THE THOMIST
A SPECULATIVE QUARTERLY REVIEW
OF THEOLOGY AND PHILOSOPHY
EmToRs:

THE DoMINICAN FATHERS oF THE PROVINCE oF ST. JosEPH

Publishers: Sheed & Ward, Inc., New York City

VoL. Ill

JULY, 1941

No.3

THE THEORY OF DEMOCRACY

W

PREFA'l:ORY

NoTE

E propose to make a philosophical analysi!'l of democracy. We cannot ignore the fact that this analysis
is coincident with a world-wide war which has
C<?me to be described as a struggle between "the democracies "
and " the
·powers." Although the theory we are
about to expound owes nothing to that fact, neither in origin nor
in development, it cannot help having a bearing on the issues of
the day. But we beg the reader to avoid a too hasty or a too
simple application of our thesis to current events. The word" democracy," through its use in propaganda of all sorts, has come
to stand for almost anything that one can be politically for or
against. We hope to restore it to precise significance in the
analytical vocabulary of political thought. We ask the reader
to help us by not identifying ·democracy with the existing
governments of England and the United States. What sort of
governments exist in these countries, and in what way they
are good or bad, are questions of casuistry, not of political
theory. The political philosopher must achieve truth and
clarity on the level of principles before caSuistical questions can
897

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M. J. ADLER AND WALTER FARRELL

be intelligently faced. The confusion of theory with casuistry,
so prevalent throughout the history of political thought, prevents
each from helping the other. To enlist the reader's aid in avoiding such confusion, and to caution him that the thesis is neither
intelligible nor true apart from its qualifications, we quote here,
before we begin, two sentences that occur at a later stage of
our discussion: " The worst misunderstanding of what we are
trying to say would be to suppose our judgment of democracy
to be that it is always and everywhere the bPst form of government for a people to adopt. . . . Far from supposing that
democracy is the best form of government relative to every
historic situation, we seriously doubt whether in the world today there is any people whose physical, economic, cultural, and
moral attainments are yet adequate for the full practice of
democracy."

p .ART I.

INTRODUCTORY

I. The present work has two aims. The first is an adequate

explication of the truth that democracy is, on moral grounds,
the best form of government. The second is a reformulation of
political theory in so far as it concerns the basic problem of
the classification of states.
The two aims are interdependent. If the proposition about
democracy is true, then certain traditional doctrines about the
classification of states must be modified; the underlying principles of classification must be revised. This will involve two sorts
of rectification: some errors must be corrected, and additional
principles are needed where the traditional doctrine is analytically incomplete. Unless such modification and revision can be
accomplished, the proposition that democracy is, on moral
grounds, the best form of government, cannot be proved; in
fact, quite apart from the demonstration of this proposition,
the possibility of its being true is not even intelligible in terms
of traditional theory. The theory of democracy thus becomes
identical with a whole political theory, and this theory will be
new in so far as it corrects and extends traditional doctrines in

THE THEORY OF DEMOCRACY

899

order to make the truth about democracy both intelligible and
demonstratively certain. It will not be necessary, therefore, to
keep the two aims of this work separate. On the contrary,
they tend to fuse at every stage of the analysis.
That genuinely new developments in political theory are
possible, and that in the course of history such developments
are necessitated by progress in political institutions, should
neither be surprising nor shocking. Unlike other branches of
philosophy, notably metaphysics and ethics, political thought
is conditioned by the historic contingencies of human culture.
To the extent that its principles are derived from the nature of
man, politics, like ethics, attains to truths which are absolute
and universal precisely in the sense that they are not relative
and restricted to particular historic situations. But though the
truths themselves be absolute, the discovery of them may be
relative to and conditioned by the cultural environment which
determines a political philosopher's field of vision. A political
thinker cannot help being affected by the particular society and
time in which he lives, and by the vicarious experience furnished
him by recorded political history. The limits of this experience,
both actual and vicarious, will determine his formulation of
principles to account for existing institutions, and also his prophetic projection of the principles to cover futUre possibilities.
Five hundred or one thousand years of political history can
scarcely suffice for the previsioning of the whole course of
events to follow. Furthermore, the development of political
institutions and the invention ·of new political arrangements are
so dependent on the physical and economic circumstances of
social life that failure to forsee what has been called technological progress necessarily results in failure to foresee the
changes which such progress makes possible. These
defects of vision cannot be avoided by thinkers whose experience is limited by their own political environment and by the
point in time from which they survey the unfolding pattern of
political history, and guess at the secrets of its hidden dynamism. No effort of imagination can remedy such blindness,
nor will the greatest aptitude for theorizing succeed in pene-

