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DISCOURSES 


THE  SCOPE  AND  NATURE 


UNIVERSITY    EDUCATION. 


ADDRESSED  TO 


THE  CATHOLICS  OF  DUBLIN. 


BY 

JOHN    HENRY    NEWMAN,    D.D., 

PRESIDENT    OF    THE    CATHOLIC    UNIVERSITY    OF    IRELAND, 

AND   PRIEST  OF   THE    ORATORY   OF   ST.    PHILIP   NERI. 


attingit  sapientia  a  fine  usque  ad  finem  fortiter,  et  disponit  omnia 
suaviter". 


DUBLIN : 
JAMES  DUFFY,  7  WELLINGTON  QUAY, 

PUBLISIIKR     TO     HIS     GRACE     THE      CATHOLIC     ARCHBISHOP      OF     DUBLIN. 

1852. 


J.  F.  FOWLER,   PRINTER, 

3   CROW   STREET,    DAME   STREET, 

DUBLIN. 


Hospes  ei'am^  et  collegistis  Me. 


IN  GRATEFUL  NEVER-DYING  REMEMBRANCE 

OF     HIS      MANY     FRIENDS     AND      BENEFACTORS, 

LIVING    AND    DEAD, 

AT     HOME     AND     ABROAD, 

IN   IRELAND,    GREAT    BRITAIN,    FRANCE, 

IN  BELGIUM,  GERMANY,  POLAND,  ITALY,  AND  MALTA, 

IN  NORTH  AMERICA,  AND  OTHER  COUNTRIES, 

WHO,     BY     THEIR     RESOLUTE     PRAYERS     AND     PENANCES, 

AND    BY    THEIR    GENEROUS    STUBBORN    EFFORTS, 

AND    BY    THEIR    MUNIFICENT    ALMS, 

HAVE     BROKEN     FOR     HIM     THE     STRESS 

OF    A    GREAT    ANXIETY, 

THESE    DISCOURSES, 

OFFERED    TO   OUR   LADY    AND    ST.     PHILIP    ON   ITS    RISE, 

COMPOSED    UNDER    ITS    PRESSURE, 

FINISHED    ON    THE    EVE    OF    ITS    TERMINATION, 

ARE    RESPECTFULLY    AND    AFFECTIONATELY   INSCRIBED 


BY  THE   AUTHOR. 


Uf    FEST.    PK^SKNT. 
B.V.M.   1852. 


PREFACE 


The  view  taken  of  a  University  in  the  Dis- 
courses which  form  this  Volume,  is  of  the 
following  kind :— 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  dif- 
fusion 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  philosophy  and  science. 

Such  is  a  University  in  its  essence,  and 
independently  of  its  relation  to  the  Church. 
But,  practically  speaking,  it  cannot  fulfil  its 


VI  PREFACE. 

object  duly,  such  as  I  have  described  it, 
without  the  Church's  assistance;  or,  to  use 
the  theological  term,  the  Church  is  necessary 
for  its  integrity.  Not  that  its  main  charac- 
ters are  changed  by  this  incorporation:  it 
still  has  the  office  of  intellectual  education ; 
but  the  Chm^ch  steadies  it  in  the  performance 
of  that  office. 

Such  are  the  main  principles  of  the  Dis- 
courses which  follow ;  though  it  would  be 
unreasonable  for  me  to  expect,  that  I  have 
treated  so  large  and  important  a  field  of 
thought  with  the  fulness  and  precision,  neces- 
sary to  secure  me  from  incidental  misconcep- 
tions of  my  meaning  on  the  part  of  the 
reader.  It  is  true,  there  is  nothing  novel  or 
singular  in  the  argument  which  I  have  been 
pursuing,  but  this  does  not  protect  me  from 
such  misconceptions ;  for  the  very  circum- 
stance that  the  views  I  have  been  delineating 
are  not  original  with  me,  may  lead  to  false 
notions  as  to  my  relations  of  opinion  towards 
those,  from  whom  I  happened  in  the  first 
instance  to  learn  them,  and  may  cause  me  to 


PREFACE.  Vii 

be  interpreted  by  the  objects  or  sentiments  of 
schools,  to  which  I  should  be  simply  opposed. 
For  instance,  some  persons  may  be  tempted 
to  complain,  that  I  have  servilely  followed  the 
English   idea   of    a   University,   to   the   dis- 
paragement of  that  Knowledge,  which  I  pro- 
fess 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,  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  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  Church 
the  establishment  of  a  Catholic  University? 
Has  the  Supreme  Pontiff  recommended  it  for 
the  sake  of  the  Sciences,  which  are  to  be  the 

*Vid.  Huber's  English  Uiiiversities,  London,  1843,  vol.  ii.,  part  1. 
pp.  321,  etc. 


viii  PREFACE. 

matter,  or  rather  of  the  Students,  who  are  to  be 
the  subjects  of  its  teaching?  Has  he  any  obli- 
gation or  duty  at  all  towards  secular  knowledge 
as  such  ?  Would  it  become  his  Apostolical 
Ministry,  and  his  descent  from  the  Fisher- 
man, to  have  a  zeal  for  the  Baconian  or  other 
philosophy  of  man  for  its  own  sake?  or,  on 
the  other  hand,  does  the  Vicar  of  Christ  con- 
template such  achievements  of  the  intellect, 
as  far  as  he  contemplates  them,  solely  and 
simply  in  their  relation  to  the  interests  of  Re- 
vealed Truth?  Has  he  any  more  direct  juris- 
diction over  the  wisdom  than  over  the  civil 
power  of  this  world?  Is  he  bound  by  office  or 
by  vow,  to  be  the  preacher  of  the  theory  of 
gravitation,  or  a  martyr  for  electro-magnet- 
ism? Would  he  be  acquitting  himself  of  the 
dispensation  committed  to  him,  if  he  were 
smitten  with  an  abstract  love  of  these  matters, 
however  true,  or  beautiful,  or  ingenious,  or  use- 
ful? What  he  does,  he  does  for  the  sake  of  Re- 
ligion ;  if  he  looks  with  satisfaction  on  strong 
temporal  governments,  which  promise  perpe- 
tuity,  it  is  for  the  sake  of  Religion ;    and  if 


PREFACE.  IX 

he  encoui'ages  and  patronizes  art  and  science, 
it  is  for  the  sake  of  Rehgion.  He  rejoices  in  the 
widest  and  most  philosophical  systems  of 
intellectual  education,  from  an  intimate  con- 
viction 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  suggests  to  the  Irish  Hierarchy  the 
establishment  of  a  University,  his  first  and  chief 
and  direct  object  is,  not  science,  art,  profes- 
sional skill,  literature,  the  discovery  of  know- 
ledge, but  some  benefit  or  other,  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  grow^th  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- 


PREFACE. 


formed  and  vigorous  soldiers,  not  from  any 
abstract  devotion  to  the  military  standard  of 
height  or  age,  but  for  the  purposes  of  war, 
and  no  one  thinks  it  anything  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  to  their  spiritual  wel- 
fare, and  their  religious  influence  and  useful- 
ness, with  the  object  of  training  them  to  fill 
their  respective  posts  in  life  better,  and  mak- 
ing them  more  intelligent,  capable,  active 
members  of  society. 

Nor  can  it  justly  be  said  that  in  thus  acting 
she  sacrifices  Science,  and  perverts  a  Univer- 
sity from  its  proper  end,  under  a  pretence  of 
fulfilling  the  duties  of  her  mission,  as  soon  as  it 
is  taken  into  account,  that  there  are  other  insti- 
tutions, far  more  suited  to  act  as  instruments  of 
stimulating  philosophical  inquiry  and  extend- 
ing the  boundaries  of  om*  knowledge  than  a 


PREFACE.  XI 

University.  Such  for  instance,  are  the  Uterary 
and  scientific  "Academies",  which  are  so  cele- 
brated in  Italy  and  France,  and  which  have 
fi*equently  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  Socie- 
ties 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  devo- 
tion 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.  Such  is  the  sort  of  in- 
stitution, which  primarily  contemplates  Science 
itself,  and  not  students ;  and,  in  thus  speak- 
ing, I  am  saying  nothing  of  my  own,  being 
supported  by  no  less  an  authority  than  Car- 


XU  PREFACE. 

dinal  Gerdil.  "  Ce  n'  est  pas",  he  says,  "  qu' 
il  y  ait  aucune  veritable  opposition  entre  Y 
esprit  des  Academies  et  celui  des  Universites  ; 
ce  sont  seulement  des  vues  differentes.  Les 
Universites  sont  etablies  pour  enseigner  les 
sciences  aux  eleves  qui  veulent  s  y  former ; 
les  Academies  se  proposent  de  nouvelles  re- 
cherches  a  faire  dans  la  carriere  des  sciences. 
Les  Universites  d'  Italic  ont  fourni  des  su- 
jets  qui  ont  fait  honneur  aux  Academies;  et 
celles-ci  ont  donne  aux  Universites  des  Pro- 
fesseurs,  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"  intellectual  "labour"  between 
Academies  aud  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  dispensing  his  existing 
knowledge  to  all  comers,  is  unlikely  to  have 
either  leisure  or  energy  to  acquire  new.     The 

*  Opere,  t.  3,  p.  353. 


PREFACE.  xiii 

common  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  interruption ; 
they  have  been  men  of  absent  minds  and 
idosyncratic  habits,  and  have,  more  or  less, 
shunned  the  lecture  room  and  the  public 
school.  Pythagoras,  the  hght  of  Magna 
Graecia,  Uved  for  a  time  in  a  cave :  Thales, 
the  hght  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  Ba- 
con hved  in  his  tower  upon  the  Isis  ;  Newton 
in  an  intense  severity  of  meditation  which  al- 
most shook  his  reason.  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  have  no 
moral  connexion  with  them.  Porson  had 
no  classes ;  Elmsley  hved  good  part  of  his 
hfe  in  the  country.     I  do  not  say  that  there 


XIV  PREFACE. 

are  not  great  examples  the  other  way,  per- 
haps Socrates,  certainly  Lord  Bacon ;  still  I 
think  it  must  be  allowed  on  the  whole,  that, 
while  teaching  involves  external  engagements, 
the  natural  home  for  experiment  and  specula- 
tion is  retirement. 

Returning  then  to  the  consideration  of  the 
question,  from  which  we  may  seem  to  have 
digressed,  thus  much  we  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  protect  the  interests  and  advance 
the  dominion  of  Science.  If  then  this  may 
be  taken  for  granted,  as  I  think  it  may, 
the  only  point  which  remains  to  be  settled  is, 
whether  I  have  formed  a  probable  conception 
of  the  sort  of  benefit  which  the  Holy  See  has 
intended  to  confer  on  Catholics  who  speak 
the  English  tongue,  by  recommending  to  the 
Irish  Hierarchy  the  establishment  of  a  Uni- 
versity ;    and  this  I  now  proceed  to  consider. 

Here  then,  it  is  natural  to  ask  those  who 


PREFACE.  XV 

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  pro- 
nounce, that,  whereas  Protestants  have  great 
advantages  of  education  in  the  Schools,  Col- 
leges, and  Universities  of  the  United  Kingdom, 
our  ecclesiastical  rulers  have  it  in  purpose, 
that  Cathohcs  should  enjoy  the  like  advan- 
tages, whatever  they  are,  to  the  full.  I  con- 
ceive they  view  it  as  prejudicial  to  the 
interests  of  Religion,  that  there  should  be  any 
cultivation  of  mind  bestowed  upon  Protes- 
tants, 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  thing  as  regards  that  higher  educa- 
tion 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-important    and    especially   favom^able    to 


xvi  PREFACE. 

mental  culture.  I  conceive  that  our  Prelates  are 
impressed  with  the  fact  and  its  consequences, 
that  a  youth  who  ends  his  education  at 
seventeen,  is  no  match  (cceteris  paribus)  for 
one  who  ends  it  at  twenty-one. 

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.  Here  then  is  an  addi- 
tional reason, — assuming,  that  is  (as  the  Re- 
scripts from  Propaganda  allow  me  to  do), 
that  Protestant  education  is  inexpedient  for 
our  youth, — why  those  advantages,  whatever 
they  are,  which  the  Protestant  sects  dispense 
through  the  medium  of  Protestantism,  should 
be  accessible  to  Catholics  in  a  Catholic  form. 

What  are  these  advantages?  I  repeat, 
they  are  in  one  word  the  culture  of  the  in- 
tellect. Insulted,  robbed,  oppressed,  and 
thrust  aside.  Catholics  in  these  islands  have 
not  been   in    a    condition    for    centuries   to 


PREFACE.  xvii 

attempt  the  sort  of  education,  which  is 
necessary  for  the  man  of  the  world,  the 
statesman,  the  great  proprietor,  or  the  opu- 
lent gentleman.  Their  legitimate  stations, 
duties,  employments,  have  been  taken  from 
them,  and  the  qualifications  withal,  social  and 
intellectual,  both  for  reversing  the  forfeiture, 
and  for  doing  justice  to  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  comprehensive- 
ness and  the  flexibility  of  intellect,  the  com- 
mand 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  to  admit  it,   since 


Xviii  PREFACE. 

the  time  the  Poet  wrote,  that  "Ingenuas  didi- 
cisse  fidehter  artes,  EmoUit  mores".  Certainly 
a  Hberal  education  does  manifest  itself  in  a 
com*tesy,  propriety,  and  polish  of  word  and 
action,  which  is  beautiful  in  itself,  and  ac- 
ceptable 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  nerve, 
and  over-confident  in  their  health,  ignorant 
what  they  can  bear  and  how  to  manage 
themselves,  they  are  immoderate  and  extra- 
vagant ;  and  fall  into  sharp  sicknesses.  This 
is  an  emblem  of  their  minds  ;  at  &st  they 
have  no  principles  laid  down  within  them  as 
a  foundation  for  the  intellect  to  build  upon  ; 
they  have  no  discriminating  convictions,  and  no 
grasp  of  consequences.  In  consequence  they 
talk  at  random,  if  they  talk  much,  and  cannot 
help  being  flippant,  or  what  is  emphatically 
called  ''young'\  They  are  merely  dazzled 
by  phenomena,  instead  of  perceiving  things. 


PREFACE.  XIX 

« 

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  offhancl, 
idle  way,  which  we  signify  by  the  word  un- 
real ?     "  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  suc- 
cessive sentences,  without  being  conscious  of 
it.    Hence  others,  whose  defect  in  intellectual 
training  is  more  latent,  have  their  most  un- 
fortunate crotchets,    as  they  are   called,    or 
hobbies,  which  deprive  them  of  the  influence 
which  their  estimable  qualities  would  other- 
wise secure.     Hence  others   can  never  look 
straight  before  them,  never  see  the  point,  and 
have  no  difficulties  in  the  most  difficult  sub- 
jects.     Others  are  hopelessly  obstinate  and 
prejudiced,  and  return  the  next  moment   to 
their  old  opinions,  after  they  have  been  di4ven 
from  them,  without  even  an  attempt  to  ex- 
plain why.      Others   are  so  intemperate  and 


XX  PREFACE. 

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 
delineation  of  intellectual  infirmities,  I  am 
drawing  from  Protestantism  and  Protestants; 
I  am  referring  to  what  meets  us  in  every 
railway  carriage,  in  every  coffee -room  or 
table-d'hote,  in  every  mixed  company.  Nay,  it 
is  wonderful,  that,  with  all  their  advantages,  so 
many  Protestants  leave  the  University,  with 
so  httle  of  real  liberality  and  refinement  of 
mind,  in  consequence  of  the  disciphne  to  which 
they  have  been  subjected.  Much  allowance 
must  be  made  here  for  original  nature;  much, 
for  the  detestable  narrowness  and  (I  cannot 
find  a  better  word)  the  priggishness  of  their 
religion.  Cathohcs,  on  the  other  hand,  are, 
compared  with  them,  almost  born  gentlemen. 
Take  the  same  ranks  in  the  two  Religions, 
and  the  fact  is  undeniable.  The  simplicity, 
courtesy,  and  intelligence,  for  instance,  of  the 
peasants  in  Ireland  and  France  have  often 
been  remarked  upon.     Still,  after  all,  in  this 


PREFACE.  XXi 

province,  which  is  not  of  a  distinctly  reUgious 
nature,  CathoHcism  does  httle  more  than 
create  instincts  and  impulses,  which  it  requires 
a  steady  training  to  mould  into  definite  and 
permanent  habits.  They  may  begin  well, 
and  end  ill.  The  want  of  that  training,  in 
Catholics,  so  far  as  there  is  a  want,  is  a 
positive  loss  to  them ;  and  the  existence  of  it 
among  Protestants,  as  far  as  it  exists,  is  to 
them  a  positive  gain. 

When  the  intellect  has  once  been  properly 
trained  and  formed  to  have  a  connected  view 
or  grasp  of  things,  it  will  display  itself  with 
more  or  less  effect  according  to  its  particular 
quality  and  measure  in  the  individual.  In 
the  generality  it  is  visible  in  good  sense, 
sobriety  of  thought,  reasonableness,  candour, 
self-command,  and  steadiness  of  view.  In 
some  it  will  have  developed  habits  of  busi- 
ness, power  of  influencing  others,  and  saga- 
city. In  others  it  will  ehcit  the  talent  of 
philosophical  speculation,  and  lead  the  mind 
forward  to  eminence  in  this  or  that  intellec- 
tual department.     In  all  it  will  be  a  faculty 


Xxii  PKEFACE. 

of  entering  with  comparative  ease  into  any 
subject  of  thought,  and  of  taking  up  with  ap- 
titude any  science  or  profession.  All  this  it 
will  be  and  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  none  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  undoubt- 
ing  infidel,  the  fanatic,  the  bigot,  are  able  to 
do  much,  while  the  mere  hereditary  Christian, 
who  has  never  realized  the  truths  which  he 
holds,  is  able  to  do  nothing.  But,  if  consis- 
tency 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  philo- 
sophism,  which  shows  itself  in  what,  for  want  of 
a  word,  I  may  call  "  viewiness",  when  I  speak 
so  much  of  the  formation,    and   consequent 


PREFACE.  XXlll 


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. 

This  indeed  would  be  a  most  serious  objec- 
tion, if  well  founded,  to  what  I  have  advanced 
in  this  Volume,  and  would  deserve  and  would 
gain  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  educating,  were  this  the 
place  to  do  so.  But  these  Discourses  are 
directed  simply  to  the  consideration  of  the 
aims  and  py^inciples  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  commonly  and  excellently  done 
by  beginning   with   Granmiar ;  nor    can    too 


Xxiv  PREFACE. 

great  accuracy,    or  minuteness  and  subtlety 
of    teaching    be    used    towards    him,    as  his 
faculties    expand,     with    this     simple     view. 
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  Com- 
position, when  he  reads  poetry ;  in  order  to    ' 
stimulate   his   powers   into    action   in    every 
practicable  way,    and   to   prevent   a   passive 
reception  of  images  and  ideas  which  may  else 
pass  out  of  the  mind  as  soon  as  they  have 
entered  it.  Let  him  once  gain  this  habit  of  me- 
thod, of  starting  from  fixed  points,  of  making 
his  ground  good  as  he  goes,  of  distinguishing 
what  he  knows  from  what  he  does  not,  and  I 
conceive  he  will  be  gradually  initiated  into 


PREFACE.  XXV 

the  largest  and  truest  philosophical  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  con- 
ceives 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  perio- 
dical literature,  now  so  much  in  request. 
Every  quarter  of  a  year,  every  month,  every 
day,  there  must  be  a  supply,  for  the  gratifica- 
tion 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  colo- 
nies.   Slavery,  the  gold  fields,  German  philoso- 


XXVI  PREFACE. 

phy,  the  French  Empire,  WeUington,  Peel, 
Ireland,  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  or  songs  at  the  evening  banquet, 
as  the  platform  orator  exhibits  his  telling 
facts  at  mid-day,  so  the  journalist  lies  under 
the  stern  obligation  of  extemporising  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,  in- 
volves this  extempore  philosophy.  "  Almost 
all  the  Ramblers  ",  says  Boswell  of  Johnson, 
"  werC  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  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  extra- 
vagance in  writing.     Few  men  are  Johnsons  ; 


PREFACE.  XXVU 

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  spark- 
ling plausibility  of  argument,  which  he  would 
have  despised,  even  if  he  could  have  dis- 
played ;  a  demand  for  crude  theory  and  un- 
sound philosophy,  rather  than  none  at  all. 
It  is  a  sort  of  repetition  of  the  "  Quid  novi?" 
of  the  Areopagus,  and  it  must  have  an  an- 
swer. Men  must  be  found,  who  can  treat, 
where  it  is  necessary,  like  the  Athenian 
Sophist,  de  omni  scibili, 

"  Grammaticus,  Rlietor,  Geometres,  Pictor,  Aliptes, 
Augur,  Sclioenobates,  Medicus,  Magus,  omnia  novit". 

I  am  speaking  of  such  writers  with  a  feel- 
ing of  real  sympathy  for  men  who  are  under 
the  rod  of  a  cruel  slavery.  I  have  never  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 


XXVlll  PREFACE. 

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  ex- 
haustion, what  must  be  the  toil  of  those 
whose  intellects  are  to  be  flaunted  daily  be- 
fore the  public  in  full  dress,  and  that  dress 
ever  new  and  varied,  and  spun,  like  the  silk- 
worm's, out  of  themselves !  Still,  whatever 
true  sympathy  we  may  feel  for  the  ministers 
of  this  dearly  purchased  luxury,  and  whatever 
sense  we  may  have  of  the  great  intellectual 
power  which  the  literature  in  question  dis- 
plays, we  cannot  honestly  close  our  eyes  to 
the  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  alluding.  This  is 
not  satisfactory,  if,  as  no  one  can  deny,  its  teach- 


PREFACE.  XXIX 

ing  be  so  offhand,  so  ambitious,  so  change- 
able. It  increases  the  seriousness  of  the  mis- 
chief that  so  very  large  a  portion  of  its  writers 
are  anonymous,  for  irresponsible  power  never 
can  be  anything  but  a  great  evil ;  and,  more- 
over, that  even  when  they  are  known,  they 
can  give  no  better  guarantee  of  the  philoso- 
phical 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  like :  it  is  their  own  concern  ; 
we  are  not  called  upon  to  thrust  upon  them 
remonstrances  which  they  would  stigmatize 
as  narrow-minded.  But  at  least  it  concerns 
us,  that  our  own  literary  tribimals  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  sanction  of  ages,  and  administered  by  men 


XXX  PREFACE. 


who  have  no  need  to  be  anonymous,  as  being 
supported  by  their  consistency  with  their  pre- 
decessors and  with  each  other. 


CONTENTS. 


Discourse  I. — Introduction,  -  -  -        p.  3 

Discourse  II. — Theology  a  Branch  of  Knowledge,  -  35 

Discourse  III. — Bearing  of  Theology  on  other  Branches  of 

Knowledge,  -  -  -  -  67 

Discourse  IV. — Bearing  of  other  Branches  of  Knowledge 

on  Theology,  -  -  -  -         103 

Discourse  V. — General  Knowledge  viewed  as  One  Philo- 
sophy,     -----         135 

Discourse  VI. — Philosophical  Knowledge  its  own  end,      -         167 

Discourse  VII. — Philosophical  Knowledge  viewed  in  rela- 
tion to  Mental  Acquirements,      -  -  -         201 

Discourse  VIII. — Philosophical  Knowledge  viewed  in  rela- 
tion to  Professional,  -  -  -         241 

Discourse  IX. — Philosophical  Knowledge  viewed  in  rela- 
tion to  Religion,         -  -  -  _         289 

Discourse  X. — Duties  of  the  Church  towards  Philosophy,  -         333 

Appendix,    -  -  -  -  -         371 


CORRIGENDA 


Discourse  8,  p.   259,  /or  from  among   themselves,    read  for   themselves. 
„         9,  p.  322,  for  bouquet,  read  banquet. 


DISCOURSES 


UNIVERSITY    EDUCATION. 


DISCOURSE    I. 

INTRODUCTION. 

In  addressing  myself  to  the  consideration  of  a  ques- 
tion 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 
in  both  countries,  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  Edu- 
cation, and  of  the  principles  on  which  it  must  be 
conducted,  has  ever  had  a  hold  upon  my  mind;  and 
because  I  have  lived  the  greater  part  of  my  life  in  a 
place  which  has  all  that  time  been  occupied  in  a 


4  INTRODUCTION. 

series  of  controversies  among  its  own  people  and  with 
strangers,  and  of  measures,  experimental  or  definitive, 
bearing  upon  it.     About  fifty  years  since,  the  Pro- 
testant 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  keep- 
ing, to  a  sense  of  the  responsibilities  which  its  pro- 
fession and  its  station  involved ;    and  it  presents  to 
us  the  singular  example  of  an  heterogeneous  and  an 
independent  body  of  men,  setting  about  a  work  of 
self-reformation,   not   from  any   pressure  of  public 
opinion,  but  because  it  was   fitting   and   right  to 
undertake  it.     Its  initial  efforts,  begun  and  carried 
on  amid  many  obstacles,  were  met  from  without,  as 
often  happens  in  such  cases,  by  ungenerous  and  jea- 
lous criticisms,  which  were  at  that   very  moment 
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  bene- 
ficial change  made  progress,  and  what  was  at  first 
but  the  result  of  individual  energy  and  an  act  of  the 
academical   corporation,  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, 
and  a  political  contest  was  waged  j    but  still,  as  that 


INTRODUCTION.  5 

contest  was  conducted  in  great  measure  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  represen- 
tative. 

Living  then  so  long  as  a  witness,  though  hardly 
as  an  actor,  in  these  scenes  of  intellectual  conflict,  I 
am  able,  Gentlemen,  to  bear  witness  to  views  of  Uni- 
versity Education,  without  authority  indeed  in  them- 
selves, but  not  without  value  to  a  Catholic,  and  less 
familiar  to  him,  as  I  conceive,  than  they  deserve  to 
be.  And,  while  an  argument  originating  in  them 
may  be  serviceable  at  this  season  to  that  great  cause 
in  which  we  are  just  now  so  especially  interested,  to 
me  personally  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  disscussions,  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  be  for  Catholic  objects,  and  admitting 
of  a  Catholic  treatment,  are  sheltered  from  the  ex- 
treme delicacy  and  peril  which  attach  to  disputations 
directly  bearing  on  the  subject  matter  of  Divine  Ee- 
velation. 

What  must  be  the  general  character  of  those  views 
of  University  Education  to  which  I  have  alluded,  and 


6  INTRODUCTION. 

of  which  I  shall  avail  myself,  can  hardly  be  doubtful, 
Gentlemen,    considering   the   circumstances    under 
which  I  am  addressing  you.     I  should  not  propose  to 
avail  myself  of  a  philosophy  which  I  myself  had 
gained  from  an  heretical  seat  of  learning,  unless  I 
felt  that  that  philosophy  was  Catholic  in  its  ultimate 
source,  and  befitting  the  mouth  of  one  who  is  taking 
part  in  a  great  Catholic  work  ;  nor,  indeed,  should 
I  refer  at  all  to  the  views  of  men  who,  however  dis- 
tinguished in  this  world,  were  not  and  are  not  blessed 
with  the  light  of  true  doctrine,  except  for  one  or  two 
special  reasons,  which  will  form,  I  trust,  my  sufficient 
justification  in  so  doing.     One  reason  is  this  :  It 
would  concern  me,  G-entlemen,  were  I  supposed  to 
have  got  up  my  opinions  for  the  occasion.     This,  in- 
deed, 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  course,  the  force  of  my  testimony, 
and  deprived  such  arguments,  as  I  might  adduce,  of 
that  moral  persuasiveness  which  attends  on  tried  and 
sustained  conviction.     It  would  have  made  me  seem 
the  advocate,  rather  than  the  cordial  and  deliberate 
maintainor  and  witness  of  the  doctrines  which  I  was 
to  support ;  and  while  it  undoubtedly  exemplified 
the  faith  I  reposed  in  the  practical  judgment  of  the 
Church,  and  the  intimate  concurrence  of  my  own 
reason  with  the  course  she  had  authoritatively  sanc- 
tioned, and  the  devotion  with  which  I  could  promptly 


INTRODUCTION.  7 

put  myself  at  her  disposal,  it  would  have  cast  suspi- 
cion on  the  validity  of  reasonings  and  conclusions 
which  rested  on  no  independent  inquiry,  and  ap- 
pealed to  no  past  experience.  In  that  case  it  might 
have  been  plausibly  objected  by  opponents  that  I  was 
the  serviceable  expedient  of  an  emergency,  and  never 
could  be  more  than  ingenious  and  adroit  in  the  ma- 
nagement 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  vacillation  of  opinion,  and 
though  this  by  itself  is  no  proof  of  truth,  it  puts  a 
seal  upon  conviction,  and  is  a  justification  of  earnest- 
ness and  zeal.  The  principles,  which  I  can  now  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  ex- 
perience than  of  faith.  They  did  but  take  greater 
hold  upon  me  as  I  was  introduced  to  the  records  of 
Christian  Antiquity,  and  approached  in  sentiment 
and  desire  to  Catholicism  ;  and  my  sense  of  their 
truth  has  been  increased  with  the  experience  of  every 
year  since  I  have  been  brought  within  its  pale. 

And  here  I  am  brought  to  a  second  and  more  im- 
portant reason  for  introducing  what  I  have  to  say 
on  the  subject  of  Liberal  Education  with  this  refer- 


8  INTRODUCTION. 

ence  to  my  personal  testimony  concerning  it  ;  and  it 
is  as  follows  :  In  proposing  to  treat  of  so  grave  a 
matter,  I  have  felt  vividly  that  some  apology  was  due 
from  me  for  introducing  the  lucubrations  of  Protest- 
ants into  what  many  men  might  consider  almost  a 
question  of  dogma,  and  I  have  said  to  myself  about 
myself :  "  You  think  it,  then,  worth  while  to  come 
nil  this  way,  in  order,  from  your  past  experience,  to 
recommend  principles  which  had  better  be  left  to  the 
decision  of  the  theological  schools !"  The  force  of  this 
objection  you  will  see  more  clearly  by  considering  the 
answer  I  proceed  to  give  to  it. 

Let  it  be  observed,  then,  that  the  principles  I 
would  maintain  on  the  subject  of  Liberal  Education, 
although  those  as  I  believe  of  the  Catholic  Church, 
are  such  as  may  be  gained  by  the  mere  experience  of 
life.     They  do  not  simply  come  of  theology — they 
imply  no  supernatural  discernment — they  have  no 
special  connection  with  Eevelation;    they   will   be 
found  to  be  almost  self-evident  when  stated,  and  to 
arise  out  of  the  nature  of  the  case ;  they  are  dictated 
by  that  human  prudence  and  wisdom  which  is  attain- 
able where  grace  is  quite  away,  and  recognized  by 
simple  common  sense,  even  where  self-interest  is  not 
present  to  sharpen  it ;    and,  therefore,  though  true, 
and  just,  and  good  in  themselves,  though  sanctioned 
and  used  by  Catholicism,  they  argue  nothing  what- 
ever for  the  sanctity  or  faith  of  those  who  maintain 
them.     They  may  be  held  by  Protestants  as  well  as 


INTRODUCTION.  \) 

by  Catholics;  they  may,  accidentally,  in  certain 
times  and  places,  be  taught  by  Protestants  to  Catho- 
lics, without  any  derogation  from  the  claim  which 
Catholics  make  to  special  spiritual  illumination. 
This  being  the  case,  I  may  without  offence,  on  the 
present  occasion,  when  speaking  to  Catholics,  appeal 
to  the  experience  of  Protestants;  I  may  trace  up  my 
own  distinct  convictions  on  the  subject  to  a  time 
when  apparently  I  was  not  even  approximating  to 
Catholicism;  I  may  deal  with  the  question,  as  I 
really  believe  it  to  be,  as  one  of  philosophy,  practical 
wisdom,  good  sense,  not  of  theology;  and,  such  as  I 
am,  I  may,  notwithstanding,  presume  to  treat  of  it  in 
the  presence  of  those  who,  in  every  religious  sense, 
are  my  fathers  and  my  teachers. 

Nay,  not  only  may  the  true  philosophy  of  Edu- 
cation be  held  by  Protestants,  and  at  a  given  time, 
or  in  a  given  place,  be  taught  by  them  to  Catholics, 
but  further  than  this,  there  is  nothing  strange  in  the 
idea,  that  here  or  there,  at  this  time  or  that,  it 
should  be  understood  better,  and  held  more  firmly  by 
Protestants  than  by  ourselves.  The  very  circum- 
stance that  it  is  founded  on  truths  in  the  natural 
order,  accounts  for  the  possibility  of  its  being  some- 
times or  some^where  understood  outside  the  Church, 
more  accurately  than  within  her  fold.  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 


10  INTRODUCTION- 

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  ventila- 
tion is  reserved  for  the  north.     It  is  in  this  way  that 
Catholics   stand   relatively   to    Protestants    in   the 
science  of  Education;    Protestants  are  obliged  to 
depend  on  human  means  solely,  and  they  are,  there- 
fore, led  to  make  the  most  of  them ;   it  is  their  sole 
resource  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 ;  fanes  ceciderunt  mihi  in  prceclaris.     We 
have  a  goodly  inheritance.     The  Almighty  Father 
takes  care  of  us;  He  has  promised  to  do  so;  His 
word  cannot  fail,  and  we  have  continual  experience 
of  its  fulfilment.     This  is  apt  to  make  us,  I  will  not 
say,  rely  too  much  on  prayer,  on  the  Divine  Word  and 
Blessing,  for  we  cannot  pray  too  much,  or  expect  too 
much  from  our  great  Lord ;  but  we  sometimes  forget 
that  we  shall  please  Him  best,  and  get  most  from  Him, 
when  we  use  what  we  have  in  nature  to  the  utmost, 
at  the  same  time  that  we  look  out  for  what  is  beyond 
nature  in  the  confidence  of  faith  and  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,  getting 
into  difficulties  and  getting  out  of  them,  succeeding 


INTRODUCTION.  11 

certainly  on  the  whole,  but  with  failure  in  detail 
which  might  be  avoided,  and  with  much  of  imper- 
fection or  inferiority  in  our  appointments  and  plans, 
and  much  disappointment,  discouragement,  and  colli- 
sion of  opinion  in  consequence.  We  leave  God  to 
fight  our  battles,  and  so  He  does ;  but  He  corrects 
us  while  He  prospers  us.  We  cultivate  the  inno- 
cence of  the  dove  more  than  the  wisdom  of  the  ser- 
pent ;  and  we  exemplify  our  Lord^s  word  and  incur 
His  rebuke,  when  He  declared  that  "  the  children  of 
this  world  were  in  their  generation  wiser  than  the 
children  of  light". 

It  is  far  from  impossible,  then,  at  first  sight,  that 
on  the  subject  before  us,  Protestants  may  have  dis- 
cerned the  true  line  of  action,  and  estimated  its  im- 
portance aright.  It  is  possible  that  they  have  in- 
vestigated and  ascertained  the  main  principles,  the 
necessary  conditions  of  education,  better  than  some 
among  ourselves.  It  is  possible  at  first  sight,  and  it 
is  probable  in  the  particular  case,  when  we  consider, 
on  the  one  hand,  the  various  and  opposite  positions, 
which  they  enjoy  relatively  to  each  other ;  yet,  on 
the  other,  the  uniformity  of  the  conclusions  to  which 
they  arrive.  The  Protestant  communions,  I  need 
hardly  say,  are  respectively  at  a  greater  and  a  less 
distance  from  the  Catholic  Church,  with  more  or  with 
less  of  Catholic  doctrine  and  of  Catholic  principle  in 
them.  Supposing,  then,  it  should  turn  out,  on  a 
survey  of  their  opinions  and  their  policy,  that  in  pro- 


12  INTRODUCTION. 

portion  as  they  approach,  in  the  genius  of  their  re- 
ligion, to  Catholicism,  so  do  they  become  clear  in 
their  enunciation  of  a  certain  principle  in  education, 
that  very  circumstance  would  be  an  argument,  as 
far  as  it  went,  for  concluding  that  in  Catholicism 
itself  the  recognition  of  that  principle  would,  in 
its  seats  of  education,  be  distinct  and  absolute. 
N^ow,  I  conceive  that  this  remark  applies  in  the 
controversy  to  which  I  am  addressing  myself.  I 
must  anticipate  the  course  of  future  remarks  so  far 
as  to  say  what  you  have  doubtless,  Gentlemen,  your- 
selves anticipated  before  I  say  it,  that  the  main  prin- 
ciple on  which  I  shall  have  to  proceed  is  this — that 
Education  must  not  be  disjoined  from  Religion,  or 
that  Mixed  Schools,  as  they  are  called,  in  which 
teachers  and  scholars  are  of  different-  religious 
creeds,  none  of  which,  of  course,  enter  into  the  mat- 
ter of  instruction,  are  constructed  on  a  false  idea. 
Here,  then,  I  conceive  I  am  right  in  saying  that 
every  sect  of  Protestants,  which  has  retained  the  idea 
of  religious  truth  and  the  necessity  of  faith,  which 
has  any  dogma  to  profess  and  any  dogma  to  lose, 
makes  that  dogma  the  basis  of  its  Education,  secular 
as  well  as  religious,  and  is  jealous  of  those  attempts 
to  establish  schools  of  a  purely  secular  character, 
which  the  inconvenience  of  religious  differences 
urges  upon  politicians  of  the  day.  This  circum- 
stance is  of  so  striking  a  nature  as  in  itself  to  justify 
me,  as  I  consider,  in  my  proposed  appeal  in  this  con- 


INTRODUCTION.  13 

troversy  to  arguments  and  testimony  sliort  of  Ca- 
tholic. 

Now,  Gentlemen,  let  me  be  clearly  understood  here. 
I  know  quite  well  that  there  are  multitudes  of 
Protestants  who  are  advocates  for  Mixed  Education 
to  the  fullest  extent,  even  so  far  as  to  desire  the  in- 
troduction of  Catholics  themselves  into  their  colleges 
and  schools;  but  then,  first,  they  are  those  for  the 
most  part  who  have  no  creed  or  dogma  whatever  to 
defend,  to  sacrifice,  to  surrender,  to  compromise,  to 
hold  back,  or  to  "  mix ",  when  they  call  out  for 
Mixed  Education.  There  are  many  Protestants  of 
benevolent  tempers  and  business-like  minds,  who 
think  that  all  who  are  called  Christians  do  in  fact 
agree  together  in  essentials,  though  they  will  not 
allow  it;  and  who,  in  consequence,  call  on  all  parties 
in  educating  their  youth  for  the  world  to  eliminate 
differences,  which  are  certainly  prejudicial,  as  soon 
as  they  are  proved  to  be  immaterial.  It  is  not  sur- 
prising that  clear-sighted  persons  should  fight  against 
the  maintenance  and  imposition  of  private  judgment 
in  matters  of  public  concern.  It  is  not  surprising 
that  statesmen,  with  a  thousand  conflicting  claims 
and  interests  to  satisfy,  should  fondly  aim  at  a 
forfeited  privilege  of  Catholic  times,  when  they 
would  have  had  at  least  one  distraction  the  less  in  the 
simplicity  of  National  Education.  And  next,  I  can 
conceive  the  most  consistent  men,  and  the  most 
zealously  attached  to  their  own  system  of  doctrine, 


14  INTRODUCTION, 

nevertheless  consenting  to  schemes  of  Education  from 
which  Eeligion  is  altogether  or  almost  excluded,  from 
the  stress  of  necessity,  or  the  recommendations  of  ex- 
pedience. Necessity  has  no  law,  and  expedience  is 
often  one  form  of  necessity.  It  is  no  principle  with 
sensible  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  our- 
selves to  what  we  would  have  far  otherwise,  if  we 
could.  Thus  a  system  of  Mixed  Education  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  in  an  improving  state  ;  its 
disadvantages  may  be  neutralised  by  the  persons  by 
whom,  or  the  provisions  under  which,  it  is  admi- 
nistered. 

Protestants  then,  in  matter  of  fact,  are  found  to 
be  both  advocates  and  promoters  of  Mixed  Education  ; 
but  this,  as  I  think  will  appear  on  inquiry,  only 
under  the  conditions  I  have  set  down,  first,  where 
they  have  no  special  attachment  to  the  dogmas  which 
are  compromised  in  the  comprehension  ;  and  next, 
when  they  find  it  impossible,  much  as  they  may  de- 
sire it,  to  carry  out  their  attachment  to  them  in 


INTRODUCTION.  15 

practice,  without  prejudicial  consequences  greater 
than  those  which  that  comprehension  involves.  Men 
who  profess  a  religion,  if  left  to  themselves,  make  re- 
ligious and  secular  Education  one.  Where,  for  in- 
stance, shall  we  find  greater  diversity  of  opinion, 
greater  acrimony  of  mutual  opposition,  than  between 
the  two  parties,  High  Church  and  Low,  which  mainly 
constitute  the  Established  Eeligion  of  England  and 
Ireland?  Yet  those  parties,  differing,  as  they  do, 
from  each  other  in  other  points,  are  equally  opposed 
to  the  efforts  of  politicians  to  fuse  their  respective 
systems  of  Education  with  those  either  of  Catholics 
or  of  sectaries  ;  and  it  is  only  the  strong  expedience 
of  concord  and  the  will  of  the  state  which  reconcile 
them  fo  the  necessity  of  a  fusion  with  each  other. 
Again,  we  all  know  into  what  various  persuasions 
the  English  constituency  is  divided — more,  indeed, 
than  it  is  easy  to  enumerate ;  yet,  since  the  great 
majority  of  that  constituency,  amid  its  differences, 
and  in  its  several  professions,  distinctly  dogmatises, 
whether  it  be  Anglican,  Wesleyan,  Calvinistic,  or  so 
called  Evangelical  (as  is  distinctly  shown,  if  in  no 
other  way,  by  its  violence  against  Catholics),  the  con- 
sequence is,  that,  in  spite  of  serious  political  obstacles 
and  of  the  reluctance  of  statesmen,  it  has  up  to  this 
time  been  resolute  and  successful  in  preventing  the 
national  separation  of  secular  and  religious  Educa- 
tion. This  concurrence,  then,  in  various  instances, 
supposing  it  to  exist,  as  I  believe  it  does,  of  a  dogma- 


16  INTRODUCTION. 

tic  faith  on  the  one  hand,  and  an  abhorrence  of 
Mixed  Education  on  the  other,  is  a  phenomenon 
which,  though  happening  among  Protestants,  de- 
mands the  attention  of  Catholics,  over  and  above  the 
argumentative  basis,  on  which,  in  the  instance  of 
each  particular  sect,  this  abhorrence  would  be  found 
to  rest. 

While  then,  I  conceive  that  certain  Protestant 
bodies  may,  under  circumstances,  decide,  more  suc- 
cessfully than  Catholics  of  a  certain  locality  or  period, 
a  point  of  religious  philosophy  or  policy,  and  may  so 
far  give  us  a  lesson  in  perspicacity  or  prudence,  with- 
out any  prejudice  to  our  claims  to  the  exclusive 
possession  of  Kevealed  Truth,  I  say,  they  are  in  mat- 
ter of  fact  likely  to  have  done  so  in  a  case  lilie  the 
present,  in  which,  amid  all  the  variety  of  persuasions 
into  which  Protestantism  necessarily  splits,  they 
agree  together  in  a  certain  practical  conclusion,  which 
each  of  them  in  turn  sees  to  be  necessary  for  its  own 
particular  maintenance.  Nor  is  there  surely  anything 
startling  or  novel  in  such  an  admission.  The  Church 
has  ever  appealed  and  deferred  to  testimonies  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  sua 
arte  credendum.  She  has  ever  used  unbelievers  and 
pagans  in  evidence  of  her  truth,  as  far  as  their  testi- 
mony went.  She  avails  herself  of  heretical  scholars, 
critics,  and  antiquarians.     She  has  worded  her  theo- 


INTRODUCTION.  IT 

logical  teaching  in  the  phraseology  of  Aristotle; 
Aquila,  Symmachus,  Theodotion,  Origen,  Eusebius, 
and  ApoUinaris,  all  more  or  less  heterodox,  have  sup. 
plied  materials  for  primitive  exegetics.  St.  Cyprian 
called  Tertullian  his  master;  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  Pro- 
testant schools  on  the  point  which  is  to  be  discussed, 
I  do  so,  not,  Gentlemen,  as  supposing  that  even  in 
philosophy  the  Catholic  Church  herself,  as  represented 
by  her  theologians  or  her  schools,  has  anything  to 
learn  from  men  or  bodies  of  men  external  to  her 
pale ;  but  as  feeling,  first,  that  she  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  par- 
ticular times  or  places  some  of  her  children  are 
likely  to  profit  from  external  suggestions  or  lessons 
which  are  in  no  sense  necessary  for  herself. 

And  in  thus  speaking  of  human  philosophy,  I  have 
intimated  the  mode  in  which  I  propose  to  handle  my 
subject  altogether.    Observe,  then.  Gentlemen,  I  have 


18  INTRODUCTION. 

no  intention  of  bringing  into  the  argument  the 
authority  of  the  Church  at  all;  but  I  shall  consider 
the  question  simply  on  the  grounds  of  human  reason 
and  human  wisdom.  And  from  this  it  follows  that, 
viewing  it  as  a  matter  of  argument,  judgment,  pro- 
priety, and  expedience,  I  am  not  called  upon  to  deny 
that  in  particular  cases  a  course  has  been  before  now 
advisable  for  Catholics  in  regard  to  the  education  of 
their  youth,  and  has  been,  in  fact,  adopted,  which  was 
not  abstractedly  the  best,  and  is  no  pattern  and  pre- 
cedent for  others.  Thus  in  the  early  ages  the  Church 
sanctioned  her  children  in  frequenting  the  heathen 
schools  for  the  acquisition  of  secular  accomplish- 
ments, where,  as  no  one  can  doubt,  evils  existed, 
at  least  as  great  as  can  attend  on  Mixed  Edu- 
cation now.  The  gravest  Fathers  recommended 
for  Christian  youth  the  use  of  Pagan  masters  ; 
the  most  saintly  Bishops  and  most  authoritative 
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  ap- 
proved itself  not  only  to  Protestant  state  Ecclesi- 
astics, who  cannot  be  supposed  to  be  very  sensitive 
about  doctrinal  truth,  but,  as  a  wise  condescension, 

*  Vide,  M.  L'Abbe  Lalanne's  recent  work. 


INTRODUCTION.  19 

even  to  many  of  our  most  venerated  Bishops,  to 
suflfer,  under  the  circumstances,  a  system  of  Mixed 
Education  in  the  schools  called  National. 

On  this  part  of  the  question,  however,  I  have  not 
to  enter ;  for  I  confine  myself  to  the  subject  of  Uni- 
versity Education.  But  even  here  it  would  ill  have 
become  me  to  pretend,  simply  on  my  own  judgment, 
to  decide  on  a  point  so  emphatically  practical,  as 
regards  a  state  of  society,  about  which  I  have  much 
to  learn,  on  any  abstract  principles,  however  true  and 
important.  It  would  have  been  presumptuous  in  me 
so  to  have  acted,  nor  am  I  so  acting.  It  is  my  hap- 
piness in  a  matter  of  Christian  duty,  about  which 
the  most  saintly  and  the  most  able  may  differ,  to  be 
guided  simply  by  the  decision  and  recommendation  of 
the  Holy  See,  the  judge  and  finisher  of  all  contro- 
versies. That  decision  indeed,  I  repeat,  shall  not 
enter  into  my  argument ;  but  it  is  my  own  reason 
for  arguing.  I  am  trusting  my' own  judgment  on  the 
subject,  because  I  find  it  is  the  judgment  of  him  who 
has  upon  his  shoulder  the  government  and  the  solici- 
tude of  all  the  Churches.  I  appear  before  you. 
Gentlemen,  not  prior  to  the  decision  of  Rome  on  the 
question  of  which  I  am  to  treat,  but  after  it.  My 
sole  aspiration—  and  I  cannot  have  a  higher  under 
the  heavens — is  to  be  the  servant  of  the  Vicar  of 
Christ.  He  has  sanctioned  at  this  time  a  particular 
measure  for  his  children  who  speak  the  English 
tongue,  and  the  distinguished  persons  by  whom  it  is 


20  INTRODUCTION. 

to  be  carried  out  have  honoured  me  with  a  share  in 
their  work.  I  take  things  as  I  find  them ;  I  know 
nothing  of  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  themselves,  recognised  by  all  Catholics  as  such, 
familiar  to  my  own  mind ;  and  to  do  this  quite  apart 
from  the  consideration  of  questions  which  have  been 
determined  without  me  and  before  me.  I  am  here 
the  advocate  and  the  minister  of  a  certain  great  prin- 
ciple ;  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  cause,  as  I  must  suppose,  of  my 
selection,  and  the  ground  of  my  acquiescence.  I  am 
told  on  authority  that  a  principle  is  necessary,  which 
I  have  ever  felt  to  be  true.  As  the  royal  matron  in 
sacred  history  consigned  the  child  she  had  made  her 
own  to  the  charge  of  its  natural  mother;  so  truths 
and  duties,  which  come  of  unaided  reason,  not  of 
grace,  which  were  already  intimately  mine  by  the 
workings  of  my  own  mind,  and  the  philosophy  of  hu- 
man schools,  are  now  committed  to  my  care,  to  nurse 
and  to  cherish,  by  her  and  for  her  who,  acting  on  the 
prerogative  of  her  divinely  inspired  discernment,  has 
in  this  instance  honoured  with  a  royal  adoption  the 
suggestions  of  reason. 

Happy  mother,  who  received  her  offspring  back  by 
giving  him  up,  and  gained,  at  another's  word,  what 


INTRODUCTION.  21 

her  own  most  jealous  artifices  had  failed  to  secure  at 
home!     Gentlemen,  I  have  not  yet  ended  the  pxpla- 
nations  with  which  I  must  introduce  myself  to  your 
notice.     If  I  have  been  expressing  a  satisfaction  that 
opinions,  early  imbibed  and  long  cherished   in   my 
own  mind,  now  come  to  me  with  the  Church's  seal 
upon  them,  do  not  imagine  that  I  am  indulging  a 
subtle  kind  of  private  judgment,  especially  unbecom- 
ing in  a  Catholic.     It  would,  I  think,  be  unjust  to 
me,  were  any  one  to  gather,  from  what  I  have  been 
saying,  that  I  had  so  established  myself  in  my  own 
ideas  and  in  my  old  notions,  as  a  centre  of  thought, 
that,  instead  of  coming  to  the  Church  to  be  taught,  I 
was  but  availing  myself  of  such  opportunities  as  she 
gave  me,  to  force  principles  on  your  attention  which  I 
had  adopted  without  her.     It  would,  indeed,  be  a 
most  unworthy  frame  of  mind,  to  view  her  sanction, 
however  it  could  be  got,  as  a  sort  of  leave  or  permit, 
whereby  the  intellect  obtains  on  outlet,  which  it  is 
ever  coveting,  to  range  freely  once  in  a  way,  and  to 
enjoy  itself  in  a  welcome,  because  a  rare  holiday. 
Not  so;  human  wisdom,  at  the  very  best,  even  in 
matters   of   religious   policy,    is   principally   but   a 
homage,   certainly   no   essential   service   to   Divine 
Truth.      Nor  is  the   Church   some   stern   mistress, 
practised  only  in  refusal  and  prohibition,  to  be  obeyed 
grudgingly  and  dexterously  overreached;  but  a  kind 
and  watchful  teacher  and  guide,  encouraging  us  for- 
ward in  the  path  of  truth  amid  the  perils  which  beset 


22  INTRODUCTION. 

it.  Deeply  do  I  feel,  ever  will  I  protest,  for  I  can 
appeal  to  the  ample  testimony  of  history  to  bear  me 
out,  that,  in  questions  of  right  and  wrong  there  is 
nothing  really  strong  in  the  whole  world,  nothing  de- 
cisive and  operative,  but  the  voice  of  him,  to  whom 
have  been  committed  the  keys  of  the  kingdom  and  the 
oversight  of  Christ's  flock.  That  voice  is  now,  as 
ever  it  has  been,  a  real  authority,  infallible  when  it 
teaches,  prosperous  when  it  commands,  ever  taking 
the  lead  wisely  and  distinctly  in  its  own  province, 
adding  certainty  to  what  is  probable,  and  persuasion 
to  what  is  certain.  Before  it  speaks,  the  most  saintly 
may  mistake;  and  after  it  has  spoken,  the  most 
gifted  must  obey. 

I  have  said  this  in  explanation  ;  but  it  has  an  ap- 
plication if  you  will  let  me  so  say,  far  beyond  myself. 
Perhaps  we  have  all  need  to  be  reminded,  in  one  way 
or  another,  as  regards  our  habitual  view  of  things,  if 
not  our  formal  convictions,  of  the  greatness  of  au- 
thority and  the  intensity  of  power,  which  accompany 
the  decisions  of  the  Holy  See.  I  can  fancy.  Gentle- 
men, among  those  who  hear  me  there  may  be  those 
who  would  be  willing  to  acquit  the  principles  of  Edu- 
cation which  I  am  to  advocate  of  all  fault  whatever, 
except  that  of  being  impracticable.  I  can  fancy 
them  to  grant  to  me,  that  those  principles  are  most 
correct  and  most  obvious,  simply  irresistible  on 
paper,  yet,  after  all,  nothing  more  than  the  dreams  of 
men  who  live  out  of  the  world,  and  who  do  not  see 


INTRODUCTION.  23 

the  difficulty  of  keeping  Catholicism  anyhow  afloat 
on  the  bosom  of  this  wonderful  nineteenth  century. 
Proved,  indeed,  those  principles  are  to  demonstra- 
tion, but  they  will  not  work.     Nay,  it  was  my  own 
admission  just  now,  that,  in  a  particular  instance,  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, 
threatening  and  vexatious,  which  at  every  step  em- 
barrass 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  intel- 
lects, who  are  far  from  enemies,  if  not  to  Catholicism, 
at  least  to  the  Irish   Hierarchy,    and   you   simply 
despair,  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,  in  matter  of  fact,  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  chi- 
merical does  it  seem  to  you  to  aim   at   anything 
beyond  a  University  of  Mixed  Instruction.     Nay,  even 
if  the  attempt  could  accidentally  succeed,  would  not 
the  mischief  exceed  the  benefits  of  it  ?    How  great  the 
sacrifice,  in  how  many  ways,  by  which  it  would  be 
preceded  and  followed ! — how  many   wounds,   open 


24  INTRODUCTION. 

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  mis- 
givings ;  and,  in  proportion  to  the  force  with  which 
they  come  to  you,  is  the  concern  and  anxiety  which 
they  occasion  you,  that  there  should  be  those  whom 
you  love,  whom  you  revere,  who  from  one  cause  or 
other  refuse  to  enter  into  them. 

This,  I  repeat,  is  what  some  good  Catholics  will 
say  to  me,  and  more  than  this.  They  will  express 
themselves  better  than  I  can  speak  for  them — with 
more  nature  and  point,  with  more  force  of  argument 
and  fulness  of  detail;  and  I  will  frankly  and  at 
once  acknowledge.  Gentlemen,  that  I  do  not  mean 
here  to  give  a  direct  answer  to  their  objections. 
I  do  not  say  an  answer  cannot  be  given;  on 
the  contrary,  I  may  have  a  confident  expectation 
that,  in  proportion  as  those  objections  are  looked 
in  the  face,  they  will  fade  away.  But,  however 
this  may  be,  it  would  not  become  me  to  argue 
the  matter  with  those  who  understand  the  cir- 
cumstances 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 


INTODUCTION.  25 

they  are  doubtless  greater  than  1  can  even  fancy  or 
forebode.  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  demonstrative  as  my  own  of  its  theological  cor- 
rectness. 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  ?  How  is  it  that  I  do 
not  know  when  I  am  well  off?  Why  so  headstrong 
and  reckless  as  to  lay  up  for  myself  miscarriage  and 
disappointment,  as  though  I  had  not  enough  of  my 
own? 

Considerations  such  as  these  might  have  been 
simply  decisive  in  time  past  for  the  boldest  and  most 
able  among  us  ;  now,  however,  I  have  one  resting 
point,  just  one,  one  plea  which  serves  me  in  the  stead 
of  all  direct  argument  whatever,  which  hardens  me 
against  censure,  which  encourages  me  against  fear, 
and  to  which  I  shall  ever  come  round,  when  I  hear 
the  question  of  the  practicable  and  the  expedient 
brought  into  discussion.  After  all,  Peter  has  spoken. 
Peter  is  no  recluse,  no  abstracted  student,  no  dreamer 
about  the  past,  no  doter  upon  the  dead  and  gone,  no 
projector  of  the  visionary.  Peter  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  there  ever  was  a  power  on  earth 
who  had  an  eye  for  the  times,  who  has  confined  him- 
self to  the  practicable,  and  has  been  happy  in  his  an- 


26  INTRODUCTION. 

ticipations,  whose  words  have  been  deeds,  and  whose 
commands  prophecies,  such  is  he  in  the  history  of 
ages  who  sits  on  from  generation  to  generation  in  the 
Chair  of  the  Apostles  as  the  Vicar  of  Christ  and 
Doctor  of  His  Church. 

Notions,  then,  taught  me  long  ago  by  others,  long 
cherished  in  my  own  mind,  these  are  not  my  confi- 
dence. Their  truth  does  not  make  them  feasible,  nor 
their  reasonableness  persuasive.  Rather,  I  would 
meet  the  objector  by  an  argument  of  his  own  sort.  If 
you  tell  me  this  work  will  fail,  I  will  make  answer, 
the  worker  is  apt  to  succeed,  and  I  trust  in  my  know- 
ledge of  the  past  more  than  in  your  prediction  of  the 
future.  It  was  said  by  an  old  philosopher,  who  de- 
clined to  reply  to  an  emperor's  arguments,  "  It  is  not 
safe  controverting  with  the  master  of  twenty  legions". 
What  Augustus  had  in  the  material  order,  that,  and 
much  more,  has  Peter  in  the  spiritual.  Peter  has 
spoken  by  Pius,  and  when  was  Peter  ever  unequal 
to  the  occasion  ?  When  has  he  not  risen  with  the 
crisis  ?  What  dangers  have  ever  daunted  him  ? 
What  sophistry  foiled  him  ?  What  uncertainties 
misled  him  ?  When  did  ever  any  power  go  to  war 
with  Peter,  material  or  moral,  civilized  or  savage, 
and  got  the  better  ?  When  did  the  whole  world  ever 
band  together  against  him  solitary,  and  not  find  him 
too  many  for  them  ? 

These  are  not  the  words  of  rhetoric.  Gentlemen, 
but  of  history.     All  who  take  part  with  Peter  are  on 


INTRODUCTION.  27 

the  winning  side.     The  Apostle  says  not  in  order  to 
unsay,  for  he  has  inherited  that  word  which  is  with 
power.     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  nothing  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,  to  form 
a  people  for  his  Master's  honour.     The  savage  hordes 
came  down  in  torrents  from  the  north,  hideous  even 
to  look  upon ;  and  Peter  went  out  with  holy  water 
and  with  benison,  and  by  his  very  eye  he  sobered 
them  and  backed  them  in  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  popu- 
lations  they    had     overwhelmed.       Lawless    kings 
arose,  sagacious  as  the  Roman,  passionate  as  the  Hun, 
yet  in  him  they  found  their  match,  and  were  shat- 
tered, and  he  lived  on.     The  gates  of  the  earth  were 
opened  to  the  east  and  west,  and  men  poured  out  to 
take  possession;  and  he  and  his  went  with  them,  swept 
along  by  zeal  and  charity  as  far  as  they  by  enterprise, 
covetousness,  or  ambition.     Has  he  failed  in  his  suc- 
cesses up  to  this  hour?     Did  he,  in  our  fathers'  day, 


28  INTRODUCTION. 

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  eaglets, 
whose  feet  are  like  the  feet  of  harts,  and  underneath 
the  everlasting  Arms? 

In  the  first  centuries  of  the  Church  all  this  was  a 
mere  point  of  faith,  but  every  age  as  it  has  come  has 
stayed  up  faith  by  sight  ;  and  shame  on  us  if,  with 
the  accumulated  witness  of  eighteen  centuries,  our 
eyes  are  too  gross  to  see  what  the  Saints  have  ever 
anticipated.  Education,  Gentlemen,  involved  as  it 
is  in  the  very  idea  of  a  religion  such  as  ours, 
cannot  be  a  strange  work  at  any  time  in  the  hands 
of  the  Vicar  of  Christ.  The  heathen  forms  of 
religion  thought  it  enough  to  amuse  and  quiet 
the  populace  with  spectacles,  and,  on  the  other  hand, 
to  bestow  a  dignity  and  divine  sanction  upon  the 
civil  ruler;  but  Catholicism  addresses  itself  directly 
to  the  heart  and  conscience  of  the  individual. 
The  Eeligion  which  numbers  Baptism  and  Penance 
among  its  sacraments,  cannot  be  neglectful  of  the 
soul's  training;  the  Creed  which  opens  and  re- 
solves into  so  majestic  and  so  living  a  theology,  cannot 
but  subserve  the  cultivation  of  the  intellect;  the  Ee- 
velation  which  tells  us  of  truths  otherwise  utterly 
hid  from  us,  cannot  be  justly  called  the  enemy  of 
knowledge;  the  Worship,  which  is  so  awful  and  so 


INTRODUCTION.  29 

thrilling,  cannot  but  feed  the  aspirations  of  genius,  and 
move  the  affections  from  their  depths.  The  Institu- 
tion, which  has  flourished  in  centuries  the  most  famed 
for  mental  activity  and  cultivation,  which  has  come 
into  collision,  to  say  no  more,  with  the  schools  of 
Antioch  and  Alexandria,  Athens  and  Edessa,  Sara- 
cenic Seville,  and  Protestant  Berlin,  cannot  be  want- 
ing in  experience  what  to  do  now,  and  when  to  do  it. 
He  whom  the  Almighty  left  behind  to  be  His  repre- 
sentative on  earth,  has  ever  been  jealous,  as  beseemed 
him,  as  of  God's  graces,  so  also  of  His  gifts.  He  has 
been  as  tender  of  the  welfare  and  interests  of  human 
science  as  he  is  loyal  to  the  divine  truth  which  is  his 
peculiar  charge.  He  has  ever  been  the  foster-father 
of  secular  knowledge,  and  has  rejoiced  in  its  growth, 
while  he  has  pruned  away  its  self-destructive  luxuriance. 
Least  of  all  can  the  Catholics  of  two  islands,  which 
have  been  heretofore  so  singularly  united  in  the  cul- 
tivation and  diffusion  of  Knowledge,  under  the  auspi- 
ces of  the  Apostolic  See,  we  surely,  Gentlemen,  are 
not  the  persons  to  distrust  its  wisdom  and  its  fortune 
when  it  sends  us  on  a  similar  mission  now.  I  can- 
not forget,  Gentlemen,  that  at  a  time  when  Celt  and 
Saxon  were  alike  savage,  it  was  the  See  of  Peter  that 
gave  both  of  them  first  faith,  and  then  civilization ; 
and  then,  again,  bound  them  together  in  one  by  the 
seal  of  that  joint  commission  which  it  gave  them  to 
convert  and  illuminate  in  turn  the  pagan  Continent. 
I  cannot  forget  how  it   was   from   Rome   that  the 


30  INTRODUCTION. 

glorious  St.  Patrick  was  sent  to  Ireland,  and  did  a 
work  so  great,  that  he  may  be  said  to  have  had  no  suc- 
cessor in  it ;  the  sanctity,  and  learning,  and  zeal, 
and  charity  which  followed  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  superstitions 
became  the  very  wonder  and  asylum  of  all  people  ; — 
the  wonder  by  reason  of  its  knowledge,  sacred  and 
profane ;  the  asylum  for  religion,  literature,  and 
science,  chased  away  from  the  Continent  by  barbaric 
invaders.  I  recollect  its  hospitality  freely  accorded 
to  the  pilgrim  ;  its  volumes  munificently  presented  to 
the  foreign  student;  and  the  prayers,  and  blessings, 
and  holy  rites,  and  solemn  chants,  which  sanctified  the 
while  both  giver  and  receiver.  Nor  can  I  forget  how 
my  own  England  had  meanwhile  become  the  solici- 
tude of  the  same  unwearied  Eye ;  how  Augustine  was 
sent  to  us  by  Gregory  ;  how  he  fainted  in  the  way  in 
terror  at  our  barbarian  name,  and,  but  for  the  Pope, 
had  returned  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  all  England  to  Christ.  Nor,  how  it  came  to  pass 
that,  when  Augustine  died  and  his  work  slackened, 
another  Pope,  unwearied  still,  sent  three  great  Saints 
from  Eome  to  educate  and  refine  the  people  he  had 
converted.  Three  holy  men  set  out  for  England  to- 
gether, of  different  nations  ;    Theodore,  an  Asiatic 


INTRODUCTION.  31 

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,  and  with  pic- 
tures, and  with  manuscripts  of  the  Holy  Fathers  and 
the  Greek  classics ;  and  Theodore  and  Adrian  founded 
schools,  secular  and  religious,  all  over  England,  while 
Bennett  brought  to  the  north  the  large  library  he  had 
collected  in  foreign  parts,  and,  with  plans  and  orna- 
mental work  from  France,  erected  a  church  of  stone, 
under  the  invocation  of  St.  Peter,  after  the  Eoman 
fashion,  "which",  says  the  historian,*  "he  most 
affected".  I  call  to  mind  how  St.  Wilfrid,  St.  John 
of  Beverly,  St.  Bede,  and  other  saintly  men,  carried 
on  the  good  work  in  the  following  generations,  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  nothing  passed  between 
them,  and  no  personal  aims  were  theirs,  save  the  inter- 
change of  kind  offices  and  the  rivalry  of  love. 

0  !  memorable  time  when  St.  Aidan  and  the  Irish 
Monks  went  up  to  Lindisfarne  and  Melrose,  and 
taught  the  Saxon  youth,  and  a  St.  Cuthbert  and  a  St. 
Eata  repaid  their  gracious  toil !  0  !  blessed  days  of 
peace  and  confidence,  when  Mailduf  penetrated  to 
Malmesbury  in  the  south,  which  has  inherited  his 
name,  and  founded  there  the  famous  school  which 

*  Cressy. 


32  INTRODUCTION. 

gave  birth  to  the  great  St.  Aldhelm!  0  !  precious 
seal  and  testimony  of  Gospel  charity,  when,  as  Aldhelm 
in  turn  tells  us,  the  English  went  to  Ireland  "  nume- 
rous as  bees  " ;  when  the  Saxon  St.  Egbert  and  St. 
Willibrod,  preachers  to  the  heathen  Frisons,  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,  the  two  sister  islands  were  destined  not  to 
forfeit,  but  to  transfer  it.  The  time  came  when  a 
neighbouring  country  was  in  turn  to  hold  the  mission 
they  have  so  long  and  so  well  fulfilled  ;  and,  when  to 
it  they  made  over  their  honourable  office,  faithful  to  the 
alliance  of  two  hundred  years,  they  did  the  solemn 
act  together.  High  up  in  the  north,  upon  the  Tyne, 
the  pupil  of  St.  Theodore,  St.  Adrian,  and  St.  Ben- 
nett, for  forty  years  was  Bede,  the  light  of  the 
whole  western  world  ;  as  happy,  too,  in  his  scholars 
round  about  him,  as  in  his  celebrity  and  influence 
in  the  length  and  breadth  of  Christendom.  And, 
a  generation  before  him,  St.  John  of  Beverly, 
taught  by  the  same  masters,  had  for  thirty  years 
been  shedding  the  lustre  of  his  sanctity  and  learning 
upon  the  Archiepiscopal  school  of  York.  Among 
the  pupils  of  these  celebrated  men  the  learned 
Alcuin  stood  first;  but  Alcuin,    not  content  even 


INTRODUCTION.  33 

with  the  training  which  Saints  could  give  him, 
betook  himself  to  the  sister  island,  and  remained  a 
whole  twelve  years  in  the  Irish  schools.  When 
Charlemagne  would  revive  science  and  letters  in  his 
own  France,  to  England  he  sent  for  masters,  and  to 
the  cloisters  of  St.  John  Beverly  and  St.  Bede;  and 
Alcuin,  the  scholar  both  of  the  Saxon  and  the  Celt,  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  cen- 
turies, sprang  the  famous  University,  the  glory  of  the 
middle  ages. 

The  past  never  returns;  the  course  of  things,  old 
in  its  texture,  is  ever  new  in  its  colouring  and 
fashion.  Ireland  and  England  are  not  what  they 
once  were,  but  Eome  is  where  it  was;  Peter  is  the 
same;  his  zeal,  his  charity,  his  mission,  his  gifts,  are 
the  same.  He,  of  old  time,  made  us  one  by  making  us 
joint  teachers  of  the  nations;  and  now,  surely,  he  is 
giving  us  a  like  mission,  and  we  shall  become  one 
again,  while  we  zealously  and  lovingly  fulfil  it. 


DISCOURSE   11. 

THEOLOGY   A    BRANCH    OF    KNOWLEDGE. 

Great  as  are  the  secular  benefits  ascribed  by  the 

philosopher  of  the  day  to  the  present  remarkable 

reception   in   so   many  countries  of  the  theory  of 

Private  Judgment,  it  is   not  without   its  political 

drawbacks,  which  the  statesman  at  least,  whatever 

be  his  predilections   for   Protestantism,   cannot   in 

candour  refuse  to  admit.     If  it  has  stimulated  the 

activity  of  the  intellect  in  those  nations  which  have 

surrendered  themselves  to  its  influence,  on  the  other 

hand  it  has  provided  no  suflicient  safeguards  against 

that  activity  preying  on  itself.     This  inconvenience 

indeed  matters  comparatively  little  to  the  man  of 

letters,  who  often  has  no  end  in  view  beyond  mental 

activity  itself,  of  whatever  description,  and  has  before 

now  even  laid  it  down,  as  the  rule  of  his  philosophy, 

that  the  good  of  man  consists,  not  in  the  possession 

of  truth,  but  in  an  interminable  search  after  it.    But 

it  is  otherwise  with  those  who  are  engaged  in  the 

3 


36  DISCOURSE   II. 

business  of  life,  who  have  work  and  responsibility, 
who  have  measures  to  carry  through  and  objects  to 
accomplish,  who  only  see  what  is  before  them,  recog- 
nize what  is  tangible,  and  reverence  what  succeeds. 
The  statesman  especially,  who  has  to  win,  to  attach, 
to  reconcile,  to  secure,  to  govern,  looks  for  one  thing 
more  than  any  thing  else — how  he  may  do  his  work 
with  least  trouble,  how  he  may  best  persuade  the 
wheels  of  the  political  machine  to  go  smoothly, 
silently,  and  steadily;  and  with  this  prime  deside- 
ratum nothing  interferes  so  seriously  as  that  indefi- 
nite multiplication  of  opinions  and  wills  which  it  is 
the  boast  of  Protestantism  to  have  introduced. 
Amid  the  overwhelming  difficulties  of  his  position, 
the  most  Protestant  of  statesmen  will  be  sorely 
tempted,  in  disparagement  of  his  cherished  principles, 
to  make  a  passionate  wish,  that  the  people  he  has  to 
govern,  could  have,  I  will  not  say  with  the  imperial 
tyrant,  one  neck,  but,  what  is  equally  impossible, 
one  private  judgment. 

This  embarrassment  makes  itself  especially  felt, 
when  he  addresses  himself  to  the  great  question  of 
National  Education.  He  is  called  upon  to  provide 
for  the  education  of  the  people  at  large;  and  that  the 
more  urgently,  because  the  religious  sentiments, 
which  Private  Judgment  presupposes  and  fosters, 
demand  it.  The  classes  and  bodies  in  whom  political 
power  is  lodged,  clamour  for  National  Education;  he 
prepares  himself  to  give  them  satisfaction:  but  Edu- 


THEOLOGY  A  BRANCH  OF  KNOWLEDGE.  37 

cation  of  course  implies  principles  and  views,  and 
when  he  proceeds  to  lay  down  any  whatever,  the 
very  same  parties  who  pressed  him  forward,  from 
their  zeal  for  Education  in  the  abstract,  fall  out  with 
each  other  and  with  him,  about  every  conceivable 
plan  which  is  proposed  to  them  in  a  substantive 
shape.  All  demand  of  him,  what  each  in  turn 
forbids;  his  proceedings  are  brought  to  what  is 
familiarly  called  "  a  lock";  he  can  neither  advance 
nor  recede;  and  he  loses  time  and  toil  in  attempting 
an  impossible  problem.  It  would  not  be  wonderful, 
if,  in  these  trying  difficulties,  he  were  to  envy  the 
comparative  facility  of  the  problem  of  Education  in 
purely  Catholic  countries,  where  certain  fundamental 
principles  are  felt  to  be  as  sure  as  external  facts,  and 
where,  in  consequence,  it  is  almost  as  easy  to  con- 
struct a  national  system  of  teaching,  as  to  raise  the 
school-houses  in  which  it  is  to  be  administered. 

Under  these  circumstances,  he  naturally  looks 
about  him  for  methods  of  eliminating  from  his 
problem  its  intractable  conditions,  which  are  wholly 
or  principally  religious.  He  sees  then  that  all  would 
go  easy,  could  he  but  contrive  to  educate  apart  from 
religion,  not  compromising  indeed  his  own  private 
religious  persuasion,  whatever  it  happens  to  be,  but 
excluding  one  and  all  professions  of  faith  from  the 
national  system.  And  thus  he  is  led,  by  extreme 
expedience  and  political  necessity,  to  sanction  the 
separation  of  secular  instruction  from  religious,  and 


38  DISCOURSE  II. 

to  favour  the  establishment  of  what  are  called 
"  Mixed  Schools".  Such  a  procedure,  I  say,  on  the 
part  of  a  statesman,  is  but  a  natural  effort,  under 
the  circumstances  of  his  day,  to  appropriate  to  him- 
self a  privilege,  without  the  Church's  aid,  which  the 
Church  alone  can  bestow;  and  he  becomes  what  is 
called  a  Liberal,  as  the  very  nearest  approach  he  can 
make,  in  a  Protestant  country,  to  being  a  Catholic. 
Since  his  schools  cannot  have  one  faith,  he  deter- 
mines, as  the  best  choice  left  to  him,  that  they  shall 
have  none. 

Nothing  surely  is  more  intelligible  than  conduct 
like  this;  and  the  more  earnest  is  his  patriotism,  the 
warmer  his  philanthropy,  the  more  of  statesmanship, 
the  more  of  administrative  talent  he  possesses,  the 
more  cordially  will  he  adopt  it.  And  hence  it  is  that 
at  the  present  day,  when  so  much  benevolence  and 
practical  wisdom  are  to  be  found  among  public  men, 
there  is  a  growing  movement  in  favour  of  Mixed 
Education,  whether  as  regards  the  higher  or  the 
lower  classes,  on  the  simple  ground,  that  nothing 
else  remains  to  be  done.  So  far,  I  say,  is  intelli- 
gible; but  there  are  higher  aspects  of  the  question 
than  that  of  political  utility.  My  business  is,  not 
with  the  mere  statesman,  but  with  those  who  profess 
to  regulate  their  public  conduct  by  principle  and 
logic.  I  want  to  see  into  what  principles  such  a 
policy  resolves  itself,  when  submitted  to  a  philoso- 
phical  analysis,  for  then  we  shall  be  better  able  to 


THEOLOGY  A  BRANCH  OF  KNOWLEDGE.  39 

determine  what  should  be  a  Catholic's  judgment 
u})on  it. 

Now,  on  entering  upon  my  subject,  first  of  all  I 
put  aside  the  question  of  the  mixed  education  of  the 
lower  classes,  being  concerned  only  with  University 
Education.  Having  done  this,  I  am  able  to  bring 
the  question  to  this  simple  issue.  A  University,  as 
the  name  implies,  is  the  seat  of  universal  knowledge; 
it  follows  then  at  once  to  ask,  whether  this  definition 
of  a  University,  which  can  hardly  be  gainsaid,  is 
compatible  with  the  political  expedient  which  I  have 
been  describing:  whether  it  is  philosophical  or  pos- 
sible to  profess  all  branches  of  knowledge,  yet  to 
exclude  one,  and  that  one  not  the  lowest  in  the 
series. 

But  this,  of  course,  is  to  assume  that  Theology  is 
a  science,  and  an  important  one:  so  I  will  express 
myself  in  a  more  general  form.  I  say,  then,  that  if 
a  University  be,  from  the  nature  of  the  case,  a  place 
of  instruction,  where  universal  knowledge  is  pro- 
fessed, and  if  in  a  certain  University,  so  called,  the 
subject  of  Eeligion  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,  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  must  say  that;  he  must  own,  either  that  little 
or  nothing  is  known  about  the  Supreme  Being,  or 


40  DISCOURSE  II. 

that  his  seat  of  learning  calls  itself  what  it  is  not. 
This  is  the  thesis  which  I  lay  down,  and  on  which  1 
shall  insist  in  the  Discourse  which  is  to  follow.  I  re- 
peat, such  a  compromise  between  religious  parties,  as 
is  involved  in  the  establishment  of  a  University  which 
makes  no  religious  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  course  not;  but  certainly  as  much 
as  this,  that  they  are  not  knowledge.  Did  they  in 
their  hearts  believe  that  their  private  views  of  reli- 
gion, whatever  they  are,  were  absolutely  and  objec- 
tively 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. 

