OF INTELLECTUAL DEVELOPMENT UNDER THE INFLUENCE OF CATHOLICITY.
It has been abundantly proved in the course of this work, that the
pseudo-Reformation has not in any way contributed to the perfection
either of individuals or of society; from which we may naturally infer
that the case is the same as regards the development of the intellect.
I am unwilling, however, to let this truth stand merely as a corollary,
and I believe it to be susceptible of a special elucidation. We may
freely examine what advantage Protestantism has conferred upon the
various branches of human learning, without any fear of the result as
regards Catholicity. When we are to examine objects naturally embracing
a great many different relations, it is not enough merely to pronounce
certain conspicuous names, or to cite with emphasis one or two facts.
This is not the way to place a question in its proper light; and to
treat it adequately, much more is required. A discussion, either
confined within limits too narrow to admit of its full development,
or allowed an indefinite range, carries with it, in the eyes of an
observer of only slight penetration, an air of universality, elevation,
and boldness, whilst in reality it is all uncertainty and vagueness,
and is liable to be involved in endless contradictions.
To investigate this question satisfactorily, we must, it seems to me,
grasp the Catholic and Protestant principles respectively, subject
them to a most rigid scrutiny, and seize upon every point that appears
favorable or inimical to the development of the human mind. Further,
we should survey, in its widest range, the history of the intellect;
pausing here and there at the epochs where the influence of the
principle whose tendencies and effects we are studying has been most
effectively exerted; then, rejecting anomalous exceptions, as proving
nothing either one way or the other, and facts too insignificant
and isolated to affect in any way the course of events, the mind,
sufficiently elevated, and observing attentively, and with a sincere
desire to know the truth, will be enabled to discover how far its
philosophical deductions are in accordance with facts; and thus will it
complete the solution of the problem.
One of the fundamental principles of Catholicity, one of its
distinctive characteristics, is the submission of the intellect to
authority in matters of faith. This is the point against which the
attacks of Protestants have ever been and still are directed: and
this is quite natural, seeing that Protestants profess resistance
to authority as a fundamental and constituent principle. From this
fatal source flow all their other errors. If there be in Catholicity
any thing capable of arresting the march of the mind or of lowering
its flight, it must unquestionably be the principle of submission to
authority. With this principle must rest all the blame in this respect,
if indeed the Catholic religion be chargeable with any.
_Submission of the intellect to authority._ These words, it cannot
be denied, do, unless we have seized upon their true meaning, and
ascertained the precise objects to which this submission is applicable,
at first sight, convey an idea of antagonism to intellectual
development. If you cherish an ardent affection for the dignity of our
nature; if you are an enthusiastic advocate of scientific progress,
and behold with delight the brilliant efforts of a bold, vigorous,
and accomplished genius; you will discover something repulsive in a
principle which appears to invoke slavery, since it checks the flight
of the mind, clips the wings of the intellect, and casts it into the
dust. But if you examine this principle in its essence, apply it to
the various branches of learning, and observe what are the points of
contact which it offers with the methods adopted for the cultivation
of the mind, will you discover any foundation for these suspicions and
apprehensions? What truth will you find in the reproaches of which
Catholicity has been made the object? How vain and puerile will appear
all the declamation published on this subject!
We will now enter fully into the examination of this difficulty; we
will take the Catholic principle, and analyze it with the eye of
impartial philosophy. With this principle before us, we will survey the
whole field of science, and consult the testimony of the greatest men.
If we find that it has ever been opposed to the genuine development
of any one branch of learning; if, on visiting the tombs where repose
the most illustrious, they tell us that the principle of submission to
authority chained down their intellects, obscured their imaginations,
and withered their hearts,--we will then acknowledge that Protestants
are right in the reproaches which they are constantly directing against
the Catholic religion on this subject. God, man, society, nature,
the entire creation--such are the objects on which our minds can be
occupied; beyond the sphere of these objects we cannot reach, for
they embrace infinity--there is nothing beyond them. Well, then, the
Catholic principle opposes no obstacle to the mind's progress. Whether
as regards God or man, society or nature, it imposes no shackles,
places no obstacle in the way of the human mind; instead of checking
this progress, it rather serves as a lofty beacon, which, far from
interfering with the mariner's liberty, guides him in safety amid the
obscurity of night.
