INSTINCT OF FAITH IN THE SCIENCES.
The truth of what I have just advanced with respect to the weakness
of our intellect, is proved by the fact that the hand of God has
placed at the bottom of our souls a preservative against the excessive
changeability of our minds, even in things which do not regard
religion. Without this preservative all social institutions would be
destroyed, or rather never would have had existence; without it the
sciences would not have advanced a step, and when it had disappeared
from the human heart, individuals and society would have been swallowed
up by chaos. I allude to a certain tendency to defer to authority--to
the _instinct of faith_, if I may so call it--an instinct which we
ought to examine with great attention, if we wish to know any thing of
the human mind, and the history of its development.
It has often been observed that it is impossible to comply with the
most urgent necessities, or perform the most ordinary acts of life,
without respecting the authority of the statement of others; it is easy
to understand that, without this faith, all the treasures of history
and experience would soon be dissipated, and that even the foundation
of all knowledge would disappear.
These important observations are calculated to show how vain is the
charge against the Catholic religion, of requiring nothing but faith;
but this is not my only object here; I wish to present the matter under
another aspect, and place the question in such a position as to make
this truth gain in extent and interest, without losing any thing of its
immovable firmness. In looking over the history of human knowledge, and
glancing at the opinions of our contemporaries, we constantly observe
that the men who boast the most of their spirit of inquiry and freedom
of thought, only echo the opinions of others. If we examine with
attention that great study which, under the name of science, has made
so much noise in the world, we shall observe that it contains at bottom
a large portion of authority; and that if a perfectly free spirit of
inquiry were to be introduced into it, even with respect to points
of pure reason, the greatest part of the edifice of science would be
destroyed, and very few men would remain in possession of its secrets.
No branch of knowledge, whatever may be the clearness and exactitude
of which it boasts, is an exception to this rule. Do not the natural
and exact sciences, rich as they are in evident principles, rigorous
in their deductions, abounding in observation and experience, depend,
nevertheless, for a great many of their truths, upon other truths of a
higher nature; the knowledge of which necessarily requires a delicacy
of observation, a power of calculation, a clear and penetrating _coup
d'œil_, which belongs to few?
When Newton proclaimed to the scientific world the fruit of his
profound calculations, how many of his disciples could flatter
themselves that they were able to confirm them by their own
convictions? I do not except from this question many of those who, by
laborious efforts, had been able to comprehend something of this great
man; they had followed the mathematician in his calculations, they
had a full knowledge of the mass of facts and experience which the
naturalist exposed to their view; they had listened to the reasons on
which the philosopher rested his conjectures; in this way they thought
that they were _fully convinced_, and that they did not owe their
assent to any thing but the force of reason and evidence. Well, take
away the name of Newton, efface from the mind the profound impression
made by the authority of the man who made so extraordinary a discovery,
and has employed so much genius in supporting it,--take away, I repeat
it, the shade of Newton, and you will directly see, in the minds of his
disciples, their principles vacillate, their reasonings become less
convincing and exact, and their observations appear less in accordance
with the facts. Then, he who thought himself a perfectly impartial
observer, a perfectly independent thinker, will see and understand to
how great an extent he was enthralled by the force of authority, by
the ascendency of genius; he will find that, on a variety of points,
he _assented_ without being _convinced_; and that, instead of being
a perfectly independent philosopher, he was only an obedient and
accomplished pupil.
I appeal with confidence to the testimony, not of the ignorant, not
of those who have only a smattering of scientific knowledge, but of
real men of learning, of those who have devoted much time to the
various branches of study. Let them look into their own minds, let
them examine anew what they call their scientific convictions, let
them ask themselves, with perfect calmness and impartiality, whether,
even on those subjects in which they consider themselves the most
advanced, their minds are not frequently controlled by the ascendency
of some author of the first rank. I believe they will be compelled to
acknowledge that, if they strictly applied the method of Descartes
even to some of the questions which they have studied the most, they
would find that they believe rather than are convinced. Such always
has been, and such always will be, the case. It is a thing deeply
rooted in the nature of our minds, and it cannot be prevented. Perhaps
the regulation is a matter of absolute necessity; perhaps it contains
much of that instinct of preservation which God, with so much wisdom,
has diffused throughout society; perhaps it is intended to counteract
the many elements of dissolution which society contains within its
bosom. Undoubtedly, it is often very much to be regretted that men
servilely follow in the footsteps of others, and injurious consequences
not unfrequently are the result. But it would be still worse, if men
constantly held themselves in an attitude of resistance to all others,
for fear of deception. Woe to man and to society, if the philosophic
mania of wishing to submit all matters to a rigorous examination were
to become general in the world; and woe to science, if this rigorous,
scrupulous, and independent scrutiny were extended to every thing.
