{"collection":"scripture-revelation","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_24526/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_24526","id":"gutenberg_24526","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/24526","summary":null,"tags":["Category: Philosophy & Ethics","Category: Religion/Spirituality","Category: Teaching & Education","Education, Higher","Universities and colleges"],"text":"*The Idea of a University defined and Illustrated*\n\n        *In Nine Discourses Delivered to the Catholics of Dublin*\n\n                          *by John Henry Newman*\n\n\n\n\n\nCONTENTS\n\n\nPreface.\nUniversity Teaching.\n   Introductory.\n   Theology A Branch Of Knowledge.\n   Bearing Of Theology On Other Branches Of Knowledge.\n   Bearing Of Other Branches Of Knowledge On Theology.\n   Knowledge Its Own End.\n   Knowledge Viewed In Relation To Learning.\n   Knowledge Viewed In Relation To Professional Skill.\n   Knowledge Viewed In Relation To Religion.\n   Duties Of The Church Towards Knowledge.\nUniversity Subjects, Discussed in Occasional Lectures and Essays.\n   Introductory Letter.\n   Advertisement.\n   Christianity And Letters. A Lecture in the School of Philosophy and\n   Letters.\n   Literature. A Lecture in the School of Philosophy and Letters.\n   English Catholic Literature.\n   Elementary Studies.\n   A Form Of Infidelity Of The Day.\n   University Preaching.\n   Christianity and Physical Science. A Lecture in the School of Medicine.\n   Christianity And Scientific Investigation. A Lecture Written for the\n   School of Science.\n   Discipline Of Mind. An Address To The Evening Classes.\n   Christianity And Medical Science. An Address to the Students Of\n   Medicine.\nNote on Page 478.\nIndex.\nFootnotes\n\n\n\n\n\n\n_Hospes eram, et collegistis Me._\n\nIN GRATEFUL NEVER-DYING REMEMBRANCE\n\nOF HIS MANY FRIENDS AND BENEFACTORS,\n\nLIVING AND DEAD,\nAT HOME AND ABROAD\nIN GREAT BRITAIN, IRELAND, FRANCE,\nIN BELGIUM, GERMANY, POLAND, ITALY, AND MALTA,\nIN NORTH AMERICA, AND OTHER COUNTRIES,\nWHO, BY THEIR RESOLUTE PRAYERS AND PENANCE,\nAND BY THEIR GENEROUS STUBBORN EFFORTS\nAND BY THEIR MUNIFICENT ALMS,\nHAVE BROKEN FOR HIM THE STRESS\nOF A GREAT ANXIETY,\nTHESE DISCOURSES,\nOFFERED TO OUR LADY AND ST. PHILIP ON ITS RISE,\nCOMPOSED UNDER ITS PRESSURE,\nFINISHED ON THE EVE OF ITS TERMINATION,\nARE RESPECTFULLY AND AFFECTIONATELY INSCRIBED\nBY THE AUTHOR.\n\nIN FEST. PR\u00c6SENT.\nB. M. V.\nNOV. 21, 1852\n\n\n\n\n\nPREFACE.\n\n\nThe view taken of a University in these Discourses is the following:\u2014That\nit is a place of _teaching_ universal _knowledge_. This implies that its\nobject is, on the one hand, intellectual, not moral; and, on the other,\nthat it is the diffusion and extension of knowledge rather than the\nadvancement. If its object were scientific and philosophical discovery, I\ndo not see why a University should have students; if religious training, I\ndo not see how it can be the seat of literature and science.\n\nSuch is a University in its _essence_, and independently of its relation\nto the Church. But, practically speaking, it cannot fulfil its object\nduly, such as I have described it, without the Church\u2019s assistance; or, to\nuse the theological term, the Church is necessary for its _integrity_. Not\nthat its main characters are changed by this incorporation: it still has\nthe office of intellectual education; but the Church steadies it in the\nperformance of that office.\n\nSuch are the main principles of the Discourses which follow; though it\nwould be unreasonable for me to expect that I have treated so large and\nimportant a field of thought with the fulness and precision necessary to\nsecure me from incidental misconceptions of my meaning on the part of the\nreader. It is true, there is nothing novel or singular in the argument\nwhich I have been pursuing, but this does not protect me from such\nmisconceptions; for the very circumstance that the views I have been\ndelineating are not original with me may lead to false notions as to my\nrelations in opinion towards those from whom I happened in the first\ninstance to learn them, and may cause me to be interpreted by the objects\nor sentiments of schools to which I should be simply opposed.\n\nFor instance, some persons may be tempted to complain, that I have\nservilely followed the English idea of a University, to the disparagement\nof that Knowledge which I profess to be so strenuously upholding; and they\nmay anticipate that an academical system, formed upon my model, will\nresult in nothing better or higher than in the production of that\nantiquated variety of human nature and remnant of feudalism, as they\nconsider it, called \u201ca gentleman.\u201d(1) Now, I have anticipated this charge\nin various parts of my discussion; if, however, any Catholic is found to\nprefer it (and to Catholics of course this Volume is primarily addressed),\nI would have him first of all ask himself the previous question, _what_ he\nconceives to be the reason contemplated by the Holy See in recommending\njust now to the Irish Hierarchy the establishment of a Catholic\nUniversity? Has the Supreme Pontiff recommended it for the sake of the\nSciences, which are to be the matter, and not rather of the Students, who\nare to be the subjects, of its teaching? Has he any obligation or duty at\nall towards secular knowledge as such? Would it become his Apostolical\nMinistry, and his descent from the Fisherman, to have a zeal for the\nBaconian or other philosophy of man for its own sake? Is the Vicar of\nChrist bound by office or by vow to be the preacher of the theory of\ngravitation, or a martyr for electro-magnetism? Would he be acquitting\nhimself of the dispensation committed to him if he were smitten with an\nabstract love of these matters, however true, or beautiful, or ingenious,\nor useful? Or rather, does he not contemplate such achievements of the\nintellect, as far as he contemplates them, solely and simply in their\nrelation to the interests of Revealed Truth? Surely, what he does he does\nfor the sake of Religion; if he looks with satisfaction on strong temporal\ngovernments, which promise perpetuity, it is for the sake of Religion; and\nif he encourages and patronizes art and science, it is for the sake of\nReligion. He rejoices in the widest and most philosophical systems of\nintellectual education, from an intimate conviction that Truth is his real\nally, as it is his profession; and that Knowledge and Reason are sure\nministers to Faith.\n\nThis being undeniable, it is plain that, when he suggests to the Irish\nHierarchy the establishment of a University, his first and chief and\ndirect object is, not science, art, professional skill, literature, the\ndiscovery of knowledge, but some benefit or other, to accrue, by means of\nliterature and science, to his own children; not indeed their formation on\nany narrow or fantastic type, as, for instance, that of an \u201cEnglish\nGentleman\u201d may be called, but their exercise and growth in certain habits,\nmoral or intellectual. Nothing short of this can be his aim, if, as\nbecomes the Successor of the Apostles, he is to be able to say with St.\nPaul, \u201cNon judicavi me scire aliquid inter vos, nisi Jesum Christum, et\nhunc crucifixum.\u201d Just as a commander wishes to have tall and well-formed\nand vigorous soldiers, not from any abstract devotion to the military\nstandard of height or age, but for the purposes of war, and no one thinks\nit any thing but natural and praiseworthy in him to be contemplating, not\nabstract qualities, but his own living and breathing men; so, in like\nmanner, when the Church founds a University, she is not cherishing talent,\ngenius, or knowledge, for their own sake, but for the sake of her\nchildren, with a view to their spiritual welfare and their religious\ninfluence and usefulness, with the object of training them to fill their\nrespective posts in life better, and of making them more intelligent,\ncapable, active members of society.\n\nNor can it justly be said that in thus acting she sacrifices Science, and,\nunder a pretence of fulfilling the duties of her mission, perverts a\nUniversity to ends not its own, as soon as it is taken into account that\nthere are other institutions far more suited to act as instruments of\nstimulating philosophical inquiry, and extending the boundaries of our\nknowledge, than a University. Such, for instance, are the literary and\nscientific \u201cAcademies,\u201d which are so celebrated in Italy and France, and\nwhich have frequently been connected with Universities, as committees, or,\nas it were, congregations or delegacies subordinate to them. Thus the\npresent Royal Society originated in Charles the Second\u2019s time, in Oxford;\nsuch just now are the Ashmolean and Architectural Societies in the same\nseat of learning, which have risen in our own time. Such, too, is the\nBritish Association, a migratory body, which at least at times is found in\nthe halls of the Protestant Universities of the United Kingdom, and the\nfaults of which lie, not in its exclusive devotion to science, but in\ngraver matters which it is irrelevant here to enter upon. Such again is\nthe Antiquarian Society, the Royal Academy for the Fine Arts, and others\nwhich might be mentioned. This, then, is the sort of institution, which\nprimarily contemplates Science itself, and not students; and, in thus\nspeaking, I am saying nothing of my own, being supported by no less an\nauthority than Cardinal Gerdil. \u201cCe n\u2019est pas,\u201d he says, \u201cqu\u2019il y ait\naucune v\u00e9ritable opposition entre l\u2019esprit des Acad\u00e9mies et celui des\nUniversit\u00e9s; ce sont seulement des vues differentes. Les Universit\u00e9s sont\n\u00e9tablies pour _enseigner_ les sciences _aux \u00e9l\u00e8ves_ qui veulent s\u2019y\nformer; les Acad\u00e9mies se proposent _de nouvelles recherches_ \u00e0 faire dans\nla carri\u00e0re des sciences. Les Universit\u00e9s d\u2019Italie ont fourni des sujets\nqui ont fait honneur aux Acad\u00e9mies; et celles-ci ont donn\u00e9 aux Universit\u00e9s\ndes Professeurs, qui ont rempli les chaires avec la plus grande\ndistinction.\u201d(2)\n\nThe nature of the case and the history of philosophy combine to recommend\nto us this division of intellectual labour between Academies and\nUniversities. To discover and to teach are distinct functions; they are\nalso distinct gifts, and are not commonly found united in the same person.\nHe, too, who spends his day in dispensing his existing knowledge to all\ncomers is unlikely to have either leisure or energy to acquire new. The\ncommon sense of mankind has associated the search after truth with\nseclusion and quiet. The greatest thinkers have been too intent on their\nsubject to admit of interruption; they have been men of absent minds and\nidosyncratic habits, and have, more or less, shunned the lecture room and\nthe public school. Pythagoras, the light of Magna Gr\u00e6cia, lived for a time\nin a cave. Thales, the light of Ionia, lived unmarried and in private, and\nrefused the invitations of princes. Plato withdrew from Athens to the\ngroves of Academus. Aristotle gave twenty years to a studious discipleship\nunder him. Friar Bacon lived in his tower upon the Isis. Newton indulged\nin an intense severity of meditation which almost shook his reason. The\ngreat discoveries in chemistry and electricity were not made in\nUniversities. Observatories are more frequently out of Universities than\nin them, and even when within their bounds need have no moral connexion\nwith them. Porson had no classes; Elmsley lived a good part of his life in\nthe country. I do not say that there are not great examples the other way,\nperhaps Socrates, certainly Lord Bacon; still I think it must be allowed\non the whole that, while teaching involves external engagements, the\nnatural home for experiment and speculation is retirement.\n\nReturning, then, to the consideration of the question, from which I may\nseem to have digressed, thus much I think I have made good,\u2014that, whether\nor no a Catholic University should put before it, as its great object, to\nmake its students \u201cgentlemen,\u201d still to make them something or other _is_\nits great object, and not simply to protect the interests and advance the\ndominion of Science. If, then, this may be taken for granted, as I think\nit may, the only point which remains to be settled is, whether I have\nformed a probable conception of the _sort of benefit_ which the Holy See\nhas intended to confer on Catholics who speak the English tongue by\nrecommending to the Irish Hierarchy the establishment of a University; and\nthis I now proceed to consider.\n\nHere, then, it is natural to ask those who are interested in the question,\nwhether any better interpretation of the recommendation of the Holy See\ncan be given than that which I have suggested in this Volume. Certainly it\ndoes not seem to me rash to pronounce that, whereas Protestants have great\nadvantages of education in the Schools, Colleges, and Universities of the\nUnited Kingdom, our ecclesiastical rulers have it in purpose that\nCatholics should enjoy the like advantages, whatever they are, to the\nfull. I conceive they view it as prejudicial to the interests of Religion\nthat there should be any cultivation of mind bestowed upon Protestants\nwhich is not given to their own youth also. As they wish their schools for\nthe poorer and middle classes to be at least on a par with those of\nProtestants, they contemplate the same object also as regards that higher\neducation which is given to comparatively the few. Protestant youths, who\ncan spare the time, continue their studies till the age of twenty-one or\ntwenty-two; thus they employ a time of life all-important and especially\nfavourable to mental culture. I conceive that our Prelates are impressed\nwith the fact and its consequences, that a youth who ends his education at\nseventeen is no match (_c\u00e6teris paribus_) for one who ends it at\ntwenty-two.\n\nAll classes indeed of the community are impressed with a fact so obvious\nas this. The consequence is, that Catholics who aspire to be on a level\nwith Protestants in discipline and refinement of intellect have recourse\nto Protestant Universities to obtain what they cannot find at home.\nAssuming (as the Rescripts from Propaganda allow me to do) that Protestant\neducation is inexpedient for our youth,\u2014we see here an additional reason\nwhy those advantages, whatever they are, which Protestant communities\ndispense through the medium of Protestantism should be accessible to\nCatholics in a Catholic form.\n\nWhat are these advantages? I repeat, they are in one word the culture of\nthe intellect. Robbed, oppressed, and thrust aside, Catholics in these\nislands have not been in a condition for centuries to attempt the sort of\neducation which is necessary for the man of the world, the statesman, the\nlandholder, or the opulent gentleman. Their legitimate stations, duties,\nemployments, have been taken from them, and the qualifications withal,\nsocial and intellectual, which are necessary both for reversing the\nforfeiture and for availing themselves of the reversal. The time is come\nwhen this moral disability must be removed. Our desideratum is, not the\nmanners and habits of gentlemen;\u2014these can be, and are, acquired in\nvarious other ways, by good society, by foreign travel, by the innate\ngrace and dignity of the Catholic mind;\u2014but the force, the steadiness, the\ncomprehensiveness and the versatility of intellect, the command over our\nown powers, the instinctive just estimate of things as they pass before\nus, which sometimes indeed is a natural gift, but commonly is not gained\nwithout much effort and the exercise of years.\n\nThis is real cultivation of mind; and I do not deny that the\ncharacteristic excellences of a gentleman are included in it. Nor need we\nbe ashamed that they should be, since the poet long ago wrote, that\n\u201cIngenuas didicisse fideliter artes Emollit mores.\u201d Certainly a liberal\neducation does manifest itself in a courtesy, propriety, and polish of\nword and action, which is beautiful in itself, and acceptable to others;\nbut it does much more. It brings the mind into form,\u2014for the mind is like\nthe body. Boys outgrow their shape and their strength; their limbs have to\nbe knit together, and their constitution needs tone. Mistaking animal\nspirits for vigour, and over-confident in their health, ignorant what they\ncan bear and how to manage themselves, they are immoderate and\nextravagant; and fall into sharp sicknesses. This is an emblem of their\nminds; at first they have no principles laid down within them as a\nfoundation for the intellect to build upon: they have no discriminating\nconvictions, and no grasp of consequences. And therefore they talk at\nrandom, if they talk much, and cannot help being flippant, or what is\nemphatically called \u201c_young_.\u201d They are merely dazzled by phenomena,\ninstead of perceiving things as they are.\n\nIt were well if none remained boys all their lives; but what is more\ncommon than the sight of grown men, talking on political or moral or\nreligious subjects, in that offhand, idle way, which we signify by the\nword _unreal_? \u201cThat they simply do not know what they are talking about\u201d\nis the spontaneous silent remark of any man of sense who hears them. Hence\nsuch persons have no difficulty in contradicting themselves in successive\nsentences, without being conscious of it. Hence others, whose defect in\nintellectual training is more latent, have their most unfortunate\ncrotchets, as they are called, or hobbies, which deprive them of the\ninfluence which their estimable qualities would otherwise secure. Hence\nothers can never look straight before them, never see the point, and have\nno difficulties in the most difficult subjects. Others are hopelessly\nobstinate and prejudiced, and, after they have been driven from their\nopinions, return to them the next moment without even an attempt to\nexplain why. Others are so intemperate and intractable that there is no\ngreater calamity for a good cause than that they should get hold of it. It\nis very plain from the very particulars I have mentioned that, in this\ndelineation of intellectual infirmities, I am drawing, not from Catholics,\nbut from the world at large; I am referring to an evil which is forced\nupon us in every railway carriage, in every coffee-room or _table-d\u2019h\u00e6te_,\nin every mixed company, an evil, however, to which Catholics are not less\nexposed than the rest of mankind.\n\nWhen the intellect has once been properly trained and formed to have a\nconnected view or grasp of things, it will display its powers with more or\nless effect according to its particular quality and capacity in the\nindividual. In the case of most men it makes itself felt in the good\nsense, sobriety of thought, reasonableness, candour, self-command, and\nsteadiness of view, which characterize it. In some it will have developed\nhabits of business, power of influencing others, and sagacity. In others\nit will elicit the talent of philosophical speculation, and lead the mind\nforward to eminence in this or that intellectual department. In all it\nwill be a faculty of entering with comparative ease into any subject of\nthought, and of taking up with aptitude any science or profession. All\nthis it will be and will do in a measure, even when the mental formation\nbe made after a model but partially true; for, as far as effectiveness\ngoes, even false views of things have more influence and inspire more\nrespect than no views at all. Men who fancy they see what is not are more\nenergetic, and make their way better, than those who see nothing; and so\nthe undoubting infidel, the fanatic, the heresiarch, are able to do much,\nwhile the mere hereditary Christian, who has never realized the truths\nwhich he holds, is unable to do any thing. But, if consistency of view can\nadd so much strength even to error, what may it not be expected to furnish\nto the dignity, the energy, and the influence of Truth!\n\nSome one, however, will perhaps object that I am but advocating that\nspurious philosophism, which shows itself in what, for want of a word, I\nmay call \u201cviewiness,\u201d when I speak so much of the formation, and\nconsequent grasp, of the intellect. It may be said that the theory of\nUniversity Education, which I have been delineating, if acted upon, would\nteach youths nothing soundly or thoroughly, and would dismiss them with\nnothing better than brilliant general views about all things whatever.\n\nThis indeed, if well founded, would be a most serious objection to what I\nhave advanced in this Volume, and would demand my immediate attention, had\nI any reason to think that I could not remove it at once, by a simple\nexplanation of what I consider the true _mode_ of educating, were this the\nplace to do so. But these Discourses are directed simply to the\nconsideration of the _aims_ and _principles_ of Education. Suffice it,\nthen, to say here, that I hold very strongly that the first step in\nintellectual training is to impress upon a boy\u2019s mind the idea of science,\nmethod, order, principle, and system; of rule and exception, of richness\nand harmony. This is commonly and excellently done by making him begin\nwith Grammar; nor can too great accuracy, or minuteness and subtlety of\nteaching be used towards him, as his faculties expand, with this simple\npurpose. Hence it is that critical scholarship is so important a\ndiscipline for him when he is leaving school for the University. A second\nscience is the Mathematics: this should follow Grammar, still with the\nsame object, viz., to give him a conception of development and arrangement\nfrom and around a common centre. Hence it is that Chronology and Geography\nare so necessary for him, when he reads History, which is otherwise little\nbetter than a story-book. Hence, too, Metrical Composition, when he reads\nPoetry; in order to stimulate his powers into action in every practicable\nway, and to prevent a merely passive reception of images and ideas which\nin that case are likely to pass out of the mind as soon as they have\nentered it. Let him once gain this habit of method, of starting from fixed\npoints, of making his ground good as he goes, of distinguishing what he\nknows from what he does not know, and I conceive he will be gradually\ninitiated into the largest and truest philosophical views, and will feel\nnothing but impatience and disgust at the random theories and imposing\nsophistries and dashing paradoxes, which carry away half-formed and\nsuperficial intellects.\n\nSuch parti-coloured ingenuities are indeed one of the chief evils of the\nday, and men of real talent are not slow to minister to them. An\nintellectual man, as the world now conceives of him, is one who is full of\n\u201cviews\u201d on all subjects of philosophy, on all matters of the day. It is\nalmost thought a disgrace not to have a view at a moment\u2019s notice on any\nquestion from the Personal Advent to the Cholera or Mesmerism. This is\nowing in great measure to the necessities of periodical literature, now so\nmuch in request. Every quarter of a year, every month, every day, there\nmust be a supply, for the gratification of the public, of new and luminous\ntheories on the subjects of religion, foreign politics, home politics,\ncivil economy, finance, trade, agriculture, emigration, and the colonies.\nSlavery, the gold fields, German philosophy, the French Empire,\nWellington, Peel, Ireland, must all be practised on, day after day, by\nwhat are called original thinkers. As the great man\u2019s guest must produce\nhis good stories or songs at the evening banquet, as the platform orator\nexhibits his telling facts at mid-day, so the journalist lies under the\nstern obligation of extemporizing his lucid views, leading ideas, and\nnutshell truths for the breakfast table. The very nature of periodical\nliterature, broken into small wholes, and demanded punctually to an hour,\ninvolves the habit of this extempore philosophy. \u201cAlmost all the\nRamblers,\u201d says Boswell of Johnson, \u201cwere written just as they were wanted\nfor the press; he sent a certain portion of the copy of an essay, and\nwrote the remainder while the former part of it was printing.\u201d Few men\nhave the gifts of Johnson, who to great vigour and resource of intellect,\nwhen it was fairly roused, united a rare common-sense and a conscientious\nregard for veracity, which preserved him from flippancy or extravagance in\nwriting. Few men are Johnsons; yet how many men at this day are assailed\nby incessant demands on their mental powers, which only a productiveness\nlike his could suitably supply! There is a demand for a reckless\noriginality of thought, and a sparkling plausibility of argument, which he\nwould have despised, even if he could have displayed; a demand for crude\ntheory and unsound philosophy, rather than none at all. It is a sort of\nrepetition of the \u201cQuid novi?\u201d of the Areopagus, and it must have an\nanswer. Men must be found who can treat, where it is necessary, like the\nAthenian sophist, _de omni scibili_,\n\n\u201cGrammaticus, Rhetor, Geometres, Pictor, Aliptes,\nAugur, Sch\u0153nobates, Medicus, Magus, omnia novit.\u201d\n\nI am speaking of such writers with a feeling of real sympathy for men who\nare under the rod of a cruel slavery. I have never indeed been in such\ncircumstances myself, nor in the temptations which they involve; but most\nmen who have had to do with composition must know the distress which at\ntimes it occasions them to have to write\u2014a distress sometimes so keen and\nso specific that it resembles nothing else than bodily pain. That pain is\nthe token of the wear and tear of mind; and, if works done comparatively\nat leisure involve such mental fatigue and exhaustion, what must be the\ntoil of those whose intellects are to be flaunted daily before the public\nin full dress, and that dress ever new and varied, and spun, like the\nsilkworm\u2019s, out of themselves! Still whatever true sympathy we may feel\nfor the ministers of this dearly purchased luxury, and whatever sense we\nmay have of the great intellectual power which the literature in question\ndisplays, we cannot honestly close our eyes to its direct evil.\n\nOne other remark suggests itself, which is the last I shall think it\nnecessary to make. The authority, which in former times was lodged in\nUniversities, now resides in very great measure in that literary world, as\nit is called, to which I have been referring. This is not satisfactory,\nif, as no one can deny, its teaching be so offhand, so ambitious, so\nchangeable. It increases the seriousness of the mischief, that so very\nlarge a portion of its writers are anonymous, for irresponsible power\nnever can be any thing but a great evil; and, moreover, that, even when\nthey are known, they can give no better guarantee for the philosophical\ntruth of their principles than their popularity at the moment, and their\nhappy conformity in ethical character to the age which admires them.\nProtestants, however, may do as they will: it is a matter for their own\nconsideration; but at least it concerns us that our own literary tribunals\nand oracles of moral duty should bear a graver character. At least it is a\nmatter of deep solicitude to Catholic Prelates that their people should be\ntaught a wisdom, safe from the excesses and vagaries of individuals,\nembodied in institutions which have stood the trial and received the\nsanction of ages, and administered by men who have no need to be\nanonymous, as being supported by their consistency with their predecessors\nand with each other.\n\n_November 21. 1852._\n\n\n\n\n\nUNIVERSITY TEACHING.\n\n\n\n\n                               Discourse I.\n\n\nIntroductory.\n\n\n\n1.\n\n\nIn addressing myself, Gentlemen, to the consideration of a question which\nhas excited so much interest, and elicited so much discussion at the\npresent day, as that of University Education, I feel some explanation is\ndue from me for supposing, after such high ability and wide experience\nhave been brought to bear upon it, that any field remains for the\nadditional labours either of a disputant or of an inquirer. If,\nnevertheless, I still venture to ask permission to continue the\ndiscussion, already so protracted, it is because the subject of Liberal\nEducation, and of the principles on which it must be conducted, has ever\nhad a hold upon my own mind; and because I have lived the greater part of\nmy life in a place which has all that time been occupied in a series of\ncontroversies both domestic and with strangers, and of measures,\nexperimental or definitive, bearing upon it. About fifty years since, the\nEnglish University, of which I was so long a member, after a century of\ninactivity, at length was roused, at a time when (as I may say) it was\ngiving no education at all to the youth committed to its keeping, to a\nsense of the responsibilities which its profession and its station\ninvolved, and it presents to us the singular example of an heterogeneous\nand an independent body of men, setting about a work of self-reformation,\nnot from any pressure of public opinion, but because it was fitting and\nright to undertake it. Its initial efforts, begun and carried on amid many\nobstacles, were met from without, as often happens in such cases, by\nungenerous and jealous criticisms, which, at the very moment that they\nwere urged, were beginning to be unjust. Controversy did but bring out\nmore clearly to its own apprehension the views on which its reformation\nwas proceeding, and throw them into a philosophical form. The course of\nbeneficial change made progress, and what was at first but the result of\nindividual energy and an act of the academical corporation, gradually\nbecame popular, and was taken up and carried out by the separate\ncollegiate bodies, of which the University is composed. This was the first\nstage of the controversy. Years passed away, and then political\nadversaries arose against it, and the system of education which it had\nestablished was a second time assailed; but still, since that contest was\nconducted for the most part through the medium, not of political acts, but\nof treatises and pamphlets, it happened as before that the threatened\ndangers, in the course of their repulse, did but afford fuller development\nand more exact delineation to the principles of which the University was\nthe representative.\n\nIn the former of these two controversies the charge brought against its\nstudies was their remoteness from the occupations and duties of life, to\nwhich they are the formal introduction, or, in other words, their\n_inutility_; in the latter, it was their connexion with a particular form\nof belief, or, in other words, their _religious exclusiveness_.\n\nLiving then so long as a witness, though hardly as an actor, in these\nscenes of intellectual conflict, I am able to bear witness to views of\nUniversity Education, without authority indeed in themselves, but not\nwithout value to a Catholic, and less familiar to him, as I conceive, than\nthey deserve to be. And, while an argument originating in the\ncontroversies to which I have referred, may be serviceable at this season\nto that great cause in which we are here so especially interested, to me\npersonally it will afford satisfaction of a peculiar kind; for, though it\nhas been my lot for many years to take a prominent, sometimes a\npresumptuous, part in theological discussions, yet the natural turn of my\nmind carries me off to trains of thought like those which I am now about\nto open, which, important though they be for Catholic objects, and\nadmitting of a Catholic treatment, are sheltered from the extreme delicacy\nand peril which attach to disputations directly bearing on the\nsubject-matter of Divine Revelation.\n\n\n\n2.\n\n\nThere are several reasons why I should open the discussion with a\nreference to the lessons with which past years have supplied me. One\nreason is this: It would concern me, Gentlemen, were I supposed to have\ngot up my opinions for the occasion. This, indeed, would have been no\nreflection on me personally, supposing I were persuaded of their truth,\nwhen at length addressing myself to the inquiry; but it would have\ndestroyed, of course, the force of my testimony, and deprived such\narguments, as I might adduce, of that moral persuasiveness which attends\non tried and sustained conviction. It would have made me seem the\nadvocate, rather than the cordial and deliberate maintainer and witness,\nof the doctrines which I was to support; and, though it might be said to\nevidence the faith I reposed in the practical judgment of the Church, and\nthe intimate concurrence of my own reason with the course she had\nauthoritatively sanctioned, and the devotion with which I could promptly\nput myself at her disposal, it would have cast suspicion on the validity\nof reasonings and conclusions which rested on no independent inquiry, and\nappealed to no past experience. In that case it might have been plausibly\nobjected by opponents that I was the serviceable expedient of an\nemergency, and never, after all, could be more than ingenious and adroit\nin the management of an argument which was not my own, and which I was\nsure to forget again as readily as I had mastered it. But this is not so.\nThe views to which I have referred have grown into my whole system of\nthought, and are, as it were, part of myself. Many changes has my mind\ngone through: here it has known no variation or vacillation of opinion,\nand though this by itself is no proof of the truth of my principles, it\nputs a seal upon conviction, and is a justification of earnestness and\nzeal. Those principles, which I am now to set forth under the sanction of\nthe Catholic Church, were my profession at that early period of my life,\nwhen religion was to me more a matter of feeling and experience than of\nfaith. They did but take greater hold upon me, as I was introduced to the\nrecords of Christian Antiquity, and approached in sentiment and desire to\nCatholicism; and my sense of their correctness has been increased with the\nevents of every year since I have been brought within its pale.\n\nAnd here I am brought to a second and more important reason for referring,\non this occasion, to the conclusions at which Protestants have arrived on\nthe subject of Liberal Education; and it is as follows: Let it be\nobserved, then, that the principles on which I would conduct the inquiry\nare attainable, as I have already implied, by the mere experience of life.\nThey do not come simply of theology; they imply no supernatural\ndiscernment; they have no special connexion with Revelation; they almost\narise out of the nature of the case; they are dictated even by human\nprudence and wisdom, though a divine illumination be absent, and they are\nrecognized by common sense, even where self-interest is not present to\nquicken it; and, therefore, though true, and just, and good in themselves,\nthey imply nothing whatever as to the religious profession of those who\nmaintain them. They may be held by Protestants as well as by Catholics;\nnay, there is reason to anticipate that in certain times and places they\nwill be more thoroughly investigated, and better understood, and held more\nfirmly by Protestants than by ourselves.\n\nIt is natural to expect this from the very circumstance that the\nphilosophy of Education is founded on truths in the natural order. Where\nthe sun shines bright, in the warm climate of the south, the natives of\nthe place know little of safeguards against cold and wet. They have,\nindeed, bleak and piercing blasts; they have chill and pouring rain, but\nonly now and then, for a day or a week; they bear the inconvenience as\nthey best may, but they have not made it an art to repel it; it is not\nworth their while; the science of calefaction and ventilation is reserved\nfor the north. It is in this way that Catholics stand relatively to\nProtestants in the science of Education; Protestants depending on human\nmeans mainly, are led to make the most of them: their sole resource is to\nuse what they have; \u201cKnowledge is\u201d their \u201cpower\u201d and nothing else; they\nare the anxious cultivators of a rugged soil. It is otherwise with us;\n\u201c_funes ceciderunt mihi in pr\u0153claris_.\u201d We have a goodly inheritance. This\nis apt to cause us (I do not mean to rely too much on prayer, and the\nDivine Blessing, for that is impossible; but) we sometimes forget that we\nshall please Him best, and get most from Him, when, according to the\nFable, we \u201cput our shoulder to the wheel,\u201d when we use what we have by\nnature to the utmost, at the same time that we look out for what is beyond\nnature in the confidence of faith and hope. However, we are sometimes\ntempted to let things take their course, as if they would in one way or\nanother turn up right at last for certain; and so we go on, living from\nhand to mouth, getting into difficulties and getting out of them,\nsucceeding certainly on the whole, but with failure in detail which might\nbe avoided, and with much of imperfection or inferiority in our\nappointments and plans, and much disappointment, discouragement, and\ncollision of opinion in consequence. If this be in any measure the state\nof the case, there is certainly so far a reason for availing ourselves of\nthe investigations and experience of those who are not Catholics, when we\nhave to address ourselves to the subject of Liberal Education.\n\nNor is there surely any thing derogatory to the position of a Catholic in\nsuch a proceeding. The Church has ever appealed and deferred to witnesses\nand authorities external to herself, in those matters in which she thought\nthey had means of forming a judgment: and that on the principle, _Cuique\nin arte sua credendum_. She has even used unbelievers and pagans in\nevidence of her truth, as far as their testimony went. She avails herself\nof scholars, critics, and antiquarians, who are not of her communion. She\nhas worded her theological teaching in the phraseology of Aristotle;\nAquila, Symmachus, Theodotion, Origen, Eusebius, and Apollinaris, all more\nor less heterodox, have supplied materials for primitive exegetics. St.\nCyprian called Tertullian his master; St. Augustin refers to Ticonius;\nBossuet, in modern times, complimented the labours of the Anglican Bull;\nthe Benedictine editors of the Fathers are familiar with the labours of\nFell, Ussher, Pearson, and Beveridge. Pope Benedict XIV. cites according\nto the occasion the works of Protestants without reserve, and the late\nFrench collection of Christian Apologists contains the writings of Locke,\nBurnet, Tillotson, and Paley. If, then, I come forward in any degree as\nborrowing the views of certain Protestant schools on the point which is to\nbe discussed, I do so, Gentlemen, as believing, first, that the Catholic\nChurch has ever, in the plenitude of her divine illumination, made use of\nwhatever truth or wisdom she has found in their teaching or their\nmeasures; and next, that in particular places or times her children are\nlikely to profit from external suggestions or lessons, which have not been\nprovided for them by herself.\n\n\n\n3.\n\n\nAnd here I may mention a third reason for appealing at the outset to the\nproceedings of Protestant bodies in regard to Liberal Education. It will\nserve to intimate the mode in which I propose to handle my subject\naltogether. Observe then, Gentlemen, I have no intention, in any thing I\nshall say, of bringing into the argument the authority of the Church, or\nany authority at all; but I shall consider the question simply on the\ngrounds of human reason and human wisdom. I am investigating in the\nabstract, and am determining what is in itself right and true. For the\nmoment I know nothing, so to say, of history. I take things as I find\nthem; I have no concern with the past; I find myself here; I set myself to\nthe duties I find here; I set myself to further, by every means in my\npower, doctrines and views, true in themselves, recognized by Catholics as\nsuch, familiar to my own mind; and to do this quite apart from the\nconsideration of questions which have been determined without me and\nbefore me. I am here the advocate and the minister of a certain great\nprinciple; yet not merely advocate and minister, else had I not been here\nat all. It has been my previous keen sense and hearty reception of that\nprinciple, that has been at once the reason, as I must suppose, of my\nbeing selected for this office, and is the cause of my accepting it. I am\ntold on authority that a principle is expedient, which I have ever felt to\nbe true. And I argue in its behalf on its own merits, the authority, which\nbrings me here, being my opportunity for arguing, but not the ground of my\nargument itself.\n\nAnd a fourth reason is here suggested for consulting the history of\nProtestant institutions, when I am going to speak of the object and nature\nof University Education. It will serve to remind you, Gentlemen, that I am\nconcerned with questions, not simply of immutable truth, but of practice\nand expedience. It would ill have become me to undertake a subject, on\nwhich points of dispute have arisen among persons so far above me in\nauthority and name, in relation to a state of society, about which I have\nso much to learn, if it involved an appeal to sacred truths, or the\ndetermination of some imperative rule of conduct. It would have been\npresumptuous in me so to have acted, nor am I so acting. Even the question\nof the union of Theology with the secular Sciences, which is its religious\nside, simple as it is of solution in the abstract, has, according to\ndifference of circumstances, been at different times differently decided.\nNecessity has no law, and expedience is often one form of necessity. It is\nno principle with sensible men, of whatever cast of opinion, to do always\nwhat is abstractedly best. Where no direct duty forbids, we may be obliged\nto do, as being best under circumstances, what we murmur and rise against,\nwhile we do it. We see that to attempt more is to effect less; that we\nmust accept so much, or gain nothing; and so perforce we reconcile\nourselves to what we would have far otherwise, if we could. Thus a system\nof what is called secular Education, in which Theology and the Sciences\nare taught separately, may, in a particular place or time, be the least of\nevils; it may be of long standing; it may be dangerous to meddle with; it\nmay be professedly a temporary arrangement; it may be under a process of\nimprovement; its disadvantages may be neutralized by the persons by whom,\nor the provisions under which, it is administered.\n\nHence it was, that in the early ages the Church allowed her children to\nattend the heathen schools for the acquisition of secular accomplishments,\nwhere, as no one can doubt, evils existed, at least as great as can attend\non Mixed Education now. The gravest Fathers recommended for Christian\nyouth the use of Pagan masters; the most saintly Bishops and most\nauthoritative Doctors had been sent in their adolescence by Christian\nparents to Pagan lecture halls.(3) And, not to take other instances, at\nthis very time, and in this very country, as regards at least the poorer\nclasses of the community, whose secular acquirements ever must be limited,\nit has seemed best to the Irish Bishops, under the circumstances, to\nsuffer the introduction into the country of a system of Mixed Education in\nthe schools called National. Such a state of things, however, is passing\naway; as regards University education at least, the highest authority has\nnow decided that the plan, which is abstractedly best, is in this time and\ncountry also most expedient.\n\n\n\n4.\n\n\nAnd here I have an opportunity of recognizing once for all that higher\nview of approaching the subject of these Discourses, which, after this\nformal recognition, I mean to dispense with. Ecclesiastical authority, not\nargument, is the supreme rule and the appropriate guide for Catholics in\nmatters of religion. It has always the right to interpose, and sometimes,\nin the conflict of parties and opinions, it is called on to exercise that\nright. It has lately exercised it in our own instance: it has interposed\nin favour of a pure University system for Catholic youth, forbidding\ncompromise or accommodation of any kind. Of course its decision must be\nheartily accepted and obeyed, and that the more, because the decision\nproceeds, not simply from the Bishops of Ireland, great as their authority\nis, but the highest authority on earth, from the Chair of St. Peter.\n\nMoreover, such a decision not only demands our submission, but has a claim\nupon our trust. It not only acts as a prohibition of any measures, but as\nan _ipso facto_ confutation of any reasonings, inconsistent with it. It\ncarries with it an earnest and an augury of its own expediency. For\ninstance, I can fancy, Gentlemen, there may be some, among those who hear\nme, disposed to say that they are ready to acquit the principles of\nEducation, which I am to advocate, of all fault whatever, except that of\nbeing impracticable. I can fancy them granting to me, that those\nprinciples are most correct and most obvious, simply irresistible on\npaper, but maintaining, nevertheless, that after all, they are nothing\nmore than the dreams of men who live out of the world, and who do not see\nthe difficulty of keeping Catholicism anyhow afloat on the bosom of this\nwonderful nineteenth century. Proved, indeed, those principles are, to\ndemonstration, but they will not work. Nay, it was my own admission just\nnow, that, in a particular instance, it might easily happen, that what is\nonly second best is best practically, because what is actually best is out\nof the question.\n\nThis, I hear you say to yourselves, is the state of things at present. You\nrecount in detail the numberless impediments, great and small, formidable\nor only vexatious, which at every step embarrass the attempt to carry out\never so poorly a principle in itself so true and ecclesiastical. You\nappeal in your defence to wise and sagacious intellects, who are far from\nenemies to Catholicism, or to the Irish Hierarchy, and you have no hope,\nor rather you absolutely disbelieve, that Education can possibly be\nconducted, here and now, on a theological principle, or that youths of\ndifferent religions can, under the circumstances of the country, be\neducated apart from each other. The more you think over the state of\npolitics, the position of parties, the feelings of classes, and the\nexperience of the past, the more chimerical does it seem to you to aim at\na University, of which Catholicity is the fundamental principle. Nay, even\nif the attempt could accidentally succeed, would not the mischief exceed\nthe benefit of it? How great the sacrifices, in how many ways, by which it\nwould be preceded and followed! how many wounds, open and secret, would it\ninflict upon the body politic! And, if it fails, which is to be expected,\nthen a double mischief will ensue from its recognition of evils which it\nhas been unable to remedy. These are your deep misgivings; and, in\nproportion to the force with which they come to you, is the concern and\nanxiety which you feel, that there should be those whom you love, whom you\nrevere, who from one cause or other refuse to enter into them.\n\n\n\n5.\n\n\nThis, I repeat, is what some good Catholics will say to me, and more than\nthis. They will express themselves better than I can speak for them in\ntheir behalf,\u2014with more earnestness and point, with more force of argument\nand fulness of detail; and I will frankly and at once acknowledge, that I\nshall insist on the high theological view of a University without\nattempting to give a direct answer to their arguments against its present\npracticability. I do not say an answer cannot be given; on the contrary, I\nhave a confident expectation that, in proportion as those objections are\nlooked in the face, they will fade away. But, however this may be, it\nwould not become me to argue the matter with those who understand the\ncircumstances of the problem so much better than myself. What do I know of\nthe state of things in Ireland, that I should presume to put ideas of\nmine, which could not be right except by accident, by the side of theirs,\nwho speak in the country of their birth and their home? No, Gentlemen, you\nare natural judges of the difficulties which beset us, and they are\ndoubtless greater than I can even fancy or forbode. Let me, for the sake\nof argument, admit all you say against our enterprise, and a great deal\nmore. Your proof of its intrinsic impossibility shall be to me as cogent\nas my own of its theological advisableness. Why, then, should I be so rash\nand perverse as to involve myself in trouble not properly mine? Why go out\nof my own place? Why so headstrong and reckless as to lay up for myself\nmiscarriage and disappointment, as though I were not sure to have enough\nof personal trial anyhow without going about to seek for it?\n\nReflections such as these would be decisive even with the boldest and most\ncapable minds, but for one consideration. In the midst of our difficulties\nI have one ground of hope, just one stay, but, as I think, a sufficient\none, which serves me in the stead of all other argument whatever, which\nhardens me against criticism, which supports me if I begin to despond, and\nto which I ever come round, when the question of the possible and the\nexpedient is brought into discussion. It is the decision of the Holy See;\nSt. Peter has spoken, it is he who has enjoined that which seems to us so\nunpromising. He has spoken, and has a claim on us to trust him. He is no\nrecluse, no solitary student, no dreamer about the past, no doter upon the\ndead and gone, no projector of the visionary. He for eighteen hundred\nyears has lived in the world; he has seen all fortunes, he has encountered\nall adversaries, he has shaped himself for all emergencies. If ever there\nwas a power on earth who had an eye for the times, who has confined\nhimself to the practicable, and has been happy in his anticipations, whose\nwords have been facts, and whose commands prophecies, such is he in the\nhistory of ages, who sits from generation to generation in the Chair of\nthe Apostles, as the Vicar of Christ, and the Doctor of His Church.\n\n\n\n6.\n\n\nThese are not the words of rhetoric, Gentlemen, but of history. All who\ntake part with the Apostle, are on the winning side. He has long since\ngiven warrants for the confidence which he claims. From the first he has\nlooked through the wide world, of which he has the burden; and, according\nto the need of the day, and the inspirations of his Lord, he has set\nhimself now to one thing, now to another; but to all in season, and to\nnothing in vain. He came first upon an age of refinement and luxury like\nour own, and, in spite of the persecutor, fertile in the resources of his\ncruelty, he soon gathered, out of all classes of society, the slave, the\nsoldier, the high-born lady, and the sophist, materials enough to form a\npeople to his Master\u2019s honour. The savage hordes come down in torrents\nfrom the north, and Peter went out to meet them, and by his very eye he\nsobered them, and backed them in their full career. They turned aside and\nflooded the whole earth, but only to be more surely civilized by him, and\nto be made ten times more his children even than the older populations\nwhich they had overwhelmed. Lawless kings arose, sagacious as the Roman,\npassionate as the Hun, yet in him they found their match, and were\nshattered, and he lived on. The gates of the earth were opened to the east\nand west, and men poured out to take possession; but he went with them by\nhis missionaries, to China, to Mexico, carried along by zeal and charity,\nas far as those children of men were led by enterprise, covetousness, or\nambition. Has he failed in his successes up to this hour? Did he, in our\nfathers\u2019 day, fail in his struggle with Joseph of Germany and his\nconfederates, with Napoleon, a greater name, and his dependent kings,\nthat, though in another kind of fight, he should fail in ours? What grey\nhairs are on the head of Judah, whose youth is renewed like the eagle\u2019s,\nwhose feet are like the feet of harts, and underneath the Everlasting\narms?\n\nIn the first centuries of the Church all this practical sagacity of Holy\nChurch was mere matter of faith, but every age, as it has come, has\nconfirmed faith by actual sight; and shame on us, if, with the accumulated\ntestimony of eighteen centuries, our eyes are too gross to see those\nvictories which the Saints have ever seen by anticipation. Least of all\ncan we, the Catholics of islands which have in the cultivation and\ndiffusion of Knowledge heretofore been so singularly united under the\nauspices of the Apostolic See, least of all can we be the men to distrust\nits wisdom and to predict its failure, when it sends us on a similar\nmission now. I cannot forget that, at a time when Celt and Saxon were\nalike savage, it was the See of Peter that gave both of them, first faith,\nthen civilization; and then again bound them together in one by the seal\nof a joint commission to convert and illuminate in their turn the pagan\ncontinent. I cannot forget how it was from Rome that the glorious St.\nPatrick was sent to Ireland, and did a work so great that he could not\nhave a successor in it, the sanctity and learning and zeal and charity\nwhich followed on his death being but the result of the one impulse which\nhe gave. I cannot forget how, in no long time, under the fostering breath\nof the Vicar of Christ, a country of heathen superstitions became the very\nwonder and asylum of all people,\u2014the wonder by reason of its knowledge,\nsacred and profane, and the asylum of religion, literature and science,\nwhen chased away from the continent by the barbarian invaders. I recollect\nits hospitality, freely accorded to the pilgrim; its volumes munificently\npresented to the foreign student; and the prayers, the blessings, the holy\nrites, the solemn chants, which sanctified the while both giver and\nreceiver.\n\nNor can I forget either, how my own England had meanwhile become the\nsolicitude of the same unwearied eye: how Augustine was sent to us by\nGregory; how he fainted in the way at the tidings of our fierceness, and,\nbut for the Pope, would have shrunk as from an impossible expedition; how\nhe was forced on \u201cin weakness and in fear and in much trembling,\u201d until he\nhad achieved the conquest of the island to Christ. Nor, again, how it came\nto pass that, when Augustine died and his work slackened, another Pope,\nunwearied still, sent three saints from Rome, to ennoble and refine the\npeople Augustine had converted. Three holy men set out for England\ntogether, of different nations: Theodore, an Asiatic Greek, from Tarsus;\nAdrian, an African; Bennett alone a Saxon, for Peter knows no distinction\nof races in his ecumenical work. They came with theology and science in\ntheir train; with relics, with pictures, with manuscripts of the Holy\nFathers and the Greek classics; and Theodore and Adrian founded schools,\nsecular and monastic, all over England, while Bennett brought to the north\nthe large library he had collected in foreign parts, and, with plans and\nornamental work from France, erected a church of stone, under the\ninvocation of St. Peter, after the Roman fashion, \u201cwhich,\u201d says the\nhistorian,(4) \u201che most affected.\u201d I call to mind how St. Wilfrid, St. John\nof Beverley, St. Bede, and other saintly men, carried on the good work in\nthe following generations, and how from that time forth the two islands,\nEngland and Ireland, in a dark and dreary age, were the two lights of\nChristendom, and had no claims on each other, and no thought of self, save\nin the interchange of kind offices and the rivalry of love.\n\n\n\n7.\n\n\nO memorable time, when St. Aidan and the Irish monks went up to\nLindisfarne and Melrose, and taught the Saxon youth, and when a St.\nCuthbert and a St. Eata repaid their charitable toil! O blessed days of\npeace and confidence, when the Celtic Mailduf penetrated to Malmesbury in\nthe south, which has inherited his name, and founded there the famous\nschool which gave birth to the great St. Aldhelm! O precious seal and\ntestimony of Gospel unity, when, as Aldhelm in turn tells us, the English\nwent to Ireland \u201cnumerous as bees;\u201d when the Saxon St. Egbert and St.\nWillibrod, preachers to the heathen Frisons, made the voyage to Ireland to\nprepare themselves for their work; and when from Ireland went forth to\nGermany the two noble Ewalds, Saxons also, to earn the crown of martyrdom!\nSuch a period, indeed, so rich in grace, in peace, in love, and in good\nworks, could only last for a season; but, even when the light was to pass\naway from them, the sister islands were destined, not to forfeit, but to\ntransmit it together. The time came when the neighbouring continental\ncountry was in turn to hold the mission which they had exercised so long\nand well; and when to it they made over their honourable office, faithful\nto the alliance of two hundred years, they made it a joint act. Alcuin was\nthe pupil both of the English and of the Irish schools; and when\nCharlemagne would revive science and letters in his own France, it was\nAlcuin, the representative both of the Saxon and the Celt, who was the\nchief of those who went forth to supply the need of the great Emperor.\nSuch was the foundation of the School of Paris, from which, in the course\nof centuries, sprang the famous University, the glory of the middle ages.\n\n                                * * * * *\n\nThe past never returns; the course of events, old in its texture, is ever\nnew in its colouring and fashion. England and Ireland are not what they\nonce were, but Rome is where it was, and St. Peter is the same: his zeal,\nhis charity, his mission, his gifts are all the same. He of old made the\ntwo islands one by giving them joint work of teaching; and now surely he\nis giving us a like mission, and we shall become one again, while we\nzealously and lovingly fulfil it.\n\n\n\n\n                              Discourse II.\n\n\nTheology A Branch Of Knowledge.\n\n\nThere were two questions, to which I drew your attention, Gentlemen, in\nthe beginning of my first Discourse, as being of especial importance and\ninterest at this time: first, whether it is consistent with the idea of\nUniversity teaching to exclude Theology from a place among the sciences\nwhich it embraces; next, whether it is consistent with that idea to make\nthe useful arts and sciences its direct and principal concern, to the\nneglect of those liberal studies and exercises of mind, in which it has\nheretofore been considered mainly to consist. These are the questions\nwhich will form the subject of what I have to lay before you, and I shall\nnow enter upon the former of the two.\n\n\n\n1.\n\n\nIt is the fashion just now, as you very well know, to erect so-called\nUniversities, without making any provision in them at all for Theological\nchairs. Institutions of this kind exist both here and in England. Such a\nprocedure, though defended by writers of the generation just passed with\nmuch plausible argument and not a little wit, seems to me an intellectual\nabsurdity; and my reason for saying so runs, with whatever abruptness,\ninto the form of a syllogism:\u2014A University, I should lay down, by its very\nname professes to teach universal knowledge: Theology is surely a branch\nof knowledge: how then is it possible for it to profess all branches of\nknowledge, and yet to exclude from the subjects of its teaching one which,\nto say the least, is as important and as large as any of them? I do not\nsee that either premiss of this argument is open to exception.\n\nAs to the range of University teaching, certainly the very name of\nUniversity is inconsistent with restrictions of any kind. Whatever was the\noriginal reason of the adoption of that term, which is unknown,(5) I am\nonly putting on it its popular, its recognized sense, when I say that a\nUniversity should teach universal knowledge. That there is a real\nnecessity for this universal teaching in the highest schools of intellect,\nI will show by-and-by; here it is sufficient to say that such universality\nis considered by writers on the subject to be the very characteristic of a\nUniversity, as contrasted with other seats of learning. Thus Johnson, in\nhis Dictionary, defines it to be \u201ca school where all arts and faculties\nare taught;\u201d and Mosheim, writing as an historian, says that, before the\nrise of the University of Paris,\u2014for instance, at Padua, or Salamanca, or\nCologne,\u2014\u201cthe whole circle of sciences then known was not taught;\u201d but\nthat the school of Paris, \u201cwhich exceeded all others in various respects,\nas well as in the number of teachers and students, was the first to\nembrace all the arts and sciences, and therefore first became a\nUniversity.\u201d(6)\n\nIf, with other authors, we consider the word to be derived from the\ninvitation which is held out by a University to students of every kind,\nthe result is the same; for, if certain branches of knowledge were\nexcluded, those students of course would be excluded also, who desired to\npursue them.\n\nIs it, then, logically consistent in a seat of learning to call itself a\nUniversity, and to exclude Theology from the number of its studies? And\nagain, is it wonderful that Catholics, even in the view of reason, putting\naside faith or religious duty, should be dissatisfied with existing\ninstitutions, which profess to be Universities, and refuse to teach\nTheology; and that they should in consequence desire to possess seats of\nlearning, which are, not only more Christian, but more philosophical in\ntheir construction, and larger and deeper in their provisions?\n\nBut this, of course, is to assume that Theology _is_ a science, and an\nimportant one: so I will throw my argument into a more exact form. I say,\nthen, that if a University be, from the nature of the case, a place of\ninstruction, where universal knowledge is professed, and if in a certain\nUniversity, so called, the subject of Religion is excluded, one of two\nconclusions is inevitable,\u2014either, on the one hand, that the province of\nReligion is very barren of real knowledge, or, on the other hand, that in\nsuch University one special and important branch of knowledge is omitted.\nI say, the advocate of such an institution must say _this_, or he must say\n_that_; he must own, either that little or nothing is known about the\nSupreme Being, or that his seat of learning calls itself what it is not.\nThis is the thesis which I lay down, and on which I shall insist as the\nsubject of this Discourse. I repeat, such a compromise between religious\nparties, as is involved in the establishment of a University which makes\nno religious profession, implies that those parties severally\nconsider,\u2014not indeed that their own respective opinions are trifles in a\nmoral and practical point of view\u2014of course not; but certainly as much as\nthis, that they are not knowledge. Did they in their hearts believe that\ntheir private views of religion, whatever they are, were absolutely and\nobjectively true, it is inconceivable that they would so insult them as to\nconsent to their omission in an Institution which is bound, from the\nnature of the case\u2014from its very idea and its name\u2014to make a profession of\nall sorts of knowledge whatever.\n\n\n\n2.\n\n\nI think this will be found to be no matter of words. I allow then fully,\nthat, when men combine together for any common object, they are obliged,\nas a matter of course, in order to secure the advantages accruing from\nunited action, to sacrifice many of their private opinions and wishes, and\nto drop the minor differences, as they are commonly called, which exist\nbetween man and man. No two persons perhaps are to be found, however\nintimate, however congenial in tastes and judgments, however eager to have\none heart and one soul, but must deny themselves, for the sake of each\nother, much which they like or desire, if they are to live together\nhappily. Compromise, in a large sense of the word, is the first principle\nof combination; and any one who insists on enjoying his rights to the\nfull, and his opinions without toleration for his neighbour\u2019s, and his own\nway in all things, will soon have all things altogether to himself, and no\none to share them with him. But most true as this confessedly is, still\nthere is an obvious limit, on the other hand, to these compromises,\nhowever necessary they be; and this is found in the _proviso_, that the\ndifferences surrendered should be _but_ \u201cminor,\u201d or that there should be\nno sacrifice of the main object of the combination, in the concessions\nwhich are mutually made. Any sacrifice which compromises that object is\ndestructive of the principle of the combination, and no one who would be\nconsistent can be a party to it.\n\nThus, for instance, if men of various religious denominations join\ntogether for the dissemination of what are called \u201cevangelical\u201d tracts, it\nis under the belief, that, the object of their uniting, as recognized on\nall hands, being the spiritual benefit of their neighbours, no religious\nexhortations, whatever be their character, can essentially interfere with\nthat benefit, which faithfully insist upon the Lutheran doctrine of\nJustification. If, again, they agree together in printing and circulating\nthe Protestant Bible, it is because they, one and all, hold to the\nprinciple, that, however serious be their differences of religious\nsentiment, such differences fade away before the one great principle,\nwhich that circulation symbolizes\u2014that the Bible, the whole Bible, and\nnothing but the Bible, is the religion of Protestants. On the contrary, if\nthe committee of some such association inserted tracts into the copies of\nthe said Bible which they sold, and tracts in recommendation of the\nAthanasian Creed or the merit of good works, I conceive any subscribing\nmember would have a just right to complain of a proceeding, which\ncompromised the principle of Private Judgment as the one true interpreter\nof Scripture. These instances are sufficient to illustrate my general\nposition, that coalitions and comprehensions for an object, have their\nlife in the prosecution of that object, and cease to have any meaning as\nsoon as that object is compromised or disparaged.\n\nWhen, then, a number of persons come forward, not as politicians, not as\ndiplomatists, lawyers, traders, or speculators, but with the one object of\nadvancing Universal Knowledge, much we may allow them to\nsacrifice.\u2014ambition, reputation, leisure, comfort, party-interests, gold;\none thing they may not sacrifice,\u2014Knowledge itself. Knowledge being their\nobject, they need not of course insist on their own private views about\nancient or modern history, or national prosperity, or the balance of\npower; they need not of course shrink from the co-operation of those who\nhold the opposite views; but stipulate they must that Knowledge itself is\nnot compromised;\u2014and as to those views, of whatever kind, which they do\nallow to be dropped, it is plain they consider such to be opinions, and\nnothing more, however dear, however important to themselves personally;\nopinions ingenious, admirable, pleasurable, beneficial, expedient, but not\nworthy the name of Knowledge or Science. Thus no one would insist on the\nMalthusian teaching being a _sine qu\u00e2 non_ in a seat of learning, who did\nnot think it simply ignorance not to be a Malthusian; and no one would\nconsent to drop the Newtonian theory, who thought it to have been proved\ntrue, in the same sense as the existence of the sun and moon is true. If,\nthen, in an Institution which professes all knowledge, nothing is\nprofessed, nothing is taught about the Supreme Being, it is fair to infer\nthat every individual in the number of those who advocate that\nInstitution, supposing him consistent, distinctly holds that nothing is\nknown for certain about the Supreme Being; nothing such, as to have any\nclaim to be regarded as a material addition to the stock of general\nknowledge existing in the world. If on the other hand it turns out that\nsomething considerable _is_ known about the Supreme Being, whether from\nReason or Revelation, then the Institution in question professes every\nscience, and yet leaves out the foremost of them. In a word, strong as may\nappear the assertion, I do not see how I can avoid making it, and bear\nwith me, Gentlemen, while I do so, viz., such an Institution cannot be\nwhat it professes, if there be a God. I do not wish to declaim; but, by\nthe very force of the terms, it is very plain, that a Divine Being and a\nUniversity so circumstanced cannot co-exist.\n\n\n\n3.\n\n\nStill, however, this may seem to many an abrupt conclusion, and will not\nbe acquiesced in: what answer, Gentlemen, will be made to it? Perhaps\nthis:\u2014It will be said, that there are different kinds or spheres of\nKnowledge, human, divine, sensible, intellectual, and the like; and that a\nUniversity certainly takes in all varieties of Knowledge in its own line,\nbut still that it has a line of its own. It contemplates, it occupies a\ncertain order, a certain platform, of Knowledge. I understand the remark;\nbut I own to you, I do not understand how it can be made to apply to the\nmatter in hand. I cannot so construct my definition of the subject-matter\nof University Knowledge, and so draw my boundary lines around it, as to\ninclude therein the other sciences commonly studied at Universities, and\nto exclude the science of Religion. For instance, are we to limit our idea\nof University Knowledge by the evidence of our senses? then we exclude\nethics; by intuition? we exclude history; by testimony? we exclude\nmetaphysics; by abstract reasoning? we exclude physics. Is not the being\nof a God reported to us by testimony, handed down by history, inferred by\nan inductive process, brought home to us by metaphysical necessity, urged\non us by the suggestions of our conscience? It is a truth in the natural\norder, as well as in the supernatural. So much for its origin; and, when\nobtained, what is it worth? Is it a great truth or a small one? Is it a\ncomprehensive truth? Say that no other religious idea whatever were given\nbut it, and you have enough to fill the mind; you have at once a whole\ndogmatic system. The word \u201cGod\u201d is a Theology in itself, indivisibly one,\ninexhaustibly various, from the vastness and the simplicity of its\nmeaning. Admit a God, and you introduce among the subjects of your\nknowledge, a fact encompassing, closing in upon, absorbing, every other\nfact conceivable. How can we investigate any part of any order of\nKnowledge, and stop short of that which enters into every order? All true\nprinciples run over with it, all phenomena converge to it; it is truly the\nFirst and the Last. In word indeed, and in idea, it is easy enough to\ndivide Knowledge into human and divine, secular and religious, and to lay\ndown that we will address ourselves to the one without interfering with\nthe other; but it is impossible in fact. Granting that divine truth\ndiffers in kind from human, so do human truths differ in kind one from\nanother. If the knowledge of the Creator is in a different order from\nknowledge of the creature, so, in like manner, metaphysical science is in\na different order from physical, physics from history, history from\nethics. You will soon break up into fragments the whole circle of secular\nknowledge, if you begin the mutilation with divine.\n\nI have been speaking simply of Natural Theology; my argument of course is\nstronger when I go on to Revelation. Let the doctrine of the Incarnation\nbe true: is it not at once of the nature of an historical fact, and of a\nmetaphysical? Let it be true that there are Angels: how is not this a\npoint of knowledge in the same sense as the naturalist\u2019s asseveration,\nthat myriads of living things might co-exist on the point of a needle?\nThat the Earth is to be burned by fire, is, if true, as large a fact as\nthat huge monsters once played amid its depths; that Antichrist is to\ncome, is as categorical a heading to a chapter of history, as that Nero or\nJulian was Emperor of Rome; that a divine influence moves the will, is a\nsubject of thought not more mysterious than the result of volition on our\nmuscles, which we admit as a fact in metaphysics.\n\nI do not see how it is possible for a philosophical mind, first, to\nbelieve these religious facts to be true; next, to consent to ignore them;\nand thirdly, in spite of this, to go on to profess to be teaching all the\nwhile _de omni scibili_. No; if a man thinks in his heart that these\nreligious facts are short of truth, that they are not true in the sense in\nwhich the general fact and the law of the fall of a stone to the earth is\ntrue, I understand his excluding Religion from his University, though he\nprofesses other reasons for its exclusion. In that case the varieties of\nreligious opinion under which he shelters his conduct, are not only his\napology for publicly disowning Religion, but a cause of his privately\ndisbelieving it. He does not think that any thing is known or can be known\nfor certain, about the origin of the world or the end of man.\n\n\n\n4.\n\n\nThis, I fear, is the conclusion to which intellects, clear, logical, and\nconsistent, have come, or are coming, from the nature of the case; and,\nalas! in addition to this _prim\u00e2-facie_ suspicion, there are actual\ntendencies in the same direction in Protestantism, viewed whether in its\noriginal idea, or again in the so-called Evangelical movement in these\nislands during the last century. The religious world, as it is styled,\nholds, generally speaking, that Religion consists, not in knowledge, but\nin feeling or sentiment. The old Catholic notion, which still lingers in\nthe Established Church, was, that Faith was an intellectual act, its\nobject truth, and its result knowledge. Thus if you look into the Anglican\nPrayer Book, you will find definite _credenda_, as well as definite\n_agenda_; but in proportion as the Lutheran leaven spread, it became\nfashionable to say that Faith was, not an acceptance of revealed doctrine,\nnot an act of the intellect, but a feeling, an emotion, an affection, an\nappetency; and, as this view of Faith obtained, so was the connexion of\nFaith with Truth and Knowledge more and more either forgotten or denied.\nAt length the identity of this (so-called) spirituality of heart and the\nvirtue of Faith was acknowledged on all hands. Some men indeed disapproved\nthe pietism in question, others admired it; but whether they admired or\ndisapproved, both the one party and the other found themselves in\nagreement on the main point, viz.\u2014in considering that this really was in\nsubstance Religion, and nothing else; that Religion was based, not on\nargument, but on taste and sentiment, that nothing was objective, every\nthing subjective, in doctrine. I say, even those who saw through the\naffectation in which the religious school of which I am speaking clad\nitself, still came to think that Religion, as such, consisted in something\nshort of intellectual exercises, viz., in the affections, in the\nimagination, in inward persuasions and consolations, in pleasurable\nsensations, sudden changes, and sublime fancies. They learned to believe\nand to take it for granted, that Religion was nothing beyond a _supply_ of\nthe wants of human nature, not an external fact and a work of God. There\nwas, it appeared, a demand for Religion, and therefore there was a supply;\nhuman nature could not do without Religion, any more than it could do\nwithout bread; a supply was absolutely necessary, good or bad, and, as in\nthe case of the articles of daily sustenance, an article which was really\ninferior was better than none at all. Thus Religion was useful, venerable,\nbeautiful, the sanction of order, the stay of government, the curb of\nself-will and self-indulgence, which the laws cannot reach: but, after\nall, on what was it based? Why, that was a question delicate to ask, and\nimprudent to answer; but, if the truth must be spoken, however\nreluctantly, the long and the short of the matter was this, that Religion\nwas based on custom, on prejudice, on law, on education, on habit, on\nloyalty, on feudalism, on enlightened expedience, on many, many things,\nbut not at all on reason; reason was neither its warrant, nor its\ninstrument, and science had as little connexion with it as with the\nfashions of the season, or the state of the weather.\n\nYou see, Gentlemen, how a theory or philosophy, which began with the\nreligious changes of the sixteenth century, has led to conclusions, which\nthe authors of those changes would be the first to denounce, and has been\ntaken up by that large and influential body which goes by the name of\nLiberal or Latitudinarian; and how, where it prevails, it is as\nunreasonable of course to demand for Religion a chair in a University, as\nto demand one for fine feeling, sense of honour, patriotism, gratitude,\nmaternal affection, or good companionship, proposals which would be simply\nunmeaning.\n\n\n\n5.\n\n\nNow, in illustration of what I have been saying, I will appeal, in the\nfirst place, to a statesman, but not merely so, to no mere politician, no\ntrader in places, or in votes, or in the stock market, but to a\nphilosopher, to an orator, to one whose profession, whose aim, has ever\nbeen to cultivate the fair, the noble, and the generous. I cannot forget\nthe celebrated discourse of the celebrated man to whom I am referring; a\nman who is first in his peculiar walk; and who, moreover (which is much to\nmy purpose), has had a share, as much as any one alive, in effecting the\npublic recognition in these Islands of the principle of separating secular\nand religious knowledge. This brilliant thinker, during the years in which\nhe was exerting himself in behalf of this principle, made a speech or\ndiscourse, on occasion of a public solemnity; and in reference to the\nbearing of general knowledge upon religious belief, he spoke as follows:\n\n\u201cAs men,\u201d he said, \u201cwill no longer suffer themselves to be led blindfold\nin ignorance, so will they no more yield to the vile principle of judging\nand treating their fellow-creatures, not according to the intrinsic merit\nof their actions, but according to the accidental and involuntary\ncoincidence of their opinions. The great truth has finally gone forth to\nall the ends of the earth,\u201d and he prints it in capital letters, \u201cthat man\nshall no more render account to man for his belief, over which he has\nhimself no control. Henceforward, nothing shall prevail upon us to praise\nor to blame any one for that which he can no more change, than he can the\nhue of his skin or the height of his stature.\u201d(7) You see, Gentlemen, if\nthis philosopher is to decide the matter, religious ideas are just as far\nfrom being real, or representing anything beyond themselves, are as truly\npeculiarities, idiosyncracies, accidents of the individual, as his having\nthe stature of a Patagonian, or the features of a Negro.\n\nBut perhaps this was the rhetoric of an excited moment. Far from it,\nGentlemen, or I should not have fastened on the words of a fertile mind,\nuttered so long ago. What Mr. Brougham laid down as a principle in 1825,\nresounds on all sides of us, with ever-growing confidence and success, in\n1852. I open the Minutes of the Committee of Council on Education for the\nyears 1848-50, presented to both Houses of Parliament by command of Her\nMajesty, and I find one of Her Majesty\u2019s Inspectors of Schools, at p. 467\nof the second volume, dividing \u201cthe topics usually embraced in the better\nclass of primary schools\u201d into four:\u2014the knowledge of _signs_, as reading\nand writing; of _facts_, as geography and astronomy; of _relations and\nlaws_, as mathematics; and lastly _sentiment_, such as poetry and music.\nNow, on first catching sight of this division, it occurred to me to ask\nmyself, before ascertaining the writer\u2019s own resolution of the matter,\nunder which of these four heads would fall Religion, or whether it fell\nunder any of them. Did he put it aside as a thing too delicate and sacred\nto be enumerated with earthly studies? or did he distinctly contemplate it\nwhen he made his division? Anyhow, I could really find a place for it\nunder the first head, or the second, or the third; for it has to do with\nfacts, since it tells of the Self-subsisting; it has to do with relations,\nfor it tells of the Creator; it has to do with signs, for it tells of the\ndue manner of speaking of Him. There was just one head of the division to\nwhich I could not refer it, viz., to _sentiment_; for, I suppose, music\nand poetry, which are the writer\u2019s own examples of sentiment, have not\nmuch to do with Truth, which is the main object of Religion. Judge then my\nsurprise, Gentlemen, when I found the fourth was the very head selected by\nthe writer of the Report in question, as the special receptacle of\nreligious topics. \u201cThe inculcation of _sentiment_,\u201d he says, \u201cembraces\nreading in its higher sense, poetry, music, together with moral and\nreligious Education.\u201d I am far from introducing this writer for his own\nsake, because I have no wish to hurt the feelings of a gentleman, who is\nbut exerting himself zealously in the discharge of anxious duties; but,\ntaking him as an illustration of the wide-spreading school of thought to\nwhich he belongs, I ask what can more clearly prove than a candid avowal\nlike this, that, in the view of his school, Religion is not knowledge, has\nnothing whatever to do with knowledge, and is excluded from a University\ncourse of instruction, not simply because the exclusion cannot be helped,\nfrom political or social obstacles, but because it has no business there\nat all, because it is to be considered a taste, sentiment, opinion, and\nnothing more?\n\nThe writer avows this conclusion himself, in the explanation into which he\npresently enters, in which he says: \u201cAccording to the classification\nproposed, the _essential idea_ of all religious Education will consist in\nthe direct cultivation of the _feelings_.\u201d What we contemplate, then, what\nwe aim at, when we give a religious Education, is, it seems, not to impart\nany knowledge whatever, but to satisfy anyhow desires after the Unseen\nwhich will arise in our minds in spite of ourselves, to provide the mind\nwith a means of self-command, to impress on it the beautiful ideas which\nsaints and sages have struck out, to embellish it with the bright hues of\na celestial piety, to teach it the poetry of devotion, the music of\nwell-ordered affections, and the luxury of doing good. As for the\nintellect, its exercise happens to be unavoidable, whenever moral\nimpressions are made, from the constitution of the human mind, but it\nvaries in the results of that exercise, in the conclusions which it draws\nfrom our impressions, according to the peculiarities of the individual.\n\nSomething like this seems to be the writer\u2019s meaning, but we need not pry\ninto its finer issues in order to gain a distinct view of its general\nbearing; and taking it, as I think we fairly may take it, as a specimen of\nthe philosophy of the day, as adopted by those who are not conscious\nunbelievers, or open scoffers, I consider it amply explains how it comes\nto pass that this day\u2019s philosophy sets up a system of universal\nknowledge, and teaches of plants, and earths, and creeping things, and\nbeasts, and gases, about the crust of the earth and the changes of the\natmosphere, about sun, moon, and stars, about man and his doings, about\nthe history of the world, about sensation, memory, and the passions, about\nduty, about cause and effect, about all things imaginable, except one\u2014and\nthat is, about Him that made all these things, about God. I say the reason\nis plain because they consider knowledge, as regards the creature, is\nillimitable, but impossible or hopeless as regards the being and\nattributes and works of the Creator.\n\n\n\n6.\n\n\nHere, however, it may be objected to me that this representation is\ncertainly extreme, for the school in question does, in fact, lay great\nstress on the evidence afforded by the creation, to the Being and\nAttributes of the Creator. I may be referred, for instance, to the words\nof one of the speakers on a memorable occasion. At the very time of laying\nthe first stone of the University of London, I confess it, a learned\nperson, since elevated to the Protestant See of Durham, which he still\nfills, opened the proceedings with prayer. He addressed the Deity, as the\nauthoritative Report informs us, \u201cthe whole surrounding assembly standing\nuncovered in solemn silence.\u201d \u201cThou,\u201d he said, in the name of all present,\n\u201cthou hast constructed the vast fabric of the universe in so wonderful a\nmanner, so arranged its motions, and so formed its productions, that the\ncontemplation and study of thy works exercise at once the mind in the\npursuit of human science, and lead it onwards to _Divine Truth_.\u201d Here is\napparently a distinct recognition that there is such a thing as Truth in\nthe province of Religion; and, did the passage stand by itself, and were\nit the only means we possessed of ascertaining the sentiments of the\npowerful body whom this distinguished person there represented, it would,\nas far as it goes, be satisfactory. I admit it; and I admit also the\nrecognition of the Being and certain Attributes of the Deity, contained in\nthe writings of the gifted person whom I have already quoted, whose\ngenius, versatile and multiform as it is, in nothing has been so constant,\nas in its devotion to the advancement of knowledge, scientific and\nliterary. He then certainly, in his \u201cDiscourse of the objects, advantages,\nand pleasures of science,\u201d after variously illustrating what he terms its\n\u201cgratifying treats,\u201d crowns the catalogue with mention of \u201cthe _highest_\nof _all_ our gratifications in the contemplation of science,\u201d which he\nproceeds to explain thus:\n\n\u201cWe are raised by them,\u201d says he, \u201cto an understanding of the infinite\nwisdom and goodness which the Creator has displayed in all His works. Not\na step can be taken in any direction,\u201d he continues, \u201cwithout perceiving\nthe most extraordinary traces of design; and the skill, every where\nconspicuous, is calculated in so vast a proportion of instances to promote\nthe happiness of living creatures, and especially of ourselves, that we\ncan feel no hesitation in concluding, that, if we knew the whole scheme of\nProvidence, every part would be in harmony with a plan of absolute\nbenevolence. Independent, however, of this most consoling inference, the\ndelight is inexpressible, of being able to follow, as it were, with our\neyes, the marvellous works of the Great Architect of Nature, to trace the\nunbounded power and exquisite skill which are exhibited in the most\nminute, as well as the mightiest parts of His system. The pleasure derived\nfrom this study is unceasing, and so various, that it never tires the\nappetite. But it is unlike the low gratifications of sense in another\nrespect: it elevates and refines our nature, while those hurt the health,\ndebase the understanding, and corrupt the feelings; it teaches us to look\nupon all earthly objects as insignificant and below our notice, except the\npursuit of knowledge and the cultivation of virtue, that is to say, the\nstrict performance of our duty in every relation of society; and it gives\na dignity and importance to the enjoyment of life, which the frivolous and\nthe grovelling cannot even comprehend.\u201d\n\nSuch are the words of this prominent champion of Mixed Education. If\nlogical inference be, as it undoubtedly is, an instrument of truth,\nsurely, it may be answered to me, in admitting the possibility of\ninferring the Divine Being and Attributes _from_ the phenomena of nature,\nhe distinctly admits a basis of truth for the doctrines of Religion.\n\n\n\n7.\n\n\nI wish, Gentlemen, to give these representations their full weight, both\nfrom the gravity of the question, and the consideration due to the persons\nwhom I am arraigning; but, before I can feel sure I understand them, I\nmust ask an abrupt question. When I am told, then, by the partisans of\nUniversities without Theological teaching, that human science leads to\nbelief in a Supreme Being, without denying the fact, nay, as a Catholic,\nwith full conviction of it, nevertheless I am obliged to ask what the\nstatement means in _their_ mouths, what they, the speakers, understand by\nthe word \u201cGod.\u201d Let me not be thought offensive, if I question, whether it\nmeans the same thing on the two sides of the controversy. With us\nCatholics, as with the first race of Protestants, as with Mahometans, and\nall Theists, the word contains, as I have already said, a theology in\nitself. At the risk of anticipating what I shall have occasion to insist\nupon in my next Discourse, let me say that, according to the teaching of\nMonotheism, God is an Individual, Self-dependent, All-perfect,\nUnchangeable Being; intelligent, living, personal, and present; almighty,\nall-seeing, all-remembering; between whom and His creatures there is an\ninfinite gulf; who has no origin, who is all-sufficient for Himself; who\ncreated and upholds the universe; who will judge every one of us, sooner\nor later, according to that Law of right and wrong which He has written on\nour hearts. He is One who is sovereign over, operative amidst, independent\nof, the appointments which He has made; One in whose hands are all things,\nwho has a purpose in every event, and a standard for every deed, and thus\nhas relations of His own towards the subject-matter of each particular\nscience which the book of knowledge unfolds; who has with an adorable,\nnever-ceasing energy implicated Himself in all the history of creation,\nthe constitution of nature, the course of the world, the origin of\nsociety, the fortunes of nations, the action of the human mind; and who\nthereby necessarily becomes the subject-matter of a science, far wider and\nmore noble than any of those which are included in the circle of secular\nEducation.\n\nThis is the doctrine which belief in a God implies in the mind of a\nCatholic: if it means any thing, it means all this, and cannot keep from\nmeaning all this, and a great deal more; and, even though there were\nnothing in the religious tenets of the last three centuries to disparage\ndogmatic truth, still, even then, I should have difficulty in believing\nthat a doctrine so mysterious, so peremptory, approved itself as a matter\nof course to educated men of this day, who gave their minds attentively to\nconsider it. Rather, in a state of society such as ours, in which\nauthority, prescription, tradition, habit, moral instinct, and the divine\ninfluences go for nothing, in which patience of thought, and depth and\nconsistency of view, are scorned as subtle and scholastic, in which free\ndiscussion and fallible judgment are prized as the birthright of each\nindividual, I must be excused if I exercise towards this age, as regards\nits belief in this doctrine, some portion of that scepticism which it\nexercises itself towards every received but unscrutinized assertion\nwhatever. I cannot take it for granted, I must have it brought home to me\nby tangible evidence, that the spirit of the age means by the Supreme\nBeing what Catholics mean. Nay, it would be a relief to my mind to gain\nsome ground of assurance, that the parties influenced by that spirit had,\nI will not say, a true apprehension of God, but even so much as the idea\nof what a true apprehension is.\n\nNothing is easier than to use the word, and mean nothing by it. The\nheathens used to say, \u201cGod wills,\u201d when they meant \u201cFate;\u201d \u201cGod provides,\u201d\nwhen they meant \u201cChance;\u201d \u201cGod acts,\u201d when they meant \u201cInstinct\u201d or\n\u201cSense;\u201d and \u201cGod is every where,\u201d when they meant \u201cthe Soul of Nature.\u201d\nThe Almighty is something infinitely different from a principle, or a\ncentre of action, or a quality, or a generalization of phenomena. If,\nthen, by the word, you do but mean a Being who keeps the world in order,\nwho acts in it, but only in the way of general Providence, who acts\ntowards us but only through what are called laws of Nature, who is more\ncertain not to act at all than to act independent of those laws, who is\nknown and approached indeed, but only through the medium of those laws;\nsuch a God it is not difficult for any one to conceive, not difficult for\nany one to endure. If, I say, as you would revolutionize society, so you\nwould revolutionize heaven, if you have changed the divine sovereignty\ninto a sort of constitutional monarchy, in which the Throne has honour and\nceremonial enough, but cannot issue the most ordinary command except\nthrough legal forms and precedents, and with the counter-signature of a\nminister, then belief in a God is no more than an acknowledgment of\nexisting, sensible powers and phenomena, which none but an idiot can deny.\nIf the Supreme Being is powerful or skilful, just so far forth as the\ntelescope shows power, and the microscope shows skill, if His moral law is\nto be ascertained simply by the physical processes of the animal frame, or\nHis will gathered from the immediate issues of human affairs, if His\nEssence is just as high and deep and broad and long as the universe, and\nno more; if this be the fact, then will I confess that there is no\nspecific science about God, that theology is but a name, and a protest in\nits behalf an hypocrisy. Then is He but coincident with the laws of the\nuniverse; then is He but a function, or correlative, or subjective\nreflection and mental impression, of each phenomenon of the material or\nmoral world, as it flits before us. Then, pious as it is to think of Him,\nwhile the pageant of experiment or abstract reasoning passes by, still,\nsuch piety is nothing more than a poetry of thought or an ornament of\nlanguage, and has not even an infinitesimal influence upon philosophy or\nscience, of which it is rather the parasitical production.\n\nI understand, in that case, why Theology should require no specific\nteaching, for there is nothing to mistake about; why it is powerless\nagainst scientific anticipations, for it merely is one of them; why it is\nsimply absurd in its denunciations of heresy, for heresy does not lie in\nthe region of fact and experiment. I understand, in that case, how it is\nthat the religious sense is but a \u201csentiment,\u201d and its exercise a\n\u201cgratifying treat,\u201d for it is like the sense of the beautiful or the\nsublime. I understand how the contemplation of the universe \u201cleads onwards\nto _divine_ truth,\u201d for divine truth is not something separate from\nNature, but it is Nature with a divine glow upon it. I understand the zeal\nexpressed for Physical Theology, for this study is but a mode of looking\nat Physical Nature, a certain view taken of Nature, private and personal,\nwhich one man has, and another has not, which gifted minds strike out,\nwhich others see to be admirable and ingenious, and which all would be the\nbetter for adopting. It is but the theology of Nature, just as we talk of\nthe _philosophy_ or the _romance_ of history, or the _poetry_ of\nchildhood, or the picturesque, or the sentimental, or the humorous, or any\nother abstract quality, which the genius or the caprice of the individual,\nor the fashion of the day, or the consent of the world, recognizes in any\nset of objects which are subjected to its contemplation.\n\n\n\n8.\n\n\nSuch ideas of religion seem to me short of Monotheism; I do not impute\nthem to this or that individual who belongs to the school which gives them\ncurrency; but what I read about the \u201cgratification\u201d of keeping pace in our\nscientific researches with \u201cthe Architect of Nature;\u201d about the said\ngratification \u201cgiving a dignity and importance to the enjoyment of life,\u201d\nand teaching us that knowledge and our duties to society are the only\nearthly objects worth our notice, all this, I own it, Gentlemen, frightens\nme; nor is Dr. Maltby\u2019s address to the Deity sufficient to reassure me. I\ndo not see much difference between avowing that there is no God, and\nimplying that nothing definite can for certain be known about Him; and\nwhen I find Religious Education treated as the cultivation of sentiment,\nand Religious Belief as the accidental hue or posture of the mind, I am\nreluctantly but forcibly reminded of a very unpleasant page of\nMetaphysics, viz., of the relations between God and Nature insinuated by\nsuch philosophers as Hume. This acute, though most low-minded of\nspeculators, in his inquiry concerning the Human Understanding,\nintroduces, as is well known, Epicurus, that is, a teacher of atheism,\ndelivering an harangue to the Athenian people, not indeed in defence, but\nin extenuation of that opinion. His object is to show that, whereas the\natheistic view is nothing else than the repudiation of theory, and an\naccurate representation of phenomenon and fact, it cannot be dangerous,\nunless phenomenon and fact be dangerous. Epicurus is made to say, that the\nparalogism of philosophy has ever been that of arguing from Nature in\nbehalf of something beyond Nature, greater than Nature; whereas, God, as\nhe maintains, being known only through the visible world, our knowledge of\nHim is absolutely commensurate with our knowledge of it,\u2014is nothing\ndistinct from it,\u2014is but a mode of viewing it. Hence it follows that,\nprovided we admit, as we cannot help admitting, the phenomena of Nature\nand the world, it is only a question of words whether or not we go on to\nthe hypothesis of a second Being, not visible but immaterial, parallel and\ncoincident with Nature, to whom we give the name of God. \u201cAllowing,\u201d he\nsays, \u201cthe gods to be the authors of the existence or order of the\nuniverse, it follows that they possess that precise degree of power,\nintelligence, and benevolence, which appears in their workmanship; but\nnothing farther can be proved, except we call in the assistance of\nexaggeration and flattery to supply the defects of argument and reasoning.\nSo far as the traces of any attributes, at present, appear, so far may we\nconclude these attributes to exist. The supposition of farther attributes\nis mere hypothesis; much more the supposition that, in distant periods of\nplace and time, there has been, or will be, a more magnificent display of\nthese attributes, and a scheme of administration more suitable to such\nimaginary virtues.\u201d\n\nHere is a reasoner, who would not hesitate to deny that there is any\ndistinct science or philosophy possible concerning the Supreme Being;\nsince every single thing we know of Him is this or that or the other\nphenomenon, material or moral, which already falls under this or that\nnatural science. In him then it would be only consistent to drop Theology\nin a course of University Education: but how is it consistent in any one\nwho shrinks from his companionship? I am glad to see that the author,\nseveral times mentioned, is in opposition to Hume, in one sentence of the\nquotation I have made from his Discourse upon Science, deciding, as he\ndoes, that the phenomena of the material world are insufficient for the\nfull exhibition of the Divine Attributes, and implying that they require a\nsupplemental process to complete and harmonize their evidence. But is not\nthis supplemental process a science? and if so, why not acknowledge its\nexistence? If God is more than Nature, Theology claims a place among the\nsciences: but, on the other hand, if you are not sure of as much as this,\nhow do you differ from Hume or Epicurus?\n\n\n\n9.\n\n\nI end then as I began: religious doctrine is knowledge. This is the\nimportant truth, little entered into at this day, which I wish that all\nwho have honoured me with their presence here would allow me to beg them\nto take away with them. I am not catching at sharp arguments, but laying\ndown grave principles. Religious doctrine is knowledge, in as full a sense\nas Newton\u2019s doctrine is knowledge. University Teaching without Theology is\nsimply unphilosophical. Theology has at least as good a right to claim a\nplace there as Astronomy.\n\nIn my next Discourse it will be my object to show that its omission from\nthe list of recognised sciences is not only indefensible in itself, but\nprejudicial to all the rest.\n\n\n\n\n                              Discourse III.\n\n\nBearing Of Theology On Other Branches Of Knowledge.\n\n\n\n1.\n\n\nWhen men of great intellect, who have long and intently and exclusively\ngiven themselves to the study or investigation of some one particular\nbranch of secular knowledge, whose mental life is concentrated and hidden\nin their chosen pursuit, and who have neither eyes nor ears for any thing\nwhich does not immediately bear upon it, when such men are at length made\nto realize that there is a clamour all around them, which must be heard,\nfor what they have been so little accustomed to place in the category of\nknowledge as Religion, and that they themselves are accused of\ndisaffection to it, they are impatient at the interruption; they call the\ndemand tyrannical, and the requisitionists bigots or fanatics. They are\ntempted to say, that their only wish is to be let alone; for themselves,\nthey are not dreaming of offending any one, or interfering with any one;\nthey are pursuing their own particular line, they have never spoken a word\nagainst any one\u2019s religion, whoever he may be, and never mean to do so. It\ndoes not follow that they deny the existence of a God, because they are\nnot found talking of it, when the topic would be utterly irrelevant. All\nthey say is, that there are other beings in the world besides the Supreme\nBeing; their business is with them. After all, the creation is not the\nCreator, nor things secular religious. Theology and human science are two\nthings, not one, and have their respective provinces, contiguous it may be\nand cognate to each other, but not identical. When we are contemplating\nearth, we are not contemplating heaven; and when we are contemplating\nheaven, we are not contemplating earth. Separate subjects should be\ntreated separately. As division of labour, so division of thought is the\nonly means of successful application. \u201cLet us go our own way,\u201d they say,\n\u201cand you go yours. We do not pretend to lecture on Theology, and you have\nno claim to pronounce upon Science.\u201d\n\nWith this feeling they attempt a sort of compromise, between their\nopponents who claim for Theology a free introduction into the Schools of\nScience, and themselves who would exclude it altogether, and it is this:\nviz., that it should remain indeed excluded from the public schools, but\nthat it should be permitted in private, wherever a sufficient number of\npersons is found to desire it. Such persons, they seem to say, may have it\nall their own way, when they are by themselves, so that they do not\nattempt to disturb a comprehensive system of instruction, acceptable and\nuseful to all, by the intrusion of opinions peculiar to their own minds.\n\nI am now going to attempt a philosophical answer to this representation,\nthat is, to the project of teaching secular knowledge in the University\nLecture Room, and remanding religious knowledge to the parish priest, the\ncatechism, and the parlour; and in doing so, you must pardon me,\nGentlemen, if my subject should oblige me to pursue a lengthy and careful\ncourse of thought, which may be wearisome to the hearer:\u2014I begin then\nthus:\u2014\n\n\n\n2.\n\n\nTruth is the object of Knowledge of whatever kind; and when we inquire\nwhat is meant by Truth, I suppose it is right to answer that Truth means\nfacts and their relations, which stand towards each other pretty much as\nsubjects and predicates in logic. All that exists, as contemplated by the\nhuman mind, forms one large system or complex fact, and this of course\nresolves itself into an indefinite number of particular facts, which, as\nbeing portions of a whole, have countless relations of every kind, one\ntowards another. Knowledge is the apprehension of these facts, whether in\nthemselves, or in their mutual positions and bearings. And, as all taken\ntogether form one integral subject for contemplation, so there are no\nnatural or real limits between part and part; one is ever running into\nanother; all, as viewed by the mind, are combined together, and possess a\ncorrelative character one with another, from the internal mysteries of the\nDivine Essence down to our own sensations and consciousness, from the most\nsolemn appointments of the Lord of all down to what may be called the\naccident of the hour, from the most glorious seraph down to the vilest and\nmost noxious of reptiles.\n\nNow, it is not wonderful that, with all its capabilities, the human mind\ncannot take in this whole vast fact at a single glance, or gain possession\nof it at once. Like a short-sighted reader, its eye pores closely, and\ntravels slowly, over the awful volume which lies open for its inspection.\nOr again, as we deal with some huge structure of many parts and sides, the\nmind goes round about it, noting down, first one thing, then another, as\nit best may, and viewing it under different aspects, by way of making\nprogress towards mastering the whole. So by degrees and by circuitous\nadvances does it rise aloft and subject to itself a knowledge of that\nuniverse into which it has been born.\n\nThese various partial views or abstractions, by means of which the mind\nlooks out upon its object, are called sciences, and embrace respectively\nlarger or smaller portions of the field of knowledge; sometimes extending\nfar and wide, but superficially, sometimes with exactness over particular\ndepartments, sometimes occupied together on one and the same portion,\nsometimes holding one part in common, and then ranging on this side or\nthat in absolute divergence one from the other. Thus Optics has for its\nsubject the whole visible creation, so far forth as it is simply visible;\nMental Philosophy has a narrower province, but a richer one. Astronomy,\nplane and physical, each has the same subject-matter, but views it or\ntreats it differently; lastly, Geology and Comparative Anatomy have\nsubject-matters partly the same, partly distinct. Now these views or\nsciences, as being abstractions, have far more to do with the relations of\nthings than with things themselves. They tell us what things are, only or\nprincipally by telling us their relations, or assigning predicates to\nsubjects; and therefore they never tell us all that can be said about a\nthing, even when they tell something, nor do they bring it before us, as\nthe senses do. They arrange and classify facts; they reduce separate\nphenomena under a common law; they trace effects to a cause. Thus they\nserve to transfer our knowledge from the custody of memory to the surer\nand more abiding protection of philosophy, thereby providing both for its\nspread and its advance:\u2014for, inasmuch as sciences are forms of knowledge,\nthey enable the intellect to master and increase it; and, inasmuch as they\nare instruments, to communicate it readily to others. Still, after all,\nthey proceed on the principle of a division of labour, even though that\ndivision is an abstraction, not a literal separation into parts; and, as\nthe maker of a bridle or an epaulet has not, on that account, any idea of\nthe science of tactics or strategy, so in a parallel way, it is not every\nscience which equally, nor any one which fully, enlightens the mind in the\nknowledge of things, as they are, or brings home to it the external object\non which it wishes to gaze. Thus they differ in importance; and according\nto their importance will be their influence, not only on the mass of\nknowledge to which they all converge and contribute, but on each other.\n\nSince then sciences are the results of mental processes about one and the\nsame subject-matter, viewed under its various aspects, and are true\nresults, as far as they go, yet at the same time separate and partial, it\nfollows that on the one hand they need external assistance, one by one, by\nreason of their incompleteness, and on the other that they are able to\nafford it to each other, by reason, first, of their independence in\nthemselves, and then of their connexion in their subject-matter. Viewed\naltogether, they approximate to a representation or subjective reflection\nof the objective truth, as nearly as is possible to the human mind, which\nadvances towards the accurate apprehension of that object, in proportion\nto the number of sciences which it has mastered; and which, when certain\nsciences are away, in such a case has but a defective apprehension, in\nproportion to the value of the sciences which are thus wanting, and the\nimportance of the field on which they are employed.\n\n\n\n3.\n\n\nLet us take, for instance, man himself as our object of contemplation;\nthen at once we shall find we can view him in a variety of relations; and\naccording to those relations are the sciences of which he is the\nsubject-matter, and according to our acquaintance with them is our\npossession of a true knowledge of him. We may view him in relation to the\nmaterial elements of his body, or to his mental constitution, or to his\nhousehold and family, or to the community in which he lives, or to the\nBeing who made him; and in consequence we treat of him respectively as\nphysiologists, or as moral philosophers, or as writers of economics, or of\npolitics, or as theologians. When we think of him in all these relations\ntogether, or as the subject at once of all the sciences I have named, then\nwe may be said to reach unto and rest in the idea of man as an object or\nexternal fact, similar to that which the eye takes of his outward form. On\nthe other hand, according as we are only physiologists, or only\npoliticians, or only moralists, so is our idea of man more or less unreal;\nwe do not take in the whole of him, and the defect is greater or less, in\nproportion as the relation is, or is not, important, which is omitted,\nwhether his relation to God, or to his king, or to his children, or to his\nown component parts. And if there be one relation, about which we know\nnothing at all except that it exists, then is our knowledge of him,\nconfessedly and to our own consciousness, deficient and partial, and that,\nI repeat, in proportion to the importance of the relation.\n\nThat therefore is true of sciences in general which we are apt to think\napplies only to pure mathematics, though to pure mathematics it applies\nespecially, viz., that they cannot be considered as simple representations\nor informants of things as they are. We are accustomed to say, and say\ntruly, that the conclusions of pure mathematics are applied, corrected,\nand adapted, by mixed; but so too the conclusions of Anatomy, Chemistry,\nDynamics, and other sciences, are revised and completed by each other.\nThose several conclusions do not represent whole and substantive things,\nbut views, true, so far as they go; and in order to ascertain how far they\ndo go, that is, how far they correspond to the object to which they\nbelong, we must compare them with the views taken out of that object by\nother sciences. Did we proceed upon the abstract theory of forces, we\nshould assign a much more ample range to a projectile than in fact the\nresistance of the air allows it to accomplish. Let, however, that\nresistance be made the subject of scientific analysis, and then we shall\nhave a new science, assisting, and to a certain point completing, for the\nbenefit of questions of fact, the science of projection. On the other\nhand, the science of projection itself, considered as belonging to the\nforces it contemplates, is not more perfect, as such, by this\nsupplementary investigation. And in like manner, as regards the whole\ncircle of sciences, one corrects another for purposes of fact, and one\nwithout the other cannot dogmatize, except hypothetically and upon its own\nabstract principles. For instance, the Newtonian philosophy requires the\nadmission of certain metaphysical postulates, if it is to be more than a\ntheory or an hypothesis; as, for instance, that what happened yesterday\nwill happen to-morrow; that there is such a thing as matter, that our\nsenses are trustworthy, that there is a logic of induction, and so on. Now\nto Newton metaphysicians grant all that he asks; but, if so be, they may\nnot prove equally accommodating to another who asks something else, and\nthen all his most logical conclusions in the science of physics would\nremain hopelessly on the stocks, though finished, and never could be\nlaunched into the sphere of fact.\n\nAgain, did I know nothing about the movement of bodies, except what the\ntheory of gravitation supplies, were I simply absorbed in that theory so\nas to make it measure all motion on earth and in the sky, I should indeed\ncome to many right conclusions, I should hit off many important facts,\nascertain many existing relations, and correct many popular errors: I\nshould scout and ridicule with great success the old notion, that light\nbodies flew up and heavy bodies fell down; but I should go on with equal\nconfidence to deny the phenomenon of capillary attraction. Here I should\nbe wrong, but only because I carried out my science irrespectively of\nother sciences. In like manner, did I simply give myself to the\ninvestigation of the external action of body upon body, I might scoff at\nthe very idea of chemical affinities and combinations, and reject it as\nsimply unintelligible. Were I a mere chemist, I should deny the influence\nof mind upon bodily health; and so on, as regards the devotees of any\nscience, or family of sciences, to the exclusion of others; they\nnecessarily become bigots and quacks, scorning all principles and reported\nfacts which do not belong to their own pursuit, and thinking to effect\neverything without aid from any other quarter. Thus, before now, chemistry\nhas been substituted for medicine; and again, political economy, or\nintellectual enlightenment, or the reading of the Scriptures, has been\ncried up as a panacea against vice, malevolence, and misery.\n\n\n\n4.\n\n\nSumming up, Gentlemen, what I have said, I lay it down that all knowledge\nforms one whole, because its subject-matter is one; for the universe in\nits length and breadth is so intimately knit together, that we cannot\nseparate off portion from portion, and operation from operation, except by\na mental abstraction; and then again, as to its Creator, though He of\ncourse in His own Being is infinitely separate from it, and Theology has\nits departments towards which human knowledge has no relations, yet He has\nso implicated Himself with it, and taken it into His very bosom, by His\npresence in it, His providence over it, His impressions upon it, and His\ninfluences through it, that we cannot truly or fully contemplate it\nwithout in some main aspects contemplating Him. Next, sciences are the\nresults of that mental abstraction, which I have spoken of, being the\nlogical record of this or that aspect of the whole subject-matter of\nknowledge. As they all belong to one and the same circle of objects, they\nare one and all connected together; as they are but aspects of things,\nthey are severally incomplete in their relation to the things themselves,\nthough complete in their own idea and for their own respective purposes;\non both accounts they at once need and subserve each other. And further,\nthe comprehension of the bearings of one science on another, and the use\nof each to each, and the location and limitation and adjustment and due\nappreciation of them all, one with another, this belongs, I conceive, to a\nsort of science distinct from all of them, and in some sense a science of\nsciences, which is my own conception of what is meant by Philosophy, in\nthe true sense of the word, and of a philosophical habit of mind, and\nwhich in these Discourses I shall call by that name. This is what I have\nto say about knowledge and philosophical knowledge generally; and now I\nproceed to apply it to the particular science, which has led me to draw it\nout.\n\nI say, then, that the systematic omission of any one science from the\ncatalogue prejudices the accuracy and completeness of our knowledge\naltogether, and that, in proportion to its importance. Not even Theology\nitself, though it comes from heaven, though its truths were given once for\nall at the first, though they are more certain on account of the Giver\nthan those of mathematics, not even Theology, so far as it is relative to\nus, or is the Science of Religion, do I exclude from the law to which\nevery mental exercise is subject, viz., from that imperfection, which ever\nmust attend the abstract, when it would determine the concrete. Nor do I\nspeak only of Natural Religion; for even the teaching of the Catholic\nChurch, in certain of its aspects, that is, its religious teaching, is\nvariously influenced by the other sciences. Not to insist on the\nintroduction of the Aristotelic philosophy into its phraseology, its\nexplanation of dogmas is influenced by ecclesiastical acts or events; its\ninterpretations of prophecy are directly affected by the issues of\nhistory; its comments upon Scripture by the conclusions of the astronomer\nand the geologist; and its casuistical decisions by the various\nexperience, political, social, and psychological, with which times and\nplaces are ever supplying it.