consistent, have come, or are coming, from the nature of the case; and,
alas! in addition to this _primâ-facie_ suspicion, there are actual
tendencies in the same direction in Protestantism, viewed whether in its
original idea, or again in the so-called Evangelical movement in these
islands during the last century. The religious world, as it is styled,
holds, generally speaking, that Religion consists, not in knowledge, but
in feeling or sentiment. The old Catholic notion, which still lingers in
the Established Church, was, that Faith was an intellectual act, its
object truth, and its result knowledge. Thus if you look into the Anglican
Prayer Book, you will find definite _credenda_, as well as definite
_agenda_; but in proportion as the Lutheran leaven spread, it became
fashionable to say that Faith was, not an acceptance of revealed doctrine,
not an act of the intellect, but a feeling, an emotion, an affection, an
appetency; and, as this view of Faith obtained, so was the connexion of
Faith with Truth and Knowledge more and more either forgotten or denied.
At length the identity of this (so-called) spirituality of heart and the
virtue of Faith was acknowledged on all hands. Some men indeed disapproved
the pietism in question, others admired it; but whether they admired or
disapproved, both the one party and the other found themselves in
agreement on the main point, viz.—in considering that this really was in
substance Religion, and nothing else; that Religion was based, not on
argument, but on taste and sentiment, that nothing was objective, every
thing subjective, in doctrine. I say, even those who saw through the
affectation in which the religious school of which I am speaking clad
itself, still came to think that Religion, as such, consisted in something
short of intellectual exercises, viz., in the affections, in the
imagination, in inward persuasions and consolations, in pleasurable
sensations, sudden changes, and sublime fancies. They learned to believe
and to take it for granted, that Religion was nothing beyond a _supply_ of
the wants of human nature, not an external fact and a work of God. There
was, it appeared, a demand for Religion, and therefore there was a supply;
human nature could not do without Religion, any more than it could do
without bread; a supply was absolutely necessary, good or bad, and, as in
the case of the articles of daily sustenance, an article which was really
inferior was better than none at all. Thus Religion was useful, venerable,
beautiful, the sanction of order, the stay of government, the curb of
self-will and self-indulgence, which the laws cannot reach: but, after
all, on what was it based? Why, that was a question delicate to ask, and
imprudent to answer; but, if the truth must be spoken, however
reluctantly, the long and the short of the matter was this, that Religion
was based on custom, on prejudice, on law, on education, on habit, on
loyalty, on feudalism, on enlightened expedience, on many, many things,
but not at all on reason; reason was neither its warrant, nor its
instrument, and science had as little connexion with it as with the
fashions of the season, or the state of the weather.
You see, Gentlemen, how a theory or philosophy, which began with the
religious changes of the sixteenth century, has led to conclusions, which
the authors of those changes would be the first to denounce, and has been
taken up by that large and influential body which goes by the name of
Liberal or Latitudinarian; and how, where it prevails, it is as
unreasonable of course to demand for Religion a chair in a University, as
to demand one for fine feeling, sense of honour, patriotism, gratitude,
maternal affection, or good companionship, proposals which would be simply
unmeaning.
5.
Now, in illustration of what I have been saying, I will appeal, in the
first place, to a statesman, but not merely so, to no mere politician, no
trader in places, or in votes, or in the stock market, but to a
philosopher, to an orator, to one whose profession, whose aim, has ever
been to cultivate the fair, the noble, and the generous. I cannot forget
the celebrated discourse of the celebrated man to whom I am referring; a
man who is first in his peculiar walk; and who, moreover (which is much to
my purpose), has had a share, as much as any one alive, in effecting the
public recognition in these Islands of the principle of separating secular
and religious knowledge. This brilliant thinker, during the years in which
he was exerting himself in behalf of this principle, made a speech or
discourse, on occasion of a public solemnity; and in reference to the
bearing of general knowledge upon religious belief, he spoke as follows:
“As men,” he said, “will no longer suffer themselves to be led blindfold
in ignorance, so will they no more yield to the vile principle of judging
and treating their fellow-creatures, not according to the intrinsic merit
of their actions, but according to the accidental and involuntary
coincidence of their opinions. The great truth has finally gone forth to
all the ends of the earth,” and he prints it in capital letters, “that man
shall no more render account to man for his belief, over which he has
himself no control. Henceforward, nothing shall prevail upon us to praise
or to blame any one for that which he can no more change, than he can the
hue of his skin or the height of his stature.”(7) You see, Gentlemen, if
this philosopher is to decide the matter, religious ideas are just as far
from being real, or representing anything beyond themselves, are as truly
peculiarities, idiosyncracies, accidents of the individual, as his having
the stature of a Patagonian, or the features of a Negro.