I admire the genius of Descartes, and acknowledge the signal services
which he has rendered to science; but I have more than once thought
that, if his method of doubting became general for any time, society
would be destroyed. And it seems to me that, among learned men
themselves, among impartial philosophers, this method would do great
harm; at least, it may be supposed that the number of men devoid of
sense in the scientific world would be considerably increased.
Happily there is no danger of this being the case. If it be true that
there is always in man a certain tendency towards folly, there is
also always to be found there a fund of good sense which cannot be
destroyed. When certain individuals of heated imaginations attempt to
involve society in their delirium, society answers with a smile of
derision; or if it allows itself to be seduced for a moment, it soon
returns to its senses, and repels with indignation those who have
endeavored to lead it astray. Passionate declamation against vulgar
prejudice, against docility in following others and willingness to
believe all without examination, is only considered as worthy of
contempt by those who are intimately acquainted with human nature.
Are not these feelings participated in by many who belong not to the
vulgar? Are not the sciences full of gratuitous suppositions, and have
they not their weak points, with which, however, we are satisfied, as
if they afforded a firm basis to rest upon?
The right of possession and prescription is also one of the
peculiarities which the sciences present to us; and it is well worthy
of remark that, without ever having borne the name, this right has been
acknowledged by a tacit but unanimous consent. How can this be? Study
the history of the sciences, and you will find at every step this right
acknowledged and established. How is it, amid the continual disputes
which have divided philosophers, that we see an old opinion make a
long resistance to a new one, and sometimes succeed in preventing its
establishment? It is because the old opinion was in possession, and
was strengthened by the right of prescription. It is of no importance
that the words were not used, the result was the same; this is the
reason why discoverers have so often been despised, opposed, and even
persecuted.
It is necessary to make this avowal, although it may be repugnant to
our pride, and may scandalize some sincere admirers of the progress of
knowledge. These advances have been numerous; the field over which the
human mind has exercised itself, and its sphere of action, are immense;
the works by which it has proved its power are admirable; but there is
always in all this a large portion of exaggeration, and it is necessary
to make a considerable allowance, especially in the moral sciences.
It cannot justly be inferred, from these exaggerated statements, that
our intellect is capable of advancing in every path with perfect ease
and activity; no deduction can be drawn from it to contradict the fact
which we have just established, viz. the mind of man is almost always
in subjection, even imperceptibly, to the authority of other men.
In every age there appear a small number of privileged spirits, who,
by nature superior to all the rest, serve as guides in the various
careers; a numerous crowd, who think themselves learned, follow them
with precipitation, and, fixing their eyes on the standard which has
been raised, rush breathlessly after it; and yet, strange as it is,
they all boast of their independence, and flatter themselves that they
are distinguishing themselves by pursuing the new path; one would
imagine that they had discovered it, and that they were walking in it
guided by their own light and inspirations. Necessity, taste, or a
thousand other circumstances, lead us to cultivate this or that branch
of knowledge; our own weakness constantly tells us that we have no
creative power; that we cannot produce any thing of our own, and that
we are incapable of striking out a new path; but we flatter ourselves
that we share some part of the glory belonging to the illustrious
chief whose banner we follow; we sometimes will succeed in persuading
ourselves, in the midst of these reveries, that we do not fight under
anybody's standard, and that we are only rendering homage to our own
convictions, when, in reality, we are the proselytes of others.
Herein common sense shows itself to be wiser than our weak reason; and
thus language, which gives such deep expression to things, where we
find, without knowing whence they come, so much truth and exactitude,
gives us a severe admonition on the subject of these vain pretensions.