\n\nWhat Theology gives, it has a right to take; or rather, the interests of\nTruth oblige it to take. If we would not be beguiled by dreams, if we\nwould ascertain facts as they are, then, granting Theology is a real\nscience, we cannot exclude it, and still call ourselves philosophers. I\nhave asserted nothing as yet as to the pre-eminent dignity of Religious\nTruth; I only say, if there be Religious Truth at all, we cannot shut our\neyes to it without prejudice to truth of every kind, physical,\nmetaphysical, historical, and moral; for it bears upon all truth. And thus\nI answer the objection with which I opened this Discourse. I supposed the\nquestion put to me by a philosopher of the day, \u201cWhy cannot you go your\nway, and let us go ours?\u201d I answer, in the name of the Science of\nReligion, \u201cWhen Newton can dispense with the metaphysician, then may you\ndispense with us.\u201d So much at first sight; now I am going on to claim a\nlittle more for Theology, by classing it with branches of knowledge which\nmay with greater decency be compared to it.\n\n\n\n5.\n\n\nLet us see, then, how this supercilious treatment of so momentous a\nscience, for momentous it must be, if there be a God, runs in a somewhat\nparallel case. The great philosopher of antiquity, when he would enumerate\nthe causes of the things that take place in the world, after making\nmention of those which he considered to be physical and material, adds,\n\u201cand the mind and everything which is by means of man.\u201d(8) Certainly; it\nwould have been a preposterous course, when he would trace the effects he\nsaw around him to their respective sources, had he directed his exclusive\nattention upon some one class or order of originating principles, and\nascribed to these everything which happened anywhere. It would indeed have\nbeen unworthy a genius so curious, so penetrating, so fertile, so\nanalytical as Aristotle\u2019s, to have laid it down that everything on the\nface of the earth could be accounted for by the material sciences, without\nthe hypothesis of moral agents. It is incredible that in the investigation\nof physical results he could ignore so influential a being as man, or\nforget that, not only brute force and elemental movement, but knowledge\nalso is power. And this so much the more, inasmuch as moral and spiritual\nagents belong to another, not to say a higher, order than physical; so\nthat the omission supposed would not have been merely an oversight in\nmatters of detail, but a philosophical error, and a fault in division.\n\nHowever, we live in an age of the world when the career of science and\nliterature is little affected by what was done, or would have been done,\nby this venerable authority; so, we will suppose, in England or Ireland,\nin the middle of the nineteenth century, a set of persons of name and\ncelebrity to meet together, in spite of Aristotle, in order to adopt a\nline of proceeding which they conceive the circumstances of the time\nrender imperative. We will suppose that a difficulty just now besets the\nenunciation and discussion of all matters of science, in consequence of\nthe extreme sensitiveness of large classes of the community, clergy and\nlaymen, on the subjects of necessity, responsibility, the standard of\nmorals, and the nature of virtue. Parties run so high, that the only way\nof avoiding constant quarrelling in defence of this or that side of the\nquestion is, in the judgment of the persons I am supposing, to shut up the\nsubject of anthropology altogether. This is accordingly done. Henceforth\nman is to be as if he were not, in the general course of Education; the\nmoral and mental sciences are to have no professorial chairs, and the\ntreatment of them is to be simply left as a matter of private judgment,\nwhich each individual may carry out as he will. I can just fancy such a\nprohibition abstractedly possible; but one thing I cannot fancy possible,\nviz., that the parties in question, after this sweeping act of exclusion,\nshould forthwith send out proposals on the basis of such exclusion for\npublishing an Encyclop\u00e6dia, or erecting a National University.\n\nIt is necessary, however, Gentlemen, for the sake of the illustration\nwhich I am setting before you, to imagine what cannot be. I say, let us\nimagine a project for organizing a system of scientific teaching, in which\nthe agency of man in the material world cannot allowably be recognized,\nand may allowably be denied. Physical and mechanical causes are\nexclusively to be treated of; volition is a forbidden subject. A\nprospectus is put out, with a list of sciences, we will say, Astronomy,\nOptics, Hydrostatics, Galvanism, Pneumatics, Statics, Dynamics, Pure\nMathematics, Geology, Botany, Physiology, Anatomy, and so forth; but not a\nword about the mind and its powers, except what is said in explanation of\nthe omission. That explanation is to the effect that the parties concerned\nin the undertaking have given long and anxious thought to the subject, and\nhave been reluctantly driven to the conclusion that it is simply\nimpracticable to include in the list of University Lectures the Philosophy\nof Mind. What relieves, however, their regret is the reflection, that\ndomestic feelings and polished manners are best cultivated in the family\ncircle and in good society, in the observance of the sacred ties which\nunite father, mother, and child, in the correlative claims and duties of\ncitizenship, in the exercise of disinterested loyalty and enlightened\npatriotism. With this apology, such as it is, they pass over the\nconsideration of the human mind and its powers and works, \u201cin solemn\nsilence,\u201d in their scheme of University Education.\n\nLet a charter be obtained for it; let professors be appointed, lectures\ngiven, examinations passed, degrees awarded:\u2014what sort of exactness or\ntrustworthiness, what philosophical largeness, will attach to views formed\nin an intellectual atmosphere thus deprived of some of the constituent\nelements of daylight? What judgment will foreign countries and future\ntimes pass on the labours of the most acute and accomplished of the\nphilosophers who have been parties to so portentous an unreality? Here are\nprofessors gravely lecturing on medicine, or history, or political\neconomy, who, so far from being bound to acknowledge, are free to scoff at\nthe action of mind upon matter, or of mind upon mind, or the claims of\nmutual justice and charity. Common sense indeed and public opinion set\nbounds at first to so intolerable a licence; yet, as time goes on, an\nomission which was originally but a matter of expedience, commends itself\nto the reason; and at length a professor is found, more hardy than his\nbrethren, still however, as he himself maintains, with sincere respect for\ndomestic feelings and good manners, who takes on him to deny psychology\n_in toto_, to pronounce the influence of mind in the visible world a\nsuperstition, and to account for every effect which is found in the world\nby the operation of physical causes. Hitherto intelligence and volition\nwere accounted real powers; the muscles act, and their action cannot be\nrepresented by any scientific expression; a stone flies out of the hand\nand the propulsive force of the muscle resides in the will; but there has\nbeen a revolution, or at least a new theory in philosophy, and our\nProfessor, I say, after speaking with the highest admiration of the human\nintellect, limits its independent action to the region of speculation, and\ndenies that it can be a motive principle, or can exercise a special\ninterference, in the material world. He ascribes every work, every\nexternal act of man, to the innate force or soul of the physical universe.\nHe observes that spiritual agents are so mysterious and unintelligible, so\nuncertain in their laws, so vague in their operation, so sheltered from\nexperience, that a wise man will have nothing to say to them. They belong\nto a different order of causes, which he leaves to those whose profession\nit is to investigate them, and he confines himself to the tangible and\nsure. Human exploits, human devices, human deeds, human productions, all\nthat comes under the scholastic terms of \u201cgenius\u201d and \u201cart,\u201d and the\nmetaphysical ideas of \u201cduty,\u201d \u201cright,\u201d and \u201cheroism,\u201d it is his office to\ncontemplate all these merely in their place in the eternal system of\nphysical cause and effect. At length he undertakes to show how the whole\nfabric of material civilization has arisen from the constructive powers of\nphysical elements and physical laws. He descants upon palaces, castles,\ntemples, exchanges, bridges, causeways, and shows that they never could\nhave grown into the imposing dimensions which they present to us, but for\nthe laws of gravitation and the cohesion of part with part. The pillar\nwould come down, the loftier the more speedily, did not the centre of\ngravity fall within its base; and the most admired dome of Palladio or of\nSir Christopher would give way, were it not for the happy principle of the\narch. He surveys the complicated machinery of a single day\u2019s arrangements\nin a private family; our dress, our furniture, our hospitable board; what\nwould become of them, he asks, but for the laws of physical nature? Those\nlaws are the causes of our carpets, our furniture, our travelling, and our\nsocial intercourse. Firm stitches have a natural power, in proportion to\nthe toughness of the material adopted, to keep together separate portions\nof cloth; sofas and chairs could not turn upside down, even if they would;\nand it is a property of caloric to relax the fibres of animal matter,\nacting through water in one way, through oil in another, and this is the\nwhole mystery of the most elaborate _cuisine_:\u2014but I should be tedious if\nI continued the illustration.\n\n\n\n6.\n\n\nNow, Gentlemen, pray understand how it is to be here applied. I am not\nsupposing that the principles of Theology and Psychology are the same, or\narguing from the works of man to the works of God, which Paley has done,\nwhich Hume has protested against. I am not busying myself to prove the\nexistence and attributes of God, by means of the Argument from design. I\nam not proving anything at all about the Supreme Being. On the contrary, I\nam assuming His existence, and I do but say this:\u2014that, man existing, no\nUniversity Professor, who had suppressed in physical lectures the idea of\nvolition, who did not take volition for granted, could escape a one-sided,\na radically false view of the things which he discussed; not indeed that\nhis own definitions, principles, and laws would be wrong, or his abstract\nstatements, but his considering his own study to be the key of everything\nthat takes place on the face of the earth, and his passing over\nanthropology, this would be his error. I say, it would not be his science\nwhich was untrue, but his so-called knowledge which was unreal. He would\nbe deciding on facts by means of theories. The various busy world, spread\nout before our eyes, is physical, but it is more than physical; and, in\nmaking its actual system identical with his scientific analysis, formed on\na particular aspect, such a Professor as I have imagined was betraying a\nwant of philosophical depth, and an ignorance of what an University\nTeaching ought to be. He was no longer a teacher of liberal knowledge, but\na narrow-minded bigot. While his doctrines professed to be conclusions\nformed upon an hypothesis or partial truth, they were undeniable; not so\nif they professed to give results in facts which he could grasp and take\npossession of. Granting, indeed, that a man\u2019s arm is moved by a simple\nphysical cause, then of course we may dispute about the various external\ninfluences which, when it changes its position, sway it to and fro, like a\nscarecrow in a garden; but to assert that the motive cause _is_ physical,\nthis is an assumption in a case, when our question is about a matter of\nfact, not about the logical consequences of an assumed premiss. And, in\nlike manner, if a people prays, and the wind changes, the rain ceases, the\nsun shines, and the harvest is safely housed, when no one expected it, our\nProfessor may, if he will, consult the barometer, discourse about the\natmosphere, and throw what has happened into an equation, ingenious, even\nthough it be not true; but, should he proceed to rest the phenomenon, in\nmatter of fact, simply upon a physical cause, to the exclusion of a\ndivine, and to say that the given case actually belongs to his science\nbecause other like cases do, I must tell him, _Ne sutor ultra crepidam_:\nhe is making his particular craft usurp and occupy the universe. This then\nis the drift of my illustration. If the creature is ever setting in motion\nan endless series of physical causes and effects, much more is the\nCreator; and as our excluding volition from our range of ideas is a denial\nof the soul, so our ignoring Divine Agency is a virtual denial of God.\nMoreover, supposing man can will and act of himself in spite of physics,\nto shut up this great truth, though one, is to put our whole encyclop\u00e6dia\nof knowledge out of joint; and supposing God can will and act of Himself\nin this world which He has made, and we deny or slur it over, then we are\nthrowing the circle of universal science into a like, or a far worse\nconfusion.\n\nWorse incomparably, for the idea of God, if there be a God, is infinitely\nhigher than the idea of man, if there be man. If to plot out man\u2019s agency\nis to deface the book of knowledge, on the supposition of that agency\nexisting, what must it be, supposing it exists, to blot out the agency of\nGod? I have hitherto been engaged in showing that all the sciences come to\nus as one, that they all relate to one and the same integral\nsubject-matter, that each separately is more or less an abstraction,\nwholly true as an hypothesis, but not wholly trustworthy in the concrete,\nconversant with relations more than with facts, with principles more than\nwith agents, needing the support and guarantee of its sister sciences, and\ngiving in turn while it takes:\u2014from which it follows, that none can safely\nbe omitted, if we would obtain the exactest knowledge possible of things\nas they are, and that the omission is more or less important, in\nproportion to the field which each covers, and the depth to which it\npenetrates, and the order to which it belongs; for its loss is a positive\nprivation of an influence which exerts itself in the correction and\ncompletion of the rest. This is a general statement; but now as to\nTheology in particular, what, in matter of fact, are its pretensions, what\nits importance, what its influence upon other branches of knowledge,\nsupposing there be a God, which it would not become me to set about\nproving? Has it vast dimensions, or does it lie in a nutshell? Will its\nomission be imperceptible, or will it destroy the equilibrium of the whole\nsystem of Knowledge? This is the inquiry to which I proceed.\n\n\n\n7.\n\n\nNow what is Theology? First, I will tell you what it is not. And here, in\nthe first place (though of course I speak on the subject as a Catholic),\nobserve that, strictly speaking, I am not assuming that Catholicism is\ntrue, while I make myself the champion of Theology. Catholicism has not\nformally entered into my argument hitherto, nor shall I just now assume\nany principle peculiar to it, for reasons which will appear in the sequel,\nthough of course I shall use Catholic language. Neither, secondly, will I\nfall into the fashion of the day, of identifying Natural Theology with\nPhysical Theology; which said Physical Theology is a most jejune study,\nconsidered as a science, and really is no science at all, for it is\nordinarily nothing more than a series of pious or polemical remarks upon\nthe physical world viewed religiously, whereas the word \u201cNatural\u201d properly\ncomprehends man and society, and all that is involved therein, as the\ngreat Protestant writer, Dr. Butler, shows us. Nor, in the third place, do\nI mean by Theology polemics of any kind; for instance, what are called\n\u201cthe Evidences of Religion,\u201d or \u201cthe Christian Evidences;\u201d for, though\nthese constitute a science supplemental to Theology and are necessary in\ntheir place, they are not Theology itself, unless an army is synonymous\nwith the body politic. Nor, fourthly, do I mean by Theology that vague\nthing called \u201cChristianity,\u201d or \u201cour common Christianity,\u201d or\n\u201cChristianity the law of the land,\u201d if there is any man alive who can tell\nwhat it is. I discard it, for the very reason that it cannot throw itself\ninto a proposition. Lastly, I do not understand by Theology, acquaintance\nwith the Scriptures; for, though no person of religious feelings can read\nScripture but he will find those feelings roused, and gain much knowledge\nof history into the bargain, yet historical reading and religious feeling\nare not science. I mean none of these things by Theology, I simply mean\nthe Science of God, or the truths we know about God put into system; just\nas we have a science of the stars, and call it astronomy, or of the crust\nof the earth, and call it geology.\n\nFor instance, I mean, for this is the main point, that, as in the human\nframe there is a living principle, acting upon it and through it by means\nof volition, so, behind the veil of the visible universe, there is an\ninvisible, intelligent Being, acting on and through it, as and when He\nwill. Further, I mean that this invisible Agent is in no sense a soul of\nthe world, after the analogy of human nature, but, on the contrary, is\nabsolutely distinct from the world, as being its Creator, Upholder,\nGovernor, and Sovereign Lord. Here we are at once brought into the circle\nof doctrines which the idea of God embodies. I mean then by the Supreme\nBeing, one who is simply self-dependent, and the only Being who is such;\nmoreover, that He is without beginning or Eternal, and the only Eternal;\nthat in consequence He has lived a whole eternity by Himself; and hence\nthat He is all-sufficient, sufficient for His own blessedness, and\nall-blessed, and ever-blessed. Further, I mean a Being, who, having these\nprerogatives, has the Supreme Good, or rather is the Supreme Good, or has\nall the attributes of Good in infinite intenseness; all wisdom, all truth,\nall justice, all love, all holiness, all beautifulness; who is omnipotent,\nomniscient, omnipresent; ineffably one, absolutely perfect; and such, that\nwhat we do not know and cannot even imagine of Him, is far more wonderful\nthan what we do and can. I mean One who is sovereign over His own will and\nactions, though always according to the eternal Rule of right and wrong,\nwhich is Himself. I mean, moreover, that He created all things out of\nnothing, and preserves them every moment, and could destroy them as easily\nas He made them; and that, in consequence, He is separated from them by an\nabyss, and is incommunicable in all His attributes. And further, He has\nstamped upon all things, in the hour of their creation, their respective\nnatures, and has given them their work and mission and their length of\ndays, greater or less, in their appointed place. I mean, too, that He is\never present with His works, one by one, and confronts every thing He has\nmade by His particular and most loving Providence, and manifests Himself\nto each according to its needs: and has on rational beings imprinted the\nmoral law, and given them power to obey it, imposing on them the duty of\nworship and service, searching and scanning them through and through with\nHis omniscient eye, and putting before them a present trial and a judgment\nto come.\n\nSuch is what Theology teaches about God, a doctrine, as the very idea of\nits subject-matter presupposes, so mysterious as in its fulness to lie\nbeyond any system, and in particular aspects to be simply external to\nnature, and to seem in parts even to be irreconcileable with itself, the\nimagination being unable to embrace what the reason determines. It teaches\nof a Being infinite, yet personal; all-blessed, yet ever operative;\nabsolutely separate from the creature, yet in every part of the creation\nat every moment; above all things, yet under every thing. It teaches of a\nBeing who, though the highest, yet in the work of creation, conservation,\ngovernment, retribution, makes Himself, as it were, the minister and\nservant of all; who, though inhabiting eternity, allows Himself to take an\ninterest, and to have a sympathy, in the matters of space and time. His\nare all beings, visible and invisible, the noblest and the vilest of them.\nHis are the substance, and the operation, and the results of that system\nof physical nature into which we are born. His too are the powers and\nachievements of the intellectual essences, on which He has bestowed an\nindependent action and the gift of origination. The laws of the universe,\nthe principles of truth, the relation of one thing to another, their\nqualities and virtues, the order and harmony of the whole, all that\nexists, is from Him; and, if evil is not from Him, as assuredly it is not,\nthis is because evil has no substance of its own, but is only the defect,\nexcess, perversion, or corruption of that which has substance. All we see,\nhear, and touch, the remote sidereal firmament, as well as our own sea and\nland, and the elements which compose them, and the ordinances they obey,\nare His. The primary atoms of matter, their properties, their mutual\naction, their disposition and collocation, electricity, magnetism,\ngravitation, light, and whatever other subtle principles or operations the\nwit of man is detecting or shall detect, are the work of His hands. From\nHim has been every movement which has convulsed and re-fashioned the\nsurface of the earth. The most insignificant or unsightly insect is from\nHim, and good in its kind; the ever-teeming, inexhaustible swarms of\nanimalcul\u00e6, the myriads of living motes invisible to the naked eye, the\nrestless ever-spreading vegetation which creeps like a garment over the\nwhole earth, the lofty cedar, the umbrageous banana, are His. His are the\ntribes and families of birds and beasts, their graceful forms, their wild\ngestures, and their passionate cries.\n\nAnd so in the intellectual, moral, social, and political world. Man, with\nhis motives and works, his languages, his propagation, his diffusion, is\nfrom Him. Agriculture, medicine, and the arts of life, are His gifts.\nSociety, laws, government, He is their sanction. The pageant of earthly\nroyalty has the semblance and the benediction of the Eternal King. Peace\nand civilization, commerce and adventure, wars when just, conquest when\nhumane and necessary, have His co-operation, and His blessing upon them.\nThe course of events, the revolution of empires, the rise and fall of\nstates, the periods and eras, the progresses and the retrogressions of the\nworld\u2019s history, not indeed the incidental sin, over-abundant as it is,\nbut the great outlines and the results of human affairs, are from His\ndisposition. The elements and types and seminal principles and\nconstructive powers of the moral world, in ruins though it be, are to be\nreferred to Him. He \u201cenlighteneth every man that cometh into this world.\u201d\nHis are the dictates of the moral sense, and the retributive reproaches of\nconscience. To Him must be ascribed the rich endowments of the intellect,\nthe irradiation of genius, the imagination of the poet, the sagacity of\nthe politician, the wisdom (as Scripture calls it), which now rears and\ndecorates the Temple, now manifests itself in proverb or in parable. The\nold saws of nations, the majestic precepts of philosophy, the luminous\nmaxims of law, the oracles of individual wisdom, the traditionary rules of\ntruth, justice, and religion, even though imbedded in the corruption, or\nalloyed with the pride, of the world, betoken His original agency, and His\nlong-suffering presence. Even where there is habitual rebellion against\nHim, or profound far-spreading social depravity, still the undercurrent,\nor the heroic outburst, of natural virtue, as well as the yearnings of the\nheart after what it has not, and its presentiment of its true remedies,\nare to be ascribed to the Author of all good. Anticipations or\nreminiscences of His glory haunt the mind of the self-sufficient sage, and\nof the pagan devotee; His writing is upon the wall, whether of the Indian\nfane, or of the porticoes of Greece. He introduces Himself, He all but\nconcurs, according to His good pleasure, and in His selected season, in\nthe issues of unbelief, superstition, and false worship, and He changes\nthe character of acts by His overruling operation. He condescends, though\nHe gives no sanction, to the altars and shrines of imposture, and He makes\nHis own fiat the substitute for its sorceries. He speaks amid the\nincantations of Balaam, raises Samuel\u2019s spirit in the witch\u2019s cavern,\nprophesies of the Messias by the tongue of the Sibyl, forces Python to\nrecognize His ministers, and baptizes by the hand of the misbeliever. He\nis with the heathen dramatist in his denunciations of injustice and\ntyranny, and his auguries of divine vengeance upon crime. Even on the\nunseemly legends of a popular mythology He casts His shadow, and is dimly\ndiscerned in the ode or the epic, as in troubled water or in fantastic\ndreams. All that is good, all that is true, all that is beautiful, all\nthat is beneficent, be it great or small, be it perfect or fragmentary,\nnatural as well as supernatural, moral as well as material, comes from\nHim.\n\n\n\n8.\n\n\nIf this be a sketch, accurate in substance and as far as it goes, of the\ndoctrines proper to Theology, and especially of the doctrine of a\nparticular Providence, which is the portion of it most on a level with\nhuman sciences, I cannot understand at all how, supposing it to be true,\nit can fail, considered as knowledge, to exert a powerful influence on\nphilosophy, literature, and every intellectual creation or discovery\nwhatever. I cannot understand how it is possible, as the phrase goes, to\nblink the question of its truth or falsehood. It meets us with a\nprofession and a proffer of the highest truths of which the human mind is\ncapable; it embraces a range of subjects the most diversified and distant\nfrom each other. What science will not find one part or other of its\nprovince traversed by its path? What results of philosophic speculation\nare unquestionable, if they have been gained without inquiry as to what\nTheology had to say to them? Does it cast no light upon history? has it no\ninfluence upon the principles of ethics? is it without any sort of bearing\non physics, metaphysics, and political science? Can we drop it out of the\ncircle of knowledge, without allowing, either that that circle is thereby\nmutilated, or on the other hand, that Theology is really no science?\n\nAnd this dilemma is the more inevitable, because Theology is so precise\nand consistent in its intellectual structure. When I speak of Theism or\nMonotheism, I am not throwing together discordant doctrines; I am not\nmerging belief, opinion, persuasion, of whatever kind, into a shapeless\naggregate, by the help of ambiguous words, and dignifying this medley by\nthe name of Theology. I speak of one idea unfolded in its just\nproportions, carried out upon an intelligible method, and issuing in\nnecessary and immutable results; understood indeed at one time and place\nbetter than at another, held here and there with more or less of\ninconsistency, but still, after all, in all times and places, where it is\nfound, the evolution, not of half-a-dozen ideas, but of one.\n\n\n\n9.\n\n\nAnd here I am led to another and most important point in the argument in\nits behalf,\u2014I mean its wide reception. Theology, as I have described it,\nis no accident of particular minds, as are certain systems, for instance,\nof prophetical interpretation. It is not the sudden birth of a crisis, as\nthe Lutheran or Wesleyan doctrine. It is not the splendid development of\nsome uprising philosophy, as the Cartesian or Platonic. It is not the\nfashion of a season, as certain medical treatments may be considered. It\nhas had a place, if not possession, in the intellectual world from time\nimmemorial; it has been received by minds the most various, and in systems\nof religion the most hostile to each other. It has _prim\u00e2 facie_ claims\nupon us, so imposing, that it can only be rejected on the ground of those\nclaims being nothing more than imposing, that is, being false. As to our\nown countries, it occupies our language, it meets us at every turn in our\nliterature, it is the secret assumption, too axiomatic to be distinctly\nprofessed, of all our writers; nor can we help assuming it ourselves,\nexcept by the most unnatural vigilance. Whoever philosophizes, starts with\nit, and introduces it, when he will, without any apology. Bacon, Hooker,\nTaylor, Cudworth, Locke, Newton, Clarke, Berkeley, and Butler, and it\nwould be as easy to find more, as difficult to find greater names among\nEnglish authors, inculcate or comment upon it. Men the most opposed, in\ncreed or cast of mind, Addison and Johnson, Shakespeare and Milton, Lord\nHerbert and Baxter, herald it forth. Nor is it an English or a Protestant\nnotion only; you track it across the Continent, you pursue it into former\nages. When was the world without it? Have the systems of Atheism or\nPantheism, as sciences, prevailed in the literature of nations, or\nreceived a formation or attained a completeness such as Monotheism? We\nfind it in old Greece, and even in Rome, as well as in Judea and the East.\nWe find it in popular literature, in philosophy, in poetry, as a positive\nand settled teaching, differing not at all in the appearance it presents,\nwhether in Protestant England, or in schismatical Russia, or in the\nMahometan populations, or in the Catholic Church. If ever there was a\nsubject of thought, which had earned by prescription to be received among\nthe studies of a University, and which could not be rejected except on the\nscore of convicted imposture, as astrology or alchemy; if there be a\nscience anywhere, which at least could claim not to be ignored, but to be\nentertained, and either distinctly accepted or distinctly reprobated, or\nrather, which cannot be passed over in a scheme of universal instruction,\nwithout involving a positive denial of its truth, it is this ancient, this\nfar-spreading philosophy.\n\n\n\n10.\n\n\nAnd now, Gentlemen, I may bring a somewhat tedious discussion to a close.\nIt will not take many words to sum up what I have been urging. I say then,\nif the various branches of knowledge, which are the matter of teaching in\na University, so hang together, that none can be neglected without\nprejudice to the perfection of the rest, and if Theology be a branch of\nknowledge, of wide reception, of philosophical structure, of unutterable\nimportance, and of supreme influence, to what conclusion are we brought\nfrom these two premisses but this? that to withdraw Theology from the\npublic schools is to impair the completeness and to invalidate the\ntrustworthiness of all that is actually taught in them.\n\nBut I have been insisting simply on Natural Theology, and that, because I\nwished to carry along with me those who were not Catholics, and, again, as\nbeing confident, that no one can really set himself to master and to teach\nthe doctrine of an intelligent Creator in its fulness, without going on a\ngreat deal farther than he at present dreams. I say, then, secondly:\u2014if\nthis Science, even as human reason may attain to it, has such claims on\nthe regard, and enters so variously into the objects, of the Professor of\nUniversal Knowledge, how can any Catholic imagine that it is possible for\nhim to cultivate Philosophy and Science with due attention to their\nultimate end, which is Truth, supposing that system of revealed facts and\nprinciples, which constitutes the Catholic Faith, which goes so far beyond\nnature, and which he knows to be most true, be omitted from among the\nsubjects of his teaching?\n\nIn a word, Religious Truth is not only a portion, but a condition of\ngeneral knowledge. To blot it out is nothing short, if I may so speak, of\nunravelling the web of University Teaching. It is, according to the Greek\nproverb, to take the Spring from out of the year; it is to imitate the\npreposterous proceeding of those tragedians who represented a drama with\nthe omission of its principal part.\n\n\n\n\n                              Discourse IV.\n\n\nBearing Of Other Branches Of Knowledge On Theology.\n\n\n\n1.\n\n\nNothing is more common in the world at large than to consider the\nresistance, made on the part of religious men, especially Catholics, to\nthe separation of Secular Education from Religion, as a plain token that\nthere is some real contrariety between human science and Revelation. To\nthe multitude who draw this inference, it matters not whether the\nprotesting parties avow their belief in this contrariety or not; it is\nborne in upon the many, as if it were self-evident, that religious men\nwould not thus be jealous and alarmed about Science, did they not feel\ninstinctively, though they may not recognize it, that knowledge is their\nborn enemy, and that its progress, if it is not arrested, will be certain\nto destroy all that they hold venerable and dear. It looks to the world\nlike a misgiving on our part similar to that which is imputed to our\nrefusal to educate by means of the Bible only; why should you dread the\nsacred text, men say, if it be not against you? And in like manner, why\nshould you dread secular education, except that it is against you? Why\nimpede the circulation of books which take religious views opposite to\nyour own? Why forbid your children and scholars the free perusal of poems\nor tales or essays or other light literature which you fear would unsettle\ntheir minds? Why oblige them to know these persons and to shun those, if\nyou think that your friends have reason on their side as fully as your\nopponents? Truth is bold and unsuspicious; want of self-reliance is the\nmark of falsehood.\n\nNow, as far as this objection relates to any supposed opposition between\nsecular science and divine, which is the subject on which I am at present\nengaged, I made a sufficient answer to it in my foregoing Discourse. In it\nI said, that, in order to have possession of truth at all, we must have\nthe whole truth; and no one science, no two sciences, no one family of\nsciences, nay, not even all secular science, is the whole truth; that\nrevealed truth enters to a very great extent into the province of science,\nphilosophy, and literature, and that to put it on one side, in compliment\nto secular science, is simply, under colour of a compliment, to do science\na great damage. I do not say that every science will be equally affected\nby the omission; pure mathematics will not suffer at all; chemistry will\nsuffer less than politics, politics than history, ethics, or metaphysics;\nstill, that the various branches of science are intimately connected with\neach other, and form one whole, which whole is impaired, and to an extent\nwhich it is difficult to limit, by any considerable omission of knowledge,\nof whatever kind, and that revealed knowledge is very far indeed from an\ninconsiderable department of knowledge, this I consider undeniable. As the\nwritten and unwritten word of God make up Revelation as a whole, and the\nwritten, taken by itself, is but a part of that whole, so in turn\nRevelation itself may be viewed as one of the constituent parts of human\nknowledge, considered as a whole, and its omission is the omission of one\nof those constituent parts. Revealed Religion furnishes facts to the other\nsciences, which those sciences, left to themselves, would never reach; and\nit invalidates apparent facts, which, left to themselves, they would\nimagine. Thus, in the science of history, the preservation of our race in\nNoah\u2019s ark is an historical fact, which history never would arrive at\nwithout Revelation; and, in the province of physiology and moral\nphilosophy, our race\u2019s progress and perfectibility is a dream, because\nRevelation contradicts it, whatever may be plausibly argued in its behalf\nby scientific inquirers. It is not then that Catholics are afraid of human\nknowledge, but that they are proud of divine knowledge, and that they\nthink the omission of any kind of knowledge whatever, human or divine, to\nbe, as far as it goes, not knowledge, but ignorance.\n\n\n\n2.\n\n\nThus I anticipated the objection in question last week: now I am going to\nmake it the introduction to a further view of the relation of secular\nknowledge to divine. I observe, then, that, if you drop any science out of\nthe circle of knowledge, you cannot keep its place vacant for it; that\nscience is forgotten; the other sciences close up, or, in other words,\nthey exceed their proper bounds, and intrude where they have no right. For\ninstance, I suppose, if ethics were sent into banishment, its territory\nwould soon disappear, under a treaty of partition, as it may be called,\nbetween law, political economy, and physiology; what, again, would become\nof the province of experimental science, if made over to the Antiquarian\nSociety; or of history, if surrendered out and out to Metaphysicians? The\ncase is the same with the subject-matter of Theology; it would be the prey\nof a dozen various sciences, if Theology were put out of possession; and\nnot only so, but those sciences would be plainly exceeding their rights\nand their capacities in seizing upon it. They would be sure to teach\nwrongly, where they had no mission to teach at all. The enemies of\nCatholicism ought to be the last to deny this:\u2014for they have never been\nblind to a like usurpation, as they have called it, on the part of\ntheologians; those who accuse us of wishing, in accordance with Scripture\nlanguage, to make the sun go round the earth, are not the men to deny that\na science which exceeds its limits falls into error.\n\nI neither then am able nor care to deny, rather I assert the fact, and\nto-day I am going on to account for it, that any secular science,\ncultivated exclusively, may become dangerous to Religion; and I account\nfor it on this broad principle, that no science whatever, however\ncomprehensive it may be, but will fall largely into error, if it be\nconstituted the sole exponent of all things in heaven and earth, and that,\nfor the simple reason that it is encroaching on territory not its own, and\nundertaking problems which it has no instruments to solve. And I set off\nthus:\n\n\n\n3.\n\n\nOne of the first acts of the human mind is to take hold of and appropriate\nwhat meets the senses, and herein lies a chief distinction between man\u2019s\nand a brute\u2019s use of them. Brutes gaze on sights, they are arrested by\nsounds; and what they see and what they hear are mainly sights and sounds\nonly. The intellect of man, on the contrary, energizes as well as his eye\nor ear, and perceives in sights and sounds something beyond them. It\nseizes and unites what the senses present to it; it grasps and forms what\nneed not have been seen or heard except in its constituent parts. It\ndiscerns in lines and colours, or in tones, what is beautiful and what is\nnot. It gives them a meaning, and invests them with an idea. It gathers up\na succession of notes into the expression of a whole, and calls it a\nmelody; it has a keen sensibility towards angles and curves, lights and\nshadows, tints and contours. It distinguishes between rule and exception,\nbetween accident and design. It assigns phenomena to a general law,\nqualities to a subject, acts to a principle, and effects to a cause. In a\nword, it philosophizes; for I suppose Science and Philosophy, in their\nelementary idea, are nothing else but this habit of _viewing_, as it may\nbe called, the objects which sense conveys to the mind, of throwing them\ninto system, and uniting and stamping them with one form.\n\nThis method is so natural to us, as I have said, as to be almost\nspontaneous; and we are impatient when we cannot exercise it, and in\nconsequence we do not always wait to have the means of exercising it\naright, but we often put up with insufficient or absurd views or\ninterpretations of what we meet with, rather than have none at all. We\nrefer the various matters which are brought home to us, material or moral,\nto causes which we happen to know of, or to such as are simply imaginary,\nsooner than refer them to nothing; and according to the activity of our\nintellect do we feel a pain and begin to fret, if we are not able to do\nso. Here we have an explanation of the multitude of off-hand sayings,\nflippant judgments, and shallow generalizations, with which the world\nabounds. Not from self-will only, nor from malevolence, but from the\nirritation which suspense occasions, is the mind forced on to pronounce,\nwithout sufficient data for pronouncing. Who does not form some view or\nother, for instance, of any public man, or any public event, nay, even so\nfar in some cases as to reach the mental delineation of his appearance or\nof its scene? yet how few have a right to form any view. Hence the\nmisconceptions of character, hence the false impressions and reports of\nwords or deeds, which are the rule, rather than the exception, in the\nworld at large; hence the extravagances of undisciplined talent, and the\nnarrowness of conceited ignorance; because, though it is no easy matter to\nview things correctly, nevertheless the busy mind will ever be viewing. We\ncannot do without a view, and we put up with an illusion, when we cannot\nget a truth.\n\n\n\n4.\n\n\nNow, observe how this impatience acts in matters of research and\nspeculation. What happens to the ignorant and hotheaded, will take place\nin the case of every person whose education or pursuits are contracted,\nwhether they be merely professional, merely scientific, or of whatever\nother peculiar complexion. Men, whose life lies in the cultivation of one\nscience, or the exercise of one method of thought, have no more right,\nthough they have often more ambition, to generalize upon the basis of\ntheir own pursuit but beyond its range, than the schoolboy or the\nploughman to judge of a Prime Minister. But they must have something to\nsay on every subject; habit, fashion, the public require it of them: and,\nif so, they can only give sentence according to their knowledge. You might\nthink this ought to make such a person modest in his enunciations; not so:\ntoo often it happens that, in proportion to the narrowness of his\nknowledge, is, not his distrust of it, but the deep hold it has upon him,\nhis absolute conviction of his own conclusions, and his positiveness in\nmaintaining them. He has the obstinacy of the bigot, whom he scorns,\nwithout the bigot\u2019s apology, that he has been taught, as he thinks, his\ndoctrine from heaven. Thus he becomes, what is commonly called, a man of\none idea; which properly means a man of one science, and of the view,\npartly true, but subordinate, partly false, which is all that can proceed\nout of any thing so partial. Hence it is that we have the principles of\nutility, of combination, of progress, of philanthropy, or, in material\nsciences, comparative anatomy, phrenology, electricity, exalted into\nleading ideas, and keys, if not of all knowledge, at least of many things\nmore than belong to them,\u2014principles, all of them true to a certain point,\nyet all degenerating into error and quackery, because they are carried to\nexcess, viz. at the point where they require interpretation and restraint\nfrom other quarters, and because they are employed to do what is simply\ntoo much for them, inasmuch as a little science is not deep philosophy.\n\nLord Bacon has set down the abuse, of which I am speaking, among the\nimpediments to the Advancement of the Sciences, when he observes that \u201cmen\nhave used to infect their meditations, opinions, and doctrines, with some\nconceits which they have most admired, or _some Sciences which they have\nmost applied_; and give all things else a _tincture_ according to them\n_utterly untrue and improper_.\u2026\u201d So have the alchemists made a philosophy\nout of a few experiments of the furnace; and Gilbertus, our countryman,\nhath made a philosophy out of the observations of a lodestone. So Cicero,\nwhen, reciting the several opinions of the nature of the soul, he found a\nmusician that held the soul was but a harmony, saith pleasantly, \u201chic ab\narte su\u00e2 non recessit,\u201d \u201che was true to his art.\u201d But of these conceits\nAristotle speaketh seriously and wisely when he saith, \u201cQui respiciunt ad\npauca, de facili pronunciant,\u201d \u201cthey who contemplate a few things have no\ndifficulty in deciding.\u201d\n\n\n\n5.\n\n\nAnd now I have said enough to explain the inconvenience which I conceive\nnecessarily to result from a refusal to recognize theological truth in a\ncourse of Universal Knowledge;\u2014it is not only the loss of Theology, it is\nthe perversion of other sciences. What it unjustly forfeits, others\nunjustly seize. They have their own department, and, in going out of it,\nattempt to do what they really cannot do; and that the more mischievously,\nbecause they do teach what in its place is true, though when out of its\nplace, perverted or carried to excess, it is not true. And, as every man\nhas not the capacity of separating truth from falsehood, they persuade the\nworld of what is false by urging upon it what is true. Nor is it open\nenemies alone who encounter us here, sometimes it is friends, sometimes\npersons who, if not friends, at least have no wish to oppose Religion, and\nare not conscious they are doing so; and it will carry out my meaning more\nfully if I give some illustrations of it.\n\nAs to friends, I may take as an instance the cultivation of the Fine Arts,\nPainting, Sculpture, Architecture, to which I may add Music. These high\nministers of the Beautiful and the Noble are, it is plain, special\nattendants and handmaids of Religion; but it is equally plain that they\nare apt to forget their place, and, unless restrained with a firm hand,\ninstead of being servants, will aim at becoming principals. Here lies the\nadvantage, in an ecclesiastical point of view, of their more rudimental\nstate, I mean of the ancient style of architecture, of Gothic sculpture\nand painting, and of what is called Gregorian music, that these inchoate\nsciences have so little innate vigour and life in them, that they are in\nno danger of going out of their place, and giving the law to Religion. But\nthe case is very different when genius has breathed upon their natural\nelements, and has developed them into what I may call intellectual powers.\nWhen Painting, for example, grows into the fulness of its function as a\nsimply imitative art, it at once ceases to be a dependant on the Church.\nIt has an end of its own, and that of earth: Nature is its pattern, and\nthe object it pursues is the beauty of Nature, even till it becomes an\nideal beauty, but a natural beauty still. It cannot imitate that beauty of\nAngels and Saints which it has never seen. At first, indeed, by outlines\nand emblems it shadowed out the Invisible, and its want of skill became\nthe instrument of reverence and modesty; but as time went on and it\nattained its full dimensions as an art, it rather subjected Religion to\nits own ends than ministered to the ends of Religion, and in its long\ngalleries and stately chambers, did but mingle adorable figures and sacred\nhistories with a multitude of earthly, not to say unseemly forms, which\nthe Art had created, borrowing withal a colouring and a character from\nthat bad company. Not content with neutral ground for its development, it\nwas attracted by the sublimity of divine subjects to ambitious and\nhazardous essays. Without my saying a word more, you will clearly\nunderstand, Gentlemen, that under these circumstances Religion was bound\nto exert itself, that the world might not gain an advantage over it. Put\nout of sight the severe teaching of Catholicism in the schools of\nPainting, as men now would put it aside in their philosophical studies,\nand in no long time you would have the hierarchy of the Church, the\nAnchorite and Virgin-martyr, the Confessor and the Doctor, the Angelic\nHosts, the Mother of God, the Crucifix, the Eternal Trinity, supplanted by\na sort of pagan mythology in the guise of sacred names, by a creation\nindeed of high genius, of intense, and dazzling, and soul-absorbing\nbeauty, in which, however, there was nothing which subserved the cause of\nReligion, nothing on the other hand which did not directly or indirectly\nminister to corrupt nature and the powers of darkness.\n\n\n\n6.\n\n\nThe art of Painting, however, is peculiar: Music and Architecture are more\nideal, and their respective archetypes, even if not supernatural, at least\nare abstract and unearthly; and yet what I have been observing about\nPainting, holds, I think, analogously, in the marvellous development which\nMusical Science has undergone in the last century. Doubtless here too the\nhighest genius may be made subservient to Religion; here too, still more\nsimply than in the case of Painting, the Science has a field of its own,\nperfectly innocent, into which Religion does not and need not enter; on\nthe other hand here also, in the case of Music as of Painting, it is\ncertain that Religion must be alive and on the defensive, for, if its\nservants sleep, a potent enchantment will steal over it. Music, I suppose,\nthough this is not the place to enlarge upon it, has an object of its own;\nas mathematical science also, it is the expression of ideas greater and\nmore profound than any in the visible world, ideas, which centre indeed in\nHim whom Catholicism manifests, who is the seat of all beauty, order, and\nperfection whatever, still ideas after all which are not those on which\nRevelation directly and principally fixes our gaze. If then a great master\nin this mysterious science (if I may speak of matters which seem to lie\nout of my own province) throws himself on his own gift, trusts its\ninspirations, and absorbs himself in those thoughts which, though they\ncome to him in the way of nature, belong to things above nature, it is\nobvious he will neglect everything else. Rising in his strength, he will\nbreak through the trammels of words, he will scatter human voices, even\nthe sweetest, to the winds; he will be borne upon nothing less than the\nfullest flood of sounds which art has enabled him to draw from mechanical\ncontrivances; he will go forth as a giant, as far as ever his instruments\ncan reach, starting from their secret depths fresh and fresh elements of\nbeauty and grandeur as he goes, and pouring them together into still more\nmarvellous and rapturous combinations;\u2014and well indeed and lawfully, while\nhe keeps to that line which is his own; but, should he happen to be\nattracted, as he well may, by the sublimity, so congenial to him, of the\nCatholic doctrine and ritual, should he engage in sacred themes, should he\nresolve by means of his art to do honour to the Mass, or the Divine\nOffice,\u2014(he cannot have a more pious, a better purpose, and Religion will\ngracefully accept what he gracefully offers; but)\u2014is it not certain, from\nthe circumstances of the case, that he will be carried on rather to use\nReligion than to minister to it, unless Religion is strong on its own\nground, and reminds him that, if he would do honour to the highest of\nsubjects, he must make himself its scholar, must humbly follow the\nthoughts given him, and must aim at the glory, not of his own gift, but of\nthe Great Giver?\n\n\n\n7.\n\n\nAs to Architecture, it is a remark, if I recollect aright both of F\u00e9n\u00e9lon\nand Berkeley, men so different, that it carries more with it even than the\nnames of those celebrated men, that the Gothic style is not as _simple_ as\nbefits ecclesiastical structures. I understand this to be a similar\njudgment to that which I have been passing on the cultivation of Painting\nand Music. For myself, certainly I think that that style which, whatever\nbe its origin, is called Gothic, is endowed with a profound and a\ncommanding beauty, such as no other style possesses with which we are\nacquainted, and which probably the Church will not see surpassed till it\nattain to the Celestial City. No other architecture, now used for sacred\npurposes, seems to be the growth of an idea, whereas the Gothic style is\nas harmonious and as intellectual as it is graceful. But this feeling\nshould not blind us, rather it should awaken us, to the danger lest what\nis really a divine gift be incautiously used as an end rather than as a\nmeans. It is surely quite within the bounds of possibility, that, as the\n_renaissance_ three centuries ago carried away its own day, in spite of\nthe Church, into excesses in literature and art, so that revival of an\nalmost forgotten architecture, which is at present taking place in our own\ncountries, in France, and in Germany, may in some way or other run away\nwith us into this or that error, unless we keep a watch over its course. I\nam not speaking of Ireland; but to English Catholics at least it would be\na serious evil, if it came as the emblem and advocate of a past ceremonial\nor an extinct nationalism. We are not living in an age of wealth and\nloyalty, of pomp and stateliness, of time-honoured establishments, of\npilgrimage and penance, of hermitages and convents in the wild, and of\nfervent populations supplying the want of education by love, and\napprehending in form and symbol what they cannot read in books. Our rules\nand our rubrics have been altered now to meet the times, and hence an\nobsolete discipline may be a present heresy.\n\n\n\n8.\n\n\nI have been pointing out how the Fine Arts may prejudice Religion, by\nlaying down the law in cases where they should be subservient. The\nillustration is analogous rather than strictly proper to my subject, yet I\nthink it is to the point. If then the most loyal and dutiful children of\nthe Church must deny themselves, and do deny themselves, when they would\nsanctify to a heavenly purpose sciences as sublime and as divine as any\nwhich are cultivated by fallen man, it is not wonderful, when we turn to\nsciences of a different character, of which the object is tangible and\nmaterial, and the principles belong to the Reason, not to the Imagination,\nthat we should find their disciples, if disinclined to the Catholic Faith,\nacting the part of opponents to it, and that, as may often happen, even\nagainst their will and intention. Many men there are, who, devoted to one\nparticular subject of thought, and making its principles the measure of\nall things, become enemies to Revealed Religion before they know it, and,\nonly as time proceeds, are aware of their own state of mind. These, if\nthey are writers or lecturers, while in this state of unconscious or\nsemi-conscious unbelief, scatter infidel principles under the garb and\ncolour of Christianity; and this, simply because they have made their own\nscience, whatever it is, Political Economy, or Geology, or Astronomy, to\nthe neglect of Theology, the centre of all truth, and view every part or\nthe chief parts of knowledge as if developed from it, and to be tested and\ndetermined by its principles. Others, though conscious to themselves of\ntheir anti-christian opinions, have too much good feeling and good taste\nto obtrude them upon the world. They neither wish to shock people, nor to\nearn for themselves a confessorship which brings with it no gain. They\nknow the strength of prejudice, and the penalty of innovation; they wish\nto go through life quietly; they scorn polemics; they shrink, as from a\nreal humiliation, from being mixed up in religious controversy; they are\nashamed of the very name. However, they have had occasion at some time to\npublish on some literary or scientific subject; they have wished to give\nno offence; but after all, to their great annoyance, they find when they\nleast expect it, or when they have taken considerable pains to avoid it,\nthat they have roused by their publication what they would style the\nbigoted and bitter hostility of a party. This misfortune is easily\nconceivable, and has befallen many a man. Before he knows where he is, a\ncry is raised on all sides of him; and so little does he know what we may\ncall the _lie_ of the land, that his attempts at apology perhaps only make\nmatters worse. In other words, an exclusive line of study has led him,\nwhether he will or no, to run counter to the principles of Religion; which\nprinciples he has never made his landmarks, and which, whatever might be\ntheir effect upon himself, at least would have warned him against\npractising upon the faith of others, had they been authoritatively held up\nbefore him.\n\n\n\n9.\n\n\nInstances of this kind are far from uncommon. Men who are old enough, will\nremember the trouble which came upon a person, eminent as a professional\nman in London even at that distant day, and still more eminent since, in\nconsequence of his publishing a book in which he so treated the subject of\nComparative Anatomy as to seem to deny the immateriality of the soul. I\nspeak here neither as excusing nor reprobating sentiments about which I\nhave not the means of forming a judgment; all indeed I have heard of him\nmakes me mention him with interest and respect; anyhow of this I am sure,\nthat if there be a calling which feels its position and its dignity to lie\nin abstaining from controversy and in cultivating kindly feelings with men\nof all opinions, it is the medical profession, and I cannot believe that\nthe person in question would purposely have raised the indignation and\nincurred the censure of the religious public. What then must have been his\nfault or mistake, but that he unsuspiciously threw himself upon his own\nparticular science, which is of a material character, and allowed it to\ncarry him forward into a subject-matter, where it had no right to give the\nlaw, viz., that of spiritual beings, which directly belongs to the science\nof Theology?\n\nAnother instance occurred at a later date. A living dignitary of the\nEstablished Church wrote a History of the Jews; in which, with what I\nconsider at least bad judgment, he took an external view of it, and hence\nwas led to assimilate it as nearly as possible to secular history. A great\nsensation was the consequence among the members of his own communion, from\nwhich he still suffers. Arguing from the dislike and contempt of polemical\ndemonstrations which that accomplished writer has ever shown, I must\nconclude that he was simply betrayed into a false step by the treacherous\nfascination of what is called the Philosophy of History, which is good in\nits place, but can scarcely be applied in cases where the Almighty has\nsuperseded the natural laws of society and history. From this he would\nhave been saved, had he been a Catholic; but in the Establishment he knew\nof no teaching, to which he was bound to defer, which might rule that to\nbe false which attracted him by its speciousness.\n\n\n\n10.\n\n\nI will now take an instance from another science, and will use more words\nabout it. Political Economy is the science, I suppose, of wealth,\u2014a\nscience simply lawful and useful, for it is no sin to make money, any more\nthan it is a sin to seek honour; a science at the same time dangerous and\nleading to occasions of sin, as is the pursuit of honour too; and in\nconsequence, if studied by itself, and apart from the control of Revealed\nTruth, sure to conduct a speculator to unchristian conclusions. Holy\nScripture tells us distinctly, that \u201ccovetousness,\u201d or more literally the\nlove of money, \u201cis the root of all evils;\u201d and that \u201cthey that would\nbecome rich fall into temptation;\u201d and that \u201chardly shall they that have\nriches enter into the kingdom of God;\u201d and after drawing the picture of a\nwealthy and flourishing people, it adds, \u201cThey have called the people\nhappy that hath these things; but happy is that people whose God is the\nLord:\u201d\u2014while on the other hand it says with equal distinctness, \u201cIf any\nwill not work, neither let him eat;\u201d and, \u201cIf any man have not care of his\nown, and especially of those of his house, he hath denied the faith, and\nis worse than an infidel.\u201d These opposite injunctions are summed up in the\nwise man\u2019s prayer, who says, \u201cGive me neither beggary nor riches, give me\nonly the necessaries of life.\u201d With this most precise view of a\nChristian\u2019s duty, viz., to labour indeed, but to labour for a competency\nfor himself and his, and to be jealous of wealth, whether personal or\nnational, the holy Fathers are, as might be expected, in simple\naccordance. \u201cJudas,\u201d says St. Chrysostom, \u201cwas with Him who knew not where\nto lay His head, yet could not restrain himself; and how canst thou hope\nto escape the contagion without anxious effort?\u201d \u201cIt is ridiculous,\u201d says\nSt. Jerome, \u201cto call it idolatry to offer to the creature the grains of\nincense that are due to God, and not to call it so, to offer the whole\nservice of one\u2019s life to the creature.\u201d \u201cThere is not a trace of justice\nin that heart,\u201d says St. Leo, \u201cin which the love of gain has made itself a\ndwelling.\u201d The same thing is emphatically taught us by the counsels of\nperfection, and by every holy monk and nun anywhere, who has ever embraced\nthem; but it is needless to collect testimonies, when Scripture is so\nclear.\n\nNow, observe, Gentlemen, my drift in setting Scripture and the Fathers\nover against Political Economy. Of course if there is a science of wealth,\nit must give rules for gaining wealth and disposing of wealth, and can do\nnothing more; it cannot itself declare that it is a subordinate science,\nthat its end is not the ultimate end of all things, and that its\nconclusions are only hypothetical, depending on its premisses, and liable\nto be overruled by a higher teaching. I do not then blame the Political\nEconomist for anything which follows from the very idea of his science,\nfrom the very moment that it is recognized as a science. He must of course\ndirect his inquiries towards his end; but then at the same time it must be\nrecollected, that so far he is not practical, but only pursues an abstract\nstudy, and is busy himself in establishing logical conclusions from\nindisputable premisses. Given that wealth is to be sought, this and that\nis the method of gaining it. This is the extent to which a Political\nEconomist has a right to go; he has no right to determine that wealth is\nat any rate to be sought, or that it is the way to be virtuous and the\nprice of happiness; I say, this is to pass the bounds of his science,\nindependent of the question whether he be right or wrong in so\ndetermining, for he is only concerned with an hypothesis.\n\nTo take a parallel case:\u2014a physician may tell you, that if you are to\npreserve your health, you must give up your employment and retire to the\ncountry. He distinctly says \u201cif;\u201d that is all in which he is concerned, he\nis no judge whether there are objects dearer to you, more urgent upon you,\nthan the preservation of your health; he does not enter into your\ncircumstances, your duties, your liabilities, the persons dependent on\nyou; he knows nothing about what is advisable or what is not; he only\nsays, \u201cI speak _as_ a physician; if you would be well, give up your\nprofession, your trade, your office, whatever it is.\u201d However he may wish\nit, it would be impertinent in him to say more, unless indeed he spoke,\nnot as a physician but as a friend; and it would be extravagant, if he\nasserted that bodily health was the _summum bonum_, and that no one could\nbe virtuous whose animal system was not in good order.\n\n\n\n11.\n\n\nBut now let us turn to the teaching of the actual Political Economist, in\nhis present fashionable shape. I will take a very favourable instance of\nhim: he shall be represented by a gentleman of high character, whose\nreligious views are sufficiently guaranteed to us by his being the special\nchoice, in this department of science, of a University removed more than\nany other Protestant body of the day from sordid or unchristian principles\non the subject of money-making. I say, if there be a place where Political\nEconomy would be kept in order, and would not be suffered to leave the\nhigh road and ride across the pastures and the gardens dedicated to other\nstudies, it is the University of Oxford. And if a man could anywhere be\nfound who would have too much good taste to offend the religious feeling\nof the place, or to say any thing which he would himself allow to be\ninconsistent with Revelation, I conceive it is the person whose temperate\nand well-considered composition, as it would be generally accounted, I am\ngoing to offer to your notice. Nor did it occasion any excitement whatever\non the part of the academical or the religious public, as did the\ninstances which I have hitherto been adducing. I am representing then the\nscience of Political Economy, in its independent or unbridled action, to\ngreat advantage, when I select, as its specimen, the Inaugural Lecture\nupon it, delivered in the University in question, by its first Professor.\nYet with all these circumstances in its favour, you will soon see,\nGentlemen, into what extravagance, for so I must call it, a grave lawyer\nis led in praise of his chosen science, merely from the circumstance that\nhe has fixed his mind upon it, till he has forgotten there are subjects of\nthought higher and more heavenly than it. You will find beyond mistake,\nthat it is his object to recommend the science of wealth, by claiming for\nit an _ethical_ quality, viz., by extolling it as the road to virtue and\nhappiness, whatever Scripture and holy men may say to the contrary.\n\nHe begins by predicting of Political Economy, that in the course of a very\nfew years, \u201cit will rank in public estimation among the first of _moral_\nsciences in interest and in utility.\u201d Then he explains most lucidly its\nobjects and duties, considered as \u201cthe science which teaches in what\nwealth consists, by what agents it is produced, and according to what laws\nit is distributed, and what are the institutions and customs by which\nproduction may be facilitated and distribution regulated, so as to give\nthe largest possible amount of wealth to each individual.\u201d And he dwells\nupon the interest which attaches to the inquiry, \u201cwhether England has run\nher full career of wealth and improvement, but stands safe where she is,\nor whether to remain stationary is impossible.\u201d After this he notices a\ncertain objection, which I shall set before you in his own words, as they\nwill furnish me with the illustration I propose.\n\nThis objection, he says, is, that, \u201cas the pursuit of wealth is one of the\nhumblest of human occupations, far inferior to the pursuit of virtue, or\nof knowledge, or even of reputation, and as the possession of wealth is\nnot necessarily joined,\u2014perhaps it will be said, is not conducive,\u2014to\nhappiness, a science, of which the only subject is wealth, cannot claim to\nrank as the first, or nearly the first, of moral sciences.\u201d(9) Certainly,\nto an enthusiast in behalf of any science whatever, the temptation is\ngreat to meet an objection urged against its dignity and worth; however,\nfrom the very form of it, such an objection cannot receive a satisfactory\nanswer by means of the science itself. It is an objection external to the\nscience, and reminds us of the truth of Lord Bacon\u2019s remark, \u201cNo perfect\ndiscovery can be made upon a flat or a level; neither is it possible to\ndiscover the more remote and deeper parts of any science, if you stand\nupon the level of the science, and ascend not to a higher science.\u201d(10)\nThe objection that Political Economy is inferior to the science of virtue,\nor does not conduce to happiness, is an ethical or theological objection;\nthe question of its \u201crank\u201d belongs to that Architectonic Science or\nPhilosophy, whatever it be, which is itself the arbiter of all truth, and\nwhich disposes of the claims and arranges the places of all the\ndepartments of knowledge which man is able to master. I say, when an\nopponent of a particular science asserts that it does not conduce to\nhappiness, and much more when its champion contends in reply that it\ncertainly does conduce to virtue, as this author proceeds to contend, the\nobvious question which occurs to one to ask is, what does Religion, what\ndoes Revelation, say on the point? Political Economy must not be allowed\nto give judgment in its own favour, but must come before a higher\ntribunal. The objection is an appeal to the Theologian; however, the\nProfessor does not so view the matter; he does not consider it a question\nfor Philosophy; nor indeed on the other hand a question for Political\nEconomy; not a question for Science at all; but for Private Judgment,\u2014so\nhe answers it himself, and as follows:\n\n\n\n12.\n\n\n\u201cMy answer,\u201d he says, \u201cis, first, that the pursuit of wealth, that is, the\nendeavour to accumulate the means of future subsistence and enjoyment, is,\nto the mass of mankind, the great source of _moral_ improvement.\u201d Now\nobserve, Gentlemen, how exactly this bears out what I have been saying. It\nis just so far true, as to be able to instil what is false, far as the\nauthor was from any such design. I grant, then, that, ordinarily, beggary\nis not the means of moral improvement; and that the orderly habits which\nattend upon the hot pursuit of gain, not only may effect an external\ndecency, but may at least shelter the soul from the temptations of vice.\nMoreover, these habits of good order guarantee regularity in a family or\nhousehold, and thus are accidentally the means of good; moreover, they\nlead to the education of its younger branches, and they thus accidentally\nprovide the rising generation with a virtue or a truth which the present\nhas not: but without going into these considerations, further than to\nallow them generally, and under circumstances, let us rather contemplate\nwhat the author\u2019s direct assertion is. He says, \u201cthe endeavour to\n_accumulate_,\u201d the words should be weighed, and for what? \u201cfor\n_enjoyment_;\u201d\u2014\u201cto accumulate the means of future subsistence and\nenjoyment, is, to the mass of mankind, _the great_ source,\u201d not merely _a_\nsource, but _the great_ source, and of what? of social and political\nprogress?\u2014such an answer would have been more within the limits of his\nart,\u2014no, but of something individual and personal, \u201cof _moral\nimprovement_.\u201d The soul, in the case of \u201cthe mass of mankind,\u201d improves in\nmoral excellence from this more than any thing else, viz., from heaping up\nthe means of enjoying this world in time to come! I really should on every\naccount be sorry, Gentlemen, to exaggerate, but indeed one is taken by\nsurprise, one is startled, on meeting with so very categorical a\ncontradiction of our Lord, St. Paul, St. Chrysostom, St. Leo, and all\nSaints.\n\n\u201cNo institution,\u201d he continues, \u201ccould be more beneficial to the morals of\nthe lower orders, that is, to at least nine-tenths of the whole body of\nany people, than one which should increase their power and their wish to\naccumulate; none more mischievous than one which should diminish their\nmotives and means to save.\u201d No institution more beneficial than one which\nshould increase the _wish to accumulate_! then Christianity is not one of\nsuch beneficial institutions, for it expressly says, \u201c_Lay not up to_\nyourselves _treasures_ on earth \u2026 for where thy treasure is, there is thy\nheart also;\u201d\u2014no institution more mischievous than one which should\ndiminish the _motives to save_! then Christianity is one of such\nmischiefs, for the inspired text proceeds, \u201cLay up to yourselves treasures\n_in heaven, where_ neither the rust nor the moth doth consume, and where\nthieves do not dig through, nor steal.\u201d\n\nBut it is not enough that morals and happiness are made to depend on gain\nand accumulation; the practice of Religion is ascribed to these causes\nalso, and in the following way. Wealth depends upon the pursuit of wealth;\neducation depends upon wealth; knowledge depends on education; and\nReligion depends on knowledge; therefore Religion depends on the pursuit\nof wealth. He says, after speaking of a poor and savage people, \u201cSuch a\npopulation must be grossly ignorant. The desire of knowledge is one of the\nlast results of refinement; it requires in general to have been implanted\nin the mind during childhood; and it is absurd to suppose that persons\nthus situated would have the power or the will to devote much to the\neducation of their children. A further consequence is the _absence of all\nreal religion_; for the religion of the grossly ignorant, if they have\nany, scarcely ever amounts to more than a debasing superstition.\u201d(11) The\npursuit of gain then is the basis of virtue, religion, happiness; though\nit is all the while, as a Christian knows, the \u201croot of all evils,\u201d and\nthe \u201cpoor on the contrary are blessed, for theirs is the kingdom of God.\u201d\n\nAs to the argument contained in the logical _Sorites_ which I have been\ndrawing out, I anticipated just now what I should say to it in reply. I\nrepeat, doubtless \u201cbeggary,\u201d as the wise man says, is not desirable;\ndoubtless, if men will not work, they should not eat; there is doubtless a\nsense in which it may be said that mere social or political virtue tends\nto moral and religious excellence; but the sense needs to be defined and\nthe statement to be kept within bounds. This is the very point on which I\nam all along insisting. I am not denying, I am granting, I am assuming,\nthat there is reason and truth in the \u201cleading ideas,\u201d as they are called,\nand \u201clarge views\u201d of scientific men; I only say that, though they speak\ntruth, they do not speak the whole truth; that they speak a narrow truth,\nand think it a broad truth; that their deductions must be compared with\nother truths, which are acknowledged to be truths, in order to verify,\ncomplete, and correct them. They say what is true, _exceptis excipiendis_;\nwhat is true, but requires guarding; true, but must not be ridden too\nhard, or made what is called a _hobby_; true, but not the measure of all\nthings; true, but if thus inordinately, extravagantly, ruinously carried\nout, in spite of other sciences, in spite of Theology, sure to become but\na great bubble, and to burst.\n\n\n\n13.\n\n\nI am getting to the end of this Discourse, before I have noticed one tenth\npart of the instances with which I might illustrate the subject of it.\nElse I should have wished especially to have dwelt upon the not unfrequent\nperversion which occurs of antiquarian and historical research, to the\nprejudice of Theology. It is undeniable that the records of former ages\nare of primary importance in determining Catholic doctrine; it is\nundeniable also that there is a silence or a contrariety abstractedly\nconceivable in those records, as to an alleged portion of that doctrine,\nwhich would be sufficient to invalidate its claims on our acceptance; but\nit is quite as undeniable that the existing documentary testimony to\nCatholicism and Christianity may be so unduly valued as to be made the\nabsolute measure of Revelation, as if no part of theological teaching were\ntrue which cannot bring its express text, as it is called, from Scripture,\nand authorities from the Fathers or profane writers,\u2014whereas there are\nnumberless facts in past times which we cannot deny, for they are\nindisputable, though history is silent about them. I suppose, on this\nscore, we ought to deny that the round towers of this country had any\norigin, because history does not disclose it; or that any individual came\nfrom Adam who cannot produce the table of his ancestry. Yet Gibbon argues\nagainst the darkness at the Passion, from the accident that it is not\nmentioned by Pagan historians:\u2014as well might he argue against the\nexistence of Christianity itself in the first century, because Seneca,\nPliny, Plutarch, the Jewish Mishna, and other authorities are silent about\nit. Protestants argue in a parallel way against Transubstantiation, and\nArians against our Lord\u2019s Divinity, viz., on the ground that extant\nwritings of certain Fathers do not witness those doctrines to their\nsatisfaction:\u2014as well might they say that Christianity was not spread by\nthe Twelve Apostles, because we know so little of their labours. The\nevidence of History, I say, is invaluable in its place; but, if it assumes\nto be the sole means of gaining Religious Truth, it goes beyond its place.\nWe are putting it to a larger office than it can undertake, if we\ncountenance the usurpation; and we are turning a true guide and blessing\ninto a source of inexplicable difficulty and interminable doubt.\n\nAnd so of other sciences: just as Comparative Anatomy, Political Economy,\nthe Philosophy of History, and the Science of Antiquities may be and are\nturned against Religion, by being taken by themselves, as I have been\nshowing, so a like mistake may befall any other. Grammar, for instance, at\nfirst sight does not appear to admit of a perversion; yet Horne Tooke made\nit the vehicle of his peculiar scepticism. Law would seem to have enough\nto do with its own clients, and their affairs; and yet Mr. Bentham made a\ntreatise on Judicial Proofs a covert attack upon the miracles of\nRevelation. And in like manner Physiology may deny moral evil and human\nresponsibility; Geology may deny Moses; and Logic may deny the Holy\nTrinity;(12) and other sciences, now rising into notice, are or will be\nvictims of a similar abuse.\n\n\n\n14.\n\n\nAnd now to sum up what I have been saying in a few words. My object, it is\nplain, has been\u2014not to show that Secular Science in its various\ndepartments may take up a position hostile to Theology;\u2014this is rather the\nbasis of the objection with which I opened this Discourse;\u2014but to point\nout the cause of an hostility to which all parties will bear witness. I\nhave been insisting then on this, that the hostility in question, when it\noccurs, is coincident with an evident deflection or exorbitance of Science\nfrom its proper course; and that this exorbitance is sure to take place,\nalmost from the necessity of the case, if Theology be not present to\ndefend its own boundaries and to hinder the encroachment. The human mind\ncannot keep from speculating and systematizing; and if Theology is not\nallowed to occupy its own territory, adjacent sciences, nay, sciences\nwhich are quite foreign to Theology, will take possession of it. And this\noccupation is proved to be a usurpation by this circumstance, that these\nforeign sciences will assume certain principles as true, and act upon\nthem, which they neither have authority to lay down themselves, nor appeal\nto any other higher science to lay down for them. For example, it is a\nmere unwarranted assumption if the Antiquarian says, \u201cNothing has ever\ntaken place but is to be found in historical documents;\u201d or if the\nPhilosophic Historian says, \u201cThere is nothing in Judaism different from\nother political institutions;\u201d or if the Anatomist, \u201cThere is no soul\nbeyond the brain;\u201d or if the Political Economist, \u201cEasy circumstances make\nmen virtuous.\u201d These are enunciations, not of Science, but of Private\nJudgment; and it is Private Judgment that infects every science which it\ntouches with a hostility to Theology, a hostility which properly attaches\nto no science in itself whatever.\n\nIf then, Gentlemen, I now resist such a course of acting as\nunphilosophical, what is this but to do as men of Science do when the\ninterests of their own respective pursuits are at stake? If they certainly\nwould resist the divine who determined the orbit of Jupiter by the\nPentateuch, why am I to be accused of cowardice or illiberality, because I\nwill not tolerate their attempt in turn to theologize by means of\nastronomy? And if experimentalists would be sure to cry out, did I attempt\nto install the Thomist philosophy in the schools of astronomy and\nmedicine, why may not I, when Divine Science is ostracized, and La Place,\nor Buffon, or Humboldt, sits down in its chair, why may not I fairly\nprotest against their exclusiveness, and demand the emancipation of\nTheology?\n\n\n\n15.\n\n\nAnd now I consider I have said enough in proof of the first point, which I\nundertook to maintain, viz., the claim of Theology to be represented among\nthe Chairs of a University. I have shown, I think, that exclusiveness\nreally attaches, not to those who support that claim, but to those who\ndispute it. I have argued in its behalf, first, from the consideration\nthat, whereas it is the very profession of a University to teach all\nsciences, on this account it cannot exclude Theology without being untrue\nto its profession. Next, I have said that, all sciences being connected\ntogether, and having bearings one on another, it is impossible to teach\nthem all thoroughly, unless they all are taken into account, and Theology\namong them. Moreover, I have insisted on the important influence, which\nTheology in matter of fact does and must exercise over a great variety of\nsciences, completing and correcting them; so that, granting it to be a\nreal science occupied upon truth, it cannot be omitted without great\nprejudice to the teaching of the rest. And lastly, I have urged that,\nsupposing Theology be not taught, its province will not simply be\nneglected, but will be actually usurped by other sciences, which will\nteach, without warrant, conclusions of their own in a subject-matter which\nneeds its own proper principles for its due formation and disposition.\n\nAbstract statements are always unsatisfactory; these, as I have already\nobserved, could be illustrated at far greater length than the time\nallotted to me for the purpose has allowed. Let me hope that I have said\nenough upon the subject to suggest thoughts, which those who take an\ninterest in it may pursue for themselves.\n\n\n\n\n                               Discourse V.\n\n\nKnowledge Its Own End.\n\n\nA University may be considered with reference either to its Students or to\nits Studies; and the principle, that all Knowledge is a whole and the\nseparate Sciences parts of one, which I have hitherto been using in behalf\nof its studies, is equally important when we direct our attention to its\nstudents. Now then I turn to the students, and shall consider the\neducation which, by virtue of this principle, a University will give them;\nand thus I shall be introduced, Gentlemen, to the second question, which I\nproposed to discuss, viz, whether and in what sense its teaching, viewed\nrelatively to the taught, carries the attribute of Utility along with it.\n\n\n\n1.\n\n\nI have said that all branches of knowledge are connected together, because\nthe subject-matter of knowledge is intimately united in itself, as being\nthe acts and the work of the Creator. Hence it is that the Sciences, into\nwhich our knowledge may be said to be cast, have multiplied bearings one\non another, and an internal sympathy, and admit, or rather demand,\ncomparison and adjustment. They complete, correct, balance each other.\nThis consideration, if well-founded, must be taken into account, not only\nas regards the attainment of truth, which is their common end, but as\nregards the influence which they exercise upon those whose education\nconsists in the study of them. I have said already, that to give undue\nprominence to one is to be unjust to another; to neglect or supersede\nthese is to divert those from their proper object. It is to unsettle the\nboundary lines between science and science, to disturb their action, to\ndestroy the harmony which binds them together. Such a proceeding will have\na corresponding effect when introduced into a place of education. There is\nno science but tells a different tale, when viewed as a portion of a\nwhole, from what it is likely to suggest when taken by itself, without the\nsafeguard, as I may call it, of others.\n\nLet me make use of an illustration. In the combination of colours, very\ndifferent effects are produced by a difference in their selection and\njuxta-position; red, green, and white, change their shades, according to\nthe contrast to which they are submitted. And, in like manner, the drift\nand meaning of a branch of knowledge varies with the company in which it\nis introduced to the student. If his reading is confined simply to one\nsubject, however such division of labour may favour the advancement of a\nparticular pursuit, a point into which I do not here enter, certainly it\nhas a tendency to contract his mind. If it is incorporated with others, it\ndepends on those others as to the kind of influence which it exerts upon\nhim. Thus the Classics, which in England are the means of refining the\ntaste, have in France subserved the spread of revolutionary and deistical\ndoctrines. In Metaphysics, again, Butler\u2019s Analogy of Religion, which has\nhad so much to do with the conversion to the Catholic faith of members of\nthe University of Oxford, appeared to Pitt and others, who had received a\ndifferent training, to operate only in the direction of infidelity. And so\nagain, Watson, Bishop of Llandaff, as I think he tells us in the narrative\nof his life, felt the science of Mathematics to indispose the mind to\nreligious belief, while others see in its investigations the best\nparallel, and thereby defence, of the Christian Mysteries. In like manner,\nI suppose, Arcesilas would not have handled logic as Aristotle, nor\nAristotle have criticized poets as Plato; yet reasoning and poetry are\nsubject to scientific rules.\n\nIt is a great point then to enlarge the range of studies which a\nUniversity professes, even for the sake of the students; and, though they\ncannot pursue every subject which is open to them, they will be the\ngainers by living among those and under those who represent the whole\ncircle. This I conceive to be the advantage of a seat of universal\nlearning, considered as a place of education. An assemblage of learned\nmen, zealous for their own sciences, and rivals of each other, are\nbrought, by familiar intercourse and for the sake of intellectual peace,\nto adjust together the claims and relations of their respective subjects\nof investigation. They learn to respect, to consult, to aid each other.\nThus is created a pure and clear atmosphere of thought, which the student\nalso breathes, though in his own case he only pursues a few sciences out\nof the multitude. He profits by an intellectual tradition, which is\nindependent of particular teachers, which guides him in his choice of\nsubjects, and duly interprets for him those which he chooses. He\napprehends the great outlines of knowledge, the principles on which it\nrests, the scale of its parts, its lights and its shades, its great points\nand its little, as he otherwise cannot apprehend them. Hence it is that\nhis education is called \u201cLiberal.\u201d A habit of mind is formed which lasts\nthrough life, of which the attributes are, freedom, equitableness,\ncalmness, moderation, and wisdom; or what in a former Discourse I have\nventured to call a philosophical habit. This then I would assign as the\nspecial fruit of the education furnished at a University, as contrasted\nwith other places of teaching or modes of teaching. This is the main\npurpose of a University in its treatment of its students.\n\nAnd now the question is asked me, What is the _use_ of it? and my answer\nwill constitute the main subject of the Discourses which are to follow.\n\n\n\n2.\n\n\nCautious and practical thinkers, I say, will ask of me, what, after all,\nis the gain of this Philosophy, of which I make such account, and from\nwhich I promise so much. Even supposing it to enable us to exercise the\ndegree of trust exactly due to every science respectively, and to estimate\nprecisely the value of every truth which is anywhere to be found, how are\nwe better for this master view of things, which I have been extolling?\nDoes it not reverse the principle of the division of labour? will\npractical objects be obtained better or worse by its cultivation? to what\nthen does it lead? where does it end? what does it do? how does it profit?\nwhat does it promise? Particular sciences are respectively the basis of\ndefinite arts, which carry on to results tangible and beneficial the\ntruths which are the subjects of the knowledge attained; what is the Art\nof this science of sciences? what is the fruit of such a Philosophy? what\nare we proposing to effect, what inducements do we hold out to the\nCatholic community, when we set about the enterprise of founding a\nUniversity?\n\nI am asked what is the end of University Education, and of the Liberal or\nPhilosophical Knowledge which I conceive it to impart: I answer, that what\nI have already said has been sufficient to show that it has a very\ntangible, real, and sufficient end, though the end cannot be divided from\nthat knowledge itself. Knowledge is capable of being its own end. Such is\nthe constitution of the human mind, that any kind of knowledge, if it be\nreally such, is its own reward. And if this is true of all knowledge, it\nis true also of that special Philosophy, which I have made to consist in a\ncomprehensive view of truth in all its branches, of the relations of\nscience to science, of their mutual bearings, and their respective values.\nWhat the worth of such an acquirement is, compared with other objects\nwhich we seek,\u2014wealth or power or honour or the conveniences and comforts\nof life, I do not profess here to discuss; but I would maintain, and mean\nto show, that it is an object, in its own nature so really and undeniably\ngood, as to be the compensation of a great deal of thought in the\ncompassing, and a great deal of trouble in the attaining.\n\nNow, when I say that Knowledge is, not merely a means to something beyond\nit, or the preliminary of certain arts into which it naturally resolves,\nbut an end sufficient to rest in and to pursue for its own sake, surely I\nam uttering no paradox, for I am stating what is both intelligible in\nitself, and has ever been the common judgment of philosophers and the\nordinary feeling of mankind. I am saying what at least the public opinion\nof this day ought to be slow to deny, considering how much we have heard\nof late years, in opposition to Religion, of entertaining, curious, and\nvarious knowledge. I am but saying what whole volumes have been written to\nillustrate, viz., by a \u201cselection from the records of Philosophy,\nLiterature, and Art, in all ages and countries, of a body of examples, to\nshow how the most unpropitious circumstances have been unable to conquer\nan ardent desire for the acquisition of knowledge.\u201d(13) That further\nadvantages accrue to us and redound to others by its possession, over and\nabove what it is in itself, I am very far indeed from denying; but,\nindependent of these, we are satisfying a direct need of our nature in its\nvery acquisition; and, whereas our nature, unlike that of the inferior\ncreation, does not at once reach its perfection, but depends, in order to\nit, on a number of external aids and appliances, Knowledge, as one of the\nprincipal of these, is valuable for what its very presence in us does for\nus after the manner of a habit, even though it be turned to no further\naccount, nor subserve any direct end.\n\n\n\n3.\n\n\nHence it is that Cicero, in enumerating the various heads of mental\nexcellence, lays down the pursuit of Knowledge for its own sake, as the\nfirst of them. \u201cThis pertains most of all to human nature,\u201d he says, \u201cfor\nwe are all of us drawn to the pursuit of Knowledge; in which to excel we\nconsider excellent, whereas to mistake, to err, to be ignorant, to be\ndeceived, is both an evil and a disgrace.\u201d(14) And he considers Knowledge\nthe very first object to which we are attracted, after the supply of our\nphysical wants. After the calls and duties of our animal existence, as\nthey may be termed, as regards ourselves, our family, and our neighbours,\nfollows, he tells us, \u201cthe search after truth. Accordingly, as soon as we\nescape from the pressure of necessary cares, forthwith we desire to see,\nto hear, and to learn; and consider the knowledge of what is hidden or is\nwonderful a condition of our happiness.\u201d\n\nThis passage, though it is but one of many similar passages in a multitude\nof authors, I take for the very reason that it is so familiarly known to\nus; and I wish you to observe, Gentlemen, how distinctly it separates the\npursuit of Knowledge from those ulterior objects to which certainly it can\nbe made to conduce, and which are, I suppose, solely contemplated by the\npersons who would ask of me the use of a University or Liberal Education.\nSo far from dreaming of the cultivation of Knowledge directly and mainly\nin order to our physical comfort and enjoyment, for the sake of life and\nperson, of health, of the conjugal and family union, of the social tie and\ncivil security, the great Orator implies, that it is only after our\nphysical and political needs are supplied, and when we are \u201cfree from\nnecessary duties and cares,\u201d that we are in a condition for \u201cdesiring to\nsee, to hear, and to learn.\u201d Nor does he contemplate in the least degree\nthe reflex or subsequent action of Knowledge, when acquired, upon those\nmaterial goods which we set out by securing before we seek it; on the\ncontrary, he expressly denies its bearing upon social life altogether,\nstrange as such a procedure is to those who live after the rise of the\nBaconian philosophy, and he cautions us against such a cultivation of it\nas will interfere with our duties to our fellow-creatures. \u201cAll these\nmethods,\u201d he says, \u201care engaged in the investigation of truth; by the\npursuit of which to be carried off from public occupations is a\ntransgression of duty. For the praise of virtue lies altogether in action;\nyet intermissions often occur, and then we recur to such pursuits; not to\nsay that the incessant activity of the mind is vigorous enough to carry us\non in the pursuit of knowledge, even without any exertion of our own.\u201d The\nidea of benefiting society by means of \u201cthe pursuit of science and\nknowledge\u201d did not enter at all into the motives which he would assign for\ntheir cultivation.\n\nThis was the ground of the opposition which the elder Cato made to the\nintroduction of Greek Philosophy among his countrymen, when Carneades and\nhis companions, on occasion of their embassy, were charming the Roman\nyouth with their eloquent expositions of it. The fit representative of a\npractical people, Cato estimated every thing by what it produced; whereas\nthe Pursuit of Knowledge promised nothing beyond Knowledge itself. He\ndespised that refinement or enlargement of mind of which he had no\nexperience.\n\n\n\n4.\n\n\nThings, which can bear to be cut off from every thing else and yet persist\nin living, must have life in themselves; pursuits, which issue in nothing,\nand still maintain their ground for ages, which are regarded as admirable,\nthough they have not as yet proved themselves to be useful, must have\ntheir sufficient end in themselves, whatever it turn out to be. And we are\nbrought to the same conclusion by considering the force of the epithet, by\nwhich the knowledge under consideration is popularly designated. It is\ncommon to speak of \u201c_liberal_ knowledge,\u201d of the \u201c_liberal_ arts and\nstudies,\u201d and of a \u201c_liberal_ education,\u201d as the especial characteristic\nor property of a University and of a gentleman; what is really meant by\nthe word? Now, first, in its grammatical sense it is opposed to _servile_;\nand by \u201cservile work\u201d is understood, as our catechisms inform us, bodily\nlabour, mechanical employment, and the like, in which the mind has little\nor no part. Parallel to such servile works are those arts, if they deserve\nthe name, of which the poet speaks,(15) which owe their origin and their\nmethod to hazard, not to skill; as, for instance, the practice and\noperations of an empiric. As far as this contrast may be considered as a\nguide into the meaning of the word, liberal education and liberal pursuits\nare exercises of mind, of reason, of reflection.\n\nBut we want something more for its explanation, for there are bodily\nexercises which are liberal, and mental exercises which are not so. For\ninstance, in ancient times the practitioners in medicine were commonly\nslaves; yet it was an art as intellectual in its nature, in spite of the\npretence, fraud, and quackery with which it might then, as now, be\ndebased, as it was heavenly in its aim. And so in like manner, we contrast\na liberal education with a commercial education or a professional; yet no\none can deny that commerce and the professions afford scope for the\nhighest and most diversified powers of mind. There is then a great variety\nof intellectual exercises, which are not technically called \u201cliberal;\u201d on\nthe other hand, I say, there are exercises of the body which do receive\nthat appellation. Such, for instance, was the pal\u00e6stra, in ancient times;\nsuch the Olympic games, in which strength and dexterity of body as well as\nof mind gained the prize. In Xenophon we read of the young Persian\nnobility being taught to ride on horseback and to speak the truth; both\nbeing among the accomplishments of a gentleman. War, too, however rough a\nprofession, has ever been accounted liberal, unless in cases when it\nbecomes heroic, which would introduce us to another subject.\n\nNow comparing these instances together, we shall have no difficulty in\ndetermining the principle of this apparent variation in the application of\nthe term which I am examining. Manly games, or games of skill, or military\nprowess, though bodily, are, it seems, accounted liberal; on the other\nhand, what is merely professional, though highly intellectual, nay, though\nliberal in comparison of trade and manual labour, is not simply called\nliberal, and mercantile occupations are not liberal at all. Why this\ndistinction? because that alone is liberal knowledge, which stands on its\nown pretensions, which is independent of sequel, expects no complement,\nrefuses to be _informed_ (as it is called) by any end, or absorbed into\nany art, in order duly to present itself to our contemplation. The most\nordinary pursuits have this specific character, if they are\nself-sufficient and complete; the highest lose it, when they minister to\nsomething beyond them. It is absurd to balance, in point of worth and\nimportance, a treatise on reducing fractures with a game of cricket or a\nfox-chase; yet of the two the bodily exercise has that quality which we\ncall \u201cliberal,\u201d and the intellectual has it not. And so of the learned\nprofessions altogether, considered merely as professions; although one of\nthem be the most popularly beneficial, and another the most politically\nimportant, and the third the most intimately divine of all human pursuits,\nyet the very greatness of their end, the health of the body, or of the\ncommonwealth, or of the soul, diminishes, not increases, their claim to\nthe appellation \u201cliberal,\u201d and that still more, if they are cut down to\nthe strict exigencies of that end. If, for instance, Theology, instead of\nbeing cultivated as a contemplation, be limited to the purposes of the\npulpit or be represented by the catechism, it loses,\u2014not its usefulness,\nnot its divine character, not its meritoriousness (rather it gains a claim\nupon these titles by such charitable condescension),\u2014but it does lose the\nparticular attribute which I am illustrating; just as a face worn by tears\nand fasting loses its beauty, or a labourer\u2019s hand loses its\ndelicateness;\u2014for Theology thus exercised is not simple knowledge, but\nrather is an art or a business making use of Theology. And thus it appears\nthat even what is supernatural need not be liberal, nor need a hero be a\ngentleman, for the plain reason that one idea is not another idea. And in\nlike manner the Baconian Philosophy, by using its physical sciences in the\nservice of man, does thereby transfer them from the order of Liberal\nPursuits to, I do not say the inferior, but the distinct class of the\nUseful. And, to take a different instance, hence again, as is evident,\nwhenever personal gain is the motive, still more distinctive an effect has\nit upon the character of a given pursuit; thus racing, which was a liberal\nexercise in Greece, forfeits its rank in times like these, so far as it is\nmade the occasion of gambling.\n\nAll that I have been now saying is summed up in a few characteristic words\nof the great Philosopher. \u201cOf possessions,\u201d he says, \u201cthose rather are\nuseful, which bear fruit; those _liberal, which tend to enjoyment_. By\nfruitful, I mean, which yield revenue; by enjoyable, where _nothing\naccrues of consequence beyond the using_.\u201d(16)\n\n\n\n5.\n\n\nDo not suppose, that in thus appealing to the ancients, I am throwing back\nthe world two thousand years, and fettering Philosophy with the reasonings\nof paganism. While the world lasts, will Aristotle\u2019s doctrine on these\nmatters last, for he is the oracle of nature and of truth. While we are\nmen, we cannot help, to a great extent, being Aristotelians, for the great\nMaster does but analyze the thoughts, feelings, views, and opinions of\nhuman kind. He has told us the meaning of our own words and ideas, before\nwe were born. In many subject-matters, to think correctly, is to think\nlike Aristotle, and we are his disciples whether we will or no, though we\nmay not know it. Now, as to the particular instance before us, the word\n\u201cliberal\u201d as applied to Knowledge and Education, expresses a specific\nidea, which ever has been, and ever will be, while the nature of man is\nthe same, just as the idea of the Beautiful is specific, or of the\nSublime, or of the Ridiculous, or of the Sordid. It is in the world now,\nit was in the world then; and, as in the case of the dogmas of faith, it\nis illustrated by a continuous historical tradition, and never was out of\nthe world, from the time it came into it. There have indeed been\ndifferences of opinion from time to time, as to what pursuits and what\narts came under that idea, but such differences are but an additional\nevidence of its reality. That idea must have a substance in it, which has\nmaintained its ground amid these conflicts and changes, which has ever\nserved as a standard to measure things withal, which has passed from mind\nto mind unchanged, when there was so much to colour, so much to influence\nany notion or thought whatever, which was not founded in our very nature.\nWere it a mere generalization, it would have varied with the subjects from\nwhich it was generalized; but though its subjects vary with the age, it\nvaries not itself. The pal\u00e6stra may seem a liberal exercise to Lycurgus,\nand illiberal to Seneca; coach-driving and prize-fighting may be\nrecognized in Elis, and be condemned in England; music may be despicable\nin the eyes of certain moderns, and be in the highest place with Aristotle\nand Plato,\u2014(and the case is the same in the particular application of the\nidea of Beauty, or of Goodness, or of Moral Virtue, there is a difference\nof tastes, a difference of judgments)\u2014still these variations imply,\ninstead of discrediting, the archetypal idea, which is but a previous\nhypothesis or condition, by means of which issue is joined between\ncontending opinions, and without which there would be nothing to dispute\nabout.\n\nI consider, then, that I am chargeable with no paradox, when I speak of a\nKnowledge which is its own end, when I call it liberal knowledge, or a\ngentleman\u2019s knowledge, when I educate for it, and make it the scope of a\nUniversity. And still less am I incurring such a charge, when I make this\nacquisition consist, not in Knowledge in a vague and ordinary sense, but\nin that Knowledge which I have especially called Philosophy or, in an\nextended sense of the word, Science; for whatever claims Knowledge has to\nbe considered as a good, these it has in a higher degree when it is viewed\nnot vaguely, not popularly, but precisely and transcendently as\nPhilosophy. Knowledge, I say, is then especially liberal, or sufficient\nfor itself, apart from every external and ulterior object, when and so far\nas it is philosophical, and this I proceed to show.\n\n\n\n6.\n\n\nNow bear with me, Gentlemen, if what I am about to say, has at first sight\na fanciful appearance. Philosophy, then, or Science, is related to\nKnowledge in this way:\u2014Knowledge is called by the name of Science or\nPhilosophy, when it is acted upon, informed, or if I may use a strong\nfigure, impregnated by Reason. Reason is the principle of that intrinsic\nfecundity of Knowledge, which, to those who possess it, is its especial\nvalue, and which dispenses with the necessity of their looking abroad for\nany end to rest upon external to itself. Knowledge, indeed, when thus\nexalted into a scientific form, is also power; not only is it excellent in\nitself, but whatever such excellence may be, it is something more, it has\na result beyond itself. Doubtless; but that is a further consideration,\nwith which I am not concerned. I only say that, prior to its being a\npower, it is a good; that it is, not only an instrument, but an end. I\nknow well it may resolve itself into an art, and terminate in a mechanical\nprocess, and in tangible fruit; but it also may fall back upon that Reason\nwhich informs it, and resolve itself into Philosophy. In one case it is\ncalled Useful Knowledge, in the other Liberal. The same person may\ncultivate it in both ways at once; but this again is a matter foreign to\nmy subject; here I do but say that there are two ways of using Knowledge,\nand in matter of fact those who use it in one way are not likely to use it\nin the other, or at least in a very limited measure. You see, then, here\nare two methods of Education; the end of the one is to be philosophical,\nof the other to be mechanical; the one rises towards general ideas, the\nother is exhausted upon what is particular and external. Let me not be\nthought to deny the necessity, or to decry the benefit, of such attention\nto what is particular and practical, as belongs to the useful or\nmechanical arts; life could not go on without them; we owe our daily\nwelfare to them; their exercise is the duty of the many, and we owe to the\nmany a debt of gratitude for fulfilling that duty. I only say that\nKnowledge, in proportion as it tends more and more to be particular,\nceases to be Knowledge. It is a question whether Knowledge can in any\nproper sense be predicated of the brute creation; without pretending to\nmetaphysical exactness of phraseology, which would be unsuitable to an\noccasion like this, I say, it seems to me improper to call that passive\nsensation, or perception of things, which brutes seem to possess, by the\nname of Knowledge. When I speak of Knowledge, I mean something\nintellectual, something which grasps what it perceives through the senses;\nsomething which takes a view of things; which sees more than the senses\nconvey; which reasons upon what it sees, and while it sees; which invests\nit with an idea. It expresses itself, not in a mere enunciation, but by an\nenthymeme: it is of the nature of science from the first, and in this\nconsists its dignity. The principle of real dignity in Knowledge, its\nworth, its desirableness, considered irrespectively of its results, is\nthis germ within it of a scientific or a philosophical process. This is\nhow it comes to be an end in itself; this is why it admits of being called\nLiberal. Not to know the relative disposition of things is the state of\nslaves or children; to have mapped out the Universe is the boast, or at\nleast the ambition, of Philosophy.\n\nMoreover, such knowledge is not a mere extrinsic or accidental advantage,\nwhich is ours to-day and another\u2019s to-morrow, which may be got up from a\nbook, and easily forgotten again, which we can command or communicate at\nour pleasure, which we can borrow for the occasion, carry about in our\nhand, and take into the market; it is an acquired illumination, it is a\nhabit, a personal possession, and an inward endowment. And this is the\nreason, why it is more correct, as well as more usual, to speak of a\nUniversity as a place of education, than of instruction, though, when\nknowledge is concerned, instruction would at first sight have seemed the\nmore appropriate word. We are instructed, for instance, in manual\nexercises, in the fine and useful arts, in trades, and in ways of\nbusiness; for these are methods, which have little or no effect upon the\nmind itself, are contained in rules committed to memory, to tradition, or\nto use, and bear upon an end external to themselves. But education is a\nhigher word; it implies an action upon our mental nature, and the\nformation of a character; it is something individual and permanent, and is\ncommonly spoken of in connexion with religion and virtue. When, then, we\nspeak of the communication of Knowledge as being Education, we thereby\nreally imply that that Knowledge is a state or condition of mind; and\nsince cultivation of mind is surely worth seeking for its own sake, we are\nthus brought once more to the conclusion, which the word \u201cLiberal\u201d and the\nword \u201cPhilosophy\u201d have already suggested, that there is a Knowledge, which\nis desirable, though nothing come of it, as being of itself a treasure,\nand a sufficient remuneration of years of labour.\n\n\n\n7.\n\n\nThis, then, is the answer which I am prepared to give to the question with\nwhich I opened this Discourse. Before going on to speak of the object of\nthe Church in taking up Philosophy, and the uses to which she puts it, I\nam prepared to maintain that Philosophy is its own end, and, as I\nconceive, I have now begun the proof of it. I am prepared to maintain that\nthere is a knowledge worth possessing for what it is, and not merely for\nwhat it does; and what minutes remain to me to-day I shall devote to the\nremoval of some portion of the indistinctness and confusion with which the\nsubject may in some minds be surrounded.\n\nIt may be objected then, that, when we profess to seek Knowledge for some\nend or other beyond itself, whatever it be, we speak intelligibly; but\nthat, whatever men may have said, however obstinately the idea may have\nkept its ground from age to age, still it is simply unmeaning to say that\nwe seek Knowledge for its own sake, and for nothing else; for that it ever\nleads to something beyond itself, which therefore is its end, and the\ncause why it is desirable;\u2014moreover, that this end is twofold, either of\nthis world or of the next; that all knowledge is cultivated either for\nsecular objects or for eternal; that if it is directed to secular objects,\nit is called Useful Knowledge, if to eternal, Religious or Christian\nKnowledge;\u2014in consequence, that if, as I have allowed, this Liberal\nKnowledge does not benefit the body or estate, it ought to benefit the\nsoul; but if the fact be really so, that it is neither a physical or a\nsecular good on the one hand, nor a moral good on the other, it cannot be\na good at all, and is not worth the trouble which is necessary for its\nacquisition.\n\nAnd then I may be reminded that the professors of this Liberal or\nPhilosophical Knowledge have themselves, in every age, recognized this\nexposition of the matter, and have submitted to the issue in which it\nterminates; for they have ever been attempting to make men virtuous; or,\nif not, at least have assumed that refinement of mind was virtue, and that\nthey themselves were the virtuous portion of mankind. This they have\nprofessed on the one hand; and on the other, they have utterly failed in\ntheir professions, so as ever to make themselves a proverb among men, and\na laughing-stock both to the grave and the dissipated portion of mankind,\nin consequence of them. Thus they have furnished against themselves both\nthe ground and the means of their own exposure, without any trouble at all\nto any one else. In a word, from the time that Athens was the University\nof the world, what has Philosophy taught men, but to promise without\npractising, and to aspire without attaining? What has the deep and lofty\nthought of its disciples ended in but eloquent words? Nay, what has its\nteaching ever meditated, when it was boldest in its remedies for human\nill, beyond charming us to sleep by its lessons, that we might feel\nnothing at all? like some melodious air, or rather like those strong and\ntransporting perfumes, which at first spread their sweetness over every\nthing they touch, but in a little while do but offend in proportion as\nthey once pleased us. Did Philosophy support Cicero under the disfavour of\nthe fickle populace, or nerve Seneca to oppose an imperial tyrant? It\nabandoned Brutus, as he sorrowfully confessed, in his greatest need, and\nit forced Cato, as his panegyrist strangely boasts, into the false\nposition of defying heaven. How few can be counted among its professors,\nwho, like Polemo, were thereby converted from a profligate course, or like\nAnaxagoras, thought the world well lost in exchange for its possession?\nThe philosopher in Rasselas taught a superhuman doctrine, and then\nsuccumbed without an effort to a trial of human affection.\n\n\u201cHe discoursed,\u201d we are told, \u201cwith great energy on the government of the\npassions. His look was venerable, his action graceful, his pronunciation\nclear, and his diction elegant. He showed, with great strength of\nsentiment and variety of illustration, that human nature is degraded and\ndebased, when the lower faculties predominate over the higher. He\ncommunicated the various precepts given, from time to time, for the\nconquest of passion, and displayed the happiness of those who had obtained\nthe important victory, after which man is no longer the slave of fear, nor\nthe fool of hope.\u2026 He enumerated many examples of heroes immoveable by\npain or pleasure, who looked with indifference on those modes or accidents\nto which the vulgar give the names of good and evil.\u201d\n\nRasselas in a few days found the philosopher in a room half darkened, with\nhis eyes misty, and his face pale. \u201cSir,\u201d said he, \u201cyou have come at a\ntime when all human friendship is useless; what I suffer cannot be\nremedied, what I have lost cannot be supplied. My daughter, my only\ndaughter, from whose tenderness I expected all the comforts of my age,\ndied last night of a fever.\u201d \u201cSir,\u201d said the prince, \u201cmortality is an\nevent by which a wise man can never be surprised; we know that death is\nalways near, and it should therefore always be expected.\u201d \u201cYoung man,\u201d\nanswered the philosopher, \u201cyou speak like one who has never felt the pangs\nof separation.\u201d \u201cHave you, then, forgot the precept,\u201d said Rasselas,\n\u201cwhich you so powerfully enforced?\u2026 consider that external things are\nnaturally variable, but truth and reason are always the same.\u201d \u201cWhat\ncomfort,\u201d said the mourner, \u201ccan truth and reason afford me? Of what\neffect are they now, but to tell me that my daughter will not be\nrestored?\u201d\n\n\n\n8.