task, as the conflict between religion and science has its origin and
reason of being in the nature of things, which is unchangeable.
Büchner would laugh impertinently at the idea of a God, a Scripture,
and a religion.
Tyndall would have nothing to do with the scheme; for modern science
cannot shake hands with revelation without encouraging a belief in
miracles and in the utility of prayer—both which things science has
exploded for ever, as conflicting with inviolable laws.
Moleschott would object that revelation and science are irreconcilable,
at least, as to psychology; for the study of physiology has made it
clear that thought consists in a series of molecular movements, and he
is not willing to renounce this new dogma of science or to modify in
any manner his view of the question for the sake of a new philosophy.
Haeckel would indignantly protest against the scheme, for there is no
philosophy but the Evolution of species and the Descent of man; and he
would turn to the great Darwin, his respected friend, for an approving
smile.
The great Darwin would then smile approvingly on his loving and
faithful disciple, and remark that Logic, for instance, which is
believed to be a part of philosophy, and his Descent of man are on such
bad terms that it would be but a waste of time to attempt a
reconciliation between them, so he would let them alone.
The talkative Huxley would gladly second Mr. Darwin’s resolution by the
further remark that a logic or a philosophy which cannot be weighed in
the balance of the chemist, or be verified by the microscope, or be
illustrated by the series of animal remains preserved in
palæontological museums, has no claims to engage the attention of the
noble scientists present in the room.
Clifford would scout the idea of a philosophy enslaved by theological
prejudices. For free thought cannot come to terms with theology; it
must combat it in the name of progress and civilization with all
available weapons, and with an ardor proportionate to the grandeur and
importance of the cause.
This sketch, which is certainly not over-colored, might be enlarged
almost indefinitely by the introduction of other living or dead
materialists, pantheists, atheists, theists, idealists,
free-religionists, etc., whose discordant views would have to be either
accepted, reformed, or refuted, as the case may be. John Stuart Mill
and Comte, Bain and Spencer, Kant and Fichte, Schelling and Hegel, Hume
and Hobbes, and a host of other minor lights of heterodox thought,
would have to be harmonized, if possible, or else condemned and
forgotten. But let the dead rest in peace and suppose that none but
living thinkers are to be consulted. A dilemma presents itself: either
Dr. Shields and his co-operators get the best of fashionable errors,
and reject them, or not. If _not_, then a final philosophy _reconciling
revelation with science_ will be out of the question. If _yes_, then
the final philosophy will be denounced by the evicted party as a mass
of unscientific and _à priori_ reasoning, a counterfeit of mediæval
metaphysics, a tardy and clumsy attempt at resuscitating the
discredited notions of a slavish and intolerant past. Newspaper
writers, pamphleteers, lecturers, and professors would sneer at your
final philosophy, as they now sneer at the scholastic doctrine; and the
ever-increasing mass of sciolists, who think with the brains of others,
would take up the sneer and propagate it even to the ends of the world.
Thus science and religion, so long as human pride and human obstinacy
are not curbed by the keenest love of truth, will remain antagonistic,
and the present war will continue in spite of the “final philosophy.”
Dr. Shields very explicitly declares that he believes in God, in
Christ, and in the Bible. For this we cannot but praise him. Yet his
book leads thoughtful readers to suspect that his faith is still
undeveloped, uncertain, indefinite, and, as it were, in an embryonic
condition. In fact, religion and science, as he conceives, are still at
war, and revelation must yet be reconciled with reason by the aid of
final philosophy; and this final philosophy is a thing of the future.
What will he believe meanwhile? What will all other Protestants
believe? Must they adopt a provisional scepticism? This is, indeed,
what most of them do; nor can we see that any other course is open to
them, if they are waiting for the final philosophy. But, since “without
faith it is impossible to please God,” how will they be saved? The
question deserves an answer.
There is a science which teaches that man’s soul is not immortal, not
spiritual, not even a substance, but only a molecular function, which
cannot survive the body. Must Dr. Shields’ disciples remain uncertain
about this point of doctrine until the final philosophy is published?
