CHAPTER LXIX.

OF INTELLECTUAL DEVELOPMENT UNDER THE INFLUENCE OF CATHOLICITY.

It has been abundantly proved in the course of this work, that the pseudo-Reformation has not in any way contributed to the perfection either of individuals or of society; from which we may naturally infer that the case is the same as regards the development of the intellect. I am unwilling, however, to let this truth stand merely as a corollary, and I believe it to be susceptible of a special elucidation. We may freely examine what advantage Protestantism has conferred upon the various branches of human learning, without any fear of the result as regards Catholicity. When we are to examine objects naturally embracing a great many different relations, it is not enough merely to pronounce certain conspicuous names, or to cite with emphasis one or two facts. This is not the way to place a question in its proper light; and to treat it adequately, much more is required. A discussion, either confined within limits too narrow to admit of its full development, or allowed an indefinite range, carries with it, in the eyes of an observer of only slight penetration, an air of universality, elevation, and boldness, whilst in reality it is all uncertainty and vagueness, and is liable to be involved in endless contradictions.

To investigate this question satisfactorily, we must, it seems to me, grasp the Catholic and Protestant principles respectively, subject them to a most rigid scrutiny, and seize upon every point that appears favorable or inimical to the development of the human mind. Further, we should survey, in its widest range, the history of the intellect; pausing here and there at the epochs where the influence of the principle whose tendencies and effects we are studying has been most effectively exerted; then, rejecting anomalous exceptions, as proving nothing either one way or the other, and facts too insignificant and isolated to affect in any way the course of events, the mind, sufficiently elevated, and observing attentively, and with a sincere desire to know the truth, will be enabled to discover how far its philosophical deductions are in accordance with facts; and thus will it complete the solution of the problem.

One of the fundamental principles of Catholicity, one of its distinctive characteristics, is the submission of the intellect to authority in matters of faith. This is the point against which the attacks of Protestants have ever been and still are directed: and this is quite natural, seeing that Protestants profess resistance to authority as a fundamental and constituent principle. From this fatal source flow all their other errors. If there be in Catholicity any thing capable of arresting the march of the mind or of lowering its flight, it must unquestionably be the principle of submission to authority. With this principle must rest all the blame in this respect, if indeed the Catholic religion be chargeable with any.

_Submission of the intellect to authority._ These words, it cannot be denied, do, unless we have seized upon their true meaning, and ascertained the precise objects to which this submission is applicable, at first sight, convey an idea of antagonism to intellectual development. If you cherish an ardent affection for the dignity of our nature; if you are an enthusiastic advocate of scientific progress, and behold with delight the brilliant efforts of a bold, vigorous, and accomplished genius; you will discover something repulsive in a principle which appears to invoke slavery, since it checks the flight of the mind, clips the wings of the intellect, and casts it into the dust. But if you examine this principle in its essence, apply it to the various branches of learning, and observe what are the points of contact which it offers with the methods adopted for the cultivation of the mind, will you discover any foundation for these suspicions and apprehensions? What truth will you find in the reproaches of which Catholicity has been made the object? How vain and puerile will appear all the declamation published on this subject!

We will now enter fully into the examination of this difficulty; we will take the Catholic principle, and analyze it with the eye of impartial philosophy. With this principle before us, we will survey the whole field of science, and consult the testimony of the greatest men. If we find that it has ever been opposed to the genuine development of any one branch of learning; if, on visiting the tombs where repose the most illustrious, they tell us that the principle of submission to authority chained down their intellects, obscured their imaginations, and withered their hearts,--we will then acknowledge that Protestants are right in the reproaches which they are constantly directing against the Catholic religion on this subject. God, man, society, nature, the entire creation--such are the objects on which our minds can be occupied; beyond the sphere of these objects we cannot reach, for they embrace infinity--there is nothing beyond them. Well, then, the Catholic principle opposes no obstacle to the mind's progress. Whether as regards God or man, society or nature, it imposes no shackles, places no obstacle in the way of the human mind; instead of checking this progress, it rather serves as a lofty beacon, which, far from interfering with the mariner's liberty, guides him in safety amid the obscurity of night.