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  intimate,  however 
congenial  in  tastes  and  judgments,  however  eager  to 
have  one  heart  and  one  soul,  but  must  deny  them- 
selves, for  the  sake  of  each  other,  much  which  they 


TUEOtOGY  A  BRANCH  OF  KNOWLEDGE.  41 

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  exception,  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,  necessary  as 
they  are;  and  this  is  found  in  the  proviso^  that  the 
differences  surrendered  should  be  hut  "minor",  or 
that  there  should  be  no  sacrifice  of  the  main  object 
in  view,  in  the  concessions  which  are  mutually  made. 
Any  sacrifice  which  implicates  that  object  is  destruc- 
tive 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 
denominations  join  together  for  the  dissemination  of 
what  are  called  "  evangelical"  tracts,  it  is  under  the 
belief,  that  the  object  of  their  uniting,  recognized  on 
all  hands,  being  the  spiritual  benefit  of  their  neigh- 
bours, no  religious  exhortation,  whatever  be  its  cha- 
racter, can  essentially  interfere  with  that  benefit, 
which  is  founded  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  sen- 
timent,  such  differences  fade  away  before  the  one 


42  DISCOURSE  II. 

great  principle,  which  that  circulation  symbolizes — 
that  the  Bible,  the  whole  Bible,  and  nothing  but  the 
Bible,  is  the  religion  of  Protestants.  On  the  con- 
trary, 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  Atha- 
nasian  Creed  or  the  merit  of  good  works,  I  conceive 
any  subscribing  member  would  have  a  just  right  to 
complain  of  a  proceeding,  which  compromised  both 
the  principle  of  Private  Judgment,  and  the  doctrine 
of  Justification  by  faith  only.  These  instances  are 
sufficient  to  illustrate  my  general  position,  that  coali- 
tions 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  compro- 
mised or  disparaged. 

When,  then,  a  number  of  persons  come  forward, 
not  as  politicians,  not  as  diplomatists,  lawyers,  tra- 
ders, or  speculators,  but  with  the  one  object  of 
advancing  Universal  Knowledge,  much  we  may  allow 
them  to  sacrifice;  ambition,  reputation,  leisure,  com- 
fort, gold;  one  thing  they  may  not  sacrifice — Know- 
ledge itself  Knowledge  being  their  object,  they  need 
not  of  course  insist  on  their  own  private  views  about 
ancient  or  modern  history,  or  national  prosperity,  or 
the  balance  of  power;  they  need  not  of  course  shrink 
from  the  cooperation  of  those  who  hold  the  opposite 
views,  but  stipulate  they  must  that  Knowledge  itself 
is  not  compromised;  and  those  views,  of  whatever 


THEOLOGY  A  BRANCH  OF  KNOWLEDGE.  43 

kind,  which  they  do  allow  to  be  dropped,  it  is  plain 
they  consider  to  be  opinions,  and  nothing  more,  how- 
ever dear,  however  important  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  Mal- 
thusian  theory  being  a  sine  qua  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  be 
proved  true,  in  the  same  sense  as  the  existence  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  of  all  those  who  advo- 
cate that  Institution,  supposing  him  consistent,  dis- 
tinctly holds  that  nothing  is  known  for  certain  about 
the  Supreme  Being;  nothing  such  as  to  have  any 
claim  to  be  regarded  as  an  accession  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  ques- 
tion professes  every  science,  and  leaves  out  the  fore- 
most 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,  Gentlemen,  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 


44  DISCOURSE  IT. 

the  very  force  of  the  terms,  it  is  very  plain,  that  God 
and  such  a  University  cannot  coexist. 

Still,  however,  this  may  seem  to  many  an  abrupt 
conclusion,  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  varieties  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.  Gentlemen,  I  do  not  understand 
how  it  can  be  made  to  apply  to  the  matter  in  hand. 
I  cannot  so  construct  my  definition  of  the  subject 
matter  of  University  Knowledge,  and  so  draw  my 
boundary  lines  around  it,  to  include  therein  the  other 
sciences  commonly  studied  at  Universities,  and  to 
exclude  the  science  of  Eeligion.  Are  we  to  limit  our 
idea  of  University  Knowledge  by  the  evidence  of  our 
senses?  then  we  exclude  history;  by  testimony?  we 
exclude  metaphysics;  by  abstract  reasoning?  we  ex- 
clude 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  sugges- 
tions 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 


THEOLOGY  A  BRANCH  OF  KNOWLEDGE.  45 

it  a  great  truth  or  a  small  one?  Is  it  a  comprehensive 
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  encompassing, 
closing  in  upon,  absorbing,  every  other  fact  conceiv- 
able. 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  run  into  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  mutila- 
tion with  divine. 

I  have  been  speaking  simply  of  Natural  Theology; 
my  argument  of  course  is  stronger  when  I  go  on  to 


46  DISCOURSE  II. 

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  this  not  a  point  of  knowledge 
in  the  same  sense  as  the  naturalist's  asseveration, 
that  there  are  myriads  of  living  things  on  the  point 
of  a  needle?  That  the  Earth  is  to  be  burned  by  fire, 
is,  if  true,  as  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  effect  of  voli- 
tion on  the  animal  frame. 

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  put  them  aside;  and  thirdly,  in 
spite  of  this,  to  go  on  to  profess  to  be  teaching  all  the 
while  de  omni  scihili.  No;  if  a  man  thinks  in  his 
heart  that  these  religious  facts  are  short  of  truth,  are 
not  true  in  the  sense  in  which  the  motion  of  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 
opinions  under  which  he  shelters  his  conduct,  are  not 
only  his  apology  for  publicly  ignoring  religion,  but  a 
cause  of  his  privately  disbelieving  it.  He  does  not 
think  that  any  thing  is  known  or  can  be  known  for  cer- 
tain, about  the  origin  of  the  world  or  the  end  of  man. 


TUEOLOGY  A  BRANCH  OF  RNOWLEDCE.  47 

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  Protes- 
tantism, viewed  whether  in  its  original  idea,  or 
again  in  the  so-called  Evangelical  movement  in 
these  islands  during  the  last  century.  The  religious 
world,  as  it  is  styled,  holds,  generally  speaking,  that 
religion  consists,  not  in  knowledge,  but  in  feeling  or 
sentiment.  The  old  Catholic  notion,  which  still  lin- 
gers  in  the  Established  Church,  was,  that  Faith  was 
an  intellectual  act,  its  object  truth,  and  its  result 
knowledge.  Thus  if  you  look  into  the  Anglican 
Prayer  Book,  you  will  find  definite  credenda^  as  well 
as  definite  agenda;  but  in  proportion  as  the  Lutheran 
leaven  spread,  it  became  fashionable  to  say  that  Faith 
was  but  a  feeling,  an  emotion,  an  affection,  an  ap- 
petency, not  an  act  of  the  intellect;  and  as  this 
view  of  Faith  obtained,  so  was  its  connexion  with 
Truth  and  Knowledge  more  and  more  either  forgotten 
or  denied.  The  Prayer  Book,  indeed,  contained  the 
Creed,  among  other  memorials  of  antiquity;  but  a 
question  began  to  be  agitated  whether  its  recital  was 
any  thing  better  than  the  confession  of  a  dead  faith, 
the  faith  of  devils,  formal,  technical,  soul-deceiving, 
not  the  guarantee  at  all  of  what  was  deemed  to  be  spi- 
ritual renovation.  It  was  objected  too,  that  whereas 
there    was  just   one  doctrine   which   was    adapted 


4:8  DISCOURSE  11. 

to  move  the  feelings,  open  the  heart,  and  change 
corrupt  nature,  viz. — the  Atonement,  that  doctrine 
was  not  to  be  found  there.  Then  again,  spiritual- 
mindedness  and  heavenly -mindedness  consisted, 
according  to  the  school  in  question,  not,  as  a  Catholic 
would  say,  in  a  straightforward  acceptance  of  re- 
vealed truth,  and  an  acting  upon  it,  but  in  a  dreamy 
and  sickly  state  of  soul;  in  an  effort  after  religious 
conversation;  in  a  facility  of  detailing  what  men 
called  experiences;  nay,  I  will  add,  in  a  constrained 
gravity  of  demeanour,  and  an  unnatural  tone  of 
voice.  Now  many  men  laughed  at  all  this,  many 
men  admired  it;  but  whether  they  admired  or  laughed, 
both  the  one  party  and  the  other  found  themselves  in 
agreement  on  the  main  point,  viz. — in  considering 
that  this  really  was  in  substance  Eeligion;  that  Keli- 
gion  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  sub- 
lime fancies.  They  learned  to  say,  that  Eeligion  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 


TUEOLOGY  A  BRANCH  OF  KNOWLEDGE.  49 

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  of 
daily  sustenance,  an  article  which  was  really  inferior 
was  better  than  none  at  all.  Thus  Eeligion  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  reluc- 
tantly, the  long  and  the  short  of  the  matter  was  this, 
that  Religion  was  basBd  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  not  in  the  num- 
ber. It  is  true.  Rational  Religion  is  spoken  of  in 
the  circles  in  question;  but,  when  you  carefully 
consider  the  matter,  you  will  find  this  does  not 
mean  a  kind  of  Religion  which  is  built  upon  Reason, 
but  merely  a  Religion  which  does  not  interfere  with 
Reason,  which  does  not  clash  with  what  are  consi- 
dered rational  ideas,  with  rational  pursuits,  rational 
enjoyment  of  life,  and  rational  views  of  the  next 
world. 

You  see.  Gentlemen,  how  a  theory  or  philosophy, 
which  began  with  Luther,  the  Puritans,  and  Wesley, 
has  been  taken  up  by  that  large  and  influential  body 


50  DISCOURSE  II. 

which  goes  by  the  name  of  Liberal  or  Latitiidinarian; 
and  how,  where  it  prevails,  it  is  as  unreasonable  of 
course  to  demand  for  Religion  a  chair  in  a  Univer- 
sity, as  to  demand  one  for  fine  feeling,  sense  of 
honour,  patriotism,  gratitude,  maternal  affection,  or 
good  companionship,  proposals  which  would  be  sim- 
ply unmeaning. 

Now,  in  support  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  votes,  or  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  forget  the  celebrated  discourse 
of  the  celebrated  man   to  whom   I  am  alluding;  a 
man    who    is   first   in   his    peculiar   walk;    whose 
talents  have  earned  for  him  nobility  at  home,  and  a 
more   than   European   name;    and   who,    moreover 
(which  is  much  to  my  purpose),  has  had  a  share,  as 
much  as  any  one  alive,  in  efiecting  the  public  recog- 
nition  in  these  Islands  of  the  principle  of  Mixed 
Education.     This  able  person,  during  the  years  in 
which  he  was  exerting  himself  in  its  behalf,   made 
a   speech   or   discourse,    on    occasion    of    a   public 
solemnity;  and  in  reference  to  the  bearing  of  general 
knowledge  upon   religious   belief,  he   spoke    as  fol- 
lows: 

"  As  men",  he  said,  "  will  no  longer  suffer  them- 
selves to  be  led  blindfold  in  ignorance,  so  will  they 


THEOLOGY  A  BRANCH  OF  KNOWLEDGE.  Ol 

no  more  yield  to  the  vile  principle  of  judging  and 
treating  their  fellow-creatures,  not  according  to  tlie 
intrinsic  merit  of  their  actions,  but  according  to  the 
accidental  and  involuntary  coincidence  of  their  opi- 
nions. 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  an 
external  object,  are  as  truly  imaginations,  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  1825,  resounds  on  all  sides  of  us,  with 
ever  growing  confidence  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  command  of  her  Majesty, 

*  Mr.  Brougham's  Glasgow  Discourse. 


52  DISCOURSE  II. 

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  laws,  as  mathematics; 
and  lastly  sentiment^  such  as  poetry  and  music. 
Now,  on  first  catching  this  division,  it  occurred  to 
me  to  ask  myself,  before  ascertaining  the  writer's 
own  resolution  of  the  matter,  under  which  of  these 
four  heads  fell  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  distinctly  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  senti- 
ment; 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  sole  object  of  Ileligion. 
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  sentimenf\  he 
says,  "  embraces  reading  in  its  higher  sense,  poetry, 


THEOLOGY    A    HH AXril    OF    KNOWLEDGE.  53 

music,  together  with  moral  and  religious  education". 
What  can  be  clearer  than  that,  in  this  writer's 
idea  (whom  I  am  far  from  introducing  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;  I  do  but  intro- 
duce him  as  an  illustration  of  the  wide-spreading 
school  of  thought  to  which  he  belongs) ;  what,  I  say, 
can  more  clearly  prove  than  a  candid  avowal  like 
this,  that,  in  the  view  of  that  school,  Eeligion  is  not 
knowledge,  has  nothing  whatever  to  do  with  know- 
ledge, and  is  excluded  from  a  University  course  of  in- 
struction, not  simply  because  the  exclusion  cannot 
be  helped,  from  political  or  social  obstacles,  but  be- 
cause it  has  no  business  there  at  all,  because  it  is  to 
be  considered  a  mere  taste,  sentiment,  opinion,  and 
nothing  more?  The  writer  avows  this  conclusion 
himself,  in  the  explanation  into  which  he  presently 
enters,  in  which  he  says:  "According  to  the  classifi- 
cation proposed,  the  essential  idea  of  all  religious 
education  will  consist  in  the  direct  cultivation  of  the 
f€elings'\  Here  is  Lutheranism  sublimated  into  phi- 
losophy; what  we  contemplate,  what  we  aim  at,  when 
we  give  a  religious  education,  is,  not  to  impart  any 
knowledge  whatever,  but  to  satisfy  anyhow,  desires 
which  will  arise  after  the  Unseen  in  spite  of  us,  to  pro- 
vide 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 


54  DISCOURSE  II. 

celestial  piety,  to  teach  it  the  poetry  of  devotion,  the 
music  of  well-ordered  affections,  and  the  luxury  of 
doing  good.  The  soul  comes  forth  from  her  hower, 
for  the  adoration  of  the  lecture-room  and  the  saloon; 
like  the  first  woman,  in  the  poef  s  description, 

"  Grace  is  in  all  her  steps,  heaven  in  her  eye, 
In  every  gesture  dignity  and  love". 

As  for  the  intellect,  on  the  other  hand,  its  exercise 
is  only  indirect  in  religious  education,  as  being  an 
instrument  in  a  moral  work  (true  or  false,  it  matters 
little,  or  rather  anything  must  be  true,  which  is 
capable  of  reaching  the  end  proposed) ;  or  again,  as 
the  unavoidable  attendant  on  moral  impressions,  from 
the  constitution  of  the  human  mind,  but  varying 
with  the  peculiarities  of  the  individual.*     Something 

*"In  the  diverse  schools",  he  says,  "amongst  which  my  labours 
are  carried  on,  there  are  some,  in  which  the  Bible  is  the  sole  basis  of 
religious  instruction ;  and  there  are  others,  in  which  catechisms,  or 
other  abstracts  of  doctrine,  are  employed.  As  far  as  my  own  ob- 
servation extends,  it  has  ever  appeared  perfectly  indifferent,  as  to 
the  results,  what  precise  method  or  instrumentality  may  be  adopted. 
I  have  seen  the  happiest,  and  I  have  seen  the  most  unsatisfactory 
results,  ahke  under  both  systems.  In  each  case,  the  mere  instru- 
ment of  teaching  is  of  small  importance  compared  with  the  spirit 
which  is  infused  into  it  by  the  teacher.  The  danger  in  each  case  is, 
that  of  employing  the  instrument  simply  as  the  basis  of  an  intellectual 
exercise,  and  losing  sight  of  the  moral  and  religious  sentiment  it  is 
intended  to  draw  forth". 


THEOLOGY    A    BRANCH    OF    KNOWLEDGE.  55 

like  this  seems  to  be  the  writer's  meaning,  but  we 
need  not  pry  into  its  finer  issues  in  order  to  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  con- 
sider it  amply  explains  how  it  comes  to  pass  that  the 
day's  philosophy  sets  up  a  system  of  universal  know- 
ledge,  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  Crea- 
tor. 

Here,  however,  it  may  be  objected  to  me  that  this 
representation  is  certainly  extreme,  for  the  school  in 
question  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  of  one  of  the  speakers,  at  the  solem- 
nities which  took  place,  at  the  time  when  the  principle 
of  Mixed  Education  was  first  formally  inaugurated  in 
the  metropolis  of  the  sister  island.     On  the  occasion 


56  DISCOURSE  II. 

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  Eeport  informs  us,  "  the 
whole  surrounding  assembly  standing  uncovered  in 
solemn  silence".    "  Thou",  he  said,  in  the  name  of  all 
the  denominations  present,  "  thou  hast  constructed 
the  vast  fabric  of  the  universe  in  so  wonderful  a 
manner,  so  arranged  its  motions,  and  so  formed  its 
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  TrutN\ 
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  senti- 
ments, not  of  this  divine  himself  (for  I  am  not  con- 
cerned with  him  personally),  but  of  the  powerful 
body  whom  he  there  represented,  it  would,  as  far  as 
it  goes,  be  satisfactory.    I  admit  it;  and  I  admit  also 
the  recognition  of  the  Being  and  certain  Attributes 
of  the  Deity,  contained  in  the  writings  of  the  noble 
and   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  lite- 
rary.     He  then,  in  his  "  Discourse  of  the  objects, 
advantages,  and  pleasures  of  science",  after  variously 


THEOLOGY  A  BRANCH  OF  KNOWLEDGE.  57 

illustrating  what  he  terms  its  "  gratifying  treats", 
crowns  the  catalogue  with  "the  highest  of  all  our 
gratifications  in  the  contemplation  of  science",  which 
he  proceeds  to  explain  thus: 

"  We  are  raised  by  them",  he  says,  "to  an  under- 
standing of  the  infinite  wisdom  and  goodness  which 
the  Creator  has  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  espe- 
cially 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,  how- 
ever, of  this  most  consoling  inference,  the  delight 
is  inexpressible,  of  being  able  to  follow,  as  it  were, 
with  our  eyes,  the  marvellous  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 


58  DISCOURSE  II. 

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  j 
and  it  gives  a  dignity  and  importance  to  the  enjoy- 
ment 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  in- 
ferring the  Divine  Being  and  Attributes  from  the 
phenomena  of  nature,  he  distinctly  admits  a  basis  of 
truth  in  the  doctrines  of  Religion. 

I  wish.  Gentlemen,  to  give  these  representations 
their  full  weight,  both  from  the  gravity  of  the  ques- 
tion, and  the  consideration  due  to  the  persons  whom 
I  am  arraigning;  but,  before  I  can  feel  sure  I  under- 
stand them,  I  must  ask  an  abrupt  question.  When 
I  am  told,  then,  by  the  partizans  of  Mixed  Educa- 
tion, that  human  science  leads  to  belief  in  a  Supreme 
Being,  without  denying,  nay,  as  a  Catholic,  with 
full  conviction  of  the  fact, — yet  I  am  obliged  to  ask 
what  the  statement  means  in  their  mouth,  what 
they,  the  speakers,  understand  by  the  word  '*  God". 
Let  me  not  be  thought  offensive,  if  I  question,  whe- 
ther 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  A  BRANCH  OF  KNOWLEDGE.  59 

theology  in  itself.  At  the  risk  of  anticipating  what 
I  shall  have  occasion  to  insist  upon  in  my  next  Dis- 
course, 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 -re- 
membering; between  whom  and  His  creatures  there 
is  an  infinite  gulf;  who  had  no  origin,  who  passed  an 
eternity  by  Himself;  who  created  and  upholds  the 
universe;  who  will  judge  every  one  of  us,  at  the  end 
of  time,  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  purpose  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  mixed  Himself  up  with  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: 
if  it  means  any  thing,  it  means  all  this,  and  cannot 
keep  from  meaning  all  this,  and  a  great  deal  more; 


60  DISCOURSE  II. 

and,  though  there  were  nothing  in  Protestantism, 
as  such,  to  disparage  dogmatic  truth  (and  I  have 
shown  there  is  a  great  deal),  still,  even  then,  I  should 
have  difficulty  in  believing  that  a  doctrine  so  myste- 
rious, so  peremptory,  approved  itself  as  a  matter  of 
course  to  educated  men  of  this  day,  who  gave  their 
minds  attentively  to  consider  it.  Eather,  in  a  state  of 
society  such  as  ours,  in  which  authority,  prescription, 
tradition,  habit,  moral  instinct,  and  the  influences 
of  grace  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  influenced  by  that  spirit  had,  I  will  not  say,  a 
true  apprehension  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 
nothing  by  it.  The  heathens  used  to  say,  "God 
wills",  when  they  meant  "Fate";  "God  provides", 
when  they  meant  "Chance";  "God  acts",  when  they 


THEOLOGY  A  BRANCH  OF  KNOWLEDGE.  61 

meant  "Instinct"  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  has  contrived  the 
world  and  keeps  it  in  order,  who  acts  in  it,  but  only 
in  the  way  of  general  Providence,  who  acts  towards  us 
but  only  through,  what  are  called,  laws  of  Nature, 
who  is  more  certain  not  to  act  at  all,  than  to  act  in- 
dependent 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 
revolutionize  society,  so  you  would  revolutionize  hea- 
ven, if  you  have  changed  the  divine  sovereignty  into  a 
sort  of  constitutional  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  powerful  or  skilful,  just  so  far 
forth  as  the  telescope  shows  power,  and  the  micro- 
scope shows  skill,  if  His  moral  law  is  to  be  ascer- 
tained simply  by  the  physical  processes  of  the  animal 
frame,  or  His  will  gathered  from  the  immediate 
issues  of  human  affairs,  if  His  Essence  is  just  as  high 


62  DISCOURSE  II. 

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  theology- 
is  but  a  name,  and  a  protest  in  its  behalf  an  hypo- 
crisy. Then,  is  He  but  coincident  with  the  laws  of 
the  universe;  then  is  He  but  a  function,  or  correla- 
tive, 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  lan- 
guage, and  has  not  even  an  infinitesimal  influence 
upon  philosophy  or  science,  of  which  it  is  rather  the 
parasitical  production.  I  understand,  in  that  case, 
why  Theology  should  require  no  specific  teaching,  for 
there  is  nothing  to  mistake  about;  why  it  is  power- 
less against  scientific  conclusions,  for  it  merely  is  one 
of  them;  why  it  is  simply  absurd  in  its  denunciations 
of  heresy,  for  it  does  but  lie  itself  in  the  province  of 
opinion.  I  understand,  in  that  case,  how  it  is  that 
the  religious  sense  is  but  a  "  sentiment",  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  but  Nature  with  a 
divine  glow  upon  it.  I  understand  the  zeal  ex- 
pressed for  Natural  Theology,  for  this  study  is  but  a 
mode  of  looking  at  Nature,  a  certain  view  taken  of 


THEOLOGY  A  BRANCH  OF  KNOWLEDGE.  63 

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 
the  theology  of  Nature,  just  as  we  talk  of  the  phi- 
losophy or  the  romance  of  history,  or  the  poetry  of 
childhood,  or  the  picturesque,  or  the  sentimental,  or 
the  humourous,  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,  re- 
cognizes in  any  set  of  objects  which  are  subjected 
to  its  contemplation. 

Such  ideas  of  Eeligion  seem  to  me  short  of  Mono- 
theism; I  do  not  impute  them  to  this  or  that  indi- 
vidual who  belongs  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  importance  to  the  enjoyment  of 
life",  and  teaching  us  that  knowledge  and  our  duties 
to  society  are  the  only  earthly  subject  worth  our 
notice,  all  this,  I  own  it.  Gentlemen,  frightens  me; 
nor  is  Dr.  Maltby's  address  to  the  Deity  amid  "solemn 
silence",  sufficient  to  reassure  me.  I  do  not  see  much 
difierence  between  saying  that  there  is  no  God, 
and  implying  that  nothing  definite  can  for  certain  be 
known  about  Him;  and  when  I  find  Religious  Educa- 
tion treated  as  the  cultivation  of  sentiment,  and 
Religious  Belief  as  the  accidental  hue  or  posture  of 


64  DISCOURSE  II. 

the  mind,  I  am  reluctantly  but  forcibly  reminded  of 
a  very  unpleasant  page  of  Metaphysics,  of  the  relations 
between  God  and  Nature  insinuated  by  such  philoso- 
phers as  Hume.  This  acute  though  most  low-minded 
of  speculators,  in  his  inquiry  concerning  the  Human 
Understanding,  introduces,  as  is  well  known,  Epicu- 
rus, that  is,  a  teacher  of  atheism,  delivering  an 
harangue  to  the  Athenian  people,  not  in  defence,  but 
in  extenuation  of  that  opinion.  His  object  is  to  show 
that,  whereas  the  atheistic  view  is  nothing  else  than 
the  repudiation  of  theory,  and  an  accurate  represen- 
tation 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  the  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 
absolutely  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  doing,  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  immaterial,  parallel  and  coincident  with 
Nature,  to  whom  we  give  the  name  of  God.  "Allow- 
ing", he  says,  "  the  gods  to  be  the  authors  of  the  ex- 
istence or  order  of  the  universe,  it  follows  that  they 
possess  that  precise  degree  of  power,  intelligence,  and 


THEOLOGY  A  BRANCH  OF  KNOWLEDGE.  65 

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  sup- 
position 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 
magnificent  display  of  these  attributes,  and  a  scheme  of 
administration  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  Theo- 
logy 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,  de- 
ciding, as  he  does,  that  the  phenomena  of  the 
material  world  are  insufficient  for  the  full  exhibition 
of  the  Divine  Attributes,  and  implying  that  they  re- 
quire   a    supplemental    process    to    complete    and 


66  DISCOURSE  II. 

harmonize  their  evidence.  But  is  not  this  supple- 
mental process  a  science?  and  if  so,  why  not  ac- 
knowledge 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  this, 
how  do  you  differ  from  Hume  or  Epicurus? 

I  end  then  as  I  began:  religious  doctrine  is  Know- 
ledge, 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 
fiill  a  sense  as  Newton's  doctrine  is  knowledge. 
Mixed  Education,  at  least  in  a  University,  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  recognized  sciences,  is  not 
only  indefensible  in  itself,  but  prejudicial  to  all  the 
rest. 


DISCOURSE  III. 


BEARING   OF   THEOLOGY   ON   OTHER   BRANCHES   OF 
KNOWLEDGE. 

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  or  ears  for  anything  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  offending 

any  one,  or  interfering  with  any  one;  they  are  pursu- 

5 


68  DISCOURSE   III. 

ing  their  own  particular  line,  they  have  never  spoken 
a  word  against  anyone'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  talking  of  it,  when  the  topic  would  be  utterly 
irrelevant.  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  subjects  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  them- 
selves 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  may  have  it  all 


BEARING  OF  THEOLOGY  ON  OTHER  KNOWLEDGE.      69 

their  own  way,  when  they  are  by  themselves,  so  that 
they  do  not  attempt  to  disturb  a  comprehensive  sys- 
tem of  instruction,  acceptable  and  useful  to  all,  by  the 
intrusion  of  opinions  peculiar  to  their  own  minds. 

I  am  now  going  to  attempt  a  philosophical  answer 
to  this  view  of  the  subject,  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  I  find 
it  necessary  to  sacrifice  composition  to  logical  dis- 
tinctness, and  trust  to  the  subject  itself  to  give 
interest  to  processes  of  thought,  which  I  fear  in 
themselves  may  be  wearisome  to  follow:  —  I  begin 
then  thus: — 

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  their  mutual 
positions  and  bearings.  And,  as  all  taken  together 
form  one  integral  object,  so  there  are  no  natural  or 


70  DISCOURSE  in. 

real  limits  between  part  and  part;  one  is  ever  run- 
ning into  another;  all,  as  viewed  by  the  mind,  are 
combined  together,  and  possess  a  correlative  charac- 
ter one  with  another,  from  the  internal  mysteries  of 
the  Divine  Essence  down  to  our  own  sensations  and 
consciousness,  from  the  most  solemn  appointments  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  capabi- 
lities, 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  inspection.  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  may,  and  viewing 
it  under  different  aspects,  by  way  of  making  progress 
towards  mastering  the  whole.  So  by  degrees  and  by 
circuitous  advances  does  it  rise  aloft  and  subject  to 
itself  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  portions  of  the  field  of  knowledge;  some- 
times extending  far  and  wide,  but  superficially,  some- 
times with  exactness  over  particular  departments, 
sometimes  occupied  together  on  one  and  the  same 


BEARING  OF  THEOLOGY  ON  OTHER  KNOWLEDGE.      71 

portion,  sometimes  holding  one  part  in  common,  and 
then  ranging  on  this  side  or  that  in  absolute  diver- 
gence 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 
province,  but  goes  deeper  into  it ;  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  these  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  predicates  to 
subjects;  and  therefore  they  never  tell  us  all  that 
can  be  said  about  a  thing,  even  when  they  tell  some- 
thing, nor  bring  it  before  us,  as  the  senses  do.  They 
arrange  and  classify  facts;  they  bring  separate 
phenomena  under  a  common  law ;  they  trace  effects 
to  a  cause.  Thus  they  serve  to  transfer  our  know- 
ledge from  the  custody  of  memory  to  the  surer  and 
more  abiding  protection  of  philosophy,  thereby  pro- 
viding 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  proceed  on  the 
principle  of  a  division  of  labour,  even  though  that 
division  is  an  abstraction,  not  a  literal  separation 


72  DISCOURSE   III. 

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,  enlightens  the  mind  in  the  knowledge 
of  things,  as  they  are,  or  brings  home  to  it  the  exter- 
nal object  on  which  it  wishes  to  gaze.  Thus  they 
differ  in  importance :  and  according  to  their  impor- 
tance, will  be  their  influence,  not  only  on  the  mass  of 
knowledge  to  which  they  all  converge  and  contribute, 
but  on  each  other. 

Since  then  sciences  are  the  results  of  mental  pro- 
cesses about  one  and  the  same  subject  matter,  viewed 
under  various  aspects,  and  are  true  results,  as  far  as 
they  go,  yet  at  the  same  time  independent  and  partial, 
it  follows  that  on  the  one  hand  they  need  external 
assistance,  one  by  one,  by  reason  of  their  incom- 
pleteness, and  on  the  other  that  they  are  able  to  afford 
it  to  each  other,  by  reason,  first,  of  their  distinctness 
in  themselves,  and  then,  of  their  identity  in  their 
subject  matter.  Viewed  all  together,  they  become 
the  nearest  approximation  to  a  representation  or 
subjective  reflexion  of  the  objective  truth,  possible  to 
the  human  mind,  which  advances  towards  the  accu- 
rate apprehension  of  that  object,  in  proportion  to  the 
number  of  sciences  it  has  mastered;  and  which, 
when  certain  sciences  are  wanting,  in  such  a  case 
has  but  a  defective  apprehension,  in  proportion  to 
the  value  of  the  sciences  which  are  thus  wanting, 


BEARING  OF  THEOLOGY  ON  OTHER  KNOWLEDGE.      73 

and  the  importance  of  the  field  on  which  they  are 
employed. 

Let   us   take,   for   instance,   man  himself  as  our 
object  of  contemplation ;  then  at  once  we  shall  find 
we  can  view  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  possession  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 
alluded  to,  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,  impor- 
tant,  which  is  omitted,  whether  his  relation  to  God, 
or  his  king,  or  his  children,  or  his  own  component 
parts.     And  if  there  be  one  relation,  about  which 
we  know  nothing  at  all  except  that  it  exists,  then  is 


74  DISCOURSE   III. 

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  mathe- 
matics,  though   to    pure    mathematics    it    applies 
especially,  viz.,  that  they  cannot  be  considered  as 
simple  representations  or  informants  of  things  as 
they  are.     We  are  accustomed  to  say,  and  say  truly, 
that  the  conclusions  of  pure  mathematics  are  applied, 
corrected,  and  adapted,  by  mixed;  but  so  too  the  con- 
clusions of  Physiology,  Geology,  and  other  sciences, 
are  revised  and  completed  by  each  other.      Those 
conclusions  do  not  represent  whole  and  substantive 
facts,  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  of  that 
object  by  other  sciences.     Did  we  proceed  upon  the 
abstract  theory  of  forces,  we  should  assign  a  much 
moi^  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, 
considered  as  belonging  to  impulsive  forces,  is  not 


BEARING  OF  THEOLOGY  ON  OTHER  KNOWLEDGE.      75 

more  perfect,  as  such,  by  this  supplementary  investi- 
gation. 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  admission  of  certain  metaphysical  postu- 
lates, if  it  is  to  be  more  than  a  theory  or  an  hypo- 
thesis; as,  that  the  true  explanation  of  phenomena 
is  that  which  assigns  them  to  the  fewest  causes;  and 
this  presupposes  others,  as,  that  there  is  such  a  thing 
as  cause  and  effect  at  all,  that  order  implies  causation, 
that  there  is  any  real  cause  but  the  One  First  Cause, 
that  the  theory  of  the  Occasionists  is  false,  and  that 
what  happened  yesterday  will  happen  to-morrow; 
moreover,  that  phenomena  are  facts,  that  there  is 
such  a  thing  as  matter,  that  our  senses  are  trust- 
worthy, and  so  on.  Now  metaphysicians  grant  to 
Newton  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  conclu- 
sions in  the  science  of  physics  would  remain  hope- 
lessly on  the  stocks,  though  finished,  and  never  could 
be  launched  into  the  sphere  of  fact. 

Again,  did  I  know  nothing  about  the  passage  of 
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 


76  DISCOURSE   III. 

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  flew  up  and  heavy  bodies  fell  down ; 
but  I  should  go  on  with  equal  confidence  to  deny  the 
phenomenon  of  capillary  attraction.  Here  I  should 
be  wrong,  but  only  because  I  carried  out  my  science 
irrespectively  of  other  sciences.  In  like  manner,  did 
I  simply  give  myself  to  the  investigation  of  the  ex- 
ternal 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  exclusion  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  every  thing  without  aid  from  any  other  quarter. 
Thus,  before  now,  chemistry  has  been  substituted  for 
medicine;  and  again,  political  economy,  or  intellec- 
tual enlightenment,  or  study  of  the  Protestant  Bible, 
has  been  cried  up  as  a  panacea  against  vice,  malevo- 
lence, and  misery. 

Unless  I  am  insisting  on  too  plain  a  point,  I  would 
ask  you,  Gentlemen,  to  consider  how  prominent  a 
place  Induction  holds  in  modern  philosophy.  It  is 
especially  the  instrument  of  physical  discovery ;  yet 
it  is  singularly  deficient  in  logical  cogency,  and  its 


BEARING  or  THEOLOGY  ON  OTHER  KNOWLEDGE.      77 

deficiency  illustrates  the  incompleteness  of  the 
sciences,  severally,  which  respectively  use  it,  for  the 
ascertainment  of  particular  matters  of  fact.  Its 
main  principle,  I  suppose,  is  this : — that  what  in  our 
investigations  is  ever  tending  to  be  universal,  may  be 
considered  universal.  We  assume  that  general 
proposition  to  be  true,  which  is  ever  getting  more 
and  more  like  truth,  the  more  we  try  it;  we  call 
that  a  proof,  which  is  but  a  growing  proof.  We 
argue  from  some  or  many  to  all.  Induction,  thus 
described,  is  surely  open  to  error;  for,  when  engaged 
in  the  accumulation  of  instances,  which  are  to  sub- 
serve the  elucidation  of  some  particular  science,  it 
may  have  its  path  crossed  any  moment  by  the  deci- 
sions of  other  sciences  with  reference  to  the  remain- 
ing instances  which  it  has  not  yet  comprised  in  its 
investigation.  In  such  a  case  it  is  of  course  at  once 
interrupted  and  brought  to  a  stop ;  and  what  actually 
takes  place  as  regards  some  attempted  inductions, 
may  be  of  possible  occurrence  in  many  others.  That 
is,  the  induction  is  complete  for  the  purpose  of  deter- 
mining the  existence  of  a  general  law  in  the  parti- 
cular science  which  is  using  it ;  but  that  law  is  only 
proved  to  be  general,  not  universal;  inasmuch  as  par- 
ticular instances,  in  which  it  ought  to  hold  good,  and 
which  in  fact  have  not  been  constituent  elements  of  the 
induction,  may  after  all  fall  under  some  general  law 
of  some  other  science  also,  which  succeeds  in  modify- 
ing or  changing   them.       For   instance,    supposing 


78  DISCOURSE   III. 

Euphrates  has  flowed  in  its  bed  for  three  hundred 
and  sixty  days  continuously  in  the  current  year,  we 
may  infer  a  general  law,  and  expect  securely  that  it 
will  flow  on  through  the  five  days,  which,  being 
future,  are  external  to  the  induction ;  and  so,  physi- 
cally speaking,  it  will  flow  ;  yet  in  matter  of  fact  it 
did  not  flow  on  those  remaining  days  at  a  certain 
historical  era,  for  Cyrus  turned  it  aside,  and  removed 
the  question  out  of  physics  into  politics  and  strategics. 
A  physical  lecturer  would  not  be  endured,  who  denied 
the  historical  fact  of  the  anomalous  course  of  the 
stream,  because  he  would  not  take  into  account  the 
volition  and  the  agency  of  man,  as  foreign  to  his 
science ;  yet  certainly  he  would  be  right  in  saying 
that,  according  to  physics,  the  river  ought  to  flow  on, 
and  on  the  hypothesis  of  physics  did  flow  in  its  bed  all 
through  the  five  days,  as  it  was  wont.  Such  is  the 
fallacy  of  experimental  science,  when  narrowed  to 
some  single  department,  instead  of  expanding  into  all. 
In  political  arrangements  the  majority  compels  the 
outstanding  minority;  but  in  the  philosophy  of 
induction,  as  some  are  accustomed  to  apply  it,  the 
many  actually  deny  the  existence  of  the  few. 

Summing  up  what  I  have  said,  I  lay  it  down  that, 
no  science  is  complete  in  itself,  when  viewed  as  an 
instrument  of  attaining  the  knowledge  of  facts ;  that 
every  science,  for  this  purpose,  subserves  the  rest ; 
and,  in  consequence,  that  the  systematic  omission  of 
any    one    science    from    the    catalogue,    prejudices 


BEARING  OF  THEOLOGY  ON  OTHER  KNOWLEDGE.      79 

the  accuracy  and  completeness  of  our  knowledge 
altogether,  and  that,  in  proportion  to  its  importance. 
Not  even  Theology  itself,  though  it  comes  from 
heaven,  though  its  truths  were  given  once  for  all  at 
the  first,  though  they  are  more  certain  than  those  of 
mathematics,  not  even  Theology  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  Catholic  Church,  is  variously  in- 
fluenced by  the  other  sciences.  Not  to  insist  on  the 
introduction  of  the  Aristotelic  philosophy  into  its 
phraseology,  its  interpretations  of  prophecy  are 
directly  affected  by  the  issues  of  history,  its  com- 
ments upon  Scripture  by  the  conclusions  of  the 
astronomer  and  the  geologist,  and  its  casuistical  de- 
cisions 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  preeminent  dignity  of  Eeligious  Truth ; 
I  only  say,  if  there  be  Religious  Truth  at  all,  we  can- 
not shut  our  eyes  to  it,  without  prejudice  to  truth  of 


80  DISCOURSE   III. 

every  kind,  physical,  metaphysical,  historical,  and 
moral ;  for  it  bears  upon  all  truth.  And  thus  I  an- 
swer 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  of  Theology,  "When 
Newton  can  dispense  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. 

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  everthing  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  ex- 
clusive attention  upon  some  one  class  or  order  of 
originating  principles,  and  ascribed  to  these  every 
thing  which  happened  any  where.  It  would  indeed 
have  been  unworthy  a  genius  so  curious,  so  pene- 
trating, so  fertile,  so  analytical  as  Aristotle's,  to  have 

Aiist.  Ethic.  Nicom.,  iii.  3. 


BEARING  OF  THEOLOGY  ON  OTHER  KNOWLEDGE.      81 

laid  it  down  that  every  thing  on  the  face  of  the 
earth  could  be  accounted  for  by  the  material  sciences, 
without  the  hypothesis  of  moral  agents.  It  is  in- 
credible 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  knowledge  also  is  power.  And  this, 
so  much  the  more,  inasmuch  as  moral  and  spiritual 
agents  belong  to  another,  not  to  say  a  higher,  order 
than  physical ;  so  that  the  omission  supposed  w^ould 
not  have  been  merely  an  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,  and  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  community, 
ministers  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 
avoiding  constant  quarrelling  in  defence  of  this  or 


82  DISCOURSE   III. 

that  side  of  the  question,  is,  in  the  judgment  of  the 
persons  I  am  supposing,  to  shut  up  the  subject  of 
anthropology  altogether.  The  Privy  Council  issues  an 
order  to  that  effect.  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  as  a  matter  of 
private  judgment,  which  each  individual  may  carry 
out  as  he  will.  I  can  just  fancy  such  a  prohibition 
abstractedly  possible  ;  but  one  thing  I  cannot  fancy 
possible,  viz.,  that  the  parties  in  question,  after  this 
sweeping  act  of  exclusion,  should  forthwith  send  out 
proposals  on  the  basis  of  such  exclusion,  for  publish- 
ing an  Encyclopedia,  or  erecting  a  National  University. 
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  agency  of  man  in  the  material  world, 
cannot  allowably  be  recognized,  and  may  allowably 
be  denied.  Physical  and  mechanical  causes  are  ex- 
clusively to  be  treated  of;  volition  is  a  forbidden 
subject.  A  Prospectus  is  put  out,  with  a  list  of 
sciences,  we  will  say.  Astronomy,  Optics,  Hydro- 
statics, Galvanism,  Pneumatics,  Statics,  Dynamics, 
Pure  Mathematics,  Geology,  Botany,  Physiology, 
Anatomy,  and  so  forth;  but  not  a  word  about  the 
mind  and  its  powers,  except  what  is  said  in  explana- 
tion of  the   omission.     That  explanation  is  to  the 


BEAUINC  OF  THEOLOGY  ON  OTHER  KNOWLEDGE.      83 

effect,  that  the  parties  concerned  in  the  undertaking 
have  given  long  and  painful  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  Philosophy  of  Mind.  What 
relieves,  however,  their  regret  is  the  reflection,  that 
domestic  feelings  and  polished  manners  are  best  cul- 
tivated 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,  with 
*' heads  uncovered"  and  "in  solemn  silence". 

The  project  becomes  popular;  money  flows  in 
apace;  a  charter  is  obtained;  professors  are  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  porten- 
tous an  unreality?  Here  are  professors  gravely 
lecturing  on  medicine,  or  history,  or  political 
economy,  who,  so  far  from  being  bound  to  acknow- 
ledge, are  free  to  scoff  at  the  action  of  mind  upon 


84  DISCOURSE   III. 

matter,  or  of  mind  upon  mind,  or  the  claims  of  mu- 
tual 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  it- 
self to  the  reason  ;  and  at  length  a  Professor  is  found, 
more  hardy  than  his  brethren,  still  however,  as  he 
himself  maintains,  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  it,  by  the  operation  of 
physical  causes.  Hitherto  life  and  volition  were 
accounted  real  powers ;  the  muscles  act,  and  their 
action  cannot  be  represented  by  any  scientific  ex- 
pression; a  stone  flies  out  of  the  hand,  and  the  pro- 
pulsive 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,  in  a  brilliant 
Lecture  before  a  thronging  audience,  after  speaking 
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  exercise  a  special  interference,  in 
the  material  world.  He  ascribes  every  work,  or  ex- 
ternal 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 


BEARIX(;  OF  THEOLOGY  ON  OTHER  KNOWLEDGE.      85 

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  profession  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 
the  scholastic  terms  of  "genius"  and  "art",  and 
the  metaphysical  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.  What  indeed  is  art,  confessedly,  but  a 
modification  and  a  microcosm  of  nature  ?  Was  not 
Bacon  himself  obliged  to  allow  that  no  one  overcomes 
Nature  but  by  yielding  to  her?  Warming  with  his 
subject, the  Lecturer  undertakes  to  show  how  the  whole 
fabric  of  material  civilization  has  arisen  from  the  con- 
structive 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  Sir 
Christopher  would  give  way,  were  it  not  for  the 
happy  principle  of  the  arch.  He  surveys  the  com- 
plicated machinery  of  a  single  day's  arrangements  in 
a  private  family ;  our  dress,  our  furniture,  our  hospi- 


86  DISCOURSE   III. 

table  board ;  what  would  become  of  them,  he  asks, 
but  for  the  laws  of  physical  nature  ?  Firm  stitches 
have  a  natural  power,  in  proportion  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  pro- 
perty of  caloric  to  relax  the  fibres  of  animal  matter, 
acting  on  water  in  one  way,  on  oil  in  another,  and 
this  is  the  whole  mystery  of  the  most  elaborate 
cuisine: — but  I  should  be  tedious,  if  I  continued  the 
illustration. 

Now,  Gentlemen,  pray  understand  how  it  is  to  be 
here  applied.  I  am  not  supposing  that  the  principles 
of  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  any  thing  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  Professor,  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  every 
thing  that  takes  place  on  the  face  of  the  earth,  and 


BEARING  OF  THEOLOGY  ON  OTUER  KNOWLEDGE.      87 

his  passing  over  anthropology,  here  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 : 
he  would  forget  the  Poet's  maxim, 

"There  are  more  things  in  heaven  and  earth,  Horatio, 
Than  ai*e  dreamt  of  in  your  philosophy". 

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  Pro- 
fessor as  I  have  imagined  was  betraying  a  want  of 
philosophical  depth,  and  an  ignorance  of  what  an 
University  Education  ought  to  be.  He  was  no  longer 
a  teacher  of  liberal  knowledge,  but  a  narrow-minded 
bigot.  While  his  doctrines  professed  to  be  conclu- 
sions formed  upon  an  hypothesis,  they  were  undenia- 
ble ;  not,  if  they  professed  to  give  results  in  fact 
which  he  could  grasp  and  take  possession  of  Grant- 
ing indeed,  that  a  man's  arm  is  moved  by  a  simple  phy- 
sical 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  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 


88  DISCOURSE   III. 

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,  if  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  crepi- 
dam:  he  is  making  his  particular  craft  usurp  and 
occupy  the  universe.  This  then  is  the  drift  of 
my  illustration.  Our  excluding  volition  from  our 
range  of  ideas,  is  a  denial  of  the  soul  ;  and 
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  encyclopedia  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  ?     See,  Gentle- 


BEARING  OF  THEOLOGY  ON  OTHER  KNOWLEDGE.      89 

men,  I  have  now  run  beyond  the  first  portion  of  the 
argument  to  which  this  Discourse  is  devoted.  I  have 
hitherto  been  engaged  in  showing  that  all  the  sciences 
come  to  us,  to  use  scholastic  language,  per  modum 
uniuSj  that  they  all  relate  to  one  and  the  same  in- 
tegral subject  matter,  that  each  separately  is  more  or 
less  an  abstraction,  wholly  true  as  an  hypothesis, 
but  not  wholly  trustworthy  in  the  concrete,  con- 
versant 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  proportion  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  ex- 
erts itself  in  the  correction  and  completion  of  the  rest. 
This  general  statement  is  the  first  branch  of  my 
argument ;  and  now  comes  my  second,  which  is  its 
application,  and  will  not  occupy  us  so  long.  I  say, 
the  second  question  simply  regards  the  Science  of 
God,  or  Theology,  viz.,  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 


90  DISCOURSE   III. 

it  destroy  the  equilibrium  of  the  whole  system  of 
Knowledge  ?  This  is  the  inquiry  to  which  I  proceed. 
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,  though  of  course  I  shall  use  Catholic 
language.  Neither  on  the  other  hand,  will  I  fall  into 
the  fashion  of  the  day,  of  identifying  Natural  Theology 
w4th  Physical;  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" 
really  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  "  Christianity",  or  "our  common  Christianity^', 


BEAllING  OF  THEOLOGY  ON  OTHER  KNOWLEDGE.      91 

or  "  Cliristiiinity  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  pro- 
position. Lastly,  I  do  not  understand  by  Theology, 
acquaintance  with  the  Scriptures;  for,  though  no  per- 
son of  religious  feelings  can  read  Scripture,  but  he  will 
find  those  feelings  roused,  and  gain  various  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  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.  1  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 


92  DISCOURSE  III. 

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  greatness  ;  all  wisdom, 
all  truth,  all  justice,  all  love,  all  holiness,  all  beauti- 
fulness;  who  is  omnipotent,  omniscient,  omnipresent; 
ineffiil)ly  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  things  out  of  nothing, 
and  preserves  them  every  moment,  and  could  destroy 
them  as  easily  as  He  made  them;  and  that,  in  conse- 
quence, 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  works,  one  by  one, 
and  confronts  everything  He  has  made  by  His  parti- 
cular and  most  loving  Providence,  and  manifests 
Himself  to  each  according  to  its  needs;  and  on 
rational  beings  has  imprinted  the  moral  law,  and  given 


BEAR1X(;  OF  THEOLOGY  ON  OTHER  KNOWLEDGE.      93 

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  doc- 
trine, as  the  very  idea  of  its  subject  matter 
presupposes,  so  mysterious  as  in  its  fulness  to  lie 
beyond  any  system,  and  to  seem  even  in  parts  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  crea- 
ture, 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  feel  a  sym- 
pathy, 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 


94  DISCOURSE  III. 

another,  their  qualities  and  virtues,  the  order  and 
harmony  of  the  whole,  all  that  exists,  is  from  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.  All  we  see,  hear,  and  touch, 
the  remote  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  works  of  His  hands. 
From  Him  has  been  every  movement  which  has 
convulsed  and  refashioned  the  surface  of  the  earth. 
The  most  insignificant  or  unsightly  insect,  is  from 
Him,  and  good  in  its  kind;  the  ever-teeming,  inex- 
haustible swarms  of  animalculse,  the  myriads  of 
living  motes  invisible  to  the  naked  eye,  the  restless 
everspreading  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  politi- 
cal world.  Man,  with  his  motives  and  works,  his 
languages,  his  propagation,  his  diifusion,  is  from  Him. 
Agriculture,  medicine,  and  the  arts  of  life,  are  His 


BE.VRIXG  OF  THEOLOGY  ON  OTHER  KNOWLEDGE.      95 

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  neces- 
sary, have  His  cooperation,  and  His  blessing  upon 
them.  The  course  of  events,  the  revolution  of  Em- 
pires, the  rise  and  fall  of  states,  the  periods  and  eras, 
the  progresses  and  the  retrogressions  of  the  world's 
history,  not  indeed  the  incidental  sin,  over-abundant 
as  it  is,  but  the  great  outlines  and  the  issues  of  hu- 
man 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  radiation  of  genius, 
the  imagination  of  the  poet,  the  sagacity  of  the  poli- 
tician, 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  wisdom,  the 
traditionary  rules  of  truth,  justice,  and  religion,  even 
though  imbedded  in  the  corruption,  or  alloyed  with  the 
pride,  of  the  world,  bespeak  His  original  agency,  and 
His  long-suffering  presence.      Even  where  there  is 


96  DISCOURSE  III. 

habitual  rebellion  against  Him,  or  profound  far- 
spreading  social  depravity,  still  the  undercurrent,  or 
the  heroic  outburst,  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  reminis- 
cences 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  6f  the 
porticoes  of  Greece.  He  introduces  Himself,  He  all 
but  concurs,  according  to  His  good  pleasure,  and  in 
His  selected  season,  in  the  issues  of  unbelief,  super- 
stition, and  false  worship,  and  changes  the  character 
of  acts,  by  His  over-ruling  operation.  He  conde- 
scends, though  He  gives  no  sanction,  to  the  altars 
and  shrines  of  imposture,  and  He  makes  His  own 
fiat  the  substitute  for  its  sorceries.  He  speaks  amid 
the  incantations  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  misbe- 
liever. 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  fantastic 
dreams.  All  that  is  good,  all  that  is  true,  all  that  is 
beautiful,  all  that  is  beneficent,  be  it  great  or  small, 


BEARING  OF  THEOLOGY  ON  OTHER  KNoWLLD^iL.      97 

be  it  perfect  or  fragmentary,  natural  as  well  as  super- 
natural,  moral  as  well  as  material,  comes  from  Him. 

If  this  be  a  sketch,  accurate  in  substance  and  as 
far  as  it  goes,  of  the  doctrines  proper  to  Theology, 
and  especially  of  the  doctrine  of  a  particular  Provi- 
dence, which  is  the  portion  of  it  most  on  a  level  with 
human  sciences,  I  cannot  understand  at  all  how,  sup- 
posing it  to  be  true,  it  can  fail,  considered  as  know- 
ledge, to  exert  a  powerful  influence  on  philosophy, 
literature,  and  every  intellectual  creation  or  disco- 
very whatever.  I  cannot  understand  how  it  is 
possible,  as  the  phrase  goes,  to  blink  the  question  of 
its  truth  or  falsehood.  It  meets  us  with  a  profession 
and  a  proffer  of  the  highest  truths  of  which  the 
human  mind  is  capable;  it  embraces  a  range  of  sub- 
jects 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  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  no  science? 

And  this  dilemma  is  the  more  inevitable,  because 
Theology  is  so  precise  and  consistent  in  its  intellec- 


98  DISCOURSE   III. 

tual  structure.  When  I  speak  of  Theism  or  Mono- 
theism, I  am  not  throwing  together  discordant  doc- 
trines; 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.  I  speak  of  one  idea  un- 
folded in  its  just  proportions,  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  evolu- 
tion, not  of  two  ideas,  but  of  one. 

And  here  I  am  led  again  to  direct  your  attention, 
Gentlemen,  to  another  and  most  important  point  in 
the  argument, — its  wide  reception.  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  consi- 
dered. 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 
prima  facie  claims  upon  us,  so  strong,  that  it  can 
only  be  rejected  on  the  ground  of  those  claims  being 


BEARING  OF  THEOLOGY  ON  OTHER  KNOWLEDGE.       99 

nothing  more  than  imposing,  that  is,  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  Ave  help  assuming  it  our- 
selves without  the  most  unnatural  vigilance.     Who- 
ever philosophizes,  starts  with  it,  and  introduces  it, 
when  he  will,  without  any  apology.     Bacon,  Hooker, 
Taylor,  Cudworth,  Locke,  Newton,  Clarke,  Berkeley, 
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,  Shaks- 
peare  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 
without  it  ?  have  the  systems  of  Atheism  or  Panthe- 
ism, as  sciences,  prevailed  in  the  literature  of  nations, 
or  in  respect  of  formation  or  completion,  to  compare 
with  that  of  Monotheism?     We  find  it  in  old  Greece, 
and  even  in  Eome,  as  well  as  in  Judea  and  the  East. 
We  find  it  in  popular  literature,  in  philosophy,  in 
poetry,  as  a  positive  and  settled  teaching,  difiering  not 
at  all  in  the  appearance  it  presents,  whether  in  Protes- 
tant England,  or  in  schismatical  Kussia,  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 

7 


100  DISCOURSE  III. 

studies  of  a  University,  and  could  not  be  rejected  ex- 
cept on  the  score  of  convicted  imposture,  as  astrology 
or  alchemy  ;  if  there  be  a  science  any  where,  which 
at  least  could  claim  not  to  be  ignored,  but  to  be 
entertained,  and  either  distinctly  accepted  or  dis- 
tinctly reprobated,  or  rather,  which  cannot  be  passed 
over  in  a  scheme  of  universal  instruction,  without 
involving  a  positive  denial  of  its  truth,  it  is  this 
ancient,  this  far-spreading  philosophy. 

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  philo- 
sophical structure,  of  unutterable  importance,  and  of 
supreme  influence,  to  what  conclusion  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  Theo- 
logy, 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 


REARING  OF  THEOLOGY  ON  OTHER  KNOWLEDGE.      101 

he  at  present  dreams.  I  ask  again,  then ; — 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  Know- 
ledge, how  can  any  Catholic  imagine  that  it  is 
possible  to  cultivate  Philosophy  and  Science  with 
due  attention  to  their  ultimate  end,  which  is  Truth, 
if  that  system  of  revealed  facts  and  principles,  which 
constitutes  the  Catholic  Faith,  which  goes  so  far 
beyond  nature,  and  which  he  knows  to  be  most  true, 
be  omitted  from  among  the  subjects  of  their  teaching? 
In  a  word,  Keligious  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  University  Education.  It  is,  according  to  the 
Greek  proverb,  to  take  the  Spring  from  out  the  year; 
it  is  to  imitate  the  preposterous  proceeding  of  those 
tragedians,  who  represented  a  drama  with  the 
omission  of  its  principal  part. 


DISCOUKSE   lY. 

BEARING   OF   OTHER   BRANCHES   OF   KNOWLEDGE   ON 
THEOLOGY. 

Nothing  is  more  common  in  the  world  at  large,  than 
to  consider  the  resistance,  made  on  the  part  of  re- 
ligious men,  especially  Catholics,  to  the  separation  of 
Secular  Education  from  Keligion,  as  a  plain  token, 
that  there  is  some  real  contrariety  between  human 
science  and  Revelation.  It  matters  not  to  the  mul- 
titude who  draw  this  inference,  whether  the  protest- 
ing parties  are  aware  that  it  can  be  drawn  or  not;  it  is 
borne  in  upon  the  many,  so  to  say,  as  self-evident,  that 
religious  men  would  not  thus  be  jealous  and  alarmed 
about  Science,  did  they  not  feel  instinctively,  though 
they  may  not  recognise  it,  that  knowledge  is  their  born 
enemy,  and  that  its  progress  will  be  certain  to 
destroy,  if  it  is  not  arrested,  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  re- 
fusal to  educate  by  means  of  the  Bible  only;  why 

8 


104  DISCOURSE  IV. 

should  you  dread  it,  men  say,  if  it  be  not  against 
you?  And  in  like  manner,  why  should  you  dread 
secular  education,  except  that  it  is  against  you? 
Why  impede  the  circulation  of  books  which  take  re- 
ligious views  opposite  to  your  own?  Why  forbid  your 
children  and  scholars  the  free  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  unsuspicious; 
want  of  self-reliance  is  the  mark  of  falsehood. 

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  Dis- 
course. In  it  I  said,  that,  in  order  to  have  possession 
of  truth  at  all,  we  must  have  the  whole  truth;  that 
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  com- 
pliment 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 


P.EAllIXG  OF  OTHER  KNOWLEDGE  ON  THEOLOGY.       105 

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  what- 
ever kind,  and  that  revealed  knowledge  is  very  far 
indeed  from  an  inconsiderable  department,  this,  I  con- 
sider undeniable.  As  the  written  and  unwritten 
word  of  God  make  up  Revelation  as  a  whole,  and  the 
unwritten,  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  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  preser- 
vation of  our  race  in  Noah's  ark,  is  an  historical  fact, 
which  history  never  would  arrive  at  without  Revela- 
tion; and,  in  the  sciences  of  physiology  and  moral 
philosophy,  our  race's  progress  and  perfectibility  is  a 
dream,  because  Revelation  contradicts  it,  whatever  may 
be  plausibly  argued  in  its  behalf  by  scientific  inquirers. 
It  is  not  then  that  Catholics  are  afraid  of  human 
knowledge,  but  that  they  are  proud  of  divine  know- 
ledge, 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. 

Thus  I  anticipated  the  objection  in  question  last 


106  DISCOURSE  IT. 

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  physiology  and  political  economy  ; 
what,  again,  would  become  of  the  province  of  ex- 
perimental science,  if  made  over  to  the  Antiquarian 
Society;  or  of  history,  if  surrendered  out  and  out  to 
Metaphysicians  ?  The  case  is  the  same  with  the 
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,  what  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  accor- 
dance 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 


BEARING  OF  OTHER  KNOWLEDGE  ON  THEOLOGY.       107 

I  assert  the  fact,  and  to-day  I  am  going  on  to 
account  for  it,  that  any  secular  science  culti- 
vated 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: — 

One  of  the  first  acts  of  the  human  mind  is  to  grasp 
or  take  hold  of  what  meets  the  senses,  and  herein  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 
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.  It  seizes  and  unites  what  the  senses  present 
to  it;  it  grasps  and  forms  what  need  not  be  seen  or 
heard  except  in  detail.  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,  as 
it  were,  into  a  point  of  time,  and  calls  it  a  melody; 
it  has  a  keen  sensibility  towards  angles  and  curves, 
lights  and  shadows,  tints  and  contours.  It  assigns 
phenomena  to  a  general  law,  qualities  to  a  subject. 


108  DISCOURSE   IV. 

acts  to  a  principle,  and  effects  to  a  cause.  In  a 
word,  it  philosophises;  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  cannot  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  interpretations  of  what  we  meet 
Avith,  rather  than  have  none  at  all.  We  refer  the 
various  matters  which  are  brought  home  to  us,  ma- 
terial or  moral,  to  causes  which  we  happen  to  know 
of,  or  to  such  as  are  simply  imaginary,  sooner  thaa 
i^fer  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  explana- 
tion of  the  multitude  of  offhand  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  pro- 
nounce, without  sufficient  data  for  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  delineation 


BEARING  OF  OTHER  KNOWLEDGE  ON  THEOLOGY.       109 

of  his  appearance  or  of  its  scene,  yet  how  few  have  a 
right  to  form  any!  Hence  the  misconceptions  of  cha- 
racter, 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  extrava- 
gances of  undisciplined  talent,  and  the  narrownesses 
of  conceited  ignorance;  because,  though  it  is  no  easy 
matter  to  view  things  correctly,  yet  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  true  one. 

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  con- 
tracted,  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  gener- 
alize upon  the  basis  of  their  own  pursuit,  yet  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  enunciations;  not  so:  too  often  it  happens 
that,  in  proportion  as  his  knowledge  is  narrow,  is, 


110  DISCOURSE  IV. 

not  his  diffidence  of  it,  but  the  deep  hold  it  has  upon 
him,  his  conviction  of  his  own  conclusions,  and  his  posi- 
tiveness  in  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  com- 
monly 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  pro- 
ceed 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,  ex- 
alted 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,  at  a  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  Advance- 
ment 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 


BEARING  OF  OTHER  KNOWLEDGE  ON  THEOLOGY.       Ill 

to  them,  utterly  untrue  and  improper So 

have  the  alchemists  made  a  philosophy  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,  saitli  pleasantly,  *  hie  ab  arte  sua  non  reces- 
sit',  '  he  was  true  to  his  art'.  But  of  these  conceits 
Aristotle  speaketh  seriously  and  "wisely,  when  he 
saith,  "  Qui  respiciunt  ad  pauca,  de  facili  pronun- 
ciant',  ^  they  who  contemplate  a  few  things  have  no 
difficulty  in  deciding' ". 

Now  I  have  said  enough  to  explain  the  incon- 
venience w^hich  I  conceive  necessarily  to  result  from 
a  refusal  to  recognize  theological  truth  in  a  course  of 
Universal  Knowledge; — it  is  not  only  the  loss  of 
Theology,  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  mischievously,  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  persuade  the  world  of 
what  is  false  by  urging  upon  them  what  is  true. 
Nor  is  it  open  enemies  alone  who  encounter  us  here, 
sometimes  it  is  friends,  sometimes  persons  who,  if  not 


112  DISCOURSE    IV. 

friends,  at  least  have  no  wish  to  oppose  Eeligion,  and 
are  not  conscious  they  are  doing  so;  and  it  will 
carry  out  my  meaning  more  fully  if  I  give  some 
illustrations  of  it. 

As  to  friends,  I  may  take  as  an  instance  the  cul- 
tivation of  the  Fine  Arts,  Painting,  Sculpture, 
Architecture,  to  which  I  may  add  Music.  These 
high  ministers  of  the  Beautiful  and  the  Noble,  are,  it 
is  plain,  special  attendants  and  handmaids  of  Keli- 
gion;  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  ecclesi- 
astical point  of  view,  of  their  more  rudimental  state, 
I  mean  of  the  ancient  style  of  architecture,  of 
Gothic  sculpture  and  painting,  and  of  what  is  called 
Gregorian  music,  that  these  inchoate  sciences  have 
so  little  innate  vigour  and  life,  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  Painting,  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  of  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  the  beauty 


BEARING  OF  OTHER  KNOWLEDGE  ON  THEOLOGY.       113 

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  instru. 
ment  of  reverence  and  modesty ;  but,  as  time  went  on 
and  it  attained   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,  adorable  figures  and 
sacred  histories  did  but  mingle  amid  the  train  of  the 
earthly,  not  to  say  unseemly  forms,  which  it  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  hazardous  essays. 
Without  my  saying  a  word  more,  you  will  clearly  un- 
derstand. Gentlemen,  that  under  these  circumstances 
Religion  must  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  painting,  as 
men  now  would  put  them  aside  in  their  philosophical 
studies,  and  in  no  long  time  you  would  have  had, 
the   hierarchy  of    the    Church,   the  Anchorite  and 
Virgin-martyr,   the   Confessor  and  the  Doctor,  the 
Angelic  Hosts,  the  Mother  of  God,  the  Crucifix,  the 
Eternal   Trinity,   supplanted   by   a   sort   of    pagan 
mythology  in  the  guise  of  sacred  names,  by  a  crea- 
tion indeed  of  high  genius,  of  intense  and  dazzling 
and  soul-absorbing  beauty,  in  which,  however,  there 
was  nothing  which  subserved  the  cause  of  Religion, 


114  DISCOURSE  IV. 

nothing  on  the  other  hand  which  did  not  directly  or 
indirectly  minister  to  corrupt  nature  and  the  powers 
of  darkness. 

The  art  of  Painting,  however,  is  peculiar  :  Music 
and  Architecture  are  more  ideal,  and  their  respective 
archetypes,  even  if  not  supernatural,  at  least  are  ab- 
stract and  unearthly;  and  yet  what  I  have  been  observ- 
ing about  Painting,  holds,  I  suppose,  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  Ee- 
ligion;  here  too,  still  more  simply  than  in  the  case  of 
Painting,  the  Science  has  a  field  of  its  own,  perfectly 
innocent,  into  which  Peligion  does  not  and  need  not 
enter  ;  on  the  other  hand  here  also,  as  well  in  the 
case  of  Music  as  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  mathematical  science, 
it  is  the  expression  of  ideas  greater  and  more  pro- 
found than  any  in  the  visible  world,  ideas,  which 
centre  indeed  in  Him  whom  Catholicism  manifests, 
who  is  the  seat  of  all  beauty,  order,  and  perfection 
whatever,  still  after  all  not  those  on  which  Eevealed 
Eeligion  directly  and  principally  fixes  our  gaze.  If 
then  a  great  master  in  this  mysterious  science  (if  I 
may  speak  of  matters  which  seem  to  lie  out  of  my  own 
province)  throws  himself  on  his  own  gift,  trusts  its 


BEARING  OF  OTHER  KNOWLEDGE  ON  TITEOLOGT.       115 

inspirations,  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  every  thing  else.  Kising  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  on  upon  nothing  less  than  the  fullest 
flood  of  sounds  which  art  has  enabled  him  to  draw 
from  mechanical  contrivances;  he  will  go  forth  as  a 
giant,  as  far  as  ever  his  instruments  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  marvellous  and 
rapturous  combinations; — and  well  indeed  and  law- 
fully, 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  to  do  honour  to  the  Mass, 
or  the  Divine  Office, — he  cannot  have  a  more  pious,  a 
better  purpose,  and  Eeligion  will  gracefully  accept 
what  he  gracefully  offers:  but  is  it  not  certain,  from 
the  circumstances  of  the  case,  that  he  will  rather  use 
Religion  than  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,  humbly  follow  the  thoughts  given 
him,  and  aim  at  the  glory,  not  of  his  own  gift,  but 
of  the  Great  Giver? 


116  DISCOURSE  IV. 

As  to  Architecture,  it  is  a  remark,  if  I  recollect 
aright,  both  of  Fenelon  and  Berkeley,  men  so  diffe- 
rent, that  it  carries  more  with  it  even  than  the 
names  of  those  celebrated  men,  that  the  Gothic  style 
is  not  as  simple  as  ecclesiastical  structures  demand. 
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  and  a  command- 
ing 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,  novv  used  for 
sacred  purposes,  seems  to  have  an  idea  in  it,  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  possibility,  that,  as  the  renais- 
sance three  centuries  ago,  carried  away  its  own  day, 
in  spite  of  the  Church,  into  excesses  in  literature  and 
art,  so  a  revival  of  an  almost  forgotten  architecture, 
which  is  at  present  taking  place  in  our  own  coun- 
tries, 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;  to  English  Catholics  at  least  it 


BEARING  OF  OTHER  KNOWLEDGE  ON  THEOLOGY.       117 

would  be  a  serious  evil,  if  it  came  as  the  emblem  and 
advocate  of  a  past  ceremonial  or  an  extinct  national- 
ism. We  are  not  living  in  an  age  of  wealth  and 
loyalty,  of  pomp  and  stateliness,  of  time-honoured 
establishments,  of  pilgrimage  and  penance,  of  her- 
mitages 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 
are  altered  for  the  times,  and  an  obsolete  discipline 
may  be  a  present  heresy. 

I  have  been  pointing  out  to  you.  Gentlemen,  how 
the  Fine  Arts  may  prejudice  Keligion,  by  giving  the 
law  where  they  should  be  subservient.  The  illustra- 
tion is  analogous  rather  than  strictly  proper  to  my  sub- 
ject, 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  wonderftd,  when  we  turn  to  science  of 
a  different  character,  of  which  the  object  is  tangible 
and  material,  and  the  principles  belong  to  the  Reason, 
not  the  Imagination,  that  we  should  find  those  who 
are  disinclined  to  the  Catholic  Faith,  even  against 
their  will  and  intention,  as  may  often  happen,  acting 
the  part  of  opponents  to  it.  Many  men  there  are, 
who,  devoted  to  one  particular  subject  of  thought, 
and  making  its  principles  the  measure  of  all  things, 


118  DISCOURSE  IV. 

become  enemies  to  Keyealed  Eeligion  before  they  know 
it,  and,  only  as  time  proceeds,  are  aware  of  their  state 
of  mind.  These,  if  they  are  writers  or  lecturers, 
while  in  this  state  of  unconscious  or  semiconscious 
unbelief,  scatter  infidel  principles  under  the  garb 
and  colour  of  Christianity;  and  this,  simply  be- 
cause they  have  made  their  own  science,  whatever  it 
is.  Political  Economy,  or  Geology,  or  Astronomy,  not 
Theology,  the  centre  of  all  truth,  and  view  every  part  or 
the  chief  parts  of  knowledge  as  if  developed  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  and  good  taste 
to  wish  to  obtrude  them  upon  the  world.  They 
neither  wish  to  shock  people,  nor  to  earn  for  them- 
selves a  confessorship  which  brings  with  it  no  gain. 
They  know  the  strength  of  prejudice,  and  the  penalty 
of  innovation;  they  wish  to  go  through  life  quietly; 
they  scorn  polemics;  they  shrink  as  from  a  real  humi- 
liation, from  being  mixed  up  in  religious  controversy; 
they  are  ashamed  of  the  very  name.  However,  they 
have  occasion  at  some  time  to  publish  on  some  literary 
or  scientific  subject;  they  wish  to  give  no  offence;  but 
after  all,  to  their  great  annoyance,  they  find  when  they 
least  expect  it,  or  when  they  have  taken  considerable 
pains  to  avoid  it,  that  they  have  roused  by  their  pub- 
lication what  they  would  style  the  bigoted  and  bitter 
hostility  of  a  party.  This  misfortune  is  easily  concei- 
vable, and  has  befallen  many  a  man.    Before  he  knows 


BFARIXr.  OF  OTHER  KNOWLEDGE  ON  THEOLOGY.      119 

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  coun- 
ter to  the  principles  of  Eeligion;  which  he  has  never 
made  his  land  marks,  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. 

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  to  seem  to  deny  the  immateriality  of  the 
soul.  I  speak  here  neither  as  excusing  nor  reproba- 
ting sentiments  about  which  I  have  not  the  means  of 
forming  a  judgment;  all  indeed  I  have  heard  of  him 
makes  me  mention  him  with  interest  and  respect;  any 
how  of  this  I  am  sure,  that  if  there  be  a  calling  which 
feels  its  position  and  its  dignity  to  lie  in  abstain- 
ing from  controversy  and  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 

*  Since  writing  the  above,  I  have  found  gi-ounds  for  believing  that 

9 


120  DISCOURSE  lY. 

then  was  his  fault  or  mistake,  but  that  he  unsuspi- 
ciously 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,  that,  viz.,  of  spiritual  substances, 
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  pos- 
sible to  secular  history.  A  great  sensation  was  the 
consequence  among  the  members  of  his  own  commu- 
nion, from  which  he  still  suffers.  Arguing  from  the 
dislike  and  contempt  of  polemical  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  is  superseded  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  Ca- 
tholic; but  in  the  Establishment  he  knew  of  no  teach- 
ing, to  which  he  was  bound  to  defer,  which  ruled  that 
to  be  false  which  attracted  him  by  its  speciousness. 

I  will  now  take  an  instance  from  another  science. 
Political  Economy  is  the  science,  I  suppose,  of  wealth, — 

the  work  in  question  had  more  of  purpose  than  I  had  imagined. 
This  does  not  affect  the  general  argument. 


BEARING  OF  OTHER  KNOWLEDGE  ON  THEOLOGY.      121 

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  Kevealed  Truth,  sure  to 
conduct   a   speculator    to   unchristian    conclusions. 
Holy  Scripture  tells  us  distinctly,   that  "covetous- 
ness",  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  drawing  the  picture  of  a  wealthy  and  flou- 
rishing 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  w^ill 
not  work,  neither  let  him  eat";  and  "  If  any  man 
have  not  care  of  his  own,  and  especially  of  those  of 
his  house,  he  hath  denied  the  faith,  and  is  worse 
than  an  infidel".      These   opposite   injunctions   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.     "Judas",    says  St.   Chrysostom,   "wns 


122  DISCOURSE  IV. 

with  Him  who  knew  not  where  to  lay  His  head,  yet 
could  not  restrain  himself;  and  how  canst  thou  hope 
to  escape  the  contagion  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  any  where,  who  have  ever  embraced  them;  but 
it  is  useless  to  collect  passages  when  Scripture  is  so 
clear. 

Now  observe.  Gentlemen,  my  drift  in  setting  Scrip- 
ture and  the  Fathers  over  against  Political  Economy. 
Of  course  if  there  is  a  science  of  wealth,  it  must 
give  rules  for  gaining  wealth,  and  can  do  nothing 
more;  it  cannot  itself  declare  that  it  is  a  subordinate 
science,  that  its  end  is  not  the  ultimate  end  of.  all 
things,  and  that  its  conclusions  are  only  hypothetical, 
depending  on  its  premisses,  and  exposed  to  be  over- 
ruled by  a  higher  teaching.     I  do  not  then  blame  the 
Political  Economist  for  any  thing  which  follows  from 
the  very  idea  of  his  science,  directly  it  is  recognised 
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  busying  him- 


BEARING  OF  OTHER  KNOWLEDGE  ON  THEOLOGY.      123 

self  in  establishing  logical  conclusions  from  indis- 
putable premisses.  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  of  happiness;  I  say 
this  is  to  pass  the  bounds  of  his  science,  whether  he 
be  right  or  wrong  in  so  determining,  for  he  is  only 
concerned  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  preser- 
vation 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 
profitable  or  what  is  not ;  he  only  says  "  I  speak  as 
a  physician ;  if  you  would  be  well,  give  up  your 
profession,  your  trade,  your  ofiice,  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  extra- 
vagant, if  he  asserted  that  bodily  health  was  the 
summurn  bonum^  and  that  no  one  could  be  virtuous, 
whose  animal  system  was  not  in  good  order. 

But  now  let  us  turn  to  the  teaching  of  the  Poll- 


124  DISCOURSE  ly. 

tical  Economist,  a  fashionable  philosopher  just  now. 
I  will  take  a  very  favourable  instance  of  him;  he 
shall  be  represented  by  a  gentleman  of  high  cha- 
racter, whose  religious  views  are  sufficiently  guaran- 
teed to  us  by  his  being  the  special  choice,  in  this 
department  of  science,  of  a  University  removed  more 
than  any  other  Protestant  body  of  the  day  from  sordid 
or  unchristian  principles  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  and  ride  across  the 
pastures  and  the  gardens  dedicated  to  other  studies,  it 
is  the  University  of  Oxford.  And  if  a  man  could  any 
where  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  incon^ 
sistent  with  Eevelation,  I  conceive  it  is  the  person 
whose  temperate  and  well-considered  composition,  as 
it  would  be  generally  accounted,  I  am  gging  to  offer 
to  your  notice.  Nor  did  it  occasion  any  excitement 
whatever  on  the  part  of  the  academical  or  the  reli- 
gious 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  speci- 
men, the  Inaugural  Lecture  upon  it,  delivered  in  the 
University  in  question,  by  its  first  Professor,  imme- 
diately on  the  endowment  of  its  chair  by  Mr.  Henry 
Drummond  of   Albury   Park.      Yet  with  all  these 


BEARING  OF  OTHER  KNOWLEDGE  ON  THEOLOGY.     125 

circumstances  in  its  favour,  you  will  soon  see,  Gentle- 
men, 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  beyond  mistake,  that  it  is  his  object  to  recom- 
mend the  science  of  wealth,  by  claiming  for  it  an 
ethical  quality,  viz.,  by  extolling  it  as  the  road  to 
virtue  and  happiness,  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,  and  what  are  the  institutions 
and  customs  by  which  production  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  in- 
quiry, "  whether  England  has  run  her  full  career  of 
wealth  and  improvement,  but  stands  safe  where  she  is, 
or  whether  to  remain  stationary  is  impossible".  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. 


