as in other things, so in our placing ourselves in our
thoughts on a level with our inferiors ; it is not only a
voluntary relinquishrnent of the privileges of our own
station, but an actual participation or assumption of the
condition of those to whom we stoop. This is true
humility, to feel and to behave as if we were low; not, to
cherish a notion of our importance, while we affect a low
position. Such was St. Paul's humility, when he called
himself " the least of the saints ;" such the humility of
those many holy men who have considered themselves
the greatest of sinners. It is an abdication, as far as their
own thoughts are concerned, of those prerogatives or
privileges to which others deem them entitled. Now it is
not a little instructive to contrast with this idea, Gentle
men, — with this theological meaning of the word " con
descension,"- -its proper English sense ; put them in
juxta-position, and you will at once see the difference
beween the world's humility and the humility of the
Gospel. As the world uses the word, "condescension"
is a stooping indeed of the person, but a bending for-
206 Discourse V1IL
ward, unattended with any the slightest effort to leave by
a single inch the seat in which it is so firmly established.
It is the act of a superior, who protests to himself, while
he commits it, that he is superior still, and that he is doing
nothing else but an act of grace towards those on whose
level, in theory, he is placing himself. And this is the
nearest idea which the philosopher can form of the virtue
of self-abasement ; to do more than this is to his mind a
meanness or an hypocrisy, and at once excites his sus
picion and disgust. What the world is, such it has ever
been ; we know the contempt which the educated pagans
had for the martyrs and confessors of the Church ; and
it is shared by the anti-Catholic bodies of this day.
Such are the ethics of Philosophy, when faithfully re
presented ; but an age like this, not pagan, but profes
sedly Christian, cannot venture to reprobate humility in
set terms, or to make a boast of pride. Accordingly, it
looks out for some expedient by which it may blind
itself to the real state of the case. Humility, with
its grave and self-denying attributes, it cannot love ;
but what is more beautiful, what more winning, than
modesty? what virtue, at first sight, simulates humility
so well ? though what in fact is more radically distinct
from it ? In truth, great as is its charm, modesty is not
the deepest or the most religious of virtues. Rather it is
the advanced guard or sentinel of the soul militant, and
watches continually over its nascent intercourse with the
world about it. It goes the round of the senses ; it
mounts up into the countenance ; it protects the eye and
ear; it reigns in the voice and gesture. Its province is
the outward deportment, as other virtues have relation
to matters theological, others to society, and others to
the mind itself. And being more superficial than other
virtues, it is more easily disjoined from their company ; it
Knowledge and Religious Duty. 207
admits of being associated with principles or qualities
naturally foreign to it, and is often made the cloak of
feelings or ends for which it was never given to us. So
little is it the necessary index of humility, that it is even
compatible with pride. The better for the purpose of
Philosophy ; humble it cannot be, so forthwith modesty
becomes its humility.
Pride, under such training, instead of running to waste r
in the education of the mind, is turned to account ; it
gets a new name ; it is called self-respect ; and ceases to
be the disagreeable, uncompanionable quality which it is
in itself. Though it be the motive principle of the soul,
it seldom comes to view ; and when it shows itself, then
delicacy and gentleness are its attire, and good sense
and sense of honour direct its motions. It is no longer
o
a restless agent, without definite aim ; it has a large field
of exertion assigned to it, and it subserves those social
interests which it would naturally trouble. It is directed
into the channel of industry, frugality, honebty, and obe
dience ; and it becomes the very staple of the religion
and morality held in honour in a day like our own. It
becomes the safeguard of chastity, the guarantee of vera
city, in high and low ; it is the very household god of
society, as at present constituted, inspiring neatness and
decency in the servant girl, propriety of carriage and re
fined manners in her mistress, uprightness, manliness, and
generosity in the head of the family. It diffuses a light
over town and country ; it covers the soil with handsome
edifices and smiling gardens ; it tills the field, it stocks
and embellishes the shop. It is the stimulating principle
of providence on the one hand, and of free expenditure on
the other; of an honourable ambition, and of elegant en
joyment. It breathes upon the face of the community, and
the hollow sepulchre is forthwith beautiful to look upon.
208 Discourse VIII.
Refined by the civilization which has brought it into
activity, this self-respect infuses into the mind an intense
horror of exposure, and a keen sensitiveness of notoriety
and ridicule. It becomes the enemy of extravagances of
any kind ; it shrinks from what are called scenes ; it has
no mercy on the mock-heroic, on pretence or egotism, on
verbosity in language, or what is called prosiness in con
versation. It detests gross adulation ; not that it tends
at all to the eradication of the appetite to which the
flatterer ministers, but it sees the absurdity of indulging
it, it understands the annoyance thereby given to others,
and if a tribute must be paid to the wealthy or the power
ful, it demands greater subtlety and art in the prepara
tion. Thus vanity is changed into a more dangerous
self-conceit, as being checked in its natural eruption.
It teaches men to suppress their feelings, and to control
their tempers, and to mitigate both the severity and the
tone of their judgments. As Lord Shaftesbury would
desire, it prefers playful wit and satire in putting down
what is objectionable, as a more refined and good-
natured, as well as a more effectual method, than the
expedient which is natural to uneducated minds. It is
from this impatience of the tragic and the bombastic
that it is now quietly but energetically opposing itself to
the unchristian practice of duelling, which it brands as
simply out of taste, and as the remnant of a barbarous
age ; and certainly it seems likely to effect what Religion
has aimed at abolishing in vain.
*x ia
Hence it is that it is almost a definition of a gentle
man to say he is one who never inflicts pain. This
description is both refined and, as far as it goes, ac
curate, He is mainly occupied in merely removing the
Knowledge and Religious Duty.
obstacles which hinder the free and unembarrassed
action of those about him ; and he concurs with their
movements rather than takes the initiative himself. His
benefits may be considered as parallel to what are called
comforts or conveniences in arrangements of a personal
nature : like an easy chair or a good fire, which do their
part in dispelling cold and fatigue, though nature pro
vides both means of rest and animal heat without them.
The true gentleman in like manner carefully avoids
whatever may cause a jar or a jolt in the minds of those
with whom he is cast ; — all clashing of opinion, or
collision of feeling, all restraint, or suspicion, or gloom,
or resentment ; his great concern being to make every
one at their ease and at home. He has his eyes on all
his company; he is tender towards the bashful, gentle
towards the distant, and merciful towards the absurd ;
he can recollect to whom he is speaking ; he guards
against unseasonable allusions, or topics which may
irritate ; he is seldom prominent in conversation, and
never wearisome. He makes light of favours while he
does them, and seems to be receiving when he is con
ferring. He never speaks of himself except when com
pelled, never defends himself by a mere retort, he has no
ears for slander or gossip, is scrupulous in imputing
motives to those who interfere with him, and interprets
every thing for the best. He is never mean or little in
his disputes, never takes unfair advantage, never mis
takes personalities or sharp sayings for arguments, or in
sinuates evil which he dare not say out. From a long
sighted prudence, he observes the maxim of the ancient
sage, that we should ever conduct ourselves towards our
enemy as if he were one day to be our friend. He has
too much good sense to be affronted at insults, he is too
well employed to remember injuries, and too indolent to
U
2IO Discourse VIII.
bear malice. He is patient, forbearing, and resigned, ott
philosophical principles ; he submits to pain, because it
is inevitable, to bereavement, because it is irreparable,
and to death, because it is his destiny. If he engages in
controversy of any kind, his disciplined intellect preserves
him from the blundering discourtesy of better, perhaps,
but less educated minds ; who, like blunt weapons,
tear and hack instead of cutting clean, who mistake the
point in argument, waste their strength on trifles, mis
conceive their adversary, and leave the question more
involved than they find it. He may be right or wrong
in his opinion, but he is too clear-headed to be unjust ;
he is as simple as he is forcible, and as brief as he is
decisive. Nowhere shall we find greater candour, con
sideration, indulgence : he throws himself into the minds
of his opponents, he accounts for their mistakes. He
knows the weakness of human reason as well as its
strength, its province and its limits. If he be an un
believer, he will be too profound and large-minded to
ridicule religion or to act against it ; he is too wise to be
a dogmatist or fanatic in his infidelity. He respects piety
and devotion ; he even supports institutions as vene
rable, beautiful, or useful, to which he does not assent ;
he honours the ministers of religion, and it contents
him to decline its mysteries without assailing or de«
nouncing them. He is a friend of religious toleration,
and that, not only because his philosophy has taught
him to look on all forms of faith with an impartial eye,
but also from the gentleness and effeminacy of feeling,
which is the attendant on civilization.
Not that he may not hold a religion too, in his own
way, even when he is not a Christian. In that case his
religion is one of imagination and sentiment ; it is the
embodiment of those ideas of the sublime, majestic*
Knowledge and Religious Duty. 1 1 1
and beautiful, without which there can be no large
philosophy. Sometimes he acknowledges the being of
God, sometimes he invests an unknown principle or
quality with the attributes of perfection. And this de
duction of his reason, or creation of his fancy, he makes
the occasion of such excellent thoughts, and the start
ing-point of so varied and systematic a teaching, that he
even seems like a disciple of Christianity itself. From
the very accuracy and steadiness of his logical powers,
he is able to see what sentiments are consistent in those
who hold any religious doctrine at all, and he appears to
others to feel and to hold a whole circle of theological
truths, which exist in his mind no otherwise than as a
number of deductions.
Such are some of the lineaments of the ethical charac
ter, which the cultivated intellect will form, apart from
religious principle. They are seen within the pale of the
Church and without it, in holy men, and in profligate ;
they form the beau-ideal of the world ; they partly assist
and partly distort the development of the Catholic.
They may subserve the education of a St. Francis de
Sales or a Cardinal Pole ; they may be the limits of the
contemplation of a Shaftesbury or a Gibbon. Basil and
J ulian were fellow-students at the schools of Athens ;
and one became the Saint and Doctor of the Church, the
other her scoffing and relentless foe.
212
DISCOURSE IX.
DUTIES OF THE CHURCH TOWARDS KNOWLEDGE.
f •
I HAVE to congratulate myself, Gentlemen, that at
length I have accomplished, with whatever success,
the difficult and anxious undertaking to which I have
been immediately addressing myself. Difficult and
anxious it has been in truth, though the main subject of
University Teaching has been so often and so ably dis
cussed already ; for I have attempted to follow out a line
of thought more familiar to Protestants just now than
to Catholics, upon Catholic grounds. I declared my
intention, when I opened the subject, of treating it as a
philosophical and practical, rather than as a theological
question, with an appeal to common sense, not to
ecclesiastical rules ; and for this very reason, while my
argument has been less ambitious, it has been deprived of
the lights and supports which another mode of handling
it would have secured.
No anxiety, no effort of mind is more severe than
his, who in a difficult matter has it seriously at heart
to investigate without error and to instruct without
obscurity ; as to myself, if the past discussion has at any
time tried the patience of the kind persons who have
given it their attention, I can assure them that on no
one can it have inflicted so great labour and fatigue as
Duties of the Church Towards Knowledge. 213
on myself. Happy they who are engaged in provinces
of thought, so familiarly traversed and so thoroughly
explored, that they see every where the footprints, the
paths, the landmarks, and the remains of former tra
vellers, and can never step wrong ; but for myself,
Gentlemen, I have felt like a navigator on a strange sea,
who is out of sight of land, is surprised by night, and has
to trust mainly to the rules and instruments of his science
for reaching the port. The everlasting mountains, the
high majestic cliffs, of the opposite coast, radiant in the
sunlight, which are our ordinary guides, fail us in an
excursion such as this ; the lessons of antiquity, the
determinations of authority, are here rather the needle,
chart, and plummet, than great objects, with distinct and
continuous outlines and completed details, which stand
up and confront and occupy our gaze, and relieve us
from the tension and suspense of our personal obser
vation. And thus, in spite of the pains we may take
to consult others and avoid mistakes, it is not till the
morning comes and the shore greets us, and we see our
vessel making straight for harbour, that we relax our
jealous watch, and consider anxiety irrational. Such in
a measure has been my feeling in the foregoing inquiry;
in which indeed I have been in want neither of authori
tative principles nor distinct precedents, but of treatises
in extenso on the subject on which I have written, — the
finished work of writers, who, by their acknowledged
judgment and erudition, might furnish me for my private
guidance with a running instruction on each point which
successively came under review.
1 have spoken of the arduousness of my "immediate"
undertaking, because what I have been attempting has
been of a preliminary nature, not contemplating the
duties of the Church towards a University, nor the
214 Discourse IX.
characteristics of a University which is Catholic, but
inquiring what a University is, what is its aim, what its
nature, what its bearings. I have accordingly laid down
first, that all branches of knowledge are, at least im
plicitly, the subject-matter of its teaching ; that these
branches are not isolated and independent one of an
other, but form together a whole or system ; that they
run into each other, and complete each other, and that,
in proportion to our view of them as a whole, is the
exactness and trustworthiness of the knowledge which
they separately convey ; that the process of imparting
knowledge to the intellect in this philosophical way is
its true culture ; that such culture is a good in itself ; that
the knowledge which is both its instrument and result is
called Liberal Knowledge ; that such culture, together
with the knowledge which effects it, may fitly be sought
for its own sake ; that it is, however, in addition, of great
secular utility, as constituting the best and highest for
mation of the intellect for social and political life ; and
lastly, that, considered in a religious aspect, it concurs
with Christianity a certain way, and then diverges from
it; and consequently proves in the event, sometimes its
serviceable ally, sometimes, from its very resemblance to
it, an insidious and dangerous foe.
Though, however, these Discourses have only pro
fessed to be preliminary, being directed to the investiga
tion of the object and nature of the Education which a
University professes to impart, at the same time I do not
like to conclude without making some remarks upon the
duties of the Church towards it, or rather on the ground
of those duties. If the Catholic Faith is true, a Univer
sity cannot exist externally to the Catholic pale, for it
cannot teach Universal Knowledge if it does not teach
Catholic theology. This is certain ; but still, though it
Duties of the Church Towards Knowledge. 2 1 5
had ever so many theological Chairs, that would not
suffice to make it a Catholic University ; for theology
would be .included in its teaching only as a branch of
knowledge, only as one out of many constituent portions,
however important a one, of what I have called Philos
ophy. Hence a direct and active jurisdiction of the
Church over it and in it is necessary, lest it should be
come the rival of the Church with the community at
large in those theological matters which to the Church
are exclusively committed, — acting as the representative
of the intellect, as the Church is the representative of the
religious principle. The illustration of this proposition
shall be the subject of my concluding Discourse.
2.
I say then, that, even though the case could be so
that the whole system of Catholicism was recognized and
professed, without the direct presence of the Church,
still this would not at once make such a University a
Catholic Institution, nor be sufficient to secure the due
weight of religious considerations in its philosophical
studies. For it may easily happen that a particular
bias or drift may characterize an Institution, which no
rules can reach, nor officers remedy, nor professions
or promises counteract. We have an instance of such
a case in the Spanish Inquisition ; — here was a purely
Catholic establishment, devoted to the maintenance, or
rather the ascendancy of Catholicism, keenly zealous for
theological truth, the stern foe of every anti-Catholic
idea, and administered by Catholic theologians ; yet it
in no proper sense belonged to the Church. It was
simply and entirely a State institution, it was an expres
sion of that very Church-and-King spirit which has pre-
sailed in these islands ; nay. it was an instrument of the
216 Discourse IX.
State, according to the confession of" the acutest Protes
tant historians, in its warfare against the Holy See. Con
sidered " materially" it was nothing but Catholic ; but
its spirit and form were earthly and secular, in spite of
whatever faith and zeal and sanctity and charity were to
be found in the individuals who from time to time h?d a
share in its administration. And in like manner, it is no
sufficient security for the Catholicity of a University,
even that the whole of Catholic theology should be pro
fessed in it, unless the Church breathes her own pure and
unearthly spirit into it, and fashions and moulds its
organization, and watches over its teaching, and knits
together its pupils, and superintends its action. The
Spanish Inquisition came into collision with the supreme
Catholic authority, and that, from the fact that its imme
diate end was of a secular character ; and for the same
reason, whereas Academical Institutions (as I have been
so long engaged in showing) are in their very nature
directed to social, national, temporal objects in the first
instance, and since they are living and energizing bodies,
if they deserve the name of University at all, and of
necessity have some one formal and definite ethical cha
racter, good or bad, and do of a certainty imprint that
character on the individuals who direct and who frequent
them, it cannot but be that, if left to themselves, they
will, in spite of their profession of Catholic Truth, work
out results more or less prejudicial to its interests.
Nor is this all : such Institutions may become hostile
to Revealed Truth, in consequence of the circumstances
of their teaching as well as of their end. They are em
ployed in the pursuit of Liberal Knowledge, and Liberal
Knowledge has a special tendency, not necessary 01
rightful, but a tendency in fact, when cultivated by
beings such as we are, to impress us with a mere philp-
Duties oj tke Church Towards Knowledge. 2 \ 7
sophical theory of life and conduct, in the place of
Revelation. I have said much on this subject already.
Truth has two attributes — beauty and power ; and
while Useful Knowledge is the possession of truth as
powerful, Liberal Knowledge is the apprehension of it as
beautiful. Pursue it, either as beauty or as power, to its
furthest extent and its true limit, and you are led by
either road to the Eternal and Infinite, to the intimations
of conscience and the announcements of the Church.
Satisfy yourself with what is only visibly or intelligibly
excellent, as you are likely to do, and you will make
present utility and natural beauty the practical test of
truth, and the sufficient object of the intellect. It is not
that you will at once reject Catholicism, but you will
measure and proportion it by an earthly standard. You
will throw its highest and most momentous disclosures
into the background, you will deny its principles, explain
away its doctrines, re-arrange its precepts, and make
light of its practices, even while you profess it. Know
ledge, viewed as Knowledge, exerts a subtle influence in
throwing us back on ourselves, and making us our own
centre, and our minds the measure of all things. This
then is the tendency of that Liberal Education, of which
a University is the school, viz., to view Revealed Reli
gion from an aspect of its own, — to fuse and recast it, —
to tune it, as it were, to a different key, and to reset its
harmonies, — to circumscribe it by a circle which unwar
rantably amputates here, and unduly developes there ;
and all under the notion, conscious or unconscious,
that the human intellect, self-educated and self-sup
ported, is more true and perfect in its ideas and judg
ments than that of Prophets and Apostles, to whom the
sights and sounds of Heaven were immediately con
veyed. A sense of propriety, order, consistency, and
2 1 8 Discourse IX.
completeness gives birth to a rebellious stirring against
miracle and mystery, against the severe and the terrible.
This Intellectualism first and chiefly comes into colli
sion with precept, then with doctrine, then with the very
principle of dogmatism ; — a perception of the Beautiful
becomes the substitute for faith. In a country which
does not profess the faith, it at once runs, if allowed, into
scepticism or infidelity ; but even within the pale of the
Church, and with the most unqualified profession of her
Creed, it acts, if left to itself, as an element of corrup
tion and debility. Catholicism, as it has come down to
us from the first, seems to be mean and illiberal ; it is a
mere popular religion ; it is the religion of illiterate ages
or servile populations or barbarian warriors ; it must
be treated with discrimination and delicacy, corrected,
softened, improved, if it is to satisfy an enlightened
generation. It must be stereotyped as the patron of
arts, or the pupil of speculation, or the prote"g6 of science;
it must play the literary academician, or the empirical
philanthropist, or the political partisan ; it must keep
up with the age ; some or other expedient it must devise,
in order to explain away, or to hide, tenets under which
the intellect labours and of which it is ashamed — its doo
trine, for instance, of grace, its mystery of the Godhead,
its preaching of the Cross, its devotion to the Queen of
Saints, or its loyalty to the Apostolic See. Let this
spirit be freely evolved out of that philosophical condition
of mind, which in former Discourses I have so highly,
so justly extolled, and it is impossible but, first indiffer
ence, then laxity of belief, then even heresy will be the
successive results.
Here then are two injuries which Revelation is likely
to sustain at the hands of the Masters of human reason
unless the Church, as in duty bound, protects the sacred
Duties of the Church Towards Knowledge. 219
treasure which is in jeopardy. The first is a simple
ignoring of Theological Truth altogether, under the pre
tence of not recognising differences of religious opinion ;
— which will only take place in countries or under govern
ments which have abjured Catholicism. The second,
which is of a more subtle character, is a recognition indeed
of Catholicism, but (as if in pretended mercy to it) an
adulteration of its spirit I will now proceed to describe
the dangers I speak of more distinctly, by a reference
to the general subject-matter of instruction which a
University undertakes.
There are three great subjects on which Human Reason
employs itself: — God, Nature, and Man : and theology
being put aside in the present argument, the physical
and social worlds remain. These, when respectively sub
jected to Human Reason, form two books : the book
of nature is called Science, the book of man is called
Literature. Literature and Science, thus considered,
nearly constitute the subject-matter of Liberal Educa
tion ; and, while Science is made to subserve the former
of the two injuries, which Revealed Truth sustains, — its
exclusion, Literature subserves the latter, — its corruption.
Let us consider the influence of each upon Religion
separately.
3-
I. As to Physical Science, of course there can be no
real collision between it and Catholicism. Nature and
Grace, Reason and Revelation, come from the same
Divine Author, whose works cannot contradict each
other. Nevertheless, it cannot be denied that, in matter
of fact, there always has been a sort of jealousy and
hostility between Religion and physical philosophers.
The name of Galileo reminds us of it at once. Not con-
220 Discourse IX.
tent with investigating and reasoning in his own province,
it is said, he went out of his way directly to insult the
received interpretation of Scripture ; theologians repelled
an attack which was wanton and arrogant ; and Science,
affronted in her minister, has taken its full revenge upon
Theology since. A vast multitude of its teachers, I fear
it must be said, have been either unbelievers or sceptics,
or at least have denied to Christianity any teaching,
distinctive or special, over the Religion of Nature. There
have indeed been most illustrious exceptions ; some men
protected by their greatness of mind, some by their
religious profession, some by the fear of public opinion ;
but I suppose the run of experimentalists, external to
the Catholic Church, have more or less inherited the
positive or negative unbelief of Laplace, Buffon, Franklin,
Priestley, Cuvier, and Humboldt. I do not of course
mean to say that there need be in every case a resentful
and virulent opposition made to Religion on the part oi
scientific men; but their emphatic silence or phlegmatic
inadvertence as to its claims have implied, more elo
quently than any words, that in their opinion it had no
voice at all in the subject-matter, which they had ap
propriated to themselves. The same antagonism shows
itself in the middle ages. Friar Bacon was popularly
regarded with suspicion as a dealer in unlawful arts ;
Pope Sylvester the Second has been accused of magic
for his knowledge of natural secrets ; and the geographical
ideas of St. Virgil, Bishop of Saltzburg, were regarded
with anxiety by the great St. Boniface, the glory of
England, the Martyr- Apostle of Germany. I suppose,
in matter of fact, magical superstition and physical
knowledge did commonly go together in those ages :
however, the hostility between experimental science and
theology is far older than Christianity. Lord Bacon
Duties of the Church Towards Knowledge.
traces it to an era prior to Socrates ; he tells us that,
among the Greeks, the atheistic was the philosophy most
favourable to physical discoveries, and he does not hesi
tate to imply that the rise of the religious schools was the
ruin of science.*
Now, if we would investigate the reason of this oppo
sition between Theology and Physics, I suppose we must
first take into account Lord Bacon's own explanation of
it It is common in judicial inquiries to caution the
parties on whom the verdict depends to put out of their
minds whatever they have heard out of court on the sub
ject to which their attention is to be directed. They are to
judge by the evidence ; and this is a rule which holds in
other investigations as far as this, that nothing of an ad-
ventitious nature ought to be introduced into the process.
In like manner, from religious investigations, as such,
physics must be excluded, and from physical, as such,
religion ; and if we mix them, we shall spoil both. The
theologian, speaking of Divine Omnipotence, for the time
simply ignores the laws of nature as existing restraints
upon its exercise ; and the physical philosopher, on the
other hand, in his experiments upon natural phenomena,
is simply ascertaining those laws, putting aside the ques
tion of that Omnipotence. If the theologian, in tracing
the ways of Providence, were stopped with objections
grounded on the impossibility of physical miracles, he
would justly protest against the interruption ; and were
the philosopher, who was determining the motion of the
heavenly bodies, to be questioned about their Final or
their First Cause, he too would suffer an illogical inter
ruption. The latter asks the cause of volcanoes, and is
impatient at being told it is "the divine vengeance;" the
* Vid. Hallam's Literature of Europe, Macaulay's Essay, and the Author's
Oxford University Sermons, IX.
Discourse IX.
former asks the cause of the overthrow of the guilty
cities, and is preposterously referred to the volcanic-
action still visible in their neighbourhood. The inquiry
into final causes for the moment passes over the exist
ence of established laws ; the inquiry into physical.
passes over for the moment the existence of God. In
other words, physical science is in a certain sense athe
istic, for the very reason it is not theology.
This is Lord Bacon's justification, and an intelligible
one, for considering that the fall of atheistic philosophy
in ancient times was a blight upon the hopes of physical
science. " Aristotle," he says, " Galen, and others fre
quently introduce such causes as these : — the hairs of
the eyelids are for a fence to the sight ; the bones for
pillars whence to build the bodies of animals ; the
leaves of trees are to defend the fruit from the sun and
wind ; the clouds are designed for watering the earth.
All which are properly alleged in metaphysics ; but in
physics, are impertinent, and as remoras to the ship, that
hinder the sciences from holding on their course of
improvement, and as introducing a neglect of searching
after physical causes."* Here then is one reason for the
prejudice of physical philosophers against Theology : —
on the one hand, their deep satisfaction in the laws of
nature indisposes them towards the thought of a Moral
Governor, and makes them sceptical of His interpo
sition ; on the other hand, the occasional interference of
religious criticism in a province not religious, has made
them sore, suspicious, and resentful.
4-
Another reason of a kindred nature is to be found
in the difference of method by which truths are gained
* In Augment., $.
Duties of the Church Towards Knowledge. 22$
in theology and in physical science. Induction is the
instrument of Physics, and deduction only is the instru
ment of Theology. There the simple question is, What
is revealed ? all doctrinal knowledge flows from one
fountain head. If we are able to enlarge our view and
multiply our propositions, it must be merely by the
comparison and adjustment of the original truths ; if we
would solve new questions, it must be by consulting old
answers. The notion of doctrinal knowledge absolutely
novel, and of simple addition from without, is intole
rable to Catholic ears, and never was entertained by
any one who was even approaching to an understand
ing of our creed. Revelation is all in all in doctrine ;
the Apostles its sole depository, the inferential method
its sole instrument, and ecclesiastical authority its sole
sanction. The Divine Voice has spoken once for all,
and the only question is about its meaning. Now
this process, as far as it was reasoning, was the very
mode of reasoning which, as regards physical know
ledge, the school of Bacon has superseded by the in
ductive method : — no wonder, then, that that school
should be irritated and indignant to find that a subject-
matter remains still, in which their favourite instrument
has no office ; no wonder that they rise up against this
memorial of an antiquated system, as an eyesore and an
insult ; and no wonder that the very force and dazzling
success of their own method in its own departments
should sway or bias unduly the religious sentiments of
any persons who come under its influence. They assert
that no new truth can be gained by deduction ; Catho
lics assent, but add that, as regards religious truth, they
have not to seek at all, for they have it already. Chris
tian Truth is purely of revelation ; that revelation we can
but explain, we cannot increase, except relatively to our
2*4 Discourse IX.
own apprehensions ; without it we should have known
nothing of its contents, with it we know just as much as its
contents, and nothing more. And, as it was given by a
divine act independent of man, so will it remain in spite
of man. Niebuhr may revolutionize history, Lavoisier
chemistry, Newton astronomy; but God Himself is the
author as well as the subject of theology. When Truth
can change, its Revelation can change ; when human
reason can outreason the Omniscient, then may it super
sede His work.
Avowals such as these fall strange upon the ear of
men whose first principle is the search after truth, and
whose starting-points of search are things material and
sensible. They scorn any process of inquiry not founded
on experiment ; the Mathematics indeed they endure,
because that science deals with ideas, not with facts, and
leads to conclusions hypothetical rather than real ;
" Metaphysics" they even use as a by-word of reproach ;
and Ethics they admit only on condition that it gives up
conscience as its scientific ground, and bases itself on
tangible utility : but as to Theology, they cannot deal
with it, they cannot master it, and so they simply outlaw
it and ignore it. Catholicism, forsooth, " confines the
intellect," because it holds that God's intellect is greater
than theirs, and that what He has done, man cannot
improve. And what in some sort justifies them to them
selves in this extravagance is the circumstance that
there is a religion close at their doors which, discarding
so severe a tone, has actually adopted their own
principle of inquiry. Protestantism treats Scripture just
as they deal with Nature ; it takes the sacred text as a
large collection of phenomena, from which, by an in
ductive process, each individual Christian may arrive at
just those religious conclusions which approve them-
Duties of tht Church 1 awards Knowledge. 225
selves to his own judgment It considers faith a mere
modification of reason, as being an acquiescence in
certain probable conclusions till better are found.
Sympathy, then, if no other reason, throws experimental
philosophers into alliance with the enemies of Catho
licism.
5-
I have another consideration to add, not less impor
tant than any I have hitherto adduced. The physical
sciences, Astronomy, Chemistry, and the rest, are
doubtless engaged upon divine works, and cannot issue
in untrue religious conclusions. But at the same time it
must be recollected that Revelation has reference to
circumstances which did not arise till after the heavens
and the earth were made. They were made before the
introduction of moral evil into the world : whereas the
Catholic Church is the instrument of a remedial dispen
sation to meet that introduction. No wonder then that
her teaching is simply distinct, though not divergent,
from the theology which Physical Science suggests to its
followers. She sets before us a number of attributes
and acts on the part of the Divine Being, for which the
material and animal creation gives no scope; power,
wisdom, goodness are the burden of the physical world,
but it does not and could not speak of mercy, long-
suffering, and the economy of human redemption, and
but partially of the moral law and moral goodness.
" Sacred Theology," says Lord Bacon, " must be drawn
from the words and the oracles of God : not from the
light of nature or the dictates of reason. It is written,
that ' the Heavens declare the glory of God ;' but we no
where find it that the Heavens declare the will of God ;
which is pronounced a law and a testimony, that men
'$
226 Discourse
should do according to it. Nor does this hold only ift
the great mysteries of the Godhead, of the creation,
of the redemption. . . . We cannot doubt that a large
part of the moral law is too sublime to be attained by
the light of nature ; though it is still certain that men,
even with the light and law of nature, have some notions
of virtue, vice, justice, wrong, good, and evil."* That
the new and further manifestations of the Almighty,
made by Revelation, are in perfect harmony with the
teaching of the natural world, forms indeed one subject
of the profound work of the Anglican Bishop Butler;
but they cannot in any sense be gathered from nature,
and the silence of nature concerning them may easily
seduce the imagination, though it has no force to per
suade the reason, to revolt from doctrines which have
not been authenticated by facts, but are enforced by
authority. In a scientific age, then, there will naturally
be a parade of what is called Natural Theology, a wide
spread profession of the Unitarian creed, an impatience
of mystery, and a scepticism about miracles.
And to all this must be added the ample opportunity
which physical science gives to the indulgence of those
sentiments of beauty, order, and congruity, of which I
have said so much, as the ensigns and colours (as they
may be called) of a civilized age in its warfare against
Catholicism.
It being considered, then, that Catholicism differs from
physical science, in drift, in method of proof, and in sub
ject-matter, how can it fail to meet with unfair usage
from the philosophers of any Institution in which there
is no one to take its part ? That Physical Science itself
will be ultimately the loser by such ill treatment of Theo-
* De Augm., § 28.
Duties of the Church Towards Knowledge. 227
logy, I have insisted on at great length in some pre
ceding Discourses ; for to depress unduly, to encroach
upon any science, and much more on an important one,
is to do an injury to all However, this is not the con-
cern of the Church ; the Church has no call to watch
over and protect Science : but towards Theology she has
a distinct duty : it is one of the special trusts committed
to her keeping. Where Theology is, there she must be;
and if a University cannot fulfil its name and office with
out the recognition of Revealed Truth, she must be there
to see that it is a bond fide recognition, sincerely made
and consistently acted on.
6.
II. And if the interposition of the Church is necessary
in the Schools of Science, still more imperatively is it
demanded in the other main constituent portion of
the subject-matter of Liberal Education, — Literature.
Literature stands related to Man as Science stands to
Nature ; it is his history. Man is composed of body
and soul ; he thinks and he acts ; he has appetites,
passions, affections, motives, designs ; he has within him
the lifelong struggle of duty with inclination ; he has an
intellect fertile and capacious ; he is formed for society,
and society multiplies and diversifies in endless combina
tions his personal characteristics, moral and intellectual.
All this constitutes his life ; of all this Literature is the
expression ; so that Literature is to man in some sort what
autobiography is to the individual ; it is his Life and Re
mains. Moreover, he is this sentient, intelligent, creative,
and operative being, quite independent of any extraor
dinary aid from Heaven, or any definite religious belief;
and as such, as he is in himself, does Literature represent
him ; it is the Life and Remains of the natural man,
228 Discourse IX.
innocent or guilty. I do not mean to say that it is
impossible in its very notion that Literature should be
tinctured by a religious spirit ; Hebrew Literature, as far
as it can be called Literature, certainly is simply theo
logical, and has a character imprinted on it which is
above nature ; but I am speaking of what is to be ex
pected without any extraordinary dispensation ; and I
say that, in matter of fact, as Science is the reflection of
Nature, so is Literature also — the one, of Nature physical,
the other, of Nature moral and social. Circumstances,
such as locality, period, language, seem to make little or
no difference in the character of Literature, as such ;
on the whole, all Literatures are one ; they are the
voices of the natural man.
I wish this were all that had to be said to the disad
vantage of Literature; but while Nature physical remains
fixed in its laws, Nature moral and social has a will of
its own, is self-governed, and never remains any long
while in that state from which it started into action.
Man will never continue in a mere state of innocence ; he
is sure to sin, and his literature will be the expression of
his sin, and this whether he be heathen or Christian.
Christianity has thrown gleams of light on him and his
literature ; but as it has not converted him, but only
certain choice specimens of him, so it has not changed
the characters of his mind or of his history ; his literature
is either what it was, or worse than what it was, in pro
portion as there has been an abuse of knowledge granted
and a rejection of truth. On the whole, then, I think it
will be found, and ever found, as a matter of course, that
Literature, as such, no matter of what nation, is the
science or history, partly and at best of the natural man,
partly of man in rebellion.
Duties of Hie Church Towards Knowledge. 2 29
Here then, I say, you are involved in a difficulty
greater than that which besets the cultivation of Science ;
for, if Physical Science be dangerous, as I have said, it is
dangerous, because it necessarily ignores the idea of
moral evil ; but Literature is open to the more grievous
imputation of recognizing and understanding it too well.
Some one will say to me perhaps : " Our youth shall
not be corrupted. We will dispense with all general or
national Literature whatever, if it be so exceptionable ;
we will have a Christian Literature of our own, as pure,
as true, as the Jewish." You cannot have it : — I do not
say you cannot form a select literature for the young, nay,
even for the middle or lower classes ; this is another
matter altogether : I am speaking of University Educa
tion, which implies an extended range of reading, which
has to deal with standard works of genius, or what are
called the classics of a language : and I say, from the
nature of the case, if Literature is to be made a study of
human nature, you cannot have a Christian Literature.
It is a contradiction in terms to attempt a sinless Litera
ture of sinful man. You may gather together something
very great and high, something higher than any Literature
ever was ; and when you have done so, you will find that
it is not Literature at all. You will have simply left the
delineation of man, as such, and have substituted for it,
as far as you have had any thing to substitute, that of
man, as he is or might be, under certain special advan
tages. Give up the study of man, as such, if so it must
be ; but say you do so. Do not say you are studying
him, his history, his mind and his heart, when you are
studying something else. Man is a being of genius,
passion, intellect, conscience, power. He exercises these
230 Discourse IX.
various gifts in various ways, in great deeds, in great
thoughts, in heroic acts, in hateful crimes. He founds
states, he fights battles, he builds cities, he ploughs the
forest, he subdues the elements, he rules his kind. He
creates vast ideas, and influences many generations.
He takes a thousand shapes, and undergoes a thousand
fortunes. Literature records them all to the life,
Quicquid agunt homines, votum, timor, ira, voluptas.
Gaudia, discursus.
He pours out his fervid soul in poetry ; he sways to and
fro, he soars, he dives, in his restless speculations ; his
lips drop eloquence ; he touches the canvas, and it
glows with beauty ; he sweeps the strings, and they
thrill with an ecstatic meaning. He looks back into
himself, and he reads his own thoughts, and notes them
down ; he looks out into the universe, and tells over and
celebrates the elements and principles of which it is the
product.
Such is man : put him aside, keep him before you ;
but, whatever you do, do not take him for what he is
not, for something more divine and sacred, for man re
generate. Nay, beware of showing God's grace and its
work at such disadvantage as to make the few whom it
has thoroughly influenced compete in intellect with the
vast multitude who either have it not, or use it ill. The
elect are few to choose out of, and the world is inex
haustible. From the first, Jabel and Tubalcain, Nimrod
"the stout hunter," the learning of the Pharaohs, and
the wisdom of the East country, are of the world. Every
now and then they are rivalled by a Solomon or a Be-
seleel, but the Jiabitat of natural gifts is the natural man.
The Church may use them, she cannot at her will origi-
Duties of the Church Towards Knowledge. 231
nate them. Not till the whole human race is made new
will its literature be pure and true. Possible of course
it is in idea, for nature, inspired by heavenly grace, to
exhibit itself on a large scale, in an originality of thought
or action, even far beyond what the world's literature
has recorded or exemplified ; but, if you would in fact
have a literature of saints, first of all have a nation of
them.
What is a clearer proof of the truth of all this than
the structure of the Inspired Word itself? It is un*
deniably not the reflection or picture of the many, but
of the few ; it is no picture of life, but an anticipation ot
death and judgment. Human literature is about all
things, grave or gay, painful or pleasant ; but the
Inspired Word views them only in one aspect, and as
they tend to one scope. It gives us little insight into
the fertile developments of mind ; it has no terms in its
vocabulary to express with exactness the intellect and
its separate faculties : it knows nothing of genius, fancy,
wit, invention, presence of mind, resource. It does not
discourse of empire, commerce, enterprise, learning,
philosophy, or the fine arts. Slightly too does it touch
on the more simple and innocent courses of nature and
their reward. Little does it say* of those temporal
blessings which rest upon our worldly occupations, and
make them easy ; of the blessings which we derive from
the sunshine day and the serene night, from the succes
sion of the seasons, and the produce of the earth. Little
about our recreations and our daily domestic comforts ;
little about the ordinary occasions of festivity and mirth,
which sweeten human life ; and nothing at all about
various pursuits or amusements, which it would be going
too much into detail to mention. We read indeed of the
* Vid. the Author's Parochial Sermons, vol. i. 35.
232 Discourse IX.
feast when Isaac was weaned, and of Jacob's courtship,
and of the religious merry-makings of holy Job ; but
exceptions, such as these, do but remind us what might
be in Scripture, and is not. If then by Literature is
meant the manifestation of human nature in human lan
guage, you will seek for it in vain except in the world.
Put up with it, as it is, or do not pretend to cultivate it ;
take things as they are, not as you could wish them.
8.
Nay, I am obliged to go further still ; even if we could,
still we should be shrinking from our plain duty, Gentle
men, did we leave out Literature from Education. For
why do we educate, except to prepare for the world ?
Why do we cultivate the intellect of the many beyond
the first elements of knowledge, except for this world ?
Will it be much matter in the world to come whether
our bodily health or whether our intellectual strength
was more or less, except of course as this world is in
all its circumstances a trial for the next ? If then a
University is a direct preparation for this world, let it
be what it professes. It is not a Convent, it is not a
Seminary; it is a place to fit men of the world for the
world. We cannot possibly keep them from plunging
into the world, with all its ways and principles and
maxims, when their time comes; but we can prepare
them against what is inevitable ; and it is not the way
to learn to swim in troubled waters, never to have
gone into them. Proscribe (I do not merely say parti
cular authors, particular works, particular passages) but
Secular Literature as such ; cut out from your class
books all broad manifestations of the natural man ; and
those manifestations are waiting for your pupil's benefit
at the very doors of your lecture room in living and
Duties of tke Church Towards Knowledge,. 233
breathing substance. They will meet him there in all
the charm of novelty, and all the fascination of genius
or of amiableness. To-day a pupil, to-morrow a mem
ber of the great world : to-day confined to the Lives
of the Saints, to-morrow thrown upon Babel ; — thrown
on Babel, without the honest indulgence of wit and
humour and imagination having ever been permitted to
him, without any fastidiousness of taste wrought into
him, without any rule given him for discriminating " the
precious from the vile," beauty from sin, the truth from
the sophistry of nature, what is innocent from what is
poison. You have refused him the masters of human
thought, who would in some sense have educated him,
because of their incidental corruption : you have shut
up from him those whose thoughts strike home to our
hearts, whose words are proverbs, whose names are in
digenous to all the world, who are the standard of their
mother tongue, and the pride and boast of their country
men, Homer, Ariosto, Cervantes, Shakespeare, because
the old Adam smelt rank in them ; and for what have
you reserved him ? You have given him " a liberty
unto" the multitudinous blasphemy of his day; you
have made him free of its newspapers, its reviews, its
magazines, its novels, its controversial pamphlets, of its
Parliamentary debates, its law proceediags, its platform
speeches, its songs, its drama, its theatre, of its envelop
ing, stifling atmosphere of death. You have succeeded
but in this, — in making the world his University.
Difficult then as the question may be, and much as it
may try the judgments and even divide the opinions of
zealous and religious Catholics, I cannot feel any doubt
myself, Gentlemen, that the Church's true policy is not
to aim at the exclusion of Literature from Secular
Schools, but at her own admission into them. Let her do
234 Discourse IX.
for Literature in one way what she does for Science in
another; each has its imperfection, and she has her remedy
for each. She fears no knowledge, but she purifies all ;
she represses no element of our nature, but cultivates
the whole. Science is grave, methodical, logical ; with
Science then she argues, and opposes reason to reason.
Literature does not argue, but declaims and insinuates ;
it is multiform and versatile : it persuades instead of
convincing, it seduces, it carries captive; it appeals to the
sense of honour, or to the imagination, or to the stimu
lus of curiosity ; it makes its way by means of gaiety,
satire, romance, the beautiful, the pleasurable. Is it
wonderful that with an agent like this the Church should
claim to deal with a vigour corresponding to its restless
ness, to interfere in its proceedings with a higher hand,
and to wield an authority in the choice of its studies and
of its books which would be tyrannical, if reason and
fact were the only instruments of its conclusions ? But,
any how, her principle is one and the same throughout :
not to prohibit truth of any kind, but to see that no doc
trines pass under the name of Truth but those which
claim it rightfully.
9-
Such at least is the lesson which I am taught by all
the thought which I have been able to bestow upon the
subject ; such is the lesson which I have gained from the
history of my own special Father and Patron, St. Philip
Neri. He lived in an age as traitorous to the interests
of Catholicism as any that preceded it, or can follow it.
He lived at a time when pride mounted high, and the
senses held rule ; a time when kings and nobles never
had more of state and homage, and never less of per
sonal responsibility and peril ; when medieval winter was
Duties of the Church Towards Knowledge. 235
receding, and the summer sun of civilization was bring
ing into leaf and flower a thousand forms of luxurious
enjoyment ; when a new world of thought and beauty
had opened upon the human mind, in the discovery of
the treasures of classic literature and art He saw the
great and the gifted, dazzled by the Enchantress, and
drinking in the magic of her song ; he saw the high and
the wise, the student and the artist, painting, and poetry,
and sculpture, and music, and architecture, drawn within
her range, and circling round the abyss : he saw heathen
forms mounting thence, and forming in the thick air : —
all this he saw, and he perceived that the mischief was to
be met, not with argument, not with science, not with
protests and warnings, not by the recluse or the preacher,
but by means of the great counter-fascination of purity
and truth. He was raised up to do a work almost pecu
liar in the Church, — not to be a Jerome Savonarola,
though Philip had a true devotion towards him and a
tender memory of his Florentine house ; not to be a
St. Charles, though in his beaming countenance Philip
had recognized the aureole of a saint ; not to be a St.
Ignatius, wrestling with the foe, though Philip was termed
the Society's bell of call, so many subjects did he send
to it; not to be a St. Francis Xavier, though Philip
had longed to shed his blood for Christ in India with him ;
not to be a St. Caietan, or hunter, of souls, for Philip
preferred, as he expressed it, tranquilly to cast in his
net to gain them ; he preferred to yield to the stream,
and direct the current, which he could not stop, of
science, literature, art, and fashion, and to sweeten and
to sanctify what God had made very good and man had
spoilt.
And so he contemplated as the idea of his mission,
not the propagation of the faith, nor the exposition of
236 Discourse IX.
doctrine, nor the catechetical schools ; whatever was exact
and systematic pleased him not ; he put from him mo
nastic rule and authoritative speech, as David refused the
armour of his king. No ; he would be but an ordinary
individual priest as others: and his weapons should be but
unaffected humility and unpretending love. Ail He did
was to be done by the light, and fervour, and convincing
eloquence of his personal character and his easy conver
sation. He came to the Eternal City and he sat himself
down there, and his home and his family gradually grew
up around him, by the spontaneous accession of materials
from without. He did not so much seek his own as
draw them to him. He sat in his small room, and they
in their gay worldly dresses, the rich and the wellborn,
as well as the simple and the illiterate, crowded into it.
In the mid-heats of summer, in the frosts of winter, still
was he in that low and narrow cell at San Girolamo,
reading the hearts of those who came to him, and curing
their souls' maladies by the very touch of his hand. It
was a vision of the Magi worshipping the infant Saviour,
so pure and innocent, so sweet and beautiful was he ;
and so loyal and so dear to the gracious Virgin Mother.
And they who came remained gazing and listening, till
at length, first one and then another threw off their
bravery, and took his poor cassock and girdle instead :
or, if they kept it, it was to put haircloth under it, or to
take on them a rule of life, while to the world they looked
as before.
In the words of his biographer, " he was all things to
all men. He suited himself to noble and ignoble, young
and old, subjects and prelates, learned and ignorant ;
and received those who were strangers to him with
singular benignity, and embraced them with as much
tove and charity as if he had been a long while expect-
Duties of the Church Towards Knowledge. 237
ing them. When he was called upon to be merry he
was so ; if there was a demand upon his sympathy he
was equally ready. He gave the same welcome to all :
caressing the poor equally with the rich, and wearying
himself to assist all to the utmost limits of his power.
In consequence of his being so accessible and willing to
receive all comers, many went to him every day, and
some continued for the space of thirty, nay forty years,
to visit him very often both morning and evening, so
that his room went by the agreeable nickname of the
Home of Christian mirth. Nay, people came to him,
not only from all parts of Italy, but from France, Spain,
Germany, and all Christendom ; and even the infidels
and Jews, who had ever any communication with him,
revered him as a holy man." * The first families of
Rome, the Massimi, the Aldobrandini, the Colonnas, the
Altieri, the Vitelleschi, were his friends and his penitents.
Nobles of Poland, Grandees of Spain, Knights of Malta,
could not leave Rome without coming to him. Car
dinals, Archbishops, and Bishops were his intimates;
Federigo Borromeo haunted his room and got the name
of " Father Philip's soul." The Cardinal- Archbishops of
Verona and Bologna wrote books in his honour. Pope
Pius the Fourth died in his arms. Lawyers, painters;
musicians, physicians, it was the same too with them.
Baronius, Zazzara, and Ricci, left the law at his bid
ding, and joined his congregation, to do its work, to
write the annals of the Church, arid to die in the odour
of sanctity. Palestrina had Father Philip's ministra
tions in his last moments. Animuccia hung about him
during life, sent him a message after death, and was
conducted by him through Purgatory to Heaven. And
who was he, 1 say, all the while, but an humble priest,
* Bacci, vol. i.. p. 192, ii., p. 98.
238 Discourse IX.
a stranger in Rome, with no distinction of family or
letters, no claim of station or of office, great simply in
the attraction with which a Divine Power had gifted
him ? and yet thus humble, thus unennobled, thus empty-
handed, he has achieved the glorious title of Apostle of
Rome.
10.
Well were it for his clients and children, Gentlemen, it
they could promise themselves the very shadow of his
special power, or could hope to do a miserable fraction
of the sort of work in which he was pre-eminently
skilled. But so far at least they may attempt, — to take
his position, and to use his method, and to cultivate the
arts of which he was so bright a pattern. For me, if it be
God's blessed will that in the years now coming I am to
have a share in the great undertaking, which has been
the occasion and the subject of these Discourses, so far
I can say for certain that, whether or not I can do any
thing at all in St. Philip's way, at least I can do nothing
in any other. Neither by my habits of life, nor by
vigour of age, am I fitted for the task of authority, or
of rule, or of initiation. I do but aspire, if strength is
given me, to be your minister in a work which must em
ploy younger minds and stronger lives than mine. I am
but fit to bear my witness, to proffer my suggestions, to
express my sentiments, as has in fact been my occupa
tion in these discussions; to throw such light upon
general questions, upon the choice of objects, upon the
import of principles, upon the tendency of measures, as
past reflection and experience enable me to contribute.
I shall have to make appeals to your consideration, your
friendliness, your confidence, of which I have had so
many instances, on which I so tranquilly repose; and
Duties of the Church Towards Knowledge. 239
after all, neither you nor I must ever be surprised, should
it so happen that the Hand of Him, with whom are the
springs of life and death, weighs heavy on me, and
makes me unequal to anticipations in which you have
been too kind, and to hopes in which I may have been
too sanguine.
II.
UNIVERSITY SUBJECTS,
DISCUSSED IN OCCASIONAL LECTURES AND ESSAYS.
16
TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE
WILLIAM MONSELL, M.P., ETC., ETC.*
My DEAR MONSELL,
I seem to have some claim for asking leave of you to
prefix your name to the following small Volume, since it
is a memorial of work done in a country which you so
dearly love, and in behalf of an undertaking in which
you feel so deep an interest.
Nor do I venture on the step without some hope that
it is worthy of your acceptance, at least on account of
those portions of it which have already received the
approbation of the learned men to whom they were
addressed, and which have been printed at their desire.
But, even though there were nothing to recommend it
except that it came from me, I know well that you
would kindly welcome it as a token of the truth and
constancy with which I am,
MY DEAR MONSELL,
Yours very affectionately,
(November. 1858.] JOHN H. NEWMAN.
[*Now LORD EMLY.]
ADVERTISEMENT.
IT has been the fortune of the author through life,
that the Volumes which he has published have grown
for the most part out of the duties which lay upon him,
or out of the circumstances of the moment. Rarely has
he been master of his own studies.
The present collection of Lectures and Essays, written
by him while Rector of the Catholic University of Ire
land, is certainly not an exception to this remark.
Rather, it requires the above consideration to be kept in
view, as an apology for the want of keeping which is
apparent between its separate portions, some of them
being written for public delivery, others with the
privileged freedom of anonymous compositions.
However, whatever be the inconvenience which such
varieties in tone and character may involve, the author
cannot affect any compunction for having pursued the
illustration of one and the same important subject-matte^
with which he had been put in charge, by such methods,
graver or lighter, so that they were lawful, as successively
came to his hand.
November, 1858.
UNIVERSITY SUBJECTS.
PAGE
\. CHRISTIANITY AND LETTERS. A Lecture read in the School
of Philosophy and Letters, November, 1854 • -249
II. LITERATURE. A Lecture read in the School of Philosophy
and Letters, November, 1858 - • - 268
III. CATHOLIC LITERATURE IN THE ENGLISH TONGUE,
1854-8 :— - ... 295
§, i. in its relation to Religious Literature - - - 296
§. 2. to Science - 299
§. 3. to Classical Literature - ... 307
§. 4. to Literature of the Day • - 320
IV. ELEMENTARY STUDIES, 1854-6 : — - - 331
§. i. Grammar • . 334
§. 2. Composition .... . 348
g. 3. Latin Writing - - . 362
§. 4. General Religious Knowledge - . - 372
V. A FORM OF INFIDELITY OF THE DAY, 1854.— - 381
§. i. Its sentiments -•-..- 381
§. 2. Its policy - - 392
VI. UNIVERSITY PREACHING, 1855 - • 405
VII. CHRISTIANITY AND PHYSICAL SCIENCE. A Lecture rrad
in the School of Medicine, November, 1855 - - 42&
VIII. CHRISTIANITY AND SCIENTIFIC INVESTIGATION. A Lecture
for the School of Science, 1855 - - 456
IX. DISCIPLINE OF MIND. An Address delivered to the Evening
Classes, November, 1858 - - 480
X. CHRISTIANITY AND MEDICAL SCIENCE. An Address delivered
to the Students of Medicine, November, 1858 - 505
249
I.
CHRISTIANITY AND LETTERS.
A LECTURE IN THE SCHOOL OF PHILOSOPHY AND
LETTERS.
IT seems but natural, Gentlemen, now that we arc
opening the School of Philosophy and Letters, or,
as it was formerly called, of Arts, in this new University,
that we should direct our attention to the question, what
are the subjects generally included under that name,
and what place they hold, and how they come to hold
that place, in a University, and in the education which
a University provides. This would be natural on
such an occasion, even though the Faculty of Arts held
but a secondary place in the academical system ; but
it seems to be even imperative on us, considering that
the studies which that Faculty embraces are almost the
direct subject-matter and the staple of the mental exer
cises proper to a University.
It is indeed not a little remarkable that, in spite of
the special historical connexion of University Institutions
with the Sciences of Theology, Law, and Medicine, a
University, after all, should be formally based (as it really
is), and should emphatically live in, the Faculty of Arts ;
but such is the deliberate decision of those who have
250 Christianity arid jLetters
most deeply and impartially considered the subject.*
Arts existed before other Faculties ; the Masters of Arts
were the ruling and directing body ; the success and
popularity of the Faculties of Law and Medicine were
considered to be in no slight measure an encroachment
and a usurpation, arid were met with jealousy and
resistance. When Colleges arose and became the
medium and instrument of University action, they did
but confirm the ascendency of the Faculty of Arts ; and
thus, even down to this day, in those academical cor
porations which have more than others retained the
traces of their medieval origin, — I mean the Universities
of Oxford and Cambridge, — we hear little of Theology,
Medicine, or Law, and almost exclusively of Arts.
Now, considering the reasonable association, to which I
have already referred, which exists in our minds between
Universities and the three learned professions, here is a
phenomenon which has to be contemplated for its own
sake and accounted for, as well as a circumstance en
hancing the significance and importance of the act in
which we have been for some weeks engaged ; and I
consider that I shall not be employing our time unprofit-
ably, if T am able to make a suggestion, which, while
it illustrates the fact, is able to explain the difficulty.
2.
Here I must go back, Gentlemen, a very great way,
and ask you to review the course of Civilization since
the beginning of history. When we survey the stream
of human affairs for the last three thousand years, we
find it to run thus : — At first sight there is so much
fluctuation, agitation, ebbing and flowing, that we may
despair to discern any law in its movements, taking the
• Vid Hubcr.