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M. J . .ADLER AND WALTER FARRELL

trating what lies beyond the imaginable. Man's intelligence is
not angelic. Although every truth of political theory could be
known at once to a pure intelligence, it takes time for men to
discover these truths in the slow development of political
philosophy-the discovery being occasioned by unpredicted,
and unpredictable, novelties in the sphere of political action, by
the invention of new institutions, the formation of new
arrangements. 1
We who are engaged today in political theorizing are, of
course, subject to the same essential limitations as were our
ancestors. A thousand years hence, the political thought of
the twentieth century will betray defects and inadequacies
peculiar to its partial experience and its limited vision. We
should be guilty of the worst sort"of hubris, were we to pro1 Of all the branches of philosophy, politics is, perhaps, the most circumscribed
by the historic limitations of thinkers living at a given place and time. This is
obviously due to the fact that the process of learning, through which men discover
fundamental truths in any field, is by induction from experience, and to the fact
that, in the case of politics, the relevant experience available at a given time is
far from adequate. (Adequate political experience may not be available until the
end of time and the discovery of political truths may, therefore, be forever a continuing process.) In contrast, the experience which is relevant to ethical formulations may be relatively adequate at an early period in human history, and so
we should not expect radical new discoveries in this field, however much may be
achieved by way of analytical precision, as later thinkers refine and rework the
ethical theory of their predecessors. As conditioned by historic contingencies in the
order of experience, the philosophy of nature somewhat resembles political theory.
New discoveries in the philosophy of nature may be occasioned by advances in
the empirical sciences, advances which enlarge our experience of natural phenomena,
just as new formulations in political theory may be prompted by the changing
face of man's political life. In neither case is the philosophical truth, once discovered, relative to time and place: a philosophical truth discovered by the Greeks
is true today; and a truth which modern philosophers may be beginning to discover
today was true in the ancient world even though the experimental conditions were
then not yet ripe for its discovery. So when we speak of a Christian philosophy,
distinguished by, its possession of metaphysical truths not known to the ancients,
we do not mean that these truths belong only to a specifically Christian culture,
but rather that their discovery was occasioned by the spiritual conditions under
which philosophical work was done in a Christian culture. To regard Christian
philosophy as an historical phenomenon is not to dismiss it as peculiarly mediaeval
because the Middle Ages were the historical period in which that phenomenon
happened to occur.

THE THEORY" OF DEMOCRACY

401

ceed as if, because we can see more than our mediaeval and
ancient teachers did, we could see all. 'But it is not pride or
vanity for us to claim that we can see more; in the twenty-four
hundred years since Aristotle worked, even in the seven hundred
since St. Thomas Aquinas, there have been profound changes
in human culture, especially in those physical factors which
influence the character of communities by enlarging the means
of communication, and which, altering the modes of production
and distribution, transform the economic conditions of human
association. These changes in the physical and economic conditions of human association have required, even sponsored,
certain political innovations. Not only do we have more political
history to ·guide us, than had Aristotle and St. Thomas; not
only does our political experience include the trial Df methods
and forms unknown to them; but, in consequence of these
advantages, we can see potentialities for future development of
which they could not dream. The remarkable changes ·in the
word "democracy" itself-both its analytical connotations
and its sentimental aura-signify the difference between our
point of view, and that of our forebears, a transformation which,
by the way, has gained conscious recognition only in the last
hundred years, or even less. The word which the ancients used
to name the most tolerable of the bad forms of government,
or which in its best signification was used by the Middle Ages
to name merely one of the factors in good government (i. e.,
popular participation, in a mixed regime) , has become the
name for a political ideal-the best form of government, or
even the only good form of government, considered absolutely.
Far from thinking that democracy, as it has come to be conceived in the last htindred years, is already fully realized in
existing political institutions, those who regard it as the best
form of government, absolutely speaking, insist that it is an
ideal which has only begun to be realized in the most tenuous
way, and which it may take many more centuries of struggle
and tribulation to bring to inore substantial accomplishment.
Nor would they recommend its immediate adoption by all
existing communities, for they know that the best form of

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M. J. ADLER AND WALTER FARRELL

government, absolutely speaking, may not be the best relative
to people living under inferior physical, economic, and cultural
conditions.
The fact that democracy has come to be regarded by some
peoples, and by a few political thinkers, as the best form of
government and as an ideal toward which political activity
should aim, does not make the proposition true. It is not even
the predominant opinion of mankind, for it is clearly the case
that more peoples have turned away from democracy than
seek it; and, if we weigh the judgment of experts, there are
many more eminent thinkers, throughout the history of political
thought, who have rejected democracy in principle or misconceived it, than the few, mostly of recent date, who have conceived it in such a way that they reject all other forms as
inferior by comparison. The facts about the distribution of
opinions favorable or unfavorable to democracy, among peoples
generally or among competent theorists, are not relevant to the
truth of the proposition; but they are relevant to the consideration of the proposition as formulating a problem to be solved.
The question, " Is democracy, on moral grounds, the best form
of government?" would not even have been raised in any
period previous to our own. That the question can be raised
and is being discussed today, that there is a great deal of sentiment in favor of an affirmative answer, that there has been some
effort to formulate the grounds for such an affirmation-these
things evidence the possibility, at least, of a fundamental advance in political theory. If the affirmative answer is true,
and if that proposition can be conclusively demonstrated, then
political theory will itself be fundamentally altered, for the
truth about democracy cannot be simply added as a new conclusion; it is the sort of conclusion which can be added only at
the cost of correction and revision in basic principles. And this
new development of political theory, assimilating to itself, of
course, all that is true in ancient and mediaeval formulations,
will be a distinctively modern achievement, precisely in the
sense that its novel discoveries will have been occasioned by