And there is a science which maintains with the greatest assurance that
what we call “God” is nothing more, in reality, than nature, or the
universe and its forces and laws. Must we suspend our judgment on this
all-important subject on the plea that final philosophy has not yet
shed its brilliant light on the question? And there is a science, too,
which contends that the human will, though long believed to be free, is
nevertheless determined by exterior and interior causes according to a
law of strict physical necessity which admits of no exception. Ought
we, then, to consider ourselves irresponsible for our deliberate
actions, till the final philosophy shall teach us that we are not mere
machines, and that the freedom of the human will has at last been
reconciled with the general laws of causation? To our mind, a Christian
divine cannot for a moment admit that such a provisional scepticism
could be recommended as a healthy intellectual preparation for the
attainment of truth. Nor could a Christian divine fancy for a moment
that a provident God has hitherto left mankind without sufficient light
to understand and solve such capital questions as we have mentioned,
and many others whose solution was equally indispensable for the moral
and the religious education of the human race. The truth is that
mankind has been endowed from the beginning with the knowledge of the
principles of moral science, the laws of reasoning, the precepts of
religion, and the eternal destiny of the just and the unjust. This
knowledge was transmitted from fathers to sons, but was soon obscured
by the surging of turbulent passions and a proud desire of
independence. The human family soon emancipated itself from the moral
law, and learned to stifle the voice of conscience by false excuses and
by worldly maxims. Nations fell into polytheism, idolatry, revolting
superstitions, and barbarism. Indeed, a few pagan philosophers, still
faintly illumined by the remnants of the primitive tradition, attempted
the reconstruction of human science; but they were only partially
successful, and their names became famous no less for the errors with
which they are still associated than for vindicated truths. Even the
Jews, who were in possession of an authentic record of the past, and
could read the Law and the Prophets, often adopted pagan views, or at
least mistook the spirit of their sacred books by a too material
adherence to the killing letter. At last Jesus Christ, God and man, the
light that enlightens the world, the new Adam, the divine Solomon,
came, and brought us the remedy of which our ignorance and corruption
had so much need. He gave us his Gospel of truth and life, and not only
restored but increased and perfected the knowledge of divine and human
things; he founded his church; and he appointed, in the person of his
vicar on earth, a permanent and infallible judge of revealed doctrine.
The two hundred and odd millions of Christians who recognize this
infallible judge know distinctly what they ought to believe. They need
not await the decisions of any “final philosophy” in order to be fixed
on such questions as the origin of matter, the creation of man, the
liberty of the soul, the existence of a personal God, and the worship
acceptable to him. And as to the scientific questions, these millions
very naturally argue that any theory which clashes with the doctrine
_defined_ by the church bears in itself its own condemnation, whilst
all the other theories are a fit subject of free discussion by the
rational methods. This is our intellectual position in regard to
science; and we venture to say that even Dr. Shields could not find a
better one either for himself or for his pupils and friends. But he,
unfortunately, does not belong to the true and living church of Christ;
he belongs to a spurious system of Christianity, which countenances
intellectual rebellion, and which, after having imprudently fostered
free thought, is now at a loss how to restrain its destructive
influence. Hence he is anxious to be on good terms with all
free-thinkers, in the hope, we assume, that, by yielding in a measure
to the spirit of infidelity, some arrangement may be arrived at,
equally acceptable to both sides, by which Protestantism, as an old but
now useless and despised accomplice, may be left to die a natural
death. Thus the “final philosophy” of Dr. Shields, so far as we can
judge from the details of his work, will put in the same balance God
and man, revelation and free thought, wisdom and folly, with the
pitiful result that we have briefly pointed out.