Christianity and Letters. 25 1
earth as its bed, and mankind as its contents ; but, on
looking more closely and attentively, we shall discern, in
spite of the heterogeneous materials and the various his
tories and fortunes which are found in the race of man
during the long period I have mentioned, a certain for
mation amid the chaos, — one and one only, — and ex
tending, though not over the whole earth, yet through a
very considerable portion of it. Man is a social being
and can hardly exist without society, and in matter of
fact societies have ever existed all over the habitable
earth. The greater part of these associations have been
political or religious, and have been comparatively
limited in extent, and temporary. They have been
formed and dissolved by the force of accidents or by
inevitable circumstances ; and, when we have enumerated
them one by one, we have made of them all that can be
made. But there is one remarkable association which
attracts the attention of the philosopher, not political
nor religious, or at least only partially and not essentially
such, which began in the earliest times and grew with
each succeeding age, till it reached its complete develop
ment, and then continued on, vigorous and unwearied,
and which still remains as definite and as firm as ever it
was. Its bond is a common civilization ; and, though
there are other civilizations in the world, as there are
other societies, yet this civilization, together with the
society which is its creation and its home, is so distinc
tive and luminous in its character, so imperial in its ex
tent, so imposing in its duration, and so utterly without
rival upon the face of the earth, that the association may
titly assume to itself the title of " Human Society," and
its civilization the abstract term " Civilization."
There are indeed great outlying portions of mankind
which are not, perhaps never have been, included in this
252 Christianity and L e tiers.
Human Society; still they are outlying portions and
nothing else, fragmentary, unsociable, solitary, and un
meaning, protesting and revolting against the grand
central formation of which I am speaking, but not unit
ing with each other into a second whole. I am not deny
ing of course the civilization of the Chinese, for instance,
though it be not our civilization ; but it is a huge, sta
tionary, unattractive, morose civilization. Nor do I deny
a civilization to the Hindoos, nor to the ancient Mexicans,
nor to the Saracens, nor (in a certain sense) to the Turks ;
but each of these races has its own civilization, as sepa
rate from one another as from ours. I do not see how
they can be all brought under one idea. Each stands
by itself, as if the other were not ; each is local ; many of
them are temporary ; none of them will bear a compari
son with the Society and the Civilization which I have
described as alone having a claim to those names, and on
which I am going to dwell.
Gentlemen, let me here observe that I am not entering
upon the question of races, or upon their history. I have
nothing to do with ethnology. I take things as I find
them on the surface of history, and am but classing phe
nomena. Looking, then, at the countries which surround
the Mediterranean Sea as a whole, I see them to be, from
time immemorial, the seat of an association of intellect
and mind, such as to deserve to be called the Intellect
and the Mind of the Human Kind. Starting as it does
and advancing from certain centres, till their respective
influences intersect and conflict, and then at length inter
mingle and combine, a common Thought has been gene
rated, and a common Civilization defined and established.
Egypt is one such starting point, Syria another, Greece
a third, Italy a fourth, and North Africa a fifth, — after-
vards France and Spain. As time goes on, and as coloni-
Christianity and Letters. 253
zation and conquest work their changes, we see a great
association of nations formed, of which the Roman
empire is the maturity and the most intelligible expres
sion ; an association, however, not political, but mental,
based on the same intellectual ideas, and advancing by
common intellectual methods. And this association or
social commonwealth, with whatever reverses, changes,
and momentary dissolutions, continues down to this day ;
not, indeed, precisely on the same territory, but with
such only partial and local disturbances, and on the
other hand, with so combined and harmonious a move
ment, and such a visible continuity, that it would be
utterly unreasonable to deny that it is throughout all
that interval but one and the same.
In its earliest age it included far more of the eastern
world than it has since ; in these later times it has taken
into its compass a new hemisphere ; in the middle ages
it lost Africa, Egypt, and Syria, and extended itself to
Germany, Scandinavia, and the British Isles. At one
time its territory was flooded by strange and barbarous
races, but the existing civilization was vigorous enough
to vivify what threatened to stifle it, and to assimilate to
the old social forms what came to expel them ; and thus
the civilization of modern times remains what it was of
old, not Chinese, or Hindoo, or Mexican, or Saracenic,
or of any new description hitherto unknown, but the
lineal descendant, or rather the continuation, mutatis
mutandis, of the civilization which began in Palestine
and Greece.
Considering, then, the characteristics of this great civi
lized Society, which I have already insisted on, I think
it has a claim to be considered as the representative
Society and Civilization of the human race, as its perfect
result and limit, in fact ; — those portions of the race which
254 Christianity and Letters.
do not coalesce with it being left to stand by themselves
as anomalies, unaccountable indeed, but for that very
reason not interfering with what on the contrary has
been turned to account and has grown into a whole. I
call then this commonwealth pre-eminently and emphati
cally Human Society, and its intellect the Human Mind,
and its decisions the sense of mankind, and its disciplined
and cultivated state Civilization in the abstract, and the
territory on which it lies the orbis terrarum, or the World.
For, unless the illustration be fanciful, the object which
I am contemplating is like the impression of a seal upon
the wax ; which rounds off and gives form to the greater
portion of the soft material, and presents something de
finite to the eye, and preoccupies the space against any
second figure, so that we overlook and leave out of our
thoughts the jagged outline or unmeaning lumps outside
of it, intent upon the harmonious circle which fills the
imagination within it.
3-
Now, before going on to speak of the education, and
the standards of education, which the Civilized World, as
I may now call it, has enjoined and requires, I wish to
draw your attention, Gentlemen, to the circumstance
that this same orbis terrarum, which has been the seat of
Civilization, will be found, on the whole, to be the seat
also of that supernatural society and system which our
Maker has given us directly from Himself, the Christian
Polity. The natural and divine associations are not
indeed exactly coincident, nor ever have been. As the
territory of Civilization has varied with itself in different
ages, while on the whole it has been the same, so, in like
manner, Christianity has fallen partly outside Civilization,
and Civilization partly outside Christianity ; but, on the
Christianity and Letters. 255
whole, the two have occupied one and the same orbis tzr-
rarum. Often indeed they have even moved pari passu,
and at all times there has been found the most intimate
connexion between them. Christianity waited till the
orbis terrarum attained its most perfect form before it
appeared ; and it soon coalesced, and has ever since co
operated, and often seemed identical, with the Civiliza
tion which is its companion.
There are certain analogies, too, which hold between
Civilization and Christianity. As Civilization does not
cover the whole earth, neither does Christianity; but
there is nothing else like the one, and nothing else like
the other. Each is the only thing of its kind. Again,
there are, as I have already said, large outlying portions
of the world in a certain sense cultivated and educated,
which, if they could exist together in one, would go far
to constitute a second orbis terrarum, the home of a
second distinct civilization ; but every one of these is
civilized on its own principle and idea, or at least they
are separated from each other, and have not run together,
while the Civilization and Society which I have been
describing is one organized whole. And, in like manner,
Christianity coalesces into one vast body, based upon
common ideas ; yet there are large outlying organizations
of religion independent of each other and of it. More
over, Christianity, as is the case in the parallel instance of
Civilization, continues on in the world without interrup
tion from the date of its rise, while other religious bodies,
huge, local, and isolated, are rising and falling, or are
helplessly stationary, from age to age, on all sides of it.
There is another remarkable analogy between Chris
tianity and Civilization, and the mention of it will
introduce my proper subject, to which what I have
hitherto said is merely a preparation. We know that
256 Christianity and Letters.
Christianity is built upon definite ideas, principles,
doctrines, and writings, which were given at the time of
its first introduction, and have never been superseded,
and admit of no addition. I am not going to parallel
any thing which is the work of man, and in the natural
order, with what is from heaven, and in consequence
infallible, and irreversible, and obligatory ; but, after
making this reserve, lest I should possibly be misunder
stood, still I would remark that, in matter of fact, look
ing at the state of the case historically, Civilization too
has its common principles, and views, and teaching, and
especially its books, which have more or less been given
from the earliest times, and are, in fact, in equal esteem
and respect, in equal use now, as they were when they
were received in the beginning. In a word, the Classics,
and the subjects of thought and the studies to which
they give rise, or, to use the term most to our present
purpose, the Arts, have ever, on the whole, been the
instruments of education which the civilized orbis ter-
rarum has adopted ; just as inspired works, and the
lives of saints, and the articles of faith, and the catechism,
have ever been the instrument of education in the case of
Christianity. And this consideration, you see, Gentle
men (to drop down at once upon the subject proper to
the occasion which has brought us together), invests
the opening of the School in Arts with a solemnity and
moment of a peculiar kind, for we are but reiterating an
old tradition, and carrying on those august methods of
enlarging the mind, and cultivating the intellect, and
refining the feelings, in which the process of Civilization
has ever consisted.
4-
In the country which has been the fountain head
Christianity and L etters. 257
of intellectual gifts, in the age which preceded or
introduced the first formations of Human Society, in an
era scarcely historical, we may dimly discern an almost
mythical personage, who, putting out of consideration
the actors in Old Testament history, may be called the
first Apostle of Civilization. Like an Apostle in a higher
order of things, he was poor and a wanderer, and feeble
in the flesh, though he was to do such great things, and
to live in the mouths of a hundred generations and a
thousand tribes. A blind old man ; whose wanderings
were such that, when he became famous, his birth-place
could not be ascertained, so that it was said, —
" Seven famous towns contend for Homer dead,
Through which the living Homer begged his bread."
Yet he had a name in his day ; and, little guessing in
what vast measures his wish would be answered, he sup
plicated, with a tender human sentiment, as he wandered
over the islands of the ^Egean and the Asian coasts, that
those who had known and loved him would cherish his
memory when he was away. Unlike the proud boast
of the Roman poet, if he spoke it in earnest, " Exegi
monumentum aere perennius," he did but indulge the
hope that one, whose coming had been expected with
pleasure, might excite regret when he had departed, and
be rewarded by the sympathy and praise of his friends
even in the presence of other minstrels. A set of verses
remains, which is ascribed to him, in which he addresses
the Delian women in the tone of feeling which I have
described. "Farewell to you all," he says, "and re
member me in time to come, and when any one of men
on earth, a stranger from far, shall inquire of you, O
maidens, who is the sweetest of minstrels here about,
2 .5 8 Christianity and Letters.
and in whom do you most delight ? then make answer
modestly, It is a blind man, and he lives in steep
Chios."
The great poet remained unknown for some centuries,
— that is, unknown to. what we call fame. His verses
were cherished by his countrymen, they might be the
secret delight of thousands, but they were not collected
into a volume, nor viewed as a whole, nor made a sub
ject of criticism. At length an Athenian Prince took
upon him the task of gathering together the scattered
fragments of a genius which had not aspired to immor
tality, of reducing them to writing, and of fitting them
to be the text-book of ancient education. Henceforth
the vagrant ballad-singer, as he might be thought, was
submitted, to his surprise, to a sort of literary canoni
zation, and was invested with the office of forming the
young mind of Greece to noble thoughts and bold deeds.
To be read in Homer soon became the education of a
gentleman ; and a rule, recognized in her free age, re
mained as a tradition even in the times of her degra
dation. Xenophon introduces to us a youth who knew
both Iliad and Odyssey by heart ; Dio witnesses that
they were some of the first books put into the hands of
boys ; and Horace decided that they taught the science
of life better than Stoic or Academic. Alexander the
Great nourished his imagination by the scenes of the
Iliad. As time went on, other poets were associated
with Homer in the work of education, such as Hesiod
and the Tragedians. The majestic lessons concerning
duty and religion, justice and providence, which occur in
,/Eschylus and Sophocles, belong to a higher school than
that of Homer ; and the verses of Euripides, even in his
lifetime, were so familiar to Athenian lips and so dear
to foreign ears, that, as is reported, the captives of
Christianity and Letters. 259
Syracuse gained their freedom at the price of reciting
them to their conquerors.
Such poetry may be considered oratory also, since it
has so great a power of persuasion ; and the alliance
between these two gifts had existed from the time that
the verses of Orpheus had, according to the fable, made
woods and streams and wild animals to follow him
about. Soon, however, Oratory became the subject of
a separate art, which was called Rhetoric, and of which
the Sophists were the chief masters. Moreover, as
Rhetoric was especially political in its nature, it pre
supposed or introduced the cultivation of History; and
thus the pages of Thucydides became one of the special
studies by which Demosthenes rose to be the first orator
of Greece.
But it is needless to trace out further the formation of
the course of liberal education ; it is sufficient to have
given some specimens in illustration of it. The studies,
which it was found to involve, were four principal ones,
Grammar, Rhetoric, Logic, and Mathematics ; and the
science of Mathematics, again, was divided into four,
Geometry, Arithmetic, Astronomy, and Music ; making
in all seven, which are known by the name of the Seven
Liberal Arts. And thus a definite school of intellect was
formed, founded on ideas and methods of a distinctive
character, and (as we may say) of the highest and truest
character, as far as they went, and which gradually asso
ciated in one, and assimilated, and took possession of,
that multitude of nations which I have considered to
represent mankind, and to possess the orbis terrarum.
When we pass from Greece to Rome, we are met with
the common remark, that Rome produced little that was
original, but borrowed from Greece. It is true ; Terence
copied from Menander, Virgil from Homer, Hesiod, and
260 Christianity and Let ten.
Theocritus ; and Cicero professed merely to reproduce
the philosophy of Greece. But, granting its truth ever
so far, I do but take it as a proof of the sort of instinct
which has guided the course of Civilization. The world
was to have certain intellectual teachers, and no others ;
Homer and Aristotle, with the poets and philosophers
who circle round them, were to be the schoolmasters of
all generations, and therefore the Latins, falling into the
law on which the world's education was to be carried on,
so added to the classical library as not to reverse or in
terfere with what had already been determined. And
there was the more meaning in this arrangement, when
it is considered that Greek was to be forgotten during
many centuries, and the tradition of intellectual training
to be conveyed through Latin ; for thus the world was
secured against the consequences of a loss which would
have changed the character of its civilization. I think it
very remarkable, too, how soon the Latin writers became
text-books in the boys' schools. Even to this day Shake
speare and Milton are not studied in our course of edu
cation ; but the poems of Virgil and Horace, as those of
Homer and the Greek authors in an earlier age, were in
schoolboys' satchels not much more than a hundred
years after they were written.
I need not go on to show at length that they have
preserved their place in the system of education in the
orbis terrarum, and the Greek writers with them or
through them, down to this day. The induction of cen
turies has often been made. Even in the lowest state
of learning the tradition was kept up. St. Gregoiy the
Great, whose era, not to say whose influence, is often con
sidered especially unfavourable to the old literature, was
himself well versed in it, encouraged purity of Latinity
in his court, and is said figuratively by the contemporary
Christianity and Letters. 261
historian of his life to have supported the hall of the
Apostolic See upon the columns of the Seven Liberal
Arts. In the ninth century, when the dark age was
close at hand, we still hear of the cultivation, with what
ever success (according of course to the opportunities of
the times, but I am speaking of the nature of the studies,
not of the proficiency of the students), the cultivation
of Music, Dialectics, Rhetoric, Grammar, Mathematics,
Astronomy, Physics, and Geometry ; of the supremacy
of Horace in the schools, " and the great Virgil, Sallust,
and Statius." In the thirteenth or following centuries,
of " Virgil, Lucian, Statius, Ovid, Livy, Sallust, Cicero,
and Quintilian ; " and after the revival of literature in
the commencement of the modern era, we find St. Carlo
Borromeo enjoining the use of works of Cicero, Ovid,
Virgil, and Horace*
5-
I pass thus cursorily over the series of informations
which history gives us on the subject, merely with a view
of recalling to your memory, Gentlemen, and impressing
upon you the fact, that the literature of Greece, con
tinued into, and enriched by, the literature of Rome, to
gether with the studies which it involves, has been the
instrument of education, and the food of civilization, from
the first times of the world down to this day ; — and now
we are in a condition to answer the question which there
upon arises, when we turn to consider, by way of contrast,
the teaching which is characteristic of Universities. How
has it come to pass that, although the genius of Universi
ties is so different from that of the schools which preceded
them, nevertheless the course of study pursued in those
* Vid. the treatises of P. Daniel and Mgr. Landriot, referred to in His
torical Sketches, vol. ii., p. 460^ note.
262 Christianity and Leiurs.
schools was not superseded in the middle ages by those
more brilliant sciences which Universities introduced ?
It might have seemed as if Scholastic Theology, Law, and
Medicine would have thrown the Seven Liberal Arts into
the shade, but in the event they failed to do so. I con
sider the reason to be, that the authority and function of
the monastic and secular schools, as supplying to the
young the means of education, lay deeper than in any
appointment of Charlemagne, who was their nominal
founder, and were based in the special character of that
civilization which is so intimately associated with Chris
tianity, that it may even be called the soil out of which
Christianity grew. The medieval sciences, great as is
their dignity and utility, were never intended to supersede
that more real and proper cultivation of the mind which
is effected by the study of the liberal Arts ; and, when
certain of these sciences did in fact go out of their pro
vince and did attempt to prejudice the traditional course
of education, the encroachment was in matter of fact
resisted. There were those in the middle age, as John of
Salisbury, who vigorously protested against the extrava
gances and usurpations which ever attend the introduc
tion of any great good whatever, and which attended the
rise of the peculiar sciences of which Universities were
the seat ; and, though there were times when the old
traditions seemed to be on the point of failing, somehow
it has happened that they have never failed ; for the in
stinct of Civilization and the common sense of Society
prevailed, and the danger passed away, and the studies
which seemed to be going out gained their ancient place,
and were acknowledged, as before, to be the best instru
ments of mental cultivation, and the best guarantees for
intellectual progress.
And this experience of the past we may apply to the
Christianity and Letters. 263
circumstances in which we find ourselves at present ; for,
as there was a movement against the Classics in the
middle age, so has there been now. The truth of the
Baconian method for the purposes for which it was
created, and its inestimable services and inexhaustible
applications in the interests of our material well-being,
have dazzled the imaginations of men, somewhat in the
same way as certain new sciences carried them away in
the age of Abelard ; and since that method does such
wonders in its own province, it is not unfrequently sup
posed that it can do as much in any other province also.
Now, Bacon himself never would have so argued ; he
would not have needed to be reminded that to advance
the useful arts is one thing, and to cultivate the mind
another. The simple question to be considered is, how
best to strengthen, refine, and enrich the intellectual
powers ; the perusal of the poets, historians, and philo
sophers of Greece and Rome will accomplish this pur
pose, as long experience has shown ; but that the study
of the experimental sciences will do the like, is proved
to us as yet by no experience whatever.
Far indeed am I from denying the extreme attrac
tiveness, as well as the practical benefit to the world
at large, of the sciences of Chemistry, Electricity, and
Geology ; but the question is not what department of
study contains the more wonderful facts, or promises
the more brilliant discoveries, and which is in the
higher and which in an inferior rank ; but simply which
out of all provides the most robust and invigorating
discipline for the unformed mind. And I conceive it is
as little disrespectful to Lord Bacon to prefer the Classics
in this point of view to the sciences which have grown
out of his philosophy as it would be disrespectful to St.
Thomas in the middle ages to have hindered the study
264 Christianity and Leii>.
of the Summa from doing prejudice to the Faculty of
Arts. Accordingly, I anticipate that, as in the middle
ages both the teaching and the government of the
University remained in the Faculty of Arts, in spite
of the genius which created or illustrated Theology and
Law, so now too, whatever be the splendour of the
modern philosophy, the marvellousness of its disclosures,
the utility of its acquisitions, and the talent of its masters,
still it will not avail in the event, to detrude classical litera
ture and the studies connected with it from the place which
they have held in all ages in education.
Such, then, is the course of reflection obviously sug
gested by the act in which we have been lately engaged,
and which we are now celebrating. In the nineteenth
century, in a country which looks out upon a new world,
and anticipates a coming age, we have been engaged in
opening the Schools dedicated to the studies of polite
literature and liberal science, or what are called the
Arts, as a first step towards the establishment on
Catholic ground of a Catholic University. And while
we thus recur to Greece and Athens with pleasure
and affection, and recognize in that famous land the
source and the school of intellectual culture, it would be
strange indeed if we forgot to look further south also,
and there to bow before a more glorious luminary, and
a more sacred oracle of truth, and the source of another
sort of knowledge, high and supernatural, which is
seated in Palestine. Jerusalem is the fountain-head of
religious knowledge, as Athens is of secular. In the
ancient world we see two centres of illumination, acting
independently of each other, each with its own move
ment, and at first apparently without any promise ot
convergence. Greek civilization spreads over the East,
conquering in the conquests of Alexander, and, when
Ch rtstianiiy and L etters. 265
carried captive into the West, subdues the conquerors who
brought it thither. Religion, on the other hand, is driven
from its own aboriginal home to the North and West by
reason of the sins of the people who were in charge of
it, in a long course of judgments and plagues and perse
cutions. Each by itself pursues its career and fulfils its
mission ; neither of them recognizes, nor is recognized
by the other. At length the Temple of Jerusalem is
rooted up by the armies of Titus, and the effete schools
of Athens are stifled by the edict of Justinian. So pass
away the ancient Voices of religion and learning ; but they
are silenced only to revive more gloriously and perfectly
elsewhere. Hitherto they came from separate sources,
and performed separate works. Each leaves an heir and
successor in the West, and that heir and successor is
one and the same. The grace stored in Jerusalem, and
the gifts which radiate from Athens, are made over and
concentrated in Rome. This is true as a matter of
history. Rome has inherited both sacred and pro
fane learning ; she has perpetuated and dispensed the
traditions of Moses and David in the supernatural order,
and of Homer and Aristotle in the natural. To separate
those distinct teachings, human and divine, which meet
in Rome, is to retrograde ; it is to rebuild the Jewish
Temple and to plant anew the groves of Academus.
On this large subject, however, on which I might say
much, time does not allow me to enter. To show how
sacred learning and profane are dependent on each other,
correlative and mutually complementary, how faith
operates by means of reason, and reason is directed
and corrected by faith, is really the subject of a distinct
lecture. I would conclude, then, with merely congratu-
266 Christianity and Letters.
lating you, Gentlemen, on the great undertaking which
we have so auspiciously commenced. Whatever be its
fortunes, whatever its difficulties, whatever its delays, I
cannot doubt at all that the encouragement which it has
already received, and the measure of success which it
has been allotted, afe but a presage and an anticipation
of a gradual advance towards its completion, in such
times and such manner as Providence shall appoint.
For myself, I have never had any misgiving about it,
because I had never known anything of it before the
time when the Holy See had definitely decided upon its
prosecution. It is my happiness to have no cognizance
of the anxieties and perplexities of venerable and holy
prelates, or the discussions of experienced and prudent
men, which preceded its definitive recognition on the
part of the highest ecclesiastical authority. It is my
happiness to have no experience of the time when good
Catholics despaired of its success, distrusted its expe
diency, or even felt an obligation to oppose it. It has
been my happiness that I have never been in con
troversy with persons in this country external to the
Catholic Church, nor have been forced into any direct
collision with institutions or measures which rest on a
foundation hostile to Catholicism. No one can accuse
me of any disrespect towards those whose principles or
whose policy I disapprove ; nor am I conscious of any
other aim than that of working in my own place, without
going out of my way to offend others. If I have taken
part in the undertaking which has now brought us to
gether, it has been because I believed it was a great
work, great in its conception, great in its promise, and
great in the authority from which it proceeds. I felt it
to be so great that I did not dare to incur the responsi
bility of refusing to take part in it.
Christianity and Letters. 267
How far indeed, and how long, I am to be connected
with it, is another matter altogether. It is enough for
one man to lay only one stone of so noble and grand an
edifice ; it is enough, more than enough for me, if I do
so much as merely begin, what others may more hope
fully continue. One only among the sons of men has
carried out a perfect work, and satisfied and exhausted
the mission on which He came. One alone has with
His last breath said " Consummatum est." But all who
set about their duties in faith and hope and love, with a
resolute heart and a devoted will, are able, weak though
they be, to do what, though incomplete, is imperishable.
Even their failures become successes, as being necessary
steps in a course, and as terms (so to say) in a long
series, which will at length fulfil the object which they
propose. And they will unite themselves in spirit, in
their humble degree, with those real heroes of Holy
Writ and ecclesiastical history, Moses, Elias, and David,
Basil, Athanasius, and Chrysostom, Gregory the Se
venth, St. Thomas of Canterbury, and many others,
who did most when they fancied themselves least
prosperous, and died without being permitted to see
the fruit of their labours.
268
IL
LITERATURE.
A LECTURE IN THE SCHOOL OF PHILOSOPHY AND
LETTERS.
I.
WISHING to address you, Gentlemen, at the com
mencement of a new Session, I tried to find a
subject for discussion, which might be at once suitable to
the occasion, yet neither too large for your time, nor too
minute or abstruse for your attention. I think I see one
for my purpose in the very title of your Faculty. It
is the Faculty of Philosophy and Letters. Now the
question may arise as to what is meant by " Philosophy,"
and what is meant by " Letters." As to the other
Faculties, the subject-matter which they profess is in
telligible, as soon as named, and beyond all dispute.
We know what Science is, what Medicine, what Law,
and what Theology ; but we have not so much ease in
determining what is meant by Philosophy and Letters.
Each department of that twofold province needs expla
nation : it will be sufficient, on an occasion like this, to
investigate one of them. Accordingly I shall select for
remark the latter of the two, and attempt to determine
what we are to understand by Letters or Literature, in
what Literature consists, and how it stands relatively to
Literature. 269
Science. We speak, for instance, of ancient and modern
literature, the literature of the day, sacred literature,
light literature ; and our lectures in this place are
devoted to classical literature and English literature.
Are Letters, then, synonymous with books ? This cannot
be, or they would include in their range Philosophy,
Law, and, in short, the teaching of all the other Faculties.
Far from confusing these various studies, we view the
works of Plato or Cicero sometimes as philosophy, some
times as literature ; on the other hand, no one would
ever be tempted to speak of Euclid as literature, or of
Matthias's Greek Grammar. Is, then, literature synony
mous with composition ? with books written with an
attention to style ? is literature fine writing ? again, is it
studied and artificial writing ?
There are excellent persons who seem to adopt this
last account of Literature as their own idea of it. They
depreciate it, as if it were the result of a mere art or
trick of words. Professedly indeed, they are aiming at
the Greek and Roman classics, but their criticisms have
quite as great force against all literature as against any.
I think I shall be best able to bring out what I have to
say on the subject by Examining the statements which
they make in defence of their own view of it. They
contend then, i. that tine writing, as exemplified in the
Classics, is mainly a matter of conceits, fancies, and pret-
tinesses, decked out in choice words ; 2. that this is the
proof of it, that the classics will not bear translating ; —
(and this is why 1 have said that the real attack is upon
literature altogether, not the classical only ; for, to speak
generally, all literature, modern as well as ancient, lies
under this disadvantage. This, however, they will not
allow; for they maintain,) 3. that Holy Scripture presents a
remarkable contrast to secular writings on this very point,
270 Literature.
viz., in that Scripture does easily admit of translation,
though it is the most sublime and beautiful of all writings.
2.
Now 1 will begin by stating these three positions in
the words of a writer, who is cited by the estimable
Catholics in question as a witness, or rather as an
advocate, in their behalf, though he is far from being
able in his own person to challenge the respect which is
inspired by themselves.
" There are two sorts of eloquence," says this writer,
" the one indeed scarce deserves the name of it, which
consists chiefly in laboured and polished periods, an
over-curious and artificial arrangement of figures, tin
selled over with a gaudy embellishment of words,
which glitter, but convey little or no light to the under
standing. This kind of writing is for the most part
much affected and admired by the people of weak
judgment and vicious taste ; but it is a piece of affecta
tion and formality the sacred writers are utter strangers
to. It is a vain and boyish eloquence ; and, as it has
always been esteemed below the great geniuses of all
ages, so much more so with respect to those writers who
were actuated by the spirit of Infinite Wisdom, and
therefore wrote with that force and majesty with which
never man writ. The other sort of eloquence is quite
the reverse to this, and which may be said to be the true
characteristic of the Holy Scriptures ; where the ex
cellence does not arise from a laboured and far-fetched
elocution, but from a surprising mixture of simplicity
and majesty, which is a double character, so difficult to
be united that it is seldom to be met with in compo
sitions merely human. We see nothing in Holy Writ
of affectation and superfluous ornament . . . Now, it is
Literature. 271
observable that the most excellent profane authors,
whether Greek or Latin, lose most of their graces when
ever we find them literally translated. Homer's famed
representation of Jupiter — his cried-up description of a
tempest, his relation of Neptune's shaking the earth and
opening it to its centre, his description of Pallas's horses,
with numbers of other long-since admired passages,
flag, and almost vanish away, in the vulgar Latin
translation.
" Let any one but take the pains to read the common
Latin interpretations of Virgil, Theocritus, or even of
Pindar, and one may venture to affirm he will be able tc
trace out but few remains of the graces which charmed
him so much in the original. The natural conclusion
from hence is, that in the classical authors, the expres
sion, the sweetness of the numbers, occasioned by a
musical placing of words, constitute a great part of their
beauties ; whereas, in the sacred writings, they consist
more in the greatness of the things themselves than in
the words and expressions. The ideas and conceptions
are so great and lofty in their own nature that they
necessarily appear magnificent in the most artless dress.
Look but into the Bible, and we see them shine through
the most simple and literal translations. That glorious
description which Moses gives of the creation of the
heavens and the earth, which Longinus . . . was so
greatly taken with, has not lost the least whit of its
intrinsic worth, and though it has undergone so many
translations, yet triumphs over all, and breaks forth
with as much force and vehemence as in the original. . . .
In the history of Joseph, where Joseph makes himself
known, and weeps aloud upon the neck of his dear
brother Benjamin, that all the house of Pharaoh heard
him, at that instant none of his brethren are introduced
272 Literature.
as uttering aught, either to express their present joy
or palliate their former injuries to him. On all sides
there immediately ensues a deep and solemn silence ; a
silence infinitely more eloquent and expressive than any
thing else that could have been substituted in its place.
Had Thucydides, "Herodotus, Livy, or any of the cele
brated classical historians, been employed in writing this
history, when they came to this point they would doubt
less have exhausted all their fund of eloquence in fur
nishing Joseph's brethren with laboured and studied
harangues, which, however fine they might have been in
themselves, would nevertheless have been unnatural, and
altogether improper on the occasion." *
This is eloquently written, but it contains, I consider,
a mixture of truth and falsehood, which it will be my
business to discriminate from each other. Far be it
from me to deny the unapproachable grandeur and sim
plicity of Holy Scripture ; but I shall maintain that the
classics are, as human compositions, simple and majestic
and natural too. I grant that Scripture is concerned
with things, but I will not grant that classical literature
is simply concerned with words. I grant that human
literature is often elaborate, but I will maintain that
elaborate composition is not unknown to the writers of
Scripture. I grant that human literature cannot easily
be translated out of the particular language to which it
belongs ; but it is not at all the rule that Scripture can
easily be translated either ; — and now I address myseli
to my task : —
3-
Here, then, in the first place, I observe, Gentlemen,
that Literature, from the derivation of the word, implies
* Sterne, Sermon xlii.
Literature* 273
writing, not speaking ; this, however, arises from the
circumstance of the copiousness, variety, and public
circulation of the matters of which it consists. What is
spoken cannot outrun the range of the speaker's voice,
and perishes in the uttering. When words are in de
mand to express a long course of thought, when they
have to be conveyed to the ends of the earth, or perpe
tuated for the benefit of posterity, they must be written
down, that is, reduced to the shape of literature ; still,
properly speaking, the terms, by which we denote this
characteristic gift of man, belong to its exhibition by
means of the voice, not of handwriting. It addresses
itself, in its primary idea, to the ear, not to the eye. We
call it the power of speech, we call it language, that is,
the use of the tongue ; and, even when we write, we still
keep in mind what was its original instrument, for we use
freely such terms in our books as " saying," " speaking,"
"telling," "talking," "calling;" we use the terms "phrase
ology" and "diction;" as if we were still addressing our
selves to the ear.
Now I insist on this, because it shows that speech, and
therefore literature, which is its permanent record, is
essentially a personal work. It is not some production
or result, attained by the partnership of several persons,
or by machinery, or by any natural process, but in its
very idea it proceeds, and must proceed, from some one
given individual. Two persons cannot be the authors of
the sounds which strike our ear ; and, as they cannot be
speaking one and the same speech, neither can they be
writing one and the same lecture or discourse, — which
must certainly belong to some one person or other, and
is the expression of that one person's ideas and feelings,
—ideas and feelings personal to himself, though others
may have parallel and similar ones, — proper to himself,
18
Literature.
in the same sense as his voice, his air, his countenance,
his carriage, and his action, are personal. In other
words, Literature expresses, not objective truth, as it is
called, but subjective ; not things, but thoughts.
Now this doctrine will become clearer by considering
another use of words, which does relate to objective
truth, or to things ; which relates to matters, not
personal, not subjective to the individual, but which,
even were there no individual man in the whole world
to know them or to talk about them, would exist still.
Such objects become the matter of Science, and words
indeed are used to express them, but such words are
rather symbols than language, and however many we
use, and however we may perpetuate them by writing,
we never could make any kind of literature out of them,
or call them by that name. Such, for instance, would
be Euclid's Elements ; they relate to truths universal
and eternal ; they are not mere thoughts, but things :
they exist in themselves, not by virtue of our under
standing them, not in dependence upon our will, but in
what is called the nature of things, or at least on con
ditions external to us. The words, then, in which they
are set forth are not language, speech, literature, but
rather, as I have said, symbols. And, as a proof of it,
you will recollect that it is possible, nay usual, to set
forth the propositions of Euclid in algebraical notation,
which, as all would admit, has nothing to do with
literature. What is true of mathematics is true also of
every study, so far forth as it is scientific ; it makes use
of words as the mere vehicle of things, and is thereby
withdrawn from the province of literature. Thus
metaphysics, ethics, law, political economy, chemistry,
theology, cease to be literature in the same degree as
they are capable of a severe scientific treatment. And
Literature. 275
hence it is tnat Aristotle's works on the one hand,
though at first sight literature, approach in character, at
least a great number of them, to mere science ; for even
though the things which he treats of and exhibits may
not always be real and true, yet he treats them as if they
were, not as if they were the thoughts of his own mind ;
that is, he treats them scientifically. On the other hand,
Law or Natural History has before now been treated by
an author with so much of colouring derived from his
own mind as to become a sort of literature ; this is
especially seen in the instance of Theology, when it
takes the shape of Pulpit Eloquence. It is seen too in
historical composition, which becomes a mere specimen
of chronology, or a chronicle, when divested of the
philosophy, the skill, or the party and personal feelings
of the particular writer. Science, then, has to do with
things, literature with thoughts ; science is universal,
literature is personal ; science uses words merely as
symbols, but literature uses language in its full compass,
as including phraseology, idiom, style, composition,
rhythm, eloquence, and whatever other properties are
included in it.
Let us then put aside the scientific use of words, when
we are to speak of language and literature. Literature is
the personal use or exercise of language. That this is so
is further proved from the fact that one author uses it so
differently from another. Language itself in its very
origination would seem to be traceable to individuals.
Their peculiarities have given it its character. We are
often able in fact to trace particular phrases or idioms to
individuals ; we know the history of their rise. Slang
surely, as it is called, comes of, and breathes of the per
sonal. The connection between the force of words in
particular languages and the habits and sentiments of
2j6 Literature.
the nations speaking them has often been pointed out.
And, while the many use language as they find it, the
man of genius uses it indeed, but subjects it withal to his
own purposes, and moulds it according to his own pecu
liarities. The throng and succession of ideas, thoughts,
feelings, imaginations, aspirations, which pass within him,
the abstractions, the juxtapositions, the comparisons, the
discriminations, the conceptions, which are so original in
him, his views of external things, his judgments upon
life, manners, and history, the exercises of his wit, of
his humour, of his depth, of his sagacity, all these in
numerable and incessant creations, the very pulsation
and throbbing of his intellect, does he image forth, to all
does he give utterance, in a corresponding language,
which is as multiform as this inward mental action itself
and analogous to it, the faithful expression of his in
tense personality, attending on his own inward world of
thought as its very shadow : so that we might as well
say that one man's shadow is another's as that the style
of a really gifted mind can belong to any but himself.
It follows him about as a shadow. His thought and
feeling are personal, and so his language is personal.
4-
Thought and speech are inseparable from each other.
Matter and expression are parts of one : style is a think
ing out into language. This is what I have been laying
down, arid this is literature ; not things, not the verbal
symbols of things ; not on the other hand mere words ;
but thoughts expressed in language. Call to mind,
Gentlemen, the meaning of the Greek word which ex
presses this special prerogative of man over the feeble
intelligence of the inferior animals. It is called Logos :
what does Logos mean ? it stands both for reason and for
Literature. 277
speech^ and it is difficult to say which it means more pro
perly. It means both at once : why ? because really they
cannot be divided, — because they are in a true sense one,
When we can separate light and illumination, life and
motion, the convex and the concave of a curve, then will
it be possible for thought to tread speech under foot, and
to hope to do without it — then will it be conceivable
that the vigorous and fertile intellect should renounce
its own double, its instrument of expression, and the
channel of its speculations and emotions.
Critics should consider this view of the subject before
they lay down such canons of taste as the writer whose
pages I have quoted. Such men as he is consider fine
writing to be an addition from without to the matter
treated of, — a sort of ornament superinduced, or a luxury
indulged in, by those who have time and inclination for
such vanities. They speak as if one man could do the
thought, and another the style. We read in Persian
travels of the way in which young gentlemen go to work
in the East, when they would engage in correspondence
with those who inspire them with hope or fear. They
cannot write one sentence themselves ; so they betake
themselves to the professional letter-writer. They con
fide to him the object they have in view. They have a
point to gain from a superior, a favour to ask, an evil to
deprecate ; they have to approach a man in power, or to
make court to some beautiful lady. The professional
man manufactures words for them, as they are wanted,
as a stationer sells them paper, or a schoolmaster might
cut their pens. Thought and word are, in their concep
tion, two things, and thus there is a division of labour.
The man of thought comes to the man of words; and
the man of words, duly instructed in the thought, dips
the pen of desire into the ink of devotedness, and pro-
-78 Literature.
ceeds to spread it over the page of desolation. Then the.
nightingale of affection is heard to warble to the rose of
loveliness, while the breeze of anxiety plays around the
brow of expectation. This is what the Easterns are said
to consider fine writing ; and it seems pretty much the idea
of the school of critics to whom I have been referring.
We have an instance in literary history of this very
proceeding nearer home, in a great University, in the
latter years of the last century. I have referred to it
before now in a public lecture elsewhere * ; but it is too
much in point here to be omitted. A learned Arabic
scholar had to deliver a set of lectures before its doctors
and professors on an historical subject in which his
reading had lain. A linguist is conversant with science
rather than with literature ; but this gentleman felt that
his lectures must not be without a style. Being of the
opinion of the Orientals, with whose writings he was
familiar, he determined to buy a style. He took the
step of engaging a person, at a price, to turn the mattei
which he had got together into ornamental English.
Observe, he did not wish for mere grammatical English,
but for an elaborate, pretentious style. An artist was
found in the person of a country curate, and the job was
carried out. His lectures remain to this day, in then
own place in the protracted series of annual Discourses
to which they belong, distinguished amid a number of
heavyish compositions by the rhetorical and ambitious
diction for which he went into the market. This learned
divine, indeed, and the author I have quoted, differ from
each other in the estimate they respectively form of
literary composition ; but they agree together in this, — IE
considering such composition a trick and a trade ; they
•v>ut it on a par with the gold plate and the flowers
'* Position of Catholics in England," pp. 101. 2
Literature. 279
the music of a banquet, which do not make the viands
better, but the entertainment more pleasurable ; as if
language were the hired servant, the mere mistress of the
reason, and not the lawful wife in her own house.
But can they really think that Homer, or Pindar,
or Shakespeare, or Dryden, or Walter Scott, were
accustomed to aim at diction for its own sake, instead of
being inspired with their subject, and pouring forth
beautiful words because they had beautiful thoughts ?
this is surely too great a paradox to be borne. Rather,
it is the fire within the author's breast which overflows
in the torrent of his burning, irresistible eloquence ; it is
the poetry of his inner soul, which relieves itself in the
Ode or the Elegy ; and his mental attitude and bearing,
the beauty of his moral countenance, the force and
keenness of his logic, are imaged in the tenderness, or
energy, or richness of his language. Nay, according to
the well-known line, " facit indignatio versus ; " not the
words alone, but even the rhythm, the metre, the verse,
will be the contemporaneous offspring of the emotion or
imagination which possesses him. " Poeta nascitur, non
fit," says the proverb ; and this is in numerous instances
true of his poems, as well as of himself. They are born,
not framed ; they are a strain rather than a composition ;
and their perfection is the monument, not so much of his
skill as of his power. And this is true of prose as well as
of verse in its degree : who will not recognize in the vision
of Mirza a delicacy and beauty of style which is very
difficult to describe, but which is felt to be in exact
correspondence to the ideas of which it is the expression ?
5-
And, since the thoughts and reasonings of an author
have, as I have said, a personal character, no wonder that
280 Literature
his style is not only the image of his subject, but of his
mind. That pomp of language, that full and tuneful
diction, that felicitousness in the choice and exquisiteness
in the collocation of words, which to prosaic writers seems
artificial, is nothing else but the mere habit and way of a
lofty intellect. Aristotle, in his sketch of the magnani
mous man, tells us that his voice is deep, his motions slow,
and his stature commanding. In like manner, the elocu
tion of a great intellect is great His language expresses,
not only his great thoughts, but his great self. Certainly
he might use fewer words than he uses ; but he fertilizes
his simplest ideas, and germinates into a multitude of
details, and prolongs the march of his sentences, and
sweeps round to the full diapason of his harmony, as if
tcv§ei<yaiwv, rejoicing in his own vigour and richness of re
source. I say, a narrow critic will call it verbiage, when
really it is a sort of fulness of heart, parallel to that which
makes the merry boy whistle as he walks, or the strong
man, like the smith in the novel, flourish his club when
there is no one to fight with.
Shakespeare furnishes us with frequent instances of
this peculiarity, and all so beautiful, that it is difficult to
select for quotation. For instance, in Macbeth : —
" Canst thou not minister to a mind diseased,
Pluck from the memory a rooted sorrow,
Raze out the written troubles of the brain,
And, with some sweet oblivious antidote,
Cleanse the foul bosom of that perilous stuff,
Which weighs upon the heart?"
Here a simple idea, by a process which belongs to the
orator rather than to the poet, but still comes from the
native vigour of genius, is expanded into a many-mem-
bered period.
Literature. 281
The following from Hamlet is of the same kind : —
" ;Tis not alone my inky cloak, good mother,
Nor customary suits of solemn black,
Nor windy suspiration of forced breath,
No, nor the fruitful river in the eye,
Nor the dejected haviour of the visage,
Together with all forms, modes, shows of grief,
That can denote me truly. "
Now, if such declamation, for declamation it is, how
ever noble, be allowable in a poet, whose genius is so far
removed from pompousness or pretence, much more is
it allowable in an orator, whose very province it is to
put forth words to the best advantage he can. Cicero
has nothing more redundant in any part of his writings
than these passages from Shakespeare. No lover then
at least of Shakespeare may fairly accuse Cicero of
gorgeousness of phraseology or diffuseness of style.
Nor will any sound critic be tempted to do so. As a
certain unaffected neatness and propriety and grace of
diction may be required of any author who lays claim to
be a classic, for the same reason that a certain attention
to dress is expected of every gentleman, so to Cicero
may be allowed the privilege of the " os magna sona-
turum," of which the ancient critic speaks. His copious,
majestic, musical flow of language, even if sometimes
beyond what the subject-matter demands, is never out
of keeping with the occasion or with the speaker. It is
the expression of lofty sentiments in lofty sentences, the
" mens magna in corpore magno." It is the develop
ment of the inner man. Cicero vividly realised the
status of a Roman senator and statesman, and the
" pride of place" of Rome, in all the grace and grandeur
which attached to her ; and he imbibed, and became
Literature.
what he admired. As the exploits of Scipio or Pompey
are the expression of this greatness in deed, so the
language of Cicero is the expression of it in word. And,
as the acts of the Roman ruler or soldier represent to us,
in a manner special to themselves, the characteristic
magnanimity of » the lords of the earth, so do the
speeches or treatises of her accomplished orator bring it
home to our imaginations as no other writing could do.
Neither Livy, nor Tacitus, nor Terence, nor Seneca, nor
Pliny, nor Quintilian, is an adequate spokesman for
the Imperial City. They write Latin ; Cicero writes
Roman.
Vou will say that Cicero's language is undeniably
studied, but that Shakespeare's is as undeniably natural
and spontaneous ; and that this is what is meant, when
the Classics are accused of being mere artists of words.
Here we are introduced to a further large question,
which gives me the opportunity of anticipating a misap
prehension of my meaning. I observe, then, that, not
only is that lavish richness of style, which I have noticed
in Shakespeare, justifiable on the principles which I have
been laying down, but, what is less easy to receive, even
elaborateness in composition is no mark of trick or
artifice in an author. Undoubtedly the works of the
Classics, particularly the Latin, are elaborate ; they have
cost a great deal of time, care, and trouble. They have
had many rough copies ; I grant ft. I grant also that
there are writers of name, ancient and modern, who really
are guilty of the absurdity of making sentences, as the
very end of their literary labour. Such was Isocrates ;
such were some ofthe sophists ; they were set on words,
to the neglect of thoughts or things ; I cannot defend them.
Literature. 283
If I must give an English instance of this fault, much as
I love and revere the personal character and intellectual
vigour of Dr. Johnson, I cannot deny that his style often
outruns the sense and the occasion, and is wanting in
that simplicity which is the attribute of genius. Still,
granting all this, I cannot grant, notwithstanding, that
genius never need take pains, — that genius may not im
prove by practice, — that it never incurs failures, and
succeeds the second time, — that it never finishes off at
leisure what it has thrown off in the outline at a stroke.
Take the instance of the painter or the sculptor ; he
has a conception in his mind which he wishes to repre
sent in the medium of his art ; — the Madonna and Child,
or Innocence, or Fortitude, or some historical character
or event. Do you mean to say he does not study his
subject ? does he not make sketches ? does he not even
call them " studies" ? does he not call his workroom
a studio? is he not ever designing, rejecting, adopting,
correcting, perfecting ? Are not the first attempts of
Michael Angelo and Raffaelle extant, in the case of
some of their most celebrated compositions ? Will any
one say that the Apollo Belvidere is not a conception
patiently elaborated into its proper perfection ? These
departments of taste are, according to the received
notions of the world, the very province of genius, and yet
we call them arts ; they are the "Fine Arts." Why
may not that be true of literary composition which is true
of painting, sculpture, architecture, and music ? Why
may not language be wrought as well as the clay of the
modeller ? why may not words be worked up as well as
colours ? why should not skill in diction be simply sub
servient and instrumental to the great prototypal ideas
which are the contemplation of a Plato or a Virgil ?
Our greatest poet tells us?
284 Literature.
"The poet's eye, in a fine frenzy rolling,
Doth glance from heaven to earth, from earth to heaven,
And, as imagination bodies forth
The forms of things unknown, the poet's pen
Turns them to shapes, and gives to airy nothing
A local habitation and a name."
Now, is it wonderful that that pen of his should some
times be at fault for a while, — that it should pause,
write, erase, re-write, amend, complete, before he satisfies
himself that his language has done justice to the
conceptions which his mind's eye contemplated?
In this point of view, doubtless, many or most writers
are elaborate ; and those certainly not the least whose
style is furthest removed from ornament, being simple
and natural, or vehement, or severely business-like and
practical. Who so energetic and manly as Demos
thenes ? Yet he is said to have transcribed Thucydides
many times over in the formation of his style. Who so
gracefully natural as Herodotus ? yet his very dialect
is not his own, but chosen for the sake of the perfection
of his narrative. Who exhibits such happy negligence
as our own Addison ? yet artistic fastidiousness was so
notorious in his instance that the report has got abroad,
truly or not, that he was too late in his issue of an
important state-paper, from his habit of revision and re-
composition. Such great authors were working by a
model which was before the eyes of their intellect, and
they were labouring to say what they had to say, in
such a way as would most exactly and suitably express
it. It is not wonderful that other authors, whose style
is not simple, should be instances of a similar literary
diligence. Virgil wished his ^Eneid to be burned,
elaborate as is its composition, because he felt it needed
more labour still, in order to make it perfect. The
Literature. 285
historian Gibbon in the last century is another instance
in point. You must not suppose I am going to recom
mend his style for imitation, any more than his principles ;
but I refer to him as the example of a writer feeling the
task which lay before him, feeling that he had to bring
out into words for the comprehension of his readers a
great and complicated scene, and wishing that those
words should be adequate to his undertaking. I think
he wrote the first chapter of his History three times
over; it was not that he corrected or improved the first
copy ; but he put his first essay, and then his second,
aside— he recast his matter, till he had hit the precise
exhibition of it which he thought demanded by his
subject.
Now in all these instances, I wish you to observe,
that what I have admitted about literary workmanship
differs from the doctrine which I am opposing in this, —
tliat the mere dealer in words cares little or nothing for
the subject which he is embellishing, but can paint and
gild anything whatever to order ; whereas the artist,
whom I am acknowledging, has his great or rich visions
before him, and his only aim is to bring out what he
thinks or what he feels in a way adequate to the thing
spoken of, and appropriate to the speaker.
7-
The illustration which I have been borrowing from
the Fine Arts will enable me to go a step further. I
have been showing the connection of the thought with
the language in literary composition ; and in doing so
I have exposed the unphilosophical notion, that the
language was an extra which could be dispensed with,
and provided to order according to the demand. But I
have not yet brought out, what immediately follows
Literature.
from this, and which was the second point which I had
to show, viz., that to be capable of easy translation is no
test of the excellence of a composition. If I must say
what I think, I should lay down, with little hesitation,
that the truth was almost the reverse of this doctrine.
Nor are many words required to show it. Such a
doctrine, as is contained in the passage of the author
whom I quoted when I began, goes upon the assumption
that one language is just like another language, — that
every language has all the ideas, turns of thought,
delicacies of expression, figures, associations, abstractions,
points of view, which every other language has. Now,
as far as regards Science, it is true that all languages
are pretty much alike for the purposes of Science ; but
even in this respect some are more suitable than
others, which have to coin words, or to borrow them, in
order to express scientific ideas. But if languages are
not all equally adapted even to furnish symbols for
those universal and eternal truths in which Science con
sists, how can they reasonably be expected to be all
equally rich, equally forcible, equally musical, equally
exact, equally happy in expressing the idiosyncratic
peculiarities of thought of some original and fertile mind,
who has availed himself of one of them ? A great
author takes his native language, masters it, partly
throws himself into it, partly moulds and adapts it, and
pours out his multitude of ideas through the variously
ramified and delicately minute channels of expression
which he has found or framed : — does it follow that this
his personal presence (as it may be called) can forth
with be transferred to every other language under the
sun ? Then may we reasonably maintain that Beeth-
oven's piano music is not really beautiful, because it
cannot be played on the hurdy-gurdy. Were not this
Literature. 287
astonishing doctrine maintained by persons far superior
to the writer whom I have selected for animadversion, I
should find it difficult to be patient under a gratuitous
extravagance. It seems that a really great author must
admit of translation, and that we have a test of his excel
lence when he reads to advantage in a foreign language
as well as in his own. Then Shakespeare is a genius be
cause he can be translated into German, and not a genius
because he cannot be translated into French. Then the
multiplication-table is the most gifted of all conceivable
compositions, because it loses nothing by translation, and
can hardly be said to belong to any one language what
ever. Whereas I should rather have conceived that, in
proportion as ideas are novel and recondite, they would
be difficult to put into words, and that the very fact of
their having insinuated themselves into one language
would diminish the chance of that happy accident being
repeated in another. In the language of savages you
can hardly express any idea or act of the intellect at
all : is the tongue of the Hottentot or Esquimaux to
be made the measure of the genius of Plato, Pindar,
Tacitus, St. Jerome, Dante, or Cervantes ?
Let us recur, I say, to the illustration of the Fine
Arts. 1 suppose you can express ideas in painting
which you cannot express in sculpture ; and the more
an artist is of a painter, the less he is likely to be of
a sculptor. The more he commits his genius to the
methods and conditions of his own art, the less he will
be able to throw himself into the circumstances of
another. Is the genius of Fra Angelico, of Francia, or
of Raffaelle disparaged by the fact that he was able to
do that in colours which no man that ever lived, which
no Angel, could achieve in wood ? Each of the Fine
Arts has its own subject-matter; from the nature of the
288 Literature
case you can do in one what you cannot do in another ;
you can do in painting what you cannot do in carving ;
you can do in oils what you cannot do in fresco ; you
can do in marble what you cannot do in ivory ; you can
do in wax what ^you cannot do in bronze. Then, I
repeat, applying this to the case of languages, why
should not genius be able to do in Greek what it cannot
do in Latin ? and why are its Greek and Latin works
defective because they will not turn into English ? That
genius, of which we are speaking, did not make English ;
it did not make all languages, present, past, and future ;
it did not make the laws of any language : why is it to
be judged of by that in which it had no part, over which
it has no control ?
8.
And now we are naturally brought on to our third
point, which is on the characteristics of Holy Scripture
as compared with profane literature. Hitherto we have
been concerned with the doctrine of these writers, viz.,
that style is an extra, that it is a mere artifice, and that
hence it cannot be translated ; now we come to their
fact, viz., that Scripture has no such artificial style, and
that Scripture can easily be translated. Surely their
fact is as untenable as their doctrine.
Scripture easy of translation ! then why have there
been so few good translators ? why is it that there
has been such great difficulty in combining the two
necessary qualities, fidelity to the original and purity in
the adopted vernacular ? why is it that the author
ized versions of the Church are often so inferior to
the original as compositions, except that the Church
is bound above all things to see that the version is doc-
trinally correct, and in a difficult problem is obliged to
Literature. 289
put up with defects in what is of secondary importance,
provided she secure what is of first ? If it were so
easy to transfer the beauty of the original to the copy,
she would not have been content with her received
version in various languages which could be named.
And then in the next place, Scripture not elaborate !
Scripture not ornamented in diction, and musical in
cadence ! Why, consider the Epistle to the Hebrews —
where is there in the classics any composition more care
fully, more artificially written ? Consider the book of
Job — is it not a sacred drama, as artistic, as perfect,
as any Greek tragedy of Sophocles or Euripides ? Con
sider the Psalter — are there no ornaments, no rhythm, no
studied cadences, no responsive members, in that divinely
beautiful book ? And is it not hard to understand ? are
not the Prophets hard to understand ? is not St. Paul
hard to understand ? Who can say that these are
popular compositions ? who can say that they are level
at first reading with the understandings of the mul
titude ?
That there are portions indeed of the inspired volume
more simple both in style and in meaning, and that
these are the more sacred and sublime passages, as,
for instance, parts of the Gospels, I grant at once ;
but this does not militate against the doctrine I have
been laying down. Recollect, Gentlemen, my distinction
when I began. I have said Literature is one thing, and
that Science is another ; that Literature has to do with
ideas, and Science with realities ; that Literature is of
a personal character, that Science treats of what is
universal and eternal. In proportion, then, as Scripture
excludes the personal colouring of its writers, and rises
into the region of pure and mere inspiration, when it
ceases in any sense to be the writing of man, of St. Paul
19
290 Literature.
or St. John, of Moses or Isaias, then it comes to belong
to Science, not Literature. Then it conveys the things
of heaven, unseen verities, divine manifestations, and
them alone — not the ideas, the feelings, the aspirations,
of its human instruments, who, for all that they were
'inspired and infallible, did not cease to be men. St.