126  DISCOURSE  IV. 

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  temptation  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  external  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  conduce  to  happiness, 
is  an  ethical  or  a  theological  objection;  the  question 
of  its  "  rank"  belongs  to  that  Architectonic  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 
*See  pages  11,  12.  f  Advancement  of  Learning. 


BEARING  OF  OTHER  KNOWLEDGE  ON  THEOLOGY.      127 

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  Keligion,  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,  and  if  not  for  Political  Economy,  then  not 
for  science  at  all,  but  for  Private  Judgment, — so  he 
answers  it  himself,  and  as  follows; 

'^  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  improve-, 
ment".  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 
beggary  is  not  the  means  of  moral  improvement;  and 
that  the  orderly  habits  which  attend  upon  the  hot  pur- 
suit 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  re- 
gularity in  a  family  or  household,  and  thus  are  ac- 
cidentally the  means  of  good  to  those  who  come  under 
their  protection  by  leading  to  their  education,  and  thus 


128  DISCOURSE   IV. 

accidentally  providing  the  rising  generation  with  a 
virtue  or  a  truth  which  the  present  has  not:  but 
without  going  into  these  considerations,  further  than  to 
allow  them  generally,  and  under  circumstances,  let  us 
rather  contemplate  what  the  author's  direct  assertion  is. 
"  The  endeavour  to  accumulate  ",  the  words  should  be 
weighed,  and  for  what?  "  for  enjoyment "; — "  to  ac- 
cumulate the  means  of  future  subsistence  and  en- 
joyment, is  to  the  mass  of  mankind,  the  great  source", 
not  merely  a  source,  but  the  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,  as  regards  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  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 
beneficial  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  accwnulate!  then  Chris- 


BEARING  OF  OTHER  KNOWLEDGE  ON  THEOLOGY.      129 

tianity  is  not  one  of  such  beneficial  institutions,  for  it 
expressly  says,  "Xay  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  motives  to  save  !  then 
Christianity  is  one  of  such  mischiefs,  for  the  inspired 
text  proceeds,  "Lay  up  to  yourselves  treasures  in  hea- 
ven^ 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, 
Keligion  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  best  results  of 
refinement;  it  requires  in  general  to  have  been  im- 
planted in  the  mind  during  childhood;  and  it  is  ab- 
surd to  suppose  that  persons  thus  situated  would  have 
the  power  or  the  will  to  devote  much  to  the  education 
of  their   children.     A   farther   consequence   is   the 
absence  of  all  real  religion  ;  for  the  religion  of  the 
grossly  ignorant,   if  they    have  any,  scarcely   ever 
amounts  to  more  than  a  debasing  superstition".*   The 
pursuit  of  gain  then  is  the  basis  of  virtue,   religion, 
*Scc  page  16. 


130  DISCOURSE   IV. 

happiness;  it  being  all  the  while,  as  a  Christian  knows, 
the  "  root  of  all  evils ",  and  the  "  poor  on  the  con- 
trary 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, 
doubtless  "  beggary ",  as  the  wise  man  says,  is  not 
desirable;  doubtless,  if  men  will  not  work,  they 
should  not  eat;  there  is  doubtless  a  sense  in  which  it 
may  be  said  that  mere  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  as  such,  in  order  to  verify,  com- 
plete, and  correct  them.  In  short,  as  people  speak,  they 
say  what  is  true  with  modifications;  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. 


BEARING  OF  OTUER  KNOWLEDGE  ON  THEOLOGY.     131 

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  research,  to  the  prejudice  of  Theology. 
It  is  undeniable  that  the  records  of  former  ages  are  of 
primary  importance  in  determining  Eeligious  Truth; 
it  is  undeniable  also  that  there   is   a  silence  or  a 
contrariety  conceivable  in  those  records,  as  to   an 
alleged  portion  of  that  truth,  sufficient  to  invalidate 
its  claims;   but  it  is  quite  as  undeniable  that  the 
existing  documentary  evidences  of  Catholicism  and 
Christianity  may  be  so  unduly   exalted,    as   to   be 
made    the    absolute    measure   of  Revelation,    as    if 
no  part  of  theological  teaching  were  true,  which  can- 
not bring  its  express  text,  as  it  is  called,  from  Scrip- 
ture, and  authorities  from  the  Fathers  or  profane 
writers, — whereas  there  are  numberless  facts  in  past 
times,   which   we   cannot   deny,  for   they  still  are, 
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  ancestry. 
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 


132  DISCOURSE   IV. 

first  century,  because  Seneca,!  Pliny,  Plutarch,  the 
Jewish  Mishna,  and  other  authorities  are  silent 
about  it.*  In  a  parallel  way,  Protestants  argue 
against  Transubstantiation,  and  Arians  against  our 
Lord's  Divinity,  viz.,  because  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  assumes  to  be  the  sole  means  of  gaining 
Religious  Truth,  it  goes  beyond  its  place.  We  are 
putting  it  to  a  larger  ofiice  than  it  can  undertake,  if 
we  countenance  the  usurpation;  and  we  are  turning 
a  true  guide  and  blessing  into  a  source  of  inexpli- 
cable difficulty  and  interminable  doubt. 

And  so  of  other  sciences:  just  as  Comparative 
Anatomy,  Political  Economy,  the  Philosophy  of  His- 
tory, and  the  Science  of  Antiquities  may  be,  and  are 
tarned  against  Religion,  by  being  taken  by  them- 
selves, as  I  have  been  showing,  so  a  like  mistake  may 
befall  any  other.  Grammar,  for  instance,  at  first 
sight  does  not  promise  to  admit  of  a  perversion ;  yet 
Home  Tooke  made  it  the  vehicle  of  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  Physi- 

*Vide  the  Author's  work  on  Development  of  Doctrine,  p.  139. 


BEARING  OF  OTHER  KNOWLEDGE  ON  THEOLOGY.      133 

ology  may    deny    moral    evil    and    human    respon- 
sibility ;  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. 
And  now  to  sum  up  what  I  have  been  saying  in  a 
few  words.     My  object,  it  is  plain,  has  been — not  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  w^itness.    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  exorbitance  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  it.     The  human  mind  cannot  keep  from  specu- 
lating and  systematising;    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  it  is  proved  to  be  a  usur- 
pation by  this  circumstance,  that  those  sciences  will 
assume  principles  as  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  to  say  with  the  Antiquarian,  "  Nothing 
*  Vid.  Abelard,  for  instance. 


134  DISCOURSE  IV. 

has  ever  taken  place  but  is  to  be  found  in  historical 
documents";  or  with  the  Philosophic  Historian, 
"  There  is  nothing  in  Judaism  different  from  other 
political  institutions";  or  with  the  Anatomist,  "There 
is  no  soul  beyond  the  brain";  or  with  the  Political 
Economist,  "  Easy  circumstances  make  men  virtu- 
ous". These  are  enunciations,  not  of  Science,  but  of 
Private  Judgment;  and  Private  Judgment  infects 
every  science  which  it  touches  with  a  hostility  to  Theo- 
logy, which  properly  attaches  to  no  science  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  ac- 
cused of  cowardice  or  illiberality,  because  I  will  not 
tolerate  their  attempt  in  turn  to  theologize  by  means 
of  Science?  And  if  experimentalists  would  be  sure  to 
cry  out,  did  I  attempt  to  install  the  Thomist  philoso- 
phy in  the  schools  of  astronomy  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? 


DISCOURSE   Y. 

GENERAL  KNOWLEDGE  VIEWED  AS  ONE  PHILOSOPHY. 

It  is  a  prevalent  notion  just  now,  that  religious 
opinion  does  not  enter,  as  a  matter  of  necessity,  in 
any  considerable  measure,  into  the  treatment  of 
scientific  or  literary  subjects.  It  is  supposed,  that, 
whatever  a  teacher's  persuasion  may  be,  whether 
Christian  or  not,  or  whatever  kind  or  degree  of 
Christianity,  it  need  not  betray  itself  in  such  lectures 
or  publications  as  the  duties  of  his  office  require. 
Whatever  he  holds  about  the  Supreme  Being,  His 
attributes  and  His  works,  be  it  truth  or  error,  does 
not  make  him  better  or  worse  in  experiment  or  spe- 
culation. He  can  discourse  upon  plants,  or  insects, 
or  birds,  or  the  powers  of  the  mind,  or  languages,  or 
historical  documents,  or  literature,  or  any  other  such 
matter  of  fact,  with  equal  accurateness  and  profit, 
whatever  he  may  determine  about  matters  which  are 
entirely  distinct  from  them. 

In  answer  to  this  representation  I  contended  last 

10 


136  DISCOURSE   V. 

week,  that  a  positive  disunion  takes  place  between 
Theology  and  Secular  Science,  whenever  they  are  not 
actually  united.  Here,  not  to  be  at  peace  is  to  be  at 
war ;  and  for  this  reason  :  —  The  assemblage  of 
Sciences,  which  together  make  up  Universal  Know- 
ledge, is  not  an  accidental  or  a  varying  heap  of  ac- 
quisitions,  but  a  system,  and  may  be  said  to  be  in 
equilibrio,  as  long  as  all  its  portions  are  secured  to  it. 
Take  away  one  of  them,  and  that  one  so  important  in 
the  catalogue  as  Theology,  and  disorder  and  ruin  at 
once  ensue.  There  is  no  middle  state  between  an 
equilibrium  and  chaotic  confusion;  one  science  is 
ever  pressing  upon  another,  unless  kept  in  check; 
and  the  only  guarantee  of  Truth  is  the  cultivation  of 
them  all.     And  such  is  the  office  of  a  University. 

Far  different,  of  course,  are  the  sentiments  of  the 
patrons  of  a  divorce  between  Eeligious  and  Secular 
Knowledge.  Let  us  see  how  they  spoke  twenty-five 
years  ago  in  the  defence  formally  put  out  for  that 
formidable  Institution,  formidable,  as  far  as  an  array 
of  high  intellects  can  make  any  paradox  or  paralo- 
gism formidable,  which  was  then  set  up  in  London  on 
the  basis  of  such  a  separation.  The  natural,  as  well 
as  the  special,  champion  of  the  then  University  of 
London,  and  of  the  principle  which  it  represented, 
was  a  celebrated  Eeview,  which  stood  at  the  time, 
and,  I  suppose,  stands  still,  at  the  head  of  our  perio- 
dical literature.  In  this  publication,  at  the  date  of 
which  I  speak,  an  article  was  devoted  to  the  exculpa- 


GENERAL  KNOWLEDGE  ONE  PHILOSOPHY.  137 

tion  of  the  Institution  in  question,  from  the  charges 
or  suspicions  which  it  incurred  in  consequence  of  the 
principle  on  which  it  was  founded.  The  Reviewer 
steadily  contemplates  the  idea  of  a  University  with- 
out Eeligion;  "From  pulpits,  and  visitation  dinners, 
and  combination  rooms  innumerable,  the  cry",  he  says, 
"is  echoed  and  reechoed,  An  University  without  re- 
ligion"; and  then  he  proceeds  to  dispose  of  the  pro- 
test by  one  or  two  simple  illustrations. 

Writing,  as  he  does,  with  liveliness  and  wit,  as 
well  as  a  profession  of  serious  argument,  this 
Reviewer  can  scarcely  be  quoted  with  due  regard  to 
the  gravity  which  befits  a  discussion  such  as  the 
present.  You  must  pardon  me.  Gentlemen,  if,  in  my 
desire  to  do  justice  to  him  and  his  cause  in  his  own 
words,  I  suffer  him  to  interrupt  the  equable  flow  of 
our  discussion  with  unseasonable  mirth;  and  in  order 
to  avoid,  as  much  as  possible,  a  want  of  keeping 
between  his  style  and  my  own,  1  will  begin  with  the 
less  sprightly  illustration  of  the  two.  "Take  the 
case",  he  says,  "  of  a  young  man,  a  student,  we  will 
suppose,  of  surgery,  resident  in  London.  He  wishes 
to  become  master  of  his  profession,  without  neglect- 
ing  other  useful  branches  of  knowledge.  In  the 
morning  he  attends  Mr.  M^'CuUoch's  Lecture  on 
Political  Economy.  He  then  repairs  to  the  Hospital, 
and  hears  Sir  Astley  Cooper  explain  the  mode  of 
reducing  fractures.  In  the  afternoon  he  joins  one  of 
the  classes  which  Mr.  Hauulton  instructs  in  French 


138  DISCOURSE  V. 

or  German.  With  regard  to  religious  observances, 
he  acts  as  he  himself,  or  those  under  whose  care  he 
is,  may  think  most  advisable.  Is  there  any  thing 
objectionable  in  this?  is  it  not  the  most  common  case 
in  the  world?  And  in  what  does  it  differ  from  that 
of  a  young  man  at  the  London  University?  Our 
surgeon,  it  is  true,  will  have  to  run  over  half  London 

in  search  of  his  instructors Is  it  in  the  local 

situation  that  the  mischief  lies?"*  Such  is  the  argu- 
ment; need  I  point  out  the  fallacy?  Whatever  may  be 
said  of  Political  Economy,  at  any  rate  a  surgical  opera- 
tion is  not  a  branch  of  knowledge,  or  a  process  of  argu- 
ment, or  an  inference,  or  an  investigation,  or  an  analysis, 
or  an  induction,  or  an  abstraction,  or  other  intellec- 
tual exercise:  it  is  a  grave  practical  matter.  Again, the 
primer,  the  spelling  book,  the  grammar,  construing  and 
parsing,  are  scarcely  trials  of  reason,  imagination,  taste, 
or  judgment;  they  can  scarcely  be  said  to  have  truth  for 
their  object  at  all;  any  how,  they  belong  to  the  first 
stage  of  mental  development,  to  the  school,  rather  than 
to  the  University.  Neither  the  reduction  of  fractures, 
nor  the  Hamiltonian  method  can  be  considered  a 
branch  of  Philosophy;  it  is  not  more  wonderful  that 
such  trials  of  skill  or  of  memory  can  safely  dispense 
with  Theology  for  their  perfection,  than  that  it  is 
unnecessary  for  the  practice  of  gunnery  or  the  art  of 
calligraphy. 

So  much  for  one  of  this  Keviewer's  illustrations: 
*  Edinburgh  Review,  Feb.,  1826. 


GENERAL  KNOWLEDGE  ONE  PHILOSOPHY.  139 

the  other  is  more  infelicitous  still,  in  proportion  as  it 
is  more  insulting  to  our  view  of  the  subject.  "Have 
none  of  those",  he  asks,  "who  censure  the  London 
University  on  this  account,  daughters  who  are 
educated  at  home,  and  who  are  attended  by  different 
teachers?  The  music  master,  a  good  Protestant, 
comes  at  twelve ;  the  dancing  master,  a  French 
philosopher,  at  two ;  the  Italian  master,  a  believer  in 
the  blood  of  St.  Januarius,  at  three.  The  parents 
take  upon  themselves  the  office  of  instructing  their 
child  in  religion.  She  hears  the  preachers  whom 
they  prefer,  and  reads  the  theological  works  which 
they  put  into  her  hands.  Who  can  deny  that  this  is 
the  case  in  innumerable  families?  Who  can  point  out 
any  material  difference  between  the  situation  in 
which  this  girl  is  placed,  and  that  of  a  pupil  at  the 
new  University?"  I  pass  over  the  scoff  at  a  miracle, 
to  which  the  writer  neither  gave  credence  himself, 
nor  imagined  it  in  others;  looking  simply  at  his 
argument,  I  ask,  is  it  not  puerile  to  imply  that 
music,  or  dancing,  or  lessons  in  Italian,  have  any 
thing  to  do  with  Philosophy?  It  is  plain,  that  such 
writers  do  not  rise  to  the  very  idea  of  a  University. 
They  consider  it  a  sort  of  bazaar,  or  pantechnicon,  in 
which  wares  of  all  kinds  are  heaped  together  for  sale 
in  stalls  independent  of  each  other;  and  that,  to  save 
the  purchasers  the  trouble  of  running  about  from 
shop  to  shop;  or  an  hotel  or  lodging  house,  where  all 
professions  and  classes  are  at  liberty  to  congregate, 


140  DISCOURSE   Y. 

varying,  however,  according  to  the  season,  each  of 
them  strange  to  each,  and  about  its  own  work  or 
pleasure;  whereas,  if  we  would  rightly  deem  of  it,  a 
University  is  the  home,  it  is  the  mansion-house,  of  the 
goodly  family  of  the  Sciences,  sisters  all,  and  sisterly 
in  their  mutual  dispositions. 

Such,  I  say,  is  the  theory  which  recommends  itself 
to  the  public  mind  of  this  age,  and  is  the  moving 
principle  of  its  undertakings.     And  yet  that  very 
instinct  of  the  intellect  of  which  I  spoke  last  week, 
which  impels  each  science  to  extend  itself  as  far  as  it 
can,  and  which  leads,  when  indulged,  to  the  confusion 
of  Philosophy  generally,  might  teach  the  upholders 
of  such  a  theory  a  truer  view  of  the  subject.     It 
seems,  as  I  then  observed,  that  the  human  mind  is 
ever  seeking  to  systematise  its  knowledge,  to  base 
it  upon   principle,   and  to   find   a  science  compre- 
hensive of   all  sciences.      And  sooner  than  forego 
the  gratification  of  this  moral  appetency,  it  starts 
with  whatever  knowledge  or  science  it  happens  to 
have,  and  makes  that  knowledge  serve  as  a  rule  or 
measure  of  the  universe,  for  want  of  a  better,  pre- 
ferring the  completeness  and  precision  of  bigotry  to 
a   fluctuating   and   homeless    scepticism.      What   a 
singular  contrast  is  here  between  nature  and  theory ! 
We  see  the  intellect  in  this  instance,  as  soon  as  it 
moves  at  all,  moving  straight  against  its  own  con- 
ceits and  falsities,  and  upsetting  them  spontaneously, 
without  effort,  and  at  once.     It  witnesses  to  a  great 


GENERAL  KNOWLEDGE  ONE  PHILOSOPHY.  141 

trutli  in  spite  of  its  own  professions  and  engage- 
ments. It  had  promised,  in  the  name  of  the  patrons 
of  our  modern  Colleges  and  Universities,  that  there 
need  not  be,  and  that  there  should  not  be,  any 
system  or  philosophy  in  knowledge  and  its  trans- 
mission, but  that  Liberal  Education  henceforth 
should  be  a  mere  fortuitous  heap  of  acquisitions  and 
accomplishments;  however,  here,  as  it  so  often  happens 
elsewhere,  nature  is  too  strong  for  art.  She  bursts 
violently  and  dangerously  through  the  artificial  tram- 
mels laid  upon  her,  and  exercises  her  just  rights 
wrongly,  since  she  cannot  rightly.  Usurpers  and 
tyrants  are  the  successors  to  legitimate  rulers  sent  into 
exile.  Forthwith  Private  Judgment  moves  forward 
with  the  implements  of  this  or  that  science,  to  do  a 
work  imperative  indeed,  but  beyond  its  powers.  It 
owns  the  need  of  general  principles  and  constituent 
ideas,  by  taking  false  ones,  and  thus  is  ever  impeding 
and  preventing  unity,  while  it  is  ever  attempting  and 
thereby  witnessing  it.  From  the  many  voices  crying 
"Order"  and  "Silence",  noise  and  tumult  follow. 
From  the  very  multiplicity  and  diversity  of  the 
efforts  after  unity  on  every  side,  this  practical  age 
lias  thrown  up  the  notion  of  it  altogether. 

What  is  the  consequence?  that  the  works  of  the 
age  are  not  the  development  of  definite  principles,  but 
accidental   results   of  discordant    and   simultaneous 
action,  of  committees  and  boards,  composed  of  men 
each  of  whom  has  his  own  interests  and  views,  and 


142  DISCOURSE    V. 

to  gain  something  his  own  way,  is  obliged  to  sacrifice  a 
good  deal  to  every  one  else.  From  causes  so  adventi- 
tious and  contradictory,  who  can  predict  the  ultimate 
production?  Hence  it  is  that  those  works  have  so  little 
permanent  life  in  them,  because  they  are  not  founded 
on  principles  and  ideas.  Ideas  are  the  life  of  institu- 
tions, social,  political,  and  literary ;  but  the  excesses 
of  Private  Judgment,  in  the  prosecution  of  its 
multiform  theories,  have  at  length  made  men  sick  of 
a  truth,  which  they  recognised  long  after  they  were 
able  to  realise  it.  At  the  present  day,  they  knock 
the  life  out  of  the  institutions  they  have  inherited,  by 
their  alterations  and  adaptations.  As  to  their  own 
creations,  these  are  a  sort  of  monster,  with  hands, 
feet,  and  trunk  moulded  respectively  on  distinct 
types.  Their  whole,  if  the  word  is  to  be  used,  is  an 
accumulation  from  without,  not  the  growth  of  a 
principle  from  within.  Thus,  as  I  said  just  now, 
their  notion  of  a  University,  is  a  sort  of  bazaar  or 
hotel,  where  every  thing  is  showy,  and  self-sufficient, 
and  changeable.  "  Motley  's  the  only  wear".  The 
majestic  vision  of  the  Middle  Age,  which  grew 
steadily  to  perfection  in  the  course  of  centuries,  the 
University  of  Paris,  or  Bologna,  or  Oxford,  has 
almost  gone  out  in  night.  A  philosophical  compre- 
hensiveness, an  orderly  expansiveness,  an  elastic 
constructiveness,  men  have  lost  them,  and  cannot 
make  out  why.  This  is  why :  because  they  have  lost 
the  idea  of  unity :  because  they  cut  off  the  head  of  a 


GENERAL  KNOWLEDGE  ONE  PHILOSOPHY.  143 

living  thing,  and  think  it  is  perfect,  all  but  the  head. 
They  think  the  head  an  extra,  an  accomplishment, 
the  corona  operis^  not  essential  to  the  idea  of  the  being 
under  their  hands.  They  seem  to  copy  the  lower 
specimens  of  animated  nature,  who  with  their  wings 
pulled  off,  or  a  pin  run  through  them,  or  eaten  out 
by  parasitical  enemies,  walk  about,  unconscious  of 
their  state  of  disadvantage.  They  think,  that,  if 
they  do  but  get  together  sufficient  funds,  and  raise  a 
very  large  building,  and  secure  a  number  of  able  men, 
and  arrange  in  one  locality,  as  the  Reviewer  says,  a 
suite  of  distinct  lecture-rooms,  they  have  at  once 
founded  a  University.  An  idea,  a  view,  an  indi- 
visible object,  which  does  not  admit  of  more  or  less, 
a  form,  which  cannot  coalesce  with  any  thing  else, 
an  intellectual  principle,  expanding  into  a  consistent 
harmonious  whole, — in  short,  Mind,  in  the  true  sense 
of  the  word, — they  are,  forsooth,  too  practical  to  lose 
time  in  such  reveries ! 

Our  way.  Gentlemen,  is  very  different.  We  adopt 
a  method,  founded  in  man's  nature  and  the  necessity 
of  things,  exemplified  in  all  great  moral  works  what- 
ever, instinctively  used  by  all  men  in  the  course  of 
daily  life,  though  they  may  not  recognise  it,  discarded 
by  our  opponents  only  because  they  have  lost  the  true 
key  to  exercise  it  withal.  We  start  with  an  idea, 
wx  educate  upon  a  type;  we  make  use,  as  nature 
prompts  us,  of  the  faculty,  which  I  have  called  an  in- 
tellectual grasp  of  things,   or  an  inward  sense,  and 


144  DISCOURSE   V. 

which  I  shall  hereafter  show  is  really  meant  by  the 
word  "  Philosophy".     Science  itself  is  a  specimen  of 
its  exercise;  for  its  very  essence  is  this  mental  for- 
mation.    A   science   is   not   mere  knowledge,  it  is 
knowledge    which   has    undergone  a  process  of   in- 
tellectual digestion.     It  is  the  grasp  of  many  things 
brought  together  in  one,  and  hence  is  its  power;  for, 
properly  speaking,  it  is  Science  that  is  power,  not 
Knowledge.     Well  then,  this  is  how  Catholics  act 
towards  the  Sciences  taken  all   together;    we  view 
them  as  one  and  give  them  an  idea;  what  is  this  but 
an  extension  and  perfection,  in  an  age  which  prides 
itself  upon  its  scientific  genius,  of  that  very  process  by 
which  science  exists  at  all?     Imagine  a  science  of 
sciences,  and  you  have  attained  the  true  notion  of 
the  scope  of  a  University.      We  consider  that  all 
things  mount  up  to  a  whole,  that  there  is  an  order 
and  precedence   and   harmony  in   the   branches   of 
knowledge  one  with  another  as  well  as  one  by  one, 
and   that   to  destroy  that   structure  is  as  unphilo- 
sophical  in  a  course  of  education,  as  it  is  unscientific 
in  the  separate  portions  of  it.     We  form  and  fix  the 
Sciences  in  a  circle  and  system,  and  give  them  a 
centre  and  an  aim,  instead  of  letting  them  wander 
up  and  down  in  a  sort  of  hopeless  confusion.     In 
other  words,  to  use  scholastic  language,  we  give  the 
various  pursuits  and  objects,  on  which  the  intellect 
is  employed,  a  form;  for  it  is  the  peculiarity  of  a 
form,  that  it  gathers  up  in  one,  and  draws  oif  from 


GENERAL    KNOWLEDGE   ONE   PHILOSOPHY.         145 

every  thing    else,    the    miiterials    on    which    it  is 
impressed. 

Now  here,  Gentlemen,  I  seem  in  danger  of  a 
double  inconvenience,  viz.,  of  enlarging  on  what,  as  a 
point  of  scholasticism,  is  too  abstinise,  and,  as  put  into 
familiar  language,  is  too  obvious,  for  an  accomplished 
and  philosophical  auditory,  which  claims  of  me  what 
is  neither  rudimental  on  the  one  hand  nor  technical 
on  the  other.  And  yet  I  will  rather  ask  your  indul- 
gence to  allow  me  in  a  very  familiar  illustration  of 
a  very  scholastic  term,  than  incur  the  chance,  which 
might  otherwise  fall  out,  of  being  deficient  in  my  ex- 
position of  the  subject  for  which  I  adduce  it. 

For  instance,  we  all  understand  how  Worship  is 
one  idea,  and  how  it  is  made  up  of  many  things,  some 
being  essential  to  it,  and  all  subservient.  Its  essence 
is  the  lifting  up  of  the  heart  to  God;  if  it  be  no  more 
than  this,  still  this  is  enough,  and  nothing  more  is 
necessary.  But  view  it  as  brought  out  in  some 
solemn  rite  or  public  ceremonial;  the  essence 
is  the  same,  and  it  is  there  on  the  occasion  I  am 
supposing ;  —  we  will  say  it  is  Benediction  of  the 
Most  Holy  Sacrament,  or  a  devotion  in  honour  of  some 
Saint; — it  is  there  still,  but,  first,  it  is  the  lifting  up, 
not  of  one  heart,  but  of  many  all  at  once;  next,  it  is 
the  devotion,  not  of  hearts  only,  but  of  bodies  too; 
not  of  eyes  only,  or  hands  only,  or  voices  only,  or 
knees  only,  but  of  the  whole  man;  and  next,  the 
devotion  passes  on  to  more  than  soul  and  body;  there 


146  DISCOURSE   V. 

are  vestments  there,  rich  and  radiant,  symbolical  of 
the  rite,  and  odorous  flowers,  and  a  flood  of  light, 
and  a  cloud  of  incense,  and  music  joyous  and  solemn, 
of  instruments,  as  well  as  voices,  till  all  the  senses 
overflow  with  the  idea  of  devotion.  Is  the  music 
devotion?  as  the  Protestant  inquires;  is  the  incense 
devotion  ?  are  candles  devotion?  are  flowers  ?  are 
vestments?  or  words  spoken?  or  genuflections?  Not 
any  one  of  them.  And  what  have  candles  to  do  with 
flowers?  or  flowers  with  vestments?  or  vestments 
with  music?  Nothing  whatever;  each  is  distinct  in 
itself,  and  independent  of  the  rest.  The  flowers  are 
the  work  of  nature,  and  are  elaborated  in  the  garden; 
the  candles  come  of  the  soft  wax,  which  the  "  Apis 
Mater"  (as  the  Church  beautifully  sings),  which  the 
teeming  bee  fashions;  the  vestments  have  been 
wrought  in  the  looms  of  Lyons  or  Vienna  or  Naples, 
and  have  been  brought  over  sea  at  great  cost;  the 
music  is  the  present  and  momentary  vibration  of  the 
air,  acted  upon  by  tube  or  string;  and  still  for  all 
this,  are  they  not  one  whole?  are  they  not  blended 
together  indivisibly,  and  sealed  with  the  image  of 
unity,  by  reason  of  the  one  idea  of  worship,  in  which 
they  live  and  to  which  they  minister?  Take  away 
that  idea,  and  what  are  they  worth?  the  whole  pageant 
becomes  a  mummery.  The  worship  made  them  one; 
but  supposing  no  one  in  that  assemblage,  however 
large,  to  believe,  or  to  love,  or  to  pray,  or  to  give 
thanks,  supposing  the  musicians  did  but  play  and 


GENERAL   KNOWLEDGE    ONE   PniLOSOPHT.         147 

sing,  and  the  sacristan  thought  of  nothing  but  his 
flowers,  lights,  and  incense,  and  the  priest  in  cope 
and  stole,  and  his  attendant  ministers,  had  no  heart, 
nor  lot  in  what  they  were  outwardly  acting,  let  the 
flowers  be  sweetest,  and  the  lights  brightest,  and  the 
vestments  costliest,  still  who  would  call  it  an  act  of 
worship  at  all?  Would  it  not  be  a  show,  a  make- 
belief,  an  hypocrisy?  Why?  Because  the  one  idea 
was  away,  which  gave  life,  and  force,  and  an  har- 
monious understanding,  and  an  individuality,  to 
many  things  at  once,  distinct  each  of  them  in 
itself,  and  in  its  own  nature  independent  of  that 
idea. 

Such  is  the  virtue  of  a  "form":  the  lifting  up  of  the 
heart  to  God  is  the  living  principle  of  this  solemnity ;  yet 
it  does  not  sacrifice  any  of  its  constituent  parts,  rather 
it  imparts  to  each  a  dignity  by  giving  it  a  meaning; 
it  moulds,  inspires,  individualizes  a  whole.  It  stands 
towards  the  separate  elements  which  it  uses  as  the 
soul  is  to  the  body.  It  is  the  presence  of  the  soul 
which  gives  unity  to  the  various  materials  which 
make  up  the  human  frame.  Why  do  we  not  con- 
sider hand  and  foot,  head  and  heart,  separate  things? 
Because  a  living  principle  within  them  makes  them 
one  whole,  because  the  living  soul  gives  them  per- 
sonality. It  brings  under  the  idea  of  personality  all 
that  they  are,  whatever  they  are;  it  appropriates 
them  all  to  itself;  it  makes  them  absolutely  distinct 
from  every  thing  else,  though   they   are    the  same 


148  DISCOURSE    Y. 

naturally,  so  that  in  it  they  are  not  what  they  are 
out  of  it;  it  dwells  in  them,  though  with  a  greater 
manifestation  and  intensity  in  some  of  them  than  in 
others,  yet  in  all  in  sufficient  measure;  in  our  look, 
our  voice,  our  gait,  our  very  handwriting.  But  as 
soon  as  it  goes,  the  unity  goes  too,  and  not  by 
portions  or  degrees.  Every  part  of  the  animal  frame 
is  absolutely  changed  at  once;  it  is  at  once  but  a 
corpse  that  remains,  and  an  aggregate  of  matter,  ac- 
cidentally holding  together,  soon  to  be  dissolved. 
What  were  its  parts,  have  lost  their  constituting 
principle,  and  rebel  against  it.  It  was  life,  it  is 
death. 

Thus  a  form  or  idea,  as  it  may  be  called,  collects 
together  into  one,  separates  utterly  from  every  thing 
else,  the  elements  on  which  it  is  impressed.  They  are 
grafted  into  it.  Henceforth  they  have  an  intercom- 
munion and  influence  over  one  another,  which  is  spe- 
cial ;  they  are  present  in  each  other ;  they  belong  to 
each  other  even  in  their  minutest  portions,  and  cannot 
belong  to  any  other  whole,  even  though  some  of  those 
portions  might  at  first  sight  seem  to  admit  of  it.  You 
may  smash  and  demolish  the  whole,  but  you  cannot 
otherwise  find  a  way  to  appropriate  the  parts.  A  human 
skeleton  may  resemble  that  of  some  species  of  brutes, 
but  the  presence  of  the  soul  in  man  makes  him  differ 
from  those  animals,  not  in  degree,  but  in  kind.  A 
monkey  or  an  ape  is  not  merely  a  little  less  than 
human  nature,  and  in  the  way  to  become  a  man. 


GENERAL    KNOWLEDGE   ONE   THEOLOGY.  149 

It  could  not  be  developed  into  a  man,  or  is  at  pre- 
sent a  man,  as  far  as  it  goes ;  such  a  mode  of  speech 
would  be  simply  unmeaning.  It  is  one  w^hole,  and 
man  is  another;  and  the  likeness  between  them, 
though  real,  is  superficial,  and  the  result  of  a  mental 
abstraction. 

Here  I  am  reminded  of  a  doctrine  laid  down  by 
the  Angelical  Doctor,  which  illustrates  what  has 
been  said.  He  says  that  no  action  is  indiiBferent ; 
what  does  he  mean?  surely  there  are  many  actions 
which  are  quite  indifferent ;  to  speak,  to  stop  speak- 
ing, to  eat  and  drink,  to  go  hither  and  thither.  Yes, 
they  are  indifferent  indeed  in  themselves ;  but  they 
are  not  at  all  indifferent,  as  referrible  to  this  or  that 
whole  in  which  they  occur,  as  done  by  this  or  that 
person.  They  are  not  indifferent  in  the  individual : 
they  are  indifferent  in  the  abstract,  not  in  the  con- 
crete. Eating,  sleeping,  talking,  walking,  may  be 
neither  good  nor  bad,  viewed  in  their  bare  idea ;  but 
it  is  a  very  different  thing  to  say  that  this  man,  at 
this  time,  at  this  place,  being  what  he  is,  is  neither 
right  nor  wrong  in  eating  or  walking.  And  further, 
the  very  same  action,  done  by  two  persons,  is  utterly 
different  in  character  and  effect,  good  in  one,  bad  in 
another.  This,  Gentlemen,  is  what  is  meant  by  say- 
ing that  the  actions  of  saints  are  not  always  patterns 
for  us.  They  are  right  in  them,  they  would  be 
wrong  in  others,  because  an  ordinary  Christian  fulfils 
one  idea,  and  a  saint  fulfils  another.     Hence  it  is 


150  DISCOURSE   y. 

that  we  bear  things  from  some  people,  which  we 
should  resent,  if  done  by  others;  as  for  other  reasons, 
so  especially  for  this,  that  they  do  not  mean  the  same 
thing  in  these  and  in  those.  Sometimes  the  very 
sight  of  a  person  disarms  us,  who  has  offended  us 
before  we  knew  him;  as,  for  instance,  when  we  had 
fancied  him  a  gentleman  in  rank  and  education,  and 
find  him  to  be  not  so.  Each  man  has  his  own  way 
of  expressing  satisfaction  or  annoyance,  favour  or 
dislike;  each  individual  is  a  whole,  and  his  actions 
are  incommunicable.  Hence  it  is  so  difficult,  just  at 
this  time,  when  so  many  men  are  apparently  drawing 
near  the  Church,  rightly  to  conjecture  who  will 
eventually  join  it  and  who  will  not;  it  being  im- 
possible for  any  but  the  nearest  friends,  and  often  even 
for  them,  to  determine  how  much  words  are  worth  in 
each  severally,  which  are  used  by  all  in  common. 
And  hence  again  it  happens  that  particulars  which 
seem  to  be  but  accidents  of  certain  subjects,  are 
really  necessary  to  them;  for  though  they  may  look 
like  accidents,  viewed  in  themselves,  they  are  not 
accidents,  but  essentials,  in  the  connexion  in  which 
they  occur.  Thus,  when  man  is  defined  to  be  a 
laughing  animal,  every  one  feels  the  definition  to  be 
unworthy  of  its  subject,  but  it  is,  I  suppose,  adequate 
to  its  purpose.  I  might  go  on  to  speak  of  the 
singular  connexion,  which  sometimes  exists,  between 
certain  characteristics  in  individuals  or  bodies;  a 
connexion,    which   at   first   sight   would   be   called 


GENERAL  KNOWLEDGE  ONE  PHILOSOPHY.  151 

accidental,  were  it  not  invariable  in  its  occurrence,  and 
reducible  to  the  operation  of  some  principle.  Thus 
it  has  been  said,  rightly  or  wrongly,  that  Whig 
writers  are  always  Latitudinarians,  and  Tory  writers 
often  infidels. 

But  I  must  putan end tothese illustrations:— coming 
at  last  to  the  point,  for  the  sake  of  which  I  have  been 
pursuing  them,  I  observe  that  the  very  same  subjects 
of  teaching,  the  Evidences  of  Christianity,  the  Classics, 
and  much  more  Experimental  Science,  Modern  History, 
and  Biography,  may  be  right  in  their  proper  place, 
as  portions  of  one  system  of  knowledge,  suspicious, 
when  detached  or  in  bad  company;  desirable  in  one 
place  of  education,  dangerous  or  inexpedient  in  an- 
other; because  they  come  differently,  in  a  different 
connexion,  at  a  different  time,  with  a  different  drift, 
from  a  different  spirit,  in  the  one  and  the  other. 
And  hence  two  Universities,  so  called,  may  almost 
concur  in  the  lecture-papers  they  put  out  and  their 
prospectus  for  the  year,  that  is,  in  their  skeleton,  as 
man  and  certain  brute  creatures  resemble  one  an- 
other, and  yet,  viewed  as  living  and  working  institu- 
tions, not  as  preparations  in  an  anatomical  school, 
may  be  simply  antagonistic. 

Thus,  then,  Gentlemen,  I  answer  the  objection  with 

which  I  opened  this  Discourse.     I  supposed  it  to 

be  asked  me,  how  it  could  matter  to  the  pupil,  who 

it  was  taught  him  such  indifferent  subjects  as  logic, 

antiquities,  or  poetry,  so  that  they  be  taught  him. 

11 


152  DISCOURSE    V. 

I  answer  that  no  subject  of  teaching  is  really  in- 
different in  fact,  though  it  may  be  in  itself;  because 
it  takes  a  colour  from  the  whole  system  to  which  it 
belongs,  and  has  one  character  when  viewed  in  that 
system,  and  another  viewed  out  of  it.  According 
then  as  a  teacher  is  under  the  influence,  or  in  the 
service,  of  this  system  or  that,  so  does  the  drift,  or  at 
least  the  practical  effect  of  his  teaching  vary; 
Arcesilas  would  not  teach  logic  as  Aristotle,  or 
Aristotle  poetry  as  Plato,  though  logic  has  its  fixed 
principles,  and  poetry  its  acknowledged  classics; 
and  in  saying  this,  it  will  be  observed  I  am  claiming 
for  Theology  nothing  singular  or  special,  or  which  is 
not  partaken  by  other  sciences  in  their  measure.  As 
far  as  I  have  spoken  of  them,  they  all  go  to  make  up 
one  whole,  differing  only  according  to  their  relative 
importance.  Far  indeed  am  I  from  having  intended 
to  convey  the  notion,  in  the  illustrations  I  have  been 
using,  that  Theology  stands  to  other  knowledge  as  the 
soul  to  the  body;  or  that  other  sciences  are  but  its  in- 
struments and  appendages,  just  as  the  whole  ceremo- 
nial of  worship  is  but  the  expression  of  inward  devo- 
tion. This  would  be,  I  conceive,  to  commit  the  very 
error,  in  the  instance  of  Theology,  which  I  am  charg- 
ing other  sciences,  at  the  present  day,  of  committing 
against  it.  On  the  contrary.  Theology  is  one  branch 
of  knowledge,  and  Secular  Sciences  are  other  branches. 
Theology  is  the  highest  indeed,  and  widest,  but  it 
does  not  interfere  with  the  real  freedom  of  any  secular 


GENERAL  KNOWLEDGE  ONE  PHILOSOPHY.  153 

science  in  its  own  particular  department*  This  will 
be  clearer  as  I  proceed;  at  present  I  have  been  only 
pointing  out  the  internal  sympathy  which  exists 
between  all  branches  of  knowledge  whatever,  and  the 
danger  resulting  to  knowledge  itself  by  a  disunion 
between  them,  and  the  object  in  consequence  to 
which  a  University  is  dedicated.  Not  Science  only, 
not  Literature  only,  not  Theology  only,  neither 
abstract  knowledge  simply  nor  experimental,  neither 
moral  nor  material,  neither  metaphysical  nor  histo- 
rical, but  all  knowledge  whatever,  is  taken  into 
account  in  a  University,  as  being  the  special  seat  of 
that  large  Philosophy,  which  embraces  and  locates 
truth  of  every  kind,  and  every  method  of  attaining 
it. 

However,  much  as  lies  before  me  to  clear  up,  ere 
I  can  be  said  to  have  done  justice  to  the  great 
subject  on  which  I  am  engaged,  there  is  one  preva- 
lent misconception,  which  what  I  have  been  to-day 
saying  will  set  right  at  once;  and,  though  it  is 
scarcely  more  than  another  form  of  the  fallacy  which 
I  have  been  exposing,  it  may  be  useful,  even  for  the 
further  elucidation  of  the  principles  on  which  I  have 
exposed  it,  to  devote  what  remains  of  this  Discourse 
to  its  consideration.     It  is  this: — As  there  are  many 

*  It  would  be  plausible  to  call  Theology  the  ^eternal  form  of  the 
philosophical  system,  as  charity  has  been  said  to  be  of  living  faith, 
vid.  Bellarm.  de  Jnstif.^  but  then,  though  it  would  not  interfere  with 
the  other  sciences,  it  could  not  have  been  one  of  them. 


154  DISCOURSE    V. 

persons  to  be  found  who  maintain  that  Religion  should 
not  be  introduced  at  all  into  a  course  of  Education, 
so  there  are  many  too,  who  think  a  compromise 
may  be  effected  between  such  as  would  and  such  as 
would  not  introduce  it,  viz.:  by  introducing  a 
certain  portion,  and  nothing  beyond  it;  and  by  a 
certain  portion  they  mean  just  as  much  as  they 
suppose  Catholics  and  Protestants  to  hold  in  com- 
mon. In  this  way  they  hope,  on  the  one  hand  to 
avoid  the  odium  of  not  teaching  religion  at  all, 
while  on  the  other  they  equally  avoid  any  show  of 
contrariety  between  contrary  systems  of  religion, 
and  any  unseemly  controversy  between  parties  who, 
however  they  may  differ,  will  gain  nothing  by  dispu-, 
ting.  Now  I  respect  the  motives  of  such  persons  too 
much  not  to  give  my  best  attention  to  the  expedient 
which  they  propose:  whether  men  advocate  the  intro- 
duction  of  no  religion  at  all  in  education,  or  this 
"  general  religion",  as  they  call  it,  in  either  case  peace 
and  charity,  which  are  the  objects  they  profess,  are  of 
too  heavenly  a  nature  not  to  give  a  sort  of  dignity  even 
to  those  who  pursue  them  by  impossible  roads;  still  I 
think  it  very  plain  that  the  same  considerations 
which  are  decisive  against  the  exclusion  of  Religion 
from  Education,  are  decisive  also  against  its  genera- 
lization or  mutilation,  for  the  words  have  practically 
the  same  meaning.  General  Religion  is  in  fact  no 
Religion  at  all.  Let  not  the  conclusion  be  thought 
harsh,  to  which  I  am  carried  on  by  the  principles  I 


GENERAL  KNOWLEDGE  ONE  PHILOSOPHY.  155 

have  been  laying  down  in  the  former  part  of  this 
Discourse;  but  thus  it  stands,  I  think,  beyond  dis- 
pute, that,  those  principles  being  presupposed,  Catho- 
lies  and  Protestants,  viewed  as  bodies,  hold  nothing  in 
common  in  religion,  however  they  may  seem  to  do  so. 
This  is  the  answer  I  shall  give  to  the  proposition 
of  teaching  "general  religion".  I  might  indeed 
challenge  any  one  to  set  down  for  me  in  detail  the 
precise  articles  of  the  Catholic  Faith  held  by  Protes- 
tants "in  general";  or  I  might  call  attention  to  the 
number  of  Catholic  truths  which  any  how  must  be 
sacrificed,  however  wide  the  range  of  doctrines  which 
Protestantism  shall  be  made  to  embrace;  but  I  will 
not  go  to  questions  of  mere  fact  and  detail:  I  prefer 
to  rest  the  question  upon  the  basis  of  a  principle,  and 
I  assert  that,  as  all  branches  of  knowledge  are  one 
whole,  so,  much  more,  is  each  particular  branch  a 
whole  in  itself;  that  each  is  one  science,  as  all  are 
one  philosophy,  and  that  to  teach  half  of  any  whole 
is  really  to  teach  no  part  of  it.  Men  understand 
this  in  matters  of  the  world,  it  is  only  when  Religion 
is  in  question,  that  they  forget  it.  Why  do  not 
Whigs  and  Tories  form  some  common  politics,  and 
a  ministry  of  coalition  upon  its  basis?  does  not 
common  sense,  as  well  as  party  interest,  keep  them 
asunder?  It  is  quite  true  that  "general"  tenets  could 
be  produced  in  which  both  bodies  would  agree;  both 
Whigs  and  Tories  are  loyal  and  patriotic,  both 
defend  the  reasonable  prerogatives  of  the  Throne,  and. 


150  DISCOURSE  V. 

the  just  rights  of  the  people;    on   paper  they  agree 
admirably,  but  who  does  not  know  that  loyalty  and 
patriotism   have   one  meaning  in  the   mouth  of  a 
Tory,  and  another  in  that  of  a  Whig?     Loyalty  and 
patriotism,  neither  quality  is  what  it  is  abstractedly, 
when  it  is  grafted  either  on  Whig  or  Tory.     The 
case  is  the  same  with  Religion;  the  Establishment, 
for  instance,  accepts  from  the  Catholic  Church  the 
doctrine  of  the  Incarnation;  but  at  the  same  time 
denies  that  Christ  is  in  the  Blessed  Sacrament  and 
that  Mary  is  the  Mother  of  God;  who  in  consequence 
will  venture  to  affirm  that  such  of  its  members  as 
hold   the   Incarnation,   hold   it  by   virtue   of  their 
membership?   the  Establishment  cannot  really  hold 
a  Catholic  doctrine,  a  portion  and  a  concomitant  of 
which  it  puts  on  one  side.     The  Incarnation  has  not 
the  same  meaning  to  one  who  holds  and  to  one  who 
denies  these  two   attendant  verities.     Hence,  what- 
ever he  may  profess  about  the  Incarnation,  the  mere 
Protestant  has  no  real  hold,   no  grasp  of  the  doc- 
trine; you  cannot  be  sure  of  him;  any  moment  he 
may   be    found    startled   and    wondering,   as  at   a 
novelty,  at  statements  implied  in  it,  or  uttering  senti- 
ments simply  inconsistent  with  its  idea.    Catholicism 
is  one  whole,  and  Protestantism  has  no  part  in  it. 
In  like  manner  Catholicism  and  Mahometanism  are 
each  individual  and  distinct  from  each  other;   yet 
they  have  many  points  in  common  on  paper,  as  the 
unity  of  God,  Providence,  the  power  of  prayer,  and 


GENERAL  KNOWLEDGE  ONE  PHILOSOPHY.  157 

future  judgment,  to  say  nothing  of  the  mission  of 
Moses  and  Christ.  These  common  doctrines  we  may 
if  we  please,  call  "Natural  Religion",  or  "General 
Religion";  and  so  they  are  in  the  abstract;  and  no 
one  can  doubt  that,  were  Mahometans  or  Jews  numer- 
ous in  these  countries,  so  as  to  make  it  expedient, 
the  Government  of  the  day  would  so  absolutely  take 
this  view,  as  to  aim  at  establishing  National  Colleges 
on  the  basis  of  such  common  doctrines;  yet,  in  fact, 
though  they  are  common  doctrines,  as  far  as  the 
words  go,  they  are  not  the  same,  as  living  and 
breathing  facts,  for  the  very  same  words  have  a 
different  drift  and  spirit  when  proceeding  respec- 
tively from  a  Jewish,  or  a  Mahometan,  or  a  Catholic 
mouth.     They  are  grafted  on  different  ideas. 

Now  this,  I  fear,  will  seem  a  hard  doctrine  to  some 
of  us.  There  are  those,  whom  it  is  impossible  not  to 
respect  and  love,  of  amiable  minds  and  charitable 
feelings,  who  do  not  like  to  think  unfavourably  of 
any  one.  And,  when  they  find  another  differ  from 
them  in  religious  matters,  they  cannot  bear  the 
thought  that  he  differs  from  them  in  principle,  or 
that  he  moves  on  a  line,  on  which  did  he  progress 
for  centuries,  he  would  but  be  carried  further  from 
them,  instead  of  catching  them  up.  Their  delight  is 
to  think  that  he  holds  what  they  hold,  only  not 
enough;  and  that  he  is  right  as  far  as  he  goes. 
Such  persons  are  very  slow  to  believe  that  a  scheme 
of  general  education,  which  puts  Religion  more  or 


158  DISCOURSE   V. 

less  aside,  does  ipso  facto  part  company  with  Reli- 
gion; but  they  try  to  think,  as  far  as  they  can,  that 
its  only  fault  is  the  accident  that  it  is  not  so  religious 
as  it  might  be.  In  short  they  are  of  that  school  of 
thought,  which  will  not  admit  that  half  a  truth  is  an 
error,  and  nine-tenths  of  a  truth  no  better;  that  the 
most  frightful  discord  is  close  upon  harmony;  and 
that  intellectual  principles  combine,  not  by  a  process 
of  physical  accumulation,  but  in  unity  of  idea. 

However,  there  is  no  misconception  perhaps,  but 
has  something  or  other  true  about  it,  and  has  some- 
thing to  say  for  itself  Perhaps  it  will  reconcile  the 
persons  in  question  to  the  doctrine  I  am  propound- 
ing, if  I  state  how  far  I  can  go  along  with  them;  for 
in  a  certain  sense  what  they  say  is  true  and  is  sup- 
ported by  facts.  It  is  true  too,  that  youths  can  be 
educated  at  Mixed  Colleges  of  the  kind  I  am  suppo- 
sing, nay  at  Protestant  Colleges,  and  yet  may  come 
out  of  them  as  good-  Catholics  as  they  went  in.  Also 
it  is  true,  that  Protestants  are  to  be  found,  who,  as 
far  as  they  profess  Catholic  doctrine,  do  truly  hold  it, 
in  the  same  sense  as  that  in  which  a  Catholic  holds 
it.  I  grant  all  this,  but  I  maintain  at  the  same  time, 
that  such  cases  are  exceptional;  the  case  of  indivi- 
duals is  one  thing,  of  bodies  or  institutions  another;  it 
is  not  safe  to  argue  from  individuals  to  institutions. 
A  few  words  will  explain  my  meaning. 

There  are  then  doubtless  such  phenomena  as  what 
may  be  called  inchoate  truths,  beliefs,  and  philoso- 


GENERAL  KNOWLEDGE  ONE  PHILOSOPHY.  159 

phies.  It  would  be  both  unreasonable  and  shallow 
to  deny  it.  Men  doubtless  may  grow  into  an  idea 
by  degrees,  and  then  at  the  end  they  are  moving  on 
the  same  line,  as  they  were  at  the  beginning,  not  a 
dififerent  one,  though  they  may  during  the  progress 
have  changed  their  external  profession.  Thus  one 
school  or  party  comes  out  of  another;  truth  out  of 
error,  error  out  of  truth;  water,  according  to  the 
proverb,  chokes,  and  good  comes  from  Nazareth. 
Thus,  eternally  distinct  as  orthodoxy  is  from  heresy, 
the  most  Catholic  Fathers  and  the  worst  of  here- 
siarchs  belong  to  the  same  teaching,  or  the  same 
ecclesiastical  party.  St.  Chrysostom  comes  of  that 
Syrian  theology,  which  is  more  properly  represented 
by  the  heterodox  Diodorus  and  Theodore.  Eutyches, 
Dioscorus,  and  their  faction,  are  closely  connected  in 
history  with  St.  Cyril  of  Alexandria.  The  whole 
history  of  thought  and  of  genius,  is  that  of  one  idea 
being  born  and  growing  out  of  another,  though  ideas 
are  individual.  Some  of  the  greatest  names  in  many 
various  departments  of  excellence,  metaphysical, 
political,  or  imaginative,  have  come  out  of  schools  of 
a  very  different  character  from  their  own.  Thus, 
Aristotle  is  a  pupil  of  the  Academy,  and  the  Master 
of  the  Sentences  is  a  hearer  of  Peter  Abelard.  In  like 
manner,  to  take  a  very  different  science: — I  have  read 
that  the  earlier  musical  compositions  of  that  great 
master,  Beethoven,  are  written  on  the  type  of 
Haydn,  and  that  not  until  a  certain  date  did   he 


160  DISCOURSE  V. 

compose  in  the  style  emphatically  his  own.  The  case 
is  the  same  with  public  men;  they  are  called  incon- 
sistent, when  they  are  but  unlearning  their  first 
education.  In  such  circumstances,  as  in  the  instance 
of  the  lamented  Sir  Kobert  Peel,  a  time  must  elapse 
before  the  mind  is  able  to  discriminate  for  itself 
between  what  is  really  its  own  and  what  it  has 
merely  inherited. 

Now  what  is  its  state,  whatever  be  the  subject- 
matter  on  which  it  is  employed,  in  the  course  of  this 
process  of  change?  For  a  time  perhaps  the  mind 
remains  contented  in  the  home  of  its  youth,  where 
originally  it  found  itself,  till  in  due  season  the  special 
idea,  however  it  came  by  it,  which  is  ultimately  to 
form  a^d  rule  it,  begins  to  stir;  and  gradually 
energising  more  and  more,  and  growing  and  ex- 
panding, it  suddenly  bursts  the  bonds  of  that  ex- 
ternal profession,  which,  though  its  first,  was  never 
really  its  proper  habitation.  During  this  interval  it 
uses  the  language  which  it  has  inherited,  and  thinks 
it  certainly  true;  yet  all  the  while  its  own  genuine 
thoughts  and  modes  of  thinking  are  germinating  and 
ramifying  and  penetrating  into  the  old  teaching  which 
only  in  name  belongs  to  it;  till  its  external  manifes- 
tations are  plainly  inconsistent  with  each  other, 
though  sooner  in  the  apprehension  of  others  than  in  its 
own,  nay  perhaps  for  a  season  it  maintains  what  it 
has  received  by  education  the  more  vehemently,  by 
way  of  keeping  in  check  or  guarding  the  new  views, 


GENERAL    KNOWLEDGE   ONE    PHILOSOPHY.  161 

wliich  are  opening  upon  it,  and  which  startle  it  by 
their  strangeness.  What  happens  in  Science,  Philo- 
sophy, Politics,  or  the  Arts,  may  happen,  I  say,  in 
Keligiontoo;  there  is  such  a  thing  as  an  inchoate 
faith  or  incomplete  creed,  which  is  not  yet  fully 
Catholic,  yet  is  Catholic  as  far  as  it  goes,  tends  to 
Catholicism,  and  is  in  the  way  to  reach  it,  whether  in 
the  event  it  actually  is  happy  enough  to  reach  it  or 
not.  And  from  the  beginning  such  a  creed,  such  a 
theology  was,  I  grant,  the  work  of  a  supernatural 
principle,  which,  exercising  itself  first  in  the  rudi- 
ments of  truth,  finished  in  its  perfection.  Man 
cannot  determine  in  what  instances  that  principle 
of  grace  is  present  and  in  what  not,  except  by  the 
event;  but  wherever  it  is,  whether  it  can  be 
ascertained  by  man  or  not,  whether  it  reaches  its 
destination,  which  is  Catholicity,  or  whether  it  is 
ultimately  frustrated  and  fails,  still  in  every  case  the 
Church  claims  that  work  as  her  own;  because  it 
tends  to  her,  because  it  is  recognised  by  all  men, 
even  enemies,  to  belong  to  her,  because  it  comes  of 
that  divine  power,  which  is  given  to  her  in  fulness, 
and  because  it  anticipates  portions  of  that  divine 
creed  which  is  committed  to  her  infallibility  as  an 
everlasting  deposit.  And  in  this  sense  it  is  perfectly 
true  that  a  Protestant  may  hold  and  teach  one 
doctrine  of  Catholicism  without  holding  or  teaching 
another;  but  then,  as  I  have  said,  he  is  in  the  way 
to  hold  others,  in  the  way  to  profess  all,  and  he  is 


162  DISCOURSE  V. 

inconsistent  if  he  does  not,  and  till  lie  does.  Nay, 
he  is  already  reaching  forward  to  the  whole  truth, 
from  the  very  circumstance  of  his  really  grasping 
any  part  of  it.  So  strongly  do  I  feel  this,  that  I 
account  it  no  paradox  to  say,  that,  let  a  man  but 
master  the  one  doctrine  with  which  I  began  these 
Discourses,  the  Being  of  a  God,  let  him  really  and  truly, 
and  not  in  words  only,  or  by  inherited  profession,  or 
in  the  conclusions  of  reason,  but  by  a  direct  appre- 
hension, be  a  Monotheist,  and  he  is  already  three- 
fourths  of  the  way  towards  Catholicism. 

I  allow  all  this  as  regards  individuals;  but  I  have 
not  to  do  with  individual  teachers  in  this  Discourse, 
but  with  systems,  institutions,  bodies  of  men.  There 
are  doubtless  individual  Protestants,  who,  so  far  from 
making  their  Catholic  pupils  Protestant,  lead  on 
their  Protestant  pupils  to  Catholicism;  but  we  can- 
not legislate  for  exceptions,  nor  can  we  tell  for  cer- 
tain before  the  event  where  those  exceptional  cases 
are  to  be  found.  As  to  bodies  of  men,  political  or 
religious,  we  may  safely  say  that  they  are  what  they 
profess  to  be,  perhaps  worse,  certainly  not  better; 
and,  if  we  would  be  safe,  we  must  look  to  their  prin- 
ciples, not  to  this  or  that  individual,  whom  they 
can  put  forward  for  an  occasion.  Half  the  evil  that 
happens  in  public  affairs  arises  from  the  mistake  of 
measuring  parties,  not  by  their  history  and  by  their 
position,  but  by  their  accidental  manifestations  of  the 
moment,  the  place,  or  the  person.    Who  would  say,  for 


GENERAL   KNOWLEDGE   ONE    PHILOSOPHY.  163 

instance,  that  the  Evangelical  Church  of  Prussia  had 
any  real  affinities  to  Catholicism;  and  yet  how  many 
fine  words  do  certain  of  its  supporters  use,  and  how 
favourably  disposed  to  the  Church  do  they  seem,  till 
they  are  cross-examined  and  their  radical  heterodoxy 
brought  to  view!  It  is  not  so  many  years  since, 
that  by  means  of  their  "common  doctrines",  as  they 
would  call  them,  they  persuaded  an  ecclesiastical 
body,  as  different  from  them,  as  any  Protestant 
body  which  could  be  named,  I  mean  the  ruling 
party  in  the  Establishment,  to  join  with  them  in  the 
foundation  of  an  episcopal  see  at  Jerusalem,  a  pro- 
ject, as  absurd,  as  it  was  odious,  when  viewed  in  a 
religious  aspect.  Such  too  are  the  persevering 
attempts,  which  excellent  men  in  the  Anglican 
Church  have  made,  to  bring  about  a  better  under- 
standing between  the  Greeks  or  Russians  and  their 
own  communion,  as  if  the  Oriental  Church  were  not 
formed  on  one  type,  and  the  Protestant  Establishment 
on  another,  or  the  process  of  joining  them  were  any 
thing  short  of  the  impossible  exploit  of  fusing  two  indi- 
viduals into  one.  And  the  case  is  the  same  as 
regards  the  so-called  approaches  of  heterodox  bodies 
or  institutions  towards  Catholicism.  Men  may  have 
glowing  imaginations,  warm  feelings,  or  benevolent 
tempers;  they  may  be  very  little  aware  themselves 
how  far  they  are  removed  from  Catholicism;  they 
may  even  style  themselves  its  friends,  and  be  disap- 
pointed it  does  not  recognise  them;  they  may  admire 


164  DISCOURSE  V. 

its  doctrines,  they  may  think  it  uncharitable  in  us 
not  to  meet  them  half  way.  All  the  while,  they  may 
have  nothing  whatever  of  that  form,  idea,  type  of 
Catholicism,  even  in  its  inchoate  condition,  which  I 
have  allowed  to  some  individuals  among  them.  Such 
are  the  liberal  politicians,  and  liberal  philosophers 
and  writers,  who  are  considered  by  the  multitude  to 
be  one  with  us,  when,  alas!  they  have  neither  part 
nor  lot  with  the  Catholic  Church.  Many  a  poet, 
many  a  brilliant  writer,  of  this  or  the  past 
generation,  has  taken  upon  himself  to  admire,  or  has 
been  thought  to  understand,  the  Mother  of  Saints,  on 
no  better  ground  than  this  superficial  survey  of  some 
portion  of  her  lineaments.  This  is  why  some  persons 
have  been  so  taken  by  surprise  at  the  late  outburst 
against  us  in  England,  because  they  fancied  men 
would  be  better  than  their  systems.  This  is  why  we 
have  to  lament,  in  times  past  and  present,  the  re- 
solute holding  off  from  us  of  learned  men  in  the 
Establishment,  who  seemed  or  seem  to  come  nearest 
to  us.  Pearson,  or  Bull,  or  Beveridge,  almost  touches 
the  gates  of  the  Divine  City,  yet  he  gropes  for  them 
in  vain;  for  such  men  are  formed  on  a  different  type 
from  the  Catholic,  and  the  most  Catholic  of  their 
doctrines  are  not  Catholic  in  them.  In  vain  are 
the  most  ecclesiastical  thoughts,  the  most  ample 
concessions,  the  most  promising  aspirations,  nay, 
the  most  fraternal  sentiments,  if  they  are  not  an 
integral  part  of  that  intellectual  and  moral  form, 


GENERAL  KNOWLEDGE  ONE  PHILOSOPHY.  165 

which  is  ultimately  from  divine  grace,  and  of  which 
faith,  not  carnal  wisdom,  is  the  characteristic. 
The  event  shows  this,  as  in  the  case  of  those  many, 
who,  as  time  goes  on,  after  appearing  to  approach 
the  Church,  recede  from  her.  In  other  cases  the 
event  is  not  necessary  for  their  detection,  to  Catholics 
who  happen  to  be  near  them.  These  are  conscious 
in  them  of  something  or  other,  different  from  Catho- 
licism, a  bearing,  or  an  aspect,  or  a  tone,  which  they 
cannot  indeed  analyze  or  account  for,  but  which  they 
cannot  mistake.  They  may  not  be  able  to  put  their 
finger  on  a  single  definite  error;  but,  in  proportion 
to  the  clearness  of  their  spiritual  discernment  or  the 
exactness  of  their  theology,  do  they  recognise,  either 
the  incipient  heresiarch  within  the  Church's  pale,  or 
the  unhopeful  inquirer  outside  of  it.  Whichever 
he  be,  he  has  made  a  wrong  start;  and  however 
long  the  road  has  been,  he  has  to  go  back  and 
begin  again.  So  it  is  with  the  bodies,  institutions, 
and  systems  of  which  he  is  the  specimen;  they  may 
die,  they  cannot  be  reformed. 

And  now,  Gentlemen,  I  have  arrived  at  the  end  of 
my  subject.  It  has  come  before  us  so  prominently 
during  the  course  of  the  discussion,  that  to  sum  up 
is  scarcely  more  than  to  repeat  what  has  been  said 
many  times  already.  The  Catholic  Creed  is  one 
whole,  and  Philosophy  again  is  one  whole;  each  may 
be  compared  to  an  individual,  to  which  nothing  can 
be  added,  from  which  nothing  can  be  taken  away. 


166  DISCOURSE  V. 

They  may  be  professed,  they  may  not  be  professed, 
but  there  is  no  middle  ground  between  professing  and 
not  professing.  A  University,  so  called,  which  re- 
fuses to  profess  the  Catholic  Creed,  is,  from  the 
nature  of  the  case,  hostile  both  to  the  Church  and 
to  Philosophy. 


DISCOURSE   YI. 

PHILOSOPHICAL    KNOWLEDGE    ITS    OWN    END. 

It  must  not  be  supposed,  that,  in  the  remarks  I  have 
made  in  my  foregoing  Discourse  on  the  organic 
character  (if  I  may  use  so  strong  a  word  in  want  of 
a  better)  of  the  various  branches  of  Knowledge, 
viewed  together,  that  I  have  been  merely  pointing 
out  a  peculiarity,  which  we  may  recognise  or  not  at 
our  pleasure;  and  that,  on  the  ground,  for  instance, 
that  a  System  of  knowledge  is  more  beautiful  intel- 
lectually, or  more  serviceable  in  practice,  true 
though  this  may  be,  than  a  confused  litter  of  facts, 
or  a  heap  of  observations  or  rules.  On  the  contrary, 
I  assumed  the  fact  of  a  System,  and  went  on  to  point 
out  some  of  the  consequences  which  it  involved. 
I  assume,  not  only  as  incontrovertible,  but  as  more 
or  less  confessed  by  all  men,  that  the  various  sciences, 
which  occupy  the  field  of  Knowledge,  have,  not 
mutual  relations  only,  but  run  towards  and  into  each 

other,  and  converge  and  approximate  to  a  philoso- 

12 


168  DISCOURSE  VI. 

phical  whole,  whether  we  will  or  no: — so  active  is  the 
sympathy  which  exists  between  them,  so  ready  is  the 
human  mind  to  recognise,  nay  so  impatient  to  anti- 
cipate, the  Principle  of  System  in  all  matters  what- 
ever, even  at  the  risk  of  investing  with  laws  and 
moulding  into  one,  materials  too  scanty  or  too 
detached  to  sustain  the  process.  Nor  is  it  any 
unmixed  compliment  to  the  intellect  thus  to  speak 
of  its  love  of  systematising;  it  is  obliged  to  view  its 
various  creations  all  together  from  their  very  incom- 
pleteness separately.  As  well  may  we  expect  the 
various  trades  of  a  political  community  to  be  founded 
on  a  logical  principle  of  division,  and  to  expose  nothing 
for  sale  in  their  respective  windows,  which  has  a 
place  in  the  stores  of  their  neighbours,  as  that  the 
finite  intellect  of  man  should  comprehend  and  duly 
parcel  out  the  vast  universe  Avhich  envelopes  it,  or 
should  achieve  more  than  a  series  of  partial  and 
fitful  successes  in  ascertaining  the  object  of  its 
investigation.  Thus  System  is  but  the  resource  of 
beings,  who  know  for  the  most  part,  not  by  intui- 
tion, but  by  reasoning;  and  that  large  philosophical 
survey  of  things,  which  I  have  set  down  as  the  scope 
of  University  Education,  is  necessary  to  us,  as  well 
as  beautiful,  and  a  monument,  not  only  of  our  power, 
but  of  our  poverty. 

Here  however,  cautious  and  practical  thinkers 
will  consider  themselves  entitled  to  ask  a  question. 
They  will  inquire  of  me,  what,  after  all,  is  the  gain 


PHILOSOPUICAL  KNOWLEDGE  ITS  OWN  END.        169 

of  this  riiilosophy,  of  which  I  make  such  account, 
and  from  which  I  promise  so  much.  Even  supposing 
it  to  enable  us  to  repose  the  degree  of  confidence 
exactly  due  to  every  science  respectively,  and  to 
estimate  precisely  the  value  of  every  truth  which  is 
anywhere  to  be  found,  how  are  we  the  better  for  this 
master  view  of  things,  which  I  have  been  extolling? 
Does  it  not  reverse  the  principle  of  the  division  of 
labour?  will  practical  objects  be  obtained  better  or 
worse  by  its  cultivation?  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  objects  of  the  knowledge  attained; 
what  is  the  Art  of  this  science  of  sciences?  what  is 
the  fruit  of  such  a  philosophy?  Or,  in  other  words, 
on  the  supposition  that  the  case  stands  as  I  have 
represented  it,  what  are  we  proposing  to  efiect,  w^hat 
inducements  do  we  hold  out  to  the  Catholic  commu- 
nity, when  we  set  about  the  enterprise  of  founding  a 
University? 

This  is  a  very  natural  and  appropriate,  and  to  mo 
not  unwelcome,  question;  I  even  wish  to  consider  it. 
I  agree  with  the  objectors,  that  the  representatives  of 
a  great  interest  cannot  reasonably  resolve,  cannot  be 
invited,  to  join  together  in  the  prosecution  of  an 
object,  which  involves  odium,  anxiety,  trouble,  and 
expence,  without  having  an  end  set  before  them, 


170  DISCOURSE   VI. 

definite  in  itself,  and  commensurate  with  their  exer- 
tions. I  own,  I  have  done  very  little  till  I  have 
answered  the  question;  and  it  admits  a  clear  answer, 
yet  it  will  be  somewhat  a  long  one.  I  shall  not 
finish  it  to-day,  nor  in  my  next  Discourse,  but  I 
trust.  Gentlemen,  that  from  the  first  and  at  once  I 
shall  be  able  to  say  what  will  justify  me  in  your  eyes 
in  taxing  your  patience  to  hear  me  on,  till  1  fairly 
come  to  my  conclusion. 

However,  I  will  not  delay  frankly  to  tell  you  what 
that  conclusion  is  to  be.  When  then  I  am  asked 
what  is  the  end  of  a  Liberal  or  University  Educa- 
tion, and  of  the  Liberal  or  Philosophical  Knowledge 
which  I  conceive  it  to  impart,  I  answer,  that  it  has  a 
very  tangible,  real,  and  sufficient  end,  but  that  the 
end  cannot  be  divided  from  that  knowledge  itself. 
Knowledge  is  capable  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  knowledge,  it  is  true  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 


PfllLOSOrHICAL  KNOWLEDGE  ITS  OWN  END.        171 

SO  really  iiud  undeniably  good,  as  to  be  the  compen- 
sation of  a  great  deal  of  thought  in  compassing,  and 
a  great  deal  of  trouble  in  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  Eeligion,  of  entertain- 
ing, curious,  and  various  knowledge.  I  am  but 
saying  what  whole  volumes  have  been  written  to 
illustrate,  by  a  "  selection  from  the  records  of  Philo- 
sophy, Literature,  and  Art,  in  all  ages  and  countries, 
of  a  body  of  examples,  to  show  how  the  most  unpro- 
pitious  circumstances  have  been  unable  to  conquer  an 
ardent  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 

*  Pursuit  of  Knowlo(li;o  nnder  Difficulties.     lutrod. 


172  DISCOURSE    YI. 

to  it  on  a  number  of  external  aids  and  appliances, 
Knowledge,  as  one  of  those  principal  gifts  or  acces- 
saries, by  which  it  is  completed,  is  valuable  for  what 
its  very  presence  in  us  does  for  us  by  a  sort  of  opus 
operatum,  even  though  it  be  turned  to  no  further 
account,  nor  subserve  any  direct  end. 

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  know- 
ledge; in  which  to  excel  we  consider  excellent, 
whereas  to  mistake,  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  ex- 
istence, as  they  may  be  termed,  as  regards  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,  forth- 
with we  desire  to  see,  to  hear,  to  learn;  and  consider 
the  knowledge  of  what  is  hidden  or  is  wonderful  a 
condition  of  our  happiness". 

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 

w^sh  you  to  observe.  Gentlemen,  how  distinctly  it 

*  Ciccr.  Offic.  init. 


nilLOSOPUICAL  KNOWLEDGE  ITS  OWN  END.        17 o 

separates  the  pursuit  of  Knowledge  from  those  ulte- 
rior objects  to  which  certainly  it  can  be  made  to  con- 
duce, and  which  are,  I  suppose,  solely  contemplated  by 
the  pei-sons  who  would  ask  of  me  the  use  of  a  Uni- 
versity or  Liberal  Education.  So  far  from  dreaming 
of  the  cultivation  of  Knowdedge  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  con- 
trary, 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  philo- 
sophy, 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  ofi"  from  public  occupations  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 


174  DISCOURSE  VI. 

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  pursuits  of  science 
and  knowledge"  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  Philo- 
sophy among  his  countrymen,  when  Carneades  and 
his  companions,  on  occasion  of  their  embassy,  were 
charming  the  Koman  youth  with  their  eloquent  expo- 
sitions of  it.  A  fit  representative  of  a  practical 
people,  he  estimated  everything  by  what  it  produced; 
whereas  the  Pursuit  of  Knowledge  promised  nothing 
beyond  Knowledge  itself.  It  was  as  fatal,  he  consi- 
dered, to  attempt  to  measure  the  advantages  of  Philo- 
sophy by  a  Utilitarian  standard,  as  to  estimate  a  point 
of  taste  by  a  barometer,  or  to  trace  out  an  emotion  by 
an  equation.  Cato  knew  at  the  time  as  little  of 
what  is  meant  by  refinement  or  enlargement  of  mind, 
as  the  busy  every-day  world  now  knows  of  the  opera- 
tions  of  grace.     He  despised  what  he  had  never  felt. 

Things,  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  them- 
selves to  be  useful,  must  have  their  sufficient  end  in 
themselves,  whatever  it  turn  out  to  be.  And  we  are 
brought  to  the  same  conclusion  by  considering  the 


PHILOSOPHICAL  KNOWLEDGE  ITS  OWN  END.        175 

force  of  the  epithet,  by  which  the  knowledge  under 
consideration  is  popularly  designated.  It  is  common 
to  speak  of  "  liberal  knowledge",  of  the  "  liberal  arts 
and  studies",  and  of  a  "  liberal  education",  as  the 
especial  characteristic  or  property  of  a  University  and 
of  a  gentleman;  what  is  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  works  are  the  arts,  if  they  deserve 
the  name,  of  which  the  poet  speaks,*  which  owe  their 
origin  and  their  method  to  chance,  not  to  skill;  as,  for 
instance,  the  practice  and  operations  of  a  quack. 
As  far  as  this  contrast  may  be  considered  as  a  guide 
into  the  meaning  of  the  word,  liberal  knowledge  and 
liberal  pursuits  are  such  as  belong  to  the  mind,  not 
to  the  body. 

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  low  magic  or  empiricism 
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  edu- 

*  Te'xJ'T?  Tvxnv  tarep^c  Koi  rvxn  r4xvw- 

Vid.  Aiist.  Nic.  Ethic,  vi. 


176  DISCOURSE   YI. 

cation  or  a  professional;  yet  no  one  can  deny  that 
commerce  and  the  professions  aiford  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 
palsestra,  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  of 
the  young  Persian  nobility  being  taught  to  ride  on 
horseback  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  military  prowess,  though  bodily,  are,  it 
seems,  accounted  liberal;  on  the  other  hand,  what 
is  merely  professional,  though  highly  intellectual, 
nay,  though  liberal  in  comparison  of  trade  and  manual 
labour,  is  not  simply  called  liberal,  and  mercantile 
occupations  are  not  liberal  at  all.  Why  this  distinc- 
tion? because  that  alone  is  liberal  knowledge,  which 
stands  on  its  own  pretensions,  which  is  independent 
of  sequel,   expects   no   complement,   refuses   to   be 


PHILOSOPHICAL  knowledge  its  own  end.      177 

informed  (as  it  is  called)  by  any  end,  or  absorbed 
into  any  art,  in  order  duly  to  present  itself  to  our 
contemplation.  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  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; 
though  the  one  of  them  be  the  most  popularly  bene- 
ficial, 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  in  question,  and  that  still  more,  if  they 
are  cut  down  to  the  strict  exigencies  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  catechism,  it 
loses,  not  its  usefulness,  not  its  divine  character,  not 
its  meritoriousness  (rather  it  increases  it  by  such 
charitable  condescension),  but  the  particular  attri- 
bute which  I  am  illustrating;  just  as  a  face  worn  by 
tears  and  fasting  loses  its  beauty,  or  a  labourer's 
hand  loses  its  delicateness; — for  Theology  thus  exer- 
cised is  not  simple  knowledge,  but  rather  is  an  art  or  a 


178  DISCOURSE   VI. 

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  physi- 
cal sciences  for  the  purpose  of  fruit,  does  thereby 
transfer  them  from  the  order  of  Liberal  Pursuits  to,  I 
do  not  say  the  inferior,  but  the  distinct  class  of  the  Use- 
ful. And,  to  take  a  different  instance,  hence  again, 
as  is  evident,  whenever  the  motive  of  gain  is  intro- 
duced, still  more  does  it  change  the  character  of  a 
given  pursuit;  thus  racing,  which  was  a  liberal 
exercise  in  Greece,  forfeits  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  enjoy- 
ment. By  fruitful,  I  mean,  which  yield  revenue;  by 
enjoyable,  where  nothivg  accrues  of  consequence 
beyond  the  use'\* 

Do  not  suppose.  Gentlemen,  that,  in  thus  appeal- 
ing 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.  When  I  hear 
people  ridiculing  Catholics,  as  they  sometimes  do,  for 

*  Aristot.  Rhet.  i.  5. 


