things as they are, the very idea of Revelation is that of a direct
interference from above, for the introduction of truths otherwise unknown;
moreover, as such a communication implies recipients, an authoritative
depositary of the things revealed will be found practically to be involved
in that idea. Knowledge, then, of these revealed truths, is gained, not by
any research into facts, but simply by appealing to the authoritative
keepers of them, as every Catholic knows, by learning what is a matter of
teaching, and by dwelling upon, and drawing out into detail, the doctrines
which are delivered; according to the text, “Faith cometh by hearing.” I
do not prove what, after all, does not need proof, because I speak to
Catholics; I am stating what we Catholics know, and ever will maintain to
be the method proper to Theology, as it has ever been recognized. Such, I
say, is the theological method, deductive; however, the history of the
last three centuries is only one long course of attempts, on the part of
the partisans of the Baconian Philosophy, to get rid of the method proper
to Theology and to make it an experimental science.
But, I say, for an experimental science, we must have a large collection
of phenomena or facts: where, then, are those which are to be adopted as a
basis for an inductive theology? Three principal stores have been used,
Gentlemen: the first, the text of Holy Scripture; the second, the events
and transactions of ecclesiastical history; the third, the phenomena of
the visible world. This triple subject-matter,—Scripture, Antiquity,
Nature,—has been taken as a foundation, on which the inductive method may
be exercised for the investigation and ascertainment of that theological
truth, which to a Catholic is a matter of teaching, transmission, and
deduction.
Now let us pause for a moment and make a reflection before going into any
detail. Truth cannot be contrary to truth; if these three subject-matters
were able, under the pressure of the inductive method, to yield
respectively theological conclusions in unison and in concord with each
other, and also contrary to the doctrines of Theology as a deductive
science, then that Theology would not indeed at once be overthrown (for
still the question would remain for discussion, which of the two doctrinal
systems was the truth, and which the apparent truth), but certainly the
received deductive theological science would be in an anxious position,
and would be on its trial.
Again, truth cannot be contrary to truth;—if, then, on the other hand,
these three subject-matters,—Scripture, Antiquity, and Nature,—worked
through three centuries by men of great abilities, with the method or
instrument of Bacon in their hands, have respectively issued in
conclusions contradictory of each other, nay, have even issued, this or
that taken by itself, Scripture or Antiquity, in various systems of
doctrine, so that on the whole, instead of all three resulting in one set
of conclusions, they have yielded a good score of them; then and in that
case—it does not at once follow that no one of this score of conclusions
may happen to be the true one, and all the rest false; but at least such a
catastrophe will throw a very grave shade of doubt upon them all, and
bears out the antecedent declaration, or rather prophecy, of theologians,
before these experimentalists started, that it was nothing more than a
huge mistake to introduce the method of research and of induction into the
study of Theology at all.
Now I think you will allow me to say, Gentlemen, as a matter of historical
fact, that the latter supposition has been actually fulfilled, and that
the former has not. I mean that, so far from a scientific proof of some
one system of doctrine, and that antagonistic to the old Theology, having
been constructed by the experimental party, by a triple convergence, from
the several bases of Scripture, Antiquity, and Nature, on the contrary,
that empirical method, which has done such wonderful things in physics and
other human sciences, has sustained a most emphatic and eloquent reverse
in its usurped territory,—has come to no one conclusion,—has illuminated
no definite view,—has brought its glasses to no focus,—has shown not even
a tendency towards prospective success; nay, further still, has already
confessed its own absolute failure, and has closed the inquiry itself, not
indeed by giving place to the legitimate method which it dispossessed, but
by announcing that nothing can be known on the subject at all,—that
religion is not a science, and that in religion scepticism is the only
true philosophy; or again, by a still more remarkable avowal, that the
decision lies _between_ the old Theology and none at all, and that,
certain though it be that religious truth is nowhere, yet that, _if_
anywhere it is, it undoubtedly is not in the new empirical schools, but in
that old teaching, founded on the deductive method, which was in honour
and in possession at the time when Experiment and Induction commenced
their brilliant career. What a singular break-down of a noble instrument,
when used for the arrogant and tyrannical invasion of a sacred territory!
What can be more sacred than Theology? What can be more noble than the
Baconian method? But the two do not correspond; they are mismatched. The
age has mistaken lock and key. It has broken the key in a lock which does
not belong to it; it has ruined the wards by a key which never will fit
into them. Let us hope that its present disgust and despair at the result
are the preliminaries of a generous and great repentance.
I have thought, Gentlemen, that you would allow me to draw this moral in
the first place; and now I will say a few words on one specimen of this
error in detail.
9.