Final philosophy, as conceived by our author, can be of no service to
the Catholic, and of no great benefit to the Protestant, world. At any
rate a truly “final” philosophy has scarcely a chance of seeing the
light in the present century, especially through the exertions of
Protestant divines. The century to which we belong, though famous for
many useful discoveries, is even more conspicuous for its great
ignorance of speculative philosophy. In the middle ages, which were not
half so dark as modern thinkers assume, there was less superficial
diffusion of knowledge, but a great deal more of philosophy. Giants,
like St. Anselm, Albert the Great, St. Thomas Aquinas, had collected,
sifted, and harmonized the philosophical lore of all the preceding
ages, refuted the errors of a presumptuous pagan or heretical science,
shown the agreement of revelation with reason, reconciled metaphysics
with theology, and made such a body of philosophical and theological
doctrines as would, and did, satisfy the highest aspirations of
deeply-cultivated intellects. It is men of this type that could have
written a “final” philosophy. But who are we men of the nineteenth
century? Are we not mere pigmies when compared with these old masters?
Where do we find profound metaphysicians and profound theologians?
Some, of course, are to be found in the Catholic Church, which alone
has preserved the traditions of the ancient intellectual world; but we
do not think that any one of them would consider himself clever enough
to write a “final” philosophy. And should such a competent man be
found, who would care for his doctrine? Scientists would certainly not
bend to his authority, as they only laugh at metaphysics, nor to his
arguments, which they would scarcely understand; and unbelievers would
probably not even listen to him, as they would be afraid of being
awakened from their spiritual lethargy.
On the other hand, to expect that a Protestant divine, or a body of
Protestant divines, will be able to compose such a final philosophy as
Dr. Shields describes in the passage we have quoted is the merest
delusion. Not that there are not able and learned men in the Protestant
sects, but because the Protestant mind is trained to look at things in
the light of expediency more than of principles, and, besides other
disqualifications already referred to, it sadly lacks the jewel of
philosophical consistency. Dr. Shields, who holds, as we gladly
recognize, a prominent place among the learned men of his own
denomination, is by no means exempt from the weaknesses of his
Protestant compeers. For example, he is apt to confound things which
should be distinguished, and to draw consequences which go farther than
the premises; he frequently yields to partisan prejudices; he makes
false assumptions; he seems ready to sacrifice some religious views to
modern thought; and he misrepresents or misinterprets history. A few
references to his book will suffice to substantiate this criticism.
Thus, in the very first chapter of his work he says that in the first
age of Christianity there was on the side of the church “an apparent
effort to supplant philosophy” (p. 31); and to prove this he alleges
that “the apostles had scarcely left the church when there sprang up,
in the unlettered class from which the first Christians had been
largely recruited, a weak jealousy of human learning, which, it was
claimed, had been superseded in them by miraculous gifts of wisdom and
knowledge.” This statement is captious. From the fact that the first
Christians, guided by the wisdom of the Gospel, had come to despise the
absurd fables of pagan philosophy, it does not follow that they
rejected human learning, but only that they had common sense enough to
understand and to fulfil the duties of their religious position. On the
other hand, to imagine that “the unlettered class” could have thought
“of supplanting human learning” is as ridiculous as if we pretended
that our carpenters and blacksmiths might conspire to supplant
astronomy. The author adds that “Clement of Rome was held by his party
to have enjoined abstinence from mental culture as one of the apostolic
canons,” that “Barnabas and Polycarp were classed with St. Paul as
authors of epistles which carry their own evidence of imposture,” and
that “Hermas, as if in contempt of scholars, put his angelical
rhapsodies in the mouth of a shepherd.” We scarcely believe that these
three assertions will enhance the credit of Dr. Shields as a student of
history. Clement was himself a theologian and a philosopher; “his
party” is a clumsy invention; “apostolic canons” never condemned mental
culture; St. Paul’s epistles bear no evidence whatever of imposture;
and, as to Hermas, it is well known to the learned that he put his
instructions in the mouth of a shepherd, not that he might show his
“contempt of scholars”—for he himself was a scholar—but because his
guardian angel, from whom he had received those instructions, had
appeared before him in the garb of a shepherd.
The author says (p. 33) that in the age of the Greek Fathers “there was
a false peace between theology and philosophy; and religion and
science, in consequence, became more or less corrupted by admixture
with each other.” This statement is another historical blunder.