\n\n\nBetter, far better, to make no professions, you will say, than to cheat\nothers with what we are not, and to scandalize them with what we are. The\nsensualist, or the man of the world, at any rate is not the victim of fine\nwords, but pursues a reality and gains it. The Philosophy of Utility, you\nwill say, Gentlemen, has at least done its work; and I grant it,\u2014it aimed\nlow, but it has fulfilled its aim. If that man of great intellect who has\nbeen its Prophet in the conduct of life played false to his own\nprofessions, he was not bound by his philosophy to be true to his friend\nor faithful in his trust. Moral virtue was not the line in which he\nundertook to instruct men; and though, as the poet calls him, he were the\n\u201cmeanest\u201d of mankind, he was so in what may be called his private capacity\nand without any prejudice to the theory of induction. He had a right to be\nso, if he chose, for any thing that the Idols of the den or the theatre\nhad to say to the contrary. His mission was the increase of physical\nenjoyment and social comfort;(17) and most wonderfully, most awfully has\nhe fulfilled his conception and his design. Almost day by day have we\nfresh and fresh shoots, and buds, and blossoms, which are to ripen into\nfruit, on that magical tree of Knowledge which he planted, and to which\nnone of us perhaps, except the very poor, but owes, if not his present\nlife, at least his daily food, his health, and general well-being. He was\nthe divinely provided minister of temporal benefits to all of us so great,\nthat, whatever I am forced to think of him as a man, I have not the heart,\nfrom mere gratitude, to speak of him severely. And, in spite of the\ntendencies of his philosophy, which are, as we see at this day, to\ndepreciate, or to trample on Theology, he has himself, in his writings,\ngone out of his way, as if with a prophetic misgiving of those tendencies,\nto insist on it as the instrument of that beneficent Father,(18) who, when\nHe came on earth in visible form, took on Him first and most prominently\nthe office of assuaging the bodily wounds of human nature. And truly, like\nthe old mediciner in the tale, \u201che sat diligently at his work, and hummed,\nwith cheerful countenance, a pious song;\u201d and then in turn \u201cwent out\nsinging into the meadows so gaily, that those who had seen him from afar\nmight well have thought it was a youth gathering flowers for his beloved,\ninstead of an old physician gathering healing herbs in the morning\ndew.\u201d(19)\n\nAlas, that men, in the action of life or in their heart of hearts, are not\nwhat they seem to be in their moments of excitement, or in their trances\nor intoxications of genius,\u2014so good, so noble, so serene! Alas, that Bacon\ntoo in his own way should after all be but the fellow of those heathen\nphilosophers who in their disadvantages had some excuse for their\ninconsistency, and who surprise us rather in what they did say than in\nwhat they did not do! Alas, that he too, like Socrates or Seneca, must be\nstripped of his holy-day coat, which looks so fair, and should be but a\nmockery amid his most majestic gravity of phrase; and, for all his vast\nabilities, should, in the littleness of his own moral being, but typify\nthe intellectual narrowness of his school! However, granting all this,\nheroism after all was not his philosophy:\u2014I cannot deny he has abundantly\nachieved what he proposed. His is simply a Method whereby bodily\ndiscomforts and temporal wants are to be most effectually removed from the\ngreatest number; and already, before it has shown any signs of exhaustion,\nthe gifts of nature, in their most artificial shapes and luxurious\nprofusion and diversity, from all quarters of the earth, are, it is\nundeniable, by its means brought even to our doors, and we rejoice in\nthem.\n\n\n\n9.\n\n\nUseful Knowledge then, I grant, has done its work; and Liberal Knowledge\nas certainly has not done its work,\u2014that is, supposing, as the objectors\nassume, its direct end, like Religious Knowledge, is to make men better;\nbut this I will not for an instant allow, and, unless I allow it, those\nobjectors have said nothing to the purpose. I admit, rather I maintain,\nwhat they have been urging, for I consider Knowledge to have its end in\nitself. For all its friends, or its enemies, may say, I insist upon it,\nthat it is as real a mistake to burden it with virtue or religion as with\nthe mechanical arts. Its direct business is not to steel the soul against\ntemptation or to console it in affliction, any more than to set the loom\nin motion, or to direct the steam carriage; be it ever so much the means\nor the condition of both material and moral advancement, still, taken by\nand in itself, it as little mends our hearts as it improves our temporal\ncircumstances. And if its eulogists claim for it such a power, they commit\nthe very same kind of encroachment on a province not their own as the\npolitical economist who should maintain that his science educated him for\ncasuistry or diplomacy. Knowledge is one thing, virtue is another; good\nsense is not conscience, refinement is not humility, nor is largeness and\njustness of view faith. Philosophy, however enlightened, however profound,\ngives no command over the passions, no influential motives, no vivifying\nprinciples. Liberal Education makes not the Christian, not the Catholic,\nbut the gentleman. It is well to be a gentlemen, it is well to have a\ncultivated intellect, a delicate taste, a candid, equitable, dispassionate\nmind, a noble and courteous bearing in the conduct of life;\u2014these are the\nconnatural qualities of a large knowledge; they are the objects of a\nUniversity; I am advocating, I shall illustrate and insist upon them; but\nstill, I repeat, they are no guarantee for sanctity or even for\nconscientiousness, they may attach to the man of the world, to the\nprofligate, to the heartless,\u2014pleasant, alas, and attractive as he shows\nwhen decked out in them. Taken by themselves, they do but seem to be what\nthey are not; they look like virtue at a distance, but they are detected\nby close observers, and on the long run; and hence it is that they are\npopularly accused of pretence and hypocrisy, not, I repeat, from their own\nfault, but because their professors and their admirers persist in taking\nthem for what they are not, and are officious in arrogating for them a\npraise to which they have no claim. Quarry the granite rock with razors,\nor moor the vessel with a thread of silk; then may you hope with such keen\nand delicate instruments as human knowledge and human reason to contend\nagainst those giants, the passion and the pride of man.\n\nSurely we are not driven to theories of this kind, in order to vindicate\nthe value and dignity of Liberal Knowledge. Surely the real grounds on\nwhich its pretensions rest are not so very subtle or abstruse, so very\nstrange or improbable. Surely it is very intelligible to say, and that is\nwhat I say here, that Liberal Education, viewed in itself, is simply the\ncultivation of the intellect, as such, and its object is nothing more or\nless than intellectual excellence. Every thing has its own perfection, be\nit higher or lower in the scale of things; and the perfection of one is\nnot the perfection of another. Things animate, inanimate, visible,\ninvisible, all are good in their kind, and have a _best_ of themselves,\nwhich is an object of pursuit. Why do you take such pains with your garden\nor your park? You see to your walks and turf and shrubberies; to your\ntrees and drives; not as if you meant to make an orchard of the one, or\ncorn or pasture land of the other, but because there is a special beauty\nin all that is goodly in wood, water, plain, and slope, brought all\ntogether by art into one shape, and grouped into one whole. Your cities\nare beautiful, your palaces, your public buildings, your territorial\nmansions, your churches; and their beauty leads to nothing beyond itself.\nThere is a physical beauty and a moral: there is a beauty of person, there\nis a beauty of our moral being, which is natural virtue; and in like\nmanner there is a beauty, there is a perfection, of the intellect. There\nis an ideal perfection in these various subject-matters, towards which\nindividual instances are seen to rise, and which are the standards for all\ninstances whatever. The Greek divinities and demigods, as the statuary has\nmoulded them, with their symmetry of figure, and their high forehead and\ntheir regular features, are the perfection of physical beauty. The heroes,\nof whom history tells, Alexander, or C\u00e6sar, or Scipio, or Saladin, are the\nrepresentatives of that magnanimity or self-mastery which is the greatness\nof human nature. Christianity too has its heroes, and in the supernatural\norder, and we call them Saints. The artist puts before him beauty of\nfeature and form; the poet, beauty of mind; the preacher, the beauty of\ngrace: then intellect too, I repeat, has its beauty, and it has those who\naim at it. To open the mind, to correct it, to refine it, to enable it to\nknow, and to digest, master, rule, and use its knowledge, to give it power\nover its own faculties, application, flexibility, method, critical\nexactness, sagacity, resource, address, eloquent expression, is an object\nas intelligible (for here we are inquiring, not what the object of a\nLiberal Education is worth, nor what use the Church makes of it, but what\nit is in itself), I say, an object as intelligible as the cultivation of\nvirtue, while, at the same time, it is absolutely distinct from it.\n\n\n\n10.\n\n\nThis indeed is but a temporal object, and a transitory possession; but so\nare other things in themselves which we make much of and pursue. The\nmoralist will tell us that man, in all his functions, is but a flower\nwhich blossoms and fades, except so far as a higher principle breathes\nupon him, and makes him and what he is immortal. Body and mind are carried\non into an eternal state of being by the gifts of Divine Munificence; but\nat first they do but fail in a failing world; and if the powers of\nintellect decay, the powers of the body have decayed before them, and, as\nan Hospital or an Almshouse, though its end be ephemeral, may be\nsanctified to the service of religion, so surely may a University, even\nwere it nothing more than I have as yet described it. We attain to heaven\nby using this world well, though it is to pass away; we perfect our\nnature, not by undoing it, but by adding to it what is more than nature,\nand directing it towards aims higher than its own.\n\n\n\n\n                              Discourse VI.\n\n\nKnowledge Viewed In Relation To Learning.\n\n\n\n1.\n\n\nIt were well if the English, like the Greek language, possessed some\ndefinite word to express, simply and generally, intellectual proficiency\nor perfection, such as \u201chealth,\u201d as used with reference to the animal\nframe, and \u201cvirtue,\u201d with reference to our moral nature. I am not able to\nfind such a term;\u2014talent, ability, genius, belong distinctly to the raw\nmaterial, which is the subject-matter, not to that excellence which is the\nresult of exercise and training. When we turn, indeed, to the particular\nkinds of intellectual perfection, words are forthcoming for our purpose,\nas, for instance, judgment, taste, and skill; yet even these belong, for\nthe most part, to powers or habits bearing upon practice or upon art, and\nnot to any perfect condition of the intellect, considered in itself.\nWisdom, again, is certainly a more comprehensive word than any other, but\nit has a direct relation to conduct, and to human life. Knowledge, indeed,\nand Science express purely intellectual ideas, but still not a state or\nquality of the intellect; for knowledge, in its ordinary sense, is but one\nof its circumstances, denoting a possession or a habit; and science has\nbeen appropriated to the subject-matter of the intellect, instead of\nbelonging in English, as it ought to do, to the intellect itself. The\nconsequence is that, on an occasion like this, many words are necessary,\nin order, first, to bring out and convey what surely is no difficult idea\nin itself,\u2014that of the cultivation of the intellect as an end; next, in\norder to recommend what surely is no unreasonable object; and lastly, to\ndescribe and make the mind realize the particular perfection in which that\nobject consists. Every one knows practically what are the constituents of\nhealth or of virtue; and every one recognizes health and virtue as ends to\nbe pursued; it is otherwise with intellectual excellence, and this must be\nmy excuse, if I seem to any one to be bestowing a good deal of labour on a\npreliminary matter.\n\nIn default of a recognized term, I have called the perfection or virtue of\nthe intellect by the name of philosophy, philosophical knowledge,\nenlargement of mind, or illumination; terms which are not uncommonly given\nto it by writers of this day: but, whatever name we bestow on it, it is, I\nbelieve, as a matter of history, the business of a University to make this\nintellectual culture its direct scope, or to employ itself in the\neducation of the intellect,\u2014just as the work of a Hospital lies in healing\nthe sick or wounded, of a Riding or Fencing School, or of a Gymnasium, in\nexercising the limbs, of an Almshouse, in aiding and solacing the old, of\nan Orphanage, in protecting innocence, of a Penitentiary, in restoring the\nguilty. I say, a University, taken in its bare idea, and before we view it\nas an instrument of the Church, has this object and this mission; it\ncontemplates neither moral impression nor mechanical production; it\nprofesses to exercise the mind neither in art nor in duty; its function is\nintellectual culture; here it may leave its scholars, and it has done its\nwork when it has done as much as this. It educates the intellect to reason\nwell in all matters, to reach out towards truth, and to grasp it.\n\n\n\n2.\n\n\nThis, I said in my foregoing Discourse, was the object of a University,\nviewed in itself, and apart from the Catholic Church, or from the State,\nor from any other power which may use it; and I illustrated this in\nvarious ways. I said that the intellect must have an excellence of its\nown, for there was nothing which had not its specific good; that the word\n\u201ceducate\u201d would not be used of intellectual culture, as it is used, had\nnot the intellect had an end of its own; that, had it not such an end,\nthere would be no meaning in calling certain intellectual exercises\n\u201cliberal,\u201d in contrast with \u201cuseful,\u201d as is commonly done; that the very\nnotion of a philosophical temper implied it, for it threw us back upon\nresearch and system as ends in themselves, distinct from effects and works\nof any kind; that a philosophical scheme of knowledge, or system of\nsciences, could not, from the nature of the case, issue in any one\ndefinite art or pursuit, as its end; and that, on the other hand, the\ndiscovery and contemplation of truth, to which research and systematizing\nled, were surely sufficient ends, though nothing beyond them were added,\nand that they had ever been accounted sufficient by mankind.\n\nHere then I take up the subject; and, having determined that the\ncultivation of the intellect is an end distinct and sufficient in itself,\nand that, so far as words go it is an enlargement or illumination, I\nproceed to inquire what this mental breadth, or power, or light, or\nphilosophy consists in. A Hospital heals a broken limb or cures a fever:\nwhat does an Institution effect, which professes the health, not of the\nbody, not of the soul, but of the intellect? What is this good, which in\nformer times, as well as our own, has been found worth the notice, the\nappropriation, of the Catholic Church?\n\nI have then to investigate, in the Discourses which follow, those\nqualities and characteristics of the intellect in which its cultivation\nissues or rather consists; and, with a view of assisting myself in this\nundertaking, I shall recur to certain questions which have already been\ntouched upon. These questions are three: viz. the relation of intellectual\nculture, first, to _mere_ knowledge; secondly, to _professional_\nknowledge; and thirdly, to _religious_ knowledge. In other words, are\n_acquirements_ and _attainments_ the scope of a University Education? or\n_expertness in particular arts and pursuits_? or _moral and religious\nproficiency_? or something besides these three? These questions I shall\nexamine in succession, with the purpose I have mentioned; and I hope to be\nexcused, if, in this anxious undertaking, I am led to repeat what, either\nin these Discourses or elsewhere, I have already put upon paper. And\nfirst, of _Mere Knowledge_, or Learning, and its connexion with\nintellectual illumination or Philosophy.\n\n\n\n3.\n\n\nI suppose the _prim\u00e2-facie_ view which the public at large would take of a\nUniversity, considering it as a place of Education, is nothing more or\nless than a place for acquiring a great deal of knowledge on a great many\nsubjects. Memory is one of the first developed of the mental faculties; a\nboy\u2019s business when he goes to school is to learn, that is, to store up\nthings in his memory. For some years his intellect is little more than an\ninstrument for taking in facts, or a receptacle for storing them: he\nwelcomes them as fast as they come to him; he lives on what is without; he\nhas his eyes ever about him; he has a lively susceptibility of\nimpressions; he imbibes information of every kind; and little does he make\nhis own in a true sense of the word, living rather upon his neighbours all\naround him. He has opinions, religious, political, and literary, and, for\na boy, is very positive in them and sure about them; but he gets them from\nhis schoolfellows, or his masters, or his parents, as the case may be.\nSuch as he is in his other relations, such also is he in his school\nexercises; his mind is observant, sharp, ready, retentive; he is almost\npassive in the acquisition of knowledge. I say this in no disparagement of\nthe idea of a clever boy. Geography, chronology, history, language,\nnatural history, he heaps up the matter of these studies as treasures for\na future day. It is the seven years of plenty with him: he gathers in by\nhandfuls, like the Egyptians, without counting; and though, as time goes\non, there is exercise for his argumentative powers in the Elements of\nMathematics, and for his taste in the Poets and Orators, still, while at\nschool, or at least, till quite the last years of his time, he acquires,\nand little more; and when he is leaving for the University, he is mainly\nthe creature of foreign influences and circumstances, and made up of\naccidents, homogeneous or not, as the case may be. Moreover, the moral\nhabits, which are a boy\u2019s praise, encourage and assist this result; that\nis, diligence, assiduity, regularity, despatch, persevering application;\nfor these are the direct conditions of acquisition, and naturally lead to\nit. Acquirements, again, are emphatically producible, and at a moment;\nthey are a something to show, both for master and scholar; an audience,\neven though ignorant themselves of the subjects of an examination, can\ncomprehend when questions are answered and when they are not. Here again\nis a reason why mental culture is in the minds of men identified with the\nacquisition of knowledge.\n\nThe same notion possesses the public mind, when it passes on from the\nthought of a school to that of a University: and with the best of reasons\nso far as this, that there is no true culture without acquirements, and\nthat philosophy presupposes knowledge. It requires a great deal of\nreading, or a wide range of information, to warrant us in putting forth\nour opinions on any serious subject; and without such learning the most\noriginal mind may be able indeed to dazzle, to amuse, to refute, to\nperplex, but not to come to any useful result or any trustworthy\nconclusion. There are indeed persons who profess a different view of the\nmatter, and even act upon it. Every now and then you will find a person of\nvigorous or fertile mind, who relies upon his own resources, despises all\nformer authors, and gives the world, with the utmost fearlessness, his\nviews upon religion, or history, or any other popular subject. And his\nworks may sell for a while; he may get a name in his day; but this will be\nall. His readers are sure to find on the long run that his doctrines are\nmere theories, and not the expression of facts, that they are chaff\ninstead of bread, and then his popularity drops as suddenly as it rose.\n\nKnowledge then is the indispensable condition of expansion of mind, and\nthe instrument of attaining to it; this cannot be denied, it is ever to be\ninsisted on; I begin with it as a first principle; however, the very truth\nof it carries men too far, and confirms to them the notion that it is the\nwhole of the matter. A narrow mind is thought to be that which contains\nlittle knowledge; and an enlarged mind, that which holds a great deal; and\nwhat seems to put the matter beyond dispute is, the fact of the great\nnumber of studies which are pursued in a University, by its very\nprofession. Lectures are given on every kind of subject; examinations are\nheld; prizes awarded. There are moral, metaphysical, physical Professors;\nProfessors of languages, of history, of mathematics, of experimental\nscience. Lists of questions are published, wonderful for their range and\ndepth, variety and difficulty; treatises are written, which carry upon\ntheir very face the evidence of extensive reading or multifarious\ninformation; what then is wanting for mental culture to a person of large\nreading and scientific attainments? what is grasp of mind but acquirement?\nwhere shall philosophical repose be found, but in the consciousness and\nenjoyment of large intellectual possessions?\n\nAnd yet this notion is, I conceive, a mistake, and my present business is\nto show that it is one, and that the end of a Liberal Education is not\nmere knowledge, or knowledge considered in its _matter_; and I shall best\nattain my object, by actually setting down some cases, which will be\ngenerally granted to be instances of the process of enlightenment or\nenlargement of mind, and others which are not, and thus, by the\ncomparison, you will be able to judge for yourselves, Gentlemen, whether\nKnowledge, that is, acquirement, is after all the real principle of the\nenlargement, or whether that principle is not rather something beyond it.\n\n\n\n4.\n\n\nFor instance,(20) let a person, whose experience has hitherto been\nconfined to the more calm and unpretending scenery of these islands,\nwhether here or in England, go for the first time into parts where\nphysical nature puts on her wilder and more awful forms, whether at home\nor abroad, as into mountainous districts; or let one, who has ever lived\nin a quiet village, go for the first time to a great metropolis,\u2014then I\nsuppose he will have a sensation which perhaps he never had before. He has\na feeling not in addition or increase of former feelings, but of something\ndifferent in its nature. He will perhaps be borne forward, and find for a\ntime that he has lost his bearings. He has made a certain progress, and he\nhas a consciousness of mental enlargement; he does not stand where he did,\nhe has a new centre, and a range of thoughts to which he was before a\nstranger.\n\nAgain, the view of the heavens which the telescope opens upon us, if\nallowed to fill and possess the mind, may almost whirl it round and make\nit dizzy. It brings in a flood of ideas, and is rightly called an\nintellectual enlargement, whatever is meant by the term.\n\nAnd so again, the sight of beasts of prey and other foreign animals, their\nstrangeness, the originality (if I may use the term) of their forms and\ngestures and habits and their variety and independence of each other,\nthrow us out of ourselves into another creation, and as if under another\nCreator, if I may so express the temptation which may come on the mind. We\nseem to have new faculties, or a new exercise for our faculties, by this\naddition to our knowledge; like a prisoner, who, having been accustomed to\nwear manacles or fetters, suddenly finds his arms and legs free.\n\nHence Physical Science generally, in all its departments, as bringing\nbefore us the exuberant riches and resources, yet the orderly course, of\nthe Universe, elevates and excites the student, and at first, I may say,\nalmost takes away his breath, while in time it exercises a tranquilizing\ninfluence upon him.\n\nAgain, the study of history is said to enlarge and enlighten the mind, and\nwhy? because, as I conceive, it gives it a power of judging of passing\nevents, and of all events, and a conscious superiority over them, which\nbefore it did not possess.\n\nAnd in like manner, what is called seeing the world, entering into active\nlife, going into society, travelling, gaining acquaintance with the\nvarious classes of the community, coming into contact with the principles\nand modes of thought of various parties, interests, and races, their\nviews, aims, habits and manners, their religious creeds and forms of\nworship,\u2014gaining experience how various yet how alike men are, how\nlow-minded, how bad, how opposed, yet how confident in their opinions; all\nthis exerts a perceptible influence upon the mind, which it is impossible\nto mistake, be it good or be it bad, and is popularly called its\nenlargement.\n\nAnd then again, the first time the mind comes across the arguments and\nspeculations of unbelievers, and feels what a novel light they cast upon\nwhat he has hitherto accounted sacred; and still more, if it gives in to\nthem and embraces them, and throws off as so much prejudice what it has\nhitherto held, and, as if waking from a dream, begins to realize to its\nimagination that there is now no such thing as law and the transgression\nof law, that sin is a phantom, and punishment a bugbear, that it is free\nto sin, free to enjoy the world and the flesh; and still further, when it\ndoes enjoy them, and reflects that it may think and hold just what it\nwill, that \u201cthe world is all before it where to choose,\u201d and what system\nto build up as its own private persuasion; when this torrent of wilful\nthoughts rushes over and inundates it, who will deny that the fruit of the\ntree of knowledge, or what the mind takes for knowledge, has made it one\nof the gods, with a sense of expansion and elevation,\u2014an intoxication in\nreality, still, so far as the subjective state of the mind goes, an\nillumination? Hence the fanaticism of individuals or nations, who suddenly\ncast off their Maker. Their eyes are opened; and, like the\njudgment-stricken king in the Tragedy, they see two suns, and a magic\nuniverse, out of which they look back upon their former state of faith and\ninnocence with a sort of contempt and indignation, as if they were then\nbut fools, and the dupes of imposture.\n\nOn the other hand, Religion has its own enlargement, and an enlargement,\nnot of tumult, but of peace. It is often remarked of uneducated persons,\nwho have hitherto thought little of the unseen world, that, on their\nturning to God, looking into themselves, regulating their hearts,\nreforming their conduct, and meditating on death and judgment, heaven and\nhell, they seem to become, in point of intellect, different beings from\nwhat they were. Before, they took things as they came, and thought no more\nof one thing than another. But now every event has a meaning; they have\ntheir own estimate of whatever happens to them; they are mindful of times\nand seasons, and compare the present with the past; and the world, no\nlonger dull, monotonous, unprofitable, and hopeless, is a various and\ncomplicated drama, with parts and an object, and an awful moral.\n\n\n\n5.\n\n\nNow from these instances, to which many more might be added, it is plain,\nfirst, that the communication of knowledge certainly is either a condition\nor the means of that sense of enlargement or enlightenment, of which at\nthis day we hear so much in certain quarters: this cannot be denied; but\nnext, it is equally plain, that such communication is not the whole of the\nprocess. The enlargement consists, not merely in the passive reception\ninto the mind of a number of ideas hitherto unknown to it, but in the\nmind\u2019s energetic and simultaneous action upon and towards and among those\nnew ideas, which are rushing in upon it. It is the action of a formative\npower, reducing to order and meaning the matter of our acquirements; it is\na making the objects of our knowledge subjectively our own, or, to use a\nfamiliar word, it is a digestion of what we receive, into the substance of\nour previous state of thought; and without this no enlargement is said to\nfollow. There is no enlargement, unless there be a comparison of ideas one\nwith another, as they come before the mind, and a systematizing of them.\nWe feel our minds to be growing and expanding _then_, when we not only\nlearn, but refer what we learn to what we know already. It is not the mere\naddition to our knowledge that is the illumination; but the locomotion,\nthe movement onwards, of that mental centre, to which both what we know,\nand what we are learning, the accumulating mass of our acquirements,\ngravitates. And therefore a truly great intellect, and recognized to be\nsuch by the common opinion of mankind, such as the intellect of Aristotle,\nor of St. Thomas, or of Newton, or of Goethe, (I purposely take instances\nwithin and without the Catholic pale, when I would speak of the intellect\nas such,) is one which takes a connected view of old and new, past and\npresent, far and near, and which has an insight into the influence of all\nthese one on another; without which there is no whole, and no centre. It\npossesses the knowledge, not only of things, but also of their mutual and\ntrue relations; knowledge, not merely considered as acquirement, but as\nphilosophy.\n\nAccordingly, when this analytical, distributive, harmonizing process is\naway, the mind experiences no enlargement, and is not reckoned as\nenlightened or comprehensive, whatever it may add to its knowledge. For\ninstance, a great memory, as I have already said, does not make a\nphilosopher, any more than a dictionary can be called a grammar. There are\nmen who embrace in their minds a vast multitude of ideas, but with little\nsensibility about their real relations towards each other. These may be\nantiquarians, annalists, naturalists; they may be learned in the law; they\nmay be versed in statistics; they are most useful in their own place; I\nshould shrink from speaking disrespectfully of them; still, there is\nnothing in such attainments to guarantee the absence of narrowness of\nmind. If they are nothing more than well-read men, or men of information,\nthey have not what specially deserves the name of culture of mind, or\nfulfils the type of Liberal Education.\n\nIn like manner, we sometimes fall in with persons who have seen much of\nthe world, and of the men who, in their day, have played a conspicuous\npart in it, but who generalize nothing, and have no observation, in the\ntrue sense of the word. They abound in information in detail, curious and\nentertaining, about men and things; and, having lived under the influence\nof no very clear or settled principles, religious or political, they speak\nof every one and every thing, only as so many phenomena, which are\ncomplete in themselves, and lead to nothing, not discussing them, or\nteaching any truth, or instructing the hearer, but simply talking. No one\nwould say that these persons, well informed as they are, had attained to\nany great culture of intellect or to philosophy.\n\nThe case is the same still more strikingly where the persons in question\nare beyond dispute men of inferior powers and deficient education. Perhaps\nthey have been much in foreign countries, and they receive, in a passive,\notiose, unfruitful way, the various facts which are forced upon them\nthere. Seafaring men, for example, range from one end of the earth to the\nother; but the multiplicity of external objects, which they have\nencountered, forms no symmetrical and consistent picture upon their\nimagination; they see the tapestry of human life, as it were on the wrong\nside, and it tells no story. They sleep, and they rise up, and they find\nthemselves, now in Europe, now in Asia; they see visions of great cities\nand wild regions; they are in the marts of commerce, or amid the islands\nof the South; they gaze on Pompey\u2019s Pillar, or on the Andes; and nothing\nwhich meets them carries them forward or backward, to any idea beyond\nitself. Nothing has a drift or relation; nothing has a history or a\npromise. Every thing stands by itself, and comes and goes in its turn,\nlike the shifting scenes of a show, which leave the spectator where he\nwas. Perhaps you are near such a man on a particular occasion, and expect\nhim to be shocked or perplexed at something which occurs; but one thing is\nmuch the same to him as another, or, if he is perplexed, it is as not\nknowing what to say, whether it is right to admire, or to ridicule, or to\ndisapprove, while conscious that some expression of opinion is expected\nfrom him; for in fact he has no standard of judgment at all, and no\nlandmarks to guide him to a conclusion. Such is mere acquisition, and, I\nrepeat, no one would dream of calling it philosophy.\n\n\n\n6.\n\n\nInstances, such as these, confirm, by the contrast, the conclusion I have\nalready drawn from those which preceded them. That only is true\nenlargement of mind which is the power of viewing many things at once as\none whole, of referring them severally to their true place in the\nuniversal system, of understanding their respective values, and\ndetermining their mutual dependence. Thus is that form of Universal\nKnowledge, of which I have on a former occasion spoken, set up in the\nindividual intellect, and constitutes its perfection. Possessed of this\nreal illumination, the mind never views any part of the extended\nsubject-matter of Knowledge without recollecting that it is but a part, or\nwithout the associations which spring from this recollection. It makes\nevery thing in some sort lead to every thing else; it would communicate\nthe image of the whole to every separate portion, till that whole becomes\nin imagination like a spirit, every where pervading and penetrating its\ncomponent parts, and giving them one definite meaning. Just as our bodily\norgans, when mentioned, recall their function in the body, as the word\n\u201ccreation\u201d suggests the Creator, and \u201csubjects\u201d a sovereign, so, in the\nmind of the Philosopher, as we are abstractedly conceiving of him, the\nelements of the physical and moral world, sciences, arts, pursuits, ranks,\noffices, events, opinions, individualities, are all viewed as one, with\ncorrelative functions, and as gradually by successive combinations\nconverging, one and all, to the true centre.\n\nTo have even a portion of this illuminative reason and true philosophy is\nthe highest state to which nature can aspire, in the way of intellect; it\nputs the mind above the influences of chance and necessity, above anxiety,\nsuspense, unsettlement, and superstition, which is the lot of the many.\nMen, whose minds are possessed with some one object, take exaggerated\nviews of its importance, are feverish in the pursuit of it, make it the\nmeasure of things which are utterly foreign to it, and are startled and\ndespond if it happens to fail them. They are ever in alarm or in\ntransport. Those on the other hand who have no object or principle\nwhatever to hold by, lose their way, every step they take. They are thrown\nout, and do not know what to think or say, at every fresh juncture; they\nhave no view of persons, or occurrences, or facts, which come suddenly\nupon them, and they hang upon the opinion of others, for want of internal\nresources. But the intellect, which has been disciplined to the perfection\nof its powers, which knows, and thinks while it knows, which has learned\nto leaven the dense mass of facts and events with the elastic force of\nreason, such an intellect cannot be partial, cannot be exclusive, cannot\nbe impetuous, cannot be at a loss, cannot but be patient, collected, and\nmajestically calm, because it discerns the end in every beginning, the\norigin in every end, the law in every interruption, the limit in each\ndelay; because it ever knows where it stands, and how its path lies from\none point to another. It is the \u03c4\u03b5\u03c4\u03c1\u03ac\u03b3\u03c9\u03bd\u03bf\u03c2 of the Peripatetic, and has the\n\u201cnil admirari\u201d of the Stoic,\u2014\n\nFelix qui potuit rerum cognoscere causas,\nAtque metus omnes, et inexorabile fatum\nSubjecit pedibus, strepitumque Acherontis avari.\n\nThere are men who, when in difficulties, originate at the moment vast\nideas or dazzling projects; who, under the influence of excitement, are\nable to cast a light, almost as if from inspiration, on a subject or\ncourse of action which comes before them; who have a sudden presence of\nmind equal to any emergency, rising with the occasion, and an undaunted\nmagnanimous bearing, and an energy and keenness which is but made intense\nby opposition. This is genius, this is heroism; it is the exhibition of a\nnatural gift, which no culture can teach, at which no Institution can aim;\nhere, on the contrary, we are concerned, not with mere nature, but with\ntraining and teaching. That perfection of the Intellect, which is the\nresult of Education, and its _beau ideal_, to be imparted to individuals\nin their respective measures, is the clear, calm, accurate vision and\ncomprehension of all things, as far as the finite mind can embrace them,\neach in its place, and with its own characteristics upon it. It is almost\nprophetic from its knowledge of history; it is almost heart-searching from\nits knowledge of human nature; it has almost supernatural charity from its\nfreedom from littleness and prejudice; it has almost the repose of faith,\nbecause nothing can startle it; it has almost the beauty and harmony of\nheavenly contemplation, so intimate is it with the eternal order of things\nand the music of the spheres.\n\n\n\n7.\n\n\nAnd now, if I may take for granted that the true and adequate end of\nintellectual training and of a University is not Learning or Acquirement,\nbut rather, is Thought or Reason exercised upon Knowledge, or what may be\ncalled Philosophy, I shall be in a position to explain the various\nmistakes which at the present day beset the subject of University\nEducation.\n\nI say then, if we would improve the intellect, first of all, we must\nascend; we cannot gain real knowledge on a level; we must generalize, we\nmust reduce to method, we must have a grasp of principles, and group and\nshape our acquisitions by means of them. It matters not whether our field\nof operation be wide or limited; in every case, to command it, is to mount\nabove it. Who has not felt the irritation of mind and impatience created\nby a deep, rich country, visited for the first time, with winding lanes,\nand high hedges, and green steeps, and tangled woods, and every thing\nsmiling indeed, but in a maze? The same feeling comes upon us in a strange\ncity, when we have no map of its streets. Hence you hear of practised\ntravellers, when they first come into a place, mounting some high hill or\nchurch tower, by way of reconnoitring its neighbourhood. In like manner,\nyou must be above your knowledge, not under it, or it will oppress you;\nand the more you have of it, the greater will be the load. The learning of\na Salmasius or a Burman, unless you are its master, will be your tyrant.\n\u201cImperat aut servit;\u201d if you can wield it with a strong arm, it is a great\nweapon; otherwise,\n\nVis consili expers\nMole ruit su\u00e2.\n\nYou will be overwhelmed, like Tarpeia, by the heavy wealth which you have\nexacted from tributary generations.\n\nInstances abound; there are authors who are as pointless as they are\ninexhaustible in their literary resources. They measure knowledge by bulk,\nas it lies in the rude block, without symmetry, without design. How many\ncommentators are there on the Classics, how many on Holy Scripture, from\nwhom we rise up, wondering at the learning which has passed before us, and\nwondering why it passed! How many writers are there of Ecclesiastical\nHistory, such as Mosheim or Du Pin, who, breaking up their subject into\ndetails, destroy its life, and defraud us of the whole by their anxiety\nabout the parts! The Sermons, again, of the English Divines in the\nseventeenth century, how often are they mere repertories of miscellaneous\nand officious learning! Of course Catholics also may read without\nthinking; and in their case, equally as with Protestants, it holds good,\nthat such knowledge is unworthy of the name, knowledge which they have not\nthought through, and thought out. Such readers are only possessed by their\nknowledge, not possessed of it; nay, in matter of fact they are often even\ncarried away by it, without any volition of their own. Recollect, the\nMemory can tyrannize, as well as the Imagination. Derangement, I believe,\nhas been considered as a loss of control over the sequence of ideas. The\nmind, once set in motion, is henceforth deprived of the power of\ninitiation, and becomes the victim of a train of associations, one thought\nsuggesting another, in the way of cause and effect, as if by a mechanical\nprocess, or some physical necessity. No one, who has had experience of men\nof studious habits, but must recognize the existence of a parallel\nphenomenon in the case of those who have over-stimulated the Memory. In\nsuch persons Reason acts almost as feebly and as impotently as in the\nmadman; once fairly started on any subject whatever, they have no power of\nself-control; they passively endure the succession of impulses which are\nevolved out of the original exciting cause; they are passed on from one\nidea to another and go steadily forward, plodding along one line of\nthought in spite of the amplest concessions of the hearer, or wandering\nfrom it in endless digression in spite of his remonstrances. Now, if, as\nis very certain, no one would envy the madman the glow and originality of\nhis conceptions, why must we extol the cultivation of that intellect,\nwhich is the prey, not indeed of barren fancies but of barren facts, of\nrandom intrusions from without, though not of morbid imaginations from\nwithin? And in thus speaking, I am not denying that a strong and ready\nmemory is in itself a real treasure; I am not disparaging a well-stored\nmind, though it be nothing besides, provided it be sober, any more than I\nwould despise a bookseller\u2019s shop:\u2014it is of great value to others, even\nwhen not so to the owner. Nor am I banishing, far from it, the possessors\nof deep and multifarious learning from my ideal University; they adorn it\nin the eyes of men; I do but say that they constitute no type of the\nresults at which it aims; that it is no great gain to the intellect to\nhave enlarged the memory at the expense of faculties which are\nindisputably higher.\n\n\n\n8.\n\n\nNor indeed am I supposing that there is any great danger, at least in this\nday, of over-education; the danger is on the other side. I will tell you,\nGentlemen, what has been the practical error of the last twenty years,\u2014not\nto load the memory of the student with a mass of undigested knowledge, but\nto force upon him so much that he has rejected all. It has been the error\nof distracting and enfeebling the mind by an unmeaning profusion of\nsubjects; of implying that a smattering in a dozen branches of study is\nnot shallowness, which it really is, but enlargement, which it is not; of\nconsidering an acquaintance with the learned names of things and persons,\nand the possession of clever duodecimos, and attendance on eloquent\nlecturers, and membership with scientific institutions, and the sight of\nthe experiments of a platform and the specimens of a museum, that all this\nwas not dissipation of mind, but progress. All things now are to be\nlearned at once, not first one thing, then another, not one well, but many\nbadly. Learning is to be without exertion, without attention, without\ntoil; without grounding, without advance, without finishing. There is to\nbe nothing individual in it; and this, forsooth, is the wonder of the age.\nWhat the steam engine does with matter, the printing press is to do with\nmind; it is to act mechanically, and the population is to be passively,\nalmost unconsciously enlightened, by the mere multiplication and\ndissemination of volumes. Whether it be the school boy, or the school\ngirl, or the youth at college, or the mechanic in the town, or the\npolitician in the senate, all have been the victims in one way or other of\nthis most preposterous and pernicious of delusions. Wise men have lifted\nup their voices in vain; and at length, lest their own institutions should\nbe outshone and should disappear in the folly of the hour, they have been\nobliged, as far as they could with a good conscience, to humour a spirit\nwhich they could not withstand, and make temporizing concessions at which\nthey could not but inwardly smile.\n\nIt must not be supposed that, because I so speak, therefore I have some\nsort of fear of the education of the people: on the contrary, the more\neducation they have, the better, so that it is really education. Nor am I\nan enemy to the cheap publication of scientific and literary works, which\nis now in vogue: on the contrary, I consider it a great advantage,\nconvenience, and gain; that is, to those to whom education has given a\ncapacity for using them. Further, I consider such innocent recreations as\nscience and literature are able to furnish will be a very fit occupation\nof the thoughts and the leisure of young persons, and may be made the\nmeans of keeping them from bad employments and bad companions. Moreover,\nas to that superficial acquaintance with chemistry, and geology, and\nastronomy, and political economy, and modern history, and biography, and\nother branches of knowledge, which periodical literature and occasional\nlectures and scientific institutions diffuse through the community, I\nthink it a graceful accomplishment, and a suitable, nay, in this day a\nnecessary accomplishment, in the case of educated men. Nor, lastly, am I\ndisparaging or discouraging the thorough acquisition of any one of these\nstudies, or denying that, as far as it goes, such thorough acquisition is\na real education of the mind. All I say is, call things by their right\nnames, and do not confuse together ideas which are essentially different.\nA thorough knowledge of one science and a superficial acquaintance with\nmany, are not the same thing; a smattering of a hundred things or a memory\nfor detail, is not a philosophical or comprehensive view. Recreations are\nnot education; accomplishments are not education. Do not say, the people\nmust be educated, when, after all, you only mean, amused, refreshed,\nsoothed, put into good spirits and good humour, or kept from vicious\nexcesses. I do not say that such amusements, such occupations of mind, are\nnot a great gain; but they are not education. You may as well call drawing\nand fencing education, as a general knowledge of botany or conchology.\nStuffing birds or playing stringed instruments is an elegant pastime, and\na resource to the idle, but it is not education; it does not form or\ncultivate the intellect. Education is a high word; it is the preparation\nfor knowledge, and it is the imparting of knowledge in proportion to that\npreparation. We require intellectual eyes to know withal, as bodily eyes\nfor sight. We need both objects and organs intellectual; we cannot gain\nthem without setting about it; we cannot gain them in our sleep, or by\nhap-hazard. The best telescope does not dispense with eyes; the printing\npress or the lecture room will assist us greatly, but we must be true to\nourselves, we must be parties in the work. A University is, according to\nthe usual designation, an Alma Mater, knowing her children one by one, not\na foundry, or a mint, or a treadmill.\n\n\n\n9.\n\n\nI protest to you, Gentlemen, that if I had to choose between a so-called\nUniversity, which dispensed with residence and tutorial superintendence,\nand gave its degrees to any person who passed an examination in a wide\nrange of subjects, and a University which had no professors or\nexaminations at all, but merely brought a number of young men together for\nthree or four years, and then sent them away as the University of Oxford\nis said to have done some sixty years since, if I were asked which of\nthese two methods was the better discipline of the intellect,\u2014mind, I do\nnot say which is _morally_ the better, for it is plain that compulsory\nstudy must be a good and idleness an intolerable mischief,\u2014but if I must\ndetermine which of the two courses was the more successful in training,\nmoulding, enlarging the mind, which sent out men the more fitted for their\nsecular duties, which produced better public men, men of the world, men\nwhose names would descend to posterity, I have no hesitation in giving the\npreference to that University which did nothing, over that which exacted\nof its members an acquaintance with every science under the sun. And,\nparadox as this may seem, still if results be the test of systems, the\ninfluence of the public schools and colleges of England, in the course of\nthe last century, at least will bear out one side of the contrast as I\nhave drawn it. What would come, on the other hand, of the ideal systems of\neducation which have fascinated the imagination of this age, could they\never take effect, and whether they would not produce a generation\nfrivolous, narrow-minded, and resourceless, intellectually considered, is\na fair subject for debate; but so far is certain, that the Universities\nand scholastic establishments, to which I refer, and which did little more\nthan bring together first boys and then youths in large numbers, these\ninstitutions, with miserable deformities on the side of morals, with a\nhollow profession of Christianity, and a heathen code of ethics,\u2014I say, at\nleast they can boast of a succession of heroes and statesmen, of literary\nmen and philosophers, of men conspicuous for great natural virtues, for\nhabits of business, for knowledge of life, for practical judgment, for\ncultivated tastes, for accomplishments, who have made England what it\nis,\u2014able to subdue the earth, able to domineer over Catholics.\n\nHow is this to be explained? I suppose as follows: When a multitude of\nyoung men, keen, open-hearted, sympathetic, and observant, as young men\nare, come together and freely mix with each other, they are sure to learn\none from another, even if there be no one to teach them; the conversation\nof all is a series of lectures to each, and they gain for themselves new\nideas and views, fresh matter of thought, and distinct principles for\njudging and acting, day by day. An infant has to learn the meaning of the\ninformation which its senses convey to it, and this seems to be its\nemployment. It fancies all that the eye presents to it to be close to it,\ntill it actually learns the contrary, and thus by practice does it\nascertain the relations and uses of those first elements of knowledge\nwhich are necessary for its animal existence. A parallel teaching is\nnecessary for our social being, and it is secured by a large school or a\ncollege; and this effect may be fairly called in its own department an\nenlargement of mind. It is seeing the world on a small field with little\ntrouble; for the pupils or students come from very different places, and\nwith widely different notions, and there is much to generalize, much to\nadjust, much to eliminate, there are inter-relations to be defined, and\nconventional rules to be established, in the process, by which the whole\nassemblage is moulded together, and gains one tone and one character.\n\nLet it be clearly understood, I repeat it, that I am not taking into\naccount moral or religious considerations; I am but saying that that\nyouthful community will constitute a whole, it will embody a specific\nidea, it will represent a doctrine, it will administer a code of conduct,\nand it will furnish principles of thought and action. It will give birth\nto a living teaching, which in course of time will take the shape of a\nself-perpetuating tradition, or a _genius loci_, as it is sometimes\ncalled; which haunts the home where it has been born, and which imbues and\nforms, more or less, and one by one, every individual who is successively\nbrought under its shadow. Thus it is that, independent of direct\ninstruction on the part of Superiors, there is a sort of self-education in\nthe academic institutions of Protestant England; a characteristic tone of\nthought, a recognized standard of judgment is found in them, which, as\ndeveloped in the individual who is submitted to it, becomes a twofold\nsource of strength to him, both from the distinct stamp it impresses on\nhis mind, and from the bond of union which it creates between him and\nothers,\u2014effects which are shared by the authorities of the place, for they\nthemselves have been educated in it, and at all times are exposed to the\ninfluence of its ethical atmosphere. Here then is a real teaching,\nwhatever be its standards and principles, true or false; and it at least\ntends towards cultivation of the intellect; it at least recognizes that\nknowledge is something more than a sort of passive reception of scraps and\ndetails; it is a something, and it does a something, which never will\nissue from the most strenuous efforts of a set of teachers, with no mutual\nsympathies and no intercommunion, of a set of examiners with no opinions\nwhich they dare profess, and with no common principles, who are teaching\nor questioning a set of youths who do not know them, and do not know each\nother, on a large number of subjects, different in kind, and connected by\nno wide philosophy, three times a week, or three times a year, or once in\nthree years, in chill lecture-rooms or on a pompous anniversary.\n\n\n\n10.\n\n\nNay, self-education in any shape, in the most restricted sense, is\npreferable to a system of teaching which, professing so much, really does\nso little for the mind. Shut your College gates against the votary of\nknowledge, throw him back upon the searchings and the efforts of his own\nmind; he will gain by being spared an entrance into your Babel. Few indeed\nthere are who can dispense with the stimulus and support of instructors,\nor will do any thing at all, if left to themselves. And fewer still\n(though such great minds are to be found), who will not, from such\nunassisted attempts, contract a self-reliance and a self-esteem, which are\nnot only moral evils, but serious hindrances to the attainment of truth.\nAnd next to none, perhaps, or none, who will not be reminded from time to\ntime of the disadvantage under which they lie, by their imperfect\ngrounding, by the breaks, deficiencies, and irregularities of their\nknowledge, by the eccentricity of opinion and the confusion of principle\nwhich they exhibit. They will be too often ignorant of what every one\nknows and takes for granted, of that multitude of small truths which fall\nupon the mind like dust, impalpable and ever accumulating; they may be\nunable to converse, they may argue perversely, they may pride themselves\non their worst paradoxes or their grossest truisms, they may be full of\ntheir own mode of viewing things, unwilling to be put out of their way,\nslow to enter into the minds of others;\u2014but, with these and whatever other\nliabilities upon their heads, they are likely to have more thought, more\nmind, more philosophy, more true enlargement, than those earnest but\nill-used persons, who are forced to load their minds with a score of\nsubjects against an examination, who have too much on their hands to\nindulge themselves in thinking or investigation, who devour premiss and\nconclusion together with indiscriminate greediness, who hold whole\nsciences on faith, and commit demonstrations to memory, and who too often,\nas might be expected, when their period of education is passed, throw up\nall they have learned in disgust, having gained nothing really by their\nanxious labours, except perhaps the habit of application.\n\nYet such is the better specimen of the fruit of that ambitious system\nwhich has of late years been making way among us: for its result on\nordinary minds, and on the common run of students, is less satisfactory\nstill; they leave their place of education simply dissipated and relaxed\nby the multiplicity of subjects, which they have never really mastered,\nand so shallow as not even to know their shallowness. How much better, I\nsay, is it for the active and thoughtful intellect, where such is to be\nfound, to eschew the College and the University altogether, than to submit\nto a drudgery so ignoble, a mockery so contumelious! How much more\nprofitable for the independent mind, after the mere rudiments of\neducation, to range through a library at random, taking down books as they\nmeet him, and pursuing the trains of thought which his mother wit\nsuggests! How much healthier to wander into the fields, and there with the\nexiled Prince to find \u201ctongues in the trees, books in the running brooks!\u201d\nHow much more genuine an education is that of the poor boy in the\nPoem(21)\u2014a Poem, whether in conception or in execution, one of the most\ntouching in our language\u2014who, not in the wide world, but ranging day by\nday around his widowed mother\u2019s home, \u201ca dexterous gleaner\u201d in a narrow\nfield, and with only such slender outfit\n\n    \u201cas the village school and books a few\nSupplied,\u201d\n\ncontrived from the beach, and the quay, and the fisher\u2019s boat, and the\ninn\u2019s fireside, and the tradesman\u2019s shop, and the shepherd\u2019s walk, and the\nsmuggler\u2019s hut, and the mossy moor, and the screaming gulls, and the\nrestless waves, to fashion for himself a philosophy and a poetry of his\nown!\n\n                                * * * * *\n\nBut in a large subject, I am exceeding my necessary limits. Gentlemen, I\nmust conclude abruptly; and postpone any summing up of my argument, should\nthat be necessary, to another day.\n\n\n\n\n                              Discourse VII.\n\n\nKnowledge Viewed In Relation To Professional Skill.\n\n\n\n1.\n\n\nI have been insisting, in my two preceding Discourses, first, on the\ncultivation of the intellect, as an end which may reasonably be pursued\nfor its own sake; and next, on the nature of that cultivation, or what\nthat cultivation consists in. Truth of whatever kind is the proper object\nof the intellect; its cultivation then lies in fitting it to apprehend and\ncontemplate truth. Now the intellect in its present state, with exceptions\nwhich need not here be specified, does not discern truth intuitively, or\nas a whole. We know, not by a direct and simple vision, not at a glance,\nbut, as it were, by piecemeal and accumulation, by a mental process, by\ngoing round an object, by the comparison, the combination, the mutual\ncorrection, the continual adaptation, of many partial notions, by the\nemployment, concentration, and joint action of many faculties and\nexercises of mind. Such a union and concert of the intellectual powers,\nsuch an enlargement and development, such a comprehensiveness, is\nnecessarily a matter of training. And again, such a training is a matter\nof rule; it is not mere application, however exemplary, which introduces\nthe mind to truth, nor the reading many books, nor the getting up many\nsubjects, nor the witnessing many experiments, nor the attending many\nlectures. All this is short of enough; a man may have done it all, yet be\nlingering in the vestibule of knowledge:\u2014he may not realize what his mouth\nutters; he may not see with his mental eye what confronts him; he may have\nno grasp of things as they are; or at least he may have no power at all of\nadvancing one step forward of himself, in consequence of what he has\nalready acquired, no power of discriminating between truth and falsehood,\nof sifting out the grains of truth from the mass, of arranging things\naccording to their real value, and, if I may use the phrase, of building\nup ideas. Such a power is the result of a scientific formation of mind; it\nis an acquired faculty of judgment, of clear-sightedness, of sagacity, of\nwisdom, of philosophical reach of mind, and of intellectual\nself-possession and repose,\u2014qualities which do not come of mere\nacquirement. The bodily eye, the organ for apprehending material objects,\nis provided by nature; the eye of the mind, of which the object is truth,\nis the work of discipline and habit.\n\nThis process of training, by which the intellect, instead of being formed\nor sacrificed to some particular or accidental purpose, some specific\ntrade or profession, or study or science, is disciplined for its own sake,\nfor the perception of its own proper object, and for its own highest\nculture, is called Liberal Education; and though there is no one in whom\nit is carried as far as is conceivable, or whose intellect would be a\npattern of what intellects should be made, yet there is scarcely any one\nbut may gain an idea of what real training is, and at least look towards\nit, and make its true scope and result, not something else, his standard\nof excellence; and numbers there are who may submit themselves to it, and\nsecure it to themselves in good measure. And to set forth the right\nstandard, and to train according to it, and to help forward all students\ntowards it according to their various capacities, this I conceive to be\nthe business of a University.\n\n\n\n2.\n\n\nNow this is what some great men are very slow to allow; they insist that\nEducation should be confined to some particular and narrow end, and should\nissue in some definite work, which can be weighed and measured. They argue\nas if every thing, as well as every person, had its price; and that where\nthere has been a great outlay, they have a right to expect a return in\nkind. This they call making Education and Instruction \u201cuseful,\u201d and\n\u201cUtility\u201d becomes their watchword. With a fundamental principle of this\nnature, they very naturally go on to ask, what there is to show for the\nexpense of a University; what is the real worth in the market of the\narticle called \u201ca Liberal Education,\u201d on the supposition that it does not\nteach us definitely how to advance our manufactures, or to improve our\nlands, or to better our civil economy; or again, if it does not at once\nmake this man a lawyer, that an engineer, and that a surgeon; or at least\nif it does not lead to discoveries in chemistry, astronomy, geology,\nmagnetism, and science of every kind.\n\nThis question, as might have been expected, has been keenly debated in the\npresent age, and formed one main subject of the controversy, to which I\nreferred in the Introduction to the present Discourses, as having been\nsustained in the first decade of this century by a celebrated Northern\nReview on the one hand, and defenders of the University of Oxford on the\nother. Hardly had the authorities of that ancient seat of learning, waking\nfrom their long neglect, set on foot a plan for the education of the youth\ncommitted to them, than the representatives of science and literature in\nthe city, which has sometimes been called the Northern Athens,\nremonstrated, with their gravest arguments and their most brilliant\nsatire, against the direction and shape which the reform was taking.\nNothing would content them, but that the University should be set to\nrights on the basis of the philosophy of Utility; a philosophy, as they\nseem to have thought, which needed but to be proclaimed in order to be\nembraced. In truth, they were little aware of the depth and force of the\nprinciples on which the academical authorities were proceeding, and, this\nbeing so, it was not to be expected that they would be allowed to walk at\nleisure over the field of controversy which they had selected. Accordingly\nthey were encountered in behalf of the University by two men of great name\nand influence in their day, of very different minds, but united, as by\nCollegiate ties, so in the clear-sighted and large view which they took of\nthe whole subject of Liberal Education; and the defence thus provided for\nthe Oxford studies has kept its ground to this day.\n\n\n\n3.\n\n\nLet me be allowed to devote a few words to the memory of distinguished\npersons, under the shadow of whose name I once lived, and by whose\ndoctrine I am now profiting. In the heart of Oxford there is a small plot\nof ground, hemmed in by public thoroughfares, which has been the\npossession and the home of one Society for above five hundred years. In\nthe old time of Boniface the Eighth and John the Twenty-second, in the age\nof Scotus and Occam and Dante, before Wiclif or Huss had kindled those\nmiserable fires which are still raging to the ruin of the highest\ninterests of man, an unfortunate king of England, Edward the Second,\nflying from the field of Bannockburn, is said to have made a vow to the\nBlessed Virgin to found a religious house in her honour, if he got back in\nsafety. Prompted and aided by his Almoner, he decided on placing this\nhouse in the city of Alfred; and the Image of our Lady, which is opposite\nits entrance-gate, is to this day the token of the vow and its fulfilment.\nKing and Almoner have long been in the dust, and strangers have entered\ninto their inheritance, and their creed has been forgotten, and their holy\nrites disowned; but day by day a memento is still made in the holy\nSacrifice by at least one Catholic Priest, once a member of that College,\nfor the souls of those Catholic benefactors who fed him there for so many\nyears. The visitor, whose curiosity has been excited by its present fame,\ngazes perhaps with something of disappointment on a collection of\nbuildings which have with them so few of the circumstances of dignity or\nwealth. Broad quadrangles, high halls and chambers, ornamented cloisters,\nstately walks, or umbrageous gardens, a throng of students, ample\nrevenues, or a glorious history, none of these things were the portion of\nthat old Catholic foundation; nothing in short which to the common eye\nsixty years ago would have given tokens of what it was to be. But it had\nat that time a spirit working within it, which enabled its inmates to do,\namid its seeming insignificance, what no other body in the place could\nequal; not a very abstruse gift or extraordinary boast, but a rare one,\nthe honest purpose to administer the trust committed to them in such a way\nas their conscience pointed out as best. So, whereas the Colleges of\nOxford are self-electing bodies, the fellows in each perpetually filling\nup for themselves the vacancies which occur in their number, the members\nof this foundation determined, at a time when, either from evil custom or\nfrom ancient statute, such a thing was not known elsewhere, to throw open\ntheir fellowships to the competition of all comers, and, in the choice of\nassociates henceforth, to cast to the winds every personal motive and\nfeeling, family connexion, and friendship, and patronage, and political\ninterest, and local claim, and prejudice, and party jealousy, and to elect\nsolely on public and patriotic grounds. Nay, with a remarkable\nindependence of mind, they resolved that even the table of honours,\nawarded to literary merit by the University in its new system of\nexamination for degrees, should not fetter their judgment as electors; but\nthat at all risks, and whatever criticism it might cause, and whatever\nodium they might incur, they would select the men, whoever they were, to\nbe children of their Founder, whom they thought in their consciences to be\nmost likely from their intellectual and moral qualities to please him, if\n(as they expressed it) he were still upon earth, most likely to do honour\nto his College, most likely to promote the objects which they believed he\nhad at heart. Such persons did not promise to be the disciples of a low\nUtilitarianism; and consequently, as their collegiate reform synchronized\nwith that reform of the Academical body, in which they bore a principal\npart, it was not unnatural that, when the storm broke upon the University\nfrom the North, their Alma Mater, whom they loved, should have found her\nfirst defenders within the walls of that small College, which had first\nput itself into a condition to be her champion.\n\nThese defenders, I have said, were two, of whom the more distinguished was\nthe late Dr. Copleston, then a Fellow of the College, successively its\nProvost, and Protestant Bishop of Llandaff. In that Society, which owes so\nmuch to him, his name lives, and ever will live, for the distinction which\nhis talents bestowed on it, for the academical importance to which he\nraised it, for the generosity of spirit, the liberality of sentiment, and\nthe kindness of heart, with which he adorned it, and which even those who\nhad least sympathy with some aspects of his mind and character could not\nbut admire and love. Men come to their meridian at various periods of\ntheir lives; the last years of the eminent person I am speaking of were\ngiven to duties which, I am told, have been the means of endearing him to\nnumbers, but which afforded no scope for that peculiar vigour and keenness\nof mind which enabled him, when a young man, single-handed, with easy\ngallantry, to encounter and overthrow the charge of three giants of the\nNorth combined against him. I believe I am right in saying that, in the\nprogress of the controversy, the most scientific, the most critical, and\nthe most witty, of that literary company, all of them now, as he himself,\nremoved from this visible scene, Professor Playfair, Lord Jeffrey, and the\nRev. Sydney Smith, threw together their several efforts into one article\nof their Review, in order to crush and pound to dust the audacious\ncontrovertist who had come out against them in defence of his own\nInstitutions. To have even contended with such men was a sufficient\nvoucher for his ability, even before we open his pamphlets, and have\nactual evidence of the good sense, the spirit, the scholar-like taste, and\nthe purity of style, by which they are distinguished.\n\nHe was supported in the controversy, on the same general principles, but\nwith more of method and distinctness, and, I will add, with greater force\nand beauty and perfection, both of thought and of language, by the other\ndistinguished writer, to whom I have already referred, Mr. Davison; who,\nthough not so well known to the world in his day, has left more behind him\nthan the Provost of Oriel, to make his name remembered by posterity. This\nthoughtful man, who was the admired and intimate friend of a very\nremarkable person, whom, whether he wish it or not, numbers revere and\nlove as the first author of the subsequent movement in the Protestant\nChurch towards Catholicism,(22) this grave and philosophical writer, whose\nworks I can never look into without sighing that such a man was lost to\nthe Catholic Church, as Dr. Butler before him, by some early bias or some\nfault of self-education\u2014he, in a review of a work by Mr. Edgeworth on\nProfessional Education, which attracted a good deal of attention in its\nday, goes leisurely over the same ground, which had already been rapidly\ntraversed by Dr. Copleston, and, though professedly employed upon Mr.\nEdgeworth, is really replying to the northern critic who had brought that\nwriter\u2019s work into notice, and to a far greater author than either of\nthem, who in a past age had argued on the same side.\n\n\n\n4.\n\n\nThe author to whom I allude is no other than Locke. That celebrated\nphilosopher has preceded the Edinburgh Reviewers in condemning the\nordinary subjects in which boys are instructed at school, on the ground\nthat they are not needed by them in after life; and before quoting what\nhis disciples have said in the present century, I will refer to a few\npassages of the master. \u201c\u2019Tis matter of astonishment,\u201d he says in his work\non Education, \u201cthat men of quality and parts should suffer themselves to\nbe so far misled by custom and implicit faith. Reason, if consulted with,\nwould advise, that their children\u2019s time should be spent in acquiring what\nmight be _useful_ to them, when they come to be men, rather than that\ntheir heads should be stuffed with a deal of trash, a great part whereof\nthey usually never do (\u2019tis certain they never need to) think on again as\nlong as they live; and so much of it as does stick by them they are only\nthe worse for.\u201d\n\nAnd so again, speaking of verse-making, he says, \u201cI know not what reason a\nfather can have to wish his son a poet, who does not desire him to _bid\ndefiance to all other callings and business_; which is not yet the worst\nof the case; for, if he proves a successful rhymer, and gets once the\nreputation of a wit, I desire it to be considered, what company and places\nhe is likely to spend his time in, nay, and estate too; for it is very\nseldom seen that any one discovers _mines of gold or silver in Parnassus_.\n\u2019Tis a pleasant air, but a barren soil.\u201d\n\nIn another passage he distinctly limits utility in education to its\nbearing on the future profession or trade of the pupil, that is, he scorns\nthe idea of any education of the intellect, simply as such. \u201cCan there be\nany thing more ridiculous,\u201d he asks, \u201cthan that a father should waste his\nown money, and his son\u2019s time, in setting him to _learn the Roman\nlanguage_, when at the same time he _designs him for a trade_, wherein he,\nhaving no use of Latin, fails not to forget that little which he brought\nfrom school, and which \u2019tis ten to one he abhors for the ill-usage it\nprocured him? Could it be believed, unless we have every where amongst us\nexamples of it, that a child should be forced to learn the rudiments of a\nlanguage, which _he is never to use in the course of life that he is\ndesigned to_, and neglect all the while the writing a good hand, and\ncasting accounts, which are of great advantage in all conditions of life,\nand to most trades indispensably necessary?\u201d Nothing of course can be more\nabsurd than to neglect in education those matters which are necessary for\na boy\u2019s future calling; but the tone of Locke\u2019s remarks evidently implies\nmore than this, and is condemnatory of any teaching which tends to the\ngeneral cultivation of the mind.\n\nNow to turn to his modern disciples. The study of the Classics had been\nmade the basis of the Oxford education, in the reforms which I have spoken\nof, and the Edinburgh Reviewers protested, after the manner of Locke, that\nno good could come of a system which was not based upon the principle of\nUtility.\n\n\u201cClassical Literature,\u201d they said, \u201cis the great object at Oxford. Many\nminds, so employed, have produced many works and much fame in that\ndepartment; but if all liberal arts and sciences, _useful to human life_,\nhad been taught there, if _some_ had dedicated themselves to _chemistry_,\n_some_ to _mathematics_, _some_ to _experimental philosophy_, and if\n_every_ attainment had been honoured in the mixt ratio of its difficulty\nand _utility_, the system of such a University would have been much more\nvaluable, but the splendour of its name something less.\u201d\n\nUtility may be made the end of education, in two respects: either as\nregards the individual educated, or the community at large. In which light\ndo these writers regard it? in the latter. So far they differ from Locke,\nfor they consider the advancement of science as the supreme and real end\nof a University. This is brought into view in the sentences which follow.\n\n\u201cWhen a University has been doing _useless_ things for a long time, it\nappears at first degrading to them to be _useful_. A set of Lectures on\nPolitical Economy would be discouraged in Oxford, probably despised,\nprobably not permitted. To discuss the inclosure of commons, and to dwell\nupon imports and exports, to come so near to common life, would seem to be\nundignified and contemptible. In the same manner, the Parr or the Bentley\nof the day would be scandalized, in a University, to be put on a level\nwith the discoverer of a neutral salt; and yet, _what other measure is\nthere of dignity in intellectual labour but usefulness_? And what ought\nthe term University to mean, but a place where every science is taught\nwhich is liberal, and at the same time useful to mankind? Nothing would so\nmuch tend to bring classical literature within proper bounds as a _steady\nand invariable appeal to utility_ in our appreciation of all human\nknowledge.\u2026 _Looking always to real utility as our guide_, we should see,\nwith equal pleasure, a studious and inquisitive mind arranging the\nproductions of nature, investigating the qualities of bodies, or mastering\nthe difficulties of the learned languages. We should not care whether he\nwas chemist, naturalist, or scholar, because we know it to be as\n_necessary_ that matter should be studied and subdued _to the use of man_,\nas that taste should be gratified, and imagination inflamed.\u201d\n\nSuch then is the enunciation, as far as words go, of the theory of Utility\nin Education; and both on its own account, and for the sake of the able\nmen who have advocated it, it has a claim on the attention of those whose\nprinciples I am here representing. Certainly it is specious to contend\nthat nothing is worth pursuing but what is useful; and that life is not\nlong enough to expend upon interesting, or curious, or brilliant trifles.\nNay, in one sense, I will grant it is more than specious, it is true; but,\nif so, how do I propose directly to meet the objection? Why, Gentlemen, I\nhave really met it already, viz., in laying down, that intellectual\nculture is its own end; for what has its _end_ in itself, has its _use_ in\nitself also. I say, if a Liberal Education consists in the culture of the\nintellect, and if that culture be in itself a good, here, without going\nfurther, is an answer to Locke\u2019s question; for if a healthy body is a good\nin itself, why is not a healthy intellect? and if a College of Physicians\nis a useful institution, because it contemplates bodily health, why is not\nan Academical Body, though it were simply and solely engaged in imparting\nvigour and beauty and grasp to the intellectual portion of our nature? And\nthe Reviewers I am quoting seem to allow this in their better moments, in\na passage which, putting aside the question of its justice in fact, is\nsound and true in the principles to which it appeals:\u2014\n\n\u201cThe present state of classical education,\u201d they say, \u201ccultivates the\n_imagination_ a great deal too much, and other _habits of mind_ a great\ndeal too little, and trains up many young men in a style of elegant\nimbecility, utterly unworthy of the talents with which nature has endowed\nthem.\u2026 The matter of fact is, that a classical scholar of twenty-three or\ntwenty-four is a man principally conversant with works of imagination. His\nfeelings are quick, his fancy lively, and his taste good. Talents for\n_speculation_ and _original inquiry_ he has none, nor has he formed the\ninvaluable _habit of pushing things up to their first principles_, or of\ncollecting dry and unamusing facts as the materials for reasoning. All the\nsolid and masculine parts of his _understanding_ are left wholly without\n_cultivation_; he hates the pain of thinking, and suspects every man whose\nboldness and originality call upon him to defend his opinions and prove\nhis assertions.\u201d\n\n\n\n5.\n\n\nNow, I am not at present concerned with the specific question of classical\neducation; else, I might reasonably question the justice of calling an\nintellectual discipline, which embraces the study of Aristotle,\nThucydides, and Tacitus, which involves Scholarship and Antiquities,\n_imaginative_; still so far I readily grant, that the cultivation of the\n\u201cunderstanding,\u201d of a \u201ctalent for speculation and original inquiry,\u201d and\nof \u201cthe habit of pushing things up to their first principles,\u201d is a\nprincipal portion of a _good_ or _liberal_ education. If then the\nReviewers consider such cultivation the characteristic of a _useful_\neducation, as they seem to do in the foregoing passage, it follows, that\nwhat they mean by \u201cuseful\u201d is just what I mean by \u201cgood\u201d or \u201cliberal:\u201d and\nLocke\u2019s question becomes a verbal one. Whether youths are to be taught\nLatin or verse-making will depend on the _fact_, whether these studies\ntend to mental culture; but, however this is determined, so far is clear,\nthat in that mental culture consists what I have called a liberal or\nnon-professional, and what the Reviewers call a useful education.\n\nThis is the obvious answer which may be made to those who urge upon us the\nclaims of Utility in our plans of Education; but I am not going to leave\nthe subject here: I mean to take a wider view of it. Let us take \u201cuseful,\u201d\nas Locke takes it, in its proper and popular sense, and then we enter upon\na large field of thought, to which I cannot do justice in one Discourse,\nthough to-day\u2019s is all the space that I can give to it. I say, let us take\n\u201cuseful\u201d to mean, not what is simply good, but what _tends_ to good, or is\nthe _instrument_ of good; and in this sense also, Gentlemen, I will show\nyou how a liberal education is truly and fully a useful, though it be not\na professional, education. \u201cGood\u201d indeed means one thing, and \u201cuseful\u201d\nmeans another; but I lay it down as a principle, which will save us a\ngreat deal of anxiety, that, though the useful is not always good, the\ngood is always useful. Good is not only good, but reproductive of good;\nthis is one of its attributes; nothing is excellent, beautiful, perfect,\ndesirable for its own sake, but it overflows, and spreads the likeness of\nitself all around it. Good is prolific; it is not only good to the eye,\nbut to the taste; it not only attracts us, but it communicates itself; it\nexcites first our admiration and love, then our desire and our gratitude,\nand that, in proportion to its intenseness and fulness in particular\ninstances. A great good will impart great good. If then the intellect is\nso excellent a portion of us, and its cultivation so excellent, it is not\nonly beautiful, perfect, admirable, and noble in itself, but in a true and\nhigh sense it must be useful to the possessor and to all around him; not\nuseful in any low, mechanical, mercantile sense, but as diffusing good, or\nas a blessing, or a gift, or power, or a treasure, first to the owner,\nthen through him to the world. I say then, if a liberal education be good,\nit must necessarily be useful too.\n\n\n\n6.\n\n\nYou will see what I mean by the parallel of bodily health. Health is a\ngood in itself, though nothing came of it, and is especially worth seeking\nand cherishing; yet, after all, the blessings which attend its presence\nare so great, while they are so close to it and so redound back upon it\nand encircle it, that we never think of it except as useful as well as\ngood, and praise and prize it for what it does, as well as for what it is,\nthough at the same time we cannot point out any definite and distinct work\nor production which it can be said to effect. And so as regards\nintellectual culture, I am far from denying utility in this large sense as\nthe end of Education, when I lay it down, that the culture of the\nintellect is a good in itself and its own end; I do not exclude from the\nidea of intellectual culture what it cannot but be, from the very nature\nof things; I only deny that we must be able to point out, before we have\nany right to call it useful, some art, or business, or profession, or\ntrade, or work, as resulting from it, and as its real and complete end.\nThe parallel is exact:\u2014As the body may be sacrificed to some manual or\nother toil, whether moderate or oppressive, so may the intellect be\ndevoted to some specific profession; and I do not call _this_ the culture\nof the intellect. Again, as some member or organ of the body may be\ninordinately used and developed, so may memory, or imagination, or the\nreasoning faculty; and _this_ again is not intellectual culture. On the\nother hand, as the body may be tended, cherished, and exercised with a\nsimple view to its general health, so may the intellect also be generally\nexercised in order to its perfect state; and this _is_ its cultivation.\n\nAgain, as health ought to precede labour of the body, and as a man in\nhealth can do what an unhealthy man cannot do, and as of this health the\nproperties are strength, energy, agility, graceful carriage and action,\nmanual dexterity, and endurance of fatigue, so in like manner general\nculture of mind is the best aid to professional and scientific study, and\neducated men can do what illiterate cannot; and the man who has learned to\nthink and to reason and to compare and to discriminate and to analyze, who\nhas refined his taste, and formed his judgment, and sharpened his mental\nvision, will not indeed at once be a lawyer, or a pleader, or an orator,\nor a statesman, or a physician, or a good landlord, or a man of business,\nor a soldier, or an engineer, or a chemist, or a geologist, or an\nantiquarian, but he will be placed in that state of intellect in which he\ncan take up any one of the sciences or callings I have referred to, or any\nother for which he has a taste or special talent, with an ease, a grace, a\nversatility, and a success, to which another is a stranger. In this sense\nthen, and as yet I have said but a very few words on a large subject,\nmental culture is emphatically _useful_.\n\nIf then I am arguing, and shall argue, against Professional or Scientific\nknowledge as the sufficient end of a University Education, let me not be\nsupposed, Gentlemen, to be disrespectful towards particular studies, or\narts, or vocations, and those who are engaged in them. In saying that Law\nor Medicine is not the end of a University course, I do not mean to imply\nthat the University does not teach Law or Medicine. What indeed can it\nteach at all, if it does not teach something particular? It teaches _all_\nknowledge by teaching all _branches_ of knowledge, and in no other way. I\ndo but say that there will be this distinction as regards a Professor of\nLaw, or of Medicine, or of Geology, or of Political Economy, in a\nUniversity and out of it, that out of a University he is in danger of\nbeing absorbed and narrowed by his pursuit, and of giving Lectures which\nare the Lectures of nothing more than a lawyer, physician, geologist, or\npolitical economist; whereas in a University he will just know where he\nand his science stand, he has come to it, as it were, from a height, he\nhas taken a survey of all knowledge, he is kept from extravagance by the\nvery rivalry of other studies, he has gained from them a special\nillumination and largeness of mind and freedom and self-possession, and he\ntreats his own in consequence with a philosophy and a resource, which\nbelongs not to the study itself, but to his liberal education.\n\nThis then is how I should solve the fallacy, for so I must call it, by\nwhich Locke and his disciples would frighten us from cultivating the\nintellect, under the notion that no education is useful which does not\nteach us some temporal calling, or some mechanical art, or some physical\nsecret. I say that a cultivated intellect, because it is a good in itself,\nbrings with it a power and a grace to every work and occupation which it\nundertakes, and enables us to be more useful, and to a greater number.\nThere is a duty we owe to human society as such, to the state to which we\nbelong, to the sphere in which we move, to the individuals towards whom we\nare variously related, and whom we successively encounter in life; and\nthat philosophical or liberal education, as I have called it, which is the\nproper function of a University, if it refuses the foremost place to\nprofessional interests, does but postpone them to the formation of the\ncitizen, and, while it subserves the larger interests of philanthropy,\nprepares also for the successful prosecution of those merely personal\nobjects, which at first sight it seems to disparage.\n\n\n\n7.\n\n\nAnd now, Gentlemen, I wish to be allowed to enforce in detail what I have\nbeen saying, by some extracts from the writings to which I have already\nalluded, and to which I am so greatly indebted.\n\n\u201cIt is an undisputed maxim in Political Economy,\u201d says Dr. Copleston,\n\u201cthat the separation of professions and the division of labour tend to the\nperfection of every art, to the wealth of nations, to the general comfort\nand well-being of the community. This principle of division is in some\ninstances pursued so far as to excite the wonder of people to whose notice\nit is for the first time pointed out. There is no saying to what extent it\nmay not be carried; and the more the powers of each individual are\nconcentrated in one employment, the greater skill and quickness will he\nnaturally display in performing it. But, while he thus contributes more\neffectually to the accumulation of national wealth, he becomes himself\nmore and more degraded as a rational being. In proportion as his sphere of\naction is narrowed his mental powers and habits become contracted; and he\nresembles a subordinate part of some powerful machinery, useful in its\nplace, but insignificant and worthless out of it. If it be necessary, as\nit is beyond all question necessary, that society should be split into\ndivisions and subdivisions, in order that its several duties may be well\nperformed, yet we must be careful not to yield up ourselves wholly and\nexclusively to the guidance of this system; we must observe what its evils\nare, and we should modify and restrain it, by bringing into action other\nprinciples, which may serve as a check and counterpoise to the main force.\n\n\u201cThere can be no doubt that every art is improved by confining the\nprofessor of it to that single study. But, _although the art itself is\nadvanced by this concentration of mind in its service, the individual who\nis confined to it goes back_. The advantage of the community is nearly in\nan inverse ratio with his own.\n\n\u201cSociety itself requires some other contribution from each individual,\nbesides the particular duties of his profession. And, if no such liberal\nintercourse be established, it is the common failing of human nature, to\nbe engrossed with petty views and interests, to underrate the importance\nof all in which we are not concerned, and to carry our partial notions\ninto cases where they are inapplicable, to act, in short, as so many\nunconnected units, displacing and repelling one another.\n\n\u201cIn the cultivation of literature is found that common link, which, among\nthe higher and middling departments of life, unites the jarring sects and\nsubdivisions into one interest, which supplies common topics, and kindles\ncommon feelings, unmixed with those narrow prejudices with which all\nprofessions are more or less infected. The knowledge, too, which is thus\nacquired, expands and enlarges the mind, excites its faculties, and calls\nthose limbs and muscles into freer exercise which, by too constant use in\none direction, not only acquire an illiberal air, but are apt also to lose\nsomewhat of their native play and energy. And thus, without directly\nqualifying a man for any of the employments of life, it enriches and\nennobles all. Without teaching him the peculiar business of any one office\nor calling, it enables him to act his part in each of them with better\ngrace and more elevated carriage; and, if happily planned and conducted,\nis a main ingredient in that complete and generous education which fits a\nman \u2018to perform justly, skilfully, and magnanimously, all the offices,\nboth private and public, of peace and war.\u2019 \u201d(23)\n\n\n\n8.\n\n\nThe view of Liberal Education, advocated in these extracts, is expanded by\nMr. Davison in the Essay to which I have already referred. He lays more\nstress on the \u201cusefulness\u201d of Liberal Education in the larger sense of the\nword than his predecessor in the controversy. Instead of arguing that the\nUtility of knowledge to the individual varies inversely with its Utility\nto the public, he chiefly employs himself on the suggestions contained in\nDr. Copleston\u2019s last sentences. He shows, first, that a Liberal Education\nis something far higher, even in the scale of Utility, than what is\ncommonly called a Useful Education, and next, that it is necessary or\nuseful for the purposes even of that Professional Education which commonly\nengrosses the title of Useful. The former of these two theses he\nrecommends to us in an argument from which the following passages are\nselected:\u2014\n\n\u201cIt is to take a very contracted view of life,\u201d he says, \u201cto think with\ngreat anxiety how persons may be educated to superior skill in their\ndepartment, comparatively neglecting or excluding the more liberal and\nenlarged cultivation. In his (Mr. Edgeworth\u2019s) system, the value of every\nattainment is to be measured by its subserviency to a calling. The\nspecific duties of that calling are exalted at the cost of those free and\nindependent tastes and virtues which come in to sustain the common\nrelations of society, and raise the individual in them. In short, a man is\nto be usurped by his profession. He is to be clothed in its garb from head\nto foot. His virtues, his science, and his ideas are all to be put into a\ngown or uniform, and the whole man to be shaped, pressed, and stiffened,\nin the exact mould of his technical character. Any interloping\naccomplishments, or a faculty which cannot be taken into public pay, if\nthey are to be indulged in him at all, must creep along under the cloak of\nhis more serviceable privileged merits. Such is the state of perfection to\nwhich the spirit and general tendency of this system would lead us.\n\n\u201cBut the professional character is not the only one which a person engaged\nin a profession has to support. He is not always upon duty. There are\nservices he owes, which are neither parochial, nor forensic, nor military,\nnor to be described by any such epithet of civil regulation, and yet are\nin no wise inferior to those that bear these authoritative titles;\ninferior neither in their intrinsic value, nor their moral import, nor\ntheir impression upon society. As a friend, as a companion, as a citizen\nat large; in the connections of domestic life; in the improvement and\nembellishment of his leisure, he has a sphere of action, revolving, if you\nplease, within the sphere of his profession, but not clashing with it; in\nwhich if he can show none of the advantages of an improved understanding,\nwhatever may be his skill or proficiency in the other, he is no more than\nan ill-educated man.\n\n\u201cThere is a certain faculty in which all nations of any refinement are\ngreat practitioners. It is not taught at school or college as a distinct\nscience; though it deserves that what is taught there should be made to\nhave some reference to it; nor is it endowed at all by the public;\neverybody being obliged to exercise it for himself in person, which he\ndoes to the best of his skill. But in nothing is there a greater\ndifference than in the manner of doing it. The advocates of professional\nlearning will smile when we tell them that this same faculty which we\nwould have encouraged, is simply that of speaking good sense in English,\nwithout fee or reward, in common conversation. They will smile when we lay\nsome stress upon it; but in reality it is no such trifle as they imagine.\nLook into the huts of savages, and see, for there is nothing to listen to,\nthe dismal blank of their stupid hours of silence; their professional\navocations of war and hunting are over; and, having nothing to do, they\nhave nothing to say. Turn to improved life, and you find conversation in\nall its forms the medium of something more than an idle pleasure; indeed,\na very active agent in circulating and forming the opinions, tastes, and\nfeelings of a whole people. It makes of itself a considerable affair. Its\ntopics are the most promiscuous\u2014all those which do not belong to any\nparticular province. As for its power and influence, we may fairly say\nthat it is of just the same consequence to a man\u2019s immediate society, how\nhe talks, as how he acts. Now of all those who furnish their share to\nrational conversation, a mere adept in his own art is universally admitted\nto be the worst. The sterility and uninstructiveness of such a person\u2019s\nsocial hours are quite proverbial. Or if he escape being dull, it is only\nby launching into ill-timed, learned loquacity. We do not desire of him\nlectures or speeches; and he has nothing else to give. Among benches he\nmay be powerful; but seated on a chair he is quite another person. On the\nother hand, we may affirm, that one of the best companions is a man who,\nto the accuracy and research of a profession, has joined a free excursive\nacquaintance with various learning, and caught from it the spirit of\ngeneral observation.\u201d\n\n\n\n9.\n\n\nHaving thus shown that a liberal education is a real benefit to the\nsubjects of it, as members of society, in the various duties and\ncircumstances and accidents of life, he goes on, in the next place, to\nshow that, over and above those direct services which might fairly be\nexpected of it, it actually subserves the discharge of those particular\nfunctions, and the pursuit of those particular advantages, which are\nconnected with professional exertion, and to which Professional Education\nis directed.\n\n\u201cWe admit,\u201d he observes, \u201cthat when a person makes a business of one\npursuit, he is in the right way to eminence in it; and that divided\nattention will rarely give excellence in many. But our assent will go no\nfurther. For, to think that the way to prepare a person for excelling in\nany one pursuit (and that is the only point in hand), is to fetter his\nearly studies, and cramp the first development of his mind, by a reference\nto the exigencies of that pursuit barely, is a very different notion, and\none which, we apprehend, deserves to be exploded rather than received.\nPossibly a few of the abstract, insulated kinds of learning might be\napproached in that way. The exceptions to be made are very few, and need\nnot be recited. But for the acquisition of professional and practical\nability such maxims are death to it. The main ingredients of that ability\nare requisite knowledge and cultivated faculties; but, of the two, the\nlatter is by far the chief. A man of well improved faculties has the\ncommand of another\u2019s knowledge. A man without them, has not the command of\nhis own.\n\n\u201cOf the intellectual powers, the judgment is that which takes the foremost\nlead in life. How to form it to the two habits it ought to possess, of\nexactness and vigour, is the problem. It would be ignorant presumption so\nmuch as to hint at any routine of method by which these qualities may with\ncertainty be imparted to every or any understanding. Still, however, we\nmay safely lay it down that they are not to be got \u2018by a gatherer of\nsimples,\u2019 but are the combined essence and extracts of many different\nthings, drawn from much varied reading and discipline, first, and\nobservation afterwards. For if there be a single intelligible point on\nthis head, it is that a man who has been trained to think upon one subject\nor for one subject only, will never be a good judge even in that one:\nwhereas the enlargement of his circle gives him increased knowledge and\npower in a rapidly increasing ratio. So much do ideas act, not as solitary\nunits, but by grouping and combination; and so clearly do all the things\nthat fall within the proper province of the same faculty of the mind,\nintertwine with and support each other. Judgment lives as it were by\ncomparison and discrimination. Can it be doubted, then, whether the range\nand extent of that assemblage of things upon which it is practised in its\nfirst essays are of use to its power?\n\n\u201cTo open our way a little further on this matter, we will define what we\nmean by the power of judgment; and then try to ascertain among what kind\nof studies the improvement of it may be expected at all.\n\n\u201cJudgment does not stand here for a certain homely, useful quality of\nintellect, that guards a person from committing mistakes to the injury of\nhis fortunes or common reputation; but for that master-principle of\nbusiness, literature, and talent, which gives him strength in any subject\nhe chooses to grapple with, and enables him to _seize the strong point_ in\nit. Whether this definition be metaphysically correct or not, it comes\nhome to the substance of our inquiry. It describes the power that every\none desires to possess when he comes to act in a profession, or elsewhere;\nand corresponds with our best idea of a cultivated mind.\n\n\u201cNext, it will not be denied, that in order to do any good to the\njudgment, the mind must be employed upon such subjects as come within the\ncognizance of that faculty, and give some real exercise to its\nperceptions. Here we have a rule of selection by which the different parts\nof learning may be classed for our purpose. Those which belong to the\nprovince of the judgment are religion (in its evidences and\ninterpretation), ethics, history, eloquence, poetry, theories of general\nspeculation, the fine arts, and works of wit. Great as the variety of\nthese large divisions of learning may appear, they are all held in union\nby two capital principles of connexion. First, they are all quarried out\nof one and the same great subject of man\u2019s moral, social, and feeling\nnature. And secondly, they are all under the control (more or less strict)\nof the same power of moral reason.\u201d\n\n\u201cIf these studies,\u201d he continues, \u201cbe such as give a direct play and\nexercise to the faculty of the judgment, then they are the true basis of\neducation for the active and inventive powers, whether destined for a\nprofession or any other use. Miscellaneous as the assemblage may appear,\nof history, eloquence, poetry, ethics, etc., blended together, they will\nall conspire in an union of effect. They are necessary mutually to explain\nand interpret each other. The knowledge derived from them all will\namalgamate, and the habits of a mind versed and practised in them by turns\nwill join to produce a richer vein of thought and of more general and\npractical application than could be obtained of any single one, as the\nfusion of the metals into Corinthian brass gave the artist his most\nductile and perfect material. Might we venture to imitate an author (whom\nindeed it is much safer to take as an authority than to attempt to copy),\nLord Bacon, in some of his concise illustrations of the comparative\nutility of the different studies, we should say that history would give\nfulness, moral philosophy strength, and poetry elevation to the\nunderstanding. Such in reality is the natural force and tendency of the\nstudies; but there are few minds susceptible enough to derive from them\nany sort of virtue adequate to those high expressions. We must be\ncontented therefore to lower our panegyric to this, that a person cannot\navoid receiving some infusion and tincture, at least, of those several\nqualities, from that course of diversified reading. One thing is\nunquestionable, that the elements of general reason are not to be found\nfully and truly expressed in any one kind of study; and that he who would\nwish to know her idiom, must read it in many books.\n\n\u201cIf different studies are useful for aiding, they are still more useful\nfor correcting each other; for as they have their particular merits\nseverally, so they have their defects, and the most extensive acquaintance\nwith one can produce only an intellect either too flashy or too jejune, or\ninfected with some other fault of confined reading. History, for example,\nshows things as they are, that is, the morals and interests of men\ndisfigured and perverted by all their imperfections of passion, folly, and\nambition; philosophy strips the picture too much; poetry adorns it too\nmuch; the concentrated lights of the three correct the false peculiar\ncolouring of each, and show us the truth. The right mode of thinking upon\nit is to be had from them taken all together, as every one must know who\nhas seen their united contributions of thought and feeling expressed in\nthe masculine sentiment of our immortal statesman, Mr. Burke, whose\neloquence is inferior only to his more admirable wisdom. If any mind\nimproved like his, is to be our instructor, we must go to the fountain\nhead of things as he did, and study not his works but his method; by the\none we may become feeble imitators, by the other arrive at some ability of\nour own. But, as all biography assures us, he, and every other able\nthinker, has been formed, not by a parsimonious admeasurement of studies\nto some definite future object (which is Mr. Edgeworth\u2019s maxim), but by\ntaking a wide and liberal compass, and thinking a great deal on many\nsubjects with no better end in view than because the exercise was one\nwhich made them more rational and intelligent beings.\u201d\n\n\n\n10.\n\n\nBut I must bring these extracts to an end. To-day I have confined myself\nto saying that that training of the intellect, which is best for the\nindividual himself, best enables him to discharge his duties to society.\nThe Philosopher, indeed, and the man of the world differ in their very\nnotion, but the methods, by which they are respectively formed, are pretty\nmuch the same. The Philosopher has the same command of matters of thought,\nwhich the true citizen and gentleman has of matters of business and\nconduct. If then a practical end must be assigned to a University course,\nI say it is that of training good members of society. Its art is the art\nof social life, and its end is fitness for the world. It neither confines\nits views to particular professions on the one hand, nor creates heroes or\ninspires genius on the other. Works indeed of genius fall under no art;\nheroic minds come under no rule; a University is not a birthplace of poets\nor of immortal authors, of founders of schools, leaders of colonies, or\nconquerors of nations. It does not promise a generation of Aristotles or\nNewtons, of Napoleons or Washingtons, of Raphaels or Shakespeares, though\nsuch miracles of nature it has before now contained within its precincts.\nNor is it content on the other hand with forming the critic or the\nexperimentalist, the economist or the engineer, though such too it\nincludes within its scope. But a University training is the great ordinary\nmeans to a great but ordinary end; it aims at raising the intellectual\ntone of society, at cultivating the public mind, at purifying the national\ntaste, at supplying true principles to popular enthusiasm and fixed aims\nto popular aspiration, at giving enlargement and sobriety to the ideas of\nthe age, at facilitating the exercise of political power, and refining the\nintercourse of private life. It is the education which gives a man a clear\nconscious view of his own opinions and judgments, a truth in developing\nthem, an eloquence in expressing them, and a force in urging them. It\nteaches him to see things as they are, to go right to the point, to\ndisentangle a skein of thought, to detect what is sophistical, and to\ndiscard what is irrelevant. It prepares him to fill any post with credit,\nand to master any subject with facility. It shows him how to accommodate\nhimself to others, how to throw himself into their state of mind, how to\nbring before them his own, how to influence them, how to come to an\nunderstanding with them, how to bear with them. He is at home in any\nsociety, he has common ground with every class; he knows when to speak and\nwhen to be silent; he is able to converse, he is able to listen; he can\nask a question pertinently, and gain a lesson seasonably, when he has\nnothing to impart himself; he is ever ready, yet never in the way; he is a\npleasant companion, and a comrade you can depend upon; he knows when to be\nserious and when to trifle, and he has a sure tact which enables him to\ntrifle with gracefulness and to be serious with effect. He has the repose\nof a mind which lives in itself, while it lives in the world, and which\nhas resources for its happiness at home when it cannot go abroad. He has a\ngift which serves him in public, and supports him in retirement, without\nwhich good fortune is but vulgar, and with which failure and\ndisappointment have a charm. The art which tends to make a man all this,\nis in the object which it pursues as useful as the art of wealth or the\nart of health, though it is less susceptible of method, and less tangible,\nless certain, less complete in its result.\n\n\n\n\n                             Discourse VIII.\n\n\nKnowledge Viewed In Relation To Religion.\n\n\n\n1.\n\n\nWe shall be brought, Gentlemen, to-day, to the termination of the\ninvestigation which I commenced three Discourses back, and which, I was\nwell aware, from its length, if for no other reason, would make demands\nupon the patience even of indulgent hearers.\n\nFirst I employed myself in establishing the principle that Knowledge is\nits own reward; and I showed that, when considered in this light, it is\ncalled Liberal Knowledge, and is the scope of Academical Institutions.\n\nNext, I examined what is meant by Knowledge, when it is said to be pursued\nfor its own sake; and I showed that, in order satisfactorily to fulfil\nthis idea, Philosophy must be its _form_; or, in other words, that its\nmatter must not be admitted into the mind passively, as so much\nacquirement, but must be mastered and appropriated as a system consisting\nof parts, related one to the other, and interpretative of one another in\nthe unity of a whole.\n\nFurther, I showed that such a philosophical contemplation of the field of\nKnowledge as a whole, leading, as it did, to an understanding of its\nseparate departments, and an appreciation of them respectively, might in\nconsequence be rightly called an illumination; also, it was rightly called\nan enlargement of mind, because it was a distinct location of things one\nwith another, as if in space; while it was moreover its proper cultivation\nand its best condition, both because it secured to the intellect the sight\nof things as they are, or of truth, in opposition to fancy, opinion, and\ntheory; and again, because it presupposed and involved the perfection of\nits various powers.\n\nSuch, I said, was that Knowledge, which deserves to be sought for its own\nsake, even though it promised no ulterior advantage. But, when I had got\nas far as this, I went farther, and observed that, from the nature of the\ncase, what was so good in itself could not but have a number of external\nuses, though it did not promise them, simply because it _was_ good; and\nthat it was necessarily the source of benefits to society, great and\ndiversified in proportion to its own intrinsic excellence. Just as in\nmorals, honesty is the best policy, as being profitable in a secular\naspect, though such profit is not the measure of its worth, so too as\nregards what may be called the virtues of the Intellect, their very\npossession indeed is a substantial good, and is enough, yet still that\nsubstance has a shadow, inseparable from it, viz., its social and\npolitical usefulness. And this was the subject to which I devoted the\npreceding Discourse.\n\nOne portion of the subject remains:\u2014this intellectual culture, which is so\nexalted in itself, not only has a bearing upon social and active duties,\nbut upon Religion also. The educated mind may be said to be in a certain\nsense religious; that is, it has what may be considered a religion of its\nown, independent of Catholicism, partly co-operating with it, partly\nthwarting it; at once a defence yet a disturbance to the Church in\nCatholic countries,\u2014and in countries beyond her pale, at one time in open\nwarfare with her, at another in defensive alliance. The history of Schools\nand Academies, and of Literature and Science generally, will, I think,\njustify me in thus speaking. Since, then, my aim in these Discourses is to\nascertain the function and the action of a University, viewed in itself,\nand its relations to the various instruments of teaching and training\nwhich are round about it, my survey of it would not be complete unless I\nattempted, as I now propose to do, to exhibit its general bearings upon\nReligion.\n\n\n\n2.\n\n\nRight Reason, that is, Reason rightly exercised, leads the mind to the\nCatholic Faith, and plants it there, and teaches it in all its religious\nspeculations to act under its guidance. But Reason, considered as a real\nagent in the world, and as an operative principle in man\u2019s nature, with an\nhistorical course and with definite results, is far from taking so\nstraight and satisfactory a direction. It considers itself from first to\nlast independent and supreme; it requires no external authority; it makes\na religion for itself. Even though it accepts Catholicism, it does not go\nto sleep; it has an action and development of its own, as the passions\nhave, or the moral sentiments, or the principle of self-interest. Divine\ngrace, to use the language of Theology, does not by its presence supersede\nnature; nor is nature at once brought into simple concurrence and\ncoalition with grace. Nature pursues its course, now coincident with that\nof grace, now parallel to it, now across, now divergent, now counter, in\nproportion to its own imperfection and to the attraction and influence\nwhich grace exerts over it. And what takes place as regards other\nprinciples of our nature and their developments is found also as regards\nthe Reason. There is, we know, a Religion of enthusiasm, of superstitious\nignorance of statecraft; and each has that in it which resembles\nCatholicism, and that again which contradicts Catholicism. There is the\nReligion of a warlike people, and of a pastoral people; there is a\nReligion of rude times, and in like manner there is a Religion of\ncivilized times, of the cultivated intellect, of the philosopher, scholar,\nand gentleman. This is that Religion of Reason, of which I speak. Viewed\nin itself, however near it comes to Catholicism, it is of course simply\ndistinct from it; for Catholicism is one whole, and admits of no\ncompromise or modification. Yet this is to view it in the abstract; in\nmatter of fact, and in reference to individuals, we can have no difficulty\nin conceiving this philosophical Religion present in a Catholic country,\nas a spirit influencing men to a certain extent, for good or for bad or\nfor both,\u2014a spirit of the age, which again may be found, as among\nCatholics, so with still greater sway and success in a country not\nCatholic, yet specifically the same in such a country as it exists in a\nCatholic community. The problem then before us to-day, is to set down some\nportions of the outline, if we can ascertain them, of the Religion of\nCivilization, and to determine how they lie relatively to those\nprinciples, doctrines, and rules, which Heaven has given us in the\nCatholic Church.\n\nAnd here again, when I speak of Revealed Truth, it is scarcely necessary\nto say that I am not referring to the main articles and prominent points\nof faith, as contained in the Creed. Had I undertaken to delineate a\nphilosophy, which directly interfered with the Creed, I could not have\nspoken of it as compatible with the profession of Catholicism. The\nphilosophy I speak of, whether it be viewed within or outside the Church,\ndoes not necessarily take cognizance of the Creed. Where the country is\nCatholic, the educated mind takes its articles for granted, by a sort of\nimplicit faith; where it is not, it simply ignores them and the whole\nsubject-matter to which they relate, as not affecting social and political\ninterests. Truths about God\u2019s Nature, about His dealings towards the human\nrace, about the Economy of Redemption,\u2014in the one case it humbly accepts\nthem, and passes on; in the other it passes them over, as matters of\nsimple opinion, which never can be decided, and which can have no power\nover us to make us morally better or worse. I am not speaking then of\nbelief in the great objects of faith, when I speak of Catholicism, but I\nam contemplating Catholicism chiefly as a system of pastoral instruction\nand moral duty; and I have to do with its doctrines mainly as they are\nsubservient to its direction of the conscience and the conduct. I speak of\nit, for instance, as teaching the ruined state of man; his utter inability\nto gain Heaven by any thing he can do himself; the moral certainty of his\nlosing his soul if left to himself; the simple absence of all rights and\nclaims on the part of the creature in the presence of the Creator; the\nillimitable claims of the Creator on the service of the creature; the\nimperative and obligatory force of the voice of conscience; and the\ninconceivable evil of sensuality. I speak of it as teaching, that no one\ngains Heaven except by the free grace of God, or without a regeneration of\nnature; that no one can please Him without faith; that the heart is the\nseat both of sin and of obedience; that charity is the fulfilling of the\nLaw; and that incorporation into the Catholic Church is the ordinary\ninstrument of salvation. These are the lessons which distinguish\nCatholicism as a popular religion, and these are the subjects to which the\ncultivated intellect will practically be turned;\u2014I have to compare and\ncontrast, not the doctrinal, but the moral and social teaching of\nPhilosophy on the one hand, and Catholicism on the other.