How does the Catholic principle oppose the freedom of the human mind
in anything relating to the Divinity? Protestants surely will not tell
us that there is anything at all wrong in the idea which the Catholic
religion gives of God. Agreeing with us on the idea of a being eternal,
immutable, infinite, the Creator of heaven and earth, just, holy, full
of goodness, a rewarder of the good, and a punisher of the wicked,
they admit this to be the only reasonable idea of God that can be
presented to the mind of man. To this idea the Catholic religion unites
an incomprehensible, profound, and ineffable mystery, veiled from the
sight of weak mortals,--the august mystery of the Trinity; but on this
point Protestants cannot reproach us, unless they are prepared to avow
themselves Socinians. The Lutherans, the Calvinists, the Anglicans,
and many other sects, condemn, as well as we do, those who deny this
august mystery. We may remark here, that Calvin had Michael Servetus
burned at Geneva for his heretical doctrines on the Trinity. I am well
aware of the ravages that Socinianism has made among the separated
Churches, where the spirit and the right of private judgment in matters
of faith have converted Christians into unbelieving philosophers; but,
notwithstanding this, the mystery of the Trinity was long respected by
the leading Protestant sects, and is so yet, externally at least, by
the greater part of them.
In any case, I cannot see how this mystery shackles human reason in
its contemplation of the Divinity. Does it prevent it from going
forth into immensity? What limit does it fix to the infinite ocean
of light and being implied in the word _God_? Does it in the least
obscure this splendor? When the mind of man, soaring above the regions
of creation, and detaching itself from the body that would bear it
down, abandons itself to the delights of sublime meditation on the
infinite Being, Creator of heaven and earth, does this august mystery
stop him in his heavenward flight? Ask the innumerable volumes
written on the Divinity, eloquent and irrefragable testimonies of
liberty enjoyed by the human mind wherever Catholicity prevails. The
doctrines of Catholicity relative to the Divinity may be considered
under two aspects; either as having reference to mysteries above our
comprehension, or as touching what is within the reach of reason.
As regards mysteries, their abode is in a region so sublime, they
appertain to an order of things so superior to any created thought,
that the mind, even after the most extensive, most profound, and, at
the same time, most free investigations, is unable, without the aid
of revelation, to form even the most remote idea of these ineffable
wonders. How can things that never meet, which are of a totally
distinct order, and which are an immense distance apart, interfere
with each other? The intellect can fix upon one of them by means of
meditation, can lose itself in contemplating it, without even thinking
of the other. Can the moon's orbit come into contact with the remotest
of the fixed stars?
Do you fear that the revelation of a mystery may limit the sphere of
your reason's operations? Are you apprehensive lest, in wandering
through immensity, you may be smothered in the narrowness of your
reason? Was space wanted for the genius of Descartes, of Gassendi,
of Mallebranche? Did these men complain that their intellects were
limited, imprisoned? Why, indeed, should they complain (I speak not of
them only, but of all the great minds of modern times who have treated
of the Divinity), when they cannot but own that they are indebted to
Catholicity for the most splendid and sublime ideas that enrich their
writings? The philosophers of antiquity, in their treatises on the
Divinity, are at an immense distance below the least eminent of our
metaphysical theologians. What would Plato himself be compared to Lewis
of Granada, Louis de Léon, Fénélon, or Bossuet? Before Christianity
appeared upon earth, before the faith of the Chair of Peter had taken
possession of the world, the primitive ideas on the Divinity having
been effaced, the human mind wandered amongst a thousand errors,
a thousand monstrous fancies; feeling the necessity of a God, man
substituted for the Supreme Being the creation of his own imagination.
But ever since the ineffable splendor, descending from the bosom of the
Father of light, has shone upon the whole earth, ideas of the Divinity
have remained so fixed, clear, and simple, and at the same time so
lofty and sublime, that human reason has obtained a wider range; the
veil which concealed the origin of the universe has been withdrawn;
the world's destiny has been marked out, and man has received the key
that explains the wonders which fill and surround him. Protestants have
felt the force of this truth; their aversion for every thing Catholic
was almost fanatical; yet, generally speaking, they may be said to have
respected the idea of the Divinity. On this point, of all others, the
spirit of innovation has been felt the least. How, indeed, could it be
otherwise? The God of the Catholics was too great to be replaced by
any other. Newton and Leibnitz, embracing heaven and earth in their
speculations, could say nothing new of the Author of so many wonders,
nothing but what had already been taught by the Catholic religion.