How does the Catholic principle oppose the freedom of the human mind in anything relating to the Divinity? Protestants surely will not tell us that there is anything at all wrong in the idea which the Catholic religion gives of God. Agreeing with us on the idea of a being eternal, immutable, infinite, the Creator of heaven and earth, just, holy, full of goodness, a rewarder of the good, and a punisher of the wicked, they admit this to be the only reasonable idea of God that can be presented to the mind of man. To this idea the Catholic religion unites an incomprehensible, profound, and ineffable mystery, veiled from the sight of weak mortals,--the august mystery of the Trinity; but on this point Protestants cannot reproach us, unless they are prepared to avow themselves Socinians. The Lutherans, the Calvinists, the Anglicans, and many other sects, condemn, as well as we do, those who deny this august mystery. We may remark here, that Calvin had Michael Servetus burned at Geneva for his heretical doctrines on the Trinity. I am well aware of the ravages that Socinianism has made among the separated Churches, where the spirit and the right of private judgment in matters of faith have converted Christians into unbelieving philosophers; but, notwithstanding this, the mystery of the Trinity was long respected by the leading Protestant sects, and is so yet, externally at least, by the greater part of them.

In any case, I cannot see how this mystery shackles human reason in its contemplation of the Divinity. Does it prevent it from going forth into immensity? What limit does it fix to the infinite ocean of light and being implied in the word _God_? Does it in the least obscure this splendor? When the mind of man, soaring above the regions of creation, and detaching itself from the body that would bear it down, abandons itself to the delights of sublime meditation on the infinite Being, Creator of heaven and earth, does this august mystery stop him in his heavenward flight? Ask the innumerable volumes written on the Divinity, eloquent and irrefragable testimonies of liberty enjoyed by the human mind wherever Catholicity prevails. The doctrines of Catholicity relative to the Divinity may be considered under two aspects; either as having reference to mysteries above our comprehension, or as touching what is within the reach of reason. As regards mysteries, their abode is in a region so sublime, they appertain to an order of things so superior to any created thought, that the mind, even after the most extensive, most profound, and, at the same time, most free investigations, is unable, without the aid of revelation, to form even the most remote idea of these ineffable wonders. How can things that never meet, which are of a totally distinct order, and which are an immense distance apart, interfere with each other? The intellect can fix upon one of them by means of meditation, can lose itself in contemplating it, without even thinking of the other. Can the moon's orbit come into contact with the remotest of the fixed stars?

Do you fear that the revelation of a mystery may limit the sphere of your reason's operations? Are you apprehensive lest, in wandering through immensity, you may be smothered in the narrowness of your reason? Was space wanted for the genius of Descartes, of Gassendi, of Mallebranche? Did these men complain that their intellects were limited, imprisoned? Why, indeed, should they complain (I speak not of them only, but of all the great minds of modern times who have treated of the Divinity), when they cannot but own that they are indebted to Catholicity for the most splendid and sublime ideas that enrich their writings? The philosophers of antiquity, in their treatises on the Divinity, are at an immense distance below the least eminent of our metaphysical theologians. What would Plato himself be compared to Lewis of Granada, Louis de Léon, Fénélon, or Bossuet? Before Christianity appeared upon earth, before the faith of the Chair of Peter had taken possession of the world, the primitive ideas on the Divinity having been effaced, the human mind wandered amongst a thousand errors, a thousand monstrous fancies; feeling the necessity of a God, man substituted for the Supreme Being the creation of his own imagination. But ever since the ineffable splendor, descending from the bosom of the Father of light, has shone upon the whole earth, ideas of the Divinity have remained so fixed, clear, and simple, and at the same time so lofty and sublime, that human reason has obtained a wider range; the veil which concealed the origin of the universe has been withdrawn; the world's destiny has been marked out, and man has received the key that explains the wonders which fill and surround him. Protestants have felt the force of this truth; their aversion for every thing Catholic was almost fanatical; yet, generally speaking, they may be said to have respected the idea of the Divinity. On this point, of all others, the spirit of innovation has been felt the least. How, indeed, could it be otherwise? The God of the Catholics was too great to be replaced by any other. Newton and Leibnitz, embracing heaven and earth in their speculations, could say nothing new of the Author of so many wonders, nothing but what had already been taught by the Catholic religion.

