The Idea of a University

“Religious doctrine is knowledge, in as full a sense as Newton’s doctrine is knowledge. University Teaching without Theology is simply unphilosophical.”

Newman refers here to the scientific laws of gravity and motion postulated by Sir Isaac Newton, and he claims that if those principles are considered knowledge, then religious doctrine should also be considered knowledge. This quote is insufficient by itself to support such a claim (arguments for which Newman includes in his first four discourses), but it illustrates just how firmly Newman holds his point to be true.

“All that exists, as contemplated by the human mind, forms one large system or complex fact, and this of course resolves itself into an indefinite number of particular facts, which, as being portions of a whole, have countless relations of every kind towards one another. Knowledge is the apprehension of these facts, whether in themselves, or in their mutual positions and bearings.”

This is one of Newman’s central statements on his theme of the unity of truth. All knowledge constitutes a vast, single, interconnected system of facts and their relations to each other. While this point might seem obvious or trivial on its own, it is foundational to Newman’s conception of education, which strives to convey not just sets of facts but a comprehensive knowledge that is familiar with the broad contours of the unity of truth.

“I mean then by the Supreme Being, one who is simply self-dependent, and the only Being who is such; moreover, that He is without beginning or Eternal, and the only Eternal […] and hence that He is all-sufficient, sufficient for His own blessedness, and all-blessed, and ever-blessed. Further, I mean a Being who […] has all the attributes of Good in infinite intenseness; all wisdom, all truth, all justice, all love, all holiness, all beautifulness; who is omnipotent, omniscient, omnipresent; ineffably one, absolutely perfect; and such, that what we do not know and cannot even imagine of Him, is far more wonderful than what we do or can.”

Newman shows his characteristic literary device of amplification, stringing together multiple phrases to give a kaleidoscopic view of his idea. In this case, the quote is just one small part of a longer description of the classical theistic definition of God. Though Newman uses his terms with a careful view toward precise meaning, this quote also shows his ability to write with poetic turns of phrase.

“When I speak of Theism or Monotheism, I am not throwing together discordant doctrines; I am not merging belief, opinion, persuasion, of whatever kind, into a shapeless aggregate, by the help of ambiguous words, and dignifying this medley by the name of Theology. I speak of one idea unfolded in its just proportions, carried out upon an intelligible method, and issuing in necessary and immutable results.”

Newman was aware that many fellow academics doubted that theology could operate as a science, since they held an impression of it as something imprecise, based on disputable interpretations of contested texts. Newman, however, pushed back against that suspicion. He regarded theology as precisely grounded: in the broader circles of Theism (a belief in God), it is grounded in the near-unanimous consensus of monotheistic religions and classical philosophy; and in Catholic circles, it is further grounded upon an established set of texts whose interpretation is governed by an exact tradition, producing logically deduced doctrines.

“Hence it is that we have the principles of utility, of combination, of progress, of philanthropy, or, in material sciences, comparative anatomy, phrenology, electricity, exalted into leading ideas, […] all of them true to a certain point yet all degenerating into error and quackery, because they are carried to excess […] and because they are employed to do what is simply too much for them, inasmuch as a little science is not deep philosophy.”

This is part of Newman’s warning against those who are devoted to their own subset of knowledge and expertise, but who take its principles and inappropriately extend them as the measure of all things. In this quote, as in other areas, Newman follows a long philosophical tradition that identifies excess of any kind as one of the most common roots of error. The philosophy traces most prominently to Aristotle, who argued that virtue is a mean between excess and deficit.

“I am not denying, I am granting, I am assuming, that there is reason and truth in the ‘leading ideas,’ as they are called, and ‘large views’ of scientific men; I only say that, though they speak truth, they do not speak the whole truth; […] true, but not the measure of all things; true, but if thus inordinately, extravagantly, ruinously carried out, in spite of other sciences, in spite of Theology, sure to become but a great bubble, and to burst.”

Newman again warns against overextending any one methodology. He specifically mentions the danger of attempting to displace theology. In his conception, theology is the science of the ultimate cause of all things (i.e., God), and when the explanatory power of the ultimate cause is usurped by subordinate areas of knowledge, then one cannot gain an accurate perspective on the true shape of universal knowledge.

“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. […] 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.”

The reader can see two of Newman’s main themes here: the unity of truth, expressed in the relations between the various “learned men” and their fields; and education as intellectual formation, shown in the student’s process of apprehending the whole field of knowledge. Newman here employs, as he so often does, the literary device of amplification by adding a long string of phrases to his descriptions of both the teacher’s relationships and the student’s learning. These create a sense that each sentence is building something significant, one piece at a time.

“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. […] 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.”