But perhaps this was the rhetoric of an excited moment. Far from it,
Gentlemen, or I should not have fastened on the words of a fertile mind,
uttered so long ago. What Mr. Brougham laid down as a principle in 1825,
resounds on all sides of us, with ever-growing confidence and success, in
1852. I open the Minutes of the Committee of Council on Education for the
years 1848-50, presented to both Houses of Parliament by command of Her
Majesty, and I find one of Her Majesty’s Inspectors of Schools, at p. 467
of the second volume, dividing “the topics usually embraced in the better
class of primary schools” into four:—the knowledge of _signs_, as reading
and writing; of _facts_, as geography and astronomy; of _relations and
laws_, as mathematics; and lastly _sentiment_, such as poetry and music.
Now, on first catching sight of this division, it occurred to me to ask
myself, before ascertaining the writer’s own resolution of the matter,
under which of these four heads would fall Religion, or whether it fell
under any of them. Did he put it aside as a thing too delicate and sacred
to be enumerated with earthly studies? or did he distinctly contemplate it
when he made his division? Anyhow, I could really find a place for it
under the first head, or the second, or the third; for it has to do with
facts, since it tells of the Self-subsisting; it has to do with relations,
for it tells of the Creator; it has to do with signs, for it tells of the
due manner of speaking of Him. There was just one head of the division to
which I could not refer it, viz., to _sentiment_; for, I suppose, music
and poetry, which are the writer’s own examples of sentiment, have not
much to do with Truth, which is the main object of Religion. Judge then my
surprise, Gentlemen, when I found the fourth was the very head selected by
the writer of the Report in question, as the special receptacle of
religious topics. “The inculcation of _sentiment_,” he says, “embraces
reading in its higher sense, poetry, music, together with moral and
religious Education.” I am far from introducing this writer for his own
sake, because I have no wish to hurt the feelings of a gentleman, who is
but exerting himself zealously in the discharge of anxious duties; but,
taking him as an illustration of the wide-spreading school of thought to
which he belongs, I ask what can more clearly prove than a candid avowal
like this, that, in the view of his school, Religion is not knowledge, has
nothing whatever to do with knowledge, and is excluded from a University
course of instruction, not simply because the exclusion cannot be helped,
from political or social obstacles, but because it has no business there
at all, because it is to be considered a taste, sentiment, opinion, and
nothing more?
The writer avows this conclusion himself, in the explanation into which he
presently enters, in which he says: “According to the classification
proposed, the _essential idea_ of all religious Education will consist in
the direct cultivation of the _feelings_.” What we contemplate, then, what
we aim at, when we give a religious Education, is, it seems, not to impart
any knowledge whatever, but to satisfy anyhow desires after the Unseen
which will arise in our minds in spite of ourselves, to provide the mind
with a means of self-command, to impress on it the beautiful ideas which
saints and sages have struck out, to embellish it with the bright hues of
a celestial piety, to teach it the poetry of devotion, the music of
well-ordered affections, and the luxury of doing good. As for the
intellect, its exercise happens to be unavoidable, whenever moral
impressions are made, from the constitution of the human mind, but it
varies in the results of that exercise, in the conclusions which it draws
from our impressions, according to the peculiarities of the individual.
Something like this seems to be the writer’s meaning, but we need not pry
into its finer issues in order to gain a distinct view of its general
bearing; and taking it, as I think we fairly may take it, as a specimen of
the philosophy of the day, as adopted by those who are not conscious
unbelievers, or open scoffers, I consider it amply explains how it comes
to pass that this day’s philosophy sets up a system of universal
knowledge, and teaches of plants, and earths, and creeping things, and
beasts, and gases, about the crust of the earth and the changes of the
atmosphere, about sun, moon, and stars, about man and his doings, about
the history of the world, about sensation, memory, and the passions, about
duty, about cause and effect, about all things imaginable, except one—and
that is, about Him that made all these things, about God. I say the reason
is plain because they consider knowledge, as regards the creature, is
illimitable, but impossible or hopeless as regards the being and
attributes and works of the Creator.
6.