Well had it been for Protestants if, whilst in the midst of their
wanderings they preserved this precious treasure, they had faithfully
followed the example of their predecessors, and had rejected that
monstrous philosophy which threatens us with the revival of all errors,
ancient and modern, beginning with the substitution of a monstrous
pantheism for the sublime Deity of Christianity. Let those Protestants
who are friends of truth, jealous of the honor of their communion,
devoted to their country's welfare, and interested in the future
prospects of mankind, be warned in time. If pantheism should prevail,
it will not be the spiritualist but the naturalist philosophers who
will triumph. The German philosophers may in vain seek refuge in
abstraction and enigmas, in vain condemn the sensualist philosophy
of the last century; a God confounded with nature is not God, a God
identified with every thing is nothing; pantheism is a deification of
the universe, that is, a denial of God.
What sorrowful reflections suggest themselves to us when we consider
the direction now taken by the minds of men in different parts of
Europe, and more especially in Germany! Catholics long since told them
they would begin with resistance to authority by denying a dogma, but
would end by a denial of all, and fall into atheism; and the course of
ideas during the last three centuries has fully confirmed the truth
of the prediction. Strange, that German philosophy should aim at
producing a reaction against the materialist school, and with all its
spiritualism end in pantheism! Providence, it would seem, has ordained
that the soil which has produced so many errors should be barren of
truth. Out of the Church all is unsteadiness and confusion; materialism
ending in atheism, wild idealism and fantastic spiritualism resulting
in pantheism! Verily, God still abhors pride, and repeats the terrible
chastisement of the confusion of tongues. Catholicity triumphs the
while; but mourns in the midst of her triumphs. I do not see either how
it can be that Catholicity impedes the operation of the intellect as
regards the study of man. What does the Church require of us on this
point? What does she teach on the subject? How far extends the circle
embracing the doctrines we are forbidden to call in question?
Philosophers are divided into two schools, the materialists and
the spiritualists. The former assert that the human soul is only a
portion of matter, which, by a certain modification, produces in us
what we call thought and will; the latter maintains that the energy
accompanying thought and will is incompatible with the inertness
of matter; that what is divisible, composed of divers parts, and
consequently of divers entities, could not harmonize with the simple
unity essential to a being that thinks, wills, reasons, with itself
upon every thing, and possesses the profound consciousness of
individuality. For these reasons they assert that the contrary opinion
is false and absurd; and they ground their opinion upon a variety of
considerations. The Catholic Church intervenes in the dispute, and
says: "The soul of man is not corporeal, it is a spirit; you cannot
be both a Catholic and a materialist." But ask the Catholic Church
by what systems you are to explain the ideas, the sensations, the
acts of the will, and human feelings,--and she will tell you that on
these matters you are perfectly free to hold what you consider most
in accordance with reason; that faith does not descend to particular
questions appertaining to the affairs of this world, which God himself
delivered to the consideration of men. Before the light of the Gospel
shone upon the world, the schools of philosophy were in the most
profound ignorance on the subject of our origin and our destiny; none
of the philosophers could explain the profound contradictions that are
found in man; none of them succeeded in pointing out the cause of that
strange mixture of greatness and littleness, of goodness and malice,
of knowledge and ignorance, of excellence and baseness. But religion
came forth, and said: "Man is the work of God; his destiny is to be for
evermore united with God; for him the earth is a place of exile only;
man is no longer what he was when he came forth from the hands of his
Creator; the whole human race is subjected to the consequences of a
great fall." Now I would defy all philosophers, ancient and modern, to
show wherein the obligation of believing these things militates in the
slightest degree against the progress of true philosophy.