Paul's epistles, then, I consider to be literature in a real
and true sense, as personal, as rich in reflection and
emotion, as Demosthenes or Euripides ; and, without
ceasing to be revelations of objective truth, they are
expressions of the subjective notwithstanding. On the
other hand, portions of the Gospels, of the book of
Genesis, and other passages of the Sacred Volume,
are of the nature of Science. Such is the beginning of
St. John's Gospel, which we read at the end of Mass.
Such is the Creed. I mean, passages such as these are
the mere enunciation of eternal things, without (so to
say) the medium of any human mind transmitting them
to us. The words used have the grandeur, the majesty,
the calm, unimpassioned beauty of Science ; they are in
no sense Literature, they are in no sense personal ; and
therefore they are easy to apprehend, and easy to
translate.
Did time admit I could show you parallel instances of
what I am speaking of in the Classics, inferior to the
inspired word in proportion as the subject-matter of the
classical authors is immensely inferior to the subjects
treated of in Scripture — but parallel, inasmuch as the
classical author or speaker ceases for the moment to
have to do with Literature, as speaking of things
objectively, and rises to the serene sublimity of Science.
But I should be carried too far if I began.
Literature. 291
9>
I shall then merely sum up what I have said, and
come to a conclusion. Reverting, then, to my original
question, what is the meaning of Letters, as contained,
Gentlemen, in the designation of your Faculty, I have
answered, that by Letters or Literature is meant the
expression of thought in language, where by " thought"
I mean the ideas, feelings, views, reasonings, and other
operations of the human mind. And the Art of Letters
is the method by which a speaker or writer brings out
in words, worthy of his subject, and sufficient for his
audience or readers, the thoughts which impress him.
Literature, then, is of a personal character ; it consists in
the enunciations and teachings of those who have a right
to speak as representatives of their kind, and in whose
words their brethren find an interpretation of their own
sentiments, a record of their own experience, and a
suggestion for their own judgments. A great author,
Gentlemen, is not one who merely has a copia verborum,
whether in prose or verse, and can, as it were, turn on at
his will any number of splendid phrases and swelling
sentences ; but he is one who has something to say and
knows how to say it. I do not claim for him, as such,
any great depth of thought, or breadth of view, or
philosophy, or sagacity, or knowledge of human nature,
or experience of human life, though these additional
gifts he may have, and the more he has of them the
greater he is ; but I ascribe to him, as his characteristic
gift, in a large sense the faculty of Expression. He is
master of the two-fold Logos, the thought and the word,
distinct, but inseparable from each other. He may, if so
292 Literature.
be, elaborate his compositions, or he may pour out his
improvisations, but in either case he has but one aim,
which he keeps steadily before him, and is conscientious
and single-minded in fulfilling. That aim is to give forth
what he has within him ; and from his very earnestness
it comes to pass that, whatever be the splendour of his
diction or the harmony of his periods, he has with him
the charm of an incommunicable simplicity. Whatever
be his subject, high or low, he treats it suitably and for
its own sake. If he is a poet, "nil molitur inepti" If he
is an orator, then too he speaks, not only "distincte" and
" splendide," but also " apti" His page is the lucid
mirror of his mind and life —
'* Quo tit, ut omnis
Votivi pateat veluti descripta tabeili
Vita senis."
He writes passionately, because he feels keenly ;
forcibly, because he conceives vividly ; he sees too clearly
to be vague ; he is too serious to be otiose ; he can
analyze his subject, and therefore he is rich ; he embraces
it as a whole and in its parts, and therefore he is
consistent ; he has a firm hold of it, and therefore he is
luminous. When his imagination wells up, it overflows
in ornament ; when his heart is touched, it thrills along
his verse. He always has the right word for the right
idea, and never a word too much. If he is brief, it is
because few words suffice; when he is lavish of them, still
each word has its mark, and aids, not embarrasses, the
vigorous march of his elocution. He expresses what all
feel, but all cannot say ; and his sayings pass into
proverbs among his people, and his phrases become
household words and idioms of their daily speech, which
Literature. 293
is tesselated with the rich fragments of his language,
as we see in foreign lands the marbles of Roman gran
deur worked into the walls and pavements of modern
palaces.
Such pre-eminently is Shakespeare among ourselves ;
such pre-eminently Virgil among the Latins ; such in
their degree are all those writers who in every nation
go by the name of Classics. To particular nations they
are necessarily attached from the circumstance of the
variety of tongues, and the peculiarities of each ; but so
far they have a catholic and ecumenical character, that
what they express is common to the whole race of man,
and they alone are able to express it
10.
If then the power of speech is a gift as great as any
that can be named, — if the origin of language is by
many philosophers even considered to be nothing short
of divine, — if by means of words the secrets of the heart
are brought to light, pain of soul is relieved, hidden
grief is carried off, sympathy conveyed, counsel imparted,
experience recorded, and wisdom perpetuated, — if by
great authors the many are drawn up into unity, na
tional character is fixed, a people speaks, the past and
the future, the East and the West are brought into
communication with each other, — if such men are, in a
word, the spokesmen and prophets of the human family,
— it will not answer to make light of Literature or
to neglect its study ; rather we may be sure that, in
proportion as we master it in whatever language, and
imbibe its spirit, we shall ourselves become in our
own measure the ministers of like benefits to others.
294 Literature.
be they many or few, be they in the obscurer or the more
distinguished walks of life, — who are united to us by
social ties, and are within the sphere of our personal
influence.
^95
III.
ENGLISH CATHOLIC LITERATURE.
ONE of the special objects which a Catholic Uni
versity would promote is that of the formation
of a Catholic Literature in the English language. It is an
object, however, which must be understood before it
can be suitably prosecuted ; and which will not be
understood without some discussion and investigation.
First ideas on the subject must almost necessarily be
crude. The real state of the case, what is desirable,
what is possible, has to be ascertained ; and then what
has to be done, and what is to be expected. We have
seen in public matters, for half a year past, * to what
mistakes, and to what disappointments, the country
has been exposed, from not having been able distinctly
to put before it what was to be aimed at by its fleets and
armies, what was practicable, what was probable, in
operations of war : and so, too, in the field of literature,
we are sure of falling into a parallel perplexity and
dissatisfaction, if we start with a vague notion of doing
something or other important by means of a Catholic
University, without having the caution to examine what
is feasible, and what is unnecessary or hopeless. Ac
cordingly, it is natural I should wish to direct attention
to this subject, even though it be too difficult to handle
in any exact or complete way, and though my attempt
must be left for others to bring into a more perfect shape,
who are more fitted for the task.
Here I shall chiefly employ myself in investigating
what the object is not.
t, 1854.
296
§. i. In its relation fo Religious Literature.
X \7HEN a "Catholic Literature in the English
VV tongue*' is spoken of as a desideratum, no reason
able person will mean by " Catholic works" much more
than the " works of Catholics." The phrase does not
mean a religious literature. " Religious Literature"
indeed would mean much more than " the Literature of
religious men ; " it means over and above this, that the
subject-matter of the Literature is religious ; but by
" Catholic Literature" is not to be understood a litera
ture which treats exclusively or primarily of Catholic
matters, of Catholic doctrine, controversy, history, per
sons, or politics ; but it includes all subjects of literature
whatever, treated as a Catholic would treat them, and
as he only can treat them. Why it is important to have
them treated by Catholics hardly need be explained
here, though something will be incidentally said on the
point as we proceed : meanwhile I am drawing atten
tion to the distinction between the two phrases in order
to avoid a serious misapprehension. For it is evident
that, if by a Catholic Literature were meant nothing
more or less than a religious literature, its writers would
be mainly ecclesiastics ; just as writers on Law are
mainly lawyers, and writers on Medicine are mainly
physicians or surgeons. And if this be so, a Catholic
Literature is no object special to a University, unless a
University is to be considered identical with a Seminary
or a Theological School.
English Cat ko lie Literature. 297
I am not denying that a University might prove of the
greatest benefit even to our religious literature ; doubt
less it would, and in various ways ; still it is concerned
with Theology only as one great subject of thought, as the
greatest indeed which can occupy the human mind, yet
not as the adequate or direct scope of its institution.
Yet I suppose it is not impossible for a literary layman
to wince at the idea, and to shrink from the proposal,
of taking part in a scheme for the formation of a Catholic
Literature, under the apprehension that in some way or
another he will be entangling himself in a semi-clerical
occupation. It is not uncommon, on expressing an
anticipation that the Professors of a Catholic University
will promote a Catholic Literature, to have to encounter
a vague notion that a lecturer or writer so employed
must have something polemical about him, must
moralize or preach, must (in Protestant language)
improve the occasion, though his subject is not at all a
religious one ; in short, that he must do something else
besides fairly and boldly go right on, and be a Catholic
speaking as a Catholic spontaneously will speak, on the
Classics, or Fine Arts, or Poetry, or whatever he has
taken in hand. Men think that he cannot give a lecture
on Comparative Anatomy without being bound to
digress into the Argument from Final Causes ; that he
cannot recount the present geological theories without
forcing them into an interpretation seriatim of the first
two chapters of Genesis. Many, indeed, seem to go
further still, and actually pronounce that, since our own
University has been recommended by the Holy See, and
is established by the Hierarchy, it cannot but be engaged
in teaching religion and nothing else, and must and will
have the discipline of a Seminary ; which is about as
sensible and logical a view of the matter as it would be
298 English Catholic Literature
to maintain that the Prime Minister ipso facto holds an
ecclesiastical office, since he is always a Protestant ; or
that the members of the House of Commons must neces
sarily have been occupied in clerical duties, as long as
they took an oath about Transubstantiation. Catholic
Literature is not syhonymous with Theology, nor does it
supersede or interfere with the work of catechists, divines,
preachers, or schoolmea
299
§, 2. In its relation to Science.
i.
AND next, it must be borne in mind, that when we
aim at providing a Catholic Literature for Catholics,
in place of an existing literature which is of a marked
Protestant character, we do not, strictly speaking,
include the pure sciences in our desideratum. Not that
we should not feel pleased and proud to find Catholics
distinguish themselves in publications on abstract or
experimental philosophy, on account of the honour it
does to our religion in the eyes of the world ; — not that
we are insensible to the congruity and respectability of
depending in these matters on ourselves, and not on
others, at least as regards our text-books ; — not that we
do not confidently anticipate that Catholics of these
countries will in time to come be able to point to
authorities and discoverers in science of their own, equal
to those of Protestant England, Germany, or Sweden ; —
but because, as regards mathematics, chemistry, as
tronomy, and similar subjects, one man will not, on the
score of his religion, treat of them better than another,
and because the works of even an unbeliever or idolater,
while he kept within the strict range of such studies,
might be safely admitted into Catholic lecture-rooms,
and put without scruple into the hands of Catholic youths.
There is no crying demand, no imperative necessity,
for our acquisition of a Catholic Euclid or a Catholic
Newton. The object of all science is truth ; — the pure
3OO English Catholic Literature.
sciences proceed to their enunciations from principles
which the intellect discerns by a natural light, and by
a process recognized by natural reason ; and the experi
mental sciences investigate facts by methods of analysis
or by ingenious expedients, ultimately resolvable into
instruments of thought equally native to the human
mind. If then we may assume that there is an objective
truth, and that the constitution of the human mind is
in correspondence with it, and acts truly when it acts
according to its own laws ; if we may assume that God
made us, and that what He made is good, and that
no action from and according to nature can in itself be
evil ; it will follow that, so long as it is man who is the
geometrician, or natural philosopher, or mechanic, or
critic, no matter what man he be, Hindoo, Mahometan,
or infidel, his conclusions within his own science, accord
ing to the laws of that science, are unquestionable, and
not to be suspected by Catholics, unless Catholics may
legitimately be jealous of fact and truth, of divine
principles and divine creations.
I have been speaking of the scientific treatises or
investigations of those who are not Catholics, to which
the subject of Literature leads me ; but I might even go
on to speak of them in their persons as well as in their
books. Were it not for the scandal which they would
create ; were it not for the example they would set ;
were it not for the certain tendency of the human mind
involuntarily to outleap the strict boundaries of an
abstract science, and to teach it upon extraneous princi
ples, to embody it in concrete examples, and to carry it
on to practical conclusions ; above all, were it not for
the indirect influence, and living energetic presence, and
collateral duties, which accompany a Professor in a great
school of learning, I do not see (abstracting from him, I
English Caiiwlic Literals • 301
repeat, in hypothesis, what never could possibly be
abstracted from him in fact), why the chair of Astronomy
in a Catholic University should not be filled by a La
Place, or that of Physics by a Huniboldt. Whatever
they might wish to say, still, while they kept to their
own science, they would be unable, like the heathen
Prophet in Scripture, to " go beyond the word of the
Lord, to utter any thing of their own head."
So far the arguments hold good of certain celebrated
writers in a Northern Review, who, in their hostility to
the principle of dogmatic teaching, seem obliged to
maintain, because subject-matters are distinct, that
living opinions are distinct too, and that men are
abstractions as well as their respective sciences. " On
the morning of the thirteenth of August, in the year
1704," says a justly celebrated author, in illustration and
defence of the anti-dogmatic principle in political and
social matters, " two great captains, equal in authority,
united by close private and public ties, but of different
creeds, prepared for battle, on the event of which were
staked the liberties of Europe. . . Maryborough gave
orders for public prayers ; the English chaplains read
the service at the head of the English, regiments ; the
Calvinistic chaplains of the Dutch army, with heads on
which hand of Bishop had never been laid, poured forth
their supplications in front of their countrymen. In the
meantime the Danes might listen to the Lutheran
ministers ; and Capuchins might encourage the Austrian
squadrons, and pray to the Virgin for a blessing on the
arms of the holy Roman Empire. The battle com
mences ; these men of various religions all act like
members of one body : the Catholic and the Protestant
3O2 English Catholic Literature.
generals exert themselves to assist and to surpass each
other ; before sunset the Empire is saved ; France has
lost in a day the fruits of eight years of intrigue and of
victory ; and the allies, after conquering together, return
thanks to God separately, each after his own form of
worship." *
The writer of this lively passage would be doubtless
unwilling himself to carry out the principle which it
insinuates to those extreme conclusions to which it is
often pushed by others, in matters of education. Viewed
in itself, viewed in the abstract, that principle is simply,
undeniably true ; and is only sophistical when it is
carried out in practical matters at all. A religious
opinion, though not formally recognized, cannot fail of
influencing in fact the school, or society, or polity in
which it is found ; though in the abstract that opinion
is one thing, and the school, society, or polity, another.
Here were Episcopalians, Lutherans, Calvinists, and
Catholics found all fighting on one side, it is true, with
out any prejudice to their respective religious tenets :
and, certainly, I never heard that in a battle soldiers
did do any thing else but fight. I did not know they
had time for going beyond the matter in hand ; yet,
even as regards this very illustration which he has
chosen, if we were bound to decide by it the contro
versy, it does so happen that that danger of interference
and collision between opposite religionists actually does
occur upon a campaign, which could not be incurred in a
battle : and at this very time some jealousy or disgust
has been shown in English popular publications, when
they have had to record that our ally, the Emperor of
the French, has sent his troops, who are serving with
the British against the Russians, to attend High Mass,
* Macaulay's Essays.
English Catholic Literalun . 305
or has presented his sailors with a picture of the
Madonna.
If, then, we could have Professors who were mere
abstractions and phantoms, marrowless in their bones,
and without speculation in their eyes ; or if they could
only open their mouths on their own special subject, and
in their scientific pedantry were dead to the world ; if
they resembled the well known character in the Romance,
who was so imprisoned or fossilized in his erudition,
that, though " he stirred the fire with some address,"
nevertheless, on attempting to snuff the candles, he
" was unsuccessful, and relinquished that ambitious post
of courtesy, after having twice reduced the parlour to
total darkness," then indeed Voltaire himself might be
admitted, not without scandal, but without risk, to lecture
on astronomy or galvanism in Catholic, or Protestant,
or Presbyterian Colleges, or in all of them at once; and
we should have no practical controversy with philoso
phers who, after the fashion of the author I have been
quoting, are so smart in proving that we, who differ from
them, must needs be so bigotted and puzzle-headed.
And in strict conformity with these obvious distinc
tions, it will be found that, so far as we are able to
reduce scientific men of anti-Catholic opinions to the
type of the imaginary bookworm to whom I have been
alluding, we do actually use them in our schools. We
allow our Catholic student to use them, so far as he can
surprise them (if I may use the expression), in their
formal treatises, and can keep them close prisoners there.
Vix defessa senem passus componere membra,
Cum clamore ruit magno, manicisque jacentem
Occupat.
The fisherman, in the Arabian tale, took no harm from
304 English Catholic Literature.
the genius, till he let him out from the brass bottle in
which he was confined. " He examined the vessel and
shook it, to see if what was within made any noise, but
he heard nothing." All was safe till he had succeeded
in opening it, and " then came out a very thick smoke,
which, ascending to the clouds and extending itself
along the sea shore in a thick mist, astonished him very
much. After a time the smoke collected, and was con
verted into a genius of enormous height. At the sight
of this monster, whose head appeared to reach the
clouds, the fisherman trembled with fear." Such is the
difference between an unbelieving or heretical philoso
pher in person, and in the mere disquisitions proper to his
science. Person was no edifying companion for young
men of eighteen, nor are his letters on the text of the
Three Heavenly Witnesses to be recommended ; but
that does not hinder his being admitted into Catholic
schools, while he is confined within the limits of his Pre
face to the Hecuba. Franklin certainly would have
been intolerable in person, if he began to talk freely,
and throw out, as I think he did in private, that each
solar system had its own god ; but such extravagances
of so able a man do not interfere with the honour we
justly pay his name in the history of experimental
science. Nay, the great Newton himself would have
been silenced in a Catholic University, when he got
upon the Apocalypse ; yet is that any reason why we
should not study his Principia, or avail ourselves of the
wonderful analysis which he, Protestant as he was,
originated, and which French infidels have developed ?
We are glad, for their own sakes, that anti-Catholic
writers should, in their posthumous influence, do as
much real service to the human race as ever they can,
and we have no wish to interfere with it.
English Catholic Literature. 305
Returning, then, to the point from which we set out, I
observe that, this being the state of the case as regards
abstract science, viz., that we have no quarrel with its
anti-Catholic commentators, till they thrust their persons
into our Chairs, or their popular writings into our read
ing-rooms, it follows that, when we contemplate the
formation of a Catholic Literature, we do not consider
scientific works as among our most prominent desiderata.
They are to be looked for, not so much for their own
sake, as because they are indications that we have able
scientific men in our communion ; for if we have such,
they will be certain to write, and in proportion as they
increase in number will there be the chance of really
profound, original, and standard books issuing from our
Lecture-rooms and Libraries. But, after all, there is no
reason why these should be better than those which we
have already received from Protestants ; though it is at
once more becoming and more agreeable to our feelings
to use books of our own, instead of being indebted to
the books of others.
Literature, then, is not synonymous with Science ;
nor does Catholic education imply the exclusion of
works of abstract reasoning, or of physical experiment,
or the like, though written by persons of another or of
no communion.
There is another consideration in point here, or rather
prior to what I have been saying ; and that is, that,
considering certain scientific works, those on Criticism,
for instance, are so often written in a technical phrase
ology, and since others, as mathematical, deal so largely
in signs, symbols, and figures, which belong to all lan
guages, these abstract studies cannot properly be said to
20
306 English Catholic Litcraiu,
fall under English Literature at all ; — for by Literature
I understand Thought, conveyed under the forms of
some particular language. And this brings me to speak
of Literature in its highest and most genuine sense, viz.,
as an historical ai\d national fact; and I fear, in this
sense of the word also, it is altogether beside or beyond
any object which a Catholic University can reasonably
contemplate, at least in any moderate term of years ;
but so large a subject here opens upon us that I must
postpone it to another Section.
307
§. 3- In its relation to Classical Literature.
I.
I HAVE been directing the reader's attention, first
to what we do not, and next to what we need not
contemplate, when we turn our thoughts to the formation
of an English Catholic Literature. I said that our
object was neither a library of theological nor of scien
tific knowledge, though theology in its literary aspect,
and abstract science as an exercise of intellect, have
both of course a place in the Catholic encyclopaedia.
One undertaking, however, there is, which not merely
does not, and need not, but unhappily cannot, come into
the reasonable contemplation of any set of persons,
whether members of a University or not, who are desi
rous of Catholicizing the English language, as is very
evident ; and that is simply the creation of an English
Classical Literature^ for that has been done long ago,
and would be a work beyond the powers of any body of
men, even if it had still to be done. If I insist on this
point here, no one must suppose I do not consider it to
be self-evident ; for I shall not be aiming at proving it, so
much as at bringing it home distinctly to the mind, that
we may, one and all, have a clearer perception of the
state of things with which we have to deal. There is
many an undeniable truth which is not practically felt
and appreciated ; and, unless we master our position in
the matter before us, we may be led oft* into various
wild imaginations or impossible schemes, which will, as
a matter of course, end in disappointment.
308 English Catholic Literature.
Were the Catholic Church acknowledged from this mo
ment through the length and breadth of these islands, and
the English tongue henceforth baptized into the Catholic
faith, and sealed and consecrated to Catholic objects, and
were the present intellectual activity of the nation to con
tinue, as of course it would continue, we should at once
have an abundance of Catholic works, which would be
English, and purely English, literature and high litera
ture ; but still all these would not constitute " English
Literature," as the words are commonly understood, nor
even then could we say that the " English Literature "
was Catholic. Much less can we ever aspire to affirm it,
while we are but a portion of the vast English-speaking
world-wide race, and are but striving to create a current
in the direction of Catholic truth, when the waters are
rapidly flowing the other way. In no case can we,
strictly speaking, form an English Literature ; for by
the Literature of a Nation is meant its Classics, and its
Classics have been given to England, and have been
recognized as such, long since.
2.
A Literature, when it is formed, is a national and
historical fact ; it is a matter of the past and the present,
and can be as little ignored as the present, as little undone
as the past. We can deny, supersede, or change it, then
only, when we can do the same towards the race or lan
guage which it represents. Every great people has a cha
racter of its own, which it manifests and perpetuates in
a variety of ways. It developes into a monarchy or re
public ; — by means of commerce or in war, in agriculture or
in manufactures, or in all of these at once ; in its cities, its
public edifices and works, bridges, canals, and harbours ;
in its laws, traditions, customs, and manners; in its songs
English Catholic Literature. 309
and its proverbs ; in its religion ; in its line of policy, its
bearing, its action towards foreign nations ; in its alliances,
fortunes, and the whole course of its history. All these
are peculiar, and parts of a whole, and betoken the
national character, and savour of each other ; and the
case is the same with the national language and litera
ture. They are what they are, and cannot be any thing
else, whether they be good or bad or of a mixed nature ;
before they are formed, we cannot prescribe them, and
afterwards, we cannot reverse them. We may feel great
repugnance to Milton or Gibbon as men ; we may most
seriously protest against the spirit which ever lives, and
the tendency which ever operates, in every page of
their writings ; but there they are, an integral portion
of English Literature ; we cannot extinguish them ; we
cannot deny their power ; we cannot write a new Milton
or a new Gibbon ; we cannot expurgate what needs to
be exorcised. They are great English authors, each
breathing hatred to the Catholic Church in his own way,
each a proud and rebellious creature of God, each gifted
with incomparable gifts.
We must take things as they are, if we take them at all.
We may refuse to say a word to English literature, if we
will ; we may have recourse to French or to Italian instead,
if we think either of these less exceptionable than our own ;
we may fall back upon the Classics of Greece and Rome ;
we may have nothing whatever to do with literature, as
such, of any kind, and confine ourselves to purely amor
phous or monstrous specimens of language ; but if we
do once profess in our Universities the English language
and literature, if we think it allowable to know the state
of things we live in, and that national character which we
share, if we think it desirable to have a chance of writing
what may be read after our day, and praiseworthy to aim
3io English Catholic Literature.
at providing for Catholics who speak English a Catho
lic Literature then — I do not say that we must at once
throw open every sort of book to the young, the weak, or
the untrained, — I do not say that we may dispense with
our ecclesiastical indexes and emendations, but — we must
not fancy ourselves creating what is already created in
spite of us, and which never could at a moment be created
by means of us, and we must recognize that historical
literature, which is in occupation of the language, both
as a fact, nay, and as a standard for ourselves.
There is surely nothing either " temerarious " or para
doxical in a statement like this. The growth of a nation
is like that of an individual ; its tone of voice and subjects
for speech vary with its age. Each age has its own pro
priety and charm ; as a boy's beauty is not a man's, and
the sweetness of a treble differs from the richness of a
bass, so it is with a whole people. The same period does
not produce its most popular poet, its most effective orator,
and its most philosophic historian. Language changes
with the progress of thought and the events of history, and
style changes with it; and while in successive generations
it passes through a series of separate excellences, the
respective deficiencies of all are supplied alternately by
each. Thus language and literature may be considered as
dependent on a process of nature, and admitting of subjec
tion to her laws. Father Hardouin indeed, who maintained
that, with the exception of Pliny, Cicero, Virgil's Georgics,
and Horace's Satires and Epistles, Latin literature was the
work of the medieval monks, had the conception of a
literature neither national nor historical ; but the rest of
the world will be apt to consider time and place as neces
sary conditions in its formation, and will be unable to con
ceive of classical authors, except as either the elaboration
of centuries, or the rare and fitful accident of genius.
English Catholic Literature- 3 1 1
First-rate excellence in literature, as in other matters,
is either an accident or the outcome of a process ; and ii
either case demands a course of years to secure. We can
not reckon on a Plato, we cannot force an Aristotle, any
more than we can command a fine harvest, or create a
coal field. If a literature be, as I have said, the voice of a
particular nation, it requires a territory and a period, as
large as that nation's extent and history, to mature in.
It is broader and deeper than the capacity of any body
of men, however gifted, or any system of teaching,
however true. It is the exponent, not of truth, but of
nature, which is true only in its elements. It is the
result of the mutual action of a hundred simultaneous
influences and operations, and the issue of a hundred
strange accidents in independent places and times ; it is
the scanty compensating produce of the wild discipline
of the world and of life, so fruitful in failures ; and it is
the concentration of those rare manifestations of intel
lectual power, which no one can account for. It is made
up, in the particular language here under consideratioa
of human beings as heterogeneous as Burns and Bunyan,
De Foe and Johnson, Goldsmith and Cowper, Law and
Fielding, Scott and Byron. The remark has been made
that the history of an author is the history of his works ;
it is far more exact to say that, at least in the case of great
writers, the history of their works is the history of their
fortunes or their times. Each is, in his turn, the man of
his age, the type of a generation, or the interpreter of a
crisis. He is made for his day, and his day for him.
Hooker would not have been, but for the existence oi
Catholics and Puritans, the defeat of the former and the
rise of the latter ; Clarendon would not have been with
out the Great Rebellion ; Hobbes is the prophet of the
reaction to scoffing infidelity ; and Addison is the child
312 English Catholic Literature.
of the Revolution and its attendant changes. If there be
any of our classical authors, who might at first sight have
been pronounced a University man, with the exception of
Johnson, Addison is he ; yet even Addison, the son and
brother of clergymen, the fellow of an Oxford Society,
the resident of a Colfege which still points to the walk
which he planted, must be something more, in order to
take his place among the Classics of the language, and
owed the variety of his matter to his experience of life,
and to the call made on his resources by the exigencies
of his day. The world he lived in made him and used
him. While his writings educated his own generation,
they have delineated it for all posterity after him.
3-
I have been speaking of the authors of a literature, in
their relation to the people and course of events to
which they belong ; but a prior consideration, at which
I have already glanced, is their connection with the
language itself, which has been their organ. If they are
in great measure the creatures of their times, they are
on the other han«l in a far higher sense the creators of
their language. It is indeed commonly called their
mother tongue, but virtually it did not exist till they
gave it life and form. All greater matters are carried
on and perfected by a succession of individual minds ;
what is true in the history of thought and of action is
true of language also. Certain masters of composition,
as Shakespeare, Milton, and Pope, the writers of the
Protestant Bible and Prayer Book, Hooker and Addi
son, Swift, Hume, and Goldsmith, have been the making
of the English language ; and as that language is a fact,
so is the literature a fact, by which it is formed, and in
which it lives. Men of great ability have taken it irj
English Catholic Literature. 313
hand, each in his own day, and have done for it what
the master of a gymnasium does for the bodily frame.
They have formed its limbs, and developed its strength ;
they have endowed it with vigour, exercised it in sup
pleness and dexterity, and taught it grace. They have
made it rich, harmonious, various, and precise. They
have furnished it with a variety of styles, which from
their individuality may almost be called dialects, and are
monuments both of the powers of the language and the
genius of its cultivators.
How real a creation, how sui generis, is the style of
Shakespeare, or of the Protestant Bible and Prayet
Book, or of Swift, or of Pope, or of Gibbon, or of John
son ! Even were the subject-matter without meaning,
though in truth the style cannot really be abstracted
from the sense, still the style would, on that supposition,
remain as perfect and original a work as Euclid's ele
ments or a symphony of Beethoven. And, like music,
it has seized upon the public mind ; and the literature
of England is no longer a mere letter, printed in books,
and shut up in libraries, but it is a living voice, which
has gone forth in its expressions and its sentiments into
the world of men, which daily thrills upon our ears and
syllables our thoughts, which speaks to us through our
correspondents, and dictates when we put pen to paper.
Whether we will or no, the phraseology and diction of
Shakespeare, of the Protestant formularies, of Milton,
of Pope, of Johnson's Tabletalk, and of Walter Scott,
have become a portion of the vernacular tongue, the
household words, of which perhaps we little guess the
origin, and the very idioms of our familiar conversation.
The man in the comedy spoke prose without knowing
it ; and we Catholics, without consciousness and without
offence, are ever repeating the half sentences of dissolute
314 English Catholic Literature.
playwrights and heretical partizans and preachers. So
tyrannous is the literature of a nation ; it is too much
for us. We cannot destroy or reverse it ; we may con
front and encounter it, but we cannot make it over
again. It is a great \vork of man, when it is no work of
God's.
I repeat, then, whatever we be able or unable to effect
in the great problem which lies before us, any how we
cannot undo the past. English Literature will ever have
been Protestant. Swift and Addison, the most native
and natural of our writers, Hooker and Milton, the most
elaborate, never can become our co-religionists ; and,
though this is but the enunciation of a truism, it is not
on that account an unprofitable enunciation.
4-
I trust we are not the men to give up an undertaking
because it is perplexed or arduous ; and to do nothing
because we cannot do everything. Much may be at
tempted, much attained, even granting English Litera
ture is not Catholic. Something indeed may be said
even in alleviation of the misfortune itself, on which I
have been insisting ; and with two remarks bearing upon
this latter point I »vill bring this Section to an end.
I. First, then, it is to be considered that, whether we
look to countries Christian or heathen, we find the state of
literature there as little satisfactory as it is in these islands ;
so that, whatever are our difficulties here, they are not
worse than those of Catholics all over the world. I would
not indeed say a word to extenuate the calamity, under
which we lie, of having a literature formed in Protestant
ism ; still, other literatures have disadvantages of their
own ; and, though in such matters comparisons are im
possible. I doubt whether we should be better pleased if
English Catholic Literature. 315
our English Classics were tainted with licentiousness, or
defaced by infidelity or scepticism. I conceive we should
not much mend matters if we were to exchange litera
tures with the French, Italians, or Germans. About
Germany, however, I will not speak ; as to France, it
has great and religious authors ; its classical drama, even
in comedy, compared with that of other literatures, is
singularly unexceptionable ; but who is there that holds
a place among its writers so historical and important,
who is so copious, so versatile, so brilliant, as that Voltaire
who is an open scoffer at every thing sacred, venerable,
or high-minded ? Nor can Rousseau, though he has
not the pretensions of Voltaire, be excluded from the
classical writers of France. Again, the gifted Pascal,
in the work on which his literary fame is mainly founded,
does not approve himself to a Catholic judgment ; and
Descartes, the first of French philosophers, was too
independent in his inquiries to be always correct in his
conclusions. The witty Rabelais is said, by a recent
critic,* to show covertly in his former publications,
and openly in his latter, his u dislike to the Church of
Rome." La Fontaine was with difficulty brought, on
his death-bed, to make public satisfaction for the scandal
which he had done to religion by his immoral Contes,
though at length he threw into the fire a piece which he
had just finished for the stage. Montaigne, whose
Essays "make an epoch in literature," by "their influence
upon the tastes and opinions of Europe;" whose "school
embraces a large proportion of French and English
literature ; " and of whose " brightness and felicity of
genius there can be but one opinion," is disgraced, as the
same writer tells us, by "a sceptical bias and great indiffer
ence of temperament ; " and " has led the way " as an
• flallam.
316 English Catholic Literature.
habitual offender, "to the indecency too characteristic of
French literature."
Nor does Italy present a more encouraging picture.
Ariosto, one of the few names, ancient or modern, who
is allowed on all hands to occupy the first rank of Litera
ture, is, I suppose, rigntly arraigned by the author I have
above quoted, of "coarse sensuality." Pulci, "by his
sceptical insinuations, seems clearly to display an inten
tion of exposing religion to contempt." Boccaccio, the
first of Italian prose-writers, had in his old age touch-
ingly to lament the corrupting tendency of his popular
compositions ; and Bellarmine has to vindicate him,
Dante, and Petrarch, from the charge of virulent abuse
of the Holy See. Dante certainly does not scruple to
place in his Inferno a Pope, whom the Church has since
canonized, and his work on Monarchia is on the Index.
Another great Florentine, Macchiavel, is on the Index
also ; and Giannone, as great in political history at
Naples as Macchiavel at Florence, is notorious for his
disaffection to the interests of the Roman Pontiff.
These are but specimens of the general character of
.-•ecular literature, whatever be the people to whom it be
longs. One literature may be better than another, but
bad will be the best, when weighed in the balance of
truth and morality. It cannot be otherwise ; human
nature is in all ages and all countries the same ; and its
literature, therefore, will ever and everywhere be one and
the same also. Man's work will savour of man ; in his
elements and powers excellent and admirable, but prone
to disorder and excess, to error and to sin. Such too
will be his literature ; it will have the beauty and the
fierceness, the sweetness and the rankness, of the natural
man, and, with all its richness and greatness, will neces
sarily offend the senses of those who, in the Apostle's
English Catholic Literature. 317
words, are really " exercised to discern between good
and evil." " It is said of the holy Sturme," says an Ox
ford writer, " that, in passing a horde of unconverted
Germans, as they were bathing and gambolling in the
stream, he was so overpowered by the intolerable scent
which arose from them that he nearly fainted away."
National Literature is, in a parallel way, the untutored
movements of the reason, imagination, passions, and
affections of the natural man, the leapings and the
friskings, the plungings and the snortings, the sportings
and the buffoonings, the clumsy play and the aimless
toil, of the noble, lawless savage of God's intellectual
creation.
It is well that we should clearly apprehend a truth so
simple and elementary as this, and not expect from the
nature of man, or the literature of the world, what they
never held out to us. Certainly, I did not know that the
world was to be regarded as favourable to Christian faith
or practice, or that it would be breaking any engagement
with us, if it took a line divergent from our own. I have
never fancied that we should have reasonable ground for
surprise or complaint, though man's intellect puris na-
turalibus did prefer, of the two, liberty to truth, or though
his heart cherished a leaning towards licence of thought
and speech in comparison with restraint.
5-
2. If we do but resign ourselves to facts, we shall soon
be led on to the second reflection which I have promised
— viz., that, not only are things not better abroad, but
they might be worse at home. We have, it is true, a
Protestant literature ; but then it is neither atheistical
nor immoral ; and, in the case of at least half a dozen
of its highest and most influential departments, and of
3 is English Catholic Literature.
the most popular of its authors, it comes to us with very
considerable alleviations. For instance, there surely is
a call on us for thankfulness that the most illustrious
amongst English writers has so little of a Protestant
about him that Catholics have been able, without ex
travagance, to claim him as their own, and that enemies
to our creed have allowed that he is only not a Catholic,'
because, and as far as, his times forbade it. It is an
additional satisfaction to be able to boast that he offends
in neither of those two respects, which reflect so seriously
upon the reputation of great authors abroad. Whatever
passages may be gleaned from his dramas disrespectful
to ecclesiastical authority, still these are but passages ; on
the other hand, there is in Shakespeare neither contempt
of religion nor scepticism, and he upholds the broad laws
of moral and divine truth with the consistency and severity
of an ^Eschylus, Sophocles, or Pindar. There is no mis
taking in his works on which side lies the right ; Satan
is not made a hero, nor Cain a victim, but pride is pride,
and vice is vice, and, whatever indulgence he may allow
himself in light thoughts or unseemly words, yet his
admiration is reserved for sanctity and truth. From the
second chief fault of Literature, as indeed my last words
imply, he is not so free ; but, often as he may offend
against modesty, he is clear of a worse charge, sensuality,
and hardly a passage can be instanced in all that he
has written to seduce the imagination or to excite the
passions.
A rival to Shakespeare, if not in genius, at least in
copiousness and variety, is found in Pope ; and he was
actually a Catholic, though personally an unsatisfactory
one. His freedom indeed from Protestantism is but a poor
compensation for a false theory of religion in one of his
poems ; but, taking his works as a whole, we may surely
English Catfioiic Literature. 319
acquit them of being dangerous to the reader, whether
on the score of morals or of faith.
Again, the special title of moralist in English Litera
ture is accorded by the public voice to Johnson, whose
bias towards Catholicity is well known.
If we were to ask for a report of our philosophers, the
investigation would not be so agreeable ; for we have
three of evil, and one of unsatisfactory repute. Locke
is scarcely an honour to us in the standard of truth, grave
and manly as he is ; and Hobbes, Hume, and Bentham,
in spite of their abilities, are simply a disgrace. Yet,
even in this department, we find some compensation in
the names of Clarke, Berkeley, Butler, and Reid, and in
a name more famous than them all. Bacon was too
intellectually great to hate or to contemn the Catholic
faith ; and he deserves by his writings to be called the
roost orthodox of Protestant philosophers.
326
§. 4« In its relation to the Literature of the Day.
i.
THE past cannot be undone. That our English
Classical Literature is not Catholic is a plain fact,
which we cannot deny, to which we must reconcile our
selves, as best we may, and which, as I have shown above,
has after all its compensations. When, then, I speak of
the desirableness of forming a Catholic Literature, I am
contemplating no such vain enterprise as that of reversing
history ; no, nor of redeeming the past by the future. I
have no dream of Catholic Classics as still reserved for the
English language. In truth, classical authors not only
are national, but belong to a particular age of a nation's
life ; and I should not wonder if, as regards ourselves,
that age is passing away. Moreover, they perform a
particular office towards its language, which is not likely
to be called for beyond a definite time. And further,
though analogies or parallels cannot be taken to decide
a question of this nature, such is the fact, that the series of
our classical writers has already extended through a
longer period than was granted to the Classical Litera
ture either of Greece or of Rome ; and thus the English
language also may have a long course of literature still
to come through many centuries, without that Literature
being classical.
Latin, for instance, was a living language for many
hundred years after the date of the writers who brought
it to its perfection ; and then it continued for a second
English Catholic Literature. 321
long period to be the medium of European correspon
dence. Greek was a living language to a date not very
far short of that of the taking of Constantinople, ten cen*
turies after the date of St. Basil, and seventeen hundred
years after the period commonly called classical. And
thus, as the year has its spring and summer, so even for
those celebrated languages there was but a season of splen
dour, and, compared with the whole course of their dura
tion, but a brief season. Since, then, English has had its
great writers for a term of about three hundred years, — as
long, that is, as the period from Sappho to Demosthenes,
or from Pisistratus to Arcesilas, or from ^Eschylus and
Pindar to Carneades, or from Ennius to Pliny, — we
should have no right to be disappointed if the classical
period be close upon its termination.
By the Classics of a national Literature I mean those
authors who have the foremost place in exemplifying
the powers and conducting the development of its lan
guage. The language of a nation is at first rude and
clumsy ; and it demands a succession of skilful artists to
make it malleable and ductile, and to work it up to its
proper perfection. It improves by use, but it is not
every one who can use it while as yet it is unformed.
To do this is an effort of genius ; and so men of a pecu
liar talent arise, one after another, according to the cir
cumstances of the times, and accomplish it. One gives it
flexibility, that is, shows how it can be used without
difficulty to express adequately a variety of thoughts and
feelings in their nicety or intricacy ; another makes it
perspicuous or forcible ; a third adds to its vocabulary ;
and a fourth gives it grace and harmony. The style of
each of such eminent masters becomes henceforth in
some sort a property of the language itself; words,
phrases, collocations, and structure, which hitherto did
21
322 English Cat ho lie Literature,
not exist, gradually passing into the conversation and
the composition of the educated classes.
2.
Now I will attempt to show how this process of im
provement is effected, and what is its limit. I conceive
then that these gifted writers act upon the spoken and
written language by means of the particular schools
which form about them respectively. Their style, using
the word in a large sense, forcibly arrests the reader, and
draws him on to imitate it, by virtue of what is excellent
in it, in spite of such defects as, in common with all human
works, it may contain. I suppose all of us will recognize
this fascination. For myself when I was fourteen or
fifteen, I imitated Addison ; when I was seventeen, I
wrote in the style of Johnson ; about the same time I fell
in with the twelfth volume of Gibbon, and my ears rang
with the cadence of his sentences, and I dreamed of it for
a night or two. Then I began to make an analysis of
Thucydides in Gibbon's style. In like manner, most
Oxford undergraduates, forty years ago, when they would
write poetry, adopted the versification of Pope Darwin,
and the Pleasures of Hope, which had been made popular
by Heber and Milman. The literary schools, indeed,
which I am speaking of, as resulting from the attractions
of some original, or at least novel artist, consist for the
most part of mannerists, none of whom rise much above
mediocrity ; but they are not the less serviceable as
channels, by means of which the achievements of genius
may be incorporated into the language itself, or become
the common property of the nation. Henceforth, the
most ordinary composer, the very student in the lecture-
room, is able to write with a precision, a grace, or a copi
ousness, as the case may be unknown before the date
English Cat ko lie Literature. 323
of the authors whom he imitates, and he wonders at, if
he does not rather pride himself on, his
novas frond es, et non sua poma.
If there is any one who illustrates this remark, it is
Gibbon ; I seem to trace his vigorous condensation and
peculiar rhythm at every turn in the literature of the
present day. Pope, again, is said to have tuned our
versification. Since his time, any one, who has an ear
and turn for poetry, can with little pains throw off a copy
of verses equal or superior to the poet's own, and with
far less of study and patient correction than would have
been demanded of the poet himself for their production.
Compare the choruses of the Samson Agonistes with any
stanza taken at random in Thalaba : how much had the
language gained in the interval between them ! Without
denying the high merits of Southey's beautiful romance,
we surely shall not be wrong in saying, that in its unem
barrassed eloquent flow, it is the language of the nineteenth
century that speaks, as much as the author himself.
I will give an instance of what I mean : let us take the
beginning of the first chorus in the Samson : —
Just are the ways of God,
And justifiable to men ;
Unless there be who think not God at all ;
If any be, they walk obscure,
For of such doctrine never was there school,
But the heart of the fool,
And no man therein doctor but himself.
But men there be, who doubt His ways not jusf,
As to His own edicts found contradicting,
Then give the reins to wandering thought,
Regardless of His glor/s diminution ;
Till, by their own perplexities involved,
They ravel more, still less resolved,
But never find self-satisfying solution.
324 English Catholic Literature.
And now take the opening stanza of Thalaba : —
How beautiful is night !
A dewy freshness fills the silent air ;
No mist obscures, nor cloud, nor speck, nor stain,
Breaks the serene of heaven.
In full-orb'd glory yonder Moon divine
Rolls through the dark blue depths.
Beneath her steady ray
The desert circle spreads,
Like the round ocean girdled with the sky.
How beautiful is night !
Does not Southey show to advantage here ? yet the
voice of the world proclaims Milton pre-eminently a
poet ; and no one can affect a doubt of the delicacy and
exactness of his ear. Yet, much as he did for the lan
guage in verse and in prose, he left much for other artists
to do after him, which they have successfully accom
plished. We see the fruit of the literary labours of
Pope, Thomson, Gray, Goldsmith, and other poets ot
the eighteenth century, in the musical eloquence of
Southey.
3-
So much for the process ; now for its termination. I
think it is brought about in some such way as the
following : —
The influence of a great classic upon the nation which
he represents is twofold ; on the one hand he advances
his native language towards its perfection ; but on the
other hand he discourages in some measure any advance
beyond his own. Thus, in the parallel case of science,
it is commonly said on the continent, that the very
marvellousness of Newton's powers was the bane ol
English mathematics : inasmuch as those who succeeded
English Catholic Literature. 325
him were content with his discoveries, bigoted to his
methods of investigation, and averse to those new instru
ments which have carried on the French to such brilliant
and successful results. In Literature, also, there is some
thing oppressive in the authority of a great writer, and
something of tyranny in the use to which his admirers
put his name. The school which he forms would fain
monopolize the language, draws up canons of criticism
from his writings, and is intolerant of innovation. Those
who come under its influence are dissuaded or deterred
from striking out a path of their own. Thus Virgil's
transcendent excellence fixed the character of the hexa
meter in subsequent poetry, and took away the chances,
if not of improvement, at least of variety. Even Juvenal
has much of Virgil in the structure of his verse. I have
known those who prefer the rhythm of Catullus.
However, so summary a result is not of necessary
occurrence. The splendour of an author may excite a
generous emulation, or the tyrannous formalism of his
followers a re- action ; and thus other authors and other
schools arise. We read of Thucydides, on hearing
Herodotus read his history at Olympia, being incited to
attempt a similar work, though of an entirely different
and of an original structure. Gibbon, in like manner,
writing of Hume and Robertson, says : "The perfect com
position, the nervous language, the well-turned periods
of Dr. Robertson, inflamed me to the ambitious hope
that I might one day tread in his footsteps ; the calm
philosophy, the careless inimitable beauties of his friend
and rival, often forced me to close the volume with a
mixed sensation of delight and despair." *
As to re-actions, I suppose there has been something
of the kind against the supremacy of Pope, since the time
• Misc. Works, p. 55.
326 English Catholic Literature.
that his successors, Campbell especially, have developed
his peculiarities and even defects into extravagance.
Crabbe, for instance, turned back to a versification having
much more of Dryden in it ; and Byron, in spite of his
high opinion of Pope,. threw into his lines the rhythm of
blank verse. Still, on the whole, the influence of a Classic
acts in the way of discouraging any thing new, rather than
in that of exciting rivalry or provoking re-action.
And another consideration is to be taken into account.
When a language has been cultivated in any particular
department of thought, and so far as it has been generally
perfected, an existing want has been supplied, and there
is no need for further workmen. In its earlier times,
while it is yet unformed, to write in it at all is almost a
work of genius. It is like crossing a country before
roads are made communicating between place and place.
The authors of that age deserve to be Classics, both
because of what they do and because they can do it. It
requires the courage or the force of great talent to com
pose in the language at all ; and the composition, when
effected, makes a permanent impression on it. In
those early times, too, the licence of speech unfettered
by precedents, the novelty of the work, the state of
society, and the absence of criticism, enable an author to
write with spirit and freshness. But, as centuries pass on,
this stimulus is taken away ; the language by this time
has become manageable for its various purposes, and is
ready at command. Ideas have found their correspond
ing expressions ; and one word will often convey what
once required half a dozen. Roots have been expanded,
derivations multiplied, terms invented or adopted. A
variety of phrases has been provided, which form a sort
of compound words. Separate professions, pursuits, and
provinces of literature have gained their conventional
English Catholic Literature. 32?
terminology. There is an historical, political, social, com
mercial style. The ear of the nation has become accus
tomed to useful expressions or combinations of words,
which otherwise would sound harsh. Strange metaphors
have been naturalized in the ordinary prose, yet cannot
be taken as precedents for a similar liberty. Criticism
has become an art, and exercises a continual and jealous
watch over the free genius of new writers. It is difficult
for them to be original in the use of their mother tongue
without being singular.
Thus the language has become in a great measure
stereotype ; as in the case of the human frame, it has
expanded to the loss of its elasticity, and can expand no
more. Then the general style of educated men, formed
by the accumulated improvements of centuries, is far
superior perhaps in perfectness to that of any one of
those national Classics, who have taught their country
men to write more clearly, or more elegantly, or more
forcibly than themselves. And literary men submit
themselves to what they find so well provided for them;
or, if impatient of conventionalities, and resolved to
shake off a yoke which tames them down to the loss of
individuality, they adopt no half measures, but indulge
in novelties which offend against the genius of the lan
guage, and the true canons of taste. Political causes may
co-operate in a revolt of this kind ; and, as a nation
declines in patriotism, so does its language in purity.
It seems to me as if the sententious, epigrammatic style
of writing, which set in with Seneca, and is seen at least
as late as in the writings of St. Ambrose, is an attempt
to escape from the simplicity of Caesar and the majestic
elocution of Cicero ; while Tertullian, with more of
genius than good sense, relieves himself in the harsh
originality of his provincial Latin,
328 English Catholic Literature.
There is another impediment, as time goes on, to the
rise of fresh classics in any nation ; and that is the effect
which foreigners, or foreign literature, will exert upon
it. It may happen that a certain language, like Greek, is
adopted and used familiarly by educated men in other
countries ; or again, that educated men, to whom it is
native, may abandon it for some other language, as the
Romans of the second and third centuries wrote in
Greek instead of Latin. The consequence will be, that
the language in question will tend to lose its nationality
— that is, its distinctive character ; it will cease to be
idiomatic in the sense in which it once was so ; and
whatever grace or propriety it may retain, it will be
comparatively tame and spiritless ; or, on the other
hand, it will be corrupted by the admixture of foreign
elements.
4*
Such, as I consider, being the fortunes of Classical
Literature, viewed generally, I should never be sur
prised to find that, as regards this hemisphere, for I can
prophesy nothing of America, we have well nigh seen
the end of English Classics. Certainly, it is in no ex
pectation of Catholics continuing the series here that I
speak of the duty and necessity of their cultivating
English literature. When I speak of the formation of a
Catholic school of writers, I have respect principally to
the matter of what is written, and to composition only
so far forth as style is necessary lo convey and to recom
mend the matter. I mean a literature which resembles
the literature of the day. This is not a day for great
writers, but for good writing, and a great deal of it
There never was a time when men wrote so much and
so well, and that, without being of any great account them-
English Catholic Literature. 329
selves. While our literature in this day, especially the
periodical, is rich and various, its language is elaborated
to a perfection far beyond that of our Classics, by the
jealous rivalry, the incessant practice, the mutual in
fluence, of its many writers. In point of mere style, I
suppose, many an article in the Times newspaper, or
Edinburgh Review, is superior to a preface of Dryden's,
or a Spectator, or a pamphlet of Swift's, or one of
South's sermons.
Our writers write so well that there is little to choose
between them. What they lack is that individuality,
that earnestness, most personal yet most unconscious of
self, which is the greatest charm of an author. The very
form of the compositions of the day suggests to us their
main deficiency. They are anonymous. So was it not in
the literature of those nations which we consider the
special standard of classical writing ; so is it not with
our own Classics. The Epic was sung by the voice of
the living, present poet. The drama, in its very idea,
is poetry in persons. Historians begin, " Herodotus, of
Halicarnassus, publishes his researches ; " or, " Thucy-
dides, the 'Athenian, has composed an account of the
war." Pindar is all through his odes a speaker. Plato,
Xenophon, and Cicero, throw their philosophical disser
tations into the form of a dialogue. Orators and preachers
are by their very profession known persons, and the per
sonal is laid down by the Philosopher of antiquity as the
source of their greatest persuasiveness. Virgil and
Horace are ever bringing into their poetry their own
characters and tastes. Dante's poems furnish a series of
events for the chronology of his times. Milton is frequent
in allusions to his own history and circumstances. Even
when Addison writes anonymously, he writes under a
professed character, and that in a great measure his own;
330 English Catholic Liter aim \\
he writes in the first person. The " I " of the Spectator,
and the " we " of the modern Review or Newspaper, are
the respective symbols of the two ages in our literature.
Catholics must do as their neighbours ; they must be
content to serve their generation, to promote the interests
of religion, to recommend truth, and to edify their breth
ren to-day, though their names are to have little weight,
and their works are not to last much beyond themselves.
5-
And now having shown what it is that a Catholic
University does not think of doing, what it need not do,
and what it cannot do, I might go on to trace out in
detail what it is that it really might and will encourage
and create. But, as such an investigation would neither
be difficult to pursue, nor easy to terminate, I prefer to
leave the subject at the preliminary point to which i
have brought it.
33'
IV.
ELEMENTARY STUDIES.
IT has often been observed that, when the eyes of the
infant first open upon the world, the reflected rays of
light which strike them from the myriad of surrounding
objects present to him no image, but a medley of colours
and shadows. They do not form into a whole ; they do
not rise into foregrounds and melt into distances ; they
do not divide into groups ; they do not coalesce into
unities; they do not combine into persons; but each
particular hue and tint stands by itself, wedged in amid
a thousand others upon the vast and flat mosaic, having
no intelligence, and conveying no story, any more than
the wrong side of some rich tapestry. The little babe
stretches out his arms and ringers, as if to grasp or to
fathom the many-coloured vision ; and thus he gradually
learns the connexion of part with part, separates what
moves from what is stationary, watches the coming and
going of figures, masters the idea of shape and of per
spective, calls in the information conveyed through the
other senses to assist him in his mental process, and thus
gradually converts a calidoscope into a picture. The
first view was the more splendid, the second the more
real ; the former more poetical, the latter more philoso
phical. Alas ! what are we doing all through life, both
as a necessity and as a duty, but unlearning the world's
33 2 Elementary Studies.
poetry, and attaining to its prose ! This is our educa
tion, as boys and as men, in the action of life, and in the
closet or library ; in our affections, in our aims, in our
hopes, and in our memories. And in like manner it is
the education of our intellect ; I say, that one main por
tion of intellectual education, of the labours of both
school and university, is to remove the original dimness
of the mind's eye ; to strengthen and perfect its vision ;
to enable it to look out into the world right forward,
steadily and truly ; to give the mind clearness, accuracy,
precision ; to enable it to use words aright, to understand
what it says, to conceive justly what it thinks about, to
abstract, compare, analyze, divide, define, and reason, cor
rectly. There is a particular science which takes these
matters in hand, and it is called logic ; but it is not by
logic, certainly not by logic alone, that the faculty I
speak of is acquired. The infant does not learn to spell
and read the hues upon his retina by any scientific rule ;
nor does the student learn accuracy of thought by any
manual or treatise. The instruction given him, of what
ever kind, if it be really instruction, is mainly, or at least
pre-eminently, this, — a discipline in accuracy of mind.
