plain, has been—not to show that Secular Science in its various
departments may take up a position hostile to Theology;—this is rather the
basis of the objection with which I opened this Discourse;—but to point
out the cause of an hostility to which all parties will bear witness. I
have been insisting then on this, that the hostility in question, when it
occurs, is coincident with an evident deflection or exorbitance of Science
from its proper course; and that this exorbitance is sure to take place,
almost from the necessity of the case, if Theology be not present to
defend its own boundaries and to hinder the encroachment. The human mind
cannot keep from speculating and systematizing; and if Theology is not
allowed to occupy its own territory, adjacent sciences, nay, sciences
which are quite foreign to Theology, will take possession of it. And this
occupation is proved to be a usurpation by this circumstance, that these
foreign sciences will assume certain principles as true, and act upon
them, which they neither have authority to lay down themselves, nor appeal
to any other higher science to lay down for them. For example, it is a
mere unwarranted assumption if the Antiquarian says, “Nothing has ever
taken place but is to be found in historical documents;” or if the
Philosophic Historian says, “There is nothing in Judaism different from
other political institutions;” or if the Anatomist, “There is no soul
beyond the brain;” or if the Political Economist, “Easy circumstances make
men virtuous.” These are enunciations, not of Science, but of Private
Judgment; and it is Private Judgment that infects every science which it
touches with a hostility to Theology, a hostility which properly attaches
to no science in itself whatever.
If then, Gentlemen, I now resist such a course of acting as
unphilosophical, what is this but to do as men of Science do when the
interests of their own respective pursuits are at stake? If they certainly
would resist the divine who determined the orbit of Jupiter by the
Pentateuch, why am I to be accused of cowardice or illiberality, because I
will not tolerate their attempt in turn to theologize by means of
astronomy? And if experimentalists would be sure to cry out, did I attempt
to install the Thomist philosophy in the schools of astronomy and
medicine, why may not I, when Divine Science is ostracized, and La Place,
or Buffon, or Humboldt, sits down in its chair, why may not I fairly
protest against their exclusiveness, and demand the emancipation of
Theology?
15.
And now I consider I have said enough in proof of the first point, which I
undertook to maintain, viz., the claim of Theology to be represented among
the Chairs of a University. I have shown, I think, that exclusiveness
really attaches, not to those who support that claim, but to those who
dispute it. I have argued in its behalf, first, from the consideration
that, whereas it is the very profession of a University to teach all
sciences, on this account it cannot exclude Theology without being untrue
to its profession. Next, I have said that, all sciences being connected
together, and having bearings one on another, it is impossible to teach
them all thoroughly, unless they all are taken into account, and Theology
among them. Moreover, I have insisted on the important influence, which
Theology in matter of fact does and must exercise over a great variety of
sciences, completing and correcting them; so that, granting it to be a
real science occupied upon truth, it cannot be omitted without great
prejudice to the teaching of the rest. And lastly, I have urged that,
supposing Theology be not taught, its province will not simply be
neglected, but will be actually usurped by other sciences, which will
teach, without warrant, conclusions of their own in a subject-matter which
needs its own proper principles for its due formation and disposition.
Abstract statements are always unsatisfactory; these, as I have already
observed, could be illustrated at far greater length than the time
allotted to me for the purpose has allowed. Let me hope that I have said
enough upon the subject to suggest thoughts, which those who take an
interest in it may pursue for themselves.
Discourse V.
Knowledge Its Own End.
A University may be considered with reference either to its Students or to
its Studies; and the principle, that all Knowledge is a whole and the
separate Sciences parts of one, which I have hitherto been using in behalf
of its studies, is equally important when we direct our attention to its
students. Now then I turn to the students, and shall consider the
education which, by virtue of this principle, a University will give them;
and thus I shall be introduced, Gentlemen, to the second question, which I
proposed to discuss, viz, whether and in what sense its teaching, viewed
relatively to the taught, carries the attribute of Utility along with it.
1.