Well had it been for Protestants if, whilst in the midst of their wanderings they preserved this precious treasure, they had faithfully followed the example of their predecessors, and had rejected that monstrous philosophy which threatens us with the revival of all errors, ancient and modern, beginning with the substitution of a monstrous pantheism for the sublime Deity of Christianity. Let those Protestants who are friends of truth, jealous of the honor of their communion, devoted to their country's welfare, and interested in the future prospects of mankind, be warned in time. If pantheism should prevail, it will not be the spiritualist but the naturalist philosophers who will triumph. The German philosophers may in vain seek refuge in abstraction and enigmas, in vain condemn the sensualist philosophy of the last century; a God confounded with nature is not God, a God identified with every thing is nothing; pantheism is a deification of the universe, that is, a denial of God.

What sorrowful reflections suggest themselves to us when we consider the direction now taken by the minds of men in different parts of Europe, and more especially in Germany! Catholics long since told them they would begin with resistance to authority by denying a dogma, but would end by a denial of all, and fall into atheism; and the course of ideas during the last three centuries has fully confirmed the truth of the prediction. Strange, that German philosophy should aim at producing a reaction against the materialist school, and with all its spiritualism end in pantheism! Providence, it would seem, has ordained that the soil which has produced so many errors should be barren of truth. Out of the Church all is unsteadiness and confusion; materialism ending in atheism, wild idealism and fantastic spiritualism resulting in pantheism! Verily, God still abhors pride, and repeats the terrible chastisement of the confusion of tongues. Catholicity triumphs the while; but mourns in the midst of her triumphs. I do not see either how it can be that Catholicity impedes the operation of the intellect as regards the study of man. What does the Church require of us on this point? What does she teach on the subject? How far extends the circle embracing the doctrines we are forbidden to call in question?

Philosophers are divided into two schools, the materialists and the spiritualists. The former assert that the human soul is only a portion of matter, which, by a certain modification, produces in us what we call thought and will; the latter maintains that the energy accompanying thought and will is incompatible with the inertness of matter; that what is divisible, composed of divers parts, and consequently of divers entities, could not harmonize with the simple unity essential to a being that thinks, wills, reasons, with itself upon every thing, and possesses the profound consciousness of individuality. For these reasons they assert that the contrary opinion is false and absurd; and they ground their opinion upon a variety of considerations. The Catholic Church intervenes in the dispute, and says: "The soul of man is not corporeal, it is a spirit; you cannot be both a Catholic and a materialist." But ask the Catholic Church by what systems you are to explain the ideas, the sensations, the acts of the will, and human feelings,--and she will tell you that on these matters you are perfectly free to hold what you consider most in accordance with reason; that faith does not descend to particular questions appertaining to the affairs of this world, which God himself delivered to the consideration of men. Before the light of the Gospel shone upon the world, the schools of philosophy were in the most profound ignorance on the subject of our origin and our destiny; none of the philosophers could explain the profound contradictions that are found in man; none of them succeeded in pointing out the cause of that strange mixture of greatness and littleness, of goodness and malice, of knowledge and ignorance, of excellence and baseness. But religion came forth, and said: "Man is the work of God; his destiny is to be for evermore united with God; for him the earth is a place of exile only; man is no longer what he was when he came forth from the hands of his Creator; the whole human race is subjected to the consequences of a great fall." Now I would defy all philosophers, ancient and modern, to show wherein the obligation of believing these things militates in the slightest degree against the progress of true philosophy.