Boys are always more or less inaccurate, and too many,
or rather the majority, remain boys all their lives. When,
for instance, I hear speakers at public meetings declaim
ing about " large and enlightened views," or about " free
dom of conscience," or about " the Gospel," or any other
popular subject of the day, I am far from denying that
some among them know what they are talking about ;
but it would be satisfactory, in a particular case, to be
sure of the fact ; for it seems to me that those household
words may stand in a man's mind for a something or
other, very glorious indeed, but very misty, pretty much
like the idea of " civilization " which floats before the
Elementary Studies. 333
mental vision of a Turk, — that is, if, when he interrupts
his smoking to utter the word, he condescends to reflect
whether it has any meaning at all. Again, a critic in a
periodical dashes off, perhaps, his praises of a new work,
as " talented, original, replete with intense interest, irre
sistible in argument, and, in the best sense of the word,
a very readable book ; " — can we really believe that he
cares to attach any definite sense to the words of which
he is so lavish ? nay, that, if he had a habit of at
taching sense to them, he could ever bring himself to so
prodigal and wholesale an expenditure of them ?
To a short-sighted person, colours run together and
intermix, outlines disappear, blues and reds and yellows
become russets or browns, the lamps or candles of an
illumination spread into an unmeaning glare, or dissolve
into a milky way. He takes up an eye-glass, and the
mist clears up ; every image stands out distinct, and the
rays of light fall back upon their centres. It is this
haziness of intellectual vision which is the malady of all
classes of men by nature, of those who read and write
and compose, quite as well as of those who cannot, — of
all who have not had a really good education. Those
who cannot either read or write may, nevertheless, be in
the number of those who have remedied and got rid of
it ; those who can, are too often still under its power.
It is an acquisition quite separate from miscellaneous in
formation, or knowledge of books. This is a large sub
ject, which might be pursued at great length, and of
which here I shall but attempt one or two illustrations.
334
§. r— Grammar.
I.
ONE of the subjects especially interesting to all
persons who, from any point of view, as officials
or as students, are regarding a University course, is that
of the Entrance Examination. Now a principal subject
introduced into this examination will be " the elements
of Latin and Greek Grammar." "Grammar" in the
middle ages was often used as almost synonymous with
" literature," and a Grammarian was a " Professor litera-
rum." This is the sense of the word in which a youth
of an inaccurate mind delights. He rejoices to profess
all the classics, and to learn none of them. On the
other hand, by " Grammar " is now more commonly
meant, as Johnson defines it, " the art of using words
properly," and it " comprises four parts — Orthography,
Etymology, Syntax, and Prosody." Grammar, in this
sense, is the scientific analysis of language, and to be
conversant with it, as regards a particular language, is
to be able to understand the meaning and force of that
language when thrown into sentences and paragraphs.
Thus the word is used when the " elements of Latin
and Greek Grammar " are spoken of as subjects of our
Entrance Examination ; not, that is, the elements of
Latin and Greek literature, as if a youth were intended
to have a smattering of the classical writers in general,
and were to be able to give an opinion about the elo
quence of Demosthenes and Cicero, the value of Livy,
Elementary Studus. 335
or the existence of Homer ; or need have read half a
dozen Greek and Latin authors, and portions of a dozen
others : — though of course it would be much to his credit
if he had done so ; only, such proficiency is not to be
expected, and cannot be required, of him : — but we mean
the structure and characteristics of the Latin and Greek
languages, or an examination of his scholarship. That is,
an examination in order to ascertain whether he knows
Etymology and Syntax, the two principal departments
of the science of language, — whether he understands
how the separate portions of a sentence hang together,
how they form a whole, how each has its own place in
the government of it, what are the peculiarities of con
struction or the idiomatic expressions in it proper to the
language in which it is written, what is the precise mean
ing of its terms, and what the histoiy of their formation.
All this will be best arrived at by trying how far he
can frame a possible, or analyze a given sentence. To
translate an English sentence into Latin is to frame a
sentence, and is the best test whether or not a student
knows the difference of Latin from English construction ;
to construe and parse is to analyze a sentence, and is an
evidence of the easier attainment of knowing what
Latin construction is in itself. And this is the sense of
the word " Grammar " which our inaccurate student
detests, and this is the sense of the word which every
sensible tutor will maintain. His maxim is, "a little,
but well ; " that is, really know what you say you know :
know what you know and what you do not know ; get
one thing well before you go on to a second ; try to
ascertain what your words mean ; when you read a sen
tence, picture it before your mind as a whole, take in the
truth or information contained in it, express it in your
own words, and, if it be important, commit it to the
336 Elementary Sludits.
faithful memory. Again, compare one idea with another ;
adjust truths and facts ; form them into one whole, or
notice the obstacles which occur in doing so. This is
the way to make progress ; this is the way to arrive at
results ; not to swallow knowledge, but (according to the
figure sometimes used) to masticate and digest it
2.
To illustrate what I mean, I proceed to take an in
stance. I will draw the sketch of a candidate for entrance,
deficient to a great extent. I shall put him below par,
and not such as it is likely that a respectable school would
turn out, with a view of clearly bringing before the reader,
by the contrast, what a student ought not to be, or what
is meant by inaccuracy. And, in order to simplify the
case to the utmost, I shall take, as he will perceive as I
proceed, one single word as a sort of text, and show how
that one word, even by itself, affords matter for a suffi
cient examination of a youth in grammar, history, and
geography. I set off thus : —
Tutor. Mr. Brown, I believe ? sit down. Candidate.
Yes.
T. What are the Latin and Greek books you propose
to be examined in ? C. Homer, Lucian, Demosthenes,
Xenophon, Virgil, Horace, Statius, Juvenal, Cicero,
Analecta, and Matthiae.
T. No ; I mean what are the books I am to examine
you in ? C. is silent.
T. The two books, one Latin and one Greek : don't
flurry yourself. C. Oh, . . . Xenophon and Virgil.
T. Xenophon and Virgil. Very well ; what part of
Xenophon ? C. is silent.
T. What work of Xenophon ? C. Xenophon.
T. Xenophon wrote many works. Do you know the
Elementary Studies. 337
names of any of them ? C. I . . . Xenophon . . .
Xenophon.
T. Is it the Anabasis you take up ? C. (with surprise)
O yes ; the Anabasis.
T. Well, Xenophon's Anabasis ; now what is the
meaning of the word anabasis ? C. is silent.
T. You know very well; take your time, and don't
be alarmed. Anabasis means . . . C. An ascent.
T. Very right ; it means an ascent. Now how comes
it to mean an ascent ? What is it derived from ? C. It
comes from . . . (a pause). Anabasis ... it is the
nominative.
J". Quite right : but what part of speech is it ? C. A
noun, — a noun substantive.
T. Very well ; a noun substantive , now what is the
verb that anabasis is derived from ? C. is silent.
T. From the verb avafialvco, isn't it ? from ava/3alva>.
C. Yes.
T. Just so. Now, what does ava/3atv<t) mean ? C. To
go up, to ascend.
T. Very well ; and which part of the word means to
go, and which part up ? C. dvd is up, and fBaiva) is go.
T. Balva) to go, yes ; now /Saw ? What does jBdari,?
mean ? C. A going.
T. That is right ; and dvd-ftaa-is ? C. A going up.
T. Now what is a going down ? C. is silent.
T. What is down ? . . . Kara . . . don't you recollect ?
/card. C. Kara.
T. Well, then, what is a going doivn ? Cat . . . cat
... C Cat. . . .
T. Cata ... C. Cata. . . .
T. Catabasis. C. Oh, of course, catabasis.
T. Now tell me what is the future of /3cuW ? C. (thinks]
22
33$ Elementary Studies
T. No, no ; think again ; you know better than that.
C. (objects) $aiva), <pavw ?
T. Certainly, </>avo> is the future of (/>a<W> ; but
is, you know, an irregular verb. C. Oh, I recollect,
T. Well, that is much better; but you are not quite
right yet ; firjaofiai* C. Oh, of course, ^f]<jo^ai.
T. BIJO-O/JLCU. Now do you mean to say that firjo-onai
comes from jSaivto ? C. is silent.
T. For instance : rv^co comes from TVTTTCO by a change
of letters ; does ^(royuai in any similar way come from
patvw ? C. It is an irregular verb.
T. What do you mean by an irregular verb ? does it
form tenses anyhow and by caprice ? C. It does not
go according to the paradigm.
T. Yes, but how do you account for this ? C. is silent.
T. Are its tenses formed from several roots ? C. is
silent. T. is silent ; then Jte changes the subject.
T. Well, now you say Anabasis means an ascent. WJio
ascended ? C. The Greeks, Xenophon.
T. Very well : Xenophon and the Greeks ; the Greeks
ascended. To what did they ascend ? C. Against the
Persian king : they ascended to fight the Persian king.
T. That is right ... an ascent ; but I thought we
called it a Ascent when a foreign army carried war into
a country ? C. is silent.
T. Don't we talk of a descent of barbarians ? C. Yes.
71 Why then are the Greeks said to go up? C. They
went up to fight the Persian king.
T. Yes ; but why up . . . why not down ? C. They
came down afterwards, when they retreated back to
Greece.
T. Perfectly right ; they did . . . but could you give
no reason why they are said to go up to Persia, not
down f C. They went up to Persia.
Elementary Studies. 339
T. Why do you not say they went down f C. pauses,
then, . . . They went down to Persia.
T. You have misunderstood me.
A silence.
T. Why do you not say down f dT. I do ... doivn.
T. You have got confused ; you know very well. C.
I understood you to ask why I did not say " they went
down ".
A silence on both sides. •
T. Have you come up to Dublin or down ? I came
up.
T. Why do you call it coming up f C. thinks, then
smiles, then . . . We always call it coming up to Dublin.
T. Well, but you always have a reason for what you
do ... what is your reason here ? C. is silent.
T. Come, come, Mr. Brown, I won't believe you don't
know ; I am sure you have a very good reason for saying
you go up to Dublin, not down. C. thinks, then ... It
is the capital.
T, Very well ; now was Persia the capital ? C. Yes.
T. Well ... no ... not exactly . . . explain your
self ; was Persia a city ? C. A country.
T. That is right; well, but did you ever hear of Susa?
Now, why did they speak of going up to Persia ? C. is
silent.
T. Because it was the seat of government ; that was
one reason. Persia was the seat of government ; they
went up because it was the seat of government. C. Be
cause it was the seat of government
7". Now where did they go up from ? C. From Greece.
T. But where did this army assemble ? whence did it
set out ? C. is silent.
T. It is mentioned in the first book ; where did the
troops rendezvous ? C. is silent.
340 Elementary S Indies.
7. Open your book ; now turn to Book I., dhapter ii.j
now tell me. C. Oh, at Sardis.
T. Very right : at Sardis ; now where was Sardis ?
C. In Asia Minor? ... no ... it's an island . . . a
pause, then . . . Sardinia.
T. In Asia Minor; the army set out from Asia Minor,
and went on towards Persia ; and therefore it is said to
go up — because ... C. is silent.
T. Because . . . Persia ... C. Because Persia . . .
7. Of course ; because Persia held a sovereignty over
Asia Minor. C. Yes.
71 Now do you know how and when Persia came to
conquer and gain possession of Asia Minor ? C. is
silent.
7. Was Persia in possession of many countries ? C.
is silent.
7. Was Persia "at the head of an empire ? C. is silent.
7. Who was Xerxes ? C. Oh, Xerxes . . . yes . . .
Xerxes ; he invaded Greece ; he flogged the sea.
7. Right; he flogged the sea: what sea? C. is silent.
7. Have you read any history of Persia ? . . . what
history ? C. Grote, and Mitford.
7. Well, now, Mr. Brown, you can name some other
reason why the Greeks spoke of going up to Persia ?
Do we talk of going up or down from the sea-coast ?
C. Up.
7. That is right ; well, going from Asia Minor, would
you go from the sea, or towards it ? G. From.
7. What countries would you pass, going from the
coast of Asia Minor to Persia ? . . . mention any of them.
C. is silent.
7. What do you mean by Asia Minor? . . . why
called Minor ? . . . how does it lie ? C. is silent.
Etc., etc.
Hiementary Studies, 341
3-
I have drawn out this specimen at the risk of weary
ing the reader ; but I have wished to bring out clearly
what it really is which an Entrance Examination should
aim at and require in its students. This young man had
read the Anabasis, and had some general idea what the
word meant ; but he had no accurate knowledge how the
word came to have its meaning, or of the history and
geography implied in it. This being the case, it was
useless, or rather hurtful, for a boy like him to amuse
himself with running through Grote's many volumes, or
to cast his eye over Matthias's minute criticisms. Indeed,
this seems to have been Mr. Brown's stumbling-block ; he
began by saying that he had read Demosthenes, Virgil,
Juvenal, and I do not know how many other authors.
Nothing is more common in an age like this, when books
abound, than to fancy that the gratification of a love of
reading is real study. Of course there are youths who
shrink even from story books, and cannot be coaxed into
getting through a tale of romance. Such Mr. Brown
was not ; but there are others, and I suppose he was in
their number, who certainly have a taste for reading, but
in whom it is little more than the result of mental rest
lessness and curiosity. Such minds cannot fix their
gaze on one object for two seconds together ; the very
impulse which leads them to read at all, leads them to
read on, and never to stay or hang over any one idea.
The pleasurable excitement of reading what is new is
their motive principle ; and the imagination that they
are doing something, and the boyish vanity which accom
panies it, are their reward. Such youths often profess
to like poetry, or to like history or biography ; they are
fond of lectures on certain of the physical sciences ; or
they may possibly have a real and true taste for natural
342 Elementary Studies.
history or other cognate subjects ; — and so far they may
be regarded with satisfaction; but on the other hand
they profess that they do not like logic, they do not like
algebra, they have no taste for mathematics ; which only
means that they do not like application, they do not
like attention, they shrink from the effort and labour of
thinking, and the process of true intellectual gymnastics.
The consequence will be that, when they grow up, they
may, if it so happen, be agreeable in conversation, they
may be well informed in this or that department of
knowledge, they may be what is called literary ; but
they will have no consistency, steadiness, or perseve
rance ; they will not be able to make a telling speech, or
to write a good letter, or to fling in debate a smart
antagonist, unless so far as, now and then, mother-wit
supplies a sudden capacity, which cannot be ordinarily
counted on. They cannot state an argument or a ques
tion, or take a clear survey- of a whole transaction, or
give sensible and appropriate advice under difficulties, or
do any of those things which inspire confidence and gain
influence, which raise a man in life, and make him useful
to his religion or his country.
And now, having instanced what I mean by the 'want
of accuracy, and stated the results in which I think it
issues, I proceed to sketch, by way of contrast, an ex
amination which displays a student, who, whatever may
be his proficiency, at least knows what he is about, and
has tried to master what he has read. I am far from
saying that every candidate for admission must come up
to its standard : —
71 I think you have named Cicero's Letters ad Fami-
liares, Mr. Black ? Open, if you please, at Book xi..
Epistle 29, and begin reading.
Elementary Studies. 343
C. reads. Cicero Appio salutem. Dubitanti mihi (quod
scit Atticus noster), de hoc toto consilio profectionis, quod
in utramque partem in mentem multa veniebant, magnum
pondus accessit ad tollendam dubitationem, judicium et
consilium tuum. Nam et scripsisti aperte, quid tibi vide-
retur ; et Atticus ad me sermonem tuum pertulit. Semper
judicavi,in te, et in capiendo consilio prudentiam summam
esse, et in dando fidem ; maximeque sum expertus, cum,
initio civilis belli, per literas te consuluissem quid mihi
faciendum esse censeres ; eundumne ad Pompeium an
manendum in Italia.
T. Very well, stop there ; Now construe. C. Cicero
Appio salutem. . . Cicero greets Appius.
T. " Greets Appius" True ; but it sounds stiff in
English, doesn't it ? What is the real English of it ?
C. " My dear Appius ? " . . .
T. That will do ; go on. C. Dubitanti mihi, quod scit
Atticus noster, While I was hesitating, as our friend
Atticus knows. . .
T. That is right. C. De hoc toto consilio profectionis,
abotit the whole plan. . . entire project. . . de hoc toto
consilio profectionis. . . on the subject of my proposed
journey. . . on my proposed journey altogether.
T. Never mind ; go on ; any of them will do. C
Quod in utramque partem in mentem multa veniebant
inasmuch as many considerations both for and against it
came into my mind, magnum pondus accessit ad tollen
dam dubitationem, it came with great force to remove my
hesitation.
T. What do you mean by " accessit " ? C. It means
it contributed to turn the scale; accessit, it was an addition
to one side.
T. Well, it may mean so, but the words run, ad
tollendam dubitationem. C. It was a great. . , it was
344 Elementary Studies.
a powerful help towards removing my hesitation. . .
no. . . this was a powerful help, viz., your judgment and
advice.
T. Well, what is the construction of " pondus " and
" judicium " ? C. Your advice came as a great weight.
T. Very well, go bn. C. Nam et scripsisti aperte quid
tibi videretur ; for you distinctly wrote your opinion.
T. Now, what is the force of " nam " ? C. pauses ; then,
It refers to " accessit "... it is an explanation of the
fact, that Appius's opinion was a help.
T. " Et " ; you omitted "et" . . . " et scripsisti." C.
It is one of two " ets " ; et scripsisti, et Atticus.
T. Well, but why don't you construe it ? C. Et
scripsisti, you both distinctly. . .
T. No ; tell me, why did you leave it out ? had you a
reason ? C. I thought it was only the Latin style, to
dress the sentence, to make it antithetical ; and was not
English.
T. Very good, still, you can express it ; try. C. Also,
with the second clause ?
T. That is right, go on. C. Nam &.,for you distinctly
stated in writing your opinion, et Atticus ad me ser-
monem tuum pertulit, and Atticus too sent me word of
what you said, . . . of what you said to him in conver
sation.
T. " Pertulit." C. It means that Atticus conveyed on
to Cicero the conversation he had with Appius.
T. Who was Atticus ? C. is silent.
T. Who was Atticus ? C. I didn't think it came into
the examination. . .
T. Well, I didn't say it did : but still you can tell me
who Atticus was. C. A great friend of Cicero's
T. Did he take much part in politics ? C. No.
T. What were his opinions? C. He was an Epicurean.
Elementary Studies. 345
T. What was an Epicurean ? C. is silent, then,
Epicureans lived for themselves.
T. You are answering very well, sir ; proceed. C.
Semper judicavi, / have ever considered, in te, et in
capiendo consilio prudentiam summam esse, et in dandc
fid em ; that your wisdom was of the highest order . . .
that you had the greatest ivisdom . . . tliat nothing could
exceed the wisdom of your resolves, or tJte honesty of your
advice.
T. " Fidem." C. It means faithfulness to tJie person
asking . . . maximeque sum expertus, and I had a great
proof of it.
T. Great; why don't you say greatest? " maxime "
is superlative. C. The Latins use the superlative, when
they only mean the positive.
T. You mean, when English uses the positive ; can
you give me an instance of what you mean ? C. Cicero
always speaks of others as amplissimi, optimi, doctissimi,
clarissimi.
T. Do they ever use the comparative for the positive ?
C. thinks, then, Certior factus sum.
T. Well, perhaps; however, here, "maxime" may mean
special, may it not ? C, And 1 had a special proof of it,
cum, initio civilis belli, per literas te consuluissem, when,
on the commencement of the civil war, I had written to ask
your advice, quid mihi faciendum esse censeres, what you
thought I ought to do, eundumne ad Pompeium, an ma-
nendum in Italia, to go to Pompey, or to remain in Italy.
T. Very well, now stop. Dubitanti mihi, quod scit
Atticus noster. You construed quod, as. C. I meant
the relative as.
T. Is as a relative ? C. As is used in English for the
relative, as when we say such as for those who.
T. Well, but why do you use it here ? What is the
346 Etimcnlary Studies.
antecedent to " quod " ? C. The sentence Dubitanti
mihi, etc.
7. Still, construe "quod " literally. C. A thing which.
T. Where is a thing? C. It is understood.
T. Well, but put it in. C. Illud quod.
T. Is that right ? Vhat is the common phrase ? C. is
silent.
T. Did you ever see " illud quod " in that position ? is
it the phrase ? C. is silent.
T. It is commonly " id quod," isn't it ? id quod. C.
Oh, I recollect, id quod.
T. Well, which is more common, "quod," or "id
quod," when the sentence is the antecedent ? C. I think
"id quod."
71 At least it is far more distinct ; yes, I think it is
more common. What could you put instead of it ? C.
Quod quidem.
T. Now, dubitanti mihi; what is "mihi" governed
by? C. Accessit.
7. No ; hardly. C. is silent.
7. Does " accessit " govern the dative ? C. I thought
it did.
T. Well, it may ; but would Cicero use the dative
after it ? what is the more common practice with words
of motion ? Do you say, Venit mihi, he came to me ? C.
No, Venit ad me ; — I recollect.
7. That is right ; venit ad me. Now, for instance,
"incumbo:" what case does "incumbo" govern? C. In-
cumbite remis ?
7. Where is that? in Cicero? C. No, in Virgil. Cicero
uses " in " ; I recollect, incumbere in opus ... ad opus.
7. Well, then, is this " mihi " governed by "accessit " ?
what comes after accessit ? C. I see ; it is, accessit ad
tollendam dubitationem.
Elementary Studies. 347
T. That is right ; but then, what after all do you do
with " mihi " ? how is it governed ? C. is silent.
T. How is " mihi " governed, if it does not come after
" accessit " ? C. pauses, then, " Mihi " . . . " mihi " is
often used so ; and " tibi " and " sibi " : I mean " suo
sibi gladio hunc jugulo * ; . . . "venit mihi in mentem " ;
that is, it came into my mind; and so, "accessit mihi ad
tollendam," etc.
T. That is very right. C. I recollect somewhere in
Horace, vellunt tibi barbam.
Etc., etc,
4-
And now, my patient reader, I suspect you have had
enough of me on this subject ; and the best I can expect
from you is, that you will say : " His first pages had some
amusement in them, but he is dullish towards the end."
Perhaps so ; but then you must kindly bear in mind
that the latter part is about a steady careful youth, and
the earlier part is not ; and that goodness, exactness,
and diligence, and the correct and the unexceptionable,
though vastly more desirable than their contraries in
fact, are not near so entertaining in fiction.
34S
|
§ 2 . — Composition.
I
I AM able to present the reader by anticipation with
the correspondence which will pass between Mr.
Brown's father and Mr. White, the tutor, on the subject
of Mr. Brown's examination for entrance at the Univer
sity. And, in doing so, let me state the reason why I
dwell on what many will think an extreme case, or even
a caricature. I do so, because what may be called exag
geration is often the best means of bringing out certain
faults of the mind which do indeed exist commonly, if
not in that degree. If a master in carriage and deport
ment wishes to carry home to one of his boys that he
slouches, he will caricature the boy himself, by way of
impressing on the boy's intellect a sort of abstract and
typical representation of the ungraceful habit which he
wishes corrected. When we once have the simple and
perfect ideas of things in our minds, we refer the parti
cular and partial manifestations of them to these types ;
we recognize what they are, good or bad, as we never
did before, and we have a guide set up within us to
direct our course by. So it is with principles of taste,
good breeding, or of conventional fashion ; so it is in
the fine arts, in painting, or in music. We cannot even
understand the criticism passed on these subjects until
we have set up for ourselves the ideal standard of what
is admirable and what is absurd.
So is it with the cultivation and discipline of the mind,
Elementary Studies. 349
as it should be conducted at College and University, and
as it manifests itself afterwards in life. Clearness of
head, accuracy, scholarlike precision, method, and the
like, are ideas obvious to point out, and easy to grasp ;
yet they do not suggest themselves to youths at once,
and have to be urged and inflicted upon them. And
this is done best by a caricature of their opposites.
And, as I am now going to continue the caricature by
bringing in Mr. Brown's father as well as himself, I have
to make a fresh explanation, lest I should seem to
imply there are fathers altogether such as he will prove
to be. I do not mean to say there are ; yet it may
easily happen that many excellent fathers, many even
able and thoughtful men, may be found, who in a certain
measure are under the bias of that error of which Mr.
Brown senior is the typical instance, and who may be
led possibly to reconsider some of their views, and in a
measure to modify them, if they are confronted with
an exhibition of them in their full dimensions ; — and
that, in consequence of their being forced to master the
typical representation, though the error is never found
thus pure and complete in fact, but only in degrees and,
portions, so that, when represented pure, it is called, and
may fairly be called, a caricature. With this explana
tion of my meaning, and this apology in anticipation, I
hope to be able without misconstruction to put before
the reader the correspondence of which I have spoken.
2.
Mr. Brown, jun., to his fatJier.
14 MY DEAR FATHER,
" It seems odd I never was in Dublin before, though
we have been now some time in Ireland. Well, I find
35° Elementary Studies.
it a handsomer place than I thought for — really a re
spectable town. But it is sadly behind the world in
many things. Think of its having no Social Science, not
even a National Gallery or British Museum ! nor have
they any high art here : some good public buildings, but
very pagan. The bay is a fine thing.
" I called with your letter on Mr. Black, who intro
duced me to the professors, some of whom, judging by
their skulls, are clever men.
" There is a lot here for examination, and an Exhi
bition is to be given to the best. I should like to get it.
Young Black, — you saw him once, — is one of them ; I
knew him at school ; he is a large fellow now, though
younger than I am. If he be the best of them, I shall
not be much afraid.
"Well — in I went yesterday, and was examined. It
was such a queer concern. One of the junior Tutors had
me up, and he must be a new hand, he was so uneasy.
He gave me the slowest examination ! I don't know
to this minute what he was at. He first said a word or
two, and then was silent. He then asked me why we
came up to Dublin, and did not go down ; and put >ome
absurd little questions about Balvo). I was tolerably
satisfied with myself, but he gave me no opportunity to
show off. He asked me literally nothing; he did not
even give me a passage to construe for a long time, and
then gave me nothing more than two or three easy
sentences. And he kept playing with his paper knife,
and saying : ' How are you now, Mr. Brown ? don't be
alarmed, Mr. Brown ; take your time, Mr. Brown ; you
know very well, Mr. Brown ; ' so that I could hardly
help laughing. I never was less afraid in my life. It
would be wonderful if such an examination could put me
out of countenance.
Elementary Studus. 3 5 1
"There's a lot of things which I know very well,
which the Examiner said not a word about. Indeed, I
think I have been getting up a great many things for
nothing ; — provoking enough. I had read a good deal
of Grote ; but though I told him so, he did not ask me
one question in it ; and there's Whewell, Macaulay, and
Schlegel, all thrown away.
"He has not said a word yet where I am to be
lodged. He looked quite confused when I asked him.
He is, I suspect, a character.
" Your dutiful son, etc.,
" ROBERT."
Mr. White to Mr. Brown, sen.
" MY DEAR SIR,
" I have to acknowledge the kind letter you sent
me by your son, and I am much pleased to find the
confidence you express in us. Your son seems an
amiable young man, of studious habits, and there is
every hope, when he joins us, of his passing his academi
cal career with respectability, and his examination with
credit This is what I should have expected from his
telling me that he had been educated at home under
your own paternal eye ; indeed, if I do not mistake, you
have undertaken the interesting office of instructor your
self.
" I hardly know what best to recommend to him at
the moment : his reading has been desultory ; he knows
something about a great many things, of which youths of
his age commonly know nothing. Of course we could
take him into residence now, if you urge it ; but my
advice is that he should first direct his efforts to distinct
preparation for our examination, and to study its par-
35 2 Elementary Studies.
ticular character. Our rule is to recommend youths to
do a little ivell, instead of throwing themselves upon a
large field of study. I conceive it to be your son's fault
of mind not to see exactly the point of things, nor to be
so well grounded as he might be. Young men are in
deed always wanting in accuracy ; this kind of deficiency
is not peculiar to him, and he will doubtless soon over
come it when he sets about it
" On the whole, then, if you will kindly send him up
six months hence he will be more able to profit by our
lectures. I will tell him what to read in the meanwhile.
Did it depend on me, I should send him for that time to
a good school or college, or I could find you a private
Tutor for him.
" I am, etc."
Mr. Brown, sen., to Mr. White.
"SIR,
" Your letter, which I have received by this morning's
post, is gratifying to a parent's feelings, so far as it bears
witness to the impression which my son's amiableness
and steadiness have made on you. He is indeed a
most exemplary lad : fathers are partial, and their word
about their children is commonly not to be taken ; but
I flatter myself that the present case is an exception to
the rule ; for, if ever there was a well-conducted youth,
it is my dear son. He is certainly very clever ; and a
closer student, and, for his age, of more extensive read
ing and sounder judgment, does not exist.
"With this conviction, you will excuse me if I say
that there were portions of your letter which I could not
reconcile with that part of it to which I have been allud
ing. You say he is * a young man of studious habits}
having ' every hope of passing his academical career with
Elementary Studies. 353
respectability, and his examination with credit ;' you
allow that 'he knows something about a great many
things, of which youths of his age commonly know no
thing:' no common commendation, I consider; yet, in
spite of this, you recommend, though you do not exact,
as a complete disarrangement of my plans (for I do not
know how long my duties will keep me in Ireland), a
postponement of his coming into residence for six
months.
" Will you allow me to suggest an explanation of this
inconsistency ? It is found in your confession that the
examination is of a ' particular character.' Of course it
is very right in the governors of a great Institution to be
' particular/ and it is not for me to argue with them.
Nevertheless, I cannot help saying, that at this day
nothing is so much wanted in education as general know
ledge. This alone will fit a youth for tlie world. In a
less stirring time, it may be well enough to delay in
particularities, and to trifle over minutiae ; but the world
will not stand still for us, and, unless we are up to its
requisitions, we shall find ourselves thrown out of the
contest. A man must have something in him now, to
make his way; and the sooner we understand this, the
better.
" It mortified me, I confess, to hear from my son, that
you did not try him in a greater number of subjects, in
handling which he would probably have changed your
opinion of him. He has a good memory, and a great
talent for history, ancient and modern, especially con
stitutional and parliamentary ; another favourite study
with him is the philosophy of history. He has read
Pritchard's Physical History, Cardinal Wiseman's Lec
tures on Science, Bacon's Advancement of Learning^
.Macaulay, and Hallam : I never met with a faster reader.
23
354 Elementary Studies.
I have let him attend, in England, some of the most
talented lecturers in chemistry, geology, and comparative
anatomy, and he sees the Quarterly Reviews and the
best Magazines, as a matter of course. Yet on these
matters not a word of examination !
" I have forgotten to mention, he has a very pretty
idea of poetical composition : I enclose a fragment
which I have found on his table, as well as one of his
prose Essays.
" Allow me, as a warm friend of your undertaking, to
suggest, that the substance of knowledge is far more valu
able than its technicalities ; and that the vigour of the
youthful mind is but wasted on barren learning, and its
ardour is quenched in dry disquisition.
" I have the honour to be, etc/'
On the receipt of this letter, Mr. White will find, to
his dissatisfaction, that he has not advanced one hair's
breadth in bringing home to Mr. Brown's father the real
state of the case, and has clone no more than present
himself as a mark for certain commonplaces, very true,
but very inappropriate to the matter in hand. Filled
with this disappointing thought, for a while he will not
inspect the enclosures of Mr. Brown's letter, being his
son's attempts at composition. At length he opens them,
and reads as follows :
Mr. Browris poetry.
THE TAKING OF SEBASTOPOL.*
Oh, might I flee to Araby the blest,
The world forgetting, but its gifts possessed,
Where fair-eyed peace holds sway from shore to shore,
And war's shrill clarion frights the air no more.
* This was written in June, 1854, before the siege began.
Elementary Studies. 355
Heard yc the cloud-compelling blast * awake (* Bombarding)
The slumbers of the inhospitable lake ? t (+The Black Sea)
.Saw ye the banner in its pride unfold
The blush of crimson and the blaze of gold ?
Raglan and St Arnaud, in high command,
Have steamed from old Byzantium's hoary strand ;
The famed Cyanean rocks presaged their fight,
Twin giants, with the astonished Muscovite.
So the loved maid, in Syria's balmy noon,
Forebodes the coming of the hot simoon,
And sighs
And longs
And dimly traces
Mr. Brown's prose.
"FORTES FORTUNA ADJUVAT."
" Of all the uncertain and capricious powers which rule
our earthly destiny, fortune is the chief. Who has not
heard of the poor being raised up, and the rich being laid
low ? Alexander the Great said he envied Diogenes in
his tub, because Diogenes could have nothing less. We
need not go far for an instance of fortune. Who was so
great as Nicholas, the Czar of all the Russias, a year
ago, and now he is " fallen, fallen from his high estate,
without a friend to grace his obsequies." \ The Turks
are the finest specimen of the human race, yet they, too,
have experienced the vicissitudes of fortune. Horace
says that we should wrap ourselves in our virtue, when
fortune changes. Napoleon, too, shows us how little we
can rely on fortune ; but his faults, great as they were,
are being redeemed by his nephew, Louis Napoleon, who
.has shown himself very different from what we expected,
t Here again Mr. Brown prophesies. He wrote in June, 1854.
35 6 Elementary Studies.
though he has never explained how he came to swear to
the Constitution, and then mounted the imperial throne.
" From all this it appears, that we should rely on for
tune only while it remains, — recollecting the words of
the thesis, 'Fortes fortuna adjuvat;' and that, above all,
we should ever cultivate those virtues which will never
fail us, and which are a sure basis of respectability, and
will profit us here and hereafter."
On reading these compositions over, Mr. White will
take to musing ; then he will reflect that he may as well
spare himself the trouble of arguing with a correspondent,
whose principle and standard of judgment is so different
fk*om his own ; and so he will write a civil letter back to
Mr. Brown, enclosing the two papers.
3-
Mr. Brown, however, has not the resignation of Mr.
White ; and, on his Dublin friend, Mr. Black, paying
him a visit, he will open his mind to him ; and I am
going to tell the reader all that will pass between the
two.
Mr. Black is a man of education and of judgment. He
knows the difference between show and substance ; he is
penetrated with the conviction that Rome was not built
in a day, that buildings will not stand without founda
tions, and that, if boys are to be taught well, they must
be taught slowly, and step by step. Moreover, he thinks
in his secret heart that his own son Harry, whose ac
quaintance we have already formed, is worth a dozen
young Browns. To him, then, not quite an impartial
judge, Mr. Brown unbosoms his dissatisfaction, present
ing to him his son's Theme as an experiment-urn crucis
between him and Mr. White. Mr. Black reads it
Elementary Studies 357
through once, and then a second time ; and then he
observes —
" Well, it is only the sort of thing which any boy
would write, neither better nor worse. I speak candidly."
On Mr. Brown expressing disappointment, inasmuch
as the said Theme is not the sort of thing which any boy
could write, Mr. Black continues —
" There's not one word of it upon the thesis ; but all
boys write in this way."
Mr. Brown directs his friend's attention to the know
ledge of ancient history which the composition displays,
of Alexander and Diogenes; of the history of Napoleon ;
to the evident interest which the young author takes in
contemporary history, and his prompt application of
passing events to his purpose ; moreover, to the apposite
quotation from Dryden, and the reference to Horace ; —
all proofs of a sharp wit and a literary mind.
But Mr. Black is more relentlessly critical than the
occasion needs, and more pertinacious than any father
can comfortably bear. He proceeds to break the butter
fly on the wheel in the following oration : —
" Now look here," he says, " the subject is ' Fortes
fortuna adjuvat' ; now this is a proposition ; it states a
certain general principle, and this is just what an ordinary
boy would be sure to miss, and Robert does miss it.
He goes off at once on the word ' fortuna.' ' Fortuna'
was not his subject ; the thesis was intended to guide him,
for his own good ; he refuses to be put into leading-
strings ; he breaks loose, and runs off in his own fashion
on the broad field and in wild chase of ' fortune,' instead
of closing with a subject, which, as being definite, would
have supported him.
" It would have been very cruel to have told a boy to
write on ' fortune ' ; it would have been like asking him
358 Elementary Studies.
his opinion 'of things in general/ Fortune is 'good,1
'bad,' ' capricious,' * unexpected,' ten thousand things all
at once (you see them all in the Gradus), and one of
them as much as the other. Ten thousand things may
be said of it : give me one of them, and I will write upon
it ; I cannot write on more than one ; Robert prefers to
write upon all.
" ' Fortune favours the bold ; ' here is a very definite
subject : take hold of it, and it will steady and lead you
on : you will know in what direction to look. Not one
boy in a hundred does avail himself of this assistance ;
your boy is not solitary in his inaccuracy ; all boys are
more or less inaccurate, because they are boys ; boyish-
ness of mind means inaccuracy. Boys cannot deliver a
message, or execute an order, or relate an occurrence,
without a blunder. They do not rouse up their attention
and reflect : they do not like the trouble of it : they
cannot look at anything steadily ; and, when they
attempt to write, off they go in a rigmarole of words,
which does them no good, and never would, though they
scribbled themes till they wrote their fingers off.
" A really clever youth, especially as his mind opens,
is impatient of this defect of mind, even though, as being
a youth, he be partially under its influence. He shrinks
from a vague subject, as spontaneously as a slovenly
mind takes to it ; and he will often show at disadvan
tage, and seem ignorant and stupid, from seeing more
and knowing more, and having a clearer perception of
things than another has. I recollect once hearing such
a young man, in the course of an examination, asked
very absurdly what ' his opinion* was of Lord Chatham.
Well, this was like asking him his view of ' things in
general.' The poor youth stuck, and looked like a fool,
though it was not he. The examiner, blind to his own
Elementary Studies* 359
absurdity, went on to ask him * what were the charac
teristics of English history.' Another silence, and the
poor fellow seemed to lookers-on to be done for, when
his only fault was that he had better sense than his
interrogator.
" When I hear such questions put, I admire the tact
of the worthy Milnwood in Old Mortality, when in a
similar predicament. Sergeant Bothwell broke into his
house and dining-room in the king's name, and asked
him what he thought of the murder of the Archbishop ot
St. Andrew's; the old man was far too prudent to hazard
any opinion of his own, even on a precept of the Decalogue,
when a trooper called for it; so he glanced his eye down
the Royal Proclamation in the Sergeant's hand, and ap
propriated its sentiments as an answer to the question
before him. Thereby he was enabled to pronounce the
said assassination to be 'savage/ 'treacherous,' 'diabolical,'
and ' contrary to the king's peace and the security of the
subject;' to the edification of all present, and the satis
faction of the military inquisitor. It was in some such
way my young friend got off. His guardian angel re
minded him in a whisper that Mr. Grey, his examiner,
had himself written a book on Lord Chatham and his
times. This set him up at once ; he drew boldly on his
knowledge of his man for the political views advanced in
it ; was at no loss for definite propositions to suit his pur
pose; recovered his ground, and came off triumphantly."
Here Mr. Black stops; and Mr. Brown takes advantage
of the pause to insinuate that Mr. Black is not himself a
disciple of his own philosophy, having travelled some
way from his subject ; — his friend stands corrected, and
retraces his steps.
" The thesis," he begins again, " is ' Fortune favours
the brave ; ' Robert has gone off with the nominative
360 Elementary Studies.
without waiting for verb and accusative. He might as
easily have gone off upon 'brave,' or upon 'favour/ except
that * fortune ' comes first. He does not merely ramble
from his subject, but he starts from a false point. Nothing
could go right after this beginning, for having never gone
off his subject (as I* did off mine), he never could come
back to it. However, at least he might have kept to
some subject or other; he might have shown some exact
ness or consecutiveness in detail ; but just the contrary ;
—observe. He begins by calling fortune ' a power ' ; let
that pass. Next, it is one of the powers 'which rule
our earthly destiny,' that is, fortune rules destiny. Why,
where there is fortune, there is no destiny ; where there
is destiny, there is no fortune. Next, after stating gene
rally that fortune raises or depresses, he proceeds to ex
emplify: there's Alexander, for instance, and Diogenes, —
instances, that is, of what fortune did not do, for they died,
as they lived, in their respective states of life. Then comes
the Emperor Nicholas hicetnunc; with the Turks on the
other hand, place and time and case not stated. Then
examples are dropped, and we are turned over to poetry,
and what we ought to do, according to Horace, when for
tune changes. Next, we are brought back to our exam
ples, in order to commence a series of rambles, beginning
with Napoleon the First. Apropos of Napoleon the First
comes in Napoleon the Third ; this leads us to observe
that the latter has acted ' very differently from what we
expected;' and this again to the further remark, that no
explanation has yet been given of his getting rid of the
Constitution. He then ends by boldly quoting the thesis,
in proof that we may rely on fortune, when we cannot
help it; and by giving us advice, sound, but unexpected,
to cultivate virtue."
" O ! Black, it is quite ludicrous "... breaks in Mr.
Elementary Studies. 361
Brown ; — this Mr. Brown must be a very good-tempered
man, or he would not bear so much: — this is my remark,
not Mr. Black's, who will not be interrupted, but only
raises his voice : " Now, I know how this Theme was
written," he says, "first one sentence, and then your boy
sat thinking, and devouring the end of his pen ; presently
down went the second, and so on. The rule is, first
think, and then write: don't write when you have nothing
to say ; or, if you do, you will make a mess of it. A
thoughtful youth may deliver himself clumsily, he may
set down little ; but depend upon it, his half sentences
will be worth more than the folio sheet of another boy,
and an experienced examiner will see it.
" Now, I will prophesy one thing of Robert, unless this
fault is knocked out of him," continues merciless Mr.
Black. "When he grows up, and has to make a speech,
or write a letter for the papers, he will look out for
flowers, full-blown flowers, figures, smart expressions, trite
quotations, hackneyed beginnings and endings, pompous
circumlocutions, and so on : but the meaning, the sense,
the solid sense, the foundation, you may hunt the slipper
long enough before you catch it."
" Well," says Mr. Brown, a little chafed, " you are a
great deal worse than Mr. White ; you have missed your
vocation : you ought to have been a schoolmaster." Yet
he goes home somewhat struck by what his friend has
said, and turns it in his mind for some time to come,
when he gets there. He is a sensible man at bottom, as
well as good-tempered, this Mr. Brown.
362
§. 3 — Latin Writing.
i.
MR. WHITE, the Tutor, is more and more pleased
with young Mr. Black ; and, when the latter asks
him for some hints for writing Latin, Mr. White takes
him into his confidence and lends him a number of his
own papers. Among others he puts the following into
Mr. Black's hands.
Mr. White's view of Latin translation.
" There are four requisites of good Composition, — cor
rectness of vocabulary, or diction, syntax, idiom, and
elegance. Of these, the two first need no explanation,
and are likely to be displayed by every candidate. The
last is desirable indeed, but not essential. The point
which requires especial attention is idiomatic propriety.
" By idiom is meant that use of words which is peculiar
to a particular language. Two nations may have corre
sponding words for the same ideas, yet differ altogether
in their mode of using those words. For instance, ' et '
means ' and/ yet it does not always admit of being used
in Latin, where ' and ' is used in English. ' Faire ' may
be French for 'do'; yet in a particular phrase, for ' How
do you do ?' ( faire ' is not used, but 'se porter/ viz., ' Com
ment vous portez-vous ? ' An Englishman or a French
man would be almost unintelligible and altogether ridi
culous to each other, who used the French or English
words, with the idioms or peculiar uses of his own Ian-
Elementary Studus. 363
guage. Hence, the most complete and exact acquain
tance with dictionary and grammar will utterly fail to
teach a student to write or compose. Something more
is wanted, viz., the knowledge of the use of words and
constructions, or the knowledge of idiom.
" Take the following English of a modern writer :
" ' This is a serious consideration : — Among men, as
among wild beasts, the taste of blood creates the
appetite for it, and the appetite for it is strengthened
by indulgence.'
" Translate it word for word literally into Latin,
thus : —
" * Haec est seria consideratio. Inter homines, ut inter
feras, gustus sanguinis creat ejus appetitum, et ejus
appetitus indulgentia" roboratur.'
" Purer Latin, as far as diction is concerned, more
correct, as far as syntax, cannot be desired. Every word
is classical, every construction grammatical : yet Latinity
it simply has none. From beginning to end it follows
the English mode of speaking, or English idiom, not the
Latin.
" In proportion, then, as a candidate advances from
this Anglicism into Latinity, so far does he write good
Latin.
" We might make the following remarks upon the
above literal version.
" I. * Consideratio ' is not 'a consideration;' the Latins,
having no article, are driven to expedients to supply its
place, e.g., quidam is sometimes used for a.
" 2. ' Consideratio ' is not * a consideration,' i.e., a thing
considered, or a subject ; but the act of considering.
" 3. It must never be forgotten, that such words as
* consideratio ' are generally metaphorical, and therefore
cannot be used simply, and without limitation or ex-
364 Elementary Studies.
planation, in the English sense, according to which the
mental act is primarily conveyed by the word. * Con-
sideratio,' it is true, can be used absolutely, with greater
propriety than most words of the kind ; but if we take
a parallel case, for instance, ' agitatio,' we could not use
it at once in the mental sense for 'agitation,' but we
should be obliged to say ' agitatio mentis, animi^ etc.,
though even then it would not answer to ' agitation/
" 4. ' Inter homines, gustus,' etc. Here the English, as
is not uncommon, throws two ideas together. It means,
first, that something occurs among men, and occurs
among wild beasts, and that it is the same thing which
occurs among both ; and secondly that this something
is, that the taste of blood has a certain particular effect.
In other words, it means, (i) ' this occurs among beasts
and men,' (2) viz., that the ' taste of blood,' etc. There
fore, ' inter homines, etc., gustus creat, etc.,' does not ex
press the English meaning, it only translates its expression.
" 5. 'Inter homines' is not the Latin phrase for 'among.'
' Inter ' generally involves some sense of division, viz.,
interruption, contrast, rivalry, etc. Thus, with a singular
noun, ' inter ccenam hoc accidit,' i.e., this interrupted
the supper. And so with two nouns, 'inter me et Brun-
dusium Caesar est.' And so with a plural noun, 'hoc
inter homines ambigitur,' i.e., man with man. 'Micat
inter omnes Julium sidus,' /.«,, in the rivalry of star
against star. ' Inter tot annos unus (vir) inventus est/
i.e., though all those years, one by one, put in their
claim, yet only one of them can produce a man, etc.
' Inter se diligunt,' they love each other. On the contrary,
the Latin word for ' among,' simply understood, is ' in.'
6. "As a general rule, indicatives active followed by
accusatives, are foreign to the main structure of a Latin
sentence.
Elementary Studies. 365
"7. ' Et ; ' here two clauses are connected, having
different subjects or nominatives ; in the former * appe-
titus ' is in the nominative, and in the latter in the accu
sative. It is usual in Latin to carry on the same subject,
in connected clauses.
" 8. ' Et ' here connects two distinct clauses. ' Autem '
is more common.
" These being some of the faults of the literal version,
I transcribe the translations sent in to me by six of my
pupils respectively, who, however deficient in elegance of
composition, and though more or less deficient in hitting
the Latin idiom, yet evidently know what idiom is.
" The first wrote : — Videte rem graviorem ; quod feris,
id hominibus quoque accidit, — sanguinis sitim semel
gustantibus intus concipi, plene potantibus maturari.
" The second wrote : — Res seria agitur ; nam quod in
feris, illud in hominibus quoque cernitur, sanguinis
appetitionem et suscitari lambendo et epulando inflam-
mari.
" The third : — Ecce res summa consideration digna ;
et in feris et in hominibus, sanguinis semel delibati sitis
est, saepius hausti libido.
" The fourth : — Sollicitk animadvertendum est, cum in
feris turn in hominibus fieri, ut guttae pariant appetitum
sanguinis, frequentiores potus ingluviem.
" And the fifth : — Perpende sedulo, gustum sanguinis
tarn in hominibus quam in feris prim6 appetitionem sui
tandem cupidinem inferre.
" And the sixth : — Hoc grave est, quod hominibus
cum feris videmus commune, gustasse est appetere san-
guinem, hausisse in deliciis habere."
Mr. Black, junr., studies this paper, and considers that
he has gained something from it. Accordingly, when
he sees his father, he mentions to him Mr. White, his
366 Elementary Studies.
kindness, his papers, and especially the above, of which
he has taken a copy. His father begs to see it ; and,
being a bit of a critic, forthwith delivers his judgment
on it, and condescends to praise it ; but he says that it
fails in this, vis., in overlooking the subject of structure.
He maintains that the turning-point of good or bad
Latinity is, not idiom, as Mr. White says, but structure.
Then Mr. Black, the father, is led on to speak of himself,
and of his youthful studies ; and he ends by giving Harry
a history of his own search after the knack of writing
Latin. I do not see quite how this is to the point of
Mr. White's paper, which cannot be said to contradict
Mr. Black's narrative ; but for this very reason, I may
consistently quote it, for from a different point of view
it may throw light on the subject treated in common by
both these literary authorities.
Old Mr. Black's Confession of his search after a Latin
style.
"The attempts and the failures and the successes of
those who have gone before, my dear son, are the direc
tion-posts of those who come after ; and, as I am only
speaking to you, it strikes me that I may, without
egotism or ostentation, suggest views or cautions, which
might indeed be useful to the University Student gene
rally, by a relation of some of my own endeavours to
improve my own mind, and to increase my own know
ledge in my early life. I am no great admirer of self-
taught geniuses ; to be self-taught is a misfortune,
except in the case of those extraordinary minds, to
whom the title of genius justly belongs ; for in most
cases, to be self-taught is to be badly grounded, to be
Elementary Studies. 367
slovenly finished, and to be preposterously conceited.
Nor, again, was that misfortune I speak of really mine ;
but I have been left at times just so much to myself, as
to make it possible for young students to gain hints from
the history of my mind, which will be useful to them
selves. And now for my subject.
"At school I was reckoned a sharp boy; I ran through
its classes rapidly ; and by the time I was fifteen, my
masters had nothing more to teach me, and did not know
what to do with me. I might have gone to a public
school, or to a private tutor for three or four years ; but
there were reasons against either plan, and at the unusual
age I speak of, with some inexact acquaintance with
Homer, Sophocles, Herodotus, and Xenophon, Horace,
Virgil, and Cicero, I was matriculated at the University.
I had from a child been very fond of composition, verse
and prose, English and Latin, and took especial interest
in the subject of style ; and one of the wishes nearest
my heart was to write Latin well. I had some idea of
the style of Addison, Hume, and Johnson, in English ;
but I had no idea what was meant by good Latin style.
I had read Cicero without learning what it was ; the
books said, ' This is neat Ciceronian language/ ' this is
pure and elegant Latinity/ but they did not tell me why.
Some persons told me to go by my ear ; to get Cicero
by heart ; and then I should know how to turn my
thoughts and marshal my words, nay, more, where to
put subjunctive moods and where to put indicative. In
consequence I had a vague, unsatisfied feeling on the
subject, and kept grasping shadows, and had upon me
something of the unpleasant sensation of a bad dream.
" When I was sixteen, I fell upon an article in the
Quarterly, which reviewed a Latin history of (I think)
the Rebellion of 171.1; : perhaps by Dr. Whitaker.
368 Elementary Studies.
Years afterwards I learned that the critique was the
writing of a celebrated Oxford scholar ; but at the time,
it was the subject itself, not the writer, that took hold of
me. I read it carefully, and made extracts which, I
believe, I have to this day. Had I known more of Latin
writing, it would have been of real use to me ; but as it
was concerned of necessity in verbal criticisms, it did but
lead me deeper into the mistake to w&ch I had already
ueen introduced, — that Latinity consisted in using good
phrases. Accordingly I began noting down, and using
in my exercises, idiomatic or peculiar expressions : such
as * oleum perdidi/ ' haud scio an non,' ' cogitanti mihi/
' verum enimvero/ ' equidem,' ' dixerim,' and the like ;
and I made a great point of putting the verb at the end
of the sentence. What took me in the same direction
was Dumesnil's Synonymes, a good book, but one which
does not even profess to teach Latin writing. I was
aiming to be an architect by learning to make bricks.
"Then I fell in with the Germania and Agricola of
Tacitus, and was very much taken by his style. Its
peculiarities were much easier to understand, and to
copy, than Cicero's : * decipit exemplar vitiis imitabile ; '
and thus, without any advance whatever in understanding
the genius of the language, or the construction of a Latin
sentence, I added to my fine words and cut-and-dried
idioms, phrases smacking of Tacitus. The Dialogues of
Erasmus, which I studied, carried me in the same direc
tion ; for dialogues, from the nature of the case, consist
of words and clauses, and smart, pregnant, or colloquial
expressions, rather than of sentences with an adequate
structure."
Mr. Black takes breath, and then continues :
"The labour, then, of years came to nothing, and when
I was twenty I knew no more of Latin composition than
Elementary Studies. 369
I had known at fifteen. It was then that circumstances
turned my attention to a volume of Latin Lectures,
which had been published by the accomplished scholar
of whose critique in the Quarterly Review I have already
spoken. The Lectures in question had been delivered
terminally while he held the Professorship of Poetry,
and were afterwards collected into a volume ; and various
circumstances combined to give them a peculiar character.
Delivered one by one at intervals, to a large, cultivated,
and critical audience, they both demanded and admitted
of special elaboration of the style. As coming from a
person of his high reputation for Latinity, they were dis
plays of art ; and, as addressed to persons who had to
follow ex tempore the course of a discussion delivered in
a foreign tongue, they needed a style as near, pointed,
lucid, and perspicuous as it was ornamental. Moreover,
as expressing modern ideas in an ancient language, they
involved a new development and application of its powers.
The result of these united conditions was a style less
simple, less natural and fresh, than Cicero's ; more studied,
more ambitious, more sparkling ; heaping together in a
page the flowers which Cicero scatters over a treatise ;
but still on that very account more fitted for the purpose
of inflicting upon the inquiring student what Latinity was.
Any how, such was its effect upon me ; it was like the
' Open Sesame ' of the tale ; and I quickly found that I
had a new sense, as regards composition, that I under
stood beyond mistake what a Latin sentence should be,
and saw how an English sentence must be fused and
remoulded in order to make it Latin. Henceforth Cicero,
as an artist, had a meaning, when I read him, which he
never had had to me before ; the bad dream of seeking
and never finding was over ; and, whether I ever wrote
Latin or not, at least I knew what good Latin was.
24
37O Elementary Studies.
" I had now learned that good Latinity lies in struc
ture ; that every word of a sentence may be Latin, yet
the whole sentence remain English ; and that diction
aries do not teach composition. Exulting in my dis
covery, I next proceeded to analyze and to throw into
the shape of science that idea of Latinity to which I had
attained. Rules and remarks, such as are contained in
works on composition, had not led me to master the
idea ; and now that I really had gained it, it led me to
form from it rules and remarks for myself. I could now
turn Cicero to account, and I proceeded to make his
writings the materials of an induction, from which I
drew out and threw into form what I have called a
science of Latinity, — with its principles and peculiarities,
their connection and their consequences, — or at least
considerable specimens of such a science, the like ol
which I have not happened to see in print. Consider
ing, however, how much has been done for scholarship
since the time I speak of, and especially how many
German books have been translated, I doubt not I
should now find my own poor investigations and dis
coveries anticipated and superseded by works which are
in the hands of every school-boy. At the same time,
I am quite sure that I gained a very great deal in the
way of precision of thought, delicacy of judgment, anfl
refinement of taste, by the processes of induction to
which I am referring. I kept blank books, in which
every peculiarity in every sentence of Cicero was
minutely noted down, as I went on reading. The
force of words, their combination into phrases, their
collocation — the carrying on of one subject or nomina
tive through a sentence, the breaking up of a sentence
into clauses, the evasion of its categorical form, the reso
lution of abstract nouns into verbs and participles ; —
Elementary Studies. 371
what is possible in Latin composition and what is not,
how to compensate for want of brevity by elegance, and
to secure perspicuity by the use of figures, these, and a
hundred similar points of art, I illustrated with a dili
gence which even bordered on subtlety. Cicero became
a mere magazine of instances, and the main use of the
river was to feed the canal. I am unable to say whether
these elaborate inductions would profit any one else, but
I have a vivid recollection of the great utility they weie
at that time to my own mind.