I have said that all branches of knowledge are connected together, because
the subject-matter of knowledge is intimately united in itself, as being
the acts and the work of the Creator. Hence it is that the Sciences, into
which our knowledge may be said to be cast, have multiplied bearings one
on another, and an internal sympathy, and admit, or rather demand,
comparison and adjustment. They complete, correct, balance each other.
This consideration, if well-founded, must be taken into account, not only
as regards the attainment of truth, which is their common end, but as
regards the influence which they exercise upon those whose education
consists in the study of them. I have said already, that to give undue
prominence to one is to be unjust to another; to neglect or supersede
these is to divert those from their proper object. It is to unsettle the
boundary lines between science and science, to disturb their action, to
destroy the harmony which binds them together. Such a proceeding will have
a corresponding effect when introduced into a place of education. There is
no science but tells a different tale, when viewed as a portion of a
whole, from what it is likely to suggest when taken by itself, without the
safeguard, as I may call it, of others.
Let me make use of an illustration. In the combination of colours, very
different effects are produced by a difference in their selection and
juxta-position; red, green, and white, change their shades, according to
the contrast to which they are submitted. And, in like manner, the drift
and meaning of a branch of knowledge varies with the company in which it
is introduced to the student. If his reading is confined simply to one
subject, however such division of labour may favour the advancement of a
particular pursuit, a point into which I do not here enter, certainly it
has a tendency to contract his mind. If it is incorporated with others, it
depends on those others as to the kind of influence which it exerts upon
him. Thus the Classics, which in England are the means of refining the
taste, have in France subserved the spread of revolutionary and deistical
doctrines. In Metaphysics, again, Butler’s Analogy of Religion, which has
had so much to do with the conversion to the Catholic faith of members of
the University of Oxford, appeared to Pitt and others, who had received a
different training, to operate only in the direction of infidelity. And so
again, Watson, Bishop of Llandaff, as I think he tells us in the narrative
of his life, felt the science of Mathematics to indispose the mind to
religious belief, while others see in its investigations the best
parallel, and thereby defence, of the Christian Mysteries. In like manner,
I suppose, Arcesilas would not have handled logic as Aristotle, nor
Aristotle have criticized poets as Plato; yet reasoning and poetry are
subject to scientific rules.
It is a great point then to enlarge the range of studies which a
University professes, even for the sake of the students; and, though they
cannot pursue every subject which is open to them, they will be the
gainers by living among those and under those who represent the whole
circle. This I conceive to be the advantage of a seat of universal
learning, considered as a place of education. An assemblage of learned
men, zealous for their own sciences, and rivals of each other, are
brought, by familiar intercourse and for the sake of intellectual peace,
to adjust together the claims and relations of their respective subjects
of investigation. They learn to respect, to consult, to aid each other.
Thus is created a pure and clear atmosphere of thought, which the student
also breathes, though in his own case he only pursues a few sciences out
of the multitude. He profits by an intellectual tradition, which is
independent of particular teachers, which guides him in his choice of
subjects, and duly interprets for him those which he chooses. He
apprehends the great outlines of knowledge, the principles on which it
rests, the scale of its parts, its lights and its shades, its great points
and its little, as he otherwise cannot apprehend them. Hence it is that
his education is called “Liberal.” A habit of mind is formed which lasts
through life, of which the attributes are, freedom, equitableness,
calmness, moderation, and wisdom; or what in a former Discourse I have
ventured to call a philosophical habit. This then I would assign as the
special fruit of the education furnished at a University, as contrasted
with other places of teaching or modes of teaching. This is the main
purpose of a University in its treatment of its students.
And now the question is asked me, What is the _use_ of it? and my answer
will constitute the main subject of the Discourses which are to follow.
2.
Cautious and practical thinkers, I say, will ask of me, what, after all,
is the gain of this Philosophy, of which I make such account, and from
which I promise so much. Even supposing it to enable us to exercise the
degree of trust exactly due to every science respectively, and to estimate
precisely the value of every truth which is anywhere to be found, how are
we better for this master view of things, which I have been extolling?