So far, indeed, are the doctrines of Catholicity from checking
philosophical progress, that they are, on the contrary, a most fruitful
source of this progress in every respect. If we wish to make progress
in any of the sciences, it is no slight advantage for the intellect
to have a safe and firm axis around which it may revolve; it is a
fortunate thing to be enabled to avoid at the very outset in the
intellectual race, a multitude of questions which would entangle us
in inextricable labyrinths, or from which we could not escape without
falling into most lamentable absurdities; in a word, when we approach
the investigation of these questions, we ought to consider ourselves
happy in finding them resolved beforehand in their most important
points, and in knowing where the truth lies, and where the danger of
falling into error. The philosopher's position is then that of a man
who, sure of the existence of a mine in a certain spot, does not waste
his time in searching after it, but, knowing his ground, his researches
and labors are profitable from the first. This is the cause of the
vast advantage which in these matters modern philosophers possess over
those of antiquity: the ancients had to grope in the dark; the moderns,
preceded by brilliant lights, advance with a firm and sure step, and
march straight to their destination. They may boast incessantly that
they set aside revelation, that they hold it in disdain, perhaps that
they even openly attack it. Even in this case religion enlightens them,
and often guides their steps; for there are a thousand splendid ideas
for which they are indebted to religion, and which they cannot erase
from their minds; ideas which they have found in books, learned in
catechisms, and imbibed with their milk; ideas which they hear uttered
by every one around them, which are spread everywhere, and which
impregnate with their vivifying and beneficent influence the atmosphere
they breathe. In repudiating religion, these same moderns are carrying
ingratitude to great lengths; for at the very moment they insult her,
they are profiting by her favors.
This is not the place to enter into details on this matter, or
numerous proofs might easily be adduced in support of the foregoing
observations; a comparison between the first works of modern philosophy
that came to hand and the works of the ancients would be decisive; but
such a labor would still be incomplete for those who are not versed
in these matters; and for those who are so, it would be superfluous.
I leave the question with entire confidence to the perspicacity and
impartiality of my readers; it will, I think, be acknowledged that
whenever our modern philosophers have spoken of man with truth and
dignity, their language has borne the impress of Christian ideas. Such
is the influence of Catholicity upon those sciences which, confined to
a purely speculative order, allow the genius of the philosopher the
widest range and the greatest freedom possible; but if, as regards
those sciences, the influence of Catholicity, instead of checking the
mind in its flight, only enlarges its range, increases its sublimity,
its daring, and at the same time its security, by preventing it from
running astray, what shall we say of its influence on the study of
ethics? Has the whole body of philosophers together ever discovered
any thing beyond what is contained in the Gospel? What doctrine excels
in purity, in sanctity, in sublimity that taught by the Catholic
religion? On this point we will do justice to the philosophers, even to
those most hostile to the Christian religion. They have attacked its
doctrines, and smiled at the divinity of its origin; but have always
evinced a profound respect for its morality. I know not what secret
influence has constrained them into an avowal that must certainly have
cost them dear. "Yes," they invariably say, "it cannot be denied that
the morality of Catholicity is excellent."
There are certain doctrines of Catholicity which cannot be said to
appertain directly either to God, to man, or to morality, in the sense
generally given to this word. The Catholic religion is a revealed
religion, of an order far superior to any thing that the human mind is
capable of conceiving. Its object is to guide us to a destiny that we
could neither attain nor even imagine by our own strength, and it is
based upon this principle, that human nature, corrupted by the fall,
requires to be restored and purified; evidently, therefore, it should
contain certain doctrines explanatory of the mode in which this work of
restoration and purification is to be effected, whether in a general or
particular sense; and at the same time pointing out the means which
God has chosen to lead man to happiness. Such are the doctrines of the
Incarnation, of Redemption, of Grace, and of the Sacraments.
These dogmas embrace a wide field; the relations in which they stand
to God and to man are very extensive; the doctrines of the Catholic
Church are, and always have been, unchangeable. Well then! extensive
as they are, they afford not a single point that can be said to
have a tendency to embarrass the free action of the intellect in
investigations of any kind. The cause of this fact is the same as that
I have already indicated. Those who have attentively compared the
sciences of philosophy and theology may have remarked that theology, in
the sublime questions mentioned above, occupies a sphere so distinct
and supereminent as scarcely to preserve a single point of contact
with that in which philosophy moves. They are two vast and sublime
orbits, occupying in the depths of space positions very distant from
each other. Man sometimes tries to make them approximate, and would
be glad if a ray of terrestrial light could penetrate into the region
of incomprehensible mysteries; but he scarcely knows how to begin
this, and we hear him avow, with a profound sense of his own weakness,
that he is _speaking only conventionally_ and _by analogy_, merely
with a view to make himself better understood. The Church allows such
attempts, owing to the good intentions they evince; sometimes she
even prompts and encourages them, desiring, as far as possible, to
accommodate what is incomprehensible in her doctrines to the feeble
capacities of men.
After all their reasonings on the attributes of the Divinity and
the relations of man to God, have philosophers discovered any thing
incompatible with these doctrines of Catholicity? Have revealed truths
stood in their way as a stumbling-block to their investigations?