"The general subject of Latin composition, my dear
son, has ever interested me much, and you see only one
point in it has made me speak for a quarter of an hour ;
but now that I have had my say about it, what is its
upshot ? The great moral I would impress upon you is
this, that in learning to write Latin, as in all learning,
you must not trust to books, but only make use of
them ; not hang like a dead weight upon your teacher,
but catch some of his life ; handle what is given you,
not as a formula, but as a pattern to copy and as a
capital to improve ; throw your heart and mind into
what you are about, and thus unite the separate advan
tages of being tutored and of being self-taught, — self-
taught, yet without oddities, and tutorized, yet without
conventionalities."
" Why, my dear father," says young Mr. Black, " you
speak like a book. You must let me ask you to write
down for me what you have been giving out in conver
sation."
/ have had the advantage of the written copy.
§ 4. — General Religious Knowledge.
I.
IT has been the custom in the English Universities
to introduce religious instruction into the School of
Arts ; and a very right custom it is, which every Univer
sity may well imitate. I have certainly felt it ought to
have a place in that School ; yet the subject is not with
out its difficulty, and I intend to say a few words upon
it here. That place, if it has one, should of course be
determined on some intelligible principle, which, while
it justifies the introduction of Religion into a secular
Faculty, will preserve it from becoming an intrusion, by
fixing the conditions under which it is to be admitted.
There are many who would make over the subject oi
Religion to the theologian exclusively; there are others
who allow it almost unlimited extension in the province
of Letters. The latter of these two classes, if not large,
at least is serious and earnest ; it seems to consider that
the Classics should be superseded by the Scriptures and
the Fathers, and that Theology proper should be taught
to the youthful aspirant for University honours. I am
not here concerned with opinions of this character, which
I respect, but cannot follow. Nor am I concerned with
that large class, on the other hand, who, in their ex
clusion of Religion from the iecture-rooms of Philosophy
and Letters (or of Arts, as it used to be called), are
actuated by scepticism or indifference ; but there are
other persons, much to be consulted, who arrive at the
Elementary Studies. 373
same practical conclusion as the sceptic and unbeliever,
from real reverence and pure zeal for the interests of
Theology, which they consider sure to suffer from the
superficial treatment of lay-professors, and the superficial
reception of young minds, as soon as, and in whatever
degree, it is associated with classical, philosophical, and
historical studies ; — and as very many persons of great
consideration seem to be of this opinion, I will set down
the reasons why I follow the English tradition instead,
and in what sense I follow it.
I might appeal, I conceive, to authority in my favour,
but I pass it over, because mere authority, however
sufficient for my own guidance, is not sufficient for the
definite direction of those who have to carry out the
matter of it in practice.
In the first place, then, it is congruous certainly that
youths who are prepared in a Catholic University for
the general duties of a secular life, or for the secular
professions, should not leave it without some knowledge
of their religion ; and, on the other hand, it does, in
matter of fact, act to the disadvantage of a Christian
place of education, in the world and in the judgment of
men of the world, and is a reproach to its conductors,
and even a scandal, if it sends out its pupils accomplished
in all knowledge except Christian knowledge ; and hence,
even though it were impossible to rest the introduction
of religious teaching into the secular lecture-room upon
any logical principle, the imperative necessity of its in
troduction would remain, and the only question would
be, what matter was to be introduced, and how much.
And next, considering that, as the mind is enlarged
and cultivated generally, it is capable, or rather is
374 Elementary Studies.
desirous and has need, of fuller religious information, ft
is difficult to maintain that that knowledge of Christi
anity which is sufficient for entrance at the University is
all that is incumbent on students who have been sub
mitted to the academical course. So that we are un
avoidably led on to the further question, viz., shall we
sharpen and refine the youthful intellect, and then leave
it to exercise its new powers upon the most sacred of
subjects, as it will, and with the chance of its exercising
them wrongly ; or shall we proceed to feed it with divine
truth, as it gains an appetite for knowledge ?
Religious teaching, then, is urged upon us in the case
of University students, first, by its evident propriety ;
secondly, by the force of public opinion ; thirdly, from
the great inconveniences of neglecting it. And, if the
subject of Religion is to have a real place in their course
of study, it must enter into the examinations in which
that course results ; for nothing will be found to impress
and occupy their minds but such matters as they have
to present to their Examiners.
Such, then, are the considerations which actually oblige
us to introduce the subject of Religion into our secular
schools, whether it be logical or not to do so ; but next.
I think that we can do so without any sacrifice of prin
ciple or of consistency ; and this, I trust, will appear, if
I proceed to explain the mode which I should propose
to adopt for the purpose : —
I would treat the subject of Religion in the School of
Philosophy and Letters simply as a branch of know
ledge. If the University student is bound to have a
knowledge of History generally, he is bound to have
inclusively a knowledge of sacred history as well as
profane ; if he ought to be well instructed in Ancient
Literature, Biblical Literature comes under that general
Elementary Studies. 375
description as well as Classical ; if he knows the Philo
sophy of men, he will not be extravagating from his
general subject, if he cultivate also that Philosophy which
is divine. And as a student is not necessarily superficial,
though he has not studied all the classical poets, or all
Aristotle's philosophy, so he need not be dangerously
superficial, if he has but a parallel knowledge of Religion.
3-
However, it may be said that the risk of theological
error is so serious, and the effects of theological conceit
are so mischievous, that it is better for a youth to know
nothing of the sacred subject, than to have a slender
knowledge which he can use freely and recklessly, for
the very reason that it is slender. And here we have
the maxim in corroboration : " A little learning is a
dangerous thing."
This objection is of too anxious a character to be dis
regarded. I should answer it thus : — In the first place it
is obvious to remark, that one great portion of the know
ledge here advocated is, as I have just said, historical
knowledge, which has little or nothing to do with doc
trine. If a Catholic youth mixes with educated Protes
tants of his own age, he will find them conversant with
the outlines and the characteristics of sacred and eccle
siastical history as well as profane : it is desirable that
he should be on a par with them, and able to keep up a
conversation with them. It is desirable, if he has left
our University with honours or prizes, that he should
know as well as they about the great primitive divisions
of Christianity, its polity, its luminaries, its acts, and its
fortunes ; its great eras, and its course down to this day.
He should have some idea of its propagation, and of the
order in which the nations, which have submitted to it,
376 EUmentary Studies.
entered its pale ; and of the list of its Fathers, and of
its writers generally, and of the subjects of their works.
He should know who St. Justin Martyr was, and when
he lived ; what language St Ephraim wrote in ; on what
St. Chrysostom's literary fame is founded ; who was
Celsus, or Ammonius, or Porphyry, or Ulphilas, or Sym-
machus, or Theodoric. Who were the Nestorians ; what
was the religion of the barbarian nations who took pos
session of the Roman Empire : who was Eutyches, or
Berengarius, who the Albigenses. He should know
something about the Benedictines, Dominicans, or Fran
ciscans, about the Crusades, and the chief movers in
them. He should be able to say what the Holy See
has done for learning and science ; the place which these
islands hold in the literary history of the dark age ; what
part the Church had, and how her highest interests fared,
in the revival of letters ; who Bessarion was, or Ximenes,
or William of Wykeham, or Cardinal Allen. I do not
say that we can insure all this knowledge in every ac
complished student who goes from us, but at least we
can admit such knowledge, we can encourage it, in our
lecture-rooms and examination-halls.
And so in like manner, as regards Biblical knowledge,
it is desirable that, while our students are encouraged to
pursue the history of classical literature, they should
also be invited to acquaint themselves with some general
facts about the canon of Holy Scripture, its history, the
Jewish canon, St. Jerome, the Protestant Bible; again,
about the languages of Scripture, the contents of its
separate books, their authors, and their versions. In all
such knowledge I conceive no great harm can lie in being
superficial.
But now as to Theology itself. To meet the appre
hended danger, I would exclude the teaching in cxtensc of
Elementary Studies. 377
pure dogma from the secular schools, and content my
self with enforcing such a broad knowledge of doctrinal
subjects as is contained in the catechisms of the Church,
or the actual writings of her laity. I would have students
apply their minds to such religious topics as laymen
actually do treat, and are thought praiseworthy in
treating. Certainly I admit that, when a lawyer or
physician, or statesman, or merchant, or soldier sets
about discussing theological points, he is likely to suc
ceed as ill as an ecclesiastic who meddles with law, or
medicine, or the exchange. But I am professing to con
template Christian knowledge in what may be called its
secular aspect, as it is practically useful in the intercourse
of life and in general conversation ; and I would encou
rage it so far as it bears upon the history, the literature,
and the philosophy of Christianity.
It is to be considered that our students are to go out
into the world, and a world not of professed Catholics,
but of inveterate, often bitter, commonly contemptuous,
Protestants ; nay, of Protestants who, so far as they
come from Protestant Universities and public schools,
do know their own system, do know, in proportion to
their general attainments, the doctrines and arguments
of Protestantism. I should desire, then, to encourage
in our students an intelligent apprehension of the rela
tions, as I may call them, between the Church and
Society at large ; for instance, the difference between
the Church and a religious sect ; the respective preroga
tives of the Church and the civil power ; what the Church
claims of necessity, what it cannot dispense with, what
it can ; what it can grant, what it cannot. A Catholic
hears the celibacy of the clergy discussed in general
society ; is that usage a matter of faith, or is it not of
faith ? He hears the Pope accuse^ of interfering with
37$ Elementary Studies.
the prerogatives of her Majesty, because he appoints an
hierarchy. What is he to answer? What principle is to
guide him in the remarks which he cannot escape from
the necessity of making ? He fills a station of impor
tance, and he is addressed by some friend who has political
reasons for wishing to know what is the difference be
tween Canon and Civil Law, whether the Council of
Trent has been received in France, whether a Priest
cannot in certain cases absolve prospectively, what is
meant by his intention, what by the opus operatum ;
whether, and in what sense, we consider Protestants to
be heretics ; whether any one can be saved without
sacramental confession ; whether we deny the reality of
natural virtue, or what worth we assign to it ?
Questions may be multiplied without limit, which
occur in conversation between friends, in social inter
course, or in the business of life, when no argument is
needed, no subtle and delicate disquisition, but a few
direct words stating the fact, and when perhaps a few
words may even hinder most serious inconveniences to the
Catholic body. Half the controversies which go on in
the world arise from ignorance of the facts of the case ;
half the prejudices against Catholicity lie in the misin
formation of the prejudiced parties. Candid persons are
set right, and enemies silenced, by the mere statement
of what it is that we believe. It will not answer the
purpose for a Catholic to say, " I leave it to theologians,"
" I will ask my priest ; " but it will commonly give him
a triumph, as easy as it is complete, if he can then and
there lay down the law. I say " lay down the law ; " for
remarkable it is that even those who speak against
Catholicism like to hear about it, and will excuse its
advocate from alleging arguments if he can gratify
their curiosity by giving them information. Generally
Elementary Studies. 379
speaking, nowever, as I have said, what is given as informa
tion will really be an argument as well as information. I
recollect, some twenty-five years ago, three friends of my
own, as they then were, clergymen of the Establishment,
making a tour through Ireland. In the West or South
they had occasion to become pedestrians for the day ;
and they took a boy of thirteen to be their guide. They
amused themselves with putting questions to him on the
subject of his religion ; and one of them confessed to me
on his return that that poor child put them all to silence.
How ? Not, of course, by any train of arguments, or re
fined theological disquisition, but merely by knowing and
understanding the answers in his catechism.
4-
Nor will argument itself be out of place in the hands
of laymen mixing with the world. As secular power,
influence, or resources are never more suitably placed
than when they are in the hands of Catholics, so secular
knowledge and secular gifts are then best employed
when they minister to Divine Revelation. Theologians
inculcate the matter, and determine the details of that
Revelation ; they view it from within ; philosophers view
it from without, and this external view may be called
the Philosophy of Religion, and the office of delineating
it externally is most gracefully performed by laymen.
In the first age laymen were most commonly the Apolo
gists. Such were Justin, Tatian, Athenagoras, Aristides,
Hermias, Minucius Felix, Arnobms, and Lactantius. In
like manner in this age some of the most prominent
defences of the Church are from laymen : as De Maistre,
Chateaubriand, Nicolas, Montalembert, and others. If
laymen may write, lay students may read ; they surely
may read what their fathers ma*- Have written. They
380 Elementary Studies*
might surely study other works too, ancient and modern,
written whether by ecclesiastics or laymen, which, al
though they do contain theology, nevertheless, in theii
structure and drift, are polemical. Such is Origen's great
work against Celsus; and Tertullian's Apology; such
some of the controversial treatises of Eusebius and
Theodoret ; or St. Augustine's City of God ; or the tract
of Vincentius Lirinensis. And I confess that I should
not even object to portions of Bellarmine's Controversies,
or to the work of Suarez on laws, or to Melchior Canus's
treatises on the Loci Theologici. On these questions in
detail, however, — which are, I readily acknowledge, very
delicate, — opinions may differ, even where the general
principle is admitted ; but, even if we confine ourselves
strictly to the Philosophy, that is, the external contem
plation, of Religion, we shall have a range of reading
sufficiently wide, and as valuable in its practical applica
tion as it is liberal in its character. In it will be included
what are commonly called the Evidences ; and what is
a subject of special interest at this day, the Notes of the
Church.
But I have said enough in general illustration of the
rule which I am recommending. One more remark I
make, though it is implied in what I have been saying : —
Whatever students read in the province of Religion,
they read, and would read from the very nature of
the case, under the superintendence, and with the expla
nations, of those who are older and more experienced
than themselves.
381
V.
A FORM OF INFIDELITY OF THE DAY.
§. i. Its Sentiments*
i.
THOUGH it cannot be denied that at the present
day, in consequence of the close juxtaposition and
intercourse of men of all religions, there is a considerable-
danger of the subtle, silent, unconscious perversion and
corruption of Catholic intellects, who as yet profess, and
sincerely profess, their submission to the authority of
Revelation, still that danger is far inferior to what it was
in one portion of the middle ages. Nay, contrasting the
two periods together, we may even say, that in this very
point they differ, that, in the medieval, since Catholicism
was then the sole religion recognized in Christendom,
unbelief necessarily made its advances under the lan
guage and the guise of faith ; whereas in the present,
when universal toleration prevails, and it is open to
assail revealed truth (whether Scripture or Tradition,
the Fathers or the " Sense of the faithful"), unbelief in
consequence throws off the mask, and takes up a position
over against us in citadels of its own, and confronts us
in the broad light and with a direct assault And I have
no hesitation in saying (apart of course from moral and
ecclesiastical considerations, and under correction of the
382 A Form of Infidelity of the Day.
command and policy of the Church), that I prefer to live
in an age when the fight is in the day, not in the
twilight ; and think it a gain to be speared by a foe, rather
than to be stabbed by a friend.
I do not, then, repine at all at the open development
of unbelief in Germany, supposing unbelief is to be, or at
its growing audacity in England ; not as if I were satis
fied with the state of things, considered positively, but
because, in the unavoidable alternative of avowed unbe
lief and secret, my own personal leaning is in favour of
the former. I hold that unbelief is in some shape una
voidable in an age of intellect and in a world like this,
considering that faith requires an act of the will, and
presupposes the due exercise of religious advantages.
You may persist in calling Europe Catholic, though it is
not ; you may enforce an outward acceptance of Catho
lic dogma, and an outward obedience to Catholic pre
cept ; and your enactments may be, so far, not only
pious in themselves, but even merciful towards the
teachers of false doctrine, as well as just towards their
victims ; but this is all that you can do ; you cannot
bespeak conclusions which, in spite of yourselves, you
are leaving free to the human will. There will be, I say,
in spite of you, unbelief and immorality to the end of
the world, and you must be prepared for immorality
more odious, and unbelief more astute, more subtle,
more bitter, and more resentful, in proportion as it is
obliged to dissemble.
It is one great advantage of an age in which unbelief
speaks out, that Faith can speak out too ; that, if false
hood assails Truth, Truth can assail falsehood. In such
an age it is possible to found a University more empha
tically Catholic than could be set up in the middle age,
because Truth can entrench itself carefully, and define
A Form of Infidelity of the Day. 383
its own profession severely, and display its colours
unequivocally, by occasion of that very unbelief which
so shamelessly vaunts itself. And a kindred advantage
to this is the confidence which, in such an age, we can
place in all who are around us, so that we need look for
no foes but those who are in the enemy's camp.
The medieval schools were the arena of as critical
a struggle between truth and error as Christianity has
ever endured ; and the philosophy which bears their
name carried its supremacy by means of a succession
of victories in the cause of the Church. Scarcely had
Universities risen into popularity, when they were found
to be infected with the most subtle and fatal forms of
unbelief ; and the heresies of the East germinated in the
West of Europe and in Catholic lecture-rooms, with a
mysterious vigour upon which history throws little light.
The questions agitated were as deep as any in theology ;
the being and essence of the Almighty were the main
subjects of the disputation, and Aristotle was introduced
to the ecclesiastical youth as a teacher of Pantheism.
Saracenic expositions of the great philosopher were in
vogue ; and, when a fresh treatise was imported from
Constantinople, the curious and impatient student threw
himself upon it, regardless of the Church's warnings,
and reckless of the effect upon his own mind. The
acutest intellects became sceptics and misbelievers ; and
the head of the Holy Roman Empire, the Caesar Frede
rick the Second, to say nothing of our miserable king
John, had the reputation of meditating a profession of
Mahometanism. It is said that, in the community at
large, men had a vague suspicion and mistrust of each
other's belief in Revelation. A secret society was dis-
384 A Form oj Infidelity of the Day.
covered in the Universities of Lombardy, Tuscany, and
France, organized for the propagation of infidel opinions ;
it was bound together by oaths, and sent its missionaries
among the people in the disguise of pedlars and vagrants.
The success of such efforts was attested in the south
of France by the great extension of the Albigenses, and
the prevalence of Manichean doctrine. The University
of Paris was obliged to limit the number of its doctors in
theology to as few as eight, from misgivings about the
orthodoxy of its divines generally. The narrative of
Simon of Tournay, struck dead for crying out after
lecture, "Ah ! good Jesus, I could disprove Thee, did I
please, as easily as I have proved," whatever be its
authenticity, at least may be taken as a representation
of the frightful peril to which Christianity was exposed.
Amaury of Chartres was the author of a school of Pan
theism, and has given his name to a sect ; Abelard,
Roscelin, Gilbert, and David de Dinant, Tanquelin, and
Eon, and others who might be named, show the extra
ordinary influence of anti-Catholic doctrines on high
and low. Ten ecclesiastics and several of the populace
of Paris were condemned for maintaining that our Lord's
reign was past, that the Holy Ghost was to be incarnate,
or for parallel heresies.
Frederick the Second established a University at
Naples with a view to the propagation of the infidelity
which was so dear to him. It gave birth to the great
St. Thomas, the champion of revealed truth. So inti
mate was the intermixture, so close the grapple, between
faith and unbelief. It was the conspiracy of traitors, it
was a civil strife, of which the medieval seats of learning
were the scene.
In this day, on the contrary, Truth and Error lie over
against each other with a valley between them, and
A Form of Infidelity of the Day. 385
David goes forward in the sight of all men, and from
his own camp, to engage with the Philistine. Such is
the providential overruling of that principle of toleration,
which was conceived in the spirit of unbelief, in order to
the destruction of Catholicity. The sway of the Church
is contracted ; but she gains in intensity what she loses
in extent. She has now a direct command and a reliable
influence over her own institutions, which was wanting
in the middle ages. A University is her possession in
these times, as well as her creation : nor has she the
need, which once was so urgent, to expel heresies from
her pale, which have now their own centres of attrac
tion elsewhere, and spontaneously take their departure.
Secular advantages no longer present an inducement to
hypocrisy, and her members in consequence have the
consolation of being able to be sure of each other. How
much better is it, for us at least, whatever it may be for
themselves (to take a case before our eyes in Ireland),
that those persons, who have left the Church to become
ministers in the Protestant Establishment, should be in
their proper place, as they are, than that they should
have perforce continued in her communion ! I repeat
it, I would rather fight with unbelief as we find it in the
nineteenth century, than as it existed in the twelfth and
thirteenth,
3-
I look out, then, into the enemy's camp, and I try to
trace the outlines of the hostile movements and the
preparations for assault which are there in agitation
against us. The arming and the manoeuvring, the earth
works and the mines, go on incessantly ; and one cannot
of course tell, without the gift of prophecy, which of his
projects will be carriecj into effect and attain its purpose,
25
386 A Form of Infidelity of the Day.
and which will eventually fail or be abandoned. Threaten
ing demonstrations may come to nothing ; and those
who are to be our most formidable foes, may before the
attack elude our observation. All these uncertainties,
we know, are the ,lot of the soldier in the field : and
they are parallel to those which befall the warriors of
the Temple. Fully feeling the force of such considera
tions, and under their correction, nevertheless I make
my anticipations according to the signs of the times ;
and such must be my proviso^ when I proceed to describe
some characteristics of one particular form of infidelity,
which is coming into existence and activity over against
us, in the intellectual citadels of England.
It must not be supposed that I attribute, what I am
going to speak of as a form of infidelity of the day, to
any given individual or individuals ; nor is it necessary
to my purpose to suppose that any one man as yet con
sciously holds, or sees the drift, of that portion of the
theory to which he has given assent. I am to describe
a set of opinions which may be considered as the true
explanation of many floating views, and the converging
point of a multitude of separate and independent minds;
and, as of old Arius or Nestorius not only was spoken
of in his own person, but was viewed as the abstract and
typical teacher of the heresy which he introduced, and
thus his name denoted a heretic more complete and
explicit, even though not more formal, than the here-
siarch himself, so here too, in like manner, I may be
describing a school of thought in its fully developed
proportions, which at present every one, to whom mem
bership with it is imputed, will at once begin to disown,
and I may be pointing to teachers whom no one will be
able to descry. Still, it is not less true that I may be
speaking of tendencies and elements which exist ; and
A Form of Infidelity of the Day. 387
he may come in person at last, who comes at first to us
merely in his spirit and in his power.
The teacher, then, whom I speak of, will discourse
thus in his secret heart : — He will begin, as many so far
have done before him, by laying it down as if a position
which approves itself to the reason, immediately that it
is fairly examined, — which is of so axiomatic a character
as to have a claim to be treated as a first principle, and
is firm and steady enough to bear a large superstructure
upon it, — that Religion is not the subject-matter of a
science. " You may have opinions in religion, you may
have theories, you may have arguments, you may have
probabilities; you may have anything but demonstration,
and therefore you cannot have science. In mechanics
you advance from sure premisses to sure conclusions ; in
optics you form your undeniable facts into system,
arrive at general principles, and then again infallibly
apply them : here you have Science. On the other
hand, there is at present no real science of the weather,
because you cannot get hold of facts and truths on which
it depends ; there is no science of the coming and going
of epidemics ; no science of the breaking out and the
cessation of wars ; no science of popular likings and dis-
likings, or of the fashions. It is not that these subject-
matters are themselves incapable of science, but that,
under existing circumstances, we are incapable of sub
jecting them to it. And so, in like manner," says the
philosopher in question, "without denying that in the
matter of religion some things are true and some things
false, still we certainly are not in a position to determine
the one or the other. And, as it would be absurd to
dogmatize about the weather, and say that 1860 will be
a wet season or a dry season, a time of peace or war, so
it is absurd for men in our present state to teach any-
388 A Farm of Infidelity of the Day.
thing positively about the next world, that there is a
heaven, or a hell, or a last judgment, or that the soul is
immortal, or that there is a God. It is not that you have
not a right to your own opinion, as )'ou have a right to
place implicit trust% in your own banker, or in your own
physician ; but undeniably such persuasions are not
knowledge, they are not scientific, they cannot become
public property, they are consistent with your allowing
your friend to entertain the opposite opinion ; and, if
you are tempted to be violent in the defence of your own
view of the case in this matter of religion, then it is well
to lay seriously to heart whether sensitiveness on the
subject of your banker or your doctor, when he is handled
sceptically by another, would not be taken to argue a
secret misgiving in your mind about him, in spite of your
confident profession, an absence of clear, unruffled cer
tainty in his honesty or in his skill."
Such is our philosopher's primary position. He does
not prove it ; he does but distinctly state it ; but he
thinks it self-evident when it is distinctly stated. And
there he leaves it.
4-
Taking his primary position henceforth for granted,
he will proceed as follows : — " Well, then, if Religion is
just one of those subjects about which we can know no
thing, what can be so absurd as to spend time upon it ?
what so absurd as to quarrel with others about it ? Let
us all keep to our own religious opinions respectively,
and be content; but so far from it, upon no subject
whatever has the intellect of man been fastened so in
tensely as upon Religion. And the misery is, that, if
once we allow it to engage our attention, we are in a
circle from which we never shall be able to extricate
A Form of Infidelity of the Day. 389
ourselves, Our mistake reproduces and corroborates itself.
A small insect, a wasp or a fly, is unable to make his way
through the pane of glass ; and his very failure is the oc
casion of greater violence in his struggle than before. He
is as heroically obstinate in his resolution to succeed as
the assailant or defender of some critical battle-field ; he
is unflagging and fierce in an effort which cannot lead to
anything beyond itself. When, then, in like manner, you
have once resolved that certain religious doctrines shall be
indisputably true, and that all men ought to perceive their
truth, you have engaged in an undertaking which, though
continued on to eternity, will never reach its aim ; and,
since you are convinced it ought to do so, the more you
have failed hitherto, the more violent and pertinacious will
be your attempt in time to come. And further still, since
you are not the only man in the world who is in this error,
but one of ten thousand, all holding the general principle
that Religion is scientific, and yet all differing as to the
truths and facts and conclusions of this science, it follows
that the misery of social disputation and disunion is added
to the misery of a hopeless investigation, and life is not
only wasted in fruitless speculation, but embittered by
bigotted sectarianism.
" Such is the state in which the world has lain," it will
be said, "ever since the introduction of Christianity.
Christianity has been the bane of true knowledge, for it
has turned the intellect away from what it can know, and
occupied it in what it cannot. Differences of opinion crop
up and multiply themselves, in proportion to the diffi
culty of deciding them ; and the unfruitfulness of Theo
logy has been, in matter of fact, the very reason, not for
seeking better food, but for feeding on nothing else.
Truth has been sought in the wrong direction, and the
attainable has been put aside for the visionary."
3 go A Form of Infidelity of the Day.
Now, there is no call on me here to refute these argu
ments, but merely to state them. I need not refute what
has not yet been proved. * It is sufficient forme to repeat
what I have already said, that they are founded upon a
mere assumption. Supposing, indeed, religious truth can
not be ascertained, t/ien, of course, it is not only idle, but
mischievous, to attempt to do so ; then, of course, argu
ment does but increase the mistake of attempting it. But
surely both Catholics and Protestants have written solid
defences of Revelation, of Christianity, and of dogma, as
such, and these are not simply to be put aside without
saying why. It has not yet been shown by our philo
sophers to be self-evident that religious truth is really
incapable of attainment ; on the other hand, it has at
least been powerfully argued by a number of profound
minds that it can be attained ; and the onus probandi
plainly lies with those who are introducing into the world
what the whole world feels to be a paradox.
5-
However, where men really are persuaded of all this,
however unreasonable, what will follow ? A feeling, not
merely of contempt, but of absolute hatred, towards the
Catholic theologian and the dogmatic teacher. The
patriot abhors and loathes the partizans who have de
graded and injured his country ; and the citizen of the
world, the advocate of the human race, feels bitter indig
nation at those whom he holds to have been its misleaders
and tyrants for two thousand years. "The world has
lost two thousand years. It is pretty much where it was
in the days of Augustus. This is what has come of priests."
There are those who are actuated by a benevolent liberal
ism, and condescend to say that Catholics are not worse
than other maintainers of dogmatic theology. There are
A Form of tnfidelity of the Day. 3 Q 1
those, again, who are good enough to grant that the
Catholic Church fostered knowledge and science up to
the days of Galileo, and that she has only retrograded
for the last several centuries. But the new teacher, whom
I am contemplating in the light of that nebula out of
which he will be concentrated, echoes the words of the
early persecutor of Christians, that they are the "enemies
of the human race." "But for Athanasius, but for
Augustine, but for Aquinas, the world would have had
its Bacons and its Newtons, its Lavoisiers, its Cuviers, its
Watts, and its Adam Smiths, centuries upon centuries
ago. And now, when at length the true philosophy has
struggled into existence, and is making its way, what is
left for its champion but to make an eager desperate
attack upon Christian theology, the scabbard flung away,
and no quarter given ? and what will be the issue but
the triumph of the stronger, — the overthrow of an old
error and an odious tyranny, and a reign of the beautiful
Truth ? " Thus he thinks, and he sits dreaming over the
inspiring thought, and longs for that approaching, that
inevitable day.
There let us leave him for the present, dreaming and
longing in his impotent hatred of a Power which Julian
and Frederic, Shaftesbury and Voltaire, and a thousand
other great sovereigns and subtle thinkers, have assailed
in vain.
392
§ 2. Its Policy,
i.
IT is a miserable time when a man's Catholic profes
sion is no voucher for his orthodoxy, and when a
teacher of religion may be within the Church's pale, yet
external to her faith. Such has been for a season the
trial of her children at various eras of her history. It was
the state of things during the dreadful Arian ascendancy,
when the flock had to keep aloof from the shepherd,
and the unsuspicious Fathers of the Western Councils
trusted and followed some consecrated sophist from
Greece or Syria. It was the case in those passages of
medieval history when simony resisted the Supreme
Pontiff, or when heresy lurked in Universities. It was a
longer and more tedious trial, while the controversies
lasted with the Monophysites of old, and with the Jan-
senists in modern times. A great scandal it is and a
perplexity to the little ones of Christ, to have to choose
between rival claimants upon their allegiance, or to find
a condemnation at length pronounced upon one whom
in their simplicity they have admired. We, too, in this
age have our scandals, for scandals must be ; but they
are not what they were once ; and if it be the just com
plaint of pious men now, that never was infidelity so
rampant, it is their boast and consolation, on the other
hand, that never was the Church less troubled with false
teachers, never more united.
False teachers do not remain within her pale now.
A Form of Infidelity of the Day. 393
because they can easily leave it, and because there are
seats of error external to her to which they are attracted.
" They went out from us," says the Apostle, " but they
were not of us ; for if they had been of us, they would
no doubt have continued with us : but that they might
be made manifest that they are not all of us." It is a
great gain when error becomes manifest, for it then ceases
to deceive the simple. With these thoughts I began to
describe by anticipation the formation of a school of
unbelief external to the Church, which perhaps as yet
only exists, as I then expressed it, in a nebula. In the
middle ages it might have managed, by means of subter
fuges, to maintain itself for a while within the sacred
limits, — now of course it is outside of it ; yet still, from
the intermixture of Catholics with the world, and the
present immature condition of the false doctrine, it may
at first exert an influence even upon those who would
shrink from it if they recognized it as it really is and as
it will ultimately show itself. Moreover, it is natural, and
not unprofitable, for persons under our circumstances to
speculate on the forms of error with which a University
of this age will have to contend, as the medieval Univer
sities had their own special antagonists. And for both
reasons I am hazarding some remarks on a set of opinions
and a line of action which seems to be at present, at least
in its rudiments, in the seats of English intellect, whether
the danger dies away of itself or not.
I have already said that its fundamental dogma is,
that nothing can be known for certain about the unseen
world. This being taken for granted as a self-evident
point, undeniable as soon as stated, it goes on, or will go on,
to argue that, in consequence, the immense outlay which
has been made of time, anxiety, and toil, of health, bodily
and mental, upon theological researches, has been simply
394 A Form of Infidelity of the Day.
thrown away; nay, has been, not useless merely, but
even mischievous, inasmuch as it has indirectly thwarted
the cultivation of studies of far greater promise and
of an evident utility. This is the main position of the
School I am contemplating ; and the result, in the minds
of its members, is a deep hatred and a bitter resentment
against the Power which has managed, as they consider,
to stunt the world's knowledge and the intellect of man
for so many hundred years. Thus much I have already
said, and now I am going to state the line of policy which
these people will adopt, and the course of thought which
that policy of theirs will make necessary to them or
natural.
Supposing, then, it is the main tenet of the School
in question, that the study of Religion as a science has
been the bane of philosophy and knowledge, what
remedy will its masters apply for the evils they de
plore ? Should they profess themselves the antagonists
of theology, and engage in argumentative exercises with
theologians ? This evidently would be to increase, to
perpetuate the calamity. Nothing, they will say to them'
selves, do religious men desire so ardently, nothing would
so surely advance the cause of Religion, as Controversy.
The very policy of religious men, they will argue, is to get
the world to fix its attention steadily upon the subject of
Religion, and Controversy is the most effectual means of
doing this. And their own game, they will consider,
is, on the contrary, to be elaborately silent about it.
Should they not then go on to shut up the theological
schools, and exclude Religion from the subjects scienti
fically treated in philosophical education ? This indeed
has been, and is, a favourite mode of proceeding with very
A Form of Infidelity of the Day. 395
many of the enemies of Theology ; but still it cannot be
said to have heen justified by any greater success than the
policy of Controversy. The establishment of the Lon
don University only gave immediate occasion to the
establishment of King's College, founded on the dogma
tic principle ; and the liberalism of the Dutch govern
ment led to the restoration of the University of Louvain.
It is a well-known story how the very absence of the
statues of Brutus and Cassius brought them more vividly
into the recollection of the Roman people. When, then,
in a comprehensive scheme of education, Religion alone
is excluded, that exclusion pleads in its behalf. What
ever be the real value of Religion, say these philosophers
to themselves, it has a name in the world, and must not
be ill-treated, lest men should rally round it from a feel
ing of generosity. They will decide, in consequence, that
the exclusive method, though it has met with favour in
this generation, is quite as much a mistake as the con
troversial.
Turning, then, to the Universities of England, they
will pronounce that the true policy to be observed there
would be simply to let the schools of Theology alone.
Most unfortunate it is that they have been roused from
the state of decadence and torpor in which they lay some
twenty or thirty years ago. Up to that time, a routine
lecture, delivered once to successive batches of young
men destined for the Protestant Ministry, not during
their residence, but when they were leaving or had
already left the University, — and not about dogmatics,
history, ecclesiastical law, or casuistry, but about the list
of authors to be selected and works to be read by those
who had neither curiosity to read them nor money to
purchase ; — and again a periodical advertisement of a
lecture on the Thirty-nine Articles, which was never
396 A Form of Infidelity of the Day.
delivered because it was never attended, — these two de
monstrations, one undertaken by one theological Pro
fessor, the other by another, comprised the theological
teaching of a seat of learning which had been the home
of Duns Scotus and Alexander Hales. What envious
mischance put an end to those halcyon days, and revived
the odium theologicum in the years which followed ? Let
us do justice to the authoritative rulers of the University;
they have their failings ; but not to them is the revo
lution to be ascribed. It was nobody's fault among all
the guardians of education and trustees of the intellect
in that celebrated place. However, the mischief has
been done ; and now the wisest course for the interests
of infidelity is to leave it to itself, and let the fever
gradually subside ; treatment would but irritate it. Not
to interfere with Theology, not to raise a little finger
against it, is the only means of superseding it. The
more bitter is the hatred which such men bear it, the
less they must show it.
3-
What, then, is the line of action which they must pur
sue ? They think, and rightly think, that, in all contests,
the wisest and largest policy is to conduct a positive,
not a negative opposition, not to prevent but to antici
pate, to obstruct by constructing, and to exterminate by
supplanting. To cast any slight upon Theology, whether
in its Protestant or its Catholic schools, would be to
elicit an inexhaustible stream of polemics, and a phalanx
of dogmatic doctors and confessors.
" Let alone Camarina, for 'tis best let alone."
The proper procedure, then, is, not to oppose Theology,
but to rival it Leave its teachers to themselves ; merely
A Form of Infidelity of the Day. 397
aim at the introduction of other studies, which, while
they have the accidental charm of novelty, possess a
surpassing interest, richness, and practical value of their
own. Get possession of these studies, and appropriate
them, and monopolize the use of them, to the exclusion
of the votaries of Religion. Take it for granted, and
protest, for the future, that Religion has nothing to do
with the studies to which I am alluding, nor those studies
with Religion. Exclaim and cry out, if the Catholic
Church presumes herself to handle what you mean to
use as a weapon against her. The range of the Experi
mental Sciences, viz., psychology, and politics, and political
economy, and the many departments of physics, various
both in their subject-matter and their method of re
search ; the great Sciences which are the characteristics
of this era, and which become the more marvellous,
the more thoroughly they are understood, — astronomy,
magnetism, chemistry, geology, comparative anatomy,
natural history, ethnology, languages, political geography,
antiquities, — these be your indirect but effectual means
of overturning Religion ! They do but need to be
seen in order to be pursued ; you will put an end,
in the Schools of learning, to the long reign of the un
seen shadowy world, by the mere exhibition of the
visible. This was impossible heretofore, for the visible
world was so little known itself ; but now, thanks to the
New Philosophy, sight is able to contest the field with
faith. The medieval philosopher had no weapon against
Revelation but Metaphysics ; Physical Science has a
better temper, if not a keener edge, for the purpose.
Now here I interrupt the course of thought I am
tracing, to introduce a caveat, lest I should be thought
to cherish any secret disrespect towards the sciences I
ksve enumerated, or apprehension of their legitimate:
3 98 A Form of Infidelity of the Day.
tendencies ; whereas my very object is to protest against
a monopoly of them by others. And it is not surely a
heavy imputation on them to say that they, as other
divine gifts, may be used to wrong purposes, with which
they have no natural connection, and for which they
were never in ten dec! ; and that, as in Greece the element
of beauty, with which the universe is flooded, and the
poetical faculty, which is its truest interpreter, were
made to minister to sensuality ; as, in the middle ages,
abstract speculation, another great instrument of truth,
was often frittered away in sophistical exercises ; so now,
too, the department of fact, and the method of research
and experiment which is proper to it, may for the moment
eclipse the light of faith in the imagination of the student,
and be degraded into the accidental tool, hie et nuncy of
infidelity. I am as little hostile to physical science as I
am to poetry or metaphysics ; but I wish for studies of
every kind a legitimate application : nor do I grudge
them to anti-Catholics, so that anti-Catholics will not
claim to monopolize them, cry out when we profess
them, or direct them against Revelation.
I wish, indeed, I could think that these studies were
not intended by a certain school of philosophers to bear
directly against its authority. There are those who hope,
there are those who are sure, that in the incessant inves
tigation of facts, physical, political, and moral, something
or other, or many things, will sooner or later turn up,
and stubborn facts too, simply contradictory of revealed
declarations. A vision comes before them of some phy
sical or historical proof tnat mankind is not descended
from a common origin, or that the hopes of the world
were never consigned to a wooden ark floating on the
waters, or that the manifestations on Mount Sinai were
the work of man or nature, or that the Hebrew patriarchs
A Form o/ Infidelity oj the Day. 399
or the judges of Israel are mythical personages, or that
St. Peter had no connection with Rome, or that the doc
trine of the Holy Trinity or of the Real Presence was
foreign to primitive belief. An anticipation possesses
them that the ultimate truths embodied in mesmerism
will certainly solve all the Gospel miracles ; or that to
Niebuhrize the Gospels or the Fathers is a simple
expedient for stultifying the whole Catholic system.
They imagine that the eternal, immutable word of God
is to quail and come to nought before the penetrating
intellect of man. And, where this feeling exists, there
will be a still stronger motive for letting Theology alone.
That party, with whom success is but a matter of time,
can afford to wait patiently ; and if an inevitable train
is laid for blowing up the fortress, why need we be
anxious that the catastrophe should take place to-day,
rather than to-morrow ?
4-
But, without making too much of their own anticipa
tions on this point, which may or may not be in part
fulfilled, these men have secure grounds for knowing that
the sciences, as they would pursue them, will at least be
prejudicial to the religious sentiment. Any one study,
of whatever kind, exclusively pursued, deadens in the
mind the interest, nay, the perception of any other. Thus,
Cicero says that Plato and Demosthenes, Aristotle and
Isocrates, might have respectively excelled in each other's
province, but that each was absorbed in his own ; his
words are emphatic ; "quorum uterque, suo studio delec-
tatus, contemsit alterum." Specimens of this peculiarity
occur every day. You can hardly persuade some men
to talk about any thing but their own pursuit ; they refer
the whole world to their own centre, and measure all
4OO A Form of Infidelity of the Day.
matters by their own rule, like the fisherman in the
drama, whose eulogy on his deceased lord was, that " he
was so fond of fish." The saints illustrate this on the
other hand ; St. Bernard had no eye for architecture ;
St. Basil had no nose for flowers ; St. Aloysius had no
palate for meat and drink ; St. Paula or St. Jane Frances
could spurn or could step over her own child ; — not that
natural faculties were wanting to those great servants of
God, but that a higher gift outshone and obscured every
lower attribute of man, as human features may remain
in heaven, yet the beauty of them be killed by the sur
passing light of glory. And in like manner it is clear
that the tendency of science is to make men indiffer-
entists or sceptics, merely by being exclusively pursued.
The party, then, of whom I speak, understanding this
well, would suffer disputations in the theological schools
every day in the year, provided they can manage to keep
the students of science at a distance from them.
Nor is this all ; they trust to the influence of the
modern sciences on what may be called the Imagination.
When any thing, which comes before us, is very unlike
what we commonly experience, we consider it on that
account untrue ; not because it really shocks our reason
as improbable, but because it startles our imagination as
strange. Now, Revelation presents to us a perfectly dif
ferent aspect of the universe from that presented by the
Sciences. The two informations are like the distinct
subjects represented by the lines of the same drawing,
which, accordingly as they are read on their concave or
convex side, exhibit to us now a group of trees with
branches and leaves, and now human faces hid amid the
leaves, or some majestic figures standing out from the
branches. Thus is faith opposed to sight : it is parallel
to the contrast afforded by plane astronomy and physical ;
.-/ Form of Infidelity of f/ie Day. 401
plane, in accordance with our senses, discourses of the
sun's rising and setting, while physical, in accordance
with our reason, asserts, on the contrary, that the sun is
all but stationary, and that it is the earth that moves.
This is what is meant by saying that truth lies in a well;
phenomena are no measure of fact ; primd facie repre
sentations, which we receive from without, do not reach
to the real state of things, or put them before us simply
as they are.
While, then, Reason and Revelation are consistent in
fact, they often are inconsistent in appearance ; and
this seeming discordance acts most keenly and alarm
ingly on the Imagination, and may suddenly expose a
man to the temptation, and even hurry him on to the
commission, of definite acts of unbelief, in which reason
itself really does not come into exercise at all. I mean,
let a person devote himself to the studies of the day ;
let him be taught by the astronomer that our sun is but
one of a million central luminaries, and our earth but one
of ten million globes moving in space ; let him learn
from the geologist that on that globe of ours enormous
revolutions have been in progress through innumerable
ages ; let him be told by the comparative anatomist/
of the minutely arranged system of organized nature;
by the chemist and physicist, of the peremptory yet
intricate laws to which nature, organized and inorganic,
is subjected ; by the ethnologist, of the originals, and
ramifications, and varieties, and fortunes of nations ; by
the antiquarian, of old cities disinterred, and primitive
countries laid bare, with the specific forms of human
society once existing ; by the linguist, of the slow form
ation and development of languages ; by the psycho
logist, the physiologist, and the economist, of the subtle,
complicated structure of the breathing, energetic, refitless
26
4O2 A Form of Infidelity of the Day.
world of men ; I say, let him take in and master the
vastness of the view thus afforded him of Nature, its
infinite complexity, its awful comprehensiveness, and its
diversified yet harmonious colouring ; and then, when he
has for years drank in and fed upon this vision, let him
turn round to peruse the inspired records, or listen to
the authoritative teaching of Revelation, the book of
Genesis, or the warnings and prophecies of the Gospels,
or the Symbolum Quicumque, or the Life of St. Antony
or St. Hilarion, and he may certainly experience a most
distressing revulsion of feeling,* — not that his reason
really deduces any thing from his much loved studies
contrary to the faith, but that his imagination is be
wildered, and swims with the sense of the ineffable dis
tance of that faith from the view of things which is
familiar to him, with its strangeness, and then again
its rude simplicity, as he considers it, and its apparent
poverty contrasted with the exuberant life and reality
of his own world. All this, the school I am speaking
of understands well ; it comprehends that, if it can
but exclude the professors of Religion from the lecture-
halls of science, it may safely allow them full play in
their own ; for it will be able to rear up infidels, without
speaking a word, merely by the terrible influence of that
faculty against which both Bacon and Butler so solemnly
warn us.
I say, it leaves the theologian the full and free pos
session of his own schools, for it thinks he will have no
chance of arresting the opposite teaching or of rivalling
the fascination of modern science. Knowing little, and
caring less for the depth and largeness of that heavenly
Wisdom, on which the Apostle delights to expatiate, or
the variety of those sciences, dogmatic or ethical, mysti-
* Vid. University Sermons, vii., 14.
A Form of Infidelity of the Day. 403
cal or hagiological, historical or exegetical, which Reve
lation has created, these philosophers know perfectly
well that, in matter of fact, to beings, constituted as we
are, sciences which concern this world and this state of
existence are worth far more, are more arresting and
attractive, than those which relate to a system of things
which they do not see and cannot master by their natural
powers. Sciences which deal with tangible facts, prac
tical results, evergrowing discoveries, and perpetual
novelties, which feed curiosity, sustain attention, and
stimulate expectation, require, they consider, but a fair
stage and no favour to distance that Ancient Truth,
which never changes and but cautiously advances, in
the race for popularity and power. And therefore they
look out for the day when they shall have put down
Religion, not by shutting its schools, but by emptying
them ; not by disputing its tenets, but by the superior
worth and persuasiveness of their own.
5-
Such is the tactic which a new school of philosophers
adopt against Christian Theology. They have this
characteristic, compared with former schools of infidelity,
viz., the union of intense hatred with a large toleration
of Theology. They are professedly civil to it, and run
a race with it. They rely, not on any logical disproof
of it, but on three considerations ; first, on the effects of
studies of whatever kind to indispose the mind towards
other studies ; next, on the special effect of modern
sciences upon the imagination, prejudicial to revealed
truth ; and lastly, on the absorbing interest attached to
those sciences from their marvellous results. This line
of action will be forced upon these persons by the pecu
liar character and position of Religion in England.
404 A Form of hi fidelity of the Day.
And here I have arrived at the limits of my paper
before 1 have finished the discussion upon which I have
entered ; and I must be content with having made some
suggestions which, if worth anything, others may use.
405
VT.
UNIVERSITY PREACHING.
I.
WHEN I obtained from various distinguished per
sons the acceptable promise that they would give
me the advantage of their countenance and assistance by
appearing from time to time in the pulpit of our new
University, some of them accompanied that promise with
the natural request that I, who had asked for it, should
offer them my own views of the mode and form in which
the duty would be most satisfactorily accomplished. On
the other hand, it was quite as natural that I on my part
should be disinclined to take on myself an office which
belongs to a higher station and authority in the Church
than my own ; and the more so, because, on the definite
subject about which the inquiry is made, I should have
far less direct aid from the writings of holy men and great
divines than I could desire. Were it indeed my sole
business to put into shape the scattered precepts which
saints and doctors have delivered upon it, I might have
ventured on such a task with comparatively little mis
giving. Under the shadow of the great teachers of the
pastoral office I might have been content to speak, with
out looking out for any living authority to prompt me.
ISut this unfortunately is not the ciise ; such venerable
guidance does not extend beyond the general principle.'-
406 University Preaching.
and rules of preaching, and these require both expansion
and adaptation when they are to be made to bear on
compositions addressed in the name of a University to
University men. They define the essence of Christian
preaching, which is one and the same in all cases ; but
not the subject-matter or the method, which vary accord
ing to circumstances. Still, after all, the points to which
they do reach are more, and more important, than those
which they fall short of. I therefore, though with a good
deal of anxiety, have attempted to perform a task which
seemed naturally to fall to me ; and I am thankful to
say that, though I must in some measure go beyond the
range of the simple direction to which I have referred,
the greater part of my remarks will lie within it
I. So far is clear at once, that the preacher's object is
the spiritual good of his hearers. " Finis praedicanti sit,"
says St. Francis de Sales ; " ut vitam ( justitias) habeant
homines, et abundantius habeant." And St. Charles :
" Considerandum, ad Dei omnipotentis gloriam, ad ani-
marumque salutem, referri omnem concionandi vim ac
rationem." Moreover, " Prsedicatorem esse ministrum
Dei, per quern verbum Dei 4 spiritus fonte ducitur ad
fidelium animas irrigandas." As a marksman aims at
the target and its bull's-eye, and at nothing else, so the
preacher must have a definite point before him, which he
has to hit. So much is contained for his direction in this
simple maxim, that duly to enter into it and use it is half
the battle ; and if he mastered nothing else, still if he
really mastered as much as this, he would know all that
was imperative for the due discharge of his office.
For what is the conduct of men who have one object
nitely before them, and one only ? Why, that, what-
University Preaching. 407
ever be their skill, whatever their resources, greater or
less, to its attainment all their efforts are simply, spon
taneously, visibly, directed. This cuts off a number of
questions sometimes asked about preaching, and extin
guishes a number of anxieties. " Sollicita es, et turbaris,"
says our Lord to St. Martha; "erga plurima; porro unum
est necessarium." We ask questions perhaps about dic
tion, elocution, rhetorical power; but does the commander
of a besieging force dream of holiday displays, reviews,
mock engagements, feats of strength, or trials of skill,
such as would be graceful and suitable on a parade
ground when a foreigner of rank was to be received and
feted ; or does he aim at one and one thing only, viz., to
take the strong place ? Display dissipates the energy,
which for the object in view needs to be concentrated
and condensed. We have no reason to suppose that the
Divine blessing follows the lead of human accomplish
ments. Indeed, St. Paul, writing to the Corinthians,
who made much of such advantages of nature, contrasts
the persuasive words of human wisdom " with the show
ing of the Spirit," and tells us that " the kingdom of God
is not in speech, but in power."
But, not to go to the consideration of divine influences,
which is beyond my subject, the very presence of simple
earnestness is even in itself a powerful natural instrument
to effect that toward which it is directed. Earnestness
creates earnestness in others by sympathy ; and the more
a preacher loses and is lost to himself, the more does he
gain his brethren. Nor is it without some logical force
also ; for what is powerful enough to absorb and possess
a preacher has at least a primd facie claim of attention
on the part of his hearers. On the other hand, any thing
which interferes with this earnestness, or which argues
its absence, is still more certain to blunt the force of the
408 Un i vt 7 'sily Preaching .
most cogent argument conveyed in the most eloquent
language. Hence it is that the great philosopher of
antiquity, in speaking, in his Treatise on Rhetoric, of
the various kinds of persuasives, which are available in
the Art, considers the most authoritative of these to be
that which is drawn from personal traits of an ethical
nature evident in the orator ; for such matters are cog
nizable by all men, and the common sense of the world
decides that it is safer, where it is possible, to commit
oneself to the judgment of men of character than to any
considerations addressed merely to the feelings or to the
reason.
On these grounds I would go on to lay down a precept,
which I trust is not extravagant, when allowance is made
for the preciseness and the point which are unavoidable
in all categorical statements upon matters of conduct.
It is, that preachers should neglect everything whatever
besides devotion to their one object, and earnestness in
pursuing it, till they in some good measure attain to these
requisites. Talent, logic, learning, words, manner, voice,
action, all are required for the perfection of a preacher ;
but " one thing is necessary," — an intense perception and
appreciation of the end for which he preaches, and that is,
to be the minister of some definite spiritual good to those
who hear him. Who could wish to be more eloquent,
more powerful, more successful than the Teacher of the
Nations ? yet who more earnest, who more natural, who
more unstudied, who more self-forgetting than he ?
3-
(i.) And here, in order to prevent misconception, two
remarks must be made, which will lead us further into
the subject we are engaged upon. The first is, that, in
what I have been saying, I do not mean that a preacher
University Preaching. 409
must aim at earnestness, but that he must aim at his
object, which is to do some spiritual good to his hearers,
and which will at once make him earnest. It is said
that, when a man has to cross an abyss by a narrow
plank thrown over it, it is his wisdom, not to look at the
plank, along which lies his path, but to fix his eyes
steadily on the point in the opposite precipice at which
the plank ends. It is by gazing at the object which he
must reach, and ruling himself by it, that he secures to
himself the power of walking to it straight and steadily.
The case is the same in moral matters ; no one will
become really earnest by aiming directly at earnest
ness ; any one may become earnest by meditating on
the motives, and by drinking at the sources, of earnest
ness. We may of course work ourselves up into a pre
tence, nay, into a paroxysm, of earnestness ; as we may
chafe our cold hands till they are warm. But when we
cease chafing, we lose the warmth again ; on the con
trary, let the sun come out and strike us with his beams,
and we need no artificial chafing to be warm. The hot
words, then, and energetic gestures of a preacher, taken
by themselves, are just as much signs of earnestness as
rubbing the hands or flapping the arms together are
signs of warmth ; though they are natural where earnest
ness already exists, and pleasing as being its spontaneous
concomitants. To sit down to compose for the pulpit
with a resolution to be eloquent is one impediment to
persuasion ; but to be determined to be earnest is abso
lutely fatal to it.
He who has before his mental eye the Four Last
Things will have the true earnestness, the horror or the
rapture, of one who witnesses a conflagration, or discerns
some rich and sublime prospect of natural scenery. His
countenance, his manner, his voice, speak for him, in pro-
4io University Preaching.
portion as his view has been vivid and minute. The
great English poet has described this sort of eloquence
when a calamity had befallen : —
Yea, this man's brow, like to a title page,
Foretells the nature of a tragic volume.
Thou tremblest, and the whiteness in thy cheek
Is apter than thy tongue to tell thy errand.
It is this earnestness, in the supernatural order, which
is the eloquence of saints; and not of saints only, but of
all Christian preachers, according to the measure of
their faith and love. As the case would be with one
who has actually seen what he relates, the herald of
tidings of the invisible world also will be, from the
nature of the case, whether vehement or calm, sad or
exulting, always simple, grave, emphatic, and peremp
tory ; and all this, not because he has proposed to him
self to be so, but because certain intellectual convictions
involve certain external manifestations. St. Francis de
Sales is full and clear upon this point. It is necessary,
he says, " ut ipsemet penitus hauseris, ut persuasissimam
tibi habeas, doctrinam quam aliis persuasam cupis.
Artificium summum erit, nullum habere artificium. In-
flammata sint verba, non clamoribus gesticulationibusve
immodicis, sed interiore affectione. De corde plus quam
de ore proficiscantur. Quantumvis ore dixerimus, san&
cor cordi loquitur, lingua non nisi aures pulsat." St.
Augustine had said to the same purpose long before :
"Sonus verborum nostrorum aures percutit ; magister
intus est."