Here, however, it may be objected to me that this representation is
certainly extreme, for the school in question does, in fact, lay great
stress on the evidence afforded by the creation, to the Being and
Attributes of the Creator. I may be referred, for instance, to the words
of one of the speakers on a memorable occasion. At the very time of laying
the first stone of the University of London, I confess it, a learned
person, since elevated to the Protestant See of Durham, which he still
fills, opened the proceedings with prayer. He addressed the Deity, as the
authoritative Report informs us, “the whole surrounding assembly standing
uncovered in solemn silence.” “Thou,” he said, in the name of all present,
“thou hast constructed the vast fabric of the universe in so wonderful a
manner, so arranged its motions, and so formed its productions, that the
contemplation and study of thy works exercise at once the mind in the
pursuit of human science, and lead it onwards to _Divine Truth_.” Here is
apparently a distinct recognition that there is such a thing as Truth in
the province of Religion; and, did the passage stand by itself, and were
it the only means we possessed of ascertaining the sentiments of the
powerful body whom this distinguished person there represented, it would,
as far as it goes, be satisfactory. I admit it; and I admit also the
recognition of the Being and certain Attributes of the Deity, contained in
the writings of the gifted person whom I have already quoted, whose
genius, versatile and multiform as it is, in nothing has been so constant,
as in its devotion to the advancement of knowledge, scientific and
literary. He then certainly, in his “Discourse of the objects, advantages,
and pleasures of science,” after variously illustrating what he terms its
“gratifying treats,” crowns the catalogue with mention of “the _highest_
of _all_ our gratifications in the contemplation of science,” which he
proceeds to explain thus:
“We are raised by them,” says he, “to an understanding of the infinite
wisdom and goodness which the Creator has displayed in all His works. Not
a step can be taken in any direction,” he continues, “without perceiving
the most extraordinary traces of design; and the skill, every where
conspicuous, is calculated in so vast a proportion of instances to promote
the happiness of living creatures, and especially of ourselves, that we
can feel no hesitation in concluding, that, if we knew the whole scheme of
Providence, every part would be in harmony with a plan of absolute
benevolence. Independent, however, of this most consoling inference, the
delight is inexpressible, of being able to follow, as it were, with our
eyes, the marvellous works of the Great Architect of Nature, to trace the
unbounded power and exquisite skill which are exhibited in the most
minute, as well as the mightiest parts of His system. The pleasure derived
from this study is unceasing, and so various, that it never tires the
appetite. But it is unlike the low gratifications of sense in another
respect: it elevates and refines our nature, while those hurt the health,
debase the understanding, and corrupt the feelings; it teaches us to look
upon all earthly objects as insignificant and below our notice, except the
pursuit of knowledge and the cultivation of virtue, that is to say, the
strict performance of our duty in every relation of society; and it gives
a dignity and importance to the enjoyment of life, which the frivolous and
the grovelling cannot even comprehend.”
Such are the words of this prominent champion of Mixed Education. If
logical inference be, as it undoubtedly is, an instrument of truth,
surely, it may be answered to me, in admitting the possibility of
inferring the Divine Being and Attributes _from_ the phenomena of nature,
he distinctly admits a basis of truth for the doctrines of Religion.
7.
I wish, Gentlemen, to give these representations their full weight, both
from the gravity of the question, and the consideration due to the persons
whom I am arraigning; but, before I can feel sure I understand them, I
must ask an abrupt question. When I am told, then, by the partisans of
Universities without Theological teaching, that human science leads to
belief in a Supreme Being, without denying the fact, nay, as a Catholic,
with full conviction of it, nevertheless I am obliged to ask what the
statement means in _their_ mouths, what they, the speakers, understand by
the word “God.” Let me not be thought offensive, if I question, whether it
means the same thing on the two sides of the controversy. With us
Catholics, as with the first race of Protestants, as with Mahometans, and
all Theists, the word contains, as I have already said, a theology in
itself. At the risk of anticipating what I shall have occasion to insist
upon in my next Discourse, let me say that, according to the teaching of
Monotheism, God is an Individual, Self-dependent, All-perfect,
Unchangeable Being; intelligent, living, personal, and present; almighty,
all-seeing, all-remembering; between whom and His creatures there is an
infinite gulf; who has no origin, who is all-sufficient for Himself; who
created and upholds the universe; who will judge every one of us, sooner
or later, according to that Law of right and wrong which He has written on
our hearts. He is One who is sovereign over, operative amidst, independent
of, the appointments which He has made; One in whose hands are all things,
who has a purpose in every event, and a standard for every deed, and thus
has relations of His own towards the subject-matter of each particular
science which the book of knowledge unfolds; who has with an adorable,
never-ceasing energy implicated Himself in all the history of creation,
the constitution of nature, the course of the world, the origin of
society, the fortunes of nations, the action of the human mind; and who
thereby necessarily becomes the subject-matter of a science, far wider and
more noble than any of those which are included in the circle of secular
Education.