Does it not reverse the principle of the division of labour? will
practical objects be obtained better or worse by its cultivation? to what
then does it lead? where does it end? what does it do? how does it profit?
what does it promise? Particular sciences are respectively the basis of
definite arts, which carry on to results tangible and beneficial the
truths which are the subjects of the knowledge attained; what is the Art
of this science of sciences? what is the fruit of such a Philosophy? what
are we proposing to effect, what inducements do we hold out to the
Catholic community, when we set about the enterprise of founding a
University?
I am asked what is the end of University Education, and of the Liberal or
Philosophical Knowledge which I conceive it to impart: I answer, that what
I have already said has been sufficient to show that it has a very
tangible, real, and sufficient end, though the end cannot be divided from
that knowledge itself. Knowledge is capable of being its own end. Such is
the constitution of the human mind, that any kind of knowledge, if it be
really such, is its own reward. And if this is true of all knowledge, it
is true also of that special Philosophy, which I have made to consist in a
comprehensive view of truth in all its branches, of the relations of
science to science, of their mutual bearings, and their respective values.
What the worth of such an acquirement is, compared with other objects
which we seek,—wealth or power or honour or the conveniences and comforts
of life, I do not profess here to discuss; but I would maintain, and mean
to show, that it is an object, in its own nature so really and undeniably
good, as to be the compensation of a great deal of thought in the
compassing, and a great deal of trouble in the attaining.
Now, when I say that Knowledge is, not merely a means to something beyond
it, or the preliminary of certain arts into which it naturally resolves,
but an end sufficient to rest in and to pursue for its own sake, surely I
am uttering no paradox, for I am stating what is both intelligible in
itself, and has ever been the common judgment of philosophers and the
ordinary feeling of mankind. I am saying what at least the public opinion
of this day ought to be slow to deny, considering how much we have heard
of late years, in opposition to Religion, of entertaining, curious, and
various knowledge. I am but saying what whole volumes have been written to
illustrate, viz., by a “selection from the records of Philosophy,
Literature, and Art, in all ages and countries, of a body of examples, to
show how the most unpropitious circumstances have been unable to conquer
an ardent desire for the acquisition of knowledge.”(13) That further
advantages accrue to us and redound to others by its possession, over and
above what it is in itself, I am very far indeed from denying; but,
independent of these, we are satisfying a direct need of our nature in its
very acquisition; and, whereas our nature, unlike that of the inferior
creation, does not at once reach its perfection, but depends, in order to
it, on a number of external aids and appliances, Knowledge, as one of the
principal of these, is valuable for what its very presence in us does for
us after the manner of a habit, even though it be turned to no further
account, nor subserve any direct end.
3.
Hence it is that Cicero, in enumerating the various heads of mental
excellence, lays down the pursuit of Knowledge for its own sake, as the
first of them. “This pertains most of all to human nature,” he says, “for
we are all of us drawn to the pursuit of Knowledge; in which to excel we
consider excellent, whereas to mistake, to err, to be ignorant, to be
deceived, is both an evil and a disgrace.”(14) And he considers Knowledge
the very first object to which we are attracted, after the supply of our
physical wants. After the calls and duties of our animal existence, as
they may be termed, as regards ourselves, our family, and our neighbours,
follows, he tells us, “the search after truth. Accordingly, as soon as we
escape from the pressure of necessary cares, forthwith we desire to see,
to hear, and to learn; and consider the knowledge of what is hidden or is
wonderful a condition of our happiness.”
This passage, though it is but one of many similar passages in a multitude
of authors, I take for the very reason that it is so familiarly known to
us; and I wish you to observe, Gentlemen, how distinctly it separates the
pursuit of Knowledge from those ulterior objects to which certainly it can
be made to conduce, and which are, I suppose, solely contemplated by the
persons who would ask of me the use of a University or Liberal Education.