THE THEORY OF DEMOCRACY

408

novelties in political institutions and arrangements which have
just won conscious recognition in recent times. 2
fl. The present work grows out of the prior inquiries of its

authors. Each pursuing a somewhat different line in the consideration of basic political questions has found in the writings
of the other the challenge of apparent contradiction; but prolonged discussion of the points apparently in issue has in every
case resulted in better understanding ·and ultimately in complete agreement, because what at first appeared to be contradiction became, through clarification, complementary angles
of analysis. Their collaboration in the present work is thus the
expression of an intellectual community gradually achieved
through sustained efforts to communicate. Since it signifies a
resolution of their differences, a brief marking of those divergent
lines of approach might help the reader to share with them the
common ground they have at last attained.
One of the authors has been primarily concerned with the
natural foundations of the political order-its ultimate roots
in the social and rational nature of man. 3 From a consideration
of the origins of the state, and of the moral principles underlying all political institutions, he has recently attempted to
distinguish the ethical from the political aspects of government,
• If Greek and mediaeval political philosophy be read formalissime, it will be
found to contain, in germ at least, all the principles of the theory of democracy.
These principles are, of course, often obscured by the materializations they are
given-in application to local institutions and concrete historic situations. As
Jacques Maritain points out: "Rien de plus ·tragique que ces glissements de
!'intelligence, quand elle passe insensiblement d'un prindpe tres eleve formellement
vrai a une application ou materialization menteuse; on trouve beaucoup de ce
glissements chez les Grecs, c'est pourquoi les scolastiques disaient qu'il importe
toujours d'entendre Aristote formalissime." (Questions de Conscience, Paris, 1988:
p. 99.) It is just as necessary for us to interpret the great mediaeval writers
formalissime, as it was for them to abstract the true principles of an Aristotle
from the falsifying embodiment of Greek imagery.
• Cf. Walter Farrell: "The Natural Foundations of the Political Philosophy of
St. Thomas," in the Proceedings of the American Catholic Philosophical Association,
VIII, 75-85; " The Roots of Obligation," THE THOMIST,I, 1, 14-80; " The Philosophy
of Sovereignty," in the Proceedi,;,gs of the American Catholic Philosophical Association, XIV, 108-11.

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M. J. ADLER .A..l'ID WALTER FARRELL

and to define what is common to all good governments in
terms of
with an essential minimum of ethical
requirements. He has been willing to regard democracy, or
what he called " representative government," as one of the good
political forms-good ll1 purely moral terms-but he appeared
to reject the notion that one form of government could be
better than another on moral grounds; hence the comparison of
diverse governments, all equally good in terms of ethical principles, can be made only with regard to the efficiency of a given
political form in a particular historic situation ..4
The other of .the collaborators has also been concerned with
the distinction between ethics and politics, but primarily with
emphasis upon the greater·relativity of political philosophy to
the historic limitations of its writers. He maintained that democratic institutions, and certain modes of representative government, are distinctively modern achievements, and that political
thought must be revised to take account of these novelties in
the historic order. 5 But whereas originally he supposed that
• Vd. "The Fate of Representative Government," in THE THOMIST,
in which Father Farrell says that he uses the term ' representative government '
rather than ' democracy ' to signify " a ruling power that includes popular sovereignty,
the sanctity of the individual, and the common good. Its signification might be
put more briefly by insisting that it includes popular sovereignty, an explicit or implicit social contract, and dependence on and a harmony with natural law. This form
of government is of peculfar interest not by way of contrast between good and bad
governments, nor as a study of one governmental device, nor yet by way of comparison with totalitarian forms of government, but rather by way of analysis of
one form of good government " (pp. 179-80). And then, after he has outlined the
ethical principles which define good government, Father Farrell adds: " The ethical
principles of representative government are no whit different .from the ethical
principles of any other form of good government. These principles stem immediately from human nature itself and consequently are of an absolute universality.
. . . The differentiation of governments cannot be ethical but only political. The
ethical form gives the common note of all governments, i. e., the human note; the
political form gives the differentiation of different types of government, that is, the
political note " (p. 192).
• Mortimer J. Adler: "Parties and the Common Good," The Review of Politics,
I,· 1, 51-88. Unlike ethics, "political philosophy cannot be both ancient and
adequate in principle. More than casuistry and interpretation is needed to make
the political wisdom of Aristotle and St. Thomas applicable today; and the more
that is needed is more or different wisdom, wisdom about the justice of political

