This is a set of essays written in 1852 by Cardinal John Henry Newman; my edition is a secondhand copy from 1965. Suffice to say, neither Herbert Keldany, who wrote the 1965 intro, or Wilfrid Ward, who wrote the (I think?) 1905 intro, considered that any reader might not have a full and comprehensive grasp of the *checks notes* intra-varsity wrangling over theology teaching in ivory tower universities in the mid-nineteeth century. I came away with only the vaguest of understanding of what Newman was writing against: Protestantism (general)* and the denigration of theology as an, um, science (specific).
*I mean, check out this sick burn: ‘[Protestantism] considers faith a mere modification of reason, as being an acquiescence in certain probable conclusions till better are found.’
So there’s two broad branches to Newman's argument. The first is that any university that professes to teach ‘everything’ must include theology because theology is part of everything. Which, fair. And the second is that a liberal education – which he defines at length in beautiful, inspiring prose – is necessary for humanity to remain human. Both of these I agree with, although the latter more strongly than the former. It’s when Newman starts saying that theology is the bestest subject, and that the fall of man really HAPPENED, U GUYS, and that ‘revelation’ is the ultimate arbiter of what can be known about the world (... welp) that he loses me.
‘Tradition thus supplies the human race with knowledge not provable by the individual reason.’
Cue extreme side-eye.
In fairness, C.S. Lewis must have got a lot from him, because there’s premonitions of the ‘specific, demanding God’ of Miracles in here.
‘[...] such is [civilized age]’s besetting sin [...]: conscience becomes what is called a moral sense; the command of duty is a sort of taste; sin is not an offence against God, but against human nature.’
You’re just never going to convince me that theology is more valid than history. It’s a sub-branch of primitive psychology as far as I’m concerned, and the ghost of Johnny H can fight me on that.
‘Yet Gibbon argues against the darkness at the Passion, from the accident that it is not mentioned by pagan historians: as well might he argue against the existence of Christianity itself in the first century, because Seneca, Pliny, Plutarch, the Jewish Mishna, and other authorities are silent abou tit. In a parallel way Protestants argue against transubstantiation, and Arians against our Lord’s divinity, viz., because extant writings of certain fathers do not witness these doctrines to their satisfaction: as well might they say that Christianity was not spread by the Twelve Apostles, because we know so little of their labours. The evidence of history, I say, is invaluable in its place; but, if it assumes to be the sole means of gaining religious truth, it goes beyond its place.’
Sit DOWN.
Naturally, given his position, Newman's very anti-pantheism or a God who embodies ‘only’ a force of nature.
‘[...] the long and the short of the matter was this, that religion was based on custom, on law, on education, on habit, on loyalty, on feudalism, on enlightened expedience, on many, many things, but not at all on reason; reason was neither its warrant nor its instrument, and science had as little connection with it as with the fashions, or the state of the weather.’
I think his point about how people who claim they’re religious but then repudiate it at will lack integrity is valid, but also contingent; now that it’s socially acceptable to be an atheist, most people are. This wasn't a problem with the articles of faith so much as social restrictions. QED above.
‘I do not see how it is possible for a philosophical mind, first, to believe these religious facts to be true; next, to consent to put them aside; and thirdly, in spite of this, to go on to profess to be teaching all the while de omni scribili. No; if a man thinks in his heart that these religious facts are short of truth, are not true in the sense in which the fall of a stone to the earth is true, I understand his excluding religion from his university, though he professes other reasons for its exclusion. In that case the varieties of religion opinion under which he shelters his conduct are not only his apology for publicly ignoring religion, but a cause of his privately disbelieving it. He does not think that anything is known or can be known for certain about the origin of the world or the end of man.’