So far, indeed, are the doctrines of Catholicity from checking philosophical progress, that they are, on the contrary, a most fruitful source of this progress in every respect. If we wish to make progress in any of the sciences, it is no slight advantage for the intellect to have a safe and firm axis around which it may revolve; it is a fortunate thing to be enabled to avoid at the very outset in the intellectual race, a multitude of questions which would entangle us in inextricable labyrinths, or from which we could not escape without falling into most lamentable absurdities; in a word, when we approach the investigation of these questions, we ought to consider ourselves happy in finding them resolved beforehand in their most important points, and in knowing where the truth lies, and where the danger of falling into error. The philosopher's position is then that of a man who, sure of the existence of a mine in a certain spot, does not waste his time in searching after it, but, knowing his ground, his researches and labors are profitable from the first. This is the cause of the vast advantage which in these matters modern philosophers possess over those of antiquity: the ancients had to grope in the dark; the moderns, preceded by brilliant lights, advance with a firm and sure step, and march straight to their destination. They may boast incessantly that they set aside revelation, that they hold it in disdain, perhaps that they even openly attack it. Even in this case religion enlightens them, and often guides their steps; for there are a thousand splendid ideas for which they are indebted to religion, and which they cannot erase from their minds; ideas which they have found in books, learned in catechisms, and imbibed with their milk; ideas which they hear uttered by every one around them, which are spread everywhere, and which impregnate with their vivifying and beneficent influence the atmosphere they breathe. In repudiating religion, these same moderns are carrying ingratitude to great lengths; for at the very moment they insult her, they are profiting by her favors.

This is not the place to enter into details on this matter, or numerous proofs might easily be adduced in support of the foregoing observations; a comparison between the first works of modern philosophy that came to hand and the works of the ancients would be decisive; but such a labor would still be incomplete for those who are not versed in these matters; and for those who are so, it would be superfluous. I leave the question with entire confidence to the perspicacity and impartiality of my readers; it will, I think, be acknowledged that whenever our modern philosophers have spoken of man with truth and dignity, their language has borne the impress of Christian ideas. Such is the influence of Catholicity upon those sciences which, confined to a purely speculative order, allow the genius of the philosopher the widest range and the greatest freedom possible; but if, as regards those sciences, the influence of Catholicity, instead of checking the mind in its flight, only enlarges its range, increases its sublimity, its daring, and at the same time its security, by preventing it from running astray, what shall we say of its influence on the study of ethics? Has the whole body of philosophers together ever discovered any thing beyond what is contained in the Gospel? What doctrine excels in purity, in sanctity, in sublimity that taught by the Catholic religion? On this point we will do justice to the philosophers, even to those most hostile to the Christian religion. They have attacked its doctrines, and smiled at the divinity of its origin; but have always evinced a profound respect for its morality. I know not what secret influence has constrained them into an avowal that must certainly have cost them dear. "Yes," they invariably say, "it cannot be denied that the morality of Catholicity is excellent."

There are certain doctrines of Catholicity which cannot be said to appertain directly either to God, to man, or to morality, in the sense generally given to this word. The Catholic religion is a revealed religion, of an order far superior to any thing that the human mind is capable of conceiving. Its object is to guide us to a destiny that we could neither attain nor even imagine by our own strength, and it is based upon this principle, that human nature, corrupted by the fall, requires to be restored and purified; evidently, therefore, it should contain certain doctrines explanatory of the mode in which this work of restoration and purification is to be effected, whether in a general or particular sense; and at the same time pointing out the means which God has chosen to lead man to happiness. Such are the doctrines of the Incarnation, of Redemption, of Grace, and of the Sacraments.

These dogmas embrace a wide field; the relations in which they stand to God and to man are very extensive; the doctrines of the Catholic Church are, and always have been, unchangeable. Well then! extensive as they are, they afford not a single point that can be said to have a tendency to embarrass the free action of the intellect in investigations of any kind. The cause of this fact is the same as that I have already indicated. Those who have attentively compared the sciences of philosophy and theology may have remarked that theology, in the sublime questions mentioned above, occupies a sphere so distinct and supereminent as scarcely to preserve a single point of contact with that in which philosophy moves. They are two vast and sublime orbits, occupying in the depths of space positions very distant from each other. Man sometimes tries to make them approximate, and would be glad if a ray of terrestrial light could penetrate into the region of incomprehensible mysteries; but he scarcely knows how to begin this, and we hear him avow, with a profound sense of his own weakness, that he is _speaking only conventionally_ and _by analogy_, merely with a view to make himself better understood. The Church allows such attempts, owing to the good intentions they evince; sometimes she even prompts and encourages them, desiring, as far as possible, to accommodate what is incomprehensible in her doctrines to the feeble capacities of men.