(2.) My second remark is, that it is the preacher's duty
to aim at imparting to others, not any fortuitous, unpre
meditated benefit, but some definite spiritual good. It is
here that design and study find their place ; the more
University Preaching. 411
exact and precise Is the subject which he treats, the more
impressive and practical will he be ; whereas no one will
carry off much from a discourse which is on the general
subject of virtue, or vaguely and feebly entertains the
question of the desirableness of attaining Heaven, or the
rashness of incurring eternal ruin. As a distinct image
before the mind makes the preacher earnest, so it will give
him something which it is worth while to communicate to
others. Mere sympathy, it is true, is able, as I have said,
to transfer an emotion or sentiment from mind to mind,
but it is not able to fix it there. He must aim at imprint
ing on the heart what will never leave it, and this he
cannot do unless he employ himself on some definite
subject, which he has to handle and weigh, and then, as it
were, to hand over from himself to others.
Hence it is that the Saints insist so expressly on the
necessity of his addressing himself to the intellect of
men, and of convincing as well as persuading. " Necesse
est ut doceat et moveat," says St. Francis; and St.
Antoninus still more distinctly : " Debet praedicator
clare loqui, ut instruat intellectum auditoris, et doceat."
Hence, moreover, in St. Ignatius's Exercises, the act of
the intellect precedes that of the affections. Father
Lohner seems to me to be giving an instance in point
when he tells us of a court-preacher, who delivered what
would be commonly considered eloquent sermons, and
attracted no one ; and next took to simple explanations
of the Mass and similar subjects, and then found the
church thronged. So necessary is it to have something
to say, if we desire any one to listen.
Nay, I would go the length of recommending a
preacher to place a distinct categorical proposition
before him, such as he can write down in a form of words,
and to guide and limit his preparation by it, and to aim
412 University Preaching.
in all he says to bring it out, and nothing else. This
seems to be implied or suggested in St. Charles's direc
tion : " Id omnino studebit, ut quod in condone dicturus est
antea bene cognitum habeat." Nay, is it not expressly con
veyed in the Scripture phrase of " preaching the word" ?
for what is meant by " the word " but a proposition ad
dressed to the intellect ? nor will a preacher's earnestness
show itself in anything more unequivocally than in his re
jecting, whatever be the temptation to admit it, every
remark, however original, every period, however eloquent,
which does not in some way or other tend to bring out this
one distinct proposition which he has chosen. Nothing is
so fatal to the effect of a sermon as the habit of preaciiing
on three or four subjects at once. I acknowledge I am
advancing a step beyond the practice of great Catholic
preachers when I add that, even though we preach on
only one at a time, finishing and dismissing the first
before we go to the second, and the second before we
go to the third, still, after all, a practice like this, though
not open to the inconvenience which the confusing of one
subject with another involves, is in matter of fact nothing
short of the delivery of three sermons in succession with
out break between them.
Summing up, then, what I have been saying, I observe
that, if I have understood the doctrine of St. Charles,
St. Francis, and other saints aright, definitcness of object
is in various ways the one virtue of the preacher ; — and
this means that he should set out with the intention of
conveying to others some spiritual benefit ; that, with
a view to this, and as the only ordinary way to it, he
should select some distinct fact or scene, some passage
in history, some truth, simple or profound, some doctrine,
some principle, or some sentiment, and should study it
well and thoroughly, and first make it his own, or
Un ivers / / \ ' P) 'each ing. 4 T 3
have ahcady dwelt on it and mastered it, so as to be
able to use it for the occasion from an habitual under
standing of it ; and that then he should employ himself,
as the one business of his discourse, to bring home to
others, and to leave deep within them, what he has, be
fore he began to speak to them, brought home to himself.
What he feels himself, and feels deeply, he has to make
others feel deeply ; and in proportion as he comprehends
this, he will rise above the temptation of introducing
collateral matters, and will have no taste, no heart, for
going aside after flowers of oratory, fine figures, tuneful
periods, which are worth nothing, unless they come LO
him spontaneously, and are spoken " out of the abun
dance of the heart." Our Lord said on one occasion :
" I am come to send fire on the earth, and what will 1
but that it be kindled ? " He had one work, and He
accomplished it. " The words," He says, " which Thou
gavest Me, I have given to them, and they have received
them, . . . and now I come to Thee." And the
Apostles, again, as they had received, so were they to
give. " That which we have seen and have heard/' says
one of them, " we declare unto you, that you may have
fellows/tip with us." If, then, a preacher's subject only
be some portion of the Divine message, however elemen
tary it may be, however trite, it will have a dignity such
as to possess him, and a virtue to kindle him, and an in
fluence to subdue and convert those tc whom it goes
forth from him, according to the words of the promise,
44 My word, which shall go forth from My mouth, shall
not return to Me void, but it shall do whatsoever I please,
and shall prosper in the things for which I sent it."
4-
2. And now having got as far as this, we shall see
414 University Preaching.
without difficulty what a University Sermon ought to be
just so far as it is distinct from other sermons ; for, if all
preaching is directed towards a hearer, such as is the
nearer will be the preaching, and, as a University audi
tory differs from other auditories, so will a sermon
addressed to it differ from other sermons. This, indeed,
is a broad maxim which holy men lay down on the
subject of preaching. Thus, St. Gregory Theologus, as
quoted by the Pope his namesake, says : " The self-same
exhortation is not suitable for all hearers ; for all have
not the same disposition of mind, and what profits these
is hurtful to those." The holy Pope himself throws the
maxim into another form, still more precise : " Debet
praedicator," he says, " perspicere, ne plus praeclicet,
quam ab audiente capi possit" And St. Charles ex
pounds it, referring to Pope St. Gregory : " Pro audien-
tium genere locos doctrinarum, ex quibus concionem
conficiat, non modo distinctos, sed optim<b explicates
habebit. Atque in hoc quidem multiplici genere con-
cionator videbit, ne quaecumque, ut S. Gregorius scit£
rnonet, legerit, aut scientia comprehenderit, omnia enun-
ciet atque effundat ; sed delectum habebit, ita ut do-
cumenta alia exponat, alia tacit£ relinquat, prout locus,
ordo, conditioque auditorum deposcat." And, by way of
obviating the chance of such a rule being considered a
human artifice inconsistent with the simplicity of the
Gospel, he had said shortly before : "Ad Dei gloriam, ad
coelestis regni propagationem, et ad animarum salutem,
plurimum interest, non solum quales sint praedicatores,
sed qua via, qua ratione praedicent."
It is true, this is also one of the elementary principles
of the Art of Rhetoric ; but it is no scandal that a
saintly Bishop should in this matter borrow a maxim
from secular, nay, from pagan schools. For divine grace
University Preaching. 415
does not overpower nor supersede the action of the human
mind according to its proper nature ; and if heathen
writers have analyzed that nature well, so far let them
be used to the greater glory of the Author and Source
of all Truth. Aristotle, then, in his celebrated treatise
on Rhetoric, makes the very essence of the Art lie in the
precise recognition of a hearer. It is a relative art, and in
that respect differs from Logic, which simply teaches the
right use of reason, whereas Rhetoric is the art of per
suasion, which implies a person who is to be persuaded.
As, then, the Christian Preacher aims at the Divine
Glory, not in any vague and general way, but definitely
by the enunciation of some article or passage of the
Revealed Word, so further, he enunciates it, not for the
instruction of the whole world, but directly for the sake
of those very persons who are before him. He is, when
in the pulpit, instructing, enlightening, informing, ad
vancing, sanctifying, not all nations, nor all classes, nor
all callings, but those particular ranks, professions, states,
ages, characters, which have gathered around him.
Proof indeed is the same all over the earth ; but he has
not only to prove, but to persuade ; — Whom ? A hearer,
then, is included in the very idea of preaching ; and we
cannot determine how in detail we ought to preach, till
we know whom we are to address.
In all the most important respects, indeed, all hearers
are the same, and what is suitable for one audience is
suitable for another. All hearers are children of Adam,
all, too, are children of the Christian adoption and of the
Catholic Church. The great topics which suit the
multitude, which attract the poor, which sway the un
learned, which warn, arrest, recall, the wayward and
wandering, are in place within the precincts of a
University as elsewhere. A Studiiim Generate is not a
4 i h University Preaching.
cloister, or noviciate, or seminary, or boarding-school ; it
is an assemblage of the young, the inexperienced, the
lay and the secular ; and not even the simplest of
religious truths, or the most elementary article of the
Christian faith, can be unseasonable from its pulpit. A
sermon on the Divine Omnipresence, on the future judg
ment, on the satisfaction of Christ, on the intercession of
saints, will be not less, perhaps more, suitable there than
if it were addressed to a parish congregation. Let no
one suppose that any thing recondite is essential to the
idea of a University sermon. The most obvious truths
are often the most profitable. Seldom does an oppor
tunity occur for a subject there which might not under
circumstances be treated before any other auditory what
ever. Nay, further ; an academical auditory might be
well content if it never heard any subject treated at all
but what would be suitable to any general congregation.
However, after all, a University has a character of its
own ; it has some traits of human nature more promi
nently developed than others, and its members are brought
together under circumstanceswhich impartto the auditory
a peculiar colour and expression, even where it does not
substantially differ from another. It is composed of
men, not women ; of the young rather than the old ; and
of persons either highly educated or under education.
These are the points which the preacher will bear in
mind, and which will direct him both in his choice of
subject, and in his mode of treating it.
5-
(l.) And first as to his matter or subject. Here I
would remark upon the circumstance, that courses of
sermons upon theological points, polemical discussions,
treatises in extenso, and the like, are often included in
University Preaching. 417
the idea of a University Sermon, and are considered to
be legitimately entitled to occupy the attention of a
University audience ; the object of such compositions
being, not directly and mainly the edification of the
hearers, but the defence or advantage of Catholicism at
large, and the gradual formation of a volume suitable
for publication. Without absolutely discountenancing
such important works, it is not necessary to say more of
them than that they rather belong to the divinity school,
and fall under the idea of Lectures, than have a claim
to be viewed as University Sermons. Anyhow, I do
not feel called upon to speak of such discourses here.
And I say the same of panegyrical orations, discourses
on special occasions, funeral sermons, and the like.
Putting such exceptional compositions aside, I will con
fine myself to the consideration of what may be called
Sermons proper. And here, I repeat, any general sub
ject will be seasonable in the University pulpit which
would be seasonable elsewhere ; but, if we look for sub
jects especially suitable, they will be of two kinds. The
temptations which ordinarily assail the young and the
intellectual are two : those which are directed against
their virtue, and those which are directed against their
faith. All divine gifts are exposed to misuse and per
version ; youth and intellect are both of them goods,
and involve in them certain duties respectively, and can
be used to the glory of the Giver; but, as youth becomes
the occasion of excess and sensuality, so does intellect
give accidental opportunity to religious error, rash specu
lation, doubt, and infidelity. That these are in fact the
peculiar evils to which large Academical Bodies are
liable is shown from the history of Universities ; and if
a preacher would have a subject which has especial sig-
nificancy in such a place, he must select one which bears
27
418 University Pr tacking.
upon one or other of these two classes of sin. I mean,
he would be treating on some such subject with the
same sort of appositeness as he would discourse upon
almsgiving when addressing the rich, or on patience,
resignation, and industry, when he was addressing the
poor, or on forgiveness of injuries when he was address
ing the oppressed or persecuted.
To this suggestion I append two cautions. First, I
need hardly say, that a preacher should be quite sure
that he understands the persons he is addressing before
he ventures to aim at what he considers to be their ethical
condition ; for, if he mistakes, he will probably be doing
harm rather than good. I have known consequences
to occur very far from edifying, when strangers have
fancied they knew an auditory when they did not, and
have by implication imputed to them habits or motives
which were not theirs. Better far would it be for a
preacher to select one of those more general subjects
which are safe than risk what is evidently ambitious, if
it is not successful.
My other caution is this : — that, even when he ad
dresses himself to some special danger or probable defi
ciency or need of his hearers, he should do so covertly,
not showing on the surface of his discourse what he is
aiming at. I see no advantage in a preacher pro
fessing to treat of infidelity, orthodoxy, or virtue, or the
pride of reason, or riot, or sensual indulgence. To say
nothing else, common-places are but blunt weapons ;
whereas it is particular topics that penetrate and reach
their mark. Such subjects rather are, for instance, the
improvement of time, avoiding the occasions of sin,
frequenting the Sacraments, divine warnings, the inspi
rations of grace, the mysteries of the Rosary, natural
virtue, beauty pf the rites of the Church, consistency of
University Preaching. 419
the Catholic faith, relation of Scripture to the Church, the
philosophy of tradition, and any others, which may touch
the heart and conscience, or may suggest trains of
thought to the intellect, without proclaiming the main
reason why they have been chosen.
(2.) Next, as to the mode of treating its subject, which
a University discourse requires. It is this respect, after all,
I think, in which it especially differs from other kinds of
preaching. As translations differ from each other, as
expressing the same ideas in different languages, so in
the case of sermons, each may undertake the same sub
ject, yet treat it in its own way, as contemplating its
own hearers. This is well exemplified in the speeches of
St. Paul, as recorded in the book of Acts. To the Jews he
quotes the Old Testament; on the Areopagus, addressing
the philosophers of Athens, he insists, — not indeed upon
any recondite doctrine, contrariwise, upon the most ele
mentary, the being and unity of God ; — but he treats it with
a learning and depth of thought, which the presence of that
celebrated city naturally suggested. And in like manner,
while the most simple subjects are apposite in a Univer
sity pulpit, they certainly would there require a treatment
more exact than is necessary in merely popular exhorta
tions. It is not asking much to demand for academical
discourses a more careful study beforehand, a more
accurate conception of the idea which they are to enforce,
a more cautious use of words, a more anxious consulta
tion of writers of authority, and somewhat more of
philosophical and theological knowledge.
But here again, as before, I would insist on the neces
sity of such compositions being unpretending. It is n t
necessary for a preacher to quote the Holy Fathers, or
to show erudition, or to construct an original argument,
or to be ambitious in style and profuse of ornament, on
420 University Preaching.
the ground that the audience is a University : it is only
necessary so to keep the character and necessities of his
hearers before him as to avoid what may offend them,
or mislead, or disappoint, or fail to profit
6.
3. But here a distinct question opens upon us, on which
I must say a few words in conclusion, viz., whether or not
the preacher should preach without book.
This is a delicate question to enter upon, considering
that the Irish practice of preaching without book, which
is in accordance with that of foreign countries, and, as it
would appear, with the tradition of the Church from the
first, is not universally adopted in England, nor, as I
believe, in Scotland ; and it might seem unreasonable
or presumptuous to abridge a liberty at present granted
to the preacher. I will simply set down what occurs to
me to say on each side of the question.
First of all, looking at the matter on the side of usage,
I have always understood that it was the rule in Catholic
countries, as I have just said, both in this and in former
times, to preach without book ; and, if the rule be really
so, it carries extreme weight with it. I do not speak as
if I had consulted a library, and made my ground sure ;
but at first sight it would appear impossible, even from
the number of homilies and commentaries which are
assigned to certain Fathers, as to St. Augustine or to St.
Chrysostom, that they could have delivered them from
formally-written compositions. On the other hand, St.
Leo's sermons certainly are, in the strict sense of the word,
compositions ; nay, passages of them are carefully dog
matic; nay, further still, they have sometimes the character
of a symbol, and, in consequence, are found repeated in
other parts of his works ; and again, though I do not
University Preaching. 421
profess to be well read in the works of St Chrysostom,
there is generally in such portions of them as are known
to those of us who are in Holy Orders, a peculiarity, an
identity of style, which enables one to recognize the
author at a glance, even in the latin version of the Bre
viary, and which would seem to be quite beyond the mere
fidelity of reporters It would seem, then, he must after
all have written them ; and if he did write at all, it is
more likely that he wrote with the stimulus of preaching
before him, than that he had time and inducement to
correct and enlarge them afterwards from notes, for what
is now called "publication," which at that time could
hardly be said to exist at all. To this consideration we
must add the remarkable fact (which, though in classical
history, throws light upon our inquiry) that, not to pro
duce other instances, the greater part of Cicero's power
ful and brilliant orations against Verres were never
delivered at all. Nor must it be forgotten that Cicero
specifies memory in his enumeration of the distinct talents
necessary for a great orator. And then we have in corro-
boration the French practice of writing sermons and
learning them by heart.
These remarks, as far as they go, lead us to lay great
stress on the preparation of a sermon, as amounting in
fact to composition, even in writing, and in extenso. Now
consider St. Carlo's direction, as quoted above : " Id
omnino studebit, ut quod in concione dicturus est, antea
bene cognitum habeat." Now a parish priest has neither
time nor occasion for any but elementary and ordinary-
topics ; and any such subject he has habitually made
his own, "cognitum habet," already; but when the
matter is of a more select and occasional character, as
in the case of a University Sermon, then the preacher
has to study it well and thoroughly, and master it before-
422 University Preaching.
hand. Study and meditation being imperative, can it
be denied that one of the most effectual means by which
we are able to ascertain our understanding of a subject,
to bring out our thoughts upon it, to clear our meaning,
to enlarge our views of its relations to other subjects,
and to develop it generally, is to write down carefully
all we have, to say about it? People indeed differ in
matters of this kind, but I think that writing is a stimu
lus to the mental faculties, to the logical talent, to
originality, to the power of illustration, to the arrange
ment of topics, second to none. Till a man begins to
put down his thoughts about a subject on paper he will
not ascertain what he knows and what he does not
know ; and still less will he be able to express what he
does know. Such a formal preparation of course cannot
be required of a parish priest, burdened, as he may be,
with other duties, and preaching on elementary subjects,
and supported by the systematic order and the sugges
tions of the Catechism ; but in occasional sermons the
case is otherwise. In these it is both possible and gene
rally necessary ; and the fuller the sketch, and the more
clear and continuous the thread of the discourse, the more
the preacher will find himself at home when the time ol
delivery arrives. I have said " generally necessary." for
of course there will be exceptional cases, in which such
a mode of preparation does not answer, whether from
some mistake in carrying it out, or from some special
gift superseding it.
To many preachers there will be another advantage
besides ; — such a practice will secure them against ven
turing upon really extempore matter. The more ardent
a man is, and the greater power he has of affecting his
hearers, so much the more will he need self-control and
sustained recollection, and feel the advantage of com-
University Preaching. 423
mitting himself, as it were, to the custody of his previous
intentions, instead of yielding to any chance current of
thought which rushes upon him in the midst of his
preaching. His very gifts may need the counterpoise
of more ordinary and homely accessories, such as the
drudgery of composition.
It must be borne in mind too, that, since a University
Sermon will commonly have more pains than ordinary
bestowed on it, it will be considered in the number of
those which the author would especially wish to preserve.
Some record of it then will be natural, or even is involved
in its composition ; and, while the least elaborate will be
as much as a sketch or abstract, even the most minute,
exact, and copious assemblage of notes will not be found
too long hereafter, supposing, as time goes on, any reason
occurs for wishing to commit it to the press.
Here are various reasons, which are likely to lead, or
to oblige, a preacher to have recourse to his pen in pre
paration for his special office. A further reason might
be suggested, which would be more intimate than any
we have given, going indeed so far as to justify the in
troduction of a manuscript into the pulpit itself, if the
case supposed fell for certain under the idea of a Uni
versity Sermon. It may be urged with great cogency
that a process of argument, or a logical analysis and in
vestigation, cannot at all be conducted with suitable
accuracy of wording, completeness of statement, or suc
cession of ideas, if the composition is to be prompted at
the moment, and breathed out, as it were, from the
intellect together with the very words which are its
vehicle. There are indeed a few persons in a generation,
such as Pitt, who are able to converse like a book, and
to speak a pamphlet ; but others must be content to write
and to read their writing. This is true ; but I have
424 University Preaching.
already found reason to question whether such delicate
and complicated organizations of thought have a right
to the name of Sermons at all. In truth, a discourse,
which, from its fineness and precision of ideas, is too
difficult for a preacher to deliver without such extraneous
assistance, is too difficult for a hearer to follow ; and, if
a book be imperative for teaching, it is imperative for
learning. Both parties ought to read, if they are to be
on equal terms ; — and this remark furnishes me with a
principle which has an application wider than the par
ticular case which has suggested it.
While, then, a preacher will find it becoming and advis
able to put into writing any important discourse before
hand, he will find it equally a point of propriety and
expedience not to read it in the pulpit. I am not of
course denying his right to use a manuscript, if he wishes ;
but he will do well to conceal it, as far as he can, unless,
which is the most effectual concealment, whatever be its
counterbalancing disadvantages, he prefers, mainly not
verbally, to get it by heart. To conceal it, indeed, in one
way or other, will be his natural impulse ; and this very
circumstance seems to show us that to read a sermon needs
an apology. For, why should he commit it to memory, or
conceal his use of it, unless he felt that it was more natural,
more decorous, to do without it ? And so again, if he em
ploys a manuscript, the more he appears to dispense with
it, the more he looks off from it, and directly addresses his
audience, the more will he be considered to preach; and,
on the other hand, the more will he be judged to come
short of preaching the more sedulous he is in following
his manuscript line after line, and by the tone of his
voice makes it clear that he has got it safely before him.
What is this but a popular testimony to the fact that
preaching is not reading, and reading is not preaching ?
University Preaching. 425
There is, as I have said, a principle involved in this
decision. It is a common answer made by the Protestant
poor to their clergy or other superiors, when asked why
they do not go to church, that "they can read their book
at home quite as well" It is quite true, they can read
their book at home, and it is difficult what to rejoin, and
it is a problem, which has employed before now the more
thoughtful of their communion, to make out what is got
by going to public service. The prayers are from a
printed book, the sermon is from a manuscript. The
printed prayers they have already ; and, as to the manu
script sermon, why should it be in any respects better
than the volume of sermons which they have at home ?
Why should not an approved author be as good as one
who has not yet submitted himself to criticism ? And
again, if it is to be read in the church, why may not one
person read it quite as well as another ? Good advice is
good advice, all the world over. There is something
more, then, than composition in a sermon ; there is
something personal in preaching ; people are drawn and
moved, not simply by what is said, but by how it is said,
and who says it. The same things said by one man are not
the same as when said by another. The same things when
read are not the same as when they are preached.
7-
In this respect the preacher differs from the minister
of the sacraments, that he comes to his hearers, in some
sense or other, with antecedents. Clad in his sacerdotal
vestments, he sinks what is individual in himself alto
gether, and is but the representative of Him from whom
he derives his commission. His words, his tones, his
actions, his presence, lose their personality ; one bishop,
one priest, is like another ; they all chant the same notes,
426 University Preaching
and observe the same genuflexions, as they give one
peace and one blessing, as they offer one and the
same sacrifice. The Mass must not be said without a
Missal under the priest's eye ; nor in any language but
that in which it has come down to us from the early
hierarchs of the Western Church. But, when it is over,
and the celebrant has resigned the vestments proper to
it. then he resumes himself, and comes to us in the gifts
and associations which attach to his person. He knows
his sheep, and they know him ; and it is this direct bear
ing of the teacher on the taught, of his mind upon their
minds, and the mutual sympathy which exists between
them, which is his strength and influence when he ad
dresses them. They hang upon his lips as they cannot
hang upon the pages of his book. Definiteness is the
life of preaching. A definite hearer, not the whole
world ; a definite topic, not the whole evangelical tradi
tion ; and, in like manner, a definite speaker. Nothing
that is anonymous will preach ; nothing that is dead and
gone ; nothing even which is of yesterday, however
religious in itself and useful. Thought and word are
one in the Eternal Logos, and must not be separate in
those who are His shadows on earth. They must issue
fresh and fresh, as from the preacher's mouth, so from
his breast, if they are to be " spirit and life" to the hearts
of his hearers. And what is true of a parish priest ap
plies, mutatis mutandis, to a University preacher ; who,
even more, perhaps, than the ordinary parochus, comes to
his audience with a name and a history, and excites a
personal interest, and persuades by what he is, as well as
by what he delivers.
I am far from forgetting that every one has his own
talent, and that one has not what another has. Elo
quence is a divine gift, which to a certain point super-
University Preaching. 427
sedes rules, and is to be used, like other gifts, to the glory
of the Giver, and then only to be discountenanced when
it forgets its place, when it throws into the shade and em
barrasses the essential functions of the Christian preacher,
and claims to be cultivated for its own sake instead of
being made subordinate and subservient to a higher work
and to sacred objects. And how to make eloquence sub
servient to the evangelical office is not more difficult
than how to use learning or intellect for a supernatural
end ; but it does not come into consideration here.
In the case of particular preachers, circumstances may
constantly arise which render the use of a manuscript the
more advisable course ; but I have been considering
how the case stands in itself, and attempting to set down
what is to be aimed at as best. If religious men once
ascertain what is abstractedly desirable, and acquiesce
in it with their hearts, they will be in the way to get over
many difficulties which otherwise will be insurmountable.
For myself, I think it no extravagance to say that a
very inferior sermon, delivered without book, answers
the purposes for which all sermons are delivered more
perfectly than one of great merit, if it be written and
read. Of course, all men will not speak without book
equally well, just as their voices are not equally clear
and loud, or their manner equally impressive. Elo
quence, I repeat, is a gift ; but most men, unless they
have passed the age for learning, may with practice
attain such fluency in expressing their thoughts as will
enable them to convey and manifest to their audience
that earnestness and devotion to their object, which is the
life of preaching, — which both covers, in the preacher's
own consciousness, the sense of his own deficiencies, and
makes up for them over and over again in the judgment
of his hearers.
428
VII.
CHRISTIANITY AND PHYSICAL SCIENCE.
N
A LECTURE IN THE SCHOOL OF MEDICINE.
I.
OW that we have just commenced our second
Academical Year, it is natural, Gentlemen, that,
as in November last, when we were entering upon our
great undertaking, I offered to you some remarks sug^
gested by the occasion, so now again I should not suffer
the first weeks of the Session to pass away without
addressing to you a few words on one of those subjects
which are at the moment especially interesting to us.
And when I apply myself to think what topic I shall in
consequence submit to your consideration, I seem to be
directed what to select by the principle of selection which
I followed on that former occasion to which I have
been referring. Then * we were opening the Schools of
Philosophy and Letters, as now we are opening those
of Medicine ; and, as I then attempted some brief in
vestigation of the mutual bearings of Revelation and
Literature, so at the present time I shall not, I trust, be
unprofitably engaging your attention, if I make one or
two parallel reflections on the relations existing between
Revelation and Physical Science.
This subject, indeed, viewed in its just dimensions, is
far too large for an occasion such as this ; still I may be
* Vid. Article I.
Christianity and Physical Science. 429
able to select some one point out of the many which it
offers for discussion, and, while elucidating it, to throw
light even on others which at the moment I do not
formally undertake. I propose, then, to discuss the an
tagonism which is popularly supposed to exist between
Physics and Theology; and to show, first, that such
antagonism does not really exist, and, next, to account
for the circumstance that so groundless an imagination
should have got abroad.
I think I am not mistaken in the fact that there exists,
both in the educated and half-educated portions of the
community, something of a surmise or misgiving, that
there really is at bottom a certain contrariety between
the declarations of religion and the results of physical
inquiry ; a suspicion such, that, while it encourages those
persons who are not over-religious to anticipate a coming
day, when at length the difference will break out into
open conflict, to the disadvantage of Revelation, it leads
religious minds, on the other hand, who have not had
the opportunity of considering accurately the state of the
case, to be jealous of the researches, and prejudiced
against the discoveries, of Science. The consequence is,
on the one side, a certain contempt of Theology; on the
other, a disposition to undervalue, to deny, to ridicule,
to discourage, and almost to denounce, the labours of the
physiological, astronomical, or geological investigator.
I do not suppose that any of those gentlemen who are
now honouring me with their presence are exposed to
the temptation either of the religious or of the scientific
prejudice ; but that is no reason why some notice of it
may not have its use even in this place. It may lead us
to consider the subject itself more carefully and exactly;
it may assist us in attaining clearer ideas than before
(how Physics and Theology stand relatively to each other.
43O Lhruiianity and Physiail Science.
Let us begin with a first approximation to the real
btate of the case, or a broad view, which, though it may
require corrections, will serve at once to illustrate and to
start the subject. We may divide knowledge, then, into
natural and supernatural. Some knowledge, of course,
is both at once ; for the moment let us put this circum
stance aside, and view these two fields of knowledge in
themselves, and as distinct from each other in idea. By
nature is meant, I suppose, that vast system of things,
taken as a whole, of which we are cognizant by means of
our natural powers. By the supernatural world is meant
that still more marvellous and awful universe, of which
the Creator Himself is the fulness, and which becomes
known to us, not through our natural faculties, but by
superadded and direct communication from Him. These
two great circles of knowledge, as I have said, intersect ;
first, as far as supernatural knowledge includes truths
and facts of the natural world, and secondly, as far as
truths and facts of the natural world are on the other
hand data for inferences about the supernatural. Still,
allowing this interference to the full, it will be found,
on the whole, that the two worlds and the two kinds
of knowledge respectively are separated off from each
ether ; and that, therefore, as being separate, they can
not on the whole contradict each other. That is, in
other words, a person who has the fullest knowledge of
one of these worlds, may be nevertheless, on the whole,
as ignorant as the rest of mankind, as unequal to form a
judgment, of the facts and truths of the other. He who
knows all that can possibly be known about physics,
about politics, about geography, ethnology, and ethics,
will have made no approximation whatever to decide
Christianity and Physical Science. 43 1
the question whether or not there are angels, and how
many are their orders ; and on the other hand, the most
learned of dogmatic and mystical divines, — St. Augustine,
St. Thomas, — will not on that score know more than a
peasant about the laws of motion, or the wealth of nations.
I do not mean that there may not be speculations and
guesses on this side and that, but I speak of any conclu
sion which merits to be called, I will not say knowledge,
but even opinion. If, then, Theology be the philosophy
of the supernatural world, and Science the philosophy of
the natural, Theology and Science, whether in their re
spective ideas, or again in their own actual fields, on the
whole, are incommunicable, incapable of collision, and
needing, at most to be connected, never to be reconciled.
Now this broad general view of our subject is found to
be so far true in fact, in spite of such deductions from
it that have to be made in detail, that the recent French
editors of one of the works of St Thomas are able to
give it as one of their reasons why that great theologian
made an alliance, not with Plato, but with Aristotle,
because Aristotle (they say), unlike Plato, confined him
self to human science, and therefore was secured from
coming into collision with divine.
"Not without reason," they say, "did St Thomas
acknowledge Aristotle as if the Master of human philo
sophy ; for, inasmuch as Aristotle was not a Theologian,
he had only treated of logical, physical, psychological,
and metaphysical theses, to the exclusion of those which
are concerned about the supernatural relations of man to
God, that is, religion ; which, on the other hand, had
been the source of the worst errors of other philosophers,
and especially of Plato."
43 2 Christianity and Physical Science*
3-
But if there be so substantial a truth even in this
very broad statement concerning the independence of the
fields of Theology and general Science severally, and the
consequent impossibility of collision between them, how
much more true is that statement, from the very nature
of the case, when we contrast Theology, not with Science
generally, but definitely with Physics! In Physics is
comprised that family of sciences which is concerned
with the sensible world, with the phenomena which we
see, hear, and handle, or, in other words, with matter. It
is the philosophy of matter. Its basis of operations,
what it starts from, what it falls back upon, is the phe
nomena which meet the senses. Those phenomena it
ascertains, catalogues, compares, combines, arranges, and
then uses for determining something beyond themselves,
viz., the order to which they are subservient, or what we
commonly call the laws of nature. It never travels be
yond the examination of cause and effect. Its object is
to resolve the complexity of phenomena into simple ele
ments and principles ; but when it has reached those first
elements, principles, and laws, its mission is at an end ;
it keeps within that material system with which it began,
and never ventures beyond the "flammantia mcenia
mundi." It may, indeed, if it chooses, feel a doubt of
the completeness of its analysis hitherto, and for that
reason endeavour to arrive at more simple laws and fewer
principles. It may be dissatisfied with its own combina
tions, hypotheses, systems; and leave Ptolemy for Newton,
the alchemists for Lavoisier and Davy ; — that is, it may
decide that it has not yet touched the bottom of its own
subject ; but still its aim will be to get to the bottom,
and nothing more. With matter it began, with matter it
Christianity and Physical Science. 433
will end ; it will never trespass into the province of mind.
The Hindoo notion is said to be that the earth stands
upon a tortoise ; but the physicist, as such, will never
ask himself by what influence, external to the universe,
the universe is sustained ; simply because he is a physicist.
If indeed he be a religious man, he will of course have
a very definite view of the subject ; but that view of his
is private, not professional, — the view, not of a physicist,
but of a religious man ; and this, not because physical
science says any thing different, but simply because it
says nothing at all on the subject, nor can do so by the
very undertaking with which it set out. The question
is simply extra artem. The physical philosopher has
nothing whatever to do with final causes, and will get
into inextricable confusion, if he introduces them into his
investigations. He has to look in one definite direction,
not in any other. It is said that in some countries, when
a stranger asks his way, he is at once questioned in turn
what place he came from : something like this would be
the unseasonableness of a physicist, who inquired how the
phenomena and laws of the material world primarily
came to be, when his simple task is that of ascertaining
what they are. Within the limits of those phenomena
he may speculate and prove ; he may trace the operation
of the laws of matter through periods of time ; he may
penetrate into the past, and anticipate the future ; he
may recount the changes which they have effected upon
matter, and the rise, growth, and decay of phenomena ;
and so in a certain sense he may write the history of
the material world, as far as he can ; still he will always
advance from phenomena, and conclude upon the internal
evidence which they supply. He will not come near the
questions, what that ultimate element is, which we call
matter, how it came to be, whether it can cease to be,
28
434 Christianity and Physical Science.
whether it ever was not, whether it will ever come to
nought, in what its laws really consist, whether they can
cease to be, whether they can be suspended, what causa
tion is, what time is, what the relations of time to cause
and effect, and a hundred other questions of a similar
character.
Such is Physical Science, and Theology, as is obvious,
is just what such Science is not. Theology begins, as its
name denotes, not with any sensible facts, phenomena,
or results, not with nature at all, but with the Author of
nature, — with the one invisible, unapproachable Cause
and Source of all things. It begins at the other end of
knowledge, and is occupied, not with the finite, but the
Infinite. It unfolds and systematizes what He Himself
has told us of Himself; of His nature, His attributes,
His will, and His acts. As far as it approaches towards
Physics, it takes just the counterpart of the questions
which occupy the Physical Philosopher. He contem
plates facts before him ; the Theologian gives the reasons
of those facts. The Physicist treats of efficient causes ;
the Theologian of final. The Physicist tells us of laws ;
the Theologian of the A uthor, Maintainer, and Controller
of them ; of their scope, of their suspension, if so be ; of
their beginning and their end. This is how the two
schools stand related to each other, at that point where
they approach the nearest ; but for the most part they
are absolutely divergent. What Physical Science is en
gaged in I have already said ; as to Theology, it con
templates the world, not of matter, but of mind ; the
Supreme Intelligence; souls and their destiny; conscience
and duty ; the past, present, and future dealings of the
Creator with the creature.
Christianity and Physical Science. 435
4-
So far, then, as these remarks have gone, Theology and
Physics cannot touch each other, have no intercommunion,
have no ground of difference or agreement, of jealousy or
of sympathy. As well may musical truths be said to
interfere with the doctrines of architectural science ; as
well may there be a collision between the mechanist and
the geologist, the engineer and the grammarian ; as well
might the British Parliament or the French nation be
jealous of some possible belligerent power upon the sur
face of the moon, as Physics pick a quarrel with Theology.
And it may be well, — before I proceed to fill up in detail
this outline, and to explain what has to be explained in
this statement, — to corroborate it, as it stands, by the
remarkable words upon the subject of a writer of the
day :*—
" We often hear it said," he observes, writing as a Pro
testant (and here let me assure you, Gentlemen, that
though his words have a controversial tone with .them, I
do not quote them in that aspect, or as wishing here to
urge any thing against Protestant's, but merely in pur
suance of my own point, that Revelation and Physical
Science cannot really come into collision), "we often hear
it said that the world is constantly becoming more and
more enlightened, and that this enlightenment must be
favourable to Protestantism, and unfavourable to Catho
licism. We wish that we could think so. But we see
great reason to doubt whether this is a well-founded ex
pectation. We see that during the last two hundred and
fifty years the human mind has been in the highest degree
active ; that it has made great advances in every branch
of natural philosophy ; that it has produced innumerable
* Maeaulay's Essays.
43 6 Christianity and Physical
inventions tending to promote the convenience of life ;
that medicine, surgery, chemistry, engineering, have been
very greatly improved, that government, police, and law
have been improved, though not to so great an extent as
the physical sciences. Yet we see that, during these two
hundred and fifty years, Protestantism has made no con
quests worth speaking of. Nay, we believe that, as far
as there has been change, that change has, on the whole,
been in favour of the Church of Rome. We cannot,
therefore, feel confident that the progress of knowledge
will necessarily be fatal to a system which has, to say the
least, stood its ground in spite of the immense progress
made by the human race in knowledge since the days of
Oueen Elizabeth.
44 Indeed, the argument which we are considering
seems to us to be founded on an entire mistake. There
are branches of knowledge with respect to which the law
of the human mind is progress. In mathematics, when
once a proposition has been demonstrated, it is never
afterwards contested. Every fresh story is as solid a
basis for a new superstructure as the original foundation
was. Here, therefore, there is a constant addition to
the stock of truth. In the inductive sciences, again, the
law is progress. . .
"But with theology the case is very different. As
respects natural religion (Revelation being for the pre
sent altogether left out of the question), it is not easy to
see that a philosopher of the present day is more favour
ably situated than Thales or Simonides. He has before
him just the same evidences of design in the structure of
the universe which the early Greeks had. . . As to the
other great question, the question what becomes of man
after death, we do not see that a highly educated Euro
pean, left to his unassisted reason, is more likely to be
Christianity and Physical Science. 437
in the right than a Blackfoot Indian. Not a single one
of the many sciences, in which we surpass the Blackfoot
Indians, throws the smallest light on the state of the soul
after the animal life is extinct. . .
" Natural Theology, then, is not a progressive science.
That knowledge of our origin and of our destiny which
we derive from Revelation is indeed of very different
clearness, and of very different importance. But neither
is Revealed Religion of the nature of a progressive
science. . . In divinity there cannot be a progress ana
logous to that which is constantly taking place in phar
macy, geology, and navigation. A Christian of the fifth
century with a Bible is neither better nor worse situated
than a Christian of the nineteenth century with a Bible,
candour and natural acuteness being of course supposed
equal. It matters not at all that the compass, printing,
gunpowder, steam, gas, vaccination, and a thousand other
discoveries and inventions, which were unknown in the
fifth century, are familiar to the nineteenth. None of
these discoveries and inventions has the smallest bear
ing on the question whether man is justified by faith
alone, or whether the invocation of saints is an orthodox
practice. . . We are confident that the world will never
go back to the solar system of Ptolemy ; nor is our con
fidence in the least shaken by the circumstance that so
great a man as Bacon rejected the theory of Galileo
with scorn ; for Bacon had not all the means of arriving
at a sound conclusion. . . But when we reflect that Sir
Thomas More was ready to die for the doctrine of
Transubstantiation, we cannot but feel some doubt
whether the doctrine of Transubstantiation may not
triumph over all opposition. More was a man of emi
nent talents. He had all the information on the sub
ject that we have, or that, while the world lasts, any
438 Christianity and Physical Science.
human being will have. . . No progress tliat science has
made, or will make, can add to what seems to us the
overwhelming force of the argument against the Real
Presence. We are therefore unable to understand why
what Sir Thomas More believed respecting Transubstan-
tiation may not be believed to the end of time by men
equal in abilities and honesty to Sir Thomas More. But
Sir Thomas More is one of the choice specimens of
human wisdom and virtue ; and the doctrine of Tran-
substantiation is a kind of proof charge. The faith
which stands that test will stand any test. . .
" The history of Catholicism strikingly illustrates these
observations. During the last seven centuries the public
mind of Europe has made constant progress in every
department of secular knowledge ; but in religion we
can trace no constant progress. . . Four times since
the authority of the Church of Rome was established in
Western Christendom has the human intellect risen up
against her yoke. Twice that Church remained com
pletely victorious. Twice she came forth from the con
flict bearing the marks of cruel wounds, but with the
principle of life still strong within her. When we reflect
on the tremendous assaults she has survived, we find it
difficult to conceive in what way she is to perish."
You see, Gentlemen, if you trust the judgment of a
sagacious mind, deeply read in history, Catholic Theo
logy has nothing to fear from the progress of Physical
Science, even independently of the divinity of its doc
trines. It speaks of things supernatural ; and these, by
the very force of the words, research into nature cannot
touch.
5-
Tt is true that the author in question, while saying all
Christianity and Physical Science. 439
this, and much more to the same purpose, also makes
mention of one exception to his general statement,
though he mentions it in order to put it aside. I, too,
have to notice the same exception here ; and you will
see at once, Gentlemen, as soon as it is named, how little
it interferes really with the broad view which I have
been drawing out. It is true, then, that Revelation has
in one or two instances advanced beyond its chosen
territory, which is the invisible world, in order to throw
light upon the history of the material universe. Holy
Scripture, it is perfectly true, does declare a few mo
mentous facts, so few that they may be counted, of a
physical character. It speaks of a process of formation
out of chaos which occupied six days ; it speaks of the
firmament ; of the sun and moon being created for the
sake of the earth ; of the earth being immovable ; of a
great deluge ; and of several other similar facts and
events. It is true ; nor is there any reason why we
should anticipate any difficulty in accepting these state
ments as they stand, whenever their meaning and drift
are authoritatively determined ; for, it must be recol
lected, their meaning has not yet engaged the formal
attention of the Church, or received any interpretation
which, as Catholics, we are bound to accept, and in
the absence of such definite interpretation, there is per
haps some presumption in saying that it means this, and
does not mean that. And this being the case, it is not
at all probable that any discoveries ever should be made
by physical inquiries incompatible at the same time
with one and all of those senses which the letter admits,
and which are still open. As to certain popular interpre
tations of the texts in question, I shall have something
to say of them presently; here I am only concerned
with the letter of the Holy Scriptures itself, as far as it
440 Christianity and Physical Science.
bears upon the history of the heavens and the earth ; and
I say that we may wait in peace and tranquillity till
there is some real collision between Scripture authorita
tively interpreted, and results of science clearly ascer
tained, before we consider how we are to deal with a
difficulty which we have reasonable grounds for think
ing will never really occur.
And, after noticing this exception, I really have made
the utmost admission that has to be made about the
existence of any common ground upon which Theology
and Physical Science may fight a battle. On the whole,
the two studies do most surely occupy distinct fields, in
which each may teach without expecting any inter
position from the other. It might indeed have pleased
the Almighty to have superseded physical inquiry by
revealing the truths which are its object, though He has
not done so : but whether it had pleased Him to do so
or not, anyhow Theology and Physics would be distinct
sciences ; and nothing which the one says of the ma
terial world ever can contradict what the other says of
the immaterial. Here, then, is the end of the question ;
and here I might come to an end also, were it^ not in
cumbent on me to explain how it is that, though Theo
logy and Physics cannot quarrel, nevertheless, Physical
Philosophers and Theologians have quarrelled in fact,
and quarrel still. To the solution of this difficulty I
shall devote the remainder of my Lecture.
6.
I observe, then, that the elementary methods of reason
ing and inquiring used in Theology and Physics are
contrary the one to the other ; each of them has a
method of its own ; and in this, I think, has lain the
point of controversy between the two schools, viz., that
Christianity and Physical Science. 44 1
neither of them has been quite content to remain on its
own homestead, but that, whereas each has its own
method, which is the best for its own science, each has
considered it the best for all purposes whatever, and has
at different times thought to impose it upon the other
science, to the disparagement or rejection of that opposite
method which legitimately belongs to it.
The argumentative method of Theology is that of
a strict science, such as Geometry, or deductive ; the
method of Physics, at least on starting, is that of an
empirical pursuit, or inductive. This peculiarity on either
side arises from the nature of the case. In Physics a
vast and omnigenous mass of information lies before the
inquirer, all in a confused litter, and needing arrangement
and analysis. In Theology such varied phenomena are
wanting, and Revelation presents itself instead. What is
known in Christianity is just that which is revealed, and
nothing more; certain truths, communicated directly from
above, are committed to the keeping of the faithful, and
to the very last nothing can really be added to those
truths. From the time of the Apostles to the end of
the world no strictly new truth can be added to the theo
logical information which the Apostles were inspired to
deliver. It is possible of course to make numberless de
ductions from the original doctrines ; but, as the conclu
sion is ever in its premisses, such deductions are not,
strictly speaking, an addition; and, though experience
may variously guide and modify those deductions, still,
on the whole, Theology retains the severe character of
a science, advancing syllogistically from premisses to
conclusion.
The method of Physics is just the reverse of this : it
has hardly any principles or truths to start with, exter
nally delivered and already ascertained. It has to com-
442 Christianity arid Physical Science.
mence with sight and touch ; it has to handle, weigh,
and measure its own exuberant sylva of phenomena, and
from these to advance to new truths, — truths, that is,
which are beyond and distinct from the phenomena from
which they originate. Thus Physical Science is experi
mental, Theology* traditional ; Physical Science is the
richer, Theology the more exact ; Physics the bolder,
Theology the surer ; Physics progressive, Theology, in
comparison, stationary ; Theology is loyal to the past,
Physics has visions of the future. Such they are, I repeat,
and such their respective methods of inquiry, from the
nature of the case.
But minds habituated to either of these two methods
can hardly help extending it beyond its due limits,
unless they are put upon their guard, and have great
command of themselves. It cannot be denied that
divines have from time to time been much inclined to
give a traditional, logical shape to sciences which do not
admit of any such treatment. Nor can it be denied, on the
other hand, that men of science often show a special
irritation at theologians for going by antiquity, precedent,
authority, and logic, and for declining to introduce
Bacon or Niebuhr into their own school, or to apply
some new experimental and critical process for the
improvement of that which has been given once for all
from above. Hence the mutual jealousy of the two
parties ; and I shall now attempt to give instances of it.
7-
First, then, let me refer to those interpretations of
Scripture, popular and of long standing, though not
authoritative, to which I have already had occasion to
allude. Scripture, we know, is to be interpreted accord
ing to the unanimous consent of the Fathers ; but,
Christianity and Physical Science. 443
besides this consent, which is of authority, carrying with
it the evidence of its truth, there have ever been in
Christendom a number of floating opinions, more or less
appended to the divine tradition ; opinions which have a
certain probability of being more than human, or of having
a basis or admixture of truth, but which admit of no test,
whence they came, or how far they are true, besides the
course of events, and which meanwhile are to be received
at least with attention and deference. Sometimes they
are comments on Scripture prophecy, sometimes on other
obscurities or mysteries. It was once an opinion, for
instance, drawn from the sacred text, that the Chris-
tain Dispensation was to last a thousand years, and no
more ; the event disproved it. A still more exact and
plausible tradition, derived from Scripture, was that
which asserted that, when the Roman Empire should
fall to pieces, Antichrist should appear, who should be
followed at once by the Second Coming. Various Fathers
thus interpret St. Paul, and Bellarmine receives the inter
pretation as late as the sixteenth century. The event
alone can decide if, under any aspect of Christian history,
it is true ; but at present we are at least able to say that
it is not true in that broad plain sense in which it was
once received.
Passing from comments on prophetical passages of
Scripture to those on cosmological, it was, I suppose, the
common belief of ages, sustained by received interpreta
tions of the sacred text, that the earth was immovable.
Hence, I suppose, it was that the Irish Bishop who as
serted the existence of the Antipodes alarmed his con
temporaries ; though it is well to observe that, even in
the dark age in which he lived, the Holy See, to which
reference was made, did not commit itself to any condem
nation of the unusual opinion. The same alarm again
444 Christianity and Physical Science.
occupied the public mind when the Copernican System
was first advocated : nor were the received traditions,
which were the ground of that alarm, hastily to be
rejected ; yet rejected they ultimately have been. If
in any quarter these human traditions were enforced,
and, as it were, enacted, to the prejudice and detriment
of scientific investigations (and this was never done by
the Church herself), this was a case of undue interference
on the part of the Theological schools in the province
of Physics.
So much may be said as regards interpretations of
Scripture ; but it is easy to see that other received
opinions, not resting on the sacred volume, might with
less claim and greater inconvenience be put forward to
harass the physical inquirer, to challenge his submission,
and to preclude that process of examination which is
proper to his own peculiar pursuit. Such are the dicta
torial formulae against which Bacon inveighs, and the
effect of which was to change Physics into a deductive
science, and to oblige the student to assume implicitly,
as first principles, enunciations and maxims, which were
venerable, only because no one could tell whence they
came, and authoritative, only because no one could say
what arguments there were in their favour. In proportion
as these encroachments were made upon his own field of
inquiry would be the indignation of the physical philo
sopher ; and he would exercise a scepticism which re
lieved his feelings, while it approved itself to his reason,
if he was called on ever to keep in mind that light bodies
went up, and heavy bodies fell down, and other similar
maxims, which had no pretensions to a divine origin, or
to be considered self-evident principles, or intuitive truths.
And in like manner, if a philosopher with a true genius
for physical research found the Physical Schools of bis
Christianity and Phywal Science. 445
day occupied with the discussion of final causes, and
solving difficulties in material nature by means of them ;
if he found it decided, for instance, that the roots of trees
make for the river, because they need moisture, or that
the axis of the earth lies at a certain angle to the plane
of its motion by reason of certain advantages thence
accruing to its inhabitants, I should not wonder at his
exerting himself for a great reform in the process of in
quiry, preaching the method of Induction, and, if he
fancied that theologians were indirectly or in any respect
the occasion of the blunder, getting provoked for a time,
however unreasonably, with Theology itself.
I wish the experimental school of Philosophers had
gone no further in its opposition to Theology than in
dulging in some indignation at it for the fault of its dis
ciples ; but it must be confessed that it has run into
excesses on its own side for which the school of high
Deductive Science has afforded no precedent ; and that,
if it once for a time suffered from the tyranny of the
logical method of inquiry, it has encouraged, by way of
reprisals, encroachments and usurpations on the province
of Theology far more serious than that unintentional ana
long obsolete interference with its own province, on the
part of Theologians, which has been its excuse. And to
these unjustifiable and mischievous intrusions made by
the Experimentalists into the department of Theology
I have now, Gentlemen, to call your attention.
8.
You will let me repeat, then, what I have already said,
that, taking things as they are, the very idea of Revela
tion is that of a direct interference from above, for the
introduction of truths otherwise unknown ; moreover, as
such a communication implies recipients, an authoritative
446 Christianity and Physical Science,
depositary of the things revealed will be found practically
to be involved in that idea. Knowledge, then, of these
revealed truths, is gained, not by any research into facts,
but simply by appealing to the authoritative keepers of
them, as every Catholic knows, by learning what is a
matter of teaching, and by dwelling upon, and drawing
out into detail, the doctrines which are delivered ; ac
cording to the text, " Faith cometh by hearing." I do
not prove what, after all, does not need proof, because
I speak to Catholics ; I am stating what we Catholics
know, and ever will maintain to be the method proper
to Theology, as it has ever been recognized. Such, I
say, is the theological method, deductive ; however, the
history of the last three centuries is only one long course
of attempts, on the part of the partisans of the Baconian
Philosophy, to get rid of the method proper to Theology
and to make it an experimental science.
But, I say, for an experimental science, we must have
a large collection of phenomena or facts : where, then, are
those which are to be adopted as a basis for an inductive
theology ? Three principal stores have been used, Gentle
men : the first, the text of Holy Scripture ; the second,
the events and transactions of ecclesiastical history ; the
third, the phenomena of the visible world. This triple
subject-matter, — Scripture, Antiquity, Nature, — has been
taken as a foundation, on which the inductive method may
be exercised for the investigation and ascertainment of
that theological truth, which to a Catholic is a matter of
teaching, transmission, and deduction.
Now let us pause for a moment and make a reflection
before going into any detail. Truth cannot be contrary
to truth ; if these three subject-matters were able, under
the pressure of the inductive method, to yield respectively
theological conclusions in unison and in concord with each
Christianity and Physical Science. 447
other, and also contrary to the doctrines of Theology as
a deductive science, then that Theology would not indeed
at once be overthrown (for still the question would remain
for discussion, which of the two doctrinal systems was the
truth, and which the apparent truth), but certainly the
received deductive theological science would be in an
anxious position, and would be on its trial.
Again, truth cannot be contrary to truth ; — if, then, on
the other hand, these three subject-matters, — Scripture,
Antiquity, and Nature, — worked through three centuries
by men of great abilities, with the method or instrument
of Bacon in their hands, have respectively issued in con
clusions contradictory of each other, nay, have even issued,
this or that taken by itself, Scripture or Antiquity, in
various systems of doctrine, so that on the whole, instead
of all three resulting in one set of conclusions, they have
yielded a good score of them ; then and in that case —
it does not at once follow that no one of this score of
conclusions may happen to be the true one, and all the
rest false ; but at least such a catastrophe will throw
a very grave shade of doubt upon them all, and bears out
the antecedent declaration, or rather prophecy, of theo
logians, before these experimentalists started, that it was
nothing more than a huge mistake to introduce the method
of research and of induction into the study of Theology
at all.
Now I think you will allow me to say, Gentlemen, as
a matter of historical fact, that the latter supposition has
been actually fulfilled, and that the former has not I
mean that, so far from a scientific proof of some one
system of doctrine, and that antagonistic to the old
Theology, having been constructed by the experimental
party, by a triple convergence, from the several bases of
Scripture, Antiquity, and Nature, on the contrary, that
448 Christianity and Physical Science.
empirical method, which has done such wonderful things
in physics and other human sciences, has sustained a most
emphatic and eloquent reverse in its usurped territory,—
has come to no one conclusion, — has illuminated no de
finite view, — has brought its glasses to no focus, — has
shown not even a* tendency towards prospective success ;
nay, further still, has already confessed its own absolute
failure, and has closed the inquiry itself, not indeed by
giving place to the legitimate method which it dispos
sessed, but by announcing that nothing can be known
on the subject at all, — that religion is not a science, and
that in religion scepticism is the only true philosophy ;
or again, by a still more remarkable avowal, that the
decision lies between the old Theology and none at all,
and that, certain though it be that religious truth is no
where, yet that, //"anywhere it is, it undoubtedly is not
in the new empirical schools, but in that old teaching,
founded on the deductive method, which was in honour
and in possession at the time when Experiment and In
duction commenced their brilliant career. What a sin
gular break-down of a noble instrument, when used for
the arrogant and tyrannical invasion of a sacred territory!
What can be more sacred than Theology ? What can
be more noble than the Baconian method ? But the two
do not correspond ; they are mismatched. The age has
mistaken lock and key. It has broken the key in a lock
which does not belong to it ; it has ruined the wards by
a key which never will fit into them. Let us hope that
its present disgust and despair at the result are the pre
liminaries of a generous and great repentance.
I have thought, Gentlemen, that you would allow me
to draw this moral in the first place ; and now I will say
a few words on one specimen of this error in detail.