THE THEORY OF DEMOCRACY

405

such revision could take the form of extending the principles
to cover deviations in detail/ he has more recently decided that
the inadequacy of ancient principles is more fundamental: that
the traditional classification of good and bad forms of government fails to take account of criteria in terms of which there
is a moral gradation among good forms, and that when the
principles of political justice are adequately set forth, it can be
shown that democracy is not simply one among several good
forms of government, but that it is, on moral grounds, the
best form. 7
The reader will observe at once the most crucial of the
apparent disagreements between the present collaborators. One
appeared to deny that any moral distinction in gradation of
goodness could be made among forms of government: every
form of government was either morally good or morally bad by
conformity with or violation of the same set of ethical principles. The other affirmed that such moral gradation of the good
forms could be made, and in developing this point he appeared
to deny that there was any univocal criterion by which all good
forms could be distinguished from all bad forms. The apparent
contradiction was resolved when each realized that he was right
in his affirmation, but wrong in his denial: for the affirmation
arrangements which they could not have foreseen because political potentialities
reside not in human nature simply, but in the historically changing matrix of
social life " (p. 62).
• " To say that political philosophy is not adequate in principle for all times and
conditions is not to say that there are no political principles which have enduring
practical truth. . . . To admit this is not to say that the ancient formulation of
the principles of political justice and the ancient analysis of the generic kinds of
government are not true today. These principles and forms are anterior in their
generality to the specific constitutions and more determinate regulations. But the
latter belong no less to politics as practical science, and are the focal point of its
temporal limitations" (ibid., p . 63, fn. 13).
7 Vd. "The Demonstration
of Democracy," in the Proceedings of the American
Catholic Philosophical Association, XV, 122-165, in which Dr. Adler undertook to
answer the question, " In terms of what moral principles is democracy the best
government? " by showing three separable and cumulatively combinable elements
o:l' political justice: the combination of all three elements constitutes democratic
government and indicates its intrinsic, moral superiority over inferior forms which
possess only one or at most two of the elements of political justice.

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M. J. ADLER AND WALTER FARRELL

that there is a univocal moral criterion for distinguishing all
good from all bad forms of government does not necessitate
the denial of
criteria in terms of which one good
form may be morally superior to another; and the affirmation of
a moral gradation among good governments does not require
the denial of the prior, and independent, moral distinction
between all good and all bad forms. Freed from their adventitious errors, the two affirmative truths could be combined in a
political theory which embraced both a single gernericdistinction
between all good and all bad forms of government (with respect
to univocal moral qualities commonly and equally shared) and
a set of specific distinctions among good forms which graded
them as morally unequal in a hierarchy of political perfections.
In terms of such a theory, it would be possible to see the sense
in which democracy shared with all other good forms of government certain generic moral qualities, and at the same time to
praise democracy as superior to all the other good forms by
reason of its possessing specific moral qualities in excess of
these others, just as there is both a generic moral distinction
between virtue and vice, and also a subordinate moral specification of the virtues which orders them as lower and higher.
We were able to reach this fundamental agreement partly
because, antecedently in our separate work, we had both appreciated the need for distinguishing between two ways in which
governments can be normatively classified and ordered. One of
us had expressed this distinction in terms of a contrast between
ethical and political principles as relevant to the consideration
and criticism of types of government; 8 the other had formulated
it in terms of a contrast between moral and prudential criteria. 9
Despite the diversity of language, .the point involved was the
same. A brief explanation of this point is necessary for the
understanding of what is to follow.
The central problem in political theory is the classification
of states or forms of government. There are, of course, ante8
8

Vd. Farrell, "The Fate of Representative Government," loc. cit.
Vd. Adler, "The Demonstration of Democracy," loc. cit.

THE THEORY OF DEMOCRACY

407

cedent questions about the nature of the state, the source and
locus of political authority, the composition of sovereignty, and
the conventional aspects of human society; but· throughout the
history of political thought, the philosophers have been concerned with one problem above all others, namely, what are the
criteria of good and bad in the political order. The problem is
not always understood in the same way. Sometimes the search
for normative standards is only for the sake of distinguishing
between good and bad states; sometimes it is for the sake of
making further distinctions among good states as graded in
excellence, or among forms of government as better and worse.
In any case, however, it is proper to the nature of political
philosophy as practical that its main concern should be with
norms. As being is the pervasive object of all speculative
thought, so good dominates every practical inquiry, whether
such inquiry be more or less remote from the exigencies of
action, i.e., whether it is speculatively-practical (the level of
political theory), practically-practical (the level of political
policy) or purely practical (the level of political action, of
decision and command) . The central problem of political
theory is, therefore, not any sort of classification, but a classification which involves some kind of normative ordering. It will
not only define and distinguish different forms of government,
but it will judge them as good and bad, as better and worse.
By thus discriminating the desirable from the undesirable, and
the more from the less desirable, political theory plays its part
in the direction of political action, even though from afar.
Now, in the sphere of the good and bad, we are called upon
to judge both means and ends. The primary distinction is
between good and bad ends, and anything, whether a single act
or a form of government, is to be judged as good or bad according to the character of its end. But among diverse means to
the same good end, one can be better than another because it is
a more efficient means for achieving that end. And anything
which is not the complete and final good may be good both
as an intermediate end, and as a means to a more ultimate, or
to the last, end. Hence, in the normative classification of forms