So far from dreaming of the cultivation of Knowledge directly and mainly
in order to our physical comfort and enjoyment, for the sake of life and
person, of health, of the conjugal and family union, of the social tie and
civil security, the great Orator implies, that it is only after our
physical and political needs are supplied, and when we are “free from
necessary duties and cares,” that we are in a condition for “desiring to
see, to hear, and to learn.” Nor does he contemplate in the least degree
the reflex or subsequent action of Knowledge, when acquired, upon those
material goods which we set out by securing before we seek it; on the
contrary, he expressly denies its bearing upon social life altogether,
strange as such a procedure is to those who live after the rise of the
Baconian philosophy, and he cautions us against such a cultivation of it
as will interfere with our duties to our fellow-creatures. “All these
methods,” he says, “are engaged in the investigation of truth; by the
pursuit of which to be carried off from public occupations is a
transgression of duty. For the praise of virtue lies altogether in action;
yet intermissions often occur, and then we recur to such pursuits; not to
say that the incessant activity of the mind is vigorous enough to carry us
on in the pursuit of knowledge, even without any exertion of our own.” The
idea of benefiting society by means of “the pursuit of science and
knowledge” did not enter at all into the motives which he would assign for
their cultivation.
This was the ground of the opposition which the elder Cato made to the
introduction of Greek Philosophy among his countrymen, when Carneades and
his companions, on occasion of their embassy, were charming the Roman
youth with their eloquent expositions of it. The fit representative of a
practical people, Cato estimated every thing by what it produced; whereas
the Pursuit of Knowledge promised nothing beyond Knowledge itself. He
despised that refinement or enlargement of mind of which he had no
experience.
4.
Things, which can bear to be cut off from every thing else and yet persist
in living, must have life in themselves; pursuits, which issue in nothing,
and still maintain their ground for ages, which are regarded as admirable,
though they have not as yet proved themselves to be useful, must have
their sufficient end in themselves, whatever it turn out to be. And we are
brought to the same conclusion by considering the force of the epithet, by
which the knowledge under consideration is popularly designated. It is
common to speak of “_liberal_ knowledge,” of the “_liberal_ arts and
studies,” and of a “_liberal_ education,” as the especial characteristic
or property of a University and of a gentleman; what is really meant by
the word? Now, first, in its grammatical sense it is opposed to _servile_;
and by “servile work” is understood, as our catechisms inform us, bodily
labour, mechanical employment, and the like, in which the mind has little
or no part. Parallel to such servile works are those arts, if they deserve
the name, of which the poet speaks,(15) which owe their origin and their
method to hazard, not to skill; as, for instance, the practice and
operations of an empiric. As far as this contrast may be considered as a
guide into the meaning of the word, liberal education and liberal pursuits
are exercises of mind, of reason, of reflection.
But we want something more for its explanation, for there are bodily
exercises which are liberal, and mental exercises which are not so. For
instance, in ancient times the practitioners in medicine were commonly
slaves; yet it was an art as intellectual in its nature, in spite of the
pretence, fraud, and quackery with which it might then, as now, be
debased, as it was heavenly in its aim. And so in like manner, we contrast
a liberal education with a commercial education or a professional; yet no
one can deny that commerce and the professions afford scope for the
highest and most diversified powers of mind. There is then a great variety
of intellectual exercises, which are not technically called “liberal;” on
the other hand, I say, there are exercises of the body which do receive
that appellation. Such, for instance, was the palæstra, in ancient times;
such the Olympic games, in which strength and dexterity of body as well as
of mind gained the prize. In Xenophon we read of the young Persian
nobility being taught to ride on horseback and to speak the truth; both
being among the accomplishments of a gentleman. War, too, however rough a
profession, has ever been accounted liberal, unless in cases when it
becomes heroic, which would introduce us to another subject.