Christianity and Physical Science. 449
9-
It seems, then, that instead of having recourse to the
tradition and teaching of the Catholic Church, it has been
the philosophy of the modern school to attempt to de
termine the doctrines of Theology by means of Holy
Scripture, or of ecclesiastical antiquity, or of physical
phenomena. And the question may arise, why, after all,
should not such informations, scriptural, historical, or
physical, be used ? and if used, why should they not lead
to true results ? Various answers may be given to this
question : I shall confine myself to one ; and again, for
the sake of brevity, I shall apply it mainly to one out of
the three expedients, to which the opponents to Theology
have had recourse. Passing over, then, what might be
said respecting what is called Scriptural Religion, and
Historical Religion, I propose to direct your attention, in
conclusion, to the real character of Physical Religion, or
Natural Theology, as being more closely connected with
the main subject of this Lecture.
The school of Physics, from its very drift and method
of reasoning, has, as I have said, nothing to do with
Religion. However, there is a science which avails itself
of the phenomena and laws of the material universe, as
exhibited by that school, as a means of establishing the
existence of Design in their construction, and thereby
the fact of a Creator and Preserver. This science has, in
these modern times, at least in England, taken the name
of Natural Theology ;* and, though absolutely distinct
from Physics, yet Physical Philosophers, having furnished
its most curious and interesting data, are apt to claim it
as their own, and to pride themselves upon it accordingly.
* I use the word, not in the sense of " Naturalis Theologia," but, in the
sense in which Paley uses it in the work which he has so entitled.
29
t, jo Christianity and Physical Science.
I have no wish to speak lightly of the merits of this
so-called Natural or, more properly, Physical Theology.
There are a great many minds so constituted that, when
they turn their thoughts to the question of the existence
of a Supreme Being, they feel a comfort in resting the
proof mainly or solely on the Argument of Design which
the Universe furnishes. To them this science of Physical
Theology is of high importance. Again, this science
exhibits, in great prominence and distinctness, three of
the more elementary notions which the human reason
attaches to the idea of a Supreme Being, that is, three of
His simplest attributes, Power, Wisdom, and Goodness.
These are great services rendered to faith by Physical
Theology, and I acknowledge them as such. Whether,
however, Faith on that account owes any great deal to
Physics or Physicists, is another matter. The Argument
from Design is really in no sense due to the philosophy
of Bacon. The author I quoted just now has a striking
passage on this point, of which I have already read to
you a part. " As respects Natural Religion," he says, "it
is not easy to see that the philosopher of the present day
is more favourably situated than Thales or Simonides.
He has before him just the same evidences of design in
the structure of the universe which the early Greeks had.
We say, just the same ; for the discoveries of modern astro
nomers and anatomists have really added nothing to the
force of that argument which a reflecting mind finds in
every beast, bird, insect, fish, leaf, flower, and shell. The
reasoning by which Socrates, in Xenophon's hearing,
confuted the little atheist, Aristodemus, is exactly the
reasoning of Paley's Natural Theology. Socrates makes
precisely the same use of the statues of Polycletus and
the pictures of Zeuxis, which Paley makes of the watch/'
Physical Theology, then, is pretty much what it was
Christianity and Physical Science. 45 1
two thousand years ago, and has not received much help
from modern science : but now, on the contrary, I think
it has received from it a positive disadvantage, — I mean,
it has been taken out of its place, has been put too promi
nently forward, and thereby has almost been used as an
instrument against Christianity, — as I will attempt in a
few words to explain.
10.
I observe, then, that there are many investigations in
ev*>ry subject-matter which only lead us a certain way
towards truth, and not the whole way : either leading us,
for instance, to a strong probability, not to a certainty, or
again, proving only some things out of the whole number
which are true. And it is plain that if such investiga
tions as these are taken as the measure of the whole
truth, and are erected into substantive sciences, instead
of being understood to be, what they really are, inchoate
and subordinate processes, they will, accidentally indeed,
but seriously, mislead us.
I. Let us recur for a moment, in illustration, to the
instances which I have put aside. Consider what is called
Scriptural Religion, or the Religion of the Bible. The
fault which the theologian, over and above the question of
private judgment, will find with a religion logically drawn
from Scripture only, is, not that it is not true, as far as it
goes, but that it is not the whole truth ; that it consists of
only some out of the whole circle of theological doctrines,
and that, even in the case of those which it includes, it
does not always invest them with certainty, but only with
probability. If, indeed, the Religion of the Bible is made
subservient to Theology, it is but a specimen of useful
induction ; but if it is set up, as something complete in
itself, against Theology, it is turned into a mischievous
452 Christianity and Physical Science.
paralogism. And if such a paralogism has taken place,
and that in consequence of the influence of the Baconian
philosophy, it shows us what comes of the intrusion of that
philosophy into a province with which it had no concern.
2. And so, again, as to Historical Religion, or what is
often called Antiquity. A research into the records of
the early Church no Catholic can view with jealousy :
truth cannot be contrary to truth ; we are confident that
what is there found will, when maturely weighed, be
nothing else than an illustration and confirmation of
our own Theology. But it is another thing altogether
whether the results will go to the full lengths of our
Theology ; they will indeed concur with it, but only as far
as they go. There is no reason why the data for investi
gation supplied by the extant documents of Antiquity
should be sufficient for all that was included in the Divine
Revelation delivered by the Apostles ; and to expect
that they will is like expecting that one witness in a
trial is to prove the whole case, and that his testimony
actually contradicts it, unless it does. While, then, this
research into ecclesiastical history and the writings of
the Fathers keeps its proper place, as subordinate to the
magisterial sovereignty of the Theological Tradition
and the voice of the Church, it deserves the acknow
ledgments of theologians ; but when it (so to say) sets
up for itself, when it professes to fulfil an office for which
it was never intended, when it claims to issue in a true
and full teaching, derived by a scientific process of
induction, then it is but another instance of the encroach
ment of the Baconian empirical method in a depart
ment not its own.
3. And now we come to the case of Physical Theology,
which is directly before us. I confess, in spite of what
ever may be said in its favour, I have ever viewed it with
Christianity and Physical Science, 453
the greatest suspicion. As one class of thinkers has
substituted what is called a Scriptural Religion, and
another a Patristical or Primitive Religion, for the theo
logical teaching of Catholicism, so a Physical Religion
or Theology is the very gospel of many persons of the
Physical School, and therefore, true as it may be in itself,
still under the circumstances is a false gospel. Half of
the truth is a falsehood : — consider, Gentlemen, what this
so-called Theology teaches, and then say whether what
I have asserted is extravagant.
Any one divine attribute of course virtually includes
all ; still if a preacher always insisted on the Divine
Justice, he would practically be obscuring the Divine
Mercy, and if he insisted only on the incommunicableness
and distance from the creature of the Uncreated Essence,
he would tend to throw into the shade the doctrine of a
Particular Providence. Observe, then, Gentlemen, that
Physical Theology teaches three Divine Attributes, I may
say, exclusively ; and of these, most of Power, and least
of Goodness.
And in the next place, what, on the contrary, are those
special Attributes, which are the immediate correlatives
of religious sentiment? Sanctity, omniscience, justice,
mercy, faithfulness. What does Physical Theology, what
does the Argument from Design, what do fine disquisitions
about final causes, teach us, except very indirectly, faintly,
enigmatically, of these transcendently important, these
essential portions of the idea of Religion ? Religion is
more than Theology ; it is something relative to us ; and
it includes our relation towards the Object of it. What
does Physical Theology tell us of duty and conscience ?
of a particular providence ? and, coming at length to
Christianity, what does it teach us even of the four last
things, death, judgment, heaven, and hell, the mere eie-
454 Christianity and Physical Science.
ments of Christianity ? It cannot tell us anything of
Christianity at all.
Gentlemen, let me press this point upon your earnest
attention. I say Physical Theology cannot, from the
nature of the case, tell us one word about Christianity
proper ; it cannot 6e Christian, in any true sense, at all :
— and from this plain reason, because it is derived from
informations which existed just as they are now, before
man was created, and Adam fell. How can that be a
real substantive Theology, though it takes the name,
which is but an abstraction, a particular aspect of the
whole truth, and is dumb almost as regards the moral
attributes of the Creator, and utterly so as regards the
evangelical ?
Nay, more than this ; I do not hesitate to say that,
taking men as they are, this so-called science tends, if it
occupies the mind, to dispose it against Christianity. And
for this plain reason, because it speaks only of laws ; and
cannot contemplate their suspension, that is, miracles,
which are of the essence of the idea of a Revelation.
Thus, the God of Physical Theology may very easily
become a mere idol ; for He comes to the inductive mind
in the medium of fixed appointments, so excellent, so
skilful, so beneficent, that, when it has for a long time
gazed upon them, it will think them too beautiful to be
broken, and will at length so contract its notion of Him
as to conclude that He never could nave the heart (if I
may dare use such a term) to undo or mar His own work ;
and this conclusion will be the first step towards its de
grading its idea of God a second time, and identifying
Him with His works. Indeed, a Being of Power, Wisdom,
and Goodness, and nothing else, is not very different from
the God of the Pantheist.
In thus speaking of the Theology of the modern Phy-
Christianity and Physical Science. 455
sical School, I have said but a few words on a large sub
ject ; yet, though few words, I trust they are clear enough
not to hazard the risk of being taken in a sense which I
do not intend. Graft the science, if it is so to be called,
on Theology proper, and it will be in its right place, and
will be a religious science. Then it will illustrate the
awful, incomprehensible, adorable Fertility of the Divine
Omnipotence ; it will serve to prove the real miraculous-
ness of the Revelation in its various parts, by impressing
on the mind vividly what are the laws of nature, and how
immutable they are in their own order ; and it will in
other ways subserve theological truth. Separate it from
the supernatural teaching, and make it stand on its own
base, and (though of course it is better for the individual
philosopher himself), yet, as regards his influence on the
world and the interests of Religion, I really doubt whether
I should not prefer that he should be an Atheist at once
than such a naturalistic, pantheistic religionist. His
profession of Theology deceives others, perhaps deceives
himself.
Do not for an instant suppose, Gentlemen, that I would
identify the great mind of Bacon with so serious a delu
sion: he has expressly warned us against it; but I cannot
deny that many of his school have from time to time in
this way turned physical research against Christianity.
But I have detained you far longer than I had in
tended ; and now I can only thank you for the patience
which has enabled you to sustain a discussion which
cannot be complete, upon a subject which, however
momentous, cannot be popular.
456
VIII.
CHRISTIANITY AND SCIENTIFIC INVESTIGATION.
A LECTURE WRITTEN FOR THE SCHOOL OF SCIENCE.
I.
THIS is a time, Gentlemen, when not only the
Classics, but much more the Sciences, in the largest
sense of the word, are looked upon with anxiety, not
altogether ungrounded, by religious men ; and, whereas
a University such as ours professes to embrace all depart
ments and exercises of the intellect, and since I for
my part wish to stand on good terms with all kinds of
knowledge, and have no intention of quarrelling with
any, and would open my heart, if not my intellect (for
that is beyond me), to the whole circle of truth, and
would tender at least a recognition and hospitality even
to those studies which are strangers to me, and would
speed them on their way, — therefore, as I have already
been making overtures of reconciliation, first between
Polite Literature and Religion, and next between Physics
and Theology, so I would now say a word by way of de
precating and protesting against the needless antagonism,
which sometimes exists in fact, between divines and the
cultivators of the Sciences generally.
2.
Here I am led at once to expatiate on the grandeur
Christianity and Scientific Investigation. 457
of an Institution which is comprehensive enough to
admit the discussion of a subject such as this. Among
the objects of human enterprise, — I may say it surely
without extravagance, Gentlemen, — none higher or
nobler can be named than that which is contemplated
in the erection of a University. To set on foot and to
maintain in life and vigour a real University, is con
fessedly, as soon as the word " University " is under
stood, one of those greatest works, great in their difficulty
and their importance, on which are deservedly expended
the rarest intellects and the most varied endowments.
For, first of all, it professes to teach whatever has to be
taught in any whatever department of human knowledge,
and it embraces in its scope the loftiest subjects of
human thought, and the richest fields of human inquiry.
Nothing is too vast, nothing too subtle, nothing too dis
tant, nothing too minute, nothing too discursive, nothing
too exact, to engage its attention.
This, however, is not the reason why I claim for it so
sovereign a position ; for, to bring schools of all know
ledge under one name, and call them a University, may
be fairly said to be a mere generalization ; and to pro
claim that the prosecution of all kinds of knowledge to
their utmost limits demands the fullest reach and range
of our intellectual faculties is but a truism. My reason
for speaking of a University in the terms on which I
have ventured is, not that it occupies the whole territory
of knowledge merely, but that it is the very realm ; that
it professes much more than to take in and to lodge as
in a caravanserai all art and science, all history and
philosophy. In truth, it professes to assign to each
study, which it receives, its own proper place and its just
boundaries ; to define the rights, to establish the mutual
relations, and to effect the intercommunion of one and
45 8 Christianity tend Scientific Investigation
all ; to keep in check the ambitious and encroaching,
and to succour and maintain those which from time to
time are succumbing under the more popular or the
more fortunately circumstanced ; to keep the peace be
tween them all, and to convert their mutual differences
and contrarieties ihto the common good. This, Gentle
men, is why I say that to erect a University is at once
so arduous and beneficial an undertaking, viz., because
it is pledged to admit, without fear, without prejudice,
without compromise, all comers, if they come in the
name of Truth ; to adjust views, and experiences, and
habits of mind the most independent and dissimilar ;
and to give full play to thought and erudition in their
most original forms, and their most intense expressions,
and in their most ample circuit. Thus to draw many
things into one, is its special function ; and it learns to
do it, not by rules reducible to writing, but by sagacity,
wisdom, and forbearance, acting upon a profound insight
into the subject-matter of knowledge, and by a vigilant
repression of aggression or bigotry in any quarter.
We count it a great thing, and justly so, to plan and
carry out a wide political organization. To bring under
one yoke, after the manner of old Rome, a hundred
discordant peoples ; to maintain each of them in its own
privileges within its legitimate range of action ; to allow
them severally the indulgence of national feelings, and
the stimulus of rival interests ; and yet withal to blend
them into one great social establishment, and to pledge
them to the perpetuity of the one imperial power ; — this
is an achievement which carries with it the unequivocal
token of genius in the race which effects it.
" Tu regere imperio populos, Romane, memento."
This was the special boast, as the poet considered it,
Christianity and Scientific Investigation.
of the Roman ; a boast as high in its own line as that
other boast, proper to the Greek nation, of literary pre
eminence, of exuberance of thought, and of skill and
refinement in expressing it.
What an empire is in political history, such is a
University in the sphere of philosophy and research. It
is, as I have said, the high protecting power of all know
ledge and science, of fact and principle, of inquiiy and
discovery, of experiment and speculation ; it maps out
the territory of the intellect, and sees that the boundaries
of each province are religiously respected, and that there
is neither encroachment nor surrender on any side. It
acts as umpire between truth and truth, and, taking into
account the nature and importance of each, assigns to all
their due order of precedence. It maintains no one
department of thought exclusively, however ample and
noble ; and it sacrifices none. It is deferential and loyal,
according to their respective weight, to the claims of
literature, of physical research, of history, of metaphysics,
of theological science. It is impartial towards them all,
and promotes each in its own place and for its own
object. It is ancillary certainly, and of necessity, to the
Catholic Church ; but in the same way that one of the
Queen's judges is an officer of the Queen's, and never
theless determines certain legal proceedings between the
Queen and her subjects. It is ministrative to the Catholic
Church, first, because truth of any kind can but minister
to truth ; and next, still more, because Nature ever will
pay homage to Grace, and Reason cannot but illustrate
and defend Revelation ; and thirdly, because the Church
has a sovereign authority, and, when she speaks ex cathe
dra, must be obeyed. But this is the remote end of a
University ; its immediate end (with which alone we
have here to do) is to secure the due disposition, accord-
460 Christianity and Scientific Investigation.
ing to one sovereign order, and the cultivation in that
order, of all the provinces and methods of thought which
the human intellect has created.
In this point of view, its several professors are like the
ministers of various political powers at one court or con
ference. They represent their respective sciences, and
attend to the private interests of those sciences respec
tively ; and, should dispute arise between those sciences,
they are the persons to talk over and arrange it, without
risk of extravagant pretensions on any side, of angry
collision, or of popular commotion. A liberal philosophy
becomes the habit of minds thus exercised ; a breadth
and spaciousness of thought, in which lines, seemingly
parallel, may converge at leisure, and principles, recog
nized as incommensurable, may be safely antagonistic.
3-
And here, Gentlemen, we recognize the special cha
racter of the Philosophy I am speaking of, if Philosophy
it is to be called, in contrast with the method of a strict
science or system. Its teaching is not founded on one
idea, or reducible to certain formulae. Newton might
discover the great law of motion in the physical world,
and the key to ten thousand phenomena ; and a similar
resolution of complex facts into simple principles may
be possible in other departments of nature ; but the
great Universe itself, moral and material, sensible and
supernatural, cannot be gauged and meted by even the
greatest of human intellects, and its constituent parts
admit indeed of comparison and adjustment, but not
of fusion. This is the point which bears directly on the
subject which I set before me when I began, and towards
which I am moving in all I have said or shall be saying.
I observe, then, and ask you, Gentlemen, to bear in mind,
Christianity and Scientific Investigation. 46 1
that the philosophy of an imperial intellect, for such I
am considering a University to be, is based, not so much
on simplification as on discrimination. Its true repre
sentative defines, rather than analyzes. He aims at no
complete catalogue, or interpretation of the subjects of
knowledge, but a following out, as far as man can, what
in its fulness is mysterious and unfathomable. Taking
into his charge all sciences, methods, collections of facts,
principles, doctrines, truths, which are the reflexions of
the universe upon the human intellect, he admits them all,
he disregards none, and, as disregarding none, he allows
none to exceed or encroach. His watchword is, Live
and let live. He takes things as they are; he submits to
them all, as far as they go ; he recognizes the insuperable
lines of demarcation which run between subject and
subject; he observes how separate truths lie relatively
to each other, where they concur, where they part com
pany, and where, being carried too far, they cease to be
truths at all. It is his office to determine how much can be
known in each province of thought ; when we must be
contented not to know ; in what direction inquiry is
hopeless, or on the other hand full of promise ; where it
gathers into coils insoluble by reason, where it is absorbed
in mysteries, or runs into the abyss. It will be his care to
be familiar with the signs of real and apparent difficulties,
with the methods proper to particular subject-matters,
what in each particular case are the limits of a rational
scepticism, and what the claims of a peremptory faith. If
he has one cardinal maxim in his philosophy, it is, that
truth cannot be contrary to truth ; if he has a second, it is,
that truth often seems contrary to truth ; and, if a third,
it is the practical conclusion, that we must be patient
with such appearances, and not be hasty to pronounce
them to be really of a more formidable character.
4t>2 Christianity and Scientific Investigation.
It is the very immensity of the system of things, the
human record of which he has in charge, which is the
reason of this patience and caution ; for that immensity
suggests to him that the contrarieties and mysteries, which
meet him in the various sciences, may be simply the
consequences of our necessarily defective comprehension.
There is but one thought greater than that of the universe,
and that is the thought of its Maker. If, Gentlemen, for
one single instant, leaving my proper train of thought, I
allude to our knowledge of the Supreme Being, it is in
order to deduce from it an illustration bearing upon my
subject. He, though One, is a sort of world of worlds in
Himself, giving birth in our minds to an indefinite number
of distinct truths, each ineffably more mysterious than
any thing that is found in this universe of space and time.
Any one of His attributes, considered by itself, is the
object of an inexhaustible science : and the attempt to
reconcile any two or three of them together, — love, power,
justice, sanctity, truth, wisdom, — affords matter for an
everlasting controversy. We are able to apprehend and
receive each divine attribute in its elementary form, but
still we are not able to accept them in their infinity,
cither in themselves or in union with each other. Yet
we do not deny the first because it cannot be perfectly
reconciled with the second, nor the second because it is
in apparent contrariety with the first and the third. The
case is the same in its degree with His creation material
and moral. It is the highest wisdom to accept truth of
whatever kind, wherever it is clearly ascertained to be
such, thouyh there be difficulty in adjusting it with other
known truth.
Instances are easily producible of that extreme con
trariety of ideas,one with another, which the contemplation
pf the Universe forces upon our acceptance, making it
Christianity and Scientific Investigation. 463
clear to us that there is nothing irrational in submitting to
undeniable incompatibilities, which we call apparent, only
because, if they were not apparent but real, they could
not co-exist. Such, for instance, is the contemplation of
Space ; the existence of which we cannot deny, though its
idea is capable, in no sort of posture, of seating itself (if I
may so speak) in our minds; — for we find it impossible to
say that it comes to a limit anywhere; and it is incompre
hensible to say that it runs out infinitely; and it seems to
be unmeaning if we say that it does not exist till bodies
come into it, and thus is enlarged according to an accident.
And so again in the instance of Time. We cannot
place a beginning to it without asking ourselves what
was before that beginning ; yet that there should be no
beginning at all, put it as far back as we will, is simply
incomprehensible. Here again, as in the case of Space,
we never dream of denying the existence of what we
have no means of understanding.
And, passing from this high region of thought (which,
high as it may be, is the subject even of a child's contem
plations), when we come to consider the mutual action
of soul and body, we are specially perplexed by incom
patibilities which we can neither reject nor explain.
How it is that the will can act on the muscles, is a ques
tion of which even a child may feel the force, but which
no experimentalist can answer.
Further, when we contrast the physical with the social
laws under which man finds himself here below, we must
grant that Physiology and Social Science are in collision.
Man is both a physical and a social being ; yet he can
not at once pursue to the full his physical end and his
social end, his physical duties (if I may so speak) and
his social duties, but is forced to sacrifice in part one or
the other. If we were wild enough to fancy that
464 Christianity and Scientific Investigation.
were two creators, one of whom was the author of our
animal frames, the other of society, then indeed we
might understand how it comes to pass that labour of
mind and body, the useful arts, the duties of a statesman,
government, and the like, which are required by the
social system, are so destructive of health, enjoyment,
and life. That is, in other words, we cannot adequately
account for existing and undeniable truths except on the
hypothesis of what we feel to be an absurdity.
And so in Mathematical Science, as has been often
insisted on, the philosopher has patiently to endure the
presence of truths, which are not the less true for being
irreconcileable with each other. He is told of the exist
ence of an infinite number of curves, which are able to
divide a space, into which no straight line, though it be
length without breadth, can even enter. He is told, too,
of certain lines, which approach to each other con
tinually, with a finite distance between them, yet never
meet ; and these apparent contrarieties he must bear as
he best can, without attempting to deny the existence
of the truths which constitute them in the Science in
question.
4-
Now, let me call your attention, Gentlemen, to what
I would infer from these familiar facts. It is, to urge
you with an argument a fortiori: viz., that, as you
exercise so much exemplary patience in the case of the
inexplicable truths which surround so many departments
of knowledge, human and divine, viewed in themselves ;
as you are not at once indignant, censorious, suspicious,
difficult of belief, on finding that in the secular sciences
one truth is incompatible (according to our human in
tellect) with another or inconsistent with itself ; so you
/S-///Y/.V/V and Scientific Investigation. 465
should not think it very hard to be told that there
exists, here and there, not an inextricable difficulty, not
an astounding contrariety, not (much less) a contradic
tion as to clear facts, between Revelation and Nature ;
but a hitch, an obscurity, a divergence of tendency, a
temporary antagonism, a difference of tone, between the
two, — that is, between Catholic opinion on the one hand,
and astronomy, or geology, or physiology, or ethnology,
or political economy, or history, or antiquities, on the
other. I say that, as we admit, because we are Catho
lics, that the Divine Unity contains in it attributes,
which, to our finite minds, appear in partial contrariety
with each other; as we admit that, in His revealed
Nature are things, which, though not opposed to Reason,
are infinitely strange to the Imagination ; as in His works
we can neither reject nor admit the ideas of space, and
of time, and the necessary properties of lines, without
intellectual distress, or even torture ; really, Gentle
men, I am making no outrageous request, when, in the
name of a University, I ask religious writers, jurists,
economists, physiologists, chemists, geologists, and his
torians, to go on quietly, and in a neighbourly way, in
their own respective lines of speculation, research, and
experiment, with full faith in the consistency of that
multiform truth, which they share between them, in a
generous confidence that they will be ultimately consist
ent, one and all, in their combined results, though there
may be momentary collisions, awkward appearances,
and many forebodings and prophecies of contrariety, and
at all times things hard to the Imagination, though not,
I repeat, to the Reason. It surely is not asking them a
great deal to beg of them, — since they are forced to
admit mysteries in the truths of Revelation, taken by
themselves, and in the truths of Reason, taken by them-
30
466 Christianity and Scientific Investigation.
selves, — to beg of them. I say, to keep the peace, to live
in good will, and to exercise equanimity, if, when Nature
and Revelation are compared with each other, there be,
as I have said, discrepancies, — not in the issue, but in
the reasonings, the circumstances, the associations, the
anticipations, the accidents, proper to their respective
teachings
It is most necessary to insist seriously and energeti
cally on this point, for the sake of Protestants, for they
have very strange notions about us. In spite of the
testimony of history the other way, they think that the
Church has no other method of putting down error than
the arm of force, or the prohibition of inquiry. They
defy us to set up and carry on a School of Science. For
their sake, then, I am led to enlarge upon the subject
here. I say, then, he who believes Revelation with that
absolute faith which is the prerogative of a Catholic, is not
the nervous creature who startles at every sudden sound,
and is fluttered by every strange or novel appearance
which meets his eyes. He has no sort of apprehension,
he laughs at the idea, that any thing can be discovered
by any other scientific method, which can contradict any
one of the dogmas of his religion. He knows full well
there is no science whatever, but, in the course of its ex
tension, runs the risk of infringing, without any meaning
of offence on its own part, the path of other sciences :
and he knows also that, if there be any one science
which, from its sovereign and unassailable position can
calmly bear such unintentional collisions on the part of
the children of earth, it is Theology. He is sure, and
nothing shall make him doubt, that, if anything seems
to be proved by astronomer, or geologist, or chronologist,
or antiquarian, or ethnologist, in contradiction to the
dogmas of faith, that point will eventually turn out, first,
Christianity and Scientific Investigation. 467
not to be proved, or, secondly, not contradictory, or thirdly,
not contradictory to any thing really revealed, but to
something which has been confused with revelation. And
if, at the moment, it appears to be contradictory, then he
is content to wait, knowing that error is like other delin
quents ; give it rope enough, and it will be found to have
a strong suicidal propensity. I do not mean to say he
will not take his part in encouraging, in helping forward
the prospective suicide ; he will not only give the error
rope enough, but show it how to handle and adjust the
rope ; — he will commit the matter to reason, reflection,
sober judgment, common sense ; to Time, the great in
terpreter of so many secrets. Instead of being irritated
at the momentary triumph of the foes of Revelation, if
such a feeling of triumph there be, and of hurrying on
a forcible solution of the difficulty, which may in the
event only reduce the inquiry to an inextricable tangle,
he will recollect that, in the order of Providence, our
seeming dangers are often our greatest gains; that in the
words of the Protestant poet,
The clouds you so much dread
Are big with mercy, and shall break
In blessings on your head.
5-
To one notorious instance indeed it is obvious to allude
here. When the Copernican system first made progress,
what religious man would not have been tempted to
uneasiness, or at least fear of scandal, from the seeming
contradiction which it involved to some authoritative tra
dition of the Church and the declaration of Scripture ?
It was generally received, as if the Apostles had ex
pressly delivered it both orally and in writing, as a truth
of Revelation, that the earth was stationary, and that
468 Christianity <nui .S />///////• />
the sun, fixed in a solid firmament, whirled round the
earth. After a little time, however, and on full considera
tion, it was found that the Church had decided next to
nothing on questions such as these, and that Physical
Science might range in this sphere of thought almost at
will, without fear of encountering the decisions of eccle
siastical authority. Now, besides the relief which it
afforded to Catholics to find that they were to be spared
this addition, on the side of Cosmology, to their many
controversies already existing, there is something of an
argument in this very circumstance in behalf of the
divinity of their Religion. For it surely is a very re
markable fact, considering how widely and how long one
certain interpretation of these physical statements in
Scripture had been received by Catholics, that the
Church should not have formally acknowledged it.
Looking at the matter in a human point of view, it wat>
inevitable that she should have made that opinion her
own. But now we find, on ascertaining where we stand, in
the face of the new sciences of these latter times, that in
spite of the bountiful comments which from the first
she has ever been making on the sacred text, as it is her
duty and her right to do, nevertheless, she has nevei
been led formally to explain the texts in question, or to
give them an authoritative sense which modern science
may question.
Nor was this escape a mere accident, but rather the
result of a providential superintendence ; as would ap
pear from a passage of history in the dark age itself.
When the glorious St Boniface, Apostle of Germany,
great in sanctity, though not in secular knowledge, com
plained to the Holy See that St. Virgilius taught the
existence of the Antipodes, the Holy See was guided
what to do ; it did not indeed side with the Irish philo-
Christianity and Scientific Investigation. 469
sopher, which would have been going out of its place, but
it passed over, in a matter not revealed, a philosophical
opinion.
Time went on ; a new state of things, intellectual and
social, came in ; the Church was girt with temporal
power ; the preachers of St. Dominic were in the ascen
dant : now at length we may ask with curious interest,
did the Church alter her ancient rule of action, and pro
scribe intellectual activity ? Just the contrary ; this is
the very age of Universities ; it is the classical period of
the schoolmen ; it is the splendid and palmary instance
of the wisa policy and large liberality of the Church, as
regards philosophical inquiry. If there ever was a time
when the intellect went wild, and had a licentious revel,
it was at the date I speak of. When was there ever a
more curious, more meddling, bolder, keener, more pene
trating, more rationalistic exercise of the reason than at
that time ? What class of questions did that subtle,
metaphysical spirit not scrutinize ? What premiss was
allowed without examination ? What principle was not
traced to its first origin, and exhibited in its most naked
shape ? What whole was not analyzed ? What complex
idea was not elaborately traced out, and, as it were, finely
painted for the contemplation of the mind, till it was
spread out in all its minutest portions as perfectly and
delicately as a frog's foot shows under the intense scrutiny
of the microscope ? Well, I repeat, here was something
which came somewhat nearer to Theology than physical
research comes ; Aristotle was a somewhat more serious
foe then, beyond all mistake, than Bacon has been since.
Did the Church take a high hand with philosophy then ?
No, not though that philosophy was metaphysical. It
was a time when she had temporal power, and could
have exterminated the spirit of inquiry with fire and
470 Christianity and Scientific Investigation.
sword ; but she determined to put it down by argument ',
she said : " Two can play at that, and my argument is
the better." She sent her controversialists into the
philosophical arena. It was the Dominican and Fran
ciscan doctors, the greatest of them being St. Thomas,
who in those medieval Universities fought the battle of
Revelation with the weapons of heathenism. It was no
matter whose the weapon was ; truth was truth all the
world over. With the jawbone of an ass, with the skele
ton philosophy of pagan Greece, did the Samson of the
schools put to flight his thousand Philistines.
Here, Gentlemen, observe the contrast exhibited be
tween the Church herself, who has the gift of wisdom, and
even the ablest, or wisest, or holiest of her children. As
St. Boniface had been jealous of physical speculations,
so had the early Fathers shown an extreme aversion to
the great heathen philosopher whom I just now named,
Aristotle. I do not know who of them could endure
him ; and when there arose those in the middle age who
vyould take his part, especially since their intentions
were of a suspicious character, a strenuous effort was
made to banish him out of Christendom. The Church
the while had kept silence ; she had as little denounced
heathen philosophy in the mass as she had pronounced
upon the meaning of certain texts of Scripture of a
cosmological character. From Tertullian and Caius to
the two Gregories of Cappadocia, from them to Anasta-
sius Sinaita, from him to the school of Paris, Aristotle
was a word of offence ; at length St. Thomas made him
a hewer of wood and drawer of water to the Church. A
strong slave he is ; and the Church herself has given her
sanction to the use in Theology of the ideas and terms
of his philosophy.
Christianity and Scientific Investigation* 471
6.
Now, while this free discussion is, to say the least, so
safe for Religion, or rather so expedient, it is on the other
hand simply necessary for progress in Science ; and I
shall now go on to insist on this side of the subject.
I say, then, that it is a matter of primary importance in
the cultivation of those sciences, in which truth is dis
coverable by the human intellect, that the investigator
should be free, independent, unshackled in his movements;
that he should be allowed and enabled, without impedi
ment, to fix his mind intently, nay, exclusively, on his
special object, without the risk of being distracted every
other minute in the process and progress of his inquiry,
by charges of temerariousness, or by warnings against
extravagance or scandal. But in thus speaking, I must
premise several explanations, lest I be misunderstood.
First, then, Gentlemen, as to the fundamental principles
of religion and morals, and again as to the fundamental
principles of Christianity, or what are called the dogmas
of faith, — as to this double creed, natural and revealed,
—we, none of us, should say that it is any shackle at all
upon the intellect to maintain these inviolate. Indeed,
a Catholic cannot put off his thought of them ; and they
as little impede the movements of his intellect as the laws
of physics impede his bodily movements. The habitual
apprehension of them has become a second nature with
him, as the laws of optics, hydrostatics, dynamics, are
latent conditions which he takes for granted in the
use of his corporeal organs. I am not supposing any
collision with dogma, I am but speaking of opinions of
divines, or of the multitude, parallel to those in former
times of the sun going round the earth, or of the last day
472 Christianity and Scicniiju' Investigation.
being close at hand, or of St. Dionysius the Areopagite
being the author of the works which bear his name.
Nor, secondly, even as regards such opinions, am 1
supposing any direct intrusion into the provinceof religion,
or of a teacher of Science actually laying down the law
in a matter of Religion ; but of such unintentional colli
sions as are incidental to a discussion pursued on some
subject of his own. It would be a great mistake in such
a one to propose his philosophical or historical conclusions
as the formal interpretation of the sacred text, as Galileo
is said to have done, instead of being content to hold his
doctrine of the motion of the earth as a scientific con
clusion, and leaving it to those whom it really concerned
to compare it with Scripture. And, it must be confessed,
Gentlemen, not a few instances occur of this mistake at
the present day, on the part, not indeed of men of science,
but of religious men, who, from a nervous impatience lest
Scripture should for one moment seem inconsistent with
the results of some speculation of the hour, are ever pro
posing geological or ethnological comments upon it, which
they have to alter or obliterate before the ink is well dry,
from changes in the progressive science, which they have
so officiously brought to its aid.
And thirdly, I observe that, when I advocate the in
dependence of philosophical thought, I am not speaking
of my formal teaching at all, but of investigations, specu
lations, and discussions. I am far indeed from allowing,
in any matter which even borders on Religion, what an
eminent Protestant divine has advocated on the most
sacred subjects, — I mean " the liberty of Prophesying."
I have no wish to degrade the professors of Science, who
ought to be Prophets of the Truth, into mere advertisers
of crude fancies or notorious absurdities. I am not plead
ing that they should at random shower down upon their
Christianity and Scientific Investigation. 473
hearers ingenuities and novelties ; or that they should
teach even what has a basis of truth in it, in a brilliant,
off-hand way, to a collection of youths, who may not
perhaps hear them for six consecutive lectures, and who
will carry away with them into the country a misty idea
of the half-created theories of some ambitious intellect.
Once more, as the last sentence suggests, there must
be great care taken to avoid scandal, or shocking the
popular mind, or unsettling the weak ; the association
between truth and error being so strong in particular
minds that it is impossible to weed them of the error
without rooting up the wheat with it. If, then, there is
the chance of any current religious opinion being in any
way compromised in the course of a scientific investiga
tion, this would be a reason for conducting it, not in light
ephemeral publications, which come into the hands of
the careless or ignorant, but in works of a grave and
business-like character, answering to the medieval schools
of philosophical disputation, which, removed as they were
from the region of popular thought and feeling, have, by
their vigorous restlessness of inquiry, in spite of their
extravagances, done so much for theological precision.
7-
I am not, then, supposing the scientific investigator (i)
to be coming into collision with dogma ; nor (2) venturing,
by means of his investigations, upon any interpretation
of Scripture, or upon other conclusion in the matter of
religion ; nor (3) of his teaching, even in his own science,
religious parodoxes, when he should be investigating
and proposing ; nor (4) of his recklessly scandalizing- t/te
weak ; but, these explanations being made, I still say
that a scientific speculator or inquirer is not bound, in
conducting his researches, to be every moment adjusting
474 Christianity and Scientific Investigation.
his course by the maxims of the schools or by popular
traditions, or by those of any other science distinct from
his own, or to be ever narrowly watching what those
external sciences have to say to him, or to be determined
to be edifying, or to be ever answering heretics and un
believers ; being confident, from the impulse of a generous
faith, that, however his line of investigation may swerve
now and then, and vary to and fro in its course, or
threaten momentary collision or embarrassment with
any other department of knowledge, theological or not,
yet, if he lets it alone, it will be sure to come home,
because truth never can really be contrary to truth, and
because often what at first sight is an " exceptio," in the
event most emphatically " probat regulam."
This is a point of serious importance to him. Unless he
is at liberty to investigate on the basis, and according to
the peculiarities, of his science, he cannot investigate at
all. It is the very law of the human mind in its inquiry
after and acquisition of truth to make its advances by a
process which consists of many stages, and is circuitous.
There are no short cuts to knowledge ; nor does the road
to it always lie in the direction in which it terminates,
nor are we able to see the end on starting. It may often
seem to be diverging from a goal into which it will soon
run without effort, if we are but patient and resolute in
following it out ; and, as we are told in Ethics to gain
the mean merely by receding from both extremes, so in
scientific researches error may be said, without a paradox,
to be in some instances the way to truth, and the only
way. Moreover, it is not often the fortune of any one
man to live through an investigation ; the process is one
of not only many stages, but of many minds. What
one begins another finishes ; and a true conclusion is at
th worked out by the co-operation of independent
Christianity and Scientific Investigation. 475
schools and the perseverance of successive generations.
This being the case, we are obliged, under circunv
stances, to bear for a while with what we feel to be error,
in consideration of the truth in which it is eventually to
issue.
The analogy of locomotion is most pertinent here.
No one can go straight up a mountain ; no sailing vessel
makes for its port without tacking. And so, applying
the illustration, we can indeed, if we will, refuse to allow
of investigation or research altogether ; but, if we invite
reason to take its place in our schools, we must let reason
have fair and full play. If we reason, we must submit
to the conditions of reason. We cannot use it by halves;
we must use it as proceeding from Him who has also
given us Revelation ; and to be ever interrupting its
processes, and diverting its attention by objections
brought from a higher knowledge, is parallel to a lands
man's dismay at the changes in the course of a vessel on
which he has deliberately embarked, arid argues surely
some distrust either in the powers of Reason on the one
hand, or the certainty of Revealed Truth on the other.
The passenger should not have embarked at all, if he
did not reckon on the chance of a rough sea, of currents,
of wind and tide, of rocks and shoals ; and we should
act more wisely in discountenancing altogether the exer
cise of Reason than in being alarmed and impatient
under the suspense, delay, and anxiety which, from the
nature of the case, may be found to attach to it. Let
us eschew secular history, and science, and philosophy
for good and all, if we are not allowed to be sure that
Revelation is so true that the altercations and perplexi
ties of human opinion cannot really or eventually injure
its authority. That is no intellectual triumph of any
truth of Kelt noii, which has not been preceded by a full
476 Christianity and Scientific Investigation.
statement of what can be said against it ; it is but the
ego vapulando, ille verberando, of the Comedy.
Great minds need elbow-room, not indeed in the
domain of faith, but of thought. And so indeed do lesset
minds, and all minds. There are many persons in the
world who are called, and with a great deal of truth,
geniuses. They had been gifted by nature with some
particular faculty or capacity ; and, while vehemently
excited and imperiously ruled by it, they are blind to
everything else. They are enthusiasts in their own line,
and are simply dead to the beauty of any line except
their own. Accordingly, they think their own line the
only line in the whole world worth pursuing, and they
feel a sort of contempt for such studies as move upon
any other line. Now, these men may be, and often are,
very good Catholics, and have not a dream of any thing
but affection and deference towards Catholicity, nay,
perhaps are zealous in its interests. Yet, if you insist
that in their speculations, researches, or conclusions in
their particular science, it is not enough that they should
submit to the Church generally, and acknowledge its
dogmas, but that they must get up all that divines have
said or the multitude believed upon religious matters,
you simply crush and stamp out the flame within them,
and they can do nothing at all.
This is the case of men of genius : now one word on
the contrary in behalf of master minds, gifted with a
broad philosophical view of things, and a creative power,
and a versatility capable of accommodating itself to
various provinces of thought. These persons perhaps,
like those I have already spoken of, take up some idea
and are intent upon it ; — some deep, prolific, eventful
idea, which grows upon them, till they develop it into a
great system. Now, if any such thinker starts from
Christianity and Scientific Investigation. 477
radically unsound principles, or aims at directly false
conclusions, if he be a Hobbes, or a Shaftesbury, or a
Hume, or a Bentham, then, of course, there is an end of
the whole matter. He is an opponent of Revealed
Truth, and he means to be so ; — nothing more need be
said. But perhaps it is not so ; perhaps his errors are
those which are inseparable accidents of his system or
of his mind, and are spontaneously evolved, not perti
naciously defended. Every human system, every human
writer, is open to just criticism. Make him shut up his
portfolio ; good ! and then perhaps you lose what, on
the whole and in spite of incidental mistakes, would
have been one of the ablest defences of Revealed Truth
(directly or indirectly, according to his subject) ever
given to the world.
This is how I should account for a circumstance, which
has sometimes caused surprise, that so many great
Catholic thinkers have in some points or other incurred
the criticism or animadversion of theologians or of eccle
siastical authority. It must be so in the nature of
things ; there is indeed an animadversion which implies
a condemnation of the author ; but there is another
which means not much more than the " pie legendum "
written against passages in the Fathers. The author
may not be to blame; yet the ecclesiastical authority
would be to blame, if it did not give notice of his im
perfections. I do not know what Catholic would not
hold the name of Malebranche in veneration ; * but he
may have accidentally come into collision with theolo
gians, or made temerarious assertions, notwithstanding.
* Cardinal Gerdil speaks of his "Metaphysique,"as "brillante alaverite*,
mais non moins solide" (p. 9.), and that "la liaison qui enchaine toutes les
parties du systeme philosophique du Pere Malebranche, . . pourra servir
d'apologie a la noble assurance, avec laquelle il propose ses sentiments."
(p. 12, CEuvres, t. iv.)
478 Christianity and Scientific Investigation.
The practical question is, whether he had not much
better have written as he has written, than not have
written at all. And so fully is the Holy See accustomed
to enter into this view of the matter, that it has allowed
of its application, not only to philosophical, but even to
theological and ecclesiastical authors, who do not come
within the range of these remarks. I believe I am right
in saying that, in the case of three great names, in
various departments of learning, Cardinal Noris, Bossuet,
and Muratori,* while not concealing its sense of their
having propounded each what might have been said
better, nevertheless it has considered, that their services
to Religion were on the whole far too important to allow
of their being molested by critical observation in detail.
8.
And now, Gentlemen, I bring these remarks to a con
clusion. What I would urge upon every one, whatever
may be his particular line of research, — what I would
urge upon men of Science in their thoughts of Theology,
— what I would venture to recommend to theologians,
when their attention is drawn to the subject of scientific
investigations, — is a great and firm belief in the sove
reignty of Truth. Error may flourish for a time, but
Truth will prevail in the end. The only effect of error
ultimately is to promote Truth. Theories, speculations,
hypotheses, are started ; perhaps they are to die, still
not before they have suggested ideas better than them
selves. These better ideas are taken up in turn by other
men, and, if they do not yet lead to truth, nevertheless
they lead to what is still nearer to truth than themselves ;
and thus knowledge on the whole makes progress. The
* Muratori's work was not directly theological. Vld. note at the end of
the Volume.
Christianity and Scientific Investigation. 479
errors of some minds in scientific investigation are more
fruitful than the truths of others. A Science seems
making no progress, but to abound in failures, yet im
perceptibly all the time it is advancing, and it is of
course a gain to truth even to have learned what is not
true, if nothing more.
On the other hand, it must be of course remembered,
Gentlemen, that I am supposing all along good faith,
honest intentions, a loyal Catholic spirit, and a deep
sense of responsibility. I am supposing, in the scientific
inquirer, a due fear of giving scandal, of seeming to
countenance views which he does not really countenance,
and of siding with parties from whom he heartily differs.
I am supposing that he is fully alive to the existence
and the power of the infidelity of the age ; that he
keeps in mind the moral weakness and the intellectual
confusion of the majority of men ; and that he has no
•wish at all that any one soul should get harm from
certain speculations to-day, though he may have the
satisfaction of being sure that those speculations will, as
far as they are erroneous or misunderstood, be corrected
in me course of the next half-century.
480
IX
i
DISCIPLINE OF MIND.
AN ADDRESS TO THE EVENING CLASSES.
I.
WHEN I found that it was in my power to be pre
sent here at the commencement of the new Ses-
sion, one of the first thoughts, Gentlemen, which thereupon
occurred to me, was this, that I should in consequence
have the great satisfaction of meeting you, of whom I
had thought and heard so much, and the opportunity of
addressing you, as Rector of the University. I can truly
say that I thought of you before you thought of the
University ; perhaps I may say, long before ; — for it was
previously to our commencing that great work, which is
now so fully before the public, it was when I first came
over here to make preparations for it, that I had to
encounter the serious objection of wise and good men,
who said to me, " There is no class of persons in Ireland
who need a University ; " and again, " Whom will you
get to belong to it ? who will fill its lecture-rooms ? "
This was said to me, and then, without denying their
knowledge of the state of Ireland, or their sagacity, I
made answer, " We will give lectures in the evening, we
will fill our classes with the young men of Dublin/'
And some persons here may recollect that the very
Discipline of Mind. 481
first thing I did, when we opened the School of Philoso
phy and Letters, this time four years, was to institute a
system of Evening Lectures, which were suspended after
a while, only because the singularly inclement season
which ensued, and the want of publicity and interest
incident to a new undertaking, made them premature.
And it is a satisfaction to me to reflect that the Statute,
under which you will be able to pass examinations and
take degrees, is one to which I specially obtained the
consent of the Academical Senate, nearly two years ago,
in addition to our original Regulations, and that you
will be the first persons to avail yourselves of it.
Having thus prepared, as it were, the University for
you, it was with great pleasure that I received from a
number of you, Gentlemen, last May year, a spontaneous
request which showed that my original anticipations were
not visionary. You suggested then what we have since
acted upon, — acted upon, not so quickly as both you
might hope and we might wish, because all important
commencements have to be maturely considered — still
acted on at length according to those anticipations of
mine, to which I have referred ; and, while I recur to
them as an introduction to what I have to say, I might
also dwell upon them as a sure presage that other and
broader anticipations, too bold as they may seem now,
will, if we are but patient, have their fulfilment in their
season.
2.
For I should not be honest, Gentlemen, if I did not
confess that, much as I desire that this University
should be of service to the young men of Dublin, I do
not desire this benefit to you, simply for your own sakes.
For your own sakes certainly I wish it, but not on your
31
482 Discipline of Mind.
account only. Man is not born for himself alone, as the
classical moralist tells us. You are born for Ireland ;
and, in your advancement, Ireland is advanced ; — in
your advancement in what is good and what is true, in
knowledge, in learning, in cultivation of mind, in enlight
ened attachment' to your religion, in good name and
respectability and social influence, I am contemplating
the honour and renown, the literary and scientific aggran
disement, the increase of political power, of the Island
of the Saints.
I go further still. If I do homage to the many virtues
and gifts of the Irish people, and am zealous for their
full development, it is not simply for the sake of them
selves, but because the name of Ireland ever has been,
and, I believe, ever will be, associated with the Catholic
Faith, and because, in doing any service, however poor it
may be, to Ireland, a man is ministering, in his own
place and measure, to the cause of the Holy Roman
Apostolic Church.
Gentlemen, I should consider it an impertinence in
me thus to be speaking to you of myself, were it not
that, in recounting to you the feelings with which I have
witnessed the establishment of these Evening Classes, I
am in fact addressing to you at the same time words of
encouragement and advice, such words as it becomes a
Rector to use in speaking to those who are submitted to
his care.
I say, then, that, had I been younger than I was when
the high office which I at present hold was first offered
to me, had I not had prior duties upon me of affection
and devotion to the Oratory of St. Philip, and to my
own dear country, no position whatever, in the whole
range of administrations which are open to the ambition
of those who wish to serve God in their generation, and
Discipline oj Mind. 483
to do some great work before they die, would have had
more attractions for me than that of being at the head
of a University like this. When I became a Catholic, one
of my first questions was, "Why have not our Catholics a
University?" and Ireland, and the metropolis of Ireland,
was obviously the proper seat of such an institution.
Ireland is the proper seat of a Catholic University, on
account of its ancient hereditary Catholicity, and again
of the future which is in store for it. It is impossible,
Gentlemen, to doubt that a future is in store for Ireland,
for more reasons than can here be enumerated. First,
there is the circumstance, so highly suggestive, even if
there was nothing else to be said, viz., that the Irish
have been so miserably ill-treated and misused hitherto ;
for, in the times now opening upon us, nationalities are
waking into life, and the remotest people can make
themselves heard into all the quarters of the earth. The
lately invented methods of travel and of intelligence
have destroyed geographical obstacles ; and the wrongs
of the oppressed, in spite of oceans or of mountains, are
brought under the public opinion of Europe, — not before
kings and governments alone, but before the tribunal of
the European populations, who are becoming ever more
powerful in the determination of political questions. And
thus retribution is demanded and exacted for past crimes
in proportion to their heinousness and their duration.
And in the next place, it is plain that, according as
intercommunion grows between Europe and America, it
is Ireland that must grow with it in social and political
importance. For Ireland is the high road by which that
intercourse is carried on ; and the traffic between hemi
spheres must be to her a source of material as well as
social benefit, — as of old time, though on the minute
geographical scale of Greece, Corinth, as being the
484 Discipline of Mind.
thoroughfare of commerce by sea and land, became and
was called " the rich."
And then, again, we must consider the material re
sources of Ireland, so insufficiently explored, so poorly
developed, — of which it belongs to them rather to speak,
who by profession and attainments are masters of the
subject
That this momentous future, thus foreshadowed, will
be as glorious for Catholicity as for Ireland we cannot
doubt from the experience of the past ; but, as Provi
dence works by means of human agencies, that natural
anticipation has no tendency to diminish the anxiety and
earnestness of all zealous Catholics to do their part in
securing its fulfilment. And the wise and diligent culti
vation of the intellect is one principal means, under the
Divine blessing, of the desired result
3-
Gentlemen, the seat of this intellectual progress must
necessarily be the great towns of Ireland ; and those
great towns have a remarkable and happy characteristic,
as contrasted with the cities of Catholic Europe. Abroad,
even in Catholic countries, if there be in any part of
their territory scepticism and insubordination in religion,
cities are the seat of the mischief. Even Rome itself
has its insubordinate population, and its concealed free
thinkers ; even Belgium, that nobly Catholic country,
cannot boast of the religious loyalty of its great towns.
Such a calamity is unknown to the Catholicism of Dublin,
Cork, Belfast, and the other cities of Ireland ; for, to say-
nothing of higher and more religious causes of the dif
ference, the very presence of a rival religion is a per
petual incentive to faith and devotion in men who, from
the circumstances of the case, would be in danger ot
Discipline of Mind. 485
becoming worse than lax Catholics, unless they resolved
on being zealous ones.
Here, then, is one remarkable ground of promise in
the future of Ireland, that that large and important class,
members of which I am now addressing, — that the
middle classes in its cities, which will be the depositaries
of its increasing political power, and which elsewhere are
opposed in their hearts to the Catholicism which they
profess, — are here so sound in faith, and so exemplary
in devotional exercises, and in works of piety.
And next I would observe, that, while thus distin
guished for religious earnestness, the Catholic population
is in no respect degenerate from the ancient fame of
Ireland as regards its intellectual endowments. It too
often happens that the religiously disposed are in the
same degree intellectually deficient ; but the Irish ever
have been, as their worst enemies must grant, not only a
Catholic people, but a people of great natural abilities,
keen-witted, original, and subtle. This has been the
characteristic of the nation from the very early times,
and was especially prominent in the middle ages. As
Rome was the centre of authority, so, I may say, Ire
land was the native home of speculation. In this respect
they were as remarkably contrasted to the English as they
are now, though, in those ages, England was as devoted
to the Holy See as it is now hostile. The Englishman
was hard-working, plodding, bold, determined, persever
ing, practical, obedient to law and precedent, and, if he
cultivated his mind, he was literary and classical rather
than scientific, for Literature involves in it the idea of
authority and prescription. On the other hand, in Ire
land, the intellect seems rather to have taken the line of
Science, and we have various instances to show how fully
this was recognized in those times, and with what success it
486 Discipline of Mind.
was carried out. "Philosopher/' is in those times almost
the name for an Irish monk. Both in Paris and Oxford,
the two great schools of medieval thought, we find the
boldest and most subtle of their disputants an Irishman,
— the monk John Scotus Erigena, at Paris, and Duns
Scotus, the Francfscan friar, at Oxford.
Now, it is my belief, Gentlemen, that this character of
mind remains in you still. I think I rightly recognize in
the Irishman now, as formerly, the curious, inquisitive
observer, the acute reasoner, the subtle speculator. I
recognize in you talents which are fearfully mischievous,
when used on the side of error, but which, when wielded
by Catholic devotion, such as I am sure will ever be the
characteristic of the Irish disputant, are of the highest im
portance to Catholic interests, and especially at this day,
when a subtle logic is used against the Church, and de
mands a logic still more subtle on the part of her defenders
to expose it.
Gentlemen, I do not expect those who, like you, are
employed in your secular callings, who are not monks or
friars, not priests, not theologians, not philosophers, to
come forward as champions of the faith ; but I think
that incalculable benefit may ensue to the Catholic cause,
greater almost than that which even singularly gifted
theologians or controversialists could effect, if a body of
men in your station of life shall be found in the great towns
of Ireland, not disputatious, contentious, loquacious, pre
sumptuous (of course I am not advocating inquiry for
mere argument's sake), but gravely and solidly educated
in Catholic knowledge, intelligent, acute, versed in their
religion, sensitive of its beauty and majesty, alive to the
arguments in its behalf, and aware both of its difficulties
and of the mode of treating them. And the first step in
attaining this desirable end is that you should submit
Discipline of Mind. 487
yourselves to a curriculum of studies, such as that which
brings you with such praiseworthy diligence within these
walls evening after evening ; and, though you may not
be giving attention to them with this view, but from the
laudable love of knowledge, or for the advantages which
will accrue to you personally from its pursuit, yet my
own reason for rejoicing in the establishment of your
classes is the same as that which led me to take part
in the establishment of the University itself, viz., the
wish, by increasing the intellectual force of Ireland, to
strengthen the defences, in a day of great danger, of the
Christian religion.