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M. J. ADLER AND WALTER FARRELL

of government, the following possibilities confront the political
philosopher: (1) governments may be viewed entirely as means
and as so viewed they may be (a) good or bad according to the
ultimate end they serve, and (b) the several good forms may be
ranked as better and worse according to the efficiency with
which they serve the same good end, or the degree to which
they realize the aspects of goodness intrinsic to that end; or
(2) forms of government may also be viewed as intermediate
ends (i. e., objectives of political action) and, as so viewed,
forms, all of which are good by reason of the end they serve,
may also be ranked as better and worse according to their
·intrinsic grade of goodness as political objectives. It will be
seen at once that if there is a generic moral distinction between
all good and all bad forms of government, that must be made
either in terms of the ends they serve or, with regard to forms
of government as intermediate ends, as themselves objectives of
political action. In the latter case, the generic equality of all
good forms must be due to their common moral properties as
ends. In either case, the classification is moral because it is
by reference to the goodness of ends. The only question arises
with respect to the subordinate ordering of the good forms of
government inter se. Forms of government, equal in their
generic goodness, may be further graded in excellence either
extrinsically as more and less efficient means to one and the
same good end, or intrinsically as intermediate ends, not only
diverse in species but also unequal in perfection, and hence
hierarchically ordered. 10 Now what we have respectively called
" ethical principles " and " moral criteria " are those standards
of judgment which classify and grade forms of government by
referring them to ultimate ends or by regarding them as inter10 As will subsequently be shown, there is no incompatibility
between two orderings of the specifically distinct forms of government: as diverse intermediate ends,
hierarchically ordered in grade of goodness, and as means to a more ultimate end,
ordered extrinsically as more and less complete realizations of that ultimate end.
Neither mode of ordering precludes the other, nor does one make the other unnecessary, for that which is truly an intermediate end, a bonum honestum and not
a mere bonum utile, must always be viewed in both ways-both in its goodness as
an end, and in its
as a means.

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409

mediate ends; and what we have respectively called "political
principles " and " prudential criteria " are those standards of
judgment which classify and grade good forms of government
by regarding them as more and less efficient means to the
same end. 11
Our agreement, therefore, about the complementary character of a single generic distinction between all good and all bad
forms of government and a set of specific distinctions among
good governments which orders them as unequal in worth, must
not be interpreted to mean that only the former is made on
moral grounds, whereas the latter are entirely in terms of prudential criteria. To place that interpretation upon our agreement is to destroy its peculiar merit as a resolution of our
original opposition, and moreover it nullifies the contribution
which we think our analysis can make. The central defect of
traditional political theory is precisely that it supposes that
no ordering of diverse good forms of government (all generically
11 The language is not difficult to justify.
In the traditional distinction between
the moral virtues and prudence, we say that the moral virtues appoint the end,
whereas prudence rightly determines the means thereto. In saying this, we IIJ'e
considering true and perfect prudence, not false or imperfect prudence, for true and
perfect prudence consists in rightly determining the means, not for any end, but
only for the right end, the end of an appetite rectified by the moral virtues. Hence,
to divide prudence against the moral virtues-or prudential against moral criteria
of normative judgment-is not to imply that prudence is immoral, or that prudential criteria IIJ'e standards of mere expediency. That would be true only if
" prudence " and " prudential " were used to signify false or imperfect prudence;
it cannot be true if these words signify true and perfect prudence, for then the
prudential judgment about the efficiency of the means presupposes rightly appointed
ends; and the whole distinction between moral and prudential reduces to a distinction between judgments about ends and judgments about the relative worth of
diverse means to the same good end. Such judgments of efficiency, or expediency,
with regard to means are not immoral; on the contrary, they are precisely the
work of prudence within the sphere of moral activity, a work which makes prudence
an indispensable .supplement to, and inseparably involved in, the moral virtues.
There iS no difficulty in seeing that the same thing is intended by " ethical
principles " as by " moral criteria." That the phrase " political principles " signifies
the same thing as " prudential criteria " is revealed by the fact that it was used
to discuss thoses subordinate differences among all good forms of government in
terms of which they are more or less adapted, under certain types of contingent
circumstances, to realizing with greater or less efficiency the one end which all good
governments serve.