The way Newman argues for ‘revelation’ is that any time science contradicts religion, it will eventually be shown to be ‘not proved, not contradictory, or not contradictory to revelation’, because error is part of the process. Which is fine, as far as it goes, although you do wonder why God exhausts himself with all this faffing instead of having a One Time Only Revelation Day. What isn’t fine is the fact that Newman is about the only one who produces or follows this argument. Mostly, when science contradicted religion, religion KILLED IT. Like literally. The Church didn’t sit on its hands and wait it out, it got out the swords and the auto de fés and the excommunications. So miss me with that, John.
Oh, and this whole epistle is directed to ‘gentlemen’. Because we shall not suffer a woman to teach, LOL.
However, I did hugely appreciate how Newman separated out research from education.
‘To discover and to teach are distinct functions; they are also distinct gifts, and not commonly found united in the same person. [...] I think it must be allowed on the whole that, while teaching involves external engagements, the natural home for experiment and speculation is retirement.’
Sob. If only modern universities believed this.
The essays ‘Liberal Knowledge its Own End’ and ‘Liberal Knowledge viewed in Relation to Learning’ are where Newman really shines for me, because he focuses on the nature and value of ‘liberal’ education, quotes from other excellent sources on his team, and lets the theological sophistry slide for a few pages.
‘All that I have been now saying is summed up in a few characteristic words of the great philosopher [Aristotle]. “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 use.”’
‘[...] knowledge is a state or condition of mind; and since cultivation of mind is surely worth seeking for its own sake, we are thus brought once more to the conclusion, which the word liberal and the world philosophy have already suggested, that there is a knowledge which is desirable though nothing come of it, as being itself a treasure, and a sufficient remuneration of years of labour.’
YAAS QUEEN
‘[...] for if a healthy body is a good in itself, why is not a healthy intellect?’
‘I say, let us take “useful” to mean, not what is simply good, but what tends to good, or is the instrument of good; and in this sense also, gentlemen, I will show you how a liberal education is truly and fully a useful, though it be not a professional education. [...] though the useful is not always good, the good is always useful.’
Dr Copleston:
‘In the cultivation of literature is found that common link which, among the higher and middling departments of life, unites the jarring sects and subdivisions into one interest, which supplies common topics, and kindles common feelings, unmixed with those narrow prejudices with which all professions are more or less infected. [...] And thus, without directly qualifying a man for any of the employments of life, enriches and ennobles all.’
‘In his [Mr Edgeworth]’s system, the value of every attainment is to be measured by itws subserviency to a calling. [...] a man is to be usurped by his profession.’
Mr Davidson:
‘Judgement lives as it were by comparison and discrimination.’
‘Miscellaneous as the assemblage may appear, of history, eloquence, poetry, ethics, etc, blended together, they will all conspire in a union of effect.’
‘One thing is unquestionable, that the elements of general reason are not to be found fully and truly expressed in any one kind of study; and that he who would wish to know her idiom must read it in many books.’
Back to John:
‘If then a practical end must be assigned to a university course, I say it is that of training good members of society. It is the art of social life, and its end is fitness for the world.’ <3
‘He has the repose of a mind which lives in itself, while it lives in the world, and which has resources for its happiness at home when it cannot go abroad. He has a gift which serves him in public, and supports him in retirement, without which good fortune is but vulgar, and with which failure and disappointment have a charm. The art which tends to make man all this is in the object which it pursues as useful as the art of wealth or the art of health, though less susceptible of method, and less tangible, less certain, less complete in its result.’
<333
To conclude:
‘Nothing is too vast, nothing too subtle, nothing too distant, nothing too minute, nothing too discursive, nothing too exact, to engage its [the university]’s attention.’
I do love that.
Also, John made one (1) joke, so I’m gonna include it for posthumous kudos:
‘Would it become [the Pope]’s apostolical ministry, and his descent from the Fisherman, to have a zeal for the Baconian or other philosophy of man for its own sake? Is the Vicar of Christ bound by office or by vow to be the preacher of the theory of gravitation, or a martyr for electomagnetism?’
(The biggest joke, though, is how much he would have hated this review. Lol. See you in the not-afterlife, JH!)