“The doctrines of St. John were sublimated into the abstractions of
Plato.” This, too, is quite incorrect.
“The Son of God was identified as the divine Logos of the schools.” By
no means. The Logos of the schools was only a shadow as compared with
the Son of God; the Logos of the schools was an abstraction, whereas
the Logos of the Fathers was a divine Person.
“Eusebius, Athanasius, Basil, the two Gregories, Chrysostom, and the
two Cyrils did scarcely more than consecrate the spirit of the Academy
in the cloisters and councils of the church.” This statement has no
need of refutation. The works of all the Fathers here mentioned are
extant, and they eloquently protest against the slander. But Protestant
authors are anxious to show that the Catholic Church was corrupted from
its very first age; and to do this they do not scruple to gather lies
and misrepresentations from all accessible sources, to transform
history into a witness to facts that never had an existence.
“Philosophy,” continues the author, “became not less corrupted through
its forced alliance with the new theology.” Who ever heard of a _new_
theology in the patristic age? or of a theology with which philosophy
could not make an alliance, except by force, and without being
corrupted?
“If philosophy gained somewhat on its metaphysical side by having its
own notional entities traced up to revealed realities as the flower
from the germ of reason, yet it lost quite as much on its physical side
through a narrowing logic and exegesis which bound it within the letter
of the Scripture, and turned it away from all empirical research; and,
consequently, even such crude natural science as it had inherited from
the early Greeks was soon forgotten and buried under a mass of
patristic traditions” (p. 34). From this we learn that logic, according
to Dr. Shields, “narrows the physical side of philosophy,” and exegesis
opposes “empirical research”! Is it not surprising that such assertions
could find a place in a work which purports to be serious and
philosophical? And as to the “crude natural science” of the early
Greeks, which was a confused mass of conflicting guesses, does the
author believe that it had a right to the name of science? or that it
commanded the respect of theologians? or does he think that the
Scripture has not a literal sense, which contains more truth than all
the crude natural science of the early Greeks?
“In geology the speculations of Thales, Anaximenes, and Heraclitus,
tracing the growth of the world from water, air, or fire, were only
exchanged for the fanciful allegories and homilies of Origen, Basil,
and Ambrose on the Hexaëmeron, or six days’ work of creation.” Dr.
Shields has just complained that the Fathers bound science “within the
letter of the Scripture”; and he now complains of Origen abandoning the
literal for the allegorical sense! Such is his need of quarrelling with
the Fathers. We may grant that some of Origen’s allegorical
interpretations were rather “fanciful”; but since such interpretations
were generally rejected even in his own time, it is difficult to
understand how they could supersede the speculations of philosophers.
As to St. Basil and St. Ambrose, however, no one who has studied their
works will dare to maintain that they have indulged in fanciful
theories. Of course they were not professors of science but of
Christianity; nor were they obliged to forsake Moses for Anaximenes or
Heraclitus, whose theories were nothing but dreams. Geology, as a
science, was yet unborn; and we are certain that, had the Fathers
embraced the theories which they are denounced for ignoring, Dr.
Shields or some of his friends would have considered the fact as
equally worthy of censure. Such is the justice of certain critics.
“In astronomy the heliocentric views of Aristarchus and Pythagoras had
already given place to the Ptolemaic theory of the heavens.” This does
not prove that the Fathers have corrupted astronomy; it shows, on the
contrary, that the false system of astronomy originated in what was
then considered science. It is to false science, therefore, and not to
false theology that we must trace the false explanation of astronomical
phenomena.