PITILOSOPIIICAL  KNOWLEDGE  ITS  OWN  END.  179 

deferring  to  the  schools  of  Greece,  I  am  reminded  of 
the  man  who  thought  it  strange  or  hard,  that  he 
shoukl  have  been  talking  prose  all  his  life,  without 
knowing  it.     As  prose  is  but  a  name  for  our  ordi- 
nary style  of  conversation,  so,  while  we  are  men,  we 
cannot  help,  to  a  great  extent,  being  Aristotelians, 
for  the  great  Master  does  but  analyse  the  thoughts, 
feelings,  views,  and  opinions  of  human  kind.     He 
has  told  us  the  meaning  of  our  own  words  and  ideas, 
before  we  were  born.     In  many  subject  matters,  to 
think  correctly,  is  to  think  like  Aristotle;  and  we 
are  his  disciples  whether  we  will  or  no,   though  we 
may  not  know  it.     He  was  most  wonderfully  raised 
up,   as  for  other  reasons,  so  especially  to  be  minister 
to  a  Divine  Eevelation,  of  which  personally  he  knew 
nothing;  and  it  is  both  true  wisdom  and  mere  thank- 
fulness to  accept  the  gift  provided  for  us,  for  the  pur- 
poses which  it  answers.     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  the  Sublime,  or  the  Kidiculous, 
or  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 


180  DISCOURSE  YI. 

pursuits  and  what  arts  came  under  that  idea,  hut 
such  differences  are  hut  an  additional  evidence  of  its 
reality.  That  idea  must  have  a  suhstance  in  it, 
which  has  maintained  its  ground  amid  these  con- 
flicts 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  generalisation,  it  would 
have  varied  with  the  subjects  from  which  it  was 
generalised;  hut  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  recognised  in  Elis, 
and  be  condemned  in  England;  music  may  be  des- 
picable 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  variations  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  pa- 
radox, when  I  speak  of  a  Knowledge  which  is  its  own 
end,  when  1  call  it  liberal  knowledge,  or  a  gentleman's 


PHILOSOPHICAL  KNOWLEDGE  ITS  OWN  END.         181 

knowledge,  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  extended  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  popu- 
larly, but  precisely  and  transcendcntly  as  Philosophy. 
Knowledge,  I  say,  is  especially  liberal,  or  needs  no 
end  beside  itself,  when  and  so  far  as  it  is  philoso- 
phical; and  this  I  proceed  to  show. 

You  may  recollect.  Gentlemen,  that,  in  my  fore- 
going Discourse,  I  said  that  systematising,  or  taking 
general  views  of  all  departments  of  thought,  or 
what  I  called  Philosophy,  was  but  a  modification  of  the 
mental  condition  which  we  designate  by  the  name  of 
science,  or  was  a  Science  of  sciences;  now  bear  with 
me,  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  Philosophy,  when 
it  is  acted  upon,  informed,  or,  if  I  may  use  a  strong 
figure,  impregnated  by  Reason.  Eeason  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. 


182  DISCOURSE   VI. 

Knowledge  indeed,  when  thus  exalted  into  a  scientific 
form,  is  also  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  reason, 
and  resolve  itself  into  philosophy.  In  the  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  measure.  You  see  then.  Gentlemen, 
here  are  two  methods  of  Education;  the  one  aspires  to 
be  philosophical,  the  other  to  be  mechanical;  the  one 
rises  towards  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,  of  the 
useful  or  mechanical  arts;  life  could  not  go  on  with- 
out 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  it.  I  only 
say  that  Knowledge,  in  proportion  as  it  tends  more 


PHILOSOPHICAL  KNOWLEDGE  ITS  OWx\  E\D.  183 

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 
phraseology,  which  would  be  unsuitable  to  an  occa- 
sion like  this,  I  say,  it  seems  to  me  improper  to  call 
that  passive  sensation,  or  perception  of  things,  which 
brutes  seem  to  possess,  by  the  name  of  Knowledge. 
When  I  speak  of  Knowledge,  I  mean  something 
intellectual,  something  which  grasps  what  it  per- 
ceives through  the  senses;  something  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.  It  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,  considered  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  is  called  Liberal. 
Not  to  know  the  relative  disposition  of  things  is 
the  state  of  slaves  or  children;  to  have  mapped  out 
the  Universe  is  the  boast  of  Philosophy. 

Felix  qui  potuit  rerum  cognoscere  causas, 
Atque  metus  omnes,  et  inexorabile  fatum 
Snbjecit  pedibus,  strepitumque  Acherontis  avari. 

You  mav    ask    me.   Gentlemen,   how  all   this  is 

13 


184  DISCOURSE  VI. 

consistent  with  the  dignity  of  Christianity,  with  the 
merit  of  faith.  You  will  say  that  faith  is  confident, 
that  obedience  is  prompt,  yet  without  knowing  why; 
that  ignorance  is  the  very  condition  both  of  the  one 
and  the  other.  Though  we  cannot  verify  by  reason, 
yet  we  take  upon  us,  on  God^s  word,  the  very  truth 
to  be  believed,  the  very  work  to  be  done;  this  is  the 
beginning  surely  of  all  supernatural  excellence. 
Here  we  are  upon  a  new  subject,  yet  I  am  not  un- 
willing to  say  a  word  upon  it  by  way  of  illustrating 
the  point  I  am  making  good.  In  the  first  place, 
then,  I  deny  that  Faith  is  a  mere  unreasoning  act; 
on  the  contrary,  it  has  an  intellectual  nature.  It  is 
no  brute  or  necessary  sensation  or  perception;  it  has 
in  it,  as  divines  have  noticed,  a  discursive  process. 
We  believe  what  is  revealed  to  us  from  belief  in  the  Re- 
vealer.  But  again,  even  though  a  state  of  mind  were 
imposed  upon  us  by  Christianity,  less  elevated,  less 
noble,  than  we  should  choose  for  ourselves,  if  the  choice 
were  ours,  I  suppose  it  must  not  be  left  out  of  con- 
sideration, that  our  race  once  was  in  a  higher  state 
and  has  forfeited  it.  Ignorance  was  not  always  our 
natural  portion,  nor  slavery  our  birthright.  When 
the  Divine  Voice  quickens  us  from  the  dust  in 
which  we  lie,  it  is  to  call  us  to  a  dignity  higher 
even  than  that  which  was  ours  in  the  beginning;  but 
it  restores  us  by  degrees.  At  first,  we  emerge  from  the 
state  of  slaves  into  that  of  children  and  of  children 
only,  and  not  yet  of  men.    We  are  exercised  by  faith; 


PHILOSOPHICAL  knowledge  its  own  end.       185 

it  is  our  education.    And  in  like  manner  children  are 
exercised  at  school;  they  are  taught  the  rudiments 
of  knowledge  upon  fliith;  they  do  not  begin  with 
philosophy.     But,  as  in  the  natural  order,  we  mount 
up  to  philosophical  largeness  of  mind  from  lessons 
learned  by  rote  and  the  schoolmaster's  rod,  so  too  in 
the  order  supernatural,   even  in  this  life,  and  far 
more  truly  in  the  life  to  come,  we  pass  on  from  faith 
and  penance  to  contemplation.     Such  is  the  loving- 
kindness  of  the  Everlasting  Father,    "suscitans   a 
terra  inopem,  et  de  stercore  erigens  pauperem".     To 
those  who  have  begun  with  faith.  He  adds,  in  course 
of  time,  a  higher  gift,  the  gift  of  Wisdom,  which,  not 
superseding,   but  presupposing  Faith,    gives   us   so 
broad  and  deep  a  view  of  things  revealed,  that  their 
very  consistency  is  an  evidence  of  their  Author,  and, 
like  the  visible  world,  persuades  us  to  adore  His 
Majesty.      This  endowment  the  Apostle  speaks  of, 
when  addressing  the  educated  Corinthians.    First  he 
makes  mention  of  that  liberal  knowledge  or  philo- 
sophy in   the    natural  order,  which  is  my  present 
subject,  and  which  in  the  absence  of  theology  had 
been  sublimated  into  an  empty  worthless  speculation, 
and  had  become  a  mere  "  worldly  wisdom".     After 
warning  his  converts  against  this  perversion,  he  pro- 
ceeds to  say,   by  way  of  contrast,    "  We   speak   a 
wisdom  among    the    perfect,  yet   not    the    wisdom 
of  this  world,  but  the  wisdom  of  God  in  a  mystery, 
a  wisdom,  which  is  hidden  wisdom".     Such  a  wisdom 


186  DISCOURSE    VI. 

is  the  whole  series  of  Christian  Evidences,  the  cumu- 
lative proof  of  the  Being  of  a  God,  of  the  divinity  of 
Judaism,  and  of  the  mission  of  the  Apostles;  such  the 
course  of  the  Divine  Dispensations,  the  structure  of 
Scripture  Prophecy,  the  analogy  between  the  systems 
of  nature  and  grace;  such  the  notes  of  the  Church, 
the  history  of  miracles,  the  philosophy  and  phenomena 
of  the  heroic  life,  the  neverending  conflict  between 
Christ  and  the  world,  the  harmony  of  Catholic 
doctrine,  and  the  process  of  its  evolution.  These 
and  many  other  subjects  of  thought  form  a  multitude, 
or  rather  a  system  and  philosophy  of  divine  sciences, 
which,  rising  out  of  Faith,  tend  nevertheless  towards 
that  eternal  state  of  illumination,  when  Faith  shall 
yield  to  sight.  It  is  the  gift  of  Wisdom ;  and  of  this  our 
Lord  seems  to  speak,  and  almost  designates  it  as  the 
liberal  knowledge  of  His  favoured  ones,  by  contrasting 
it  with  the  servile  condition  of  mind  in  which  we  act 
without  being  able  to  give  an  account  of  our  actions. 
*'  I  will  not  now  call  you  servants".  He  says,  "  for  the 
servant  knoweth  not  what  his  Lord  doth;  but  I  have 
called  you  friends,  because  all  things,  whatsoever  I 
have  heard  from  my  Father,  I  have  made  known  to 

you". 

Parallel  then  to  this  Divine  Wisdom,  but  in  the 
natural  order,  even  though  it  takes  cognisance  of 
supernatural  subjects,  is  that  philosophical  view  or 
grasp  of  all  matters  of  thought,  in  which  I  have  con- 
sidered Liberal  Knowledge  to  consist,  and  which  is 


PHILOSOPHICAL  KNOWLEDGE  ITS  OWN  END.         187 

desirable  for  its  own  sake,  though  it  brought  with  it 
nothing  beyond.      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  communicate  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  instruc- 
tion, thiough,  when  knowledge  is  concerned,  instruc- 
tion 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, 
tradition,  or  use,  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  con- 
nexion with  religion  and  virtue.     When  then  we 
speak  of  the  communication  of  Knowledge  as  being 
Education,  we  thereby  really  imply  that  that  Know- 
ledge is  a  state  or  condition  of  mind;  and  since  cul- 
tivation of  mind  is  surely  worth  seeking  for  its  own 


188  DISCOURSE   VI. 

sake,  we  are  thus  brought  once  more  to  the  con- 
clusion, 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  years  of  labour. 

This  then  is  the  answer  which  I  am  prepared  to  give 
to  the  question  with  which  I  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  to-day,  as  I  conceive,  I  have  begun  proving 
it.  I  am  prepared  to  maintain  that,  there  is  a 
knowledge  worth  possessing  for  what  it  is,  and  not 
merely  for  what  it  does.  This  important  principle 
is  the  issue,  if  it  be  not  the  drift,  of  all  that  I  have 
been  saying  in  my  preceding  Discourses;  I  hope  it  will 
not  seem  paradoxical  or  unreal;  for  some  time  to  come 
I  shall  employ  myself  upon  it;  and  what  minutes  re- 
main to  me  to-day  I  shall  devote  to  the  removal  of 
some  portion  of  the  indistinctness  and  confusion  with 
which  it  may  in  some  minds  be  surrounded. 

It  may  be  objected  then,  that,  when  we  profess  to 
seek  Knowledge  for  some  end  or  other  beyond,  what- 
ever it  be,  we  speak  intelligibly;  but,  that,  whatever 
men  may  have  said,  however  obstinately  the  idea 
may  have  kept  its  ground  from  age  to  age,  still  it  is 
simply  unmeaning  to  say  that  we  seek  Knowledge  for  its 
own  sake,  and  for  nothing  else;  for  that  it  ever  leads 


PHILOSOPHICAL  KNOWLEDGE  ITS  OWN  END.        189 

tx)  something  beyond  itself,  which  therefore  is  its  end, 
and  the  cause  why  it  is  desirable; — moreover,  that  this 
end  is  two-fold,  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,  Ke- 
ligious  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  phy- 
sical or  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  them- 
selves, in  every  age  recognised  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  grave  and  dissi- 
pated, in  consequence  of  them.  Thus  they  have 
furnished  against  themselves  both  the  ground  and 
the  means  of  their  own  exposure,  without  any  trouble 


190  DISCOURSE  YI. 

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  eloquent  words?  Nay,  what  has  its  teaching 
ever  meditated,  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  strong  and  trans- 
porting perfumes,  which  at  first  spread  their  sweet- 
ness 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  dis- 
favor of  the  fickle  populace,  or  nerve  Seneca  to  oppose 
an  imperial  tyrant?  It  abandoned  Brutus,  as  he  sor- 
rowfully confessed,  in  his  greatest  need,  and  it  forced 
Cato,  as  his  panegyrist  strangely  boasts,  into  the 
false  position  of  defying  heaven.  How  many  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  possession?  The  philosopher  in  Easselas 
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 


PHILOSOPHICAL  KNOWLEDGE  ITS  OWN  END.        191 

clear,  and  his  diction  elegant.  He  showed,  with 
great  strength  of  sentiment  and  variety  of  illustra- 
tion, that  human  nature  is  degraded  and  debased, 
when  the  lower  faculties  predominate  over  the 
higher.  He  communicated  the  various  precepts 
given,  from  time  to  time,  for  the  conquest  of  pas- 
sion, 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  indiiference  on 
those  modes  or  accidents,  to  which  the  vulgar  give 
the  names  of  good  and  evil". 

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  wdse  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?... 


192  DISCOURSE  VI. 

consider,  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?" 

Better,  far  better,  to  make  no  professions,  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 
Philosophy  of  Utility,  you  will  say.  Gentlemen,  has 
at  least  done  its  work;  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  "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  anything  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. 

*  It  will  be  seen  that  on  the  whole  I  agree  with  Mr.  Macaulay  in 
his  Essay  on  Bacon's  Philosophy.  I  do  not  know  whether  he 
w^ould  agree  with  me. 


PHILOSOPHICAL  KNOWLEDGE  ITS  OWN  END.         193 

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  wellbeing.  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  philosophy,  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,*  who,  when  He  came  on  earth  in 
visible  form,  took  on  Him  first  and  most  prominently 
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, 

*  De  Augment,  iv.  2,  vid.  Mr.  Macaulay's  Essay ;  Also  "  In  prin- 
cipio  operis  ad  Deum  Patrem,  Deum  Verbum,  Deum  Spiritunij  preces 
fundimus  huraillimas  et  ardentissimas,  ut  humaui  generis  terumnarum 
memores,  et  peregi'inationis  istius  vitae,  in  qua  dies  paucos  et  malos 
terimus,  novis  suis  deemosynis,  per  manus  nostras^  familiam  huma- 
nam  dotare  dignentiir.  Atque  illud  insuper  supplices  rogamns,  ne 
humana  divinis  officiant;  neve  ex  reseratione  vianim  sensus,  et  accen- 
sione  majore  luminis  naturalis,  aliquid  incredulitatis  et  noctis,  auimis 
nostris  erga  divina  mysteria  oboriatur,  etc.      Pref.  Instaur.  Magn. 


194  DISCOURSE   VI. 

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  are  not  in  the  action  of  life  or  in 
their  heart  of  hearts,  what  they  seem  to  be  in  their 
moments  of  excitement,  or  in  their  trances  or  intoxi- 
cations of  genius, — so  good,  so  noble,  so  serene! 
Alas,  that  Bacon  toot  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  intellectual 
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  discomforts  and  tem- 
poral wants  are  to  be  most  effectually  removed  from  the 
greatest  number;  and  already,  before  it  has  shown  any 

*  Fouque's  Unknown  Patient. 
t  Te  maris  et  terras,  etc.     Hor.  Od.  i.  28. 


PHILOSOPHICAL  KNOWLEDGE  ITS  OWN  END.  195 

signs  of  exhaustion,  the  gifts  of  nature,  in  their  most 
artificial  shapes  and  luxurious  profusion  and  diver- 
sity, from  all  quarters  of  the  earth,  are,  it  is  un- 
deniable, brought  even  to  our  doors,  and  we  rejoice 
in  them. 

Useful  Knowledge  then  certainly  has  done  its  work; 
and  Liberal  Knowledge  as  certainly  has  not  done  its 
work:  supposing,  that  is,  as  the  objectors  assume,  its 
direct  end,  like  Keligious  Knowledge,  is  to  make  men 
better;  but  this  I  will  not  for  an  instant  allow.  For 
all  its  friends,  or  its  enemies,  may  say,  I  insist  upon 
it,  that  it  is  as  real  a  mistake  to  implicate  it  with 
virtue  or  religion,  as  with  the  arts.  Its  direct  busi- 
ness 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 
material  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  diplo- 
macy. Knowledge  is  one  thing,  virtue  is  another; 
good  sense  is  not  conscience,  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 


196  DISCOURSE   VI. 

motives,  no  vivifying  principles.  Liberal  Education 
makes  not  the  Christian,  not  the  Catholic,  but  the 
gentleman.  It  is  well  to  be  a  gentleman,  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  connatural  qualities  of  a  large  knowledge;  they 
are  the  objects  of  a  University;  I  am  advocating,  I 
shall  illustrate  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  profligate,  to  the  heartless, — pleasant, 
alas,  and  attractive  as  he  seems  when  decked  out  in 
them.  Taken  by  themselves,  they  do  but  seem  to  be 
what  they  are  not;  they  look  like  virtue  at  a  dis- 
tance, but  they  are  detected  by  close  observers,  and 
on  the  long  run;  and  hence  it  is  that  they  are  popu- 
larly accused  of  pretence  and  hypocrisy,  not,  I 
repeat,  from  their  own  fault,  but  because  their  pro- 
fessors and  their  admirers  persist  in  taking  them  for 
what  they  are  not,  and  are  ofiicious  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  know- 
ledge 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 


rillLOSOPHICAL  KNOWLEDGE  ITS  OWN  END.         197 

Liberal  Knowledge.  Surely  the  real  grounds  on 
which  its  pretensions  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  Liberal  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  perfection,  be  it 
higher  or  lower  in  the  scale  of  things;  and  the  per- 
fection 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  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  per- 
fection  in   these  various   subject   matters,   towards 


198  DISCOURSE  VI. 

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  Caesar,  or 
Scipio,  or  Saladin,  are  the  representatives  of  that 
magnanimity  or  self  mastery  which  is  the  greatness 
of  human  nature.  Christianity  too  has  its  heroes, 
and  in  the  supernatural  order,  and  we  call  them 
Saints.  The  artist  puts  before  him  beauty  of  fea- 
ture 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 
knowledge,  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  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. 

This  indeed  is  but  a  temporal  object,  and  a  transi- 
tory possession;  but  so  are  other  things  in  themselves 
which  we  make  much  of  and  pursue.     The  moralist 


PHILOSOPHICAL  KNOWLEDGE  ITS  OWN  END.        199 

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,  immortal.  Body  and  mind  are  carried 
on  into  an  eternal  world  by  the  gifts  of  Divine  Muni- 
ficence; 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, 
if  an  Hospital  or  an  Almshouse,  though  its  end  be 
secular,  may  be  sanctified  to  the  service  of  Eeligion, 
so  surely  may  an  University,  were  it  nothing  more 
than  I  have  as  yet  described  it.  We  attain  to  hea- 
ven 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. 


14 


DISCOURSE  Vll. 

PHILOSOPHICAL   KNOWLEDGE   VIEWED   IN   RELATION   TO 
MENTAL   ACQUIREMENTS. 

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  the 
excellence  which  is  the  result,  of  exercise  and  train- 
ing.  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  habits  bearing  upon  practice  or  upon  art,  and  not 
to  any  perfect  condition  of  the  intellect,  considered  in 
itself.  Wisdom,  again,  which  is  a  more  comprehen- 
sive word  than  any  other,  certainly  has  a  direct  rela- 

15 


202  DISCOURSE   VII. 

tion  to  conduct,  and  to  human  life.  Knowledge,  in- 
deed, and  Science  express  purely  intellectual  ideas,  but 
still  not  a  state  or  habit  of  the  intellect;  for  know- 
ledge, in  its  ordinary  sense,  is  but  one  of  its  circum- 
stances, denoting  a  possession  or  influence;  and 
science  has  been  appropriated  to  the  subject  matter 
of  the  intellect,  instead  of  belonging  at  present,  as  it 
ought  to  do,  to  the  intellect  itself.  The  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  realize  to  the 
mind  the  particular  perfection  in  which  that  object 
consists.  Every  one  knows  practically  what  are  the 
constituents  of  health  or  of  virtue;  and  every  one 
recognises  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 
philosophy,  philosophical  knowledge,  enlargement  of 
mind,  or  illumination;  terms  which  are  not  uncom- 
monly given  to  it  by  writers  of  this  day:  but,  what- 
ever name  we  bestow  on  it,  it  is,  I  believe,  as  a  matter 
of  history,  the  business  of  a  University  to  make  this 


PHILOSOPHY   AND    MENTAL   ACQUIREMENTS.        203 

intellectual  culture  its  direct  scope,  or  to  employ  itself 
in  the  education  of  the  intellect, — ^just  as  the  work  of 
a  Hospital  lies  in  healing  the  sick  or  wounded,  of  a 
Riding  or  Fencing  School,  or  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  pro- 
fesses to  exercise  neither  in  art  nor  in  duty;  its  func- 
tion is  intellectual  culture;  here  it  may  leave  its  scho- 
lars, and  it  has  done  its  work,  when  it  has  done  as 
much  as  this.  It  educates  the  mind,  to  reason  well 
in  all  matters,  to  reach  out  to  truth,  and  to  grasp  it. 
This,  I  said  in  my  foregoing  Discourse,  was  the 
object  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 
it  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  train- 
ing, as  it  is,  had  not  that  training  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  to  "useful",  as  is  commonly 
done;  that  the  very  notion  of  a  philosophical  spirit 


204  DISCOURSE  YII. 

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  re- 
search 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 
determined  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  philosophy  consists  in.  A  Hos- 
pital 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,  but  of  the  intellect? 
What  is  this  good,  which,  in  former  times,  as  well  as 
our  own,  has  been  found  worth  the  notice,  the  appro- 
priation, 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,  I  shall  recur  to  certain  questions  which 
were  started  in  the  course  of  the  discussion  imme- 
diately preceding  the  present.     These  questions  were 


nilLOSOPHY    AND    MENTAL    ACQUIREMENTS.       205 

three;  viz.  the  relation  of  intellectual  culture,  first, 
to  mere  or  material  knowledge;  secondly,  to  profes- 
sional knowledge;  and  thirdly,  to  religious  know- 
ledge. In  other  words,  are  acquirements  and  attain- 
ments the  scope  of  a  University  Education?  or  expert- 
ness  in  particular  arts  and  pursuits  ?  or  moral  and 
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  else- 
where,* I  have  already  put  upon  paper.  And  first,  of 
Material  Knowledge^  or  Acquirements^  and  their  con- 
nection with  intellectual  illumination  or  Philosophy. 
I  suppose  the  primd  facie  view  which  the  public 
at  large  would  take  of  a  University,  considered  as  a 
place  of  Education,  is  nothing  more  or  less  than  a 
place  for  acquiring  a  great  deal  of  knowledge  on  a 
great  many  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  wel- 
comes them  as  fast  as  they  come  to  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 

*  Vid.  the  Author's  University  (Oxford)  Scrnious. 


206  DISCOURSE  VII. 

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  exer- 
cises; his  mind  is  observant,  sharp,  ready,  retentive; 
he  is  almost  passive  in  the  acquisition  of  knowledge. 
I  say  this  in  no  disparagement  of  the  idea  of  a  clever 
boy.  Geography,  chronology,  history,  language,  na- 
tural 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  handfuls,  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  University,  he  is  mainly  the  creature  of  foreign 
influences  and  circumstances,  and  made  up  of  acci- 
dents, 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  applica- 
tion; for  these  are  the  direct  conditions  of  acquisi- 
tion, and  naturally  lead  to  it.     Acquirements,  again, 


nilLOSOniY   AND    MENTAL   ACQUIREMENTS.      207 

are  emphatically  producible,  and  at  a  moment;  tliey 
are  a  something  to  show,  for  both  master  and  scholar; 
an  audience,  even  though  ignorant  themselves  of  the 
subjects  of  an  examination,  can  comprehend  when  ques- 
tions are  answered  and  when  they  are  not.  Here  again 
is  a  reason,  why  mental  culture  should  in  the  minds  of 
men  be  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  acquire- 
ments, 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  conclu- 
sion. There  are  indeed  persons  who  profess  a  diffe- 
rent view  of  the  matter,  and  even  act  upon  it. 
Every  now  and  then  you  will  find  a  person  of  vigo- 
rous 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.  Ilis  readers 
are  sure  to  find  on  the  long  run  that  his  doctrines 


208  DISCOURSE  VII. 

are  mere  theories,  and  not  the  expression  of  facts, 
that  they  are  chaff  instead  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;  I  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  it.  A  narrow 
mind  is  thought  to  be  that  which  contains  little  know- 
ledge; and  an  enlarged  mind,  that  which  holds  a 
great  deal;  and  what  seems  to  put  the  matter  beyond 
dispute,  is,  the  fact  of  the  number  of  studies  which 
are  pursued  in  a  University,  by  its  very  profession. 
Lectures  are  given  on  every  kind  of  subject;  exami- 
nations are  held;  prizes  awarded.  There  are  moral, 
metaphysical,  physical  Professors;  Professors  of  lan- 
guages, of  history,  of  mathematics,  of  experimental 
science.  Lists  of  questions  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  multifa- 
rious information;  what  then  is  wanted  for  mental 
culture  to  a  person  of  large  reading  and  scientific 
attainments?  what  is  grasp  of  mind  but  acquire- 
ment? 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 


PHILOSOPHY   AND   MENTAL   ACQUIRExMENTS.        209 

my  present  business  is  to  show  that  it  is  one,  and 
that  the  end  of  a  Liberal  Education  is  not  mere  or 
material  knowledge;  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  prin- 
ciple is  not  rather  something  beyond  it. 

For  instance,  let  a  person,  whose  experience  has 
hitherto  been  confined  to  the  calm  and  unpretending 
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  kind.  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. 


210  DISCOURSE   VII. 

Again,  the  view  of  the  heavens,  which  the  tele- 
scope 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  cre- 
ation, 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  accus- 
tomed to  wear  manicles  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  takes  away  his  breath,  while 
in  time  it  exercises  a  tranquillizing  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 


nilLOSOPHY    AND    MENTAL    ACQUIREMENTS.       211 

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  opposite, 
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  into  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  'Hhe  world  is 


212  DISCOURSE  VII. 

all  before  it  where  to  choose",  and  what  system  to 
build  up  as  its  own  private  persuasion,  when  this 
torrent  of  bad  thoughts  rushes  over  and  inundates  it, 
who  will  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  Keligion  has  its  own  enlarge- 
ment, 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  them- 
selves, regulating  their  hearts,  reforming  their  con- 
duct, 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 


PHILOSOPHY   AND    MENTAL    ACQUIREMENTS.        213 

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. 

Now^  from  these  instances,  to  which  many  more 
might  be  added,  it  is  plain,  first,  that  the  communica- 
tion of  knowledge  certainly  is  either  a  condition  or  the 
means  of  that  sense  of  enlargement  or  enlightenment, 
which  is  at  this  day  considered  the  end  of  mental 
culture:  so  much  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  acquirements;  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  with- 
out this  no  enlargement  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  w^e  learn  to  what  we  know 
already.     It  is  not  a  mere  addition  to  our  know- 


214  DISCOURSE   VII. 

ledge,  which  is  illumination;  but  the  locomotion,  the 
movement  onwards,  of  that  moral  centre,  to  which 
both  what  we  know,  and  what  we  are  learning,  the 
accumulating  mass  of  our  acquirements,  gravitate. 
And  therefore  a  truly  great  intellect,  and  recognised 
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  without  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. 

Accordingly,  when  this  analytical,  distributive, 
harmonising  process  is  away,  the  mind  experiences 
no  enlargement,  and  is  not  reckoned  as  enlightened 
or  comprehensive,  whatever  it  may  add  to  its  know- 
ledge. 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  multi- 
tude 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; 


PHILOSOPHY    AND    MENTAL    ACQUIREMENTS.       215 

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  informa- 
tion, 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  observa- 
tion, 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,  reli- 
gious or  political,  they  speak  of  every  one  and  every 
thing,  only  as  so  many  phenomena,  which  are  com- 
plete in  themselves,  and  lead  to  nothing,  not  discus- 
sing 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  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. 


216  DISCOURSE   VIL 

Seafaring  men,  for  example,  range  from  one  end  of 
the  earth  to  the  other;  but  the  multiplicity  of  exter- 
nal objects,  which  they  have  encountered,  forms  no 
symmetrical  and  consistent  picture  upon  their  imagi- 
nation; 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;  «nd 
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,  which  leave 
the  spectator  where  he  was.  Perhaps  you  are  near 
him  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  expected  from  him;  for  in  fact  he  has  no 
standard  of  judgment  at  all,  and  no  landmarks  to 
guide  him  to  a  conclusion.  Such  is  mere  acquisi- 
tion, and,  I  repeat,  no  one  would  dream  of  calling  it 
philosophy. 

Instances,  such  as  these,  confirm,  by  the  contrast, 


nilLOSOPIIY  AND  xMENTAL  ACQUIREMENTS.         217 

the  conclusion  we  have  already  drawn  from  those 
which  preceded  them.  That  only  is  true  enlarge- 
ment of  mind,  which  is  the  power  of  viewing  many 
things  at  once  as  one  whole,  of  referring  them  seve- 
rally to  their  true  place  in  the  universal  system,  of 
understanding  their  respective  values,  and  determi- 
ning their  mutual  dependence.  Thus  is  that  form  of 
Universal  Knowledge,  of  which  I  have  on  a  former 
occasion  spoken,  set  up  in  the  individual  intellect, 
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  sepa- 
rate portion,  till  the  whole  becomes  in  imagination 
like  a  spirit,  every  where  pervading  and  penetrating 
its  component  parts,  and  giving  them  one  definite 
meaning.  Just  as  our  bodily  organs,  when  men- 
tioned, 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  gra- 
dually by  successive  combinations  converging,  one 

and  all,  to  the  true  centre. 

16 


218  DISCOURSE  VII. 

To  have  even  a  portion  of  tliis  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,  tumult,  and   superstition, 
which  are  the  portion  of  the  many.     Men,  whose 
minds   are   possessed   with   some   one   object,    take 
exaggerated  views  of  its  importance,  are  feverish  in 
the   pursuit  of  it,  make  it  the  measure  of  things 
which  are  utterly  foreign  to  it,  and  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  not  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 


piiiLOSornr  and  mental  acquirements.      219 

delay;  because  it  ever  knows  where  it  stands,  and 
how  its  path  lies  from  one  point  to  another.  It  is 
,  the  rerpdywuo^  of  the  Peripatetic,  and  has  the  "  nil  ad- 
mirari  "  of  the  Stoic.  There  are  men,  who,  when  in 
difficulties,  originate  at  the  moment  vast  ideas  or 
dazzling  projects;  who,  under  the  influence  of  excite- 
ment, 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  heroic  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  Institution  can  aim;  here,  on  the 
contrary,  we  are  concerned,  not  with  mere  nature,  but 
with  training  and  teaching.  That  perfection  of  the 
Intellect,  which  is  the  result  of  Education,  and  its  bemi 
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 


220  DISCOURSE   VII. 

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. 

And  now  I  have  said  more  than  enough,  as  I 
conceive,  in  confutation  of  the  notion,  that  the  true 
and  adequate  end  of  intellectual  training  and  of  a 
University  is  Acquirement;  rather,  it  is  Thought  or 
Reason  exercised  upon  Knowledge,  or  what  may  be 
called  Philosophy.  Henceforth,  then,  I  shall  take  so 
much  for  granted;  and  I  shall  apply  it,  without  any 
hesitation,  to  the  exposure  of  various  mistakes  which 
at  the  present  day,  from  ignorance  or  forgetfulness, 
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  know- 
ledge on  a  level;  we  must  generalize,  we  must 
reduce  to  method,  we  must  have  a  grasp  of  princi- 
ples, and  group  and  shape  our  acquisitions  by  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,  with  winding  lanes,  and 
high  hedges,  and  green  steeps,  and  tangled  woods, 
and  every  thing  smiling,  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 


IMllLUbOrilV  AiND  MENTAL  ACQUIREMENTS.         221 

wiiy  of  reconnoitering  its  neighbourhood.  In  like 
manner,  you  must  be  above  your  knowledge,  Gentle- 
men, 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  Burman,  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  )yhich  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  de- 
sign. How  many  commentators  are  there  on  the 
Classics,  how  many  on  Holy  Scripture,  from  whom 
we  rise  up,  wondering  at  the  learning  which  has 
passed  before  us,  and  wondering  why  it  passed! 
How  many  writers  are  there  of  Ecclesiastical  His- 
tory, 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  Protestant  Divines  in  the 
seventeenth  century,  how  often  are  they  mere  reper- 
tories of  miscellaneous  and  officious  Icarnincr !     Take 


222  DISCOURSE   Vll. 

those  of  Jeremy  Taylor,  for  instance,  and  what  an 
array  of  quotations,  anecdotes,  similies,  and  good 
sayings,  strung  upon  how  weak  a  thread  of  thought ! 
Turn,  for  example,  to  his  "House  of  Feasting"; 
which  sets  about  proving  nothing  short  of  this,  that 
"  plenty  and  pleasures  of  the  world  are  not  proper 
instruments  of  felicity",  and  that  "  intemperance  is 
its  enemy".  One  might  have  thought  it  difficult 
either  to  dispute  or  to  defend  so  plain  a  proposition; 
but  Taylor  contrives  to  expend  upon  it  twenty 
closely  printed  pages,  not  of  theology  or  metaphysics, 
but  of  practical  exhortation.  After  quoting  Seneca 
upon  the  spare  diet  of  Epicurus  and  Metrodorus, 
and  a  Greek  poet,  he  demonstrates  that  plenty  and 
pleasure  are  not  natural  or  suitable  to  us,  by  the 
help  of  Horace,  Epicurus,  Seneca,  Maximus  Tyrius, 
Socrates,  Juvenal,  Lucian,  and  two  or  three  authors 
besides.  Next  he  maintains  that  intemperance  is 
the  enemy  of  felicity;  and  for  this  purpose  he  appeals 
to  St.  Austin,  Juvenal  many  times,  Persius,  Menan- 
der,  Xenophon,  Euripides,  Plutarch,  Horace,  Pliny, 
Socrates,  St.  Chrysostom,  Epicurus,  Timotheus, 
Apuleius,  Aristophanes,  Diogenes,  Plotinus,  Por- 
phyry, Prudentius,  Clement  of  Alexandria,  Homer, 
Plato,  Pythagoras,  Jamblichus,  Alcseus,  and  Theo- 
phrastus.  Having  taken  these  means  to  settle  the 
point,  he  proceeds  to  the  important  practical  task  of 
"  describing  the  measures  of  our  eating  and  drink- 
ing",  between   "intemperance"  and  "scruples".     I 


PHILOSOPHY  AND  MENTAL  ACQUIREMENTS.         223 

am  almost  ashamed  to  trespass  on  your  indulgence, 
Gentlemen,  with  a  fresh  catalogue  of  names;  yet  I 
should  not  do  justice  to  the  marvellous  availableness 
of  this  writer's  erudition  for  enforcing  truisms  and 
proving  proverbs,  unless  I  told  you  that  to  this  new 
subject  he]  devotes  near  a  dozen  pages  more,  using 
for  his  purpose,  not  any  common-sense  principles 
or  clear  broad  rules,  but  Juvenal,  St.  Chrysostom, 
Antidamus,  (?)  Terence,  St.  Ambrose,  Martial,  Dio, 
Seneca,  Homer,  Aristotle, '  Horace,  Boethius,  and 
others,  leaving  the  subject  pretty  much  as  he  found 
it. 

Such  is  learning,  when  used,  not  as  a  means,  but 
as  an  end,  less  dignified  even  than  the  "sonitus 
spinarum  ardentium  sub  olla  ",  of  Ecclesiastes,  "  the 
crackling  of  thorns  under  a  pot",  for  they  at  least 
make  the  water  boil,  but  nothing  comes  of  pedantry. 
How  could  divines  of  a  school  such  as  this,  ever  hope 
to  emerge  from  words  into  things,  or  give  birth  to 
any  religious  doctrine,  which  savoured  of  philosophy 
or  moral  earnestness?  Is  it  wonderful  that  they  are 
neither  consistent  in  their  teaching,  nor  fair  in 
their  controversy,  considering  that  they  have  read 
so  much  more  than  they  have  reflected?  Is  it 
wonderful  that  they  can  neither  state  Avhat  their 
adversaries  really  hold,  nor  know  well  what  they 
hold  themselves,  when  they  have  so  little  sense  of 
what  may  be  called  the  structure  of  knowledge,  how 
one  proposition  is  self-evident  and  another  requires 


224  DISCOURSE  YII. 

proof,  how  this  idea  grows  out  of  that,  and  is  nearer 
to  it  than  to  others  out  of  which  it  does  not  grow, 
and  how  to  say  a  and  b  is,  as  even  the  poor  child 
saw  clearly,  the  direct  road  to  c  ?  This,  I  conceive, 
to  be  the  true  explanation,  as  far  as  the  intellect  has 
been  in  fault,  of  that  psychological  wonder,  which 
Anglicanism  has  ever  presented,  of  divines,  able, 
erudite,  grave,  and  respectable,  content  to  be  sus- 
pended between  a  premiss  and  its  conclusion,  descri- 
bing three-fourths  of  a  circle  and  refusing  to  finish 
it,  deliberately  commenting  on  verses  and  words,  yet 
blind  to  the  teaching  of  the  chapter.  It  is  the  conse- 
quence of  reading  for  reading's  sake.  It  is  acquire- 
ment without  philosophy. 

Do  not  suppose.  Gentlemen,  that  I  am  wantonly 
going  out  of  my  way  for  the  poor  satisfaction  of 
exposing  a  weakness  of  Protestantism;  I  allude  to  it 
merely  as  affording  an  illustration,  more  apposite 
than  is  elsewhere  to  be  found,  of  the  intellectual  cha- 
racter of  mere  acquisition.  Catholics  also  may  read 
without  thinking,  but  it  is  impossible  they  should  simi- 
larly expose  themselves  in  religion,  safe,  as  they  are, 
from  the  excesses  of  private  judgment.  However,  in 
their  case  equally  as  with  Protestants,  it  holds  good, 
that  that  knowledge  of  theirs  is  unworthy  of  the 
name,  which  they  have  not  thought  through,  and 
thought  out.  Otherwise,  they  are  only  possessed  by 
it,  not  possessed  of  it;  nay,  in  matter  of  fact  they 
are  often  even  carried   away   by   it,    without   any 


PHILOSOPHY  AND  MENTAL  ACQUIREMENTS.        225 

volition  of  their  own.  Thus  I  may  charitably  account 
for  the  various  extravagancies  of  the  Protestant  author 
I  have  been  quoting.  Eecollect,  the  Memory  can 
tyrannize,  as  well  as  the  Imagination.  Derange- 
ment, 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  phenomenon 
in  the  case  of  those  who  have  over-stimulated  the 
Memory.  In  such  persons  Keason  acts  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 
excitement;  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  wandering  from  it  in  endless  digres- 
sion in  spite  of  his  remonstrances.  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 


226  DISCOURSE   VII. 

not  of  morbid  imaginations  within  ?  And  in  thus 
speaking,  I  am  not  denying  that  a  strong  and  ready 
memory  is  in  itself  a  real  treasure;  I  am  not  disparag- 
ing a  well-stored  mind,  though  it  be  nothing  beyond, 
so  that  it  be  sober,  any  more  than  I  would  despise  a 
bookseller's  shop: — it  is  of  great  value  to  others,  even 
when  not  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. 
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.  Gentle- 
men, 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  attempt 
so  much  that  nothing  has  been  really  effected,  to 
teach  so  many  things,  that  nothing  has  properly  been 
learned  at  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  was  not  shallowness,  which 
it  really  is,  but  enlargement;  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 


PHILOSOPHY  AiND  MENTAL  ACQUIREMENTS.         227 

with  scientific  institutions,  and  the  sight  of  the  expe- 
riments of  a  platform  and  the  specimens  of  a  museum, 
that  all  this  was  not  dissipation  of  mind,  but  pro- 
gress. All  things  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  grounding,  without 
advance,  without  finishing.  There  is  to  be  nothing 
individual  in  it;  and  this  forsooth  is  the  wonder 
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  multi- 
plication 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  voice  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  was  conscien- 
tiously possible,  to  humour  a  spirit  which  they  could 
not  withstand,  and  make  temporizing  concessions  at 
which  they  could  not  but  inwardly  smile. 

Let  us  listen  to  one  of  the  prophets  of  this  fantastic 
doctrine,  not  in  order  to  refute  his  sentiments,  but  to 
justify  the  foregoing  account  of  them.  "  In  looking  at 
our  age",  says  Dr.  Channing  in  one  of  his  works,  "I  am 


228  DISCOURSE  Yir. 

struck  inwardly  with  one  commanding  characteristic, 
and  that  is,  the  tendency  in  all  its  movements  to  ex- 
pansion, to  diffusion,  to  universality.  This  tendency 
is  directly  opposed  to  the  spirit  of  exclusiveness, 
restriction,  narrowness,  monopoly,  which  has  pre- 
vailed in  past  ages All  goods,  advantages,  helps, 

are  more  open  to  all.... once  we  heard  of  the  few,  now 
of  the  many;  once  of  the  prerogatives  of  a  part,  now 
of  the  rights  of  all....  The  grand  idea  of  Humanity, 
of  the   importance   of    man  as  man,   is   spreading 

silently  but  surely If  we  look  at  the  various 

movements  of  our  age,  we  shall  see  in  them  this 
tendency  to  universality  and  diffusion.  Look  at 
science  and  literature.  Where  is  science  now? 
Locked  up  in  a  few  Colleges,  or  Royal  Societies,  or 
inaccessible  volumes?  are  its  experiments  mysteries 
for  a  few  privileged  eyes?  are  its  portals  guarded  by 
a  dark  phraseology,  which  to  the  multitude  is  a 
foreign  tongue?  No;  Science  has  now  left  her 
retreats,  her  shades,  her  selected  company  of 
votaries,  and  with  familiar  tone  begun  the  work  of 
instructing  the  race.  Through  the  Press,  discoveries 
and  theories,  once  the  monopoly  of  philosophers,  have 
become  the  property  of  the  multitude.  Its  professors, 
heard  not  long  ago  in  the  University  or  some  narrow 

School,  now  speak  in  the  Mechanics'  Institute 

Science,  once  the  greatest  of  distinctions,  is  becoming 
popular.  A  lady  gives  us  conversations  on  chemistry^ 
revealing  to  the  minds  of  our  youth  vast  laws  of  the 


PHILOSOPHY  AND  MENTAL  ACQUIREMENTS.         229 

uiiiveise,  which,  fifty  years  ago,  had  not  dawned  on 
the  greatest  minds.  The  school  books  of  our  children 
contain  grand  views  of  the  Creation.  There  are 
parts  of  our  country  in  which  lyceums  spring  up  in 
ahnost  every  village,  for  the  purpose  of  mutual  aid  to 
the  study  of  natural  science.  The  characteristic  of 
our  age,  then,  is  not  the  improvement  of  science,  so 

much  as  its  extension  to  all  men 

"  What  is  true  of  science,  is  still  more  true  of 
literature.  Books  are  now  placed  within  the  reach 
of  all.  Works,  once  too  costly  except  for  the  opulent, 
are  now  to  be  found  on  the  labourer's  shelf.  Genius 
sends  her  light  into  cottages.  The  great  names  of 
literature  are  become  household  w^ords  among  the 
crowd.     Every  party,  religious  or  political,  scatters 

its  sheets  on  all  the  winds Men  grow  tired  at 

length  even  of  amusements.  Works  of  fiction  cease 
to  interest  them,  and  they  turn  from  novels  to  books, 
which,  having  their  origin  in  deep  principles  of  our 
nature,    retain   their  hold  of  the  human  mind  for 


"  The  remarks  now  made  on  literature,  might  be 
extended  to  the  fine  arts.  In  these  too  we  see  the 
tendency  to  universality.  It  is  said  that  the  spirit 
of  the  great  artists  has  died  out;  but  the  taste  for 
their  works  is  spreading.  By  the  improvements  of 
engraving,  or  the  invention  of  casts,  the  genius  of 
the  great  masters  is  going  abroad.  Their  conceptions 
are  no  longer  pent  up  in  galleries,  open  to  but  few, 


230  DISCOURSE  VII. 

but  must  be  in  our  homes,  and  are  the  household 
pleasures  of  millions 

"  Education  is  becoming  the  work  of  nations. 
Even  in  the  despotic  goverments  of  Europe,  schools  are 
open  for  every  child  without  distinction;  and  not  only 
the  elements  of  reading  and  writing,  but  music  and 
drawing,  are  taught,  and  a  foundation  is  laid  for  future 
progress  in  history,  geography,  and  physical  science. 
The  greatest  minds  are  at  work  on  popular  education''.* 

Now,  in  calling  your  attention,  Gentlemen,  to  sen- 
timents such  as  these,  I  must  guard  against  any 
possible  misconception  of  my  meaning.  Let  me 
frankly  declare  then,  that  I  have  no  fear  at  all  of  the 
education  of  the  people:  the  moce  education  they 
have,  the  better,  so  that  it  is  really  education.  Next, 
as  to  the  cheap  publication  of  scientific  and  literary 
works,  which  is  now  in  vogue,  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 

*Vid.  Knight's   Half  Hours,  1850.     However,  the  author  writes, 
or  attempts  to  write,  better  in  his  Self-culture. 


PHILOSOPHY  AND  MENTAL  ACQUIREMENTS.         231 

utlier     branches    of    knowledge,     which    periodical 
literature  and  occasional  lectures  and  scientific  insti- 
tutions diffuse  through  *the  community,  I  think  it  a 
graceful  accomplishment,  and  a  suitable,  nay  in  this 
day  a  necessary  accomplishment,  in  the  case  of  edu- 
cated men.     Nor,  lastly,  am  I  disparaging  or  dis- 
couraging  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  compre- 
hensive view.      Eecreations  are  not  education;  ac- 
complishments are  not  education.     Do  not  say,  the 
people  must  be  educated,  when,  after  all,  you  only 
mean,    amusedj    refreshed,    soothed,    put   into   good 
spirits  and  good  humour,  or  kept  from  vicious  ex- 
cesses.    I  do  not  say  that  such  amusements,  such 
occupations  of  mind,  are  not  a  great  gain;  but  they 
are  not  education.     You  may  as  well  call  drawing 
and  fencing  education,  as  a  knowledge  of  botany  or 
conchology.     Stufiing  birds  or  playing  stringed  in- 
struments is  an  elegant  pastime,  and  a  resource  to 
the  idle,  but  they  are  not  education;  they  do  not 
form  or  cultivate  the  intellect.     Jeremy  Taylor  could 
quote  Plutarch  and  Plotinus  and  Pythagoras,  yet 


232  DISCOURSE   VIT. 

tliey  could  not  keep  him  from  veering  about  in 
religion,  till  no  one  can  tell  to  this  day  what  he  held 
and  what  he  did  not;  nor  shall  we  be  kept  steady 
in  any  truths  or  principles  whatever,  merely  by 
having  seen  a  Red  Indian  or  Caffir,  or  having  mea- 
sured a  pala30therion.  Education  is  a  high  word; 
it  is  nothing  less  than  a  formation  of  the  mind; 
it  is  the  preparation  for  knowledge,  and  it  is  the 
imparting  of  knowledge  in  proportion  to  that  pre- 
paration. We  require  intellectual  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  our- 
selves, we  must  be  parties  in  the  work.  A  Univer- 
sity is,  according  to  the  usual  designation,  an  Alma 
Mater,  knowing  her  children  one  by  one,  not  a 
foundry,  or  a  mint,  or  a  treadmill. 

I  protest  to  you,  Gentlemen,  that  if  I  had  to  choose 
between  a  so-called  University,  which  dispensed  witli 
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 


PHILOSOPHY  AND  MENTAL  ACQUIREMENTS.         233 

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  com- 
pulsory study  must  be  a  good  and  idleness  an  in- 
tolerable 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  University  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  con- 
trast, as  I  have  drawn  it.  What  would  come,  on  the 
other  hand,  of  the  ideal  systems  of  education  which 
fascinate  the  imagination  of  this  age,  could  they  ever 
take  effect,  and  whether  they  would  not  produce  a 
generation  languid,  frivolous,  resourceless,  and 
imbecile,  remains  to  be  seen;  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  virtual  unbelief,  and  a  hollow 

profession  of  Christianity,  and  a  heathen  code   of 

17 


234  DISCOURSE  YII. 

ethics, — God  forbid  I  should  defend  in  the  concrete 
what  I  am  only  speaking  of  in  that  particular  point 
of  view  which  falls  under  my  present  subject, — 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  tyrannize  over  Catholics. 

How  is  this  to  be  explained?  I  suppose  as 
follows: — When  a  multitude  of  young  persons,  keen, 
open-hearted,  sympathetic,  and  observant,  as  young 
persons  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  ele- 
ments 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 


nilLOSOPUY  AND  MENTAL  ACQUIREMENTS.         235 

own  department  an  enlargment  of  mind.  It  is  seeing 
the  world  on  a  small  field  with  little  trouble;  for  the 
pupils  or  students  come  from  very  difierent  places, 
and  with  widely  different  notions,  and  there  is  much 
to  generalize,  much  to  adjust,  much  to  eliminate, 
there  are  inter-relations  to  be  defined,  and  conven- 
tional 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 
not  dreaming  of  anything  especially  exalted,  anything 
truly  Christian,  anything  of  supernatural  excellence, 
as  animating  that  youthful  community;  but  still  they 
will  constitute  a  whole,  they  will  embody]  a  specific 
idea,  they  will  represent  adoctrine,  they  will  administer 
a  code  of  conduct,  and  they  will  furnish  principles 
of  thought  and  action.  They  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  in- 
dividual who  is  successively  brought  under  its 
shadow.  Thus  it  is,  that,  independent  of  direct  in- 
struction on  the  part  of  Superiors,  there  is  a  sort  of 
self-education  in  the  academic  institutions  of  Protes- 
tant England;  a  characteristic  tone  of  thought,  a 
recognized  standard  of  judgment  is  found  in  them. 


236  DISCOURSE  VII. 

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  moral  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  something  more  than  a  sort  of  passive 
reception  of  scraps  and  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  they  dare  profess,  and 
with  no  common  principles,  who  are  teaching  or  ques- 
tioning a  set  of  youths  who  do  not  know  them,  and  do 
not  know  each  other,  on  a  large  set  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  anniver- 
sary. Were  I  not  afraid  of  offending  by  a  lightness  of 
style  for  which  this  is  not  the  place,  I  would  remind 
you,  Gentlemen,  of  the  parallel  which  such  aUniversity 
affords  to  the  mistake  of  the  English  Ambassador  at 
a  foreign  court,  who,  wishing  to  recommend  to  the 
corps  diplomatique  a  dish  peculiar  to  his  country,  by 


PHILOSOPHY  AND  MENTAL  ACQUIREMENTS.         237 

the  omission  of  the  principle  of  unity,  simply  de- 
prived it  of  its  consistency  and  form,  and  of  its 
national  pretensions.  [ 

Nay,  self-education  in  any  shape,  in  the  most 
restricted  sense,  is  preferable  to  a  system  of  teaching, 
which,  professing  so  much,  really  does  so  little  for 
the  mind.  Shut  your  College  gates  against  the  votary 
of  knowledge,  throw  him  back  upon  the  searchings 
and  the  struggles  of  his  own  mind;  he  will  gain  by 
being  spared  an  entrance  into  your  Babel.  Few 
indeed  there  are,  who  can  dispense  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  efforts,  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 
knowledge,  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  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, 


238  DISCOURSE  VII. 

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  in  their  hands  to  indulge  themselves  in 
thinking  or  investigation,  who  devour  premiss  and 
conclusion  together  with  indiscriminate  greediness, 
who  hold  whole  sciences  on  faith,  and  commit 
demonstrations  to  memory,  and  who  too  often,  as 
might  be  expected,  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:  but  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 


PHILOSOPHY  AND  MENTAL  ACQUIREMENTS.        239 

SO  contumelious!  How  much  more  profitable  for  the 
independent  mind,  after  the  mere  rudiments  of  edu- 
cation, to  range  through  a  library  at  random,  taking 
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 
education  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  trades- 
man's shop,  and  the  shepherd's  walk,  and  the  smug- 
gler's hut,  and  the  mossy  moor,  and  the  screaming 
gulls,  and  the  restless  waves,  to  fashion  for  himself  a 
philosophy  and  a  poetry  of  his  own! 

*  Crabbe's  Tales  of  the  Hall.  This  Poem,  let  me  say,  I  read  ou 
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. 


240  DISCOURSE   VIT. 

But  in  a  large  subject,  I  am  exceeding  my  neces- 
sary limits.  Gentlemen,  I  must  conclude  abruptly; 
and  postpone  any  summing  up  of  my  argument, 
should  it  be  necessary,  to  another  day. 


DISCOURSE  yiii. 

PHILOSOPHICAL   KNOWLEDGE   VIEWED    IN   RELATION   TO 
PROFESSIONAL. 

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 
sake;  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  cultiva- 
tion then  lies  in  fitting  it  to  apprehend  and  contem- 
plate 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  accumu- 
lation, by  a  mental  process,  by  going  round  an  object, 
by  the  comparison,  the  combination,  the  mutual  cor- 
rection, the  continual  adaptation,  of  many  partial 
notions,  by  the  joint  application  and  concentration 
upon  it  of  many  faculties  and  exercises  of  mind. 

Such  a  union  and  concert  of  the  intellectual  powers, 

18 


242  DISCOURSE   VIII. 

such  an  enlargement  and  developement,  such  a  com- 
prehensiveness, 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  many 
books,  nor  the  getting  up  many  subjects,  nor  the 
witnessing  many  experiments,  nor  the  attending 
many  lectures.  All  this  is  short  of  enough;  a  man 
may  have  done  it  all,  yet  be  lingering  in  the 
vestibule  of  knowledge: — 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  ad- 
vancing one  step  forward  of  himself,  in  consequence 
of  what  he  has  already  acquired,  no  power  of  discri^ 
minating  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  clearsightedness, 
of  sagacity,  of  wisdom,  of  philosophical  reach  of  mind, 
and  of  intellectual  self-possession  and  repose,  qualities 
which  do  not  come  of  mere  acquirement.  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  discipline  and  habit. 

This  process  of  training,  by  which  the  intellect, 
instead  of  being  formed  or  sacrificed  to  some  parti- 


PHILOSOPHY  AND  PROFESSIONAL  KNOWLEDGE.       243 

cular  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  conceivable,  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,  and 
not  something  else,  his  standard  of  excellence;  and 
numbers  there  are  who  may  submit  themselves  to  it, 
and  realize  it  in  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. 

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; 


244  DISCOURSE  VIII. 

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 
discoveries  in  chemistry,  astronomy,  geology,  magne- 
tism, and  science  of  every  kind. 

These  views  are  sanctioned  by  the  authority  of  no 
less  a  name  than  that  of  Locke.  He  condemns  the 
ordinary  subjects  in  which  boys  are  instructed  at 
school,  on  the  ground  that  they  are  not  needed  by 
them  in  after  life.  "  Tis  matter  of  astonishment", 
he  says  in  his  work  on  Education,  "that  men  of 
quality  and  parts  should  suffer  themselves  to  be  so 
fixr  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 
('t  is  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  hid  defi- 
ance to  all  other  callings  and  business;  which  is  not 


PHILOSOPHY   AND  PROFESSIONAL  KNOWLEDGE.      245 

yet  the  worst  of  the  case;  for,  if  he  proves  a 
successful  rhymer,  and  gets  once  the  reputation  of  a 
wit,  I  desire  it  to  be  considered,  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  and  silver  in  Parnassus. 
Tis  a  pleasant  air,  but  a  barren  soir\ 

In  another  passage  he  distinctly  limits  utility  in 
education  to  its  bearing  on  the  future  profession  or 
trade  of  the  pupil,  that  is,  he  scorns  the  idea  of  any 
education  of  the  intellect,  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  lan- 
guage, 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 


246  DISCOURSE  VIII. 

evidently  implies  more  than  this,  and  is  condemna- 
tory of  any  teaching  which  tends  to  the  general  cul- 
tivation of  the  mind,  as  distinct  from  the  professional. 

The  question,  started  in  these  passages  of  Locke, 
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  Dis- 
courses, as  having  been  sustained  in  the  first  decade  of 
this  century  by  a  celebrated  Northern  Review  on  the 
one  hand,  and  defenders  of  the  University  of  Oxford 
on  the  other.  Hardly  had  the  authorities  of  that 
seat  of  learning,  waking  from  their  long  neglect,  set 
on  foot  a  plan  for  the  education  of  the  youth 
committed  to  them,  than  the  representatives  of 
science  and  literature  in  that  city,  which  has  some- 
times been  called  the  Northern  Athens,  remonstrated, 
with  their  gravest  arguments  and  their  most  brilliant 
satire,  against  the  direction  and  shape  which  the 
reform  was  taking.  The  study  of  the  Classics  had 
been  made  the  basis  of  the  Oxford  education,  and  the 
Edinburgh  Reviewers  protested  that  no  good  could 
come  of  a  system  which  was  not  based  upon  the  prin- 
ciple 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  depart- 
ment; but  if  all  liberal  arts  and  sciences,  useful  to 
human  life^  had  been  taught  there,  if  some  had 
dedicated  themselves  to  chemistry^  some  to  mathe- 


PHILOSOPHY  AND  PROFESSIONAL  KNOWLEDGE.       247 

mattes^  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". 

In  this  passage  something  more  is  laid  down  than 
the  principle  of  Utility  as  the  basis  of  University  Edu- 
cation. You  will  here  observe,  Gentlemen,  the  imme- 
diate and  unavoidable  consequence  of  that  principle, 
viz.,  that  there  must  be  a  number  of  unconnected  and 
independent  educations  going  on  at  the  same  time  in 
the  same  place,  some  pupils  being  "dedicated"  to  one 
study,  others  to  another.  And  again,  from  this  will 
naturally  follow  a  third  principle,  viz.,  that  the  young 
men  who  come  for  education  are  not  the  supreme  and 
real  end  of  a  University,  but  the  advancement  of 
science, — that  being  "  useful",  which  is  useful,  not  to 
them,  but  to  mankind  at  large.  This  is  brought  into 
view  in  the  sentences  which  follow. 

"  When  a  University  has  been  doing  useless 
things  for  a  long  time,  it  appears  at  first  degrading 
to  them  to  be  useful.  A  set  of  Lectures  on  Political 
Economy  would  be  discouraged  in  Oxford,  probably 
despised,  probably  not  permitted.  To  discuss  the 
inclos-ure  of  commons,  and  to  dwell  upon  imports  and 
exports,  to  come  so  near  to  common  life^  would 
seem  to  be  undignified  and  contemptible.  In  the 
same  manner,  the  Parr  or  the  Bentley  of  the  day 
would  be  scandalized,  in  a  University,  to  be  put  on  a 


248  DISCOURSE  yiii. 

level  with  the  discoverer  of  a  neutral  salt;  and  yet, 
what  other  measure  is  there  of  dignity  in  intellec- 
tual 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 
tim^  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  productions  of  nature,  investi- 
gating the  qualities  of  bodies,  or  mastering  the  diffi- 
culties 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". 

These  passages  occur  in  the  course  of  the  Review 
of  a  work  on  Professional  Education  by  the  well- 
known  Mr.  Edgeworth;  a  work  which,  whatever  be  its 
merits,  1  shall  not  be  wrong  in  saying  carries  out 
the  theory  of  the  Reviewers  to  lengths  which  they 
themselves  must  consider  extreme;  since  he  seems 
to  be  content  with  nothing  short  of  the  absolute 
devotion  and  surrender  of  a  child,  on  the  part  of 
his   parents,    "as   early    as   possible",    to  some  one 


PHILOSOPHY  AND  PROFESSIONAL  KNOWLEDGE.       241) 

profession  or  pursuit  as  his  destiny,  to  the  exclusion 
of  every  other. 

Such  then  is  the  enunciation,  as  far  as  words  go, 
of  the  theory  of  Utility  in  Education.  I  say,  "  as  far 
as  words  go",  because  I  do  not  profess  to  understand 
the  writer  or  writers  of  the  above  passages  very 
clearly.  They  contrast,  yet  unite,  the  Useful  and  the 
Liberal;  for  instance,  they  talk  of  "all  liberal  arts 
and  sciences,  useful  to  human  life".  I  conclude  from 
these  words,  that  some  liberal  sciences  are  useful  to 
human  life,  and  some  are  not;  how  are  we  to  distin- 
guish them?  what  is  meant  by  "liberal"?  We 
indeed,  Gentlemen,  have  been  led  to  consider,  that 
every  science  may  be  cultivated  liberally,  and  again 
cultivated  usefully,  yet,  that  the  liberal  cultivation  is 
ever  simply  distinct  from  the  useful  cultivation,  and 
cannot  be  made  one  with  it,  any  more  than  a  physi- 
ologist is  a  physician,  or  a  physician  a  physiologist, 
though  the  same  person  may  be  both.  But  these 
Eeviewers  seem  unwilling  to  give  up  the  word 
"liberal",  in  connexion  with  the  education  they 
advocate,  yet  without  distinctly  knowing  what  it 
means. 

Then  again,  they  wish  one  student  of  a  University 
to  "dedicate"  himself  to  chemistry,  and  another  to 
"  mathematics".  Now,  if  half  a  dozen  systems  of 
education  are  to  go  on  on  the  same  spot,  unity  of 
place  is  but  an  accident,  and  I  do  not  see  what  is 


250  DISCOURSE   YIII. 

the  use  of  a  University  at  all.  What  is  the  merit  of 
bringing  together  youths  from  the  four  corners  of  a 
country,  if  they  are  to  be  kept  apart  from  each 
other  in  separate  schools  and  separate  in  processes  of 
training,  according  to  the  destination  of  each? 
There  is  in  that  case  no  such  thing  as  a  University; 
it  becomes  nothing  better  than  a  rendezvous  of 
sciences,  pretty  much  what  a  bazaar  is  for  trades- 
men, and  a  cattle-fair  for  farmers;  and  such  indeed 
is  just  the  notion  entertained  of  it  by  the  same 
Reviewers  twenty  years  later,  as  I  showed  you  in  a 
preceding  Discourse.  Well  then,  if  so,  the  question 
arises,  what  does  unity  of  place  bestow  in  compen- 
sation for  so  great  an  effort,  as  the  formation  and 
the  establishment  of  a  central  Body,  which  is  to 
bring  young  men  together  from  a  thousand  homes; 
for  the  original  outlay,  for  the  perpetual  expense 
incurred  by  both  parent  and  Institution,  for  the 
anxious  risks  to  which  it  exposes  the  pupil  ?  And 
this  is  generally  felt,  as  it  well  may  be;  and  so  it  is 
decided  that  residence  is  not  necessary  for  him;  that 
attendance  merely  for  the  examinations  will  suffice; 
nay,  that  it  may  be  even  better  to  make  the  Univer- 
sity perambulate,  and  hold  its  visitations  here  and 
there  in  turn.  And  thus  we  have  arrived  at  a  reductio 
ad  absurdum  of  this  theory  of  Utility,  as  applied  to  a 
University.  A  common  home  implies  a  common 
education,  and  a  common  education  implies  mental 
culture  as  such;  without  which  a  University  becomes 


VUILOSOPUY  AND  PROFESSIONAL  KNOWLEDGE.       251 

a  board,  not  a  body,  a  government  bureau,  not  a 
living  power,  and  is  only  in  name  the  same  as  that 
great  and  noble  creation  of  the  Church,  which  once 
was  found  on  the  banks  of  the  Seine  and  of  the  Isis. 
All  this,  I  say,  seems  to  be  a  simple  redudio  ad 
absurdum  of  the  peculiar  views  and  reasonings  of 
which  the  Edinburgh  School  has  been  so  steady  an 
advocate;  but  still,  I  allow,  it  does  not  directly 
answer  the  question  which  Locke  has  raised.  It 
certainly  is  specious  to  contend,  that  nothing  is 
worth  pursuing  but  what  is  useful;  and  that  life  is 
not  long  enough  to  expend  upon  interesting,  or 
curious,  or  brilliant  trifles.  Nay,  I  will  grant  it  is 
more  than  specious,  it  is  true;  but,  if  so,  how  do  I  pro- 
pose directly  to  meet  the  objection?  Why,  Gentle- 
men, I  have  met  it  already,  viz.,  in  laying  down,  that 
intellectual  culture  is  its  own  end;  for  what  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  contem- 
plates bodily  health,  why  is  not  an  Academical  Body, 
though  it  were  simply  and  solely  engaged  in  impar- 
ting 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, 


252  DISCOURSE   VIII. 

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  imbecility,  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  specu- 
lation and  original  inquiry  he  has  none,  nor  has  he 
formed  the  invaluable  habit  of  pushing  things  up  to 
their  first  principles^  or  of  collecting  dry  and  una- 
musing  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  call  upon  him  to  defend  his  opinions 
and  prove  his  assertions". 

iN'ow,  I  am  not  at  present  concerned  with  the  spe- 
cific question  of  classical  education;  else,  I  might 
reasonably  question  the  justice  of  calling  an  intel- 
lectual discipline,  which  embraces  the  study  of 
Aristotle,  Thucydides,  and  Tacitus,  which  involves 
Scholarship  and  Antiquities,  imaginative;  still  so  far 
I  readily  grant,  that  the  cultivation  of  the  "  under- 


PIIILOSOniY  AND  PROFESSIONAL  KNOWLEDGE.       253 

standing",  of  a  "  talent  for  speculation  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 
it  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, 
however  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  Eeviewers 
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  I  can  give 
to  it.  I  say,  let  us  take  "  useful"  to  mean,  not  what 
is  simply  good,  but  what  tends  to  good,  or  is  the 
instrument  of  good;  and  in  this  sense  also.  Gentle- 
men, 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 


254  DISCOURSE  VIII. 

"usefur  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  repro- 
ductive of  good;  this  is  one  of  its  attributes;  nothing 
is  excellent,  beautiful,  perfect,  desirable  for  its  own 
sake,  but  it  overflows,  and  spreads  the  likeness  of 
itself  all  around  itself.     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 
gratitude,  and  that,  in  proportion  to  its  intenseness 
and  fulness  in  particular  instances.     A  great  good 
will  impart  great  good.     If  then  the  intellect  is  so 
excellent  a  portion  of  us,  and  its  cultivation  so  ex- 
cellent, 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. 

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  redound  back  upon  it  and  encircle  it,  that  we 


PHU.OSOPirY  AVD  PROFESSIONAL  KNOWLEDGE.       255 

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  produc- 
tion which  it  can  be  said  to  efiect.  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  thing,  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  moderate  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  exercised  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 


256  DISCOURSE   VIII. 

unhealthy  man  cannot  do,  and  as  of  this  health  the 
properties  are  vigour,  energy,  agility,  graceful  car- 
riage and  action,  manual  dexterity,  and  endurance 
of  fatigue,  so  in  like  manner  general  culture  of  mind 
is  the  best  aid  to  professional  and  scientific  study, 
and  educated  men  can  do  what  illiterate  cannot;  and 
the  man  who  has  learned  to  think  and  to  reason  and 
to  compare  and  to  discriminate  and  to  analyse,  who 
has  refined  his  taste,  and  formed  his  judgment,  and 
sharpened  his  mental  vision,  will  not  indeed  at  once 
be  a  lawyer,  or  a  pleader,  or  an  orator,  or  a  states- 
man, or  a  physician,  or  a  good  landlord^  or  a  man  of 
business,  or  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,  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 
Professional  or  Scientific  knowledge  as  the  sufficient 
end  of  a  University  Education,  let  me  not  be 
supposed,  Gentlemen,  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 


IMIILOSOFIIY   AND  PROFESSIONAL  KNOWLEDGE.       257 

teach  Law  or  Medicine.  What  indeed  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  Professor  of 
Law,  or  of  ^ledicine,  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,  physician,  geologist,  or  political  economist; 
whereas  in  a  University  he  will  just  know  where  he 
and  his  science  stand,  he  has  come  to  it,  as  it  were, 
from  a  height,  he  has  taken  a  survey  of  all  knowledge, 
he  is  kept  from  extravagance  by  the  very  rivalry  of 
other  studies,  he  has  gained  from  them  a  special  illu- 
mination and  largeness  of  mind  and  freedom  and 
self-possession,  and  he  treats  his  own  in  consequence 
with  a  philosophy  and  a  resource,  which  belongs,  not 
to  the  study  itself,  but  to  his  liberal  education. 

This  then  is  how  I  should  solve  the  fallacy,  for  so 
I  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  physical  secret.  I  say  that 
a  cultivated  intellect,  because  it  is  a  good  in  itself, 
adds  a  power  and  a  grace  to  every  exercise  and 
occupation  which  it  undertakes.     And  having  thus 

19  . 


258  DISCOURSE  viir. 

opened  the  subject,  1  proceed  to  show  you,  Gentle- 
men, how  it  was  actually  taken  in  hand,  at  the  time 
to  which  I  have  alluded,  by  the  combatants  on  the 
opposite  side.  And  this  I  think  you  will  allow  me 
to  do  at  some  length,  though  at  first  it  will  lead  me 
into  what  may  seem  like  a  digression. 

The  assault  on  the  University  of  Oxford,  of  which 
I  have  been  speaking,  was  met  by  two  men  of  great 
name  and  influence  in  their  day,  of  very  different 
minds,  but  united,  as  by  Collegiate  ties,  so  in  the 
clearsighted  and  philosophical  view  which  they  took 
of  the  whole  subject  of  Liberal  Education.  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 
Scotus  and  Occam  and  Dante,  before  Wiclif  or  Huss 
had  kindled  those  miserable  fires  which  were  to  be 
the  ruin  of  souls  innumerable  down  to  this  day,  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  reli- 
gious house  in  her  honour,  if  he  got  back  in  safety. 
Prompted  and  aided  by  his  Mmoner,  he  decided  on 
placing  this  house  in  the  city  of  Alfred;  and  the 
Image  of  our  Lady,  which  is  opposite  its  entrance, 
is  the  token  of  the  vow  and  its  fulfilment  to  this  day. 


PHILOSOPHY  AND  PROFESSIONAL  KNOWLEDGE.       259 

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  with  disap- 
pointment on  a  collection  of  buildings,  which  have 
with  them  so  few  of  the  circumstances  of  dignity  or 
wealth.  Broad  quadrangles,  high  halls  and  cham- 
bers, ornamented  cloisters,  stately  walks,  or  umbra- 
geous 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  insignifi- 
cance, 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,  whereas  the  Colleges  of 
Oxford  are  self-electing  bodies,  the  fellows  in  each 
perpetually  filling  up  from  among  themselves  the 
vacancies  which  occur  in  their  number,  the  mem- 
bers   of    this    foundation    determined,    at    a    time 


260  DISCOURSE  viir. 

when,  either  from  evil  custom  or  from  ancient 
statute,  such  a  thing  was  not  known  elsewhere, 
to  throw  open  their  fellowships  to  the  compe- 
tition of  all  comers,  and,  in  the  choice  of  asso- 
ciates henceforth,  to  cast  to  the  winds  every  per- 
sonal motive  and  feeling,  family  connexion,  and 
friendship,  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  re- 
solved 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  their  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  synchro- 
nized  with  that  reform  of  the  Academical  body,  in 
which  they  bore  a  principal  part,  it  was  not  unna- 
tural, that,  when  the  storm  broke  upon  the  Univer- 
sity   from   the   North,    their    Alma    Mater,     whom 


PHILOSOPHY  AND  PROFESSIONAL  KNOWLEDGE.     261 

they  loved,  should  have  found  her  first  defenders 
within  the  walls  of  that  small  College,  which  had 
first  put  herself  into  a  condition  to  be  her  champion. 
These  defenders.  Gentlemen,  I  have  said,  were  two, 
of  whom  the  more  distinguished  was  the  late  Dr. 
Copleston,  then  a  Fellow  of  the  College,  successively 
its  Provost,  and  Protestant  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  impor- 
tance 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 j  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  afibrded  no  scope  for  that  pecu- 
liar 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  contro- 
versy, the  most  scientific,  the  most  critical,  and 
the  most  witty,  of  that  literary  company,  all  of 
them  now,  as  he  himself,  removed  from  this  visible 
scene.    Professor    Playfair,    Lord  Jeffrey,    and   the 


262  DISCOURSE  VIII. 

Rev.  Sydney  Smith,  threw  together  their  several 
efforts  into  one  article  of  their  Review,  in  order 
to  crush  and  pound  to  dust  the  audacious  controver- 
tist,  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  abi- 
lity, even  before  we  open  his  pamphlets,  and  have 
actual  evidence  of  the  good  sense,  the  spirit,  the 
scholarlike  taste,  and  the  purity  of  style,  by  which 
they  are  distinguished.  As  might  be  expected,  how- 
ever, under  the  circumstances,  his  matter  is  various 
and  heterogeneous,  and  his  line  of  argument  is  discur- 
sive; he  is  not  led  to  analyse  his  views  on  Education 
to  their  first  principles,  and  in  some  places  he  adopts 
a  more  secular  tone,  than,  even  putting  aside  questions 
of  religious  doctrine,  I  would  willingly  use  myself. 
Still  it  is  not  perhaps  without  its  advantage  to  be 
presented  with  sentiments,  which  are  in  substance 
the  same,  under  the  different  exterior  which  diffe- 
rent minds  throw  around  them;  it  is  like  meeting 
with  two  witnesses,  who,  each  in  his  own  way, 
depose  to  the  same  general  representation. 

His  mode  then  of  answering  the  objection,  that  a 
Liberal  Education  is  not  uf^eful^  will  be  found  to  fall 
in  with  that  which  I  have  adopted  myself.  It  is 
true  indeed  that  he  speaks  of  Literature,  whereas  I 
have  spoken  of  Philosophy;  this,  hx)wever,  is  imma- 
terial in  the  question,  as  it  lies  before  us,  for  in 
either   case    an    intellectual    culture   is    advocated. 


nilLOSOPUY  AND  PROFESSIONAL  KNOWLEDCiE.     2G3 

which  is  desirable  for  its  own  sake, — which  is  the 
education  of  the  man,  not  of  the  lawyer,  antiquarian, 
or  chemist, — and  which  saves  him  from  narrowness, 
and  pedantry,  both  in  society  and  amid  the  duties  of 
his  profession.  Speaking  then  principally  of  classical 
studies,  he  maintains  that  the  knowledge  useful  to 
an  individual,  and  the  knowledge  useful  to  a  com- 
munity, are,  not  only  not  the  same,  but  are  directly 
contrary  to  each  other;  that  division  of  intellectual 
labour,  which  in  fact  the  Reviewers  advocate,  is 
useful  to  a  community,  but  is  hurtful  to  the  indivi- 
dual member  of  it;  and  that  the  end  of  direct  Liberal 
Education  is  the  good  of  the  individual,  and  not  that 
of  the  community. 

"It  is  sometimes  asked",  he  observes,  "with  an 
air  of  triumph.  What  is  the  utility  of  these  studies? 
and  utility  is  vauntingly  pronounced  to  be  the  sole 
standard,  by  which  all  systems  of  education  must  be 
tried.  If  in  turn  we  were  to  ask  what  utility  is,  we 
should,  I  believe,  have  many  answers  not  quite 
consistent  with  each  other.  And  the  best  of  them 
perhaps  would  only  give  us  other  words  equally 
loose  and  indefinite;  such  as  wiser ^  better^  happier; 
none  of  which  can  serve  to  untie  a  knotty  question, 
and  all  of  which  lead  us  into  a  wider  field  of  doubt 
and  inquiry,  than  the  subject  which  originally  pro- 
duced them.  Before  I  attempt  to  show  what  the 
utility  of  classical  learning  is,  iu  my  own  sense  of 
the  word,  let  it  be  permitted  me  to  explain  what  it  is 


264  DISCOURSE  VIII. 

not;  and  to  take  up  the  inquiry  a  little  further  back 
than  writers  on  this  subject  commonly  go. 