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M. J. ADLER AND WALTER FARRELL

equal in their goodness) can grade the species as of greater or
less worth except on prudential grounds (in terms of more or
less efficiency) . Whether monarchy be called the best of the
good forms, or the mixed regime, or even democracy, such
judgments must, according to traditional teaching, express only
a prudential estimate of their worth as means. The failure to
see that judgments can be made which express a moral estimate
of their worth as ends (and· which order the several good forms
in a hierarchy of moral species) is precisely the failure in ancient
and mediaeval political thought that we aim to correct. Our
point of departure from traditional doctrine is signalized by the
fact that we are willing to accept the question, "In terms of
what moral criteria is democracy the best form of government? " as a significant question; for according to traditional
opinion the question itself should be rejected, since one good
form of government is not thought to be better than another, or
best of all, on moral graunds. 12
12 It is important to emphasize the acceptance of the question itself as prior in
significance to the answer which is implied. The question really is double: it asks,
first, whether there are moral criteria in terms of which the several good forms of
government can be graded in excellence; and it asks, second, whether in terms of
such criteria democracy is best. Now the first question can be answered affirmatively,
though the second be answered negatively; whereas the second cannot be answered
at all if the first is answered negatively. Hence, a major contribution to political
theory is contained in an affirmative answer to the first question; in contrast, an
affirmative answer to the second question is minor. When they are taken together,
of course, there is reason for identifying what is new here in political theory with
the theory of democracy.
One further point of clarification must be added. To say that there are several
species of good government, constituting a moral hierarchy of political ends, does
not exclude the possibility that, within each of these species, there be accidental
variants which are subject to prudential ordering as more or less efficient realizations
of the same good end. We shall use the word "species" strictly to designate forms
of governments essentially distinct, on moral grounds, as ends; and we shall use
the word " variety " when we wish to name the subordinate accidental variations
in type within each species, with respect to whose comparative worth only a
prudential ordering is possible. We shall also use the phrase " form of government "
only to name a true species, an essentially distinct kind of government, necessarily
inferior or superior to other forms in moral excellence; in contrast, whenever we
wish to refer to the varieties of a given species, accidentally distinct from one
another, we shall speak of "modes of government." Since modes of government will

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411

Our resolution of the basic disagreement between us (which
understanding revealed to be only an apparent contradiction) ,
has also enabled us to view traditional doctrine (the political
theory
Aristotle and St. Thomas) in the same light, and in
that light to appraise the departure we are preparf-d to defend.
Here, too, at first we differed: for one of us tended to overestimate the perfection of the great teachers, while the other
tended to exaggerate their deficiencies. Again the truth, as we
finally have come to see it, lies in the middle ground where both
the soundness of traditional doctrine is duly respected, and its
inadequacies are frankly conceded. With respect to the generic
distinction between all good and all bad forms of government,
the traditional doctrine is clearly sound, and this fundamental
verity includes, of course, all the antecedent truths concerning
the natural foundations of the whole political order, the source
and character of authority, the locus of sovereignty, the ordination of the state to man's ultimate benefit. With respect to the
specific distinctions among good forms of government, and the
moral hierarchy of such forms, the traditional doctrine is just as
clearly inadequate. But whereas the soundness of traditional
d9ctrine (on the generic level) must be understood in terms
of all the aforementioned truths, prior to the classification of
political forms, the inadequacy of traditional doctrine (on the
specific level) cannot be explained simply as a lack of analysis.
This inadequacy, when traced to its sources, is seen to arise, in
part, from certain confusions between what are truly specific
forms of government and what are only accidental modes, 13
in part from certain mistakes, such as the Aristotelian error
concerning natural slavery, or the Thomistic identification of
all good government with constitutional government, and in
part from the failure to see that forms of government as intermediate ends must be evaluated as ends, having the intrinsic
be comparable only if they are varieties of the same species, they must be equal
in moral excellence, and differ inter se only in efficiency or the degree to which
they realize the grade of goodness intrinsic to the form of government of which
they are accidentally determinate types.
18 Vd. fn. 12 supra.

M. J . .ADLER AND WALTER FARRELL

excellence proper to any bonum honestum, and cannot merely
be regarded as means, having the extrinsic worth proper to al).y
bonum utile. In the light of this view of traditional doctrine,
we appraise the theory of democracy as a political theory which
retains all the fundamental truths of the great tradition, and
which, after removing confusions and -correcting errors, is able
to remedy the tradition's inadequacy within the framework of
its own essential principles, by completing the classification of
the forms of government in terms of specific distinctio)ls generating a moral hierarchy .14
But our appraisal .of the theory of democracy is not universally shared by all who, like ourselves, claim to be disciples of
Aristotle and St. Thomas in the field of political thought. There
are many who think that traditional principles present insuperable obstacles to the theoretical developments we propose; who
think, whatever their view of dempcracy, that the only possible
moral classification of states is the one which divides all good
forms from all bad forms, generically; and who insist that any
attempt to order the specifically distinct. good forms in a moral
hierarchy must necessarily violate principles to which we, like
they, adhere. We are acquainted with the objections they have
offered, and the difficulties they have raised. Our task, there,. If the elTors in traditional theory
regarded as accidents due to the historic
limitations of its great exponents (thus, AriStotle's views on slavery may be due
to his immersion in the accidents of Greek culture, and St. Thomas's identification
of all good government with constitutional government may be due to the mediaeval
view of a ruler's responsibility to the people because of his responsibility to God,
the latter being sanctioned by the supremacy of the spiritual over the temporal
power), then there is a sense in which the whole truth of the theory of democracy
is implicitly contained in traditional doctrines. When those doctrines are sufficiently
abstracted from the embodiments of historically local imagery and example, when
their principles are understood in the most formal light (vd. fn. SU'JI'Fa), it will be
found that Aristotle not only distinguished properly between royal (non-constitutional) and constitutional forms of government, but made this the most basic
moral distinction among good governmental forms; and it will also be found that
the equality of all men as political animals because equal in their specific rationality is certainly affirmed by St. Augustine, and less plainly by St. Thomas because
of his devotion to Aristotle. These two principles need only be developed in all
their implications to aiTive at the theory of democracy-the moral gradation of
three good forms of government, of which the best is democratic.