In spite of us, language calls things by their right names, and knows
how to class us and our opinions according to the leader that we
follow. What is the history of science but the history of the contests
of a small number of illustrious men? If we glance over ancient and
modern times, and bring into view the various branches of knowledge,
we shall see a number of schools founded by a philosopher of the first
rank, and then falling under the direction of another whose talents
have made him worthy to succeed the founder. Thus the thing goes on,
until circumstances having changed, or the spirit of vitality being
gone, the school dies a natural death, unless a man of bold and
independent mind appears, who takes the old school and destroys it, in
order to establish his own doctrines on the ruins.
When Descartes dethroned Aristotle, did he not immediately take his
place? Then philosophers pretended to independence--an independence
which was contradicted by the very name they bore, that of Cartesians.
Like nations who, in times of rebellion, cry out for liberty, dethrone
their old king, and afterwards submit to the first man who has the
boldness to seize the vacant throne.
It is thought in our age, as it has been in times gone by, that the
human mind acts with perfect independence, owing to declamation against
authority in scientific matters, and the exaltation of the freedom of
thought. The opinion has become general that, in these times, the
authority of any one man is worth nothing; it has been thought that
every man of learning acts according to his own convictions alone.
Moreover, systems and hypotheses have lost all credit, and a great
desire for examination and analysis has become prevalent. This has
made people believe not only that authority in scientific matters is
completely gone, but that it is henceforth impossible.
At first sight there appears to be some truth in this; but if we look
attentively around us, we shall observe that the number of leaders
is only somewhat increased, and the time of their command somewhat
shortened. Our age is truly one of commotions, literary and scientific
revolutions, like those in politics, where nations imagine that they
possess more liberty because the government is placed in the hands of
a greater number of persons, and because they find more facility in
getting rid of their rulers. They destroy those men to whom but a short
time before they have given the names of fathers and liberators; then,
the first transport being passed, they allow other men to impose upon
them a yoke in reality not less heavy. Besides the examples afforded
us by the history of the past century, at the present day we see only
great names succeed each other, and the leaders of the human mind take
each other's places.
In the field of politics, where one would imagine the spirit of
freedom ought to have full scope, do we not see men who take the
lead; and are they not looked upon as the generals of an army during
a campaign? In the parliamentary arena, do we see any thing but two
or three bodies of combatants, performing their evolutions under
their respective chiefs with perfect regularity and discipline? These
truths are well understood by those who occupy these high positions!
They are acquainted with our weakness, and they know that men are
commonly deceived by mere words. A thousand times must they have been
tempted to smile, when, contemplating the field of their triumphs,
and seeing themselves surrounded by followers who, proud of their own
intelligence, admire and applaud them, they have heard one of the most
ardent of their disciples boast of his unlimited freedom of thought,
and of the complete independence of his opinions and his votes.
Such is man, as shown to us by history and the experience of every
day. The inspiration of genius, that sublime force which raises the
minds of some privileged men, will always exercise, not only over the
ignorant, but even over the generality of men who devote themselves
to science, a real fascination. Where, then, is the insult which the
Catholic religion offers to reason when, presenting titles which prove
her divinity, she asks for that faith which men grant so easily to
other men in matters of various kinds, and even in things with which
they consider themselves to be the best acquainted? Is it an insult to
human reason to point out to him a fixed and certain rule with respect
to matters of the greatest importance, while, on the other hand, she
leaves him perfectly free to think as he pleases on all the various
questions which God has left to his discretion? In this the Church
only shows herself to be in accordance with the lessons of the highest
philosophy. She shows a profound knowledge of the human mind, and she
delivers it from all the evils which are inflicted by its fickleness,
its inconstancy, and its ambition, combined as these qualities are with
an extraordinary tendency to defer to the opinions of individuals.
Who does not see that the Catholic Church puts thereby a check on the
spirit of proselytism, of which society has had so much reason to
complain? Since there is in man this irresistible tendency to follow
the footsteps of another, does she not confer an eminent service on
humanity, by showing it a sure way of following the example of a God
incarnate? Does she not thus take human liberty under her protection,
and at the same time save from shipwreck those branches of knowledge
which are the most necessary to individuals and to society?[8]