"It  is  an  undisputed  maxim  in  Political  Economy, 
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  comfort  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  extent 
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  contri- 
butes more  effectually  to  the  accumulation  of  natio- 
nal 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  subor- 
dinate part  of  some  powerful  machinery,  useful  in 
its  place,  but  insignificant  and  worthless  out  of  it.  .  .  . 

"  If  indeed",  he  continues,  "  national  wealth  were 
the  sole  object  of  national  institutions,  there  can  be 
no  doubt  but  that  the  method  demonstrated  by  [the 
great  and  enlightened  Adam]  Smith,  being  the  surest 
means  of  attaining  that  end,  would  be  the  great 
leading  principle  of  political  philosophy.  In  his 
own  work  it  is  the  great  and  sole  end  of  his  inquiry; 
and  no  one  can  blame  him  for  confining  himself  to 


PHILOSOPHY  AND  PROFESSIONAL  KNOWLEDGE.     2i')5 

that  single  consideration.  His  undertaking  required 
no  more,  and  he  has  performed  his  part  well.  But, 
in  truth,  national  wealth  is  not  the  ultimatum  of 
human  society;  and,  although  we  must  forbear 
entering  on  the  boundless  inquiry,  what  is  the  chief 
good?  yet  all  reflecting  minds  will  admit  that  it  is 
not  wealth.  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   counterpoise   to   the   main 

force 

"  There  can  be  no  doubt  that  every  art  is  improved 
by  confining  the  professor  of  it  to  that  single  study. 
There  are  emergencies,  which  call  for  his  whole 
mind  and  faculties  to  be  absorbed  in  it,  which 
require  him  to  forget  every  other  relation  of  life, 
however  sacred  or  natural,  except  that  artificial  one 
in  which  he  is  then  placed.  Times  will  occur  when  a 
surgeon  or  a  general  must  dismiss  the  common 
feelings  of  human  nature,  and,  in  order  to  do  his 
task  well,  must  look  upon  himself  as  engaged  in 
working  out  one  problem,  and  upon  all  around  him 
as  instruments  subservient  merely  to  the  acquisition 
of  some  one  distinct  purpose,  without  regard  to  their 


2GG  DISCOURSE  Vlll. 

bearings  on  any  thing  besides.  But,  although  the 
art  ilself  is  advanced  by  this  concentration  of  mind 
in  its  service^  the  individual  who  is  confined  to  it 
goes  hack.  The  advantage  of  the  community  is 
nearly  in  an  inverse  ratio  with  his  own 

"  When  the  emergency  is  past,  society  itself  re- 
quires some  other  contribution  from  each  individual, 
besides  the  particular  duties  of  his  profession.  And, 
if  no  such  liberal  intercourse  be  established,  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  uncon- 
nected 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  quali- 
fying a  man  for  any  of  the  employments  of  life,  it 


rriiLosoriiY  and  professional  knowledge.   267 

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 
])etter  grace  and  more  elevated  carriage;  and,  if 
happily  planned  and  conducted,  is  a  main  ingredient 
in  that  complete  and  generous  education,  which  fits 
a  man  Ho  perform  justly,  skilfully,  and  magnani- 
mously, all  the  offices,  both  private  and  public,  of 
peace  and  war'  ".* 

The  same  subject  is  treated,  on  the  same  general 
principles,  but  with  greater  care  and  distinctness, 
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,  Mr.  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  posterity.  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  Protestant  Church 
towards  Catholicism,!  (as  on  the  other  hand.  Dr. 
Copleston,  was  the  master  and  head  of  that  opposite 
school  of  thinkers,  which  numbers  among  its  mem- 
bers Dr.   Whately,)    this    grave  and  philosophical 

*  Vid.  Milton  on  Education. 

t  Mr.  Keble,  Vicar  of  Ilurslcj,  late  Fellow  of  Oriel,  and  Pro- 
fessor of  Poctrj  in  the  University  of  Oxford. 


268  DISCOURSE  VIII 

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 
Mr.  Edgeworth's  work  on  Professional  Education, 
already  noticed,  goes  leisurely  over  the  same  ground, 
which  had  already  been  rapidly  traversed  by  Dr. 
Copleston,  and  requires,  I  fear,  to  be  quoted  in 
larger  extracts  than  are  becoming  on  an  occasion, 
when  I  ought  not  to  delegate  the  burden  of  discussion 
to  another.  Moreover,  it  may  be  considered  hardly 
fair,  to  produce  a  writer  of  extreme  opinions,  such  as 
Mr.  Edgeworth,  as  the  man  of  straw,  on  whom  an  able 
writer  is  to  exercise  his  powers.  Yet  Mr.  Davison^s 
remarks  are  so  suggestive  of  general  principles,  and 
so  apposite  to  my  subject,  that  the  circumstance 
that  they  are  directed  to  the  exposure  of  a  particular 
theorist,  can  hardly  be  considered  an  adequate  reason 
for  my  avoiding  to  use  them. 

In  the  Essay  then  to  which  I  have  referred,  Mr. 
Davison  claim§  the  word  "  useful"  for  Liberal  Edu- 
cation in  its  larger  sense,  as  Dr.  Copleston  had  dis- 
claimed it  in  its  more  restricted.  Instead  of  arguing 
that  the  Utility  of  knowledge  to  the  individual  varies 
inversely  with  its  Utility  to  the  public,  he  chiefly 
employs  himself  on  two  propositions.  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 


VHILOSOPIIY  AND  rilOFESSIOXAl,  KNOWLEDGE.      269 

it  is  necessary  or  useful  for  the  purposes  even  of 
that  Professional  Education,  which  commonly  en- 
grosses the  title  of  useful.  The  former  of  these  two 
theses  he  recommends  to  us  in  the  following  lumi- 
nous and  comprehensive  passages: — 

"  In  a  series  of  essays",  he  says,  "  Mr.  Edgeworth 
has  traced  different  plans  of  Education,  calculated 
for  the  wants  of  the  several  professions.  His  plans 
begin  at  a  very  early  period,  and  undertake  to 
regulate  the  habits,  studies,  and  sometimes  the 
amusements,  of  the  boy,  in  almost  every  particular, 
with  a  view  to  his  civil  employment  in  future  life. 
The  advantage  to  be  secured  by  this  concentration  of 
his  tastes  and  studies,  is  the  enabling  him  to  "fill  his 
station  well,  and  enlarge  his  attainments,  as  appli- 
cable to  it 

"  And  here  he  labours  under  a  strong  suspicion,  in 
our  mind,  of  pursuing  a  partial  and  unsatisfactory 
end.  We  think  there  is  too  much  professional  policy 
in  such  aims;  and  that  it  is  to  take  a  very  con- 
tracted view  of  life,  to  think  with  great  anxiety  how 
persons  may  be  educated  to  superior  skill  in  their 
department,  comparatively  neglecting  or  excluding 
the  more  liberal  and  enlarged  cultivation.  In  his 
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  independent  tastes  and  virtues 
which  come  in  to  sustain  the  common  relations  of 


270  DISCOURSE  Vllf. 

society,  and  raise  tlie  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  accom- 
plishments, 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  tendency 

of  this  system  would  lead  us 

"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  connexions  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  profession,  but  not  clashing 
with  it;  in  which  if  he  can  show  none  of  the  advan- 
tages of  an  improved  understanding,  whatever  may 


rilII,(»-npIIY   AND  rnOIKSSloNAl.  KN'OWI.KfKlK.     271 

be  his  skill  or  proticiency  in  the  other,  he  is  no  more 
than  an  ill-educated  man.  When  we  recollect  also, 
that  the  leading  professions,  owing  to  causes  which 
will  always  continue  in  force,  in  our  country  at 
least,  are  constantly  so  far  overstocked  in  numbers 
that  the  necessary  practice  and  study  of  them  will 
not  fully  employ  even  that  portion  of  their  time  and 
thoughts,  which  their  respective  members  might  well 
afford  to  give  them,  we  must  perceive  that  there  will 
be  a  still  larger  surplus  of  the  intellect  of  these 
professional  men,  to  be  carried  to  the  fund  for 
general  purposes,  and  to  seek  its  occupation  in  some 
spontaneous  way. 

"  On  this  subject  it  is  impossible  to  forget  an  evil 
incidental  to  the  professions,  or  disregard  the 
increase  of  it  with  which  we  should  be  threatened  by 
a  system  of  education  dedicated  exclusively  or 
chiefly  to  them.  The  evil  is  one  which  is  known  by 
the  hard  name  of  pedantry,  but  which  is  commonly 
reckoned  a  disagreeable,  rather  than  a  mischievous 
thing.  It  escapes  with  this  easy  censure,  we  sup- 
pose, because  men  look  at  the  fault  of  another  as  it 
affects  themselves,  more  than  as  it  injures  him;  and 
therefore  the  offensive,  distasteful  part  of  it  is  the 
most  noticed.  But  the  mischiefs  of  this  contracted 
habit  of  mind  to  which  we  allude  are  so  considerable; 
it  runs  so  much  into  prejudice,  conceit,  and  ignoble 
antipathies;  it  hinders  so  effectually,  not  the  enlarge- 
ment alone,  but  the  justness  and  rectitude  of  the  un- 


272  DISCOURSE  VIII. 

derstanding,  that  we  do  not  hesitate  to  regard  a  system 
as  radically  wrong,  which  lays  a  plan  of  education 
and  study  that  must  prove  nothing  less  than  a  hot- 
bed to  this  pernicious  pest  of  all  mental  cultivation. 

"  The  predominant  love  and  esteem  of  one's  own 
profession  is  not  to  be  blamed.  It  is  a  strong 
stimulant.  Like  other  stimulants,  it  may  do  infinite 
good  or  harm,  just  as  it  is  tempered  and  applied:  but 
when  it  is  to  be  made  the  spring  of  all  youthful 
exertion,  and  wrought  into  the  blood  as  soon  as  the 
blood  begins  to  circulate;  whether  this  be  a  treat- 
ment which  any  constitution  can  bear  well,  and 
whether  it  will  produce,  upon  the  whole,  a  healthy 
enthusiasm  of  spirit,  or  diseased  and  decrepid  idio- 
syncracies,  is  not  very  hard  to  determine.  We 
believe,  that  out  of  any  given  number  upon  whom  it 
might  be  tried,  many  more  would  retain  tfie  narrow, 
unsocial,  and  vitiated  temper  of  thought  produced  by 
it,  than  even  the  principle  itself,  managed  as  it  will 
be  in  the  hands  of  ordinary  men. 

"  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;  every  body  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. 


nilLOSOPHY  AND  PROFESSIONAL  KNOWLEDGE.     273 

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  conversation.  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  profes- 
sional avocations  of  war  and  hunting  are  over;  and, 
having  nothing  to  do,  they  have  nothing  to  say. 
Turn  to  improved  life,  and  you  find  conversation  in 
all  its  forms  the  medium  of  something  more  than  an 
idle  pleasure;  indeed  a  very  active  agent  in  circula- 
lating  and  forming  the  opinions,  tastes,  and  feelings 
of  a  whole  people.  It  makes  of  itself  a  considerable 
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  imme- 
diate society,  how  he  talks,  as  how  he  acts.  Now  of 
all  those  who  furnish  their  share  to  rational  conver- 
sation, a  mere  adept  in  his  own  art  is  universally 
admitted  to  be  the  worst.  The  sterility  and  unin- 
structiveness  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 

20 


274  DISCOURSE  VIII. 

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  accu- 
racy and  research  of  a  profession  has  joined  a  free 
excursive  acquaintance  with  various  learning,  and 
caught  from  it  the  spirit  of  general  observation. 
The  tincture  of  a  little  professional  taste  will  aid 
variety  of  remark,  and  give  novel  views  to  the  sub- 
ject of  conversation;  but  much  of  it  cuts  off  all 
sympathy  and  confidence,  and  extinguishes  the  inter- 
course of  thought  at  once.  If  then  those  who  are 
to  shine  at  the  bar  or  in  the  church  may  also  be  ex- 
ceedingly useful  if  they  can  give  light,  unofficially, 
in  other  places,  we  cannot  hail  a  scheme  of  education 
as  promising  well  for  them  or  for  the  cause  of  society 
as  it  stands  at  present,  of  which  the  aim  is  to  collect 
all  their  lustre  into  a  few  points,  with  the  loss  of 
many  essential  utilities  which  it  might  serve  in  a 
more  diffused  state.  It  is  to  merge  their  education 
as  men  wholly  in  that  which  is  necessary  for  them 
as  members  of  a  corps.  It  is  to  sacrifice  the  great 
scheme  itself  to  an  accident,  an  important  accident; 
but  which  ought  not  in  reason  to  engross  our  sole 
paramount  attention". 

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    these    direct   services. 


PHILOSOPHY  AND  PROFESSIONAL  KNOWLEDGE.     275 

which  might  fairly  be  expected  of  it,  it  actually 
subserves  the  discharge  of  these  particular  functions, 
and  the  pursuit  of  those  particular  advantages,  which 
are  connected  with  professional  exertion,  and  to 
which  Professional  Education  is  directed. 

''  We  admit",  he  observes,  *'  that  when  a  person 
makes  a  business  of  one  pursuit,  he  is  in  the  right 
way  to  eminence  in  it;  and  that  divided  attention 
wdll  rarely  give  excellence  in  many.  But  our  assent 
will  go  no  further.  For,  to  think  that  the  way  to 
prepare  a  person  for  excelling  in  any  one  pursuit 
(and  that  is  the  only  point  in  hand),  is  to  fetter  his 
early  studies,  and  cramp  the  first  developement  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  exceptions  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  com- 
mand of  his  own.  The  difference  between  knowledge 
and  faculties  is  a  thing  of  which  Mr.  Edgeworth  has 
a  very  steady  conviction.     We  wish  he  had  fallea 


276  DISCOURSE  vm. 

upon  a  better  method  of  reasoning,  expanding,  and 
strengthening  those  faculties,  upon  which  he  feels 
that  all  must  ultimately  depend. 

"  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  discip- 
line, 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  in  that  one:  whereas  the  enlargement  of  his 
circle  gives  him  increased  knowledge  and  power  in 
a  rapidly  increasing  ratio.  So  much  do  ideas  act, 
not  as  solitary  units,  but  by  grouping  and  combina- 
tion; 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? 


PHILOSOPHY  AND  PROFESSIONAL  KNOWLEDGE.     277 

"  To  open  our  way  a  little  further  on  this  matter, 
we  will  define  what  we  mean  by  the  power  of  judg- 
ment; 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  per- 
son 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  setjse  the  strong 
point  in  it.  Whether  this  definition  be  metaphysi- 
cally 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. 

"  Next,  it  will  not  be  denied,  that  in  order  to  do 
any  good  to  the  judgment,  the  mind  must  be  em- 
ployed upon  such  subjects  as  come  within  the  cogni- 
zance of  that  faculty,  and  give  some  real  exercise  to 
its  perceptions.  Here  we  have  a  rule  of  selection 
by  which  the  difierent  parts  of  learning  may  be 
classed  for  our  purpose.  Those  which  belong  to  the 
province  of  the  judgment  are  religion  (in  its  evidences 
and    interpretation),*     ethics,    history,    eloquence, 

*It  is  remarkable  Mr,  Davison  does  not  notice  doctrine.  He 
seems  to  have  included  it  in  "  intei-pretation"  of  Scriptm-e.  Thus, 
in  his  sense  the  passage  cannot   be  admitted  by  a  Catholic,  for 


278  DISCOURSE  VIII. 

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  con- 
trol (more  or  less  strict)  of  the  same  power  of  moral 
reason.  Probability  is  the  test  of  decision  in  all. 
There  is  a  better  and  a  worse  in  the  execution  of  them. 
There  is  a  balancing,  an  option,  and  a  doubt  in  judg- 
ing of  them". 

If  these  studies,  he  continues,  "  be  such  as  give 
a  direct  play  and  exercise  to  the  faculty  of  the  judg- 
ment, then  they  are  the  true  basis  of  education  for 
the  active  and  inventive  powers,  whether  destined 
for  a  profession  or  any  otlier  use.  Poetry,  which 
makes  one  article  in  that  list,  has  been  objected  to 
as  teaching  men  to  imagine  and  not  to  reason.  It 
does  both.  Its  essence  is  impassioned,  imaginative 
reason,  and  the  higher  kinds  of  it,  which  alone 
deserve  to  be  regarded  in  education,  are  to  an  appre- 
hensive capacity  some  of  the  most  masterly  and  pro- 
found lessons  of  severe  thought.  What  comparison 
can  there  be  between  Homer  and  Euclid  for  teaching 
to  think  and  argue  on  any  subject  whatever,  geometry 
excepted?     One  or  two  of  the  articles  besides,  as  the 

the  judgment  has  no  jurisdiction  over  doctrine;  but  its  letter  seems 
unexceptionable. 


PHILOSOPHY  AND  PROFESSIONAL  KNOWLEDGE.     279 

fine  arts,  and  works  of  wit,  might  perhaps  be  dis- 
pensed with  and  referred  to  the  study  of  riper  age; 
but  the  general  circle  comprehending  the  chief  of 
them,  will  not  endure  to  be  much  further  retrenched. 
Miscellaneous  as  the  assemblage  may  appear,  of  his- 
tory, 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  ftision  of  the  metals  into  Corin- 
thian brass,  gave  the  artist  his  most  ductile  and  per- 
fect 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  must  be  contented  there- 
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 


280  DISCOURSE  VIII. 

of  diversified  reading.  One  thing  is  unquestionable, 
that  the  elements  of  general  reason  are  not  to  be 
found  fully  and  truly  expressed  in  any  one  kind  of 
study;  and  that  he  who  would  wish  to  know  her 
idiom,  must  read  it  in  many  books. 

"  If  difierent  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  acquaint- 
ance 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;  philo- 
sophy strips  the  picture  too  much;  poetry  adorns  it 
too  much:  the  concentrated  lights  of  the  three  cor- 
rect the  false  peculiar  colouring  of  each,  and  show  us 
the  truth.  It  is  always  dangerous  to  risk  a  single 
instance  in  support  of  any  doctrine,  unless  it  be  can- 
didly weighed  and  improved  upon  as  a  hint  by  the 
reader  himself.  In  the  present  case,  however,  we 
shall  be  tempted  to  the  imprudence  of  appealing  to 
a  solitary  but  splendid  example.  It  may  be  of  as 
much  consequence  to  a  man  to  know  what  to  think 
of  the  word  liberty^  as  any  on  which  he  can  exercise 
his  thoughts;  where  will  you  send  him  for  informa- 
tion?   to  Roman  or  English  history?     In  the  history 


PHILOSOPHY  AND  PROFESSIONAL  KNOWLEDGE.     281 

of  his  own  times  it  is  the  subject  of  dispute;  that 
history  therefore  will  not  compose  his  doubts.  In 
more  ancient  history  liberty  is  only  seen  as  it  has 
been  perverted,  oppressed,  or  misunderstood.  Will 
you  send  him  to  the  romantic  pages  of  poetry  in 
Lucan,  Corneille,  or  our  English  Cato?  There  indeed 
he  may  catch  the  love  of  it;  but  that  love  will  dege- 
nerate into  extravagance,  and  his  notions  of  the 
practical  form  of  it  can  be  none  at  all.  Will  you 
recommend  him  then  to  study  the  plan  and  sections 
of  it  in  Montesquieu?  His  theory  now  may  be  more 
correct,  but  it  will  be  too  rigidly  correct  for  use. 
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  stu- 
dies to  some  definite  future  object  (which  is  Mr. 
Edge  worth's  maxim),  but  by  taking  a  wide  and 
liberal  compass,  and  thinking  a  great  deal  on  many 


282  DISCOURSE  VIII. 

subjects  with  no  better  end  in  view,  than  because 
the  exercise  was  one  which  made  them  more  rational 
and  intelligent  beings. 

"  There  is  a  trite  maxim  which  tells  us  that 
nothing  is  more  pernicious  than  reading  a  little  of 
many  different  things.  The  maxim  is  perfectly  just, 
as  to  a  little  idle  and  superficial  reading,  or  in  such 
things  as  do  not  naturally  unite  together.  A  cento 
of  chemistry,  languages,  and  English  history,  might 
be  of  this  description;  but  a  variety  of  strenuous  and 
penetrating  application  to  such  subjects  as  are  in 
harmony  with  each  other,  must  escape  this  censure, 
till  it  can  be  shown  that  accumulating  ideas  and  con- 
spiring energies  of  mind  are  a  mischief. 

Lastly,  with  these  manifest  benefits  to  man,  as  such, 
which  what  I  have  called  Liberal  Education  bestows, 
he  contrasts  the  al)surd  beings  which  would  be  reared 
and  exhibited  in  the  busy  scenes  of  life,  under  the 
influence  of  Mr.  Edgeworth's  training: — 

"  Instead  of  making  well  educated  men,  the  object 
of  his  system  is  to  make  pleading,  and  prescribing, 
and"  preaching  '^  machines.  So  far  does  he  carry  the 
subdivision  of  his  relative  aims,  that  the  knowledge  of 
the  first  and  plainest  truths  of  religion  is  made  to 
belong  to  a  particular  profession.  The  little  uncas- 
socked  clergyman  of  six  years  old,  is  to  be  made 
acquainted  with  the  being  of  a  God,  in  a  proper 
philosophical  way.     But  his  lay  brothers  have  no 


PHILOSOPHY  AND  PROI- KSSlUN  AL  KNOWLEDGE.     283 

such  regular  instruction  provided  for  them.  It  is  no 
part  of  tlieir  business.  They  must  recollect  that 
they  are  not  designed  for  the  church,  and  follow 
their  proper  profane  studies.  Who  knows  but  they 
may  live  to  hear  their  brother  in  the  pulpit,  and  get 
some  religion  from  him  there! 

"  The  lawyer  is  to  have  his  appropriate  management 
as  soon  as  he  begins  to  speak.  A  nurse  of  good 
accent  is  to  be  procured  for  him,  to  modulate  his  first 
babblings  to  the  right  tone  of  the  bar.  He  is  to 
prattle  for  a  fee.  He  is"  afterwards  to  be  encouraged 
to  a  little  ill  bred  disputatiousness  for  the  same  wor- 
thy purpose.  Mr.  Edgeworth  quotes  a  trite  passage 
of  Roman  history,  to  show  that  the  Romans  bestowed 
much  care  upon  the  elocution  of  their  children,  and 
repeats  over  again  the  tale  of  Cornelia  and  the 
Gracchi.  The  Romans  thought  it  a  grace  in  their 
children  to  speak  their  own  language  well.  So  thinks 
every  one.  The  peculiarity  of  Mr.  Edgeworth's 
mind,  consists  in  making  it  exclusively  a  lawyer's 
accomplishment. 

"  The  physician  that  is  to  be,  as  soon  as  he  can 
wield  a  spade,  is  to  have  his  garden,  in  imitation  of 
the  great  Sir  Charles  Linnaeus,  and  vex  the  ground 
with  his  botanical  arrangements.  The  culture  of 
opium  and  rhubarb  will  be  his  first  step  to  the 
prescription  of  them. 

"  The  infant  soldier  is  to  be  made  a  hero  as  soon  as 
possible.     Indeed  no  time  is  to  be  lost  with  him;  for 


284  DISCOURSE  viir. 

Mr.  Edgeworth  recommends  that  he  be  accustomed 
to  the  presence  of  domestic  animals  without  terror, 
'  and  be  taken  to  the  exhibitions  of  wild  beasts,  that 
he  may  be  familiarized  to  their  forms  and  cries\ 
His  nurse  too  must  be  chosen  for  her  aptitude  to  the 
duties  of  rearing  a  great  captain.  When  the  defender 
of  his  country  is  grown  up  to  a  boy,  his  sports  should 
be  of  the  military  cast.  Without  making  too  much 
parade,  he  should  begin  to  work  upon  some  fortifica- 
tion in  the  corner  of  a  shrubbery.  He  must  be 
trained  also  to  a  sense  of  honour,  and  abhor  the  dis- 
grace of  corporal  punishment,  as  a  soldier  ought. 

"  Such  is  the  grand  scheme  of  partition  to  be  made 
among  the  professional  aspirants  according  to  their 
destinations  of  future  life.  Eeligion,  a  good  elocu- 
tion, gardening,  and  other  amusements,  a  manly  con- 
stitution of  body  and  mind,  and  a  tenderness  of 
honour,  we  have  always  thought  to  be  good  for  boys, 
as  sensitive,  rational  beings,  capable  of  instruction, 
health,  and  pleasure.  To  make  cunning  sport  for 
them,  and  defraud  them  of  the  natural  right  of 
amusing  themselves  in  their  own  way,  does  not  agree 
with  our  feelings  of  kindness  for  them.  It  sophisti- 
cates them  in  the  very  point  where  they  should  be 
most  free  and  natural.  But  to  delegate  the  moral 
qualities,  such  as  a  just  impression  of  religion,  and  a 
right  sense  of  honour,  to  a  station  or  title,  or  a  piece 
of  cloth,  or  to  make  the  slightest  difference  in  these 
respects,  is  to  confound  the  essence  of  morality,  and 


PHILOSOPHY  AND  PROFESSIONAL  KNOWLEDGE.     285 

run  deliberately  insane  upon  a  spurious  conceited 
wisdom". 

The  last  sentences  go  beyond  my  present  subject, 
which  is  the  intellectual,  not  the  moral  bearings  of 
Liberal  Education.  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,  in- 
deed, and  the  man  of  the  world  difier  in  their  very 
notion,  but  the  methods,  by  which  they  are  respec- 
tively formed,  are  pretty  much  the  same.  The  Philo- 
sopher has  the  same  command  of  matters  of  thought, 
which  the  true  citizen  and  gentleman  has  of  mat- 
ters of  business  and  conduct.  If  then  a  practical 
end  must  be  assigned  to  a  University  course,  I  say  it 
is  that  of  training  good  members  of  society.  Its  art 
is  the  art  of  social  life,  and  its  end  is  fitness  for  the 
world.  It  neither  confines  its  views  to  particular 
professions  on  the  one  hand,  nor  creates  heroes  or  in- 
spires genius  on  the  other.  Works  indeed  of  genius, 
fall  under  no  art;  heroic  minds  come  under  no  rule; 
a  University  is  not  a  birthplace  of  poets  or  of  immor- 
tal 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, 


286  DISCOURSE  VIII. 

the  economist  or  the  engineer,  though  such  too  it  in- 
cludes 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  enthu- 
siasm and  fixed  aims  to  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  urg- 
ing 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  irrelevant.  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  understanding  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 


PHILOSOPHY  AND  PROFESSIONAL  KNOWLEDGE.     287 

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  its  idea  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. 


DISCOURSE  IX. 

PHILOSOPHICAL    KNOWLEDGE    VIEWED    IN    RELATION    TO 
RELIGION. 

We  shall  be  brought,  Gentlemen,  to-day,  to  the 
termination  of  the  investigation,  which  I  commenced 
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  prin- 
ciple, that  Knowledge  is  its  own  reward;  and  that, 
when  considered  in  this  light,  it  is  called  Liberal 
Knowledge,  and  is  the  scope  of  Academical  Institu- 
tions. 

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  ybrm,  or,  in  other  words,  that 

its  matter   must   not   be   admitted   into   the   mind 

passively,    as  so  much    acquirement,   but   must   be 

21 


290  DISCOURSE  IX. 

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  con- 
templation of  the  field  of  knowledge  as  a  whole, 
leading,  as  it  did,  to  an  understanding  of  its  separate 
departments,  and  an  appreciation  of  them  respec- 
tively, might  in  consequence  be  rightly  called  an 
illumination;  also,  it  was  rightly  called  an  enlarge- 
ment of  mind,  because  it  was  a  distinct  location  of 
things  one  with  another,  as  if  in  space;  while  it  was 
moreover  its  proper  cultivation  and  its  best  condi- 
tion, 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 
presupposed  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  further,  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 


PIIIL()«>PnV    AND    RELIGION.  291 

of  its  worth,  so  too  as  regards  what  may  be  called 
the  virtues  of  the  Intellect,  their  very  possession  in- 
deed 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  intel- 
lectual 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  Ca- 
tholicism, 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  history  of  Schools  and 
Academies,  and  of  Literature  and  Science  generally, 
will,  I  think,  justify  me  in  thus  speaking.  Since, 
then,  my  one  aim  in  these  Discourses  has  been  to 
ascertain  the  function  and  the  action  of  a  University, 
viewed  in  itself,  as  preparatory  to  the  consideration 
of  the  use  to  which  the  Church  puts  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. 

Now,  when  I  name  the  Religion  of  the  Intellect  or 
of  Philosophy,  and  contrast  it  with  Catliolirism,   you 


292  DISCOURSE  IX. 

must  not  understand  me,  Gentlemen,  as  implying 
that  Catholicism  is  opposed  to  our  Reason.  So  far 
from  it,  I  have  just  spoken  of  this  intellectual  Reli- 
gion as  existing  in  Catholic  countries,  and  among 
Catholics;  and  in  my  earlier  Discourses  you  may  re- 
collect I  spoke  of  Catholic  Theology  as  one  main 
portion  of  the  truths,  which  must  be  received  and 
contemplated  by  Philosophy,  if  it  deserve  the  name. 
Certainly  this  religious  theory  or  spirit,  to  which 
cultivation  of  the  Intellect  gives  rise,  may  be  found 
among  good  Catholics,  may  influence,  for  the  better 
and  for  the  worse,  hearts  which  have  true  faith  and  a 
good  hope  of  salvation.  I  am  not  concerned  here  at  all 
with  the  question  of  the  Reasonableness  of  Chris- 
tianity, or  with  the  Evidences  as  they  are  called,  or 
with  the  Notes  of  the  Church,  or  with  the  solution  of 
objections  which  are  brought  against  Revelation.  I 
am  supposing  Catholicism  taken  for  granted;  even 
though  it  be,  the  exercise  of  Reason  is  not  at  an  end; 
it  has  other  offices  and  aims  besides  that  of  proof. 
Though  it  admit  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  prin- 
ciple of  self-interest.  Grace  does  not  supersede 
nature;  nor  is  nature  at  once  brought  into  simple 
concurrence  and  coalition  with  grace.  It  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  attrac- 


PHILOSOPHY    AND    RELIGION.  293 

tion  and  influence  which  grace  exerts  over  it.  And 
what  takes  place  as  regards  other  principles  of  our 
nature  and  their  developments,  is  found  also  as  re- 
gards the  Reason.  There  is  a  Eeligion  of  enthusiasm, 
of  superstitious  ignorance,  of  state- craft;  and  each 
has  that  in  it  which  resembles  Catholicism,  and  that 
again  which  contradicts  Catholicism.  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  culti- 
vated intellect,  of  the  philosopher,  scholar,  and  gen- 
tleman. 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  com- 
promise 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 
its  presence  in  a  Catholic  country,  as  a  spirit  influ- 
encing 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  spe- 
cifically the  same  as  it  exists  in  a  Catholic  commu- 
nity. The  problem  then  before  us  to-day,  is  to  set 
down  some  portions  of  the  outline,  if  we  can  ascer- 
tain 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. 


294  DISCOURSE  IX. 

And  here  again,  when  I  speak  of  Kevealed  Truth,  it 
is  scarcely  necessary  to  say  that  I  am  not  referring  to 
the  main  articles  and  prominent  points  of  faith,  as 
contained  in  the  Creed,  any  more  than  to  the  Evi- 
dences.   As  before,  so  I  repeat  here,  had  I  undertaken 
to  delineate  a  philosophy,  which  directly  interfered 
with  the  Creed,  I  could  not  have  spoken  of  it  as  com- 
patible   with    the   profession   of  Catholicism.      The 
philosophy  I  speak  of,  whether  it  be  viewed  within  or 
outside  the  Church,  does  not  at  once  take  cognizance 
of  the  Creed.      Where  the  country  is  Catholic,  the 
educated  mind  takes  its  articles  for  granted;  where 
it  is  not,  it  simply  ignores  them  and  the  whole  sub- 
ject-matter  to   which   they  relate,  as  not  affecting 
social  and  political  interests.      Truths  about  God's 
Nature,    Providence,    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  then    speaking  of   the  Creed  of 
Catholicism,  when  I  speak  of  Religion,  but  I  am  con- 
templating Catholicism  as  a  system  of  pastoral  instruc- 
tion and  moral  duty;  and  I  have  to  do  with  its  doc- 
trines only  as  they  are  subservient  to  its  direction  of 
the  conscience  and  the  conduct.     I  speak  of  it,  for 
instance,  as  teaching  the  ruined  state  of  man;  his 
utter  inability  to  gain  Heaven  by  any  thing  he  can 


nilLOSOPHY    AND    RELIGION.  29o 

do;  the  moral  certainty  of  his  meriting  eternal  punish- 
ment 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  ordi- 
nary instrument  of  salvation.  These  are  the  lessons 
which  distinguish  Catholicism  as  a  popular  religion, 
and  these  are  the  subjects  to  which  the  cultivated 
intellect  will  practically  be  turned: — I  have  to  com- 
pare and  contrast,  not  the  doctrinal,  but  the  moral 
and  social  teaching  of  philosophy  on  the  one  hand, 
and  Catholicism  on  the  other. 

Now,  on  opening  the  subject,  we  see  at  once 
a  momentous  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  its  rescue  from  that  fearful  subjection  to  sense 
which  is  its  ordinary  state.  To  be  able  to  break 
through  the  meshes  of  that  tliraldom,  and  to  disen- 
tangle and  to  disengage  its  ten  thousand  holds  upon 


296  DISCOURSE  IX. 

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  ordinarily 
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^  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  supernatural,  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  inspires  resolutions,  it  draws  tears,  it 
inflames  devotion,  but  only  for  the  occasion.  The 
sinful  spirit  repents,  and  protests  it  will  never  sin  again, 
and  for  a  while  is  protected  by  disgust  and  abhor- 
rence 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 


PHILOSOPHY   AND   RELIGION.  297 

hopeless  under  the  next  access  of  temptation.  What 
we  need  then  is  some  expedient  or  instrument,  whicli 
at  least  will  obstruct  and  stave  off  the  approach  of 
our  spiritual  enemy,  and  which  is  sufficiently  conge- 
nial and  level  with  our  nature  to  maintain  as  firm  a 
hold  upon  us  as  the  inducements  of  sensual  gratifica- 
tion. 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  effects  on  us,  in  proportion  as  we  are 
subjected  to  their  influence.  These,  however,  are 
God's  instruments,  not  ours;  we  need  a  similar  re- 
medy, 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  homeopathic 
medicine  for  the  disease.  Here  then  I  think  is  the 
important  aid,  which  intellectual  cultivation  fur- 
nishes to  us  in  rescuing  the  victims  of  passion  and 
self-will.  It  does  not  supply  religious  motives;  it  is 
not  the  cause  or  proper  antecedent  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. 


298  DISCOURSE   IX. 

This  then  is  the  prima  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  substi- 
tute 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  employments,  though  they 
do  no  more  than  occupy  the  mind  with  objects  natu- 
rally noble  or  innocent,  have  a  special  claim  upon  our 
consideration  and  gratitude. 


PHILOSOPHY   AND    RELIGION.  299 

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  indisposition,  simply  natural,  yet  real,  nay 
more  than  this,  a  disgust  and  abhorrence,  towards 
excesses  and  enormities  of  evil,  which  are  often  or  or- 
dinarily reached  at  length  by  those  who  do  not  from 
the  first  set  themselves  against  what  is  vicious  and 
criminal.  It  generates  within  the  mind  a  fastidious- 
ness, 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  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  are  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  with- 
drawn from  its  eye  and  from  the  restraint  of  public 
opinion.  In  many  cases,  where  it  is  secured,  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  detec- 
tion, will  act  as  a  sufiicient  obstacle  to  them,  when 
they  do  present  themselves  before  it.     Then  again. 


300  DISCOURSE  IX. 

the  fastidiousness  I  am  speaking  of  will  create  a  simple 
hatred  of  that  miserable  tone  of  conversation,  which, 
obtaining  as  it  does  in  the  world,  is  a  constant  fuel 
of  evil,  heaped  up  round  about  the  soul:  moreover,  it 
will  create  an  irresolution  and  indecision  in  doing 
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  that  very  evil  which  it 
repels  in  those  particular  manifestations  in  which  it 
prevails  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  moral  disorder  altogether, 
and  to  induce  sobriety  ever  afterwards; — as  the  spend- 
thrift 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,  rife  as  is  pain  of  body  and  mind 
as  heretofore,  yet  other  counteractions  of  evil,  of  a 
penal  character,  which  at  other  times  are  present,  are 
away.  In  rude  and  semi-barbarous  periods,  at  least 
in  a  climate  such  as  our  own,  it  is  the  habitual  occu- 
pation of  the  senses  to  convey  little  more  than 
feelings  of  discomfort  to  the  mind,  as  far  as  they 
convey  feelings  at  all.  Exposure  to  the  elements, 
social  disorder  and  lawlessness,  the  tyranny  of  the 
powerful,  and  the  inroads  of  enemies,  are  a  stern 


PHILOSOPHY   AND   RELIGION.  301 

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  attendants  only  on  parti- 
cular 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  w^ere  naturally  present  to  the  population, 
which  in  various  ways  co-operated  with  the  missio- 
nary or  pastor,  in  retaining  it  in  a  noble  simpli- 
city of  manners.  But,  when  in  the  advancement  of 
society  men  congregate  in  towns,  and  multiply  in 
contracted  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  resource  or  protection  against  evil  they 
have  none,  that  vice  is  the  mere  reaction  of  unhealthy 
toil,  and  sensual  excess  the  holyday  of  the  vacant 
mind?  This  is  so  well  understood  by  the  practical 
benevolence  of  the  day,  that  it  has  especially  busied 
itself  in  plans  for  supplying  the  masses  of  our  town 
population  with  intellectual  and  honourable  recre- 
ations. Cheap  literature,  libraries  of  useful  and 
entertaining  knowledge,  scientific  lectureships,  mu- 
seums, zoological  collections,  buildings  and  gardens 
to  please  the  eye  and  to  give  repose  to  the  feelings, 
external  objects  of  whatever  kind,  which  may  take 


302  DISCOURSE  IX. 

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  soul,  but  of  the 
social  fabric. 

Such  are  the  instruments,  by  which  an  age  of 
advanced  civilization  combats  moral  disorders,  which 
Reason  as  well  as  Revelation  denounces;  and  I  have 
not  been  backward  to  express  my  sense  of  their  ser- 
viceableness  to  Religion.  Moreover,  they  are  but 
the  foremost  of  a  series  of  influences,  which  intellec- 
tual culture  exerts  upon  our  moral  nature,  and  all 
upon  the  type  of  Christianity,  manifesting  themselves 
in  veracity,  probity,  equity,  fairness,  gentleness, 
benevolence,  and  amiableness;  so  much  so,  that  a 
character  more  noble  to  look  at,  more  beautiful,  more 
winning,  in  the  various  relations  of  life  and  in  per- 
sonal duties,  is  hardly  conceivable,  than  may,  or 
might  be,  its  result,  when  that  culture  is  bestowed 
upon  a  soil  naturally  adapted  to  virtue.  If  you 
would  obtain  a  picture  for  contemplation  which  may 
seem  to  fulfil  the  ideal,  which  the  inspired  Teacher 
has  delineated  in  several  of  his  Epistles,  under  the 
name  of  charity,  in  its  sweetness  and  harmony,  its 
generosity,  its  courtesy  to  others,  and  its  depreciation 
of  self,  you  could  not  have  recourse  to  a  better  fur- 
nished studio  than  that  of  Philosophy,  or  to  the  spe- 
cimens of  it,  which  with  greater  or  less  exactness  are 


PHILOSOPHY    AND    RELIGION.  303 

scattered  through  society  in  a  civilized  age.  It  is 
enough,  to  refer  you,  Gentlemen,  to  the  various  Bio- 
graphies 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  culture  from 
genuine  religion,  in  spite  of  its  seeming  relationship,  is 
the  very  cardinal  point  on  which  my  present  discus- 
sion turns;  yet  on  the  other  hand  it  may  readily  be 
assigned  to  a  Christian  origin  by  hasty  or  distant 
observers,  or  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  characteristic 
features,  to  point  out  to  you  distinctly  the  elementary 
principles,  on  which  its  morality  is  based. 

You  will  bear  in  mind  then.  Gentlemen,  that  I 
spoke  just  now  of  the  scorn  and  hatred  which  a  cul- 
tivated mind  feels  for  some  kinds  of  vice,  and  the 


304  DISCOURSE  IX. 

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,  considered  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  law- 
giver 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,  shame  confines  us  within  the 
round  of  our  own  ideas.  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;  conscience  becomes  what  is 
called  a  moral  sense;  the  command  of  duty  is  a  sort 
of  taste;  sin  is  not  an  ofience  against  God,  but  against 
human  nature. 

The  less  amiable  specimens  of  this  spurious  reli- 
gion are  those,  which  we  meet  every  day  in  Protes- 
tant England.     We  find  men  possessed  of  many  vir- 


PHILOSOPHY    AND   RELIGION.  305 

tues,  but  proud,  bashful,  fastidious,  and  reserved. 
Why  is  this?  it  is  because  they  think  and  act,  as  if 
there  were  really  such  a  thing  as  what  theologians  call 
the  philosophical  sin;  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  them- 
selves, 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  portions  of  their 
conduct  into  a  whole,  their  one  object,  however  un- 
conscious 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  themselves  fools,  not  sinners;  they  are 
angry  and  impatient,  not  humble.  They  shut  them- 
selves 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  im- 

22 


306  DISCOURSE  IX. 

possible,  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  inte- 
resting forms  of  this  moral  malady  than  that  which 
I  have  been  depicting:  I  have  spoken  of  the  effect  of 
intellectual  culture  on  proud  natures;  but  it  will 
show  to  greater  advantage,  yet  with  as  little  approx- 
imation to  religious  faith,  in  amiable  and  unaffected 
minds.  Observe,  Gentlemen,  the  heresy,  as  it  may 
be  called,  of  which  I  speak,  is  the  substitution  of  a 
moral  sense  or  taste  for  conscience  in  the  true  sense 
of  the  word;  now  this  error  may  be  the  foundation 
of  a  character  of  far  more  elasticity  and  grace  than 
ever  adorned  the  haughty  English  Protestant.  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.  Eather  a  philosopher's,  a  gentle- 
man's religion,  is  of  a  liberal  and  generous  character; 
it  is  based  upon  honour;  vice  is  evil,  because  it  is 
unworthy,  base,  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. 


PHILOSOPHY    AND   RELIGION.  307 

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  news  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  Allperfect,  Everpresent 
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. 

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  we  shall  recognize  in 
him  a  specious  beauty  and  nobleness  of  moral  de- 
portment, which  combines  in  it  the  rude  greatness  of 
Fabricius  or  Eegulus  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 


308  DISCOURSE   IX. 

to  business,  his  literary  diligence,  his  modesty,  his 
clemency,  his  accomplishments,  go  to  make  him  one 
of  the  most  eminent  specimens  of  pagan  virtue,  which 
the  world  has  ever  seen.  His  last  hours  form  a 
unique  passage  in  history,  both  as  illustrating  his 
character  under  its  critical  trial,  and  as  being  re- 
ported to  us  on  the  evidence  of  an  eye-witness.  "  He 
employed  the  awful  moments",  says  a  writer,  well 
fitted,  both  from  his  literary  tastes  and  from  his 
hatred  of  Christianity,  to  be  his  panegyrist,  "he 
employed  the  awful  moments  with  the  firm  temper  of 
a  hero  and  a  sage;  the  philosophers  who  had  accom- 
panied him  in  this  fatal  expedition,  compared  the  tent 
of  Julian  with  the  prison  of  Socrates;  and  the  spec- 
tators, whom  duty,  or  friendship,  or  curiosity,  had 
assembled  round  his  couch,  listened  with  respectful 
grief  to  the  funeral  oration  of  their  dying  Emperor. 
*  Friends  and  fellow-soldiers,  the  seasonable  period  of 
my  departure  is  now  arrived,  and  I  discharge,  with 
the  cheerfulness  of  a  ready  debtor,  the  demands  of 
nature.  I  have  learned  from  philosophy,  how  much 
the  soul  is  more  excellent  than  the  body;  and  that 
the  separation  of  the  worthless  substance  should  be 
the  subject  of  joy  rather  than  of  aflliction.  I  have 
learned  from  religion,  that  an  early  death  has  often 
been  the  reward  of  piety;  and  I  accept,  as  a  favour  of 
the  gods,  the  mortal  stroke  that  secures  me  from  the 
danger  of  disgracing  a  character,  which  has  hitherto 
been   supported   by   virtue    and   fortitude.      I   die 


PHILOSOPnY   AND   RELIGION.  309 

witliout  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  ray  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  of 
lingering  disease.  He  has  given  me,  in  the  midst  of 
an  honourable  career,  a  splendid  and  glorious  de- 
parture from  this  world,  and  I  hold  it  equally  absurd, 
equally  base,  to  solicit,  or  to  decline,  the  stroke  of 
fate'     .     .     . 

"  After  this  discourse,  which  Julian  pronounced  in 
a  firm  and  gentle  tone  of  voice,  he  distributed,  by  a 
military  testament,  the  remains  of  his  private 
fortune;  and  making  some  inquiry  why  Anatolius 
was  not  present,  he  understood  from  the  answer  of 
Sallust,  that  Anatolius  was  killed,  and  bewailed  with 
amiable  inconsistency  the  loss  of  his  friend.  At  the 
same  time,  he  reproved  the  immoderate  grief  of  the 
spectators,  and  conjured  them  not  to  disgrace,  by  un- 
manly 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.     Tlie  efforts  which  he  made,  of  mind  as 


310  DISCOURSE    IX. 

well  as  body,  most  probably  hastened  his  death.  His 
wound  began  to  bleed  with  great  violence;  his  respi- 
ration 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".*  A  memorable  deathbed  indeed!  in 
the  insensibility  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 
ithe  cloudless  self-confidence,  in  the  serene  self-pos- 
session, in  the  cold  self-satisfaction,  we  recognize  the 
Philosopher. 

Gibbon  paints  with  pleasure,  what,  conformably 
with  the  sentiments  of  a  godless  intellectualism,  was 
an  historical  fulfilment  of  his  own  idea  of  moral  per- 
fection; Lord  Shaftesbury  had  already  drawn  out 
that  idea  in  a  theoretical  form,  in  his  celebrated  col- 
lection of  Treatises  which  he  has  called  "  Character- 
istics of  men,  manners,  opinions,  views".  In  this 
work  one  of  his  first  attacks  is  directed  against  the 
doctrine  of  reward  and  punishment,  as  if  it  intro- 
duced  a  notion  into  religion,  inconsistent  with  the 
true  apprehension  of  the  beauty  of  virtue,  and 
with  the  liberality  and  nobleness  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  founda- 

*  Gibbon,  Hist.,  ch.  24. 


PHILOSOPHY    AND    RELIGION.  311 

tion.  They  have  made  virtue  so  mercenary  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  in- 
clined to  do  the  good  he  hates,  or  restrained  from 
doing  the  ill  to  which  he  is  not  otherwise  in  the  least 
degree  averse,  there  is  in  this  case  no  virtue  or  good- 
ness 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  dis- 
cipline of  the  whip While  the  will  is  neither 

gained,  nor  the  inclination  wrought  upon,  but  awe 
alone  prevails  and  forces  obedience,  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  back  ground,  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 


312  DISCOURSE    IX. 

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  pro- 
portions 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  themselves,  and  in  contradic- 
tion 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  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  may  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  venus- 
tum^  the  honestum,  the  decorum  of  things  will  force 


PHILOSOPHY   AND    RELIGION.  313 

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  conscience,  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,  behaviour,  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  par- 
ticular 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.  'T  were  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  in  this 
respect,  as  in  what  relates  to  a  taste  or  judgment  in 
other  arts  and  sciences?" 

Sometimes  he  distinctly  contrasts  this  taste  with 
principle  and  conscience,  and  gives  it  the  preference 


314  DISCOURSE   IX. 

over  them.  "  After  all  ",  he  says,  "  't  is  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  prin- 
ciple, 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  defor- 
mity, and  the  feeling  inspired  by  deformity  being 
that  of  derision,  as  that  inspired  by  beauty  is  admi- 
ration, 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  handsome  and 
just.  And  therefore  't  is  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". 


PHILOSOPHY   AND   RELIGION.  315 

And  hence  again,  conscience,  which  intimates  a 
Lawgiver,  being  superseded  by  a  moral  taste  or 
sentiment,  which  has  no  sanction  beyond  the  consti- 
tution  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  inte- 
rest 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.  T  is  the  grand 
artifice  of  villainy  and  lewdness,  as  well  as  of  super- 
stition  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  contem- 
plation of  other  mysterious  natures^  which  he  never 
can  explain  or  comprehend''. 

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 


316  DISCOURSE   IX. 

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  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  he;  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  ", 
he  cried;  ''that  sensibility  of  principle,  that  chastity 
of  honour,  which  felt  a  stain  like  a  wound;  which 


PHILOSOPHY    AND    RELIGION.  317 

inspired  courage,  while  it  mitigated  ferocity;  which 
ennobled  whatever  it  touched,  and  under  which  vice 
lost  half  lis  evil  hy  losing  all  its  grossness^\  In 
the  last  clause  of  this  beautiful  sentence,  we  have  an 
apt  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  principles;  fashion,  celebrity, 
the  beautiful,  the  heroic,  w411  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.  And  thus  at 
length  we  find,  surprising  as  the  change  may  be,  that 
that  very  refinement  of  Philosophy,  which  began  by 
repelling  sensuality,  ends  by  excusing  it.  Under  the 
shadow  indeed  of  the  Church,  and  in  its  due  develop- 
ment, it  does  service  to  the  cause  of  morality;  but, 
w^hen  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 


318  DISCOURSE  IX. 

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  Eeligion  is  slow  in 
growth,  and,  when  once  planted,  is  difficult  of  dis- 
lodgment;  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  power.  Deformity  is  its  abhorrence;  there- 
fore, since  it  cannot  dissuade  men  from  vice,  to 
escape  the  sight  of  its  deformity,  it  embellishes  it. 
It  "skins  and  films  the  ulcerous  place",  which  it 
cannot  probe  or  heal, 

"  Whiles  rank  corruption,  mining  all  within, 
Infects  unseen". 

And  now,  taking  up  the  thread  of  our  remarks 
where  we  dropt  it,  we  are,  alas!  by  this  time  in  a 
better  condition  to  form  a  true  estimate  of  the  re- 
ligious value  of  those  intellectual  influences,  which 
at  first  sight  give  such  promise  of  service  to  the 
cause  of  Catholicism.  No  word  indeed  of  praise  or 
satisfaction  which  I  have  ventured  to  bestow  on 
them  has  to  be  withdrawn;  nay,  much  upon  other 
scores  has  to  be  added.  But  so  far  is  undeniable, 
that  they  have  a  dark  side,  as  well  as  a  bright  one^ 
and  that  their  very  points  of  excellence  may  blind  or 


PHILOSOPHY    AND   RELIGION.  319 

bribe  us  into  a  closer  alliance  with  them,  than 
Christian  duty  can  approve.  When  I  interrupted 
my  favourable  account  of  them,  I  had  just  made  an 
allusion  to  the  ethical  precepts  of  St.  Paul,  and  to  the 
fulfilment  which  they  seemed  to  receive  at  the  hand  of 
the  pattern  characters  of  this  day.  An  attentive  con- 
sideration of  this  correspondence,  which  at  first  sight 
tells  for  the  latter,  will  but  corroborate  the  contrast 
which  I  have  since  been  drawing  between  Philosophy 
and  the  Gospel.  The  Apostle  gives  us  a  pattern  of 
evangelical  perfection;  he  draws  the  Christian  charac- 
ter in  its  most  graceful  form,  and  its  most  beautiful 
hues.  He  discourses  of  that  charity,  which  is  patient 
and  meek,  humble  and  singleminded,  disinterested, 
contented,  and  persevering.  He  tells  us  to  prefer  each 
other  before  ourselves,  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  Christian  in  his  external 
relations;  and,  I  grant,  it  is  remarkable  that  men  of 
the  world  should  be  able  to  imitate  it  so  closely;  it 
is  more  remarkable  still  that  they  should  be  able,  with- 
out any  striking,  overwhelming  extravagance,  to 
boast,  as  they  do,  that  they  imitate  it  even  more  ex- 
actly than  those,  who  belong  to  the  communion  and 
inherit  the  traditions  of  the  Apostle  himself     This 


820  DISCOURSE   IX. 

indeed  they  seem  habitually  to  assume;  they  appro- 
priate to  themselves  a  property  of  the  Church;  all 
that  is  beautiful  in  mind  belongs  to  the  gentleman, 
while  Catholics  are  the  representatives  of  primeval 
times,  and  a  barbarous  condition  of  society. 

I  do  not  wish  to  say  anything  in  disparagement  of 
the  beneficial  influence  of  Civilization,  where  it  is 
not  directly  to  my  point;  else,  I  might  draw  atten- 
tion to  the  fact,  that,  whether  or  not  it  can  create 
what  it  now  calls  "  the  gentleman",  since  Christianity 
has  come,  it  had  little  conception  of  such  a  character 
before  its  appearance.  In  ancient  times  at  least 
there  was  no  such  thing  as  a  "  pagan  gentleman'*. 
It  is  an  observation  of  Hume's,  an  unexceptionable 
witness  here,  that,  "  the  arts  of  conversation",  and 
we  may  take  the  word  in  its  largest  sense,  "  were 
not  brought  so  near  to  perfection  among"  the 
ancients,  "  as  the  arts  of  writing  and  composition. 
The  scurrility",  he  continues,  "of  the  ancient  orators, 
in  many  instances,  is  quite  shocking,  and  exceeds  all 
belief.  Vanity  too  is  often  not  a  little  offensive  in 
authors  of  that  age,  as  well  as  the  common  licentious- 
ness and  immodesty  of  their  style  ....  I  shall  also 
be  bold  to  affirm,  that  among  the  ancients  there  was 
not  much  delicacy  of  breeding,  or  that  polite  de- 
ference and  respect,  which  civility  obliges  us  either 
to  express  or  counterfeit  towards  persons  with  whom 
we  converse".*     The  modern  idea  then  of  "  a  gentle- 

*  Essays. 


PHILOSOPHY    AND    RELIGION.  321 

man"  which  Lord  Shaftesbury  would  chiim,  was  un- 
known to  Cicero,  and  introduced  by  St.  Paul.  It 
may  be  a  logical  result  of  Philosophy,  but,  in  the 
western  world  at  least,  it  is  an  historical  offspring  of 
Christianity.  Gradually  only,  and  in  the  course  of 
centuries,  did  that  idea  take  possession  of  the  world's 
intellect,  and  imbue  its  moral  sense,  and  become  one 
of  the  recognized  elements  of  its  standard  of  perfec- 
tion; the  more  wonderful  then,  if  Catholicism,  as  is 
often  assumed,  should  at  this  day,  have  abandoned 
that  ethical  delicacy  and  grace,  which  it  was  itself 
the  means  of  introducing  to  the  world. 

But,  in  truth,  the  real  state  of  the  case  is  but  a  fit 
illustration  of  the  relative  positions  of  the  Church 
and  the  world.  The  Church  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  ornamental  and  the 
attractive.  She  is  curing  and  keeping  men  clear  of 
mortal  sin;  she  is  "treating  of  justice  and  chastity, 
and  the  judgment  to  come":  she  is  insisting  on  faith 
and  hope,  and  devotion,  and  honesty,  and  the  ele- 
ments 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  perfec- 
tion.    She  aims  at  what  is  necessary,  rather  than  at 

what  is  desirable.     She  is  for  the  many  as  well  as 

23 


322  DISCOURSE  IX. 

for  the  few.     She  is  putting  souls  in  the  way  of  salva- 
tion, that  they  may  then  be  in  a  condition,  if  they  shall 
be  called  upon,  to  aspire  to  the  heroic,  and  to  attain  the 
substance,  as  well  as  the  semblance,  of  the  beautiful. 
Such  is  the  method,  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  "panic  fear".       Of  the  latter  he  scoffingly  com- 
plains 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  Chris- 
tianity 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  bouquet;  he 
only  aims  at  this  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  pro- 
fession of  an  artist,  not  the  commission  of  an  apostle. 


PHILOSOPHY   AND    RELIGION.  323 

This  embellishment  of  the  exterior  is  the  beginning 
and  the  end  of  philosophical  morality.  It  is  the  reason 
why  it  aims  at  being  modest,  rather  than  humble,  and 
can  be  proud  while  it  is  unassuming.  To  humility  in- 
deed it  does  not  even  aspire;  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  ex- 
ceedingly delicate  and  subtle.  Its  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;  as  to  the  modern  world,  you  may 
gather  its  ignorance  of  it,  by  its  perversion  of  the 
somewhat  parallel  term  "  condescension".  Humility 
or  condescension,  viewed  as  a  virtue  of  conduct, 
may  be  said  to  consist,  as  in  other  things,  so  in  our 
placing^  ourselves  in  our  thoughts  on  a  level  with  our 
inferiors;  it  is  not  only  a  voluntary  relinquishment 
of  the  privileges  of  our  own  station,  but  an  actual 
participation  or  assumption  of  their  condition  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 


324  DISCOURSE  IX. 

greatest  of  sinners.  It  is  an  abdication,  as  far  as 
their  own  thoughts  are  concerned,  of  those  preroga- 
tives or  privileges  to  which  others  deem  them  entitled. 
Now  it  is  not  a  little  instructive  to  contrast  with 
this  idea.  Gentlemen, — with  this  Latin,  this  theological 
meaning  of  the  word  "condescension", — its  proper 
English  sense;  put  them  in  juxta-position,  and  you 
will  at  once  see  the  difference  between  the  world's  hu- 
mility and  the  humility  of  the  Gospel.  As  the  world 
uses  the  word,  "condescension"  is  a  stooping  indeed  of 
the  person,  but  a  bending  forward,  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  no- 
thing else  but  an  act  of  grace  towards  those  on  whose 
level  he  is,  by  his  theory,  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 
a  meanness  or  an  hypocrisy,  and  at  once  excj.tes  his 
suspicion  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 
represented;  but,  an  age  like  this,  not  pagan,  but 
professedly  Christian,  cannot  venture  to  reprobate 
humility  in  set  terms,  or  to  make  a  boast  of  pride. 


PHILOSOPHY   AND   RELIGION.  325 

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,  si- 
mulates 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  w^orld  about  it.  It  goes 
the  round  of  the  senses;  it  mounts  up  into  the  coun- 
tenance; it  protects  the  eye  and  ear;  it  reigns  in  the 
voice  and  gesture.  Its  province  is  the  outward  de- 
portment, 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 
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  created.  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,  is  turned  to  account;  it  gets  a  new  name; 
it  is  called  self-respect;  and  ceases  to  be  the  dis- 
agreeable,   uncompanionable  quality  which  it  is  in 


326  DISCOURSE  IX. 

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  a  restless  agent,  without  definite  aim;  it 
has  a  large  field  of  exertion  assigned  to  it,  and  it  sub- 
serves those  social  interests  which  it  would  naturally 
trouble.  It  is  directed  into  the  channel  of  industry, 
frugality,  honesty,  and  obedience;  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  veracity,  in  high  and  low;  it 
is  the  very  household  god  of  the  Protestant,  inspiring 
neatness  and  decency  in  the  servant  girl,  propriety 
of  carriage  and  refined  manners  in  her  mistress,  up- 
rightness, 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  expendi- 
ture on  the  other;  of  an  honourable  ambition,  and  of 
elegant  enjoyment.  It  breathes  upon  the  face  of 
society,  and  the  hollow  sepulchre  is  forthwith  beauti- 
ful to  look  upon. 

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  sensitive- 


PHILOSOPHY    AND    RELIGION.  327 

ness  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  manner.  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  powerful,  it 
demands  greater  subtlety  and  art  in  the  preparation. 
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  bom- 
bastic, 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. 

Hence  it  is  that  it  is  almost   a  definition    of  a 
gentleman,  to  say  he  is  one  who  never  inflicts  pain. 


328  DISCOURSE  IX. 

This  description  is  both  refined,  and,  as  far  as  it 
goes,  accurate;  for  certainly  he  may  be  represented 
as  one  who,  while  he  abounds  in  services  and  civili- 
ties to  others,  aims  (so  to  say)  at  others  obtaining 
without  his  giving,  at  offering  without  obtruding,  and 
at  being  felt  without  being  seen.  He  is  mainly  oc- 
cupied in  merely  removing  the  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  provides 
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  conferring.    He  never  speaks  of 


PHILOSOPHY   AND   RELIGION.  329 

himself  except  when  compelled,  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  everything  for 
the  best.  He  is  never  mean  or  little  in  his  disputes, 
never  takes  unfair  advantage,  never  mistakes  person- 
alities or  sharp  sayings  for  arguments,  or  insinuates 
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  insult,  he 
is  too  busy  to  remember  injuries,  and  too  in- 
dolent to  bear  malice.  He  is  patient,  forbearing, 
and  resigned,  on  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,  though  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,  misconceive  their  ad- 
versary, 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, 

consideration,  indulgence:  he  throws  himself  into  the 

24 


330  DISCOURSE   IX. 

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  a  unbeliever,  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  venerable,  beautiful,  or  use- 
ful, to  which  he  does  not  assent;  he  honours  the 
ministers  of  religion,  and  he  is  contented  with  de- 
clining its  mysteries  without  assailing  or  denouncing 
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  senti- 
ment; it  is  the  embodiment  of  those  ideas  of  the 
sublime,  majestic,  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  deduction  of  his  reason,  or 
creation  of  his  fancy,  he  makes  the  occasion  of  such 
excellent  thoughts,  and  the  starting  point  of  so 
varied  and  systematic  a  teaching,  that  he  even  seems 
like  a  disciple  of  Christianity  itself.     From  the  very 


PHILOSOPHY   AND   RELIGION.  331 

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  ap- 
pears to  others  to  feel  and  to  hold  a  whole  circle  of 
theological  truths,  which  exist  in  his  mind  no  other- 
wise than   as  a  number  of  deductions. 

Such  are  some  of  the  lineaments  of  the  ethical 
character,  which  the  cultivated  intellect  will  form, 
apart  from  religious  principle.  They  are  seen 
within  the  pale  of  the  Church  and  without  it;  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  virtue  of  a  Shaftesbury  or  a  Gibbon.  Basil  and 
Julian  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. 


DISCOUESE   X. 

DUTIES  OF  THE  CHURCH  TOWARDS  PHILOSOPHY. 

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  Education  has  been  so  often 
and  so  ably  discussed  already;  for  I  have  attempted 
to  follow  out  a  line  of  thought,  more  familiar  to 
Protestants  just  now  than  to  Catholics,  upon  Ca- 
tholic 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  effi^rt  is  more  severe  in  its  way, 

25 


334  DISCOURSE  X. 

than  are  demanded  of  him  who  would  investigate 
without  error  and  instruct  without  obscurity;  and,  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  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 
travellers,  and  can  never  step  wrong;  but  for  myself, 
Gentlemen,  I  have  been  not  unlike  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  con- 
tinuous outline  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  irra- 


THE  church's  duties  TOWARDS  PHILOSOPHY.         335 

tional.  Such  in  a  measure  has  been  my  feeling  in 
the  foregoing  inquiry;  in  which  indeed  I  have  been  in 
want  neither  of  authoritative  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. 

I  have  spoken  of  the  arduousness  of  my  "  imme- 
diate^^  undertaking,  both  because  the  questions  I 
have  hitherto  treated  are  but  a  portion  of  those 
which  enter  into  the  general  subject  of  University 
Education,  and  also  because  those  which  are  to  come 
are,  as  I  think,  more  frequently  discussed  and  in 
themselves  more  easily  settled.  My  inquiry  has 
borne  a  preliminary  character,  not  as  to  the  duties 
of  the  Church  towards  a  University,  nor  the  charac- 
teristics of  a  University  which  is  Catholic,  but  as  to 
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 
implicitly,  its  subject  matter;  that  these  branches 
are  not  isolated  and  independent  one  of  another,  but 
form  together  a  whole  or  system;  that  they  run  into 
each  other  and  complete  each  other,  and  that,  in 
proportion  to  our  knowledge  of  them  as  a  whole,  is 
the  exactness  and  trustworthiness  of  our  knowledge 
of  them  separately;   that  the  process  of  imparting 


336  DISCOURSE  X. 

knowledge  to  the  intellect  in  this  philosophical  way, 
is  its  true  culture;  that  this  culture  is  a  good  in 
itself;  that  that  knowledge  which  is  both  its  instru- 
ment and  result,  is  called  Liberal  Knowledge;  that 
such  culture  and  such  knowledge  may  fitly  be  sought 
for  their  own  sake;  that  they  are,  however,  in 
addition,  of  great  secular  utility,  as  constituting  the 
best  and  highest  formation  of  the  intellect  for  social 
and  political  life;  and  lastly,  that,  considered  in  a 
religious  aspect,  they  concur  with  Christianity  a 
certain  way,  and  then  diverge  from  it;  and  conse- 
quently prove  in  the  event,  sometimes  its  service- 
able ally,  sometimes  from  their  very  resemblance 
to  it,  an  insidious  and  dangerous  foe. 

Though,  however,  these  Discourses  have  only  pro- 
fessed to  be  preliminary,  being  directed  to  the  inves- 
tigation of  the  object  and  subject-matter  of  the 
Education  which  a  University  professes  to  impart; 
at  the  same  time  I  conceive  they  have  laid  the 
ground  for  deciding  much  more  than  what  they  have 
professed,  even  if  they  have  not  already  advanced 
some  way  in  the  proof  I  observed  in  my  Introduc- 
tory Discourse,  that  "  the  main  principle  on  which  I 
should  have  to  proceed  in  the  controversy  to  which  I 
was  addressing  myself,  was  this,  that  Education 
must  not  be  disjoined  from  Religion,  or  that  Mixed 
Schools  are  constructed  on  a  false  idea".  Here,  of 
course,  the  first  step  to  determine  was,  "what  is 
meant  by  University  Education";  and  to  that  inquiry 


THE  CllURCU'8  DUTIES  TOWARDS  1411L0S0PI1Y.  337 

I  have  confined  myself;  but  its  very  process  and 
result  have  recommended  generally,  and  opened  views 
for  proving  in  detail,  the  fundamental  principle  of 
which  I  have  undertaken  the  custody.  Those  further 
proofs  in  detail  will  form  the  subject  of  future 
discussions,  should  I  ever  have  the  opportunity  of 
entering  upon  them;  meanwhile,  even  as  far  as  I 
have  already  gone,  I  consider  I  have  said  what  may 
convince  any  one  who  is  earnestly  and  seriously  a 
Catholic  (for  I  am  here  concerned  with  Catholics 
alone), — any  one  who  thinks  that  the  doctrines  of 
Revelation  are  true  in  the  same  sense  that  scientific 
principles  and  historical  facts  are  true, — that  the 
idea  of  a  University  in  fact  external  to  the  Catholic 
Church  is  both  unphilosophical  and  impracticable, 
supposing,  that  is,  by  University  is  meant  a  place 
of  education  in  general  knowledge. 

A  reason  for  calling  such  an  idea  unphilosophical 
was  drawn  out  in  the  former  half  of  these  Discourses; 
and  a  reason  for  calling  it  impracticable  has  been 
suggested  in  the  latter.  In  the  former,  this  broad 
and  obvious  consideration  was  established,  that,  all 
knowledge  being  connected  together,  to  omit  in 
education  any  important  department  of  it  was  more 
or  less  to  invalidate  the  rest;  on  the  other  hand,  that 
whereas  the  separate  provinces  of  Knowledge  have  a 
tendency  to  encroach  upon  each  other  to  the  detri- 
ment of  all,  and  severally  require  protectors  and 
representatives   of  their   respective  interests,  while 


338  DISCOURSE  X. 

political  expedience,  social  utility,  the  tastes  and 
dispositions  which  nature  furnishes,  constitute  a 
sufficient  guarantee  that  the  claims  of  secular  know- 
ledge will  be  satisfied;  theological  knowledge  requires 
on  its  part,  and  cannot  safely  dispense  with,  the 
vigilant  presence  of  its  own  proper  defender;  and 
that  that  defender  is  the  Church. 

Such  was  the  course  of  thought  pursued  in  my  first 
five  Discourses;  the  view  of  the  subject  suggested 
in  those  which  have  followed  has  been  less  obvious 
indeed,  but  deeper  and  more  serious  than  the  former. 
I  have  been  showing  in  them  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  a  University  a  Catholic  Institution,  nor  be 
sufficient  to  secure  the  due  weight  of  theological 
truth  in  its  philosophical  studies.  For  it  may  easily 
happen,  that  a  particular  bias  or  drift  may  charac- 
terize an  Institution,  which  no  rules  can  reach,  nor 
officers  remedy,  nor  professions  or  promises  coun- 
teract. 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 


THE  church's  duties  TOWARDS  PHILOSOPHY.        339 

expression  of  that  very  Church  -  and  -  King  spirit, 
which  has  prevailed  in  these  islands,  nay,  it  was  an 
instrument  of  the  state,  according  to  the  confession 
of  the  acutest  Protestant  historians,  in  its  warfare 
against  the  Holy  See.  Considered  "  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  had  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 
professed  in  it,  unless  the  Church  breathes  her  own 
pure  and  unearthly  spirit  into  it,  and  fashions  and 
moulds  its  organization,  and  watches  over  its  teach- 
ing, and  knits  together  its  pupils,  and  superintends 
its  action.  The  Spanish  Inquisition  came  into  colli- 
sion with  the  supreme  Catholic  authority,  from  the 
circumstance  that  its  immediate  end  was  of  a  secular 
character;  and  for  the  same  reason,  whereas  Acade- 
mical 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  ne- 
cessity 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 


340  DISCOURSE  X. 

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  be  perverted 
into  hostility  to  Revealed  Truth,  in  consequence  of 
the  character  of  their  teaching  as  well  as  of  their  end. 
They  are  employed  in  the  pursuit  of  Liberal  Know- 
ledge, and  Liberal  Knowledge  has  a  special  tendency, 
not  necessary  or  rightful,  but  a  tendency  in  fact,  when 
cultivated  by  beings  such  as  we  are,  to  impress  us 
with  a  mere  philosophical  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  Know- 
ledge 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  intelli- 
gibly excellent,  as  you  are  likely  to  do,  and  you  will 
make  present  utility  and  natural  beauty  the  prac- 
tical 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  back- 
ground, you  will  deny  its  principles,  explain  away 


THECH  URCH'S  DUTIES  TOWARDS  PHILOSOPHY.  341 

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  Religion  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  circum- 
scribe it  by  a  circle  which  unwarrantably  amputates 
here,  and  unduly  developes  there;  and  all  under  the 
notion,  conscious  or  unconscious,*  that  the  human 
intellect,  self-educated  and  self-supported,  is  more 
true  and  perfect  in  its  ideas  and  judgments,  than 
that  of  Prophets  and  Apostles,  to  whom  the  sights 
and  sounds  of  Heaven  were  immediately  conveyed. 
A  sense  of  propriety,  order,  consistency,  and  complete- 
ness gives  birth  to  a  rebellious  stirring  against  miracle 
and  mystery,  against  the  severe  and  the  terrible. 
First  and  chiefly,  this  Intellectualism  comes  into 
collision  with  precept,  then  with  doctrine,  then  with 
the  very  principle  of  dogmatism.  A  perception  of  the 
Beautiful  becomes  the  substitute  for  faith.  External 
to  the  Church,  it  at  once  runs  into  scepticism  or 
infidelity;  but  even  within  it,  and  with  the  most 
unqualified  profession  of  her  Creed,  it  acts,  if  left  to 
itself,  as  an  element  of  corruption  and  debility. 
Catholicism,  as  it  has  come  down  to  us  from  the  first. 


342  DISCOURSE  X. 

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  protege  of 
science;  it  must  play  the  literary  academician,  or  the 
empirical  philanthropist,  or  the  political  partizan;  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  doctrine,  for  instance,  of 
grace,  its  mystery  of  the  Godhead,  its  preaching  of 
the  Cross,  its  devotion  to  Mary,  or  its  loyalty  to 
Peter.  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  indifference,  then  laxity  of 
belief,  then  heresy,  then  an  explicit  suppression  of 
Catholic  theology,  will  be  the  successive  results. 
But  this  is  only  the  beginning  of  evils:  there  is  no 
medium  between  truth  and  error,  and  the  ultimate 
event  of  the  struggle  will  show  it.  The  University 
which  does  not  profess  the  Faith,  must  in  consistency 
denounce  it.  It  becomes  the  prey  and  the  organ  of 
avowed  infidelity,  as  bitter  a  foe  to  the  interests  of 
Kevealed  Truth,  as  it  might  have  been  a  defence. 
Here  then  are  two  injuries,  which  Revelation  is 


THE  church's  duties  towards  philosophy.      343 

likely  to  sustain  at  the  hands  of  the  Masters  of 
human  reason,  unless  the  Church,  as  in  duty  bound, 
protects  the  sacred  treasure  which  is  in  jeopardy. 
The  first  is  a  simple  ignoring  of  Theological  Truth 
altogether,  under  the  pretence  of  not  recognizing 
differences  of  religious  opinion ; — which  can  only  take 
place  in  countries  or  under  governments  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.  These  two  have  successively 
constituted  the  subject  of  these  Discourses;  and  now, 
at  the  risk  of  anticipating  what  may  come  before  us 
in  future  discussions,  I  will  proceed  to  show  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 
Keason  employs  itself: — God,  Nature,  and  Man:  and 
the  province  of  theology  being,  as  the  present  argu- 
ment supposes,  for  the  time  withdrawn,  the  physical 
and  social  worlds  remain.  These,  when  respectively 
subjected  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 
Education;  and,  while  Science  is  made  to  subserve 
the  former  of  the  two  injuries,  which  Revealed  Truth 
sustains, — its   exclusion.    Literature  subserves  the 


344  DISCOURSE  X. 

latter,— its  corruption.    Let  us  consider  the  influence 
of  each  upon  Religion  separately. 

1.  As  to  Physical  Science,  of  course  there  can  be 
no  real  collision  between  it  and  Catholicism.  Nature 
and  Grace,  Eeason  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  content  with  investigating  and  rea- 
soning in  his  own  province,  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,  insulted  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  experi- 
mentalists, external  to  the  Catholic  Church,  have 
more  or  less  inherited  the  positive  or  negative  unbe- 
lief of  Laplace,  Bufibn,  Franklin,  Priestley,  Cuvier, 
and  Humboldt.  I  do  not  of  course  mean  to  say  that 
there  nged  be  in  every  case  a  resentful  and  virulent 


THE  church's  duties  TOWARDS  PHILOSOPHY.         345 

opposition  made  to  Keligion  on  the  part  of  scientific 
men;  but  their  emphatic  silence  or  phlegmatic  inad- 
vertence as  to  its  claims,  have  implied  more  eloquently 
than  any  words,  that  in  their  opinion  it  had  no  voice 
at  all  in  the  subject-matter  which  they  had  appro- 
priated 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  geogra- 
phical ideas  of  St.  Yirgil,  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  expe- 
rimental science  and  theology  is  far  older  than 
Christianity.  Lord  Bacon  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  hesitate  to 
imply  that  the  rise  of  the  religious  schools  was  the 
ruin  of  science.* 

Now,  if  we  would  investigate  the  reason  of  this 
opposition  between  Theology  and  Physics,  I  suppose 
we  must  first  take  into  account  Lord  Bacon's  own 
explanation  of  it.     It  is  common  in  judicial  inqui- 

*  Vid.  Hallam's  Literature  of  Europe,  Macaulay's  Essay,  and  the 
Author's  Oxford  University  Sermons,  IX. 


346  DISCOURSE    X. 

ries,  to  caution  the  parties  on  whom  the  verdict  de- 
pends, to  put  out  of  their  minds  whatever  they  have 
heard  out  of  court  on  the  subject  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  adven- 
titious nature  ought  to  be  introduced  into  the  process. 
Take  the  well-known  instance  of  the  Homilies  of  the 
Established  Church:  when,  in  enjoining  the  ordinance 
of  fasting,  after  appealing  to  Leviticus,  the  prophet 
Zachary,  St.  Luke,  and  the  Council  of  Chalcedon,  they 
go  on  to  speak  of  abstinences  "upon  policy",  "in  con- 
sideration of  maintaining  fisher  towns  bordering 
upon  the  sea,  and  for  the  increase  of  fishermen,  of 
whom  do  spring  mariners  to  go  upon  the  sea,  to  the 
furnishing  of  the  navy  of  the  same",  we  feel  at  once 
the  incongruity  of  mixing  religion  and  statute  law. 
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  restraints  upon  it;  and  the  physical  philo- 
sopher, on  the  other  hand,  in  his  experiments  upon 
natural  phenomena,  is  simply  ascertaining  those 
laws,  prescinding  (to  use  the  technical  word)  that 
Omnipotence.  If  the  theologian,  in  tracing  the  ways 
of  Providence,  were  stopped  with  objections  grounded 
on  the  impossibility  of  physical  miracles,  he  would 


THE  church's  duties  TOWARDS  PHILOSOPHY.        347 

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 
interruption.  The  latter  asks  the  cause  of  volcanoes, 
and  is  impatient  at  being  told  it  is  "the  will  of  God"; 
the  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  existence  of  nature;  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  physi- 
cal science.  "Aristotle",  he  says,  "Galen,  and  others 
frequently  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  meta- 
physics; but,  in  physics,  are  impertinent,  and  as 
remoras  to  the  ship,  that  hinder  the  sciences  from 
holding  on  their  course  of  improvement,  and  intro- 
ducing a  neglect  of  searching  after  physical  causes".* 

*  In  Augment.,  5. 