This is part of Newman’s argument for teaching the liberal arts—many of which may have little practical utility to the student after leaving university—rather than simply teaching a narrow set of skills that will be useful for a trade or career. Knowledge is its own reward by virtue of the human mind’s constitution. Because we are driven by our natures to seek an understanding of things, the grand view of knowledge provided by a liberal education is of such a high value to the mind as to require no other motivation for seeking it.

“When I speak of Knowledge, I mean something intellectual, something which grasps what it perceives through the senses; something which takes a view of things; which sees more than the senses convey; which reasons upon what it sees, and while it sees; which invests it with an idea. […] This is how it comes to be an end in itself; this is why it admits of being called Liberal. Not to know the relative disposition of things is the state of slaves or children; to have mapped out the Universe is the boast, or at least the ambition, of Philosophy.”

This offers one of Newman’s clearest definitions of “knowledge”: not mere information, but information mediated by a well-ordered mind, such that it is imbued with meaning, fertile for the growth of ideas, and understood in relation to other information. The aim of liberal education is the development of mental faculties that can grasp and use such knowledge.

“The enlargement [of the mind] consists, not merely in the passive reception into the mind of a number of ideas hitherto unknown to it, but in the mind’s energetic and simultaneous action upon and towards and among those new ideas, which are rushing in upon it.”

Newman explains the kind of mental formation he sees as the goal of education. Students are not mere reservoirs for information; they are participants in learning. They should have minds that are active—not just memorizing facts but discerning where new facts fit into the whole of their knowledge and developing new ideas from the process.

“That only is true enlargement of mind which is the power of viewing many things at once as one whole, of referring them severally to their true places in the universal system, of understanding their respective values, and determining their mutual interdependence. […] Possessed of this real illumination, the mind never views any part of the extended subject-matter of Knowledge without recollecting that it is but a part, or without the associations which spring from this recollection.”

This quote combines Newman’s interests in both the unity of truth and education as intellectual formation. True intellectual formation—what he calls “enlargement of mind”—is the capacity for holding the unity of truth in view and recalling the interconnections of different branches of knowledge when assessing any single piece of knowledge. He uses the figurative language of “illumination,” a metaphor common to Christian epistemology.

“To have even a portion of this illuminative reason and true philosophy is the highest state to which nature can aspire, in the way of intellect; it puts the mind above the influences of chance and necessity, above the anxiety, suspense, unsettlement, and superstition, which is the lot of many. […] The intellect, which has been disciplined to the perfection of its powers […] cannot but be patient, collected, and majestically calm, because it discerns the end in every beginning, the origin in every end, the law in every interruption, the limit in each delay.”

Although Newman has argued that knowledge is its own end, regardless of any utility it may offer, he also makes the case that it beneficially transforms the person who bears it. This quote describes the temperament produced by the acquisition of true knowledge, a temperament Newman believes will allow one to ride above the turmoil of everyday life.

“A great good will impart a great good. If then the intellect is so excellent a portion of us, and its cultivation so excellent, it is not only beautiful, perfect, admirable, and noble in itself, but in a true and high sense it must be useful to the possessor and to all around him; not useful in any low, mechanical, mercantile sense, but as diffusing good, or as a blessings, or a gift, or power, or a treasure, first to the owner, then through him to the world. I say then, if a liberal education be good, it must necessarily be useful too.”

Newman here extends his view of the benefits of education considered as intellectual formation. In addition to the good it imparts to the individual, as the previous quote showed, it also imparts good to society. The person who is shaped by the intellectual formation of true knowledge will bring the blessings of their broadened perspective and clear-eyed thinking to all their relationships with the outside world.

“A man with well improved faculties has the command of another’s knowledge. A man without them, has not the command of his own.” 

This is a rare instance of Newman’s typical amplification dropping away. He gives a concise, almost aphoristic statement of the effects of intellectual formation. A person shaped by a liberal education can take new knowledge and make right use of it; but someone without that shaping influence cannot even make right use of their own knowledge, because they cannot sense its relations to the whole order of truth.

“Truth has two attributes—beauty and power; and while Useful Knowledge is the possession of truth as powerful, Liberal Knowledge is the apprehension of it as beautiful. Pursue it, either as beauty or as power, to its furthest extent and its true limit, and you are led by either road to the Eternal and Infinite, to the intimations of conscience and the announcements of the Church.”

Newman again emphasizes the unity of truth, but he now imbues it with a momentum that points toward faith. Since all truth comes from God as its ultimate cause, pursuing the knowledge of any form of truth will eventually lead toward God. This assertion pertains to Newman’s focus on the harmony between scientific and religious truths.