\n\n\n\n3.\n\n\nNow, on opening the subject, we see at once a momentous benefit which the\nphilosopher is likely to confer on the pastors of the Church. It is\nobvious that the first step which they have to effect in the conversion of\nman and the renovation of his nature, is his rescue from that fearful\nsubjection to sense which is his ordinary state. To be able to break\nthrough the meshes of that thraldom, and to disentangle and to disengage\nits ten thousand holds upon the heart, is to bring it, I might almost say,\nhalf way to Heaven. Here, even divine grace, to speak of things according\nto their appearances, is ordinarily baffled, and retires, without\nexpedient or resource, before this giant fascination. Religion seems too\nhigh and unearthly to be able to exert a continued influence upon us: its\neffort to rouse the soul, and the soul\u2019s effort to co-operate, are too\nviolent to last. It is like holding out the arm at full length, or\nsupporting some great weight, which we manage to do for a time, but soon\nare exhausted and succumb. Nothing can act beyond its own nature; when\nthen we are called to what is supernatural, though those extraordinary\naids from Heaven are given us, with which obedience becomes possible, yet\neven with them it is of transcendent difficulty. We are drawn down to\nearth every moment with the ease and certainty of a natural gravitation,\nand it is only by sudden impulses and, as it were, forcible plunges that\nwe attempt to mount upwards. Religion indeed enlightens, terrifies,\nsubdues; it gives faith, it inflicts remorse, it inspires resolutions, it\ndraws tears, it inflames devotion, but only for the occasion. I repeat, it\nimparts an inward power which ought to effect more than this; I am not\nforgetting either the real sufficiency of its aids, nor the responsibility\nof those in whom they fail. I am not discussing theological questions at\nall, I am looking at phenomena as they lie before me, and I say that, in\nmatter of fact, the sinful spirit repents, and protests it will never sin\nagain, and for a while is protected by disgust and abhorrence from the\nmalice of its foe. But that foe knows too well that such seasons of\nrepentance are wont to have their end: he patiently waits, till nature\nfaints with the effort of resistance, and lies passive and hopeless under\nthe next access of temptation. What we need then is some expedient or\ninstrument, which at least will obstruct and stave off the approach of our\nspiritual enemy, and which is sufficiently congenial and level with our\nnature to maintain as firm a hold upon us as the inducements of sensual\ngratification. It will be our wisdom to employ nature against itself. Thus\nsorrow, sickness, and care are providential antagonists to our inward\ndisorders; they come upon us as years pass on, and generally produce their\nnatural effects on us, in proportion as we are subjected to their\ninfluence. These, however, are God\u2019s instruments, not ours; we need a\nsimilar remedy, which we can make our own, the object of some legitimate\nfaculty, or the aim of some natural affection, which is capable of resting\non the mind, and taking up its familiar lodging with it, and engrossing\nit, and which thus becomes a match for the besetting power of sensuality,\nand a sort of hom\u0153opathic medicine for the disease. Here then I think is\nthe important aid which intellectual cultivation furnishes to us in\nrescuing the victims of passion and self-will. It does not supply\nreligious motives; it is not the cause or proper antecedent of any thing\nsupernatural; it is not meritorious of heavenly aid or reward; but it does\na work, at least _materially_ good (as theologians speak), whatever be its\nreal and formal character. It expels the excitements of sense by the\nintroduction of those of the intellect.\n\nThis then is the _prim\u00e2 facie_ advantage of the pursuit of Knowledge; it\nis the drawing the mind off from things which will harm it to subjects\nwhich are worthy a rational being; and, though it does not raise it above\nnature, nor has any tendency to make us pleasing to our Maker, yet is it\nnothing to substitute what is in itself harmless for what is, to say the\nleast, inexpressibly dangerous? is it a little thing to exchange a circle\nof ideas which are certainly sinful, for others which are certainly not\nso? You will say, perhaps, in the words of the Apostle, \u201cKnowledge puffeth\nup:\u201d and doubtless this mental cultivation, even when it is successful for\nthe purpose for which I am applying it, may be from the first nothing more\nthan the substitution of pride for sensuality. I grant it, I think I shall\nhave something to say on this point presently; but this is not a necessary\nresult, it is but an incidental evil, a danger which may be realized or\nmay be averted, whereas we may in most cases predicate guilt, and guilt of\na heinous kind, where the mind is suffered to run wild and indulge its\nthoughts without training or law of any kind; and surely to turn away a\nsoul from mortal sin is a good and a gain so far, whatever comes of it.\nAnd therefore, if a friend in need is twice a friend, I conceive that\nintellectual employments, though they do no more than occupy the mind with\nobjects naturally noble or innocent, have a special claim upon our\nconsideration and gratitude.\n\n\n\n4.\n\n\nNor is this all: Knowledge, the discipline by which it is gained, and the\ntastes which it forms, have a natural tendency to refine the mind, and to\ngive it an indisposition, simply natural, yet real, nay, more than this, a\ndisgust and abhorrence, towards excesses and enormities of evil, which are\noften or ordinarily reached at length by those who are not careful from\nthe first to set themselves against what is vicious and criminal. It\ngenerates within the mind a fastidiousness, analogous to the delicacy or\ndaintiness which good nurture or a sickly habit induces in respect of\nfood; and this fastidiousness, though arguing no high principle, though no\nprotection in the case of violent temptation, nor sure in its operation,\nyet will often or generally be lively enough to create an absolute\nloathing of certain offences, or a detestation and scorn of them as\nungentlemanlike, to which ruder natures, nay, such as have far more of\nreal religion in them, are tempted, or even betrayed. Scarcely can we\nexaggerate the value, in its place, of a safeguard such as this, as\nregards those multitudes who are thrown upon the open field of the world,\nor are withdrawn from its eye and from the restraint of public opinion. In\nmany cases, where it exists, sins, familiar to those who are otherwise\ncircumstanced, will not even occur to the mind: in others, the sense of\nshame and the quickened apprehension of detection will act as a sufficient\nobstacle to them, when they do present themselves before it. Then, again,\nthe fastidiousness I am speaking of will create a simple hatred of that\nmiserable tone of conversation which, obtaining as it does in the world,\nis a constant fuel of evil, heaped up round about the soul: moreover, it\nwill create an irresolution and indecision in doing wrong, which will act\nas a _remora_ till the danger is past away. And though it has no tendency,\nI repeat, to mend the heart, or to secure it from the dominion in other\nshapes of those very evils which it repels in the particular modes of\napproach by which they prevail over others, yet cases may occur when it\ngives birth, after sins have been committed, to so keen a remorse and so\nintense a self-hatred, as are even sufficient to cure the particular moral\ndisorder, and to prevent its accesses ever afterwards;\u2014as the spendthrift\nin the story, who, after gazing on his lost acres from the summit of an\neminence, came down a miser, and remained a miser to the end of his days.\n\nAnd all this holds good in a special way, in an age such as ours, when,\nalthough pain of body and mind may be rife as heretofore, yet other\ncounteractions of evil, of a penal character, which are present at other\ntimes, are away. In rude and semi-barbarous periods, at least in a climate\nsuch as our own, it is the daily, nay, the principal business of the\nsenses, to convey feelings of discomfort to the mind, as far as they\nconvey feelings at all. Exposure to the elements, social disorder and\nlawlessness, the tyranny of the powerful, and the inroads of enemies, are\na stern discipline, allowing brief intervals, or awarding a sharp penance,\nto sloth and sensuality. The rude food, the scanty clothing, the violent\nexercise, the vagrant life, the military constraint, the imperfect\npharmacy, which now are the trials of only particular classes of the\ncommunity, were once the lot more or less of all. In the deep woods or the\nwild solitudes of the medieval era, feelings of religion or superstition\nwere naturally present to the population, which in various ways\nco-operated with the missionary or pastor, in retaining it in a noble\nsimplicity of manners. But, when in the advancement of society men\ncongregate in towns, and multiply in contracted spaces, and law gives them\nsecurity, and art gives them comforts, and good government robs them of\ncourage and manliness, and monotony of life throws them back upon\nthemselves, who does not see that diversion or protection from evil they\nhave none, that vice is the mere reaction of unhealthy toil, and sensual\nexcess the holyday of resourceless ignorance? This is so well understood\nby the practical benevolence of the day, that it has especially busied\nitself in plans for supplying the masses of our town population with\nintellectual and honourable recreations. Cheap literature, libraries of\nuseful and entertaining knowledge, scientific lectureships, museums,\nzoological collections, buildings and gardens to please the eye and to\ngive repose to the feelings, external objects of whatever kind, which may\ntake the mind off itself, and expand and elevate it in liberal\ncontemplations, these are the human means, wisely suggested, and good as\nfar as they go, for at least parrying the assaults of moral evil, and\nkeeping at bay the enemies, not only of the individual soul, but of\nsociety at large.\n\nSuch are the instruments by which an age of advanced civilization combats\nthose moral disorders, which Reason as well as Revelation denounces; and I\nhave not been backward to express my sense of their serviceableness to\nReligion. Moreover, they are but the foremost of a series of influences,\nwhich intellectual culture exerts upon our moral nature, and all upon the\ntype of Christianity, manifesting themselves in veracity, probity, equity,\nfairness, gentleness, benevolence, and amiableness; so much so, that a\ncharacter more noble to look at, more beautiful, more winning, in the\nvarious relations of life and in personal duties, is hardly conceivable,\nthan may, or might be, its result, when that culture is bestowed upon a\nsoil naturally adapted to virtue. If you would obtain a picture for\ncontemplation which may seem to fulfil the ideal, which the Apostle has\ndelineated under the name of charity, in its sweetness and harmony, its\ngenerosity, its courtesy to others, and its depreciation of self, you\ncould not have recourse to a better furnished _studio_ than to that of\nPhilosophy, with the specimens of it, which with greater or less exactness\nare scattered through society in a civilized age. It is enough to refer\nyou, Gentlemen, to the various Biographies and Remains of contemporaries\nand others, which from time to time issue from the press, to see how\nstriking is the action of our intellectual upon our moral nature, where\nthe moral material is rich, and the intellectual cast is perfect.\nIndividuals will occur to all of us, who deservedly attract our love and\nadmiration, and whom the world almost worships as the work of its own\nhands. Religious principle, indeed,\u2014that is, faith,\u2014is, to all appearance,\nsimply away; the work is as certainly not supernatural as it is certainly\nnoble and beautiful. This must be insisted on, that the Intellect may have\nits due; but it also must be insisted on for the sake of conclusions to\nwhich I wish to conduct our investigation. The radical difference indeed\nof this mental refinement from genuine religion, in spite of its seeming\nrelationship, is the very cardinal point on which my present discussion\nturns; yet, on the other hand, such refinement may readily be assigned to\na Christian origin by hasty or distant observers, or by those who view it\nin a particular light. And as this is the case, I think it advisable,\nbefore proceeding with the delineation of its characteristic features, to\npoint out to you distinctly the elementary principles on which its\nmorality is based.\n\n\n\n5.\n\n\nYou will bear in mind then, Gentlemen, that I spoke just now of the scorn\nand hatred which a cultivated mind feels for some kinds of vice, and the\nutter disgust and profound humiliation which may come over it, if it\nshould happen in any degree to be betrayed into them. Now this feeling may\nhave its root in faith and love, but it may not; there is nothing really\nreligious in it, considered by itself. Conscience indeed is implanted in\nthe breast by nature, but it inflicts upon us fear as well as shame; when\nthe mind is simply angry with itself and nothing more, surely the true\nimport of the voice of nature and the depth of its intimations have been\nforgotten, and a false philosophy has misinterpreted emotions which ought\nto lead to God. Fear implies the transgression of a law, and a law implies\na lawgiver and judge; but the tendency of intellectual culture is to\nswallow up the fear in the self-reproach, and self-reproach is directed\nand limited to our mere sense of what is fitting and becoming. Fear\ncarries us out of ourselves, whereas shame may act upon us only within the\nround of our own thoughts. Such, I say, is the danger which awaits a\ncivilized age; such is its besetting sin (not inevitable, God forbid! or\nwe must abandon the use of God\u2019s own gifts), but still the ordinary sin of\nthe Intellect; conscience tends to become what is called a moral sense;\nthe command of duty is a sort of taste; sin is not an offence against God,\nbut against human nature.\n\nThe less amiable specimens of this spurious religion are those which we\nmeet not unfrequently in my own country. I can use with all my heart the\npoet\u2019s words,\n\n\u201cEngland, with all thy faults, I love thee still;\u201d\n\nbut to those faults no Catholic can be blind. We find there men possessed\nof many virtues, but proud, bashful, fastidious, and reserved. Why is\nthis? it is because they think and act as if there were really nothing\nobjective in their religion; it is because conscience to them is not the\nword of a lawgiver, as it ought to be, but the dictate of their own minds\nand nothing more; it is because they do not look out of themselves,\nbecause they do not look through and beyond their own minds to their\nMaker, but are engrossed in notions of what is due to themselves, to their\nown dignity and their own consistency. Their conscience has become a mere\nself-respect. Instead of doing one thing and then another, as each is\ncalled for, in faith and obedience, careless of what may be called the\n_keeping_ of deed with deed, and leaving Him who gives the command to\nblend the portions of their conduct into a whole, their one object,\nhowever unconscious to themselves, is to paint a smooth and perfect\nsurface, and to be able to say to themselves that they have done their\nduty. When they do wrong, they feel, not contrition, of which God is the\nobject, but remorse, and a sense of degradation. They call themselves\nfools, not sinners; they are angry and impatient, not humble. They shut\nthemselves up in themselves; it is misery to them to think or to speak of\ntheir own feelings; it is misery to suppose that others see them, and\ntheir shyness and sensitiveness often become morbid. As to confession,\nwhich is so natural to the Catholic, to them it is impossible; unless\nindeed, in cases where they have been guilty, an apology is due to their\nown character, is expected of them, and will be satisfactory to look back\nupon. They are victims of an intense self-contemplation.\n\nThere are, however, far more pleasing and interesting forms of this moral\nmalady than that which I have been depicting: I have spoken of the effect\nof intellectual culture on proud natures; but it will show to greater\nadvantage, yet with as little approximation to religious faith, in amiable\nand unaffected minds. Observe, Gentlemen, the heresy, as it may be called,\nof which I speak, is the substitution of a moral sense or taste for\nconscience in the true meaning of the word; now this error may be the\nfoundation of a character of far more elasticity and grace than ever\nadorned the persons whom I have been describing. It is especially\ncongenial to men of an imaginative and poetical cast of mind, who will\nreadily accept the notion that virtue is nothing more than the graceful in\nconduct. Such persons, far from tolerating fear, as a principle, in their\napprehension of religious and moral truth, will not be slow to call it\nsimply gloom and superstition. Rather a philosopher\u2019s, a gentleman\u2019s\nreligion, is of a liberal and generous character; it is based upon honour;\nvice is evil, because it is unworthy, despicable, and odious. This was the\nquarrel of the ancient heathen with Christianity, that, instead of simply\nfixing the mind on the fair and the pleasant, it intermingled other ideas\nwith them of a sad and painful nature; that it spoke of tears before joy,\na cross before a crown; that it laid the foundation of heroism in penance;\nthat it made the soul tremble with the news of Purgatory and Hell; that it\ninsisted on views and a worship of the Deity, which to their minds was\nnothing else than mean, servile, and cowardly. The notion of an\nAll-perfect, Ever-present God, in whose sight we are less than atoms, and\nwho, while He deigns to visit us, can punish as well as bless, was\nabhorrent to them; they made their own minds their sanctuary, their own\nideas their oracle, and conscience in morals was but parallel to genius in\nart, and wisdom in philosophy.\n\n\n\n6.\n\n\nHad I room for all that might be said upon the subject, I might illustrate\nthis intellectual religion from the history of the Emperor Julian, the\napostate from Christian Truth, the foe of Christian education. He, in whom\nevery Catholic sees the shadow of the future Anti-Christ, was all but the\npattern-man of philosophical virtue. Weak points in his character he had,\nit is true, even in a merely poetical standard; but, take him all in all,\nand I cannot but recognize in him a specious beauty and nobleness of moral\ndeportment, which combines in it the rude greatness of Fabricius or\nRegulus with the accomplishments of Pliny or Antoninus. His simplicity of\nmanners, his frugality, his austerity of life, his singular disdain of\nsensual pleasure, his military heroism, his application to business, his\nliterary diligence, his modesty, his clemency, his accomplishments, as I\nview them, go to make him one of the most eminent specimens of pagan\nvirtue which the world has ever seen.(24) Yet how shallow, how meagre,\nnay, how unamiable is that virtue after all, when brought upon its\ncritical trial by his sudden summons into the presence of his Judge! His\nlast hours form a _unique_ passage in history, both as illustrating the\nhelplessness of philosophy under the stern realities of our being, and as\nbeing reported to us on the evidence of an eye-witness. \u201cFriends and\nfellow-soldiers,\u201d he said, to use the words of a writer, well fitted, both\nfrom his literary tastes and from his hatred of Christianity, to be his\npanegyrist, \u201cthe seasonable period of my departure is now arrived, and I\ndischarge, with the cheerfulness of a ready debtor, the demands of\nnature.\u2026 I die without remorse, as I have lived without guilt. I am\npleased to reflect on the innocence of my private life; and I can affirm\nwith confidence that the supreme authority, that emanation of the divine\nPower, has been preserved in my hands pure and immaculate.\u2026 I now offer my\ntribute of gratitude to the Eternal Being, who has not suffered me to\nperish by the cruelty of a tyrant, by the secret dagger of conspiracy, or\nby the slow tortures of lingering disease. He has given me, in the midst\nof an honourable career, a splendid and glorious departure from this\nworld, and I hold it equally absurd, equally base, to solicit, or to\ndecline, the stroke of fate.\u2026\n\n\u201cHe reproved the immoderate grief of the spectators, and conjured them not\nto disgrace, by unmanly tears, the fate of a prince who in a few moments\nwould be united with Heaven and with the stars. The spectators were\nsilent; and Julian entered into a metaphysical argument with the\nphilosophers Priscus and Maximus on the nature of the soul. The efforts\nwhich he made, of mind as well as body, most probably hastened his death.\nHis wound began to bleed with great violence; his respiration was\nembarrassed by the swelling of the veins; he called for a draught of cold\nwater, and as soon as he had drank it expired without pain, about the hour\nof midnight.\u201d(25) Such, Gentlemen, is the final exhibition of the Religion\nof Reason: in the insensibility of conscience, in the ignorance of the\nvery idea of sin, in the contemplation of his own moral consistency, in\nthe simple absence of fear, in the cloudless self-confidence, in the\nserene self-possession, in the cold self-satisfaction, we recognize the\nmere Philosopher.\n\n\n\n7.\n\n\nGibbon paints with pleasure what, conformably with the sentiments of a\ngodless intellectualism, was an historical fulfilment of his own idea of\nmoral perfection; Lord Shaftesbury had already drawn out that idea in a\ntheoretical form, in his celebrated collection of Treatises which he has\ncalled \u201cCharacteristics of men, manners, opinions, views;\u201d and it will be\na further illustration of the subject before us, if you will allow me,\nGentlemen, to make some extracts from this work.\n\nOne of his first attacks is directed against the doctrine of reward and\npunishment, as if it introduced a notion into religion inconsistent with\nthe true apprehension of the beauty of virtue, and with the liberality and\nnobleness of spirit in which it should be pursued. \u201cMen have not been\ncontent,\u201d he says, \u201cto show the natural advantages of honesty and virtue.\nThey have rather lessened these, the better, as they thought, to advance\nanother foundation. They have made virtue so mercenary a thing, and have\ntalked so much of its rewards, that one can hardly tell what there is in\nit, after all, which can be worth rewarding. For to be _bribed_ only or\n_terrified_ into an honest practice, bespeaks little of real honesty or\nworth.\u201d \u201cIf,\u201d he says elsewhere, insinuating what he dare not speak out,\n\u201cif through hope merely of reward, or fear of punishment, the creature be\ninclined to do the good he hates, or restrained from doing the ill to\nwhich he is not otherwise in the least degree averse there is in this case\nno virtue or goodness whatever. There is no more of rectitude, piety, or\nsanctity, in a creature thus reformed, than there is meekness or\ngentleness in a tiger strongly chained, or innocence and sobriety in a\nmonkey under the discipline of the whip.\u2026 While the will is neither\ngained, nor the inclination wrought upon, but awe alone prevails and\nforces obedience, the obedience is servile, and all which is done through\nit merely servile.\u201d That is, he says that Christianity is the enemy of\nmoral virtue, as influencing the mind by fear of God, not by love of good.\n\nThe motives then of hope and fear being, to say the least, put far into\nthe background, and nothing being morally good but what springs simply or\nmainly from a love of virtue for its own sake, this love-inspiring quality\nin virtue is its beauty, while a bad conscience is not much more than the\nsort of feeling which makes us shrink from an instrument out of tune.\n\u201cSome by mere nature,\u201d he says, \u201cothers by art and practice, are masters\nof an ear in music, an eye in painting, a fancy in the ordinary things of\nornament and grace, a judgment in proportions of all kinds, and a general\ngood taste in most of those subjects which make the amusement and delight\nof the ingenious people of the world. Let such gentlemen as these be as\nextravagant as they please, or as irregular in their morals, they must at\nthe same time discover their _inconsistency_, live at _variance_ with\nthemselves, and in _contradiction_ to that principle on which they ground\ntheir highest pleasure and entertainment. Of all other _beauties_ which\nvirtuosos pursue, poets celebrate, musicians sing, and architects or\nartists of whatever kind describe or form, the most delightful, the most\nengaging and pathetic, is that which is drawn from real life and from the\npassions. Nothing affects the heart like that which is purely from itself,\nand of its own nature: such as the beauty of sentiments, the grace of\nactions, the turn of characters, and the _proportions and features_ of a\nhuman mind. This lesson of philosophy, even a romance, a poem, or a play\nmay teach us.\u2026 Let poets or the men of harmony deny, if they can, this\nforce of nature, or withstand this _moral magic_.\u2026 Every one is a virtuoso\nof a higher or lower degree; every one pursues a grace \u2026 of one kind or\nother. The _venustum_, the _honestum_, the _decorum_ of things will force\nits way.\u2026 The most natural beauty in the world is honesty and moral truth;\nfor all beauty is truth.\u201d\n\nAccordingly, virtue being only one kind of beauty, the principle which\ndetermines what is virtuous is, not conscience, but _taste_. \u201cCould we\nonce convince ourselves,\u201d he says, \u201cof what is in itself so evident, viz.,\nthat in the very nature of things there must of necessity be the\nfoundation of a right and wrong _taste_, as well in respect of inward\ncharacter of features as of outward person, behaviour, and action, we\nshould be far more ashamed of ignorance and wrong judgment in the former\nthan in the latter of these subjects.\u2026 One who aspires to the character of\na man of breeding and politeness is careful to form his judgment of arts\nand sciences upon right models of perfection.\u2026 He takes particular care to\nturn his eye from every thing which is gaudy, luscious, and of false\ntaste. Nor is he less careful to turn his ear from every sort of music,\nbesides that which is of the best manner and truest harmony. \u2019Twere to be\nwished we had the same regard to a _right taste in life and manners_.\u2026 If\ncivility and humanity be a taste; if brutality, insolence, riot, be in the\nsame manner a taste, \u2026 who would not endeavour to force nature as well in\nthis respect as in what relates to a taste or judgment in other arts and\nsciences?\u201d\n\nSometimes he distinctly contrasts this taste with principle and\nconscience, and gives it the preference over them. \u201cAfter all,\u201d he says,\n\u201c_\u2019tis not merely what we call principle_, but _a taste_, which governs\nmen. They may think for certain, \u2018This is right,\u2019 or \u2018that wrong;\u2019 they\nmay believe \u2018this is a virtue,\u2019 or \u2018that a sin;\u2019 \u2018this is punishable by\nman,\u2019 or \u2018that by God;\u2019 yet if the savour of things lies cross to honesty,\nif the fancy be florid, and the appetite high towards the subaltern\nbeauties and lower orders of worldly symmetries and proportions, the\nconduct will infallibly turn this latter way.\u201d Thus, somewhat like a\nJansenist, he makes the superior pleasure infallibly conquer, and implies\nthat, neglecting principle, we have but to train the taste to a kind of\nbeauty higher than sensual. He adds: \u201c_Even conscience_, I fear, such as\nis owing to religious discipline, will make but a slight figure, when this\ntaste is set amiss.\u201d\n\nAnd hence the well-known doctrine of this author, that ridicule is the\ntest of truth; for truth and virtue being beauty, and falsehood and vice\ndeformity, and the feeling inspired by deformity being that of derision,\nas that inspired by beauty is admiration, it follows that vice is not a\nthing to weep about, but to laugh at. \u201cNothing is ridiculous,\u201d he says,\n\u201cbut what is deformed; nor is any thing proof against raillery but what is\nhandsome and just. And therefore \u2019tis the hardest thing in the world to\ndeny fair honesty the use of this weapon, which can never bear an edge\nagainst herself, and bears against every thing contrary.\u201d\n\nAnd hence again, conscience, which intimates a Law-giver, being superseded\nby a moral taste or sentiment, which has no sanction beyond the\nconstitution of our nature, it follows that our great rule is to\ncontemplate ourselves, if we would gain a standard of life and morals.\nThus he has entitled one of his Treatises a \u201cSoliloquy,\u201d with the motto,\n\u201cNec te qu\u00e6siveris extra;\u201d and he observes, \u201cThe chief interest of\nambition, avarice, corruption, and every sly insinuating vice, is to\nprevent this interview and familiarity of discourse, which is consequent\nupon close retirement and inward recess. \u2019Tis the grand artifice of\nvillainy and lewdness, _as well as of superstition and bigotry_, to put us\nupon terms of greater distance and formality with ourselves, and evade our\n_proving_ method of soliloquy.\u2026 A passionate lover, whatever solitude he\nmay affect, can never be truly by himself.\u2026 \u2019Tis the same reason which\nkeeps the imaginary saint or mystic from being capable of this\nentertainment. Instead of looking narrowly into his own nature and mind,\nthat he may be no longer a mystery to himself, he is taken up with _the\ncontemplation of other mysterious natures_, which he never can explain or\ncomprehend.\u201d\n\n\n\n8.\n\n\nTaking these passages as specimens of what I call the Religion of\nPhilosophy, it is obvious to observe that there is no doctrine contained\nin them which is not in a certain sense true; yet, on the other hand, that\nalmost every statement is perverted and made false, because it is not the\nwhole truth. They are exhibitions of truth under one aspect, and therefore\ninsufficient; conscience is most certainly a moral sense, but it is more;\nvice again, is a deformity, but it is worse. Lord Shaftesbury may insist,\nif he will, that simple and solitary fear cannot effect a moral\nconversion, and we are not concerned to answer him; but he will have a\ndifficulty in proving that any real conversion follows from a doctrine\nwhich makes virtue a mere point of good taste, and vice vulgar and\nungentlemanlike.\n\nSuch a doctrine is essentially superficial, and such will be its effects.\nIt has no better measure of right and wrong than that of visible beauty\nand tangible fitness. Conscience indeed inflicts an acute pang, but that\npang, forsooth, is irrational, and to reverence it is an illiberal\nsuperstition. But, if we will make light of what is deepest within us,\nnothing is left but to pay homage to what is more upon the surface. To\n_seem_ becomes to _be_; what looks fair will be good, what causes offence\nwill be evil; virtue will be what pleases, vice what pains. As well may we\nmeasure virtue by utility as by such a rule. Nor is this an imaginary\napprehension; we all must recollect the celebrated sentiment into which a\ngreat and wise man was betrayed, in the glowing eloquence of his\nvalediction to the spirit of chivalry. \u201cIt is gone,\u201d cries Mr. Burke;\n\u201cthat sensibility of principle, that chastity of honour, which felt a\nstain like a wound; which inspired courage, while it mitigated ferocity;\nwhich ennobled whatever it touched, and under which _vice lost half its\nevil by losing all its grossness_.\u201d In the last clause of this beautiful\nsentence we have too apt an illustration of the ethical temperament of a\ncivilized age. It is detection, not the sin, which is the crime; private\nlife is sacred, and inquiry into it is intolerable; and decency is virtue.\nScandals, vulgarities, whatever shocks, whatever disgusts, are offences of\nthe first order. Drinking and swearing, squalid poverty, improvidence,\nlaziness, slovenly disorder, make up the idea of profligacy: poets may say\nany thing, however wicked, with impunity; works of genius may be read\nwithout danger or shame, whatever their principles; fashion, celebrity,\nthe beautiful, the heroic, will suffice to force any evil upon the\ncommunity. The splendours of a court, and the charms of good society, wit,\nimagination, taste, and high breeding, the _prestige_ of rank, and the\nresources of wealth, are a screen, an instrument, and an apology for vice\nand irreligion. And thus at length we find, surprising as the change may\nbe, that that very refinement of Intellectualism, which began by repelling\nsensuality, ends by excusing it. Under the shadow indeed of the Church,\nand in its due development, Philosophy does service to the cause of\nmorality; but, when it is strong enough to have a will of its own, and is\nlifted up with an idea of its own importance, and attempts to form a\ntheory, and to lay down a principle, and to carry out a system of ethics,\nand undertakes the moral education of the man, then it does but abet evils\nto which at first it seemed instinctively opposed. True Religion is slow\nin growth, and, when once planted, is difficult of dislodgement; but its\nintellectual counterfeit has no root in itself: it springs up suddenly, it\nsuddenly withers. It appeals to what is in nature, and it falls under the\ndominion of the old Adam. Then, like dethroned princes, it keeps up a\nstate and majesty, when it has lost the real power. Deformity is its\nabhorrence; accordingly, since it cannot dissuade men from vice, therefore\nin order to escape the sight of its deformity, it embellishes it. It\n\u201cskins and films the ulcerous place,\u201d which it cannot probe or heal,\n\n\u201cWhiles rank corruption, mining all within,\nInfects unseen.\u201d\n\nAnd from this shallowness of philosophical Religion it comes to pass that\nits disciples seem able to fulfil certain precepts of Christianity more\nreadily and exactly than Christians themselves. St. Paul, as I have said,\ngives us a pattern of evangelical perfection; he draws the Christian\ncharacter in its most graceful form, and its most beautiful hues. He\ndiscourses of that charity which is patient and meek, humble and\nsingle-minded, disinterested, contented, and persevering. He tells us to\nprefer each the other before himself, to give way to each other, to\nabstain from rude words and evil speech, to avoid self-conceit, to be calm\nand grave, to be cheerful and happy, to observe peace with all men, truth\nand justice, courtesy and gentleness, all that is modest, amiable,\nvirtuous, and of good repute. Such is St. Paul\u2019s exemplar of the Christian\nin his external relations; and, I repeat, the school of the world seems to\nsend out living copies of this typical excellence with greater success\nthan the Church. At this day the \u201cgentleman\u201d is the creation, not of\nChristianity, but of civilization. But the reason is obvious. The world is\ncontent with setting right the surface of things; the Church aims at\nregenerating the very depths of the heart. She ever begins with the\nbeginning; and, as regards the multitude of her children, is never able to\nget beyond the beginning, but is continually employed in laying the\nfoundation. She is engaged with what is essential, as previous and as\nintroductory to the ornamental and the attractive. She is curing men and\nkeeping them clear of mortal sin; she is \u201ctreating of justice and\nchastity, and the judgment to come:\u201d she is insisting on faith and hope,\nand devotion, and honesty, and the elements of charity; and has so much to\ndo with precept, that she almost leaves it to inspirations from Heaven to\nsuggest what is of counsel and perfection. She aims at what is necessary\nrather than at what is desirable. She is for the many as well as for the\nfew. She is putting souls in the way of salvation, that they may then be\nin a condition, if they shall be called upon, to aspire to the heroic, and\nto attain the full proportions, as well as the rudiments, of the\nbeautiful.\n\n\n\n9.\n\n\nSuch is the method, or the policy (so to call it), of the Church; but\nPhilosophy looks at the matter from a very different point of view: what\nhave Philosophers to do with the terror of judgment or the saving of the\nsoul? Lord Shaftesbury calls the former a sort of \u201cpanic fear.\u201d Of the\nlatter he scoffingly complains that \u201cthe saving of souls is now the heroic\npassion of exalted spirits.\u201d Of course he is at liberty, on his\nprinciples, to pick and choose out of Christianity what he will; he\ndiscards the theological, the mysterious, the spiritual; he makes\nselection of the morally or esthetically beautiful. To him it matters not\nat all that he begins his teaching where he should end it; it matters not\nthat, instead of planting the tree, he merely crops its flowers for his\nbanquet; he only aims at the present life, his philosophy dies with him;\nif his flowers do but last to the end of his revel, he has nothing more to\nseek. When night comes, the withered leaves may be mingled with his own\nashes; he and they will have done their work, he and they will be no more.\nCertainly, it costs little to make men virtuous on conditions such as\nthese; it is like teaching them a language or an accomplishment, to write\nLatin or to play on an instrument,\u2014the profession of an artist, not the\ncommission of an Apostle.\n\nThis embellishment of the exterior is almost the beginning and the end of\nphilosophical morality. This is why it aims at being modest rather than\nhumble; this is how it can be proud at the very time that it is\nunassuming. To humility indeed it does not even aspire; humility is one of\nthe most difficult of virtues both to attain and to ascertain. It lies\nclose upon the heart itself, and its tests are exceedingly delicate and\nsubtle. Its counterfeits abound; however, we are little concerned with\nthem here, for, I repeat, it is hardly professed even by name in the code\nof ethics which we are reviewing. As has been often observed, ancient\ncivilization had not the idea, and had no word to express it: or rather,\nit had the idea, and considered it a defect of mind, not a virtue, so that\nthe word which denoted it conveyed a reproach. As to the modern world, you\nmay gather its ignorance of it by its perversion of the somewhat parallel\nterm \u201ccondescension.\u201d Humility or condescension, viewed as a virtue of\nconduct, may be said to consist, as in other things, so in our placing\nourselves in our thoughts on a level with our inferiors; it is not only a\nvoluntary relinquishment of the privileges of our own station, but an\nactual participation or assumption of the condition of those to whom we\nstoop. This is true humility, to feel and to behave as if we were low;\nnot, to cherish a notion of our importance, while we affect a low\nposition. Such was St. Paul\u2019s humility, when he called himself \u201cthe least\nof the saints;\u201d such the humility of those many holy men who have\nconsidered themselves the greatest of sinners. It is an abdication, as far\nas their own thoughts are concerned, of those prerogatives or privileges\nto which others deem them entitled. Now it is not a little instructive to\ncontrast with this idea, Gentlemen,\u2014with this theological meaning of the\nword \u201ccondescension,\u201d\u2014its proper English sense; put them in\njuxta-position, and you will at once see the difference between the\nworld\u2019s humility and the humility of the Gospel. As the world uses the\nword, \u201ccondescension\u201d is a stooping indeed of the person, but a bending\nforward, unattended with any the slightest effort to leave by a single\ninch the seat in which it is so firmly established. It is the act of a\nsuperior, who protests to himself, while he commits it, that he is\nsuperior still, and that he is doing nothing else but an act of grace\ntowards those on whose level, in theory, he is placing himself. And this\nis the nearest idea which the philosopher can form of the virtue of\nself-abasement; to do more than this is to his mind a meanness or an\nhypocrisy, and at once excites his suspicion and disgust. What the world\nis, such it has ever been; we know the contempt which the educated pagans\nhad for the martyrs and confessors of the Church; and it is shared by the\nanti-Catholic bodies of this day.\n\nSuch are the ethics of Philosophy, when faithfully represented; but an age\nlike this, not pagan, but professedly Christian, cannot venture to\nreprobate humility in set terms, or to make a boast of pride. Accordingly,\nit looks out for some expedient by which it may blind itself to the real\nstate of the case. Humility, with its grave and self-denying attributes,\nit cannot love; but what is more beautiful, what more winning, than\nmodesty? what virtue, at first sight, simulates humility so well? though\nwhat in fact is more radically distinct from it? In truth, great as is its\ncharm, modesty is not the deepest or the most religious of virtues. Rather\nit is the advanced guard or sentinel of the soul militant, and watches\ncontinually over its nascent intercourse with the world about it. It goes\nthe round of the senses; it mounts up into the countenance; it protects\nthe eye and ear; it reigns in the voice and gesture. Its province is the\noutward deportment, as other virtues have relation to matters theological,\nothers to society, and others to the mind itself. And being more\nsuperficial than other virtues, it is more easily disjoined from their\ncompany; it admits of being associated with principles or qualities\nnaturally foreign to it, and is often made the cloak of feelings or ends\nfor which it was never given to us. So little is it the necessary index of\nhumility, that it is even compatible with pride. The better for the\npurpose of Philosophy; humble it cannot be, so forthwith modesty becomes\nits humility.\n\nPride, under such training, instead of running to waste in the education\nof the mind, is turned to account; it gets a new name; it is called\nself-respect; and ceases to be the disagreeable, uncompanionable quality\nwhich it is in itself. Though it be the motive principle of the soul, it\nseldom comes to view; and when it shows itself, then delicacy and\ngentleness are its attire, and good sense and sense of honour direct its\nmotions. It is no longer a restless agent, without definite aim; it has a\nlarge field of exertion assigned to it, and it subserves those social\ninterests which it would naturally trouble. It is directed into the\nchannel of industry, frugality, honesty, and obedience; and it becomes the\nvery staple of the religion and morality held in honour in a day like our\nown. It becomes the safeguard of chastity, the guarantee of veracity, in\nhigh and low; it is the very household god of society, as at present\nconstituted, inspiring neatness and decency in the servant girl, propriety\nof carriage and refined manners in her mistress, uprightness, manliness,\nand generosity in the head of the family. It diffuses a light over town\nand country; it covers the soil with handsome edifices and smiling\ngardens; it tills the field, it stocks and embellishes the shop. It is the\nstimulating principle of providence on the one hand, and of free\nexpenditure on the other; of an honourable ambition, and of elegant\nenjoyment. It breathes upon the face of the community, and the hollow\nsepulchre is forthwith beautiful to look upon.\n\nRefined by the civilization which has brought it into activity, this\nself-respect infuses into the mind an intense horror of exposure, and a\nkeen sensitiveness of notoriety and ridicule. It becomes the enemy of\nextravagances of any kind; it shrinks from what are called scenes; it has\nno mercy on the mock-heroic, on pretence or egotism, on verbosity in\nlanguage, or what is called prosiness in conversation. It detests gross\nadulation; not that it tends at all to the eradication of the appetite to\nwhich the flatterer ministers, but it sees the absurdity of indulging it,\nit understands the annoyance thereby given to others, and if a tribute\nmust be paid to the wealthy or the powerful, it demands greater subtlety\nand art in the preparation. Thus vanity is changed into a more dangerous\nself-conceit, as being checked in its natural eruption. It teaches men to\nsuppress their feelings, and to control their tempers, and to mitigate\nboth the severity and the tone of their judgments. As Lord Shaftesbury\nwould desire, it prefers playful wit and satire in putting down what is\nobjectionable, as a more refined and good-natured, as well as a more\neffectual method, than the expedient which is natural to uneducated minds.\nIt is from this impatience of the tragic and the bombastic that it is now\nquietly but energetically opposing itself to the unchristian practice of\nduelling, which it brands as simply out of taste, and as the remnant of a\nbarbarous age; and certainly it seems likely to effect what Religion has\naimed at abolishing in vain.\n\n\n\n10.\n\n\nHence it is that it is almost a definition of a gentleman to say he is one\nwho never inflicts pain. This description is both refined and, as far as\nit goes, accurate. He is mainly occupied in merely removing the obstacles\nwhich hinder the free and unembarrassed action of those about him; and he\nconcurs with their movements rather than takes the initiative himself. His\nbenefits may be considered as parallel to what are called comforts or\nconveniences in arrangements of a personal nature: like an easy chair or a\ngood fire, which do their part in dispelling cold and fatigue, though\nnature provides both means of rest and animal heat without them. The true\ngentleman in like manner carefully avoids whatever may cause a jar or a\njolt in the minds of those with whom he is cast;\u2014all clashing of opinion,\nor collision of feeling, all restraint, or suspicion, or gloom, or\nresentment; his great concern being to make every one at their ease and at\nhome. He has his eyes on all his company; he is tender towards the\nbashful, gentle towards the distant, and merciful towards the absurd; he\ncan recollect to whom he is speaking; he guards against unseasonable\nallusions, or topics which may irritate; he is seldom prominent in\nconversation, and never wearisome. He makes light of favours while he does\nthem, and seems to be receiving when he is conferring. He never speaks of\nhimself except when compelled, never defends himself by a mere retort, he\nhas no ears for slander or gossip, is scrupulous in imputing motives to\nthose who interfere with him, and interprets every thing for the best. He\nis never mean or little in his disputes, never takes unfair advantage,\nnever mistakes personalities or sharp sayings for arguments, or insinuates\nevil which he dare not say out. From a long-sighted prudence, he observes\nthe maxim of the ancient sage, that we should ever conduct ourselves\ntowards our enemy as if he were one day to be our friend. He has too much\ngood sense to be affronted at insults, he is too well employed to remember\ninjuries, and too indolent to bear malice. He is patient, forbearing, and\nresigned, on philosophical principles; he submits to pain, because it is\ninevitable, to bereavement, because it is irreparable, and to death,\nbecause it is his destiny. If he engages in controversy of any kind, his\ndisciplined intellect preserves him from the blundering discourtesy of\nbetter, perhaps, but less educated minds; who, like blunt weapons, tear\nand hack instead of cutting clean, who mistake the point in argument,\nwaste their strength on trifles, misconceive their adversary, and leave\nthe question more involved than they find it. He may be right or wrong in\nhis opinion, but he is too clear-headed to be unjust; he is as simple as\nhe is forcible, and as brief as he is decisive. Nowhere shall we find\ngreater candour, consideration, indulgence: he throws himself into the\nminds of his opponents, he accounts for their mistakes. He knows the\nweakness of human reason as well as its strength, its province and its\nlimits. If he be an unbeliever, he will be too profound and large-minded\nto ridicule religion or to act against it; he is too wise to be a\ndogmatist or fanatic in his infidelity. He respects piety and devotion; he\neven supports institutions as venerable, beautiful, or useful, to which he\ndoes not assent; he honours the ministers of religion, and it contents him\nto decline its mysteries without assailing or denouncing them. He is a\nfriend of religious toleration, and that, not only because his philosophy\nhas taught him to look on all forms of faith with an impartial eye, but\nalso from the gentleness and effeminacy of feeling, which is the attendant\non civilization.\n\nNot that he may not hold a religion too, in his own way, even when he is\nnot a Christian. In that case his religion is one of imagination and\nsentiment; it is the embodiment of those ideas of the sublime, majestic,\nand beautiful, without which there can be no large philosophy. Sometimes\nhe acknowledges the being of God, sometimes he invests an unknown\nprinciple or quality with the attributes of perfection. And this deduction\nof his reason, or creation of his fancy, he makes the occasion of such\nexcellent thoughts, and the starting-point of so varied and systematic a\nteaching, that he even seems like a disciple of Christianity itself. From\nthe very accuracy and steadiness of his logical powers, he is able to see\nwhat sentiments are consistent in those who hold any religious doctrine at\nall, and he appears to others to feel and to hold a whole circle of\ntheological truths, which exist in his mind no otherwise than as a number\nof deductions.\n\n                                * * * * *\n\nSuch are some of the lineaments of the ethical character, which the\ncultivated intellect will form, apart from religious principle. They are\nseen within the pale of the Church and without it, in holy men, and in\nprofligate; they form the _beau-ideal_ of the world; they partly assist\nand partly distort the development of the Catholic. They may subserve the\neducation of a St. Francis de Sales or a Cardinal Pole; they may be the\nlimits of the contemplation of a Shaftesbury or a Gibbon. Basil and Julian\nwere fellow-students at the schools of Athens; and one became the Saint\nand Doctor of the Church, the other her scoffing and relentless foe.\n\n\n\n\n                              Discourse IX.\n\n\nDuties Of The Church Towards Knowledge.\n\n\n\n1.\n\n\nI have to congratulate myself, Gentlemen, that at length I have\naccomplished, with whatever success, the difficult and anxious undertaking\nto which I have been immediately addressing myself. Difficult and anxious\nit has been in truth, though the main subject of University Teaching has\nbeen so often and so ably discussed already; for I have attempted to\nfollow out a line of thought more familiar to Protestants just now than to\nCatholics, upon Catholic grounds. I declared my intention, when I opened\nthe subject, of treating it as a philosophical and practical, rather than\nas a theological question, with an appeal to common sense, not to\necclesiastical rules; and for this very reason, while my argument has been\nless ambitious, it has been deprived of the lights and supports which\nanother mode of handling it would have secured.\n\nNo anxiety, no effort of mind is more severe than his, who in a difficult\nmatter has it seriously at heart to investigate without error and to\ninstruct without obscurity; as to myself, if the past discussion has at\nany time tried the patience of the kind persons who have given it their\nattention, I can assure them that on no one can it have inflicted so great\nlabour and fatigue as on myself. Happy they who are engaged in provinces\nof thought, so familiarly traversed and so thoroughly explored, that they\nsee every where the footprints, the paths, the landmarks, and the remains\nof former travellers, and can never step wrong; but for myself, Gentlemen,\nI have felt like a navigator on a strange sea, who is out of sight of\nland, is surprised by night, and has to trust mainly to the rules and\ninstruments of his science for reaching the port. The everlasting\nmountains, the high majestic cliffs, of the opposite coast, radiant in the\nsunlight, which are our ordinary guides, fail us in an excursion such as\nthis; the lessons of antiquity, the determinations of authority, are here\nrather the needle, chart, and plummet, than great objects, with distinct\nand continuous outlines and completed details, which stand up and confront\nand occupy our gaze, and relieve us from the tension and suspense of our\npersonal observation. And thus, in spite of the pains we may take to\nconsult others and avoid mistakes, it is not till the morning comes and\nthe shore greets us, and we see our vessel making straight for harbour,\nthat we relax our jealous watch, and consider anxiety irrational. Such in\na measure has been my feeling in the foregoing inquiry; in which indeed I\nhave been in want neither of authoritative principles nor distinct\nprecedents, but of treatises _in extenso_ on the subject on which I have\nwritten,\u2014the finished work of writers, who, by their acknowledged judgment\nand erudition, might furnish me for my private guidance with a running\ninstruction on each point which successively came under review.\n\nI have spoken of the arduousness of my \u201cimmediate\u201d undertaking, because\nwhat I have been attempting has been of a preliminary nature, not\ncontemplating the duties of the Church towards a University, nor the\ncharacteristics of a University which is Catholic, but inquiring what a\nUniversity is, what is its aim, what its nature, what its bearings. I have\naccordingly laid down first, that all branches of knowledge are, at least\nimplicitly, the subject-matter of its teaching; that these branches are\nnot isolated and independent one of another, but form together a whole or\nsystem; that they run into each other, and complete each other, and that,\nin proportion to our view of them as a whole, is the exactness and\ntrustworthiness of the knowledge which they separately convey; that the\nprocess of imparting knowledge to the intellect in this philosophical way\nis its true culture; that such culture is a good in itself; that the\nknowledge which is both its instrument and result is called Liberal\nKnowledge; that such culture, together with the knowledge which effects\nit, may fitly be sought for its own sake; that it is, however, in\naddition, of great secular utility, as constituting the best and highest\nformation of the intellect for social and political life; and lastly,\nthat, considered in a religious aspect, it concurs with Christianity a\ncertain way, and then diverges from it; and consequently proves in the\nevent, sometimes its serviceable ally, sometimes, from its very\nresemblance to it, an insidious and dangerous foe.\n\nThough, however, these Discourses have only professed to be preliminary,\nbeing directed to the investigation of the object and nature of the\nEducation which a University professes to impart, at the same time I do\nnot like to conclude without making some remarks upon the duties of the\nChurch towards it, or rather on the ground of those duties. If the\nCatholic Faith is true, a University cannot exist externally to the\nCatholic pale, for it cannot teach Universal Knowledge if it does not\nteach Catholic theology. This is certain; but still, though it had ever so\nmany theological Chairs, that would not suffice to make it a Catholic\nUniversity; for theology would be included in its teaching only as a\nbranch of knowledge, only as one out of many constituent portions, however\nimportant a one, of what I have called Philosophy. Hence a direct and\nactive jurisdiction of the Church over it and in it is necessary, lest it\nshould become the rival of the Church with the community at large in those\ntheological matters which to the Church are exclusively committed,\u2014acting\nas the representative of the intellect, as the Church is the\nrepresentative of the religious principle. The illustration of this\nproposition shall be the subject of my concluding Discourse.\n\n\n\n2.\n\n\nI say then, that, even though the case could be so that the whole system\nof Catholicism was recognized and professed, without the direct presence\nof the Church, still this would not at once make such a University a\nCatholic Institution, nor be sufficient to secure the due weight of\nreligious considerations in its philosophical studies. For it may easily\nhappen that a particular bias or drift may characterize an Institution,\nwhich no rules can reach, nor officers remedy, nor professions or promises\ncounteract. We have an instance of such a case in the Spanish\nInquisition;\u2014here was a purely Catholic establishment, devoted to the\nmaintenance, or rather the ascendancy of Catholicism, keenly zealous for\ntheological truth, the stern foe of every anti-Catholic idea, and\nadministered by Catholic theologians; yet it in no proper sense belonged\nto the Church. It was simply and entirely a State institution, it was an\nexpression of that very Church-and-King spirit which has prevailed in\nthese islands; nay, it was an instrument of the State, according to the\nconfession of the acutest Protestant historians, in its warfare against\nthe Holy See. Considered \u201c_materially_,\u201d it was nothing but Catholic; but\nits spirit and form were earthly and secular, in spite of whatever faith\nand zeal and sanctity and charity were to be found in the individuals who\nfrom time to time had a share in its administration. And in like manner,\nit is no sufficient security for the Catholicity of a University, even\nthat the whole of Catholic theology should be professed in it, unless the\nChurch breathes her own pure and unearthly spirit into it, and fashions\nand moulds its organization, and watches over its teaching, and knits\ntogether its pupils, and superintends its action. The Spanish Inquisition\ncame into collision with the supreme Catholic authority, and that, from\nthe fact that its immediate end was of a secular character; and for the\nsame reason, whereas Academical Institutions (as I have been so long\nengaged in showing) are in their very nature directed to social, national,\ntemporal objects in the first instance, and since they are living and\nenergizing bodies, if they deserve the name of University at all, and of\nnecessity have some one formal and definite ethical character, good or\nbad, and do of a certainty imprint that character on the individuals who\ndirect and who frequent them, it cannot but be that, if left to\nthemselves, they will, in spite of their profession of Catholic Truth,\nwork out results more or less prejudicial to its interests.\n\nNor is this all: such Institutions may become hostile to Revealed Truth,\nin consequence of the circumstances of their teaching as well as of their\nend. They are employed in the pursuit of Liberal Knowledge, and Liberal\nKnowledge has a special tendency, not necessary or rightful, but a\ntendency in fact, when cultivated by beings such as we are, to impress us\nwith a mere philosophical theory of life and conduct, in the place of\nRevelation. I have said much on this subject already. Truth has two\nattributes\u2014beauty and power; and while Useful Knowledge is the possession\nof truth as powerful, Liberal Knowledge is the apprehension of it as\nbeautiful. Pursue it, either as beauty or as power, to its furthest extent\nand its true limit, and you are led by either road to the Eternal and\nInfinite, to the intimations of conscience and the announcements of the\nChurch. Satisfy yourself with what is only visibly or intelligibly\nexcellent, as you are likely to do, and you will make present utility and\nnatural beauty the practical test of truth, and the sufficient object of\nthe intellect. It is not that you will at once reject Catholicism, but you\nwill measure and proportion it by an earthly standard. You will throw its\nhighest and most momentous disclosures into the background, you will deny\nits principles, explain away its doctrines, re-arrange its precepts, and\nmake light of its practices, even while you profess it. Knowledge, viewed\nas Knowledge, exerts a subtle influence in throwing us back on ourselves,\nand making us our own centre, and our minds the measure of all things.\nThis then is the tendency of that Liberal Education, of which a University\nis the school, viz., to view Revealed Religion from an aspect of its\nown,\u2014to fuse and recast it,\u2014to tune it, as it were, to a different key,\nand to reset its harmonies,\u2014to circumscribe it by a circle which\nunwarrantably amputates here, and unduly develops there; and all under the\nnotion, conscious or unconscious, that the human intellect, self-educated\nand self-supported, is more true and perfect in its ideas and judgments\nthan that of Prophets and Apostles, to whom the sights and sounds of\nHeaven were immediately conveyed. A sense of propriety, order,\nconsistency, and completeness gives birth to a rebellious stirring against\nmiracle and mystery, against the severe and the terrible.\n\nThis Intellectualism first and chiefly comes into collision with precept,\nthen with doctrine, then with the very principle of dogmatism;\u2014a\nperception of the Beautiful becomes the substitute for faith. In a country\nwhich does not profess the faith, it at once runs, if allowed, into\nscepticism or infidelity; but even within the pale of the Church, and with\nthe most unqualified profession of her Creed, it acts, if left to itself,\nas an element of corruption and debility. Catholicism, as it has come down\nto us from the first, seems to be mean and illiberal; it is a mere popular\nreligion; it is the religion of illiterate ages or servile populations or\nbarbarian warriors; it must be treated with discrimination and delicacy,\ncorrected, softened, improved, if it is to satisfy an enlightened\ngeneration. It must be stereotyped as the patron of arts, or the pupil of\nspeculation, or the prot\u00e9g\u00e9 of science; it must play the literary\nacademician, or the empirical philanthropist, or the political partisan;\nit must keep up with the age; some or other expedient it must devise, in\norder to explain away, or to hide, tenets under which the intellect\nlabours and of which it is ashamed\u2014its doctrine, for instance, of grace,\nits mystery of the Godhead, its preaching of the Cross, its devotion to\nthe Queen of Saints, or its loyalty to the Apostolic See. Let this spirit\nbe freely evolved out of that philosophical condition of mind, which in\nformer Discourses I have so highly, so justly extolled, and it is\nimpossible but, first indifference, then laxity of belief, then even\nheresy will be the successive results.\n\nHere then are two injuries which Revelation is likely to sustain at the\nhands of the Masters of human reason unless the Church, as in duty bound,\nprotects the sacred treasure which is in jeopardy. The first is a simple\nignoring of Theological Truth altogether, under the pretence of not\nrecognising differences of religious opinion;\u2014which will only take place\nin countries or under governments which have abjured Catholicism. The\nsecond, which is of a more subtle character, is a recognition indeed of\nCatholicism, but (as if in pretended mercy to it) an adulteration of its\nspirit. I will now proceed to describe the dangers I speak of more\ndistinctly, by a reference to the general subject-matter of instruction\nwhich a University undertakes.\n\nThere are three great subjects on which Human Reason employs itself:\u2014God,\nNature, and Man: and theology being put aside in the present argument, the\nphysical and social worlds remain. These, when respectively subjected to\nHuman Reason, form two books: the book of nature is called Science, the\nbook of man is called Literature. Literature and Science, thus considered,\nnearly constitute the subject-matter of Liberal Education; and, while\nScience is made to subserve the former of the two injuries, which Revealed\nTruth sustains,\u2014its exclusion, Literature subserves the latter,\u2014its\ncorruption. Let us consider the influence of each upon Religion\nseparately.\n\n\n\n3.\n\n\nI. As to Physical Science, of course there can be no real collision\nbetween it and Catholicism. Nature and Grace, Reason and Revelation, come\nfrom the same Divine Author, whose works cannot contradict each other.\nNevertheless, it cannot be denied that, in matter of fact, there always\nhas been a sort of jealousy and hostility between Religion and physical\nphilosophers. The name of Galileo reminds us of it at once. Not content\nwith investigating and reasoning in his own province, it is said, he went\nout of his way directly to insult the received interpretation of\nScripture; theologians repelled an attack which was wanton and arrogant;\nand Science, affronted in her minister, has taken its full revenge upon\nTheology since. A vast multitude of its teachers, I fear it must be said,\nhave been either unbelievers or sceptics, or at least have denied to\nChristianity any teaching, distinctive or special, over the Religion of\nNature. There have indeed been most illustrious exceptions; some men\nprotected by their greatness of mind, some by their religious profession,\nsome by the fear of public opinion; but I suppose the run of\nexperimentalists, external to the Catholic Church, have more or less\ninherited the positive or negative unbelief of Laplace, Buffon, Franklin,\nPriestley, Cuvier, and Humboldt. I do not of course mean to say that there\nneed be in every case a resentful and virulent opposition made to Religion\non the part of scientific men; but their emphatic silence or phlegmatic\ninadvertence as to its claims have implied, more eloquently than any\nwords, that in their opinion it had no voice at all in the subject-matter,\nwhich they had appropriated to themselves. The same antagonism shows\nitself in the middle ages. Friar Bacon was popularly regarded with\nsuspicion as a dealer in unlawful arts; Pope Sylvester the Second has been\naccused of magic for his knowledge of natural secrets; and the\ngeographical ideas of St. Virgil, Bishop of Saltzburg, were regarded with\nanxiety by the great St. Boniface, the glory of England, the\nMartyr-Apostle of Germany. I suppose, in matter of fact, magical\nsuperstition and physical knowledge did commonly go together in those\nages: however, the hostility between experimental science and theology is\nfar older than Christianity. Lord Bacon traces it to an era prior to\nSocrates; he tells us that, among the Greeks, the atheistic was the\nphilosophy most favourable to physical discoveries, and he does not\nhesitate to imply that the rise of the religious schools was the ruin of\nscience.(26)\n\nNow, if we would investigate the reason of this opposition between\nTheology and Physics, I suppose we must first take into account Lord\nBacon\u2019s own explanation of it. It is common in judicial inquiries to\ncaution the parties on whom the verdict depends to put out of their minds\nwhatever they have heard out of court on the subject to which their\nattention is to be directed. They are to judge by the evidence; and this\nis a rule which holds in other investigations as far as this, that nothing\nof an adventitious nature ought to be introduced into the process. In like\nmanner, from religious investigations, as such, physics must be excluded,\nand from physical, as such, religion; and if we mix them, we shall spoil\nboth. The theologian, speaking of Divine Omnipotence, for the time simply\nignores the laws of nature as existing restraints upon its exercise; and\nthe physical philosopher, on the other hand, in his experiments upon\nnatural phenomena, is simply ascertaining those laws, putting aside the\nquestion of that Omnipotence. If the theologian, in tracing the ways of\nProvidence, were stopped with objections grounded on the impossibility of\nphysical miracles, he would justly protest against the interruption; and\nwere the philosopher, who was determining the motion of the heavenly\nbodies, to be questioned about their Final or their First Cause, he too\nwould suffer an illogical interruption. The latter asks the cause of\nvolcanoes, and is impatient at being told it is \u201cthe divine vengeance;\u201d\nthe former asks the cause of the overthrow of the guilty cities, and is\npreposterously referred to the volcanic action still visible in their\nneighbourhood. The inquiry into final causes for the moment passes over\nthe existence of established laws; the inquiry into physical, passes over\nfor the moment the existence of God. In other words, physical science is\nin a certain sense atheistic, for the very reason it is not theology.\n\nThis is Lord Bacon\u2019s justification, and an intelligible one, for\nconsidering that the fall of atheistic philosophy in ancient times was a\nblight upon the hopes of physical science. \u201cAristotle,\u201d he says, \u201cGalen,\nand others frequently introduce such causes as these:\u2014the hairs of the\neyelids are for a fence to the sight; the bones for pillars whence to\nbuild the bodies of animals; the leaves of trees are to defend the fruit\nfrom the sun and wind; the clouds are designed for watering the earth. All\nwhich are properly alleged in metaphysics; but in physics, are\nimpertinent, and as _remoras_ to the ship, that hinder the sciences from\nholding on their course of improvement, and as introducing a neglect of\nsearching after physical causes.\u201d(27) Here then is one reason for the\nprejudice of physical philosophers against Theology:\u2014on the one hand,\ntheir deep satisfaction in the laws of nature indisposes them towards the\nthought of a Moral Governor, and makes them sceptical of His\ninterposition; on the other hand, the occasional interference of religious\ncriticism in a province not religious, has made them sore, suspicious, and\nresentful.\n\n\n\n4.\n\n\nAnother reason of a kindred nature is to be found in the difference of\nmethod by which truths are gained in theology and in physical science.\nInduction is the instrument of Physics, and deduction only is the\ninstrument of Theology. There the simple question is, What is revealed?\nall doctrinal knowledge flows from one fountain head. If we are able to\nenlarge our view and multiply our propositions, it must be merely by the\ncomparison and adjustment of the original truths; if we would solve new\nquestions, it must be by consulting old answers. The notion of doctrinal\nknowledge absolutely novel, and of simple addition from without, is\nintolerable to Catholic ears, and never was entertained by any one who was\neven approaching to an understanding of our creed. Revelation is all in\nall in doctrine; the Apostles its sole depository, the inferential method\nits sole instrument, and ecclesiastical authority its sole sanction. The\nDivine Voice has spoken once for all, and the only question is about its\nmeaning. Now this process, as far as it was reasoning, was the very mode\nof reasoning which, as regards physical knowledge, the school of Bacon has\nsuperseded by the inductive method:\u2014no wonder, then, that that school\nshould be irritated and indignant to find that a subject-matter remains\nstill, in which their favourite instrument has no office; no wonder that\nthey rise up against this memorial of an antiquated system, as an eyesore\nand an insult; and no wonder that the very force and dazzling success of\ntheir own method in its own departments should sway or bias unduly the\nreligious sentiments of any persons who come under its influence. They\nassert that no new truth can be gained by deduction; Catholics assent, but\nadd that, as regards religious truth, they have not to seek at all, for\nthey have it already. Christian Truth is purely of revelation; that\nrevelation we can but explain, we cannot increase, except relatively to\nour own apprehensions; without it we should have known nothing of its\ncontents, with it we know just as much as its contents, and nothing more.\nAnd, as it was given by a divine act independent of man, so will it remain\nin spite of man. Niebuhr may revolutionize history, Lavoisier chemistry,\nNewton astronomy; but God Himself is the author as well as the subject of\ntheology. When Truth can change, its Revelation can change; when human\nreason can outreason the Omniscient, then may it supersede His work.\n\nAvowals such as these fall strange upon the ear of men whose first\nprinciple is the search after truth, and whose starting-points of search\nare things material and sensible. They scorn any process of inquiry not\nfounded on experiment; the Mathematics indeed they endure, because that\nscience deals with ideas, not with facts, and leads to conclusions\nhypothetical rather than real; \u201cMetaphysics\u201d they even use as a by-word of\nreproach; and Ethics they admit only on condition that it gives up\nconscience as its scientific ground, and bases itself on tangible utility:\nbut as to Theology, they cannot deal with it, they cannot master it, and\nso they simply outlaw it and ignore it. Catholicism, forsooth, \u201cconfines\nthe intellect,\u201d because it holds that God\u2019s intellect is greater than\ntheirs, and that what He has done, man cannot improve. And what in some\nsort justifies them to themselves in this extravagance is the circumstance\nthat there is a religion close at their doors which, discarding so severe\na tone, has actually adopted their own principle of inquiry. Protestantism\ntreats Scripture just as they deal with Nature; it takes the sacred text\nas a large collection of phenomena, from which, by an inductive process,\neach individual Christian may arrive at just those religious conclusions\nwhich approve themselves to his own judgment. It considers faith a mere\nmodification of reason, as being an acquiescence in certain probable\nconclusions till better are found. Sympathy, then, if no other reason,\nthrows experimental philosophers into alliance with the enemies of\nCatholicism.\n\n\n\n5.\n\n\nI have another consideration to add, not less important than any I have\nhitherto adduced. The physical sciences, Astronomy, Chemistry, and the\nrest, are doubtless engaged upon divine works, and cannot issue in untrue\nreligious conclusions. But at the same time it must be recollected that\nRevelation has reference to circumstances which did not arise till after\nthe heavens and the earth were made. They were made before the\nintroduction of moral evil into the world: whereas the Catholic Church is\nthe instrument of a remedial dispensation to meet that introduction. No\nwonder then that her teaching is simply distinct, though not divergent,\nfrom the theology which Physical Science suggests to its followers. She\nsets before us a number of attributes and acts on the part of the Divine\nBeing, for which the material and animal creation gives no scope; power,\nwisdom, goodness are the burden of the physical world, but it does not and\ncould not speak of mercy, long-suffering, and the economy of human\nredemption, and but partially of the moral law and moral goodness. \u201cSacred\nTheology,\u201d says Lord Bacon, \u201cmust be drawn from the words and the oracles\nof God: not from the light of nature or the dictates of reason. It is\nwritten, that \u2018the Heavens declare the glory of God;\u2019 but we nowhere find\nit that the Heavens declare the will of God; which is pronounced a law and\na testimony, that men should do according to it. Nor does this hold only\nin the great mysteries of the Godhead, of the creation, of the\nredemption.\u2026 We cannot doubt that a large part of the moral law is too\nsublime to be attained by the light of nature; though it is still certain\nthat men, even with the light and law of nature, have some notions of\nvirtue, vice, justice, wrong, good, and evil.\u201d(28) That the new and\nfurther manifestations of the Almighty, made by Revelation, are in perfect\nharmony with the teaching of the natural world, forms indeed one subject\nof the profound work of the Anglican Bishop Butler; but they cannot in any\nsense be gathered from nature, and the silence of nature concerning them\nmay easily seduce the imagination, though it has no force to persuade the\nreason, to revolt from doctrines which have not been authenticated by\nfacts, but are enforced by authority. In a scientific age, then, there\nwill naturally be a parade of what is called Natural Theology, a\nwide-spread profession of the Unitarian creed, an impatience of mystery,\nand a scepticism about miracles.\n\nAnd to all this must be added the ample opportunity which physical science\ngives to the indulgence of those sentiments of beauty, order, and\ncongruity, of which I have said so much as the ensigns and colours (as\nthey may be called) of a civilized age in its warfare against Catholicism.\n\nIt being considered, then, that Catholicism differs from physical science,\nin drift, in method of proof, and in subject-matter, how can it fail to\nmeet with unfair usage from the philosophers of any Institution in which\nthere is no one to take its part? That Physical Science itself will be\nultimately the loser by such ill treatment of Theology, I have insisted on\nat great length in some preceding Discourses; for to depress unduly, to\nencroach upon any science, and much more on an important one, is to do an\ninjury to all. However, this is not the concern of the Church; the Church\nhas no call to watch over and protect Science: but towards Theology she\nhas a distinct duty: it is one of the special trusts committed to her\nkeeping. Where Theology is, there she must be; and if a University cannot\nfulfil its name and office without the recognition of Revealed Truth, she\nmust be there to see that it is a _bon\u00e2 fide_ recognition, sincerely made\nand consistently acted on.\n\n\n\n6.\n\n\nII. And if the interposition of the Church is necessary in the Schools of\nScience, still more imperatively is it demanded in the other main\nconstituent portion of the subject-matter of Liberal\nEducation,\u2014Literature. Literature stands related to Man as Science stands\nto Nature; it is his history. Man is composed of body and soul; he thinks\nand he acts; he has appetites, passions, affections, motives, designs; he\nhas within him the lifelong struggle of duty with inclination; he has an\nintellect fertile and capacious; he is formed for society, and society\nmultiplies and diversifies in endless combinations his personal\ncharacteristics, moral and intellectual. All this constitutes his life; of\nall this Literature is the expression; so that Literature is to man in\nsome sort what autobiography is to the individual; it is his Life and\nRemains. Moreover, he is this sentient, intelligent, creative, and\noperative being, quite independent of any extraordinary aid from Heaven,\nor any definite religious belief; and _as such_, as he is in himself, does\nLiterature represent him; it is the Life and Remains of the _natural_ man,\ninnocent or guilty. I do not mean to say that it is impossible in its very\nnotion that Literature should be tinctured by a religious spirit; Hebrew\nLiterature, as far as it can be called Literature, certainly is simply\ntheological, and has a character imprinted on it which is above nature;\nbut I am speaking of what is to be expected without any extraordinary\ndispensation; and I say that, in matter of fact, as Science is the\nreflection of Nature, so is Literature also\u2014the one, of Nature physical,\nthe other, of Nature moral and social. Circumstances, such as locality,\nperiod, language, seem to make little or no difference in the character of\nLiterature, as such; on the whole, all Literatures are one; they are the\nvoices of the natural man.\n\nI wish this were all that had to be said to the disadvantage of\nLiterature; but while Nature physical remains fixed in its laws, Nature\nmoral and social has a will of its own, is self-governed, and never\nremains any long while in that state from which it started into action.\nMan will never continue in a mere state of innocence; he is sure to sin,\nand his literature will be the expression of his sin, and this whether he\nbe heathen or Christian. Christianity has thrown gleams of light on him\nand his literature; but as it has not converted him, but only certain\nchoice specimens of him, so it has not changed the characters of his mind\nor of his history; his literature is either what it was, or worse than\nwhat it was, in proportion as there has been an abuse of knowledge granted\nand a rejection of truth. On the whole, then, I think it will be found,\nand ever found, as a matter of course, that Literature, as such, no matter\nof what nation, is the science or history, partly and at best of the\nnatural man, partly of man in rebellion.\n\n\n\n7.\n\n\nHere then, I say, you are involved in a difficulty greater than that which\nbesets the cultivation of Science; for, if Physical Science be dangerous,\nas I have said, it is dangerous, because it necessarily ignores the idea\nof moral evil; but Literature is open to the more grievous imputation of\nrecognizing and understanding it too well. Some one will say to me\nperhaps: \u201cOur youth shall not be corrupted. We will dispense with all\ngeneral or national Literature whatever, if it be so exceptionable; we\nwill have a Christian Literature of our own, as pure, as true, as the\nJewish.\u201d You cannot have it:\u2014I do not say you cannot form a select\nliterature for the young, nay, even for the middle or lower classes; this\nis another matter altogether: I am speaking of University Education, which\nimplies an extended range of reading, which has to deal with standard\nworks of genius, or what are called the _classics_ of a language: and I\nsay, from the nature of the case, if Literature is to be made a study of\nhuman nature, you cannot have a Christian Literature. It is a\ncontradiction in terms to attempt a sinless Literature of sinful man. You\nmay gather together something very great and high, something higher than\nany Literature ever was; and when you have done so, you will find that it\nis not Literature at all. You will have simply left the delineation of\nman, as such, and have substituted for it, as far as you have had any\nthing to substitute, that of man, as he is or might be, under certain\nspecial advantages. Give up the study of man, as such, if so it must be;\nbut say you do so. Do not say you are studying him, his history, his mind\nand his heart, when you are studying something else. Man is a being of\ngenius, passion, intellect, conscience, power. He exercises these various\ngifts in various ways, in great deeds, in great thoughts, in heroic acts,\nin hateful crimes. He founds states, he fights battles, he builds cities,\nhe ploughs the forest, he subdues the elements, he rules his kind. He\ncreates vast ideas, and influences many generations. He takes a thousand\nshapes, and undergoes a thousand fortunes. Literature records them all to\nthe life,\n\nQuicquid agunt homines, votum, timor, ira, voluptas,\nGaudia, discursus.\n\nHe pours out his fervid soul in poetry; he sways to and fro, he soars, he\ndives, in his restless speculations; his lips drop eloquence; he touches\nthe canvas, and it glows with beauty; he sweeps the strings, and they\nthrill with an ecstatic meaning. He looks back into himself, and he reads\nhis own thoughts, and notes them down; he looks out into the universe, and\ntells over and celebrates the elements and principles of which it is the\nproduct.\n\nSuch is man: put him aside, keep him before you; but, whatever you do, do\nnot take him for what he is not, for something more divine and sacred, for\nman regenerate. Nay, beware of showing God\u2019s grace and its work at such\ndisadvantage as to make the few whom it has thoroughly influenced compete\nin intellect with the vast multitude who either have it not, or use it\nill. The elect are few to choose out of, and the world is inexhaustible.\nFrom the first, Jabel and Tubalcain, Nimrod \u201cthe stout hunter,\u201d the\nlearning of the Pharaohs, and the wisdom of the East country, are of the\nworld. Every now and then they are rivalled by a Solomon or a Beseleel,\nbut the _habitat_ of natural gifts is the natural man. The Church may use\nthem, she cannot at her will originate them. Not till the whole human race\nis made new will its literature be pure and true. Possible of course it is\nin idea, for nature, inspired by heavenly grace, to exhibit itself on a\nlarge scale, in an originality of thought or action, even far beyond what\nthe world\u2019s literature has recorded or exemplified; but, if you would in\nfact have a literature of saints, first of all have a nation of them.\n\nWhat is a clearer proof of the truth of all this than the structure of the\nInspired Word itself? It is undeniably _not_ the reflection or picture of\nthe many, but of the few; it is no picture of life, but an anticipation of\ndeath and judgment. Human literature is about all things, grave or gay,\npainful or pleasant; but the Inspired Word views them only in one aspect,\nand as they tend to one scope. It gives us little insight into the fertile\ndevelopments of mind; it has no terms in its vocabulary to express with\nexactness the intellect and its separate faculties: it knows nothing of\ngenius, fancy, wit, invention, presence of mind, resource. It does not\ndiscourse of empire, commerce, enterprise, learning, philosophy, or the\nfine arts. Slightly too does it touch on the more simple and innocent\ncourses of nature and their reward. Little does it say(29) of those\ntemporal blessings which rest upon our worldly occupations, and make them\neasy, of the blessings which we derive from the sunshine day and the\nserene night, from the succession of the seasons, and the produce of the\nearth. Little about our recreations and our daily domestic comforts;\nlittle about the ordinary occasions of festivity and mirth, which sweeten\nhuman life; and nothing at all about various pursuits or amusements, which\nit would be going too much into detail to mention. We read indeed of the\nfeast when Isaac was weaned, and of Jacob\u2019s courtship, and of the\nreligious merry-makings of holy Job; but exceptions, such as these, do but\nremind us what might be in Scripture, and is not. If then by Literature is\nmeant the manifestation of human nature in human language, you will seek\nfor it in vain except in the world. Put up with it, as it is, or do not\npretend to cultivate it; take things as they are, not as you could wish\nthem.\n\n\n\n8.\n\n\nNay, I am obliged to go further still; even if we could, still we should\nbe shrinking from our plain duty, Gentlemen, did we leave out Literature\nfrom Education. For why do we educate, except to prepare for the world?\nWhy do we cultivate the intellect of the many beyond the first elements of\nknowledge, except for this world? Will it be much matter in the world to\ncome whether our bodily health or whether our intellectual strength was\nmore or less, except of course as this world is in all its circumstances a\ntrial for the next? If then a University is a direct preparation for this\nworld, let it be what it professes. It is not a Convent, it is not a\nSeminary; it is a place to fit men of the world for the world. We cannot\npossibly keep them from plunging into the world, with all its ways and\nprinciples and maxims, when their time comes; but we can prepare them\nagainst what is inevitable; and it is not the way to learn to swim in\ntroubled waters, never to have gone into them. Proscribe (I do not merely\nsay particular authors, particular works, particular passages) but Secular\nLiterature as such; cut out from your class books all broad manifestations\nof the natural man; and those manifestations are waiting for your pupil\u2019s\nbenefit at the very doors of your lecture room in living and breathing\nsubstance. They will meet him there in all the charm of novelty, and all\nthe fascination of genius or of amiableness. To-day a pupil, to-morrow a\nmember of the great world: to-day confined to the Lives of the Saints,\nto-morrow thrown upon Babel;\u2014thrown on Babel, without the honest\nindulgence of wit and humour and imagination having ever been permitted to\nhim, without any fastidiousness of taste wrought into him, without any\nrule given him for discriminating \u201cthe precious from the vile,\u201d beauty\nfrom sin, the truth from the sophistry of nature, what is innocent from\nwhat is poison. You have refused him the masters of human thought, who\nwould in some sense have educated him, because of their incidental\ncorruption: you have shut up from him those whose thoughts strike home to\nour hearts, whose words are proverbs, whose names are indigenous to all\nthe world, who are the standard of their mother tongue, and the pride and\nboast of their countrymen, Homer, Ariosto, Cervantes, Shakespeare, because\nthe old Adam smelt rank in them; and for what have you reserved him? You\nhave given him \u201ca liberty unto\u201d the multitudinous blasphemy of his day;\nyou have made him free of its newspapers, its reviews, its magazines, its\nnovels, its controversial pamphlets, of its Parliamentary debates, its law\nproceedings, its platform speeches, its songs, its drama, its theatre, of\nits enveloping, stifling atmosphere of death. You have succeeded but in\nthis,\u2014in making the world his University.\n\nDifficult then as the question may be, and much as it may try the\njudgments and even divide the opinions of zealous and religious Catholics,\nI cannot feel any doubt myself, Gentlemen, that the Church\u2019s true policy\nis not to aim at the exclusion of Literature from Secular Schools, but at\nher own admission into them. Let her do for Literature in one way what she\ndoes for Science in another; each has its imperfection, and she has her\nremedy for each. She fears no knowledge, but she purifies all; she\nrepresses no element of our nature, but cultivates the whole. Science is\ngrave, methodical, logical; with Science then she argues, and opposes\nreason to reason. Literature does not argue, but declaims and insinuates;\nit is multiform and versatile: it persuades instead of convincing, it\nseduces, it carries captive; it appeals to the sense of honour, or to the\nimagination, or to the stimulus of curiosity; it makes its way by means of\ngaiety, satire, romance, the beautiful, the pleasurable. Is it wonderful\nthat with an agent like this the Church should claim to deal with a vigour\ncorresponding to its restlessness, to interfere in its proceedings with a\nhigher hand, and to wield an authority in the choice of its studies and of\nits books which would be tyrannical, if reason and fact were the only\ninstruments of its conclusions? But, any how, her principle is one and the\nsame throughout: not to prohibit truth of any kind, but to see that no\ndoctrines pass under the name of Truth but those which claim it\nrightfully.\n\n\n\n9.\n\n\nSuch at least is the lesson which I am taught by all the thought which I\nhave been able to bestow upon the subject; such is the lesson which I have\ngained from the history of my own special Father and Patron, St. Philip\nNeri. He lived in an age as traitorous to the interests of Catholicism as\nany that preceded it, or can follow it. He lived at a time when pride\nmounted high, and the senses held rule; a time when kings and nobles never\nhad more of state and homage, and never less of personal responsibility\nand peril; when medieval winter was receding, and the summer sun of\ncivilization was bringing into leaf and flower a thousand forms of\nluxurious enjoyment; when a new world of thought and beauty had opened\nupon the human mind, in the discovery of the treasures of classic\nliterature and art. He saw the great and the gifted, dazzled by the\nEnchantress, and drinking in the magic of her song; he saw the high and\nthe wise, the student and the artist, painting, and poetry and sculpture,\nand music, and architecture, drawn within her range, and circling round\nthe abyss: he saw heathen forms mounting thence, and forming in the thick\nair:\u2014all this he saw, and he perceived that the mischief was to be met,\nnot with argument, not with science, not with protests and warnings, not\nby the recluse or the preacher, but by means of the great\ncounter-fascination of purity and truth. He was raised up to do a work\nalmost peculiar in the Church,\u2014not to be a Jerome Savonarola, though\nPhilip had a true devotion towards him and a tender memory of his\nFlorentine house; not to be a St. Charles, though in his beaming\ncountenance Philip had recognized the aureol of a saint; not to be a St.\nIgnatius, wrestling with the foe, though Philip was termed the Society\u2019s\nbell of call, so many subjects did he send to it; not to be a St. Francis\nXavier, though Philip had longed to shed his blood for Christ in India\nwith him; not to be a St. Caietan, or hunter of souls, for Philip\npreferred, as he expressed it, tranquilly to cast in his net to gain them;\nhe preferred to yield to the stream, and direct the current, which he\ncould not stop, of science, literature, art, and fashion, and to sweeten\nand to sanctify what God had made very good and man had spoilt.\n\nAnd so he contemplated as the idea of his mission, not the propagation of\nthe faith, nor the exposition of doctrine, nor the catechetical schools;\nwhatever was exact and systematic pleased him not; he put from him\nmonastic rule and authoritative speech, as David refused the armour of his\nking. No; he would be but an ordinary individual priest as others: and his\nweapons should be but unaffected humility and unpretending love. All he\ndid was to be done by the light, and fervour, and convincing eloquence of\nhis personal character and his easy conversation. He came to the Eternal\nCity and he sat himself down there, and his home and his family gradually\ngrew up around him, by the spontaneous accession of materials from\nwithout. He did not so much seek his own as draw them to him. He sat in\nhis small room, and they in their gay worldly dresses, the rich and the\nwellborn, as well as the simple and the illiterate, crowded into it. In\nthe mid-heats of summer, in the frosts of winter, still was he in that low\nand narrow cell at San Girolamo, reading the hearts of those who came to\nhim, and curing their souls\u2019 maladies by the very touch of his hand. It\nwas a vision of the Magi worshipping the infant Saviour, so pure and\ninnocent, so sweet and beautiful was he; and so loyal and so dear to the\ngracious Virgin Mother. And they who came remained gazing and listening,\ntill at length, first one and then another threw off their bravery, and\ntook his poor cassock and girdle instead: or, if they kept it, it was to\nput haircloth under it, or to take on them a rule of life, while to the\nworld they looked as before.\n\nIn the words of his biographer, \u201che was all things to all men. He suited\nhimself to noble and ignoble, young and old, subjects and prelates,\nlearned and ignorant; and received those who were strangers to him with\nsingular benignity, and embraced them with as much love and charity as if\nhe had been a long while expecting them. When he was called upon to be\nmerry he was so; if there was a demand upon his sympathy he was equally\nready. He gave the same welcome to all: caressing the poor equally with\nthe rich, and wearying himself to assist all to the utmost limits of his\npower. In consequence of his being so accessible and willing to receive\nall comers, many went to him every day, and some continued for the space\nof thirty, nay forty years, to visit him very often both morning and\nevening, so that his room went by the agreeable nickname of the Home of\nChristian mirth. Nay, people came to him, not only from all parts of\nItaly, but from France, Spain, Germany, and all Christendom; and even the\ninfidels and Jews, who had ever any communication with him, revered him as\na holy man.\u201d(30) The first families of Rome, the Massimi, the\nAldobrandini, the Colonnas, the Altieri, the Vitelleschi, were his friends\nand his penitents. Nobles of Poland, Grandees of Spain, Knights of Malta,\ncould not leave Rome without coming to him. Cardinals, Archbishops, and\nBishops were his intimates; Federigo Borromeo haunted his room and got the\nname of \u201cFather Philip\u2019s soul.\u201d The Cardinal-Archbishops of Verona and\nBologna wrote books in his honour. Pope Pius the Fourth died in his arms.\nLawyers, painters, musicians, physicians, it was the same too with them.\nBaronius, Zazzara, and Ricci, left the law at his bidding, and joined his\ncongregation, to do its work, to write the annals of the Church, and to\ndie in the odour of sanctity. Palestrina had Father Philip\u2019s ministrations\nin his last moments. Animuccia hung about him during life, sent him a\nmessage after death, and was conducted by him through Purgatory to Heaven.\nAnd who was he, I say, all the while, but an humble priest, a stranger in\nRome, with no distinction of family or letters, no claim of station or of\noffice, great simply in the attraction with which a Divine Power had\ngifted him? and yet thus humble, thus unennobled, thus empty-handed, he\nhas achieved the glorious title of Apostle of Rome.\n\n\n\n10.\n\n\nWell were it for his clients and children, Gentlemen, if they could\npromise themselves the very shadow of his special power, or could hope to\ndo a miserable fraction of the sort of work in which he was pre-eminently\nskilled. But so far at least they may attempt,\u2014to take his position, and\nto use his method, and to cultivate the arts of which he was so bright a\npattern. For me, if it be God\u2019s blessed will that in the years now coming\nI am to have a share in the great undertaking, which has been the occasion\nand the subject of these Discourses, so far I can say for certain that,\nwhether or not I can do any thing at all in St. Philip\u2019s way, at least I\ncan do nothing in any other. Neither by my habits of life, nor by vigour\nof age, am I fitted for the task of authority, or of rule, or of\ninitiation. I do but aspire, if strength is given me, to be your minister\nin a work which must employ younger minds and stronger lives than mine. I\nam but fit to bear my witness, to proffer my suggestions, to express my\nsentiments, as has in fact been my occupation in these discussions; to\nthrow such light upon general questions, upon the choice of objects, upon\nthe import of principles, upon the tendency of measures, as past\nreflection and experience enable me to contribute. I shall have to make\nappeals to your consideration, your friendliness, your confidence, of\nwhich I have had so many instances, on which I so tranquilly repose; and\nafter all, neither you nor I must ever be surprised, should it so happen\nthat the Hand of Him, with whom are the springs of life and death, weighs\nheavy on me, and makes me unequal to anticipations in which you have been\ntoo kind, and to hopes in which I may have been too sanguine.\n\n\n\n\n\nUNIVERSITY SUBJECTS, DISCUSSED IN OCCASIONAL LECTURES AND ESSAYS.\n\n\n\n\nIntroductory Letter.\n\n\nTo The Right Honourable WILLIAM MONSELL, M.P., ETC., ETC.(31)\n\nMY DEAR MONSELL,\n\nI seem to have some claim for asking leave of you to prefix your name to\nthe following small Volume, since it is a memorial of work done in a\ncountry which you so dearly love, and in behalf of an undertaking in which\nyou feel so deep an interest.\n\nNor do I venture on the step without some hope that it is worthy of your\nacceptance, at least on account of those portions of it which have already\nreceived the approbation of the learned men to whom they were addressed,\nand which have been printed at their desire.\n\nBut, even though there were nothing to recommend it except that it came\nfrom me, I know well that you would kindly welcome it as a token of the\ntruth and constancy with which I am,\n\nMY DEAR MONSELL,\n\nYours very affectionately,\n\n[_November 1858._] JOHN H. NEWMAN.\n\n\n\n\nAdvertisement.\n\n\nIt has been the fortune of the author through life, that the Volumes which\nhe has published have grown for the most part out of the duties which lay\nupon him, or out of the circumstances of the moment. Rarely has he been\nmaster of his own studies.\n\nThe present collection of Lectures and Essays, written by him while Rector\nof the Catholic University of Ireland, is certainly not an exception to\nthis remark. Rather, it requires the above consideration to be kept in\nview, as an apology for the want of keeping which is apparent between its\nseparate portions, some of them being written for public delivery, others\nwith the privileged freedom of anonymous compositions.\n\nHowever, whatever be the inconvenience which such varieties in tone and\ncharacter may involve, the author cannot affect any compunction for having\npursued the illustration of one and the same important subject-matter,\nwith which he had been put in charge, by such methods, graver or lighter,\nso that they were lawful, as successively came to his hand.\n\n_November, 1858._\n\n\n\n\n                                Lecture I.\n\n\nChristianity And Letters. A Lecture in the School of Philosophy and\nLetters.\n\n\n\n1.\n\n\nIt seems but natural, Gentlemen, now that we are opening the School of\nPhilosophy and Letters, or, as it was formerly called, of Arts, in this\nnew University, that we should direct our attention to the question, what\nare the subjects generally included under that name, and what place they\nhold, and how they come to hold that place, in a University, and in the\neducation which a University provides. This would be natural on such an\noccasion, even though the Faculty of Arts held but a secondary place in\nthe academical system; but it seems to be even imperative on us,\nconsidering that the studies which that Faculty embraces are almost the\ndirect subject-matter and the staple of the mental exercises proper to a\nUniversity.\n\nIt is indeed not a little remarkable that, in spite of the special\nhistorical connexion of University Institutions with the Sciences of\nTheology, Law, and Medicine, a University, after all, should be formally\nbased (as it really is), and should emphatically live in, the Faculty of\nArts; but such is the deliberate decision of those who have most deeply\nand impartially considered the subject.(32) Arts existed before other\nFaculties; the Masters of Arts were the ruling and directing body; the\nsuccess and popularity of the Faculties of Law and Medicine were\nconsidered to be in no slight measure an encroachment and a usurpation,\nand were met with jealousy and resistance. When Colleges arose and became\nthe medium and instrument of University action, they did but confirm the\nascendency of the Faculty of Arts; and thus, even down to this day, in\nthose academical corporations which have more than others retained the\ntraces of their medieval origin,\u2014I mean the Universities of Oxford and\nCambridge,\u2014we hear little of Theology, Medicine, or Law, and almost\nexclusively of Arts.\n\nNow, considering the reasonable association, to which I have already\nreferred, which exists in our minds between Universities and the three\nlearned professions, here is a phenomenon which has to be contemplated for\nits own sake and accounted for, as well as a circumstance enhancing the\nsignificance and importance of the act in which we have been for some\nweeks engaged; and I consider that I shall not be employing our time\nunprofitably, if I am able to make a suggestion, which, while it\nillustrates the fact, is able to explain the difficulty.\n\n\n\n2.\n\n\nHere I must go back, Gentlemen, a very great way, and ask you to review\nthe course of Civilization since the beginning of history. When we survey\nthe stream of human affairs for the last three thousand years, we find it\nto run thus:\u2014At first sight there is so much fluctuation, agitation,\nebbing and flowing, that we may despair to discern any law in its\nmovements, taking the earth as its bed, and mankind as its contents; but,\non looking more closely and attentively, we shall discern, in spite of the\nheterogeneous materials and the various histories and fortunes which are\nfound in the race of man during the long period I have mentioned, a\ncertain formation amid the chaos,\u2014one and one only,\u2014and extending, though\nnot over the whole earth, yet through a very considerable portion of it.\nMan is a social being and can hardly exist without society, and in matter\nof fact societies have ever existed all over the habitable earth. The\ngreater part of these associations have been political or religious, and\nhave been comparatively limited in extent, and temporary. They have been\nformed and dissolved by the force of accidents or by inevitable\ncircumstances; and, when we have enumerated them one by one, we have made\nof them all that can be made. But there is one remarkable association\nwhich attracts the attention of the philosopher, not political nor\nreligious, or at least only partially and not essentially such, which\nbegan in the earliest times and grew with each succeeding age, till it\nreached its complete development, and then continued on, vigorous and\nunwearied, and which still remains as definite and as firm as ever it was.\nIts bond is a common civilization; and, though there are other\ncivilizations in the world, as there are other societies, yet this\ncivilization, together with the society which is its creation and its\nhome, is so distinctive and luminous in its character, so imperial in its\nextent, so imposing in its duration, and so utterly without rival upon the\nface of the earth, that the association may fitly assume to itself the\ntitle of \u201cHuman Society,\u201d and its civilization the abstract term\n\u201cCivilization.\u201d\n\nThere are indeed great outlying portions of mankind which are not, perhaps\nnever have been, included in this Human Society; still they are outlying\nportions and nothing else, fragmentary, unsociable, solitary, and\nunmeaning, protesting and revolting against the grand central formation of\nwhich I am speaking, but not uniting with each other into a second whole.\nI am not denying of course the civilization of the Chinese, for instance,\nthough it be not our civilization; but it is a huge, stationary,\nunattractive, morose civilization. Nor do I deny a civilization to the\nHindoos, nor to the ancient Mexicans, nor to the Saracens, nor (in a\ncertain sense) to the Turks; but each of these races has its own\ncivilization, as separate from one another as from ours. I do not see how\nthey can be all brought under one idea. Each stands by itself, as if the\nother were not; each is local; many of them are temporary; none of them\nwill bear a comparison with the Society and the Civilization which I have\ndescribed as alone having a claim to those names, and on which I am going\nto dwell.\n\nGentlemen, let me here observe that I am not entering upon the question of\nraces, or upon their history. I have nothing to do with ethnology. I take\nthings as I find them on the surface of history, and am but classing\nphenomena. Looking, then, at the countries which surround the\nMediterranean Sea as a whole, I see them to be, from time immemorial, the\nseat of an association of intellect and mind, such as to deserve to be\ncalled the Intellect and the Mind of the Human Kind. Starting as it does\nand advancing from certain centres, till their respective influences\nintersect and conflict, and then at length intermingle and combine, a\ncommon Thought has been generated, and a common Civilization defined and\nestablished. Egypt is one such starting point, Syria another, Greece a\nthird, Italy a fourth, and North Africa a fifth,\u2014afterwards France and\nSpain. As time goes on, and as colonization and conquest work their\nchanges, we see a great association of nations formed, of which the Roman\nempire is the maturity and the most intelligible expression; an\nassociation, however, not political, but mental, based on the same\nintellectual ideas, and advancing by common intellectual methods. And this\nassociation or social commonwealth, with whatever reverses, changes, and\nmomentary dissolutions, continues down to this day; not, indeed, precisely\non the same territory, but with such only partial and local disturbances,\nand on the other hand, with so combined and harmonious a movement, and\nsuch a visible continuity, that it would be utterly unreasonable to deny\nthat it is throughout all that interval but one and the same.\n\nIn its earliest age it included far more of the eastern world than it has\nsince; in these later times it has taken into its compass a new\nhemisphere; in the middle ages it lost Africa, Egypt, and Syria, and\nextended itself to Germany, Scandinavia, and the British Isles. At one\ntime its territory was flooded by strange and barbarous races, but the\nexisting civilization was vigorous enough to vivify what threatened to\nstifle it, and to assimilate to the old social forms what came to expel\nthem; and thus the civilization of modern times remains what it was of\nold, not Chinese, or Hindoo, or Mexican, or Saracenic, or of any new\ndescription hitherto unknown, but the lineal descendant, or rather the\ncontinuation, _mutatis mutandis_, of the civilization which began in\nPalestine and Greece.\n\nConsidering, then, the characteristics of this great civilized Society,\nwhich I have already insisted on, I think it has a claim to be considered\nas the representative Society and Civilization of the human race, as its\nperfect result and limit, in fact;\u2014those portions of the race which do not\ncoalesce with it being left to stand by themselves as anomalies,\nunaccountable indeed, but for that very reason not interfering with what\non the contrary has been turned to account and has grown into a whole. I\ncall then this commonwealth pre-eminently and emphatically Human Society,\nand its intellect the Human Mind, and its decisions the sense of mankind,\nand its disciplined and cultivated state Civilization in the abstract, and\nthe territory on which it lies the _orbis terrarum_, or the World. For,\nunless the illustration be fanciful, the object which I am contemplating\nis like the impression of a seal upon the wax; which rounds off and gives\nform to the greater portion of the soft material, and presents something\ndefinite to the eye, and preoccupies the space against any second figure,\nso that we overlook and leave out of our thoughts the jagged outline or\nunmeaning lumps outside of it, intent upon the harmonious circle which\nfills the imagination within it.\n\n\n\n3.\n\n\nNow, before going on to speak of the education, and the standards of\neducation, which the Civilized World, as I may now call it, has enjoined\nand requires, I wish to draw your attention, Gentlemen, to the\ncircumstance that this same _orbis terrarum_, which has been the seat of\nCivilization, will be found, on the whole, to be the seat also of that\nsupernatural society and system which our Maker has given us directly from\nHimself, the Christian Polity. The natural and divine associations are not\nindeed exactly coincident, nor ever have been. As the territory of\nCivilization has varied with itself in different ages, while on the whole\nit has been the same, so, in like manner, Christianity has fallen partly\noutside Civilization, and Civilization partly outside Christianity; but,\non the whole, the two have occupied one and the same _orbis terrarum_.\nOften indeed they have even moved _pari passu_, and at all times there has\nbeen found the most intimate connexion between them. Christianity waited\ntill the _orbis terrarum_ attained its most perfect form before it\nappeared; and it soon coalesced, and has ever since co-operated, and often\nseemed identical, with the Civilization which is its companion.\n\nThere are certain analogies, too, which hold between Civilization and\nChristianity. As Civilization does not cover the whole earth, neither does\nChristianity; but there is nothing else like the one, and nothing else\nlike the other. Each is the only thing of its kind. Again, there are, as I\nhave already said, large outlying portions of the world in a certain sense\ncultivated and educated, which, if they could exist together in one, would\ngo far to constitute a second _orbis terrarum_, the home of a second\ndistinct civilization; but every one of these is civilized on its own\nprinciple and idea, or at least they are separated from each other, and\nhave not run together, while the Civilization and Society which I have\nbeen describing is one organized whole. And, in like manner, Christianity\ncoalesces into one vast body, based upon common ideas; yet there are large\noutlying organizations of religion independent of each other and of it.\nMoreover, Christianity, as is the case in the parallel instance of\nCivilization, continues on in the world without interruption from the date\nof its rise, while other religious bodies, huge, local, and isolated, are\nrising and falling, or are helplessly stationary, from age to age, on all\nsides of it.\n\nThere is another remarkable analogy between Christianity and Civilization,\nand the mention of it will introduce my proper subject, to which what I\nhave hitherto said is merely a preparation. We know that Christianity is\nbuilt upon definite ideas, principles, doctrines, and writings, which were\ngiven at the time of its first introduction, and have never been\nsuperseded, and admit of no addition. I am not going to parallel any thing\nwhich is the work of man, and in the natural order, with what is from\nheaven, and in consequence infallible, and irreversible, and obligatory;\nbut, after making this reserve, lest I should possibly be misunderstood,\nstill I would remark that, in matter of fact, looking at the state of the\ncase historically, Civilization too has its common principles, and views,\nand teaching, and especially its books, which have more or less been given\nfrom the earliest times, and are, in fact, in equal esteem and respect, in\nequal use now, as they were when they were received in the beginning. In a\nword, the Classics, and the subjects of thought and the studies to which\nthey give rise, or, to use the term most to our present purpose, the Arts,\nhave ever, on the whole, been the instruments of education which the\ncivilized _orbis terrarum_ has adopted; just as inspired works, and the\nlives of saints, and the articles of faith, and the catechism, have ever\nbeen the instrument of education in the case of Christianity. And this\nconsideration, you see, Gentlemen (to drop down at once upon the subject\nproper to the occasion which has brought us together), invests the opening\nof the School in Arts with a solemnity and moment of a peculiar kind, for\nwe are but reiterating an old tradition, and carrying on those august\nmethods of enlarging the mind, and cultivating the intellect, and refining\nthe feelings, in which the process of Civilization has ever consisted.\n\n\n\n4.\n\n\nIn the country which has been the fountain head of intellectual gifts, in\nthe age which preceded or introduced the first formations of Human\nSociety, in an era scarcely historical, we may dimly discern an almost\nmythical personage, who, putting out of consideration the actors in Old\nTestament history, may be called the first Apostle of Civilization. Like\nan Apostle in a higher order of things, he was poor and a wanderer, and\nfeeble in the flesh, though he was to do such great things, and to live in\nthe mouths of a hundred generations and a thousand tribes. A blind old\nman; whose wanderings were such that, when he became famous, his\nbirth-place could not be ascertained, so that it was said,\u2014\n\n\u201cSeven famous towns contend for Homer dead,\nThrough which the living Homer begged his bread.\u201d\n\nYet he had a name in his day; and, little guessing in what vast measures\nhis wish would be answered, he supplicated, with a tender human sentiment,\nas he wandered over the islands of the \u00c6gean and the Asian coasts, that\nthose who had known and loved him would cherish his memory when he was\naway. Unlike the proud boast of the Roman poet, if he spoke it in earnest,\n\u201cExegi monumentum \u00e6re perennius,\u201d he did but indulge the hope that one,\nwhose coming had been expected with pleasure, might excite regret when he\nhad departed, and be rewarded by the sympathy and praise of his friends\neven in the presence of other minstrels. A set of verses remains, which is\nascribed to him, in which he addresses the Delian women in the tone of\nfeeling which I have described. \u201cFarewell to you all,\u201d he says, \u201cand\nremember me in time to come, and when any one of men on earth, a stranger\nfrom far, shall inquire of you, O maidens, who is the sweetest of\nminstrels here about, and in whom do you most delight? then make answer\nmodestly, It is a blind man, and he lives in steep Chios.