After all their reasonings on the attributes of the Divinity and the relations of man to God, have philosophers discovered any thing incompatible with these doctrines of Catholicity? Have revealed truths stood in their way as a stumbling-block to their investigations? When Descartes, in the seventeenth century, effected a revolution in philosophy, a singular incident occurred that will throw a strong light on this subject. The Catholic doctrine respecting the august mystery of the Eucharist is known, and also in what the dogma of _transubstantiation_ consists. Many theologians, the reader is also probably aware, in order to explain the supernatural phenomenon which takes place after the consummation of the miracle, had recourse to the doctrine of accidents, which they distinguished from the substance. Now the theory of Descartes, and of almost all other modern philosophers, was incompatible with this explanation, for they denied the existence of accidents distinct from the substance. It consequently appeared at first sight that a difficulty would here arise for the Catholic doctrine, and that the Church would have to oppose this system of philosophy. And did it so happen? Not at all. Upon a careful investigation of the matter, it was seen that the Catholic dogma belonged to a region infinitely above that uncertain one in which the philosophic doctrine was discovered, however closely they might have seemed to approximate. In vain theologians discussed the matter, indulged in mutual recriminations, drew from the new doctrine all sorts of inferences, in order to represent it as dangerous. The Church, always superior to the thoughts of men, kept aloof from these disputes, maintaining that grave, majestic, and impassive attitude so well becoming her to whom Jesus Christ confided the sacred deposit of His doctrine. Such is the liberty accorded by the Church to the genius of philosophers, that it is free in every sense. The Church has no need to be continually imposing restrictions and conditions; the sacred doctrines of which she is the depository dwelling in so elevated a region that the mind of man can scarcely ever meet them, at least so long as his investigations do not wander from the track of true philosophy.

But this human reason, at once so powerful and so feeble, sometimes becomes puffed up with arrogance and pride, and in the name of liberty and independence claims a right to blaspheme the Almighty, to deny man's free will, the immortality and spirituality of his soul, her sublime origin and her heavenly destiny. At such a time we avow, and we glory in the avowal, the Church does raise her voice, not to oppress or tyrannize over the human mind, but to defend the rights of the Supreme Being and the dignity of human nature; then, indeed, we behold her opposing, with unyielding firmness, that senseless liberty which consists in the fatal right of uttering all sorts of extravagances. This liberty Catholics neither possess nor desire, knowing that in these matters, as in others, there is a sacred line of demarcation between liberty and licentiousness. Happy slavery, that keeps us from atheism, materialism, and from doubting whether our souls come from God, whether they tend towards Him, and whether there exists for unhappy mortals, after the sufferings that weigh upon them in this life, a life of eternal happiness purchased by the merits of a God-man! As for the sciences which have society for their object, I think I need not vindicate the Catholic religion from the reproach of having in this respect oppressed the human mind. The long train of reflections in which I have set forth her doctrines and her influence, as regards the nature and extent of power, and the civil and political liberty of nations, proves to a demonstration that the Catholic religion, without descending to the arena in which the passions of men strive and contend, teaches a doctrine most favorable to true civilization and to the rightly-understood liberties of the people.

I will also touch briefly upon the relations of the Catholic principle with the study of the natural sciences. Assuredly it is not easy to see in what way this principle can be injurious to the progress of the human mind in this department of knowledge. I have said, it is not easy; I might have said impossible, and that for a very simple reason, founded upon a fact within the reach of every man; viz. the extreme reserve which the Catholic religion evinces in every thing relating to purely natural science. One might suppose that God had designed, on this matter, to read us a severe lesson on our excessive curiosity: you have only to read the Bible to be convinced of the truth of what I have advanced. I do not mean that nature is never noticed in the Bible; that divine book presents her to us in her grandest, noblest, and most sublime aspect; as a living whole, in fact, together with all her relations and her sublime destiny, but without any kind of analysis or decomposition. In these sacred pages the painter's pencil and the poet's fancy will meet with magnificent models; but the inquisitive philosopher will look in vain for the hints he is in quest of. The Holy Spirit did not aim at making naturalists, but virtuous men; hence, in describing the creation, He represents it solely in a light the best adapted to excite in us feelings of admiration and gratitude towards the Author of so many wonders and benefits. Nature, as she appears in the sacred text, has not much to gratify the curiosity of the philosopher; but then she delights and ennobles the imagination--she moves and penetrates the heart.