348  DISCOURSE  X. 

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  indis- 
poses them  towards  the  thought  of  a  Moral  Governor, 
and  makes  them  sceptical  of  His  interposition;  on 
the  other  hand,  the  occasional  interference  of  reli- 
gious writers  in  a  province  not  religious,  has  made 
them  sore,  suspicious,  and  resentful. 

Another  reason  of  a  kindred  nature  is  to  be  found 
in  the  difference  of  method,  by  which  truths  are 
gained  in  theology  and  in  physical  science.  Indue- 
tion  is  the  instrument  of  Physics,  and  deduction  only 
is  the  instrument  of  Theology.  There  the  simple 
question  is,  What  is  revealed?  all  doctrinal  know- 
ledge 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 
existing  truths;  if  we  w(»uld  solve  new  questions,  it 
must  be  by  consulting  old  answers.  The  notion  of 
doctrinal  knowledge  absolutely  novel,  and  of  simple 
addition  from  without,  is  intolerable  to  Catholic  ears, 
and  never  was  entertained  by  any  one  who  was  even 
approaching  to  an  understanding  of  our  creed. 
Revelation  is  all  in  all  in  doctrine;  the  Apostles  its 
sole  depositary,  the  inferential  method  its  sole  instru- 
ment, and  ecclesiastical  authority  its  sole  sanction. 
The  Divine  Voice  has  spoken  once  for  all,  and  the 
only  question  is  about  its  meaning.  Now  this  pro- 
cess, as  far  as  it  was  reasoning,  was  the  very  mode  of 


THE  church's  duties  towards  philosophy.      349 

reasoning,  which,  as  regards  physical  knowledge,  the 
school  of  Bacon  has  superseded  by  the  inductive 
method: — no  wonder,  then,  that  that  school  should 
be  irritated  and  indignant  to  find  that  a  subject- 
matter  remains  still,  in  which  their  favourite  instru- 
ment has  no  ofiice;  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  department  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;  Catholics  assent,  but  add  that, 
as  regards  religious  truth,  they  have  not  to  seek  at  all, 
for  they  have  it  already.  Christian  Truth  is  purely 
of  revelation,  that  revelation  we  can  but  explain,  w^e 
cannot  increase,  except  relatively  to  our  own  appre- 
hensions; 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  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  tlie  subject  of  theology.  When 
Truth  can  change,  its  Revelation  can  change;  when 
human  reason  can  out-reason  the  Omniscient,  then 
may  it  supersede  His  work. 

Avowals  such  as  these  fall  strange  upon  the  ear  of 

men,  whose  first  principle  is  the  search  after  truth, 

26 


350  DISCOURSE   X. 

and  whose  starting  points  of  search  are  things  mate- 
rial 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 
bye-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.  Catho- 
licism, forsooth,  "^  confines  the  intellect",  because  it 
holds  that  God's  intellect  is  greater  than  theirs,  and 
what  He  has  done,  man  cannot  improve.  And  what 
in  some  sort  justifies  them  to  themselves  in  this  extra- 
vagance, 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  induc- 
tive process,  each  individual  Christian  may  arrive  at 
just  those  religious  conclusions  which  approve  them- 
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  experi- 
mental philosophers  into  alliance  with  the  enemies  of 
Catholicism. 


THE  church's  duties  TOWARDS  PHILOSOPHY.         351 

I   have   another   consideration    to   add,   not  less 
important  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  dispensation  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  fol- 
lowers.   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, 
longsuffering,  and  the  economy  of  human  redemj)- 
tion,  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  nowhere   find   it,  that   the 
Heavens   declare   the   will   of  God;  which   is   pro- 
nounced a  law  and  a  testimony,  that  men  should  do 
according  to  it.     Nor  does  this  hold  only  in  the 


352  DISCOURSE  X. 

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 
Protestant  Bishop  Butler;  but  they  cannot  in  any 
sense  be  gathered  from  nature,  and  the  silence  of  na- 
ture concerning  them  may  easily  seduce  the  imagina- 
tion, though  it  has  no  force  to  persuade  the  reason,  to 
revolt  from  doctrines  which  have  not  been  authenti- 
cated 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  opportu- 
nity 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  war- 
fare against  Catholicism. 

It  being  considered,  then,  that  Catholicism  differs 
from  physical  science,  in  drift,  in  method  of  proof, 
*  De  Augra.,  §  28. 


TUE  CIILRCH'S  duties  TOWARDS  PHILOSOPHY.         353 

and  in  subject-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  Theology,  I  have 
insisted  on  at  great  length  in  the  first  part  of  these 
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  com. 
mitted  to  her  keeping.  Where  Theology  is,  there  she 
must  be;  and  if  a  University  cannot  fulfil  its  name 
and  ofiice  without  the  recognition  of  Revealed  Truth, 
she  must  be  there  to  see  that  it  is  a  bond  fide  recog- 
nition, sincerely  made  and  consistently  acted  on. 

2.  And  if  the  interposition  of  the  Church  is 
necessary  in  the  Schools  of  Science,  still  more  impe- 
ratively 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   combinations 


354  DISCOURSE  X. 

his  personal  characteristics,  moral  and  intellec- 
tual. All  this  constitutes  his  life;  of  all  this  Litera- 
ture is  the  expression;  so  that  Literature  is  in  some 
sort  to  him  what  autobiography  is  to  the  individual;  it 
is  his  Life  and  Kemains.  Moreover,  he  is  this 
sentient,  intelligent,  creative,  and  operative  being, 
quite  independent  of  any  extraordinary  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  Kemains  of  the  natural  man, 
or  man  in  purd  naturd.  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  theological,  and  has  a  character 
imprinted  on  it  which  is  above  nature;  but  I  am 
speaking  of  what  is  to  be  expected  without  any  extra- 
ordinary dispensation;  and  I  say  that,  in  matter  of 
fact,  as  Science  is  the  reflection  of  Nature,  so  is  Litera- 
ture 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  difierence  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 
disadvantage  of  Literature;  but  while  Nature  phy- 
sical remains  fixed  in  its  own  laws.  Nature  moral 
and  social,  has  a  will  of  its  own,  is  self-governed, 


THE  CHURUH'S  duties  TOWARDS  PHILOSOPHY.         355 

and  never  remains  any  long  while  in  that  state  from 
which  it  started  into  action.  Man  will  never  conti- 
nue 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  his  history ;  his 
literature  is  either  what  it  was,  or  worse  than  what 
it  was,  in  proportion  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  fallen. 
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,  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  understand, 
ing  it  too  well.  Some  one  will  say  to  me  perhaps: 
"  Our  youth  shall  not  be  corrupted.  We  will  dis- 
pense with  all  general  or  national  Literature  what- 
ever, if  it  be  so  exceptionable;  we  will  have  a  Chris- 
tian 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,  or  for 


3o6  DISCOURSE    X. 

the  middle  or  lower  classes;  this  is  another  matter 
altogether:  I  am  speaking  of  University  Education, 
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  Literature  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  deli- 
neation 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  ad- 
vantages. 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  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  sub- 
dues the  elements,  he  rules  his  kind.  He  creates 
great  ideas,  and  influences  many  generations.  He 
takes  a  thousand  shapes,  and  undergoes  a  thousand 
fortunes.     Literature  records  them  all  to  the  life, 


THE  church's  duties  TOWARDS  PHILOSOPHY.         357 

Quicquid  agunt  homines,  votum,  tiraor,  Ira,  voluptas, 
Gandia,  discursus. 

He  pours  out  his  fervid  soul  in  poetry;  he  sways  to 
and  fro,  he  soars,  he  dives,  in  his  restless  specula- 
tions; his  lips  drop  eloquence;  he  touches  the  can- 
vass, 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  the  elements  and  princi- 
ples, 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,  man 
regenerate.  Nay,  beware  of  showing  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  not.  The  elect  are  few  to  choose  out  of,  and  the 
world  is  inexhaustible.  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  Beseleel,  but  the  habitat 
of  natural  gifts  is  the  natural  man.  The  Church 
may  use  them,  she  cannot  at  her  will  originate  them. 
Not  till  the  whole  human  race  is  regenerate,  will  its 
literature  be  pure  and  true.  Possible  of  course  it  is 
in  idea,  for  nature,  inspired  by  grace,  to  exhibit 


358  DISCOURSE  X. 

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  undeniably  not  the  reflection  or  picture  of  the 
many,  but  of  the  few;  it  is  no  picture  of  life,  but  an 
anticipation  of  death  and  judgment.  Human  Litera- 
ture 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  exact- 
ness 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  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  sun- 
shine day  and  the  serene  night,  from  the  succession 
of  seasons,  and  the  produce  of  the  Earth.  Little 
about  our  recreations  and  our  daily  domestic  com- 
forts; little  about  the  ordinary  occasions  of  festivity 
*  Vid.  the  Author's  Oxford  Sermons,  vol.  I. 


THE  church's  duties  TOWARDS  PHILOSOPHY.         359 

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  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  manifes- 
tation of  human  nature  in  language,  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. 

Nay,  I  am  obliged  to  go  further  still;  even  if  we 
could,  still  we  should  be  shrinking  from  our  plain 
duty.  Gentlemen,  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  prepa- 
ration 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 


360  DISCOURSE  X. 

inevitable;  and  it  is  not  the  way  to  learn  to  swim  in 
troubled  waters,  never  to  have  gone  into  them.  Pro- 
scribe (I  do  not  merely  say  particular  authors,  par- 
ticular 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 
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  member  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  ever  opened  to 
him,  without  any  fastidiousness  of  taste  wrought  into 
him,  without  any  rule  given  him  for  discriminat- 
ing ^'  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  inci- 
dental corruption:  you  have  shut  up  from  him  those, 
whose  thoughts  strike  home  to  us,  whose  words  are 
proverbs,  whose  names  are  indigenous  to  all  the  world, 
the  standard  of  their  own  mother  tongue,  and  the 
pride  and  boast  of  their  countrymen.  Homer,  Ariosto, 
Cervantes,  Shakespeare,  because  the  old  Adam  smelt 
rank  in  them;  and  for  what  have  you  reserved  him? 


THE  church's  duties  TOWARDS  PHILOSOPHY.         361 

You  have  given  him  "  a  liberty  unto"  the  multitu- 
dinous blasphemy  of  his  day;  you  have  made  him 
free  of  its  newspapers,  its  reviews,  its  magazines,  its 
novels,  its  controversial  pamphlets,  of  its  Parliamen- 
tary debates,  its  law  proceedings,  its  platform  speeches, 
its  songs,  its  drama,  its  theatre,  of  its  enveloping 
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  contemplate  the  exclusion  of 
Literature  from  Secular  Schools,  but  her  own  admis- 
sion into  them.  Let  her  do  for  Literature  in  one  way, 
what  she  does  for  Science  in  another;  each  has  its  im- 
perfection, and  she  supplies  it  for  each.  She  fears  no 
knowledge,  but  she  purifies  all;  she  represses  no  ele- 
ment of  our  nature,  but  cultivates  the  whole. 
Science  is  grave,  methodical,  logical;  with  science 
then  she  argues,  and  offers  reason  to  reason.  Litera- 
ture 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  stimulus  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 


362  DISCOURSE  X. 

corresponding  to  its  restlessness,  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 
doctrines  pass  under  the  name  of  Truth  but  those 
which  claim  it  rightfully. 

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  personal  responsibility 
and  peril:  when  medieval  winter  was  receding,  and  the 
summer  sun  of  civilization  was  bringing  into  leaf  and 
flower   a   thousand   forms  of  luxurious  enjoyment; 
when  a  new  world  of  thought  and  beauty  had  opened 
upon  the  human  mind,  by  the  discovery  of  the  trea- 
sures 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. 


THE  church's  duties  TOWARDS  PHILOSOPHY.         363 

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  peculiar  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. 
Carlo,  though  in  his  beaming  countenance  Philip  had 
recognized  the  aureol  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,  tran- 
quilly 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 
doctrine,  nor  the  catechetical  schools;  whatever  was 
exact  and  systematic  pleased  him  not;  he  put  from 
him  monastic  rule  and  authoritative  speech,  as  David 


364  DISCOURSE  X. 

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.  All  he  did  was  to  be  done  by  the  light,  and 
fervour,  and  convincing  eloquence,  of  his  personal 
character  and  his  easy  conversation.  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  Saint  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  worship- 
ping 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,  and 
to  carry  off  his  light  yoke  upon  their  shoulders. 

In  the  words  of  his  biographer,  "  he  was  all  things 
to  all  men.     He  suited  himself  to  noble  and  ignoble, 


THE  church's  duties  TOWARDS  PHILOSOPHY.         365 

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  love  and  charity,  as  if  he  had  been  a 
long  while  expecting  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  con- 
tinued 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  com- 
munication with  him,  revered  him  as  a  holy  man."* 
The  first  nobles  of  Rome,  the  Massimi,  the  Aldo- 
brandini,  the  Colonna,  the  Altieri,  the  Yitelleschi, 
were  his  friends  and  his  penitents.  Nobles  of 
Poland,  Grandees  of  Spain,  Knights  of  Malta,  could 
not  leave  Rome  without  coming  to  him.  Cardinals, 
Archbishops,  and  Bishops  were  his  intimates;  Federigo 
Boromeo  haunted  his  room  and  got  the  name  of 
"  Father  Philip's  soul".  The  Cardinal-Archbishops 
*  Bacci,  vol.  I.,  p.  192,  II.,  p.  98. 

27 


366  DISCOURSE   X. 

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  bidding,  and  joined  his  congregation,  to  do  its 
work,  to  write  the  annals  of  the  Church,  and  to  die  in 
the  odour  of  sanctity.  Palestrina  had  Father  Philip's 
ministrations  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,  I  say,  all  the  while, 
but  an  humble  priest,  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. 

Well  were  it  for  his  clients  and  children,  Gentle- 
men, if  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 


THE  church's  duties  TOWARDS  PHILOSOPHY.         367 

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  rule,  or  initiation.  I  do  but  aspire,  if  strength 
is  given  me,  to  be  your  minister  in  a  work  which 
must  employ  younger  minds  and  stronger  lives  than 
mine.  I  am  but  fit  to  bear  my  witness,  to  profier  my 
suggestions,  to  express  my  sentiments,  as  has  in  fact 
been  my  occupation  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  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. 


APPENDIX 


I  AM  very  sensible  of  the  meagreness  of  the  following  illustrations 
of  the  main  principles  laid  down  in  the  foregoing  Discourses ;  but, 
as  I  am  so  situated  that  I  cannot  give  the  time  or  labour  necessary 
for  satisfying  my  own  sense  of  what  they  ought  to  be,  I  avail 
myself  of  such  as  happen  to  be  at  hand  or  on  my  memory. 

§  1.     Knowledge  is  the  direct  end  of  University  Education. 

I  HARDLY  know  what  steps  to  take  in  order  to  establish  this 
position,  which  has  been  startling  to  some  persons,  viz.,  that  the 
education  of  the  intellect,  or  the  diffusion  of  knowledge,  is  the 
direct  scope  of  a  University.  It  seems  a  truth,  or  rather  an 
historical  fact,  which  it  is  impossible  to  dispute,  and  therefore  hardly 
possible  to  prove.  What  would  be  the  popular  description  of  a 
University  ?  A  place  for  learned  and  scientific  men,  a  learned  body, 
a  large  corporation,  with  professors  of  art  and  science^  with  facul- 
ties in  theology^  law,  and  medicine,  with  logical  disputations,  with 
examinations  in  intellectual  proficiency,  with  degrees  in  token  of 
that  proficiency  attained.  I  do  not  say  that,  over  and  above  this 
account  of  it,  the  notions  will  never  suggest  themselves  of  Religious 
Festivals,  Solemnities,  and  Sermons,  of  discipline,  of  Proctors,  of 

28 


372  APPENDIX. 

ecclesiastical  jurisdiction,  delegates  to  Councils,  etc. ;  but  the  ques- 
tion before  us  is  as  to  the  idea  on  the  whole,  or  the  formal  concep- 
tion, of  a  University  in  the  minds  of  the  generality  of  men ;  and  I 
cannot  doubt  it  would  be  pronounced  at  once  to  be  a  seat  of  science 
and  letters,  or  that  its  end  is  knowledge. 

Its  recognized  titles  correspond:  it  is  a  "  Studium  Generale";  a 
" Universitas  Litteraria";  a  "Schola";  and  an  "Academy"; 
while,  if  we  would  know  what  an  Academy  is,  we  learn  from 
Horace,  that  youths  were  sent  to  Athens, 

Inter  sylvas  Academi  quaerere  verum. 

And  the  whole  tenor  of  any  work  upon  Universities  implies  this. 
Huber's  learned  Treatise  implies  it  from  beginning  to  end,  and  for 
that  very  reason  scarcely  ever  says  it  categorically. 

He  observes,  for  instance,  "Before  the  time  of  Charlemagne, 
monastic  and  cathedral  schools  existed  in  Italy  and  in  England ; 
after  his  time,  they  were  established  on  the  Continent,  north  of  the 
Alps.  These  schools  were  intended  for  the  cultivation  of  the  higher 
learning.  .  .  Indeed,  under  Charlemagne  and  Alfred,  and  even  in 
Germany  under  the  Othos,  the  Church  manifested  an  intellectual 
spirit  much  more  similar  than  is  generally  admitted,  to  the  spirit  of 
the  Reformation  and  of  the  period  of  revived  classical  learning.  .  . 
In  the  eleventh  and  twelfth  centuries,  however,  the  Schools  conti- 
nued to  rise  and  to  extend  their  organization,  parallel  to  the  general 
progress  of  intelligence.  Speculation,  Theology,  and  Philosophy 
were  growing  out  of  the  narrow  Logic  and  Rhetoric  of  the  ancient 
Trivium  and  Quadrivium,  and  two  new  sources  of  knowledge — 
•^  Roman  Law  and  Grajco-Arabian  Natural  History — were  opened".* 
Again,  he  says  of  Oxford  :  "As  early  as  the  end  of  the  ninth 
century,  Oxford  was  the  seat  of  a  school  of  the  highest  intellectual 
cultivation  then  existing.  By  the  end  of  the  eleventh,  it  had  as 
good  a  title  to  be  called  a  University,  as  had  that  of  Paris :  whether 

*  Iluber's  English  Universities :  F.  Newman's  Ed. :  vol.  i.,  pp.  3-4. 


APPENDIX.  373 

as  regards  the  quality  of  its  studies,  or  its  inward  organization.  .  . 
It  is  well  known  how  England  was  desolated  by  the  struggles  of 
Saxon  chiefs,  and  by  inroads  of  the  Sea  Kings  of  the  North. 
Meanwhile  learning  was  so  trampled  under  foot,  that  no  traces  of  it 
were  to  be  found,  except  in  Ireland,  and  in  the  North  and  West  of 
England,  where  Alfred  appeared  for  his  people's  rescue.  From  the 
less  distracted  parts  of  his  own  kingdom  he  collected  pious  and 
learned  men,  and  brought  over  others  from  the  Continent.  .  .  The 
will  and  example  of  the  king  gave  a  vast  impulse  to  learning,  and 
his  youth  flocked  to  the  newly  opened  schools".*  It  is  true  that 
learning  includes  theology  and  protects  religion;  but  the  simple 
question  is,  not  what  learning  does  or  is,  but  whether  the  object 
contemplated  by  a  University  is  or  is  not  learning. 

Polydorc  Virgil,  centuries  ago,  had  said  the  same  thing :  "  Neo- 
tum  imprimis,  monasticae  professionis  virum  sanctissimum,  ob  exi- 
miam  eruditionem  miro  amore  complexus  est  (Alfredus);  quo  hor- 
tante  Oxonii  gymnasium  instituit,  proposita  mercede  omnibus,  qui 
publice  honas  artes  profiterentur.  Quo  multi  doctrind  clari  conflux- 
erunt  docendi  gratia".     Polyd.  Virg.,  Hist,  v.,  fin. 

And  an  Oxford  writer  of  the  generation  now  passing  away, 
even  while  resisting  the  modem  schemes  of  education,  has  borne  a 
similar  testimony :  speaking  of  Universities,  he  says — 

"  The  composition  and  the  early  state  of  these  bodies  appears  to 
have  been  nearly  the  same  all  over  Europe,  and,  except  in  the 
instance  of  the  two  English  Universities,  has  not  undergone  any 
material  change  ....  The  object  was  in  the  main  the  same  then 
as  it  is  now  ;  to  provide  for  the  three  great  professions  of  theology, 
law,  and  physic,  not  only  the  best  instruction  in  those  departments, 
but  that  common  basis  of  liberal  information,  which  might  exercise 
and  enlarge  the  mind,  before  its  attention  was  confined  to  the  parti- 
cular business  of  those  several  callings :  and  at  the  same  time  to 
afford  ingenious  men  an  opportunity  of  displaying  their  talents  in 

♦  Ibid.,  p.  45. 


374  APPENDIX. 

teaching  or  improving  the  several  arts  and  sciences  which  compre- 
hended all  that  was  thought  most  important  in  human  knowledge. 
In  this  Encyclopedia  were  usually  included  ethics,  physics,  and 
metaphysics  (to  which  three  heads  the  title  of  philosophy  was 
especially  given),  and  as  a  preparatory  discipline,  gi-ammar,  logic, 
rhetoric,  geometry,  astronomy,  and  history,  to  which  the  study  of 
the  Greek  language  was,  as  early  as  the  latter  part  of  the  fifteenth 
centuiy,  commonly  added".  Copleston  in  Quarterly  Review^  Dec. 
1825. 

Charlemagne's  design  was  the  same  as  Alfred's ;  viz.,  by  means  of 
the  intellectual  culture,  which  Universities  or  Academies  contemplate 
and  impart,  to  promote  the  glory  of  God  and  the  wellbeing  of  the 
Church.  "  Domnus  Rex  Carolus",  says  a  writer  of  his  life,  "  a 
Roma  artis  grammaticaa  et  computatoriae  niagistros  secum  adduxit 
Franciam,  et  ubique  studium  litterarum  expandere  jussit.  Ante 
ipsum  enim  domnum  Carolum  Regem  in  GalliA,  nullum  fuerat  studium 
Liberalium  Artium.* 

In  like  manner,  but  more  fully  in  his  own  Epistle  to  the  Abbot 
of  Fulda.  "  Notum  sit  Deo  placitae  devotioni  vestrge,  quia  nos  una 
cum  fidelibus  nostris  consideravimus  utile  esse,  ut  Episcopia  et 
monasteria,  nobis,  Christo  propitio,  ad  gubernandura  commissa, 
proeter  regularis  vitae  ordinem  atque  sanctae  religionis  conversationem, 
etiam  in  literarum  meditationihus,  eis,  qui  donante  Domino  discere 
possunt,  secundum  uniuscuj usque  capacitatem,  docendi  studium 
debeant  impendere ;  qualiter  sicut  regularis  norma  honestatem  morum^ 
ita  quoque  docendi  et  discendi  instantia  ordinet  et  ornet  seriem  ver- 
borum,  et  qui  Deo  placere  appetunt  recte  vivendi,  ei  placere  non 
negligant  recte  loquendo'.f 

Here  two  points  are  clear ;  first,  that  Religion  is  not  the  imme- 
ditae  end  of  Charlemagne's  schools,  but  of  the  existing  monasteries ; 
and  on  the  other  hand,  that  science  or  literature  as  such,  was  not 
the  end,   but,  as  I  have  said  above,  the  culture  of  the  intellect. 

*  Apud.  Luunoi.,  t.  4,  p.  1,  p.  2.  f  il>id. 


APPENDIX.  375 

Those  who  learned  to  live  well  from  monastic  teaching,  were  to  leara 
to  speak  well  fi'om  collegiate  or  academic.  He  proceeds  ;  "  Quaravis 
enim  melius  sit  bene  facere,  quam  nosse,  prius  tamen  est  nosse  qnam 
facere".  He  wished  then  his  schools  to  impart  knowledge,  and 
that /or  the  sake  of  practice.  Hence  he  goes  on  in  the  same  letter  to 
notice  the  benefit  for  learning  for  a  better  understanding  of  Holy 
Scripture. 

I  think  it  abundantly  evident  then  that  intellectual,  and  not 
moral  education  is  the  direct  end  of  a  University ;  and  the  forma- 
tion of  its  members  into  particular  Societies,  and  the  institution  of 
separate  bodies  within  its  jurisdiction,  is  an  additional  evidence  of 
it.  These  were  established  to  supply  a  want,  to  give  that  which 
the  University,  from  the  nature  of  the  case,  could  not  give,  though  it 
might  and  would  attempt  it, — protection  and  security  to  its  children 
against  the  temptations  of  a  great  city,  or  at  least  against  the  disorders 
necessary  to  a  mixed  multitude  of  students.  Such  would  be  Semi- 
naries for  the  secular  clergy ;  such  would  be  monastic  communities, 
as  Durham  and  Gloucester  Colleges  in  Oxford  for  the  Benedictines  ; 
such  Inns,  Halls,  and  Chambers.  These  bodies  did  not  set  them- 
selves to  teach  any  thing  which  could  noi  be  taught  in  the  University ; 
for  the  University  taught  theology  in  all  its  parts ;  but  they  protected 
morals,  and  formed  religious  habits  in  those  who  otherwise  would 
have  been  exposed  to  the  evils  under  which  the  German  Univer- 
sities are  said  to  lie  in  this  day.  I  do  not  mean  to  say,  that,  in  the 
absence  of  the  institution  of  the  theological  faculty  here  or  there,  a 
Seminary  or  a  College  might  not  fulfil  accidentally  this  function  of 
the  University ;  but  I  am  speaking  here  of  the  normal  state  of  a 
University  or  College.  And  in  saying  this  it  is  evident,  I  am  mak- 
ing no  admission  to  those  who,  as  in  the  Queen's  Colleges  among 
us,  would  banish  theology  from  the  public  teaching  and  confine  it 
to  the  private  Society ;  for  though  there  were  Universities  in  the 
middle  ages,  without  the  theological  faculty,  yet  theological  truth 
was  always  jwofessed  and  assumed  as  true  in  the  secidar  teaching 
which  wus  actually  given,   it    entered   as   truth    into  the  subject 


376  APPENDIX. 

matter  of  all  the  knowledge  which  was  actually  taught  there,  and 
thus  was  ever  implicitly  present,  and  absent  only  accidentally. 
Vid.  what  I  have  said  §  2,  infr. 

I  set  down  the  following  extracts  from  Papal  bulls  or  letters,  not 
in  proof  of  what  I  think  cannot  be  doubted,  but  simply  as  an  histo- 
rical record.  According  to  them  Universities  are  "  institutions  for 
the  promotion  of  letters  and  the  sciences,  tending  to  the  defence  of 
the  faith  and  the  welfare  of  society". 

Boniface  the  Eighth,  of  Rome  :  "  Ferventi  non  immerito  desiderio 
ducimur,  quod  eadem  urbs,  quam  divina  bonitas  tot  gratiarum 
dotibus  insignivit,  scientiarum  etiam  fiat  foecunda  muneribus,  ut 
viros  producat  consilii  maturitate  conspicuos,  virtutum  redimitos 
ornatibus,  ac  diversarum  facultatum  dogmatibus  eruditos,  sitque  ibi 
fons  scientiarum  irriguus,  de  cujus  plenitudine  hauriant  universi 
liberalibus  cupientes  imbui  documentis".  Caraf.  De  Gymnas.  Rom., 
p.  573. 

And  Innocent  the  Seventh  :  "  Cum  litterarum  studia  et  bona- 
rum  artium  doctrina;,  praiter  summam  et  manifestissimam  utili- 
tatem,  quam  privatim  atque  publice  aflferunt,  maximum  ornamentum 
ac  dignitatem  illis  civitatibus  et  locis,  in  quibus  ipsa  vigent, 
praibere  videantur,  et  cum  pace  ac  tranquillitate,  cujus  nos  esse  cupi- 
dissimos  profitemur,  maxime  sintconjuncta,  decrevimus,Deo  auctore, 
hujusmodi  studia  per  longissima  spatia  hactenus  intennissa,  in  hoc 
tempore  Pontificatus  ad  banc  urbem  reducere,  et  orani  fomento  ea 
rursus  excitare,  ut  homines  per  eruditionem  veritatem  veram  agno- 
scant,  et  Deo  atque  legibus  parem  addiscant".  Vid.  Caraf.  De 
Gymnas.  Rom.,  p.  1G8. 
#  Again,  Benedict  the  Fourteenth  :  "  Quanta  reipublicae  commoda 
obveniant  ex  publicis  studiorum  Universi tatibus,  in  quibus  bonarum 
artium  ac  scientiaram  documenta  ingenuai  juveututi  traduntur,  om- 
nium judicio  et  felici  experientia  evidentissime  constat ;  dum  per 
homines  maxime  liberalibus  disciplinis  excultos  atque  expolitos,  totius 
civitatis  mores  ad  asquitatis  et  justitiaj  rationem  conformare  solent, 
et  necessaria  in  civilibus  societatibus  judicio  recte  et  laudabiliter 


APPENDIX.  377 

exerceri,  pluraque  hominum  usibns  proficua  invcniri  passim  conspi- 
ciuntur,  ut  reliquae  omnes  privata  et  publicae  res  prudenter  utiliter 
que  administrari".     Ibid.,  p.  636. 

In  like  manner,  Nicholas  the  Third,  of  Paris :  "  Dum  attentae 
considerationis  indagine  perscrutamur,  quod  per  litterarum  studia... 
viri  efficiantur  scientiis  eruditi,  per  quos  Scripturarum  Veritas 
explicatur,  erudiuntur  rudes,  provecti  ad  altiora  concrescunt,  et 
fides  Catholica  invalescit",  etc.     Launoi.     Supr, 

Urban  the  Fifth,  of  Vienna :  *'  Commissae  nobis  speculationis 
aciem  extendentes,  fidelibus  ipsis  ad  quserenda  litterarum  studia,  per 
qua)  divini  nominis,  suaique  fidei  catholicae  cultus  protenditur,  jus- 
titia  colitur,  tarn  publica,  quam  privata  res  geritur  utiliter,  omnisque 
prosperitas  humanae  conditionis  augetur,  libenter  favores  gratiosos 
impendimus",  etc.  "Cum  itaque  ipse  Dux  [Rodolphus]  ad  solum 
et  utilitatem  et  prosperitatem  hujusmodi  reipublicae,  et  incolarum 
ducatus  sui  Austriae,  sed  etiam  aliarum  partium  vicimarum  lauda- 
biliter  iutendens,  in  Villa  sua  Wiennensi  plurimum  desideret  fieri  et 
ordinari  per  sedem  apostolicam  Studium  Generale  in  qualibet  facultate, 
ut  ibidem  fides  ipsa  dilatetur,  erudiantur  simplices,  sequitas  servetur, 
judicii  crescat  ratio,  et  intellectus  hominum  augeatur ;  nos  etc. 
ferventi  desiderio  ducimur,  quod  Ducatus  et  Villa  praedicta  scientia- 
runi  muneribus  amplientur,  ut  viros  producant  consilii  maturitate 
conspicuos,  virtutem  redimitos  omatibus,  ac  diversamm  facultatum 
dogmatibus  eruditos,  sitque  ibi  scientiarum  fons  irriguus,  de  cujus 
plenitudine  ham-iant  universi,  hterarum  cupientes  imbui  documentis". 
Kollar.  Analect  I.,  p.  53. 

Martin  the  Fifth,  of  Louvain:  "Nuper  exhibita  petitio  con- 
tinebat,  quod  in  Ducatu  Brabantias  etc.  .  .  .nullus  locus  esse  noscitur, 
in  quo  saltem  Generale  \ngeat  Studium  Literarum,  unde  partium 
illarum  plerique  vel  hujusmodi  litterarum  imperitiae  subjacent,  vel  in 
remotis  partibus  degere  habent,  scientiae  hujusmodi  in  eis  sectantes 
incrementum  ....  Quod  inter  catera  virtutum  opera,  ilia  divinae 
majestati  grata  plurimum  nullatenus  ambiguntur,  per  quae  ad 
suscipiendum    singulai'e    virtutum    diadema  illis    qui    scientiarum 


378  APPENDIX. 

earundem  sitiunt  acquirere  margaritam,  opportunis  remediis  et 
auxiliaribus  commodis,  subventionis  praBsidium  efficaciter  impertitur, 
Generale  literarum  Studium  ordinati  desiderant,  ut  inibi  disciplinae 
atque  sapientiae  se  studiis  exercentes,  sibi  et  aliis  meliores  effici 
valeant,  et  partiam  illarum  prosperitatis  auctore  Domino  facilius 
incrementum  sequatur  nos  pium  eorumdem  desiderium,  per  quod 
scientianim  fons,  ex  quo  ad  Dei  laudem  et  gloriam  haurire  possint 
singuli  viri  consilii  maturitate  perspicui,  virtutum  et  dogmatum 
ornatibus  redimiti  succedant,  plurimum  commendantes",  etc.  Privil. 
Acad.  Louvan.  1728. 

Clement  the  Sixth,  of  Prague :  "...  fidelibus  ipsis  ad  quaerenda 
literarum  studia,  per  quas  divini  nominis  suaeque  catholicse  fidei 
cultus  protenditur,  justitia  colitur,  tarn  publica  quam  privata  res 
geritur  utiliter  omnisque  prosperitas  humanae  conditionis  angetur, 
gi-atiosos  libentur  favores  impendimus".  Vid.  Monument.  Hist. 
Univers.  Carolo-Ferdin. 

Eugenius  the  Fourth,  of  Caen :  "  Dnm  pensamus  quantum  litterarum 
studia  ad  profugandas  ignorantiae  tenebras  commoditatis,  tam  publicae 
quam  privatoe,  spiritualis  ac  temporalis,  mundo  conferant  universo, 
ex  quibus  adversus  haereses  confirmatur  fides,  Dei  cultus  augetur, 
animarum  consulitur  saluti,  pax  et  tranquillitas  inter  homines  pro- 
curatur,  dispensantur  bonis  praemia,  mali  suppliciis  puniuntur, 
humanae  conditionis  ampliatm-  prosperitas,  colitur  regina  virtutum 
justitia,  Ecclesia  militans  ex  earum  uberrimis  fructibus  spiritualiter 
et  temporaliter  confovetur",  etc.     Dacher.  Spiceleg.  t.  3,  p.  762. 


§  2.     All  branches  of  knowledge  are  subject  matter  of  University 
Education. 

Though  I  have  spoken  of  a  University  as  a  place  for  cultivating 
all  knowledge,  yet  this  does  not  imply  that  in  matter  of  fact  a 
particular  University  might  not  be  deficient  in  this  or  that  branch,  or 


APPENDIX.  379 

that  it  might  not  give  especial  attention  to  one  branch  over  the  rest ; 
but  only  that  all  branches  of  knowledge  were  presupposed  or 
implied,  and  none  omitted  on  principle.  Universities  would  natu- 
rally commence  Mith  Arts,  and  might,  at  least  for  a  time,  have  no 
Professor  or  Teacher  of  Theology ;  but  the  truths  of  Theology  would 
from  the  first  be  taken  for  granted  and  used,  whenever  they  naturally 
entered  into  the  subject  of  the  Lectures  which  were  given  in  Philosophy 
or  (if  so  be)  the  Languages.  Or  this  or  that  University  might  be 
a  special  school  for  Law  or  for  Medicine ;  still  it  would  be  on  the 
same  type  as  other  Universities,  being  by  accidental  circumstances 
drawn  aside  in  one  particular  direction.  Just  as  any  church  or 
cathedral  implies  chancel,  nave,  aisles,  etc.,  yet  need  not  be  built  in 
all  its  parts  at  once,  yet  would  from  the  first  presuppose  and  make 
provision  for  all  those  parts;  or  even  when  finished,  might  be 
remarkable  for  the  length  of  its  chancel  or  nave,  or  its  height,  or 
for  its  Lady  Chapel ;  and  again,  as  a  church  never  might  be 
finished,  or  might  be  made  in  parts  of  bad  materials,  or  might 
gradually  become  dilapidated,  or  be  virtually  demolished  in 
whole  or  part;  in  like  manner  we  may  find  much  irregularity  or 
inconsistency  in  the  studies  or  in  the  annals  of  a  given  Univer- 
sity, yet  this  without  any  prejudice  to  the  ideal  upon  which  it  is 
constructed,  and  which  it  professes  and  binds  itself  to  fulfil. 

Universities,  which  fell  under  these  various  suppositions,  would 
still  be  the  same  in  kind,  one  with  another ;  and  they  would  be 
specifically  different  from  an  Academical  Institution  which  began  by 
putting  aside  Theology,  as  a  science  which  was  not  to  be  recognised. 
Accordingly  we  need  not  be  surprised  to  find  that  Law  was  especially 
cultivated  at  Bologna,  and  Medicine  at  Salerno;  nay  that  other 
Italian  Universities,  from  the  circumstance  of  their  civil  origin, 
instead  of  being  simple  schools  of  Liberal  Knowledge,  were,  as 
Huber  tells  us,  " eminently  practical".  The  same  author  says,  on 
the  other  hand,  "  So  surpassing  was  the  pre-eminence  of  Arts, 
embracing,  as  it  did,  all  the  other  sciences  and  the  new  philosophy, 
that  it  is  even  questionable  whether  the  term  FacuUas  is  strictly 


380  APPENDIX. 

applicable  to  the  Masters  of  Arts,  who  are  properly  the  Universitas. 
The  studies  of  Law  and  Medicine  grew  up  by  the  side  of  Arts,  but 
never  gained  strength  to  compete  with  the  last ;  nor  has  the  prin- 
ciple ever  been  attacked,  that  the  University  has  its  foundation  in 
Arts".*  He  observes  too,  that,  "  had  not  the  coming  in  of  Cano- 
nical Law  evolved  new  materials.  Theology  might  perhaps  not  even 
have  constituted  a  separate  Faculty ";  for,  "  as  a  science,  it  had 
unfolded  itself  entirely  out  of  the  old  studies,  and  could  not  be 
severed  from  them".t  Again,  we  have,  according  to  Antony  a 
Wood,  as  referred  to  by  Keuffel,  a  curious  state  of  scholastic 
disorder  at  Oxford  in  the  middle  of  the  twelfth  century,  on  the  first 
introduction  of  lectures  on  Roman  Law.  Highborn  and  lowborn 
flocked  to  the  new  Professor  who  came  from  Lombardy  and  Bee ; 
and  Ai'ts  began  to  be  neglected  and  to  decline.  The  change  of 
studies  was  mischievously  promoted  by  the  lucrative  character  of  the 
new  science.  Thereby  too  the  very  idea  of  a  University  was 
impaired,  for  there  ceased  to  be  a  course  or  circle  of  studies. 
"This  saUus^  or  skipping  from  one  science  to  another",  says  a 
Wood,  "before  they  have  hardly  made  an  entiy,  caused  much 
abruption  in  literature,  and  a  great  displeasure  in  critical  and 
knowing  men  that  lived  in  those  times ;  and  especially  for  this  cause, 
that  they,  who  had  spent  many  years  in  Arts,  and  had  therefore 
gained  great  respect,  were  now  with  their  doctrine  neglected 
by  upstarts".  J  Roger  Bacon  (cent,  xiii.),  as  might  be  supposed,  was 
opposed  to  the  change.  The  students  were  now  considered  to  fall 
under  three  classes,  which  had  theii'  names  given  them :  "the 
Shallow"  who  did  not  study  Arts  at  all;  the  "Ragged"  or  "Patchy," 
who  crammed  up,  as  we  should  now  say,  from  abstracts  or  formulas  ; 
and  the  "  Solid",  who,  after  laying  a  deep  foundation,  went  on  to 
build  upon  it.  As  time  went  on,  this  state  movement,  for  so  it  seems 
to  have  been,  excited  the  alarm  of  the  Holy  See,  and  Pope  Innocent 

*  F.  Newman's  Edition,  vol,  i.,  p.  34.         f  lb.,  p.  33. 
X  Vol.  L,  p.  2,  p.  169. 


APPENDIX.  381 

published  a  Constitution,  prohibiting  the  admission  of  Lawyers  to 
ecclesiastical  dignities  in  France,  England,  Scotland,  Spain,  and 
Hungary.  The  words  of  Matthew  Paris,  speaking  of  the  middle  of 
the  thirteenth  century,  are  remarkable  :  "  Et  jam  fere  omnes  scho- 
lares,  iutactis  grammatices  rudimentis,  auctoribus  et  philosophis,  ad 
Leges  properant  audiendas,  quas  constat  non  esse  de  numero  Artium 
Liberalium;  Artes  enim  Liberales  propter  se  appetuntur,  Leges  atUem 
ut  salaria  acqmrantur^\ 

That  a  University  was  really,  in  its  idea,  the  seat  of  all  learning 
is  plain  from  its  very  name  :  in  saying  which  I  am  not  taking  my 
stand  upon  the  derivation  of  the  word,  but  upon  its  recognised 
meaning,  however  it  came  to  mean  it.  "Academice  institutae  sunt", 
says  Morinus  (Ordiu.  iii.  13  fin.),  "ad  quas,  velut  ad  studiorum  et 
scientiarum  emporia,  undique  concursum  est;  in  quibus  doctrina 
Christiana  perfectius,  diligentius,  et  splendidius,  quam  m  Collegiis 
et  Seminariis  clericorum  tradita  est".  As  to  the  meaning  of  the 
word,  authors  are  divided  in  opinion  ;  some  explaining  it  of  a 
universality  of  studies,  others  of  students.  As,  however,  it  is  the 
variety  of  its  schools  which  brings  students  from  all  parts,  and  the 
variety  of  its  members  which  demands  so  many  subjects  of  teaching, 
it  does  not  matter  much  how  we  settle  the  derivation  of  the  word. 
Any  how,  it  is  certain  that  the  word  must  soon  have  acquired  the 
sense  of  universality  of  students,  from  the  use  of  the  word  Univer- 
sttas,  in  the  civil  law. 

I  shall  set  down  here  some  definitions  or  descriptions  of  the 
word,  as  I  have  found  them. 

1.  Receptissima  est  vox  Universitatis  aut  Studii  Generalis  vel 
Universalis:  etsi  nee  id  satis  constet,  qui  Universitatis  vox  hue 
tracta  sit.     Conring.  de  Antiqu.  Acad.  SuptpL,  i.  7. 

2.  "In  his  etsi  uni  versa  doctrina  et  rerum  humanarum  divina- 
rumque  scientia  proponitur,  nam  in  ilium  finum  sunt  institutae,  ac 
Universitatum  nomen  sunt  adeptae,  parum  tamcn  hactenus  in 
rerimi  naturalium  studiis  et  mathematicis  efiectum  est" — Morhof. 
Pohjhistor  i.  14,  11. 


382  APPENDIX. 

3.  "  Hae  scholas  (academiae)  dictae  fuerunt  publicae,  qu6d  passim 
omnes  artes  et  scientae  in  illis  traderentur ;  nee  tantum  clericis,  aut 
ad  clerum  assuraendis,  prout  schol«  Episcopales,  sed  omnibus  indif- 
ferenter  adolescentibus  paterent :  atque  inde  pauladm  Universitates, 
id  est,  scholae  miiversales,  dici  coeperunt" — Van  Espen,  vol.  i.  p.  549. 

4.  Denominationes  Studii  Geueralis  et  Universitatis,  inde  scholis 
de  qiiibus  nunc  ago,  attributae  [sunt],  quod  scientise  universae  in  illis, 
proponebantur,  ciim  contra  in  scholis  cathedralibus,  monasticis,et  quae 
praeterea  antehac  excitatae  erant,  quaedam  tantum  doctrinae  juventuti 
traderentur.  Ali4m  tamen  notionem  vocabulo  Universitatis  assignat 
Haberus  (de  jure  civ.,  ii.  §  3.  2)  existiraans,  titulum  hunc  acade- 
miis  competere,  quatenus  jurisdictionem  habent,  et  certo  constant 
regimine :  sed  monet  Thomasius  ad  ilium  locum,  non  respici  ad  hunc 
significatum,  sed  ad  universitatem  studiorum  —  Keuffel,  Histor, 
Origin,  et  Progress.  Schol.^  p.  319. 

5.  Vocantur  scholae  publicaa  celeb  res  Universitates,  vel  nuncupa- 
tione  desumpta  ab  universis  scientiis,  quae  in  eis  edocentur ;  vel  si 
non  omnes  sciential  legantur,  ab  universis  tamen  audiendae  et  ad. 
discendae  aliquae  traduntur. — Mendo,  dejure  AcademicOj  init. 

6.  "  University : — ecole  ou  college  dam  lequel  ou  enseigne  toutes 
les  sciences" — Encyclop.  Methodique. 

7.  "On  appela  le  compost  *  Universite  des  etudes' ;  et  enfin 
simplement  '  Universite',  pour  marquer  qu'  en  une  seule  ville  on 
enseignait  tout  ce  qu'  il  6tait  utile  de  savoir  " — Fleuiy,  Choix  des 
Etudes,  8. 

8.  "  University : — a  school,  where  all  arts  and  faculties  are 
studied''. — Johnson. 

9.  "  A  University,  such  as  Oxford  was  made,  is  a  joining  to- 
gether, and  an  incoi'poration  under  one  government,  of  many  public 
schools  in  one  or  the  same  town  or  city.  'Tis  a  place  for  the  re- 
ception of  all  people  that  desire  to  learn ;  representing  the  whole 
kingdom  wherein  it  is,  nay  the  whole  world,  as  Gerson  saith,  inas- 
much as  any  person  thereof  may  come  to  it,  and  acquire  doctrine 
and  wisdom". — A  Wood's  Oxford,  vol.  i.  p.  2. 


APPENDIX.  383 

10.  "  In  these  public  schools  or  academies,  which  were  founded 
at  Padua,  Modena,  Naples,  Capua,  Toulouse,  Salamanca,  Lyons, 
Cologne,  and  in  other  places,  the  whole  circle  of  the  sciences  then 
known  was  not  taught,  but  only  certain  parts  of  it,  or  some  parti- 
cular sciences.  That  at  Paris,  which  exceeded  all  others  in  various 
respects,  as  well  as  in  the  number  both  of  teachers  and  students, 
was  the  first  to  embrace  all  the  arts  and  sciences ;  and  therefore 
first  became  a  University,  or,  as  it  was  expressed,  Studium  Uni- 
vei*sale". — Mosheim,  Eccl.  Hist.,  vol.  ii.  p.  529.  London,  1841. 

11.  "Hitherto  the  public  studies  had  been  limited  to  certain 
branches  of  learning :  but,  as  the  views  or  desii'es  of  men  were 
enlarged,  the  whole  circle  of  sciences,  as  far  as  the  allotted  period  of 
time  would  allow,  did  not  appear  to  be  an  object  beyond  the  compre- 
hension of  youthful  minds.  Schools  then,  which  professed  to  em- 
brace all  the  sciences  within  their  walls,  and  to  appoint  masters  to 
each,  were  properly  denominated  Universities". — Berringtou's 
Middle  Ages,  p.  354. 

12.  "  Hitherto  only  the  Trivium  and  Quadrivium  had  been 
taught  in  these  schools,  but  the  newly  awakened  zeal  for  philosophical 
theology  now  led  distinguished  men  to  estabhsh  courses  of  lectures 
on  this  subject  apart  from  the  cathedral  and  conventual  schools, 
though  in  a  certain  degree  connected  with  them.  To  these  were 
added,  one  after  another,  lectm*es  on  canon  law,  on  medicine,  and 
the  arts,  and  in  this  way  the  first  University  was  formed  by  a 
congregating  together  of  these  various  teachers". — Gieseler,  Text. 
Book,  vol.  ii.  p.  313,  ed.  1836. 

13.  "The  most  celebrated  was  that  of  Paris.  It  was  adorned 
more  than  any  other  by  the  multitude,  the  rank,  and  the  diligence 
of  its  students,  and  by  the  abilities  and  various  acquirements  of  its 
professors ;  and  since,  while  other  academies  confined  their  in- 
structions to  particular  branches  of  science,  that  of  Paris  alone 
pretended  to  embrace  the  entii-e  range,  it  was  the  first  which  took 
the  title  of  University". — Waddington's  Ch.  Hist.,  p.  469. 


384  APPENDIX. 


§  3.     Mere  acquirement  is  not  real  knoivledge. 

I  DO  not  kaow  that  it  is  worth  while  to  say  in  the  words  of  others 
what  is  so  evident  when  stated  by  any  one;  but  as  I  am  engaged  in 
referring  to  authors  who  have  gone  before  me,  I  will  set  down  two 
passages  on  this  subject. 

"  Much  we  are  told  from  day  to  day",  says  Dr.  Copleston,  "  of 
the  folly  of  pedantry.  The  folly  is  indeed  ridiculous,  and  it  is 
seldom  spared.  Bat  the  pedant  in  chemistry,  or  in  physics,  is  at 
least  as  disagreeable  an  animal  as  the  pedant  in  classical  learning  ; 
and  the  pedant  in  political  economy  is  not  disagreeable  only,  but  dan- 
gerous. .  .  Never,  while  the  world  lasts,  will  it  be  wholly  disabused 
of  that  specious  eiTor,  that  the  more  there  is  crammed  into  a  young 
man's  mind,  whether  it  stays  there  or  not,  whether  it  is  digested  or 
not,  still  the  wiser  he  is.  .  .  A  half-educated  father  hears  that 
Lectures  are  read  in  Chemistry,  Botany,  Mineralogy,  etc.,  etc.,  at  one 
place,  and  his  son  is  learning  nothing  of  this  sort  at  school.  Incapable 
of  judging  how  mental  powers  are  improved  by  continual  exercise, 
and  how  the  moral  character  is  in  a  gi'eat  measure  formed  by  the 
study  of  good  authors,  he  fancies  that  when  the  grammar  of  a  lan- 
guage is  learned,  all  further  attention  to  that  language  is  lost  time, 
and  then  there  is  nothing  new  gained,  because  there  is  no  new  name. 
If  the  boy  is  captivated  by  the  novelty  and  variety  of  the  studies 
which  is  presented  to  him,  he  seldom  returns  with  any  relish  to 
philological  pursuits.  He  may  become  a  skilful  agriculturist,  an 
improver  of  manufactures,  an  useful  inspector  of  roads,  mines,  and 
canals ;  but  all  that  distinguishing  grace  which  a  liberal  education 
imparts,  he  foregoes  for  ever.  It  cannot  be  acquired  in  a  late 
period  of  life,  if  the  morning  of  his  days  have  been  occupied  with 
other  cares,  or  the  intellectual  habits  already  settled  in  different  forms 
and  postures.  If,  as  too  often  happens,  these  matters  are  received 
into  the  ear,  but  take  no  possession  of  the  mind,  there  is  not  only 
a  moral  blank,  but  an  intellectual  barrenness,  a  poverty  of  fancy 


APPENDIX.  385 

and  invention,  a  dearth  of  historical  and  poetical  illustration,  a  void 
of  all  those  ideas  which  decorate  and  enliven  truth,  which  enable 
us  to  view  over  again  the  times  that  are  past,  to  combine  the 
produce  of  widely-distant  ages,  and  to  multiply  into  one  another 
the  component  parts  of  each.  The  experiment  is  a  con-ect  one.  I 
have  seen  it  tried ;  and  have  witnessed  the  melancholy  and  irrepa- 
rable result". — Beply  to  the  Edinburgh  Review. 

An  interesting  Essay  on  University  Education  has  lately  been 
published  by  Dr.  Tappan  of  New  York.  As,  however,  is  to  be 
expected  in  a  work  of  his  school,  there  are  many  opinions  expressed 
in  it,  which  a  Catholic  will  think  not  only  false,  but  extravagant  and 
unreal ;  but  still  passages  may  be  found  there,  which  I  gladly  would 
quote  in  illustration  of  the  views  I  have  been  maintaining,  and  the 
more  readily,  because  they  are  the  result  of  experience  in  national 
experiments  in  education.  He  has  a  keen  sense,  for  instance,  of  the 
evils  of  which  I  am  at  present  speaking.  "  We  have  destroyed  the 
charm  of  study",  he  says,  speaking  of  his  own  country,  "  by  hurry  and 
unnatural  pressure,  and  we  have  rendered  our  scholarship  vague  and 
superficial.  We  have  not  fed  thought  by  natural  supplies  of  know- 
ledge. We  have  not  disciplined  mind  by  guiding  it  to  a  calm 
and  profound  activity ;  but  we  have  stimulated  acquisition  to  pre- 
ternatural exertions,  and  have  learned,  as  it  were,  from  an  Ency- 
clopedia the  mere  names  of  sciences,  without  gaining  the  sciences 

themselves The  highest  institutions  will  set  the  tone  of 

education.  And  this  we  see  realized  in  schools  of  every  grade  for 
both  sexes.  Our  schools  for  boys,  our  schools  for  girls,  present 
on  the  prospectus  a  formidable  .curriculum  of  studies,  and  immature 
beings  of  sixteen  or  seventeen  are  earned  through  the  mathematics, 
the  natui'al  sciences,  general  history,  the  philosophy  of  history, 
belles-lettres,  and  metaphysics,  together  with  two  or  three  languages, 
and  various  polite  accomplishments.  These  higher  branches  too, 
are  often  taught  in  lectures  adapted  rather  to  Universities  than  to 
elementary  schools.  The  popular  growth  of  education  is  not  the 
orderly  and  gradual  growth  of  mind  according  to  its  own  innate 


386  APPENDIX. 

laws  fixed  by  God  himself,  but  an  immense  and  voracious  deglutition 
of  knowledge,  where  the  mental  digestion  is  estimated  according  to 
the  rapidity  with  which  these  subjects  are  disposed  of.  The  more 
masters,  the  more  books,  the  more  branches  of  knowledge  in  a  given 
time,  the  faster  the  process  goes  on  ...  .  We  forget,  that,  although 
we  can  quicken  the  labours  of  our  hands,  and  increase  the  power  and 
scope  of  our  machinery,  we  may  not  overlay  the  organific  power  of 
nature ;  and  that,  as  trees  have  their  time  to  grow,  and  harvests 
their  time  to  ripen,  so  the  mind  of  man  must  grow  from  infancy  to 
childhood,  from  childhood  to  youth" — &c.,  pp.  51,  54. 

This  evil  is  of  long  standing  in  Araeiica.  I  had  occasion  myself 
to  remark  on  it  nearly  thirty  years  ago  in  a  review  of  a  book  of 
Travels,  in  which  just  a  similar  mode  of  education,  if  it  can  so  be 
called,  was  praised.  "  We  find  that,  in  the  space  of  four  years,  the 
student,  whose  age  need  not  exceed  fourteen,  in  addition  to  a  long 
and  varied  list  of  books,  attends  lectures  in  chemistry,  miner- 
alogy, geology,  natural  philosophy,  metaphysics,  ethics,  and  theology, 
engages  in  forensic  disputations,  and  is  moreover  expected  to  be 
connected  with  one  or  other  of  '  three  literaiy  societies',  established 
among  them.  A  range  of  literature  and  science  of  this  nature  is 
not  only  unfavourable  to  the  acquisition  of  classical  learning,  but 
detrimental  to  application  of  any  kind.  Mr.  Duncan  iudeed  is  of 
opinion,  that,  although  Yale  College,  in  the  United  States,  may  not 
*  produce  many  writers  in  mathematics  to  surpass  those  of  Cam- 
bridge, or  giants  in  Greek  literature  to  wrest  the  palm  from  those  of 
Oxford,  it  is  very  probable  that  it  will  send  forth  a  greater  propor- 
tion of  men,  whose  minds  are  steadily  trained  to  order  and  activity, 
and  stored  with  those  elements  of  knowledge,  which  are  available 
in  almost  every  situation,  and  which  may  be  said  to  insure  to  their 
possessor  a  reasonable  degree  of  success  in  any  train  of  thinking  or 
research  to  which,  by  his  inclination  or  the  exigencies  of  his  future 
life,  he  may  be  led'.  To  us,  however,  such  a  course  seems  likely 
rather  to  confuse  the  youthful  mind  by  its  variety,  than  to  enrich  it 
with  its  abundance.     Those  who  aim  at  too  much  often  end  in 


APPENDIX.  387 

doing  nothing.  To  enforce  quickness  in  investigation  and  patience 
in  research,  to  give  the  power  of  grappling  with  difficulties,  accuracy 
of  thought,  and  clearness  of  reasoning,  to  form  the  judgment,  to 
refine  the  taste,  to  instil  delicacy  of  feeling  and  a  quick  perception 
of  poetical  beauty, — objects  such  as  these  have  surely  range  enough 
to  fill  the  most  capacious  mind,  and  magnificence  enough  to  satisfy 
the  most  exalted  spirit,  even  if  the  student  left  the  scene  of  study 
with  little  besides  the  accidental  knowledge,  which  discipline  of  this 
nature  could  not  fail  to  impart". 


§  4.     The  Branches  of  Knowledge  form  one  whole. 

It  is  curious  how  negligent  English  writers  seem  to  be  just  now  of 
the  necessity  of  comprehensiveness  and  harmony  of  view,  in  their 
pursuit  of  truth  in  detail.  The  very  word  Encyclopaedia  ought  to 
suggest  it  to  them ;  but  the  alphabetical  order  has  assimilated  the 
great  undertaking  so  designated  to  a  sort  of  Dictionary  of  portions 
and  departments  of  knowledge.  Coleridge  indeed,  a  man  of  philo- 
sophical mind,  has  felt  the  evil,  and  planned  the  Encyclopaedia 
with  which  he  was  connected,  on  a  truer  idea;  but  if  I  have  a  right 
to  judge  by  such  specimens  as  I  have  met  with,  he  is  an  exception. 
Since  beginning  these  Discourses  I  took  down  an  Encyclopaedia  of 
name,  hoping  it  would  give  me  light  on  the  subject  I  was  considering. 
I  turned  out  the  word  "  Philosophy", — there  was  no  article  on  it, 
but  a  reference,  "  see  Natural ",  "  see  Moral ".  I  turned  out 
Science,  and  found  instead  a  notice  to  the  effect  that,  whereas  each 
science  will  be  found  discussed  under  its  own  name,  there  is  here  a 
vacant  place  for  enumerating  some  entertaining  problems  or  curi- 
osities, etc.,  in  science ;  and  then  followed  some  such  as  "  the  Invisi- 
ble Girl",  ventriloquism,  sugar  from  old  rags,  etc.,  etc.    I  turned  out 

29 


388  APPENDIX. 

various  other  words,  but  I  could  learn  nothing  about  "truth", 
"  knowledge",  etc.,  the  subjects  of  which  I  was  in  search.  I  had 
recourse  to  the  article  on  Metaphysics,  but  even  that  did  not  supply 
the  desideratum. 

Really  wise  persons,  whatever  their  religious  feelings,  have  felt 
its  importance.  Hugo  de  St.  Victore  has  a  Treatise  de  Studio 
Legendi,  in  which  he  treats  of  philosophy  and  its  parts.  He 
says  that  philosophy  is  "  Studium  sapientiae"  (i.  3),  and  sapientia 
is  "  comprehensio  rerum  prout  sunt"  (vi.  14.)  ;  or  more  largely, 
"disciplina  omnium  rerum  humanarum  atque  divinarum  rationes 
plen6  investigans".  Consequently  there  are  as  many  parts 
of  philosophy  as  there  are  "rerum  diversitates"  (i.  5).  For  this 
reason  "  Philosophia  est  ars  artium,  et  disciplina  disciplinarum" 
(ii.  1),  and  "omnes  artes  ad  unum  Philosophise  tendunt  terminum" 
(ii.  18).  After  dividing  off  and  enumerating  the  arts  and  sciences, 
he  continues  (iii.  3,  etc.)  : 

"  Ex  his  omnibus  scientiis  septem  specialiter  decreverant  antiqui 
in  studiis  suis,  ad  opus  erudiendorum,  in  quibus  tantam  utilitatem 
esse  prae  capteris  omnibus  perspexerunt,  ut  quisquis  harum  disciplinam 
firmiter  percepisset,  ad  aliarum  notitiam  postea  inquirendo  magis  et 
excrcendo,  quam  audiendo  pei-veniret.  Sunt  enim  quasi  optima 
qucedam  instnimenta  et  rudimenta,  quibus  via  paratur  animo  ad 
plenam  philosophicae  veritatis  notitiam.  Hinc  trivium  et  quadrivium 
nomen  accepit,  eo  quod  iis  quasi  quibusdam  viis  vivax  animus  ad 

secreta  sophiae  introeat Hinc  profecto  accidit  eo  tempore 

[Pythagorae]  tot  fuisse  sapientes,  ut  plura  ipsi  scriberent  quam  nos 
legere  possimus.  Scholastici  autem  nostri  aut  volunt  aut  nesciunt 
modum  congruum  in  discendo  servare,  et  idcirco  multos  studentes, 

paucos  sapientes  invenimus Mihi  videtur  primum  opera  danda 

esse  artibus,  ubi  fundamenta  sunt  omnium,  et  pura  simplexque 
Veritas  aperitur,  maxime  his  septem  quas  prajdixi,  quae  totius  philo- 

sophiae  instrumenta  sunt Hoec  quidem  ita  sibi  cohaerent,   et 

alternis  vicissim  rationibus  indigent,  ut,  si  una  defuerit,  casters  phi- 
losophum  facere  non  possint ;  unde  mihi  errare  videntur,  qui  non 


APPENDIX.  389 

attendentes  talem  in  artibiis  cohaereutiam,  quasdam  sibi  ex  ipsis 
cligimt,  et,  cajtcris  intactis,  his  sc  posse  fieri  pcrfectos  putant. 
....  Sunt  quidem,  qui,  lic^t  ex  iis  quae  legenda  sunt,  nihil  praeter- 
mittant,  nulli  taraen  arti  quod  suum  est  tribuere  norunt ;  sed 
singulis  legunt  omnia.     In  grammatica  de  syllogismorum  ratione 

disputant,  etc.,  etc Cum  legeris  artes,  et  quod  unius  cujusque 

sit  proprium  agnoveris  disputando  et  conferendo,  tunc  demum 
rationes  singularum  invicem  conferre  licebit,  et  ex  altcrna  conside- 
ratione  vicissim  quae  minus  prius  intellexeras  investigari.  Noli  mul- 
tiplicare  diverticula,  quoadusque  semitas  didiceris.  Secunis  discurres, 
cum  en'are  non  timueris  " — iii.  3 — 6. 

He  brings  in  Literature  thus  : — "  Duo  sunt  genera  scripturarum. 
Primum  genus  est  earum  quae  proprie  Artes  appellantui* ;  secundum 
est  earum,  quae  sunt  appendentia  Artiura.  Artes  sunt  quae  Philoso- 
phiae  supponuntur,  id  est,  quae  aliquam  certam  et  determinatam 
Pliilosophiae  materiam  habent,  ut  est  grammatica,  dialectica,  et 
caitera  hujusmodi.  Appendentia  Artium  sunt,  qute  tantum  ad 
Philosophiam  spectant,  id  est,  quse  in  aliqua  extra  Philosophiam 
materia  versantm*,  aliquando  tamen  qusedam  ab  Artibus  disceipta 
sparsim  et  confuse  attingunt,  vel  si  simplex  narratio  est,  viam  ad 
Philosophiam  praeparant.  Hujusmodi  sunt  omnia  poetaruni  carmiua, 
ut  sunt  tragedias,  comediae,  satyrae,  heroica  (^uoque  et  lyrica,  et 
iambica  et  didascalia  quaedam  ;  fabulas  quoque  et  historias",  etc. — ■ 
iii.  4. 

Again,  an  eloquent  writer  in  the  Dublin  Review  gives  the  following 
account  of  a  Tract  of  St.  Bonaveutura's  :  "  From  God,  the  Foiital 
Light,  all  illumination  descends  to  man.  The  Divine  Light,  from 
which,  as  from  its  source,  all  human  science  emanates,  is  of  four 
kinds :  the  inferior  light,  the  exterior  light,  the  interior  light,  and 
the  superior  light.  The  inferior  light,  that  of  sensitive  knowledge, 
illuminates  in  respect  of  the  natural  forms  of  corporeal  objects, 
which  are  manifested  to  us  by  the  five  senses.  Its  range  does  not 
extend  beyond  the  knowledge  of  sensible  things.  The  second,  or 
external  light  of  mechanical  art,  illuminates  in  respect  of  artificial 


390  APPENDIX. 

forms.  It  embraces  the  whole  circle  of  those  arts  which  aim  at 
protecting  man  from  the  weather,  clothing,  feeding,  healing  him 
when  sick,  and  the  theatrical  arts  directed  to  his  recreation.  Thus 
it  includes  all  productions  of  the  needle  and  the  loom,  all  works  in 
iron  and  other  metals,  stone,  and  wood ;  all  products  and  all  prepa- 
rations of  food ;  all  navigation  and  commerce,  which  superintend 
the  transit  or  the  exchange  of  these  ;  medicine  in  its  widest  sense, 
and  music  with  the  arts  belonging  to  it.  Manifold  as  are  the 
objects  of  this  light,  it  is  all  concerned  with  artificial  productions ; 
it  touches  only  one  side  of  human  nature ;  it  deals  with  man  almost 
exclusively  as  an  animal ;  it  is  directed  to  supply  his  bodily  needs 
and  console  his  bodily  infirmities.  The  third,  or  interior  light,  is 
that  of  philosophical  knowledge ;  its  object  is  intelligible  truth.  It 
is  threefold,  for  we  may  distinguish  three  sorts  of  verities,  truth  of 
language,  truth  of  things,  and  truth  of  morals.  .  .  .  Lastly,  the 
fourth,  or  superior  light,  is  that  of  grace  and  of  the  Holy  Scripture, 
which  illuminates  in  respect  of  saving  truth.  .  .  Thus  the  fourfold 
light,  descending  from  above,  has  yet  six  differences,  which  set 
forth  so  many  degrees  of  human  knowledge  and  science.  There  is 
the  light  of  sensitive  knowledge,  the  light  of  the  mechanical  arts, 
the  light  of  rational  philosophy,  the  light  of  natural  philosophy,  the 
light  of  moral  philosophy,  and  the  light  of  grace  and  Holy  Scrip- 
ture. 'And  so',  adds  the  saint,  'there  are  six  illuminations  in 
this  life  of  ours,  and  they  have  a  setting,  because  all  this  knowledge 
shall  be  destroyed.  And  therefore  there  succeedeth  to  them  the 
seventh  day  of  rest,  which  has  no  setting,  and  that  is  the  illumina- 
tion of  glory",  etc. — Dublin  Review,  Dec.  1851. 

"  Ea  est  ratio",  says  the  Sacred  Congregation,  de  Studiis  mode- 
randis,  under  Leo  the  Twelfth,  "  rerum  et  cogitationum,  quae  nobis 
naturaliter  insculpta  est,  ut  ordinis  ideam  nobis  patefaciat.  Hinc 
S.  Augustinus,  '  Ut  igitur  breviter  aeternaB  Legis  notionem,  quse 
impressa  nobis  est,  quantum  valeo,  vobis  explicem,  ea  est,  qua 
justum  est  ut  omnia  sint  ordinatissima ;  ordo  autem,  sive  parium 
dispariumque  rerum  sua  cuique  loca  tribuens  dispositio',  non  patitur 


APPENDIX.  391 

res  incondite  vagari :  sed  unamquamque  inter  suos  fines  constituit. 
Hinc  est  quod  in  Physicis,  in  Metaphysicis,  ac  Moralibus,  immo  in 
toto  scientiarum  regno  pulcherrima  dispositio  enitet,  quae  oculos 
mentemque  mirum  in  modum  perstringit.  De  scientiarum  itaque 
atque  Artium  prajcellenti  harmonia  pauca  delibai*e  fas  erit,  ut  Ado- 
escentium  animos  erigere,  et  in  eis  Sapientiae  amorem  valeamus 
cxcitare  ",  etc. — Card.  Barta,zzolii  Pai'aenesis,  apud  Collect,  Leg.  de 
red.  Stud.  rat.     Rom.  1828. 

"  Amongst  so  many  gi-eat  foundations  of  Colleges  in  Europe", 
says  Lord  Bacon,  "  I  find  it  strange  that  they  are  all  dedicated  to 
professions,  and  none  left  free  to  arts  and  sciences  at  large.  For, 
if  men  judge  that  learning  should  be  refen-ed  to  action,  they  judge 
well ;  but  in  this  they  fall  into  the  error  described  in  the  ancient 
fable,  in  which  the  other  parts  of  the  body  did  suppose  the  stomach 
had  been  idle,  because  it  neither  performed  the  office  of  motion,  as 
the  Umbs  do,  nor  of  sense,  as  the  head  doth ;  but  yet,  notwith- 
standing, it  is  the  stomach  that  digesteth  and  distributeth  to  all  the 
rest:  so,  if  any  man  think  Philosophy  and  Universahty  to  be  idle 
studies,  he  doth  not  consider  that  all  professions  are  from  thence 
served  and  supplied.  And  this  I  take  to  be  a  great  cause  that  hath 
hindered  the  progression  of  leai'ning,  because  these  Fundamental 
Knowledges  have  been  studied  but  in  passage " — Advancemoit  of 
Learning. 


§  5.     And  are  complements  of  each  other. 

"NuLLUS  est  cujusdam  artis  adeo  mediocris  aut  humilis  quoque, 
ac  vilis  professor,  qui,  si  sit  superbus,  non  illam  aut  prajcipuam 
omnium  censeat,  aut  non  cert^  existimari  petat,  ac  contendat; 
illudque  adeo  moribus  est  receptum,  ut  effcn-e  quemque  artem  suam 


392  APPENDIX. 

et  laudibus  coelo  aequare,  etiain  aliis  omnibus  antcponere,  licere  ac 
pium  esse  arbitrentur.  Grammaticus  se  unum  putat  sapere,  desi- 
pere  plurimos :  Philosophus  reliquos  miseretur  ut  pecudes ;  Juris- 
cousultus  alios  omnes  deridet ;  Theologus  despicit ;  non  quod  se 
caeteras  artes  ignorare  dicant,  aut  prse  se  ferant,  immb  nihil  cunctan- 
tur  confirmai'e  snk  ilia  nnk  disciplina  reliquas  universas  praestantius 
claudi  ac  contineri,  quam  in  libris  eorum  qui  de  illis  nominatim 
tradiderunt. 

"  L.  Crassus  apud  Ciceronem  orane  disciplinarum  atque  artium 
genus  cognitione  juris  contineri  asseverat ;  et  quidem,  si  diis  placet, 
libello  xii.  tabularum ;  hoc  idem  nostri  Jurisconsulti  habent  persua- 
sissimum.  Grammaticus  totam  philosophiam,  quam  late  se  diffun- 
dit,  historicorum  et  poetarum  libris  contineri  autumat ;  quos  quum 
habeat  in  manibus,  nihil  sit  quod  Aristotele  aut  Platone  indigcat. 
Quam  ai'tem  rite  percipient  ac  tradent,  qui  earn  alienissimis  in  locis 
habitare  consent,  et  illinc  esse  petendam,  ubi  vix  illius  sit 
vestigium  uDum  in  venire  ?  Idcirco  videas  falsissiraa  atque  absur- 
dissima  in  omnibus  artibus  asseverari  ab  iis,  qui  illas  violenter 
exprimunt  ab  auctoribus,  qui  aliquid  eorum  obiter  et  quasi  aliud 
agentes  attigenmt.  Quot  absurda  in  philosophia  dogmata  ab 
Homero  traxerunt  originem,  quum  multi  veterum  non  ilium  ut 
ingeniosum  Poetam  legerent,  sed  ut  philosophum  doctissimum  et 
gi'avissimum  ?" — Ludov.  de  Vives,  de  Causis  Corrupt.  Art.^  i.  3. 

"  The  strength  of  all  sciences  is,  as  the  strength  of  the  old  man's 
faggot,  in  the  band.  For  the  harmony  of  a  science,  supporting 
each  part  the  other,  is,  and  ought  to  be,  the  true  and  brief  confu- 
tation and  suppression  of  all  the  smaller  sorts  of  objections ;  but,  on 
the  other  side,  if  you  take  out  every  axiom,  as  the  sticks  of  the 
faggot,  one  by  one,  you  may  quarrel  with  them,  and  bend  them  and 
break  them  at  your  pleasure.  .  .  For  were  it  not  better  for  a  man 
in  a  fair  room,  to  set  up  one  great  light,  or  branching  candlestick  of 
lights,  than  to  go  about  with  a  small  watch  candle  into  every 
corner  ?" — Bacon :  Adv.  of  Learning^  1.  i. 

There  is  a  paper  in  the  sixteenth  volume  of  the  Hidoire  de  V 


APPENDIX.  393 

Acad&niie  des  Inscnptions,  very  much  to  our  purpose  here,  though 
it  is  too  long  to  present  before  the  reader  except  in  extracts.  It  is 
entitled  "  Reflexions  Generales  sur  V  Utilite  des  Belles- Lettres,  et 
sur  les  Inconveniens  du  gout  exclusif,  qui  parait  s'  etablir  en  favour 
des  Mathematiques  et  de  la  Physique". 

It  was  occasioned  by  the  same  circumstances  which  led  to 
Gibbon's  Essay  on  the  Study  of  Literature.  The  writer  is  tracing 
the  history  of  modern  literature,  and  observes  : 

"De  la  Grammaire  naquit  la  Critique.  Celle-ci  entreprit  d' 
abord  de  purger  les  anciens  textes,  des  fautes  que  1'  ignorance  ou  1' 
inattention  des  copists  y  avaient  introduites,  etc.  .  .  .  Pen  a  peu 
elle  s'  eleva  jusqu'  k  chercher  dans  les  ouvrages  des  Grecs  et  des 
Romains,  les  modeles  du  beau  et  les  regies  du  gout. 

"  A  raesure  que  les  connaissances  s'  entendaient,  les  objets  d 
etude  se  multipliaient ;  la  curiosite  croissait.  L'  Histoire,  consi- 
deree  depuis  1'  origine  du  monde,  offrit  un  champ  immense,  et 
fournit  la  matiere  d'  un  nombre  infini  de  recherches.  Religion, 
Loix,  Coutumes,  successions  d'  Empires,  suites  de  Princes,  migra- 
tion de  Peuples,  fondations  de  Villes,  naissance  des  Arts,  progi-es 
des  Sciences ;  tons  ces  points  furent  approfondis  ;  le  critique  discuta 
les  faits,  le  Geographe  detennina  la  position  des  lieux  ou  ils 
s'  etaient  passes ;  le  Chronologiste  en  fixa  la  date ;  1'  Antiquaire 
trouva  sur  le  marbre  et  sur  V  airain,  de  quoi  les  eclaircir. 

...  "  L'  ordre  naturel  de  leurs  etudes,  dont  le  plan  general 
embrassait  1'  histoire  et  les  monumens  de  tons  les  temps,  les  rappro- 
cha,  par  degres,  de  celui  qu'  on  nomme  le  Moyen  age ;  nouvelle 
carriere,  d'  autant  plus  interessante  que  chacun  d'  eux  croyait  y 
voir  le  germe  du  gouveruement  auquel  il  etait  soumis,  et  le  berceau 
de  la  langue  qu'  il  parlait",  etc. 

Here  the  author  speaks  of  the  use  of  the  Mathematics  in  France, 
and  of  the  exact  sciences ;  and  of  the  jealousy  which  it  occasioned 
among  the  men  of  letters  :  and  he  proceeds  to  remark  upon  a  Dis- 
course of  the  Abbe  du  Resnel,  who  "  se  plaint  dans  sou  Memoire 
non  que  les  Sciences-Exactes  soient  devenues  florissantes   parmi 


394  APPENDIX. 

nous,  mais  que,  les  letters  aient  cesse  de  1'  etre ;  non  qu'  un  nouvcl 
empire  se  soit  eleve,  mais  qu'  il  ne  s'  eleve  que  sur  les  ruines  d'  im 
autre.  En  eflfet,  les  neuf  Muses  sont  soeurs :  a  ce  titre,  elles  sont 
en  droit  de  pretendre  que  la  faveur  public,  qui  fait  la  portion 
la  plus  precieuse  de  leur  dot,  soit  partagee  entre  elles  avec 
egalite". 