THE THEORY OF DEMOCRACY

413

fore, is to defend the theory-to answer these objections and
to remove these difficulties. So far as a simple understanding of
the theory is concerned, that is already available. 15 But this
understanding is too simple, as the aforementioned difficulties
and objections have made plain. What is needed, therefore, is
an exhaustive analysis, carrying every point to its ultimate
metaphysical or psychological roots (for the basic principles of
any political theory must ultimately rest on metaphysical truths
about being and goodness, and on psychological truths about
the nature of man) . The thesis that democracy is, on moral
grounds, the best form of government cannot be completely
demonstrated-in fact, it cannot even be shown to be demonstrable, since it depends upon the possibility of a moral hierarchy of political forms-without an elaborate development of
the concept of the common good, without re-examining the
nature of the state as an end and as a means, without distinguishing and ordering the modes of human happiness, without
making more precise what is involved in the notion of constitutionality, without defining the status of citizenship in relation
to subjection and slavery. With this in mind, we shall undertake to expound the theory of democracy in a series of articles
(the subsequent parts of this work), each of which will deal
with a fundamental aspect of the theory that needs more penetrating analysis or further clarification; and by so doing we hope
to accomplish two purposes at once: giving, on the one hand, a
itself, not onJy certimore adequate exposition of the
fying the demonstration of democracy which is its conclusion,
but, more than that, revealing that conclusion's deepest roots;
and, on the other hand, answering all the objections, removing
all the difficulties, which have so far been raised.
In order to prepare for what is to follow, it is necessary, in this
introductory part, to present a compact summary of the theory
itself-by stating its major theses without supporting argument
15 It can be constructed by any reader who will combine the analysis made in
" The Fate of Representative Government " with that made in " The Demonstration of Democracy," according to the resolution of the apparent disagreement
between these two analyses which we have herein suggested.

2

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M. ;r. ADLER AND WALTER FARRELL

or adequate analysis. This will enable us to mark the major
deviations from traditional doctrine (both by way of addition
and of correction); and also to formulate the objections and
difficulties in terms of which we shall organize the remaining
divisions of our work. We shall thus be able to give the reader,
in general outline, a picture of the work as a whole.
3. The summary can be effected by a statement of four
theses, each with a minimum of elaboration:

Thesis One: There is a generic moral criterion by which all
good forms of government can be distinguished from all bad
forms.
a. In terms of this criterion all the good forms are generically
equal in their moral goodness, and all the bad forms are
generically equal in their moral depravity.
b. This single criterion is the ultimate end to which all political
activity should be ordained, according to the nature of man
and the nature of the state.
c. That ultimate end is the happiness of men, which is sometimes spoken of as " the life of virtue."
d. Human happiness as the finis causa of government is not
identical with the common good as the finis effectus of
government. Three terms must be distinguished here:
(I) Happiness, which is a good common to every human
person because of his specific humanity;
(9l) The political common good (the good which is identical
with the well-being of a community of men as politically
organized, i. e., the state)
(a) As an ideal terminus of perfection-the finis causa
of political activity aiming at the progressive development of political institutions,
(b) As some actual grade of accomplished perfectionthe finis effectus of political activity, as well as
the finis causa of political activity aiming at the
preservation of already existing political institutions.
In order to aim at human happiness as its ultimate end, the
political activity which constitutes every good form of government must be directed to the ideal terminus of progress
in the political order itself.

THE THEORY OF DEMOCRACY

415

Thesis Two: There are three specific moral criteria by which
three good forms of government can be distinguished and
ordered as grades of political perfection.
a. In terms of these criteria, the several forms of government,
equal in their generic goodness, are unequal in·the degree of
specific perfection attained.
b. Because the criteria are moral and intrinsic to the forms of
government they determine, one good form of government
can be regarded as morally better than another, not merely
as prudentially better in terms of criteria of efficiency.
c. The several criteria are separable and cumulative, for otherwise they could not specify the several forms of government
as hierarchically graded in degrees of specific perfection.
(I) Thus, if the three criteria be represented by the letters
A, B, and C, the three forms of government will be
constituted in the following manner.
I: by the possession of A, and the privation of Band C.
II: by the possession of A and B, and the privation of C.
III: by the possession of A and B and C.
(2) As so ordered hierarchically, the best form of government will not only possess an element of perfection
lacked by its inferiors, but will include the elements of
perfection they possess; similarly, the better form of
government will possess the element of perfection possessed by its inferior, as well as exceed that inferior by
possessing an element of perfection which it lacks.
(3) The perfections constitutive of inferior forms are possessed eminenter by the superior form when they are
possessed in conjunction with that additional perfection
by which the superior form exceeds its inferiors. Thus,
the A factor is only analogically common to I and II,
because it is possessed simply in the case of I, and
eminenter in the case of II, elevated in the latter case by
conjunction with the B factor; similarly, the A and B
factors are only analogically common to I, II, and III.
d. The three criteria are factors constitutive of the political
common good regarded primarily as the finis effectus of
government, and secondarily as the finis causa of political
activity aiming at the preservation of already existing political institutions.