\u201d\n\nThe great poet remained unknown for some centuries,\u2014that is, unknown to\nwhat we call fame. His verses were cherished by his countrymen, they might\nbe the secret delight of thousands, but they were not collected into a\nvolume, nor viewed as a whole, nor made a subject of criticism. At length\nan Athenian Prince took upon him the task of gathering together the\nscattered fragments of a genius which had not aspired to immortality, of\nreducing them to writing, and of fitting them to be the text-book of\nancient education. Henceforth the vagrant ballad-singer, as he might be\nthought, was submitted, to his surprise, to a sort of literary\ncanonization, and was invested with the office of forming the young mind\nof Greece to noble thoughts and bold deeds. To be read in Homer soon\nbecame the education of a gentleman; and a rule, recognized in her free\nage, remained as a tradition even in the times of her degradation.\nXenophon introduces to us a youth who knew both Iliad and Odyssey by\nheart; Dio witnesses that they were some of the first books put into the\nhands of boys; and Horace decided that they taught the science of life\nbetter than Stoic or Academic. Alexander the Great nourished his\nimagination by the scenes of the Iliad. As time went on, other poets were\nassociated with Homer in the work of education, such as Hesiod and the\nTragedians. The majestic lessons concerning duty and religion, justice and\nprovidence, which occur in \u00c6schylus and Sophocles, belong to a higher\nschool than that of Homer; and the verses of Euripides, even in his\nlifetime, were so familiar to Athenian lips and so dear to foreign ears,\nthat, as is reported, the captives of Syracuse gained their freedom at the\nprice of reciting them to their conquerors.\n\nSuch poetry may be considered oratory also, since it has so great a power\nof persuasion; and the alliance between these two gifts had existed from\nthe time that the verses of Orpheus had, according to the fable, made\nwoods and streams and wild animals to follow him about. Soon, however,\nOratory became the subject of a separate art, which was called Rhetoric,\nand of which the Sophists were the chief masters. Moreover, as Rhetoric\nwas especially political in its nature, it presupposed or introduced the\ncultivation of History; and thus the pages of Thucydides became one of the\nspecial studies by which Demosthenes rose to be the first orator of\nGreece.\n\nBut it is needless to trace out further the formation of the course of\nliberal education; it is sufficient to have given some specimens in\nillustration of it. The studies, which it was found to involve, were four\nprincipal ones, Grammar, Rhetoric, Logic, and Mathematics; and the science\nof Mathematics, again, was divided into four, Geometry, Arithmetic,\nAstronomy, and Music; making in all seven, which are known by the name of\nthe Seven Liberal Arts. And thus a definite school of intellect was\nformed, founded on ideas and methods of a distinctive character, and (as\nwe may say) of the highest and truest character, as far as they went, and\nwhich gradually associated in one, and assimilated, and took possession\nof, that multitude of nations which I have considered to represent\nmankind, and to possess the _orbis terrarum_.\n\nWhen we pass from Greece to Rome, we are met with the common remark, that\nRome produced little that was original, but borrowed from Greece. It is\ntrue; Terence copied from Menander, Virgil from Homer, Hesiod, and\nTheocritus; and Cicero professed merely to reproduce the philosophy of\nGreece. But, granting its truth ever so far, I do but take it as a proof\nof the sort of instinct which has guided the course of Civilization. The\nworld was to have certain intellectual teachers, and no others; Homer and\nAristotle, with the poets and philosophers who circle round them, were to\nbe the schoolmasters of all generations, and therefore the Latins, falling\ninto the law on which the world\u2019s education was to be carried on, so added\nto the classical library as not to reverse or interfere with what had\nalready been determined. And there was the more meaning in this\narrangement, when it is considered that Greek was to be forgotten during\nmany centuries, and the tradition of intellectual training to be conveyed\nthrough Latin; for thus the world was secured against the consequences of\na loss which would have changed the character of its civilization. I think\nit very remarkable, too, how soon the Latin writers became text-books in\nthe boys\u2019 schools. Even to this day Shakespeare and Milton are not studied\nin our course of education; but the poems of Virgil and Horace, as those\nof Homer and the Greek authors in an earlier age, were in schoolboys\u2019\nsatchels not much more than a hundred years after they were written.\n\nI need not go on to show at length that they have preserved their place in\nthe system of education in the _orbis terrarum_, and the Greek writers\nwith them or through them, down to this day. The induction of centuries\nhas often been made. Even in the lowest state of learning the tradition\nwas kept up. St. Gregory the Great, whose era, not to say whose influence,\nis often considered especially unfavourable to the old literature, was\nhimself well versed in it, encouraged purity of Latinity in his court, and\nis said figuratively by the contemporary historian of his life to have\nsupported the hall of the Apostolic See upon the columns of the Seven\nLiberal Arts. In the ninth century, when the dark age was close at hand,\nwe still hear of the cultivation, with whatever success (according of\ncourse to the opportunities of the times, but I am speaking of the nature\nof the studies, not of the proficiency of the students), the cultivation\nof Music, Dialectics, Rhetoric, Grammar, Mathematics, Astronomy, Physics,\nand Geometry; of the supremacy of Horace in the schools, \u201cand the great\nVirgil, Sallust, and Statius.\u201d In the thirteenth or following centuries,\nof \u201cVirgil, Lucian, Statius, Ovid, Livy, Sallust, Cicero, and Quintilian;\u201d\nand after the revival of literature in the commencement of the modern era,\nwe find St. Carlo Borromeo enjoining the use of works of Cicero, Ovid,\nVirgil, and Horace.(33)\n\n\n\n5.\n\n\nI pass thus cursorily over the series of informations which history gives\nus on the subject, merely with a view of recalling to your memory,\nGentlemen, and impressing upon you the fact, that the literature of\nGreece, continued into, and enriched by, the literature of Rome, together\nwith the studies which it involves, has been the instrument of education,\nand the food of civilization, from the first times of the world down to\nthis day;\u2014and now we are in a condition to answer the question which\nthereupon arises, when we turn to consider, by way of contrast, the\nteaching which is characteristic of Universities. How has it come to pass\nthat, although the genius of Universities is so different from that of the\nschools which preceded them, nevertheless the course of study pursued in\nthose schools was not superseded in the middle ages by those more\nbrilliant sciences which Universities introduced? It might have seemed as\nif Scholastic Theology, Law, and Medicine would have thrown the Seven\nLiberal Arts into the shade, but in the event they failed to do so. I\nconsider the reason to be, that the authority and function of the monastic\nand secular schools, as supplying to the young the means of education, lay\ndeeper than in any appointment of Charlemagne, who was their nominal\nfounder, and were based in the special character of that civilization\nwhich is so intimately associated with Christianity, that it may even be\ncalled the soil out of which Christianity grew. The medieval sciences,\ngreat as is their dignity and utility, were never intended to supersede\nthat more real and proper cultivation of the mind which is effected by the\nstudy of the liberal Arts; and, when certain of these sciences did in fact\ngo out of their province and did attempt to prejudice the traditional\ncourse of education, the encroachment was in matter of fact resisted.\nThere were those in the middle age, as John of Salisbury, who vigorously\nprotested against the extravagances and usurpations which ever attend the\nintroduction of any great good whatever, and which attended the rise of\nthe peculiar sciences of which Universities were the seat; and, though\nthere were times when the old traditions seemed to be on the point of\nfailing, somehow it has happened that they have never failed; for the\ninstinct of Civilization and the common sense of Society prevailed, and\nthe danger passed away, and the studies which seemed to be going out\ngained their ancient place, and were acknowledged, as before, to be the\nbest instruments of mental cultivation, and the best guarantees for\nintellectual progress.\n\nAnd this experience of the past we may apply to the circumstances in which\nwe find ourselves at present; for, as there was a movement against the\nClassics in the middle age, so has there been now. The truth of the\nBaconian method for the purposes for which it was created, and its\ninestimable services and inexhaustible applications in the interests of\nour material well-being, have dazzled the imaginations of men, somewhat in\nthe same way as certain new sciences carried them away in the age of\nAbelard; and since that method does such wonders in its own province, it\nis not unfrequently supposed that it can do as much in any other province\nalso. Now, Bacon himself never would have so argued; he would not have\nneeded to be reminded that to advance the useful arts is one thing, and to\ncultivate the mind another. The simple question to be considered is, how\nbest to strengthen, refine, and enrich the intellectual powers; the\nperusal of the poets, historians, and philosophers of Greece and Rome will\naccomplish this purpose, as long experience has shown; but that the study\nof the experimental sciences will do the like, is proved to us as yet by\nno experience whatever.\n\nFar indeed am I from denying the extreme attractiveness, as well as the\npractical benefit to the world at large, of the sciences of Chemistry,\nElectricity, and Geology; but the question is not what department of study\ncontains the more wonderful facts, or promises the more brilliant\ndiscoveries, and which is in the higher and which in an inferior rank; but\nsimply which out of all provides the most robust and invigorating\ndiscipline for the unformed mind. And I conceive it is as little\ndisrespectful to Lord Bacon to prefer the Classics in this point of view\nto the sciences which have grown out of his philosophy as it would be\ndisrespectful to St. Thomas in the middle ages to have hindered the study\nof the Summa from doing prejudice to the Faculty of Arts. Accordingly, I\nanticipate that, as in the middle ages both the teaching and the\ngovernment of the University remained in the Faculty of Arts, in spite of\nthe genius which created or illustrated Theology and Law, so now too,\nwhatever be the splendour of the modern philosophy, the marvellousness of\nits disclosures, the utility of its acquisitions, and the talent of its\nmasters, still it will not avail in the event, to detrude classical\nliterature and the studies connected with it from the place which they\nhave held in all ages in education.\n\nSuch, then, is the course of reflection obviously suggested by the act in\nwhich we have been lately engaged, and which we are now celebrating. In\nthe nineteenth century, in a country which looks out upon a new world, and\nanticipates a coming age, we have been engaged in opening the Schools\ndedicated to the studies of polite literature and liberal science, or what\nare called the Arts, as a first step towards the establishment on Catholic\nground of a Catholic University. And while we thus recur to Greece and\nAthens with pleasure and affection, and recognize in that famous land the\nsource and the school of intellectual culture, it would be strange indeed\nif we forgot to look further south also, and there to bow before a more\nglorious luminary, and a more sacred oracle of truth, and the source of\nanother sort of knowledge, high and supernatural, which is seated in\nPalestine. Jerusalem is the fountain-head of religious knowledge, as\nAthens is of secular. In the ancient world we see two centres of\nillumination, acting independently of each other, each with its own\nmovement, and at first apparently without any promise of convergence.\nGreek civilization spreads over the East, conquering in the conquests of\nAlexander, and, when carried captive into the West, subdues the conquerors\nwho brought it thither. Religion, on the other hand, is driven from its\nown aboriginal home to the North and West by reason of the sins of the\npeople who were in charge of it, in a long course of judgments and plagues\nand persecutions. Each by itself pursues its career and fulfils its\nmission; neither of them recognizes, nor is recognized by the other. At\nlength the Temple of Jerusalem is rooted up by the armies of Titus, and\nthe effete schools of Athens are stifled by the edict of Justinian. So\npass away the ancient Voices of religion and learning; but they are\nsilenced only to revive more gloriously and perfectly elsewhere. Hitherto\nthey came from separate sources, and performed separate works. Each leaves\nan heir and successor in the West, and that heir and successor is one and\nthe same. The grace stored in Jerusalem, and the gifts which radiate from\nAthens, are made over and concentrated in Rome. This is true as a matter\nof history. Rome has inherited both sacred and profane learning; she has\nperpetuated and dispensed the traditions of Moses and David in the\nsupernatural order, and of Homer and Aristotle in the natural. To separate\nthose distinct teachings, human and divine, which meet in Rome, is to\nretrograde; it is to rebuild the Jewish Temple and to plant anew the\ngroves of Academus.\n\n\n\n6.\n\n\nOn this large subject, however, on which I might say much, time does not\nallow me to enter. To show how sacred learning and profane are dependent\non each other, correlative and mutually complementary, how faith operates\nby means of reason, and reason is directed and corrected by faith, is\nreally the subject of a distinct lecture. I would conclude, then, with\nmerely congratulating you, Gentlemen, on the great undertaking which we\nhave so auspiciously commenced. Whatever be its fortunes, whatever its\ndifficulties, whatever its delays, I cannot doubt at all that the\nencouragement which it has already received, and the measure of success\nwhich it has been allotted, are but a presage and an anticipation of a\ngradual advance towards its completion, in such times and such manner as\nProvidence shall appoint. For myself, I have never had any misgiving about\nit, because I had never known anything of it before the time when the Holy\nSee had definitely decided upon its prosecution. It is my happiness to\nhave no cognizance of the anxieties and perplexities of venerable and holy\nprelates, or the discussions of experienced and prudent men, which\npreceded its definitive recognition on the part of the highest\necclesiastical authority. It is my happiness to have no experience of the\ntime when good Catholics despaired of its success, distrusted its\nexpediency, or even felt an obligation to oppose it. It has been my\nhappiness that I have never been in controversy with persons in this\ncountry external to the Catholic Church, nor have been forced into any\ndirect collision with institutions or measures which rest on a foundation\nhostile to Catholicism. No one can accuse me of any disrespect towards\nthose whose principles or whose policy I disapprove; nor am I conscious of\nany other aim than that of working in my own place, without going out of\nmy way to offend others. If I have taken part in the undertaking which has\nnow brought us together, it has been because I believed it was a great\nwork, great in its conception, great in its promise, and great in the\nauthority from which it proceeds. I felt it to be so great that I did not\ndare to incur the responsibility of refusing to take part in it.\n\nHow far indeed, and how long, I am to be connected with it, is another\nmatter altogether. It is enough for one man to lay only one stone of so\nnoble and grand an edifice; it is enough, more than enough for me, if I do\nso much as merely begin, what others may more hopefully continue. One only\namong the sons of men has carried out a perfect work, and satisfied and\nexhausted the mission on which He came. One alone has with His last breath\nsaid \u201cConsummatum est.\u201d But all who set about their duties in faith and\nhope and love, with a resolute heart and a devoted will, are able, weak\nthough they be, to do what, though incomplete, is imperishable. Even their\nfailures become successes, as being necessary steps in a course, and as\nterms (so to say) in a long series, which will at length fulfil the object\nwhich they propose. And they will unite themselves in spirit, in their\nhumble degree, with those real heroes of Holy Writ and ecclesiastical\nhistory, Moses, Elias, and David, Basil, Athanasius, and Chrysostom,\nGregory the Seventh, St. Thomas of Canterbury, and many others, who did\nmost when they fancied themselves least prosperous, and died without being\npermitted to see the fruit of their labours.\n\n\n\n\n                               Lecture II.\n\n\nLiterature. A Lecture in the School of Philosophy and Letters.\n\n\n\n1.\n\n\nWishing to address you, Gentlemen, at the commencement of a new Session, I\ntried to find a subject for discussion, which might be at once suitable to\nthe occasion, yet neither too large for your time, nor too minute or\nabstruse for your attention. I think I see one for my purpose in the very\ntitle of your Faculty. It is the Faculty of Philosophy and Letters. Now\nthe question may arise as to what is meant by \u201cPhilosophy,\u201d and what is\nmeant by \u201cLetters.\u201d As to the other Faculties, the subject-matter which\nthey profess is intelligible, as soon as named, and beyond all dispute. We\nknow what Science is, what Medicine, what Law, and what Theology; but we\nhave not so much ease in determining what is meant by Philosophy and\nLetters. Each department of that twofold province needs explanation: it\nwill be sufficient, on an occasion like this, to investigate one of them.\nAccordingly I shall select for remark the latter of the two, and attempt\nto determine what we are to understand by Letters or Literature, in what\nLiterature consists, and how it stands relatively to Science. We speak,\nfor instance, of ancient and modern literature, the literature of the day,\nsacred literature, light literature; and our lectures in this place are\ndevoted to classical literature and English literature. Are Letters, then,\nsynonymous with books? This cannot be, or they would include in their\nrange Philosophy, Law, and, in short, the teaching of all the other\nFaculties. Far from confusing these various studies, we view the works of\nPlato or Cicero sometimes as philosophy, sometimes as literature; on the\nother hand, no one would ever be tempted to speak of Euclid as literature,\nor of Matthi\u00e6\u2019s Greek Grammar. Is, then, literature synonymous with\ncomposition? with books written with an attention to style? is literature\nfine writing? again, is it studied and artificial writing?\n\nThere are excellent persons who seem to adopt this last account of\nLiterature as their own idea of it. They depreciate it, as if it were the\nresult of a mere art or trick of words. Professedly indeed, they are\naiming at the Greek and Roman classics, but their criticisms have quite as\ngreat force against all literature as against any. I think I shall be best\nable to bring out what I have to say on the subject by examining the\nstatements which they make in defence of their own view of it. They\ncontend then, 1. that fine writing, as exemplified in the Classics, is\nmainly a matter of conceits, fancies, and prettinesses, decked out in\nchoice words; 2. that this is the proof of it, that the classics will not\nbear translating;\u2014(and this is why I have said that the real attack is\nupon literature altogether, not the classical only; for, to speak\ngenerally, all literature, modern as well as ancient, lies under this\ndisadvantage. This, however, they will not allow; for they maintain,) 3.\nthat Holy Scripture presents a remarkable contrast to secular writings on\nthis very point, viz., in that Scripture does easily admit of translation,\nthough it is the most sublime and beautiful of all writings.\n\n\n\n2.\n\n\nNow I will begin by stating these three positions in the words of a\nwriter, who is cited by the estimable Catholics in question as a witness,\nor rather as an advocate, in their behalf, though he is far from being\nable in his own person to challenge the respect which is inspired by\nthemselves.\n\n\u201cThere are two sorts of eloquence,\u201d says this writer, \u201cthe one indeed\nscarce deserves the name of it, which consists chiefly in laboured and\npolished periods, an over-curious and artificial arrangement of figures,\ntinselled over with a gaudy embellishment of words, which glitter, but\nconvey little or no light to the understanding. This kind of writing is\nfor the most part much affected and admired by the people of weak judgment\nand vicious taste; but it is a piece of affectation and formality the\nsacred writers are utter strangers to. It is a vain and boyish eloquence;\nand, as it has always been esteemed below the great geniuses of all ages,\nso much more so with respect to those writers who were actuated by the\nspirit of Infinite Wisdom, and therefore wrote with that force and majesty\nwith which never man writ. The other sort of eloquence is quite the\nreverse to this, and which may be said to be the true characteristic of\nthe Holy Scriptures; where the excellence does not arise from a laboured\nand far-fetched elocution, but from a surprising mixture of simplicity and\nmajesty, which is a double character, so difficult to be united that it is\nseldom to be met with in compositions merely human. We see nothing in Holy\nWrit of affectation and superfluous ornament.\u2026 Now, it is observable that\nthe most excellent profane authors, whether Greek or Latin, lose most of\ntheir graces whenever we find them literally translated. Homer\u2019s famed\nrepresentation of Jupiter\u2014his cried-up description of a tempest, his\nrelation of Neptune\u2019s shaking the earth and opening it to its centre, his\ndescription of Pallas\u2019s horses, with numbers of other long-since admired\npassages, flag, and almost vanish away, in the vulgar Latin translation.\n\n\u201cLet any one but take the pains to read the common Latin interpretations\nof Virgil, Theocritus, or even of Pindar, and one may venture to affirm he\nwill be able to trace out but few remains of the graces which charmed him\nso much in the original. The natural conclusion from hence is, that in the\nclassical authors, the expression, the sweetness of the numbers,\noccasioned by a musical placing of words, constitute a great part of their\nbeauties; whereas, in the sacred writings, they consist more in the\ngreatness of the things themselves than in the words and expressions. The\nideas and conceptions are so great and lofty in their own nature that they\nnecessarily appear magnificent in the most artless dress. Look but into\nthe Bible, and we see them shine through the most simple and literal\ntranslations. That glorious description which Moses gives of the creation\nof the heavens and the earth, which Longinus \u2026 was so greatly taken with,\nhas not lost the least whit of its intrinsic worth, and though it has\nundergone so many translations, yet triumphs over all, and breaks forth\nwith as much force and vehemence as in the original.\u2026 In the history of\nJoseph, where Joseph makes himself known, and weeps aloud upon the neck of\nhis dear brother Benjamin, that all the house of Pharaoh heard him, at\nthat instant none of his brethren are introduced as uttering aught, either\nto express their present joy or palliate their former injuries to him. On\nall sides there immediately ensues a deep and solemn silence; a silence\ninfinitely more eloquent and expressive than anything else that could have\nbeen substituted in its place. Had Thucydides, Herodotus, Livy, or any of\nthe celebrated classical historians, been employed in writing this\nhistory, when they came to this point they would doubtless have exhausted\nall their fund of eloquence in furnishing Joseph\u2019s brethren with laboured\nand studied harangues, which, however fine they might have been in\nthemselves, would nevertheless have been unnatural, and altogether\nimproper on the occasion.\u201d(34)\n\nThis is eloquently written, but it contains, I consider, a mixture of\ntruth and falsehood, which it will be my business to discriminate from\neach other. Far be it from me to deny the unapproachable grandeur and\nsimplicity of Holy Scripture; but I shall maintain that the classics are,\nas human compositions, simple and majestic and natural too. I grant that\nScripture is concerned with things, but I will not grant that classical\nliterature is simply concerned with words. I grant that human literature\nis often elaborate, but I will maintain that elaborate composition is not\nunknown to the writers of Scripture. I grant that human literature cannot\neasily be translated out of the particular language to which it belongs;\nbut it is not at all the rule that Scripture can easily be translated\neither;\u2014and now I address myself to my task:\u2014\n\n\n\n3.\n\n\nHere, then, in the first place, I observe, Gentlemen, that Literature,\nfrom the derivation of the word, implies writing, not speaking; this,\nhowever, arises from the circumstance of the copiousness, variety, and\npublic circulation of the matters of which it consists. What is spoken\ncannot outrun the range of the speaker\u2019s voice, and perishes in the\nuttering. When words are in demand to express a long course of thought,\nwhen they have to be conveyed to the ends of the earth, or perpetuated for\nthe benefit of posterity, they must be written down, that is, reduced to\nthe shape of literature; still, properly speaking, the terms, by which we\ndenote this characteristic gift of man, belong to its exhibition by means\nof the voice, not of handwriting. It addresses itself, in its primary\nidea, to the ear, not to the eye. We call it the power of speech, we call\nit language, that is, the use of the tongue; and, even when we write, we\nstill keep in mind what was its original instrument, for we use freely\nsuch terms in our books as \u201csaying,\u201d \u201cspeaking,\u201d \u201ctelling,\u201d \u201ctalking,\u201d\n\u201ccalling;\u201d we use the terms \u201cphraseology\u201d and \u201cdiction;\u201d as if we were\nstill addressing ourselves to the ear.\n\nNow I insist on this, because it shows that speech, and therefore\nliterature, which is its permanent record, is essentially a personal work.\nIt is not some production or result, attained by the partnership of\nseveral persons, or by machinery, or by any natural process, but in its\nvery idea it proceeds, and must proceed, from some one given individual.\nTwo persons cannot be the authors of the sounds which strike our ear; and,\nas they cannot be speaking one and the same speech, neither can they be\nwriting one and the same lecture or discourse,\u2014which must certainly belong\nto some one person or other, and is the expression of that one person\u2019s\nideas and feelings,\u2014ideas and feelings personal to himself, though others\nmay have parallel and similar ones,\u2014proper to himself, in the same sense\nas his voice, his air, his countenance, his carriage, and his action, are\npersonal. In other words, Literature expresses, not objective truth, as it\nis called, but subjective; not things, but thoughts.\n\nNow this doctrine will become clearer by considering another use of words,\nwhich does relate to objective truth, or to things; which relates to\nmatters, not personal, not subjective to the individual, but which, even\nwere there no individual man in the whole world to know them or to talk\nabout them, would exist still. Such objects become the matter of Science,\nand words indeed are used to express them, but such words are rather\nsymbols than language, and however many we use, and however we may\nperpetuate them by writing, we never could make any kind of literature out\nof them, or call them by that name. Such, for instance, would be Euclid\u2019s\nElements; they relate to truths universal and eternal; they are not mere\nthoughts, but things: they exist in themselves, not by virtue of our\nunderstanding them, not in dependence upon our will, but in what is called\nthe _nature_ of things, or at least on conditions external to us. The\nwords, then, in which they are set forth are not language, speech,\nliterature, but rather, as I have said, symbols. And, as a proof of it,\nyou will recollect that it is possible, nay usual, to set forth the\npropositions of Euclid in algebraical notation, which, as all would admit,\nhas nothing to do with literature. What is true of mathematics is true\nalso of every study, so far forth as it is scientific; it makes use of\nwords as the mere vehicle of things, and is thereby withdrawn from the\nprovince of literature. Thus metaphysics, ethics, law, political economy,\nchemistry, theology, cease to be literature in the same degree as they are\ncapable of a severe scientific treatment. And hence it is that Aristotle\u2019s\nworks on the one hand, though at first sight literature, approach in\ncharacter, at least a great number of them, to mere science; for even\nthough the things which he treats of and exhibits may not always be real\nand true, yet he treats them as if they were, not as if they were the\nthoughts of his own mind; that is, he treats them scientifically. On the\nother hand, Law or Natural History has before now been treated by an\nauthor with so much of colouring derived from his own mind as to become a\nsort of literature; this is especially seen in the instance of Theology,\nwhen it takes the shape of Pulpit Eloquence. It is seen too in historical\ncomposition, which becomes a mere specimen of chronology, or a chronicle,\nwhen divested of the philosophy, the skill, or the party and personal\nfeelings of the particular writer. Science, then, has to do with things,\nliterature with thoughts; science is universal, literature is personal;\nscience uses words merely as symbols, but literature uses language in its\nfull compass, as including phraseology, idiom, style, composition, rhythm,\neloquence, and whatever other properties are included in it.\n\nLet us then put aside the scientific use of words, when we are to speak of\nlanguage and literature. Literature is the personal use or exercise of\nlanguage. That this is so is further proved from the fact that one author\nuses it so differently from another. Language itself in its very\norigination would seem to be traceable to individuals. Their peculiarities\nhave given it its character. We are often able in fact to trace particular\nphrases or idioms to individuals; we know the history of their rise. Slang\nsurely, as it is called, comes of, and breathes of the personal. The\nconnection between the force of words in particular languages and the\nhabits and sentiments of the nations speaking them has often been pointed\nout. And, while the many use language as they find it, the man of genius\nuses it indeed, but subjects it withal to his own purposes, and moulds it\naccording to his own peculiarities. The throng and succession of ideas,\nthoughts, feelings, imaginations, aspirations, which pass within him, the\nabstractions, the juxtapositions, the comparisons, the discriminations,\nthe conceptions, which are so original in him, his views of external\nthings, his judgments upon life, manners, and history, the exercises of\nhis wit, of his humour, of his depth, of his sagacity, all these\ninnumerable and incessant creations, the very pulsation and throbbing of\nhis intellect, does he image forth, to all does he give utterance, in a\ncorresponding language, which is as multiform as this inward mental action\nitself and analogous to it, the faithful expression of his intense\npersonality, attending on his own inward world of thought as its very\nshadow: so that we might as well say that one man\u2019s shadow is another\u2019s as\nthat the style of a really gifted mind can belong to any but himself. It\nfollows him about _as_ a shadow. His thought and feeling are personal, and\nso his language is personal.\n\n\n\n4.\n\n\nThought and speech are inseparable from each other. Matter and expression\nare parts of one: style is a thinking out into language. This is what I\nhave been laying down, and this is literature; not _things_, not the\nverbal symbols of things; not on the other hand mere _words_; but thoughts\nexpressed in language. Call to mind, Gentlemen, the meaning of the Greek\nword which expresses this special prerogative of man over the feeble\nintelligence of the inferior animals. It is called Logos: what does Logos\nmean? it stands both for _reason_ and for _speech_, and it is difficult to\nsay which it means more properly. It means both at once: why? because\nreally they cannot be divided,\u2014because they are in a true sense one. When\nwe can separate light and illumination, life and motion, the convex and\nthe concave of a curve, then will it be possible for thought to tread\nspeech under foot, and to hope to do without it\u2014then will it be\nconceivable that the vigorous and fertile intellect should renounce its\nown double, its instrument of expression, and the channel of its\nspeculations and emotions.\n\nCritics should consider this view of the subject before they lay down such\ncanons of taste as the writer whose pages I have quoted. Such men as he is\nconsider fine writing to be an _addition from without_ to the matter\ntreated of,\u2014a sort of ornament superinduced, or a luxury indulged in, by\nthose who have time and inclination for such vanities. They speak as if\n_one_ man could do the thought, and _another_ the style. We read in\nPersian travels of the way in which young gentlemen go to work in the\nEast, when they would engage in correspondence with those who inspire them\nwith hope or fear. They cannot write one sentence themselves; so they\nbetake themselves to the professional letter-writer. They confide to him\nthe object they have in view. They have a point to gain from a superior, a\nfavour to ask, an evil to deprecate; they have to approach a man in power,\nor to make court to some beautiful lady. The professional man manufactures\nwords for them, as they are wanted, as a stationer sells them paper, or a\nschoolmaster might cut their pens. Thought and word are, in their\nconception, two things, and thus there is a division of labour. The man of\nthought comes to the man of words; and the man of words, duly instructed\nin the thought, dips the pen of desire into the ink of devotedness, and\nproceeds to spread it over the page of desolation. Then the nightingale of\naffection is heard to warble to the rose of loveliness, while the breeze\nof anxiety plays around the brow of expectation. This is what the Easterns\nare said to consider fine writing; and it seems pretty much the idea of\nthe school of critics to whom I have been referring.\n\nWe have an instance in literary history of this very proceeding nearer\nhome, in a great University, in the latter years of the last century. I\nhave referred to it before now in a public lecture elsewhere;(35) but it\nis too much in point here to be omitted. A learned Arabic scholar had to\ndeliver a set of lectures before its doctors and professors on an\nhistorical subject in which his reading had lain. A linguist is conversant\nwith science rather than with literature; but this gentleman felt that his\nlectures must not be without a style. Being of the opinion of the\nOrientals, with whose writings he was familiar, he determined to buy a\nstyle. He took the step of engaging a person, at a price, to turn the\nmatter which he had got together into ornamental English. Observe, he did\nnot wish for mere grammatical English, but for an elaborate, pretentious\nstyle. An artist was found in the person of a country curate, and the job\nwas carried out. His lectures remain to this day, in their own place in\nthe protracted series of annual Discourses to which they belong,\ndistinguished amid a number of heavyish compositions by the rhetorical and\nambitious diction for which he went into the market. This learned divine,\nindeed, and the author I have quoted, differ from each other in the\nestimate they respectively form of literary composition; but they agree\ntogether in this,\u2014in considering such composition a trick and a trade;\nthey put it on a par with the gold plate and the flowers and the music of\na banquet, which do not make the viands better, but the entertainment more\npleasurable; as if language were the hired servant, the mere mistress of\nthe reason, and not the lawful wife in her own house.\n\nBut can they really think that Homer, or Pindar, or Shakespeare, or\nDryden, or Walter Scott, were accustomed to aim at diction for its own\nsake, instead of being inspired with their subject, and pouring forth\nbeautiful words because they had beautiful thoughts? this is surely too\ngreat a paradox to be borne. Rather, it is the fire within the author\u2019s\nbreast which overflows in the torrent of his burning, irresistible\neloquence; it is the poetry of his inner soul, which relieves itself in\nthe Ode or the Elegy; and his mental attitude and bearing, the beauty of\nhis moral countenance, the force and keenness of his logic, are imaged in\nthe tenderness, or energy, or richness of his language. Nay, according to\nthe well-known line, \u201cfacit indignatio _versus_;\u201d not the words alone, but\neven the rhythm, the metre, the verse, will be the contemporaneous\noffspring of the emotion or imagination which possesses him. \u201cPoeta\nnascitur, non fit,\u201d says the proverb; and this is in numerous instances\ntrue of his poems, as well as of himself. They are born, not framed; they\nare a strain rather than a composition; and their perfection is the\nmonument, not so much of his skill as of his power. And this is true of\nprose as well as of verse in its degree: who will not recognize in the\nvision of Mirza a delicacy and beauty of style which is very difficult to\ndescribe, but which is felt to be in exact correspondence to the ideas of\nwhich it is the expression?\n\n\n\n5.\n\n\nAnd, since the thoughts and reasonings of an author have, as I have said,\na personal character, no wonder that his style is not only the image of\nhis subject, but of his mind. That pomp of language, that full and tuneful\ndiction, that felicitousness in the choice and exquisiteness in the\ncollocation of words, which to prosaic writers seem artificial, is nothing\nelse but the mere habit and way of a lofty intellect. Aristotle, in his\nsketch of the magnanimous man, tells us that his voice is deep, his\nmotions slow, and his stature commanding. In like manner, the elocution of\na great intellect is great. His language expresses, not only his great\nthoughts, but his great self. Certainly he might use fewer words than he\nuses; but he fertilizes his simplest ideas, and germinates into a\nmultitude of details, and prolongs the march of his sentences, and sweeps\nround to the full diapason of his harmony, as if \u03ba\u03cd\u03b4\u03b5\u03ca \u03b3\u03b1\u03af\u03c9\u03bd, rejoicing in\nhis own vigour and richness of resource. I say, a narrow critic will call\nit verbiage, when really it is a sort of fulness of heart, parallel to\nthat which makes the merry boy whistle as he walks, or the strong man,\nlike the smith in the novel, flourish his club when there is no one to\nfight with.\n\nShakespeare furnishes us with frequent instances of this peculiarity, and\nall so beautiful, that it is difficult to select for quotation. For\ninstance, in Macbeth:\u2014\n\n\u201cCanst thou not minister to a mind diseased,\nPluck from the memory a rooted sorrow,\nRaze out the written troubles of the brain,\nAnd, with some sweet oblivious antidote,\nCleanse the foul bosom of that perilous stuff,\nWhich weighs upon the heart?\u201d\n\nHere a simple idea, by a process which belongs to the orator rather than\nto the poet, but still comes from the native vigour of genius, is expanded\ninto a many-membered period.\n\nThe following from Hamlet is of the same kind:\u2014\n\n\u201c\u2019Tis not alone my inky cloak, good mother,\nNor customary suits of solemn black,\nNor windy suspiration of forced breath,\nNo, nor the fruitful river in the eye,\nNor the dejected haviour of the visage,\nTogether with all forms, modes, shows of grief,\nThat can denote me truly.\u201d\n\nNow, if such declamation, for declamation it is, however noble, be\nallowable in a poet, whose genius is so far removed from pompousness or\npretence, much more is it allowable in an orator, whose very province it\nis to put forth words to the best advantage he can. Cicero has nothing\nmore redundant in any part of his writings than these passages from\nShakespeare. No lover then at least of Shakespeare may fairly accuse\nCicero of gorgeousness of phraseology or diffuseness of style. Nor will\nany sound critic be tempted to do so. As a certain unaffected neatness and\npropriety and grace of diction may be required of any author who lays\nclaim to be a classic, for the same reason that a certain attention to\ndress is expected of every gentleman, so to Cicero may be allowed the\nprivilege of the \u201cos magna sonaturum,\u201d of which the ancient critic speaks.\nHis copious, majestic, musical flow of language, even if sometimes beyond\nwhat the subject-matter demands, is never out of keeping with the occasion\nor with the speaker. It is the expression of lofty sentiments in lofty\nsentences, the \u201cmens magna in corpore magno.\u201d It is the development of the\ninner man. Cicero vividly realised the _status_ of a Roman senator and\nstatesman, and the \u201cpride of place\u201d of Rome, in all the grace and grandeur\nwhich attached to her; and he imbibed, and became, what he admired. As the\nexploits of Scipio or Pompey are the expression of this greatness in deed,\nso the language of Cicero is the expression of it in word. And, as the\nacts of the Roman ruler or soldier represent to us, in a manner special to\nthemselves, the characteristic magnanimity of the lords of the earth, so\ndo the speeches or treatises of her accomplished orator bring it home to\nour imaginations as no other writing could do. Neither Livy, nor Tacitus,\nnor Terence, nor Seneca, nor Pliny, nor Quintilian, is an adequate\nspokesman for the Imperial City. They write Latin; Cicero writes Roman.\n\n\n\n6.\n\n\nYou will say that Cicero\u2019s language is undeniably studied, but that\nShakespeare\u2019s is as undeniably natural and spontaneous; and that this is\nwhat is meant, when the Classics are accused of being mere artists of\nwords. Here we are introduced to a further large question, which gives me\nthe opportunity of anticipating a misapprehension of my meaning. I\nobserve, then, that, not only is that lavish richness of style, which I\nhave noticed in Shakespeare, justifiable on the principles which I have\nbeen laying down, but, what is less easy to receive, even elaborateness in\ncomposition is no mark of trick or artifice in an author. Undoubtedly the\nworks of the Classics, particularly the Latin, _are_ elaborate; they have\ncost a great deal of time, care, and trouble. They have had many rough\ncopies; I grant it. I grant also that there are writers of name, ancient\nand modern, who really are guilty of the absurdity of making sentences, as\nthe very end of their literary labour. Such was Isocrates; such were some\nof the sophists; they were set on words, to the neglect of thoughts or\nthings; I cannot defend them. If I must give an English instance of this\nfault, much as I love and revere the personal character and intellectual\nvigour of Dr. Johnson, I cannot deny that his style often outruns the\nsense and the occasion, and is wanting in that simplicity which is the\nattribute of genius. Still, granting all this, I cannot grant,\nnotwithstanding, that genius never need take pains,\u2014that genius may not\nimprove by practice,\u2014that it never incurs failures, and succeeds the\nsecond time,\u2014that it never finishes off at leisure what it has thrown off\nin the outline at a stroke.\n\nTake the instance of the painter or the sculptor; he has a conception in\nhis mind which he wishes to represent in the medium of his art;\u2014the\nMadonna and Child, or Innocence, or Fortitude, or some historical\ncharacter or event. Do you mean to say he does not study his subject? does\nhe not make sketches? does he not even call them \u201cstudies\u201d? does he not\ncall his workroom a _studio_? is he not ever designing, rejecting,\nadopting, correcting, perfecting? Are not the first attempts of Michael\nAngelo and Raffaelle extant, in the case of some of their most celebrated\ncompositions? Will any one say that the Apollo Belvidere is not a\nconception patiently elaborated into its proper perfection? These\ndepartments of taste are, according to the received notions of the world,\nthe very province of genius, and yet we call them _arts_; they are the\n\u201cFine Arts.\u201d Why may not that be true of literary composition which is\ntrue of painting, sculpture, architecture, and music? Why may not language\nbe wrought as well as the clay of the modeller? why may not words be\nworked up as well as colours? why should not skill in diction be simply\nsubservient and instrumental to the great prototypal ideas which are the\ncontemplation of a Plato or a Virgil? Our greatest poet tells us,\n\n\u201cThe poet\u2019s eye, in a fine frenzy rolling,\nDoth glance from heaven to earth, from earth to heaven,\nAnd, as imagination bodies forth\nThe forms of things unknown, the poet\u2019s pen\nTurns them to shapes, and gives to airy nothing\nA local habitation and a name.\u201d\n\nNow, is it wonderful that that pen of his should sometimes be at fault for\na while,\u2014that it should pause, write, erase, re-write, amend, complete,\nbefore he satisfies himself that his language has done justice to the\nconceptions which his mind\u2019s eye contemplated?\n\nIn this point of view, doubtless, many or most writers are elaborate; and\nthose certainly not the least whose style is furthest removed from\nornament, being simple and natural, or vehement, or severely business-like\nand practical. Who so energetic and manly as Demosthenes? Yet he is said\nto have transcribed Thucydides many times over in the formation of his\nstyle. Who so gracefully natural as Herodotus? yet his very dialect is not\nhis own, but chosen for the sake of the perfection of his narrative. Who\nexhibits such happy negligence as our own Addison? yet artistic\nfastidiousness was so notorious in his instance that the report has got\nabroad, truly or not, that he was too late in his issue of an important\nstate-paper, from his habit of revision and recomposition. Such great\nauthors were working by a model which was before the eyes of their\nintellect, and they were labouring to say what they had to say, in such a\nway as would most exactly and suitably express it. It is not wonderful\nthat other authors, whose style is not simple, should be instances of a\nsimilar literary diligence. Virgil wished his \u00c6neid to be burned,\nelaborate as is its composition, because he felt it needed more labour\nstill, in order to make it perfect. The historian Gibbon in the last\ncentury is another instance in point. You must not suppose I am going to\nrecommend his style for imitation, any more than his principles; but I\nrefer to him as the example of a writer feeling the task which lay before\nhim, feeling that he had to bring out into words for the comprehension of\nhis readers a great and complicated scene, and wishing that those words\nshould be adequate to his undertaking. I think he wrote the first chapter\nof his History three times over; it was not that he corrected or improved\nthe first copy; but he put his first essay, and then his second, aside\u2014he\nrecast his matter, till he had hit the precise exhibition of it which he\nthought demanded by his subject.\n\nNow in all these instances, I wish you to observe, that what I have\nadmitted about literary workmanship differs from the doctrine which I am\nopposing in this,\u2014that the mere dealer in words cares little or nothing\nfor the subject which he is embellishing, but can paint and gild anything\nwhatever to order; whereas the artist, whom I am acknowledging, has his\ngreat or rich visions before him, and his only aim is to bring out what he\nthinks or what he feels in a way adequate to the thing spoken of, and\nappropriate to the speaker.\n\n\n\n7.\n\n\nThe illustration which I have been borrowing from the Fine Arts will\nenable me to go a step further. I have been showing the connection of the\nthought with the language in literary composition; and in doing so I have\nexposed the unphilosophical notion, that the language was an extra which\ncould be dispensed with, and provided to order according to the demand.\nBut I have not yet brought out, what immediately follows from this, and\nwhich was the second point which I had to show, viz., that to be capable\nof easy translation is no test of the excellence of a composition. If I\nmust say what I think, I should lay down, with little hesitation, that the\ntruth was almost the reverse of this doctrine. Nor are many words required\nto show it. Such a doctrine, as is contained in the passage of the author\nwhom I quoted when I began, goes upon the assumption that one language is\njust like another language,\u2014that every language has all the ideas, turns\nof thought, delicacies of expression, figures, associations, abstractions,\npoints of view, which every other language has. Now, as far as regards\nScience, it is true that all languages are pretty much alike for the\npurposes of Science; but even in this respect some are more suitable than\nothers, which have to coin words, or to borrow them, in order to express\nscientific ideas. But if languages are not all equally adapted even to\nfurnish symbols for those universal and eternal truths in which Science\nconsists, how can they reasonably be expected to be all equally rich,\nequally forcible, equally musical, equally exact, equally happy in\nexpressing the idiosyncratic peculiarities of thought of some original and\nfertile mind, who has availed himself of one of them? A great author takes\nhis native language, masters it, partly throws himself into it, partly\nmoulds and adapts it, and pours out his multitude of ideas through the\nvariously ramified and delicately minute channels of expression which he\nhas found or framed:\u2014does it follow that this his personal presence (as it\nmay be called) can forthwith be transferred to every other language under\nthe sun? Then may we reasonably maintain that Beethoven\u2019s _piano_ music is\nnot really beautiful, because it cannot be played on the hurdy-gurdy. Were\nnot this astonishing doctrine maintained by persons far superior to the\nwriter whom I have selected for animadversion, I should find it difficult\nto be patient under a gratuitous extravagance. It seems that a really\ngreat author must admit of translation, and that we have a test of his\nexcellence when he reads to advantage in a foreign language as well as in\nhis own. Then Shakespeare _is_ a genius because he can be translated into\nGerman, and _not_ a genius because he cannot be translated into French.\nThen the multiplication-table is the most gifted of all conceivable\ncompositions, because it loses nothing by translation, and can hardly be\nsaid to belong to any one language whatever. Whereas I should rather have\nconceived that, in proportion as ideas are novel and recondite, they would\nbe difficult to put into words, and that the very fact of their having\ninsinuated themselves into one language would diminish the chance of that\nhappy accident being repeated in another. In the language of savages you\ncan hardly express any idea or act of the intellect at all: is the tongue\nof the Hottentot or Esquimaux to be made the measure of the genius of\nPlato, Pindar, Tacitus, St. Jerome, Dante, or Cervantes?\n\nLet us recur, I say, to the illustration of the Fine Arts. I suppose you\ncan express ideas in painting which you cannot express in sculpture; and\nthe more an artist is of a painter, the less he is likely to be of a\nsculptor. The more he commits his genius to the methods and conditions of\nhis own art, the less he will be able to throw himself into the\ncircumstances of another. Is the genius of Fra Angelico, of Francia, or of\nRaffaelle disparaged by the fact that he was able to do that in colours\nwhich no man that ever lived, which no Angel, could achieve in wood? Each\nof the Fine Arts has its own subject-matter; from the nature of the case\nyou can do in one what you cannot do in another; you can do in painting\nwhat you cannot do in carving; you can do in oils what you cannot do in\nfresco; you can do in marble what you cannot do in ivory; you can do in\nwax what you cannot do in bronze. Then, I repeat, applying this to the\ncase of languages, why should not genius be able to do in Greek what it\ncannot do in Latin? and why are its Greek and Latin works defective\nbecause they will not turn into English? That genius, of which we are\nspeaking, did not make English; it did not make all languages, present,\npast, and future; it did not make the laws of _any_ language: why is it to\nbe judged of by that in which it had no part, over which it has no\ncontrol?\n\n\n\n8.\n\n\nAnd now we are naturally brought on to our third point, which is on the\ncharacteristics of Holy Scripture as compared with profane literature.\nHitherto we have been concerned with the doctrine of these writers, viz.,\nthat style is an _extra_, that it is a mere artifice, and that hence it\ncannot be translated; now we come to their fact, viz., that Scripture has\nno such artificial style, and that Scripture can easily be translated.\nSurely their fact is as untenable as their doctrine.\n\nScripture easy of translation! then why have there been so few good\ntranslators? why is it that there has been such great difficulty in\ncombining the two necessary qualities, fidelity to the original and purity\nin the adopted vernacular? why is it that the authorized versions of the\nChurch are often so inferior to the original as compositions, except that\nthe Church is bound above all things to see that the version is\ndoctrinally correct, and in a difficult problem is obliged to put up with\ndefects in what is of secondary importance, provided she secure what is of\nfirst? If it were so easy to transfer the beauty of the original to the\ncopy, she would not have been content with her received version in various\nlanguages which could be named.\n\nAnd then in the next place, Scripture not elaborate! Scripture not\nornamented in diction, and musical in cadence! Why, consider the Epistle\nto the Hebrews\u2014where is there in the classics any composition more\ncarefully, more artificially written? Consider the book of Job\u2014is it not a\nsacred drama, as artistic, as perfect, as any Greek tragedy of Sophocles\nor Euripides? Consider the Psalter\u2014are there no ornaments, no rhythm, no\nstudied cadences, no responsive members, in that divinely beautiful book?\nAnd is it not hard to understand? are not the Prophets hard to understand?\nis not St. Paul hard to understand? Who can say that these are popular\ncompositions? who can say that they are level at first reading with the\nunderstandings of the multitude?\n\nThat there are portions indeed of the inspired volume more simple both in\nstyle and in meaning, and that these are the more sacred and sublime\npassages, as, for instance, parts of the Gospels, I grant at once; but\nthis does not militate against the doctrine I have been laying down.\nRecollect, Gentlemen, my distinction when I began. I have said Literature\nis one thing, and that Science is another; that Literature has to do with\nideas, and Science with realities; that Literature is of a personal\ncharacter, that Science treats of what is universal and eternal. In\nproportion, then, as Scripture excludes the personal colouring of its\nwriters, and rises into the region of pure and mere inspiration, when it\nceases in any sense to be the writing of man, of St. Paul or St. John, of\nMoses or Isaias, then it comes to belong to Science, not Literature. Then\nit conveys the things of heaven, unseen verities, divine manifestations,\nand them alone\u2014not the ideas, the feelings, the aspirations, of its human\ninstruments, who, for all that they were inspired and infallible, did not\ncease to be men. St. Paul\u2019s epistles, then, I consider to be literature in\na real and true sense, _as_ personal, _as_ rich in reflection and emotion,\nas Demosthenes or Euripides; and, without ceasing to be revelations of\nobjective truth, they are expressions of the subjective notwithstanding.\nOn the other hand, portions of the Gospels, of the book of Genesis, and\nother passages of the Sacred Volume, are of the nature of Science. Such is\nthe beginning of St. John\u2019s Gospel, which we read at the end of Mass. Such\nis the Creed. I mean, passages such as these are the mere enunciation of\neternal things, without (so to say) the medium of any human mind\ntransmitting them to us. The words used have the grandeur, the majesty,\nthe calm, unimpassioned beauty of Science; they are in no sense\nLiterature, they are in no sense personal; and therefore they are easy to\napprehend, and easy to translate.\n\nDid time admit I could show you parallel instances of what I am speaking\nof in the Classics, inferior to the inspired word in proportion as the\nsubject-matter of the classical authors is immensely inferior to the\nsubjects treated of in Scripture\u2014but parallel, inasmuch as the classical\nauthor or speaker ceases for the moment to have to do with Literature, as\nspeaking of things objectively, and rises to the serene sublimity of\nScience. But I should be carried too far if I began.\n\n\n\n9.\n\n\nI shall then merely sum up what I have said, and come to a conclusion.\nReverting, then, to my original question, what is the meaning of Letters,\nas contained, Gentlemen, in the designation of your Faculty, I have\nanswered, that by Letters or Literature is meant the expression of thought\nin language, where by \u201cthought\u201d I mean the ideas, feelings, views,\nreasonings, and other operations of the human mind. And the Art of Letters\nis the method by which a speaker or writer brings out in words, worthy of\nhis subject, and sufficient for his audience or readers, the thoughts\nwhich impress him. Literature, then, is of a personal character; it\nconsists in the enunciations and teachings of those who have a right to\nspeak as representatives of their kind, and in whose words their brethren\nfind an interpretation of their own sentiments, a record of their own\nexperience, and a suggestion for their own judgments. A great author,\nGentlemen, is not one who merely has a _copia verborum_, whether in prose\nor verse, and can, as it were, turn on at his will any number of splendid\nphrases and swelling sentences; but he is one who has something to say and\nknows how to say it. I do not claim for him, as such, any great depth of\nthought, or breadth of view, or philosophy, or sagacity, or knowledge of\nhuman nature, or experience of human life, though these additional gifts\nhe may have, and the more he has of them the greater he is; but I ascribe\nto him, as his characteristic gift, in a large sense the faculty of\nExpression. He is master of the two-fold Logos, the thought and the word,\ndistinct, but inseparable from each other. He may, if so be, elaborate his\ncompositions, or he may pour out his improvisations, but in either case he\nhas but one aim, which he keeps steadily before him, and is conscientious\nand single-minded in fulfilling. That aim is to give forth what he has\nwithin him; and from his very earnestness it comes to pass that, whatever\nbe the splendour of his diction or the harmony of his periods, he has with\nhim the charm of an incommunicable simplicity. Whatever be his subject,\nhigh or low, he treats it suitably and for its own sake. If he is a poet,\n\u201cnil molitur _inept\u00e8_.\u201d If he is an orator, then too he speaks, not only\n\u201cdistinct\u00e8\u201d and \u201csplendid\u00e8,\u201d but also \u201c_apt\u00e8_.\u201d His page is the lucid\nmirror of his mind and life\u2014\n\n              \u201cQuo fit, ut omnis\nVotiv\u00e2 pateat veluti descripta tabell\u00e2\nVita senis.\u201d\n\nHe writes passionately, because he feels keenly; forcibly, because he\nconceives vividly; he sees too clearly to be vague; he is too serious to\nbe otiose; he can analyze his subject, and therefore he is rich; he\nembraces it as a whole and in its parts, and therefore he is consistent;\nhe has a firm hold of it, and therefore he is luminous. When his\nimagination wells up, it overflows in ornament; when his heart is touched,\nit thrills along his verse. He always has the right word for the right\nidea, and never a word too much. If he is brief, it is because few words\nsuffice; when he is lavish of them, still each word has its mark, and\naids, not embarrasses, the vigorous march of his elocution. He expresses\nwhat all feel, but all cannot say; and his sayings pass into proverbs\namong his people, and his phrases become household words and idioms of\ntheir daily speech, which is tesselated with the rich fragments of his\nlanguage, as we see in foreign lands the marbles of Roman grandeur worked\ninto the walls and pavements of modern palaces.\n\nSuch pre-eminently is Shakespeare among ourselves; such pre-eminently\nVirgil among the Latins; such in their degree are all those writers who in\nevery nation go by the name of Classics. To particular nations they are\nnecessarily attached from the circumstance of the variety of tongues, and\nthe peculiarities of each; but so far they have a catholic and ecumenical\ncharacter, that what they express is common to the whole race of man, and\nthey alone are able to express it.\n\n\n\n10.\n\n\nIf then the power of speech is a gift as great as any that can be\nnamed,\u2014if the origin of language is by many philosophers even considered\nto be nothing short of divine,\u2014if by means of words the secrets of the\nheart are brought to light, pain of soul is relieved, hidden grief is\ncarried off, sympathy conveyed, counsel imparted, experience recorded, and\nwisdom perpetuated,\u2014if by great authors the many are drawn up into unity,\nnational character is fixed, a people speaks, the past and the future, the\nEast and the West are brought into communication with each other,\u2014if such\nmen are, in a word, the spokesmen and prophets of the human family,\u2014it\nwill not answer to make light of Literature or to neglect its study;\nrather we may be sure that, in proportion as we master it in whatever\nlanguage, and imbibe its spirit, we shall ourselves become in our own\nmeasure the ministers of like benefits to others, be they many or few, be\nthey in the obscurer or the more distinguished walks of life,\u2014who are\nunited to us by social ties, and are within the sphere of our personal\ninfluence.\n\n\n\n\n                               Lecture III.\n\n\nEnglish Catholic Literature.\n\n\nOne of the special objects which a Catholic University would promote is\nthat of the formation of a Catholic Literature in the English language. It\nis an object, however, which must be understood before it can be suitably\nprosecuted; and which will not be understood without some discussion and\ninvestigation. First ideas on the subject must almost necessarily be\ncrude. The real state of the case, what is desirable, what is possible,\nhas to be ascertained; and then what has to be done, and what is to be\nexpected. We have seen in public matters, for half a year past,(36) to\nwhat mistakes, and to what disappointments, the country has been exposed,\nfrom not having been able distinctly to put before it what was to be aimed\nat by its fleets and armies, what was practicable, what was probable, in\noperations of war: and so, too, in the field of literature, we are sure of\nfalling into a parallel perplexity and dissatisfaction, if we start with a\nvague notion of doing something or other important by means of a Catholic\nUniversity, without having the caution to examine what is feasible, and\nwhat is unnecessary or hopeless. Accordingly, it is natural I should wish\nto direct attention to this subject, even though it be too difficult to\nhandle in any exact or complete way, and though my attempt must be left\nfor others to bring into a more perfect shape, who are more fitted for the\ntask.\n\nHere I shall chiefly employ myself in investigating what the object is\n_not_.\n\n\n\n                                   \u00a7 1.\n\n\nIn its relation to Religious Literature.\n\n\nWhen a \u201cCatholic Literature in the English tongue\u201d is spoken of as a\n_desideratum_, no reasonable person will mean by \u201cCatholic works\u201d much\nmore than the \u201cworks of Catholics.\u201d The phrase does not mean a _religious_\nliterature. \u201cReligious Literature\u201d indeed would mean much more than \u201cthe\nLiterature of religious men;\u201d it means over and above this, that the\nsubject-matter of the Literature is religious; but by \u201cCatholic\nLiterature\u201d is not to be understood a literature which treats exclusively\nor primarily of Catholic matters, of Catholic doctrine, controversy,\nhistory, persons, or politics; but it includes all subjects of literature\nwhatever, treated as a Catholic would treat them, and as he only can treat\nthem. Why it is important to have them treated by Catholics hardly need be\nexplained here, though something will be incidentally said on the point as\nwe proceed: meanwhile I am drawing attention to the distinction between\nthe two phrases in order to avoid a serious misapprehension. For it is\nevident that, if by a Catholic Literature were meant nothing more or less\nthan a religious literature, its writers would be mainly ecclesiastics;\njust as writers on Law are mainly lawyers, and writers on Medicine are\nmainly physicians or surgeons. And if this be so, a Catholic Literature is\nno object special to a University, unless a University is to be considered\nidentical with a Seminary or a Theological School.\n\nI am not denying that a University might prove of the greatest benefit\neven to our religious literature; doubtless it would, and in various ways;\nstill it is concerned with Theology only as one great subject of thought,\nas the greatest indeed which can occupy the human mind, yet not as the\nadequate or direct scope of its institution. Yet I suppose it is not\nimpossible for a literary layman to wince at the idea, and to shrink from\nthe proposal, of taking part in a scheme for the formation of a Catholic\nLiterature, under the apprehension that in some way or another he will be\nentangling himself in a semi-clerical occupation. It is not uncommon, on\nexpressing an anticipation that the Professors of a Catholic University\nwill promote a Catholic Literature, to have to encounter a vague notion\nthat a lecturer or writer so employed must have something polemical about\nhim, must moralize or preach, must (in Protestant language) _improve the\noccasion_, though his subject is not at all a religious one; in short,\nthat he must do something else besides fairly and boldly go right on, and\nbe a Catholic speaking as a Catholic spontaneously will speak, on the\nClassics, or Fine Arts, or Poetry, or whatever he has taken in hand. Men\nthink that he cannot give a lecture on Comparative Anatomy without being\nbound to digress into the Argument from Final Causes; that he cannot\nrecount the present geological theories without forcing them into an\ninterpretation _seriatim_ of the first two chapters of Genesis. Many,\nindeed, seem to go further still, and actually pronounce that, since our\nown University has been recommended by the Holy See, and is established by\nthe Hierarchy, it cannot but be engaged in teaching religion and nothing\nelse, and must and will have the discipline of a Seminary; which is about\nas sensible and logical a view of the matter as it would be to maintain\nthat the Prime Minister _ipso facto_ holds an ecclesiastical office, since\nhe is always a Protestant; or that the members of the House of Commons\nmust necessarily have been occupied in clerical duties, as long as they\ntook an oath about Transubstantiation. Catholic Literature is not\nsynonymous with Theology, nor does it supersede or interfere with the work\nof catechists, divines, preachers, or schoolmen.\n\n\n\n                                   \u00a7 2.\n\n\nIn its relation to Science.\n\n\n1.\n\n\nAnd next, it must be borne in mind, that when we aim at providing a\nCatholic Literature for Catholics, in place of an existing literature\nwhich is of a marked Protestant character, we do not, strictly speaking,\ninclude the pure sciences in our _desideratum_. Not that we should not\nfeel pleased and proud to find Catholics distinguish themselves in\npublications on abstract or experimental philosophy, on account of the\nhonour it does to our religion in the eyes of the world;\u2014not that we are\ninsensible to the congruity and respectability of depending in these\nmatters on ourselves, and not on others, at least as regards our\ntext-books;\u2014not that we do not confidently anticipate that Catholics of\nthese countries will in time to come be able to point to authorities and\ndiscoverers in science of their own, equal to those of Protestant England,\nGermany, or Sweden;\u2014but because, as regards mathematics, chemistry,\nastronomy, and similar subjects, one man will not, on the score of his\nreligion, treat of them better than another, and because the works of even\nan unbeliever or idolator, while he kept within the strict range of such\nstudies, might be safely admitted into Catholic lecture-rooms, and put\nwithout scruple into the hands of Catholic youths. There is no crying\ndemand, no imperative necessity, for our acquisition of a Catholic Euclid\nor a Catholic Newton. The object of all science is truth;\u2014the pure\nsciences proceed to their enunciations from principles which the intellect\ndiscerns by a natural light, and by a process recognized by natural\nreason; and the experimental sciences investigate facts by methods of\nanalysis or by ingenious expedients, ultimately resolvable into\ninstruments of thought equally native to the human mind. If then we may\nassume that there is an objective truth, and that the constitution of the\nhuman mind is in correspondence with it, and acts truly when it acts\naccording to its own laws; if we may assume that God made us, and that\nwhat He made is good, and that no action from and according to nature can\nin itself be evil; it will follow that, so long as it is man who is the\ngeometrician, or natural philosopher, or mechanic, or critic, no matter\nwhat man he be, Hindoo, Mahometan, or infidel, his conclusions within his\nown science, according to the laws of that science, are unquestionable,\nand not to be suspected by Catholics, unless Catholics may legitimately be\njealous of fact and truth, of divine principles and divine creations.\n\nI have been speaking of the scientific treatises or investigations of\nthose who are not Catholics, to which the subject of Literature leads me;\nbut I might even go on to speak of them in their persons as well as in\ntheir books. Were it not for the scandal which they would create; were it\nnot for the example they would set; were it not for the certain tendency\nof the human mind involuntarily to outleap the strict boundaries of an\nabstract science, and to teach it upon extraneous principles, to embody it\nin concrete examples, and to carry it on to practical conclusions; above\nall, were it not for the indirect influence, and living energetic\npresence, and collateral duties, which accompany a Professor in a great\nschool of learning, I do not see (abstracting from him, I repeat, in\nhypothesis, what never could possibly be abstracted from him in fact), why\nthe chair of Astronomy in a Catholic University should not be filled by a\nLa Place, or that of Physics by a Humboldt. Whatever they might wish to\nsay, still, while they kept to their own science, they would be unable,\nlike the heathen Prophet in Scripture, to \u201cgo beyond the word of the Lord,\nto utter any thing of their own head.\u201d\n\n\n2.\n\n\nSo far the arguments hold good of certain celebrated writers in a Northern\nReview, who, in their hostility to the principle of dogmatic teaching,\nseem obliged to maintain, because subject-matters are distinct, that\nliving opinions are distinct too, and that men are abstractions as well as\ntheir respective sciences. \u201cOn the morning of the thirteenth of August, in\nthe year 1704,\u201d says a justly celebrated author, in illustration and\ndefence of the anti-dogmatic principle in political and social matters,\n\u201ctwo great captains, equal in authority, united by close private and\npublic ties, but of different creeds, prepared for battle, on the event of\nwhich were staked the liberties of Europe.\u2026 Marlborough gave orders for\npublic prayers; the English chaplains read the service at the head of the\nEnglish regiments; the Calvinistic chaplains of the Dutch army, with heads\non which hand of Bishop had never been laid, poured forth their\nsupplications in front of their countrymen. In the meantime the Danes\nmight listen to the Lutheran ministers; and Capuchins might encourage the\nAustrian squadrons, and pray to the Virgin for a blessing on the arms of\nthe holy Roman Empire. The battle commences; these men of various\nreligions all act like members of one body: the Catholic and the\nProtestant generals exert themselves to assist and to surpass each other;\nbefore sunset the Empire is saved; France has lost in a day the fruits of\neight years of intrigue and of victory; and the allies, after conquering\ntogether, return thanks to God separately, each after his own form of\nworship.\u201d(37)\n\nThe writer of this lively passage would be doubtless unwilling himself to\ncarry out the principle which it insinuates to those extreme conclusions\nto which it is often pushed by others, in matters of education. Viewed in\nitself, viewed in the abstract, that principle is simply, undeniably true;\nand is only sophistical when it is carried out in practical matters at\nall. A religious opinion, though not formally recognized, cannot fail of\ninfluencing _in fact_ the school, or society, or polity in which it is\nfound; though in the abstract that opinion is one thing, and the school,\nsociety, or polity, another. Here were Episcopalians, Lutherans,\nCalvinists, and Catholics found all fighting on one side, it is true,\nwithout any prejudice to their respective religious tenets: and,\ncertainly, I never heard that in a battle soldiers did do any thing else\nbut fight. I did not know they had time for going beyond the matter in\nhand; yet, even as regards this very illustration which he has chosen, if\nwe were bound to decide by it the controversy, it does so happen that that\ndanger of interference and collision between opposite religionists\nactually does occur upon a campaign, which could not be incurred in a\nbattle: and at this very time some jealousy or disgust has been shown in\nEnglish popular publications, when they have had to record that our ally,\nthe Emperor of the French, has sent his troops, who are serving with the\nBritish against the Russians, to attend High Mass, or has presented his\nsailors with a picture of the Madonna.\n\nIf, then, we could have Professors who were mere abstractions and\nphantoms, marrowless in their bones, and without speculation in their\neyes; or if they could only open their mouths on their own special\nsubject, and in their scientific pedantry were dead to the world; if they\nresembled the well known character in the Romance, who was so imprisoned\nor fossilized in his erudition, that, though \u201che stirred the fire with\nsome address,\u201d nevertheless, on attempting to snuff the candles, he \u201cwas\nunsuccessful, and relinquished that ambitious post of courtesy, after\nhaving twice reduced the parlour to total darkness,\u201d then indeed Voltaire\nhimself might be admitted, not without scandal, but without risk, to\nlecture on astronomy or galvanism in Catholic, or Protestant, or\nPresbyterian Colleges, or in all of them at once; and we should have no\npractical controversy with philosophers who, after the fashion of the\nauthor I have been quoting, are so smart in proving that we, who differ\nfrom them, must needs be so bigotted and puzzle-headed.\n\nAnd in strict conformity with these obvious distinctions, it will be found\nthat, so far as we _are_ able to reduce scientific men of anti-Catholic\nopinions to the type of the imaginary bookworm to whom I have been\nalluding, we do actually use them in our schools. We allow our Catholic\nstudent to use them, so far as he can surprise them (if I may use the\nexpression), in their formal treatises, and can keep them close prisoners\nthere.\n\nVix defessa senem passus componere membra,\nCum clamore ruit magno, manicisque jacentem\nOccupat.\n\nThe fisherman, in the Arabian tale, took no harm from the genius, till he\nlet him out from the brass bottle in which he was confined. \u201cHe examined\nthe vessel and shook it, to see if what was within made any noise, but he\nheard nothing.\u201d All was safe till he had succeeded in opening it, and\n\u201cthen came out a very thick smoke, which, ascending to the clouds and\nextending itself along the sea shore in a thick mist, astonished him very\nmuch. After a time the smoke collected, and was converted into a genius of\nenormous height. At the sight of this monster, whose head appeared to\nreach the clouds, the fisherman trembled with fear.\u201d Such is the\ndifference between an unbelieving or heretical philosopher in person, and\nin the mere disquisitions proper to his science. Porson was no edifying\ncompanion for young men of eighteen, nor are his letters on the text of\nthe Three Heavenly Witnesses to be recommended; but that does not hinder\nhis being admitted into Catholic schools, while he is confined within the\nlimits of his Preface to the Hecuba. Franklin certainly would have been\nintolerable in person, if he began to talk freely, and throw out, as I\nthink he did in private, that each solar system had its own god; but such\nextravagances of so able a man do not interfere with the honour we justly\npay his name in the history of experimental science. Nay, the great Newton\nhimself would have been silenced in a Catholic University, when he got\nupon the Apocalypse; yet is that any reason why we should not study his\nPrincipia, or avail ourselves of the wonderful analysis which he,\nProtestant as he was, originated, and which French infidels have\ndeveloped? We are glad, for their own sakes, that anti-Catholic writers\nshould, in their posthumous influence, do as much real service to the\nhuman race as ever they can, and we have no wish to interfere with it.\n\n\n3.\n\n\nReturning, then, to the point from which we set out, I observe that, this\nbeing the state of the case as regards abstract science, viz., that we\nhave no quarrel with its anti-Catholic commentators, till they thrust\ntheir persons into our Chairs, or their popular writings into our\nreading-rooms, it follows that, when we contemplate the formation of a\nCatholic Literature, we do not consider scientific works as among our most\nprominent _desiderata_. They are to be looked for, not so much for their\nown sake, as because they are indications that we have able scientific men\nin our communion; for if we have such, they will be certain to write, and\nin proportion as they increase in number will there be the chance of\nreally profound, original, and standard books issuing from our\nLecture-rooms and Libraries. But, after all, there is no reason why these\nshould be better than those which we have already received from\nProtestants; though it is at once more becoming and more agreeable to our\nfeelings to use books of our own, instead of being indebted to the books\nof others.\n\nLiterature, then, is not synonymous with Science; nor does Catholic\neducation imply the exclusion of works of abstract reasoning, or of\nphysical experiment, or the like, though written by persons of another or\nof no communion.\n\nThere is another consideration in point here, or rather prior to what I\nhave been saying; and that is, that, considering certain scientific works,\nthose on Criticism, for instance, are so often written in a technical\nphraseology, and since others, as mathematical, deal so largely in signs,\nsymbols, and figures, which belong to all languages, these abstract\nstudies cannot properly be said to fall under English _Literature_ at\nall;\u2014for by Literature I understand Thought, conveyed under the forms of\nsome particular language. And this brings me to speak of Literature in its\nhighest and most genuine sense, viz., as an historical and national fact;\nand I fear, in this sense of the word also, it is altogether beside or\nbeyond any object which a Catholic University can reasonably contemplate,\nat least in any moderate term of years; but so large a subject here opens\nupon us that I must postpone it to another Section.\n\n\n\n                                   \u00a7 3.\n\n\nIn its relation to Classical Literature.\n\n\n1.\n\n\nI have been directing the reader\u2019s attention, first to what we do not, and\nnext to what we need not contemplate, when we turn our thoughts to the\nformation of an English Catholic Literature. I said that our object was\nneither a library of theological nor of scientific knowledge, though\ntheology in its literary aspect, and abstract science as an exercise of\nintellect, have both of course a place in the Catholic encyclop\u00e6dia. One\nundertaking, however, there is, which not merely does not, and need not,\nbut unhappily cannot, come into the reasonable contemplation of any set of\npersons, whether members of a University or not, who are desirous of\nCatholicizing the English language, as is very evident; and that is simply\nthe creation of an _English Classical Literature_, for that has been done\nlong ago, and would be a work beyond the powers of any body of men, even\nif it had still to be done. If I insist on this point here, no one must\nsuppose I do not consider it to be self-evident; for I shall not be aiming\nat proving it, so much as at bringing it home distinctly to the mind, that\nwe may, one and all, have a clearer perception of the state of things with\nwhich we have to deal. There is many an undeniable truth which is not\npractically felt and appreciated; and, unless we master our position in\nthe matter before us, we may be led off into various wild imaginations or\nimpossible schemes, which will, as a matter of course, end in\ndisappointment.\n\nWere the Catholic Church acknowledged from this moment through the length\nand breadth of these islands, and the English tongue henceforth baptized\ninto the Catholic faith, and sealed and consecrated to Catholic objects,\nand were the present intellectual activity of the nation to continue, as\nof course it would continue, we should at once have an abundance of\nCatholic works, which would be English, and purely English, literature and\nhigh literature; but still all these would not constitute \u201cEnglish\nLiterature,\u201d as the words are commonly understood, nor even then could we\nsay that the \u201cEnglish Literature\u201d was Catholic. Much less can we ever\naspire to affirm it, while we are but a portion of the vast\nEnglish-speaking world-wide race, and are but striving to create a current\nin the direction of Catholic truth, when the waters are rapidly flowing\nthe other way. In no case can we, strictly speaking, form an English\nLiterature; for by the Literature of a Nation is meant its Classics, and\nits Classics have been given to England, and have been recognized as such,\nlong since.\n\n\n2.\n\n\nA Literature, when it is formed, is a national and historical fact; it is\na matter of the past and the present, and can be as little ignored as the\npresent, as little undone as the past. We can deny, supersede, or change\nit, then only, when we can do the same towards the race or language which\nit represents. Every great people has a character of its own, which it\nmanifests and perpetuates in a variety of ways. It developes into a\nmonarchy or republic;\u2014by means of commerce or in war, in agriculture or in\nmanufactures, or in all of these at once; in its cities, its public\nedifices and works, bridges, canals, and harbours; in its laws,\ntraditions, customs, and manners; in its songs and its proverbs; in its\nreligion; in its line of policy, its bearing, its action towards foreign\nnations; in its alliances, fortunes, and the whole course of its history.\nAll these are peculiar, and parts of a whole, and betoken the national\ncharacter, and savour of each other; and the case is the same with the\nnational language and literature. They are what they are, and cannot be\nany thing else, whether they be good or bad or of a mixed nature; before\nthey are formed, we cannot prescribe them, and afterwards, we cannot\nreverse them. We may feel great repugnance to Milton or Gibbon as men; we\nmay most seriously protest against the spirit which ever lives, and the\ntendency which ever operates, in every page of their writings; but there\nthey are, an integral portion of English Literature; we cannot extinguish\nthem; we cannot deny their power; we cannot write a new Milton or a new\nGibbon; we cannot expurgate what needs to be exorcised. They are great\nEnglish authors, each breathing hatred to the Catholic Church in his own\nway, each a proud and rebellious creature of God, each gifted with\nincomparable gifts.\n\nWe must take things as they are, if we take them at all. We may refuse to\nsay a word to English literature, if we will; we may have recourse to\nFrench or to Italian instead, if we think either of these less\nexceptionable than our own; we may fall back upon the Classics of Greece\nand Rome; we may have nothing whatever to do with literature, as such, of\nany kind, and confine ourselves to purely amorphous or monstrous specimens\nof language; but if we do once profess in our Universities the English\nlanguage and literature, if we think it allowable to know the state of\nthings we live in, and that national character which we share, if we think\nit desirable to have a chance of writing what may be read after our day,\nand praiseworthy to aim at providing for Catholics who speak English a\nCatholic Literature then\u2014I do not say that we must at once throw open\nevery sort of book to the young, the weak, or the untrained,\u2014I do not say\nthat we may dispense with our ecclesiastical indexes and emendations,\nbut\u2014we must not fancy ourselves creating what is already created in spite\nof us, and which never could at a moment be created by means of us, and we\nmust recognize that historical literature, which is in occupation of the\nlanguage, both as a fact, nay, and as a standard for ourselves.\n\nThere is surely nothing either \u201ctemerarious\u201d or paradoxical in a statement\nlike this. The growth of a nation is like that of an individual; its tone\nof voice and subjects for speech vary with its age. Each age has its own\npropriety and charm; as a boy\u2019s beauty is not a man\u2019s, and the sweetness\nof a treble differs from the richness of a bass, so it is with a whole\npeople. The same period does not produce its most popular poet, its most\neffective orator, and its most philosophic historian. Language changes\nwith the progress of thought and the events of history, and style changes\nwith it; and while in successive generations it passes through a series of\nseparate excellences, the respective deficiencies of all are supplied\nalternately by each. Thus language and literature may be considered as\ndependent on a process of nature, and admitting of subjection to her laws.\nFather Hardouin indeed, who maintained that, with the exception of Pliny,\nCicero, Virgil\u2019s Georgics, and Horace\u2019s Satires and Epistles, Latin\nliterature was the work of the medieval monks, had the conception of a\nliterature neither national nor historical; but the rest of the world will\nbe apt to consider time and place as necessary conditions in its\nformation, and will be unable to conceive of classical authors, except as\neither the elaboration of centuries, or the rare and fitful accident of\ngenius.\n\nFirst-rate excellence in literature, as in other matters, is either an\naccident or the outcome of a process; and in either case demands a course\nof years to secure. We cannot reckon on a Plato, we cannot force an\nAristotle, any more than we can command a fine harvest, or create a coal\nfield. If a literature be, as I have said, the voice of a particular\nnation, it requires a territory and a period, as large as that nation\u2019s\nextent and history, to mature in. It is broader and deeper than the\ncapacity of any body of men, however gifted, or any system of teaching,\nhowever true. It is the exponent, not of truth, but of nature, which is\ntrue only in its elements. It is the result of the mutual action of a\nhundred simultaneous influences and operations, and the issue of a hundred\nstrange accidents in independent places and times; it is the scanty\ncompensating produce of the wild discipline of the world and of life, so\nfruitful in failures; and it is the concentration of those rare\nmanifestations of intellectual power, which no one can account for. It is\nmade up, in the particular language here under consideration, of human\nbeings as heterogeneous as Burns and Bunyan, De Foe and Johnson, Goldsmith\nand Cowper, Law and Fielding, Scott and Byron. The remark has been made\nthat the history of an author is the history of his works; it is far more\nexact to say that, at least in the case of great writers, the history of\ntheir works is the history of their fortunes or their times. Each is, in\nhis turn, the man of his age, the type of a generation, or the interpreter\nof a crisis. He is made for his day, and his day for him. Hooker would not\nhave been, but for the existence of Catholics and Puritans, the defeat of\nthe former and the rise of the latter; Clarendon would not have been\nwithout the Great Rebellion; Hobbes is the prophet of the reaction to\nscoffing infidelity; and Addison is the child of the Revolution and its\nattendant changes. If there be any of our classical authors, who might at\nfirst sight have been pronounced a University man, with the exception of\nJohnson, Addison is he; yet even Addison, the son and brother of\nclergymen, the fellow of an Oxford Society, the resident of a College\nwhich still points to the walk which he planted, must be something more,\nin order to take his place among the Classics of the language, and owed\nthe variety of his matter to his experience of life, and to the call made\non his resources by the exigencies of his day. The world he lived in made\nhim and used him. While his writings educated his own generation, they\nhave delineated it for all posterity after him.\n\n\n3.\n\n\nI have been speaking of the authors of a literature, in their relation to\nthe people and course of events to which they belong; but a prior\nconsideration, at which I have already glanced, is their connection with\nthe language itself, which has been their organ. If they are in great\nmeasure the creatures of their times, they are on the other hand in a far\nhigher sense the creators of their language. It is indeed commonly called\ntheir mother tongue, but virtually it did not exist till they gave it life\nand form. All greater matters are carried on and perfected by a succession\nof individual minds; what is true in the history of thought and of action\nis true of language also. Certain masters of composition, as Shakespeare,\nMilton, and Pope, the writers of the Protestant Bible and Prayer Book,\nHooker and Addison, Swift, Hume, and Goldsmith, have been the making of\nthe English language; and as that language is a fact, so is the literature\na fact, by which it is formed, and in which it lives. Men of great ability\nhave taken it in hand, each in his own day, and have done for it what the\nmaster of a gymnasium does for the bodily frame. They have formed its\nlimbs, and developed its strength; they have endowed it with vigour,\nexercised it in suppleness and dexterity, and taught it grace. They have\nmade it rich, harmonious, various, and precise. They have furnished it\nwith a variety of styles, which from their individuality may almost be\ncalled dialects, and are monuments both of the powers of the language and\nthe genius of its cultivators.\n\nHow real a creation, how _sui generis_, is the style of Shakespeare, or of\nthe Protestant Bible and Prayer Book, or of Swift, or of Pope, or of\nGibbon, or of Johnson! Even were the subject-matter without meaning,\nthough in truth the style cannot really be abstracted from the sense,\nstill the style would, on that supposition, remain as perfect and original\na work as Euclid\u2019s elements or a symphony of Beethoven. And, like music,\nit has seized upon the public mind; and the literature of England is no\nlonger a mere letter, printed in books, and shut up in libraries, but it\nis a living voice, which has gone forth in its expressions and its\nsentiments into the world of men, which daily thrills upon our ears and\nsyllables our thoughts, which speaks to us through our correspondents, and\ndictates when we put pen to paper. Whether we will or no, the phraseology\nand diction of Shakespeare, of the Protestant formularies, of Milton, of\nPope, of Johnson\u2019s Tabletalk, and of Walter Scott, have become a portion\nof the vernacular tongue, the household words, of which perhaps we little\nguess the origin, and the very idioms of our familiar conversation. The\nman in the comedy spoke prose without knowing it; and we Catholics,\nwithout consciousness and without offence, are ever repeating the half\nsentences of dissolute playwrights and heretical partizans and preachers.\nSo tyrannous is the literature of a nation; it is too much for us. We\ncannot destroy or reverse it; we may confront and encounter it, but we\ncannot make it over again. It is a great work of man, when it is no work\nof God\u2019s.\n\nI repeat, then, whatever we be able or unable to effect in the great\nproblem which lies before us, any how we cannot undo the past. English\nLiterature will ever _have been_ Protestant. Swift and Addison, the most\nnative and natural of our writers, Hooker and Milton, the most elaborate,\nnever can become our co-religionists; and, though this is but the\nenunciation of a truism, it is not on that account an unprofitable\nenunciation.\n\n\n4.\n\n\nI trust we are not the men to give up an undertaking because it is\nperplexed or arduous; and to do nothing because we cannot do everything.\nMuch may be attempted, much attained, even granting English Literature is\nnot Catholic. Something indeed may be said even in alleviation of the\nmisfortune itself, on which I have been insisting; and with two remarks\nbearing upon this latter point I will bring this Section to an end.\n\n1. First, then, it is to be considered that, whether we look to countries\nChristian or heathen, we find the state of literature there as little\nsatisfactory as it is in these islands; so that, whatever are our\ndifficulties here, they are not worse than those of Catholics all over the\nworld. I would not indeed say a word to extenuate the calamity, under\nwhich we lie, of having a literature formed in Protestantism; still, other\nliteratures have disadvantages of their own; and, though in such matters\ncomparisons are impossible, I doubt whether we should be better pleased if\nour English Classics were tainted with licentiousness, or defaced by\ninfidelity or scepticism. I conceive we should not much mend matters if we\nwere to exchange literatures with the French, Italians, or Germans. About\nGermany, however, I will not speak; as to France, it has great and\nreligious authors; its classical drama, even in comedy, compared with that\nof other literatures, is singularly unexceptionable; but who is there that\nholds a place among its writers so historical and important, who is so\ncopious, so versatile, so brilliant, as that Voltaire who is an open\nscoffer at every thing sacred, venerable, or high-minded? Nor can\nRousseau, though he has not the pretensions of Voltaire, be excluded from\nthe classical writers of France. Again, the gifted Pascal, in the work on\nwhich his literary fame is mainly founded, does not approve himself to a\nCatholic judgment; and Descartes, the first of French philosophers, was\ntoo independent in his inquiries to be always correct in his conclusions.\nThe witty Rabelais is said, by a recent critic,(38) to show covertly in\nhis former publications, and openly in his latter, his \u201cdislike to the\nChurch of Rome.\u201d La Fontaine was with difficulty brought, on his\ndeath-bed, to make public satisfaction for the scandal which he had done\nto religion by his immoral _Contes_, though at length he threw into the\nfire a piece which he had just finished for the stage. Montaigne, whose\nEssays \u201cmake an epoch in literature,\u201d by \u201ctheir influence upon the tastes\nand opinions of Europe;\u201d whose \u201cschool embraces a large proportion of\nFrench and English literature;\u201d and of whose \u201cbrightness and felicity of\ngenius there can be but one opinion,\u201d is disgraced, as the same writer\ntells us, by \u201ca sceptical bias and great indifference of temperament;\u201d and\n\u201chas led the way\u201d as an habitual offender, \u201cto the indecency too\ncharacteristic of French literature.\u201d\n\nNor does Italy present a more encouraging picture. Ariosto, one of the few\nnames, ancient or modern, who is allowed on all hands to occupy the first\nrank of Literature, is, I suppose, rightly arraigned by the author I have\nabove quoted, of \u201ccoarse sensuality.\u201d Pulci, \u201cby his sceptical\ninsinuations, seems clearly to display an intention of exposing religion\nto contempt.\u201d Boccaccio, the first of Italian prose-writers, had in his\nold age touchingly to lament the corrupting tendency of his popular\ncompositions; and Bellarmine has to vindicate him, Dante, and Petrarch,\nfrom the charge of virulent abuse of the Holy See. Dante certainly does\nnot scruple to place in his _Inferno_ a Pope, whom the Church has since\ncanonized, and his work on _Monarchia_ is on the Index. Another great\nFlorentine, Macchiavel, is on the Index also; and Giannone, as great in\npolitical history at Naples as Macchiavel at Florence, is notorious for\nhis disaffection to the interests of the Roman Pontiff.\n\nThese are but specimens of the general character of secular literature,\nwhatever be the people to whom it belongs. One literature may be better\nthan another, but bad will be the best, when weighed in the balance of\ntruth and morality. It cannot be otherwise; human nature is in all ages\nand all countries the same; and its literature, therefore, will ever and\neverywhere be one and the same also. Man\u2019s work will savour of man; in his\nelements and powers excellent and admirable, but prone to disorder and\nexcess, to error and to sin. Such too will be his literature; it will have\nthe beauty and the fierceness, the sweetness and the rankness, of the\nnatural man, and, with all its richness and greatness, will necessarily\noffend the senses of those who, in the Apostle\u2019s words, are really\n\u201cexercised to discern between good and evil.\u201d \u201cIt is said of the holy\nSturme,\u201d says an Oxford writer, \u201cthat, in passing a horde of unconverted\nGermans, as they were bathing and gambolling in the stream, he was so\noverpowered by the intolerable scent which arose from them that he nearly\nfainted away.\u201d National Literature is, in a parallel way, the untutored\nmovements of the reason, imagination, passions, and affections of the\nnatural man, the leapings and the friskings, the plungings and the\nsnortings, the sportings and the buffoonings, the clumsy play and the\naimless toil, of the noble, lawless savage of God\u2019s intellectual creation.\n\nIt is well that we should clearly apprehend a truth so simple and\nelementary as this, and not expect from the nature of man, or the\nliterature of the world, what they never held out to us. Certainly, I did\nnot know that the world was to be regarded as favourable to Christian\nfaith or practice, or that it would be breaking any engagement with us, if\nit took a line divergent from our own. I have never fancied that we should\nhave reasonable ground for surprise or complaint, though man\u2019s intellect\n_puris naturalibus_ did prefer, of the two, liberty to truth, or though\nhis heart cherished a leaning towards licence of thought and speech in\ncomparison with restraint.\n\n\n5.\n\n\n2. If we do but resign ourselves to facts, we shall soon be led on to the\nsecond reflection which I have promised\u2014viz., that, not only are things\nnot better abroad, but they might be worse at home. We have, it is true, a\nProtestant literature; but then it is neither atheistical nor immoral;\nand, in the case of at least half a dozen of its highest and most\ninfluential departments, and of the most popular of its authors, it comes\nto us with very considerable alleviations. For instance, there surely is a\ncall on us for thankfulness that the most illustrious amongst English\nwriters has so little of a Protestant about him that Catholics have been\nable, without extravagance, to claim him as their own, and that enemies to\nour creed have allowed that he is only not a Catholic, because, and as far\nas, his times forbade it. It is an additional satisfaction to be able to\nboast that he offends in neither of those two respects, which reflect so\nseriously upon the reputation of great authors abroad. Whatever passages\nmay be gleaned from his dramas disrespectful to ecclesiastical authority,\nstill these are but passages; on the other hand, there is in Shakespeare\nneither contempt of religion nor scepticism, and he upholds the broad laws\nof moral and divine truth with the consistency and severity of an\n\u00c6schylus, Sophocles, or Pindar. There is no mistaking in his works on\nwhich side lies the right; Satan is not made a hero, nor Cain a victim,\nbut pride is pride, and vice is vice, and, whatever indulgence he may\nallow himself in light thoughts or unseemly words, yet his admiration is\nreserved for sanctity and truth. From the second chief fault of\nLiterature, as indeed my last words imply, he is not so free; but, often\nas he may offend against modesty, he is clear of a worse charge,\nsensuality, and hardly a passage can be instanced in all that he has\nwritten to seduce the imagination or to excite the passions.\n\nA rival to Shakespeare, if not in genius, at least in copiousness and\nvariety, is found in Pope; and _he_ was actually a Catholic, though\npersonally an unsatisfactory one. His freedom indeed from Protestantism is\nbut a poor compensation for a false theory of religion in one of his\npoems; but, taking his works as a whole, we may surely acquit them of\nbeing dangerous to the reader, whether on the score of morals or of faith.\n\nAgain, the special title of moralist in English Literature is accorded by\nthe public voice to Johnson, whose bias towards Catholicity is well known.\n\nIf we were to ask for a report of our philosophers, the investigation\nwould not be so agreeable; for we have three of evil, and one of\nunsatisfactory repute. Locke is scarcely an honour to us in the standard\nof truth, grave and manly as he is; and Hobbes, Hume, and Bentham, in\nspite of their abilities, are simply a disgrace. Yet, even in this\ndepartment, we find some compensation in the names of Clarke, Berkeley,\nButler, and Reid, and in a name more famous than them all. Bacon was too\nintellectually great to hate or to contemn the Catholic faith; and he\ndeserves by his writings to be called the most orthodox of Protestant\nphilosophers.\n\n\n\n                                   \u00a7 4.\n\n\nIn its relation to the Literature of the Day.\n\n\n1.\n\n\nThe past cannot be undone. That our English Classical Literature is not\nCatholic is a plain fact which we cannot deny, to which we must reconcile\nourselves, as best we may, and which, as I have shown above, has after all\nits compensations. When, then, I speak of the desirableness of forming a\nCatholic Literature, I am contemplating no such vain enterprise as that of\nreversing history; no, nor of redeeming the past by the future. I have no\ndream of Catholic Classics as still reserved for the English language. In\ntruth, classical authors not only are national, but belong to a particular\nage of a nation\u2019s life; and I should not wonder if, as regards ourselves,\nthat age is passing away. Moreover, they perform a particular office\ntowards its language, which is not likely to be called for beyond a\ndefinite time. And further, though analogies or parallels cannot be taken\nto decide a question of this nature, such is the fact, that the series of\nour classical writers has already extended through a longer period than\nwas granted to the Classical Literature either of Greece or of Rome; and\nthus the English language also may have a long course of literature still\nto come through many centuries, without that Literature being classical.\n\nLatin, for instance, was a living language for many hundred years after\nthe date of the writers who brought it to its perfection; and then it\ncontinued for a second long period to be the medium of European\ncorrespondence. Greek was a living language to a date not very far short\nof that of the taking of Constantinople, ten centuries after the date of\nSt. Basil, and seventeen hundred years after the period commonly called\nclassical. And thus, as the year has its spring and summer, so even for\nthose celebrated languages there was but a season of splendour, and,\ncompared with the whole course of their duration, but a brief season.\nSince, then, English has had its great writers for a term of about three\nhundred years,\u2014as long, that is, as the period from Sappho to Demosthenes,\nor from Pisistratus to Arcesilas, or from \u00c6schylus and Pindar to\nCarneades, or from Ennius to Pliny,\u2014we should have no right to be\ndisappointed if the classical period be close upon its termination.\n\nBy the Classics of a national Literature I mean those authors who have the\nforemost place in exemplifying the powers and conducting the development\nof its language. The language of a nation is at first rude and clumsy; and\nit demands a succession of skilful artists to make it malleable and\nductile, and to work it up to its proper perfection. It improves by use,\nbut it is not every one who can use it while as yet it is unformed. To do\nthis is an effort of genius; and so men of a peculiar talent arise, one\nafter another, according to the circumstances of the times, and accomplish\nit. One gives it flexibility, that is, shows how it can be used without\ndifficulty to express adequately a variety of thoughts and feelings in\ntheir nicety or intricacy; another makes it perspicuous or forcible; a\nthird adds to its vocabulary; and a fourth gives it grace and harmony. The\nstyle of each of such eminent masters becomes henceforth in some sort a\nproperty of the language itself; words, phrases, collocations, and\nstructure, which hitherto did not exist, gradually passing into the\nconversation and the composition of the educated classes.\n\n\n2.\n\n\nNow I will attempt to show how this process of improvement is effected,\nand what is its limit. I conceive then that these gifted writers act upon\nthe spoken and written language by means of the particular schools which\nform about them respectively. Their style, using the word in a large\nsense, forcibly arrests the reader, and draws him on to imitate it, by\nvirtue of what is excellent in it, in spite of such defects as, in common\nwith all human works, it may contain. I suppose all of us will recognize\nthis fascination. For myself when I was fourteen or fifteen, I imitated\nAddison; when I was seventeen, I wrote in the style of Johnson; about the\nsame time I fell in with the twelfth volume of Gibbon, and my ears rang\nwith the cadence of his sentences, and I dreamed of it for a night or two.\nThen I began to make an analysis of Thucydides in Gibbon\u2019s style. In like\nmanner, most Oxford undergraduates, forty years ago, when they would write\npoetry, adopted the versification of Pope Darwin, and the Pleasures of\nHope, which had been made popular by Heber and Milman. The literary\nschools, indeed, which I am speaking of, as resulting from the attractions\nof some original, or at least novel artist, consist for the most part of\nmannerists, none of whom rise much above mediocrity; but they are not the\nless serviceable as channels, by means of which the achievements of genius\nmay be incorporated into the language itself, or become the common\nproperty of the nation. Henceforth, the most ordinary composer, the very\nstudent in the lecture-room, is able to write with a precision, a grace,\nor a copiousness, as the case may be unknown before the date of the\nauthors whom he imitates, and he wonders at, if he does not rather pride\nhimself on, his\n\nnovas frondes, et non sua poma.\n\nIf there is any one who illustrates this remark, it is Gibbon; I seem to\ntrace his vigorous condensation and peculiar rhythm at every turn in the\nliterature of the present day. Pope, again, is said to have tuned our\nversification. Since his time, any one, who has an ear and turn for\npoetry, can with little pains throw off a copy of verses equal or superior\nto the poet\u2019s own, and with far less of study and patient correction than\nwould have been demanded of the poet himself for their production. Compare\nthe choruses of the Samson Agonistes with any stanza taken at random in\nThalaba: how much had the language gained in the interval between them!\nWithout denying the high merits of Southey\u2019s beautiful romance, we surely\nshall not be wrong in saying, that in its unembarrassed eloquent flow, it\nis the language of the nineteenth century that speaks, as much as the\nauthor himself.\n\nI will give an instance of what I mean: let us take the beginning of the\nfirst chorus in the Samson:\u2014\n\nJust are the ways of God.\nAnd justifiable to men;\nUnless there be who think not God at all;\nIf any be, they walk obscure,\nFor of such doctrine never was there school,\nBut the heart of the fool,\nAnd no man therein doctor but himself.\nBut men there be, who doubt His ways not just,\nAs to His own edicts found contradicting,\nThen give the reins to wandering thought,\nRegardless of His glory\u2019s diminution;\nTill, by their own perplexities involved,\nThey ravel more, still less resolved,\nBut never find self-satisfying solution.\n\nAnd now take the opening stanza of Thalaba:\u2014\n\nHow beautiful is night\nA dewy freshness fills the silent air;\nNo mist obscures, nor cloud, nor speck, nor stain,\nBreaks the serene of heaven.\nIn full-orb\u2019d glory yonder Moon divine\nRolls through the dark blue depths.\nBeneath her steady ray\nThe desert circle spreads,\nLike the round ocean girdled with the sky.\nHow beautiful is night!\n\nDoes not Southey show to advantage here? yet the voice of the world\nproclaims Milton pre-eminently a poet; and no one can affect a doubt of\nthe delicacy and exactness of his ear. Yet, much as he did for the\nlanguage in verse and in prose, he left much for other artists to do after\nhim, which they have successfully accomplished. We see the fruit of the\nliterary labours of Pope, Thomson, Gray, Goldsmith, and other poets of the\neighteenth century, in the musical eloquence of Southey.\n\n\n3.\n\n\nSo much for the process; now for its termination. I think it is brought\nabout in some such way as the following:\u2014\n\nThe influence of a great classic upon the nation which he represents is\ntwofold; on the one hand he advances his native language towards its\nperfection; but on the other hand he discourages in some measure any\nadvance beyond his own. Thus, in the parallel case of science, it is\ncommonly said on the continent, that the very marvellousness of Newton\u2019s\npowers was the bane of English mathematics: inasmuch as those who\nsucceeded him were content with his discoveries, bigoted to his methods of\ninvestigation, and averse to those new instruments which have carried on\nthe French to such brilliant and successful results. In Literature, also,\nthere is something oppressive in the authority of a great writer, and\nsomething of tyranny in the use to which his admirers put his name. The\nschool which he forms would fain monopolize the language, draws up canons\nof criticism from his writings, and is intolerant of innovation. Those who\ncome under its influence are dissuaded or deterred from striking out a\npath of their own. Thus Virgil\u2019s transcendent excellence fixed the\ncharacter of the hexameter in subsequent poetry, and took away the\nchances, if not of improvement, at least of variety. Even Juvenal has much\nof Virgil in the structure of his verse. I have known those who prefer the\nrhythm of Catullus.\n\nHowever, so summary a result is not of necessary occurrence. The splendour\nof an author may excite a generous emulation, or the tyrannous formalism\nof his followers a re-action; and thus other authors and other schools\narise. We read of Thucydides, on hearing Herodotus read his history at\nOlympia, being incited to attempt a similar work, though of an entirely\ndifferent and of an original structure. Gibbon, in like manner, writing of\nHume and Robertson, says: \u201cThe perfect composition, the nervous language,\nthe well-turned periods of Dr. Robertson, inflamed me to the ambitious\nhope that I might one day tread in his footsteps; the calm philosophy, the\ncareless inimitable beauties of his friend and rival, often forced me to\nclose the volume with a mixed sensation of delight and despair.\u201d(39)\n\nAs to re-actions, I suppose there has been something of the kind against\nthe supremacy of Pope, since the time that his successors, Campbell\nespecially, have developed his peculiarities and even defects into\nextravagance. Crabbe, for instance, turned back to a versification having\nmuch more of Dryden in it; and Byron, in spite of his high opinion of\nPope, threw into his lines the rhythm of blank verse. Still, on the whole,\nthe influence of a Classic acts in the way of discouraging any thing new,\nrather than in that of exciting rivalry or provoking re-action.\n\nAnd another consideration is to be taken into account. When a language has\nbeen cultivated in any particular department of thought, and so far as it\nhas been generally perfected, an existing want has been supplied, and\nthere is no need for further workmen. In its earlier times, while it is\nyet unformed, to write in it at all is almost a work of genius. It is like\ncrossing a country before roads are made communicating between place and\nplace. The authors of that age deserve to be Classics, both because of\nwhat they do and because they can do it. It requires the courage or the\nforce of great talent to compose in the language at all; and the\ncomposition, when effected, makes a permanent impression on it. In those\nearly times, too, the licence of speech unfettered by precedents, the\nnovelty of the work, the state of society, and the absence of criticism,\nenable an author to write with spirit and freshness. But, as centuries\npass on, this stimulus is taken away; the language by this time has become\nmanageable for its various purposes, and is ready at command. Ideas have\nfound their corresponding expressions; and one word will often convey what\nonce required half a dozen. Roots have been expanded, derivations\nmultiplied, terms invented or adopted. A variety of phrases has been\nprovided, which form a sort of compound words. Separate professions,\npursuits, and provinces of literature have gained their conventional\nterminology. There is an historical, political, social, commercial style.\nThe ear of the nation has become accustomed to useful expressions or\ncombinations of words, which otherwise would sound harsh. Strange\nmetaphors have been naturalized in the ordinary prose, yet cannot be taken\nas precedents for a similar liberty. Criticism has become an art, and\nexercises a continual and jealous watch over the free genius of new\nwriters. It is difficult for them to be original in the use of their\nmother tongue without being singular.