It seems, then, that instead of having recourse to the tradition and
teaching of the Catholic Church, it has been the philosophy of the modern
school to attempt to determine the doctrines of Theology by means of Holy
Scripture, or of ecclesiastical antiquity, or of physical phenomena. And
the question may arise, _why_, after all, should not such informations,
scriptural, historical, or physical, be used? and if used, why should they
not lead to true results? Various answers may be given to this question: I
shall confine myself to one; and again, for the sake of brevity, I shall
apply it mainly to one out of the three expedients, to which the opponents
to Theology have had recourse. Passing over, then, what might be said
respecting what is called Scriptural Religion, and Historical Religion, I
propose to direct your attention, in conclusion, to the real character of
Physical Religion, or Natural Theology, as being more closely connected
with the main subject of this Lecture.
The school of Physics, from its very drift and method of reasoning, has,
as I have said, nothing to do with Religion. However, there is a science
which avails itself of the phenomena and laws of the material universe, as
exhibited by that school, as a means of establishing the existence of
Design in their construction, and thereby the fact of a Creator and
Preserver. This science has, in these modern times, at least in England,
taken the name of Natural Theology;(47) and, though absolutely distinct
from Physics, yet Physical Philosophers, having furnished its most curious
and interesting data, are apt to claim it as their own, and to pride
themselves upon it accordingly.
I have no wish to speak lightly of the merits of this so-called Natural
or, more properly, Physical Theology. There are a great many minds so
constituted that, when they turn their thoughts to the question of the
existence of a Supreme Being, they feel a comfort in resting the proof
mainly or solely on the Argument of Design which the Universe furnishes.
To them this science of Physical Theology is of high importance. Again,
this science exhibits, in great prominence and distinctness, three of the
more elementary notions which the human reason attaches to the idea of a
Supreme Being, that is, three of His simplest attributes, Power, Wisdom,
and Goodness.
These are great services rendered to faith by Physical Theology, and I
acknowledge them as such. Whether, however, Faith on that account owes any
great deal to Physics or Physicists, is another matter. The Argument from
Design is really in no sense due to the philosophy of Bacon. The author I
quoted just now has a striking passage on this point, of which I have
already read to you a part. “As respects Natural Religion,” he says, “it
is not easy to see that the philosopher of the present day is more
favourably situated than Thales or Simonides. He has before him just the
same evidences of design in the structure of the universe which the early
Greeks had. We say, just the same; for the discoveries of modern
astronomers and anatomists _have really added nothing_ to the force of
that argument which a reflecting mind finds in every beast, bird, insect,
fish, leaf, flower, and shell. The reasoning by which Socrates, in
Xenophon’s hearing, confuted the little atheist, Aristodemus, is exactly
the reasoning of Paley’s Natural Theology. Socrates makes precisely the
same use of the statues of Polycletus and the pictures of Zeuxis, which
Paley makes of the watch.”
Physical Theology, then, is pretty much what it was two thousand years
ago, and has not received much help from modern science: but now, on the
contrary, I think it has received from it a positive disadvantage,—I mean,
it has been taken out of its place, has been put too prominently forward,
and thereby has almost been used as an instrument against Christianity,—as
I will attempt in a few words to explain.
10.
I observe, then, that there are many investigations in every
subject-matter which only lead us a certain way towards truth, and not the
whole way: either leading us, for instance, to a strong probability, not
to a certainty, or again, proving only some things out of the whole number
which are true. And it is plain that if such investigations as these are
taken as the measure of the whole truth, and are erected into substantive
sciences, instead of being understood to be, what they really are,
inchoate and subordinate processes, they will, accidentally indeed, but
seriously, mislead us.
1. Let us recur for a moment, in illustration, to the instances which I
have put aside. Consider what is called Scriptural Religion, or the
Religion of the Bible. The fault which the theologian, over and above the
question of private judgment, will find with a religion logically drawn
from Scripture only, is, not that it is not true, as far as it goes, but
that it is not the whole truth; that it consists of only some out of the
whole circle of theological doctrines, and that, even in the case of those
which it includes, it does not always invest them with certainty, but only
with probability. If, indeed, the Religion of the Bible is made
subservient to Theology, it is but a specimen of useful induction; but if
it is set up, as something complete in itself, against Theology, it is
turned into a mischievous paralogism. And if such a paralogism has taken
place, and that in consequence of the influence of the Baconian
philosophy, it shows us what comes of the intrusion of that philosophy
into a province with which it had no concern.
2. And so, again, as to Historical Religion, or what is often called
Antiquity. A research into the records of the early Church no Catholic can
view with jealousy: truth cannot be contrary to truth; we are confident
that what is there found will, when maturely weighed, be nothing else than
an illustration and confirmation of our own Theology. But it is another
thing altogether whether the results will go to the full lengths of our
Theology; they will indeed concur with it, but only as far as they go.