This is the doctrine which belief in a God implies in the mind of a
Catholic: if it means any thing, it means all this, and cannot keep from
meaning all this, and a great deal more; and, even though there were
nothing in the religious tenets of the last three centuries to disparage
dogmatic truth, still, even then, I should have difficulty in believing
that a doctrine so mysterious, so peremptory, approved itself as a matter
of course to educated men of this day, who gave their minds attentively to
consider it. Rather, in a state of society such as ours, in which
authority, prescription, tradition, habit, moral instinct, and the divine
influences go for nothing, in which patience of thought, and depth and
consistency of view, are scorned as subtle and scholastic, in which free
discussion and fallible judgment are prized as the birthright of each
individual, I must be excused if I exercise towards this age, as regards
its belief in this doctrine, some portion of that scepticism which it
exercises itself towards every received but unscrutinized assertion
whatever. I cannot take it for granted, I must have it brought home to me
by tangible evidence, that the spirit of the age means by the Supreme
Being what Catholics mean. Nay, it would be a relief to my mind to gain
some ground of assurance, that the parties influenced by that spirit had,
I will not say, a true apprehension of God, but even so much as the idea
of what a true apprehension is.
Nothing is easier than to use the word, and mean nothing by it. The
heathens used to say, “God wills,” when they meant “Fate;” “God provides,”
when they meant “Chance;” “God acts,” when they meant “Instinct” or
“Sense;” and “God is every where,” when they meant “the Soul of Nature.”
The Almighty is something infinitely different from a principle, or a
centre of action, or a quality, or a generalization of phenomena. If,
then, by the word, you do but mean a Being who keeps the world in order,
who acts in it, but only in the way of general Providence, who acts
towards us but only through what are called laws of Nature, who is more
certain not to act at all than to act independent of those laws, who is
known and approached indeed, but only through the medium of those laws;
such a God it is not difficult for any one to conceive, not difficult for
any one to endure. If, I say, as you would revolutionize society, so you
would revolutionize heaven, if you have changed the divine sovereignty
into a sort of constitutional monarchy, in which the Throne has honour and
ceremonial enough, but cannot issue the most ordinary command except
through legal forms and precedents, and with the counter-signature of a
minister, then belief in a God is no more than an acknowledgment of
existing, sensible powers and phenomena, which none but an idiot can deny.
If the Supreme Being is powerful or skilful, just so far forth as the
telescope shows power, and the microscope shows skill, if His moral law is
to be ascertained simply by the physical processes of the animal frame, or
His will gathered from the immediate issues of human affairs, if His
Essence is just as high and deep and broad and long as the universe, and
no more; if this be the fact, then will I confess that there is no
specific science about God, that theology is but a name, and a protest in
its behalf an hypocrisy. Then is He but coincident with the laws of the
universe; then is He but a function, or correlative, or subjective
reflection and mental impression, of each phenomenon of the material or
moral world, as it flits before us. Then, pious as it is to think of Him,
while the pageant of experiment or abstract reasoning passes by, still,
such piety is nothing more than a poetry of thought or an ornament of
language, and has not even an infinitesimal influence upon philosophy or
science, of which it is rather the parasitical production.
I understand, in that case, why Theology should require no specific
teaching, for there is nothing to mistake about; why it is powerless
against scientific anticipations, for it merely is one of them; why it is
simply absurd in its denunciations of heresy, for heresy does not lie in
the region of fact and experiment. I understand, in that case, how it is
that the religious sense is but a “sentiment,” and its exercise a
“gratifying treat,” for it is like the sense of the beautiful or the
sublime. I understand how the contemplation of the universe “leads onwards
to _divine_ truth,” for divine truth is not something separate from
Nature, but it is Nature with a divine glow upon it. I understand the zeal
expressed for Physical Theology, for this study is but a mode of looking
at Physical Nature, a certain view taken of Nature, private and personal,
which one man has, and another has not, which gifted minds strike out,
which others see to be admirable and ingenious, and which all would be the
better for adopting. It is but the theology of Nature, just as we talk of
the _philosophy_ or the _romance_ of history, or the _poetry_ of
childhood, or the picturesque, or the sentimental, or the humorous, or any
other abstract quality, which the genius or the caprice of the individual,
or the fashion of the day, or the consent of the world, recognizes in any
set of objects which are subjected to its contemplation.
8.