\n\nThus the language has become in a great measure stereotype; as in the case\nof the human frame, it has expanded to the loss of its elasticity, and can\nexpand no more. Then the general style of educated men, formed by the\naccumulated improvements of centuries, is far superior perhaps in\nperfectness to that of any one of those national Classics, who have taught\ntheir countrymen to write more clearly, or more elegantly, or more\nforcibly than themselves. And literary men submit themselves to what they\nfind so well provided for them; or, if impatient of conventionalities, and\nresolved to shake off a yoke which tames them down to the loss of\nindividuality, they adopt no half measures, but indulge in novelties which\noffend against the genius of the language, and the true canons of taste.\nPolitical causes may co-operate in a revolt of this kind; and, as a nation\ndeclines in patriotism, so does its language in purity. It seems to me as\nif the sententious, epigrammatic style of writing, which set in with\nSeneca, and is seen at least as late as in the writings of St. Ambrose, is\nan attempt to escape from the simplicity of C\u00e6sar and the majestic\nelocution of Cicero; while Tertullian, with more of genius than good\nsense, relieves himself in the harsh originality of his provincial Latin.\n\nThere is another impediment, as time goes on, to the rise of fresh\nclassics in any nation; and that is the effect which foreigners, or\nforeign literature, will exert upon it. It may happen that a certain\nlanguage, like Greek, is adopted and used familiarly by educated men in\nother countries; or again, that educated men, to whom it is native, may\nabandon it for some other language, as the Romans of the second and third\ncenturies wrote in Greek instead of Latin. The consequence will be, that\nthe language in question will tend to lose its nationality\u2014that is, its\ndistinctive character; it will cease to be idiomatic in the sense in which\nit once was so; and whatever grace or propriety it may retain, it will be\ncomparatively tame and spiritless; or, on the other hand, it will be\ncorrupted by the admixture of foreign elements.\n\n\n4.\n\n\nSuch, as I consider, being the fortunes of Classical Literature, viewed\ngenerally, I should never be surprised to find that, as regards this\nhemisphere, for I can prophesy nothing of America, we have well nigh seen\nthe end of English Classics. Certainly, it is in no expectation of\nCatholics continuing the series here that I speak of the duty and\nnecessity of their cultivating English literature. When I speak of the\nformation of a Catholic school of writers, I have respect principally to\nthe matter of what is written, and to composition only so far forth as\nstyle is necessary to convey and to recommend the matter. I mean a\nliterature which resembles the literature of the day. This is not a day\nfor great writers, but for good writing, and a great deal of it. There\nnever was a time when men wrote so much and so well, and that, without\nbeing of any great account themselves. While our literature in this day,\nespecially the periodical, is rich and various, its language is elaborated\nto a perfection far beyond that of our Classics, by the jealous rivalry,\nthe incessant practice, the mutual influence, of its many writers. In\npoint of mere style, I suppose, many an article in the _Times_ newspaper,\nor Edinburgh Review, is superior to a preface of Dryden\u2019s, or a Spectator,\nor a pamphlet of Swift\u2019s, or one of South\u2019s sermons.\n\nOur writers write so well that there is little to choose between them.\nWhat they lack is that individuality, that earnestness, most personal yet\nmost unconscious of self, which is the greatest charm of an author. The\nvery form of the compositions of the day suggests to us their main\ndeficiency. They are anonymous. So was it not in the literature of those\nnations which we consider the special standard of classical writing; so is\nit not with our own Classics. The Epic was sung by the voice of the\nliving, present poet. The drama, in its very idea, is poetry in persons.\nHistorians begin, \u201cHerodotus, of Halicarnassus, publishes his researches;\u201d\nor, \u201cThucydides, the Athenian, has composed an account of the war.\u201d Pindar\nis all through his odes a speaker. Plato, Xenophon, and Cicero, throw\ntheir philosophical dissertations into the form of a dialogue. Orators and\npreachers are by their very profession known persons, and the personal is\nlaid down by the Philosopher of antiquity as the source of their greatest\npersuasiveness. Virgil and Horace are ever bringing into their poetry\ntheir own characters and tastes. Dante\u2019s poems furnish a series of events\nfor the chronology of his times. Milton is frequent in allusions to his\nown history and circumstances. Even when Addison writes anonymously, he\nwrites under a professed character, and that in a great measure his own;\nhe writes in the first person. The \u201cI\u201d of the Spectator, and the \u201cwe\u201d of\nthe modern Review or Newspaper, are the respective symbols of the two ages\nin our literature. Catholics must do as their neighbours; they must be\ncontent to serve their generation, to promote the interests of religion,\nto recommend truth, and to edify their brethren to-day, though their names\nare to have little weight, and their works are not to last much beyond\nthemselves.\n\n\n5.\n\n\nAnd now having shown what it is that a Catholic University does not think\nof doing, what it need not do, and what it cannot do, I might go on to\ntrace out in detail what it is that it really might and will encourage and\ncreate. But, as such an investigation would neither be difficult to\npursue, nor easy to terminate, I prefer to leave the subject at the\npreliminary point to which I have brought it.\n\n\n\n\n                               Lecture IV.\n\n\nElementary Studies.\n\n\nIt has often been observed that, when the eyes of the infant first open\nupon the world, the reflected rays of light which strike them from the\nmyriad of surrounding objects present to him no image, but a medley of\ncolours and shadows. They do not form into a whole; they do not rise into\nforegrounds and melt into distances; they do not divide into groups; they\ndo not coalesce into unities; they do not combine into persons; but each\nparticular hue and tint stands by itself, wedged in amid a thousand others\nupon the vast and flat mosaic, having no intelligence, and conveying no\nstory, any more than the wrong side of some rich tapestry. The little babe\nstretches out his arms and fingers, as if to grasp or to fathom the\nmany-coloured vision; and thus he gradually learns the connexion of part\nwith part, separates what moves from what is stationary, watches the\ncoming and going of figures, masters the idea of shape and of perspective,\ncalls in the information conveyed through the other senses to assist him\nin his mental process, and thus gradually converts a calidoscope into a\npicture. The first view was the more splendid, the second the more real;\nthe former more poetical, the latter more philosophical. Alas! what are we\ndoing all through life, both as a necessity and as a duty, but unlearning\nthe world\u2019s poetry, and attaining to its prose! This is our education, as\nboys and as men, in the action of life, and in the closet or library; in\nour affections, in our aims, in our hopes, and in our memories. And in\nlike manner it is the education of our intellect; I say, that one main\nportion of intellectual education, of the labours of both school and\nuniversity, is to remove the original dimness of the mind\u2019s eye; to\nstrengthen and perfect its vision; to enable it to look out into the world\nright forward, steadily and truly; to give the mind clearness, accuracy,\nprecision; to enable it to use words aright, to understand what it says,\nto conceive justly what it thinks about, to abstract, compare, analyze,\ndivide, define, and reason, correctly. There is a particular science which\ntakes these matters in hand, and it is called logic; but it is not by\nlogic, certainly not by logic alone, that the faculty I speak of is\nacquired. The infant does not learn to spell and read the hues upon his\nretina by any scientific rule; nor does the student learn accuracy of\nthought by any manual or treatise. The instruction given him, of whatever\nkind, if it be really instruction, is mainly, or at least pre-eminently,\nthis,\u2014a discipline in accuracy of mind.\n\nBoys are always more or less inaccurate, and too many, or rather the\nmajority, remain boys all their lives. When, for instance, I hear speakers\nat public meetings declaiming about \u201clarge and enlightened views,\u201d or\nabout \u201cfreedom of conscience,\u201d or about \u201cthe Gospel,\u201d or any other popular\nsubject of the day, I am far from denying that some among them know what\nthey are talking about; but it would be satisfactory, in a particular\ncase, to be sure of the fact; for it seems to me that those household\nwords may stand in a man\u2019s mind for a something or other, very glorious\nindeed, but very misty, pretty much like the idea of \u201ccivilization\u201d which\nfloats before the mental vision of a Turk,\u2014that is, if, when he interrupts\nhis smoking to utter the word, he condescends to reflect whether it has\nany meaning at all. Again, a critic in a periodical dashes off, perhaps,\nhis praises of a new work, as \u201ctalented, original, replete with intense\ninterest, irresistible in argument, and, in the best sense of the word, a\nvery readable book;\u201d\u2014can we really believe that he cares to attach any\ndefinite sense to the words of which he is so lavish? nay, that, if he had\na habit of attaching sense to them, he could ever bring himself to so\nprodigal and wholesale an expenditure of them?\n\nTo a short-sighted person, colours run together and intermix, outlines\ndisappear, blues and reds and yellows become russets or browns, the lamps\nor candles of an illumination spread into an unmeaning glare, or dissolve\ninto a milky way. He takes up an eye-glass, and the mist clears up; every\nimage stands out distinct, and the rays of light fall back upon their\ncentres. It is this haziness of intellectual vision which is the malady of\nall classes of men by nature, of those who read and write and compose,\nquite as well as of those who cannot,\u2014of all who have not had a really\ngood education. Those who cannot either read or write may, nevertheless,\nbe in the number of those who have remedied and got rid of it; those who\ncan, are too often still under its power. It is an acquisition quite\nseparate from miscellaneous information, or knowledge of books. This is a\nlarge subject, which might be pursued at great length, and of which here I\nshall but attempt one or two illustrations.\n\n\n\n                                   \u00a7 1.\n\n\nGrammar.\n\n\n1.\n\n\nOne of the subjects especially interesting to all persons who, from any\npoint of view, as officials or as students, are regarding a University\ncourse, is that of the Entrance Examination. Now a principal subject\nintroduced into this examination will be \u201cthe elements of Latin and Greek\nGrammar.\u201d \u201cGrammar\u201d in the middle ages was often used as almost synonymous\nwith \u201cliterature,\u201d and a Grammarian was a \u201cProfessor literarum.\u201d This is\nthe sense of the word in which a youth of an inaccurate mind delights. He\nrejoices to profess all the classics, and to learn none of them. On the\nother hand, by \u201cGrammar\u201d is now more commonly meant, as Johnson defines\nit, \u201cthe art of using _words_ properly,\u201d and it \u201ccomprises four\nparts\u2014Orthography, Etymology, Syntax, and Prosody.\u201d Grammar, in this\nsense, is the scientific analysis of language, and to be conversant with\nit, as regards a particular language, is to be able to understand the\nmeaning and force of that language when thrown into sentences and\nparagraphs.\n\nThus the word is used when the \u201celements of Latin and Greek Grammar\u201d are\nspoken of as subjects of our Entrance Examination; not, that is, the\nelements of Latin and Greek literature, as if a youth were intended to\nhave a smattering of the classical writers in general, and were to be able\nto give an opinion about the eloquence of Demosthenes and Cicero, the\nvalue of Livy, or the existence of Homer; or need have read half a dozen\nGreek and Latin authors, and portions of a dozen others:\u2014though of course\nit would be much to his credit if he had done so; only, such proficiency\nis not to be expected, and cannot be required, of him:\u2014but we mean the\nstructure and characteristics of the Latin and Greek languages, or an\nexamination of his scholarship. That is, an examination in order to\nascertain whether he knows Etymology and Syntax, the two principal\ndepartments of the science of language,\u2014whether he understands how the\nseparate portions of a sentence hang together, how they form a whole, how\neach has its own place in the government of it, what are the peculiarities\nof construction or the idiomatic expressions in it proper to the language\nin which it is written, what is the precise meaning of its terms, and what\nthe history of their formation.\n\nAll this will be best arrived at by trying how far he can frame a\npossible, or analyze a given sentence. To translate an English sentence\ninto Latin is to _frame_ a sentence, and is the best test whether or not a\nstudent knows the difference of Latin from English construction; to\nconstrue and parse is to _analyze_ a sentence, and is an evidence of the\neasier attainment of knowing what Latin construction is in itself. And\nthis is the sense of the word \u201cGrammar\u201d which our inaccurate student\ndetests, and this is the sense of the word which every sensible tutor will\nmaintain. His maxim is, \u201ca little, but well;\u201d that is, really know what\nyou say you know: know what you know and what you do not know; get one\nthing well before you go on to a second; try to ascertain what your words\nmean; when you read a sentence, picture it before your mind as a whole,\ntake in the truth or information contained in it, express it in your own\nwords, and, if it be important, commit it to the faithful memory. Again,\ncompare one idea with another; adjust truths and facts; form them into one\nwhole, or notice the obstacles which occur in doing so. This is the way to\nmake progress; this is the way to arrive at results; not to swallow\nknowledge, but (according to the figure sometimes used) to masticate and\ndigest it.\n\n\n2.\n\n\nTo illustrate what I mean, I proceed to take an instance. I will draw the\nsketch of a candidate for entrance, deficient to a great extent. I shall\nput him below _par_, and not such as it is likely that a respectable\nschool would turn out, with a view of clearly bringing before the reader,\nby the contrast, what a student ought _not_ to be, or what is meant by\n_inaccuracy_. And, in order to simplify the case to the utmost, I shall\ntake, as he will perceive as I proceed, one _single word_ as a sort of\ntext, and show how that one word, even by itself, affords matter for a\nsufficient examination of a youth in grammar, history, and geography. I\nset off thus:\u2014\n\n_Tutor._ Mr. Brown, I believe? sit down. _Candidate._ Yes.\n\n_T._ What are the Latin and Greek books you propose to be examined in?\n_C._ Homer, Lucian, Demosthenes, Xenophon, Virgil, Horace, Statius,\nJuvenal, Cicero, Analecta, and Matthi\u00e6.\n\n_T._ No; I mean what are the books I am to examine you in? _C. is silent._\n\n_T._ The two books, one Latin and one Greek: don\u2019t flurry yourself. _C._\nOh, \u2026 Xenophon and Virgil.\n\n_T._ Xenophon and Virgil. Very well; what part of Xenophon? _C. is\nsilent._\n\n_T._ What work of Xenophon? _C._ Xenophon.\n\n_T._ Xenophon wrote many works. Do you know the names of any of them? _C._\nI \u2026 Xenophon \u2026 Xenophon.\n\n_T._ Is it the _Anabasis_ you take up? _C._ (_with surprise_) O yes; the\nAnabasis.\n\n_T._ Well, Xenophon\u2019s Anabasis; now what is the meaning of the word\n_anabasis_? _C. is silent._\n\n_T._ You know very well; take your time, and don\u2019t be alarmed. Anabasis\nmeans \u2026 _C._ An ascent.\n\n_T._ Very right; it means an ascent. Now how comes it to mean an ascent?\nWhat is it derived from? _C._ It comes from \u2026 (_a pause_). _Anabasis_ \u2026 it\n_is_ the nominative.\n\n_T._ Quite right: but what part of speech is it? _C._ A noun,\u2014a noun\nsubstantive.\n\n_T._ Very well; a noun substantive, now what is the verb that _anabasis_\nis derived from? _C. is silent._\n\n_T._ From the verb \u1f00\u03bd\u03b1\u03b2\u03b1\u03af\u03bd\u03c9, isn\u2019t it? from \u1f00\u03bd\u03b1\u03b2\u03b1\u03af\u03bd\u03c9. _C._ Yes.\n\n_T._ Just so. Now, what does \u1f00\u03bd\u03b1\u03b2\u03b1\u03af\u03bd\u03c9 mean? _C._ To go up, to ascend.\n\n_T._ Very well; and which part of the word means _to go_, and which part\n_up_? _C._ \u1f00\u03bd\u03ac is _up_, and \u03b2\u03b1\u03af\u03bd\u03c9 _go_.\n\n_T._ \u03b2\u03b1\u03af\u03bd\u03c9 to go, yes; now, \u03b2\u03ac\u03c3\u03b9\u03c2? What does \u03b2\u03ac\u03c3\u03b9\u03c2 mean? _C._ A going.\n\n_T._ That is right; and \u1f00\u03bd\u03ac-\u03b2\u03b1\u03c3\u03b9\u03c2? _C._ A going up.\n\n_T._ Now what is a going _down_? _C. is silent_.\n\n_T._ What is down? \u2026 \u039a\u03b1\u03c4\u03ac \u2026 don\u2019t you recollect? \u039a\u03b1\u03c4\u03ac. _C._ \u039a\u03b1\u03c4\u03ac.\n\n_T._ Well, then, what is a going _down_? Cat .. cat \u2026 _C._ Cat.\u2026\n\n_T._ Cata \u2026 _C._ Cata.\u2026\n\n_T._ Catabasis. _C._ Oh, of course, catabasis.\n\n_T._ Now tell me what is the future of \u03b2\u03b1\u03af\u03bd\u03c9? _C._ (_thinks_) \u03b2\u03b1\u03bd\u1ff6.\n\n_T._ No, no; think again; you know better than that. _C._ (_objects_)\n\u03a6\u03b1\u03af\u03bd\u03c9, \u03a6\u03b1\u03bd\u1ff6?\n\n_T._ Certainly, \u03a6\u03b1\u03bd\u1ff6 is the future of \u03a6\u03b1\u03af\u03bd\u03c9; but \u03b2\u03b1\u03af\u03bd\u03c9 is, you know, an\nirregular verb. _C._ Oh, I recollect, \u03b2\u03ae\u03c3\u03c9.\n\n_T._ Well, that is much better; but you are not quite right yet; \u03b2\u03ae\u03c3\u03bf\u03bc\u03b1\u03b9.\n_C._ Oh, of course,.\n\n_T._ \u03b2\u03ae\u03c3\u03bf\u03bc\u03b1\u03b9. Now do you mean to say that \u03b2\u03ae\u03c3\u03bf\u03bc\u03b1\u03b9 _comes from_ \u03b2\u03b1\u03af\u03bd\u03c9? _C.\nis silent._\n\n_T._ For instance: \u03c4\u03cd\u03c8\u03c9 comes from \u03c4\u03cd\u03c0\u03c4\u03c9 by a change of letters; does\n\u03b2\u03ae\u03c3\u03bf\u03bc\u03b1\u03b9in any similar way come from \u03b2\u03b1\u03af\u03bd\u03c9? _C._ It is an irregular verb.\n\n_T._ What do you mean by an irregular verb? does it form tenses anyhow and\nby caprice? _C._ It does not go according to the paradigm.\n\n_T._ Yes, but how do you account for this? _C. is silent_.\n\n_T._ Are its tenses formed from several roots? _C. is silent. T. is\nsilent; then he changes the subject._\n\n_T._ Well, now you say _Anabasis_ means an _ascent_. _Who_ ascended? _C._\nThe Greeks, Xenophon.\n\n_T._ Very well: Xenophon and the Greeks; the Greeks ascended. To what did\nthey ascend? _C._ Against the Persian king: they ascended to fight the\nPersian king.\n\n_T._ That is right \u2026 an ascent; but I thought we called it a _de_scent\nwhen a foreign army carried war into a country? _C. is silent._\n\n_T._ Don\u2019t we talk of a descent of barbarians? _C._ Yes.\n\n_T._ Why then are the Greeks said to go _up_? _C._ They went up to fight\nthe Persian king.\n\n_T._ Yes; but why _up_ \u2026 why not _down_? _C._ They came down afterwards,\nwhen they retreated back to Greece.\n\n_T._ Perfectly right; they did \u2026 but could you give no reason why they are\nsaid to go _up_ to Persia, not _down_? _C._ They went _up_ to Persia.\n\n_T._ Why do you not say they went _down? C. pauses, then_ \u2026 They went\n_down_ to Persia.\n\n_T._ You have misunderstood me.\n\n_A silence._\n\n_T._ _Why_ do you not say _down_? _C._ I do \u2026 _down_.\n\n_T._ You have got confused; you know very well. _C._ I understood you to\nask why I did not say \u201cthey went _down_.\u201d\n\n_A silence on both sides._\n\n_T._ Have you come up to Dublin or down? _C._I came up.\n\n_T._ Why do you call it coming _up_? _C. thinks, then smiles, then_ \u2026 We\n_always_ call it coming up to Dublin.\n\n_T._ Well, but you always have a _reason_ for what you do \u2026 what is your\nreason here? _C. is silent._\n\n_T._ Come, come, Mr. Brown, I won\u2019t believe you don\u2019t know; I am sure you\nhave a very good reason for saying you go up to Dublin, not _down_. _C.\nthinks, then_ \u2026 It is the capital.\n\n_T._ Very well; now was Persia the capital? _C._ Yes.\n\n_T._ Well \u2026 no \u2026 not exactly \u2026 explain yourself; was Persia a city? _C._ A\ncountry.\n\n_T._ That is right; well, but did you ever hear of Susa? _Now_, why did\nthey speak of going _up_ to Persia? _C. is silent._\n\n_T._ Because it was the seat of government; that was one reason. Persia\nwas the seat of government; they went up because it was the seat of\ngovernment. _C._ Because it was the seat of government.\n\n_T._ Now where did they go up from? _C._ From Greece.\n\n_T._ But where did this army assemble? whence did it set out? _C. is\nsilent._\n\n_T._ It is mentioned in the first book; where did the troops _rendezvous_?\n_C. is silent._\n\n_T._ Open your book; now turn to Book I., chapter ii.; now tell me. _C._\nOh, at Sardis.\n\n_T._ Very right: at Sardis; now where was Sardis? _C._ In Asia Minor?\u2026 no\n\u2026 it\u2019s an island \u2026 _a pause, then_ \u2026 Sardinia.\n\n_T._ In Asia Minor; the army set out from Asia Minor, and went on towards\nPersia; and therefore it is said to go _up_\u2014because \u2026 _C. is silent._\n\n_T._ Because \u2026 Persia \u2026 _C._ Because Persia \u2026\n\n_T._ Of course; because Persia held a sovereignty over Asia Minor. _C._\nYes.\n\n_T._ Now do you know how and when Persia came to conquer and gain\npossession of Asia Minor? _C. is silent._\n\n_T._ Was Persia in possession of many countries? _C. is silent._\n\n_T._ Was Persia at the head of an empire? _C. is silent._\n\n_T._ Who was Xerxes? _C._ Oh, Xerxes \u2026 yes \u2026 Xerxes; he invaded Greece; he\nflogged the sea.\n\n_T._ Right; he flogged the sea: what sea? _C. is silent_.\n\n_T._ Have you read any history of Persia?\u2026 what history? _C._ Grote, and\nMitford.\n\n_T._ Well, now, Mr. Brown, you can name some other reason why the Greeks\nspoke of going up to Persia? Do we talk of going _up_ or _down_ from the\nsea-coast? _C._ Up.\n\n_T._ That is right; well, going from Asia Minor, would you go from the\nsea, or towards it? _C._ From.\n\n_T._ What countries would you pass, going from the coast of Asia Minor to\nPersia? \u2026 mention any of them. _C. is silent._\n\n_T._ What do you mean by Asia _Minor_?\u2026 why called Minor?\u2026 how does it\nlie? _C. is silent._\n\nEtc., etc.\n\n\n3.\n\n\nI have drawn out this specimen at the risk of wearying the reader; but I\nhave wished to bring out clearly what it really is which an Entrance\nExamination should aim at and require in its students. This young man had\nread the Anabasis, and had some general idea what the word meant; but he\nhad no accurate knowledge how the word came to have its meaning, or of the\nhistory and geography implied in it. This being the case, it was useless,\nor rather hurtful, for a boy like him to amuse himself with running\nthrough Grote\u2019s many volumes, or to cast his eye over Matthi\u00e6\u2019s minute\ncriticisms. Indeed, this seems to have been Mr. Brown\u2019s stumbling-block;\nhe began by saying that he had read Demosthenes, Virgil, Juvenal, and I do\nnot know how many other authors. Nothing is more common in an age like\nthis, when books abound, than to fancy that the gratification of a love of\nreading is real study. Of course there are youths who shrink even from\nstory books, and cannot be coaxed into getting through a tale of romance.\nSuch Mr. Brown was not; but there are others, and I suppose he was in\ntheir number, who certainly have a taste for reading, but in whom it is\nlittle more than the result of mental restlessness and curiosity. Such\nminds cannot fix their gaze on one object for two seconds together; the\nvery impulse which leads them to read at all, leads them to read on, and\nnever to stay or hang over any one idea. The pleasurable excitement of\nreading what is new is their motive principle; and the imagination that\nthey are doing something, and the boyish vanity which accompanies it, are\ntheir reward. Such youths often profess to like poetry, or to like history\nor biography; they are fond of lectures on certain of the physical\nsciences; or they may possibly have a real and true taste for natural\nhistory or other cognate subjects;\u2014and so far they may be regarded with\nsatisfaction; but on the other hand they profess that they do not like\nlogic, they do not like algebra, they have no taste for mathematics; which\nonly means that they do not like application, they do not like attention,\nthey shrink from the effort and labour of thinking, and the process of\ntrue intellectual gymnastics. The consequence will be that, when they grow\nup, they may, if it so happen, be agreeable in conversation, they may be\nwell informed in this or that department of knowledge, they may be what is\ncalled literary; but they will have no consistency, steadiness, or\nperseverance; they will not be able to make a telling speech, or to write\na good letter, or to fling in debate a smart antagonist, unless so far as,\nnow and then, mother-wit supplies a sudden capacity, which cannot be\nordinarily counted on. They cannot state an argument or a question, or\ntake a clear survey of a whole transaction, or give sensible and\nappropriate advice under difficulties, or do any of those things which\ninspire confidence and gain influence, which raise a man in life, and make\nhim useful to his religion or his country.\n\n                                * * * * *\n\nAnd now, having instanced what I mean by the _want_ of accuracy, and\nstated the results in which I think it issues, I proceed to sketch, by way\nof contrast, an examination which displays a student, who, whatever may be\nhis proficiency, at least knows what he is about, and has tried to master\nwhat he has read. I am far from saying that every candidate for admission\nmust come up to its standard:\u2014\n\n_T._ I think you have named Cicero\u2019s Letters ad Familiares, Mr. Black?\nOpen, if you please, at Book xi., Epistle 29, and begin reading.\n\n_C. reads._ Cicero Appio salutem. Dubitanti mihi (quod scit Atticus\nnoster), de hoc toto consilio profectionis, quod in utramque partem in\nmentem multa veniebant, magnum pondus accessit ad tollendam dubitationem,\njudicium et consilium tuum. Nam et scripsisti aperte, quid tibi videretur;\net Atticus ad me sermonem tuum pertulit. Semper judicavi, in te, et in\ncapiendo consilio prudentiam summam esse, et in dando fidem; maximeque sum\nexpertus, c\u00f9m, initio civilis belli, per literas te consuluissem quid mihi\nfaciendum esse censeres; eundumne ad Pompeium an manendum in Itali\u00e2.\n\n_T._ Very well, stop there; Now construe. _C._ Cicero Appio salutem.\u2026\n_Cicero greets Appius._\n\n_T. __\u201c__Greets Appius.__\u201d_ True; but it sounds stiff in English, doesn\u2019t\nit? What is the real English of it? _C._ \u201cMy _dear_ Appius?\u201d\u2026\n\n_T._ That will do; go on. _C._ Dubitanti mihi, quod scit Atticus noster,\n_While I was hesitating, as our friend Atticus knows_.\u2026\n\n_T._ That is right. _C._ De hoc toto consilio profectionis, _about the\nwhole plan \u2026 entire project_ \u2026 de hoc toto consilio profectionis \u2026 _on the\nsubject of my proposed journey \u2026 on my proposed journey altogether_.\n\n_T._ Never mind; go on; any of them will do. _C._ Quod in utramque partem\nin mentem multa veniebant, _inasmuch as many considerations both for and\nagainst it came into my mind_, magnum pondus accessit ad tollendam\ndubitationem, _it came with great force to remove my hesitation_.\n\n_T._ What do you mean by \u201caccessit\u201d? _C._ It means _it contributed to turn\nthe scale_; accessit, _it was an addition to one side_.\n\n_T._ Well, it may mean so, but the words run, ad tollendam dubitationem.\n_C._ It was a great \u2026 it was a powerful help towards removing my\nhesitation \u2026 no \u2026 _this was a powerful help, viz., your judgment and\nadvice_.\n\n_T._ Well, what is the construction of \u201cpondus\u201d and \u201cjudicium\u201d? _C. Your\nadvice came as a great weight_.\n\n_T._ Very well, go on. _C._ Nam et scripsisti aperte quid tibi videretur;\n_for you distinctly wrote your opinion_.\n\n_T._ Now, what is the force of \u201cnam\u201d? _C. pauses; then_, It refers to\n\u201caccessit\u201d \u2026 it is an explanation of the fact, that Appius\u2019s opinion was a\nhelp.\n\n_T._ \u201cEt\u201d; you omitted \u201cet\u201d \u2026 \u201cet scripsisti.\u201d _C._ It is one of two\n\u201cets\u201d; et scripsisti, et Atticus.\n\n_T._ Well, but why don\u2019t you construe it? _C._ Et scripsisti, _you both\ndistinctly_.\u2026\n\n_T._ No; tell me, _why_ did you leave it out? had you a reason? _C._ I\nthought it was only the Latin style, to dress the sentence, to make it\nantithetical; and was not English.\n\n_T._ Very good, still, you can express it; try. _C. Also_, with the second\nclause?\n\n_T._ That is right, go on. _C._ Nam et, _for you distinctly stated in\nwriting your opinion_, et Atticus ad me sermonem tuum pertulit, _and\nAticus too sent me word of what you said,\u2026 of what you said to him in\nconversation_.\n\n_T._ \u201cPertulit.\u201d _C._ It means that Atticus conveyed on to Cicero the\nconversation he had with Appius.\n\n_T. Who_ was Atticus? _C. is silent._\n\n_T._ Who was Atticus? _C._ I didn\u2019t think it came into the examination.\u2026\n\n_T._ Well, I didn\u2019t say it did: but still you can tell me who Atticus was.\n_C._ A great friend of Cicero\u2019s.\n\n_T._ Did he take much part in politics? _C._ No.\n\n_T._ What were his opinions? _C._ He was an Epicurean.\n\n_T._ What was an Epicurean? _C. is silent, then_, Epicureans lived for\nthemselves.\n\n_T._ You are answering very well, sir; proceed. _C._ Semper judicavi, _I\nhave ever considered_, in te, et in capiendo consilio prudentiam summam\nesse, et in dando fidem; _that your wisdom was of the highest order_ \u2026\n_that you had the greatest wisdom \u2026 that nothing could exceed the wisdom\nof your resolves, or the honesty of your advice_.\n\n_T._ \u201cFidem.\u201d _C._ It means _faithfulness to the person asking_ \u2026\nmaximeque sum expertus, _and I had a great proof of it_.\u2026\n\n_T._ _Great_; why don\u2019t you say _greatest_? \u201cmaxime\u201d is superlative. _C._\nThe Latins use the superlative, when they only mean the positive.\n\n_T._ You mean, when English uses the positive; can you give me an instance\nof what you mean? _C._ Cicero always speaks of others as amplissimi,\noptimi, doctissimi, clarissimi.\n\n_T._ Do they ever use the comparative for the positive? _C. thinks, then_,\nCertior factus sum.\n\n_T._ Well, perhaps; however, here, \u201cmaxime\u201d may mean _special_, may it\nnot? _C. And I had a special proof of it_, c\u00f9m, initio civilis belli, per\nliteras te consuluissem, _when, on the commencement of the civil war, I\nhad written to ask your advice_, quid mihi faciendum esse censeres, _what\nyou thought I ought to do_, eundumne ad Pompeium, an manendum in Itali\u00e2,\n_to go to Pompey, or to remain in Italy_.\n\n_T._ Very well, now stop. Dubitanti mini, quod scit Atticus noster. You\nconstrued quod, _as_. _C._ I meant the relative _as_.\n\n_T._ Is _as_ a relative? _C. As_ is used in English for the relative, as\nwhen we say _such as_ for _those who_.\n\n_T._ Well, but why do you use it here? What is the antecedent to \u201cquod\u201d?\n_C._ The sentence Dubitanti mihi, etc.\n\n_T._ Still, construe \u201cquod\u201d literally. _C. A thing which._\n\n_T._ Where is _a thing?_ _C._ It is understood.\n\n_T._ Well, but put it in. _C._ Illud quod.\n\n_T._ Is that right? what is the common phrase? _C. is silent._\n\n_T._ Did you ever see \u201cillud quod\u201d in that position? is it the phrase? _C.\nis silent._\n\n_T._ It is commonly \u201cid quod,\u201d isn\u2019t it? id quod. _C._ Oh, I recollect, id\nquod.\n\n_T._ Well, which is more common, \u201cquod,\u201d or \u201cid quod,\u201d when the sentence\nis the antecedent? _C._ I think \u201cid quod.\u201d\n\n_T._ At least it is far more distinct; yes, I think it is more common.\nWhat could you put instead of it? _C._ Quod quidem.\n\n_T._ Now, dubitanti mihi; what is \u201cmihi\u201d governed by? _C._ Accessit.\n\n_T._ No; hardly. _C. is silent._\n\n_T._ Does \u201caccessit\u201d govern the dative? _C._ I thought it did.\n\n_T._ Well, it may; but would Cicero use the dative after it? what is the\nmore common practice with words of motion? Do you say, Venit mihi, _he\ncame to me_? _C._ No, Venit ad me;\u2014I recollect.\n\n_T._ That is right; venit ad me. Now, for instance, \u201cincumbo:\u201d what case\ndoes \u201cincumbo\u201d govern? _C._ Incumbite remis?\n\n_T._ Where is that? in Cicero? _C._ No, in Virgil. Cicero uses \u201cin\u201d; I\nrecollect, incumbere in opus \u2026 ad opus.\n\n_T._ Well, then, _is_ this \u201cmihi\u201d governed by \u201caccessit\u201d? _what_ comes\nafter accessit? _C._ I see; it is, accessit ad tollendam dubitationem.\n\n_T._ That is right; but then, what after all do you do with \u201cmihi\u201d? how is\nit governed? _C. is silent._\n\n_T._ How is \u201cmihi\u201d governed, if it does not come after \u201caccessit\u201d? _C.\npauses, then_, \u201cMihi\u201d \u2026 \u201cmihi\u201d is often used so; and \u201ctibi\u201d and \u201csibi\u201d: I\nmean \u201csuo sibi gladio hunc jugulo\u201d; \u2026 \u201cvenit mihi in mentem\u201d; that is, _it\ncame into my mind_; and so, \u201caccessit mihi ad tollendam,\u201d etc.\n\n_T._ That is very right. _C._ I recollect somewhere in Horace, vellunt\ntibi barbam.\n\nEtc., etc.\n\n\n4.\n\n\nAnd now, my patient reader, I suspect you have had enough of me on this\nsubject; and the best I can expect from you is, that you will say: \u201cHis\nfirst pages had some amusement in them, but he is dullish towards the\nend.\u201d Perhaps so; but then you must kindly bear in mind that the latter\npart is about a steady careful youth, and the earlier part is not; and\nthat goodness, exactness, and diligence, and the correct and the\nunexceptionable, though vastly more desirable than their contraries in\nfact, are not near so entertaining in fiction.\n\n\n\n                                   \u00a7 2.\n\n\nComposition.\n\n\n1.\n\n\nI am able to present the reader by anticipation with the correspondence\nwhich will pass between Mr. Brown\u2019s father and Mr. White, the tutor, on\nthe subject of Mr. Brown\u2019s examination for entrance at the University.\nAnd, in doing so, let me state the reason why I dwell on what many will\nthink an extreme case, or even a caricature. I do so, because what may be\ncalled exaggeration is often the best means of _bringing out_ certain\nfaults of the mind which do indeed exist commonly, if not in that degree.\nIf a master in carriage and deportment wishes to carry home to one of his\nboys that he slouches, he will caricature the boy himself, by way of\nimpressing on the boy\u2019s intellect a sort of abstract and typical\nrepresentation of the ungraceful habit which he wishes corrected. When we\nonce have the simple and perfect ideas of things in our minds, we refer\nthe particular and partial manifestations of them to these types; we\nrecognize what they are, good or bad, as we never did before, and we have\na guide set up within us to direct our course by. So it is with principles\nof taste, good breeding, or of conventional fashion; so it is in the fine\narts, in painting, or in music. We cannot even understand the criticism\npassed on these subjects until we have set up for ourselves the ideal\nstandard of what is admirable and what is absurd.\n\nSo is it with the cultivation and discipline of the mind, it a handsomer\nplace than I thought for\u2014really a respectable town. But it is sadly behind\nthe world in many things. Think of its having no Social Science, not even\na National Gallery or British Museum! nor have they any high art here:\nsome good public buildings, but very pagan. The bay is a fine thing.\n\n\u201cI called with your letter on Mr. Black, who introduced me to the\nprofessors, some of whom, judging by their skulls, are clever men.\n\n\u201cThere is a lot here for examination, and an Exhibition is to be given to\nthe best. I should like to get it. Young Black,\u2014you saw him once,\u2014is one\nof them; I knew him at school; he is a large fellow now, though younger\nthan I am. If he be the best of them, I shall not be much afraid.\n\n\u201cWell\u2014in I went yesterday, and was examined. It was such a queer concern.\nOne of the junior Tutors had me up, and he must be a new hand, he was so\nuneasy. He gave me the slowest examination! I don\u2019t know to this minute\nwhat he was at. He first said a word or two, and then was silent. He then\nasked me why we came up to Dublin, and did not go down; and put some\nabsurd little questions about \u03b2\u03b1\u03af\u03bd\u03c9. I was tolerably satisfied with\nmyself, but he gave me no opportunity to show off. He asked me literally\nnothing; he did not even give me a passage to construe for a long time,\nand then gave me nothing more than two or three easy sentences. And he\nkept playing with his paper knife, and saying: \u2018How are you now, Mr.\nBrown? don\u2019t be alarmed, Mr. Brown; take your time, Mr. Brown; you know\nvery well, Mr. Brown;\u2019 so that I could hardly help laughing. I never was\nless afraid in my life. It would be wonderful if such an examination\n_could_ put me out of countenance.\n\n\u201cThere\u2019s a lot of things which I know very well, which the Examiner said\nnot a word about. Indeed, I think I have been getting up a great many\nthings for nothing;\u2014provoking enough. I had read a good deal of Grote; but\nthough I told him so, he did not ask me one question in it; and there\u2019s\nWhewell, Macaulay, and Schlegel, all thrown away.\n\n\u201cHe has not said a word yet where I am to be lodged. He looked quite\nconfused when I asked him. He is, I suspect, a _character_.\n\n\u201cYour dutiful son, etc.,\n\n\u201cROBERT.\u201d\n\n_Mr. White to Mr. Brown, sen._\n\n\u201cMY DEAR SIR,\n\n\u201cI have to acknowledge the kind letter you sent me by your son, and I am\nmuch pleased to find the confidence you express in us. Your son seems an\namiable young man, of studious habits, and there is every hope, when he\njoins us, of his passing his academical career with respectability, and\nhis examination with credit. This is what I should have expected from his\ntelling me that he had been educated at home under your own paternal eye;\nindeed, if I do not mistake, you have undertaken the interesting office of\ninstructor yourself.\n\n\u201cI hardly know what best to recommend to him at the moment: his reading\nhas been _desultory_; he knows _something_ about a great many things, of\nwhich youths of his age commonly know nothing. Of course we _could_ take\nhim into residence now, if you urge it; but my advice is that he should\nfirst direct his efforts to distinct preparation for our examination, and\nto study its particular character. Our rule is to recommend youths to do a\n_little well_, instead of throwing themselves upon a large field of study.\nI conceive it to be your son\u2019s fault of mind not to see exactly the\n_point_ of things, nor to be so well _grounded_ as he might be. Young men\nare indeed always wanting in _accuracy_; this kind of deficiency is not\npeculiar to him, and he will doubtless soon overcome it when he sets about\nit.\n\n\u201cOn the whole, then, if you will kindly send him up six months hence he\nwill be more able to profit by our lectures. I will tell him what to read\nin the meanwhile. Did it depend on me, I should send him for that time to\na good school or college, or I could find you a private Tutor for him.\n\n\u201cI am, etc.\u201d\n\n_Mr. Brown, sen., to Mr. White._\n\n\u201cSIR,\n\n\u201cYour letter, which I have received by this morning\u2019s post, is gratifying\nto a parent\u2019s feelings, so far as it bears witness to the impression which\nmy son\u2019s amiableness and steadiness have made on you. He is indeed a most\nexemplary lad: fathers are partial, and their word about their children is\ncommonly not to be taken; but I flatter myself that the present case is an\nexception to the rule; for, if ever there was a well-conducted youth, it\nis my dear son. He is certainly very clever; and a closer student, and,\nfor his age, of more extensive reading and sounder judgment, does not\nexist.\n\n\u201cWith this conviction, you will excuse me if I say that there were\nportions of your letter which I could not reconcile with that part of it\nto which I have been alluding. You say he is \u2018a young man of _studious\nhabits_,\u2019 having \u2018_every hope_ of passing his academical career with\nrespectability, and _his examination with credit_;\u2019 you allow that \u2018he\nknows something about a _great many things_, of which youths of his age\ncommonly _know nothing_:\u2019 no common commendation, I consider; yet, in\nspite of this, you recommend, though you do not exact, as a complete\ndisarrangement of my plans (for I do not know how long my duties will keep\nme in Ireland), a postponement of his coming into residence for six\nmonths.\n\n\u201cWill you allow me to suggest an explanation of this inconsistency? It is\nfound in your confession that the examination is of a \u2018particular\ncharacter.\u2019 Of course it is very right in the governors of a great\nInstitution to be \u2018particular,\u2019 and it is not for me to argue with them.\nNevertheless, I cannot help saying, that at this day nothing is so much\nwanted in education as _general_ knowledge. This alone will fit a youth\n_for the world_. In a less stirring time, it may be well enough to delay\nin particularities, and to trifle over minuti\u00e6; but the world will not\nstand still for us, and, unless we are up to its requisitions, we shall\nfind ourselves thrown out of the contest. A man must have _something in\nhim_ now, to make his way; and the sooner we understand this, the better.\n\n\u201cIt mortified me, I confess, to hear from my son, that you did not try him\nin a greater number of subjects, in handling which he would probably have\nchanged your opinion of him. He has a good memory, and a great talent for\nhistory, ancient and modern, especially constitutional and parliamentary;\nanother favourite study with him is the philosophy of history. He has read\nPritchard\u2019s Physical History, Cardinal Wiseman\u2019s Lectures on Science,\nBacon\u2019s Advancement of Learning, Macaulay, and Hallam: I never met with a\nfaster reader. I have let him attend, in England, some of the most\ntalented lecturers in chemistry, geology, and comparative anatomy, and he\nsees the Quarterly Reviews and the best Magazines, as a matter of course.\nYet on these matters not a word of examination!\n\n\u201cI have forgotten to mention, he has a very pretty idea of poetical\ncomposition: I enclose a fragment which I have found on his table, as well\nas one of his prose Essays.\n\n\u201cAllow me, as a warm friend of your undertaking, to suggest, that the\n_substance_ of knowledge is far more valuable than its _technicalities_;\nand that the vigour of the youthful mind is but _wasted_ on _barren_\nlearning, and its ardour is _quenched_ in _dry_ disquisition.\n\n\u201cI have the honour to be, etc.\u201d\n\nOn the receipt of this letter, Mr. White will find, to his\ndissatisfaction, that he has not advanced one hair\u2019s breadth in bringing\nhome to Mr. Brown\u2019s father the real state of the case, and has done no\nmore than present himself as a mark for certain commonplaces, very true,\nbut very inappropriate to the matter in hand. Filled with this\ndisappointing thought, for a while he will not inspect the enclosures of\nMr. Brown\u2019s letter, being his son\u2019s attempts at composition. At length he\nopens them, and reads as follows:\n\n_Mr. Brown\u2019s poetry_.\n\nTHE TAKING OF SEBASTOPOL.(40)\n\nOh, might I flee to Araby the blest,\nThe world forgetting, but its gifts possessed,\nWhere fair-eyed peace holds sway from shore to shore,\nAnd war\u2019s shrill clarion frights the air no more.\n\nHeard ye the cloud-compelling blast(41) awake\nThe slumbers of the inhospitable lake?(42)\nSaw ye the banner in its pride unfold\nThe blush of crimson and the blaze of gold?\n\nRaglan and St. Arnaud, in high command,\nHave steamed from old Byzantium\u2019s hoary strand;\nThe famed Cyanean rocks presaged their fight,\nTwin giants, with the astonished Muscovite.\n\nSo the loved maid, in Syria\u2019s balmy noon,\nForebodes the coming of the hot simoon,\nAnd sighs.\u2026\nAnd longs.\u2026\nAnd dimly traces.\u2026\n\n                                * * * * *\n\n_Mr. Brown\u2019s prose._\n\n\u201cFORTES FORTUNA ADJUVAT.\u201d\n\n\u201cOf all the uncertain and capricious powers which rule our earthly\ndestiny, fortune is the chief. Who has not heard of the poor being raised\nup, and the rich being laid low? Alexander the Great said he envied\nDiogenes in his tub, because Diogenes could have nothing less. We need not\ngo far for an instance of fortune. Who was so great as Nicholas, the Czar\nof all the Russias, a year ago, and now he is \u2018fallen, fallen from his\nhigh estate, without a friend to grace his obsequies.\u2019(43) The Turks are\nthe finest specimen of the human race, yet they, too, have experienced the\nvicissitudes of fortune. Horace says that we should wrap ourselves in our\nvirtue, when fortune changes. Napoleon, too, shows us how little we can\nrely on fortune; but his faults, great as they were, are being redeemed by\nhis nephew, Louis Napoleon, who has shown himself very different from what\nwe expected, though he has never explained how he came to swear to the\nConstitution, and then mounted the imperial throne.\n\n\u201cFrom all this it appears, that we should rely on fortune only while it\nremains,\u2014recollecting the words of the thesis, \u2018Fortes fortuna adjuvat;\u2019\nand that, above all, we should ever cultivate those virtues which will\nnever fail us, and which are a sure basis of respectability, and will\nprofit us here and hereafter.\u201d\n\n                                * * * * *\n\nOn reading these compositions over, Mr. White will take to musing; then he\nwill reflect that he may as well spare himself the trouble of arguing with\na correspondent, whose principle and standard of judgment is so different\nfrom his own; and so he will write a civil letter back to Mr. Brown,\nenclosing the two papers.\n\n\n3.\n\n\nMr. Brown, however, has not the resignation of Mr. White; and, on his\nDublin friend, Mr. Black, paying him a visit, he will open his mind to\nhim; and I am going to tell the reader all that will pass between the two.\n\nMr. Black is a man of education and of judgment. He knows the difference\nbetween show and substance; he is penetrated with the conviction that Rome\nwas not built in a day, that buildings will not stand without foundations,\nand that, if boys are to be taught well, they must be taught slowly, and\nstep by step. Moreover, he thinks in his secret heart that his own son\nHarry, whose acquaintance we have already formed, is worth a dozen young\nBrowns. To him, then, not quite an impartial judge, Mr. Brown unbosoms his\ndissatisfaction, presenting to him his son\u2019s Theme as an _experimentum\ncrucis_ between him and Mr. White. Mr. Black reads it through once, and\nthen a second time; and then he observes\u2014\n\n\u201cWell, it is only the sort of thing which any boy would write, neither\nbetter nor worse. I speak candidly.\u201d\n\nOn Mr. Brown expressing disappointment, inasmuch as the said Theme is\n_not_ the sort of thing which any boy could write, Mr. Black continues\u2014\n\n\u201cThere\u2019s not one word of it upon the thesis; but all boys write in this\nway.\u201d\n\nMr. Brown directs his friend\u2019s attention to the knowledge of ancient\nhistory which the composition displays, of Alexander and Diogenes; of the\nhistory of Napoleon; to the evident interest which the young author takes\nin contemporary history, and his prompt application of passing events to\nhis purpose; moreover, to the apposite quotation from Dryden, and the\nreference to Horace;\u2014all proofs of a sharp wit and a literary mind.\n\nBut Mr. Black is more relentlessly critical than the occasion needs, and\nmore pertinacious than any father can comfortably bear. He proceeds to\nbreak the butterfly on the wheel in the following oration:\u2014\n\n\u201cNow look here,\u201d he says, \u201cthe subject is \u2018Fortes fortuna adjuvat\u2019; now\nthis is a _proposition_; it states a certain general principle, and this\nis just what an ordinary boy would be sure to miss, and Robert does miss\nit. He goes off at once on the word \u2018fortuna.\u2019 \u2018Fortuna\u2019 was not his\nsubject; the thesis was intended to _guide_ him, for his own good; he\nrefuses to be put into leading-strings; he breaks loose, and runs off in\nhis own fashion on the broad field and in wild chase of \u2018fortune,\u2019 instead\nof closing with a subject, which, as being definite, would have supported\nhim.\n\n\u201cIt would have been very cruel to have told a boy to write on \u2018fortune\u2019;\nit would have been like asking him his opinion \u2018of things in general.\u2019\nFortune is \u2018good,\u2019 \u2018bad,\u2019 \u2018capricious,\u2019 \u2018unexpected,\u2019 ten thousand things\nall at once (you see them all in the Gradus), and one of them as much as\nthe other. Ten thousand things may be said of it: give me _one_ of them,\nand I will write upon it; I cannot write on more than one; Robert prefers\nto write upon all.\n\n\u201c \u2018Fortune favours the bold;\u2019 here is a very definite subject: take hold\nof it, and it will steady and lead you on: you will know in what direction\nto look. Not one boy in a hundred does avail himself of this assistance;\nyour boy is not solitary in his inaccuracy; all boys are more or less\ninaccurate, _because_ they are boys; boyishness of mind means inaccuracy.\nBoys cannot deliver a message, or execute an order, or relate an\noccurrence, without a blunder. They do not rouse up their attention and\nreflect: they do not like the trouble of it: they cannot look at anything\nsteadily; and, when they attempt to write, off they go in a rigmarole of\nwords, which does them no good, and never would, though they scribbled\nthemes till they wrote their fingers off.\n\n\u201cA really clever youth, especially as his mind opens, is impatient of this\ndefect of mind, even though, as being a youth, he be partially under its\ninfluence. He shrinks from a vague subject, as spontaneously as a slovenly\nmind takes to it; and he will often show at disadvantage, and seem\nignorant and stupid, from seeing more and knowing more, and having a\nclearer perception of things than another has. I recollect once hearing\nsuch a young man, in the course of an examination, asked very absurdly\nwhat \u2018his opinion\u2019 was of Lord Chatham. Well, this was like asking him his\nview of \u2018things in general.\u2019 The poor youth stuck, and looked like a fool,\nthough it was not _he_. The examiner, blind to his own absurdity, went on\nto ask him \u2018what were the characteristics of English history.\u2019 Another\nsilence, and the poor fellow seemed to lookers-on to be done for, when his\nonly fault was that he had better sense than his interrogator.\n\n\u201cWhen I hear such questions put, I admire the tact of the worthy Milnwood\nin _Old Mortality_, when in a similar predicament. Sergeant Bothwell broke\ninto his house and dining-room in the king\u2019s name, and asked him what he\nthought of the murder of the Archbishop of St. Andrew\u2019s; the old man was\nfar too prudent to hazard any opinion of his own, even on a precept of the\nDecalogue, when a trooper called for it; so he glanced his eye down the\nRoyal Proclamation in the Sergeant\u2019s hand, and appropriated its sentiments\nas an answer to the question before him. Thereby he was enabled to\npronounce the said assassination to be \u2018savage,\u2019 \u2018treacherous,\u2019\n\u2018diabolical,\u2019 and \u2018contrary to the king\u2019s peace and the security of the\nsubject;\u2019 to the edification of all present, and the satisfaction of the\nmilitary inquisitor. It was in some such way my young friend got off. His\nguardian angel reminded him in a whisper that Mr. Grey, his examiner, had\nhimself written a book on Lord Chatham and his times. This set him up at\nonce; he drew boldly on his knowledge of his man for the political views\nadvanced in it; was at no loss for definite propositions to suit his\npurpose; recovered his ground, and came off triumphantly.\u201d\n\nHere Mr. Black stops; and Mr. Brown takes advantage of the pause to\ninsinuate that Mr. Black is not himself a disciple of his own philosophy,\nhaving travelled some way from his subject;\u2014his friend stands corrected,\nand retraces his steps.\n\n\u201cThe thesis,\u201d he begins again, \u201cis \u2018Fortune favours the brave;\u2019 Robert has\ngone off with the nominative without waiting for verb and accusative. He\nmight as easily have gone off upon \u2018brave,\u2019 or upon \u2018favour,\u2019 except that\n\u2018fortune\u2019 comes first. He does not merely ramble from his subject, but he\nstarts from a false point. Nothing could go right after this beginning,\nfor having never gone _off_ his subject (as I did off mine), he never\ncould come back to it. However, at least he might have kept to some\nsubject or other; he might have shown some exactness or consecutiveness in\ndetail; but just the contrary;\u2014observe. He begins by calling fortune \u2018a\npower\u2019; let that pass. Next, it is one of the powers \u2018which rule our\nearthly destiny,\u2019 that is, _fortune_ rules _destiny_. Why, where there is\nfortune, there is no destiny; where there is destiny, there is no fortune.\nNext, after stating generally that fortune raises or depresses, he\nproceeds to exemplify: there\u2019s Alexander, for instance, and\nDiogenes,\u2014instances, that is, of what fortune did _not_ do, for they died,\nas they lived, in their respective states of life. Then comes the Emperor\nNicholas _hic et nunc_; with the Turks on the other hand, place and time\nand case not stated. Then examples are dropped, and we are turned over to\npoetry, and what we ought to do, according to Horace, when fortune\nchanges. Next, we are brought back to our examples, in order to commence a\nseries of rambles, beginning with Napoleon the First. _Apropos_ of\nNapoleon the First comes in Napoleon the Third; this leads us to observe\nthat the latter has acted \u2018very differently from what we expected;\u2019 and\nthis again to the further remark, that no explanation has yet been given\nof his getting rid of the Constitution. He then ends by boldly quoting the\nthesis, in proof that we may rely on fortune, when we cannot help it; and\nby giving us advice, sound, but unexpected, to cultivate virtue.\u201d\n\n\u201cO! Black, it is quite ludicrous\u201d \u2026 breaks in Mr. Brown;\u2014this Mr. Brown\nmust be a very good-tempered man, or he would not bear so much:\u2014this is my\nremark, not Mr. Black\u2019s, who will not be interrupted, but only raises his\nvoice: \u201cNow, I know how this Theme was written,\u201d he says, \u201cfirst one\nsentence, and then your boy sat thinking, and devouring the end of his\npen; presently down went the second, and so on. The rule is, first think,\nand then write: don\u2019t write when you have nothing to say; or, if you do,\nyou will make a mess of it. A thoughtful youth may deliver himself\nclumsily, he may set down little; but depend upon it, his half sentences\nwill be worth more than the folio sheet of another boy, and an experienced\nexaminer will see it.\n\n\u201cNow, I will prophesy one thing of Robert, unless this fault is knocked\nout of him,\u201d continues merciless Mr. Black. \u201cWhen he grows up, and has to\nmake a speech, or write a letter for the papers, he will look out for\nflowers, full-blown flowers, figures, smart expressions, trite quotations,\nhackneyed beginnings and endings, pompous circumlocutions, and so on: but\nthe meaning, the sense, the solid sense, the foundation, you may hunt the\nslipper long enough before you catch it.\u201d\n\n\u201cWell,\u201d says Mr. Brown, a little chafed, \u201cyou are a great deal worse than\nMr. White; you have missed your vocation: you ought to have been a\nschoolmaster.\u201d Yet he goes home somewhat struck by what his friend has\nsaid, and turns it in his mind for some time to come, when he gets there.\nHe is a sensible man at bottom, as well as good-tempered, this Mr. Brown.\n\n\n\n                                   \u00a7 3.\n\n\nLatin Writing.\n\n\n1.\n\n\nMr. White, the Tutor, is more and more pleased with young Mr. Black; and,\nwhen the latter asks him for some hints for writing Latin, Mr. White takes\nhim into his confidence and lends him a number of his own papers. Among\nothers he puts the following into Mr. Black\u2019s hands.\n\n_Mr. White\u2019s view of Latin translation._\n\n\u201cThere are four requisites of good Composition,\u2014correctness of vocabulary,\nor diction, syntax, idiom, and elegance. Of these, the two first need no\nexplanation, and are likely to be displayed by every candidate. The last\nis desirable indeed, but not essential. The point which requires especial\nattention is _idiomatic propriety_.\n\n\u201cBy _idiom_ is meant that _use_ of words which is peculiar to a particular\nlanguage. Two nations may have corresponding words for the same ideas, yet\ndiffer altogether in their _mode of using_ those words. For instance, \u2018et\u2019\n_means_ \u2018and,\u2019 yet it does not always admit of being used in Latin, where\n\u2018and\u2019 is used in English. \u2018Faire\u2019 may be French for \u2018do\u2019; yet in a\nparticular phrase, for \u2018How do you _do_?\u2019 \u2018faire\u2019 is not _used_, but \u2018se\nporter,\u2019 _viz._, \u2018Comment vous _portez-vous_?\u2019 An Englishman or a\nFrenchman would be almost unintelligible and altogether ridiculous to each\nother, who used the French or English _words_, with the idioms or\n_peculiar uses_ of his own language. Hence, the most complete and exact\nacquaintance with dictionary and grammar will utterly fail to teach a\nstudent to write or compose. Something more is wanted, _viz._, the\nknowledge of the _use_ of words and constructions, or the knowledge of\n_idiom_.\n\n\u201cTake the following English of a modern writer:\n\n\u201c \u2018This is a serious consideration:\u2014Among men, as among wild beasts, the\ntaste of blood creates the appetite for it, and the appetite for it is\nstrengthened by indulgence.\u2019\n\n\u201cTranslate it word for word literally into Latin, thus:\u2014\n\n\u201c \u2018H\u00e6c est seria consideratio. Inter homines, ut inter feras, gustus\nsanguinis creat ejus appetitum, et ejus appetitus indulgenti\u00e2 roboratur.\u2019\n\n\u201cPurer Latin, as far as _diction_ is concerned, more correct, as far as\n_syntax_, cannot be desired. Every word is classical, every construction\ngrammatical: yet Latinity it simply has none. From beginning to end it\nfollows the English _mode_ of speaking, or English idiom, not the Latin.\n\n\u201cIn proportion, then, as a candidate advances from this Anglicism into\nLatinity, so far does he write good Latin.\n\n\u201cWe might make the following remarks upon the above literal version.\n\n\u201c1. \u2018Consideratio\u2019 is not \u2018_a_ consideration;\u2019 the Latins, having no\narticle, are driven to expedients to supply its place, _e.g._, _quidam_ is\nsometimes used for _a_.\n\n\u201c2. \u2018Consideratio\u2019 is not \u2018a consideration,\u2019 _i.e._, a _thing_ considered,\nor a subject; but the _act_ of considering.\n\n\u201c3. It must never be forgotten, that such words as \u2018consideratio\u2019 are\ngenerally metaphorical, and therefore cannot be used _simply_, and without\nlimitation or explanation, in the English sense, according to which the\n_mental_ act is primarily conveyed by the word. \u2018Consideratio,\u2019 it is\ntrue, can be used absolutely, with greater propriety than most words of\nthe kind; but if we take a parallel case, for instance, \u2018agitatio,\u2019 we\ncould not use it at once in the mental sense for \u2018agitation,\u2019 but we\nshould be obliged to say \u2018agitatio _mentis_, _animi_,\u2019 etc., though even\nthen it would not answer to \u2018agitation.\u2019\n\n\u201c4. \u2018Inter homines, gustus,\u2019 etc. Here the English, as is not uncommon,\nthrows two ideas together. It means, first, that something _occurs_ among\nmen, and _occurs_ among wild beasts, and that it is the same thing which\noccurs among both; and secondly that this something is, that the taste of\nblood has a certain particular effect. In other words, it means, (1)\n\u2018_this_ occurs among beasts and men,\u2019 (2) _viz._, that the \u2018taste of\nblood,\u2019 etc. Therefore, \u2018inter homines, etc., gustus creat, etc.,\u2019 does\nnot express the English _meaning_, it only translates its _expression_.\n\n\u201c5. \u2018Inter homines\u2019 is not the Latin phrase for \u2018among.\u2019 \u2018Inter\u2019 generally\ninvolves some sense of _division_, _viz._, interruption, contrast,\nrivalry, etc. Thus, with a singular noun, \u2018inter c\u0153nam hoc accidit,\u2019\n_i.e._, this _interrupted_ the supper. And so with two nouns, \u2018inter me et\nBrundusium C\u00e6sar est.\u2019 And so with a plural noun, \u2018hoc _inter homines_\nambigitur,\u2019 _i.e._, man with man. \u2018Micat _inter omnes_ Julium sidus,\u2019\n_i.e._, in the rivalry of star against star. \u2018Inter tot annos unus (vir)\ninventus est,\u2019 _i.e._, though all those years, one by one, put in their\nclaim, yet only one of them can produce a man, etc. \u2018Inter se diligunt,\u2019\nthey love each other. On the contrary, the Latin word for \u2018among,\u2019 simply\nunderstood, is \u2018in.\u2019\n\n\u201c6. As a general rule, indicatives active followed by accusatives, are\nforeign to the main structure of a Latin sentence.\n\n\u201c7. \u2018Et;\u2019 here two clauses are _connected_, having _different_ subjects or\nnominatives; in the former \u2018appetitus\u2019 is in the nominative, and in the\nlatter in the accusative. It is usual in Latin to carry on the _same_\nsubject, in _connected_ clauses.\n\n\u201c8. \u2018Et\u2019 here connects two _distinct_ clauses. \u2018Autem\u2019 is more common.\n\n\u201cThese being some of the faults of the literal version, I transcribe the\ntranslations sent in to me by six of my pupils respectively, who, however\ndeficient in elegance of composition, and though more or less deficient in\nhitting the Latin idiom, yet evidently know what idiom is.\n\n\u201cThe first wrote:\u2014Videte rem graviorem; quod feris, id hominibus quoque\naccidit,\u2014sanguinis sitim semel gustantibus intus concipi, plen\u00e8 potantibus\nmaturari.\n\n\u201cThe second wrote:\u2014Res seria agitur; nam quod in feris, illud in hominibus\nquoque cernitur, sanguinis appetitionem et suscitari lambendo et epulando\ninflammari.\n\n\u201cThe third:\u2014Ecce res summ\u00e2 consideratione digna; et in feris et in\nhominibus, sanguinis semel delibati sitis est, s\u00e6pius hausti libido.\n\n\u201cThe fourth:\u2014Sollicit\u00e8 animadvertendum est, cum in feris tum in hominibus\nfieri, ut gutt\u00e6 pariant appetitum sanguinis, frequentiores potus\ningluviem.\n\n\u201cAnd the fifth:\u2014Perpende sedulo, gustum sanguinis tam in hominibus quam in\nferis prim\u00e6 appetitionem sui tandem cupidinem inferre.\n\n\u201cAnd the sixth:\u2014Hoc grave est, quod hominibus cum feris videmus commune,\ngustasse est appetere sanguinem, hausisse in deliciis habere.\u201d\n\nMr. Black, junr., studies this paper, and considers that he has gained\nsomething from it. Accordingly, when he sees his father, he mentions to\nhim Mr. White, his kindness, his papers, and especially the above, of\nwhich he has taken a copy. His father begs to see it; and, being a bit of\na critic, forthwith delivers his judgment on it, and condescends to praise\nit; but he says that it fails in this, _viz._, in overlooking the subject\nof _structure_. He maintains that the turning-point of good or bad\nLatinity is, not idiom, as Mr. White says, but structure. Then Mr. Black,\nthe father, is led on to speak of himself, and of his youthful studies;\nand he ends by giving Harry a history of his own search after the knack of\nwriting Latin. I do not see quite how this is to the point of Mr. White\u2019s\npaper, which cannot be said to contradict Mr. Black\u2019s narrative; but for\nthis very reason, I may consistently quote it, for from a different point\nof view it may throw light on the subject treated in common by both these\nliterary authorities.\n\n\n2.\n\n\n_Old Mr. Black\u2019s Confession of his search after a Latin style._\n\n\u201cThe attempts and the failures and the successes of those who have gone\nbefore, my dear son, are the direction-posts of those who come after; and,\nas I am only speaking to you, it strikes me that I may, without egotism or\nostentation, suggest views or cautions, which might indeed be useful to\nthe University Student generally, by a relation of some of my own\nendeavours to improve my own mind, and to increase my own knowledge in my\nearly life. I am no great admirer of self-taught geniuses; to be\nself-taught is a misfortune, except in the case of those extraordinary\nminds, to whom the title of genius justly belongs; for in most cases, to\nbe self-taught is to be badly grounded, to be slovenly finished, and to be\npreposterously conceited. Nor, again, was that misfortune I speak of\nreally mine; but I have been left at times just so much to myself, as to\nmake it possible for young students to gain hints from the history of my\nmind, which will be useful to themselves. And now for my subject.\n\n\u201cAt school I was reckoned a sharp boy; I ran through its classes rapidly;\nand by the time I was fifteen, my masters had nothing more to teach me,\nand did not know what to do with me. I might have gone to a public school,\nor to a private tutor for three or four years; but there were reasons\nagainst either plan, and at the unusual age I speak of, with some inexact\nacquaintance with Homer, Sophocles, Herodotus, and Xenophon, Horace,\nVirgil, and Cicero, I was matriculated at the University. I had from a\nchild been very fond of composition, verse and prose, English and Latin,\nand took especial interest in the subject of style; and one of the wishes\nnearest my heart was to write Latin well. I had some idea of the style of\nAddison, Hume, and Johnson, in English; but I had no idea what was meant\nby good Latin style. I had read Cicero without learning what it was; the\nbooks said, \u2018This is neat Ciceronian language,\u2019 \u2018this is pure and elegant\nLatinity,\u2019 but they did not tell me why. Some persons told me to go by my\near; to get Cicero by heart; and then I should know how to turn my\nthoughts and marshal my words, nay, more, where to put subjunctive moods\nand where to put indicative. In consequence I had a vague, unsatisfied\nfeeling on the subject, and kept grasping shadows, and had upon me\nsomething of the unpleasant sensation of a bad dream.\n\n\u201cWhen I was sixteen, I fell upon an article in the _Quarterly_, which\nreviewed a Latin history of (I think) the Rebellion of 1715; perhaps by\nDr. Whitaker. Years afterwards I learned that the critique was the writing\nof a celebrated Oxford scholar; but at the time, it was the subject\nitself, not the writer, that took hold of me. I read it carefully, and\nmade extracts which, I believe, I have to this day. Had I known more of\nLatin writing, it would have been of real use to me; but as it was\nconcerned of necessity in verbal criticisms, it did but lead me deeper\ninto the mistake to which I had already been introduced,\u2014that Latinity\nconsisted in using good phrases. Accordingly I began noting down, and\nusing in my exercises, idiomatic or peculiar expressions: such as \u2018oleum\nperdidi,\u2019 \u2018haud scio an non,\u2019 \u2018cogitanti mihi,\u2019 \u2018verum enimvero,\u2019\n\u2018equidem,\u2019 \u2018dixerim,\u2019 and the like; and I made a great point of putting\nthe verb at the end of the sentence. What took me in the same direction\nwas Dumesnil\u2019s Synonymes, a good book, but one which does not even profess\nto teach Latin writing. I was aiming to be an architect by learning to\nmake bricks.\n\n\u201cThen I fell in with the _Germania_ and _Agricola_ of Tacitus, and was\nvery much taken by his style. Its peculiarities were much easier to\nunderstand, and to copy, than Cicero\u2019s: \u2018decipit exemplar vitiis\nimitabile;\u2019 and thus, without any advance whatever in understanding the\ngenius of the language, or the construction of a Latin sentence, I added\nto my fine words and cut-and-dried idioms, phrases smacking of Tacitus.\nThe Dialogues of Erasmus, which I studied, carried me in the same\ndirection; for dialogues, from the nature of the case, consist of words\nand clauses, and smart, pregnant, or colloquial expressions, rather than\nof sentences with an adequate structure.\u201d\n\nMr. Black takes breath, and then continues:\n\n\u201cThe labour, then, of years came to nothing, and when I was twenty I knew\nno more of Latin composition than I had known at fifteen. It was then that\ncircumstances turned my attention to a volume of Latin Lectures, which had\nbeen published by the accomplished scholar of whose critique in the\n_Quarterly Review_ I have already spoken. The Lectures in question had\nbeen delivered terminally while he held the Professorship of Poetry, and\nwere afterwards collected into a volume; and various circumstances\ncombined to give them a peculiar character. Delivered one by one at\nintervals, to a large, cultivated, and critical audience, they both\ndemanded and admitted of special elaboration of the style. As coming from\na person of his high reputation for Latinity, they were displays of art;\nand, as addressed to persons who had to follow _ex tempore_ the course of\na discussion delivered in a foreign tongue, they needed a style as neat,\npointed, lucid, and perspicuous as it was ornamental. Moreover, as\nexpressing modern ideas in an ancient language, they involved a new\ndevelopment and application of its powers. The result of these united\nconditions was a style less simple, less natural and fresh, than Cicero\u2019s;\nmore studied, more ambitious, more sparkling; heaping together in a page\nthe flowers which Cicero scatters over a treatise; but still on that very\naccount more fitted for the purpose of inflicting upon the inquiring\nstudent what Latinity was. Any how, such was its effect upon me; it was\nlike the \u2018Open Sesame\u2019 of the tale; and I quickly found that I had a new\nsense, as regards composition, that I understood beyond mistake what a\nLatin sentence should be, and saw how an English sentence must be fused\nand remoulded in order to make it Latin. Henceforth Cicero, as an artist,\nhad a meaning, when I read him, which he never had had to me before; the\nbad dream of seeking and never finding was over; and, whether I ever wrote\nLatin or not, at least I knew what good Latin was.\n\n\u201cI had now learned that good Latinity lies in structure; that every word\nof a sentence may be Latin, yet the whole sentence remain English; and\nthat dictionaries do not teach composition. Exulting in my discovery, I\nnext proceeded to analyze and to throw into the shape of science that idea\nof Latinity to which I had attained. Rules and remarks, such as are\ncontained in works on composition, had not led me to master the idea; and\nnow that I really had gained it, it led me to form from it rules and\nremarks for myself. I could now turn Cicero to account, and I proceeded to\nmake his writings the materials of an induction, from which I drew out and\nthrew into form what I have called a science of Latinity,\u2014with its\nprinciples and peculiarities, their connection and their consequences,\u2014or\nat least considerable specimens of such a science, the like of which I\nhave not happened to see in print. Considering, however, how much has been\ndone for scholarship since the time I speak of, and especially how many\nGerman books have been translated, I doubt not I should now find my own\npoor investigations and discoveries anticipated and superseded by works\nwhich are in the hands of every school-boy. At the same time, I am quite\nsure that I gained a very great deal in the way of precision of thought,\ndelicacy of judgment, and refinement of taste, by the processes of\ninduction to which I am referring. I kept blank books, in which every\npeculiarity in every sentence of Cicero was minutely noted down, as I went\non reading. The force of words, their combination into phrases, their\ncollocation\u2014the carrying on of one subject or nominative through a\nsentence, the breaking up of a sentence into clauses, the evasion of its\ncategorical form, the resolution of abstract nouns into verbs and\nparticiples;\u2014what is possible in Latin composition and what is not, how to\ncompensate for want of brevity by elegance, and to secure perspicuity by\nthe use of figures, these, and a hundred similar points of art, I\nillustrated with a diligence which even bordered on subtlety. Cicero\nbecame a mere magazine of instances, and the main use of the river was to\nfeed the canal. I am unable to say whether these elaborate inductions\nwould profit any one else, but I have a vivid recollection of the great\nutility they were at that time to my own mind.\n\n\u201cThe general subject of Latin composition, my dear son, has ever\ninterested me much, and you see only one point in it has made me speak for\na quarter of an hour; but now that I have had my say about it, what is its\nupshot? The great moral I would impress upon you is this, that in learning\nto write Latin, as in all learning, you must not trust to books, but only\nmake use of them; not hang like a dead weight upon your teacher, but catch\nsome of his life; handle what is given you, not as a formula, but as a\npattern to copy and as a capital to improve; throw your heart and mind\ninto what you are about, and thus unite the separate advantages of being\ntutored and of being self-taught,\u2014self-taught, yet without oddities, and\ntutorized, yet without conventionalities.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhy, my dear father,\u201d says young Mr. Black, \u201cyou speak like a book. You\nmust let me ask you to write down for me what you have been giving out in\nconversation.\u201d\n\n_I_ have had the advantage of the written copy.\n\n\n\n                                   \u00a7 4.\n\n\nGeneral Religious Knowledge.\n\n\n1.\n\n\nIt has been the custom in the English Universities to introduce religious\ninstruction into the School of Arts; and a very right custom it is, which\nevery University may well imitate. I have certainly felt it ought to have\na place in that School; yet the subject is not without its difficulty, and\nI intend to say a few words upon it here. That place, if it has one,\nshould of course be determined on some intelligible principle, which,\nwhile it justifies the introduction of Religion into a secular Faculty,\nwill preserve it from becoming an intrusion, by fixing the conditions\nunder which it is to be admitted. There are many who would make over the\nsubject of Religion to the theologian exclusively; there are others who\nallow it almost unlimited extension in the province of Letters. The latter\nof these two classes, if not large, at least is serious and earnest; it\nseems to consider that the Classics should be superseded by the Scriptures\nand the Fathers, and that Theology proper should be taught to the youthful\naspirant for University honours. I am not here concerned with opinions of\nthis character, which I respect, but cannot follow. Nor am I concerned\nwith that large class, on the other hand, who, in their exclusion of\nReligion from the lecture-rooms of Philosophy and Letters (or of Arts, as\nit used to be called), are actuated by scepticism or indifference; but\nthere are other persons, much to be consulted, who arrive at the same\npractical conclusion as the sceptic and unbeliever, from real reverence\nand pure zeal for the interests of Theology, which they consider sure to\nsuffer from the superficial treatment of lay-professors, and the\nsuperficial reception of young minds, as soon as, and in whatever degree,\nit is associated with classical, philosophical, and historical\nstudies;\u2014and as very many persons of great consideration seem to be of\nthis opinion, I will set down the reasons why I follow the English\ntradition instead, and in what sense I follow it.\n\nI might appeal, I conceive, to authority in my favour, but I pass it over,\nbecause mere authority, however sufficient for my own guidance, is not\nsufficient for the definite direction of those who have to carry out the\nmatter of it in practice.\n\n\n2.\n\n\nIn the first place, then, it is congruous certainly that youths who are\nprepared in a Catholic University for the general duties of a secular\nlife, or for the secular professions, should not leave it without some\nknowledge of their religion; and, on the other hand, it does, in matter of\nfact, act to the disadvantage of a Christian place of education, in the\nworld and in the judgment of men of the world, and is a reproach to its\nconductors, and even a scandal, if it sends out its pupils accomplished in\nall knowledge except Christian knowledge; and hence, even though it were\nimpossible to rest the introduction of religious teaching into the secular\nlecture-room upon any logical principle, the imperative necessity of its\nintroduction would remain, and the only question would be, what matter was\nto be introduced, and how much.\n\nAnd next, considering that, as the mind is enlarged and cultivated\ngenerally, it is capable, or rather is desirous and has need, of fuller\nreligious information, it is difficult to maintain that that knowledge of\nChristianity which is sufficient for entrance at the University is all\nthat is incumbent on students who have been submitted to the academical\ncourse. So that we are unavoidably led on to the further question, viz.,\nshall we sharpen and refine the youthful intellect, and then leave it to\nexercise its new powers upon the most sacred of subjects, as it will, and\nwith the chance of its exercising them wrongly; or shall we proceed to\nfeed it with divine truth, as it gains an appetite for knowledge?\n\nReligious teaching, then, is urged upon us in the case of University\nstudents, first, by its evident propriety; secondly, by the force of\npublic opinion; thirdly, from the great inconveniences of neglecting it.\nAnd, if the subject of Religion is to have a real place in their course of\nstudy, it must enter into the examinations in which that course results;\nfor nothing will be found to impress and occupy their minds but such\nmatters as they have to present to their Examiners.\n\nSuch, then, are the considerations which actually oblige us to introduce\nthe subject of Religion into our secular schools, whether it be logical or\nnot to do so; but next, I think that we can do so without any sacrifice of\nprinciple or of consistency; and this, I trust, will appear, if I proceed\nto explain the mode which I should propose to adopt for the purpose:\u2014\n\nI would treat the subject of Religion in the School of Philosophy and\nLetters simply as a branch of knowledge. If the University student is\nbound to have a knowledge of History generally, he is bound to have\ninclusively a knowledge of sacred history as well as profane; if he ought\nto be well instructed in Ancient Literature, Biblical Literature comes\nunder that general description as well as Classical; if he knows the\nPhilosophy of men, he will not be extravagating from his general subject,\nif he cultivate also that Philosophy which is divine. And as a student is\nnot necessarily superficial, though he has not studied all the classical\npoets, or all Aristotle\u2019s philosophy, so he need not be dangerously\nsuperficial, if he has but a parallel knowledge of Religion.\n\n\n3.\n\n\nHowever, it may be said that the risk of theological error is so serious,\nand the effects of theological conceit are so mischievous, that it is\nbetter for a youth to know nothing of the sacred subject, than to have a\nslender knowledge which he can use freely and recklessly, for the very\nreason that it is slender. And here we have the maxim in corroboration: \u201cA\nlittle learning is a dangerous thing.\u201d\n\nThis objection is of too anxious a character to be disregarded. I should\nanswer it thus:\u2014In the first place it is obvious to remark, that one great\nportion of the knowledge here advocated is, as I have just said,\nhistorical knowledge, which has little or nothing to do with doctrine. If\na Catholic youth mixes with educated Protestants of his own age, he will\nfind them conversant with the outlines and the characteristics of sacred\nand ecclesiastical history as well as profane: it is desirable that he\nshould be on a par with them, and able to keep up a conversation with\nthem. It is desirable, if he has left our University with honours or\nprizes, that he should know as well as they about the great primitive\ndivisions of Christianity, its polity, its luminaries, its acts, and its\nfortunes; its great eras, and its course down to this day. He should have\nsome idea of its propagation, and of the order in which the nations, which\nhave submitted to it, entered its pale; and of the list of its Fathers,\nand of its writers generally, and of the subjects of their works. He\nshould know who St. Justin Martyr was, and when he lived; what language\nSt. Ephraim wrote in; on what St. Chrysostom\u2019s literary fame is founded;\nwho was Celsus, or Ammonius, or Porphyry, or Ulphilas, or Symmachus, or\nTheodoric. Who were the Nestorians; what was the religion of the barbarian\nnations who took possession of the Roman Empire: who was Eutyches, or\nBerengarius, who the Albigenses. He should know something about the\nBenedictines, Dominicans, or Franciscans, about the Crusades, and the\nchief movers in them. He should be able to say what the Holy See has done\nfor learning and science; the place which these islands hold in the\nliterary history of the dark age; what part the Church had, and how her\nhighest interests fared, in the revival of letters; who Bessarion was, or\nXimenes, or William of Wykeham, or Cardinal Allen. I do not say that we\ncan insure all this knowledge in every accomplished student who goes from\nus, but at least we can admit such knowledge, we can encourage it, in our\nlecture-rooms and examination-halls.\n\nAnd so in like manner, as regards Biblical knowledge, it is desirable\nthat, while our students are encouraged to pursue the history of classical\nliterature, they should also be invited to acquaint themselves with some\ngeneral facts about the canon of Holy Scripture, its history, the Jewish\ncanon, St. Jerome, the Protestant Bible; again, about the languages of\nScripture, the contents of its separate books, their authors, and their\nversions. In all such knowledge I conceive no great harm can lie in being\nsuperficial.\n\nBut now as to Theology itself. To meet the apprehended danger, I would\nexclude the teaching _in extense_ of pure dogma from the secular schools,\nand content myself with enforcing such a broad knowledge of doctrinal\nsubjects as is contained in the catechisms of the Church, or the actual\nwritings of her laity. I would have students apply their minds to such\nreligious topics as laymen actually do treat, and are thought praiseworthy\nin treating. Certainly I admit that, when a lawyer or physician, or\nstatesman, or merchant, or soldier sets about discussing theological\npoints, he is likely to succeed as ill as an ecclesiastic who meddles with\nlaw, or medicine, or the exchange. But I am professing to contemplate\nChristian knowledge in what may be called its secular aspect, as it is\npractically useful in the intercourse of life and in general conversation;\nand I would encourage it so far as it bears upon the history, the\nliterature, and the philosophy of Christianity.\n\nIt is to be considered that our students are to go out into the world, and\na world not of professed Catholics, but of inveterate, often bitter,\ncommonly contemptuous, Protestants; nay, of Protestants who, so far as\nthey come from Protestant Universities and public schools, do know their\nown system, do know, in proportion to their general attainments, the\ndoctrines and arguments of Protestantism. I should desire, then, to\nencourage in our students an intelligent apprehension of the relations, as\nI may call them, between the Church and Society at large; for instance,\nthe difference between the Church and a religious sect; the respective\nprerogatives of the Church and the civil power; what the Church claims of\nnecessity, what it cannot dispense with, what it can; what it can grant,\nwhat it cannot. A Catholic hears the celibacy of the clergy discussed in\ngeneral society; is that usage a matter of faith, or is it not of faith?\nHe hears the Pope accused of interfering with the prerogatives of her\nMajesty, because he appoints an hierarchy. What is he to answer? What\nprinciple is to guide him in the remarks which he cannot escape from the\nnecessity of making? He fills a station of importance, and he is addressed\nby some friend who has political reasons for wishing to know what is the\ndifference between Canon and Civil Law, whether the Council of Trent has\nbeen received in France, whether a Priest cannot in certain cases absolve\nprospectively, what is meant by his _intention_, what by the _opus\noperatum_; whether, and in what sense, we consider Protestants to be\nheretics; whether any one can be saved without sacramental confession;\nwhether we deny the reality of natural virtue, or what worth we assign to\nit?\n\nQuestions may be multiplied without limit, which occur in conversation\nbetween friends, in social intercourse, or in the business of life, when\nno argument is needed, no subtle and delicate disquisition, but a few\ndirect words stating the fact, and when perhaps a few words may even\nhinder most serious inconveniences to the Catholic body. Half the\ncontroversies which go on in the world arise from ignorance of the facts\nof the case; half the prejudices against Catholicity lie in the\nmisinformation of the prejudiced parties. Candid persons are set right,\nand enemies silenced, by the mere statement of what it is that we believe.\nIt will not answer the purpose for a Catholic to say, \u201cI leave it to\ntheologians,\u201d \u201cI will ask my priest;\u201d but it will commonly give him a\ntriumph, as easy as it is complete, if he can then and there lay down the\nlaw. I say \u201clay down the law;\u201d for remarkable it is that even those who\nspeak against Catholicism like to hear about it, and will excuse its\nadvocate from alleging arguments if he can gratify their curiosity by\ngiving them information. Generally speaking, however, as I have said, what\nis given as information will really be an argument as well as information.\nI recollect, some twenty-five years ago, three friends of my own, as they\nthen were, clergymen of the Establishment, making a tour through Ireland.\nIn the West or South they had occasion to become pedestrians for the day;\nand they took a boy of thirteen to be their guide. They amused themselves\nwith putting questions to him on the subject of his religion; and one of\nthem confessed to me on his return that that poor child put them all to\nsilence. How? Not, of course, by any train of arguments, or refined\ntheological disquisition, but merely by knowing and understanding the\nanswers in his catechism.\n\n\n4.\n\n\nNor will argument itself be out of place in the hands of laymen mixing\nwith the world. As secular power, influence, or resources are never more\nsuitably placed than when they are in the hands of Catholics, so secular\nknowledge and secular gifts are then best employed when they minister to\nDivine Revelation. Theologians inculcate the matter, and determine the\ndetails of that Revelation; they view it from within; philosophers view it\nfrom without, and this external view may be called the Philosophy of\nReligion, and the office of delineating it externally is most gracefully\nperformed by laymen. In the first age laymen were most commonly the\nApologists. Such were Justin, Tatian, Athenagoras, Aristides, Hermias,\nMinucius Felix, Arnobius, and Lactantius. In like manner in this age some\nof the most prominent defences of the Church are from laymen: as De\nMaistre, Chateaubriand, Nicolas, Montalembert, and others. If laymen may\nwrite, lay students may read; they surely may read what their fathers may\nhave written. They might surely study other works too, ancient and modern,\nwritten whether by ecclesiastics or laymen, which, although they do\ncontain theology, nevertheless, in their structure and drift, are\npolemical. Such is Origen\u2019s great work against Celsus; and Tertullian\u2019s\nApology; such some of the controversial treatises of Eusebius and\nTheodoret; or St. Augustine\u2019s City of God; or the tract of Vincentius\nLirinensis. And I confess that I should not even object to portions of\nBellarmine\u2019s Controversies, or to the work of Suarez on laws, or to\nMelchior Canus\u2019s treatises on the Loci Theologici. On these questions in\ndetail, however,\u2014which are, I readily acknowledge, very delicate,\u2014opinions\nmay differ, even where the general principle is admitted; but, even if we\nconfine ourselves strictly to the Philosophy, that is, the external\ncontemplation, of Religion, we shall have a range of reading sufficiently\nwide, and as valuable in its practical application as it is liberal in its\ncharacter. In it will be included what are commonly called the Evidences;\nand what is a subject of special interest at this day, the Notes of the\nChurch.\n\n                                * * * * *\n\nBut I have said enough in general illustration of the rule which I am\nrecommending. One more remark I make, though it is implied in what I have\nbeen saying:\u2014Whatever students read in the province of Religion, they\nread, and would read from the very nature of the case, under the\nsuperintendence, and with the explanations, of those who are older and\nmore experienced than themselves.\n\n\n\n\n                                Lecture V.\n\n\nA Form Of Infidelity Of The Day.\n\n\n\n                                   \u00a7 1.\n\n\nIts Sentiments.\n\n\n1.\n\n\nThough it cannot be denied that at the present day, in consequence of the\nclose juxtaposition and intercourse of men of all religions, there is a\nconsiderable danger of the subtle, silent, unconscious perversion and\ncorruption of Catholic intellects, who as yet profess, and sincerely\nprofess, their submission to the authority of Revelation, still that\ndanger is far inferior to what it was in one portion of the middle ages.\nNay, contrasting the two periods together, we may even say, that in this\nvery point they differ, that, in the medieval, since Catholicism was then\nthe sole religion recognized in Christendom, unbelief necessarily made its\nadvances under the language and the guise of faith; whereas in the\npresent, when universal toleration prevails, and it is open to assail\nrevealed truth (whether Scripture or Tradition, the Fathers or the \u201cSense\nof the faithful\u201d), unbelief in consequence throws off the mask, and takes\nup a position over against us in citadels of its own, and confronts us in\nthe broad light and with a direct assault. And I have no hesitation in\nsaying (apart of course from moral and ecclesiastical considerations, and\nunder correction of the command and policy of the Church), that I prefer\nto live in an age when the fight is in the day, not in the twilight; and\nthink it a gain to be speared by a foe, rather than to be stabbed by a\nfriend.\n\nI do not, then, repine at all at the open development of unbelief in\nGermany, supposing unbelief is to be, or at its growing audacity in\nEngland; not as if I were satisfied with the state of things, considered\npositively, but because, in the unavoidable alternative of avowed unbelief\nand secret, my own personal leaning is in favour of the former. I hold\nthat unbelief is in some shape unavoidable in an age of intellect and in a\nworld like this, considering that faith requires an act of the will, and\npresupposes the due exercise of religious advantages. You may persist in\ncalling Europe Catholic, though it is not; you may enforce an outward\nacceptance of Catholic dogma, and an outward obedience to Catholic\nprecept; and your enactments may be, so far, not only pious in themselves,\nbut even merciful towards the teachers of false doctrine, as well as just\ntowards their victims; but this is all that you can do; you cannot bespeak\nconclusions which, in spite of yourselves, you are leaving free to the\nhuman will. There will be, I say, in spite of you, unbelief and immorality\nto the end of the world, and you must be prepared for immorality more\nodious, and unbelief more astute, more subtle, more bitter, and more\nresentful, in proportion as it is obliged to dissemble.\n\nIt is one great advantage of an age in which unbelief speaks out, that\nFaith can speak out too; that, if falsehood assails Truth, Truth can\nassail falsehood. In such an age it is possible to found a University more\nemphatically Catholic than could be set up in the middle age, because\nTruth can entrench itself carefully, and define its own profession\nseverely, and display its colours unequivocally, by occasion of that very\nunbelief which so shamelessly vaunts itself. And a kindred advantage to\nthis is the confidence which, in such an age, we can place in all who are\naround us, so that we need look for no foes but those who are in the\nenemy\u2019s camp.\n\n\n2.\n\n\nThe medieval schools were the _arena_ of as critical a struggle between\ntruth and error as Christianity has ever endured; and the philosophy which\nbears their name carried its supremacy by means of a succession of\nvictories in the cause of the Church. Scarcely had Universities risen into\npopularity, when they were found to be infected with the most subtle and\nfatal forms of unbelief; and the heresies of the East germinated in the\nWest of Europe and in Catholic lecture-rooms, with a mysterious vigour\nupon which history throws little light. The questions agitated were as\ndeep as any in theology; the being and essence of the Almighty were the\nmain subjects of the disputation, and Aristotle was introduced to the\necclesiastical youth as a teacher of Pantheism. Saracenic expositions of\nthe great philosopher were in vogue; and, when a fresh treatise was\nimported from Constantinople, the curious and impatient student threw\nhimself upon it, regardless of the Church\u2019s warnings, and reckless of the\neffect upon his own mind. The acutest intellects became sceptics and\nmisbelievers; and the head of the Holy Roman Empire, the C\u00e6sar Frederick\nthe Second, to say nothing of our miserable king John, had the reputation\nof meditating a profession of Mahometanism. It is said that, in the\ncommunity at large, men had a vague suspicion and mistrust of each other\u2019s\nbelief in Revelation. A secret society was discovered in the Universities\nof Lombardy, Tuscany, and France, organized for the propagation of infidel\nopinions; it was bound together by oaths, and sent its missionaries among\nthe people in the disguise of pedlars and vagrants.\n\nThe success of such efforts was attested in the south of France by the\ngreat extension of the Albigenses, and the prevalence of Manichean\ndoctrine. The University of Paris was obliged to limit the number of its\ndoctors in theology to as few as eight, from misgivings about the\northodoxy of its divines generally. The narrative of Simon of Tournay,\nstruck dead for crying out after lecture, \u201cAh! good Jesus, I could\ndisprove Thee, did I please, as easily as I have proved,\u201d whatever be its\nauthenticity, at least may be taken as a representation of the frightful\nperil to which Christianity was exposed. Amaury of Chartres was the author\nof a school of Pantheism, and has given his name to a sect; Abelard,\nRoscelin, Gilbert, and David de Dinant, Tanquelin, and Eon, and others who\nmight be named, show the extraordinary influence of anti-Catholic\ndoctrines on high and low. Ten ecclesiastics and several of the populace\nof Paris were condemned for maintaining that our Lord\u2019s reign was past,\nthat the Holy Ghost was to be incarnate, or for parallel heresies.\n\nFrederick the Second established a University at Naples with a view to the\npropagation of the infidelity which was so dear to him. It gave birth to\nthe great St. Thomas, the champion of revealed truth. So intimate was the\nintermixture, so close the grapple, between faith and unbelief. It was the\nconspiracy of traitors, it was a civil strife, of which the medieval seats\nof learning were the scene.\n\nIn this day, on the contrary, Truth and Error lie over against each other\nwith a valley between them, and David goes forward in the sight of all\nmen, and from his own camp, to engage with the Philistine. Such is the\nprovidential overruling of that principle of toleration, which was\nconceived in the spirit of unbelief, in order to the destruction of\nCatholicity. The sway of the Church is contracted; but she gains in\nintensity what she loses in extent. She has now a direct command and a\nreliable influence over her own institutions, which was wanting in the\nmiddle ages. A University is her possession in these times, as well as her\ncreation: nor has she the need, which once was so urgent, to expel\nheresies from her pale, which have now their own centres of attraction\nelsewhere, and spontaneously take their departure. Secular advantages no\nlonger present an inducement to hypocrisy, and her members in consequence\nhave the consolation of being able to be sure of each other. How much\nbetter is it, for us at least, whatever it may be for themselves (to take\na case before our eyes in Ireland), that those persons, who have left the\nChurch to become ministers in the Protestant Establishment, should be in\ntheir proper place, as they are, than that they should have perforce\ncontinued in her communion! I repeat it, I would rather fight with\nunbelief as we find it in the nineteenth century, than as it existed in\nthe twelfth and thirteenth.\n\n\n3.\n\n\nI look out, then, into the enemy\u2019s camp, and I try to trace the outlines\nof the hostile movements and the preparations for assault which are there\nin agitation against us. The arming and the man\u0153uvring, the earth-works\nand the mines, go on incessantly; and one cannot of course tell, without\nthe gift of prophecy, which of his projects will be carried into effect\nand attain its purpose, and which will eventually fail or be abandoned.\nThreatening demonstrations may come to nothing; and those who are to be\nour most formidable foes, may before the attack elude our observation. All\nthese uncertainties, we know, are the lot of the soldier in the field: and\nthey are parallel to those which befall the warriors of the Temple. Fully\nfeeling the force of such considerations, and under their correction,\nnevertheless I make my anticipations according to the signs of the times;\nand such must be my _proviso_, when I proceed to describe some\ncharacteristics of one particular form of infidelity, which is coming into\nexistence and activity over against us, in the intellectual citadels of\nEngland.\n\nIt must not be supposed that I attribute, what I am going to speak of as a\nform of infidelity of the day, to any given individual or individuals; nor\nis it necessary to my purpose to suppose that any one man as yet\nconsciously holds, or sees the drift, of that portion of the theory to\nwhich he has given assent. I am to describe a set of opinions which may be\nconsidered as the true explanation of many floating views, and the\nconverging point of a multitude of separate and independent minds; and, as\nof old Arius or Nestorius not only was spoken of in his own person, but\nwas viewed as the abstract and typical teacher of the heresy which he\nintroduced, and thus his name denoted a heretic more complete and\nexplicit, even though not more formal, than the heresiarch himself, so\nhere too, in like manner, I may be describing a school of thought in its\nfully developed proportions, which at present every one, to whom\nmembership with it is imputed, will at once begin to disown, and I may be\npointing to teachers whom no one will be able to descry. Still, it is not\nless true that I may be speaking of tendencies and elements which exist,\nand he may come in person at last, who comes at first to us merely in his\nspirit and in his power.\n\nThe teacher, then, whom I speak of, will discourse thus in his secret\nheart:\u2014He will begin, as many so far have done before him, by laying it\ndown as if a position which approves itself to the reason, immediately\nthat it is fairly examined,\u2014which is of so axiomatic a character as to\nhave a claim to be treated as a first principle, and is firm and steady\nenough to bear a large superstructure upon it,\u2014that Religion is not the\nsubject-matter of a science. \u201cYou may have opinions in religion, you may\nhave theories, you may have arguments, you may have probabilities; you may\nhave anything but demonstration, and therefore you cannot have science. In\nmechanics you advance from sure premisses to sure conclusions; in optics\nyou form your undeniable facts into system, arrive at general principles,\nand then again infallibly apply them: here you have Science. On the other\nhand, there is at present no real science of the weather, because you\ncannot get hold of facts and truths on which it depends; there is no\nscience of the coming and going of epidemics; no science of the breaking\nout and the cessation of wars; no science of popular likings and\ndislikings, or of the fashions. It is not that these subject-matters are\nthemselves incapable of science, but that, under existing circumstances,\n_we_ are incapable of subjecting them to it. And so, in like manner,\u201d says\nthe philosopher in question, \u201cwithout denying that in the matter of\nreligion some things are true and some things false, still we certainly\nare not in a position to determine the one or the other. And, as it would\nbe absurd to dogmatize about the weather, and say that 1860 will be a wet\nseason or a dry season, a time of peace or war, so it is absurd for men in\nour present state to teach anything positively about the next world, that\nthere is a heaven, or a hell, or a last judgment, or that the soul is\nimmortal, or that there is a God. It is not that you have not a right to\nyour own opinion, as you have a right to place implicit trust in your own\nbanker, or in your own physician; but undeniably such persuasions are not\nknowledge, they are not scientific, they cannot become public property,\nthey are consistent with your allowing your friend to entertain the\nopposite opinion; and, if you are tempted to be violent in the defence of\nyour own view of the case in this matter of religion, then it is well to\nlay seriously to heart whether sensitiveness on the subject of your banker\nor your doctor, when he is handled sceptically by another, would not be\ntaken to argue a secret misgiving in your mind about him, in spite of your\nconfident profession, an absence of clear, unruffled certainty in his\nhonesty or in his skill.\u201d\n\nSuch is our philosopher\u2019s primary position. He does not prove it; he does\nbut distinctly state it; but he thinks it self-evident when it is\ndistinctly stated. And there he leaves it.\n\n\n4.\n\n\nTaking his primary position henceforth for granted, he will proceed as\nfollows:\u2014\u201cWell, then, if Religion is just one of those subjects about\nwhich we can know nothing, what can be so absurd as to spend time upon it?\nwhat so absurd as to quarrel with others about it? Let us all keep to our\nown religious opinions respectively, and be content; but so far from it,\nupon no subject whatever has the intellect of man been fastened so\nintensely as upon Religion. And the misery is, that, if once we allow it\nto engage our attention, we are in a circle from which we never shall be\nable to extricate ourselves. Our mistake reproduces and corroborates\nitself. A small insect, a wasp or a fly, is unable to make his way through\nthe pane of glass; and his very failure is the occasion of greater\nviolence in his struggle than before. He is as heroically obstinate in his\nresolution to succeed as the assailant or defender of some critical\nbattle-field; he is unflagging and fierce in an effort which cannot lead\nto anything beyond itself. When, then, in like manner, you have once\nresolved that certain religious doctrines shall be indisputably true, and\nthat all men ought to perceive their truth, you have engaged in an\nundertaking which, though continued on to eternity, will never reach its\naim; and, since you are convinced it ought to do so, the more you have\nfailed hitherto, the more violent and pertinacious will be your attempt in\ntime to come. And further still, since you are not the only man in the\nworld who is in this error, but one of ten thousand, all holding the\ngeneral principle that Religion is scientific, and yet all differing as to\nthe truths and facts and conclusions of this science, it follows that the\nmisery of social disputation and disunion is added to the misery of a\nhopeless investigation, and life is not only wasted in fruitless\nspeculation, but embittered by bigotted sectarianism.\n\n\u201cSuch is the state in which the world has laid,\u201d it will be said, \u201cever\nsince the introduction of Christianity. Christianity has been the bane of\ntrue knowledge, for it has turned the intellect away from what it can\nknow, and occupied it in what it cannot. Differences of opinion crop up\nand multiply themselves, in proportion to the difficulty of deciding them;\nand the unfruitfulness of Theology has been, in matter of fact, the very\nreason, not for seeking better food, but for feeding on nothing else.\nTruth has been sought in the wrong direction, and the attainable has been\nput aside for the visionary.\u201d\n\nNow, there is no call on me here to refute these arguments, but merely to\nstate them. I need not refute what has not yet been proved. It is\nsufficient for me to repeat what I have already said, that they are\nfounded upon a mere assumption. _Supposing_, indeed, religious truth\ncannot be ascertained, _then_, of course, it is not only idle, but\nmischievous, to attempt to do so; _then_, of course, argument does but\nincrease the mistake of attempting it. But surely both Catholics and\nProtestants have written solid defences of Revelation, of Christianity,\nand of dogma, as such, and these are not simply to be put aside without\nsaying why. It has not yet been shown by our philosophers to be\nself-evident that religious truth _is_ really incapable of attainment; on\nthe other hand, it has at least been powerfully argued by a number of\nprofound minds that it _can_ be attained; and the _onus probandi_ plainly\nlies with those who are introducing into the world what the whole world\nfeels to be a paradox.\n\n\n5.\n\n\nHowever, where men really are persuaded of all this, however unreasonable,\nwhat will follow? A feeling, not merely of contempt, but of absolute\nhatred, towards the Catholic theologian and the dogmatic teacher. The\npatriot abhors and loathes the partizans who have degraded and injured his\ncountry; and the citizen of the world, the advocate of the human race,\nfeels bitter indignation at those whom he holds to have been its\nmisleaders and tyrants for two thousand years. \u201cThe world has lost two\nthousand years. It is pretty much where it was in the days of Augustus.\nThis is what has come of priests.\u201d There are those who are actuated by a\nbenevolent liberalism, and condescend to say that Catholics are not worse\nthan other maintainers of dogmatic theology. There are those, again, who\nare good enough to grant that the Catholic Church fostered knowledge and\nscience up to the days of Galileo, and that she has only retrograded for\nthe last several centuries. But the new teacher, whom I am contemplating\nin the light of that nebula out of which he will be concentrated, echoes\nthe words of the early persecutor of Christians, that they are the\n\u201cenemies of the human race.\u201d \u201cBut for Athanasius, but for Augustine, but\nfor Aquinas, the world would have had its Bacons and its Newtons, its\nLavoisiers, its Cuviers, its Watts, and its Adam Smiths, centuries upon\ncenturies ago. And now, when at length the true philosophy has struggled\ninto existence, and is making its way, what is left for its champion but\nto make an eager desperate attack upon Christian theology, the scabbard\nflung away, and no quarter given? and what will be the issue but the\ntriumph of the stronger,\u2014the overthrow of an old error and an odious\ntyranny, and a reign of the beautiful Truth?\u201d Thus he thinks, and he sits\ndreaming over the inspiring thought, and longs for that approaching, that\ninevitable day.\n\nThere let us leave him for the present, dreaming and longing in his\nimpotent hatred of a Power which Julian and Frederic, Shaftesbury and\nVoltaire, and a thousand other great sovereigns and subtle thinkers, have\nassailed in vain.\n\n\n\n                                   \u00a7 2.\n\n\nIts Policy.\n\n\n1.\n\n\nIt is a miserable time when a man\u2019s Catholic profession is no voucher for\nhis orthodoxy, and when a teacher of religion may be within the Church\u2019s\npale, yet external to her faith. Such has been for a season the trial of\nher children at various eras of her history. It was the state of things\nduring the dreadful Arian ascendancy, when the flock had to keep aloof\nfrom the shepherd, and the unsuspicious Fathers of the Western Councils\ntrusted and followed some consecrated sophist from Greece or Syria. It was\nthe case in those passages of medieval history when simony resisted the\nSupreme Pontiff, or when heresy lurked in Universities. It was a longer\nand more tedious trial, while the controversies lasted with the\nMonophysites of old, and with the Jansenists in modern times. A great\nscandal it is and a perplexity to the little ones of Christ, to have to\nchoose between rival claimants upon their allegiance, or to find a\ncondemnation at length pronounced upon one whom in their simplicity they\nhave admired. We, too, in this age have our scandals, for scandals must\nbe; but they are not what they were once; and if it be the just complaint\nof pious men now, that never was infidelity so rampant, it is their boast\nand consolation, on the other hand, that never was the Church less\ntroubled with false teachers, never more united.\n\nFalse teachers do not remain within her pale now, because they can easily\nleave it, and because there are seats of error external to her to which\nthey are attracted. \u201cThey went out from us,\u201d says the Apostle, \u201cbut they\nwere not of us; for if they had been of us, they would no doubt have\ncontinued with us: but that they might be made manifest that they are not\nall of us.\u201d It is a great gain when error becomes manifest, for it then\nceases to deceive the simple. With these thoughts I began to describe by\nanticipation the formation of a school of unbelief external to the Church,\nwhich perhaps as yet only exists, as I then expressed it, in a nebula. In\nthe middle ages it might have managed, by means of subterfuges, to\nmaintain itself for a while within the sacred limits,\u2014now of course it is\noutside of it; yet still, from the intermixture of Catholics with the\nworld, and the present immature condition of the false doctrine, it may at\nfirst exert an influence even upon those who would shrink from it if they\nrecognized it as it really is and as it will ultimately show itself.\nMoreover, it is natural, and not unprofitable, for persons under our\ncircumstances to speculate on the forms of error with which a University\nof this age will have to contend, as the medieval Universities had their\nown special antagonists. And for both reasons I am hazarding some remarks\non a set of opinions and a line of action which seems to be at present, at\nleast in its rudiments, in the seats of English intellect, whether the\ndanger dies away of itself or not.\n\nI have already said that its fundamental dogma is, that nothing can be\nknown for certain about the unseen world. This being taken for granted as\na self-evident point, undeniable as soon as stated, it goes on, or will go\non, to argue that, in consequence, the immense outlay which has been made\nof time, anxiety, and toil, of health, bodily and mental, upon theological\nresearches, has been simply thrown away; nay, has been, not useless\nmerely, but even mischievous, inasmuch as it has indirectly thwarted the\ncultivation of studies of far greater promise and of an evident utility.\nThis is the main position of the School I am contemplating; and the\nresult, in the minds of its members, is a deep hatred and a bitter\nresentment against the Power which has managed, as they consider, to stunt\nthe world\u2019s knowledge and the intellect of man for so many hundred years.\nThus much I have already said, and now I am going to state the line of\npolicy which these people will adopt, and the course of thought which that\npolicy of theirs will make necessary to them or natural.\n\n\n2.\n\n\nSupposing, then, it is the main tenet of the School in question, that the\nstudy of Religion as a science has been the bane of philosophy and\nknowledge, what remedy will its masters apply for the evils they deplore?\nShould they profess themselves the antagonists of theology, and engage in\nargumentative exercises with theologians? This evidently would be to\nincrease, to perpetuate the calamity. Nothing, they will say to\nthemselves, do religious men desire so ardently, nothing would so surely\nadvance the cause of Religion, as Controversy. The very policy of\nreligious men, they will argue, is to get the world to fix its attention\nsteadily upon the subject of Religion, and Controversy is the most\neffectual means of doing this. And their own game, they will consider, is,\non the contrary, to be elaborately silent about it. Should they not then\ngo on to shut up the theological schools, and exclude Religion from the\nsubjects scientifically treated in philosophical education? This indeed\nhas been, and is, a favourite mode of proceeding with very many of the\nenemies of Theology; but still it cannot be said to have been justified by\nany greater success than the policy of Controversy. The establishment of\nthe London University only gave immediate occasion to the establishment of\nKing\u2019s College, founded on the dogmatic principle; and the liberalism of\nthe Dutch government led to the restoration of the University of Louvain.\nIt is a well-known story how the very absence of the statues of Brutus and\nCassius brought them more vividly into the recollection of the Roman\npeople. When, then, in a comprehensive scheme of education, Religion alone\nis excluded, that exclusion pleads in its behalf. Whatever be the real\nvalue of Religion, say these philosophers to themselves, it has a name in\nthe world, and must not be ill-treated, lest men should rally round it\nfrom a feeling of generosity. They will decide, in consequence, that the\nexclusive method, though it has met with favour in this generation, is\nquite as much a mistake as the controversial.\n\nTurning, then, to the Universities of England, they will pronounce that\nthe true policy to be observed there would be simply to let the schools of\nTheology alone. Most unfortunate it is that they have been roused from the\nstate of decadence and torpor in which they lay some twenty or thirty\nyears ago. Up to that time, a routine lecture, delivered once to\nsuccessive batches of young men destined for the Protestant Ministry, not\nduring their residence, but when they were leaving or had already left the\nUniversity,\u2014and not about dogmatics, history, ecclesiastical law, or\ncasuistry, but about the list of authors to be selected and works to be\nread by those who had neither curiosity to read them nor money to\npurchase;\u2014and again a periodical advertisement of a lecture on the\nThirty-nine Articles, which was never delivered because it was never\nattended,\u2014these two demonstrations, one undertaken by one theological\nProfessor, the other by another, comprised the theological teaching of a\nseat of learning which had been the home of Duns Scotus and Alexander\nHales. What envious mischance put an end to those halcyon days, and\nrevived the _odium theologicum_ in the years which followed? Let us do\njustice to the authoritative rulers of the University; they have their\nfailings; but not to them is the revolution to be ascribed. It was\nnobody\u2019s fault among all the guardians of education and trustees of the\nintellect in that celebrated place. However, the mischief has been done;\nand now the wisest course for the interests of infidelity is to leave it\nto itself, and let the fever gradually subside; treatment would but\nirritate it. Not to interfere with Theology, not to raise a little finger\nagainst it, is the only means of superseding it. The more bitter is the\nhatred which such men bear it, the less they must show it.