Now comparing these instances together, we shall have no difficulty in
determining the principle of this apparent variation in the application of
the term which I am examining. Manly games, or games of skill, or military
prowess, though bodily, are, it seems, accounted liberal; on the other
hand, what is merely professional, though highly intellectual, nay, though
liberal in comparison of trade and manual labour, is not simply called
liberal, and mercantile occupations are not liberal at all. Why this
distinction? because that alone is liberal knowledge, which stands on its
own pretensions, which is independent of sequel, expects no complement,
refuses to be _informed_ (as it is called) by any end, or absorbed into
any art, in order duly to present itself to our contemplation. The most
ordinary pursuits have this specific character, if they are
self-sufficient and complete; the highest lose it, when they minister to
something beyond them. It is absurd to balance, in point of worth and
importance, a treatise on reducing fractures with a game of cricket or a
fox-chase; yet of the two the bodily exercise has that quality which we
call “liberal,” and the intellectual has it not. And so of the learned
professions altogether, considered merely as professions; although one of
them be the most popularly beneficial, and another the most politically
important, and the third the most intimately divine of all human pursuits,
yet the very greatness of their end, the health of the body, or of the
commonwealth, or of the soul, diminishes, not increases, their claim to
the appellation “liberal,” and that still more, if they are cut down to
the strict exigencies of that end. If, for instance, Theology, instead of
being cultivated as a contemplation, be limited to the purposes of the
pulpit or be represented by the catechism, it loses,—not its usefulness,
not its divine character, not its meritoriousness (rather it gains a claim
upon these titles by such charitable condescension),—but it does lose the
particular attribute which I am illustrating; just as a face worn by tears
and fasting loses its beauty, or a labourer’s hand loses its
delicateness;—for Theology thus exercised is not simple knowledge, but
rather is an art or a business making use of Theology. And thus it appears
that even what is supernatural need not be liberal, nor need a hero be a
gentleman, for the plain reason that one idea is not another idea. And in
like manner the Baconian Philosophy, by using its physical sciences in the
service of man, does thereby transfer them from the order of Liberal
Pursuits to, I do not say the inferior, but the distinct class of the
Useful. And, to take a different instance, hence again, as is evident,
whenever personal gain is the motive, still more distinctive an effect has
it upon the character of a given pursuit; thus racing, which was a liberal
exercise in Greece, forfeits its rank in times like these, so far as it is
made the occasion of gambling.
All that I have been now saying is summed up in a few characteristic words
of the great Philosopher. “Of possessions,” he says, “those rather are
useful, which bear fruit; those _liberal, which tend to enjoyment_. By
fruitful, I mean, which yield revenue; by enjoyable, where _nothing
accrues of consequence beyond the using_.”(16)
5.
Do not suppose, that in thus appealing to the ancients, I am throwing back
the world two thousand years, and fettering Philosophy with the reasonings
of paganism. While the world lasts, will Aristotle’s doctrine on these
matters last, for he is the oracle of nature and of truth. While we are
men, we cannot help, to a great extent, being Aristotelians, for the great
Master does but analyze the thoughts, feelings, views, and opinions of
human kind. He has told us the meaning of our own words and ideas, before
we were born. In many subject-matters, to think correctly, is to think
like Aristotle, and we are his disciples whether we will or no, though we
may not know it. Now, as to the particular instance before us, the word
“liberal” as applied to Knowledge and Education, expresses a specific
idea, which ever has been, and ever will be, while the nature of man is
the same, just as the idea of the Beautiful is specific, or of the
Sublime, or of the Ridiculous, or of the Sordid. It is in the world now,
it was in the world then; and, as in the case of the dogmas of faith, it
is illustrated by a continuous historical tradition, and never was out of
the world, from the time it came into it. There have indeed been
differences of opinion from time to time, as to what pursuits and what
arts came under that idea, but such differences are but an additional
evidence of its reality. That idea must have a substance in it, which has
maintained its ground amid these conflicts and changes, which has ever
served as a standard to measure things withal, which has passed from mind
to mind unchanged, when there was so much to colour, so much to influence
any notion or thought whatever, which was not founded in our very nature.
Were it a mere generalization, it would have varied with the subjects from
which it was generalized; but though its subjects vary with the age, it
varies not itself. The palæstra may seem a liberal exercise to Lycurgus,
and illiberal to Seneca; coach-driving and prize-fighting may be
recognized in Elis, and be condemned in England; music may be despicable
in the eyes of certain moderns, and be in the highest place with Aristotle
and Plato,—(and the case is the same in the particular application of the
idea of Beauty, or of Goodness, or of Moral Virtue, there is a difference
of tastes, a difference of judgments)—still these variations imply,
instead of discrediting, the archetypal idea, which is but a previous
hypothesis or condition, by means of which issue is joined between
contending opinions, and without which there would be nothing to dispute
about.