4-
Gentlemen, within the last thirty years, there has been,
as you know, a great movement in behalf of the exten
sion of knowledge among those classes in society whom
you represent. This movement has issued in the estab
lishment of what have been called Mechanics' Institutes
through the United Kingdom ; and a new species of
literature has been brought into existence, with a view,
among its objects, of furnishing the members of these
institutions with interesting and instructive reading. 1
never will deny to that literature its due praise. It has
been the production of men of the highest ability and
the most distinguished station, who have not grudged,
moreover, the trouble, and, I may say in a certain sense,
the condescension, of presenting themselves before the
classes for whose intellectual advancement they were
showing so laudable a zeal ; who have not grudged, in
the cause of Literature, History, or Science, to make a
display, in the lecture room or the public hall, of that
eloquence, which was, strictly speaking, the property, as
I may call it, of Parliament, or of the august tribunals of
488 Discipline of Mind.
the Law. Nor will I deny to the speaking and writing,
to which I am referring, the merit of success, as well as
that of talent and good intention, so far as this, — that it
has provided a fund of innocent amusement and informa
tion for the leisure hours of those who might otherwise
have been exposed to the temptation of corrupt reading
or bad company.
So much may be granted, — and must be granted in
candour : but, when I go on to ask myself the question,
what permanent advantage the mind gets by such desul
tory reading and hearing, as this literary movement en
courages, then I find myself altogether in a new field of
thought, and am obliged to return an answer less favour
able than I could wish to those who are the advocates of
it. We must carefully distinguish, Gentlemen, between
the mere diversion of the mind and its real education.
Supposing, for instance, I am tempted to go into some
society which will do me harm, and supposing, instead, I
fall asleep in my chair, and so let the time pass by, in
that case certainly I escape the danger, but it is as if by
accident, and my going to sleep has not had any real
effect upon me, or made me more able to resist the
temptation on some future occasion. I wake, and I am
what I was before. The opportune sleep has but removed
the temptation for this once. It has not made me better ;
for I have not been shielded from temptation by any act
of my own, but I was passive under an accident, for such
I may call sleep. And so in like manner, if I hear a
lecture indolently and passively, I cannot indeed be else
where while I am here hearing it, — but it produces no
positive effect on my mind, — it does not tend to create
any power in my breast capable of resisting temptation
by its own vigour, should temptation come a second time.
Now this is no fault, Gentlemen, of the books or the
Discipline of Mind. 4 89
lectures of the Mechanics' Institute. They could not do
more than they do, from their very nature. They do
their part, but their part is not enough. A man may
hear a thousand lectures, and read a thousand volumes,
and be at the end of the process very much where he was,
as regards knowledge. Something more than merely
admitting it in a negative way into the mind is necessary,
if it is to remain there. It must not be passively received,
but actually and actively entered into, embraced, mastered.
The mind must go half-way to meet what comes to it
from without
This, then, is the point in which the institutions I am
speaking of fail ; here, on the contrary, is the advantage
of such lectures as you are attending, Gentlemen, in our
University. You have come, not merely to be taught,
but to learn. You have come to exert your minds. You
have come to make what you hear your own, by putting
out your hand, as it were, to grasp it and appropriate it.
You do not come merely to hear a lecture, or to read a
book, but you come for that catechetical instruction,
which consists in a sort of conversation between your
lecturer and you. He tells you a thing, and he asks you
to repeat it after him. He questions you, he examines
you, he will not let you go till he has proof, not only that
you have heard, but that you know.
5-
Gentlemen, I am induced to quote here some remarks
of my own, which I put into print on occasion of those
Evening Lectures, already referred to, with which we
introduced the first terms of the University. The at
tendance upon them was not large, and in consequence
we discontinued them for a time, but I attempted to ex
plain in print what the object of them had been ; and
49° Discipline of Mind.
while what I then said is pertinent to the subject I am
now pursuing, it will be an evidence too, in addition to
my opening remarks, of the hold which the idea of these
Evening Lectures has had upon me.
" I will venture to give you my thoughts/' I then said,
writing to a friend,* " on the object of the Evening Public
Lectures lately delivered in the University House, which,
I think, has been misunderstood.
"I can bear witness, not only to their remarkable merit
as lectures, but also to the fact that they were very satis
factorily attended. Many, however, attach a vague or
unreasonable idea to the word ' satisfactory/ and main
tain that no lectures can be called satisfactory which do
not make a great deal of noise in the place, and they are
disappointed otherwise. This is what I mean by mis
conceiving their object ; for such an expectation, and
consequent regret, arise from confusing the ordinary with
the extraordinary object of a lecture, — upon which point
we ought to have clear and definite ideas.
"The ordinary object of lectures is to teach ; but there
is an object, sometimes demanding attention, and not
incongruous, which, nevertheless, cannot be said properly
to belong to them, or to be more than occasional. As
there are kinds of eloquence which do not aim at any
thing beyond their own exhibition, and are content with
being eloquent, and with the sensation which eloquence
creates ; so in Schools and Universities there are sea
sons, festive or solemn, anyhow extraordinary, when
academical acts are not directed towards their proper
ends, so much as intended to amuse, to astonish, and to
attract, and thus to have an effect upon public opinion.
Such are the exhibition days of Colleges ; such the
annual Commemoration of Benefactors at one of the
* University Gazette, No. 42, p. 420.
Discipline of Mind. 49 1
English Universities, when Doctors put on their gayest
gowns, and Public Orators make Latin Speeches. Such,
too, are the Terminal Lectures, at which divines of the
greatest reputation for intellect and learning have before
now poured forth sentences of burning eloquence into the
ears of an audience brought together for the very sake
of the display. The object of all such Lectures and
Orations is to excite or to keep up an interest and rever
ence in the public mind for the Institutions from which the
exhibition proceeds :" — I might have added, such are the
lectures delivered by celebrated persons in Mechanics'
Institutes.
I continue : " Such we have suitably had in the new
University ; — such were the Inaugural Lectures. Dis
plays of strength and skill of this kind, in order to succeed,
should attract attention, and if they do not attract atten
tion, they have failed. They do not invite an audience,
but an attendance ; and perhaps it is hardly too much to
say that they are intended for seeing rather than for
hearing.
" Such celebrations, however, from the nature of the
case, must be rare. It is the novelty which brings, it is
the excitement which recompenses, the assemblage. The
academical body which attempts to make such extraordi
nary acts the normal condition of its proceedings, is
putting itself and its Professors in a false position.
" It is, then, a simple misconception to suppose that
those to whom the government of our University is con
fided have aimed at an object, which could not be con
templated at all without a confusion or inadvertence, such
as no considerate person will impute to them. Public
lectures, delivered with such an object, could not be suc
cessful ; and, in consequence, our late lectures have, I
cannot doubt (for it could not be otherwise), ended unsatis-
49 2 Discipline of Mind.
factorily in the judgment of any zealous person who has
assumed for them an office with which their projectors
never invested them.
" What their object really was the very meaning of
academical institutions suggests to us. It is, as I said
when I began, to teach. Lectures are, properly speaking,
not exhibitions or exercises of art, but matters of business;
they profess to impart something definite to those who
attend them, and those who attend them profess on their
part to receive what the lecturer has to offer. It is a
case of contract : — ' I will speak, if you will listen :' — ' I
will come here to learn, if you have any thing worth
teaching me.' In an oratorical display, all the effort is
on one side ; in a lecture, it is shared between two parties,
who co-operate towards a common end.
11 There should be ever something, on the face of the
arrangements, to act as a memento that those who come,
come to gain something, and not from mere curiosity. And
in matter of fact, such were the persons who did attend, in
the course of last term, and such as those, and no others,
will attend. Those came who wished to gain information
on a subject new to them, from informants whom they
held in consideration, and regarded as authorities. It
was impossible to survey the audience which occupied
the lecture-room without seeing that they came on what
may be called business. And this is why I said, when
I began, that the attendance was satisfactory. That
attendance is satisfactory, — not which is numerous, but
which is steady and persevering. But it is plain, that to
a mere by-stander, who came merely from general in
terest or good will to see how things were going on, and
who did not catch the object of advertising the Lectures,
it would not occur to look into the faces of the audience ;
he would think it enough to be counting their heads ; he
Discipline of Mind. 493
would do little more than observe whether the staircase
and landing were full of loungers, and whether there
was such a noise and bustle that it was impossible to
hear a word ; and if he could get in and out of the room
without an effort, if he could sit at his ease, and actually
hear the lecturer, he would think he had sufficient
grounds for considering the attendance unsatisfactory.
" The stimulating system may easily be overdone, and
does not answer on the long run. A blaze among the
stubble, and then all is dark. I have seen in my time
various instances of the way in which Lectures really
gain upon the public ; and I must express my opinion
that, even were it the sole object of our great under
taking to make a general impression upon public opinion,
instead of that of doing definite good to definite persons,
I should reject that method, which the University indeed
itself has not taken, but which young and ardent minds
may have thought the more promising. Even did I
wish merely to get the intellect of all Dublin into our
rooms, I should not dream of doing it all at once, but
at length. I should not rely on sudden, startling effects,
but on the slow, silent, penetrating, overpowering effects
of patience, steadiness, routine, and perseverance. I
have known individuals set themselves down in a neigh
bourhood where they had no advantages, and in a place
which had no pretensions, and upon a work which had
little or nothing of authoritative sanction ; and they have
gone on steadily lecturing week after week, with little
encouragement, but much resolution. For months they
were ill attended, and overlooked in the bustle of the
world around them. But there was a secret, gradual
movement going on, and a specific force of attraction,
and a drifting and accumulation of hearers, which at
length made itself felt, and could not be mistaken. In
494 Discipline of Mind.
this stage of things, a friend said in conversation to me,
when at the moment I knew nothing of the parties :
' By-the-bye, if you are interested in such and such a
subject, go by all means, and hear such a one. So and
so does, and says there is no one like him. I looked in
myself the other night, and was very much struck. Do
go, you can't mistake ; he lectures every Tuesday night, or
Wednesday, or Thursday,' as it might be. An influence
thus gradually acquired endures ; sudden popularity
dies away as suddenly."
As regards ourselves, the time is passed now, Gentle
men, for such modesty of expectation, and such caution
in encouragement, as these last sentences exhibit. The
few, but diligent, attendants upon the Professors' lectures,
with whom we began, have grown into the diligent and
zealous many; and the speedy fulfilment of anticipations,
which then seemed to be hazardous, surely is a call on
us to cherish bolder hopes and to form more extended
plans for the years which are to follow.
6.
You will ask me, perhaps, after these general remarks,
to suggest to you the particular intellectual benefit which
I conceive students have a right to require of us, and
which we engage by means of our evening classes to pro
vide for them. And, in order to this, you must allow
me to make use of an illustration, which I have hereto
fore employed,* and which I repeat here, because it is
the best that I can find to convey what I wish to impress
upon you. It is an illustration which includes in its
application all of us, teachers as well a^ taught, though
it applies of course to some more than to others, and to
those especially who come for instruction.
* Vid. supr. p. 231.
Discipline of Mind. 495
I consider, then, that the position of our minds, as far
as they are uncultivated, towards intellectual objects, — 1
mean of our minds, before they have been disciplined and
formed by the action of our reason upon them, — is analo
gous to that of a blind man towards the objects of vision,
at the moment when eyes are for the first time given to
him by the skill of the operator. Then the multitude of
things, which present themselves to the sight under a mul
tiplicity of shapes and hues, pour in upon him from the
external world all at once, and are at first nothing else
but lines and colours, without mutual connection, depend
ence, or contrast, without order or principle, without
drift or meaning, and like the wrong side of a piece of
tapestry or carpet. By degrees, by the sense of touch,
by reaching out the hands, by walking into this maze of
colours, by turning round in it, by accepting the princi
ple of perspective, by the various slow teaching of ex
perience, the first information of the sight is corrected,
and what was an unintelligible wilderness becomes a land
scape or a scene, and is understood to consist of space,
and of bodies variously located in space, with such con
sequences as thence necessarily follow. The knowledge is
at length gained of things or objects, and of their rela
tion to each other ; and it is a kind of knowledge, as is
plain, which is forced upon us all from infancy, as to the
blind on their first seeing, by the testimony of our other
senses, and by the very necessity of supporting life ; so
that even the brute animals have been gifted with the
faculty of acquiring it.
Such is the case as regards material objects ; and it is
much the same as regards intellectual. I mean that
there is a vast host of matters of all kinds, which address
themselves, not to the eye, but to our mental sense ; viz.,
all those matters of thought which, in the course of life
496 Discipline of Mind.
and the intercourse of society, are brought before us,
which we hear of in conversation, which we read of in
books; matters political, social, ecclesiastical, literary,
domestic ; persons, and their doings or their writings ;
events, and works, and undertakings, and laws, and in
stitutions. These make up a much more subtle and
intricate world than that visible universe of which I was
just now speaking. It is much more difficult in this
world than in the material to separate things off from
each other, and to find out how they stand related to
each other, and to learn how to class them, and where
to locate them respectively. Still, it is not less true
that, as the various figures and forms in a landscape
have each its own place, and stand in this or that direc
tion towards each other, so all the various objects which
address the intellect have severally a substance of their
own, and have fixed relations each of them with every
thing else, — relations which our minds have no power of
creating, but which we are obliged to ascertain before
we have a right to boast that we really know any thing
about them. Yet, when the mind looks out for the first
time into this manifold spiritual world, it is just as much
confused and dazzled and distracted as are the eyes of
the blind when they first begin to see ; and it is by a
long process, and with much effort and anxiety, that we
begin hardly and partially to apprehend its various con
tents and to put each in its proper place.
We grow up from boyhood ; our minds open ; we go
into the world ; we hear what men say, or read what
they put in print ; and thus a profusion of matters of all
kinds is discharged upon us. Some sort of an idea we
have of most of them, from hearing what others say;
but it is a very vague idea, probably a very mistaken
idea. Young people, especially, because they are young,
Discipline of Mind, 497
colour the assemblage of persons and things which they
encounter with the freshness and grace of their own
springtide, look for all good from the reflection of theii
own hopefulness, and worship what they have created.
Men of ambition, again, look upon the world as a theatre
for fame and glory, and make it that magnificent scene
of high enterprise and august recompence which Pindar
or Cicero has delineated. Poets, too, after their wont,
put their ideal interpretation upon all things, material
as well as moral, and substitute the noble for the true.
Here are various obvious instances, suggestive of the
discipline which is imperative, if the mind is to grasp
things as they are, and to discriminate substances from
shadows. For I am not concerned merely with youth,
ambition, or poetry, but with our mental condition gene
rally. It is the fault of all of us, till we have duly
practised our minds, to be unreal in our sentiments and
crude in our judgments, and to be carried off by fancies,
instead of being at the trouble of acquiring sound know
ledge.
In consequence, when we hear opinions put forth on
any new subject, we have no principle to guide us in
balancing them ; we do not know what to make of them ;
we turn them to and fro, and over, and back again, as if
to pronounce upon them, if we could, but with no means
of pronouncing. It is the same when we attempt to
speak upon them : we make some random venture ; or
we take up the opinion of some one else, which strikes
our fancy ; or perhaps, with the vaguest enunciation
possible of any opinion at all, we are satisfied with our
selves if we are merely able to throw off some rounded
sentences, to make some pointed remarks on some other
subject, or to introduce some figure of speech, or flowers
of rhetoric, which, instead of being the vehicle, are the
32
498 Discipline of Mind.
mere substitute of meaning. We wish to take a part in
politics, and then nothing is open to us but to follow
some person, or some party, and to learn the common
places and the watchwords which belong to it. We
hear about landed^ interests, and mercantile; interests,
and trade, and higher and lower classes, and their rights,
duties, and prerogatives ; and we attempt to transmit
what we have received ; and soon our minds become
loaded and perplexed by the incumbrance of ideas which
we have not mastered and cannot use. We have some
vague idea, for instance, that constitutional government
and slavery are inconsistent with each other ; that there
is a connection between private judgment and democracy,
between Christianity and civilization ; we attempt to find
arguments in proof, and our arguments are the most
plain demonstration that we simply do not understand the
tilings themselves of which we are professedly treating.
7-
Reflect, Gentlemen, how many disputes you must have
listened to, which were interminable, because neither party
understood either his opponent or himself. Consider the
fortunes of an argument in a debating society, and the
need there so frequently is, not simply of some clear
thinker to disentangle the perplexities of thought, but of
capacity in the combatants to do justice to the clearest
explanations which are set before them, — so much so,
that the luminous arbitration only gives rise, perhaps, to
more hopeless altercation. " Is a constitutional govern
ment better for a population than an absolute rule ? "
What a number of points have to be clearly apprehended
before we are in a position to say one word on such a
question! What is meant by "constitution "? by "con
stitutional government"? by "better"? by "a popula-
Discipline of Mind. 499
tion"? and by "absolutism"? The ideas represented
by these various words ought, I do not say, to be as per
fectly defined and located in the minds of the speakers
as objects of sight in a landscape, but to be sufficiently,
even though incompletely, apprehended, before they have
a right to speak. " How is it that democracy can admit
of slavery, as in ancient Greece ? " " How can Catho
licism flourish in a republic?" Now, a person who knows
his ignorance will say, "These questions are beyond me;"
and he tries to gain a clear notion and a firm hold of
them ; and, if he speaks, it is as investigating, not as
deciding. On the other hand, let him never have tried
to throw things together, or to discriminate between them,
or to denote their peculiarities, in that case he has no
hesitation in undertaking any subject, and perhaps has
most to say upon those questions which are most new to
him, This is why so many men are one-sided, narrow-
minded, prejudiced, crotchety. This is why able men
have to change their minds and their line of action in
middle age, and to begin life again, because they have
followed their party, instead of having secured that faculty
of true perception as regards intellectual objects which
has accrued to them, without their knowing how, as re
gards the objects of sight.
But this defect will neverbe corrected, — on the contrary,
it will be aggravated, — by those popular institutions to
which I referred just now. The displays of eloquence, or
the interesting matter contained in their lectures, the
variety of useful or entertaining knowledge contained in
their libraries, though admirable in themselves, and advan
tageous to the student at a later stage of his course, never
can serve as a substitute for methodical and laborious
teaching. A young man of sharp and active intellect, who
has had no other training, has little to show for it besides
Discipline of Mind.
a litter of ideas heaped up into his mind anyhow. He
can utter a number of truths or sophisms, as the case
may be, and one is as good to him as another. He is up
with a number of doctrines and a number of facts, but
they are all loose and straggling, for he has no principles
set up in his mind round which to aggregate and locate
them. He can say a word or two on half a dozen sciences,
but not a dozen words on any one. He says one thing
now, and another thing presently ; and when he attempts
to write down distinctly what he holds upon a point in
dispute, or what he understands by its terms, he breaks
down, and is surprised at his failure. He sees objections
more clearly than truths, and can ask a thousand ques
tions which the wisest of men cannot answer ; and withal,
he has a very good opinion of himself, and is well satis
fied with his attainments, and he declares against others,
as opposed to the spread of knowledge altogether, who
do not happen to adopt his ways of furthering it, or the
opinions in which he considers it to result.
This is that barren mockery of knowledge which comes
of attending on great Lecturers, or of mere acquaintance
with reviews, magazines, newspapers, and other literature
of the day, which, however able and valuable in itself, is
not the instrument of intellectual education. If this is
all the training a man has, the chance is that, when a few
years have passed over his head, and he has talked to the
full, he wearies of talking, and of the subjects on which
he talked. He gives up the pursuit of knowledge, and
forgets what he knew, whatever it was ; and, taking
things at their best, his mind is in no very different con
dition from what it was when he first began to improve
it, as he hoped, though perhaps he never thought of more
than of amusing himself. I say, "at the best," for per
haps he will suffer from exhaustion and a distaste of the
Discipline of Mind. 501
subjects which once pleased him ; or perhaps he has
suffered some real intellectual mischief ; perhaps he has
contracted some serious disorder, he has admitted some
taint of scepticism, which he will never get rid of.
And here we see what is meant by the poet's maxim,
"A little learning is a dangerous thing." Not that
knowledge, little or much, if it be real knowledge, is
dangerous ; but that many a man considers a mere hazy
view of many things to be real knowledge, whereas it
does but mislead, just as a short-sighted man sees only
so far as to be led by his uncertain sight over the
precipice.
Such, then, being true cultivation of mind, and such the
literary institutions which do not tend to it, I might pro
ceed to show you, Gentlemen, did time admit, how, on
the other hand, that kind of instruction of which our
Evening Classes are a specimen, is especially suited to
effect what they propose. Consider, for instance, what
a discipline in accuracy of thought it is to have to con
strue a foreign language into your own ; what a still
severer and more improving exercise it is to translate
from your own into a foreign language. Consider, again,
what a lesson in memory and discrimination it is to get
up, as it is called, any one chapter of history. Consider
what a trial of acuteness, caution, and exactness, it is to
master, and still more to prove, a number of definitions.
Again, what an exercise in logic is classification, what
an exercise in logical precision it is to understand and
enunciate the proof of any of the more difficult pro
positions of Euclid, or to master any one of the great
arguments for Christianity so thoroughly as to bear ex
amination upon it ; or, again, to analyze sufficiently, yet
in as few words as possible, a speech, or to draw up a
critique upon a poem. And KG of any other science,—
5Q2 Discipline oj Mind.
chemistry, or comparative anatomy, or natural history ;
it does not matter what it is, if it be really studied and
mastered, as far as it is taken up. The result is a forma
tion of mind, — that is, a habit of order and system, a
habit of referring every accession of knowledge to what
we already know, and of adjusting the one with the
other ; and, moreover, as such a habit implies, the actual
acceptance and use of certain principles as centres of
thought, around which our knowledge grows and is
located. Where this critical faculty exists, history is no
longer a mere story-book, or biography a romance ;
orators and publications of the day are no longer in
fallible authorities ; eloquent diction is no longer a
substitute for matter, nor bold statements, or lively
descriptions, a substitute for proof. This is that faculty
of perception in intellectual matters, which, as I have
said so often, is analogous to the capacity we all have of
mastering the multitude of lines and colours which pour
in upon our eyes, and of deciding what every one of
them is worth.
8.
But I should be transgressing the limits assigned to
an address of this nature were I to proceed. I have
not said any thing, Gentlemen, on the religious duties
which become the members of a Catholic University,
because we are directly concerned here with your studies
only. It is my consolation to know that so many of you
belong to a Society or Association, which the zeal of
some excellent priests, one especially, has been so in
strumental in establishing in your great towns. You
do not come to us to have the foundation laid in your
breasts of that knowledge which is highest of all : it has
been laid already. You have begun your mental train-
Discipline of Mind. 503
ing with faith and devotion ; and then you come to us
to add the education of the intellect to the education of
the heart Go on as you have begun, and you will be
one of the proudest achievements of our great under
taking. We shall be able to point to you in proof that
zeal for knowledge may thrive even under the pressure
of secular callings ; that mother- wit does not necessarily
make a man idle, nor inquisitiveness of mind irreverent ;
that shrewdness and cleverness are not incompatible
with firm faith in the mysteries of Revelation ; that
attainment in Literature and Science need not make
men conceited, nor above their station, nor restless, nor
self-willed. We shall be able to point to you in proof
of the power of Catholicism to make out of the staple of
great towns exemplary and enlightened Christians, — of
those classes which, external to Ireland, are the problem
and perplexity of patriotic statesmen, and the natural
opponents of the teachers of every kind of religion.
As to myself, 1 wish I could by actual service and
hard work of my own respond to your zeal, as so many
of my dear and excellent friends, the Professors of the
University, have done and do. They have a merit, they
have a claim on you, Gentlemen, in which I have no
part. If I admire the energy and bravery with which
you have undertaken the work of self-improvement, be
sure I do not forget their public spirit and noble free
devotion to the University any more than you do. I
know I should not satisfy you with any praise of this
supplement of our academical arrangements which did
not include those who give to it its life. It is a very
pleasant and encouraging sight to see both parties, the
teachers and the taught, co-operating with a pure esprit-
de-corps thus voluntarily, — they as fully as you can do, —
504 Discipline of Mind*
for a great object ; and I ofter up my earnest prayers to
the Author of all good, that He will ever bestow on you
all, on Professors and on Students, as I feel sure He will
bestow, Rulers and Superiors, who, by their zeal and
diligence in their own place, shall prove themselves
worthy both of your cause and of yourselves,
505
X.
CHRISTIANITY AND MEDICAL SCIENCE.
AN ADDRESS TO THE STUDENTS OF MEDICINE.
I.
I HAVE had so few opportunities, Gentlemen, of ad
dressing you, and our present meeting is of so interest
ing and pleasing a character, by reason of the object
which occasions it, that I am encouraged to speak freely
to you, though I do not know you personally, on a sub
ject which, as you may conceive, is often before my own
mind : I mean, the exact relation in which your noble
profession stands towards the Catholic University itself
and towards Catholicism generally. Considering my
own most responsible office as Rector, my vocation as
an ecclesiastic, and then again my years, which increase
my present claim, and diminish my future chances, of
speaking to you, I need make no apology, I am sure,
for a step, which will be recommended to you by my
good intentions, even though it deserves no consideration
on the score of the reflections and suggestions themselves
which I shall bring before you. If indeed this Univer
sity, and its Faculty of Medicine inclusively, were set up
for the promotion of any merely secular object, — in the
spirit of religious rivalry, as a measure of party politics,
or as a commercial speculation, — then indeed I should
506 Christianity and Medical Science.
be out of place, not only in addressing you in the tone
of advice, but in being here at all ; for what reason could
I in that case have had for having now given some of
the most valuable years of my life to this University,
for having placed it foremost in my thoughts and anxie
ties, — (I had well nfgh said) to the prejudice of prior,
dearer, and more sacred tics, — except that I felt that
the highest and most special religious interests were
bound up in its establishment and in its success? Suffer
me, then, Gentlemen, if with these views and feelings I
conform my observations to the sacred building in which
we find ourselves, and if I speak to you for a few minutes
as if I were rather addressing you authoritatively from
the pulpit than in the Rector's chair.
Now I am going to set before you, in as few words as
I can, what I conceive to be the principal duty of the
Medical Profession towards Religion, and some of the
difficulties which are found in the observance of that
duty : and in speaking on the subject I am conscious
how little qualified I am to handle it in such a way as
will come home to your minds, from that want of ac
quaintance with you personally, to which I have alluded,
and from my necessary ignorance of the influences of
whatever kind which actually surround you, and the
points of detail which are likely to be your religious em
barrassments. I can but lay down principles and maxims,
which you must apply for yourselves, and which in some
respects or cases you may feel have no true application
at all
2.
All professions have their dangers, all general truths
have their fallacies, all spheres of action have their limits,
and are liable to improper extension or alteration. Every
Christianity a)id Medical Science. 507
professional man has rightly a zeal for his profession,
and he would not do his duty towards it without that
zeal. And that zeal soon becomes exclusive, or rather
necessarily involves a sort of exclusiveness. A zealous
professional man soon comes to think that his profession
is all in all, and that the world would not go on without
it. We have heard, for instance, a great deal lately in
regard to the war in India, of political views suggesting
one plan of campaign, and military views suggesting
another. How hard it must be for the military man to
forego his own strategical dispositions, not on the ground
that they are not the best, — not that they are not ac
knowledged by those who nevertheless put them aside
to be the best for the object of military success, — but
because military success is not the highest of objects,
and the end of ends, — because it is not the sovereign
science, but must ever be subordinate to political con
siderations or maxims of government, which is a higher
science with higher objects, — and that therefore his sure
success on the field must be relinquished because the
interests of the council and the cabinet require the sac
rifice, that the war must yield to the statesman's craft, the
commander-in-chief to the governor-general. Yet what
the soldier feels is natural, and what the statesman does
is just. This collision, this desire on the part of every
profession to be supreme, — this necessary, though reluc
tant, subordination of the one to the other, — is a process
ever going on, ever acted out before our eyes. The
civilian is in rivalry with the soldier, the soldier with the
civilian. The diplomatist, the lawyer, the political econo
mist, the merchant, each wishes to usurp the powers of
the state, and to mould society upon the principles of
his own pursuit.
Nor do they confine themselves to the mere province of
508 Christianity and Medical Science.
secular matters. They intrude into the province of Re
ligion. In England, in the reign of Queen Elizabeth, law
yers got hold of religion, and never have let it go. Abroad,
bureaucracy keeps hold of Religion with a more or less
firm grasp. The circles of literature and science have
in like manner before how made Religion a mere province
of their universal empire.
I remark, moreover, that these various usurpations are
frequently made in perfectly good faith. There is no
intention of encroachment on the part of the encroachers.
The commander recommends what with all his heart and
soul he thinks best for his country when he presses on
Government a certain plan of campaign. The political
economist has the most honest intentions of improving
the Christian system of social duty by his reforms. The
statesman may have the best and most loyal dispositions
towards the Holy See, at the time that he is urging
changes in ecclesiastical discipline which would be
seriously detrimental to the Church.
And now I will say how this applies to the Medical
Profession, and what is its special danger, viewed in re
lation to Catholicity.
3-
Its province is the physical nature of man, and its
object is the preservation of that physical nature in its
proper state, and its restoration when it has lost it. It
limits itself, by its very profession, to the health of the
body ; it ascertains the conditions of that health ; it
analyzes the causes of its interruption or failure ; it seeks
about for the means of cure. But, after all, bodily health
is not the only end of man, and the medical science is
not the highest science of which he is the subject. Man
has a moral and a religious nature, as well as a physical.
Christianity and Medical Science. 509
He has a mind and a soul ; and the mind and soul have
a legitimate sovereignty over the body, and the sciences
relating to them have in consequence the precedence
of those sciences which relate to the body. And as the
soldier must yield to the statesman, when they come into
collision with each other, so must the medical man to the
priest ; not that the medical man may not be enunciating
what is absolutely certain, in a medical point of view,
as the commander may be perfectly right in what he
enunciates strategically, but that his action is suspended
in the given case by the interests and duty of a superior
science, and he retires not confuted but superseded.
Now this general principle thus stated, all will admit :
who will deny that health must give way to duty ? So
far there is no perplexity : supposing a fever to break
out in a certain place, and the medical practitioner said
co a Sister of Charity who was visiting the sick there,
"You will die to a certainty if you remain there," and
her ecclesiastical superiors on the contrary said, " You
have devoted your life to such services, and there you
must stay ; " and supposing she stayed and was taken
off; the medical adviser would be right, but who would
say that the Religious Sister was wrong ? She did not
doubt his word, but she denied the importance of that
word, compared with the word of her religious superiors.
The medical man was right, yet he could not gain his
point. He was right in what he said, he said what was
true, yet he had to give way.
Here we are approaching what I conceive to be the
especial temptation and danger to which the medical
profession is exposed : it is a certain sophism of the in
tellect, founded on this maxim, implied, but not spoken
or even recognized — " What is true is lawful." Not so.
Observe, here is the fallacy, — What is true in one science
c, io Christianity and Medical Scicme.
is dictated to us indeed according to that science, but
not according to another science, or in another depart
ment. What is certain in the military art has force in
the military art, but not in statesmanship; and if states
manship be a higher department of action than war, and
enjoins the contrary, it has no claim on our reception and
obedience at all. And so what is true in medical science
might in all cases be carried out, were man a mere
animal or brute without a soul ; but since he is a rational,
responsible being, a thing may be ever so true in medicine,
yet may be unlawful in fact, in consequence of the higlier
law of morals and religion having come to some different
conclusion. Now I must be allowed some few words to
express, or rather to suggest, more fully what I mean.
The whole universe comes from the good God. It is
His creation ; it is good ; it is all good, as being the work
of the Good, though good only in its degree, and not after
His Infinite Perfection. The physical nature of man is
good ; nor can there be any thing sinful in itself in acting
according to that nature. Every natural appetite or func
tion is lawful, speaking abstractedly. No natural feeling
or act is in itself sinful. There can be no doubt of all
this ; and there can be no doubt that science can deter
mine what is natural, what tends to the preservation oi
a healthy state of nature, and what on the contrary is
injurious to nature. Thus the medical student has a vast
field of knowledge spread out before him, true, because
knowledge, and innocent, because true.
So much in the abstract — but when we come to fact,
it may easily happen that what is in itself innocent may
not be innocent to this or that person, or in this or that
mode or degree. Again, it may easily happen that the
impressions made on a man's mind by his own science
may be indefinitely more vivid and operative than the
Christianity and Medical Science. 511
enunciations of truths belonging to some other branch of
knowledge, which strike indeed his ear, but do not come
home to him, are not fixed in his memory, are not im
printed on his imagination. And in the profession before
us, a medical student may realize far more powerfully and
habitually that certain acts are advisable in themselves
according to the law of physical nature, than the fact that
they are forbidden according to the law of some higher
science, as theology ; or again, that they are accidentally
wrong, as being, though lawful in themselves, wrong in
this or that individual, or under the circumstances of the
case.
Now to recur to the instance I have already given : it
is supposable that that Sister of Charity, who, for the
sake of her soul, would not obey the law of self-preserva
tion as regards her body, might cause her medical adviser
great irritation and disgust. His own particular profes
sion might have so engrossed his mind, and the truth of
its maxims have so penetrated it, that he could not
understand or admit any other or any higher system.
He might in process of time have become simply dead
to all religious truths, because such truths were not present
to him, and those of his own science were ever present.
And observe, his fault would be, not that of taking error
for truth, for what he relied on was truth — but in not
understanding that there were other truths, and those
higher than his own.
Take another case, in which there will often in parti
cular circumstances be considerable differences of opinion
among really religious men, but which does not cease on
that account to illustrate the point I am insisting on. A
patient is dying : the priest wishes to be introduced, lesfc
he should die without due preparation : the medical man
says that the thought of religion will disturb his mind
5 1 2 Christianity and Medical Science.
and imperil his recovery. Now in the particular case,
the one party or the other may be right in urging his
own view of what ought to be done. I am merely
directing attention to the principle involved in it. Mere
are the representatives of two great sciences, Religion
and Medicine. Each says what is true in his own science,
each will think he has a right to insist on seeing that the
truth which he himself is maintaining is carried out in
action ; whereas, one of the two sciences is above the
other, and the end of Religion is indefinitely higher than
the end of Medicine. And, however the decision ought
to go, in the particular case, as to introducing the subject
of religion or not, I think the priest ought to have that
decision ; just as a Governor-General, not a Commander-
in-Chief, would have the ultimate decision, were politics
and strategics to come into collision.
You will easily understand, Gentlemen, that I dare
not pursue my subject into those details, which are of
the greater importance for the very reason that they
cannot be spoken of. A medical philosopher, who has
so simply fixed his intellect on his own science as to have
forgotten the existence of any other, will view man, who
is the subject of his contemplation, as a being who has
little more to do than to be born, to grow, to eat, to drink,
to walk, to reproduce his kind, and to die. He sees him
born as other animals are born ; he sees life leave him,
with all those phenomena of annihilation which accom
pany the death of a brute. He compares his structure,
his organs, his functions, with those of other animals,
and his own range of science leads to the discovery of no
facts which are sufficient to convince him that there is
any difference in kind between the human animal and
them. His practice, then, is according to his facts and
his theory. Such a person will think himself free to give
Christianity and Medical Science. 513
advice, and to insist upon rules, which are quite insuffer
able to any religious mind, and simply antagonistic to
faith and morals. It is not, I repeat, that he says what
is untrue, supposing that man were an animal and nothing
else : but he thinks that whatever is true in his own
science is at once lawful in practice — as if there were not
a number of rival sciences in the great circle of philosophy,
as if there were not a number of conflicting views and
objects in human nature to be taken into account and
reconciled, or as if it were his duty to forget all but his
own ; whereas
There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio,
Than are dreamt of in your philosophy.
I have known in England the most detestable advice
given to young persons by eminent physicians, in con
sequence of this contracted view of man and his destinies.
God forbid that I should measure the professional habits
of Catholics by the rules of practice of those who were
not ! but it is plain that what is actually carried out
where religion is not known, exists as a temptation and
a danger in the Science of Medicine itself, where religion
is known ever so well.
4-
And now, having suggested, as far as I dare, what I
consider the consequences of that radical sophism to
which the medical profession is exposed, let me go on to
say in what way it is corrected by the action of Catho
licism upon it
You will observe, then, Gentlemen, that those higher
sciences of which I have spoken, Morals and Religion,
are not represented to the intelligence of the world by
intimations and notices strong and obvious, such as those
33
5 14 Christianity and Medical Science
which are the foundation of Physical Science. The
physical nature lies before us, patent to the sight, ready
to the touch, appealing to the senses in so unequivocal a
way that the science which is founded upon it is as
real to us as the fact of our personal existence. But
the phenomena, which are the basis of morals and Reli
gion, have nothing of this luminous evidence. Instead
of being obtruded upon our notice, so that we cannot
possibly overlook them, they are the dictates either of
Conscience or of Faith. They are faint shadows and
tracings, certain indeed, but delicate, fragile, and almost
evanescent, which the mind recognizes at one time, not
at another, — discerns when it is calm, loses when it is in
agitation. The reflection of sky and mountains in the
lake is a proof that sky and mountains are around it,
but the twilight, or the mist, or the sudden storm hurries
away the beautiful image, which leaves behind it no
memorial of what it was. Something like this are the
Moral Law and the informations of Faith, as they pre
sent themselves to individual minds. Who can deny
the existence of Conscience ? who does not feel the force
of its injunctions ? but how dim is the illumination in
which it is invested, and how feeble its influence, com
pared with that evidence of sight and touch which is the
foundation of Physical Science ! How easily can we be
talked out of our clearest views of duty ! how does this
or that moral precept crumble into nothing when we
rudely handle it ! how does the fear of sin pass off from
us, as quickly as the glow of modesty dies away from
the countenance ! and then we say, " It is all supersti
tion." However, after a time we look round, and then
to our surprise we see, as before, the same law of duty,'
the same moral precepts, the same protests against sin,
appearing over against us, in their old places, as if they
Christianity and Medical Science. 5 1 5
never had been brushed away, like the divine handwriting
upon the wall at the banquet. Then perhaps we ap
proach them rudely, and inspect them irreverently, and
accost them sceptically, and away they go again, like so
many spectres, — shining in their cold beauty, but not
presenting themselves bodily to us, for our inspection, so
to say, of their hands and their feet. And thus these
awful, supernatural, bright, majestic, delicate apparitions,
much as we may in our hearts acknowledge their sove
reignty, are no match as a foundation of Science for
the hard, palpable, material facts which make up the
province of Physics. Recurring to my original illus
tration, it is as if the India Commander-in-Chief, instead of
being under the control of a local seat of government at
Calcutta, were governed simply from London, or from
the moon. In that case, he would be under a strong
temptation to neglect the home government, which
nevertheless in theory he acknowledged. Such, I say,
is the natural condition of mankind : — we depend upon
a seat of government which is in another world ; we are
directed and governed by intimations from above ; we
need a local government on earth.
That great institution, then, the Catholic Church, has
been set up by Divine Mercy, as a present, visible anta
gonist, and the only possible antagonist, to sight and
sense. Conscience, reason, good feeling, the instincts of
our moral nature, the traditions of Faith, the conclusions
and deductions of philosophical Religion, are no match
at all for the stubborn facts (for they are facts, though
there are other facts besides them), for the facts, which
are the foundation of physical, and in particular of medi
cal, science. Gentlemen, if you feel, as you must feel,
the whisper of a law of moral truth within you, and the
impulse to believe, be sure there is nothing whatever on
516 Christianity and Medical Science.
earth which can be the sufficient champion of these
sovereign authorities of your soul, which can vindicate
and preserve them to you, and make you loyal to them,
but the Catholic Church. You fear they will go, you
see with dismay that they are going, under the continual
impression created on your mind by the details of the
material science to which you have devoted your lives.
It is so — I do not deny it ; except under rare and happy
circumstances, go they will, unless you have Catholicism
to back you up in keeping faithful to them. The world
is a rough antagonist of spiritual truth : sometimes with
mailed hand, sometimes with pertinacious logic, some
times with a storm of irresistible facts, it presses on
against you. What it says is true perhaps as far as it
goes, but it is not the whole truth, or the most important
truth. These more important truths, which the natural
heart admits in their substance, though it cannot main
tain, — the being of a God, the certainty of future retri
bution, the claims of the moral law, the reality of sin,
the hope of supernatural help, — of these the Church is in
matter of fact the undaunted and the only defender.
Even those who do not look on her as divine must
grant as much as this. I do not ask you for more here
than to contemplate and recognize her as a fact, — as
other things are facts. She has been eighteen hundred
years in the world, and all that time she has been doing
battle in the boldest, most obstinate way in the cause of
the human race, in maintenance of the undeniable but
comparatively obscure truths of Religion. She is always
alive, always on the alert, when any enemy whatever
attacks them. She has brought them through a thou
sand perils. Sometimes preaching, sometimes pleading,
sometimes arguing, — sometimes exposing her ministers
$0 death, and sometimes, though rarely, inflicting blows
Christianity and Medical Science. 5 1 7
herself, — by peremptory deeds, by patient concessions, —
she has fought on and fulfilled her trust No wonder
so many speak against her, for she deserves it ; she has
earned the hatred and obloquy of her opponents by her
success in opposing them. Those even who speak against
her in this day, own that she was of use in a former day.
The historians in fashion with us just now, much as they
may disown her in their own country, where she is an
actual, present, unpleasant, inconvenient monitor, ac
knowledge that, in the middle ages which are gone, in
her were lodged, by her were saved, the fortunes and
the hopes of the human race. The very characteristics
of her discipline, the very maxims of her policy, which
they reprobate now, they perceive to have been of ser
vice then. They understand, and candidly avow, that
once she was the patron of the arts, the home and sanc
tuary of letters, the basis of law, the principle of order
and government, and the saviour of Christianity itself.
They judge clearly enough in the case of others, though
they are slow to see the fact in their own age and coun
try ; and, while they do not like to be regulated by her,
and kept in order by her, themselves, they are very well
satisfied that the populations of those former centuries
should have been so ruled, and tamed, and taught by
her resolute and wise teaching. And be sure of this,
that as the generation now alive admits these benefits
to have arisen from her presence in a state of society
now gone by, so in turn, when the interests and pas
sions of this day are passed away, will future generations
ascribe to her a like special beneficial action upon this
nineteenth century in which we live. For she is ever
the same, — ever young and vigorous, and ever overcom
ing new errors with the old weapons.
5 1 8 Christianity and Medical Science,
And now I have explained, Gentlemen, why it has
been so highly expedient and desirable in a country like
this to bring the Faculty of Medicine under the shadow
of the Catholic Church. I say " in a country like this ;"
for, if there be any country which deserves that Science
should not run wild, like a planet broken loose from its
celestial system, it is a country which can boast of such
hereditary faith, of such a persevering confessorship, of
such an accumulation of good works, of such a glorious
name, as Ireland. Far be it from this country, far be it
from the counsels of Divine Mercy, that it should grow
in knowledge and not grow in religion ! and Catholicism
is the strength of Religion, as Science and System are
the strength of Knowledge.
Aspirations such as these are met, Gentlemen, I am
well aware, by a responsive feeling in your own hearts ;
but by my putting them into words, thoughts which
already exist within you are brought into livelier exercise,
and sentiments which exist in many breasts hold inter
communion with each other. Gentlemen, it will be your
high office to be the links in your generation between
Religion and Science. Return thanks to the Author of
all good that He has chosen you for this work. Trust
the Church of God implicitly, even when your natural
judgment would take a different course from hers, and
would induce you to question her prudence or her correct
ness. Recollect what a hard task she has ; how she is
sure to be criticized and spoken against, whatever she
does ; — recollect how much she needs your loyal and
tender devotion. Recollect, too, how long is the experi
ence gained in eighteen hundred years, and what a right
she has to claim your assent to principles which have
Christianity and Medical Science. 519
had so extended and so triumphant a trial. Thank her
that she has kept the faith safe for so many generations,
and do your part in helping her to transmit it to genera
tions after you.
For me, if it has been given me to have any share in
so great a work, I shall rejoice with a joy, not such indeed
as I should feel were I myself a native of this generous
land, but with a joy of my own, not the less pure, because
I have exerted myself for that which concerns others
more nearly than myself. I have had no other motive,
as far as I know myself, than to attempt, according to
my strength, some service to the cause of Religion, and
to be the servant of those to whom as a nation the whole
of Christendom is so deeply indebted ; and though this
University, and the Faculty of Medicine which belongs
to it, are as yet only in the commencement of their long
career of usefulness, yet while I live, and (I trust) after
life, it will ever be a theme of thankfulness for my heart
and my lips, that I have been allowed to do even a little,
and to witness so much, of the arduous, pleasant, and
hopeful toil which has attended on their establishment.
NOTE ON PAGE 478.
I THINK it worth while, in illustration of what I have
said above at the page specified, to append the fol
lowing passage from Grandorgaeus's catalogue of Mura-
tori's works.
"SanctissimusD.N. Benedictus xiv. Pont Max. Epis-
tolam sapientiae ac roboris plenam dederat. . . ad
Episcopum Terulensem Hispaniae Inquisitionis Majorem
Inquisitorem, qua ilium hortabatur, ut ' Historiam Pela-
gianam et dissertationem, etc.,' editas a clarse memorise
Henrico Cardinali Norisio, in Indicem Expurgatorium
Hispanum nuper ingestas, perinde ac si aliquid Baia-
nismi aut Jansenismi redolerent,prout auctor ' Bibliothecae
Jansenisticae' immerito autumavit, quamprimum expun-
gendas curaret. Eoque nomine Sapientissimus Pontifex
plura in medium attulit prudentis ceconomiae exempla,
qua semper usum, supremum S. R. Congr. Indicis Tribu
nal, a proscribendis virorum doctissimonim operibus
aliquando temperavit.
" Quum autem summus Pontifex, ea inter nomina
illustria Tillemontii, Bollandistarum, Bosoueti Ep. Meld.,
et illud recensuerit L. A. Muratorii, his ad Auctorem
nostrum delatis, quam maxime indoluit, veritus ne in
tanta operum copia ab se editorum, aliquid Fidei aut
Religioni minus consonum sibi excid sset. . .
" Verum clementissimus Pontifex ne animum despon-
deret doctus et humilis films, pernumaniter ad ipsum
rcscripsit. . . eumque paterae- consolatus, inter alia
Note on Page 478. 521
habet : ' Quanto si era detto nella nostra Lettera all1
Inquisitore di Spagna in ordine alle di Lei Opere, non
aveva che fare con la materia delle Feste, ne con verun
dogma o disciplina. II contenuto delle Opere chi qui
non e piaciuto (n& che Ella poteva mai lusingarsi che
fosse per piacere), riguarda la Giurisdizione Temporale
del Romano Pontifice ne suoi stati, ' " etc. (pp. lx., Ixi).
INDEX
ABELABD, 96, age of, 263
Accomplishments not education, 144
Addison, his Vision of JWirsa, 279; his care in writing, 384 ; the child ol
the Revolution, 312, 329
-dSschylus, 258
Alcuin, 17
Aldhelm, St, 17
Alexander the Great, his delight in Homer, 258 ; conquests of, 264
Anaxagoras, 116
Andes, the, 136
Animuccia and St. Philip Neri, 237
Apollo Belvidere, the, 283
Aquinas, St Thomas, 134, 263, 384
Arcesilas, 101
Architecture, 81
Arian argument against our Lord's Divinity, 95
Ariosto, 316
Aristotelic philosophy, the, 52
Aristotle, xii., 6, 53 ; quoted, 78, 101, 106, 109, 134, 222, 275 ; his sketch
of the magnanimous man, 280, 383, 431, 469
Athens, the fountain of secular knowledge, 264
Augustine, St., of Canterbury, mission of, 16
Augustine, St, of Hippo, quoted, 410
BACCI'S Life of St. Philip Neri, quoted, 236
Bacon, Friar, xiiL, 220
Baconian philosophy, the, 109
Bacon, Lord, quoted, 77, 90, 117-119, 175, 221, 225, 263, 319, 437
Balaam, 66
Beethoven, 286, 313
Bentham's Prtuva Juduiaircs, 96
Berkeley, Bishop, on Gothic Architecture, 8l
Boccaccio, 316
Boniface, St., 220
Borromeo, St Carlo, enjoins the use of some of the Latin classics, 261 ; on
preaching, 406, 412, 414, 421
Bossuet and Bishop Bull, 7
Brougham, Lord, his Discourse at Glasgow, quoted, 30, 34-3$
Brutus, abandoned by philosophy, 116
Burke, Edmund, 176 ; his valediction to the spirit of chivalry, 201
524 Index.
Burmaii, 140
Butler, Bishop, his Analogy, 61, 100, 158, 226
Byron, Lord, his versification, 326
CAIETAN, St, 235
Campbell, Thomas, 322, 326
Caraeades, 106
Cato the elder, his opposition to the Greek philosophy, 106
Catullus, 325
Chinese civilization, 252
Christianity and Letters, 249
Chrysostom, St. , on Judas, 86
Cicero, quoted, 77 ; on the pursuit of knowledge, 104, 116, 260; style o4
281, 282, 327 ; quoted, 399 ; his orations against Verres, 421
Civilization and Christianity, 255
Clarendon, Lord, 311
Colours, combination of, IOO
" Condescension," two senses of, 205
Copleston, Dr., Bishop of Llandaff, 157 ; quoted, 167-169
Corinthian brass, 175
Cowper, quoted, 191, 467
Crabbe, his Tales oj the Hall, 150 ; his versification, 326
Oaik, Dr. G. L., his Pursuit of Knowledge under Difficulties, quoted, 103,
104
DANTE, 316, 329
Davison, John, 158 ; on Liberal Education, 169-177
Definiteness, the life of preaching, 426
Demosthenes, 259, 284
Descartes, 315
DumesniTs Synonymes, 368
Du Pin's Ecclesiastical History, 140
EDGEWORTH, Mr., on Professional Education, 158, 170, 176
Edinburgh, 154
Edinburgh Review, the, 153, 157, 160, 301, 329
Edward II., King of England, vow at his flight from Bannockbum, 155
Elmsley, xiv.
Epicurus, 40
Euclid's Elements, 274, 313, 501
Euripides, 258
FENELON, on the Gothic style of Architecture, 82
Fontaine, La, his immoral Contcs, 315
Fouque, Lamotte, his tale of the Unknown Patient, 1 19
Fra Angelico, 287
Franklin, 304
Frederick II., 383, 384
GALEN, 222
Gentleman, the true, defined, 208
Gerdil, Cardinal, quoted, xiii., on the Emperor Julian, 194 ; on Male-
branche, 477
Index. 525
Giannone, 316
Gibbon, on the darkness at the Passion, 95 ; his hatred of Christianity,
*95> J96 ; his care in writing, 285 ; influence of his style on the litera
ture of the present day, 323 ; his tribute to Hume and Robertson, 325
Goethe, 134
Gothic Architecture, 82
Grammar, 96, 334
Gregory the Great, St., 260
HARDOUIN, Father, on Latin literature, 310
Health, 164
Herodotus, 284, 325, 329
Hobbes, 311
Homer, his address to the Delian women, 257 ; his best descriptions, accord
ing to Sterne, marred by translation, 271
Hooker, 311
Horace, quoted, 257, 258, 329
Home Tooke, 96
Hume, 40, 58 ; style of 325
Humility, 206
Huss, 155
JACOB'S courtship, 232
Jeffrey, Lord, 157.
Jerome, St., on idolizing the creature, 87
Jerusalem, the fountain-head of religious knowledge, 264
Ignatius, St. 235
Job, religious merry-makings of, 232 ; Book of, 289
John, King, 383
John of Salisbury, 262
Johnson, Dr., his method of writing the Ramblers, xx. ; his vigour and
resource of intellect, xxi. ; his definition of the word University 20 ; his
Rasselas quoted, 116-117; style of, 283 ; his Table-talk, 313; his bias
towards Catholicity, 319 j his definition of Grammar, 334
Joseph, history of, 271
Isaac, feast at his weaning, 233
Isocrates, 282
Julian the Apostate, 194
Justinian, 265
Juvenal, 325
KEBLE, John, 158 ; his Latin Lectures, 369
Knowledge, its own end, 99 ; viewed in relation to learning, 124 ; to pro
fessional skill, 151 ; to religion, 179
LALANNE, Abbe, 9
Leo, St., on the love of gain, 87
Literature, 268
Locke, on Education, 158-160, 163, 319.
Logos, 276
Lohner, Father, his story of a court-preacher, 411
Longinus, his admiration of the Mosaic account of Creation, 271
Lutheran leaven, spread of the, 28
.$26 Index.
MACAULAY, Lord, his Essay on Bacon's philosophy, 118, 221; his Essays
quoted, 301, 435-438, 45°
Machiavel, 316
Malebranche, 477
Maltby, Dr., bishop of Durham, his Address to the Deity, 33, 40
Michael Angelo, first attempts of, 283
Milman, Dean, his History of the Jews, 85
Milton, on Education, 169 ; .his Samson Agonistes quoted, 323 ; his allu
•ions to himself, 329
Modesty, 200
Montaigne's Essays, 315
More, Sir Thomas, 437
Mosheim's Ecclesiastical History, 140
Muratori, 478, 520
Music, 80
NERI, St. Philip, 234
Newton, Sir Isaac, xiii. , 49, 53 ; on the Apocalypse, 304 ; his marvellous
powers, 324
Xewtonian philosophy, the, 49
Noah's ark, 73
OLYMPIC games, the, 107
Optics, 46
PAINTING, 79
Palestrina, 237
Paley, 58, 449
Palladio, 57
Pascal, 315
Patrick, St., greatness of his work, 15
Periodical criticism, 333
Persian mode of letter- writing, 277
Pindar, 329
Pitt, WUliam, his opinion of Butler's Analogy, 100
Pius IV., Pope, death of, 237
Plato, on poets, 101 ; on music, no
Playfair, Professor, 157
Political Economy, 86
Pompey's Pillar, 136
Pope, Alex., quoted, 118; an indifferent Catholic, 318; has tuoed oui
versification, 323 ; quoted, 375, 501
Porson, Richard, xiv., 304
Pride and self-respect, 207
Private Judgment, 97
Protestant argument against Transubstantiation, 95
Psalter, the, 289
Pulci, 316
Pythagoras, xiii
RABELAIS, 315
KaflTaelle, first attempts of, 283 ; 287
Rassffos quoted, 1 1 6
//Hl't'.l.
527
Recreations not Education, 144
Robertson, style of, 325
Rome, 265
Round Towers of Ireland, the, 95
SALES, St Francis de, on preaching, 406, 410, 411
Salmasius, 140
Savonarola, 235
Scott, Sir Walter, 313; his Old Mortality, 359
Seneca, no, 116, 327
Sermons of the seventeenth century, 140
Shaftesbury, Lord, his Characteristics, 196-201, 204
Shakespeare, quoted, 150 ; his Macbeth quoted, 280 ; Hamlet quoted, 281 ;
quoted, 284, 287; morality of, 318; quoted, 410, 513
Simon of Tournay, narrative of, 384
Smith, Sydney, 157
Sophocles, 258
Southey's Thalaba, 323 ; quoted, 324
Sterne's Sermons, quoted, 270-272
Stuffing birds not education, 144
Sylvester II., Pope, accused of magic, 220
TARPEIA, 140
Taylor, Jeremy, his Liberty of Prophesying, 472
Terence and Menander, 259
Tertullian, 327
Thales, xiii.
Theology, a branch of knowledge, 19 ; definition of, 60
Thucydides, 259, 325, 329
Titus, armies of, 265
VIRGIL, his obligations to Greek poets, 259 ; wishes his /Eneid Durni. 284 ,
fixes the character of the hexameter, 325, 329
Voltaire, 303, 315
UTILITY in Education, 161
WATSON, Bishop, on Mathematics, 101
Wiclif, 155
Wren, Sir Christopher, 57
•XAVIER, St. Francis, 235
Xenophon quoted, 107, 258
FINIS.
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