“In geography, the corruption of natural knowledge with false Biblical
views became even more remarkable, and the doctrine of the earth’s
rotundity and antipodes which had been held by Plato and Aristotle, and
all but proved by the Alexandrian geometers, was at length discarded as
a fable not less monstrous than heretical.” We wonder how it could have
been possible to prove “by geometry” the existence of men at the
antipodes, and we still more wonder how could the doctrine of the
earth’s rotundity, which is a Scriptural doctrine, be discarded as a
monstrous and heretical fable by men familiar with the teachings of the
Bible. But what is the fact? Did any of the Fathers suggest that the
words _orbis terræ_, which are to be found in many Scriptural texts,
could be understood to mean anything but the earth’s rotundity? Or did
any of them maintain that the earth’s rotundity was a “false Biblical
view”? The author replies by quoting the _Topographia Christiana_ of
Cosmas Indicopleustes, who teaches that the earth is flat. But we
answer that Cosmas was not a father of the church, and that his work
has never been considered “a standard of Biblical geography,” as the
author assumes. The theory of this monk was not the result of
“theological” learning, as Dr. Shields imagines, but the offspring of
Nestorian ignorance and presumption. Nor does it matter that Cosmas
cites “patriarchs, prophets, and apostles in its defence as doctrine
concerning which it was not lawful for a Christian to doubt” (p. 35);
for we know, on the one hand, that there is no monstrosity which
heretics are not apt to defend obstinately with Scriptural texts, and
on the other that the theory of the Indicopleustes made no fortune in
the Christian world; which further shows that the theological mind was
not “inwrought” with any such fancies as the author pretends to have
swayed the doctors of the Catholic Church. We know, of course, that our
old doctors did not admit that the antipodes were inhabited by men; but
this scarcely deserves criticism, as it is plain that before the
discovery of the new world no serious man could take the responsibility
of affirming a fact of which there was not a spark of evidence.
The author adds: “At the same time all the issuing interests of this
paganized Christianity could not but share in its hybrid character. Its
piety became but a mixture of austerity and license.” He then says that
the Christian ritual “was a mere medley of incongruous usages”; that
“the sign of the cross became a common charm as well as a sacred rite”;
that Pachomius organized monasteries and nunneries as sanctuaries of
virtue “amid a social corruption too gross to be described”; that
“Christian and pagan factions contended for supremacy in the Roman
senate”; that “the Lord’s day was observed by imperial edict on a day
devoted to the god of the sun,” etc., etc.; and he winds up his survey
of the patristic age by the remark that “the patristic type of
Christian science has been likened to a twilight dream of thought
before the long night-watches of the middle ages” (p. 35, 36).
It would be useless to ask Dr. Shields how he has ascertained that
Christianity was “paganized,” and that the sign of the cross had become
a “charm”; he would tell us simply that these gems of erudition have
been culled by him from Protestant or infidel books. As to the “mixture
of austerity and license” nothing need be said, for the contradiction
is glaring. That the social corruption was “too gross to be described”
is not astonishing, as the world was still more than half pagan; but to
connect social corruption with the monasteries and nunneries organized
by St. Pachomius, in order to denounce them as a mixture of austerity
and license, is a proof not only of bad taste, but of bad will and of
want of judgment. The author forgets to tell us why the Christian
ritual should be called “a mere medley of incongruous usages”; and yet,
as our present ritual does not substantially differ from that of the
patristic age, it would have been easy to point out a few of such
usages, were it not that their incongruity is only a crotchet of
Protestant bigotism. That the Lord’s day was observed “by imperial
edict” may indeed seem scandalous to free-thinkers and
free-religionists, but not to Protestant doctors; for they must know
that in Protestant countries the Lord’s day is still observed by a law
which has the same power as an imperial edict. But Protestants are
perhaps scandalized at the Lord’s day being kept on the “day devoted to
the god of the sun” instead of the Sabbath; and from this they argue
that the Church of God has been utterly corrupted and paganized. If so,
then they should either prove that the Lord’s day, the day of Christ’s
resurrection, was the Sabbath, or denounce Jesus Christ himself for
doing on the day “devoted to the god of the sun” what he ought to have
done on the Sabbath. O the Pharisees! We cannot wonder if they despise
the “patristic type of Christian science” as a dream when we see how
shamelessly they strive to misrepresent the most glorious ages of
Christianity, and to turn truth itself into poison.