\n\n\n3.\n\n\nWhat, then, is the line of action which they must pursue? They think, and\nrightly think, that, in all contests, the wisest and largest policy is to\nconduct a positive, not a negative opposition, not to prevent but to\nanticipate, to obstruct by constructing, and to exterminate by\nsupplanting. To cast any slight upon Theology, whether in its Protestant\nor its Catholic schools, would be to elicit an inexhaustible stream of\npolemics, and a phalanx of dogmatic doctors and confessors.\n\n\u201cLet alone Camarina, for \u2019tis best let alone.\u201d\n\nThe proper procedure, then, is, not to oppose Theology, but to rival it.\nLeave its teachers to themselves; merely aim at the introduction of other\nstudies, which, while they have the accidental charm of novelty, possess a\nsurpassing interest, richness, and practical value of their own. Get\npossession of these studies, and appropriate them, and monopolize the use\nof them, to the exclusion of the votaries of Religion. Take it for\ngranted, and protest, for the future, that Religion has nothing to do with\nthe studies to which I am alluding, nor those studies with Religion.\nExclaim and cry out, if the Catholic Church presumes herself to handle\nwhat you mean to use as a weapon against her. The range of the\nExperimental Sciences, viz., psychology, and politics, and political\neconomy, and the many departments of physics, various both in their\nsubject-matter and their method of research; the great Sciences which are\nthe characteristics of this era, and which become the more marvellous, the\nmore thoroughly they are understood,\u2014astronomy, magnetism, chemistry,\ngeology, comparative anatomy, natural history, ethnology, languages,\npolitical geography, antiquities,\u2014these be your indirect but effectual\nmeans of overturning Religion! They do but need to be seen in order to be\npursued; you will put an end, in the Schools of learning, to the long\nreign of the unseen shadowy world, by the mere exhibition of the visible.\nThis was impossible heretofore, for the visible world was so little known\nitself; but now, thanks to the New Philosophy, sight is able to contest\nthe field with faith. The medieval philosopher had no weapon against\nRevelation but Metaphysics; Physical Science has a better temper, if not a\nkeener edge, for the purpose.\n\nNow here I interrupt the course of thought I am tracing, to introduce a\n_caveat_, lest I should be thought to cherish any secret disrespect\ntowards the sciences I have enumerated, or apprehension of their\nlegitimate tendencies; whereas my very object is to protest against a\nmonopoly of them by others. And it is not surely a heavy imputation on\nthem to say that they, as other divine gifts, may be used to wrong\npurposes, with which they have no natural connection, and for which they\nwere never intended; and that, as in Greece the element of beauty, with\nwhich the universe is flooded, and the poetical faculty, which is its\ntruest interpreter, were made to minister to sensuality; as, in the middle\nages, abstract speculation, another great instrument of truth, was often\nfrittered away in sophistical exercises; so now, too, the department of\nfact, and the method of research and experiment which is proper to it, may\nfor the moment eclipse the light of faith in the imagination of the\nstudent, and be degraded into the accidental tool, _hic et nunc_, of\ninfidelity. I am as little hostile to physical science as I am to poetry\nor metaphysics; but I wish for studies of every kind a legitimate\napplication: nor do I grudge them to anti-Catholics, so that\nanti-Catholics will not claim to monopolize them, cry out when we profess\nthem, or direct them against Revelation.\n\nI wish, indeed, I could think that these studies were not intended by a\ncertain school of philosophers to bear directly against its authority.\nThere are those who hope, there are those who are sure, that in the\nincessant investigation of facts, physical, political, and moral,\nsomething or other, or many things, will sooner or later turn up, and\nstubborn facts too, simply contradictory of revealed declarations. A\nvision comes before them of some physical or historical proof that mankind\nis not descended from a common origin, or that the hopes of the world were\nnever consigned to a wooden ark floating on the waters, or that the\nmanifestations on Mount Sinai were the work of man or nature, or that the\nHebrew patriarchs or the judges of Israel are mythical personages, or that\nSt. Peter had no connection with Rome, or that the doctrine of the Holy\nTrinity or of the Real Presence was foreign to primitive belief. An\nanticipation possesses them that the ultimate truths embodied in mesmerism\nwill certainly solve all the Gospel miracles; or that to Niebuhrize the\nGospels or the Fathers is a simple expedient for stultifying the whole\nCatholic system. They imagine that the eternal, immutable word of God is\nto quail and come to nought before the penetrating intellect of man. And,\nwhere this feeling exists, there will be a still stronger motive for\nletting Theology alone. That party, with whom success is but a matter of\ntime, can afford to wait patiently; and if an inevitable train is laid for\nblowing up the fortress, why need we be anxious that the catastrophe\nshould take place to-day, rather than to-morrow?\n\n\n4.\n\n\nBut, without making too much of their own anticipations on this point,\nwhich may or may not be in part fulfilled, these men have secure grounds\nfor knowing that the sciences, as they would pursue them, will at least be\nprejudicial to the religious sentiment. Any one study, of whatever kind,\nexclusively pursued, deadens in the mind the interest, nay, the perception\nof any other. Thus Cicero says that Plato and Demosthenes, Aristotle and\nIsocrates, might have respectively excelled in each other\u2019s province, but\nthat each was absorbed in his own; his words are emphatic; \u201cquorum\nuterque, suo studio delectatus, _contemsit_ alterum.\u201d Specimens of this\npeculiarity occur every day. You can hardly persuade some men to talk\nabout any thing but their own pursuit; they refer the whole world to their\nown centre, and measure all matters by their own rule, like the fisherman\nin the drama, whose eulogy on his deceased lord was, that \u201che was so fond\nof fish.\u201d The saints illustrate this on the other hand; St. Bernard had no\neye for architecture; St. Basil had no nose for flowers; St. Aloysius had\nno palate for meat and drink; St. Paula or St. Jane Frances could spurn or\ncould step over her own child;\u2014not that natural faculties were wanting to\nthose great servants of God, but that a higher gift outshone and obscured\nevery lower attribute of man, as human features may remain in heaven, yet\nthe beauty of them be killed by the surpassing light of glory. And in like\nmanner it is clear that the tendency of science is to make men\nindifferentists or sceptics, merely by being exclusively pursued. The\nparty, then, of whom I speak, understanding this well, would suffer\ndisputations in the theological schools every day in the year, provided\nthey can manage to keep the students of science at a distance from them.\n\nNor is this all; they trust to the influence of the modern sciences on\nwhat may be called the Imagination. When any thing, which comes before us,\nis very unlike what we commonly experience, we consider it on that account\nuntrue; not because it really shocks our reason as improbable, but because\nit startles our imagination as strange. Now, Revelation presents to us a\nperfectly different aspect of the universe from that presented by the\nSciences. The two informations are like the distinct subjects represented\nby the lines of the same drawing, which, accordingly as they are read on\ntheir concave or convex side, exhibit to us now a group of trees with\nbranches and leaves, and now human faces hid amid the leaves, or some\nmajestic figures standing out from the branches. Thus is faith opposed to\nsight: it is parallel to the contrast afforded by plane astronomy and\nphysical; plane, in accordance with our senses, discourses of the sun\u2019s\nrising and setting, while physical, in accordance with our reason,\nasserts, on the contrary, that the sun is all but stationary, and that it\nis the earth that moves. This is what is meant by saying that truth lies\nin a well; phenomena are no measure of fact; _prim\u00e2 facie_\nrepresentations, which we receive from without, do not reach to the real\nstate of things, or put them before us simply as they are.\n\nWhile, then, Reason and Revelation are consistent in fact, they often are\ninconsistent in appearance; and this seeming discordance acts most keenly\nand alarmingly on the Imagination, and may suddenly expose a man to the\ntemptation, and even hurry him on to the commission, of definite acts of\nunbelief, in which reason itself really does not come into exercise at\nall. I mean, let a person devote himself to the studies of the day; let\nhim be taught by the astronomer that our sun is but one of a million\ncentral luminaries, and our earth but one of ten million globes moving in\nspace; let him learn from the geologist that on that globe of ours\nenormous revolutions have been in progress through innumerable ages; let\nhim be told by the comparative anatomist of the minutely arranged system\nof organized nature; by the chemist and physicist, of the peremptory yet\nintricate laws to which nature, organized and inorganic, is subjected; by\nthe ethnologist, of the originals, and ramifications, and varieties, and\nfortunes of nations; by the antiquarian, of old cities disinterred, and\nprimitive countries laid bare, with the specific forms of human society\nonce existing; by the linguist, of the slow formation and development of\nlanguages; by the psychologist, the physiologist, and the economist, of\nthe subtle, complicated structure of the breathing, energetic, restless\nworld of men; I say, let him take in and master the vastness of the view\nthus afforded him of Nature, its infinite complexity, its awful\ncomprehensiveness, and its diversified yet harmonious colouring; and then,\nwhen he has for years drank in and fed upon this vision, let him turn\nround to peruse the inspired records, or listen to the authoritative\nteaching of Revelation, the book of Genesis, or the warnings and\nprophecies of the Gospels, or the Symbolum _Quicumque_, or the Life of St.\nAntony or St. Hilarion, and he may certainly experience a most distressing\nrevulsion of feeling,(44)\u2014not that his reason really deduces any thing\nfrom his much loved studies contrary to the faith, but that his\nimagination is bewildered, and swims with the sense of the ineffable\ndistance of that faith from the view of things which is familiar to him,\nwith its strangeness, and then again its rude simplicity, as he considers\nit, and its apparent poverty contrasted with the exuberant life and\nreality of his own world. All this, the school I am speaking of\nunderstands well; it comprehends that, if it can but exclude the\nprofessors of Religion from the lecture-halls of science, it may safely\nallow them full play in their own; for it will be able to rear up\ninfidels, without speaking a word, merely by the terrible influence of\nthat faculty against which both Bacon and Butler so solemnly warn us.\n\nI say, it leaves the theologian the full and free possession of his own\nschools, for it thinks he will have no chance of arresting the opposite\nteaching or of rivalling the fascination of modern science. Knowing\nlittle, and caring less for the depth and largeness of that heavenly\nWisdom, on which the Apostle delights to expatiate, or the variety of\nthose sciences, dogmatic or ethical, mystical or hagiological, historical\nor exegetical, which Revelation has created, these philosophers know\nperfectly well that, in matter of fact, to beings, constituted as we are,\nsciences which concern this world and this state of existence are worth\nfar more, are more arresting and attractive, than those which relate to a\nsystem of things which they do not see and cannot master by their natural\npowers. Sciences which deal with tangible facts, practical results,\nevergrowing discoveries, and perpetual novelties, which feed curiosity,\nsustain attention, and stimulate expectation, require, they consider, but\na fair stage and no favour to distance that Ancient Truth, which never\nchanges and but cautiously advances, in the race for popularity and power.\nAnd therefore they look out for the day when they shall have put down\nReligion, not by shutting its schools, but by emptying them; not by\ndisputing its tenets, but by the superior worth and persuasiveness of\ntheir own.\n\n\n5.\n\n\nSuch is the tactic which a new school of philosophers adopt against\nChristian Theology. They have this characteristic, compared with former\nschools of infidelity, viz., the union of intense hatred with a large\ntoleration of Theology. They are professedly civil to it, and run a race\nwith it. They rely, not on any logical disproof of it, but on three\nconsiderations; first, on the effects of studies of whatever kind to\nindispose the mind towards other studies; next, on the special effect of\nmodern sciences upon the imagination, prejudicial to revealed truth; and\nlastly, on the absorbing interest attached to those sciences from their\nmarvellous results. This line of action will be forced upon these persons\nby the peculiar character and position of Religion in England.\n\nAnd here I have arrived at the limits of my paper before I have finished\nthe discussion upon which I have entered; and I must be content with\nhaving made some suggestions which, if worth anything, others may use.\n\n\n\n\n                               Lecture VI.\n\n\nUniversity Preaching.\n\n\n\n1.\n\n\nWhen I obtained from various distinguished persons the acceptable promise\nthat they would give me the advantage of their countenance and assistance\nby appearing from time to time in the pulpit of our new University, some\nof them accompanied that promise with the natural request that I, who had\nasked for it, should offer them my own views of the mode and form in which\nthe duty would be most satisfactorily accomplished. On the other hand, it\nwas quite as natural that I on my part should be disinclined to take on\nmyself an office which belongs to a higher station and authority in the\nChurch than my own; and the more so, because, on the definite subject\nabout which the inquiry is made, I should have far less direct aid from\nthe writings of holy men and great divines than I could desire. Were it\nindeed my sole business to put into shape the scattered precepts which\nsaints and doctors have delivered upon it, I might have ventured on such a\ntask with comparatively little misgiving. Under the shadow of the great\nteachers of the pastoral office I might have been content to speak,\nwithout looking out for any living authority to prompt me. But this\nunfortunately is not the case; such venerable guidance does not extend\nbeyond the general principles and rules of preaching, and these require\nboth expansion and adaptation when they are to be made to bear on\ncompositions addressed in the name of a University to University men. They\ndefine the essence of Christian preaching, which is one and the same in\nall cases; but not the subject-matter or the method, which vary according\nto circumstances. Still, after all, the points to which they do reach are\nmore, and more important, than those which they fall short of. I\ntherefore, though with a good deal of anxiety, have attempted to perform a\ntask which seemed naturally to fall to me; and I am thankful to say that,\nthough I must in some measure go beyond the range of the simple direction\nto which I have referred, the greater part of my remarks will lie within\nit.\n\n\n\n2.\n\n\nSo far is clear at once, that the preacher\u2019s object is the spiritual good\nof his hearers. \u201cFinis pr\u00e6dicanti sit,\u201d says St. Francis de Sales; \u201cut\n_vitam_ (justiti\u00e6) _habeant homines_, et abundantius habeant.\u201d And St.\nCharles: \u201cConsiderandum, ad Dei omnipotentis gloriam, ad animarumque\nsalutem, referri omnem concionandi vim ac rationem.\u201d Moreover,\n\u201cPr\u00e6dicatorem esse ministrum Dei, per quem verbum Dei \u00e0 spirit\u00fbs fonte\nducitur ad fidelium animas irrigandas.\u201d As a marksman aims at the target\nand its bull\u2019s-eye, and at nothing else, so the preacher must have a\ndefinite point before him, which he has to hit. So much is contained for\nhis direction in this simple maxim, that duly to enter into it and use it\nis half the battle; and if he mastered nothing else, still if he really\nmastered as much as this, he would know all that was imperative for the\ndue discharge of his office.\n\n1. For what is the conduct of men who have one object definitely before\nthem, and one only? Why, that, whatever be their skill, whatever their\nresources, greater or less, to its attainment all their efforts are\nsimply, spontaneously, visibly, directed. This cuts off a number of\nquestions sometimes asked about preaching, and extinguishes a number of\nanxieties. \u201cSollicita es, et turbaris,\u201d says our Lord to St. Martha; \u201cerga\nplurima; porro unum est necessarium.\u201d We ask questions perhaps about\ndiction, elocution, rhetorical power; but does the commander of a\nbesieging force dream of holiday displays, reviews, mock engagements,\nfeats of strength, or trials of skill, such as would be graceful and\nsuitable on a parade ground when a foreigner of rank was to be received\nand _f\u00eated_; or does he aim at one and one thing only, viz., to take the\nstrong place? Display dissipates the energy, which for the object in view\nneeds to be concentrated and condensed. We have no reason to suppose that\nthe Divine blessing follows the lead of human accomplishments. Indeed, St.\nPaul, writing to the Corinthians, who made much of such advantages of\nnature, contrasts the persuasive words of human wisdom \u201cwith the showing\nof the Spirit,\u201d and tells us that \u201cthe kingdom of God is not in speech,\nbut in power.\u201d\n\nBut, not to go to the consideration of divine influences, which is beyond\nmy subject, the very presence of simple earnestness is even in itself a\npowerful natural instrument to effect that toward which it is directed.\nEarnestness creates earnestness in others by sympathy; and the more a\npreacher loses and is lost to himself, the more does he gain his brethren.\nNor is it without some logical force also; for what is powerful enough to\nabsorb and possess a preacher has at least a _prim\u00e2 facie_ claim of\nattention on the part of his hearers. On the other hand, any thing which\ninterferes with this earnestness, or which argues its absence, is still\nmore certain to blunt the force of the most cogent argument conveyed in\nthe most eloquent language. Hence it is that the great philosopher of\nantiquity, in speaking, in his Treatise on Rhetoric, of the various kinds\nof persuasives, which are available in the Art, considers the most\nauthoritative of these to be that which is drawn from personal traits of\nan ethical nature evident in the orator; for such matters are cognizable\nby all men, and the common sense of the world decides that it is safer,\nwhere it is possible, to commit oneself to the judgment of men of\ncharacter than to any considerations addressed merely to the feelings or\nto the reason.\n\nOn these grounds I would go on to lay down a precept, which I trust is not\nextravagant, when allowance is made for the preciseness and the point\nwhich are unavoidable in all categorical statements upon matters of\nconduct. It is, that preachers should neglect everything whatever besides\ndevotion to their one object, and earnestness in pursuing it, till they in\nsome good in measure attain to these requisites. Talent, logic, learning,\nwords, manner, voice, action, all are required for the perfection of a\npreacher; but \u201cone thing is necessary,\u201d\u2014an intense perception and\nappreciation of the end for which he preaches, and that is, to be the\nminister of some definite spiritual good to those who hear him. Who could\nwish to be more eloquent, more powerful, more successful than the Teacher\nof the Nations? yet who more earnest, who more natural, who more\nunstudied, who more self-forgetting than he?\n\n\n\n3.\n\n\n(1.) And here, in order to prevent misconception, two remarks must be\nmade, which will lead us further into the subject we are engaged upon. The\nfirst is, that, in what I have been saying, I do not mean that a preacher\nmust aim at _earnestness_, but that he must aim at his _object_, which is\nto do some spiritual good to his hearers, and which will at once _make_\nhim earnest. It is said that, when a man has to cross an abyss by a narrow\nplank thrown over it, it is his wisdom, not to look at the plank, along\nwhich lies his path, but to fix his eyes steadily on the point in the\nopposite precipice at which the plank ends. It is by gazing at the object\nwhich he must reach, and ruling himself by it, that he secures to himself\nthe power of walking to it straight and steadily. The case is the same in\nmoral matters; no one will become really earnest by aiming directly at\nearnestness; any one may become earnest by meditating on the motives, and\nby drinking at the sources, of earnestness. We may of course work\nourselves up into a pretence, nay, into a paroxysm, of earnestness; as we\nmay chafe our cold hands till they are warm. But when we cease chafing, we\nlose the warmth again; on the contrary, let the sun come out and strike us\nwith his beams, and we need no artificial chafing to be warm. The hot\nwords, then, and energetic gestures of a preacher, taken by themselves,\nare just as much signs of earnestness as rubbing the hands or flapping the\narms together are signs of warmth; though they are natural where\nearnestness already exists, and pleasing as being its spontaneous\nconcomitants. To sit down to compose for the pulpit with a resolution to\nbe eloquent is one impediment to persuasion; but to be determined to be\nearnest is absolutely fatal to it.\n\nHe who has before his mental eye the Four Last Things will have the true\nearnestness, the horror or the rapture, of one who witnesses a\nconflagration, or discerns some rich and sublime prospect of natural\nscenery. His countenance, his manner, his voice, speak for him, in\nproportion as his view has been vivid and minute. The great English poet\nhas described this sort of eloquence when a calamity had befallen:\u2014\n\nYea, this man\u2019s brow, like to a title page,\nForetells the nature of a tragic volume.\nThou tremblest, and the whiteness in thy cheek\nIs apter than thy tongue to tell thy errand.\n\nIt is this earnestness, in the supernatural order, which is the eloquence\nof saints; and not of saints only, but of all Christian preachers,\naccording to the measure of their faith and love. As the case would be\nwith one who has actually seen what he relates, the herald of tidings of\nthe invisible world also will be, from the nature of the case, whether\nvehement or calm, sad or exulting, always simple, grave, emphatic, and\nperemptory; and all this, not because he has proposed to himself to be so,\nbut because certain intellectual convictions involve certain external\nmanifestations. St. Francis de Sales is full and clear upon this point. It\nis necessary, he says, \u201cut ipsemet penitus hauseris, ut persuasissimam\ntibi habeas, doctrinam quam aliis persuasam cupis. Artificium summum erit,\nnullum habere artificium. Inflammata sint verba, non clamoribus\ngesticulationibusve immodicis, sed interiore affectione. De corde plus\nqu\u00e0m de ore proficiscantur. Quantumvis ore dixerimus, san\u00e8 cor cordi\nloquitur, lingua non nisi aures pulsat.\u201d St. Augustine had said to the\nsame purpose long before: \u201cSonus verborum nostrorum aures percutit;\nmagister intus est.\u201d\n\n(2.) My second remark is, that it is the preacher\u2019s duty to aim at\nimparting to others, not any fortuitous, unpremeditated benefit, but some\n_definite_ spiritual good. It is here that design and study find their\nplace; the more exact and precise is the subject which he treats, the more\nimpressive and practical will he be; whereas no one will carry off much\nfrom a discourse which is on the general subject of virtue, or vaguely and\nfeebly entertains the question of the desirableness of attaining Heaven,\nor the rashness of incurring eternal ruin. As a distinct image before the\nmind makes the preacher earnest, so it will give him something which it is\nworth while to communicate to others. Mere sympathy, it is true, is able,\nas I have said, to transfer an emotion or sentiment from mind to mind, but\nit is not able to fix it there. He must aim at imprinting on the heart\nwhat will never leave it, and this he cannot do unless he employ himself\non some definite subject, which he has to handle and weigh, and then, as\nit were, to hand over from himself to others.\n\nHence it is that the Saints insist so expressly on the necessity of his\naddressing himself to the intellect of men, and of convincing as well as\npersuading. \u201cNecesse est ut _doceat_ et moveat,\u201d says St. Francis; and St.\nAntoninus still more distinctly: \u201cDebet pr\u00e6dicator clare loqui, ut\n_instruat intellectum_ auditoris, et doceat.\u201d Hence, moreover, in St.\nIgnatius\u2019s Exercises, the act of the intellect precedes that of the\naffections. Father Lohner seems to me to be giving an instance in point\nwhen he tells us of a court-preacher, who delivered what would be commonly\nconsidered eloquent sermons, and attracted no one; and next took to simple\nexplanations of the Mass and similar subjects, and then found the church\nthronged. So necessary is it to have something to say, if we desire any\none to listen.\n\nNay, I would go the length of recommending a preacher to place a distinct\ncategorical proposition before him, such as he can write down in a form of\nwords, and to guide and limit his preparation by it, and to aim in all he\nsays to bring it out, and nothing else. This seems to be implied or\nsuggested in St. Charles\u2019s direction: \u201cId omnino studebit, ut quod in\nconcione dicturus est antea _bene cognitum_ habeat.\u201d Nay, is it not\nexpressly conveyed in the Scripture phrase of \u201cpreaching the _word_\u201d? for\nwhat is meant by \u201cthe word\u201d but a proposition addressed to the intellect?\nnor will a preacher\u2019s earnestness show itself in anything more\nunequivocally than in his rejecting, whatever be the temptation to admit\nit, every remark, however original, every period, however eloquent, which\ndoes not in some way or other tend to bring out this one distinct\nproposition which he has chosen. Nothing is so fatal to the effect of a\nsermon as the habit of preaching on three or four subjects at once. I\nacknowledge I am advancing a step beyond the practice of great Catholic\npreachers when I add that, even though we preach on only one at a time,\nfinishing and dismissing the first before we go to the second, and the\nsecond before we go to the third, still, after all, a practice like this,\nthough not open to the inconvenience which the confusing of one subject\nwith another involves, is in matter of fact nothing short of the delivery\nof three sermons in succession without break between them.\n\nSumming up, then, what I have been saying, I observe that, if I have\nunderstood the doctrine of St. Charles, St. Francis, and other saints\naright, _definiteness of object_ is in various ways the one virtue of the\npreacher;\u2014and this means that he should set out with the intention of\nconveying to others some spiritual benefit; that, with a view to this, and\nas the only ordinary way to it, he should select some distinct fact or\nscene, some passage in history, some truth, simple or profound, some\ndoctrine, some principle, or some sentiment, and should study it well and\nthoroughly, and first make it his own, or else have already dwelt on it\nand mastered it, so as to be able to use it for the occasion from an\nhabitual understanding of it; and that then he should employ himself, as\nthe one business of his discourse, to bring home to others, and to leave\ndeep within them, what he has, before he began to speak to them, brought\nhome to himself. What he feels himself, and feels deeply, he has to make\nothers feel deeply; and in proportion as he comprehends this, he will rise\nabove the temptation of introducing collateral matters, and will have no\ntaste, no heart, for going aside after flowers of oratory, fine figures,\ntuneful periods, which are worth nothing, unless they come to him\nspontaneously, and are spoken \u201cout of the abundance of the heart.\u201d Our\nLord said on one occasion \u201cI am come to send fire on the earth, and what\nwill I but that it be kindled?\u201d He had one work, and He accomplished it.\n\u201cThe words,\u201d He says, \u201cwhich Thou gavest Me, I have _given_ to them, and\nthey have _received_ them,\u2026 _and now_ I come to Thee.\u201d And the Apostles,\nagain, as they had received, so were they to give. \u201cThat which _we_ have\nseen and have heard,\u201d says one of them, \u201cwe declare unto _you_, that you\nmay have _fellowship_ with us.\u201d If, then, a preacher\u2019s subject only be\nsome portion of the Divine message, however elementary it may be, however\ntrite, it will have a dignity such as to possess him, and a virtue to\nkindle him, and an influence to subdue and convert those to whom it goes\nforth from him, according to the words of the promise, \u201cMy word, which\nshall go forth from My mouth, shall not return to Me void, but it shall do\nwhatsoever I please, and shall prosper in the things for which I sent it.\u201d\n\n\n\n4.\n\n\n2. And now having got as far as this, we shall see without difficulty what\na University Sermon ought to be just so far as it is distinct from other\nsermons; for, if all preaching is directed towards a hearer, such as is\nthe hearer will be the preaching, and, as a University auditory differs\nfrom other auditories, so will a sermon addressed to it differ from other\nsermons. This, indeed, is a broad maxim which holy men lay down on the\nsubject of preaching. Thus, St. Gregory Theologus, as quoted by the Pope\nhis namesake, says: \u201cThe self-same exhortation is not suitable for all\nhearers; for all have not the same disposition of mind, and what profits\nthese is hurtful to those.\u201d The holy Pope himself throws the maxim into\nanother form, still more precise: \u201cDebet pr\u00e6dicator,\u201d he says,\n\u201cperspicere, ne plus pr\u00e6dicet, qu\u00e0m ab audiente capi possit.\u201d And St.\nCharles expounds it, referring to Pope St. Gregory: \u201cPro audientium genere\nlocos doctrinarum, ex quibus concionem conficiat, non modo distinctos, sed\noptim\u00e8 explicatos habebit. Atque in hoc quidem multiplici genere\nconcionator videbit, ne qu\u00e6cumque, ut S. Gregorius scit\u00e8 monet, legerit,\naut scienti\u00e2 comprehenderit, omnia enunciet atque effundat; sed delectum\nhabebit, ita ut documenta alia exponat, alia tacit\u00e8 relinquat, prout\nlocus, ordo, conditioque auditorum deposcat.\u201d And, by way of obviating the\nchance of such a rule being considered a human artifice inconsistent with\nthe simplicity of the Gospel, he had said shortly before: \u201cAd Dei gloriam,\nad c\u0153lestis regni propagationem, et ad animarum salutem, plurimum\ninterest, non solum quales sint pr\u00e6dicatores, sed qu\u00e2 vi\u00e2, qu\u00e2 ratione\npr\u00e6dicent.\u201d\n\nIt is true, this is also one of the elementary principles of the Art of\nRhetoric; but it is no scandal that a saintly Bishop should in this matter\nborrow a maxim from secular, nay, from pagan schools. For divine grace\ndoes not overpower nor supersede the action of the human mind according to\nits proper nature; and if heathen writers have analyzed that nature well,\nso far let them be used to the greater glory of the Author and Source of\nall Truth. Aristotle, then, in his celebrated treatise on Rhetoric, makes\nthe very essence of the Art lie in the precise recognition of a hearer. It\nis a relative art, and in that respect differs from Logic, which simply\nteaches the right use of reason, whereas Rhetoric is the art of\npersuasion, which implies a person who is to be persuaded. As, then, the\nChristian Preacher aims at the Divine Glory, not in any vague and general\nway, but definitely by the enunciation of some article or passage of the\nRevealed Word, so further, he enunciates it, not for the instruction of\nthe whole world, but directly for the sake of those very persons who are\nbefore him. He is, when in the pulpit, instructing, enlightening,\ninforming, advancing, sanctifying, not all nations, nor all classes, nor\nall callings, but those particular ranks, professions, states, ages,\ncharacters, which have gathered around him. Proof indeed is the same all\nover the earth; but he has not only to prove, but to persuade;\u2014_Whom_? A\nhearer, then, is included in the very idea of preaching; and we cannot\ndetermine how in detail we ought to preach, till we know whom we are to\naddress.\n\nIn all the most important respects, indeed, all hearers are the same, and\nwhat is suitable for one audience is suitable for another. All hearers are\nchildren of Adam, all, too, are children of the Christian adoption and of\nthe Catholic Church. The great topics which suit the multitude, which\nattract the poor, which sway the unlearned, which warn, arrest, recall,\nthe wayward and wandering, are in place within the precincts of a\nUniversity as elsewhere. A _Studium Generale_ is not a cloister, or\nnoviciate, or seminary, or boarding-school; it is an assemblage of the\nyoung, the inexperienced, the lay and the secular; and not even the\nsimplest of religious truths, or the most elementary article of the\nChristian faith, can be unseasonable from its pulpit. A sermon on the\nDivine Omnipresence, on the future judgment, on the satisfaction of\nChrist, on the intercession of saints, will be not less, perhaps more,\nsuitable there than if it were addressed to a parish congregation. Let no\none suppose that any thing recondite is essential to the idea of a\nUniversity sermon. The most obvious truths are often the most profitable.\nSeldom does an opportunity occur for a subject there which might not under\ncircumstances be treated before any other auditory whatever. Nay, further;\nan academical auditory might be well content if it never heard any subject\ntreated at all but what would be suitable to any general congregation.\n\nHowever, after all, a University has a character of its own; it has some\ntraits of human nature more prominently developed than others, and its\nmembers are brought together under circumstances which impart to the\nauditory a peculiar colour and expression, even where it does not\nsubstantially differ from another. It is composed of men, not women; of\nthe young rather than the old; and of persons either highly educated or\nunder education. These are the points which the preacher will bear in\nmind, and which will direct him both in his choice of subject, and in his\nmode of treating it.\n\n\n\n5.\n\n\n(1.) And first as to his _matter_ or subject. Here I would remark upon the\ncircumstance, that courses of sermons upon theological points, polemical\ndiscussions, treatises _in extenso_, and the like, are often included in\nthe idea of a University Sermon, and are considered to be legitimately\nentitled to occupy the attention of a University audience; the object of\nsuch compositions being, not directly and mainly the edification of the\nhearers, but the defence or advantage of Catholicism at large, and the\ngradual formation of a volume suitable for publication. Without absolutely\ndiscountenancing such important works, it is not necessary to say more of\nthem than that they rather belong to the divinity school, and fall under\nthe idea of Lectures, than have a claim to be viewed as University\nSermons. Anyhow, I do not feel called upon to speak of such discourses\nhere. And I say the same of panegyrical orations, discourses on special\noccasions, funeral sermons, and the like. Putting such exceptional\ncompositions aside, I will confine myself to the consideration of what may\nbe called Sermons proper. And here, I repeat, any general subject will be\nseasonable in the University pulpit which would be seasonable elsewhere;\nbut, if we look for subjects especially suitable, they will be of two\nkinds. The temptations which ordinarily assail the young and the\nintellectual are two: those which are directed against their virtue, and\nthose which are directed against their faith. All divine gifts are exposed\nto misuse and perversion; youth and intellect are both of them goods, and\ninvolve in them certain duties respectively, and can be used to the glory\nof the Giver; but, as youth becomes the occasion of excess and sensuality,\nso does intellect give accidental opportunity to religious error, rash\nspeculation, doubt, and infidelity. That these are in fact the peculiar\nevils to which large Academical Bodies are liable is shown from the\nhistory of Universities; and if a preacher would have a subject which has\nespecial significancy in such a place, he must select one which bears upon\none or other of these two classes of sin. I mean, he would be treating on\nsome such subject with the same sort of appositeness as he would discourse\nupon almsgiving when addressing the rich, or on patience, resignation, and\nindustry, when he was addressing the poor, or on forgiveness of injuries\nwhen he was addressing the oppressed or persecuted.\n\nTo this suggestion I append two cautions. First, I need hardly say, that a\npreacher should be quite sure that he understands the persons he is\naddressing before he ventures to aim at what he considers to be their\nethical condition; for, if he mistakes, he will probably be doing harm\nrather than good. I have known consequences to occur very far from\nedifying, when strangers have fancied they knew an auditory when they did\nnot, and have by implication imputed to them habits or motives which were\nnot theirs. Better far would it be for a preacher to select one of those\nmore general subjects which are safe than risk what is evidently\nambitious, if it is not successful.\n\nMy other caution is this:\u2014that, even when he addresses himself to some\nspecial danger or probable deficiency or need of his hearers, he should do\nso covertly, not showing on the surface of his discourse what he is aiming\nat. I see no advantage in a preacher professing to treat of infidelity,\northodoxy, or virtue, or the pride of reason, or riot, or sensual\nindulgence. To say nothing else, common-places are but blunt weapons;\nwhereas it is particular topics that penetrate and reach their mark. Such\nsubjects rather are, for instance, the improvement of time, avoiding the\noccasions of sin, frequenting the Sacraments, divine warnings, the\ninspirations of grace, the mysteries of the Rosary, natural virtue, beauty\nof the rites of the Church, consistency of the Catholic faith, relation of\nScripture to the Church, the philosophy of tradition, and any others,\nwhich may touch the heart and conscience, or may suggest trains of thought\nto the intellect, without proclaiming the main reason why they have been\nchosen.\n\n(2.) Next, as to the _mode of treating_ its subject, which a University\ndiscourse requires. It is this respect, after all, I think, in which it\nespecially differs from other kinds of preaching. As translations differ\nfrom each other, as expressing the same ideas in different languages, so\nin the case of sermons, each may undertake the same subject, yet treat it\nin its own way, as contemplating its own hearers. This is well exemplified\nin the speeches of St. Paul, as recorded in the book of Acts. To the Jews\nhe quotes the Old Testament; on the Areopagus, addressing the philosophers\nof Athens, he insists,\u2014not indeed upon any recondite doctrine,\ncontrariwise, upon the most elementary, the being and unity of God;\u2014but he\ntreats it with a learning and depth of thought, which the presence of that\ncelebrated city naturally suggested. And in like manner, while the most\nsimple subjects are apposite in a University pulpit, they certainly would\nthere require a treatment more exact than is necessary in merely popular\nexhortations. It is not asking much to demand for academical discourses a\nmore careful study beforehand, a more accurate conception of the idea\nwhich they are to enforce, a more cautious use of words, a more anxious\nconsultation of writers of authority, and somewhat more of philosophical\nand theological knowledge.\n\nBut here again, as before, I would insist on the necessity of such\ncompositions being unpretending. It is not necessary for a preacher to\nquote the Holy Fathers, or to show erudition, or to construct an original\nargument, or to be ambitious in style and profuse of ornament, on the\nground that the audience is a University: it is only necessary so to keep\nthe character and necessities of his hearers before him as to avoid what\nmay offend them, or mislead, or disappoint, or fail to profit.\n\n\n\n6.\n\n\n3. But here a distinct question opens upon us, on which I must say a few\nwords in conclusion, viz., whether or not the preacher should preach\nwithout book.\n\nThis is a delicate question to enter upon, considering that the Irish\npractice of preaching without book, which is in accordance with that of\nforeign countries, and, as it would appear, with the tradition of the\nChurch from the first, is not universally adopted in England, nor, as I\nbelieve, in Scotland; and it might seem unreasonable or presumptuous to\nabridge a liberty at present granted to the preacher. I will simply set\ndown what occurs to me to say on each side of the question.\n\nFirst of all, looking at the matter on the side of usage, I have always\nunderstood that it was the rule in Catholic countries, as I have just\nsaid, both in this and in former times, to preach without book; and, if\nthe rule be really so, it carries extreme weight with it. I do not speak\nas if I had consulted a library, and made my ground sure; but at first\nsight it would appear impossible, even from the number of homilies and\ncommentaries which are assigned to certain Fathers, as to St. Augustine or\nto St. Chrysostom, that they could have delivered them from\nformally-written compositions. On the other hand, St. Leo\u2019s sermons\ncertainly are, in the strict sense of the word, compositions; nay,\npassages of them are carefully dogmatic; nay, further still, they have\nsometimes the character of a symbol, and, in consequence, are found\nrepeated in other parts of his works; and again, though I do not profess\nto be well read in the works of St. Chrysostom, there is generally in such\nportions of them as are known to those of us who are in Holy Orders, a\npeculiarity, an identity of style, which enables one to recognize the\nauthor at a glance, even in the latin version of the Breviary, and which\nwould seem to be quite beyond the mere fidelity of reporters. It would\nseem, then, he must after all have written them; and if he did write at\nall, it is more likely that he wrote with the stimulus of preaching before\nhim, than that he had time and inducement to correct and enlarge them\nafterwards from notes, for what is now called \u201cpublication,\u201d which at that\ntime could hardly be said to exist at all. To this consideration we must\nadd the remarkable fact (which, though in classical history, throws light\nupon our inquiry) that, not to produce other instances, the greater part\nof Cicero\u2019s powerful and brilliant orations against Verres were never\ndelivered at all. Nor must it be forgotten that Cicero specifies memory in\nhis enumeration of the distinct talents necessary for a great orator. And\nthen we have in corroboration the French practice of writing sermons and\nlearning them by heart.\n\nThese remarks, as far as they go, lead us to lay great stress on the\n_preparation_ of a sermon, as amounting in fact to composition, even in\nwriting, and _in extenso_. Now consider St. Carlo\u2019s direction, as quoted\nabove: \u201cId omnino studebit, ut quod in concione dicturus est, antea bene\ncognitum habeat.\u201d Now a parish priest has neither time nor occasion for\nany but elementary and ordinary topics; and any such subject he has\nhabitually made his own, \u201ccognitum habet,\u201d already; but when the matter is\nof a more select and occasional character, as in the case of a University\nSermon, then the preacher has to study it well and thoroughly, and master\nit beforehand. Study and meditation being imperative, can it be denied\nthat one of the most effectual means by which we are able to ascertain our\nunderstanding of a subject, to bring out our thoughts upon it, to clear\nour meaning, to enlarge our views of its relations to other subjects, and\nto develop it generally, is to write down carefully all we have to say\nabout it? People indeed differ in matters of this kind, but I think that\nwriting is a stimulus to the mental faculties, to the logical talent, to\noriginality, to the power of illustration, to the arrangement of topics,\nsecond to none. Till a man begins to put down his thoughts about a subject\non paper he will not ascertain what he knows and what he does not know;\nand still less will he be able to express what he does know. Such a formal\npreparation of course cannot be required of a parish priest, burdened, as\nhe may be, with other duties, and preaching on elementary subjects, and\nsupported by the systematic order and the suggestions of the Catechism;\nbut in occasional sermons the case is otherwise. In these it is both\npossible and generally necessary; and the fuller the sketch, and the more\nclear and continuous the thread of the discourse, the more the preacher\nwill find himself at home when the time of delivery arrives. I have said\n\u201cgenerally necessary,\u201d for of course there will be exceptional cases, in\nwhich such a mode of preparation does not answer, whether from some\nmistake in carrying it out, or from some special gift superseding it.\n\nTo many preachers there will be another advantage besides;\u2014such a practice\nwill secure them against venturing upon really _extempore_ matter. The\nmore ardent a man is, and the greater power he has of affecting his\nhearers, so much the more will he need self-control and sustained\nrecollection, and feel the advantage of committing himself, as it were, to\nthe custody of his previous intentions, instead of yielding to any chance\ncurrent of thought which rushes upon him in the midst of his preaching.\nHis very gifts may need the counterpoise of more ordinary and homely\naccessories, such as the drudgery of composition.\n\nIt must be borne in mind too, that, since a University Sermon will\ncommonly have more pains than ordinary bestowed on it, it will be\nconsidered in the number of those which the author would especially wish\nto preserve. Some record of it then will be natural, or even is involved\nin its composition; and, while the least elaborate will be as much as a\nsketch or abstract, even the most minute, exact, and copious assemblage of\nnotes will not be found too long hereafter, supposing, as time goes on,\nany reason occurs for wishing to commit it to the press.\n\nHere are various reasons, which are likely to lead, or to oblige, a\npreacher to have recourse to his pen in preparation for his special\noffice. A further reason might be suggested, which would be more intimate\nthan any we have given, going indeed so far as to justify the introduction\nof a manuscript into the pulpit itself, if the case supposed fell for\ncertain under the idea of a University Sermon. It may be urged with great\ncogency that a process of argument, or a logical analysis and\ninvestigation, cannot at all be conducted with suitable accuracy of\nwording, completeness of statement, or succession of ideas, if the\ncomposition is to be prompted at the moment, and breathed out, as it were,\nfrom the intellect together with the very words which are its vehicle.\nThere are indeed a few persons in a generation, such as Pitt, who are able\nto converse like a book, and to speak a pamphlet; but others must be\ncontent to write and to read their writing. This is true; but I have\nalready found reason to question whether such delicate and complicated\norganizations of thought have a right to the name of Sermons at all. In\ntruth, a discourse, which, from its fineness and precision of ideas, is\ntoo difficult for a preacher to deliver without such extraneous\nassistance, is too difficult for a hearer to follow; and, if a book be\nimperative for teaching, it is imperative for learning. Both parties ought\nto read, if they are to be on equal terms;\u2014and this remark furnishes me\nwith a principle which has an application wider than the particular case\nwhich has suggested it.\n\nWhile, then, a preacher will find it becoming and advisable to put into\nwriting any important discourse beforehand, he will find it equally a\npoint of propriety and expedience not to read it in the pulpit. I am not\nof course denying his right to use a manuscript, if he wishes; but he will\ndo well to conceal it, as far as he can, unless, which is the most\neffectual concealment, whatever be its counterbalancing disadvantages, he\nprefers, mainly not verbally, to get it by heart. To conceal it, indeed,\nin one way or other, will be his natural impulse; and this very\ncircumstance seems to show us that to read a sermon needs an apology. For,\nwhy should he commit it to memory, or conceal his use of it, unless he\nfelt that it was more natural, more decorous, to do without it? And so\nagain, if he employs a manuscript, the more he appears to dispense with\nit, the more he looks off from it, and directly addresses his audience,\nthe more will he be considered to preach; and, on the other hand, the more\nwill he be judged to come short of preaching the more sedulous he is in\nfollowing his manuscript line after line, and by the tone of his voice\nmakes it clear that he has got it safely before him. What is this but a\npopular testimony to the fact that preaching is not reading, and reading\nis not preaching?\n\nThere is, as I have said, a principle involved in this decision. It is a\ncommon answer made by the Protestant poor to their clergy or other\nsuperiors, when asked why they do not go to church, that \u201cthey can read\ntheir book at home quite as well.\u201d It is quite true, they _can_ read their\nbook at home, and it is difficult what to rejoin, and it is a problem,\nwhich has employed before now the more thoughtful of their communion, to\nmake out _what_ is got by going to public service. The prayers are from a\nprinted book, the sermon is from a manuscript. The printed prayers they\nhave already; and, as to the manuscript sermon, why should it be in any\nrespects better than the volume of sermons which they have at home? Why\nshould not an approved author be as good as one who has not yet submitted\nhimself to criticism? And again, if it is to be read in the church, why\nmay not one person read it quite as well as another? Good advice is good\nadvice, all the world over. There is something more, then, than\ncomposition in a sermon; there is something personal in preaching; people\nare drawn and moved, not simply by what is said, but by how it is said,\nand who says it. The same things said by one man are not the same as when\nsaid by another. The same things when read are not the same as when they\nare preached.\n\n\n\n7.\n\n\nIn this respect the preacher differs from the minister of the sacraments,\nthat he comes to his hearers, in some sense or other, with antecedents.\nClad in his sacerdotal vestments, he sinks what is individual in himself\naltogether, and is but the representative of Him from whom he derives his\ncommission. His words, his tones, his actions, his presence, lose their\npersonality; one bishop, one priest, is like another; they all chant the\nsame notes, and observe the same genuflexions, as they give one peace and\none blessing, as they offer one and the same sacrifice. The Mass must not\nbe said without a Missal under the priest\u2019s eye; nor in any language but\nthat in which it has come down to us from the early hierarchs of the\nWestern Church. But, when it is over, and the celebrant has resigned the\nvestments proper to it, then he resumes himself, and comes to us in the\ngifts and associations which attach to his person. He knows his sheep, and\nthey know him; and it is this direct bearing of the teacher on the taught,\nof his mind upon their minds, and the mutual sympathy which exists between\nthem, which is his strength and influence when he addresses them. They\nhang upon his lips as they cannot hang upon the pages of his book.\nDefiniteness is the life of preaching. A definite hearer, not the whole\nworld; a definite topic, not the whole evangelical tradition; and, in like\nmanner, a definite speaker. Nothing that is anonymous will preach; nothing\nthat is dead and gone; nothing even which is of yesterday, however\nreligious in itself and useful. Thought and word are one in the Eternal\nLogos, and must not be separate in those who are His shadows on earth.\nThey must issue fresh and fresh, as from the preacher\u2019s mouth, so from his\nbreast, if they are to be \u201cspirit and life\u201d to the hearts of his hearers.\nAnd what is true of a parish priest applies, _mutatis mutandis_, to a\nUniversity preacher; who, even more, perhaps, than the ordinary\n_parochus_, comes to his audience with a name and a history, and excites a\npersonal interest, and persuades by what he is, as well as by what he\ndelivers.\n\nI am far from forgetting that every one has his own talent, and that one\nhas not what another has. Eloquence is a divine gift, which to a certain\npoint supersedes rules, and is to be used, like other gifts, to the glory\nof the Giver, and then only to be discountenanced when it forgets its\nplace, when it throws into the shade and embarrasses the essential\nfunctions of the Christian preacher, and claims to be cultivated for its\nown sake instead of being made subordinate and subservient to a higher\nwork and to sacred objects. And how to make eloquence subservient to the\nevangelical office is not more difficult than how to use learning or\nintellect for a supernatural end; but it does not come into consideration\nhere.\n\nIn the case of particular preachers, circumstances may constantly arise\nwhich render the use of a manuscript the more advisable course; but I have\nbeen considering how the case stands in itself, and attempting to set down\nwhat is to be aimed at as best. If religious men once ascertain what is\nabstractedly desirable, and acquiesce in it with their hearts, they will\nbe in the way to get over many difficulties which otherwise will be\ninsurmountable. For myself, I think it no extravagance to say that a very\ninferior sermon, delivered without book, answers the purposes for which\nall sermons are delivered more perfectly than one of great merit, if it be\nwritten and read. Of course, all men will not speak without book equally\nwell, just as their voices are not equally clear and loud, or their manner\nequally impressive. Eloquence, I repeat, is a gift; but most men, unless\nthey have passed the age for learning, may with practice attain such\nfluency in expressing their thoughts as will enable them to convey and\nmanifest to their audience that earnestness and devotion to their object,\nwhich is the life of preaching,\u2014which both covers, in the preacher\u2019s own\nconsciousness, the sense of his own deficiencies, and makes up for them\nover and over again in the judgment of his hearers.\n\n\n\n\n                               Lecture VII.\n\n\nChristianity and Physical Science. A Lecture in the School of Medicine.\n\n\n\n1.\n\n\nNow that we have just commenced our second Academical Year, it is natural,\nGentlemen, that, as in November last, when we were entering upon our great\nundertaking, I offered to you some remarks suggested by the occasion, so\nnow again I should not suffer the first weeks of the Session to pass away\nwithout addressing to you a few words on one of those subjects which are\nat the moment especially interesting to us. And when I apply myself to\nthink what topic I shall in consequence submit to your consideration, I\nseem to be directed what to select by the principle of selection which I\nfollowed on that former occasion to which I have been referring. Then(45)\nwe were opening the Schools of Philosophy and Letters, as now we are\nopening those of Medicine; and, as I then attempted some brief\ninvestigation of the mutual bearings of Revelation and Literature, so at\nthe present time I shall not, I trust, be unprofitably engaging your\nattention, if I make one or two parallel reflections on the relations\nexisting between Revelation and Physical Science.\n\nThis subject, indeed, viewed in its just dimensions, is far too large for\nan occasion such as this; still I may be able to select some one point out\nof the many which it offers for discussion, and, while elucidating it, to\nthrow light even on others which at the moment I do not formally\nundertake. I propose, then, to discuss the antagonism which is popularly\nsupposed to exist between Physics and Theology; and to show, first, that\nsuch antagonism does not really exist, and, next, to account for the\ncircumstance that so groundless an imagination should have got abroad.\n\nI think I am not mistaken in the fact that there exists, both in the\neducated and half-educated portions of the community, something of a\nsurmise or misgiving, that there really is at bottom a certain contrariety\nbetween the declarations of religion and the results of physical inquiry;\na suspicion such, that, while it encourages those persons who are not\nover-religious to anticipate a coming day, when at length the difference\nwill break out into open conflict, to the disadvantage of Revelation, it\nleads religious minds, on the other hand, who have not had the opportunity\nof considering accurately the state of the case, to be jealous of the\nresearches, and prejudiced against the discoveries, of Science. The\nconsequence is, on the one side, a certain contempt of Theology; on the\nother, a disposition to undervalue, to deny, to ridicule, to discourage,\nand almost to denounce, the labours of the physiological, astronomical, or\ngeological investigator.\n\nI do not suppose that any of those gentlemen who are now honouring me with\ntheir presence are exposed to the temptation either of the religious or of\nthe scientific prejudice; but that is no reason why some notice of it may\nnot have its use even in this place. It may lead us to consider the\nsubject itself more carefully and exactly; it may assist us in attaining\nclearer ideas than before how Physics and Theology stand relatively to\neach other.\n\n\n\n2.\n\n\nLet us begin with a first approximation to the real state of the case, or\na broad view, which, though it may require corrections, will serve at once\nto illustrate and to start the subject. We may divide knowledge, then,\ninto natural and supernatural. Some knowledge, of course, is both at once;\nfor the moment let us put this circumstance aside, and view these two\nfields of knowledge in themselves, and as distinct from each other in\nidea. By nature is meant, I suppose, that vast system of things, taken as\na whole, of which we are cognizant by means of our natural powers. By the\nsupernatural world is meant that still more marvellous and awful universe,\nof which the Creator Himself is the fulness, and which becomes known to\nus, not through our natural faculties, but by superadded and direct\ncommunication from Him. These two great circles of knowledge, as I have\nsaid, intersect; first, as far as supernatural knowledge includes truths\nand facts of the natural world, and secondly, as far as truths and facts\nof the natural world are on the other hand data for inferences about the\nsupernatural. Still, allowing this interference to the full, it will be\nfound, on the whole, that the two worlds and the two kinds of knowledge\nrespectively are separated off from each other; and that, therefore, as\nbeing separate, they cannot on the whole contradict each other. That is,\nin other words, a person who has the fullest knowledge of one of these\nworlds, may be nevertheless, on the whole, as ignorant as the rest of\nmankind, as unequal to form a judgment, of the facts and truths of the\nother. He who knows all that can possibly be known about physics, about\npolitics, about geography, ethnology, and ethics, will have made no\napproximation whatever to decide the question whether or not there are\nangels, and how many are their orders; and on the other hand, the most\nlearned of dogmatic and mystical divines,\u2014St. Augustine, St. Thomas,\u2014will\nnot on that score know more than a peasant about the laws of motion, or\nthe wealth of nations. I do not mean that there may not be speculations\nand guesses on this side and that, but I speak of any conclusion which\nmerits to be called, I will not say knowledge, but even opinion. If, then,\nTheology be the philosophy of the supernatural world, and Science the\nphilosophy of the natural, Theology and Science, whether in their\nrespective ideas, or again in their own actual fields, on the whole, are\nincommunicable, incapable of collision, and needing, at most to be\nconnected, never to be reconciled.\n\nNow this broad general view of our subject is found to be so far true in\nfact, in spite of such deductions from it that have to be made in detail,\nthat the recent French editors of one of the works of St. Thomas are able\nto give it as one of their reasons why that great theologian made an\nalliance, not with Plato, but with Aristotle, because Aristotle (they\nsay), unlike Plato, confined himself to human science, and therefore was\nsecured from coming into collision with divine.\n\n\u201cNot without reason,\u201d they say, \u201cdid St. Thomas acknowledge Aristotle as\nif the Master of human philosophy; for, inasmuch as Aristotle was not a\nTheologian, he had only treated of logical, physical, psychological, and\nmetaphysical theses, to the exclusion of those which are concerned about\nthe supernatural relations of man to God, that is, religion; which, on the\nother hand, had been the source of the worst errors of other philosophers,\nand especially of Plato.\u201d\n\n\n\n3.\n\n\nBut if there be so substantial a truth even in this very broad statement\nconcerning the independence of the fields of Theology and general Science\nseverally, and the consequent impossibility of collision between them, how\nmuch more true is that statement, from the very nature of the case, when\nwe contrast Theology, not with Science generally, but definitely with\nPhysics! In Physics is comprised that family of sciences which is\nconcerned with the sensible world, with the phenomena which we see, hear,\nand handle, or, in other words, with matter. It is the philosophy of\nmatter. Its basis of operations, what it starts from, what it falls back\nupon, is the phenomena which meet the senses. Those phenomena it\nascertains, catalogues, compares, combines, arranges, and then uses for\ndetermining something beyond themselves, viz., the order to which they are\nsubservient, or what we commonly call the laws of nature. It never travels\nbeyond the examination of cause and effect. Its object is to resolve the\ncomplexity of phenomena into simple elements and principles; but when it\nhas reached those first elements, principles, and laws, its mission is at\nan end; it keeps within that material system with which it began, and\nnever ventures beyond the \u201cflammantia m\u0153nia mundi.\u201d It may, indeed, if it\nchooses, feel a doubt of the completeness of its analysis hitherto, and\nfor that reason endeavour to arrive at more simple laws and fewer\nprinciples. It may be dissatisfied with its own combinations, hypotheses,\nsystems; and leave Ptolemy for Newton, the alchemists for Lavoisier and\nDavy;\u2014that is, it may decide that it has not yet touched the bottom of its\nown subject; but still its aim will be to get to the bottom, and nothing\nmore. With matter it began, with matter it will end; it will never\ntrespass into the province of mind. The Hindoo notion is said to be that\nthe earth stands upon a tortoise; but the physicist, as such, will never\nask himself by what influence, external to the universe, the universe is\nsustained; simply because he _is_ a physicist.\n\nIf indeed he be a religious man, he will of course have a very definite\nview of the subject; but that view of his is private, not\nprofessional,\u2014the view, not of a physicist, but of a religious man; and\nthis, not because physical science says any thing different, but simply\nbecause it says nothing at all on the subject, nor can do so by the very\nundertaking with which it set out. The question is simply _extra artem_.\nThe physical philosopher has nothing whatever to do with final causes, and\nwill get into inextricable confusion, if he introduces them into his\ninvestigations. He has to look in one definite direction, not in any\nother. It is said that in some countries, when a stranger asks his way, he\nis at once questioned in turn what place he came from: something like this\nwould be the unseasonableness of a physicist, who inquired how the\nphenomena and laws of the material world primarily came to be, when his\nsimple task is that of ascertaining what they are. Within the limits of\nthose phenomena he may speculate and prove; he may trace the operation of\nthe laws of matter through periods of time; he may penetrate into the\npast, and anticipate the future; he may recount the changes which they\nhave effected upon matter, and the rise, growth, and decay of phenomena;\nand so in a certain sense he may write the history of the material world,\nas far as he can; still he will always advance from phenomena, and\nconclude upon the internal evidence which they supply. He will not come\nnear the questions, what that ultimate element is, which we call matter,\nhow it came to be, whether it can cease to be, whether it ever was not,\nwhether it will ever come to nought, in what its laws really consist,\nwhether they can cease to be, whether they can be suspended, what\ncausation is, what time is, what the relations of time to cause and\neffect, and a hundred other questions of a similar character.\n\nSuch is Physical Science, and Theology, as is obvious, is just what such\nScience is not. Theology begins, as its name denotes, not with any\nsensible facts, phenomena, or results, not with nature at all, but with\nthe Author of nature,\u2014with the one invisible, unapproachable Cause and\nSource of all things. It begins at the other end of knowledge, and is\noccupied, not with the finite, but the Infinite. It unfolds and\nsystematizes what He Himself has told us of Himself; of His nature, His\nattributes, His will, and His acts. As far as it approaches towards\nPhysics, it takes just the counterpart of the questions which occupy the\nPhysical Philosopher. He contemplates facts before him; the Theologian\ngives the reasons of those facts. The Physicist treats of efficient\ncauses; the Theologian of final. The Physicist tells us of laws; the\nTheologian of the Author, Maintainer, and Controller of them; of their\nscope, of their suspension, if so be; of their beginning and their end.\nThis is how the two schools stand related to each other, at that point\nwhere they approach the nearest; but for the most part they are absolutely\ndivergent. What Physical Science is engaged in I have already said; as to\nTheology, it contemplates the world, not of matter, but of mind; the\nSupreme Intelligence; souls and their destiny; conscience and duty; the\npast, present, and future dealings of the Creator with the creature.\n\n\n\n4.\n\n\nSo far, then, as these remarks have gone, Theology and Physics cannot\ntouch each other, have no intercommunion, have no ground of difference or\nagreement, of jealousy or of sympathy. As well may musical truths be said\nto interfere with the doctrines of architectural science; as well may\nthere be a collision between the mechanist and the geologist, the engineer\nand the grammarian; as well might the British Parliament or the French\nnation be jealous of some possible belligerent power upon the surface of\nthe moon, as Physics pick a quarrel with Theology. And it may be\nwell,\u2014before I proceed to fill up in detail this outline, and to explain\nwhat has to be explained in this statement,\u2014to corroborate it, as it\nstands, by the remarkable words upon the subject of a writer of the\nday:(46)\u2014\n\n\u201cWe often hear it said,\u201d he observes, writing as a Protestant (and here\nlet me assure you, Gentlemen, that though his words have a controversial\ntone with them, I do not quote them in that aspect, or as wishing here to\nurge any thing against Protestants, but merely in pursuance of my own\npoint, that Revelation and Physical Science cannot really come into\ncollision), \u201cwe often hear it said that the world is constantly becoming\nmore and more enlightened, and that this enlightenment must be favourable\nto Protestantism, and unfavourable to Catholicism. We wish that we could\nthink so. But we see great reason to doubt whether this is a well-founded\nexpectation. We see that during the last two hundred and fifty years the\nhuman mind has been in the highest degree active; that it has made great\nadvances in every branch of natural philosophy; that it has produced\ninnumerable inventions tending to promote the convenience of life; that\nmedicine, surgery, chemistry, engineering, have been very greatly\nimproved, that government, police, and law have been improved, though not\nto so great an extent as the physical sciences. Yet we see that, during\nthese two hundred and fifty years, Protestantism has made no conquests\nworth speaking of. Nay, we believe that, as far as there has been change,\nthat change has, on the whole, been in favour of the Church of Rome. We\ncannot, therefore, feel confident that the progress of knowledge will\nnecessarily be fatal to a system which has, to say the least, stood its\nground in spite of the immense progress made by the human race in\nknowledge since the days of Queen Elizabeth.\n\n\u201cIndeed, the argument which we are considering seems to us to be founded\non an entire mistake. There are branches of knowledge with respect to\nwhich the law of the human mind is progress. In mathematics, when once a\nproposition has been demonstrated, it is never afterwards contested. Every\nfresh story is as solid a basis for a new superstructure as the original\nfoundation was. Here, therefore, there is a constant addition to the stock\nof truth. In the inductive sciences, again, the law is progress.\u2026\n\n\u201cBut with theology the case is very different. As respects natural\nreligion (Revelation being for the present altogether left out of the\nquestion), it is not easy to see that a philosopher of the present day is\nmore favourably situated than Thales or Simonides. He has before him just\nthe same evidences of design in the structure of the universe which the\nearly Greeks had.\u2026 As to the other great question, the question what\nbecomes of man after death, we do not see that a highly educated European,\nleft to his unassisted reason, is more likely to be in the right than a\nBlackfoot Indian. Not a single one of the many sciences, in which we\nsurpass the Blackfoot Indians, throws the smallest light on the state of\nthe soul after the animal life is extinct.\u2026\n\n\u201cNatural Theology, then, is not a progressive science. That knowledge of\nour origin and of our destiny which we derive from Revelation is indeed of\nvery different clearness, and of very different importance. But neither is\nRevealed Religion of the nature of a progressive science.\u2026 In divinity\nthere cannot be a progress analogous to that which is constantly taking\nplace in pharmacy, geology, and navigation. A Christian of the fifth\ncentury with a Bible is neither better nor worse situated than a Christian\nof the nineteenth century with a Bible, candour and natural acuteness\nbeing of course supposed equal. It matters not at all that the compass,\nprinting, gunpowder, steam, gas, vaccination, and a thousand other\ndiscoveries and inventions, which were unknown in the fifth century, are\nfamiliar to the nineteenth. None of these discoveries and inventions has\nthe smallest bearing on the question whether man is justified by faith\nalone, or whether the invocation of saints is an orthodox practice.\u2026 We\nare confident that the world will never go back to the solar system of\nPtolemy; nor is our confidence in the least shaken by the circumstance\nthat so great a man as Bacon rejected the theory of Galileo with scorn;\nfor Bacon had not all the means of arriving at a sound conclusion.\u2026 But\nwhen we reflect that Sir Thomas More was ready to die for the doctrine of\nTransubstantiation, we cannot but feel some doubt whether the doctrine of\nTransubstantiation may not triumph over all opposition. More was a man of\neminent talents. He had all the information on the subject that we have,\nor _that, while the world lasts, any __ human being will have.\u2026 No\nprogress that science has made, or will make_, can add to what seems to us\nthe overwhelming force of the argument against the Real Presence. We are\ntherefore unable to understand why what Sir Thomas More believed\nrespecting Transubstantiation may not be believed to the end of time by\nmen equal in abilities and honesty to Sir Thomas More. But Sir Thomas More\nis one of the choice specimens of human wisdom and virtue; and the\ndoctrine of Transubstantiation is a kind of proof charge. The faith which\nstands that test will stand any test.\u2026\n\n\u201cThe history of Catholicism strikingly illustrates these observations.\nDuring the last seven centuries the public mind of Europe has made\nconstant progress in every department of secular knowledge; but in\nreligion we can trace no constant progress.\u2026 Four times since the\nauthority of the Church of Rome was established in Western Christendom has\nthe human intellect risen up against her yoke. Twice that Church remained\ncompletely victorious. Twice she came forth from the conflict bearing the\nmarks of cruel wounds, but with the principle of life still strong within\nher. When we reflect on the tremendous assaults she has survived, we find\nit difficult to conceive in what way she is to perish.\u201d\n\nYou see, Gentlemen, if you trust the judgment of a sagacious mind, deeply\nread in history, Catholic Theology has nothing to fear from the progress\nof Physical Science, even independently of the divinity of its doctrines.\nIt speaks of things supernatural; and these, by the very force of the\nwords, research into nature cannot touch.\n\n\n\n5.\n\n\nIt is true that the author in question, while saying all this, and much\nmore to the same purpose, also makes mention of one exception to his\ngeneral statement, though he mentions it in order to put it aside. I, too,\nhave to notice the same exception here; and you will see at once,\nGentlemen, as soon as it is named, how little it interferes really with\nthe broad view which I have been drawing out. It is true, then, that\nRevelation has in one or two instances advanced beyond its chosen\nterritory, which is the invisible world, in order to throw light upon the\nhistory of the material universe. Holy Scripture, it is perfectly true,\ndoes declare a few momentous facts, so few that they may be counted, of a\nphysical character. It speaks of a process of formation out of chaos which\noccupied six days; it speaks of the firmament; of the sun and moon being\ncreated for the sake of the earth; of the earth being immovable; of a\ngreat deluge; and of several other similar facts and events. It is true;\nnor is there any reason why we should anticipate any difficulty in\naccepting these statements as they stand, whenever their meaning and drift\nare authoritatively determined; for, it must be recollected, their meaning\nhas not yet engaged the formal attention of the Church, or received any\ninterpretation which, as Catholics, we are bound to accept, and in the\nabsence of such definite interpretation, there is perhaps some presumption\nin saying that it means this, and does not mean that. And this being the\ncase, it is not at all probable that any discoveries ever should be made\nby physical inquiries incompatible at the same time with one and all of\nthose senses which the letter admits, and which are still open. As to\ncertain popular interpretations of the texts in question, I shall have\nsomething to say of them presently; here I am only concerned with the\nletter of the Holy Scriptures itself, as far as it bears upon the history\nof the heavens and the earth; and I say that we may wait in peace and\ntranquillity till there is some real collision between Scripture\nauthoritatively interpreted, and results of science clearly ascertained,\nbefore we consider how we are to deal with a difficulty which we have\nreasonable grounds for thinking will never really occur.\n\nAnd, after noticing this exception, I really have made the utmost\nadmission that has to be made about the existence of any common ground\nupon which Theology and Physical Science may fight a battle. On the whole,\nthe two studies do most surely occupy distinct fields, in which each may\nteach without expecting any interposition from the other. It might indeed\nhave pleased the Almighty to have superseded physical inquiry by revealing\nthe truths which are its object, though He has not done so: but whether it\nhad pleased Him to do so or not, anyhow Theology and Physics would be\ndistinct sciences; and nothing which the one says of the material world\never can contradict what the other says of the immaterial. Here, then, is\nthe end of the question; and here I might come to an end also, were it not\nincumbent on me to explain how it is that, though Theology and Physics\ncannot quarrel, nevertheless, Physical Philosophers and Theologians have\nquarrelled in fact, and quarrel still. To the solution of this difficulty\nI shall devote the remainder of my Lecture.\n\n\n\n6.\n\n\nI observe, then, that the elementary methods of reasoning and inquiring\nused in Theology and Physics are contrary the one to the other; each of\nthem has a method of its own; and in this, I think, has lain the point of\ncontroversy between the two schools, viz., that neither of them has been\nquite content to remain on its own homestead, but that, whereas each has\nits own method, which is the best for its own science, each has considered\nit the best for all purposes whatever, and has at different times thought\nto impose it upon the other science, to the disparagement or rejection of\nthat opposite method which legitimately belongs to it.\n\nThe argumentative method of Theology is that of a strict science, such as\nGeometry, or deductive; the method of Physics, at least on starting, is\nthat of an empirical pursuit, or inductive. This peculiarity on either\nside arises from the nature of the case. In Physics a vast and omnigenous\nmass of information lies before the inquirer, all in a confused litter,\nand needing arrangement and analysis. In Theology such varied phenomena\nare wanting, and Revelation presents itself instead. What is known in\nChristianity is just that which is revealed, and nothing more; certain\ntruths, communicated directly from above, are committed to the keeping of\nthe faithful, and to the very last nothing can really be added to those\ntruths. From the time of the Apostles to the end of the world no strictly\nnew truth can be added to the theological information which the Apostles\nwere inspired to deliver. It is possible of course to make numberless\ndeductions from the original doctrines; but, as the conclusion is ever in\nits premisses, such deductions are not, strictly speaking, an addition;\nand, though experience may variously guide and modify those deductions,\nstill, on the whole, Theology retains the severe character of a science,\nadvancing syllogistically from premisses to conclusion.\n\nThe method of Physics is just the reverse of this: it has hardly any\nprinciples or truths to start with, externally delivered and already\nascertained. It has to commence *mence with sight and touch; it has to\nhandle, weigh, and measure its own exuberant _sylva_ of phenomena, and\nfrom these to advance to new truths,\u2014truths, that is, which are beyond and\ndistinct from the phenomena from which they originate. Thus Physical\nScience is experimental, Theology traditional; Physical Science is the\nricher, Theology the more exact; Physics the bolder, Theology the surer;\nPhysics progressive, Theology, in comparison, stationary; Theology is\nloyal to the past, Physics has visions of the future. Such they are, I\nrepeat, and such their respective methods of inquiry, from the nature of\nthe case.\n\nBut minds habituated to either of these two methods can hardly help\nextending it beyond its due limits, unless they are put upon their guard,\nand have great command of themselves. It cannot be denied that divines\nhave from time to time been much inclined to give a traditional, logical\nshape to sciences which do not admit of any such treatment. Nor can it be\ndenied, on the other hand, that men of science often show a special\nirritation at theologians for going by antiquity, precedent, authority,\nand logic, and for declining to introduce Bacon or Niebuhr into their own\nschool, or to apply some new experimental and critical process for the\nimprovement of that which has been given once for all from above. Hence\nthe mutual jealousy of the two parties; and I shall now attempt to give\ninstances of it.\n\n\n\n7.\n\n\nFirst, then, let me refer to those interpretations of Scripture, popular\nand of long standing, though not authoritative, to which I have already\nhad occasion to allude. Scripture, we know, is to be interpreted according\nto the unanimous consent of the Fathers; but, besides this consent, which\nis of authority, carrying with it the evidence of its truth, there have\never been in Christendom a number of floating opinions, more or less\nappended to the divine tradition; opinions which have a certain\nprobability of being more than human, or of having a basis or admixture of\ntruth, but which admit of no test, whence they came, or how far they are\ntrue, besides the course of events, and which meanwhile are to be received\nat least with attention and deference. Sometimes they are comments on\nScripture prophecy, sometimes on other obscurities or mysteries. It was\nonce an opinion, for instance, drawn from the sacred text, that the\nChristian Dispensation was to last a thousand years, and no more; the\nevent disproved it. A still more exact and plausible tradition, derived\nfrom Scripture, was that which asserted that, when the Roman Empire should\nfall to pieces, Antichrist should appear, who should be followed at once\nby the Second Coming. Various Fathers thus interpret St. Paul, and\nBellarmine receives the interpretation as late as the sixteenth century.\nThe event alone can decide if, under any aspect of Christian history, it\nis true; but at present we are at least able to say that it is not true in\nthat broad plain sense in which it was once received.\n\nPassing from comments on prophetical passages of Scripture to those on\ncosmological, it was, I suppose, the common belief of ages, sustained by\nreceived interpretations of the sacred text, that the earth was immovable.\nHence, I suppose, it was that the Irish Bishop who asserted the existence\nof the Antipodes alarmed his contemporaries; though it is well to observe\nthat, even in the dark age in which he lived, the Holy See, to which\nreference was made, did not commit itself to any condemnation of the\nunusual opinion. The same alarm again occupied the public mind when the\nCopernican System was first advocated: nor were the received traditions,\nwhich were the ground of that alarm, hastily to be rejected; yet rejected\nthey ultimately have been. If in any quarter these human traditions were\nenforced, and, as it were, enacted, to the prejudice and detriment of\nscientific investigations (and this was never done by the Church herself),\nthis was a case of undue interference on the part of the Theological\nschools in the province of Physics.\n\nSo much may be said as regards interpretations of Scripture; but it is\neasy to see that other received opinions, not resting on the sacred\nvolume, might with less claim and greater inconvenience be put forward to\nharass the physical inquirer, to challenge his submission, and to preclude\nthat process of examination which is proper to his own peculiar pursuit.\nSuch are the dictatorial formul\u00e6 against which Bacon inveighs, and the\neffect of which was to change Physics into a deductive science, and to\noblige the student to assume implicitly, as first principles, enunciations\nand maxims, which were venerable, only because no one could tell whence\nthey came, and authoritative, only because no one could say what arguments\nthere were in their favour. In proportion as these encroachments were made\nupon his own field of inquiry would be the indignation of the physical\nphilosopher; and he would exercise a scepticism which relieved his\nfeelings, while it approved itself to his reason, if he was called on ever\nto keep in mind that light bodies went up, and heavy bodies fell down, and\nother similar maxims, which had no pretensions to a divine origin, or to\nbe considered self-evident principles, or intuitive truths.\n\nAnd in like manner, if a philosopher with a true genius for physical\nresearch found the Physical Schools of his day occupied with the\ndiscussion of final causes, and solving difficulties in material nature by\nmeans of them; if he found it decided, for instance, that the roots of\ntrees make for the river, _because_ they need moisture, or that the axis\nof the earth lies at a certain angle to the plane of its motion by\n_reason_ of certain advantages thence accruing to its inhabitants, I\nshould not wonder at his exerting himself for a great reform in the\nprocess of inquiry, preaching the method of Induction, and, if he fancied\nthat theologians were indirectly or in any respect the occasion of the\nblunder, getting provoked for a time, however unreasonably, with Theology\nitself.\n\nI wish the experimental school of Philosophers had gone no further in its\nopposition to Theology than indulging in some indignation at it for the\nfault of its disciples; but it must be confessed that it has run into\nexcesses on its own side for which the school of high Deductive Science\nhas afforded no precedent; and that, if it once for a time suffered from\nthe tyranny of the logical method of inquiry, it has encouraged, by way of\nreprisals, encroachments and usurpations on the province of Theology far\nmore serious than that unintentional and long obsolete interference with\nits own province, on the part of Theologians, which has been its excuse.\nAnd to these unjustifiable and mischievous intrusions made by the\nExperimentalists into the department of Theology I have now, Gentlemen, to\ncall your attention.\n\n\n\n8.\n\n\nYou will let me repeat, then, what I have already said, that, taking\nthings as they are, the very idea of Revelation is that of a direct\ninterference from above, for the introduction of truths otherwise unknown;\nmoreover, as such a communication implies recipients, an authoritative\ndepositary of the things revealed will be found practically to be involved\nin that idea. Knowledge, then, of these revealed truths, is gained, not by\nany research into facts, but simply by appealing to the authoritative\nkeepers of them, as every Catholic knows, by learning what is a matter of\nteaching, and by dwelling upon, and drawing out into detail, the doctrines\nwhich are delivered; according to the text, \u201cFaith cometh by hearing.\u201d I\ndo not prove what, after all, does not need proof, because I speak to\nCatholics; I am stating what we Catholics know, and ever will maintain to\nbe the method proper to Theology, as it has ever been recognized. Such, I\nsay, is the theological method, deductive; however, the history of the\nlast three centuries is only one long course of attempts, on the part of\nthe partisans of the Baconian Philosophy, to get rid of the method proper\nto Theology and to make it an experimental science.\n\nBut, I say, for an experimental science, we must have a large collection\nof phenomena or facts: where, then, are those which are to be adopted as a\nbasis for an inductive theology? Three principal stores have been used,\nGentlemen: the first, the text of Holy Scripture; the second, the events\nand transactions of ecclesiastical history; the third, the phenomena of\nthe visible world. This triple subject-matter,\u2014Scripture, Antiquity,\nNature,\u2014has been taken as a foundation, on which the inductive method may\nbe exercised for the investigation and ascertainment of that theological\ntruth, which to a Catholic is a matter of teaching, transmission, and\ndeduction.\n\nNow let us pause for a moment and make a reflection before going into any\ndetail. Truth cannot be contrary to truth; if these three subject-matters\nwere able, under the pressure of the inductive method, to yield\nrespectively theological conclusions in unison and in concord with each\nother, and also contrary to the doctrines of Theology as a deductive\nscience, then that Theology would not indeed at once be overthrown (for\nstill the question would remain for discussion, which of the two doctrinal\nsystems was the truth, and which the apparent truth), but certainly the\nreceived deductive theological science would be in an anxious position,\nand would be on its trial.\n\nAgain, truth cannot be contrary to truth;\u2014if, then, on the other hand,\nthese three subject-matters,\u2014Scripture, Antiquity, and Nature,\u2014worked\nthrough three centuries by men of great abilities, with the method or\ninstrument of Bacon in their hands, have respectively issued in\nconclusions contradictory of each other, nay, have even issued, this or\nthat taken by itself, Scripture or Antiquity, in various systems of\ndoctrine, so that on the whole, instead of all three resulting in one set\nof conclusions, they have yielded a good score of them; then and in that\ncase\u2014it does not at once follow that no one of this score of conclusions\nmay happen to be the true one, and all the rest false; but at least such a\ncatastrophe will throw a very grave shade of doubt upon them all, and\nbears out the antecedent declaration, or rather prophecy, of theologians,\nbefore these experimentalists started, that it was nothing more than a\nhuge mistake to introduce the method of research and of induction into the\nstudy of Theology at all.\n\nNow I think you will allow me to say, Gentlemen, as a matter of historical\nfact, that the latter supposition has been actually fulfilled, and that\nthe former has not. I mean that, so far from a scientific proof of some\none system of doctrine, and that antagonistic to the old Theology, having\nbeen constructed by the experimental party, by a triple convergence, from\nthe several bases of Scripture, Antiquity, and Nature, on the contrary,\nthat empirical method, which has done such wonderful things in physics and\nother human sciences, has sustained a most emphatic and eloquent reverse\nin its usurped territory,\u2014has come to no one conclusion,\u2014has illuminated\nno definite view,\u2014has brought its glasses to no focus,\u2014has shown not even\na tendency towards prospective success; nay, further still, has already\nconfessed its own absolute failure, and has closed the inquiry itself, not\nindeed by giving place to the legitimate method which it dispossessed, but\nby announcing that nothing can be known on the subject at all,\u2014that\nreligion is not a science, and that in religion scepticism is the only\ntrue philosophy; or again, by a still more remarkable avowal, that the\ndecision lies _between_ the old Theology and none at all, and that,\ncertain though it be that religious truth is nowhere, yet that, _if_\nanywhere it is, it undoubtedly is not in the new empirical schools, but in\nthat old teaching, founded on the deductive method, which was in honour\nand in possession at the time when Experiment and Induction commenced\ntheir brilliant career. What a singular break-down of a noble instrument,\nwhen used for the arrogant and tyrannical invasion of a sacred territory!\nWhat can be more sacred than Theology? What can be more noble than the\nBaconian method? But the two do not correspond; they are mismatched. The\nage has mistaken lock and key. It has broken the key in a lock which does\nnot belong to it; it has ruined the wards by a key which never will fit\ninto them. Let us hope that its present disgust and despair at the result\nare the preliminaries of a generous and great repentance.\n\nI have thought, Gentlemen, that you would allow me to draw this moral in\nthe first place; and now I will say a few words on one specimen of this\nerror in detail.\n\n\n\n9.\n\n\nIt seems, then, that instead of having recourse to the tradition and\nteaching of the Catholic Church, it has been the philosophy of the modern\nschool to attempt to determine the doctrines of Theology by means of Holy\nScripture, or of ecclesiastical antiquity, or of physical phenomena. And\nthe question may arise, _why_, after all, should not such informations,\nscriptural, historical, or physical, be used? and if used, why should they\nnot lead to true results? Various answers may be given to this question: I\nshall confine myself to one; and again, for the sake of brevity, I shall\napply it mainly to one out of the three expedients, to which the opponents\nto Theology have had recourse. Passing over, then, what might be said\nrespecting what is called Scriptural Religion, and Historical Religion, I\npropose to direct your attention, in conclusion, to the real character of\nPhysical Religion, or Natural Theology, as being more closely connected\nwith the main subject of this Lecture.\n\nThe school of Physics, from its very drift and method of reasoning, has,\nas I have said, nothing to do with Religion. However, there is a science\nwhich avails itself of the phenomena and laws of the material universe, as\nexhibited by that school, as a means of establishing the existence of\nDesign in their construction, and thereby the fact of a Creator and\nPreserver. This science has, in these modern times, at least in England,\ntaken the name of Natural Theology;(47) and, though absolutely distinct\nfrom Physics, yet Physical Philosophers, having furnished its most curious\nand interesting data, are apt to claim it as their own, and to pride\nthemselves upon it accordingly.\n\nI have no wish to speak lightly of the merits of this so-called Natural\nor, more properly, Physical Theology. There are a great many minds so\nconstituted that, when they turn their thoughts to the question of the\nexistence of a Supreme Being, they feel a comfort in resting the proof\nmainly or solely on the Argument of Design which the Universe furnishes.\nTo them this science of Physical Theology is of high importance. Again,\nthis science exhibits, in great prominence and distinctness, three of the\nmore elementary notions which the human reason attaches to the idea of a\nSupreme Being, that is, three of His simplest attributes, Power, Wisdom,\nand Goodness.\n\nThese are great services rendered to faith by Physical Theology, and I\nacknowledge them as such. Whether, however, Faith on that account owes any\ngreat deal to Physics or Physicists, is another matter. The Argument from\nDesign is really in no sense due to the philosophy of Bacon. The author I\nquoted just now has a striking passage on this point, of which I have\nalready read to you a part. \u201cAs respects Natural Religion,\u201d he says, \u201cit\nis not easy to see that the philosopher of the present day is more\nfavourably situated than Thales or Simonides. He has before him just the\nsame evidences of design in the structure of the universe which the early\nGreeks had. We say, just the same; for the discoveries of modern\nastronomers and anatomists _have really added nothing_ to the force of\nthat argument which a reflecting mind finds in every beast, bird, insect,\nfish, leaf, flower, and shell. The reasoning by which Socrates, in\nXenophon\u2019s hearing, confuted the little atheist, Aristodemus, is exactly\nthe reasoning of Paley\u2019s Natural Theology. Socrates makes precisely the\nsame use of the statues of Polycletus and the pictures of Zeuxis, which\nPaley makes of the watch.\u201d\n\nPhysical Theology, then, is pretty much what it was two thousand years\nago, and has not received much help from modern science: but now, on the\ncontrary, I think it has received from it a positive disadvantage,\u2014I mean,\nit has been taken out of its place, has been put too prominently forward,\nand thereby has almost been used as an instrument against Christianity,\u2014as\nI will attempt in a few words to explain.\n\n\n\n10.\n\n\nI observe, then, that there are many investigations in every\nsubject-matter which only lead us a certain way towards truth, and not the\nwhole way: either leading us, for instance, to a strong probability, not\nto a certainty, or again, proving only some things out of the whole number\nwhich are true. And it is plain that if such investigations as these are\ntaken as the measure of the whole truth, and are erected into substantive\nsciences, instead of being understood to be, what they really are,\ninchoate and subordinate processes, they will, accidentally indeed, but\nseriously, mislead us.\n\n1. Let us recur for a moment, in illustration, to the instances which I\nhave put aside. Consider what is called Scriptural Religion, or the\nReligion of the Bible. The fault which the theologian, over and above the\nquestion of private judgment, will find with a religion logically drawn\nfrom Scripture only, is, not that it is not true, as far as it goes, but\nthat it is not the whole truth; that it consists of only some out of the\nwhole circle of theological doctrines, and that, even in the case of those\nwhich it includes, it does not always invest them with certainty, but only\nwith probability. If, indeed, the Religion of the Bible is made\nsubservient to Theology, it is but a specimen of useful induction; but if\nit is set up, as something complete in itself, against Theology, it is\nturned into a mischievous paralogism. And if such a paralogism has taken\nplace, and that in consequence of the influence of the Baconian\nphilosophy, it shows us what comes of the intrusion of that philosophy\ninto a province with which it had no concern.\n\n2. And so, again, as to Historical Religion, or what is often called\nAntiquity. A research into the records of the early Church no Catholic can\nview with jealousy: truth cannot be contrary to truth; we are confident\nthat what is there found will, when maturely weighed, be nothing else than\nan illustration and confirmation of our own Theology. But it is another\nthing altogether whether the results will go to the full lengths of our\nTheology; they will indeed concur with it, but only as far as they go.\nThere is no reason why the data for investigation supplied by the extant\ndocuments of Antiquity should be sufficient for all that was included in\nthe Divine Revelation delivered by the Apostles; and to expect that they\nwill is like expecting that one witness in a trial is to prove the whole\ncase, and that his testimony actually contradicts it, unless it does.\nWhile, then, this research into ecclesiastical history and the writings of\nthe Fathers keeps its proper place, as subordinate to the magisterial\nsovereignty of the Theological Tradition and the voice of the Church, it\ndeserves the acknowledgments of theologians; but when it (so to say) sets\nup for itself, when it professes to fulfil an office for which it was\nnever intended, when it claims to issue in a true and full teaching,\nderived by a scientific process of induction, then it is but another\ninstance of the encroachment of the Baconian empirical method in a\ndepartment not its own.\n\n3. And now we come to the case of Physical Theology, which is directly\nbefore us. I confess, in spite of whatever may be said in its favour, I\nhave ever viewed it with the greatest suspicion. As one class of thinkers\nhas substituted what is called a Scriptural Religion, and another a\nPatristical or Primitive Religion, for the theological teaching of\nCatholicism, so a Physical Religion or Theology is the very gospel of many\npersons of the Physical School, and therefore, true as it may be in\nitself, still under the circumstances is a false gospel. Half of the truth\nis a falsehood:\u2014consider, Gentlemen, what this so-called Theology teaches,\nand then say whether what I have asserted is extravagant.\n\nAny one divine attribute of course virtually includes all; still if a\npreacher always insisted on the Divine Justice, he would practically be\nobscuring the Divine Mercy, and if he insisted only on the\nincommunicableness and distance from the creature of the Uncreated\nEssence, he would tend to throw into the shade the doctrine of a\nParticular Providence. Observe, then, Gentlemen, that Physical Theology\nteaches three Divine Attributes, I may say, exclusively; and of these,\nmost of Power, and least of Goodness.\n\nAnd in the next place, what, on the contrary, are those special\nAttributes, which are the immediate correlatives of religious sentiment?\nSanctity, omniscience, justice, mercy, faithfulness. What does Physical\nTheology, what does the Argument from Design, what do fine disquisitions\nabout final causes, teach us, except very indirectly, faintly,\nenigmatically, of these transcendently important, these essential portions\nof the idea of Religion? Religion is more than Theology; it is something\nrelative to us; and it includes our relation towards the Object of it.\nWhat does Physical Theology tell us of duty and conscience? of a\nparticular providence? and, coming at length to Christianity, what does it\nteach us even of the four last things, death, judgment, heaven, and hell,\nthe mere elements of Christianity? It cannot tell us anything of\nChristianity at all.\n\nGentlemen, let me press this point upon your earnest attention. I say\nPhysical Theology cannot, from the nature of the case, tell us one word\nabout Christianity proper; it cannot be Christian, in any true sense, at\nall\u2014and from this plain reason, because it is derived from informations\nwhich existed just as they are now, before man was created, and Adam fell.\nHow can that be a real substantive Theology, though it takes the name,\nwhich is but an abstraction, a particular aspect of the whole truth, and\nis dumb almost as regards the moral attributes of the Creator, and utterly\nso as regards the evangelical?\n\nNay, more than this; I do not hesitate to say that, taking men as they\nare, this so-called science tends, if it occupies the mind, to dispose it\nagainst Christianity. And for this plain reason, because it speaks only of\nlaws; and cannot contemplate their suspension, that is, miracles, which\nare of the essence of the idea of a Revelation. Thus, the God of Physical\nTheology may very easily become a mere idol; for He comes to the inductive\nmind in the medium of fixed appointments, so excellent, so skilful, so\nbeneficent, that, when it has for a long time gazed upon them, it will\nthink them too beautiful to be broken, and will at length so contract its\nnotion of Him as to conclude that He never could have the heart (if I may\ndare use such a term) to undo or mar His own work; and this conclusion\nwill be the first step towards its degrading its idea of God a second\ntime, and identifying Him with His works. Indeed, a Being of Power,\nWisdom, and Goodness, and nothing else, is not very different from the God\nof the Pantheist.\n\nIn thus speaking of the Theology of the modern Physical School, I have\nsaid but a few words on a large subject; yet, though few words, I trust\nthey are clear enough not to hazard the risk of being taken in a sense\nwhich I do not intend. Graft the science, if it is so to be called, on\nTheology proper, and it will be in its right place, and will be a\nreligious science. Then it will illustrate the awful, incomprehensible,\nadorable Fertility of the Divine Omnipotence; it will serve to prove the\nreal miraculousness of the Revelation in its various parts, by impressing\non the mind vividly what are the laws of nature, and how immutable they\nare in their own order; and it will in other ways subserve theological\ntruth. Separate it from the supernatural teaching, and make it stand on\nits own base, and (though of course it is better for the individual\nphilosopher himself), yet, as regards his influence on the world and the\ninterests of Religion, I really doubt whether I should not prefer that he\nshould be an Atheist at once than such a naturalistic, pantheistic\nreligionist. His profession of Theology deceives others, perhaps deceives\nhimself.\n\nDo not for an instant suppose, Gentlemen, that I would identify the great\nmind of Bacon with so serious a delusion: he has expressly warned us\nagainst it; but I cannot deny that many of his school have from time to\ntime in this way turned physical research against Christianity.\n\n                                * * * * *\n\nBut I have detained you far longer than I had intended; and now I can only\nthank you for the patience which has enabled you to sustain a discussion\nwhich cannot be complete, upon a subject which, however momentous, cannot\nbe popular.\n\n\n\n\n                              Lecture VIII.\n\n\nChristianity And Scientific Investigation. A Lecture Written for the\nSchool of Science.\n\n\n\n1.\n\n\nThis is a time, Gentlemen, when not only the Classics, but much more the\nSciences, in the largest sense of the word, are looked upon with anxiety,\nnot altogether ungrounded, by religious men; and, whereas a University\nsuch as ours professes to embrace all departments and exercises of the\nintellect, and since I for my part wish to stand on good terms with all\nkinds of knowledge, and have no intention of quarrelling with any, and\nwould open my heart, if not my intellect (for that is beyond me), to the\nwhole circle of truth, and would tender at least a recognition and\nhospitality even to those studies which are strangers to me, and would\nspeed them on their way,\u2014therefore, as I have already been making\novertures of reconciliation, first between Polite Literature and Religion,\nand next between Physics and Theology, so I would now say a word by way of\ndeprecating and protesting against the needless antagonism, which\nsometimes exists in fact, between divines and the cultivators of the\nSciences generally.\n\n\n\n2.\n\n\nHere I am led at once to expatiate on the grandeur of an Institution which\nis comprehensive enough to admit the discussion of a subject such as this.\nAmong the objects of human enterprise,\u2014I may say it surely without\nextravagance, Gentlemen,\u2014none higher or nobler can be named than that\nwhich is contemplated in the erection of a University. To set on foot and\nto maintain in life and vigour a real University, is confessedly, as soon\nas the word \u201cUniversity\u201d is understood, one of those greatest works, great\nin their difficulty and their importance, on which are deservedly expended\nthe rarest intellects and the most varied endowments. For, first of all,\nit professes to teach whatever has to be taught in any whatever department\nof human knowledge, and it embraces in its scope the loftiest subjects of\nhuman thought, and the richest fields of human inquiry. Nothing is too\nvast, nothing too subtle, nothing too distant, nothing too minute, nothing\ntoo discursive, nothing too exact, to engage its attention.\n\nThis, however, is not the reason why I claim for it so sovereign a\nposition; for, to bring schools of all knowledge under one name, and call\nthem a University, may be fairly said to be a mere generalization; and to\nproclaim that the prosecution of all kinds of knowledge to their utmost\nlimits demands the fullest reach and range of our intellectual faculties\nis but a truism. My reason for speaking of a University in the terms on\nwhich I have ventured is, not that it occupies the whole territory of\nknowledge merely, but that it is the very realm; that it professes much\nmore than to take in and to lodge as in a caravanserai all art and\nscience, all history and philosophy. In truth, it professes to assign to\neach study, which it receives, its own proper place and its just\nboundaries; to define the rights, to establish the mutual relations, and\nto effect the intercommunion of one and all; to keep in check the\nambitious and encroaching, and to succour and maintain those which from\ntime to time are succumbing under the more popular or the more fortunately\ncircumstanced; to keep the peace between them all, and to convert their\nmutual differences and contrarieties into the common good. This,\nGentlemen, is why I say that to erect a University is at once so arduous\nand beneficial an undertaking, viz., because it is pledged to admit,\nwithout fear, without prejudice, without compromise, all comers, if they\ncome in the name of Truth; to adjust views, and experiences, and habits of\nmind the most independent and dissimilar; and to give full play to thought\nand erudition in their most original forms, and their most intense\nexpressions, and in their most ample circuit. Thus to draw many things\ninto one, is its special function; and it learns to do it, not by rules\nreducible to writing, but by sagacity, wisdom, and forbearance, acting\nupon a profound insight into the subject-matter of knowledge, and by a\nvigilant repression of aggression or bigotry in any quarter.\n\nWe count it a great thing, and justly so, to plan and carry out a wide\npolitical organization. To bring under one yoke, after the manner of old\nRome, a hundred discordant peoples; to maintain each of them in its own\nprivileges within its legitimate range of action; to allow them severally\nthe indulgence of national feelings, and the stimulus of rival interests;\nand yet withal to blend them into one great social establishment, and to\npledge them to the perpetuity of the one imperial power;\u2014this is an\nachievement which carries with it the unequivocal token of genius in the\nrace which effects it.\n\n\u201cTu regere imperio populos, Romane, memento.\u201d\n\nThis was the special boast, as the poet considered it, of the Roman; a\nboast as high in its own line as that other boast, proper to the Greek\nnation, of literary pre-eminence, of exuberance of thought, and of skill\nand refinement in expressing it.\n\nWhat an empire is in political history, such is a University in the sphere\nof philosophy and research. It is, as I have said, the high protecting\npower of all knowledge and science, of fact and principle, of inquiry and\ndiscovery, of experiment and speculation; it maps out the territory of the\nintellect, and sees that the boundaries of each province are religiously\nrespected, and that there is neither encroachment nor surrender on any\nside. It acts as umpire between truth and truth, and, taking into account\nthe nature and importance of each, assigns to all their due order of\nprecedence. It maintains no one department of thought exclusively, however\nample and noble; and it sacrifices none. It is deferential and loyal,\naccording to their respective weight, to the claims of literature, of\nphysical research, of history, of metaphysics, of theological science. It\nis impartial towards them all, and promotes each in its own place and for\nits own object. It is ancillary certainly, and of necessity, to the\nCatholic Church; but in the same way that one of the Queen\u2019s judges is an\nofficer of the Queen\u2019s, and nevertheless determines certain legal\nproceedings between the Queen and her subjects. It is ministrative to the\nCatholic Church, first, because truth of any kind can but minister to\ntruth; and next, still more, because Nature ever will pay homage to Grace,\nand Reason cannot but illustrate and defend Revelation; and thirdly,\nbecause the Church has a sovereign authority, and, when she speaks _ex\ncathedra_, must be obeyed. But this is the remote end of a University; its\nimmediate end (with which alone we have here to do) is to secure the due\ndisposition, according to one sovereign order, and the cultivation in that\norder, of all the provinces and methods of thought which the human\nintellect has created.\n\nIn this point of view, its several professors are like the ministers of\nvarious political powers at one court or conference. They represent their\nrespective sciences, and attend to the private interests of those sciences\nrespectively; and, should dispute arise between those sciences, they are\nthe persons to talk over and arrange it, without risk of extravagant\npretensions on any side, of angry collision, or of popular commotion. A\nliberal philosophy becomes the habit of minds thus exercised; a breadth\nand spaciousness of thought, in which lines, seemingly parallel, may\nconverge at leisure, and principles, recognized as incommensurable, may be\nsafely antagonistic.\n\n\n\n3.\n\n\nAnd here, Gentlemen, we recognize the special character of the Philosophy\nI am speaking of, if Philosophy it is to be called, in contrast with the\nmethod of a strict science or system. Its teaching is not founded on one\nidea, or reducible to certain formul\u00e6. Newton might discover the great law\nof motion in the physical world, and the key to ten thousand phenomena;\nand a similar resolution of complex facts into simple principles may be\npossible in other departments of nature; but the great Universe itself,\nmoral and material, sensible and supernatural, cannot be gauged and meted\nby even the greatest of human intellects, and its constituent parts admit\nindeed of comparison and adjustment, but not of fusion. This is the point\nwhich bears directly on the subject which I set before me when I began,\nand towards which I am moving in all I have said or shall be saying.\n\nI observe, then, and ask you, Gentlemen, to bear in mind, that the\nphilosophy of an imperial intellect, for such I am considering a\nUniversity to be, is based, not so much on simplification as on\ndiscrimination. Its true representative defines, rather than analyzes. He\naims at no complete catalogue, or interpretation of the subjects of\nknowledge, but a following out, as far as man can, what in its fulness is\nmysterious and unfathomable. Taking into his charge all sciences, methods,\ncollections of facts, principles, doctrines, truths, which are the\nreflexions of the universe upon the human intellect, he admits them all,\nhe disregards none, and, as disregarding none, he allows none to exceed or\nencroach. His watchword is, Live and let live. He takes things as they\nare; he submits to them all, as far as they go; he recognizes the\ninsuperable lines of demarcation which run between subject and subject; he\nobserves how separate truths lie relatively to each other, where they\nconcur, where they part company, and where, being carried too far, they\ncease to be truths at all. It is his office to determine how much can be\nknown in each province of thought; when we must be contented not to know;\nin what direction inquiry is hopeless, or on the other hand full of\npromise; where it gathers into coils insoluble by reason, where it is\nabsorbed in mysteries, or runs into the abyss. It will be his care to be\nfamiliar with the signs of real and apparent difficulties, with the\nmethods proper to particular subject-matters, what in each particular case\nare the limits of a rational scepticism, and what the claims of a\nperemptory faith. If he has one cardinal maxim in his philosophy, it is,\nthat truth cannot be contrary to truth; if he has a second, it is, that\ntruth often _seems_ contrary to truth; and, if a third, it is the\npractical conclusion, that we must be patient with such appearances, and\nnot be hasty to pronounce them to be really of a more formidable\ncharacter.