There is no reason why the data for investigation supplied by the extant
documents of Antiquity should be sufficient for all that was included in
the Divine Revelation delivered by the Apostles; and to expect that they
will is like expecting that one witness in a trial is to prove the whole
case, and that his testimony actually contradicts it, unless it does.
While, then, this research into ecclesiastical history and the writings of
the Fathers keeps its proper place, as subordinate to the magisterial
sovereignty of the Theological Tradition and the voice of the Church, it
deserves the acknowledgments of theologians; but when it (so to say) sets
up for itself, when it professes to fulfil an office for which it was
never intended, when it claims to issue in a true and full teaching,
derived by a scientific process of induction, then it is but another
instance of the encroachment of the Baconian empirical method in a
department not its own.
3. And now we come to the case of Physical Theology, which is directly
before us. I confess, in spite of whatever may be said in its favour, I
have ever viewed it with the greatest suspicion. As one class of thinkers
has substituted what is called a Scriptural Religion, and another a
Patristical or Primitive Religion, for the theological teaching of
Catholicism, so a Physical Religion or Theology is the very gospel of many
persons of the Physical School, and therefore, true as it may be in
itself, still under the circumstances is a false gospel. Half of the truth
is a falsehood:—consider, Gentlemen, what this so-called Theology teaches,
and then say whether what I have asserted is extravagant.
Any one divine attribute of course virtually includes all; still if a
preacher always insisted on the Divine Justice, he would practically be
obscuring the Divine Mercy, and if he insisted only on the
incommunicableness and distance from the creature of the Uncreated
Essence, he would tend to throw into the shade the doctrine of a
Particular Providence. Observe, then, Gentlemen, that Physical Theology
teaches three Divine Attributes, I may say, exclusively; and of these,
most of Power, and least of Goodness.
And in the next place, what, on the contrary, are those special
Attributes, which are the immediate correlatives of religious sentiment?
Sanctity, omniscience, justice, mercy, faithfulness. What does Physical
Theology, what does the Argument from Design, what do fine disquisitions
about final causes, teach us, except very indirectly, faintly,
enigmatically, of these transcendently important, these essential portions
of the idea of Religion? Religion is more than Theology; it is something
relative to us; and it includes our relation towards the Object of it.
What does Physical Theology tell us of duty and conscience? of a
particular providence? and, coming at length to Christianity, what does it
teach us even of the four last things, death, judgment, heaven, and hell,
the mere elements of Christianity? It cannot tell us anything of
Christianity at all.
Gentlemen, let me press this point upon your earnest attention. I say
Physical Theology cannot, from the nature of the case, tell us one word
about Christianity proper; it cannot be Christian, in any true sense, at
all—and from this plain reason, because it is derived from informations
which existed just as they are now, before man was created, and Adam fell.
How can that be a real substantive Theology, though it takes the name,
which is but an abstraction, a particular aspect of the whole truth, and
is dumb almost as regards the moral attributes of the Creator, and utterly
so as regards the evangelical?
Nay, more than this; I do not hesitate to say that, taking men as they
are, this so-called science tends, if it occupies the mind, to dispose it
against Christianity. And for this plain reason, because it speaks only of
laws; and cannot contemplate their suspension, that is, miracles, which
are of the essence of the idea of a Revelation. Thus, the God of Physical
Theology may very easily become a mere idol; for He comes to the inductive
mind in the medium of fixed appointments, so excellent, so skilful, so
beneficent, that, when it has for a long time gazed upon them, it will
think them too beautiful to be broken, and will at length so contract its
notion of Him as to conclude that He never could have the heart (if I may
dare use such a term) to undo or mar His own work; and this conclusion
will be the first step towards its degrading its idea of God a second
time, and identifying Him with His works. Indeed, a Being of Power,
Wisdom, and Goodness, and nothing else, is not very different from the God
of the Pantheist.
In thus speaking of the Theology of the modern Physical School, I have
said but a few words on a large subject; yet, though few words, I trust
they are clear enough not to hazard the risk of being taken in a sense
which I do not intend. Graft the science, if it is so to be called, on
Theology proper, and it will be in its right place, and will be a
religious science. Then it will illustrate the awful, incomprehensible,
adorable Fertility of the Divine Omnipotence; it will serve to prove the
real miraculousness of the Revelation in its various parts, by impressing
on the mind vividly what are the laws of nature, and how immutable they
are in their own order; and it will in other ways subserve theological
truth. Separate it from the supernatural teaching, and make it stand on
its own base, and (though of course it is better for the individual
philosopher himself), yet, as regards his influence on the world and the
interests of Religion, I really doubt whether I should not prefer that he
should be an Atheist at once than such a naturalistic, pantheistic
religionist. His profession of Theology deceives others, perhaps deceives
himself.