After  remarking  that  the  various  branches  of  Science  are  not  so 
closely  connected  with  each  other,  as  those  of  Literature,  he  proceeds 
to  illustrate  the  mutual  relation  and  influence  of  the  latter.  "  II  n' 
en  est  pas  de  m^me  d  1'  Erudition ;  ses  diflferentes  branches  conposent 
un  tout  presque  indivisible  ;  la  plupart,  au  moins,  sont  si  fort  de- 
pendantes  les  unes  des  autres,  qu'  on  ne  saurait  en  detacher  precise- 
ment  une,  pour  la  cultiver  seule.  Tel,  par  exemple,  est  ne  avec  du 
gout  pom-  la  science  de  Medailles  et  voudrait  s'  y  distinguer :  il 
faut  qu'  a  la  connaissance  des  langues,  qui,  prise  separement,  con- 
stitue  le  grammaricn,  il  joigne  la  connaissance  des  temps,  qui  con- 
stitue  le  Chronologiste  :  celle  des  lieux,  qui  constitue  le  Geographe : 
la  discussion  des  facts,  qui  constitue  le  critique ;  1'  experience  du 
metal,  qui  constitue  le  connoisseur :  et  toute  fois  nous  n'  aurons  qu' 
un  Antiquaire.  Disons  tout  en  un  mot;  chaque  branch  de  1'  Erudi- 
tion exige  le  meme  fond  d'  etude  ;  a  peu  de  chose  pres,  la  meme 
etcndue  de  savoir,  peut-etre  les  memes  talens ;  pour  epuiser  un 
genre,  il  faut  les  embrasser  tons".    Etc. 

The  remainder  of  the  paper  is  principally  on  the  subject  of  the 
utility  of  literature:  the  following  passage,  which  I  quote,  is  on  the 
subject  of  philosophy,  and  the  danger  of  mistaking  a  narrow  ex 
"parte  scientific  view  of  things  for  it : — 

"  On  dit  souvent,  pour  relever  1'  excellence  des  sciences-exactes, 
que  ce  sont  elles  qui  ont  introduit  das  le  monde  1'  Esprit  Philosophique, 
ce  flambeau  precieux,  a  la  faveur  duquel  nous  savons  douter  et 
croire  apropos.  Mais  ce  qu'  on  attribue  aux  sciences,  exclusive- 
ment  pourrait  bien  etre  1'  ouvrage  de  la  critique,  et,  par  consequent, 
appartenir  aux  lettres.  Car  enfin,  1'  esprit  philosophe  peut  se  de- 
finer,    '  la  Raison  eclairee   sur   les  vrais  principes  des  choscs,  de 


APPENDIX.  395 

quelque  nature  qu'  olles  soient';  c'  est  k  dire,  tant  de  cclles  qui 
sont  soumises  aux  sens,  que  de  celles  qui  sont  du  ressort  de  V 
esprit,  considere  dans  ses  diverses  faculties.  Or  cette  superiorite  de 
raison  est  Ic  resultat  des  reflexions  que  les  hommes  ont  faites,  a 
mesure  qu'  ils  ont  accru  le  nombre  de  leurs  idees,  en  acquerant  de 

nouvelles  connaissances  par  la  voie  de  1'  etude Puisque  1* 

esprit  pliilosophique  s'  etend,  sans  exception,  a  tons  les  objets  de 
nos  connaissances,  suivant  ce  mot  d'  un  ancien,  *  La  Philosophic 
est  necessaire,  lors  meme  qu'  on  ne  traite  pas  de  la  Philosophic, 
il  faut  bien  se  garder  de  se  confondre  avec  1'  esprit  de  calcul,  qui 
de  sa  nature  est  renferme  dans  un  circle,  an  del^  duquel  on  ne  doit 
pas  lui  permettre  d'  s'  etendre.  Nous  ne  dissimulerons  pas  que 
notre  siecle  commence  a  perdre  de  vue  cette  distinction :  et  qu'  a 
force  de  se  piquer  d'  etre  Greometre,  ou  plut6t  de  vouloir  tout  ra- 
mener  au  calcul,  d'en  appliquer  par-tout  la  methode,  de  1'  eriger  un 
instrument  universal,  il  cesse  presque  d'  etre  Philosophe.  Nous 
trouverions  chez  les  etrangers  et  chez  nous  plus  d'  un  exemple  de  cet 
exces,  qui,  dans  le  fond,  n'  est  pas  nouveau ;  les  scholastiques  du 
xiii.  siecle  avaient  deja  transporte  dans  la  Theologie  la  methode  et 
la  style  des  Geometres". 

In  another  Essay  (t.  xiii.),  "Des  Rapports  que  les  Belles- 
Lettres  et  les  Sciences  ont  entr'  elles",  the  author,  the  Abbe  Nauze, 
observes :  "  U  Esprit  Philosophique  est  un  talent  acquis  par  le 
travail,  et  par  1'  habitude,  pour  juger  sainement  de  toutes  les  choses 
du  monde.  C'est  une  intelligence  a  qui  rien  n'  echappe,  une  force 
de  raisonnements  que  rien  ne  pent  ebranler,  un  gout  sur  et  reflechi 
de  tout  ce  qu'  il  y  a  de  bon  ou  de  vicieux  dans  la  nature.  C  est 
la  regie  unique  du  vrai  et  du  beau.  II  n'  y  a  done  rien  de  parfait 
dans  les  differents  ouvrages  qui  sortent  de  la  main  des  hommes, 
que  ce  qui  est  anime  de  cet  esprit.  De  lui  depend  en  particulier  la 
gloire  des  Belles-Lettres ;  cependant  comme  il  est  le  fruit  d'  une 
science  cousommee,  et  le  partage  de  bien  pou  de  savants,  il  n'  est 
ni  possible  ni  necessaire  pom-  le  succes  des  Lettres,  qu'  un  talent  si 
rare  se  trouve  dans  tons  ccux  qui  les  cultivent.     II  suffit  a  une 


396  APPENDIX. 

nation  que  certains  grands  g^nies  le  possedent,  et  que  la  sup^riorite 
de  leurs  lumieres  les  rende  les  arbitres  du  goiit,  les  oracles  de  la 
critique,  les  dispensateui's  de  la  gloire  litteraire.  L'  esprit  philoso- 
phique  r^sidera  proprement  dans  ce  petit  nombre  ;  mais  il  repandra, 
pour  ainsi  dire,  ses  influences  sur  tout  le  corps  de  1'  Etat,  sur  tons 
les  arts,  sur  toutes  les  professions,  sur  tons  les  ouvrages  de  1' 
esprit  ou  de  la  main,  et  principalement  sur  ceux  de  Litterature ". 

"  The  more  deeply  the  sciences  are  investigated",  says  Gibbon, 
"  the  more  clearly  is  it  seen  that  they  are  all  connected.  They 
resemble  a  vast  forest,  every  tree  of  which  appears,  at  first  sight, 
to  be  isolated  and  separate,  but,  on  digging  beneath  the  surface, 
their  roots  are  found  to  be  all  interlaced  with  each  other.  There  is 
no  branch  of  study  so  insignificant  and  unimportant,  as  not  some- 
times to  afford  facts,  disclosures,  or  objections,  to  the  most  sublime 
and  exalted  sciences.  I  like  to  dwell  on  the  reflection,  that  it  is 
highly  necessary  to  show  different  professions  and  nations  their 
mutual  wants.  Point  out  to  the  English  the  advantages  they  may 
derive  from  the  French ;  acquaint  a  natural  philosopher  with  the 
assistance  he  may  obtain  from  Literature;  and  self-love  will 
perform  the  office  of  sound  reasoning.  Thus  philosophy  is  extended, 
and  human  nature  benefited.  Before,  men  were  rivals;  now,  they 
are  brethren.  All  sciences  are  founded  upon  reasoning  and  facts. 
Without  the  latter,  our  studies  would  be  chimerical :  deprived  of  the 
former,  they  would  be  blind.  Thus  it  is  that  the  different  branches  of 
Literature  are  united  :  and  all  the  various  ramifications  of  the  study 
of  nature,  which  under  an  apparent  meanness  often  hide  a  real 
magnificence,  are  connected  together  in  a  similar  manner". — Essay 
on  Literature. 

The  following  instructions  of  Cardinal  Gerdil  for  the  establish- 
ment of  an  Academy  of  Science,  strikingly  illustrate  what  I  have 
insisted  on  in  the  text,  as  to  the  indivisibility  of  the  various  branches 
of  knowledge. 

1.  "Les  Mathematiques  dans  toute  leur  etendue  ;  la  physique 
g^nerale  et  particuliere  avec  toutes  ses  dependances  ;  V  etude  de  la 


APPENDIX.  397 

nature,  les  rapports  qui  lient  les  Etres  entr'eux ;  les  loix  et  les 
moyens  de  leur  action  reciproque,  les  phenom^nes  qui  en  resultent ; 
r  application  de  ces  phenomenes  aux  besoins  de  la  vie  ;  tels  sont 
les  objets  dont  il  parait  que  1'  Academic  doive  prlncipalement  s* 
occuper. 

2.  "  Toute  decouverte  r^eUe  dans  V  ordre  de  la  nature  ne  pent  qu' 
etre  suivde  d'  une  utilite  reelle  on  immediate  dans  1*  ordre  de  la  soci^te. 
Mais  c'  est  moins  a  1'  utilite  en  elle  meme,  qu'  a  la  source  de  Y 
utilite,  qu'  une  Compagnie  savante  doit  s'  attacher.  Elle  doit  se 
proposer  de  s'  etendre  la  sphere  des  connaissances  r^elles,  bien  assuree 
d'  en  voir  decouler  tot  ou  tard  des  avantages  precieux  pom*  l' 
humanity. 

3.  "  L'  Academic  ne  fera  done  pas  des  arts  V  objet  de  son  travail. 
Ou  a  observe  judicieusement  (dans  une  note  margin  ale)  que  le  pas 
qu'  il  faut  faire  pour  appliquer  k  la  pratique  de  1'  art  une  experience 
ou  un  priucipe  calcule,  est  ordinairement  tres  facile,  et  que  les  obser- 
vations minutieuses  qui  reglent  la  pratique  des  arts,  nuiraient  k  cet 
essor  plus  releve,  qu'  on  est  en  droit  d'  attendre  d'  une  Academic. 

4.  "  Ce  n'  est  qu'  il  n'  y  ait  dans  la  pratique  des  arts,  des  regies  ou 
des  resultats  dignes  de  toute  1'  attention  d'  une  Academic ;  mais 
dans  ce  cas  meme,  elle  ne  s'  en  occupe  qu'  antant  que  le  procede  de  1' 
art  rentre  dans  la  classe  des  experiences  ou  observations  de  Physique 
ou  de  Histoire  naturelle,  ou  bien  qu'  il  fournit  matiere  ou  a  la  reso- 
lution de  quelque  probleme,  ou  al'  eclaircissement  de  quelque  theorie 
mathematique.  Eu  un  mot,  les  arts  seront  traites  dans  1'  Academie 
scientifiquement,  et  non  a  la  fagon  des  artistes. 

5.  "  Ou  a  propose  d'  admettre  dans  1'  Academie  Y  Etude  de  1* 
Antiquito,  en  dirigeant  cette  etude  a  la  recherche  des  sciences  et 
des  arts  chez  les  anciens.  .  .  .  Des  ouvrages  de  cette  nature 
exigent  necessairement  un  concours  de  lumineres  pour  6tre  portes 
au  point  de  perfection,  done  ils  sont  susceptibles.  Neanraoins, 
avant  que  de  songer  a  etablir  une  classe  d'  antiquite,  il  convient 
de  s'  assurer  d'  un  nombre  de  s^njots  propres  a  cette  sort  de  travail 
et  qui  veuillcut  s'  y  employer. 


398  APPENDIX. 

6.  "  Get  exemple  pent  deja  servir  a  expliquer  en  quel  sens  on  a 
dit  dans  1'  ecrit  cite  cy-dessus,  qu'  il  serait  a  propos  qu'  une 
Academic  se  proposat  quelque  plan  de  recherches,  qu'  on  pent  re- 
garder  comme  1'  ouvrage  du  coi-ps,  et  non  simplement  comme  le  travail 
isole  des  differents  membres  de  1'  association.  Un  travail  commun  peut 
etre  concu  de  deux  manieres,  on  en  tant  que  plusieurs  co-operent  au 
meme  travail  sur  un  meme  sujet,  on  en  tant  que  les  travaux  distincts  de 
plusieurs  se  rapportent  et  concourent  a  un  meme  objet.  Que  deux 
ou  trois  ai'tistes  entreprennent  de  peindre  en  commun  une  figure ; 
que  r  un  s'  applique  a  peindre  la  tete,  1'  autre  les  mains,  ou  que  se 
relevant  tour  k  tour  chacun  passe  son  coup  de  pinceau  sur  les 
memes  traits,  ce  serait  la  un  travail  commun  sur  un  meme  sujet. 
J'  avouc  qu'  une  telle  methode  serait  pen  propre  a  donner  a  un 
ouvrage  cette  unite  de  caractere,  qui  en  doit  faire  le  principal 
merite.  .  .  .  Mais  qu'  il  faille  etaler  un  spectacle  sur  la  scene  ;  le 
Poete,  le  Musicien,  1'  Architecte,  le  Peintre,  le  Machiniste,  le 
Danseur,  grand  nombro  d'  autres  artistes  doivent  necessairement 
concourir  au  succes  de  la  representation.  Voila  1'  idee  d'un  travail 
commun  dans  le  second  sens ;  je  veux  dire,  le  resultat  des  differents 
travaux  tres  diflferents  en  eux  memes,  mais  que  se  rapportent  pour- 
tant  a  un  meme  objet,  Une  societe  savante  peut  former,  pour  1' 
avancement  des  connaissances  humaines,  des  projets,  dont  1'  execu- 
tion exige  differentes  sortes  de  recherches,  et  par  consequent  le 
concours  des  diflferents  membres  qui  la  composent.  Dans  ce  cas, 
chaque  associe  s'  occupe  de  sa  pai'tie ;  mais  ces  diflferents  travaux, 
reunis  par  leur  rapport  a  un  meme  objet,  ferment  un  tout  et  un 
ensemble,  qu'  on  peut  regarder  comme  1'  ouvrage  de  la  societe",  etc. 

I  add  a  passage  of  a  writer  akeady  quoted,  who  is  speaking  of 
Eeligion :  "  Religious  knowledge  is  not  merely  a  code  of  agenda  or 
credenda,  a  summary  of  articles,  or  a  manual  of  devotion.  It  is 
intimately  connected  with  the  whole  course  of  ancient  history,  with 
philosophy  and  criticism,  with  the  study  of  the  learned  languages, 
with  moral  and  metaphysical  philosophy.  It  runs  parallel  with  the 
progress  of  the  human  mind  in  every  liberal  pursuit.     The  peasant 


APPENDIX.  399 

may  be  as  wise  as  his  condition  requires  him  to  bo,  without  the 
light  of  learning  or  philosophy  ;  but  the  information  which  is  suffi- 
cient for  the  peasant  is  beneath  the  claims  which  such  a  subject  has 
upon  the  scholar  and  the  gentleman.  If  indeed  the  mind  be  care- 
fully instructed  in  every  other  branch  of  liberal  knowledge,  without 
a  coiTesponding  acquaintance  with  that  which  is  the  most  momen- 
tous of  all,  an  undue  bias  must  be  given  to  the  judgment ;  the 
topic  which  is  not  expanded  in  proportion  to  the  rest,  will  virtually 
shrink  into  insignificance,  and  be  despised ;  its  track  will  be  for- 
saken, its  treasures  undiscovered,  its  domain  uncultivated.  We 
cannot,  therefore,  too  earnestly  insist  upon  the  incompleteness  of 
any  system  of  education  in  which  this  main  ingi-edient  is  wanting". 
— Copleston  in  Quarterly  Review,  December,  1825. 


§    6.       Knoivledge   under   this   aspect   is   Philosophy   or   Liberal 
Knowledge. 

"Adduxit  ad  tractandas  atque  excolendas  artes  magnitudo  rei, 
et  opus  unum  excellentia  mentis  nostrse  longe  dignissimum,  cupiditas 
veri  inveniendi,  qua  nihil  est  praeclarius,  nee  quod  magis  deceat 
hominem,  sicut  ignorari,  falli,  decipi,  turpe  ac  miserum  judicamus  : 
quae  ut  evitarent,  philosophatos  esse  priscos  illos,  nee  alia  causa, 
aut  in  alium  usum,  Aristoteles  perhibet  gravis  in  primis  auctor. 

**  Admiratio  hujus  tanti  operis  ingentes  illos  animos  ad  studium 
et  inquisitionem  causarum  compulit ;  hinc  si  quid  se  putarent  novum 
et  aliis  inaudituniinvenisse,  incredibilis  sequebatur  delectatio,  tan- 
quam  parta  victoria,  et  tantis  difficultatibus  superatis,  ea  delec- 
tatio detenebat  eos  in  cura  et  labore,  quam  illi  delectationem  opibus, 
dignitatibus,  et  aUis  omnibus  vitai  commodis  proponebant :  ergo 
expedierunt  se  varia  hominum  ingenia,  ut  in  verum  hoc  quasi  de- 


400  APPENDIX. 

fodiendum  ac  eruendum  prorsus  incumberent,  alia,  spe  prsemii 
inducta,  alia,  ut  fruerentur  lis  oblectamentis,  quje  ex  spectatione 
theatri  hiijus  naturae  maxime  capiuntur,  varia  subinde  ac  diutuma. 
Praestantia  ingeuia  ex  sublimi  ilia  ct  generosa  nota  hue  veneruiit, 
quod,  quum  se  tanta  pectoris  luce  illo  vigore  mentis  praeditos  re- 
putarent  ac  instructos,  nuU^  in  re  ali4  consumi  tanta  bona  oportere 
censuerunt,  quam  ut  rem  pulcherrimam  scruterentur  ac  complecte- 
rentur,  et,  quatenus  liceret,  quam  plurimis  prodessent",  etc.  Vives, 
de  CaiLS.  Corr.  Art.^  i.  2. 

"  Galenus  medicus  hac  utitur  sectione  artium,  ut  '  alias '  dicat 
*  contemptibiles  vilesque,  quae  corporis  laboribus  et  manibus  exer- 
centur',  quas  Graeci  %e//3ov/)7<K:as  vocarunt,  '  alias  lionestas  et 
homine  libero  dignas',  de  quo  generc  primam  facit  Medicinam.  Hoc 
coudonandum  amori  professionis,  et  tanquam  pietati  in  nutricem 
bene  meritam  :  addit  Rhetoricam,  Musicam,  Gcometriam,  Astrono- 
miam,  Arithmeticam,  Dialecticam,  Gramraaticam,  Legum  pruden- 
tiam.  Nee  repugnat,  si  quis  volet  huic  numero  adscribere  eas, 
queis  fingimus  pingimusque,  quod  bse,  tametsi  citra  mauuum  operam 
non  obeantur,  tamen  non  videntur  egere  robore  illo  et  lacertis  juve- 
nilibus;  Seneca  vero  non  adducitur,  ut  in  numerum  liberalium 
artium  pictorem  recipiat,  non  magis  quam  statuarios,  aut  marmorarios 
aut  caiteros  Inxuriaj  ministros.  .^que  luctatores  et  totam  oleo  ac 
luto  constantem  scientiam  expellit,  qnod  ei  convenit  cum  Galeno ; 
nee  liberalia  studia  sunt,  sententia  Seuecae,  exercitationes  rei 
militaris;  venationem  quoque  a  liberalibus  Sallustius  excludit. 
Possidonius  Stoicus  artes  hunc  in  modum  partiebatur,  ut  alias 
vulgares  et  sordidas  nominaret,  quae  manu  constarent  et  essent  ad 
instrucndam  vitam  occupatae,  expertes  decori  atque  honesti ;  alias 
ludicras,  quie  ad  voluptatem  tenderent  oculorum  atque  aurium: 
pueriles  sunt,  et  aliquid  habentes  liberalibus  siaiile,  quas  iXevOe- 
pia9  Graeci  vocant,  qua;  non  perducunt  animum  ad  virtutem,  sed 
expediunt ;  liberales  vero,  immo,  ut  inquit,  solae  liberie  sunt, 
quibus  est  curae  virtus. 

"  Recepta  opinio  est,  scptem  esse  liberales  artes,  trcs  de  sermo- 


APPENDIX.  401 

ne,  quatuor  de  quantitate.  Has  ingenuas  cognominarnnt,  quasi  has 
solas  ingenui  discerent  ac  exercerent.  Nerao  enim  fere  in  liberis 
civitatibus  ingenuu3  manuariis  artibus  operam  accoraraodabat ;  sed 
puer  hisce  erat  artibus  dedltus,  juvenis  verb  militiaj,  campo,  gym- 
nasio,  aut  publicis  negotiis,  administrandee  reipublicae,  causis  acti- 
tandis,  et  ejusmodi  exercitamentis,  quae  sola  censebant  illi  digna 
homine  libero,  unde  illud  in  Comoedia,  '  Fac  periculum  in  litteris, 
fac  in  palsestra,  in  musicis,  qu£e  liberum  scire  aequum  est'.  lUae 
enim  artes  maxime  existimabantur  ingenuis  hominibus  ad  vitae 
cultum  et  ad  rempublicam  gerendam  congraere,  ut  sermo  esset 
emundatus  et  purus,  etc.,  etc.  .  .  .  Miror  praetermissas  ab  illis 
Architecturam  et  Perspectivam  ad  multa  utilem.  ...  In  nostris 
scholis  hoec  qiioque  fundamenta  sunt  trium  cedificiorum,  Medicinae, 
Theologise,  et  peritise  Juris,  quas  supremas  artes  disciplinasque 
nominamus,  et  usui  quotidiano  cum  primis  serviunt.  Philosophiam 
moralem  adjunximus,  qu«  multum  Theologiae  adminiculatur;  et  ex 
qua  jus  esse  ortura  existimant  Sacrum  et  Profanum  ;  tarn  cognitio- 
nem  Naturae  rerum,  sine  qua  Medicina  manca  est  prorsus",  etc. — 
Vives:  de  Cans.  Corr.  Art.,  i.  2. 

"  Sequitur  post  actionem  quies  ;  ratio  est  velut  scnitatio,  judicium 
electio,  contemplatio  autem  inspectio  quieta  et  tuta  omnium,  quae  a 
ratione  sunt  collecta  et  exculpta,  a  judicio  autem  recepta  atque 
approbata.  Non  est  in  ea  ratiocinatio  ulla,  in  qua  omnia  sunt 
certa  jam  atque  exposita.  Et  quando  delectatio  omnis  nascitur  ex 
proportione  quadam  congruentiaque  objecti  cum  facultate,  nihilque 
est  menti  congruentius  quam  Veritas,  fit  ut  in  contemplatione  magnae 
sint  delectationes.  In  quo  tamen  spectantur  Veritas  et  ingenium,  nam 
veritates  tam  sunt  gratissimae  quam  certissimie  maximeque  defaecatae, 
prolatae  simul  cum  suis  originibus  primisque  causis ;  id  vero  si  non 
concedatur,  secundum  est  ut  ad  veritatem  quam  proxime  accedant 
simillimoeque  sint.  Nemo  est  tam  torpenti  et  abjecto  in  terram 
animo,  quod  non  excitetur  ad  banc  vocem,  '  Ego  tibi  hnjusce  rci 
causam  patefaciam'  ".     Vives  do  AnimA,,  ii.  10. 

"  Neque  enim  ita  in  arctum  confingendus  est  animus  ut  intra  uuam 


402  APPENDIX. 

aliquam  artem  subsistat.     Qui  enim  illud  faciunt,  iniqui  profecto 
judices,    non  perspiciunt,  quantum  natura  humani  ingenii  valeat ; 
quae  ita  agilis  est  et  velox,  ut  ne  possit  quidem  aliquid  agere  tantum 
unum,  si  Fabium  audimus.    Non  audiendi  sunt  homines  imperiti  qui 
humano    ingenio    majorem,    vel    inutilem  et  rebus  gerendis   ad- 
versam,  voXvfidOeiav  criminantur.     Est  igitur  quaedam  scientiarum 
cognatio  et  conciliatio,  unde  et  i^KVK\o7ralbeiav  vocant  grasci,  ut  in 
una  perfectus  dici  nequeat,  qui  caeteras  non  attigerit.     Sellularium, 
vilium,  et  sordidarum  artiura  alia  ratio  est,  quibus  nulla  inter  se  est 
conjunctio;  ex  quarum  ingenio  liberales  illae  censendae  non  sunt. 
Fabrilia    qui    tractat,    impune   ignorare   sutoriam    potest ;    at   in 
liberalibus  illis  conspirant  omnes  manusque  jungunt.     In  architecto 
quid  reqnirat  Vitruvius,  novimus.  Nulla  poene  disciplina  est,  quam 
ille  non  attingi  vclit.       In  Oratoribus  et  Poetis,  perfcctis  scilicet,  ea 
omnia  quae  in  architecto  suo  Viti-uvius,  requirunt  earum  disciplina- 
rum  Magistri.     Et  has  quidem  scientias  artesque  omnes  ita  congc- 
rendas  in  Philosophum  suum  judicarunt  Stoici,  ut  nee  mechanicarum 
artium  rudem  esse  voluerint,  ac  indignum  eo  crediderint,  si  aliorum 
ministeriis  ad  vitae  civilis  necessitates  uteretur.     Veniamus  ad  dis- 
ciplinas   elegantiores :    ad   quas  jnnctim  excolendas  natura  duce 
incitamur,  ut  extremo  viris  pudori  sit,  in  una  aliqua  consenescere. 
Non  dubinm  est,  mediocribus  etiam  ingeniis  hie  licere  esse  felicibus ; 
Inest  scilicet  illis  opfiij  irpo9  vavra  ^laO^/iaTay  qualis  ingenio  magno 
convenit,  et  qualem  nobis  Plato  describit.    Est  animorum  nostrorum, 
si  ita  loqui  liceat,  vY«-09,  quoilli  vel  per  naturam  vel  assuefactionem 
apti  sunt  multa  simul  complecti,  abstrahere  a  singularibus,   seque 
ab  illo  humili  statu  in  sublimem  perducere.    Itaque  se  exerit  in  illo, 
quod  apxtTSKToviKov  appellare  possumus,  aut,  ex   Stoicorum   dis- 
ciplina, TO  y<^e/u.oviKov,  regio  quasi  spiritu,  et  fulminis  instar  omnia 

penetrans,   et  sua  quadam  luce  omnia   perlustrans Qui 

distinctas  rerum  ideas  animo  tenent,  modo  sibi  subordinatas  nee 
comfusas,  illis  non  imminui,  sed  augeri  to  KpiriKov^  necesse  est, 
quod  ex  conciliatione  omnium  partium  resultat.  Major  enim  profecto 
cLKpiaia^   metus   est    ab   illis,  qui  circa    opKr/nevou    /idOrj/ua   ver- 


APPENDIX.  403 

santiir,  qui  plei'umque  ex  illius  indole,  etsi  cseterarura  rudes  sint, 

omnia  alia  metiantur Neque  tamen  id  volo,   at  qui  omni 

incubuit  disciplinarum  generi,  in  illis  omnibus  simul  habitet ;  nam 
et  tempore  et  negotiis,  aliisque  impedimentis  cxcludimur,  ut  fieri  k 
nobis  non  possit.  Quare  occupabimus  quidem  totum  hunc  fundum 
animo,  affectu,  impetu ;  sed  convenientissimam  ejus  partem  quasi 
limitibus  quibusdam  circumscribemus,  quam  excolamus,  et  in  qua  in- 
dustriam  nostram  exerceamus.  Excludit  ipse  scientiarum  vastitas 
hospites  suos ;  qui  nunquam  habitabunt,  nusquam  domi  emnt,  si 
ubique  habitare  volent,  aut  levi  tantum  percm-satione  plurima 
attinent".  Morbof.  Polyhistor.,  i.  1.  I  have  left  out  sentences  here 
and  there  for  the  sake  of  brevity. 

"  It  is  an  assured  truth  which  is  contained  in  the  verses,  '  Scilicet 
ingenua  didicisse  fideliter',  etc.  It  taketh  away  the  wildness  and 
barbarism  and  fierceness  of  men's  minds ;  but  indeed  the  accent  had 
need  be  on  fideliter^;  for  altogether  supei*ficial  learning  doth  rather 
work  a  contrary  eflfect.  It  taketh  away  all  levity,  temerity,  and 
insolency,  by  copious  suggestion  of  all  doubts  and  difficulties,  and 
acquainting  the  mind  to  balance  reasons  on  both  sides,  and  to  turn 
back  the  first  offers  and  conceits  of  the  mind,  and  to  accept  of 
nothing  but  examined  and  tried.  It  taketh  away  vain  admi- 
ration of  any  thing,  which  is  the  root  of  all  weakness  :  for  all 
things  are  admired,  either  because  they  are  new,  or  because  they  are 
gi*eat.  For  novelty,  no  man  that  wadeth  in  learning  or  contempla- 
tion thoroughly,  but  will  find  that  printed  in  his  heart,  '  Nil  novi 
super  terram'.  Neither  can  any  man  marvel  at  the  play  of  puppets 
that  goeth  behind  the  curtain,  and  adviseth  well  of  the  motion. 
And  for  magnitude,  as  Alexander  the  Great,  after  that  he  was  used 
to  gi'eat  armies,  and  the  great  conquests  of  the  spacious  provinces 
in  Asia,  when  he  received  letters  out  of  Greece,  of  some  fights  and 
services  there,  which  were  commonly  for  a  passage,  or  a  fort,  or 
some  walled  town  at  the  most,  he  said,  *  It  seemed  to  him,  that  he 
was  advertised  of  the  battle  of  the  frogs  and  mice,  that  the  old 
tales  went  of.     So  certainly,   if  man  meditate  upon  the  univei*sal. 

30 


404  APPENDIX. 

frame  of  nature,  the  Earth  with  men  upon  it,  the  divineness  of  souls 
excepted,  will  not  seem  much  other  than  an  ant  hill,  where  some 
ants  cany  corn,  and  some  caiTj  their  young,  and  some  go  empty, 
and  all  to  and  fro  a  little  heap  of  dust.  It  taketh  away  or  miti- 
gateth  fear  of  death,  or  adverse   fortune;    w^hich  is  one  of  the 

greatest  impediments  of  virtue,  and  imperfections  of  manners 

And  therefore  Virgil  did  excellently  and  profoundly  couple  the 
knowledge  of  causes,  and  the  conquest  of  all  fears  together,  as 
concomitantia ;  f  Felix  qui  potuit'",  etc.  Bacon,  Adv.  of  Learning, 
vol.  i.  p.  60,  ed.  1824. 

In  quoting  Gibbon,  it  is  generally  necessary  to  apologize  for  his 
iiTcligious  tone.  "  AVith  some  [the  philosophical  talent]  consists  in 
tracing  out  new  paths  and  ridiculing  every  prevaiHng  opinion, 
merely  because  it  is  prevalent.  With  othera  it  is  identified  with 
geometry,  that  imperious  queen,  who,  not  content  with  reigning,  pro- 
scribes her  sisters,  and  declares  all  reasoning  unworthy  of  the  name, 

which  turns  not  upon  lines  and  numbers The  philosophical 

talent  consists  in  the  power  of  going  back  to  simple  ideas,  of 
seizing  and  combining  first  principles.  The  glance  of  its  possessor 
is  correct,  but  it  is  at  the  same  time  extensive.  Placed  upon  an 
eminence,  he  takes  in  a  wide  range  of  vision,  of  which  he  forms  to 
himself  one  simple  and  connected  idea,  while  other  minds,  as 
coiTect  in  apprehension,  but  more  limited  in  extent,  see  only  some 
portion  or  other  of  it.  He  may  be  a  geometrician,  or  an  antiquary,  or 
a  musician,  but  still  he  is  a  philosopher ;  and  by  dint  of  penetrating 
into  the  first  principles  of  his  art,  he  becomes  superior  to  it.  He 
has  a  place  among  that  small  number  of  geniuses,  who,  at  distant 
intervals,  cultivate  that  chief  science  to  which,  were  it  perfected,  all 
others  must  submit.  Taken  in  this  view,  the  talent  is  extremely 
rare.  There  are  plenty  of  minds  capable  of  correctly  apprehending 
particular  ideas ;  but  there  are  very  few  who  can  collect  into  one 
abstract  idea  a  numerous  assemblage  of  others  of  a  less  general 
natm'e.    What  study  can  confer  this  talent  ?   None  that  I  know  of. 


APPENDIX.  405 

It  is  a  gift  conferred  by  Heaven ;  the  majority  of  mankind  are 
ignorant  of,  and  despise  it ;  it  is  wished  for  by  the  wise ;  has  been 
given  to  few ;  has  been  acquired  by  none ;  but  I  think  that  the 
study  of  Literature,  that  habit  of  alternately  becoming  a  Greek  or  a 
lioman,  a  disciple  of  Zeno  or  of  Epicurus,  is  admirably  adapted  to 
develop  and  exercise  it.  Throughout  all  these  infinitely  diversified 
minds,  may  be  observed  a  general  conformity  between  those  who, 
by  the  similarity  of  their  times,  countries,  and  religions,  have 
acquii-ed  very  nearly  the  same  manner  of  looking  at  objects.  Those 
minds  which  are  least  imbued  with  prejudice,  cannot  be  entirely  free 
from  it.  Their  ideas  have  a  pai-adoxical  appearance;  and,  even 
when  breaking  their  fetters,  you  perceive  that  those  ideas  were 
once  shackled  by  them.  Among  the  Greeks  I  look  for  favourers  of 
democracy ;  among  the  Romans  for  enthusiastic  lovers  of  their 
country  ;  among  the  subjects  of  a  Commodus,  a  Severus,  or  a  Cara- 
calla,  for  apologists  for  despotic  power;  and  among  the  ancient 
Epicureans,  for  iuvcighers  against  the  religion  of  the  times.  How 
striking  a  spectacle  for  a  truly  philosophic  mind,  to  see  the  most 
absurd  opinions  received  among  the  most  enlightened  people ; 
barbarians  attaining  to  the  knowledge  of  the  most  sublime  truths ; 
legitimate  but  incorrect  consequences  drawn  from  most  en'oneous 
premisses ;  admirable  principles  continually  approaching  neai'er  to 
truth  without  ever  quite  reaching  it ;  language  formed  by  ideas,  and 
ideas  coiTCCted  by  language ;  the  sources  of  morality  always  the 
same ;  the  opinions  of  the  quarrelsome  metaphysician  always 
varying,  generally  extravagant,  clear  only  while  they  are  superficial, 
and  subtle,  obscure,  and  uncertain  whenever  they  pretend  to  be 
profound.  [In  History]  the  philosophic  mind  sees  a  system,  con- 
nexions, and  consequences,  where  others  can  discern  only  the 
caprices  of  fortune.  It  considers  this  science  as  one  of  causes  and 
eflfects  ;  and  it  well  deserves  an  attempt  to  lay  down  some  particular 
rules,  not  to  enable  genius  to  bud  forth,  but  to  guard  it  from 
mistakes.     Perhaps,  if  this  had  always  been  well  weighed,  cunning 


406  APPENDIX. 

would  not  so  often  have  been  mistaken  for  penetration,  obscurity  for 
depth,  and  an  air  of  paradox  for  a  creative  genius".  Essay  on  the 
Study  of  Literature. 

To  enter  into  the  opinions  of  others,  and  to  be  sceptical  about  the 
truth  of  any,  are  not,  as  Gibbon  supposes,  synonymous.  For  surely 
it  is  no  paradox  to  say,  "  I  understand  you,  but  I  think  the  con- 
trary of  your  opinion  true".  Here  it  will  save  me  trouble,  if  I 
express  my  meaning  in  my  own  words  on  a  former  occasion. 

"There  are  many  men  of  one  idea  in  the  world ;  your  unin- 
tellectual  machine,  who  eats,  drinks,  and  sleeps,  is  a  man  of  one 
idea.  Such,  too,  is  your  man  of  genius,  who  strikes  out  some  new, 
or  revives  some  old  view  in  science  or  in  art,  and  would  apply 
it  as  a  sort  of  specific  or  interpretation  to  all  possible  subjects,  and 
will  not  let  the  world  alone,  but  loads  it  with  bad  names,  if  it  will 

not  run  after  him  and  his  darling  fancy Such  again  are  the 

benevolent  persons,  who,  with  right  intentions,  but  yet,  I  think, 
narrow  views,  wish  to  introduce  the  British  constitution  and 
British  ideas  into  every  nation  and  tribe  upon  Earth ;  differing,  how 
much,  from  the  wise  man  in  the  Greek  epic,  whose  characteristic 
was  that  he  was  '  versatile ',  for  he  had  known  '  the  cities  and  the 
mind  of  many  men'.  History  and  travel  expand  our  views  of  man 
and  of  society ;  they  teach  us  that  distinct  principles  rule  in 
different  countries  and  in  distant  periods  ;  and  though  they  do  not 
teach  us  that  all  principles  are  equally  tme,  or,  what  is  the  same 
thing,  that  none  are  either  true  or  false,  yet  they  do  teach  us  that 
all  are  to  be  regarded  with  attention  and  examined  with  patience, 
which  have  prevailed  to  any  great  extent  among  mankind.  Such 
is  the  temper  of  a  man  of  the  world,  of  a  philosopher.  He  may 
hold  certain  principles  to  be  false  and  dangerous,  but  he  will 
try  to  enter  into  them,  to  enter  into  the  minds  of  those  who  hold 
them ;  he  will  consider  in  what  their  strength  lies,  and  what  can  be 
said  for  them ;  he  will  do  his  best  to  analyze  and  dissect  them  ;  he 
will  compare  them  with  others ;  and  he  will  apply  himself  to  the  task 
of  exposing  and  disproving  them.     He  will  not  ignore  them" ;    etc. 


APPENDIX.  407 

It  is  not  to  be  supposed  that  any  Catholic  can  endure  Sharon 
Turner,  though  he  was  after  all  fairer  than  his  generation  ;  but  still 
it  is  pleasant  to  find  him,  after  a  contemptuous  mention  of  the 
Trivium  and  Quadi-ivium,  give  utterance  to  the  following  just  senti- 
ment : — "  The  classical  minds  whom  we  are  accustomed  to  venerate, 
were  not  formed  merely  from  the  literature  which  preceded  them, 
but  from  the  general  intellect,  business,  conversation,  and  pursuits 
of  their  day.  It  is  a  mistake  to  imagine  that  a  man  of  great  in- 
tellectual eminence  is  made  only  from  his  library  ;  he  is  the  creature 
of  the  improvement  of  society  about  him,  reflecting  upon  him  the 
rays  of  a  thousand  minds,  and  pouring  into  him  information  from 
a  thousand  quarters.  Every  hour  his  understanding,  if  it  has  the 
capacity,  is  insensibly  directed,  em-iched,  and  exercised,  by  the 
knowledge  and  talent  that  is  everywhere  breathing,  acting,  and  con- 
ferring around  him.  His  mind  expands,  without  his  own  conscious- 
ness of  its  enlargement ;  his  ideas  multiply  independently  of  his  will ; 
his  judgment  rectifies,  his  moral  and  political  wisdom  increases  with 
his  experience ;  and  he  at  last  becomes  a  model  imperceptibly  bene- 
fiting others,  as  he  has  been  benefited  himself".  Middle  Ages, 
vol.  iv.  p.  241. 

From  an  exceedingly  able  article  in  the  British  Critic  for 
January,  1841,  on  "Utilitarian  Moral  Philosophy",  I  select  the 
following  passage,  as  having  an  immediate  bearing  on  our  subject : 
"  [Comprehensiveness  of  view]  is  the  power  of  embracing  without 
confounding  a  variety  of  facts,  past,  present,  and  to  come,  of 
holding  in  the  mind  a  number  of  ideas,  each  perfect  in  itself,  yet 
each  with  relation  to  the  rest,  of  uniting  an  indefinite  number  of 
objects  in  one  view  as  a  whole.  This  power  is  to  a  certain  extent 
exercised  in  any,  the  commonest  case  of  comparison,  every  time  we 
assert  any  kind  of  likeness  or  unlikeness,  preference  or  relation  ;  at 
the  same  time,  it  is  perhaps  in  this  more  than  any  other  exercise  of 
the  intellect,  that  we  are  able  to  feel  distinctly  how  far  our  natural 
ability  falls  short  of  our  capacities.  Illustrations  may  be  taken 
from  any  quarter.     In  music,  we  arc  first  able  to  distinguish  a 


408  APrENBix. 

pleasing  from  an  unpleasing  sound,  and  that  is  all ;  shortly  wc 
become  able  to  remember  the  sounds  which  led  to  it,  and  to  view 
each  present  note  coloured  by  those  which  we  hold  still  in  our  nie- 
moiT,  to  understand,  that  is,  a  simple  air ;  next,  we  detect  simul- 
taneous sounds  and  melodies  as  they  combine  to  form  one  harmony; 
and  so  on,  till  the  accomplished  musician  is  enabled  to  embrace  in 
one  grasp,  as  it  were,  a  whole  musical  movement,  with  all  the 
history  and  relations  of  the  various  threads  of  melody,  which  appear 
and  disappear,  are  echoed,  varied,  entangled,  and  disentangled, 
enforced  and  ovei^whelmed  through  the  whole  composition.  Thus, 
too,  in  examining  a  piece  of  mechanism,  after  we  have  mastered 
one  by  one  the  various  ingenious  contrivances  by  which  minor 
difficulties  are  obviated,  and  the  forces  applied  to  their  different 
destinations,  we  stop  and  try  to  see  them  for  a  moment  all  at  once, 
to  embrace  in  one  glance  all  the  complicated  movements  of  the 
parts,  as  subordinate  and  ministering  to  the  common  purpose  of  the 
whole.  By  such  an  effort  we  seem  to  gain  a  kind  of  double  power 
of  dividing  and  concentrating  our  mind,  so  that  even  while  we 
direct  our  main  attention  to  any  one  part,  we  yet  do  so  with  a  kind 
of  active  and  real,  though  perhaps  unconscious,  recollection  of  a 
variety  of  other  objects,  to  which  it  has  or  may  have  reference. 
The  same  might  be  said  of  our  mode  of  feeling  the  composition  of 
a  picture  or  poem;  but  with  even  more  weight  and  truth,  of  history 
and  philosophy ;  and  here  it  is  that  we  may  most  truly  feel  what 
we  may  have  done  for  our  own  minds,  and  how  very  much  remains 
to  do,  when,  after  having  run  through  a  line  of  history,  a  philosophical 
system,  or  even  a  train  of  argument,  we  try  so  to  fix  our  attention 
on  the  whole,  as,  Avithout  dropping  the  particulars,  to  grasp  and 
unite  them  all  in  one  view,  in  one  course  or  group.  In  such  an 
effort  we  ordinarily  succeed  a  little,  and  fail  a  great  deal ;  and 
while  in  our  mode  of  failure  we  seem  to  feel  very  clearly  where  it  is 
that  we  fail,  so  our  success,  such  as  it  is,  seems  to  teach  us  how 
much  our  nature  might  be  made  capable  of,  by  the  mere  extension 
of  its  present  faculties.     We  seem  to  have  some  clue  given  us  to  a 


APPENDIX.  409 

conception  of  those  powers,  which  it  is  not  impossible  may  some 
day  be  given  to  man,  of  embracing  in  one  sweeping  and  piercing 
glance  the  real  living  truth  of  all  those  vast  dispensations  which  he 
has  wondered  at  in  history,  embracing  them  as  well  in  their  vast- 
ness  as  in  their  minute  details,  from  their  relation  to  each  other,  and 
effects  on  the  course  of  human  histoiy,  down  to  the  capricious 
human  passions,  as  we  call  them,  and  paltiy  accidents,  which  were 
the  instruments  of  their  accomplishment.  And  this  indeed  is  but  a 
small  part  of  what  is  conceivable.  There  is  plainly  no  limit  to  the 
extent,  to  which  the  mere  faculties,  which  we  now  have  in  a  weak 
imperfect  state,  may  be  exalted  and  extended.  There  is  no  contra- 
diction in  supposing  our  present  faculties  so  strengthened  as  to 
enable  mere  man  to  grasp  without  conscious  effort  the  whole  system 
of  the  universe,  and  to  carry  it  about  with  him,  colouring  aright  all 
the  particulars  on  which  he  fixes  his  attention,  as  easily  and  natu- 
rally as  music,  which  we  hear  without  recognizing,  may  give  life  to 
what  we  are  reading,  or  as  a  purpose  quickens  our  interest  in 
what  smTOunds  ns,  even  when  we  are  least  distinctly  aware  of  its 
presence.  At  the  same  time,  it  is  but  conceivable;  for,  as  we 
cannot  confine,  so  we  cannot  presume  to  push  forwai'd  to  any 
assumed  limit,  the  degree  to  which  creatm-es  may  be  allowed  to 
partake  of  those  vast  attributes  of  divinity,  which  are  now  granted 
ns  only  in  such  measure  as  to  help  us  in  conceiving  them. 

"  It  is  by  mimicking  this  power  to  which  it  should  subserve,  that 
Science  is  apt  to  make  itself  ridiculous ;  when,  not  content  with  its 
own  legitimate  power  of  laying  out  materials  for  thought,  it  claims 
for  its  abstractions  a  reality  which  they  do  not  and  cannot  possess  ; 
proud  of  a  kind  of  second-rate  comprehensiveness,  a  comprehen- 
siveness obtained  not  by  enlarging  our  powers,  but  by  paring  out  to 
a  portable  form  the  subject-matter  which  we  would  grasp,  embra- 
cing a  great  many  objects  by  neglecting  all  in  which  they  differ,  and 
then  perhaps,  as  if  conscious  of  the  meagi-eness,  which  is  the 
necessary  result  of  casting  away  so  much  of  the  essence  of  each 
subject  which  it  contemplates,  tiying  to  regain  its  lost  reality  by  a 


410  APPENDIX. 

multitude  of  arbitraiy  subdivisions ;  each,  it  is  true,  adding  some- 
thing to  the  original  bare  idea,  but  at  the  same  time  not  founded  on 
the  real  mass  of  complicated  relations  which  subsist  between  thing 
and  thing",  etc.,  etc. 

I  have  eagerly  looked  for  exact  information  and  instruction  on 
the  subject,  in  the  works  of  the  leanied  and  well-principled  writer, 
from  whom  the  following  short  passages  are  extracted  :  "  The  object 
of  a  Liberal  Education  is  to  develop  the  whole  mental  system  of 
man,  and  thus  to  bring  it  into  consistency  with  itself,  to  make 
his  speculative  inferences  coincide  with  his  practical  convictions, 
to  enable  him  to  render  a  reason  for  the  belief  that  is  in  him, 
and  not  to  leave  him  in  the  condition  of  Solomon's  sluggard, 
who  is  wiser  in  his  own  conceit,  than  seven  men  that  can  give  a 
reason". — Whewell  on  Knglish  University  Education,  p.  139. 

"  All  exact  knowledge  supposes  the  mind  to  be  able  to  apply, 
steadily  and  clearly,  not  only  the  processes  of  reasoning,  but  also 
certain  fundamental  ideas ;  and  it  is  one  main  office  of  a  Liberal 
Education  to  fix  and  develop  these  ideas". — Ihid.,  p.  173. 


§  7.     Liberal  Knowledge  acts  i^artly  on  the  side  of  Christianiti/y 
partly  against  it. 

I  AM  led  here  to  quote  a  passage  on  the  subject  of  the  ethical 
aspect  of  ancient  philosophy,  which  occurs  in  a  sketch  I  wrote 
many  years  ago  of  the  writings  of  Cicero.  "  Some  writers,  as 
Lyttleton,  have  considered  it  an  aggravation  of  Cicero's  inconsis- 
tencies, that  he  was  so  perfectly  aware  of  what  was  philosophically 
upright  and  correct.  It  might  be  sufficient  to  reply,  that  there  is  a 
wide  difference  between  calmly  deciding  on  an  abstract  point,  and 
acting  on  that  decision  in  the  hurry  of  real  life ;  that  Cicero  in  fact 


APPENDIX.  411 

was  apt  to  fiuicy  (as  all  uill  fimcy  when  assisted  by  interest  or 
passion)  that  the  circumstances  of  his  case  constituted  it  an  ex- 
ception to  the  broad  principles  of  duty.  .  .  .  But  the  argument  of 
the  objection  proceeds  on  an  entire  misconception  of  the  design 
and  purpose  with  which  the  ancients  prosecuted  philosophical 
studies.  The  motives  and  principles  of  morals  were  not  so  seriously 
acknowledged  as  to  tend  to  a  practical  application  of  them  to  the 
conduct  of  life.  Even  when  they  proposed  them  in  the  form  of 
precept,  they  still  regarded  the  perfectly  virtuous  man  as  the  crea- 
ture of  their  imagination,  rather  than  a  model  for  imitation,  an  idea 
which  it  was  a  mental  recreation  rather  than  a  duty  to  contemplate ; 
and  if  an  individual  here  or  there,  as  Scipio  or  Cato,  attempted  to 
confoiTO  his  life  to  his  philosophical  conceptions  of  virtue,  he  was 
sure  to  be  ridiculed  for  singularity  and  affectation. 

"  Even  among  the  Athenians,  by  whom  philosophy  was,  in  many 
cases,  cultivated  to  the  exclusion  of  eveiy  active  profession,  intel- 
lectual amusement,  not  the  discovery  of  Truth,  was  the  principal 
object  of  their  discussions.  That  we  must  thus  account  for  the 
ensnaring  questions  and  sophistical  reasonings,  of  which  their 
disputations  consisted,  has  been  noticed  in  our  article  on  Logic ;  and 
it  was  their  extension  of  this  system  to  the  case  of  morals,  which 
brought  upon  their  sophists  the  ii'ony  of  Socrates,  and  the  sterner 
rebuke  of  Aristotle.  But,  if  this  took  place  in  a  state  of  society  in 
which  the  love  of  speculation  peiTaded  all  ranks,  much  more  was  it 
to  be  expected  among  the  Romans,  who,  busied  as  they  were  in 
political  enterprises,  and  deficient  in  philosophical  acuteness,  had 
neither  time  nor  inclination  for  abstruse  investigations,  and  who 
considered  philosophy  simply  as  one  of  the  many  fashions  intro- 
duced from  Greece,  '  a  sort  of  table  furniture',  as  Warbm*ton  well 
expresses  it,  a  mere  refinement  in  the  arts  of  social  enjoyment. 
This  character  is  borae  both  among  friends  and  enemies.  Hence 
the  popularity  which  attended  the  three  Athenian  philosophers,  who 
had  come  to  Rome  on  an  embassy  from  their  native  city;  and 
lience  the  inflexible  determination  with  which  Cato  procured  their 


412  APPENDIX. 

dismissal,  through  fear,  as  Phitarch  tells  us,  lest  their  arts  of  dis- 
putation should  corrupt  the  Roman  youth.  And  when  at  length, 
by  the  authority  of  Scipio,  the  literary  treasures  of  Sylla,  and  the 
patronage  of  LucuUus,  philosophical  studies  had  gradually  received 
the  countenance  of  the  higher  classes  of  their  countrymen,  we  still 
find  them,  in  consistency  with  the  principle  above  laid  down, 
determined  in  the  adoption  of  this  or  that  system,  not  so  much  by 
the  harmony  of  its  parts,  or  by  the  plausibility  of  its  reasonings,  as 
by  its  suitableness  to  the  profession  and  political  station  to  which 
they  respectively  belonged.  Thus,  because  the  Stoics  were  more 
minute  than  other  sects  in  inculcating  the  moral  and  social  duties, 
we  find  the  Jurisconsults  professing  themselves  followers  of  Zeno  ; 
the  Orators,  on  the  contrary,  adopted  the  disputatious  system  of  the 
late  Academics ;  while  Epicurus  was  the  master  of  the  idle  and  the 
wealthy.  Hence  too,  they  confined  the  profession  of  philosophical 
science  to  Greek  teachers  ;  considering  them  the  sole  proprietors,  as 
it  were,  of  a  foreign  and  expensive  luxury,  which  the  vanquished 
might  have  the  trouble  of  furnishing,  but  which  the  conquerors 
could  well  afford  to  purchase". — Art.  Cicero,  EncycL  Metropoh, 
1824. 

The  learned  Dissertation  on  medieval  society  with  which  Mr. 
llallam  concludes  his  "Middle  Ages",  supplies  us  another  illustra- 
tion of  literary  or  philosophical  ethics  as  distinct  from  Christian  ; 
an  illustration  contained  partly  in  the  historical  facts  he  puts  be- 
fore us,  and  partly  in  his  own  personal  sentiments  about  them. 
He  considers  the  ethics  of  Catholicism  simply  defective  and  incom- 
plete, when  sufl:ered  to  prevail  without  restraint,  almost  ruinous  of 
true  morality,  but  admitting  and  commonly  receiving  correction  from 
the  true  morality  of  literatiu'e,  philosophy,  romance,  heresy,  and  gen- 
tlemanlike feeling.  He  cautiously  observes  that  "  whether  the  super- 
stition of"  the  dark  ages  "had  2iQ,i\\2X[j passed  that  point,  where  it 
becomes  more  injurious  to  public  morals  and  the  welfare  of  society 
than  the  entire  absence  of  all  religious  notions,  is  a  very  complex 


APPENDIX.  413 

question,  upon  which  I  would  by  no  means  pronounce  an  aflSrmative 
decision".  Vol.  iii.,  p.  249.  Then  he  is  candid  enough  to  state 
the  favourable  side  of  the  question,  telling  us  that  ecclesiastical  ethics, 
indeed,  did  not  make  much  account  of  "justice  and  veracity",  yet 
they  were  characterised  by  precepts  of  meekness,  self-denial,  and 
charity,  which  could  never  be  wholly  eflfaced,  and  especially  by  the 
eleemosynaiy  spirit  (as  indeed  was  Mohamraedism)  and  the  still  higher 
praise  of  championship  of  the  oppressed.  On  the  whole,  however, 
"  religion  lost  almost  every  quality  which  renders  it  conducive  to 
the  good  order  of  society" :  though  "  there  are  a  few  great  land-marks 
of  moral  distinctions  so  deeply  fixed  in  human  nature,  that  no  degree 
of  rudeness  can  destroy,  nor  even  any  superstition  remove  them". 
Now,  that  the  state  of  society  and  of  morals  in  the  middle  ages  was 
lamentably  low,  I  have  no  need  here  to  deny;  I  am  not  denying 
that  it  is  to  be  traced,  as  far  as  found,  to  the  "  rudeness  of  semi- 
barbarous  populations" ;  what  I  do  deny,  and  what  I  am  saying 
that  the  author  affirms,  is,  that  it  was  owing  to  the  "super- 
stition" of  Catholicism. 

Such  then  being  the  poverty,  to  use  a  mild  word,  of  ecclesiastical 
ethics,  let  us  see  what  it  is  that  Mr.  Hallam  considei*s  their  historical 
restoration.  Not  the  teaching  of  the  Catholic  Church,  but  first 
the  abolition  of  slavery,  and  the  enforcement  of  fixed  laws  and  a 
system  of  police;  and  next,  the  rise  and  spread  of  the  Manichees, 
Catharists,  Albigenses,  and  other  heretical  sects,  whose  belief, 
though  "  certainly  a  compound  of  strange  errors  with  tnith,  was 
attended  by  qualities  of  a  far  superior  lustre  to  orthodoxy,  by  a 
sincerity,  a  piety,  and  a  self-devotion,  that  almost  purified  the  age 
in  which  they  lived".  Thirdly,  he  attributes  much  to  the  influence 
of  the  institution  of  chivaliy ;  and  it  is  to  this  part  of  his  Disser- 
tation I  would  direct  particular  attention,  for  we  shall  find  that  that 
institution  did  both  service  and  disser^'ice  to  the  ethical  teaching  of 
Catholicism,  of  the  same  kind  as,  in  Discourse  IX.,  is  attributed  to 
literature,  civilization,  and  philosophy. 

He  says  then,  that  "  the  best  school  of  moral  discipline",  that  is, 


414  APPENDIX. 

in  contradistinction  to  Catholicism,  "which  the  middle  ages  aflforded, 
was  the  institution  of  chivahy.  There  are,  if  I  may  so  say, 
three  powerful  spirits,  which  have  from  time  to  time  moved  over  the 
face  of  the  waters,  and  given  a  predominant  impulse  to  the  moral 
sentiments  and  energies  of  mankind.  These  are  the  spirits  of  liberty, 
of  religion,  and  of  honour.  It  was  the  principal  business  of 
chivalry  to  animate  and  cherish  the  last  of  these  three.  And, 
whatever  high  magnaminous  energy  the  love  of  liberty  or  religious 
zeal  has  ever  imparted,  was  equalled  by  the  exquisite  sense  of  honour 
which  this  institution  preserved". 

Now  let  us  see  the  mingled  character,  partly  protective,  partly 
destructive,  of  Christian  morality,  which  mai'ks  this  creation  of  the 
natural  man.  We  shall  see,  in  the  course  of  his  account  of  it,  that 
the  author  pai-allels  it,  and  justly,  as  a  principle  of  influence,  to  the 
sentiments  found  existing  in  the  religion  of  Homer,  Mahomet,  and 
the  Red  Indians. 

"  The  soul  of  chivahy  was  individual  honour,  coveted  in  so  entire 
and  absolute  a  perfection,  that  it  must  not  be  shared  with  an  army 
or  a  nation.  Most  of  the  virtues  it  inspired  were  what  we  may 
call  independent,  or  opposed  to  those  which  are  founded  upon  social 
relations.  The  kiiights-eiTant  of  romance  perform  their  best  exploits 
from  the  love  of  woman,  or  from  a  sort  of  abstract  sense  of  justice, 
rather  than  from  any  soHcitude  to  promote  the  happiness  of  mankind. 
If  these  springs  of  action  are  less  generally  beneficial,  they  are, 
however,  more  connected  with  elevation  of  character,  than  the 
systematic  prudence  of  men  accustomed  to  social  life.  This  solitary 
and  independent  spirit  of  chivalry,  dwelling,  as  it  were,  upon  a 
rock,  and  disdaining  injustice  or  falsehood  from  a  consciousness  of 
internal  dignity,  without  any  calculation  of  their  consequences,  is  not 
unlike  what  we  sometimes  read  of  Arabian  chiefs  or  the  North 
American  Indians.  These  nations,  so  widely  remote  from  each 
other,  seem  to  partake  of  that  moral  energy  which,  among  European 
nations,  far  remote  from  both  of  them,  was  excited  by  the  spirit  of 
chivalry.     But  the  most  beautiM    picture   that    was    ever  pour- 


APPENDIX.  415 

trayed  of  this  chjiracter,  is  the  Achilles  of  Ilomcr,  the  represen- 
tative of  chivalry  in  its  most  general  form,  with  all  its  sincerity  and 
unyielding  rectitude,  all  its  courtesies  and  munificence.  Calmly  in- 
different to  the  cause  in  which  he  is  engaged,  and  contemplating 
with  a  serious  and  unshaken  look  the  premature  death  that  awaits 
him,  his  heart  only  beats  for  glory  and  friendship". 

Then,  after  alluding  to  the  spirit  of  devotion  and  of  gallantry, 
which  were  the  animating  principles  of  chivalry,  and  observing  that 
the  latter,  so  far  from  conducing  to  the  moral  improvement  of 
society,  actually  debased  it,  he  goes  on  to  mention  the  special 
virtues  of  a  knight, — loyalty,  courtesy,  and  munificence. 

1.  "The  first  of  these,  in  its  original  sense,  may  be  defined, 
fidelity  to  engagements ;  whether  actual  promises,  or  such  tacit 
obligations  as  bound  a  vassal  to  his  lord,  and  a  subject  to  his 
prince.  It  was  apphed  also,  and  in  the  utmost  strictness,  to  the 
fidelity  of  a  lover  towards  the  lady  he  served.  Breach  of  faith,  and 
especially  of  an  express  promise,  was  held  a  disgrace  that  no  valour 
could  redeem.  False,  perjured,  disloyal,  recreant,  were  the  epithets 
which  he  must  be  compelled  to  endure,  who  had  swerved  from  a 
plighted  engagement,  even  towards  an  enemy.  This  is  one  of  the 
most  striking  changes  produced  by  chivalry.  Treachery,  the  usual 
vice  of  savage,  as  well  as  corrupt  nations,  became  infamous  dming 
the  rigour  of  that  discipline.  As  personal  rather  than  national 
feelings  actuated  its  heroes,  they  never  felt  that  hatred,  much  less 
that  fear  of  their  enemies,  which  blind  men  to  the  heinousness  of 
m  faith 

2.  "A  knight  w^as  unfit  to  remain  a  member  of  the  order, 
if  he  violated  his  faith ;  he  was  ill  acquainted  with  its  duties,  if  ho 
proved  wanting  in  courtesy.  This  word  expressed  the  most  highly 
refined  good  breeding,  founded  less  upon  a  knowledge  of  ceremonious 
politeness,  though  this  was  not  to  be  omitted,  than  on  the  spon- 
taneous modesty,  self-denial,  and  respect  for  others,  which  ought  to 
spring  from  his  heart.  Besides  the  grace  which  this  beautiful 
virtue  threw  over  the  habits  of  social  life,  it  softened  down  the 


416  APPENDIX. 

natural  roughness  of  war,  and  gradually  introduced  that  indulgent 
treatment  of  prisoners  which  was  almost  unknown  to  antiquity.  .  .  . 
After  the  battle  of  Poitiers,  '  the  English  and  Gascon  knights', 
says  Froissart,  '  having  entertained  their  prisoners,  went  home  each 
of  them  with  the  knights  or  squires  he  had  taken  ;  whom  he 
then  questioned  upon  their  honour,  what  ransom  they  could  pay 
without  inconvenience,  and  easily  gave  them  credit ;  and  it  was 
common  for  men  to  say,  that  they  would  not  straiten  any  knight  or 
squire,  so  that  he  should  not  live  well,  and  keep  up  his  honour'. 

3.  "  Liberality  indeed,  and  disdain  of  money,  might  be 
mentioned,  as  1  have  said,  among  the  essential  virtues  of  chivalry. 
All  the  romances  inculcate  the  duty  of  scattering  this  wealth  with 
profusion,  especially  towards  minstrels,  pilgrims,  and  the  poorer 
members  of  their  own  order 

"  Valour,  loyalty,  courtesy,  munificence,  formed  collectively  the 
character  of  an  accomplished  knight,  so  far  as  was  displayed  in  the 
ordinary  tenor  of  his  life,  reflecting  these  virtues  as  an  unsullied 
mirror.  Yet  something  more  was  required  for  the  perfect  idea  of 
chivahy,  and  enjoined  by  its  principles  ;  an  active  sense  of  justice, 
an  ardent  indignation  against  wrong,  a  determination  of  courage  to 
its  last  end,  the  prevention  or  redress  of  injury.  It  grew  up  as  a 
salutary  antidote  in  the  midst  of  poisons,  whilst  scarce  any  law  but 
that  of  the  strongest  obtained  regard,  and  the  rights  of  territorial 
property,  which  are  only  right  as  they  conduce  to  general  good, 
became  the  means  of  general  oppression 

"  The  characteristic  virtues  of  chivalry  bear  so  much  resemblance 
to  those  which  eastern  writers  of  the  same  period  extol,  that  I  am 
a  little  disposed  to  suspect  Europe  of  having  derived  some  improve- 
ment from  imitation  of  Asia.  Though  the  Crusades  began  in 
horror  of  infidels,  the  sentiment  wore  off  in  some  degree  before 
their  cessation  ;  and  the  regular  intercourse  of  commerce,  sometimes 
of  alliance  between  the  Christians  of  Palestine  and  the  Saracens, 
must  have  removed  part  of  the  prejudice,  while  experience  of  their 
energies,  courage,  and  generosity  in  war,  Avould  with  these  gallant 


APPENDIX.  4  1  7 

knights  serve  to  lighten  the  remainder Certainly,  except- 
ing that  romantic  gallantry  towards  women,  which  their  customs 
would  not  admit,  the  Mahomedan  chieftains  were,  for  the  most 
part,  abundantly  qualified  to  fulfil  the  duties  of  European  chivalry. . . . 

"I  have  already  mentioned  the  dissoluteness  which  almost 
unavoidably  resulted  from  the  prevailing  tone  of  gallantry.  .  .  . 
An  undue  thirst  for  military  renown  was  another  fault  that  chivalry 
must  have  nourished ;  and  the  love  of  war,  sufficiently  peraicious  in 
any  shape,  was  more  founded  as  I  have  observed,  on  personal  feelings 
of  honour,  and  less  on  public  opinion,  than  in  the  citizens  of  free 
states.  A  third  reproach  may  be  added  to  the  character  of  knight- 
hood, that  it  widened  the  separation  between  the  different  classes  of 
society,  and  confirmed  that  aristocratical  spirit  of  high  birth,  by 
which  the  larger  mass  of  mankind  were  kept  in  unjust  degra- 
dation. .  .  . 

"  Tournaments  may  be  considered  to  have  arisen  about  the  middle 
of  the  eleventh  century.  .  .  .  The  Church  uttered  her  excommu- 
nication in  vain  against  so  wanton  an  exposure  to  peril ;  but  it  was 
more  easy  for  her  to  excite,  than  to  restrain  that  martial  enthu- 
siasm'*. 

Writers  of  the  nineteenth  look  back  upon  the  deeds  of  six  or 
seven  centuries  before  them,  and  are  able  to  trace  the  points  dis- 
tinctly, in  which  their  deeds  and  their  principles  were  agi-eeable  or 
contrary  to  right  reason,  and  (whether  they  are  Catholics  or  not)  to 
Catholicism.  In  like  manner  the  world,  some  centuries  hence,  if  it 
lasts  so  long,  will  dispassionately  contemplate  the  theories  and 
measures  of  this  day,  and  pass  judgment  upon  its  commercial,  its 
gentlemanlike,  and  its  selfish  ethics,  both  according  to  the  standai-d 
of  common  sense  and  Christianity.  The  author  I  have  quoted 
proceeded  to  run  the  chivalrous  into  the  gentlemanlike  spirit,  and 
there  he  leaves  it. 

"The  sph'it  of  chivalry  left  behind  it  a  more  valuable  successor. 
The  character  of  knight  gradually  subsided  into  that  of  gentleman ; 
and  the  one  distinguished  European  society  in  the  sixteenth  and 


418  APPENDIX. 

seventeenth  centuries,  as  much  as  the  other  did  in  the  preceding 
age.  A  jealous  sense  of  honour,  less  romantic,  but  equally  elevated, 
a  ceremonious  gallantry  and  politeness,  a  strictness  in  devotional 
observances,  an  high  pride  of  birth,  and  feeling  of  independence 
upon  a  sovereign  for  the  dignity  it  gave,  a  sympathy  for  martial 
honour,  though  now  subdued  by  civil  habits,  are  the  lineaments 
which  prove  an  indisputable  descent.  The  cavaliers  of  Charles  the 
First  were  genuine  successors  of  Edward's  knights;  and  the 
resemblance  is  much  more  striking  if  we  ascend  to  the  civil  wars  of 
the  League". 

The  following  are  extracts  from  a  very  able  article  which  ap- 
peared in  the  Edinburgh  Review,  in  1829.  The  writer  is  a  dis- 
ciple of  what  may  be  called  (generically  and  mutatis  mutandis)  the 
Shaftesbury  School,  in  contrast  with  the  School  of  Locke  or 
Bentham.  Here  is  the  theory  of  Beauty  denouncing  the  theoiy 
of  Utility.  I  need  not  observe  that  every  Catholic  will  pronounce 
his  theory  indefinitely  higher  than  the  theory  he  exposes  ;  still  (as 
I  have  said  in  the  text).  Beauty  and  Utility  easily  lose  themselves 
in  each  other,  and  (without  entering  into  a  metaphysical  argument, 
in  which  accuracy  of  thought  is  not  to  be  struck  off  currente  calamo), 
when  the  author  places  hope  of  reward  and  fear  of  punishment  (i.  e. 
the  sense  of  a  moral  Lawgiver)  in  what  he  calls  the  "  Mechanics", 
and  not  the  "Dynamics"  of  our  moral  nature,  he  seems  to 
inherit  the  errors  as  well  as  the  excellences  of  Shaftesbury. 

After  characterising  "  this  age  of  ours,  as  not  an  heroical,  de- 
votional, philosophical,  or  moral,  but  above  all  others,  the  Mechanical 
Age",  and  showing  this  to  be  true,  not  only  as  regards  its  material 
works,  but  as  regards  education,  ecclesiastical  matters,  the  fine  arts, 
literature,  science,  and  politics,  the  writer  continues  : 

"  To  speak  a  little  pedantically,  there  is  a  science  of  Dynamics 
in  man's  fortunes  and  nature,  as  well  as  of  Mechanics,  There  is  a 
science,  which  treats  of,  and  practically  addi-esses,  the  primary, 
unmodified  forces  and  energies  of  man,  the  mysterious  springs  of 


APPENDIX.  419 

Love,  and  Fear,  and  Wonder,  of  Enthusiasm,  Poetry,  Religion,  all 
which  have  a  truly  vital  and  infinite  character;  as  well  as  a 
science  which  practically  addresses  the  finite,  modified  developments 
of  these,  when  they  take  the  shape  of  immediate  motives,  as  hope  of 
reward  and  fear  of  punishment. 

"Now  it  is  certain,  that  in  former  times  the  wise  men,  the  enlight- 
ened lovei*s  of  their  kind,  who  appeared  as  moralists,  poets,  or 
priests,  did,  without  neglecting  the  Mechanical  province,  deal  chiefly 
with  the  Dynamical ;  applying  themselves  chiefly  to  regulate,  in- 
crease, and  purify  the  inward  primary  powers  of  man  ;  and  fancying 
herein  lay  the  chief  difficulty,  and  the  best  service  they  could  under- 
take. But  a  wide  difference  is  manifest  in  our  age.  For  the  wise 
men,  who  now  appear  as  Political  Philosophers,  deal  exclusively 
with  the  Mechanical  province ;  and  occupying  themselves  in  count- 
ing up  and  estimating  men's  motives,  strive,  by  curious  checking 
and  balancing  and  other  adjustments  of  Profit  and  Loss,  to  guide 
them  to  their  true  advantage ;  while,  unfortunately,  these  same 
*  motives'  are  so  innumerable,  and  so  variable  in  every  individual, 
that  no  really  useful  conclusion  can  ever  be  drawn  from  their  enu- 
meration. But  though  Mechanism,  wisely  contrived,  has  done  much 
for  man,  in  a  social  and  moral  point  of  view,  we  cannot  be  persuaded 
that  it  has  ever  been  the  chief  source  of  his  worth  or  happiness. 
Consider  the  gi-eat  elements  of  human  enjoyment,  the  attainments 
and  possessions  that  exalt  man's  life  to  its  present  height,  and  see 
what  part  of  these  he  owes  to  institutions,  to  Mechanism  of  any 
kind ;  and  what  to  this  instinctive,  unbounded  force,  which  Nature 
herself  lent  him,  and  still  continues  to  him.  Shall  we  say,  for  ex- 
ample, that  Science  and  Art  are  indebted  principally  to  the  founders 
of  Schools  and  Universities  ?  Did  not  Science  originate  rather,  and 
gain  advancement,  in  the  obscure  closets  of  the  Roger  Bacons, 
Keplers,  Newtons  :  etc.,  etc.  ? ....  or  to  take  an  infinitely  higher 
instance,  that  of  the  Christian  Religion,  ....  how  did  Christianity 
noise  and  spread  abroad  among  men  ?  was  it  by  the  institutions  and 
establishments,  and  well-aiTanged  systems  of  Mechanism  ?     Not  so; 

31 


420  APPENDIX. 

.  .  » .  man's  highest  attainment  was  accomplished,  dynamically,  not 
mechanically.  Nay,  we  will  venture  to  say  that  no  high  attainment, 
not  even  any  far-extending  movement  among  man,  was  ever  accom- 
plished otherwise.  .  .  .  The  Crusades  took  their  rise  in  Eeligion ; 
their  visible  object  was,  commercially  speaking,  worth  nothing.  It 
was  the  boundless,  invisible  world  that  was  laid  bare  in  the  imagi- 
nations of  those  men  ;  and  in  its  burning  light,  the  visible  shrunk  as 
a   scroll.  ...      No  dining  at  Freemasons'   Tavern  ....  only   the 

passionate  voice  of  one  man,  etc.,  etc The  Reformation  had 

an  invisible,  mystic,  and  ideal  aim :  ....  our  English  Revolution, 
too,  originated  in  Religion  ;  men  did  battle,  even  in  those  days,  not 
for  purse  sake,  but  for  conscience  sake.  .  .  .  The  French  Revolu- 
tion itself  had  something  higher  in  it  than  the  cheap  bread  and 
Habeas  Corpus  act.  Here  too  was  an  idea ;  a  dynamic,  not  a 
mechanical  force,  etc.,  etc 

"  Thus  does  man,  in  every  age,  vindicate,  consciously  or  uncon- 
sciously, his  celestial  birth-right.     Thus  does  Nature  hold  on  her 

wondrous  unquestioned  course When  we  can  drain  the  Ocean 

into  our  mill  ponds,  and  bottle  up  the  force  of  Gravity,  to  be  sold 
by  retail,  in  our  gas  jars,  then  may  we  hope  to  comprehend  the  in- 
finitude of  man's  soul  under  formulas  of  Profit  and  Loss  ;  and  rule 
over  this  too,  as  over  a  patent  engine,  by  checks,  and  valves,  and 
balances. 

"  Nay,  even  with  regard  to  Government  itself,  can  it  be  necessary 
to  remind  any  one  that  Freedom,  without  which  indeed  all  spiritual 
life  is  impossible,  depends  on  infinitely  more  complex  influences 
than  either  the  extension  or  the  contractment  of  the  democratic  in- 
terest ?  .  .  .  Institutions  are  much  ;  but  they  are  not  all.  The  first 
and  highest  spirits  of  the  world  have  been  often  found  under  strange 
outward  circumstances ;  St.  Paul  and  his  brother  apostles  were 
politically  slaves  ;  Epictetus  was  personally  one,  etc 

"To  define  the  limits  of  these  two  departments  of  man's 
activity,  which  work  into  each  other,  and  by  means  of  one  another, 
so  intricately  and  inseparably,  were,  by  its  nature,  an  impossible 


APPENDIX.  421 

attempt. ...  It  seems  clear  enough  that,  only  in  the  right  co-ordi- 
nation of  the  two,  and  the  vigorous  forwarding  of  both,  does  our 
true  line  of  action  lie.  Undue  cultivation  of  the  inward  or  dyna- 
mical province  leads  to  idle,  visionary,  unpractical  courses ;  and 
especially,  in  mde  ages,  to  Superstition  and  Fanaticism,  with  their 
long  train  of  baleful  and  well-known  evils.  Undue  cultivation  of 
the  outward,  again,  though  less  immediately  prejudicial,  and  even 
for  the  time  productive  of  many  palpable  benefits,  must,  in  the  long 
run,  by  destroying  moral  force,  which  is  the  parent  of  all  other 
force,  prove  not  less  certainly,  and  still  more  hopelessly  pernicious. 