\n\nIt is the very immensity of the system of things, the human record of\nwhich he has in charge, which is the reason of this patience and caution;\nfor that immensity suggests to him that the contrarieties and mysteries,\nwhich meet him in the various sciences, may be simply the consequences of\nour necessarily defective comprehension. There is but one thought greater\nthan that of the universe, and that is the thought of its Maker. If,\nGentlemen, for one single instant, leaving my proper train of thought, I\nallude to our knowledge of the Supreme Being, it is in order to deduce\nfrom it an illustration bearing upon my subject. He, though One, is a sort\nof world of worlds in Himself, giving birth in our minds to an indefinite\nnumber of distinct truths, each ineffably more mysterious than any thing\nthat is found in this universe of space and time. Any one of His\nattributes, considered by itself, is the object of an inexhaustible\nscience: and the attempt to reconcile any two or three of them\ntogether,\u2014love, power, justice, sanctity, truth, wisdom,\u2014affords matter\nfor an everlasting controversy. We are able to apprehend and receive each\ndivine attribute in its elementary form, but still we are not able to\naccept them in their infinity, either in themselves or in union with each\nother. Yet we do not deny the first because it cannot be perfectly\nreconciled with the second, nor the second because it is in apparent\ncontrariety with the first and the third. The case is the same in its\ndegree with His creation material and moral. It is the highest wisdom to\naccept truth of whatever kind, wherever it is clearly ascertained to be\nsuch, though there be difficulty in adjusting it with other known truth.\n\nInstances are easily producible of that extreme contrariety of ideas, one\nwith another, which the contemplation of the Universe forces upon our\nacceptance, making it clear to us that there is nothing irrational in\nsubmitting to undeniable incompatibilities, which we call apparent, only\nbecause, if they were not apparent but real, they could not co-exist.\nSuch, for instance, is the contemplation of Space; the existence of which\nwe cannot deny, though its idea is capable, in no sort of posture, of\nseating itself (if I may so speak) in our minds;\u2014for we find it impossible\nto say that it comes to a limit anywhere; and it is incomprehensible to\nsay that it runs out infinitely; and it seems to be unmeaning if we say\nthat it does not exist till bodies come into it, and thus is enlarged\naccording to an accident.\n\nAnd so again in the instance of Time. We cannot place a beginning to it\nwithout asking ourselves what was before that beginning; yet that there\nshould be no beginning at all, put it as far back as we will, is simply\nincomprehensible. Here again, as in the case of Space, we never dream of\ndenying the existence of what we have no means of understanding.\n\nAnd, passing from this high region of thought (which, high as it may be,\nis the subject even of a child\u2019s contemplations), when we come to consider\nthe mutual action of soul and body, we are specially perplexed by\nincompatibilities which we can neither reject nor explain. How it is that\nthe will can act on the muscles, is a question of which even a child may\nfeel the force, but which no experimentalist can answer.\n\nFurther, when we contrast the physical with the social laws under which\nman finds himself here below, we must grant that Physiology and Social\nScience are in collision. Man is both a physical and a social being; yet\nhe cannot at once pursue to the full his physical end and his social end,\nhis physical duties (if I may so speak) and his social duties, but is\nforced to sacrifice in part one or the other. If we were wild enough to\nfancy that there were two creators, one of whom was the author of our\nanimal frames, the other of society, then indeed we might understand how\nit comes to pass that labour of mind and body, the useful arts, the duties\nof a statesman, government, and the like, which are required by the social\nsystem, are so destructive of health, enjoyment, and life. That is, in\nother words, we cannot adequately account for existing and undeniable\ntruths except on the hypothesis of what we feel to be an absurdity.\n\nAnd so in Mathematical Science, as has been often insisted on, the\nphilosopher has patiently to endure the presence of truths, which are not\nthe less true for being irreconcileable with each other. He is told of the\nexistence of an infinite number of curves, which are able to divide a\nspace, into which no straight line, though it be length without breadth,\ncan even enter. He is told, too, of certain lines, which approach to each\nother continually, with a finite distance between them, yet never meet;\nand these apparent contrarieties he must bear as he best can, without\nattempting to deny the existence of the truths which constitute them in\nthe Science in question.\n\n\n\n4.\n\n\nNow, let me call your attention, Gentlemen, to what I would infer from\nthese familiar facts. It is, to urge you with an argument _\u00e0 fortiori_:\nviz., that, as you exercise so much exemplary patience in the case of the\ninexplicable truths which surround so many departments of knowledge, human\nand divine, viewed in themselves; as you are not at once indignant,\ncensorious, suspicious, difficult of belief, on finding that in the\nsecular sciences one truth is incompatible (according to our human\nintellect) with another or inconsistent with itself; so you should not\nthink it very hard to be told that there exists, here and there, not an\ninextricable difficulty, not an astounding contrariety, not (much less) a\ncontradiction as to clear facts, between Revelation and Nature; but a\nhitch, an obscurity, a divergence of tendency, a temporary antagonism, a\ndifference of tone, between the two,\u2014that is, between Catholic opinion on\nthe one hand, and astronomy, or geology, or physiology, or ethnology, or\npolitical economy, or history, or antiquities, on the other. I say that,\nas we admit, because we are Catholics, that the Divine Unity contains in\nit attributes, which, to our finite minds, appear in partial contrariety\nwith each other; as we admit that, in His revealed Nature are things,\nwhich, though not opposed to Reason, are infinitely strange to the\nImagination; as in His works we can neither reject nor admit the ideas of\nspace, and of time, and the necessary properties of lines, without\nintellectual distress, or even torture; really, Gentlemen, I am making no\noutrageous request, when, in the name of a University, I ask religious\nwriters, jurists, economists, physiologists, chemists, geologists, and\nhistorians, to go on quietly, and in a neighbourly way, in their own\nrespective lines of speculation, research, and experiment, with full faith\nin the consistency of that multiform truth, which they share between them,\nin a generous confidence that they will be ultimately consistent, one and\nall, in their combined results, though there may be momentary collisions,\nawkward appearances, and many forebodings and prophecies of contrariety,\nand at all times things hard to the Imagination, though not, I repeat, to\nthe Reason. It surely is not asking them a great deal to beg of\nthem,\u2014since they are forced to admit mysteries in the truths of\nRevelation, taken by themselves, and in the truths of Reason, taken by\nthemselves\u2014to beg of them, I say, to keep the peace, to live in good will,\nand to exercise equanimity, if, when Nature and Revelation are compared\nwith each other, there be, as I have said, discrepancies,\u2014not in the\nissue, but in the reasonings, the circumstances, the associations, the\nanticipations, the accidents, proper to their respective teachings.\n\nIt is most necessary to insist seriously and energetically on this point,\nfor the sake of Protestants, for they have very strange notions about us.\nIn spite of the testimony of history the other way, they think that the\nChurch has no other method of putting down error than the arm of force, or\nthe prohibition of inquiry. They defy us to set up and carry on a School\nof Science. For their sake, then, I am led to enlarge upon the subject\nhere. I say, then, he who believes Revelation with that absolute faith\nwhich is the prerogative of a Catholic, is not the nervous creature who\nstartles at every sudden sound, and is fluttered by every strange or novel\nappearance which meets his eyes. He has no sort of apprehension, he laughs\nat the idea, that any thing can be discovered by any other scientific\nmethod, which can contradict any one of the dogmas of his religion. He\nknows full well there is no science whatever, but, in the course of its\nextension, runs the risk of infringing, without any meaning of offence on\nits own part, the path of other sciences and he knows also that, if there\nbe any one science which, from its sovereign and unassailable position can\ncalmly bear such unintentional collisions on the part of the children of\nearth, it is Theology. He is sure, and nothing shall make him doubt, that,\nif anything seems to be proved by astronomer, or geologist, or\nchronologist, or antiquarian, or ethnologist, in contradiction to the\ndogmas of faith, that point will eventually turn out, first, _not_ to be\nproved, or, secondly, not _contradictory_, or thirdly, not contradictory\nto any thing _really revealed_, but to something which has been confused\nwith revelation. And if, at the moment, it appears to be contradictory,\nthen he is content to wait, knowing that error is like other delinquents;\ngive it rope enough, and it will be found to have a strong suicidal\npropensity. I do not mean to say he will not take his part in encouraging,\nin helping forward the prospective suicide; he will not only give the\nerror rope enough, but show it how to handle and adjust the rope;\u2014he will\ncommit the matter to reason, reflection, sober judgment, common sense; to\nTime, the great interpreter of so many secrets. Instead of being irritated\nat the momentary triumph of the foes of Revelation, if such a feeling of\ntriumph there be, and of hurrying on a forcible solution of the\ndifficulty, which may in the event only reduce the inquiry to an\ninextricable tangle, he will recollect that, in the order of Providence,\nour seeming dangers are often our greatest gains; that in the words of the\nProtestant poet,\n\n  The clouds you so much dread\nAre big with mercy, and shall break\n  In blessings on your head.\n\n\n\n5.\n\n\nTo one notorious instance indeed it is obvious to allude here. When the\nCopernican system first made progress, what religious man would not have\nbeen tempted to uneasiness, or at least fear of scandal, from the seeming\ncontradiction which it involved to some authoritative tradition of the\nChurch and the declaration of Scripture? It was generally received, as if\nthe Apostles had expressly delivered it both orally and in writing, as a\ntruth of Revelation, that the earth was stationary, and that the sun,\nfixed in a solid firmament, whirled round the earth. After a little time,\nhowever, and on full consideration, it was found that the Church had\ndecided next to nothing on questions such as these, and that Physical\nScience might range in this sphere of thought almost at will, without fear\nof encountering the decisions of ecclesiastical authority. Now, besides\nthe relief which it afforded to Catholics to find that they were to be\nspared this addition, on the side of Cosmology, to their many\ncontroversies already existing, there is something of an argument in this\nvery circumstance in behalf of the divinity of their Religion. For it\nsurely is a very remarkable fact, considering how widely and how long one\ncertain interpretation of these physical statements in Scripture had been\nreceived by Catholics, that the Church should not have formally\nacknowledged it. Looking at the matter in a human point of view, it was\ninevitable that she should have made that opinion her own. But now we\nfind, on ascertaining where we stand, in the face of the new sciences of\nthese latter times, that in spite of the bountiful comments which from the\nfirst she has ever been making on the sacred text, as it is her duty and\nher right to do, nevertheless, she has never been led formally to explain\nthe texts in question, or to give them an authoritative sense which modern\nscience may question.\n\nNor was this escape a mere accident, but rather the result of a\nprovidential superintendence; as would appear from a passage of history in\nthe dark age itself. When the glorious St. Boniface, Apostle of Germany,\ngreat in sanctity, though not in secular knowledge, complained to the Holy\nSee that St. Virgilius taught the existence of the Antipodes, the Holy See\nwas guided what to do; it did not indeed side with the Irish philosopher,\nwhich would have been going out of its place, but it passed over, in a\nmatter not revealed, a philosophical opinion.\n\nTime went on; a new state of things, intellectual and social, came in; the\nChurch was girt with temporal power; the preachers of St. Dominic were in\nthe ascendant: now at length we may ask with curious interest, did the\nChurch alter her ancient rule of action, and proscribe intellectual\nactivity? Just the contrary; this is the very age of Universities; it is\nthe classical period of the schoolmen; it is the splendid and palmary\ninstance of the wise policy and large liberality of the Church, as regards\nphilosophical inquiry. If there ever was a time when the intellect went\nwild, and had a licentious revel, it was at the date I speak of. When was\nthere ever a more curious, more meddling, bolder, keener, more\npenetrating, more rationalistic exercise of the reason than at that time?\nWhat class of questions did that subtle, metaphysical spirit not\nscrutinize? What premiss was allowed without examination? What principle\nwas not traced to its first origin, and exhibited in its most naked shape?\nWhat whole was not analyzed? What complex idea was not elaborately traced\nout, and, as it were, finely painted for the contemplation of the mind,\ntill it was spread out in all its minutest portions as perfectly and\ndelicately as a frog\u2019s foot shows under the intense scrutiny of the\nmicroscope? Well, I repeat, here was something which came somewhat nearer\nto Theology than physical research comes; Aristotle was a somewhat more\nserious foe then, beyond all mistake, than Bacon has been since. Did the\nChurch take a high hand with philosophy then? No, not though that\nphilosophy was metaphysical. It was a time when she had temporal power,\nand could have exterminated the spirit of inquiry with fire and sword; but\nshe determined to put it down by _argument_, she said: \u201cTwo can play at\nthat, and my argument is the better.\u201d She sent her controversialists into\nthe philosophical arena. It was the Dominican and Franciscan doctors, the\ngreatest of them being St. Thomas, who in those medieval Universities\nfought the battle of Revelation with the weapons of heathenism. It was no\nmatter whose the weapon was; truth was truth all the world over. With the\njawbone of an ass, with the skeleton philosophy of pagan Greece, did the\nSamson of the schools put to flight his thousand Philistines.\n\nHere, Gentlemen, observe the contrast exhibited between the Church\nherself, who has the gift of wisdom, and even the ablest, or wisest, or\nholiest of her children. As St. Boniface had been jealous of physical\nspeculations, so had the early Fathers shown an extreme aversion to the\ngreat heathen philosopher whom I just now named, Aristotle. I do not know\nwho of them could endure him; and when there arose those in the middle age\nwho would take his part, especially since their intentions were of a\nsuspicious character, a strenuous effort was made to banish him out of\nChristendom. The Church the while had kept silence; she had as little\ndenounced heathen philosophy in the mass as she had pronounced upon the\nmeaning of certain texts of Scripture of a cosmological character. From\nTertullian and Caius to the two Gregories of Cappadocia, from them to\nAnastasius Sinaita, from him to the school of Paris, Aristotle was a word\nof offence; at length St. Thomas made him a hewer of wood and drawer of\nwater to the Church. A strong slave he is; and the Church herself has\ngiven her sanction to the use in Theology of the ideas and terms of his\nphilosophy.\n\n\n\n6.\n\n\nNow, while this free discussion is, to say the least, so safe for\nReligion, or rather so expedient, it is on the other hand simply necessary\nfor progress in Science; and I shall now go on to insist on this side of\nthe subject. I say, then, that it is a matter of primary importance in the\ncultivation of those sciences, in which truth is discoverable by the human\nintellect, that the investigator should be free, independent, unshackled\nin his movements; that he should be allowed and enabled, without\nimpediment, to fix his mind intently, nay, exclusively, on his special\nobject, without the risk of being distracted every other minute in the\nprocess and progress of his inquiry, by charges of temerariousness, or by\nwarnings against extravagance or scandal. But in thus speaking, I must\npremise several explanations, lest I be misunderstood.\n\nFirst, then, Gentlemen, as to the fundamental principles of religion and\nmorals, and again as to the fundamental principles of Christianity, or\nwhat are called the dogmas of faith,\u2014as to this double creed, natural and\nrevealed,\u2014we, none of us, should say that it is any shackle at all upon\nthe intellect to maintain these inviolate. Indeed, a Catholic cannot put\noff his thought of them; and they as little impede the movements of his\nintellect as the laws of physics impede his bodily movements. The habitual\napprehension of them has become a second nature with him, as the laws of\noptics, hydrostatics, dynamics, are latent conditions which he takes for\ngranted in the use of his corporeal organs. I am not supposing any\ncollision with dogma, I am but speaking of opinions of divines, or of the\nmultitude, parallel to those in former times of the sun going round the\nearth, or of the last day being close at hand, or of St. Dionysius the\nAreopagite being the author of the works which bear his name.\n\nNor, secondly, even as regards such opinions, am I supposing any direct\nintrusion into the province of religion, or of a teacher of Science\nactually laying down the law _in a matter of Religion_; but of such\nunintentional collisions as are incidental to a discussion pursued on some\nsubject of his own. It would be a great mistake in such a one to propose\nhis philosophical or historical conclusions as the formal interpretation\nof the sacred text, as Galileo is said to have done, instead of being\ncontent to hold his doctrine of the motion of the earth as a scientific\nconclusion, and leaving it to those whom it really concerned to compare it\nwith Scripture. And, it must be confessed, Gentlemen, not a few instances\noccur of this mistake at the present day, on the part, not indeed of men\nof science, but of religious men, who, from a nervous impatience lest\nScripture should for one moment seem inconsistent with the results of some\nspeculation of the hour, are ever proposing geological or ethnological\ncomments upon it, which they have to alter or obliterate before the ink is\nwell dry, from changes in the progressive science, which they have so\nofficiously brought to its aid.\n\nAnd thirdly, I observe that, when I advocate the independence of\nphilosophical thought, I am not speaking of any _formal teaching_ at all,\nbut of investigations, speculations, and discussions. I am far indeed from\nallowing, in any matter which even borders on Religion, what an eminent\nProtestant divine has advocated on the most sacred subjects,\u2014I mean \u201cthe\nliberty of Prophesying.\u201d I have no wish to degrade the professors of\nScience, who ought to be Prophets of the Truth, into mere advertisers of\ncrude fancies or notorious absurdities. I am not pleading that they should\nat random shower down upon their hearers ingenuities and novelties; or\nthat they should teach even what has a basis of truth in it, in a\nbrilliant, off-hand way, to a collection of youths, who may not perhaps\nhear them for six consecutive lectures, and who will carry away with them\ninto the country a misty idea of the half-created theories of some\nambitious intellect.\n\nOnce more, as the last sentence suggests, there must be great care taken\nto avoid scandal, or shocking the popular mind, or unsettling the weak;\nthe association between truth and error being so strong in particular\nminds that it is impossible to weed them of the error without rooting up\nthe wheat with it. If, then, there is the chance of any current religious\nopinion being in any way compromised in the course of a scientific\ninvestigation, this would be a reason for conducting it, not in light\nephemeral publications, which come into the hands of the careless or\nignorant, but in works of a grave and business-like character, answering\nto the medieval schools of philosophical disputation, which, removed as\nthey were from the region of popular thought and feeling, have, by their\nvigorous restlessness of inquiry, in spite of their extravagances, done so\nmuch for theological precision.\n\n\n\n7.\n\n\nI am not, then, supposing the scientific investigator (1) to be _coming\ninto collision with dogma_; nor (2) venturing, by means of his\ninvestigations, upon any interpretation of _Scripture_, or upon other\nconclusion _in the matter of religion_; nor (3) of his _teaching_, even in\nhis own science, religious parodoxes, when he should be investigating and\nproposing; nor (4) of his recklessly _scandalizing the weak_; but, these\nexplanations being made, I still say that a scientific speculator or\ninquirer is not bound, in conducting his researches, to be every moment\nadjusting his course by the maxims of the schools or by popular\ntraditions, or by those of any other science distinct from his own, or to\nbe ever narrowly watching what those external sciences have to say to him,\nor to be determined to be edifying, or to be ever answering heretics and\nunbelievers; being confident, from the impulse of a generous faith, that,\nhowever his line of investigation may swerve now and then, and vary to and\nfro in its course, or threaten momentary collision or embarrassment with\nany other department of knowledge, theological or not, yet, if he lets it\nalone, it will be sure to come home, because truth never can really be\ncontrary to truth, and because often what at first sight is an \u201cexceptio,\u201d\nin the event most emphatically \u201cprobat regulam.\u201d\n\nThis is a point of serious importance to him. Unless he is at liberty to\ninvestigate on the basis, and according to the peculiarities, of his\nscience, he cannot investigate at all. It is the very law of the human\nmind in its inquiry after and acquisition of truth to make its advances by\na process which consists of many stages, and is circuitous. There are no\nshort cuts to knowledge; nor does the road to it always lie in the\ndirection in which it terminates, nor are we able to see the end on\nstarting. It may often seem to be diverging from a goal into which it will\nsoon run without effort, if we are but patient and resolute in following\nit out; and, as we are told in Ethics to gain the mean merely by receding\nfrom both extremes, so in scientific researches error may be said, without\na paradox, to be in some instances the way to truth, and the only way.\nMoreover, it is not often the fortune of any one man to live through an\ninvestigation; the process is one of not only many stages, but of many\nminds. What one begins another finishes; and a true conclusion is at\nlength worked out by the co-operation of independent schools and the\nperseverance of successive generations. This being the case, we are\nobliged, under circumstances, to bear for a while with what we feel to be\nerror, in consideration of the truth in which it is eventually to issue.\n\nThe analogy of locomotion is most pertinent here. No one can go straight\nup a mountain; no sailing vessel makes for its port without tacking. And\nso, applying the illustration, we can indeed, if we will, refuse to allow\nof investigation or research altogether; but, if we invite reason to take\nits place in our schools, we must let reason have fair and full play. If\nwe reason, we must submit to the conditions of reason. We cannot use it by\nhalves; we must use it as proceeding from Him who has also given us\nRevelation; and to be ever interrupting its processes, and diverting its\nattention by objections brought from a higher knowledge, is parallel to a\nlandsman\u2019s dismay at the changes in the course of a vessel on which he has\ndeliberately embarked, and argues surely some distrust either in the\npowers of Reason on the one hand, or the certainty of Revealed Truth on\nthe other. The passenger should not have embarked at all, if he did not\nreckon on the chance of a rough sea, of currents, of wind and tide, of\nrocks and shoals; and we should act more wisely in discountenancing\naltogether the exercise of Reason than in being alarmed and impatient\nunder the suspense, delay, and anxiety which, from the nature of the case,\nmay be found to attach to it. Let us eschew secular history, and science,\nand philosophy for good and all, if we are not allowed to be sure that\nRevelation is so true that the altercations and perplexities of human\nopinion cannot really or eventually injure its authority. That is no\nintellectual triumph of any truth of Religion, which has not been preceded\nby a full statement of what can be said against it; it is but the ego\nvapulando, ille verberando, of the Comedy.\n\nGreat minds need elbow-room, not indeed in the domain of faith, but of\nthought. And so indeed do lesser minds, and all minds. There are many\npersons in the world who are called, and with a great deal of truth,\ngeniuses. They had been gifted by nature with some particular faculty or\ncapacity; and, while vehemently excited and imperiously ruled by it, they\nare blind to everything else. They are enthusiasts in their own line, and\nare simply dead to the beauty of any line _except_ their own. Accordingly,\nthey think their own line the only line in the whole world worth pursuing,\nand they feel a sort of contempt for such studies as move upon any other\nline. Now, these men may be, and often are, very good Catholics, and have\nnot a dream of any thing but affection and deference towards Catholicity,\nnay, perhaps are zealous in its interests. Yet, if you insist that in\ntheir speculations, researches, or conclusions in their particular\nscience, it is not enough that they should submit to the Church generally,\nand acknowledge its dogmas, but that they must get up all that divines\nhave said or the multitude believed upon religious matters, you simply\ncrush and stamp out the flame within them, and they can do nothing at all.\n\nThis is the case of men of genius: now one word on the contrary in behalf\nof master minds, gifted with a broad philosophical view of things, and a\ncreative power, and a versatility capable of accommodating itself to\nvarious provinces of thought. These persons perhaps, like those I have\nalready spoken of, take up some idea and are intent upon it;\u2014some deep,\nprolific, eventful idea, which grows upon them, till they develop it into\na great system. Now, if any such thinker starts from radically unsound\nprinciples, or aims at directly false conclusions, if he be a Hobbes, or a\nShaftesbury, or a Hume, or a Bentham, then, of course, there is an end of\nthe whole matter. He is an opponent of Revealed Truth, and he means to be\nso;\u2014nothing more need be said. But perhaps it is not so; perhaps his\nerrors are those which are inseparable accidents of his system or of his\nmind, and are spontaneously evolved, not pertinaciously defended. Every\nhuman system, every human writer, is open to just criticism. Make him shut\nup his portfolio; good! and then perhaps you lose what, on the whole and\nin spite of incidental mistakes, would have been one of the ablest\ndefences of Revealed Truth (directly or indirectly, according to his\nsubject) ever given to the world.\n\nThis is how I should account for a circumstance, which has sometimes\ncaused surprise, that so many great Catholic thinkers have in some points\nor other incurred the criticism or animadversion of theologians or of\necclesiastical authority. It must be so in the nature of things; there is\nindeed an animadversion which implies a condemnation of the author; but\nthere is another which means not much more than the \"pi\u00e8 legendum\" written\nagainst passages in the Fathers. The author may not be to blame; yet the\necclesiastical authority would be to blame, if it did not give notice of\nhis imperfections. I do not know what Catholic would not hold the name of\nMalebranche in veneration;(48) but he may have accidentally come into\ncollision with theologians, or made temerarious assertions,\nnotwithstanding.\n\nThe practical question is, whether he had not much better have written as\nhe has written, than not have written at all. And so fully is the Holy See\naccustomed to enter into this view of the matter, that it has allowed of\nits application, not only to philosophical, but even to theological and\necclesiastical authors, who do not come within the range of these remarks.\nI believe I am right in saying that, in the case of three great names, in\nvarious departments of learning, Cardinal Noris, Bossuet, and\nMuratori,(49) while not concealing its sense of their having propounded\neach what might have been said better, nevertheless it has considered,\nthat their services to Religion were on the whole far too important to\nallow of their being molested by critical observation in detail.\n\n\n\n8.\n\n\nAnd now, Gentlemen, I bring these remarks to a conclusion. What I would\nurge upon every one, whatever may be his particular line of research,\u2014what\nI would urge upon men of Science in their thoughts of Theology,\u2014what I\nwould venture to recommend to theologians, when their attention is drawn\nto the subject of scientific investigations,\u2014is a great and firm belief in\nthe sovereignty of Truth. Error may flourish for a time, but Truth will\nprevail in the end. The only effect of error ultimately is to promote\nTruth. Theories, speculations, hypotheses, are started; perhaps they are\nto die, still not before they have suggested ideas better than themselves.\nThese better ideas are taken up in turn by other men, and, if they do not\nyet lead to truth, nevertheless they lead to what is still nearer to truth\nthan themselves; and thus knowledge on the whole makes progress. The\nerrors of some minds in scientific investigation are more fruitful than\nthe truths of others. A Science seems making no progress, but to abound in\nfailures, yet imperceptibly all the time it is advancing, and it is of\ncourse a gain to truth even to have learned what is not true, if nothing\nmore.\n\nOn the other hand, it must be of course remembered, Gentlemen, that I am\nsupposing all along good faith, honest intentions, a loyal Catholic\nspirit, and a deep sense of responsibility. I am supposing, in the\nscientific inquirer, a due fear of giving scandal, of seeming to\ncountenance views which he does not really countenance, and of siding with\nparties from whom he heartily differs. I am supposing that he is fully\nalive to the existence and the power of the infidelity of the age; that he\nkeeps in mind the moral weakness and the intellectual confusion of the\nmajority of men; and that he has no wish at all that any one soul should\nget harm from certain speculations to-day, though he may have the\nsatisfaction of being sure that those speculations will, as far as they\nare erroneous or misunderstood, be corrected in the course of the next\nhalf-century.\n\n\n\n\n                               Lecture IX.\n\n\nDiscipline Of Mind. An Address To The Evening Classes.\n\n\n\n1.\n\n\nWhen I found that it was in my power to be present here at the\ncommencement of the new Session, one of the first thoughts, Gentlemen,\nwhich thereupon occurred to me, was this, that I should in consequence\nhave the great satisfaction of meeting you, of whom I had thought and\nheard so much, and the opportunity of addressing you, as Rector of the\nUniversity. I can truly say that I thought of you before you thought of\nthe University; perhaps I may say, long before;\u2014for it was previously to\nour commencing that great work, which is now so fully before the public,\nit was when I first came over here to make preparations for it, that I had\nto encounter the serious objection of wise and good men, who said to me,\n\u201cThere is no class of persons in Ireland who _need_ a University;\u201d and\nagain, \u201cWhom will you get to belong to it? who will fill its\nlecture-rooms?\u201d This was said to me, and then, without denying their\nknowledge of the state of Ireland, or their sagacity, I made answer, \u201cWe\nwill give lectures in the evening, we will fill our classes with the young\nmen of Dublin.\u201d\n\nAnd some persons here may recollect that the very first thing I did, when\nwe opened the School of Philosophy and Letters, this time four years, was\nto institute a system of Evening Lectures, which were suspended after a\nwhile, only because the singularly inclement season which ensued, and the\nwant of publicity and interest incident to a new undertaking, made them\npremature. And it is a satisfaction to me to reflect that the Statute,\nunder which you will be able to pass examinations and take degrees, is one\nto which I specially obtained the consent of the Academical Senate, nearly\ntwo years ago, in addition to our original Regulations, and that you will\nbe the first persons to avail yourselves of it.\n\nHaving thus prepared, as it were, the University for you, it was with\ngreat pleasure that I received from a number of you, Gentlemen, last May\nyear, a spontaneous request which showed that my original anticipations\nwere not visionary. You suggested then what we have since acted\nupon,\u2014acted upon, not so quickly as both you might hope and we might wish,\nbecause all important commencements have to be maturely considered\u2014still\nacted on at length according to those anticipations of mine, to which I\nhave referred; and, while I recur to them as an introduction to what I\nhave to say, I might also dwell upon them as a sure presage that other and\nbroader anticipations, too bold as they may seem now, will, if we are but\npatient, have their fulfilment in their season.\n\n\n\n2.\n\n\nFor I should not be honest, Gentlemen, if I did not confess that, much as\nI desire that this University should be of service to the young men of\nDublin, I do not desire this benefit to you, simply for your own sakes.\nFor your own sakes certainly I wish it, but not on your account only. Man\nis not born for himself alone, as the classical moralist tells us. _You_\nare born for Ireland; and, in your advancement, Ireland is advanced;\u2014in\nyour advancement in what is good and what is true, in knowledge, in\nlearning, in cultivation of mind, in enlightened attachment to your\nreligion, in good name and respectability and social influence, I am\ncontemplating the honour and renown, the literary and scientific\naggrandisement, the increase of political power, of the Island of the\nSaints.\n\nI go further still. If I do homage to the many virtues and gifts of the\nIrish people, and am zealous for their full development, it is not simply\nfor the sake of themselves, but because the name of Ireland ever has been,\nand, I believe, ever will be, associated with the Catholic Faith, and\nbecause, in doing any service, however poor it may be, to Ireland, a man\nis ministering, in his own place and measure, to the cause of the Holy\nRoman Apostolic Church.\n\nGentlemen, I should consider it an impertinence in me thus to be speaking\nto you of myself, were it not that, in recounting to you the feelings with\nwhich I have witnessed the establishment of these Evening Classes, I am in\nfact addressing to you at the same time words of encouragement and advice,\nsuch words as it becomes a Rector to use in speaking to those who are\nsubmitted to his care.\n\nI say, then, that, had I been younger than I was when the high office\nwhich I at present hold was first offered to me, had I not had prior\nduties upon me of affection and devotion to the Oratory of St. Philip, and\nto my own dear country, no position whatever, in the whole range of\nadministrations which are open to the ambition of those who wish to serve\nGod in their generation, and to do some great work before they die, would\nhave had more attractions for me than that of being at the head of a\nUniversity like this. When I became a Catholic, one of my first questions\nwas, \u201cWhy have not our Catholics a University?\u201d and Ireland, and the\nmetropolis of Ireland, was obviously the proper seat of such an\ninstitution.\n\nIreland is the proper seat of a Catholic University, on account of its\nancient hereditary Catholicity, and again of the future which is in store\nfor it. It is impossible, Gentlemen, to doubt that a future is in store\nfor Ireland, for more reasons than can here be enumerated. First, there is\nthe circumstance, so highly suggestive, even if there was nothing else to\nbe said, viz., that the Irish have been so miserably ill-treated and\nmisused hitherto; for, in the times now opening upon us, nationalities are\nwaking into life, and the remotest people can make themselves heard into\nall the quarters of the earth. The lately invented methods of travel and\nof intelligence have destroyed geographical obstacles; and the wrongs of\nthe oppressed, in spite of oceans or of mountains, are brought under the\npublic opinion of Europe,\u2014not before kings and governments alone, but\nbefore the tribunal of the European populations, who are becoming ever\nmore powerful in the determination of political questions. And thus\nretribution is demanded and exacted for past crimes in proportion to their\nheinousness and their duration.\n\nAnd in the next place, it is plain that, according as intercommunion grows\nbetween Europe and America, it is Ireland that must grow with it in social\nand political importance. For Ireland is the high road by which that\nintercourse is carried on; and the traffic between hemispheres must be to\nher a source of material as well as social benefit,\u2014as of old time, though\non the minute geographical scale of Greece, Corinth, as being the\nthoroughfare of commerce by sea and land, became and was called \u201cthe\nrich.\u201d\n\nAnd then, again, we must consider the material resources of Ireland, so\ninsufficiently explored, so poorly developed,\u2014of which it belongs to them\nrather to speak, who by profession and attainments are masters of the\nsubject.\n\nThat this momentous future, thus foreshadowed, will be as glorious for\nCatholicity as for Ireland we cannot doubt from the experience of the\npast; but, as Providence works by means of human agencies, that natural\nanticipation has no tendency to diminish the anxiety and earnestness of\nall zealous Catholics to do their part in securing its fulfilment. And the\nwise and diligent cultivation of the intellect is one principal means,\nunder the Divine blessing, of the desired result.\n\n\n\n3.\n\n\nGentlemen, the seat of this intellectual progress must necessarily be the\ngreat towns of Ireland; and those great towns have a remarkable and happy\ncharacteristic, as contrasted with the cities of Catholic Europe. Abroad,\neven in Catholic countries, if there be in any part of their territory\nscepticism and insubordination in religion, cities are the seat of the\nmischief. Even Rome itself has its insubordinate population, and its\nconcealed free-thinkers; even Belgium, that nobly Catholic country, cannot\nboast of the religious loyalty of its great towns. Such a calamity is\nunknown to the Catholicism of Dublin, Cork, Belfast, and the other cities\nof Ireland; for, to say nothing of higher and more religious causes of the\ndifference, the very presence of a rival religion is a perpetual incentive\nto faith and devotion in men who, from the circumstances of the case,\nwould be in danger of becoming worse than lax Catholics, unless they\nresolved on being zealous ones.\n\nHere, then, is one remarkable ground of promise in the future of Ireland,\nthat that large and important class, members of which I am now\naddressing,\u2014that the middle classes in its cities, which will be the\ndepositaries of its increasing political power, and which elsewhere are\nopposed in their hearts to the Catholicism which they profess,\u2014are here so\nsound in faith, and so exemplary in devotional exercises, and in works of\npiety.\n\nAnd next I would observe, that, while thus distinguished for religious\nearnestness, the Catholic population is in no respect degenerate from the\nancient fame of Ireland as regards its intellectual endowments. It too\noften happens that the religiously disposed are in the same degree\nintellectually deficient; but the Irish ever have been, as their worst\nenemies must grant, not only a Catholic people, but a people of great\nnatural abilities, keen-witted, original, and subtle. This has been the\ncharacteristic of the nation from the very early times, and was especially\nprominent in the middle ages. As Rome was the centre of authority, so, I\nmay say, Ireland was the native home of speculation. In this respect they\nwere as remarkably contrasted to the English as they are now, though, in\nthose ages, England was as devoted to the Holy See as it is now hostile.\nThe Englishman was hard-working, plodding, bold, determined, persevering,\npractical, obedient to law and precedent, and, if he cultivated his mind,\nhe was literary and classical rather than scientific, for Literature\ninvolves in it the idea of authority and prescription. On the other hand,\nin Ireland, the intellect seems rather to have taken the line of Science,\nand we have various instances to show how fully this was recognized in\nthose times, and with what success it was carried out. \u201cPhilosopher,\u201d is\nin those times almost the name for an Irish monk. Both in Paris and\nOxford, the two great schools of medieval thought, we find the boldest and\nmost subtle of their disputants an Irishman,\u2014the monk John Scotus Erigena,\nat Paris, and Duns Scotus, the Franciscan friar, at Oxford.\n\nNow, it is my belief, Gentlemen, that this character of mind remains in\nyou still. I think I rightly recognize in the Irishman now, as formerly,\nthe curious, inquisitive observer, the acute reasoner, the subtle\nspeculator. I recognize in you talents which are fearfully mischievous,\nwhen used on the side of error, but which, when wielded by Catholic\ndevotion, such as I am sure will ever be the characteristic of the Irish\ndisputant, are of the highest importance to Catholic interests, and\nespecially at this day, when a subtle logic is used against the Church,\nand demands a logic still more subtle on the part of her defenders to\nexpose it.\n\nGentlemen, I do not expect those who, like you, are employed in your\nsecular callings, who are not monks or friars, not priests, not\ntheologians, not philosophers, to come forward as champions of the faith;\nbut I think that incalculable benefit may ensue to the Catholic cause,\ngreater almost than that which even singularly gifted theologians or\ncontroversialists could effect, if a body of men in your station of life\nshall be found in the great towns of Ireland, not disputatious,\ncontentious, loquacious, presumptuous (of course I am not advocating\ninquiry for mere argument\u2019s sake), but gravely and solidly educated in\nCatholic knowledge, intelligent, acute, versed in their religion,\nsensitive of its beauty and majesty, alive to the arguments in its behalf,\nand aware both of its difficulties and of the mode of treating them. And\nthe first step in attaining this desirable end is that you should submit\nyourselves to a curriculum of studies, such as that which brings you with\nsuch praiseworthy diligence within these walls evening after evening; and,\nthough you may not be giving attention to them with this view, but from\nthe laudable love of knowledge, or for the advantages which will accrue to\nyou personally from its pursuit, yet my own reason for rejoicing in the\nestablishment of your classes is the same as that which led me to take\npart in the establishment of the University itself, viz., the wish, by\nincreasing the intellectual force of Ireland, to strengthen the defences,\nin a day of great danger, of the Christian religion.\n\n\n\n4.\n\n\nGentlemen, within the last thirty years, there has been, as you know, a\ngreat movement in behalf of the extension of knowledge among those classes\nin society whom you represent. This movement has issued in the\nestablishment of what have been called Mechanics\u2019 Institutes through the\nUnited Kingdom; and a new species of literature has been brought into\nexistence, with a view, among its objects, of furnishing the members of\nthese institutions with interesting and instructive reading. I never will\ndeny to that literature its due praise. It has been the production of men\nof the highest ability and the most distinguished station, who have not\ngrudged, moreover, the trouble, and, I may say in a certain sense, the\ncondescension, of presenting themselves before the classes for whose\nintellectual advancement they were showing so laudable a zeal; who have\nnot grudged, in the cause of Literature, History, or Science, to make a\ndisplay, in the lecture room or the public hall, of that eloquence, which\nwas, strictly speaking, the property, as I may call it, of Parliament, or\nof the august tribunals of the Law. Nor will I deny to the speaking and\nwriting, to which I am referring, the merit of success, as well as that of\ntalent and good intention, so far as this,\u2014that it has provided a fund of\ninnocent amusement and information for the leisure hours of those who\nmight otherwise have been exposed to the temptation of corrupt reading or\nbad company.\n\nSo much may be granted,\u2014and must be granted in candour: but, when I go on\nto ask myself the question, what _permanent_ advantage the mind gets by\nsuch desultory reading and hearing, as this literary movement encourages,\nthen I find myself altogether in a new field of thought, and am obliged to\nreturn an answer less favourable than I could wish to those who are the\nadvocates of it. We must carefully distinguish, Gentlemen, between the\nmere diversion of the mind and its real education. Supposing, for\ninstance, I am tempted to go into some society which will do me harm, and\nsupposing, instead, I fall asleep in my chair, and so let the time pass\nby, in that case certainly I escape the danger, but it is as if by\naccident, and my going to sleep has not had any real effect upon me, or\nmade me more able to resist the temptation on some future occasion. I\nwake, and I am what I was before. The opportune sleep has but removed the\ntemptation for this once. It has not made me better; for I have not been\nshielded from temptation by any act of my own, but I was passive under an\naccident, for such I may call sleep. And so in like manner, if I hear a\nlecture indolently and passively, I cannot indeed be elsewhere _while_ I\nam here hearing it,\u2014but it produces no positive effect on my mind,\u2014it does\nnot tend to create any power in my breast capable of resisting temptation\nby its own vigour, should temptation come a second time.\n\nNow this is no fault, Gentlemen, of the books or the lectures of the\nMechanics\u2019 Institute. They could not do more than they do, from their very\nnature. They do their part, but their part is not enough. A man may hear a\nthousand lectures, and read a thousand volumes, and be at the end of the\nprocess very much where he was, as regards knowledge. Something more than\nmerely _admitting_ it in a negative way into the mind is necessary, if it\nis to remain there. It must not be passively received, but actually and\nactively entered into, embraced, mastered. The mind must go half-way to\nmeet what comes to it from without.\n\nThis, then, is the point in which the institutions I am speaking of fail;\nhere, on the contrary, is the advantage of such lectures as you are\nattending, Gentlemen, in our University. You have come, not merely to be\ntaught, but to learn. You have come to exert your minds. You have come to\nmake what you hear your own, by putting out your hand, as it were, to\ngrasp it and appropriate it. You do not come merely to hear a lecture, or\nto read a book, but you come for that catechetical instruction, which\nconsists in a sort of conversation between your lecturer and you. He tells\nyou a thing, and he asks you to repeat it after him. He questions you, he\nexamines you, he will not let you go till he has proof, not only that you\nhave heard, but that you know.\n\n\n\n5.\n\n\nGentlemen, I am induced to quote here some remarks of my own, which I put\ninto print on occasion of those Evening Lectures, already referred to,\nwith which we introduced the first terms of the University. The attendance\nupon them was not large, and in consequence we discontinued them for a\ntime, but I attempted to explain in print what the object of them had\nbeen; and while what I then said is pertinent to the subject I am now\npursuing, it will be an evidence too, in addition to my opening remarks,\nof the hold which the idea of these Evening Lectures has had upon me.\n\n\u201cI will venture to give you my thoughts,\u201d I then said, writing to a\nfriend,(50) \u201con the _object_ of the Evening Public Lectures lately\ndelivered in the University House, which, I think, has been misunderstood.\n\n\u201cI can bear witness, not only to their remarkable merit as lectures, but\nalso to the fact that they were very satisfactorily attended. Many,\nhowever, attach a vague or unreasonable idea to the word \u2018satisfactory,\u2019\nand maintain that no lectures can be called satisfactory which do not make\na great deal of noise in the place, and they are disappointed otherwise.\nThis is what I mean by misconceiving their object; for such an\nexpectation, and consequent regret, arise from confusing the ordinary with\nthe extraordinary object of a lecture,\u2014upon which point we ought to have\nclear and definite ideas.\n\n\u201cThe _ordinary_ object of lectures is _to teach_; but there _is_ an\nobject, sometimes demanding attention, and not incongruous, which,\nnevertheless, cannot be said properly to belong to them, or to be more\nthan occasional. As there are kinds of eloquence which do not aim at any\nthing beyond their own exhibition, and are content with being eloquent,\nand with the sensation which eloquence creates; so in Schools and\nUniversities there are seasons, festive or solemn, anyhow extraordinary,\nwhen academical acts are not directed towards their proper ends, so much\nas intended to amuse, to astonish, and to attract, and thus to have an\neffect upon public opinion. Such are the exhibition days of Colleges; such\nthe annual Commemoration of Benefactors at one of the English\nUniversities, when Doctors put on their gayest gowns, and Public Orators\nmake Latin Speeches. Such, too, are the Terminal Lectures, at which\ndivines of the greatest reputation for intellect and learning have before\nnow poured forth sentences of burning eloquence into the ears of an\naudience brought together for the very sake of the display. The object of\nall such Lectures and Orations is to excite or to keep up an interest and\nreverence in the public mind for the Institutions from which the\nexhibition proceeds:\u201d\u2014I might have added, such are the lectures delivered\nby celebrated persons in Mechanics\u2019 Institutes.\n\nI continue: \u201cSuch we have suitably had in the new University;\u2014such were\nthe Inaugural Lectures. Displays of strength and skill of this kind, in\norder to succeed, _should_ attract attention, and if they do not attract\nattention, they have failed. They do not invite an audience, but an\nattendance; and perhaps it is hardly too much to say that they are\nintended for seeing rather than for hearing.\n\n\u201cSuch celebrations, however, from the nature of the case, must be rare. It\nis the novelty which brings, it is the excitement which recompenses, the\nassemblage. The academical body which attempts to make such extraordinary\nacts the normal condition of its proceedings, is putting itself and its\nProfessors in a false position.\n\n\u201cIt is, then, a simple misconception to suppose that those to whom the\ngovernment of our University is confided have aimed at an object, which\ncould not be contemplated at all without a confusion or inadvertence, such\nas no considerate person will impute to them. Public lectures, delivered\nwith such an object, could not be successful; and, in consequence, our\nlate lectures have, I cannot doubt (for it could not be otherwise), ended\nunsatisfactorily in the judgment of any zealous person who has assumed for\nthem an office with which their projectors never invested them.\n\n\u201cWhat their object really was the very meaning of academical institutions\nsuggests to us. It is, as I said when I began, _to teach_. Lectures are,\nproperly speaking, not exhibitions or exercises of art, but matters of\nbusiness; they profess to impart something definite to those who attend\nthem, and those who attend them profess on their part to receive what the\nlecturer has to offer. It is a case of contract:\u2014\u2018I will speak, if you\nwill listen.\u2019\u2014\u2018I will come here to learn, if you have any thing worth\nteaching me.\u2019 In an oratorical display, all the effort is on one side; in\na lecture, it is shared between two parties, who co-operate towards a\ncommon end.\n\n\u201cThere should be ever something, on the face of the arrangements, to act\nas a memento that those who come, come to gain something, and not from\nmere curiosity. And in matters of fact, such were the persons who did\nattend, in the course of last term, and such as those, and no others, will\nattend. Those came who wished to gain information on a subject new to\nthem, from informants whom they held in consideration, and regarded as\nauthorities. It was impossible to survey the audience which occupied the\nlecture-room without seeing that they came on what may be called business.\nAnd this is why I said, when I began, that the attendance was\nsatisfactory. That attendance is satisfactory,\u2014not which is numerous,\nbut\u2014which is steady and persevering. But it is plain, that to a mere\nby-stander, who came merely from general interest or good will to see how\nthings were going on, and who did not catch the object of advertising the\nLectures, it would not occur to look into the faces of the audience; he\nwould think it enough to be counting their heads; he would do little more\nthan observe whether the staircase and landing were full of loungers, and\nwhether there was such a noise and bustle that it was impossible to hear a\nword; and if he could get in and out of the room without an effort, if he\ncould sit at his ease, and actually hear the lecturer, he would think he\nhad sufficient grounds for considering the attendance unsatisfactory.\n\n\u201cThe stimulating system may easily be overdone, and does not answer on the\nlong run. A blaze among the stubble, and then all is dark. I have seen in\nmy time various instances of the way in which Lectures really gain upon\nthe public; and I must express my opinion that, even were it the sole\nobject of our great undertaking to make a general impression upon public\nopinion, instead of that of doing definite good to definite persons, I\nshould reject that method, which the University indeed itself has _not_\ntaken, but which young and ardent minds may have thought the more\npromising. Even did I wish merely to get the intellect of all Dublin into\nour rooms, I should not dream of doing it all at once, but at length. I\nshould not rely on sudden, startling effects, but on the slow, silent,\npenetrating, overpowering effects of patience, steadiness, routine, and\nperseverance. I have known individuals set themselves down in a\nneighbourhood where they had no advantages, and in a place which had no\npretensions, and upon a work which had little or nothing of authoritative\nsanction; and they have gone on steadily lecturing week after week, with\nlittle encouragement, but much resolution. For months they were ill\nattended, and overlooked in the bustle of the world around them. But there\nwas a secret, gradual movement going on, and a specific force of\nattraction, and a drifting and accumulation of hearers, which at length\nmade itself felt, and could not be mistaken. In this stage of things, a\nfriend said in conversation to me, when at the moment I knew nothing of\nthe parties: \u2018By-the-bye, if you are interested in such and such a\nsubject, go by all means, and hear such a one. So and so does, and says\nthere is no one like him. I looked in myself the other night, and was very\nmuch struck. Do go, you can\u2019t mistake; he lectures every Tuesday night, or\nWednesday, or Thursday,\u2019 as it might be. An influence thus gradually\nacquired endures; sudden popularity dies away as suddenly.\u201d\n\nAs regards ourselves, the time is passed now, Gentlemen, for such modesty\nof expectation, and such caution in encouragement, as these last sentences\nexhibit. The few, but diligent, attendants upon the Professors\u2019 lectures,\nwith whom we began, have grown into the diligent and zealous many; and the\nspeedy fulfilment of anticipations, which then seemed to be hazardous,\nsurely is a call on us to cherish bolder hopes and to form more extended\nplans for the years which are to follow.\n\n\n\n6.\n\n\nYou will ask me, perhaps, after these general remarks, to suggest to you\nthe particular intellectual benefit which I conceive students have a right\nto require of us, and which we engage by means of our evening classes to\nprovide for them. And, in order to this, you must allow me to make use of\nan illustration, which I have heretofore employed,(51) and which I repeat\nhere, because it is the best that I can find to convey what I wish to\nimpress upon you. It is an illustration which includes in its application\nall of us, teachers as well as taught, though it applies of course to some\nmore than to others, and to those especially who come for instruction.\n\nI consider, then, that the position of our minds, as far as they are\nuncultivated, towards intellectual objects,\u2014I mean of our minds, before\nthey have been disciplined and formed by the action of our reason upon\nthem,\u2014is analogous to that of a blind man towards the objects of vision,\nat the moment when eyes are for the first time given to him by the skill\nof the operator. Then the multitude of things, which present themselves to\nthe sight under a multiplicity of shapes and hues, pour in upon him from\nthe external world all at once, and are at first nothing else but lines\nand colours, without mutual connection, dependence, or contrast, without\norder or principle, without drift or meaning, and like the wrong side of a\npiece of tapestry or carpet. By degrees, by the sense of touch, by\nreaching out the hands, by walking into this maze of colours, by turning\nround in it, by accepting the principle of perspective, by the various\nslow teaching of experience, the first information of the sight is\ncorrected, and what was an unintelligible wilderness becomes a landscape\nor a scene, and is understood to consist of space, and of bodies variously\nlocated in space, with such consequences as thence necessarily follow. The\nknowledge is at length gained of things or objects, and of their relation\nto each other; and it is a kind of knowledge, as is plain, which is forced\nupon us all from infancy, as to the blind on their first seeing, by the\ntestimony of our other senses, and by the very necessity of supporting\nlife; so that even the brute animals have been gifted with the faculty of\nacquiring it.\n\nSuch is the case as regards material objects; and it is much the same as\nregards intellectual. I mean that there is a vast host of matters of all\nkinds, which address themselves, not to the eye, but to our mental sense;\nviz., all those matters of thought which, in the course of life and the\nintercourse of society, are brought before us, which we hear of in\nconversation, which we read of in books; matters political, social,\necclesiastical, literary, domestic; persons, and their doings or their\nwritings; events, and works, and undertakings, and laws, and institutions.\nThese make up a much more subtle and intricate world than that visible\nuniverse of which I was just now speaking. It is much more difficult in\nthis world than in the material to separate things off from each other,\nand to find out how they stand related to each other, and to learn how to\nclass them, and where to locate them respectively. Still, it is not less\ntrue that, as the various figures and forms in a landscape have each its\nown place, and stand in this or that direction towards each other, so all\nthe various objects which address the intellect have severally a substance\nof their own, and have fixed relations each of them with everything\nelse,\u2014relations which our minds have no power of creating, but which we\nare obliged to ascertain before we have a right to boast that we really\nknow any thing about them. Yet, when the mind looks out for the first time\ninto this manifold spiritual world, it is just as much confused and\ndazzled and distracted as are the eyes of the blind when they first begin\nto see; and it is by a long process, and with much effort and anxiety,\nthat we begin hardly and partially to apprehend its various contents and\nto put each in its proper place.\n\nWe grow up from boyhood; our minds open; we go into the world; we hear\nwhat men say, or read what they put in print; and thus a profusion of\nmatters of all kinds is discharged upon us. Some sort of an idea we have\nof most of them, from hearing what others say; but it is a very vague\nidea, probably a very mistaken idea. Young people, especially, because\nthey are young, colour the assemblage of persons and things which they\nencounter with the freshness and grace of their own springtide, look for\nall good from the reflection of their own hopefulness, and worship what\nthey have created. Men of ambition, again, look upon the world as a\ntheatre for fame and glory, and make it that magnificent scene of high\nenterprise and august recompence which Pindar or Cicero has delineated.\nPoets, too, after their wont, put their ideal interpretation upon all\nthings, material as well as moral, and substitute the noble for the true.\nHere are various obvious instances, suggestive of the discipline which is\nimperative, if the mind is to grasp things as they are, and to\ndiscriminate substances from shadows. For I am not concerned merely with\nyouth, ambition, or poetry, but with our mental condition generally. It is\nthe fault of all of us, till we have duly practised our minds, to be\nunreal in our sentiments and crude in our judgments, and to be carried off\nby fancies, instead of being at the trouble of acquiring sound knowledge.\n\nIn consequence, when we hear opinions put forth on any new subject, we\nhave no principle to guide us in balancing them; we do not know what to\nmake of them; we turn them to and fro, and over, and back again, as if to\npronounce upon them, if we could, but with no means of pronouncing. It is\nthe same when we attempt to speak upon them: we make some random venture;\nor we take up the opinion of some one else, which strikes our fancy; or\nperhaps, with the vaguest enunciation possible of any opinion at all, we\nare satisfied with ourselves if we are merely able to throw off some\nrounded sentences, to make some pointed remarks on some other subject, or\nto introduce some figure of speech, or flowers of rhetoric, which, instead\nof being the vehicle, are the mere substitute of meaning. We wish to take\na part in politics, and then nothing is open to us but to follow some\nperson, or some party, and to learn the commonplaces and the watchwords\nwhich belong to it. We hear about landed interests, and mercantile\ninterests, and trade, and higher and lower classes, and their rights,\nduties, and prerogatives; and we attempt to transmit what we have\nreceived; and soon our minds become loaded and perplexed by the\nincumbrance of ideas which we have not mastered and cannot use. We have\nsome vague idea, for instance, that constitutional government and slavery\nare inconsistent with each other; that there is a connection between\nprivate judgment and democracy, between Christianity and civilization; we\nattempt to find arguments in proof, and our arguments are the most plain\ndemonstration that we simply do not understand the things themselves of\nwhich we are professedly treating.\n\n\n\n7.\n\n\nReflect, Gentlemen, how many disputes you must have listened to, which\nwere interminable, because neither party understood either his opponent or\nhimself. Consider the fortunes of an argument in a debating society, and\nthe need there so frequently is, not simply of some clear thinker to\ndisentangle the perplexities of thought, but of capacity in the combatants\nto do justice to the clearest explanations which are set before them,\u2014so\nmuch so, that the luminous arbitration only gives rise, perhaps, to more\nhopeless altercation. \u201cIs a constitutional government better for a\npopulation than an absolute rule?\u201d What a number of points have to be\nclearly apprehended before we are in a position to say one word on such a\nquestion! What is meant by \u201cconstitution\u201d? by \u201cconstitutional government\u201d?\nby \u201cbetter\u201d? by \u201ca population\u201d? and by \u201cabsolutism\u201d? The ideas represented\nby these various words ought, I do not say, to be as perfectly defined and\nlocated in the minds of the speakers as objects of sight in a landscape,\nbut to be sufficiently, even though incompletely, apprehended, before they\nhave a right to speak. \u201cHow is it that democracy can admit of slavery, as\nin ancient Greece?\u201d \u201cHow can Catholicism flourish in a republic?\u201d Now, a\nperson who knows his ignorance will say, \u201cThese questions are beyond me;\u201d\nand he tries to gain a clear notion and a firm hold of them; and, if he\nspeaks, it is as investigating, not as deciding. On the other hand, let\nhim never have tried to throw things together, or to discriminate between\nthem, or to denote their peculiarities, in that case he has no hesitation\nin undertaking any subject, and perhaps has most to say upon those\nquestions which are most new to him. This is why so many men are\none-sided, narrow-minded, prejudiced, crotchety. This is why able men have\nto change their minds and their line of action in middle age, and to begin\nlife again, because they have followed their party, instead of having\nsecured that faculty of true perception as regards intellectual objects\nwhich has accrued to them, without their knowing how, as regards the\nobjects of sight.\n\nBut this defect will never be corrected,\u2014on the contrary, it will be\naggravated,\u2014by those popular institutions to which I referred just now.\nThe displays of eloquence, or the interesting matter contained in their\nlectures, the variety of useful or entertaining knowledge contained in\ntheir libraries, though admirable in themselves, and advantageous to the\nstudent at a later stage of his course, never can serve as a substitute\nfor methodical and laborious teaching. A young man of sharp and active\nintellect, who has had no other training, has little to show for it\nbesides a litter of ideas heaped up into his mind anyhow. He can utter a\nnumber of truths or sophisms, as the case may be, and one is as good to\nhim as another. He is up with a number of doctrines and a number of facts,\nbut they are all loose and straggling, for he has no principles set up in\nhis mind round which to aggregate and locate them. He can say a word or\ntwo on half a dozen sciences, but not a dozen words on any one. He says\none thing now, and another thing presently; and when he attempts to write\ndown distinctly what he holds upon a point in dispute, or what he\nunderstands by its terms, he breaks down, and is surprised at his failure.\nHe sees objections more clearly than truths, and can ask a thousand\nquestions which the wisest of men cannot answer; and withal, he has a very\ngood opinion of himself, and is well satisfied with his attainments, and\nhe declares against others, as opposed to the spread of knowledge\naltogether, who do not happen to adopt his ways of furthering it, or the\nopinions in which he considers it to result.\n\nThis is that barren mockery of knowledge which comes of attending on great\nLecturers, or of mere acquaintance with reviews, magazines, newspapers,\nand other literature of the day, which, however able and valuable in\nitself, is not the instrument of intellectual education. If this is all\nthe training a man has, the chance is that, when a few years have passed\nover his head, and he has talked to the full, he wearies of talking, and\nof the subjects on which he talked. He gives up the pursuit of knowledge,\nand forgets what he knew, whatever it was; and, taking things at their\nbest, his mind is in no very different condition from what it was when he\nfirst began to improve it, as he hoped, though perhaps he never thought of\nmore than of amusing himself. I say, \u201cat the best,\u201d for perhaps he will\nsuffer from exhaustion and a distaste of the subjects which once pleased\nhim; or perhaps he has suffered some real intellectual mischief; perhaps\nhe has contracted some serious disorder, he has admitted some taint of\nscepticism, which he will never get rid of.\n\nAnd here we see what is meant by the poet\u2019s maxim, \u201cA little learning is a\ndangerous thing.\u201d Not that knowledge, little or much, if it be real\nknowledge, is dangerous; but that many a man considers a mere hazy view of\nmany things to be real knowledge, whereas it does but mislead, just as a\nshort-sighted man sees only so far as to be led by his uncertain sight\nover the precipice.\n\nSuch, then, being true cultivation of mind, and such the literary\ninstitutions which do not tend to it, I might proceed to show you,\nGentlemen, did time admit, how, on the other hand, that kind of\ninstruction of which our Evening Classes are a specimen, is especially\nsuited to effect what they propose. Consider, for instance, what a\ndiscipline in accuracy of thought it is to have to construe a foreign\nlanguage into your own; what a still severer and more improving exercise\nit is to translate from your own into a foreign language. Consider, again,\nwhat a lesson in memory and discrimination it is to get up, as it is\ncalled, any one chapter of history. Consider what a trial of acuteness,\ncaution, and exactness, it is to master, and still more to prove, a number\nof definitions. Again, what an exercise in logic is classification, what\nan exercise in logical precision it is to understand and enunciate the\nproof of any of the more difficult propositions of Euclid, or to master\nany one of the great arguments for Christianity so thoroughly as to bear\nexamination upon it; or, again, to analyze sufficiently, yet in as few\nwords as possible, a speech, or to draw up a critique upon a poem. And so\nof any other science,\u2014chemistry, or comparative anatomy, or natural\nhistory; it does not matter what it is, if it be really studied and\nmastered, as far as it is taken up. The result is a formation of\nmind,\u2014that is, a habit of order and system, a habit of referring every\naccession of knowledge to what we already know, and of adjusting the one\nwith the other; and, moreover, as such a habit implies, the actual\nacceptance and use of certain principles as centres of thought, around\nwhich our knowledge grows and is located. Where this critical faculty\nexists, history is no longer a mere story-book, or biography a romance;\norators and publications of the day are no longer infallible authorities;\neloquent diction is no longer a substitute for matter, nor bold\nstatements, or lively descriptions, a substitute for proof. This is that\nfaculty of perception in intellectual matters, which, as I have said so\noften, is analogous to the capacity we all have of mastering the multitude\nof lines and colours which pour in upon our eyes, and of deciding what\nevery one of them is worth.\n\n\n\n8.\n\n\nBut I should be transgressing the limits assigned to an address of this\nnature were I to proceed. I have not said any thing, Gentlemen, on the\nreligious duties which become the members of a Catholic University,\nbecause we are directly concerned here with your studies only. It is my\nconsolation to know that so many of you belong to a Society or\nAssociation, which the zeal of some excellent priests, one especially, has\nbeen so instrumental in establishing in your great towns. You do not come\nto us to have the foundation laid in your breasts of that knowledge which\nis highest of all: it has been laid already. You have begun your mental\ntraining with faith and devotion; and then you come to us to add the\neducation of the intellect to the education of the heart. Go on as you\nhave begun, and you will be one of the proudest achievements of our great\nundertaking. We shall be able to point to you in proof that zeal for\nknowledge may thrive even under the pressure of secular callings; that\nmother-wit does not necessarily make a man idle, nor inquisitiveness of\nmind irreverent; that shrewdness and cleverness are not incompatible with\nfirm faith in the mysteries of Revelation; that attainment in Literature\nand Science need not make men conceited, nor above their station, nor\nrestless, nor self-willed. We shall be able to point to you in proof of\nthe power of Catholicism to make out of the staple of great towns\nexemplary and enlightened Christians, of those classes which, external to\nIreland, are the problem and perplexity of patriotic statesmen, and the\nnatural opponents of the teachers of every kind of religion.\n\n                                * * * * *\n\nAs to myself, I wish I could by actual service and hard work of my own\nrespond to your zeal, as so many of my dear and excellent friends, the\nProfessors of the University, have done and do. They have a merit, they\nhave a claim on you, Gentlemen, in which I have no part. If I admire the\nenergy and bravery with which you have undertaken the work of\nself-improvement, be sure I do not forget their public spirit and noble\nfree devotion to the University any more than you do. I know I should not\nsatisfy you with any praise of this supplement of our academical\narrangements which did not include those who give to it its life. It is a\nvery pleasant and encouraging sight to see both parties, the teachers and\nthe taught, co-operating with a pure _esprit-de-corps_ thus\nvoluntarily,\u2014they as fully as you can do\u2014for a great object; and I offer\nup my earnest prayers to the Author of all good, that He will ever bestow\non you all, on Professors and on Students, as I feel sure He will bestow,\nRulers and Superiors, who, by their zeal and diligence in their own place,\nshall prove themselves worthy both of your cause and of yourselves.\n\n\n\n\n                                Lecture X.\n\n\nChristianity And Medical Science. An Address to the Students Of Medicine.\n\n\n\n1.\n\n\nI have had so few opportunities, Gentlemen, of addressing you, and our\npresent meeting is of so interesting and pleasing a character, by reason\nof the object which occasions it, that I am encouraged to speak freely to\nyou, though I do not know you personally, on a subject which, as you may\nconceive, is often before my own mind: I mean, the exact relation in which\nyour noble profession stands towards the Catholic University itself and\ntowards Catholicism generally. Considering my own most responsible office\nas Rector, my vocation as an ecclesiastic, and then again my years, which\nincrease my present claim, and diminish my future chances, of speaking to\nyou, I need make no apology, I am sure, for a step, which will be\nrecommended to you by my good intentions, even though it deserves no\nconsideration on the score of the reflections and suggestions themselves\nwhich I shall bring before you. If indeed this University, and its Faculty\nof Medicine inclusively, were set up for the promotion of any merely\nsecular object,\u2014in the spirit of religious rivalry, as a measure of party\npolitics, or as a commercial speculation,\u2014then indeed I should be out of\nplace, not only in addressing you in the tone of advice, but in being here\nat all; for what reason could I in that case have had for having now given\nsome of the most valuable years of my life to this University, for having\nplaced it foremost in my thoughts and anxieties,\u2014(I had well nigh said) to\nthe prejudice of prior, dearer, and more sacred ties,\u2014except that I felt\nthat the highest and most special religious interests were bound up in its\nestablishment and in its success? Suffer me, then, Gentlemen, if with\nthese views and feelings I conform my observations to the sacred building\nin which we find ourselves, and if I speak to you for a few minutes as if\nI were rather addressing you authoritatively from the pulpit than in the\nRector\u2019s chair.\n\nNow I am going to set before you, in as few words as I can, what I\nconceive to be the principal duty of the Medical Profession towards\nReligion, and some of the difficulties which are found in the observance\nof that duty: and in speaking on the subject I am conscious how little\nqualified I am to handle it in such a way as will come home to your minds,\nfrom that want of acquaintance with you personally, to which I have\nalluded, and from my necessary ignorance of the influences of whatever\nkind which actually surround you, and the points of detail which are\nlikely to be your religious embarrassments. I can but lay down principles\nand maxims, which you must apply for yourselves, and which in some\nrespects or cases you may feel have no true application at all.\n\n\n\n2.\n\n\nAll professions have their dangers, all general truths have their\nfallacies, all spheres of action have their limits, and are liable to\nimproper extension or alteration. Every professional man has rightly a\nzeal for his profession, and he would not do his duty towards it without\nthat zeal. And that zeal soon becomes exclusive, or rather necessarily\ninvolves a sort of exclusiveness. A zealous professional man soon comes to\nthink that his profession is all in all, and that the world would not go\non without it. We have heard, for instance, a great deal lately in regard\nto the war in India, of _political_ views suggesting one plan of campaign,\nand _military_ views suggesting another. How hard it must be for the\nmilitary man to forego his own strategical dispositions, not on the ground\nthat they are not the best,\u2014not that they are not acknowledged by those\nwho nevertheless put them aside to _be_ the best _for_ the object of\nmilitary success,\u2014but because military success is not the highest of\nobjects, and the end of ends,\u2014because it is not the sovereign science, but\nmust ever be subordinate to political considerations or maxims of\ngovernment, which is a higher science with higher objects,\u2014and that\ntherefore his sure success on the field must be relinquished because the\ninterests of the council and the cabinet require the sacrifice, that the\nwar must yield to the statesman\u2019s craft, the commander-in-chief to the\ngovernor-general. Yet what the soldier feels is natural, and what the\nstatesman does is just. This collision, this desire on the part of every\nprofession to be supreme,\u2014this necessary, though reluctant, subordination\nof the one to the other,\u2014is a process ever going on, ever acted out before\nour eyes. The civilian is in rivalry with the soldier, the soldier with\nthe civilian. The diplomatist, the lawyer, the political economist, the\nmerchant, each wishes to usurp the powers of the state, and to mould\nsociety upon the principles of his own pursuit.\n\nNor do they confine themselves to the mere province of secular matters.\nThey intrude into the province of Religion. In England, in the reign of\nQueen Elizabeth, lawyers got hold of religion, and never have let it go.\nAbroad, bureaucracy keeps hold of Religion with a more or less firm grasp.\nThe circles of literature and science have in like manner before now made\nReligion a mere province of their universal empire.\n\nI remark, moreover, that these various usurpations are frequently made in\nperfectly good faith. There is no intention of encroachment on the part of\nthe encroachers. The commander recommends what with all his heart and soul\nhe thinks best for his country when he presses on Government a certain\nplan of campaign. The political economist has the most honest intentions\nof improving the Christian system of social duty by his reforms. The\nstatesman may have the best and most loyal dispositions towards the Holy\nSee, at the time that he is urging changes in ecclesiastical discipline\nwhich would be seriously detrimental to the Church.\n\nAnd now I will say how this applies to the Medical Profession, and what is\nits special danger, viewed in relation to Catholicity.\n\n\n\n3.\n\n\nIts province is the physical nature of man, and its object is the\npreservation of that physical nature in its proper state, and its\nrestoration when it has lost it. It limits itself, by its very profession,\nto the health of the body; it ascertains the conditions of that health; it\nanalyzes the causes of its interruption or failure; it seeks about for the\nmeans of cure. But, after all, bodily health is not the only end of man,\nand the medical science is not the highest science of which he is the\nsubject. Man has a moral and a religious nature, as well as a physical. He\nhas a mind and a soul; and the mind and soul have a legitimate sovereignty\nover the body, and the sciences relating to them have in consequence the\nprecedence of those sciences which relate to the body. And as the soldier\nmust yield to the statesman, when they come into collision with each\nother, so must the medical man to the priest; not that the medical man may\nnot be enunciating what is absolutely certain, in a medical point of view,\nas the commander may be perfectly right in what he enunciates\nstrategically, but that his action is suspended in the given case by the\ninterests and duty of a superior science, and he retires not confuted but\nsuperseded.\n\nNow this general principle thus stated, all will admit: who will deny that\nhealth must give way to duty? So far there is no perplexity: supposing a\nfever to break out in a certain place, and the medical practitioner said\nto a Sister of Charity who was visiting the sick there, \u201cYou will die to a\ncertainty if you remain there,\u201d and her ecclesiastical superiors on the\ncontrary said, \u201cYou have devoted your life to such services, and there you\nmust stay;\u201d and supposing she stayed and was taken off; the medical\nadviser would be right, but who would say that the Religious Sister was\nwrong? She did not doubt his word, but she denied the importance of that\nword, compared with the word of her religious superiors. The medical man\nwas right, yet he could not gain his point. He was right in what he said,\nhe said what was true, yet he had to give way.\n\nHere we are approaching what I conceive to be the especial temptation and\ndanger to which the medical profession is exposed: it is a certain sophism\nof the intellect, founded on this maxim, implied, but not spoken or even\nrecognized\u2014\u201cWhat is true is lawful.\u201d Not so. Observe, here is the\nfallacy,\u2014What is true in one science is dictated to us indeed according to\nthat science, but not according to another science, or in another\ndepartment. What is certain in the military art has force in the military\nart, but not in statesmanship; and if statesmanship be a higher department\nof action than war, and enjoins the contrary, it has no claim on our\nreception and obedience at all. And so what is true in medical science\nmight in all cases be carried out, _were_ man a mere animal or brute\nwithout a soul; but since he is a rational, responsible being, a thing may\nbe ever so true in medicine, yet may be unlawful in fact, in consequence\nof the _higher_ law of morals and religion having come to some different\nconclusion. Now I must be allowed some few words to express, or rather to\nsuggest, more fully what I mean.\n\nThe whole universe comes from the good God. It is His creation; _it_ is\ngood; it is all good, as being the work of the Good, though good only in\nits degree, and not after His Infinite Perfection. The physical nature of\nman is good; nor can there be any thing sinful in itself in acting\naccording to that nature. Every natural appetite or function is lawful,\nspeaking abstractedly. No natural feeling or act is in itself sinful.\nThere can be no doubt of all this; and there can be no doubt that science\ncan determine what is natural, what tends to the preservation of a healthy\nstate of nature, and what on the contrary is injurious to nature. Thus the\nmedical student has a vast field of knowledge spread out before him, true,\nbecause knowledge, and innocent, because true.\n\nSo much in the abstract\u2014but when we come to _fact_, it may easily happen\nthat what is in itself innocent may not be innocent to this or that\nperson, or in this or that mode or degree. Again, it may easily happen\nthat the impressions made on a man\u2019s mind by his own science may be\nindefinitely more vivid and operative than the enunciations of truths\nbelonging to some other branch of knowledge, which strike indeed his ear,\nbut do not come home to him, are not fixed in his memory, are not\nimprinted on his imagination. And in the profession before us, a medical\nstudent may realize far more powerfully and habitually that certain acts\nare _advisable in themselves_ according to the law of physical nature,\nthan the fact that they are forbidden according to the law of some higher\nscience, as theology; or again, that they are accidentally wrong, as\nbeing, though lawful in themselves, wrong in this or that individual, or\nunder the circumstances of the case.\n\nNow to recur to the instance I have already given: it is supposable that\nthat Sister of Charity, who, for the sake of her soul, would not obey the\nlaw of self-preservation as regards her body, might cause her medical\nadviser great irritation and disgust. His own particular profession might\nhave so engrossed his mind, and the truth of its maxims have so penetrated\nit, that he could not understand or admit any other or any higher system.\nHe might in process of time have become simply dead to all religious\ntruths, because such truths were not present to him, and those of his own\nscience were ever present. And observe, his fault would be, not that of\ntaking error for truth, for what he relied on _was_ truth\u2014but in not\nunderstanding that there were other truths, and those higher than his own.\n\nTake another case, in which there will often in particular circumstances\nbe considerable differences of opinion among really religious men, but\nwhich does not cease on that account to illustrate the point I am\ninsisting on. A patient is dying: the priest wishes to be introduced, lest\nhe should die without due preparation: the medical man says that the\nthought of religion will disturb his mind and imperil his recovery. Now in\nthe particular case, the one party or the other may be right in urging his\nown view of what ought to be done. I am merely directing attention to the\n_principle_ involved in it. Here are the representatives of two great\nsciences, Religion and Medicine. Each says what is true in his own\nscience, each will think he has a right to insist on seeing that the truth\nwhich he himself is maintaining is carried out in action; whereas, one of\nthe two sciences is above the other, and the end of Religion is\nindefinitely higher than the end of Medicine. And, however the decision\nought to go, in the particular case, as to introducing the subject of\nreligion or not, I think the priest ought to have that decision; just as a\nGovernor-General, not a Commander-in-Chief, would have the ultimate\ndecision, were politics and strategics to come into collision.\n\nYou will easily understand, Gentlemen, that I dare not pursue my subject\ninto those details, which are of the greater importance for the very\nreason that they cannot be spoken of. A medical philosopher, who has so\nsimply fixed his intellect on his own science as to have forgotten the\nexistence of any other, will view man, who is the subject of his\ncontemplation, as a being who has little more to do than to be born, to\ngrow, to eat, to drink, to walk, to reproduce his kind, and to die. He\nsees him born as other animals are born; he sees life leave him, with all\nthose phenomena of annihilation which accompany the death of a brute. He\ncompares his structure, his organs, his functions, with those of other\nanimals, and his own range of science leads to the discovery of no facts\nwhich are sufficient to convince him that there is any difference in kind\nbetween the human animal and them. His practice, then, is according to his\nfacts and his theory. Such a person will think himself free to give\nadvice, and to insist upon rules, which are quite insufferable to any\nreligious mind, and simply antagonistic to faith and morals. It is not, I\nrepeat, that he says what is untrue, supposing that man _were_ an animal\nand nothing else: but he thinks that whatever is true in his own science\nis at once lawful in practice\u2014as if there were not a number of rival\nsciences in the great circle of philosophy, as if there were not a number\nof conflicting views and objects in human nature to be taken into account\nand reconciled, or as if it were his duty to forget all but his own;\nwhereas\n\nThere are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio,\nThan are dreamt of in your philosophy.\n\nI have known in England the most detestable advice given to young persons\nby eminent physicians, in consequence of this contracted view of man and\nhis destinies. God forbid that I should measure the professional habits of\nCatholics by the rules of practice of those who were not! but it is plain\nthat what is actually carried out where religion is not known, exists as a\ntemptation and a danger in the Science of Medicine itself, where religion\nis known ever so well.\n\n\n\n4.\n\n\nAnd now, having suggested, as far as I dare, what I consider the\nconsequences of that radical sophism to which the medical profession is\nexposed, let me go on to say in what way it is corrected by the action of\nCatholicism upon it.\n\nYou will observe, then, Gentlemen, that those higher sciences of which I\nhave spoken, Morals and Religion, are not represented to the intelligence\nof the world by intimations and notices strong and obvious, such as those\nwhich are the foundation of Physical Science. The physical nature lies\nbefore us, patent to the sight, ready to the touch, appealing to the\nsenses in so unequivocal a way that the science which is founded upon it\nis as real to us as the fact of our personal existence. But the phenomena,\nwhich are the basis of morals and Religion, have nothing of this luminous\nevidence. Instead of being obtruded upon our notice, so that we cannot\npossibly overlook them, they are the dictates either of Conscience or of\nFaith. They are faint shadows and tracings, certain indeed, but delicate,\nfragile, and almost evanescent, which the mind recognizes at one time, not\nat another,\u2014discerns when it is calm, loses when it is in agitation. The\nreflection of sky and mountains in the lake is a proof that sky and\nmountains are around it, but the twilight, or the mist, or the sudden\nstorm hurries away the beautiful image, which leaves behind it no memorial\nof what it was. Something like this are the Moral Law and the informations\nof Faith, as they present themselves to individual minds. Who can deny the\nexistence of Conscience? who does not feel the force of its injunctions?\nbut how dim is the illumination in which it is invested, and how feeble\nits influence, compared with that evidence of sight and touch which is the\nfoundation of Physical Science! How easily can we be talked out of our\nclearest views of duty! how does this or that moral precept crumble into\nnothing when we rudely handle it! how does the fear of sin pass off from\nus, as quickly as the glow of modesty dies away from the countenance! and\nthen we say, \u201cIt is all superstition.\u201d However, after a time we look\nround, and then to our surprise we see, as before, the same law of duty,\nthe same moral precepts, the same protests against sin, appearing over\nagainst us, in their old places, as if they never had been brushed away,\nlike the divine handwriting upon the wall at the banquet. Then perhaps we\napproach them rudely, and inspect them irreverently, and accost them\nsceptically, and away they go again, like so many spectres,\u2014shining in\ntheir cold beauty, but not presenting themselves bodily to us, for our\ninspection, so to say, of their hands and their feet. And thus these\nawful, supernatural, bright, majestic, delicate apparitions, much as we\nmay in our hearts acknowledge their sovereignty, are no match as a\nfoundation of Science for the hard, palpable, material facts which make up\nthe province of Physics. Recurring to my original illustration, it is as\nif the India Commander-in-Chief, instead of being under the control of a\nlocal seat of government at Calcutta, were governed simply from London, or\nfrom the moon. In that case, he would be under a strong temptation to\nneglect the home government, which nevertheless in theory he acknowledged.\nSuch, I say, is the natural condition of mankind:\u2014we depend upon a seat of\ngovernment which is in another world; we are directed and governed by\nintimations from above; we need a local government on earth.\n\nThat great institution, then, the Catholic Church, has been set up by\nDivine Mercy, as a present, visible antagonist, and the only possible\nantagonist, to sight and sense. Conscience, reason, good feeling, the\ninstincts of our moral nature, the traditions of Faith, the conclusions\nand deductions of philosophical Religion, are no match at all for the\nstubborn facts (for they _are_ facts, though there are other facts besides\nthem), for the facts, which are the foundation of physical, and in\nparticular of medical, science. Gentlemen, if you feel, as you must feel,\nthe whisper of a law of moral truth within you, and the impulse to\nbelieve, be sure there is nothing whatever on earth which can be the\nsufficient champion of these sovereign authorities of your soul, which can\nvindicate and preserve them to you, and make you loyal to them, but the\nCatholic Church. You fear they will go, you see with dismay that they are\ngoing, under the continual impression created on your mind by the details\nof the material science to which you have devoted your lives. It is so\u2014I\ndo not deny it; except under rare and happy circumstances, go they will,\nunless you have Catholicism to back you up in keeping faithful to them.\nThe world is a rough antagonist of spiritual truth: sometimes with mailed\nhand, sometimes with pertinacious logic, sometimes with a storm of\nirresistible facts, it presses on against you. What it says is true\nperhaps as far as it goes, but it is not the whole truth, or the most\nimportant truth. These more important truths, which the natural heart\nadmits in their substance, though it cannot maintain,\u2014the being of a God,\nthe certainty of future retribution, the claims of the moral law, the\nreality of sin, the hope of supernatural help,\u2014of these the Church is in\nmatter of fact the undaunted and the only defender.\n\nEven those who do not look on her as divine must grant as much as this. I\ndo not ask you for more here than to contemplate and recognize her as a\nfact,\u2014as other things are facts. She has been eighteen hundred years in\nthe world, and all that time she has been doing battle in the boldest,\nmost obstinate way in the cause of the human race, in maintenance of the\nundeniable but comparatively obscure truths of Religion. She is always\nalive, always on the alert, when any enemy whatever attacks them. She has\nbrought them through a thousand perils. Sometimes preaching, sometimes\npleading, sometimes arguing,\u2014sometimes exposing her ministers to death,\nand sometimes, though rarely, inflicting blows herself,\u2014by peremptory\ndeeds, by patient concessions,\u2014she has fought on and fulfilled her trust.\nNo wonder so many speak against her, for she deserves it; she has earned\nthe hatred and obloquy of her opponents by her success in opposing them.\nThose even who speak against her in this day, own that she was of use in a\nformer day. The historians in fashion with us just now, much as they may\ndisown her in their own country, where she is an actual, present,\nunpleasant, inconvenient monitor, acknowledge that, in the middle ages\nwhich are gone, in her were lodged, by her were saved, the fortunes and\nthe hopes of the human race. The very characteristics of her discipline,\nthe very maxims of her policy, which they reprobate now, they perceive to\nhave been of service then. They understand, and candidly avow, that once\nshe was the patron of the arts, the home and sanctuary of letters, the\nbasis of law, the principle of order and government, and the saviour of\nChristianity itself. They judge clearly enough in the case of others,\nthough they are slow to see the fact in their own age and country; and,\nwhile they do not like to be regulated by her, and kept in order by her,\nthemselves, they are very well satisfied that the populations of those\nformer centuries should have been so ruled, and tamed, and taught by her\nresolute and wise teaching. And be sure of this, that as the generation\nnow alive admits these benefits to have arisen from her presence in a\nstate of society now gone by, so in turn, when the interests and passions\nof this day are passed away, will future generations ascribe to her a like\nspecial beneficial action upon this nineteenth century in which we live.\nFor she is ever the same,\u2014ever young and vigorous, and ever overcoming new\nerrors with the old weapons.\n\n\n\n5.\n\n\nAnd now I have explained, Gentlemen, why it has been so highly expedient\nand desirable in a country like this to bring the Faculty of Medicine\nunder the shadow of the Catholic Church. I say \u201cin a country like this;\u201d\nfor, if there be any country which deserves that Science should not run\nwild, like a planet broken loose from its celestial system, it is a\ncountry which can boast of such hereditary faith, of such a persevering\nconfessorship, of such an accumulation of good works, of such a glorious\nname, as Ireland. Far be it from this country, far be it from the counsels\nof Divine Mercy, that it should grow in knowledge and not grow in\nreligion! and Catholicism is the strength of Religion, as Science and\nSystem are the strength of Knowledge.\n\nAspirations such as these are met, Gentlemen, I am well aware, by a\nresponsive feeling in your own hearts; but by my putting them into words,\nthoughts which already exist within you are brought into livelier\nexercise, and sentiments which exist in many breasts hold intercommunion\nwith each other. Gentlemen, it will be your high office to be the links in\nyour generation between Religion and Science. Return thanks to the Author\nof all good that He has chosen you for this work. Trust the Church of God\nimplicitly, even when your natural judgment would take a different course\nfrom hers, and would induce you to question her prudence or her\ncorrectness. Recollect what a hard task she has; how she is sure to be\ncriticized and spoken against, whatever she does;\u2014recollect how much she\nneeds your loyal and tender devotion. Recollect, too, how long is the\nexperience gained in eighteen hundred years, and what a right she has to\nclaim your assent to principles which have had so extended and so\ntriumphant a trial. Thank her that she has kept the faith safe for so many\ngenerations, and do your part in helping her to transmit it to generations\nafter you.\n\nFor me, if it has been given me to have any share in so great a work, I\nshall rejoice with a joy, not such indeed as I should feel were I myself a\nnative of this generous land, but with a joy of my own, not the less pure,\nbecause I have exerted myself for that which concerns others more nearly\nthan myself. I have had no other motive, as far as I know myself, than to\nattempt, according to my strength, some service to the cause of Religion,\nand to be the servant of those to whom as a nation the whole of\nChristendom is so deeply indebted; and though this University, and the\nFaculty of Medicine which belongs to it, are as yet only in the\ncommencement of their long career of usefulness, yet while I live, and (I\ntrust) after life, it will ever be a theme of thankfulness for my heart\nand my lips, that I have been allowed to do even a little, and to witness\nso much, of the arduous, pleasant, and hopeful toil which has attended on\ntheir establishment.\n\n\n\n\n\nNOTE ON PAGE 478.\n\n\nI think it worthwhile, in illustration of what I have said above at the\npage specified, to append the following passage from Grandorg\u00e6us\u2019s\ncatalogue of Muratori\u2019s works.\n\n\u201cSanctissimus D.N. Benedictus xiv. Pont. Max. Epistolam sapienti\u00e6 ac\nroboris plenam dederat \u2026 ad Episcopum Terulensem Hispani\u00e6 Inquisitionis\nMajorem Inquisitorem, qu\u00e2 illum hortabatur, ut \u2018Historiam Pelagianam et\ndissertationem, etc.,\u2019 editas \u00e0 clar\u00e6 memori\u00e6 Henrico Cardinali Norisio,\nin Indicem Expurgatorium Hispanum nuper ingestas, perinde ac si aliquid\nBaianismi aut Jansenismi redolerent, prout auctor \u2018Bibliothec\u00e6\nJansenistic\u00e6\u2019 immerito autumavit, quamprimum expungendas curaret. Eoque\nnomine Sapientissimus Pontifex plura in medium attulit prudentis \u0153conomi\u00e6\nexempla, qua semper usum, supremum S. R. Congr. Indicis Tribunal, \u00e0\nproscribendis virorum doctissimorum operibus aliquando temperavit.\n\n\u201cQuum autem summus Pontifex, ea inter nomina illustria Tillemontii,\nBollandistarum, Bosoueti Ep. Meld., et illud recensuerit L. A. Muratorii,\nhis ad Auctorem nostrum delatis, quam maxim\u00e8 indoluit, veritus ne in tant\u00e2\noperum copi\u00e2 ab se editorum, aliquid Fidei aut Religioni min\u00f9s consonum\nsibi excidisset.\u2026\n\n\u201cVer\u00f9m clementissimus Pontifex ne animum desponderet doctus et humilis\nfilius, pernumaniter ad ipsum rescripsit \u2026 eumque patern\u00e8 consolatus,\ninter alia h\u00e6c habet: \u2018Quanto si era detto nella nostra Lettera all\u2019\nInquisitore di Spagna in ordine alle di Lei Opere, non aveva che fare con\nla materia delle Feste, n\u00e8 con verun dogma o disciplina. Il contenuto\ndelle Opere chi qui non \u00e8 piaciuto (n\u00e8 che Ella poteva mai lusingarsi che\nfosse per piacere), riguarda la Giurisdizione Temporale del Romano\nPontifice n\u00e8 suoi stati,\u2019 \u201d etc. (pp. lx., lxi).\n\n\n\n\n\nINDEX.\n\n\nABELARD, 96,\n  age of, 263\n\nAccomplishments not education, 144\n\nAddison, his _Vision of Mirza_, 279;\n  his care in writing, 284;\n  the child of the Revolution, 312, 329\n\n\u00c6schylus, 258\n\nAlcuin, 17\n\nAldhelm, St., 17\n\nAlexander the Great, his delight in Homer, 258;\n  conquests of, 264\n\nAnaxagoras, 116\n\nAndes, the, 136\n\nAnimuccia and St. Philip Neri, 237\n\nApollo Belvidere, the, 283\n\nAquinas, St. Thomas, 134, 263, 384\n\nArcesilas, 101\n\nArchitecture, 81\n\nArian argument against our Lord\u2019s Divinity, 95\n\nAriosto, 316\n\nAristotelic philosophy, the, 52\n\nAristotle, xii., 6, 53;\n  quoted, 78, 101, 106, 109, 134, 222, 275;\n  his sketch of the magnanimous man, 280, 383, 431, 469\n\nAthens, the fountain of secular knowledge, 264\n\nAugustine, St., of Canterbury, mission of, 16\n\nAugustine, St., of Hippo, quoted, 410\n\nBACCI\u2019S Life of St. Philip Neri, quoted, 236\n\nBacon, Friar, xiii., 220\n\nBaconian philosophy, the, 109\n\nBacon, Lord, quoted, 77, 90, 117-119, 175, 221, 225, 263, 319, 437\n\nBalaam, 66\n\nBeethoven, 286, 313\n\nBentham\u2019s _Preuves Judiciaires_, 96\n\nBerkeley, Bishop, on Gothic Architecture, 81\n\nBoccaccio, 316\n\nBoniface, St., 220\n\nBorromeo, St. Carlo, enjoins the use of some of the Latin classics, 261;\n  on preaching, 406, 412, 414, 421\n\nBossuet and Bishop Bull, 7\n\nBrougham, Lord, his Discourse at Glasgow, quoted, 30, 34-35\n\nBrutus, abandoned by philosophy, 116\n\nBurke, Edmund, 176;\n  his valediction to the spirit of chivalry, 201\n\nBurman, 140\n\nButler, Bishop, his Analogy, 61, 100, 158, 226\n\nByron, Lord, his versification, 326\n\nCAIETAN, St., 235\n\nCampbell, Thomas, 322, 326\n\nCarneades, 106\n\nCato the elder, his opposition to the Greek philosophy, 106\n\nCatullus, 325\n\nChinese civilization, 252\n\nChristianity and Letters, 249\n\nChrysostom, St., on Judas, 86\n\nCicero, quoted, 77;\n  on the pursuit of knowledge, 104, 116, 260;\n  style of, 281, 282, 327;\n  quoted, 399;\n  his orations against Verres, 421\n\nCivilization and Christianity, 255\n\nClarendon, Lord, 311\n\nColours, combination of, 100\n\n\u201cCondescension,\u201d two senses of, 205\n\nCopleston, Dr., Bishop of Llandaff, 157;\n  quoted, 167-169\n\nCorinthian brass, 175\n\nCowper, quoted, 191, 467\n\nCrabbe, his _Tales of the Hall_, 150;\n  his versification, 326\n\nCraik, Dr. G. L., his _Pursuit of Knowledge under Difficulties_, quoted,\n            103, 104\n\nDANTE, 316, 329\n\nDavison, John, 158;\n  on Liberal Education, 169-177\n\nDefiniteness, the life of preaching, 426\n\nDemosthenes, 259, 284\n\nDescartes, 315\n\nDumesnil\u2019s Synonymes, 368\n\nDu Pin\u2019s Ecclesiastical History, 140\n\nEDGEWORTH, Mr., on Professional Education, 158, 170, 176\n\nEdinburgh, 154\n\n_Edinburgh Review_, the, 153, 157, 160, 301, 329\n\nEdward II., King of England, vow at his flight from Bannockburn, 155\n\nElmsley, xiv.\n\nEpicurus, 40\n\nEuclid\u2019s Elements, 274, 313, 501\n\nEuripides, 258\n\nFENELON, on the Gothic style of Architecture, 82\n\nFontaine, La, his immoral _Contes_, 315\n\nFouqu\u00e9, Lamotte, his tale of the _Unknown Patient_, 119\n\nFra Angelico, 287\n\nFranklin, 304\n\nFrederick II., 383, 384\n\nGALEN, 222\n\nGentleman, the true, defined, 208\n\nGerdil, Cardinal, quoted, xiii., on the Emperor Julian, 194;\n  on Malebranche, 477\n\nGiannone, 316\n\nGibbon, on the darkness at the Passion, 95;\n  his hatred of Christianity, 195, 196;\n  his care in writing, 285;\n  influence of his style on the literature of the present day, 323;\n  his tribute to Hume and Robertson, 325\n\nGoethe, 134\n\nGothic Architecture, 82\n\nGrammar, 96, 334\n\nGregory the Great, St., 260\n\nHARDOUIN, Father, on Latin literature, 310\n\nHealth, 164\n\nHerodotus, 284, 325, 329\n\nHobbes, 311\n\nHomer, his address to the Delian women, 257;\n  his best descriptions, according to Sterne, marred by translation, 271\n\nHooker, 311\n\nHorace, quoted, 257, 258, 329\n\nHorne Tooke, 96\n\nHume, 40, 58;\n  style of, 325\n\nHumility, 206\n\nHuss, 155\n\nJACOB\u2019S courtship, 232\n\nJeffrey, Lord, 157\n\nJerome, St., on idolizing the creature, 87\n\nJerusalem, the fountain-head of religious knowledge, 264\n\nIgnatius, St., 235\n\nJob, religious merry-makings of, 232;\n  Book of, 289\n\nJohn, King, 383\n\nJohn of Salisbury, 262\n\nJohnson, Dr., his method of writing the Ramblers, xx.;\n  his vigour and resource of intellect, xxi.;\n  his definition of the word _University_, 20;\n  his _Rasselas_ quoted, 116-117;\n  style of, 283;\n  his Table-talk, 313;\n  his bias towards Catholicity, 319;\n  his definition of _Grammar_, 334\n\nJoseph, history of, 271\n\nIsaac, feast at his weaning, 232\n\nIsocrates, 282\n\nJulian the Apostate, 194\n\nJustinian, 265\n\nJuvenal, 325\n\nKEBLE, John, 158;\n  his Latin Lectures, 369\n\nKnowledge, its own end, 99;\n  viewed in relation to learning, 124;\n  to professional skill, 151;\n  to religion, 179\n\nLALANNE, Abb\u00e9, 9\n\nLeo, St., on the love of gain, 87\n\nLiterature, 268\n\nLocke, on Education, 158-160, 163, 319\n\nLogos, 276\n\nLohner, Father, his story of a court-preacher, 411\n\nLonginus, his admiration of the Mosaic account of Creation, 271\n\nLutheran leaven, spread of the, 28\n\nMACAULAY, Lord, his Essay on Bacon\u2019s philosophy, 118, 221;\n  his _Essays_ quoted, 301, 435-438, 450\n\nMachiavel, 316\n\nMalebranche, 477\n\nMaltby, Dr., bishop of Durham, his Address to the Deity, 33, 40\n\nMichael Angelo, first attempts of, 283\n\nMilman, Dean, his History of the Jews, 85\n\nMilton, on Education, 169;\n  his _Samson Agonistes_ quoted, 323;\n  his allusions to himself, 329\n\nModesty, 206\n\nMontaigne\u2019s Essays, 315\n\nMore, Sir Thomas, 437\n\nMosheim\u2019s Ecclesiastical History, 140\n\nMuratori, 478, 520\n\nMusic, 80\n\nNERI, St. Philip, 234\n\nNewton, Sir Isaac, xiii., 49, 53;\n  on the Apocalypse, 304;\n  his marvellous powers, 324\n\nNewtonian philosophy, the, 49\n\nNoah\u2019s ark, 73\n\nOLYMPIC games, the, 107\n\nOptics, 46\n\nPAINTING, 79\n\nPalestrina, 237\n\nPaley, 58, 449\n\nPalladio, 57\n\nPascal, 315\n\nPatrick, St., greatness of his work, 15\n\nPeriodical criticism, 333\n\nPersian mode of letter-writing, 277\n\nPindar, 329\n\nPitt, William, his opinion of Butler\u2019s Analogy, 100\n\nPius IV., Pope, death of, 237\n\nPlato, on poets, 101;\n  on music, 110\n\nPlayfair, Professor, 157\n\nPolitical Economy, 86\n\nPompey\u2019s Pillar, 136\n\nPope, Alex., quoted, 118;\n  an indifferent Catholic, 318;\n  has tuned our versification, 323;\n  quoted, 375, 501\n\nPorson, Richard, xiv., 304\n\nPride and self-respect, 207\n\nPrivate Judgment, 97\n\nProtestant argument against Transubstantiation, 95\n\nPsalter, the, 289\n\nPulci, 316\n\nPythagoras, xiii\n\nRABELIAS, 315\n\nRaffaelle, first attempts of, 283; 287\n\n_Rasselas_ quoted, 116\n\nRecreations not Education, 144\n\nRobertson, style of, 325\n\nRome, 265\n\nRound Towers of Ireland, the, 95\n\nSALES, St Francis de, on preaching, 406, 410, 411\n\nSalmasius, 140\n\nSavonarola, 235\n\nScott, Sir Walter, 313;\n  his _Old Mortality_, 359\n\nSeneca, 110, 116, 327\n\nSermons of the seventeenth century, 140\n\nShaftesbury, Lord, his _Characteristics_, 196-201, 204\n\nShakespeare, quoted, 150;\n  his _Macbeth_ quoted, 280;\n  _Hamlet_ quoted, 281;\n  quoted, 284, 287;\n  morality of, 318;\n  quoted, 410, 513\n\nSimon of Tournay, narrative of, 384\n\nSmith, Sydney, 157\n\nSophocles, 258\n\nSouthey\u2019s _Thalaba_, 323;\n  quoted, 324\n\nSterne\u2019s Sermons, quoted, 270-272\n\nStuffing birds not education, 144\n\nSylvester II., Pope, accused of magic, 220\n\nTARPEIA, 140\n\nTaylor, Jeremy, his _Liberty of Prophesying_, 472\n\nTerence and Menander, 259\n\nTertullian, 327\n\nThales, xiii.\n\nTheology, a branch of knowledge, 19;\n  definition of, 60\n\nThucydides, 259, 325, 329\n\nTitus, armies of, 265\n\nVIRGIL, his obligations to Greek poets, 259;\n  wishes his \u00c6neid burnt, 284;\n  fixes the character of the hexameter, 325, 329\n\nVoltaire, 303, 315\n\nUTILITY in Education, 161\n\nWATSON, Bishop, on Mathematics, 101\n\nWiclif, 155\n\nWren, Sir Christopher, 57\n\nXAVIER, St. Francis, 235\n\nXenophon quoted, 107, 258\n\nFINIS.\n\n\n\n\n\n\nFOOTNOTES\n\n\n_    1 Vid._ Huber\u2019s English Universities, London, 1843, vol. ii., part 1,\n      pp. 321, etc.\n\n    2 Opere, t. iii., p. 353.\n\n    3 Vide M. L\u2019Abb\u00e9 Lalanne\u2019s recent work.\n\n    4 Cressy.\n\n    5 In Roman law it means a Corporation. Vid. Keuffel, _de Scholis_.\n\n    6 Hist. vol. ii. p. 529. London, 1841.\n\n    7 Mr. Brougham\u2019s Glasgow Discourse.\n\n    8 Arist. Ethic. Nicom., iii. 3.\n\n    9 Introd. Lecture on Pol. Econ. pp. 11, 12.\n\n   10 Advancement of Learning.\n\n   11 Intr. Lect., p. 16.\n\n   12 Vid. Abelard, for instance.\n\n   13 Pursuit of Knowledge under Difficulties. Introd.\n\n   14 Cicer. Offic. init.\n\n   15 \u03a4\u03ad\u03c7\u03bd\u03b7 \u03c4\u03cd\u03c7\u03b7\u03bd \u1f14\u03c3\u03c4\u03b5\u03c1\u03c7\u03b5 \u03ba\u03b1\u1f76 \u03c4\u03cd\u03c7\u03b7 \u03c4\u03ad\u03c7\u03bd\u03b7\u03bd. Vid. Arist. Nic. Ethic. vi.\n\n   16 Aristot. Rhet. i. 5.\n\n   17 It will be seen that on the whole I agree with Lord Macaulay in his\n      Essay on Bacon\u2019s Philosophy. I do not know whether he would agree\n      with me.\n\n   18 De Augment. iv. 2, vid. Macaulay\u2019s Essay; vid. also \u201cIn principio\n      operis ad Deum Patrem, Deum Verbum, Deum Spiritum, preces fundimus\n      humillimas et ardentissimas, ut humani generis \u00e6rumnarum memores, et\n      peregrinationis istius vit\u00e6, in qu\u00e2 dies paucos et malos terimus,\n      _novis suis eleemosynis, per manus nostras_, familiam humanam dotare\n      digneatur. Atque illud insuper supplices rogamus, ne _humana divinis\n      officiant_; neve _ex reseratione viarum sens\u00fbs_, et accensione\n      majore luminis naturalis, _aliquid incredulitatis_ et noctis, animis\n      nostris erga divina mysteria oboriatur,\u201d etc. _Pr\u00e6f._ Instaur. Magn.\n\n   19 Fouque\u2019s Unknown Patient.\n\n   20 The pages which follow are taken almost _verbatim_ from the author\u2019s\n      14th (Oxford) University Sermon, which, at the time of writing this\n      Discourse, he did not expect ever to reprint.\n\n   21 Crabbe\u2019s Tales of the Hall. This Poem, let me say, I read on its\n      first publication, above thirty years ago, with extreme delight, and\n      have never lost my love of it; and on taking it up lately, found I\n      was even more touched by it than heretofore. A work which can please\n      in youth and age, seems to fulfil (in logical language) the\n      _accidental definition_ of a Classic. [A further course of twenty\n      years has past, and I bear the same witness in favour of this Poem.]\n\n   22 Mr. Keble, Vicar of Hursley, late Fellow of Oriel, and Professor of\n      Poetry in the University of Oxford.\n\n   23 Vid. Milton on Education.\n\n   24 I do not consider I have said above any thing inconsistent with the\n      following passage from Cardinal Gerdil, though I have enlarged on\n      the favourable side of Julian\u2019s character. \u201cDu g\u00e9nie, des\n      connaissances, de l\u2019habilit\u00e9 dans le m\u00e9tier de la guerre, du courage\n      et du d\u00e9sint\u00e9ressement dans le commandement des arm\u00e9es, des actions\n      plut\u00f4t que des qualit\u00e9s estimables, mais le plus souvent g\u00e2t\u00e9es par\n      la vanit\u00e9 qui en \u00e9tait le principe, la superstition jointe \u00e0\n      l\u2019hypocrisie; un esprit f\u00e9cond en ressources \u00e9clair\u00e9, mais\n      susceptible de petitesse; des fautes essentielles dans le\n      gouvernement; des innocens sacrifi\u00e9s \u00e0 la vengeance; une haine\n      envenim\u00e9e contre le Christianisme, qu\u2019il avait abandonn\u00e9; un\n      attachement passionn\u00e9 aux folies de la Th\u00e9urgie; tels \u00e9taient les\n      traits sous lesquels on nous preignait Julien.\u201d Op. t. x. p. 54.\n\n   25 Gibbon, Hist., ch. 24.\n\n   26 Vid. Hallam\u2019s Literature of Europe, Macaulay\u2019s Essay, and the\n      Author\u2019s Oxford University Sermons, IX.\n\n   27 In Augment., 5.\n\n   28 De Augm., \u00a7 28.\n\n_   29 Vid._ the Author\u2019s Parochial Sermons, vol. i. 25.\n\n   30 Bacci, vol. i., p. 192, ii., p. 98.\n\n   31 Now LORD EMLY.\n\n_   32 Vid._ Huber.\n\n_   33 Vid._ the treatises of P. Daniel and Mgr. Landriot, referred to in\n      Historical Sketches, vol. ii., p. 460, note.\n\n   34 Sterne, Sermon xlii.\n\n   35 \u201cPosition of Catholics in England,\u201d pp. 101, 2.\n\n   36 August, 1854.\n\n   37 Macaulay\u2019s Essays.\n\n   38 Hallam.\n\n   39 Misc. Works, p. 55.\n\n   40 This was written in June, 1854, before the siege began.\n\n   41 Bombarding.\n\n   42 The Black Sea.\n\n   43 Here again Mr. Brown prophesies. He wrote in June, 1854.\n\n_   44 Vid._ University Sermons, vii., 14.\n\n_   45 Vid._ Article I.\n\n   46 Macaulay\u2019s Essays.\n\n   47 I use the word, not in the sense of \u201cNaturalis Theologia,\u201d but, in\n      the sense in which Paley uses it in the work which he has so\n      entitled.\n\n   48 Cardinal Gerdil speaks of his \u201cMetaphysique,\u201d as \u201cbrillante \u00e0 la\n      verit\u00e9, mais non moins solide\u201d (p. 9.), and that \u201cla liaison qui\n      enchaine toutes les parties du syst\u00e8me philosophique du P\u00e8re\n      Malebranche,\u2026 pourra servir d\u2019apologie \u00e0 la noble assurance, avec\n      laquelle il propose ses sentiments.\u201d (p. 12, \u0152uvres, t. iv.)\n\n   49 Muratori\u2019s work was not directly theological. _Vid._ note at the end\n      of the Volume.\n\n   50 University Gazette, No. 42, p. 420.\n\n_   51 Vid._ supr. p. 231.","title":"The Idea of a University Defined and Illustrated: In Nine Discourses Delivered to the Catholics of Dublin","tradition":"scripture-revelation","translated_text":null,"word_count":159383}