When Descartes, in the seventeenth century, effected a revolution in
philosophy, a singular incident occurred that will throw a strong
light on this subject. The Catholic doctrine respecting the august
mystery of the Eucharist is known, and also in what the dogma of
_transubstantiation_ consists. Many theologians, the reader is also
probably aware, in order to explain the supernatural phenomenon which
takes place after the consummation of the miracle, had recourse
to the doctrine of accidents, which they distinguished from the
substance. Now the theory of Descartes, and of almost all other
modern philosophers, was incompatible with this explanation, for they
denied the existence of accidents distinct from the substance. It
consequently appeared at first sight that a difficulty would here arise
for the Catholic doctrine, and that the Church would have to oppose
this system of philosophy. And did it so happen? Not at all. Upon a
careful investigation of the matter, it was seen that the Catholic
dogma belonged to a region infinitely above that uncertain one in
which the philosophic doctrine was discovered, however closely they
might have seemed to approximate. In vain theologians discussed the
matter, indulged in mutual recriminations, drew from the new doctrine
all sorts of inferences, in order to represent it as dangerous. The
Church, always superior to the thoughts of men, kept aloof from these
disputes, maintaining that grave, majestic, and impassive attitude so
well becoming her to whom Jesus Christ confided the sacred deposit
of His doctrine. Such is the liberty accorded by the Church to the
genius of philosophers, that it is free in every sense. The Church has
no need to be continually imposing restrictions and conditions; the
sacred doctrines of which she is the depository dwelling in so elevated
a region that the mind of man can scarcely ever meet them, at least
so long as his investigations do not wander from the track of true
philosophy.
But this human reason, at once so powerful and so feeble, sometimes
becomes puffed up with arrogance and pride, and in the name of liberty
and independence claims a right to blaspheme the Almighty, to deny
man's free will, the immortality and spirituality of his soul, her
sublime origin and her heavenly destiny. At such a time we avow, and we
glory in the avowal, the Church does raise her voice, not to oppress
or tyrannize over the human mind, but to defend the rights of the
Supreme Being and the dignity of human nature; then, indeed, we behold
her opposing, with unyielding firmness, that senseless liberty which
consists in the fatal right of uttering all sorts of extravagances.
This liberty Catholics neither possess nor desire, knowing that in
these matters, as in others, there is a sacred line of demarcation
between liberty and licentiousness. Happy slavery, that keeps us from
atheism, materialism, and from doubting whether our souls come from
God, whether they tend towards Him, and whether there exists for
unhappy mortals, after the sufferings that weigh upon them in this
life, a life of eternal happiness purchased by the merits of a God-man!
As for the sciences which have society for their object, I think I need
not vindicate the Catholic religion from the reproach of having in
this respect oppressed the human mind. The long train of reflections
in which I have set forth her doctrines and her influence, as regards
the nature and extent of power, and the civil and political liberty
of nations, proves to a demonstration that the Catholic religion,
without descending to the arena in which the passions of men strive and
contend, teaches a doctrine most favorable to true civilization and to
the rightly-understood liberties of the people.
I will also touch briefly upon the relations of the Catholic principle
with the study of the natural sciences. Assuredly it is not easy to
see in what way this principle can be injurious to the progress of the
human mind in this department of knowledge. I have said, it is not
easy; I might have said impossible, and that for a very simple reason,
founded upon a fact within the reach of every man; viz. the extreme
reserve which the Catholic religion evinces in every thing relating to
purely natural science. One might suppose that God had designed, on
this matter, to read us a severe lesson on our excessive curiosity:
you have only to read the Bible to be convinced of the truth of what
I have advanced. I do not mean that nature is never noticed in the
Bible; that divine book presents her to us in her grandest, noblest,
and most sublime aspect; as a living whole, in fact, together with all
her relations and her sublime destiny, but without any kind of analysis
or decomposition. In these sacred pages the painter's pencil and the
poet's fancy will meet with magnificent models; but the inquisitive
philosopher will look in vain for the hints he is in quest of. The Holy
Spirit did not aim at making naturalists, but virtuous men; hence, in
describing the creation, He represents it solely in a light the best
adapted to excite in us feelings of admiration and gratitude towards
the Author of so many wonders and benefits. Nature, as she appears
in the sacred text, has not much to gratify the curiosity of the
philosopher; but then she delights and ennobles the imagination--she
moves and penetrates the heart.