“The simple question to be considered is, how best to strengthen, refine, and enrich the intellectual powers; the perusal of the poets, historians, and philosophers of Greece and Rome will accomplish this purpose, as long experience has shown.”

This quote encapsulates Newman’s confidence in the classical model of education. Even though there was a diminishing practical utility in knowing Greek grammar, Latin composition, and classical literature in Newman’s day, he argued that their track record in perfecting a student’s mind was reason enough to continue using them. The main goal remains, here as elsewhere, the intellectual formation of the student.

“A great author, Gentlemen, is not one who merely has a copia verborum, whether in prose or verse, and can, as it were, turn on at will any number of splendid phrases and swelling sentences; but he is one who has something to say and knows how to say it. […] He writes passionately, because he feels keenly; forcibly, because he conceives vividly; he sees too clearly to be vague; he is too serious to be otiose; he can analyze his subject, and therefore he is rich; he embraces it as a whole and in its parts, and therefore he is consistent; he has a firm hold of it, and therefore he is luminous. […] He always has the right word for the right idea, and never a word too much. […] He expresses what all feel, but all cannot say.”

This is part of Newman’s definition of “literature.” Here he pushes back against the notion that a designation of literature is determined by a writer’s style. Rather, it is a matter of whether the writer can articulate the sentiments of their fellow citizens and their place in history.

“In [a language’s] earlier times, while it is yet unformed, to write in it at all is almost a work of genius. It is like crossing a country before roads are made communicating between place and place. The authors of that age deserve to be Classics, both because of what they do and because they can do it. It requires the courage or the force of great talent to compose in the language at all; and the composition, when effected, makes a permanent impression on it.”

Here Newman attempts to define what would constitute a “classic” in a national body of literature. He holds that the classics for any language’s literature emerge within a narrow window of just a few centuries, as great writers explore the language’s expressive capabilities and set its forms for ages to come. 

“If it be the complaint of pious men now, that never was infidelity so rampant, it is their boast and consolation, on the other hand, that never was the Church less troubled with false teachers, never more united. […] It is a great gain when error becomes manifest, for it then ceases to deceive the simple.”

This quote illustrates Newman’s keen sense of his fellow Catholics’ fears and hesitations regarding the challenges to faith in the modern world, as well as his calm way of changing the perspective on the matter. Whereas many Catholics in his day worried about the extent of agnosticism and of attacks on doctrine in the world at large, Newman notes that it is far better to have such things out in the open, where they can be recognized for what they are, rather than to have false teachings spreading within the bosom of the Church.

“The most obvious truths are often the most profitable.”

This little maxim is part of Newman’s advice to preachers who are preparing sermons for a university context. He points out that although such preachers address a university, it does not mean that they must avoid basic, foundational teachings of faith. This quote also shows that Newman’s style was not bound to amplification alone but could, when he desired, be harnessed for simplicity and directness.

“Theology begins, as its name denotes, not with any sensible facts, phenomena, or results, not with nature at all, but with the Author of nature—with the one invisible, unapproachable Cause and Source of all things. It begins at the other end of knowledge, and is occupied, not with the finite, but the Infinite. […] As far as it approaches towards Physics, it takes just the counterpart of the questions which occupy the Physical Philosopher. He contemplates facts before him; the Theologian gives the reasons of these facts. The Physicist treats of efficient causes; the Theologian of final.”

This is one of several extended passages in which Newman explains the differences in content, perspective, and methodology between religion and science (here termed as theology and physics). Because the theologian and the physicist study different aspects of reality and are concerned with different levels of causation, they have no real disagreement. Thus, any contradiction between religion and science is not a real contradiction but the result of misapplied or overextended principles.

“What an empire is in political history, such is a University in the sphere of philosophy and research. It is, as I have said, the high protecting power of all knowledge and science. […] It acts as umpire between truth and truth, and, taking into account the nature and importance of each, assigns to all their due order of precedence. It maintains no one department of thought exclusively, however ample and noble; and it sacrifices none.”

Newman summarizes one of his leading arguments: the function of the university as a place of universal learning. As such, it must rigorously defend the full scope of its academic endeavors. Since the university is responsible for keeping all its academic departments and their knowledge in balance, it would be a grave mistake for a university to sacrifice or neglect any branch of knowledge, such as theology.

“Error may flourish for a time, but Truth will prevail in the end. The only effect of error ultimately is to promote Truth.”

One of the main challenges of addressing the perceived antagonism between science and religion was how to respond to scientific claims that appeared to promote theological errors. Here Newman advises his hearers to be patient and to trust in the sovereignty of God's truth. Though error may appear to be ascendant, any discipline that is ordered toward the discovery of truth (as, for instance, science) will eventually discover the truth, sometimes even by way of erroneous answers in earlier stages.