"  We  shall  find  this  faith  in  Mechanism  has  now  struck  its  roots 
deep  into  men's  most  intimate,  primary  sources  of  conviction;  and 
is  thence  sending  up,  over  his  whole  life  and  activity,  innumerable 
stems,  fruit-bearing  and  poison-bearing.  The  truth  is,  men  have 
lost  their  belief  in  the  Invisible,  and  believe,  and  hope,  and  work 
only  in  the  Visible ;  or  to  speak  it  in  other  words,  this  is  not  a 
Religious  Age.  Only  the  material,  the  immediately  practical,  not 
the  divine  and  spiritual,  is  important  to  us.  The  infinite,  absolute 
character  of  Virtue  has  passed  into  a  finite,  conditional  one  ;  it  is 
no  longer  a  worship  of  the  Beautiful  and  Good  ;  but  a  calculation 
of  the  Profitable.  Worship,  indeed,  in  any  sense  is  not  recognized 
among  us,  or  is  mechanically  explained  into  the  fear  of  pain  or  hope 
of  pleasure.  Our  true  Deity  is  mechanism.  It  has  subdued  exter- 
nal Nature  for  us,  and,  we  think,  it  will  do  all  other  things.  We 
are  Giants  in  physical  power;  in  a  deeper  than  a  metaphorical 
sense,  we  are  Titans,  that  strive,  by  heaping  mountain  on  mountain, 
to  conquer  Heaven  also 

"  '  Cause  and  efifect'  is  almost  the  only  category  under  which  we 
look  at,  and  work  with,  all  Nature.  Our  first  question  with  regard 
to  any  object  is  not,  'What  it  is?'  but  'How  it  is?'  We  are  no 
longer  instinctively  driven  to  apprehend  and  lay  to  heart  what  is 
Good  and  Lovely,  but  rather  to  inquire,  as  on-lookers,  how  it  is  pi*o- 
duced,  whence  it  comes,  whither  it  goes?...  A  Euphuist  of  our 
day  differs  much  from  his  pleasant  predecessoi-s.     An  intellectual 


422  APPENDIX. 

dapperling  of  these  times  boasts  chiefly  of  his  irresistible  perspicacy, 

his  *  dwelling  in  the  daylight  of  truth',  and  so  forth Wonder, 

indeed,  is  on  all  hands  dying  out ;    it  is  the  sign  of  uncultivation  to 

wonder It  is  the  force  of  circumstances  that  does  every  thing ; 

the  force  of  one  man  can  do  nothing. . . .  Religion,  in  most  countries, 
more  or  less  in  every  country,  is  no  longer  what  is  was  and  should 
be,  a  thousand-voiced  psalm  from  the  heart  of  man  to  his  Invisible 
Father,  the  Fountain  of  all  Goodness,  Beauty,  Truth,  and  revealed 
in  every  revelation  of  these ;  but  for  the  most  part  a  wise  pruden- 
tial policy  grounded  on  mere  calculation;  a  matter,  as  all  others 
now  are,  of  expediency  and  utility,  whereby  some  smaller  quantum 
of  earthly  enjoyment  may  be  exchanged  for  a  far  larger  quantum  of 
celestial  enjoyment.      Thus  Keligion  too  is  Profit;   a  working  for 

wages :  not  Reverence,  but  vulgar  Hope  and  Fear Let  us  look 

at  the  higher  regions  of  Literature,  where,  if  any  where,  the  pure 
melodies  of  Poetry  and  Wisdom  should  be  heard... what  is  the  song 
they  sing?  Is  it  a  tone  of  the  Memnon  statue,  breathing  music  as 
the  high  priest  touches  it  ?  a  '  liquid  wisdom',  disclosing  to  our 
sense  the  deep,  infinite  harmonies  of  Nature  and  man's  soul  ? 
alas !  no.  It  is  not  a  matin  or  vesper  hymn  to  the  Spirit  of  all 
Beauty,  but  a  fierce  clashing  of  symbols  and  shouting  of  multitudes, 
as  children  pass  through  the  fire  to  Moloch.  Poetry  itself  has  no 
eye  for  the  Invisible.  Beauty  is  no  longer  the  god  it  worships,  but 
some  brute  image  of  strength,  which  we  may  well  call  an  idol,  for 
true  strength  is  one  and  the  same  with  Beauty,  and  its  worship  also 

is  a  hymn 

"  Again,  with  respect  to  our  moral  condition ;  here  also  he  who 
runs  may  read  that  the  same  physical,  mechanical  influences  are 
every  where  busy.  For  the  '  superior  morality'  of  which  we  hear 
so  much,  we  too  would  desire  to  be  thankful ;  at  the  same  time,  it 
were  but  blindness  to  deny  that  this  'superior  morality'  is  properly 
rather  an  '  inferior  criminality',  produced,  not  by  greater  love  of  vir- 
tue, but  by  gi'eater  perfection  of  Police;  and  of  that  far  subtler  and 
stronger  Police,  called  Public  Opinion.     This  last  watches  over  us 


APPENDIX.  423 

with  its  Argus  eyes  more  keenly  than  ever;  but  the  inward  eye 
seems  heavy  with  sleep.  Of  any  belief  in  invisible,  divine  things, 
we  find  as  few  traces  in  our  morality  as  elsewhere.  It  is  by  tangi- 
ble, material  considerations,  that  we  are  guided,  not  by  inward  and 
spiritual.  Self-denial,  the  parent  of  all  virtue,  in  any  true  sense  of 
that  word,  has  perhaps  seldom  been  rarer;  so  rare  is  it,  that  the 
most,  even  in  their  abstract  speculations,  regard  its  existence  as  a 
chimera.  Virtue  is  pleasure,  is  profit :  no  celestial  but  an  earthly 
thing.  Virtuous  men,  philanthropists,  martyrs,  are  happy  acci- 
dents; their  Haste'  lies  the  right  way.  In  all  cases,  we  worship 
and  follow  after  Power,  which  may  be  called  a  physical  pursuit. 
No  man  now  loves  Truth,  as  Truth  must  be  loved,  with  an  infinite 
love ;  but  only  with  a  finite  love,  and  as  it  were  par  amours.  Nay, 
properly  speaking,  he  does  not  believe  and  know  it,  but  only 
*  thinks'  it,  and  that  'there  is  every  probability'.  He  preaches  it 
aloud,  and  rushes  courageously  forth  with  it,  if  there  is  a  multitude 
huzzaing  at  his  back;  yet  ever  keeps  looking  over  his  shoulder,  and 
the     instant    the    huzzaing     languishes,    he   too    stops    short". 

Etc.,  etc 

This  brilliant  essay  illustrates  what  I  have  said  in  Discoiu-se  IX. 
on  the  ambiguous  position  of  the  Religion  of  Philosophy  relatively  to 
Catholicism.  I  have  not  a  suspicion  who  the  author  is,  nor  am  I 
presuming  to  judge  what  was  the  real  state  of  mind  under  which 
he  wrote ;  but,  in  spite  of  all  he  says  so  well  and  truly,  it  is  impos- 
sible firom  his  language  to  tell  whether  he  was  a  believer  in 
Christianity. 

In  order  to  illustrate  further  the  Philosophical  character  in  its 
conti-ast  to  the  Christian,  I  will  make  some  extracts,  in  the  order  in 
which  they  meet  the  reader,  from  the  "  Chai*acteristics  of  Goethe" 
(London,  1833),  from  the  German  of  Falk  and  Von  Muller. 

"  His  Metamorphosis  of  Plants,  his  Doctrine  of  Colours,  are 
beautiful  monuments  of  his  calm  spirit  of  investigation :  they  are, 
so  to  speak,  filled  with  the  inspired  glimpses  of  the  seer,  reaching 


424  APPENDIX. 

deep  into  hidden  ages,  and  into  the  hidden  domains  of  science ; 
while,  on  the  other  hand,  his  biographical  delineations  of  two  cha- 
racters so  utter  different  from  his  own  as  those  of  Wieland  and 
J.  H.  Voss,  sufficiently  manifest,  not  so  much  his  literary  skill,  as 
his  own  beautiful  nature,  which  could  take  in  every  object  in  all  its 
genuineness  and  purity,  and  reflect  it  back  like  a  clear,  spotless 
mirror.  ...  As  this  lofty  talent  of  Goethe  has  been  universally 
acknowledged,  so,  on  the  other  hand,  has  he  been  as  loudly 
reproached  with  the  lukewarmness  of  his  moral  sentiments,  as  far 
as  these  can  be  inferred  from  his  writings.  ...  It  appears  to  me 
that  the  disputants  on  both  sides  overlooked  a  main  point  through- 
out the  whole  discussion.  A  mind  like  that  of  Goethe,  in  which  a 
calm  observation  of  all  things  was  an  innate  and  characteristic 
quality,  could  by  no  possibility  fall  into  that  moral  enthusiasm  which 
the  age  exacted,  and  which  it  was  too  much  inclined  to  consider  as ' 
the  highest  possible  prerogative  of  human  nature.  Goethe  was 
born  to  identify  himself  with  things,  not  things  with  himself.  From 
the  moment  in  which  the  public  enters  the  lists  with  passion  against 
real  or  supposed  evil,  it  cares  little  to  examine  the  good  sides  which 
this  very  evil,  if  considered  with  perfect  calmness,  might  perhaps 
present  to  the  eye  of  the  obsei-ver".     Vol.  i.,  p.  14. 

"  In  society  he  would  rather  talk  of  one  of  Boccacio's  tales, 
than  of  matters  on  which  the  welfare  of  Europe  was  thought  to 
depend.  Many  attributed  this  way  of  thinking  to  cold,  unsympa- 
thizing  indifference  of  temper;  assuredly  with  injustice.  To  be 
other  than  he  was,  to  share  the  universal  ardour  and  struggle  for  a 
new  order  of  things,... Goethe  must  have  ceased  to  be  himself,  and 
have  suddenly  and  utterly  renounced  the  many-sided  observation 
with  which  he  was  wont  to  regard,  and  the  mature  deliberation 
-with  which  he  was  wont  to  weigh,  all  things,  and  consequently  this 
historical  phenomenon  among  the  rest.  Certainly,  the  tranquil 
observer  of  all  the  events  of  this  moving  and  checquered  life,  and 
the  actual  participant,  whether  doer  or  sufferer,  in  the  strife  and 


APPENDIX.  425 

tumult,  are  characters  essentially  distinct  and  incompatible.  The 
latter  can  by  no  possibility  form  an  accurate  and  impartial  estimate 
of  his  own  situation.  There  is  no  point  of  neutral  ground  on 
which  he  can  gain  a  footing.  It  would  be  absurd  to  ask  the  dove 
to  write  the  natural  history  of  the  eagle ;  it  must  be  one-sided. 
There  is  wanted  some  third  nature,  elevated  far  above  both  ;  truly 
god-like ;  which  receives  both  into  its  bosom,  and  discriminates 
their  respective  excellencies  and  deficiencies;  acknowledges  the 
former,  and,  if  it  cannot  love  the  latter,  at  least  strives  to  bear  and 
even  to  excuse  them.  It  is  only  by  taking  a  firm  stand  on  this 
elevated  and  commanding  point  whence  the  low  game  of  human 
life,  with  all  its  contradictions,  is  seen  to  roll  up  beneath  our  feet, 
(like  the  many-coloured  curtain  of  a  theatre),  that  we  can  either 
form  an  idea  of  the  soul  which  animates  Goethe's  works,  or  acquire 
the  least  right  to  form  a  judgment  of  our  own  on  so  extraordinary 
and  unique  a  man".     Ibid.,  p.  19. 

"  Goethe,  by  his  very  nature,  cannot,  must  not,  will  not,  set  a 
single  step  which  may  compel  him  to  quit  the  territory  of  expe- 
rience, on  which  he  has  so  firmly  and  so  happily  planted  his  foot 
and  taken  root,  for  more  than  half  a  century.  All  conclusions, 
observations,  doctrines,  opinions,  articles  of  faith,  have  value  in  his 
eyes,  only  in  so  far  as  they  connect  themselves  with  this  territory, 
which  he  has  so  fortunately  conquered.  The  blue  horizon  beyond 
it,  which  man  is  wont  to  paint  to  himself  in  such  beautiful  colours, 
troubled  him  little ;  indeed  he  shunned  it,  knowing,  as  he  did,  that 
it  is  the  abode  of  all  brain-woven  fantasies,  and  that  all  the  phan- 
toms of  dim  and  gloomy  superstition,  which  he  hated,  held  their 
throne  there.  .  .  . 

"  Even  virtue,  laboriously  and  painfully  acquired,  was  distasteful 
to  him.  I  might  almost  affirm  that  a  faulty  but  vigorous  character, 
if  it  had  any  real  native  qualities  as  its  basis,  was  regarded  by  him 
with  more  indulgence  and  respect  than  one  which  at  no  moment  of 
its  existence  is  genuine ;  which  is  incessantly  under  the  most  una- 


426  APPENDIX. 

miable  constraint,  and  consequently  imposes  a  painful  constraint  on 
others.  'Oh',  said  he  sighing,  on  such  occasions,  'if  they  had  but 
the  heart  to  commit  some  absurdity !' "  etc.,  p.  27. 

"  With  questions  concerning  time,  space,  mind,  matter,  God,  im- 
mortality, and  the  like,  Goethe  occupied  himself  little.  Not  that  he 
denied  the  existence  of  beings  superior  to  ourselves.  By  no  means ; 
they  were  foreign  to  his  pursuits,  only  because  they  lay  out  of  the 
region  of  experience,  to  which,  upon  system,  he  exclusively  devoted 
himself.  Repugnance  to  the  super-sensual  was  an  inherent  part  of 
his  mind  ".     P.  30. 

" '  Our  scientific  men',  he  said,  '  are  rather  too  fond  of  details. 
They  count  out  to  us  the  whole  consistency  of  the  Earth  in  separate 
lots,  and  are  so  happy  as  to  have  a  different  name  for  every  lot. 
This  is  argil,  that  is  quartz ;  but  what  am  I  the  better,  if  I  am  ever 
so  perfect  in  all  their  names  ?  .  .  .  Eveiy  thing  in  science  is 
become  too  much  divided  into  compartments.  In  our  professors' 
chairs,  the  several  provinces  are  violently  and  arbitrarily  severed, 
and  allotted  out  into  half-yearly  courses  of  lectures,  according  to 
fixed  plans'".     P.  36. 

"  He  laid  down  the  proposition,  that  Nature,  accidentally,  and  as 
it  were  against  her  will,  became  the  tell-tale  of  her  own  secrets. 
That  everything  was  told,  at  least  once  ;  only  not  in  the  time  and 
place  at  which  we  looked  for,  or  suspected  it ;  we  mast  collect  it 
here  and  there,  in  all  the  nooks  and  corners  in  which  she  had  let  it 
drop.  Hence  the  Mysterious,  the  Sybiline,  the  Incoherent,  in  our 
observations  of  Natm-e.  That  she  was  a  book  of  the  vastest, 
strangest  contents;  from  which,  however,  we  might  gather,  that 
many  of  its  leaves  lay  scattered  around  in  Jupiter,  Uranus,  and 
other  planets.  To  come  at  the  whole  would  be  difficult,  if  not 
utterly  impossible.  On  this  difficulty,  therefore,  must  all  systems 
suffer  shipwreck".     P.  64. 

"  On  the  day  of  Wieland's  funeral,  I  remarked  such  a  solemn 
tone  in  Goethe's  whole  manner,  as  we  were  seldom  accustomed  to 
see  in  him.  .  .  .   For  the  super-sensual  Goethe  commonly  showed  a 


APPENDIX.  427 

repugnance,  if  not  a  contempt ;  completely  on  principle,  as  it  appears 
to  me  ;  for  it  was  more  consonant  with  his  natural  disposition  rather 
to  confine  himself  to  the  Present,  and  to  all  agreeable  and  beautiful 
objects  which  Nature  and  Art  offer  to  the  eye  and  the  observation, 
in  paths  accessible  to  us.  ...  I  asked  him  .  .  .  '  And  what  do  you 
think  is  at  this  moment  the  occupation  of  Wieland's  soul  ?'  *  Nothing 
petty,  nothing  unworthy,  nothing  out  of  keeping  with  that  moral 
greatness  which  he  all  his  life  sustained',  was  the  reply.  ...  *  It  is 
something  to  have  passed  a  life  of  eighty  years  in  unblemished  dig- 
nity and  honour ;  it  is  something  to  have  attained  to  that  pitch  of 
refined  wit,  of  tender,  elegant  thought,  which  predominated  so  delight- 
fully inWieland's  soul:  it  is  something  to  have  possessed  that  industry, 
that  iron  persistency  and  perseverance,  in  which  he  surpassed  us  all.  .  . 
Wieland's  soul  is  one  of  Nature's  treasures :  a  perfect  jewel.  .  .  I 
should  be  little  surprised,  inasmuch  as  I  shall  find  it  entirely  agree- 
ble  to  my  views  of  the  subject,  if,  a  thousand  years  hence,  I  were  to 
meet  the  same  Wieland  as  the  monas  of  a  world ;  as  a  star  of  the 
first  magnitude  ;  even  to  see  him,  and  be  witness  how  he  quickened 
and  cheered  everything  that  approached  him  by  his  beautiful  light. 
To  fashion  the  misty  substance  of  some  comet  into  light  and  clear 
ness,  that  were  truly  a  welcome,  gladsome  task  for  the  monas  of  our 
Wieland ;  as  indeed,  speaking  generally,  if  we  suppose  the  eternity 
of  the  actual  state  of  the  world,  we  can  admit  no  other  distinction 
for  monades,  than,  as  blessed  co-operating  powers,  to  share  eternally 
in  the  immortal  joys  of  gOds.  The  work  of  creation  is  intrusted  to 
them.  Called  or  uncalled,  they  flock  together  of  themselves ;  on 
every  way,  from  all  mountains,  out  of  all  seas,  from  all  stars, — who 
may  stop  them  ?  I  am  certain,  as  you  here  see  me,  that  I  have 
been  there  a  thousand  times  ah-eady,  and  hope  to  return  thither  & 
thousand  times  again".     Pp.  66 — 82. 

After  speaking  of  certain  philosophies,  he  went  on  to  say,  "  Of 
popular  philosophy  I  am  just  as  little  an  admirer.  There  are 
mysteries  in  philosophy,  as  well  as  in  religion.  The  people  ought  to 
be  spared  all  discussions  on  such  points  ;  at  least,  they  ought  by  no 


428  APPENDIX. 

means  to  be  forcibly  dragged  into  them.  Epicurus  somewhere  says, 
'  This  is  right,  precisely  because  the  people  are  displeased  at  it'.  It 
is  difficult  to  foresee  the  end  of  those  unprofitable  and  unpleasing 
mental  vagaries  which  have  arisen  among  us  since  the  Reformation  ; 
from  the  time  that  the  mysteries  of  Religion  were  handed  over  to 
the  people  to  be  pulled  about,  and  set  up  as  a  work  for  the  quibbling 
and  cavilling  of  all  sorts  of  one-sided  judgments.  The  measure  of 
the  understandings  of  common  men  is  really  not  so  great,  that  one 
needs  set  them  such  gigantic  problems  to  solve,  or  choose  them  as 
judges  in  the  last  resort  of  such  questions.  The  mysteries,  and  more 
especially  the  dogmas,  of  the  Christian  Religion,  are  allied  to  sub- 
jects of  the  deeper  and  more  intricate  philosophy  ;  and  it  is  only  the 
positive  dress  with  which  it  is  invested  that  distinguishes  the  former 

from  the  latter The  multitude,  however,  are  never  so  well 

satisfied  as  when  they  can  repeat,  in  a  still  louder  tone,  the  loud  de- 
clamations of  some  few  who  give  the  cry.  By  this  process  the 
strangest  scenes  are  produced,  and  there  is  no  end  to  the  exhibition 
of  presumption  and  absurdity.  A  half  educated,  'enlightened'  man, 
often,  in  his  shallowness  and  ignorance,  jests  on  a  subject  before 
which  a  Jacobi,  a  Kant,  the  admitted  ornaments  of  our  country, 
would  bow  in  reverential  awe. 

"  The  results  of  philosophy,  politics,  and  religion,  ought  certainly 
to  be  brought  home  to  the  people  :  but  we  ought  not  to  attempt  to 
exalt  the  mass  into  philosophers,  priests,  or  politicians.  It  is  of  no 
avail.  If  Protestants  sought  to  define  more  clearly  what  ought  to 
be  loved,  done,  and  taught ;  if  they  imposed  an  inviolable,  reveren- 
tial silence  on  the  Mysteries  of  Religion,  without  compelling  any 
man  to  assent  to  dogmas,  tortured  with  afliicting  presumption  into  a 
conformity  to  this  or  that  rule  ;  if  they  carefully  refrained  from  de- 
grading it  in  the  eyes  of  the  many  by  ill-timed  ridicule,  or  from 
bringing  it  into  danger  by  indiscreet  denial,  I  should  myself  be  the 
first  to  visit  the  Church  of  my  brethren  in  religion,  with  sincere 
heart,  and  to  submit  myself  with  willing  edification  to  the  general, 


APPENDIX.  429 

practical  confession  of  a  faith,  which  connected  itself  so  immediately 
with  action".     P.  100. 

"  In  Goethe,  all  ideas  became  forms.  lie  would  have  liked  to 
renounce  the  imperfect  medium  of  language,  to  speak,  like 
Nature,  in  symbols,  and  to  throw  his  whole  imagination,  with  the 
vividness  and  reality  of  sense,  into  the  existence  of  a  flower  or  a 
star.  To  him,  as  to  Nature,  it  sufiiced  to  revel  in  unintermpted 
solitude,  and  to  pass  from  one  agi-eeable  state  of  existence  to 
another,  through  all  foi-ms  and  modes  of  life.  At  such  moments,  he 
disliked  even  the  mention  of  Herder,  whose  northern  severity  led 
him  to  insist  on  overshadowing  those  gay,  delightful  visions  of  art 
and  imagination,  with  the  thunderclouds  and  mists  of  politics  and  of 
actual  life.  These,  as  Goethe  truly  remarked,  were  two  totally 
different  and  widely-severed  spheres  ;  it  was  absolutely  necessary  to 
keep  them  quite  distinct,  and  to  let  every  man  take  care  of  himself, 
and  God  of  us  all.  Thus  what  seemed  to  Goethe  narrow  and  par- 
tial, Herder  called  noble  and  philanthrophic ;  while,  on  the  contrary, 
what  Herder  admired  as  the  infinitude  of  a  great  idea,  revealing 
itself  to  man,  in  various  godlike  emanations,  in  the  valour  of  the 
hero,  the  wisdom  of  the  legislator,  the  inspiration  of  the  poet,  or  the 
events  of  a  world,  this  sort  of  elevation  moved  Goethe  so  little,  that 
such  characters  as  Luther  and  Calvin  excited  in  him  a  sort  of  un- 
comfortable feeling,  which  could  be  satisfactorily  explained  only  on 
the  hypothesis  that  their  nature  stood  in  a  mysterious  sort  of  oppo- 
sition with  his.  Goethe's  genius  and  disposition  were  for  the  Beau- 
tiful, Herder's  for  the  Sublime".     Vol.  ii.,  p.  36. 

"  The  mind  that  wrought  so  powerfully  on  mine",  said  Goethe, 
*'  and  had  so  powerful  an  influence  on  the  whole  frame  of  my 
opinions,  was  Spinoza's.  After  I  had  looked  around  the  world  in 
vain,  for  means  of  shaping  my  strange  moral  being,  I  fell  at  length 
on  the  Ethics  of  this  man.  What  I  read  in  this  work,  what  I 
thought  I  read  in  it,  I  can  give  no  account  of;  enough,  that  I 
found  there  a  calm  to  my  passions;  it  seemed  to  open  to  me  a  wide 


430  APPENDIX. 

and  free  view  over  the  sensual  and  the  moral  world.  But  what  pecu- 
liarly riveted  me,  was  the  boundless  disinterestedness  that  beamed 
forth  from  every  sentence.  Those  wondrous  words,  '  He  who  loves 
God  aright,  must  not  require  that  God  should  love  him  in  return', 
with  all  the  principles  on  which  they  rest,  with  all  the  consequences 
with  which  they  teem,  filled  my  whole  mind.  To  be  disinterested 
in  all,  most  of  all,  in  love  and  in  friendship,  was  my  highest  desire, 
my  passion,  my  task ;  so  that  those  daring  words  which  follow,  '  If 
I  love  you,  what  is  that  to  you?'  were  the  true  language  of  my 
heart",  etc.     P.  194. 

"  His  intimacy  with  Herder  first  led  him  to  penetrate  into  the 
lofty  sentiment  of  the  Italian  school  of  art,  and  to  become  acquainted 
with  poetry  under  a  totally  new  aspect,  and  one  much  more  in 
harmony  with  his  character During  his  first  era,  he  had  in- 
clined to  the  Flemish  school  of  art,  to  which  indeed  he  never  ceased 
to  do  justice ;  but  Italy  opened  his  eyes  to  the  full  perception  of 
high  art ;  his  rich,  fertile  spirit,  which  embraced  at  once  the  Lofty 
and  the  Child-like  and  the  Lovely ;  his  dehcate,  and  at  the  same 
time  profound,  taste  for  nature  and  for  art,  now  turned  with  love 
to  the  Noble  and  the  Elevated.  In  the  place  of  his  former  princi- 
ple of  naturalness  or  reality,  now  arose  that  of  ideality ;  but  that 
pure  ideality  which  transports  nature  into  the  region  of  Ideas  and 
of  pure  Beauty".     Vol.  iii.,  pp.  227—233. 

"  By  means  of  his  passionless,  serene,  objective  way  of  looking 
upon  the  world  and  upon  life,  a  view  of  human  things  had  been 
opened  to  him  equally  removed  from  traditional  one-sided  naiTow- 
ness,  and  from  preconceived  theories ;  this  led  him  to  regard 
everything  as  fitted  to  its  place  ;  to  see  the  Individual  in  its  connexion 
and  co-operation  with  the  Whole ;  and,  in  human  life,  effort  and 
action  as  the  main  duty  and  happiness.  Of  necessity,  this  threw 
a  milder  light  on  that  dark  point  at  which  the  threads  of  human  ex- 
istence are  knit  to  a  dim  and  fathomless  destiny.  This  at  length 
raised  him  to  the  idea  of  a  Theodicea'\  etc.     Vol.  iii.,  p.  234. 

"  *  The  greatest  genius',  he  said,  '  will  never  be  worth  much,  if 


APPENDIX.  431 

lie  pretends  to  draw  exclusively  from  his  own  resources.  What  is 
genius,  but  the  faculty  of  seizing  and  turning  to  account  every 
thing  that  strikes  us ;  of  co-ordinating  and  breathing  life  into  all 
the  materials  that  present  themselves;  of  taking  here  marble, 
there  brass,  and  building  a  lasting  monument  with  them  ?  .  .  The 
most  original  young  painter,  who  thinks  he  owes  every  thing  to  his 
invention,  cannot,  if  he  really  has  genius,  come  into  the  room  in 
which  we  are  now  sitting,  and  look  round  at  the  drawings  with 
which  it  is  hung,  without  going  out  a  different  man  from  what  he 
came  in,  and  with  a  new  supply  of  ideas.  What  should  I  be,  what 
would  remain  to  me,  if  this  art  of  appropriation  were  considered  as 
derogatory  to  genius  ?  What  have  I  done  ?  I  have  collected  and 
turned  to  account  all  that  I  have  seen,  heard,  obsei-ved ;  I  have  put 
in  requisition  the  works  of  nature  and  of  men.  Every  one  of  my 
writings  has  been  funiished  to  me  by  a  thousand  different  persons, 
a  thousand  different  things,  the  learned  and  the  ignorant,  the  wise 
and  the  foolish,  infancy  and  age,  have  come  in  turn,  generally 
without  having  the  least  suspicion  of  it,  to  bring  me  the  offering  of 
their  thoughts,  their  faculties,  their  experience;  often  they  have 
sowed  the  harvest  I  have  reaped ;  my  work  is  that  of  an  aggrega- 
tion of  beings  taken  from  the  whole  of  nature ;  it  bears  the  name  of 
Goethe ' ".     Vol.  iii.,  p.  75. 

"  He  held  fast  to  order  and  obedience  to  law  as  to  the  main 
pillars  of  the  public  weal.  Whatever  threatened  to  retard  or  to 
trouble  the  progress  of  moral  and  intellectual  improvement,  and  the 
methodical  application  and  employment  of  the  power  of  nature,  or 
to  abandon  all  that  is  best  and  highest  in  existence  to  the  wild 
freaks  of  unbridled  passion  and  the  domination  of  rude  and  violent 
men,  was  to  him  the  true  tyranny,  the  mortal  foe  of  freedom,  the 
utterly  insufferable  evil.  This  was  the  persuasion  which  dictated 
all  his  endeavours  to  influence  the  minds  of  others  by  conversation 
or  by  writing ;  to  suggest,  to  instruct,  to  encourage,  to  restrain ; 
to  represent  the  False,  the  Distorted,  the  Vulgar,  in  all  their 
nothingness",  etc.     P.  284. 


432  APPENDIX. 

"  'You  young  people',  he  used  to  say,  'easily  recover  when  any 
tragical  explosion  gives  you  a  transient  wound;  but  we  old  gentle- 
men have  all  possible  reasons  for  guarding  ourselves  against  im- 
pressions which  produce  a  violent  effect  upon  us,  and  interrupt  the 
course  of  steady  employment  to  no  purpose'.  When  his  mind  was 
filled  with  any  great  thought,  or  any  new  work,  he  would  sometimes 
refuse  to  hear  a  word  read  from  newspapers  or  public  prints". 
P.  288. 

"  Around  him  all  must  acquire  life,  form,  motion  ;  all  must  lend 
itself  to  energetic  action.  The  Symmetrical  must  be  sought  out  and 
brought  home,  must  be  thoroughly  apprehended,  must  be  modelled 
anew  into  fresh  forms.  Without  assuming  the  pedagogue  or  the 
pedant,  he  impressed  a  peculiar  stamp  on  all  who  suiTOunded  or 
assisted  him;  he  knew  how  to  keep  every  man  within  the  limits  of 
his  own  appropriate  sphere;  but,  within  that,  to  urge  him  on  to 
excellence  and  to  productiveness;  to  engraft  in  his  mind  invariable 
maxims  of  order,  steadiness,  and  consistency,  out  of  which  the 
germs  of  a  higher  culture  might  gradually  and  spontaneously  unfold 
themselves".     P.  291. 

"  Every  thing  that  was  sent  out  in  writing,  the  smallest  note  of 
invitation,  must  be  written,  folded,  and  sealed  with  the  greatest 
possible  care,  neatness,  and  elegance.  Every  thing  unsymmetrical, 
the  slightest  blot  or  scratch,  was  intolerable  to  him.  His  enjoyment 
from  the  sight  of  the  most  beautiful  engraving  was  disturbed,  if  he 
saw  it  awkwardly  handled,  or  at  all  crumpled;  for  all  that  sur- 
rounded him,  and  all  that  proceeded  from  him,  must  be  in  unison 
with  the  symmetry  and  clearness  of  his  inner  perceptions,  and 
nothing  must  be  allowed  to  trouble  the  harmony  of  the  impression". 
P.  298. 

"  'In  the  hundreds  of  things  which  interest  me',  says  he,  'one 
always  places  itself  in  the  centre,  as  chief  pleasure,  and  the  remain- 
ing quodlihet  of  my  life  revolves  around  it  in  various  moon-like 
shapes,  until  at  length  one  or  other  of  them  succeeds  in  working 
itself  into  the  centre  in  its  turn'.     Not  always,  however,  could  he 


APPENDIX.  433 

obtain  this  instantaneous  self-concentration;  and  fully  conscious  of 
his  vehement  susceptibility  and  irritability,  he  then  seized  on  the 
extremest  means,  and  suddenly  and  inexorably,  as  if  in  a  state  of 
siege,  cut  off  all  communication  from  without.  Scarcely,  however, 
had  solitude  delivered  him  of  the  full  torrent  of  crowding  thoughts, 
than  he  declared  himself  free  again,  and  accessible  to  new  objects  of 
interest;  carefully  knit  up  the  threads  he  had  let  drop,  and  floated 
and  bathed  in  the  fresh  element  of  widely  extended  Being  and 
Acting ;  till  a  new  irresistible  crisis  of  inward  metamorphosis  trans- 
formed him  once  more  into  a  hermit'*.     P.  300. 

"  He  took  great  and  manifold  interest  in  the  missionar}-  reports 
from  Halle,  as  he  did  indeed  in  all  endeavours  to  diffuse  higher 
feelings  of  morality  by  religious  means ;  and  if  his  nearest  friends 
were  sometimes  surprised  at  finding  him  engaged  in  the  theo- 
logical writings  of  Daub,  Kreutzer,  Paulus,  Marheineke,  Ruhr,  or 
even  poring  over  the  folios  of  the  fathers  of  the  Church,  his 
admirers  will  perhaps  be  still  more  so,  when  they  learn,  that  at  the 
time  of  the  jubilee  of  the  Reformation,  he  was  most  intensely 
busied  on  an  historical  cantata  on  Luther  and  the  Refonnation,  a 
complete  sketch  of  which,  in  all  its  parts,  was  found  among  his 
papers".     P.  306. 

"One  of  his  greatest  and  most  peculiar  enjoyments  was  the 
weekly  visit  which  both  the  deceased  Grand  Duchess  Louisa  and 
the  reigning  Grand  Duchess  and  Grand  Princess  Maiia,  constantly 
paid  him  on  a  fixed  day  and  hour.  ...  If  ever  some  inevitable 
obstacle  to  the  wonted  visit  occurred,  he  seemed  to  feel  a  chasm  in 
his  existence;  for  it  was  exactly  the  constancy,  the  punctual  recur- 
rence of  those  days  and  hours,  which  to  him  gave  them  their 
peculiar  charm ;  which  had  the  most  animated  effect  on  him  through 
the  whole  week.  Amid  the  vast  variety  of  external  impressions 
and  internal  workings,  he  found  in  the  steadiness  of  this  beautiful, 
pure,  and  noble  connexion,  not  only  a  cheering  object,  but  a  bene- 
ficial resting  place,  whence  his  mind  rose  refreshed,  to  devote  itself 
with  more  varied  powers  to  the  tranquil  observation  of  all  things. 


434  APPENDIX. 

"  For  it  was  an  absolute  want  of  his  nature  to  gain  a  clear  con- 
ception of  every  subject,  hotvever  heterogeneous;  and  the  incredible 
readiness  with  which  he  could  transform  every  incident,  every  per- 
sonal state  or  situation,  into  an  Idea^  must  be  regarded  as  the  main 
foundation  of  his  practical  wisdom  and  good  sense ;  and  certainly 
contributed,  more  than  any  other  quality,  to  preserve  a  man  by 
nature  so  passionate,  so  easily  and  so  deeply  excitable,  in  secure 
equanimity  amid  all  the  catastrophes  of  life.  As  he  invariably 
referred  every  passing  and  particular  incident  to  some  higher  and 
universal  standard,  and  sought  to  bring  it  under  some  exhaustive 
formula,  he  could  strip  it  of  all  that  was  startling  or  repulsive,  and 
could  then  calmly  regard  it  as  an  example  of  conformity  to  the 
general  rules  of  nature,  or  neutralize  it  as  a  simply  historical  fact, 
an  addition  to  his  stock  of  ideas.  How  often  have  I  heard  him 
say,  'That  may  now  turn  out  as  it  will;  the  conception  of  it  I  have 
got  fast  hold  of:  it  is  a  strange  complicated  aftair,  but  it  is  per- 
fectly clear  to  me  now'  ".     P.  309. 

"  When  Goethe  had  to  bear  the  death  of  his  only  son,  he  wrote 
to  Zelter  thus  : — '  Here  the  mighty  conception  of  duty  alone  holds 
us  erect.  I  have  no  other  care  than  to  keep  myself  in  equipoise. 
The  body  must,  the  spirit  will;  and  he  who  sees  a  necessary  path 
prescribed  to  his  will,  has  no  need  to  ponder  much'.  Thus  did  he 
shut  up  the  deepest  grief  within  his  breast,  and  hastily  seized  upon 
a  long  postponed  labour,  '  in  order  entirely  to  lose  himself  in  it'.  In 
a  fortnight,  he  had  nearly  completed  the  fourth  volume  of  his  life, 
when  nature  avenged  herself  for  the  violence  he  had  done  her ;  the 
bursting  of  a  bloodvessel  brought  him  to  the  brink  of  the  grave". 
P.  314. 

"  'I  feel  myself  surrounded,  nay,  besieged,  by  all  the  spirits  I 
ever  conjured  up',  he  was  heard  to  say.  As  a  relaxation,  he  had 
Plutarch  read  aloud  to  him  quite  through.  He  would  try  his  judg- 
ment too  upon  the  present  state  of  the  world,  and  took  up  the  modern 
French  literatm-e,  that  'literature  of  despair',  as  he  called  it,  with 
as  much  patience  and  ardour  as  if  he  had  had  still  many  lustres  in 


ArrENDix.  435 

which  to  look  on  at  the  motley  game  of  life Then  did  the 

silent,  peaceful  genius  [Death]  unexpectedly  draw  near,  and  in  the 
midst  of  the  most  cheerful  industiy,  of  the  most  zealous  and  bene- 
volent schemes  and  actions  we  saw  him  summoned  to  that  higher  and 
more  perfect  sphere  of  activity,  where  that  grand  solving  word, 
which  he  uttered  to  his  friends  a  year  before,  shall  be  fulfilled, 

*  Es  gilt  am  Ende,  doch  nur  vorw arts'  ". 

Vol  ii.,  p.  318. 

**  The  year  1827  inflicted  upon  Goethe  the  heaviest  blows  he  was 
doomed  to  feel ;  the  Grand  Duke  ended  his  long  and  beneficent  life 

in  the  course  of  a  journey He  was  so  overpowered  by  this 

irreparable  loss  that,  contrary  to  his  custom  and  to  the  rules  he  had 
laid  down  to  himself,  he  yielded  to  his  giief,  and  even  gave  vent  to 
it  in  his  correspondence.  These  rules  were  not  the  ofispring  of 
selfishness,  bnt  the  result  of  observation  and  of  a  great  force  of 
will.  Susceptible  to  a  high  degree,  he  would  have  obeyed  every 
impulse,  he  would  have  been  the  sport  of  passions  which  would  have 
poisoned  and  shortened  his  life,  had  he  not  early  acquired  the  habit 
of  opposing  labour  and  study  to  affliction  and  regret ;  only,  as  we 
have  already  remarked,  his  labour  changed  its  nature.  Goethe 
ceased  to  create, — a  thing  impossible  in  the  hour  of  real  suffering, — 
but  he  resumed  the  task  of  observation  and  inquiry,  and  sought  the 
consolation  he  needed  in  the  contemplation  of  the  works  of  nature". 
Voliii.,  p.  47. 

"It  has  been  truly  remarked  that  he  avoided  convereation  on 
painful  or  agitating  subjects  ;  but  this  did  not  arise  fi'om  feebleness 
or  pusillanimity ;  it  was  the  result  of  reflection  and  of  the  highest 
degree  of  self-knowledge.  Intensely  susceptible,  as  we  have  re- 
marked, to  all  impressions,  subjugated  by  any  new  and  striking 
ideas,  he  had  above  any  man  to  dread  those  which  might  have 
turned  him  aside  from  his  track,  and  given  up  his  warm  imagination 
to  uncurbed  wanderings.  Nor  did  he  like  people  to  dwell  in  his 
presence  on  gloomy  thoughts  or  lamentable  occurrences,  unless  some 
practical  end  was  to  be  answered  by  such  conversation.     It  was  for 

32 


436  APPENDIX. 

this  reason  that  he  avoided  the  common  gossip  of  society ;  and  that 
those  around  him  took  care  not  to  fatigue  his  ears  with  sinister 
rumours  of  political  troubles,  cholera,  or  other  disasters.  But  we 
heard  him  question  M.  Walter,  physician,  etc.  .  .  In  this  case  he 
was  sure  of  being  rewarded  by  valuable  infoiTaation,  etc.  ...  It 
was  the  same  with  the  thought  of  death :  he  never  forgot  his  age, 
nor  the  necessity  of  yielding  to  the  universal  law ;  he  only  calcula- 
ted the  chances  which  still  remained  to  him  of  life  and  enjoyment, 
and  the  means  he  might  employ  for  increasing  them ;  among  the 
foremost  of  which  he  placed  care  in  keeping  at  a  distance  all 
gloomy  thoughts,  all  exaggerated  anxiety  ;  as  well  as  constant  ex- 
ercise of  the  intellectual  faculties  to  preserve  them  from  torpor  and 
decay.  When  an  irreparable  calamity  overtook  him,  he  compelled 
himself  to  neutralize  the  pernicious  effects  of  long  regrets  by 
zealous  application  to  study.  There  were  moments  when,  to  a 
superficial  observer,  he  might  have  appeared  insensible,  whilst  the 
most  painful  conflict  agitated  his  soul.  In  such  a  case  you  might  be 
certain  to  guess  what  was  passing  within,  by  taking  the  very  con- 
trary of  his  conversation :  thus  he  related  one  anecdote  after 
another  with  excessive  vivacity,  at  a  time  when  all  his  thoughts 
were  concentrated  on  one  point. 

.  ..."  He  spoke  to  his  friends  several  times  of  his  death,  and  of 
the  means  of  warding  it  off  to  a  remote  age.  '  Yes',  said  he,  '  we 
can  make  head  against  him  for  sometime  as  yet ;  as  long  as  one 
creates  there  is  no  room  for  dying ;  but  yet,  the  night,  the  great 
night,  will  come,  in  which  no  man  shall  work'.  He  used  to  call 
that  solemn  hour  '  the  undetermined  hour'.     Vol.  iii.,  p.  82. 

"  All  his  conversation  showed,  that,  if  he  thought  himself  dying, 
he  did  not  fear  death.  Faithful  to  his  principles,  he  constantly  oc- 
cupied himself,  that  he  might  not  give  the  thinking  faculty  time  to 
grow  dull  and  inactive.  Even  when  he  had  lost  the  power  of 
speaking,  his  hand  preseiTed  the  character  of  his  life ;  his  voice 
was  mute,  but  he  traced  characters  in  the  air ;  and  when  his  hand 
sank  slowly  on  his  knee,  the  radiant  star  sunk  beneath  our  horizon". 
Vol.  iii.,  p.  92. 


APPENDIX.  437 

"  Goethe  died  the  most  blessed  death  that  man  can  die,  conscious, 
cheerful  to  the  last  breath,  perfectly  painless.  It  was  an  universal 
gentle  sinking  and  going  out  of  the  flame  of  life ;  harmonious, 
without  struggle.  '  Light '  was  his  last  request.  Half  an  hour 
before  the  end  he  said,  *  Open  the  shutters  that  more  light  may 
come  into  the  room'  ".     P.  93. 

One  of  the  most  miserable,  yet  natural,  characteristics  of  this  love 
of  the  Beautiful,  is  its  connexion  with  sensuality.  This  will  most 
obviously  take  place  through  the  medium  of  the  Fine  Arts.  It  is 
often  invested  with  an  odious  affectation  of  philosophy,  as  in 
Dryden's  Cymon  and  Iphigenia.  On  this  Lord  Chesterfield 
remarks,  "Mr.  Dryden,  who  knew  human  nature,  perhaps  as  well 
as  any  man  who  ever  studied  it,  has  given  us  a  just  picture  of  the 
force  of  female  charms  in  the  story  of  Cymon  and  Iphigenia. 
Boccacio,  from  whom  he  took  it,  had  adorned  it  with  all  the  tinsel 
finely  an  Italian  composition  is  capable  of.  The  English  poet,  like 
most  English  travellera,  gave  sterling  silver  in  exchange  for  that 
superfcial  gilding;  and  bestowed  a  moral,  where  he  found  a  tale. 
He  paints  in  Cymon,  a  soul  buried  in  a  confusion  of  ideas,  inflamed 
with  so  little  fire,  as  scarce  to  struggle  under  the  load,  or  afford  any 
glimmerings  of  sense.  In  this  condition  he  represents  him  struck 
with  the  rays  of  Iphigenia's  beauty;  kindled  by  them,  his  mind 
asserts  its  powers,  its  intellectual  faculties  seem  to  awake,  and  that 
uncouth  ferocity  of  manners,  by  which  he  had  hitherto  been  dis- 
tinguished, gave  way  to  an  obligiug  behaviour,  the  natural  effects  of 
love".  Polite  Fhilosopher,  I  am  sorry  to  say,  Dryden  was  a 
Catholic,  when  he  published  this  poem. 

Again,  take  the  following  passage  from  a  tale  of  Tieck's:  "  She 
stumbled,  and  quickly  as  he  sprang  forward,  he  could  not  hinder 
but  that  for  a  moment  she,  in  the  most  charming  posture,  lay 
kneeling  at  his  feet.  He  raised  her,  etc.  ...  He  followed  her 
into  the  Church,  and  saw  only  the  image  as  she  knelt  before  him, 
and,  etc.  .  .  .  His  existence  was  hallowed ;  his  heart  floated  for 
ever  in  the  foirest  emotion.     Nature  was  now  fricndlv  to  him,  and. 


438  APPENDIX. 

her  beauty  revealed  to  his  meditation,  he  felt  himself  no  longer  a 
stranger  to  devotion  and  religion ;  and  now  he  trod  this  threshold, 
the  mysterious  dimness  of  the  temple,  with  far  other  feelings  than 
In  those  days  of  levity.  ...  He  held  towards  her  the  holy  water ; 
her  white  fingers  trembled  as  they  touched  his;  she  bowed  gra- 
ciously. He  followed  her  and  knelt  near  her.  His  whole  heart 
melted  away  in  melancholy  and  love.  It  seemed  to  him  as  if,  from 
the  wounds  of  longing,  his  existence  was  bleeding  away  in  ardent 
prayers.  Every  word  of  the  pnest  thrilled  through  him;  every 
tone  of  the  music  gushed  devotion  into  his  bosom  ;  his  lips  quivered, 
as  the  fair  one  pressed  the  Cnicifix  of  her  rosary  to  her  ruby  mouth. 
Howhadhe  not  been  able  to  comprehend  this  faith  and  this  love  before? 
The  priest  raised  the  Host,  and  the  bell  sounded.  She  bowed  her- 
self more  humbly,  and  crossed  her  breast.  Like  lightning  it  struck 
through  all  his  powers  and  feelings ;  and  the  altar-picture  seemed 
alive ;  the  coloured  dimness  of  the  windows  as  a  light  of  Paradise. 
Tears  streamed  profusely  from  his  eyes,  and  allayed  the  inward 
burning  of  his  breast.  Divine  service  was  ended.  He  again 
offered  her  the  holy  font",  etc. — Romantic  Fiction^  London,  1843. 
Which  is  the  object  of  worship  here — the  true  Incarnate  Lord,  or 
the  dust  and  ashes  ? 

In  the  following  passage  religious  fear  is  represented  simply  as 
a  corruption  of  Christianity ;  and  heathen  security  and  indiflference 
is  held  up  to  imitation  as  the  healthy  state  of  mind. 

"  '  Euthanasia!  Euthanasia  !  an  easy  death  ! '  was  the  exclama- 
tion of  Augustus  ;  it  was  what  Antoninus  Pius  enjoyed ;  and  it  is 
that  for  which  every  wise  man  will  pray,  said  Lord  Orrery,  when 
perhaps  he  was  contemplating  the  close  of  a  Swift's  life. 

"The  Ancients  contemplated  death  without  terror,  and  met  it 

with  indifference Though  they  did  not  court  the  presence 

of  death  in  any  shape,  they  acknowledged  its  tranquillity ;  in  the 
beautiful  fables  of  their  allegorical  religion,  Death  was  the  daughter 
of  Night,  and  the  sister  of  Sleep  ;  and  was  the  fricud  of  the  un- 
happy.    To  the  eternal  sleep  of  death  they  dedicated  their  sepulchral 


APPENDIX.  439 

monuments, — ^ternali  Somno.  If  the  full  light  of  revelation  had 
not  yet  broken  on  them,  it  can  hardly  be  denied  that  they  had 
some  glimpses  and  a  dawn  of  the  life  to  come,  from  the  many  alle- 
gorical inventions  which  describe  the  transmigration  of  the  soul,  a 

butterfly,  etc.,  etc They  did  not  pollate  their  imagination 

with  the  contents  of  a  chaniel  house 

"It  would  seem  that  the  Romans  had  even  an  avei*sion  to 
mention  death  in  express  terms,  for  they  disguised  its  very  name  by 
some  periphrasis,  such  as  *  discessit  e  vitA'. 

"  The  ancient  Artists  have  so  rarely  attempted  to  personify  death, 
that  we  have  not  discovered  a  single  revolting  image  of  this  nature 
in  all  the  works  of  antiquity.  To  conceal  its  deformity  to  the  eye, 
as  well  as  to  elude  its  suggestion  to  the  mind,  seems  to  have  been 
a  universal  feeling,  and  it  accorded  with  a  fundamental  principle  of 
ancient  art Catullus  ventured  to  personify  the  Sister- 
Destinies  as  three  crones  ;  '  but  in  general',  Winkelraann  observes, 

*  they  are  represented  as  beautiful  virgins',  etc Death  was 

a  nonentity  to  the  ancient  artist.  Could  he  exhibit  what  repre- 
sents nothing  ?  Could  he  animate  into  action  that  which  lies  in  a 
state  of  eternal  tranquillity  ?  Elegant  images  of  repose  and  tender 
sorrow  were  all  he  could  invent,  to  indicate  the  still  of  death 

"  When  the  Christian  ReUgion  spread  over  Europe,  the  world 
changed.  The  certainty  of  a  future  state  of  existence,  by  the 
artifice  of  wicked  worldly  men,  terrified  instead  of  consoUng  human 
nature ;  and,  in  the  Resurrection,  the  ignorant  multitude  seemed 
rather  to  have  di*eaded  retribution,  than  to  have  hoped  for  remune- 
ration. The  Founder  of  Christianity  everywhere  breathes  the 
blessedness   of  social   feelings.     It   is    *Our   Father',    whom   He 

addresses Amid   this   general   gloom   of    Europe,  their 

troubled  imaginations  were  frequently  predicting  the  end  of  the 
w^orld.  It  was  at  this  period  that  they  first  beheld  the  grave  yawn, 
and  Death,  in  the  Gothic  form  of  a  gauut  anatomy,  parading  through 
the  universe.  The  people  were  frightened,  as  they  viewed  every- 
where hung  before  their  eyes,  in  the  twilight  of  their  Cathedrals, 
and  their  'pale  cloisters*,  the  most  revolting  emblems  of  death.  .  .  . 


440  APPENDIX. 

Thek  barbarous  taste  perceived  no  absurdity  in  giving  action  to  a 
heap  of  bones,  which  could  only  keep  together  in  a  state  of  immo- 
vability and  repose  ;  nor  that  it  was  burlesquing  the  awful  idea  of 
the  Resurrection,  by  exhibiting  the  incorruptible  spirit  under  the 
unnatural  and  ludicrous  figure  of  mortality  drawn  out  of  the  cor- 
ruption of  the  grave".     Disraeli's  Curiosities  of  Literature, 

Sentiments  such  as  these  suggest  to  us  the  possibility  of  the 
"  elegant  mythology  of  the  Greeks",  as  paganism  has  been  called, 
commending  itself  to  educated  minds  in  the  nineteenth  or  twentieth 
centuries.  Hume  and  Gibbon  have  both  shown  a  kind  feeling  to- 
wards it;  so,  it  is  scarcely  necessary  to  say,  did  many  of  their 
French  contemporaries.  This  subject  has  been  touched  upon  in 
one  of  my  Tracts  for  the  Times. 

"  Will  Antichrist  profess  any  religion  at  all  ?  Neither  true  God, 
nor  false  God,  will  he  worship ;  so  far  is  clear,  and  yet  something 
more,  and  that  obscui'e,  is  told  us.  Indeed,  as  far  as  the  prophetic 
accounts  go,  they  seem  at  first  sight  incompatible  with  each  other. 
Antichrist  is  to  '  exalt  himself  over  all  that  is  called  God  or  wor- 
shipped '.  He  will  set  himself  forcibly  against  idols  and  idolatry,  as 
the  early  teachers  agree  in  declaring.  Yet  in  the  book  of  Daniel* 
we  read,  '  In  his  estate  shall  he  honour  the  god  of  forces ;  and  a 
god  whom  his  fathers  knew  not  shall  he  honour  with  gold  and 
silver,  and  with  precious  stones  and  pleasant  things.  Thus  shall  he 
do  in  the  most  strong  holds  with  a  strange  god,  whom  he  will 
acknowledge  and  increase  in  glory'.  What  is  meant  by  the  words 
translated  '  god  of  forces ',  and  afterwards  called  '  a  strange  god ', 
is  quite  hidden  from  us,  and  probably  will  be  so  till  the  event ;  but 
any  how  some  sort  of  false  worship  is  predicted  as  the  mark  of  Anti- 
christ, with  this  prediction  the  contrary  way,  that  he  shall  set  him- 
self against  all  idols,  as  well  as  against  the  true  God.  Now  it  is 
not  at  all  extraordinary  that  there  should  be  this  contrariety  in  the 
prediction,  for  we  know  generally  that  infidelity  leads  to  supersti- 

*  Not  the  Vulgate. 


APPENDIX.  441 

tion,  and  that  the  men  most  reckless  in  their  blasphemy  are  cowards 
also.  They  cannot  be  consistent,  if  they  would.  But  lot  me  notice 
here  again  a  remarkable  coincidence,  which  is  contained  in  the 
history  of  the  last  fifty  years",  [the  Tract  is  dated  1838]  "a  coinci- 
dence between  actual  events  and  prophecy  sufficient  to  show  us  that 
the  apparent  contradiction  in  the  latter  may  easily  be  reconciled, 
though  beforehand  we  may  not  see  how ;  sufficient  to  remind  us 
that  the  all-watchful  Eye,  and  the  all-ordaining  Hand  of  God  is  still 
over  the  world,  and  that  the  seeds  sown  in  prophecy  above  two 
thousand  years  since,  are  not  dead,  but  from  time  to  time,  by  blade 
and  tender  shoot,  give  earnest  of  the  future  harvests  Surely  the 
world  is  impregnated  with  unearthly  elements,  which  ever  and  anon, 
in  unhealthy  seasons,  give  lowering  and  muttering  tokens  of  the 
wrath  to  come ! 

"  In  that  great  and  famous  Nation  which  is  near  us,  once  great 
for  its  love  of  Christ's  Church,  since  memorable  for  deeds  of  blas- 
phemy, (which  leads  me  to  mention  it,)  in  the  capital  of  that  powerful 
and  celebrated  Nation,  there  took  place,  as  we  all  well  know,  within 
the  last  fifty  years,  an  open  apostasy  from  Christianity;  nor  from  Chris- 
tianity only,  but  from  every  kind  of  worship  which  might  retain  any 
semblance  or  pretence  of  the  great  truths  of  religion.  Atheism 
was  absolutely  professed ; — yet  in  spite  of  this  (it  seems  a  contra- 
diction in  terms  to  say  it),  a  certain  sort  of  Worship,  and  that,  as 
the  prophet  expresses  it,  '  a  strange  worship*,  was  introduced 
Observe  what  this  was. 

"  I  say,  they  avowed,  on  the  one  hand,  Atheism.  They  pre- 
vailed upon  an  unhappy  man,  whom  their  proceedings  had  forced 
upon  the  Church  as  an  Archbishop,  to  come  before  the  public,  and 
declare  that  there  was  no  God,  and  that  what  he  had  hitherto  taught 
was  a  fable.  They  wrote  up  over  the  burial  places,  that  death  was 
an  eternal  sleep.  They  closed  the  churches,  they  seized  and  dese- 
crated the  gold  and  silver  plate  belonging  to  them,  turning  those 
sacred  instruments,  like  Belshazzar,  to  the  usi'of  their  revellings  ; 
they  formed  mock  processions,  clad  in  priestly  garments,  and  singing 
prophane  hymns.     They  annulled  the  divine  ordinance  of  mai'riage, 


442  APPENDIX. 

resolving  it  into  a  mere  civil  contract  to  be  made  and  dissolved  at 
pleasure.     These  things  are  but  a  part  of  their  enormities. 

"  On  the  other  hand,  after  having  broken  away  from  all  restraint 
of  God  and  man,  they  gave  a  name  to  the  reprobate  state  itself 
into  which  they  had  thrown  themselves,  and  exalted  it,  that  very 
negation  of  religion,  or  rather  that  real  and  living  blasphemy,  into 
a  kind  of  god.  They  called  it  Liberty,  and  they  literally  worshipped 
it  as  a  divinity.  It  would  almost  be  incredible,  that  men,  who  had 
flung  oflf  all  religion,  should  be  at  the  pains  to  assume  a  new  and 
senseless  worship  of  their  own  devising,  whether  in  superstition  or 
in  mockery,  were  not  events  so  recent  and  so  notorious.  After 
abjuring  our  Lord  and  Saviour,  and  blasphemously  declaring  Him  to 
be  an  impostor,  they  proceeded  to  decree,  in  the  public  assembly  of 
the  nation,  the  adoration  of  Liberty  and  Equality  as  divinities ;  and 
they  appointed  festivals  besides,  in  honour  of  Reason,  the  Countiy, 
the  Constitution,  and  the  Virtues.  Further,  they  determined  that 
tutelary  gods  might  be  worshipped ;  and  they  enrolled  in  the  num- 
ber of  those  some  of  the  most  notorious  infidels  and  profligates  of 
the  last  century.  The  remains  of  the  two  principal  of  these  were 
brought  in  solemn  procession  into  one  of  their  churches,  and  placed 
upon  the  holy  altar  itself;  incense  was  offered  to  them,  and  the 
assembled  multitude  bowed  down  in  worship  before  one  of 
them,  before  what  remained  on  Earth  of  an  inveterate  enemy  of 
Christ.   .  .  . 

"  Further,  let  it  be  remarked,  that  there  was  a  tendency  to  intro- 
duce the  old  Roman  democratic  worship,  as  if  further  to  show  us 
that  Rome,  the  fourth  monster  of  the  Prophet's  vision,  is  not  dead. 
They  even  went  so  far  as  to  restore  the  worship  of  one  of  the  Ro- 
man divinities  (Ceres)  by  name,  raised  a  statue  to  her,  and 
appointed  a  festival  in  her  honour.  .  .  .  Still  further,  it  is  start- 
ling to  observe,  that  the  former  apostate  in  the  early  times,  the 
Emperor  Julian,  he  too  was  engaged  in  bringing  back  Roman 
Paganism.  Further  still,  let  it  be  observed  that  Antiochus  too,  the 
Antichrist  before  Christ,  the  persecutor  of  the  Jews,  he  too  signa- 


APPENDIX.  443 

lized  himself  in  forcing  the  Pagan  worship  upon  them,  introdncing 
it  even  into  the  Temple." —  Tracts  for  the  Times,  No,  83. 

I  am  induced  to  add  some  extracts  from  a  Protestant  sermon  of 
my  own,  written  just  twenty  years  ago,  both  for  its  special  connexion 
with  the  above  extracts,  and  also  as  a  sort  of  illustration  of  what 
I  have  said  above,  in  Discourse  I.,  concemhig  the  long  hold  which 
the  class  of  opinions,  which  I  have  here  been  advocating,  have  had 
upon  my  mind. 

"In  every  age  of  Christianity  since  it  was  first  preached,  there 
has  been  what  may  be  called  a  Religion  of  the  world,  which  so  far 
imitates  the  one  true  religion,  as  to  deceive  the  unstable  and  the 
unwary.  The  world  does  not  oppose  Religion  as  such.  I  may  say, 
it  never  has  opposed  it.  In  particular,  it  has,  in  all  ages,  acknow- 
ledged in  one  sense  or  other  the  Gospel  of  Christ,  fastened  on  one 
or  other  of  its  characteristics,  and  professed  to  embody  this  one  in 
its  practice  ;  while,  by  neglecting  the  other  parts  of  the  holy  doc- 
trine, it  has,  in  fact,  disturbed  and  corrupted  even  that  portion  of  it, 
which  it  has  exclusively  put  foi'ward,  and  so  has  contrived  to 
explain  away  the  whole  ;  for  he  who  cultivates  only  one  precept  of 
the  Gospel  to  the  exclusion  of  the  rest,  in  reality  attends  to  no  part 
at  all.  Our  duties  balance  each  other ;  and,  though  we  are  too 
sinful  to  perform  them  all  perfectly,  yet  we  may  in  some  measure 
be  performing  them  all,  and  preserving  the  balance  on  the  whole ; 
whereas,  to  give  ourselves  only  to  this  or  that  commandment  is  to 
incline  our  minds  in  a  wrong  direction,  and  at  length  to  piUl  them 
down  to  the  earth,  which  is  the  aim  of  our  adversary  the  Devil. 

"  It  is  his  very  aim  to  break  our  strength  ;  to  force  us  down  to 
the  earth,  to  bind  us  there.  The  world  is  his  instrument  for  this 
purpose ;  he  is  too  wise  to  set  it  in  open  opposition  to  the  word  of 
God.  No !  he  aflfects  to  be  a  prophet  like  the  prophets  of  God. 
He  calls  liis  servants  also  prophets;  and  they  mix  with  the  scattered 
remnant  of  the  true  Church,  with  the  solitary  Michaiahs  who  were 
left  upon  the  Earth,  and  speak  in  the  Name  of  the  Lord.     And  in 


444  ArPENDix. 

one  sense  they  speak  the  truth ;  but  it  is  not  the  whole  truth ;  and 
we  know  even  from  the  common  experience  of  life,  that  half  the 
truth  is  often  the  most  gross  and  mischievous  of  falsehoods' . 

Then  I  allude,  first,  to  the  Neo-platonists,  to  Ammonius,  his  con- 
nexion with  Origen  and  the  school  of  Alexandria,  to  Julian,  etc. 

"  Even  in  the  first  ages  of  the  Church,  while  persecution  still 
raged,  he  set  up  a  counter-religion  among  the  philosophers  of  the 
day,  partly  like  Christianity,  but  in  truth  a  bitter  foe  to  it ;  and  it 
deceived  and  shipwrecked  the  faith  of  those  who  had  not  the  love  of 
God  in  their  hearts". 

Next  I  allude  to  the  superstitions  of  the  middle  ages,  as  ordeals, 
the  savage  feudalism,  the  fanaticism  of  chivalry,  the  wild  excesses 
of  the  era  of  the  Crusades,  the  Flagellants,  and  the  cruel  and 
bloody  persecutions  of  Jews  and  heretics,  all  of  which  a  Catholic 
condemns,  though  here  I  ignorantly  implicate  the  Church  in  them. 

"  Time  went  on,  and  he  devised  a  second  idol  of  the  True  Christ, 
and  it  remained  in  the  temple  of  God  for  many  a  year.  The  age 
was  rude  and  fierce.  Satan  took  the  darker  side  of  the  Gospel;  its 
awful  mysteriousness,  its  fearful  glory,  its  sovereign  inflexible 
justice ;  and  here  his  picture  of  the  truth  ended.  '  God  is  a  consu- 
ming fire';  we  know  it.  But  we  know  more,  viz.,  that  God  is  love 
also ;  but  Satan  did  not  add  this  to  his  religion,  which  became  one 
of  fear.  The  religion  of  the  world  was  then  a  fearful  religion. 
Superstitions  abounded,  and  cruelties.  The  noble  firmness,  the 
graceful  austerity  of  the  true  Christian  were  superseded  by  forbid- 
ding spectres,  harsh  of  eye,  and  haughty  of  brow ;  and  these  were 
the  patterns  or  the  tyrants  of  a  beguiled  people". 

Then  I  come  to  the  Religion  of  Civilization,  which  is  the  subject 
of  the  Ninth  Discourse  in  this  volume. 

"What  is  Satan's  device  in  this  day?  a  far  different  one;  but 
perhaps  a  more  pernicious.  .  .  .  What  is  the  world's  Religion 
now  ?  It  has  taken  the  brighter  side  of  the  Gospel,  its  tidings  of 
comfort,  its  precepts  of  love;  all  darker,  deeper  views  of  man's 
condition  and  prospects  being  comparatively  forgotten.  This  is  the 
religion  natural  to  a  civilized  age,  and  well  has  Satan  dressed  and 


APPENDIX.  445 

completed  it  into  an  idol  of  the  Truth.  As  the  reason  is  cultivated, 
the  taste  formed,  the  affections  and  sentiments  refined,  a  general 
decency  and  grace  will  of  course  spread  over  tlie  face  of  society, 
quite  independently  of  the  influence  of  Revelation,  That  beauty 
and  delicacy  of  thought,  which  is  so  attractive  in  books,  extends  to 
the  conduct  of  life,  to  all  we  have,  all  we  do,  all  we  are.  Our 
manners  are  courteous ;  we  avoid  giving  pain  or  oflfence ;  our  words 
become  correct;  our  relative  duties  are  carefully  performed.  Our 
sense  of  propriety  shows  itself  even  in  our  domestic  arrangements, 
in  the  embellishment  of  our  houses,  in  our  amusements,  and  so  also 
in  our  religious  profession.  Vice  now  becomes  unseemly  and  hideous 
to  the  imagination;  or,  as  it  is  sometimes  familiarly  said,  *out  of 
taste'.  Thus  elegance  is  gradually  made  the  test  and  standard  of 
virtue,  which  is  no  longer  thought  to  possess  intrinsic  claims  on  our 
hearts,  or  to  exist  further  than  it  leads  to  the  quiet  and  comfort  of 
others.  Conscience  is  no  longer  recognized  as  an  independent 
arbiter  of  actions;  its  authority  is  explained  away; — partly  it  is 
superseded  in  the  minds  of  men  by  the  so-called  moral  sense,  which 
is  regarded  merely  as  the  love  of  the  beautiful;  partly  by  the  rule 
of  expediency,  which  is  forthwith  substituted  for  it  in  the  details 
of  conduct.  Now  conscience  is  a  stern  gloomy  principle ;  it  tells 
of  guilt  and  of  prospective  punishment.  Accordingly,  when  its 
terrors  disappear,  then  disappear  also,  in  the  creed  of  the  day,  those 
fearfid  images  of  divine  wrath  with  which  the  Scriptures  abound. 
They  are  explained  away.  Every  thing  is  bright  and  cheerful. 
Religion  is  pleasant  and  easy ;  benevolence  is  the  chief  virtue ; 
intolerance,  bigotry,  excess  of  zeal,  are  the  first  of  sins.  Austerity 
is  an  absurdity; — even  firmness  is  looked  on  with  an  unfriendly 
suspicious  eye.  On  the  other  hand,  all  open  profligacy  is  discoun- 
tenanced; drunkenness  is  accounted  a  disgrace;  cursing  and 
swearing  are  vulgarities.  Moreover,  to  a  cultivated  mind,  which 
recreates  itself  in  the  varieties  of  literature  and  knowledge,  and  is 
interested  in  the  ever  accumulating  discoveries  of  science,  and  the 
ever-fresh  accessions  of  information,  political  or  other,  from  foreign 
coimtries.  Religion  will  commonly  seem  to  be  dull,  from  want  of 


446  APPENDIX. 

novelty.  Human  excitements  are  easily  sought  out  and  rewarded. 
New  objects  in  religion,  new  systems  and  plans,  new  doctrines, 
new  preachers,  are  necessary  to  satisfy  that  craving,  which  the  so- 
called  spread  of  knowledge  has  created.  The  mind  becomes 
morbidly  sensitive  and  fastidious;  dissatisfied  with  things  as  they 
are,  and  desirous  of  a  change  as  such,  as  if  alteration  must  of  itself 
be  a  relief. 

"  Now,  I  would  have  you  put  Christianity  for  an  instant  out  of 
your  thoughts  ;  and  consider  whether  such  a  state  of  refinement,  as 
I  have  attempted  to  describe,  is  not  that  to  which  men  might  be 
brought  quite  independent  of  religion,  by  the  mere  influence  of 
education  and  civilization ;  and  then  again,  whether,  nevertheless, 
this  mere  refinement  of  mind  is  not  more  or  less  all  that  is  called 
religion  at  this  day.  In  other  words,  is  it  not  the  case,  that  Satan 
has  so  composed  and  dressed  out  what  is  the  mere  natural  produce 
of  the  human  heart  under  certain  circumstances,  as  to  serve  his 
purposes  as  the  counterfeit  of  the  Truth  ?  I  do  not  at  all  deny 
that  this  spirit  of  the  world  uses  words  and  makes  professions, 
which  it  would  not  adopt  except  for  the  suggestions  of  Scripture ; 
nor  do  I  deny  that  it  takes  a  general  colouring  from  Christianity,  so 
as  really  to  be  modified  by  it,  nay,  in  a  measure  enlightened  and 
exalted  by  it.  Again,  I  fully  grant,  that  many  persons,  in  whom 
this  bad  spirit  shows  itself,  are  but  partially  infected  by  it,  and  at 
bottom  good  Christians,  though  imperfect.  Still,  after  all,  here  is 
an  existing  system,  only  partially  evangelical,  built  upon  worldly 
principle,  yet  pretending  to  be  the  Gospel,  dropping  one  whole  side 
of  it,  viz.,  its  austere  character,  and  considering  it  enough  to  be 
benevolent,  courteous,  candid,  correct  in  conduct,  delicate, — though 
it  has  no  true  fear  of  God,  no  fervent  zeal  for  His  honour,  no  deep 
hatred  of  sin,  no  horror  at  the  sight  of  sinners,  no  indignation  and 
compassion  at  the  blasphemies  of  heretics,  no  jealous  adherence  to 
doctrinal  truth,  no  especial  sensitiveness  about  the  particular  means 
of  gaining  ends,  provided  the  ends  be  good,  no  loyalty  to  the  Holy 
Apostolic  Church  of  which  the  Creed  speaks,  no  sense  of  the 
authority  of  Religion  as  external  to   the  mind  ;    in  a  word,  no 


APPENDIX.  447 

seriousness,  and  therefore  is  neither  hot  nor  cold,  but  (in  Scripture 
language)  luheivarm.  Thus  the  present  age  is  the  very  contrary 
to  what  are  commonly  called  the  Dark  Ages ;  and  together  with 
the  faults  of  those  ages,  we  have  lost  their  vh-tues.  I  say  their 
virtues  ;  for  even  the  errors  then  prevalent — a  persecuting  sphrit,  for 
instance, — fear  of  religious  inquiry, — bigotry, — these  were,  after 
all,  but  perversions  and  excesses  of  real  virtues,  such  as  zeal  and 
reverence ;  and  we,  instead  of  limiting  and  purifying  them,  have 
taken  them  away,  root  and  branch.  Why  ?  because  we  have  not 
acted  from  a  love  of  the  Truth,  but  from  the  influence  of  the  Age. 
The  old  generation  has  passed,  and  its  character  with  it ;  a  new 
order  of  things  has  arisen.  Human  society  has  a  new  framework, 
and  fosters  and  developes  a  new  character  of  mind ;  and  this  new 
character  is  made  by  the  Enemy  of  our  souls  to  resemble  Christian 
obedience,  as  near  as  it  may,  its  likeness  all  the  time  being  but 
accidental.  Meanwliile,  the  Holy  Church  of  God,  as  from  the 
beginning,  continues  its  course  heavenward ;  despised  by  the  world, 
yet  influencing  it,  partly  correcting  it,  partly  restraining  it,  and  in 
some  happy  cases  reclaiming  its  victims,  and  fixing  them  firmly 
and  for  ever  within  the  lines  of  the  faithful  host  militant  here  on 
Earth,  which  journeys  towards  the  City  of  the  Great  King". 

After  speaking  of  the  reception  of  this  counterfeit  Christianity  by 
the  Puritan  or  Wesleyan  party  of  the  day,  I  proceed  to  describe 
its  acceptableness  to  the  so-called  Liberal. 

"  The  form  of  doctrine,  which  I  have  called  the  Religion  of  the 
Day,  is  especially  adapted  to  please  men  of  sceptical  minds,  who 
have  never  been  careful  to  obey  their  conscience,  who  cultiv^ate  the 
intellect  without  disciplining  the  heart,  and  who  allow  themselves  to 
speculate  freely  about  what  Religion  ought  to  be,  without  going  to 
Scripture  to  discover  what  it  really  is.  Some  persons  of  this 
character  almost  consider  Religion  itself  to  be  an  obstacle  in  the 
advance  of  our  social  and  political  well-being.  But  they  know  that 
human  nature  requires  it ;  therefore  they  select  the  most  rational 
form  of  Religion  (so  they  call  it)  which  they  can  devise.  Others 
are  far  more  seriously  disposed,  but  are  corrupted  by  bad  example 


44:8  APPENDIX. 

or  other  cause.  But  they  all  discard  what  they  call  gloomy  views 
in  religion:  they  all  trust  themselves  more  than  God's  word;  and 
thus  may  be  classed  together;  and  are  ready  to  embrace  the 
pleasant,  consoling  religion,  natural  to  a  polished  age.  They  lay 
much  stress  on  works  on  Natural  Theology,  and  think  that  all 
religion  is  contained  in  these ;  whereas,  in  truth,  there  is  no  greater 
fallacy  than  to  suppose  such  works  in  themselves,  in  any  true  sense, 
to  be  religious  at  all.  Religion,  it  has  been  well  observed,  is  some- 
thing relative  to  us  ;  a  system  of  commands  and  promises  from  God 
towards  us.  But  how  are  we  concerned  with  the  sun,  moon,  and 
stars  ?  or  with  the  laws  of  the  universe?  how  will  they  teach  us  our 
duty?  how  will  they  speak  to  sinners?  They  do  not  speak  to 
sinners  at  all.  They  were  created  before  Adam's  fall.  They 
*  declare  the  glory  of  God',  but  not  His  will.  They  arc  all-perfect, 
all-harmonious ;  but  that  brightness  and  excellence  which  they 
exhibit  in  their  own  creation,  and  the  divine  benevolence  therein 
seen,  are  of  little  moment  to  fallen  man.  We  see  nothing  there  of 
God's  wrath,  of  which  the  conscience  of  the  sinner  loudly  speaks. 
So  that  there  cannot  be  a  more  dangerous,  though  a  common  device 
of  Satan,  than  to  carry  us  off  from  our  secret  thoughts,  to  make  us 
forget  our  hearts,  which  tell  us  of  a  God  of  justice  and  holiness, 
and  to  fix  our  attention  merely  on  the  God  who  made  the  heavens ; 
who  is  our  God  indeed,  but  not  God  as  manifested  to  us  sinners, 
but  as  He  shines  forth  to  His  angels,  and  to  the  elect  here- 
after. 

"  Wlien  a  man  has  so  far  deceived  himself  as  to  trust  his  destiny 
to  what  the  heavens  tell  him  of  it,  instead  of  consulting  and  obey- 
ing his  conscience,  what  is  the  consequence  ?  that  at  once  he  mis- 
interprets and  perverts  the  whole  text  of  Scripture.  .  .  .  We  are 
expressly  told  that  '  strait  is  the  gate  and  narrow  the  way  that  leads  to 
life,  and  few  there  be  that  find  it' ;  that  we  must  '  strive',  or  struggle, 
*  to  enter  in  at  the  strait  gate ',  for  that  '  many  shall  seeh  to  enter 
in ',  but  that  is  not  enough ;  they  merely  seek,  and  do  not  find  it ; 
and  further,  that  they  who  do  not  obtain  everlasting  life,  '  shall  go 
into  everlasting  punishment'.     This  is  the  dark  side  of  religion;  and 


ArPENDix.  449 

the  men  I  have  been  describing  cannot  bear  to  think  of  it.  They 
shrink  from  it  as  too  terrible.  They  easily  get  themselves  to  believe 
that  those  strong  declarations  of  Scripture  do  not  belong  to  the 
present  day,  or  that  they  are  figurative.  They  have  no  language 
within  their  heart  responding  to  them.  Conscience  has  been 
silenced.  The  only  information  they  have  received  concerning  God 
has  been  from  Natural  Theology,  and  that  speaks  only  of  benevo- 
lence and  harmony;  so  they  will  not  credit  the  plain  words  of 
Scripture.  They  seize  on  such  parts  of  Scripture  as  seem  to  coun- 
tenance theii-  own  opinions ;  they  insist  on  its  being  commanded  us 
to  '  rejoice  evermore ',  and  they  argue  that  it  is  our  duty  to  solace 
ourselves  now  (in  moderation,  of  course)  with  the  goods  of  this 
life ;  that  we  have  only  to  be  thankful  while  we  use  them ;  that  we 
need  not  alarm  ourselves ;  that  God  is  a  merciful  God  ;  that  repen- 
tance is  quite  sufficient  to  atone  for  our  oflFences ;  that,  though  we 
have  been  iiTegular  in  our  youth,  yet  that  is  a  thing  gone  by ;  that 
we  forget  it,  and  therefore  God  forgets  it ;  that  the  world  is,  on 
the  whole,  very  well  disposed  towards  Religion ;  that  we  should 
avoid  enthusiasm ;  that  we  should  not  be  over-serious ;  that  we 
should  have  enlarged  views  on  the  subject  of  human  nature ;  and 
that  we  should  love  all  men.  This  indeed  is  the  creed  of  shallow 
men,  in  every  age,  who  reason  a  little,  and  feel  not  at  all,  and  who 
think  themselves  enlightened  and  philosophical.  Part  of  what 
they  say  is  false,  part  is  true,  but  misapplied;  but  why  I  have 
noticed  it  here,  is  to  show  how  exactly  it  fits  in  with  what  I  have 
already  described  as  the  peculiar  religion  of  a  civilized  age ; — it  fits 
in  with  it  equally  well  as  does  that  of  the  so-called  religious  world, 
which  is  the  opposite  extreme". 

THE  END. 


John  F.  Fowler,  Printer,  3  Crow  Street,  Dame  Street. 


WORKS  BY  THE  SAME  AUTHOR  :~ 

1.  THE    ARIANS    OF    THE    FOURTH     CENTURY     (nEW  EDITION  IN 

preparation). 

2.  the  church  of  the  fathers. 

Eivingtons,  London,  1840. 

3.  ST.    ATHANASIUS'S   TREATISES   AGAINST   THE  ARIANS,  TRANS- 

LATED WITH  NOTES. 

Parker,  Oxford,  1842. 

4.  ESSAY     ON     ECCLESIASTICAL    MIRACLES,    PREFIXED    TO    THE 

TRANSLATION  OF  FLEURY's  HISTORY. 

Parker,  Oxford,  1842. 

5.  SERMONS    PREACHED    BEFORE   THE   UNIVERSITY  OF  OXFORD. 

Rivingtons,  Loudon,  1843. 

6.  AN   ESSAY   ON  THE   DEVELOPMENT  OF   CHRISTIAN  DOCTRINE. 

Toovey,  London,  1845. 

7.  DISSERTATIUNCUL^    QU^DAM    CRITICO-THEOLOGXC^. 

Romae,  typis  S.  C.  de  Propag.  F.,  1847,  and  Toovey,  London. 

8.  DISCOURSES    ADDRESSED    TO     BHXED    CONGREGATIONS. 

Longmans,  London,  1848. 

9.  LECTURES  ON  CERTAIN  DIFFICULTIES  FELT  BY  ANGLICANS  IN 

SUBMITTING  TO  THE  CATHOLIC  CHURCH. 

Burns  and  Lambert,  London,  1850. 

10.       LECTURES  ON  THE  PRESENT  POSITION  OF  CATHOLICS  IN  ENG- 
LAND, ADDRESSED  TO  THE  BROTHERS  OF  THE  ORATORY. 

Burns  and  Lambert,  London,  1851. 


Some  of  the  works  which  come  first  in  the  above  list,  being  published  when 
the  Author  was  a  Protestant,  are  hereby  submitted  by  him  in  all  respects  to 
the  judgment  of  the  Catholic  Church.