Do not for an instant suppose, Gentlemen, that I would identify the great
mind of Bacon with so serious a delusion: he has expressly warned us
against it; but I cannot deny that many of his school have from time to
time in this way turned physical research against Christianity.
* * * * *
But I have detained you far longer than I had intended; and now I can only
thank you for the patience which has enabled you to sustain a discussion
which cannot be complete, upon a subject which, however momentous, cannot
be popular.
Lecture VIII.
Christianity And Scientific Investigation. A Lecture Written for the
School of Science.
1.
This is a time, Gentlemen, when not only the Classics, but much more the
Sciences, in the largest sense of the word, are looked upon with anxiety,
not altogether ungrounded, by religious men; and, whereas a University
such as ours professes to embrace all departments and exercises of the
intellect, and since I for my part wish to stand on good terms with all
kinds of knowledge, and have no intention of quarrelling with any, and
would open my heart, if not my intellect (for that is beyond me), to the
whole circle of truth, and would tender at least a recognition and
hospitality even to those studies which are strangers to me, and would
speed them on their way,—therefore, as I have already been making
overtures of reconciliation, first between Polite Literature and Religion,
and next between Physics and Theology, so I would now say a word by way of
deprecating and protesting against the needless antagonism, which
sometimes exists in fact, between divines and the cultivators of the
Sciences generally.
2.
Here I am led at once to expatiate on the grandeur of an Institution which
is comprehensive enough to admit the discussion of a subject such as this.
Among the objects of human enterprise,—I may say it surely without
extravagance, Gentlemen,—none higher or nobler can be named than that
which is contemplated in the erection of a University. To set on foot and
to maintain in life and vigour a real University, is confessedly, as soon
as the word “University” is understood, one of those greatest works, great
in their difficulty and their importance, on which are deservedly expended
the rarest intellects and the most varied endowments. For, first of all,
it professes to teach whatever has to be taught in any whatever department
of human knowledge, and it embraces in its scope the loftiest subjects of
human thought, and the richest fields of human inquiry. Nothing is too
vast, nothing too subtle, nothing too distant, nothing too minute, nothing
too discursive, nothing too exact, to engage its attention.
This, however, is not the reason why I claim for it so sovereign a
position; for, to bring schools of all knowledge under one name, and call
them a University, may be fairly said to be a mere generalization; and to
proclaim that the prosecution of all kinds of knowledge to their utmost
limits demands the fullest reach and range of our intellectual faculties
is but a truism. My reason for speaking of a University in the terms on
which I have ventured is, not that it occupies the whole territory of
knowledge merely, but that it is the very realm; that it professes much
more than to take in and to lodge as in a caravanserai all art and
science, all history and philosophy. In truth, it professes to assign to
each study, which it receives, its own proper place and its just
boundaries; to define the rights, to establish the mutual relations, and
to effect the intercommunion of one and all; to keep in check the
ambitious and encroaching, and to succour and maintain those which from
time to time are succumbing under the more popular or the more fortunately
circumstanced; to keep the peace between them all, and to convert their
mutual differences and contrarieties into the common good. This,
Gentlemen, is why I say that to erect a University is at once so arduous
and beneficial an undertaking, viz., because it is pledged to admit,
without fear, without prejudice, without compromise, all comers, if they
come in the name of Truth; to adjust views, and experiences, and habits of
mind the most independent and dissimilar; and to give full play to thought
and erudition in their most original forms, and their most intense
expressions, and in their most ample circuit. Thus to draw many things
into one, is its special function; and it learns to do it, not by rules
reducible to writing, but by sagacity, wisdom, and forbearance, acting
upon a profound insight into the subject-matter of knowledge, and by a
vigilant repression of aggression or bigotry in any quarter.
We count it a great thing, and justly so, to plan and carry out a wide
political organization. To bring under one yoke, after the manner of old
Rome, a hundred discordant peoples; to maintain each of them in its own
privileges within its legitimate range of action; to allow them severally
the indulgence of national feelings, and the stimulus of rival interests;
and yet withal to blend them into one great social establishment, and to
pledge them to the perpetuity of the one imperial power;—this is an
achievement which carries with it the unequivocal token of genius in the
race which effects it.
“Tu regere imperio populos, Romane, memento.”
This was the special boast, as the poet considered it, of the Roman; a
boast as high in its own line as that other boast, proper to the Greek
nation, of literary pre-eminence, of exuberance of thought, and of skill
and refinement in expressing it.