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M. J. ADLER AND WALTER FARRELL

(I) One good form of government is thus distinguished
from another according to the grade of political common
good which is its effective accomplishment.
(2) Although there is only one political common good as
the ideal terminus of progress in the political order,
there are three distinct political common goods as
diverse grades of accomplished perfection; and these
three grades are analogical as species of common good.
(3) Since each specific grade of accomplished political perfection is not only the finis effectus of political activity,
but also the finis causa of political activity directed to
the preservation of existing institutions, the several
forms of good government can be regarded as end's.
(a) As an end, a good form of government is a good
to be maintained or preserved by the members of
the community, both rulers and ruled.
(b) The specification and gradation of three good forms
of government is, therefore, by reference to these
forms of government as unequally good ends in the
sphere of political activity on the part of rulers
and ruled.
(c) This specification of forms of governments, regarded
as ends, is not inconsistent with the generic distinction between all good forms and all bad, because
the accomplished common good is never an ultimate, but only an intermediate end; beyond it there
is human happiness as the ultimate end which is
approached in proportion as the ideal common good
of the political order is progressively realized.
(d) Because it is an intermediate end, and hence also a
means, each form of good gc;>vernment is not only a
certain grade of political goodness already accomplished, but both a stage in the progressive realization of the ideal common good, and accordingly a
less or more efficient means toward the ultimate end,
the happiness of every person who is a member of
the human community.
e. The three factors (in terms of which the specific forms of
good government are differentially constituted) are three
separable and cumulative elements of political justice.
(I) The political community is an organized multitude of
men living together in the unity of peace.

THE THEORY OF DE]dOCRACY

417

(2) The state, or political community, is not the only
organized multitude of men living together in the unity
of peace.
(a) Communities can be distinguished according to
their causes, final and efficient, and thus we distinguish between the Church, as a supernatural
community, and all other societies as natural.
(b) Among natural communities, there are two further
principles of distinction: first, according as the end
of association is the human good simpliciter, or a
human good secundum quid, and thus, the family,
the village, and the state, are distinguished from
all economic or technical corporations; second, according as the association for the sake of the human
good simpliciter is more or less self-sufficient and
more or less adequate to the realization of the end,
and thus the state is distinguished from family and
village as perfect from imperfect communities.
(3) Justice is the efficient principle of order in any community of men, and as such justice is a source of that
unity of peace without which no community exists.
(a) The peaceful organization of any multitude of men
requires government, and the distinction of rulers
and ruled.
(b) The types of government are distinguished according to the natures of the persons associated and the
conditions of their association: thus, domestic and
tribal, or village, governments are distinguished from
political government, i. e., the type of government
appropriate to states, or political communities, in
which the multitude includes men of unrelated
families.
(c) Political justice is the principle of order in political
communities, and as such is constitutive of government as the organization of its members according
to relations of ruler a,nd ruled.
(d) As a principle of order, political justice is both final
and efficient, since the end by and for which a form
of government exists is always a just order.
(4) Government is good in proportion as it is just, and one
form of political government is better than another in
proportion as it is more just. Since there are separable

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M. J. ADLER AND WALTER FARRELL

and cumulative elements of political justice, one government is better than another by virtue of possessing an
element of justice not possessed by its inferior.
f. The three elements of political justice can be distinguished
in the following manner.
(1) The first is discovered by answering the question, How
is de facto political power exercised by those who possess
it, regardless of how they have come to possess it?
The first principle of justice is that political power be
exercised for the sake of preserving the existing good of
the community. This principle applies to any member
of the community who acts politically, but primarily,
of course, to those who exercise ruling power, and only
secondarily, of course, to those who exercise whatever
power they possess as men who are being ruled. By this
criterion, injustice consists, on the part of the rulers, in
the exercise of power for their own sake; and similarly,
on the part of the ruled, injustice consists in disobedience
to just rule, in order to satisfy private interests at the
expense of the common good.
(9l) The second is discovered by answering the question,
How is political power constituted de jure, that is,
how do men come to possess political power over other
men, by right, rather than by force or guile or accident?
This question must be understood in terms of the basic
truth that no man naturally possesses political power
over other men, as, in the case of the family, parents
naturally possess domestic power over their children.
Hence, in order to possess political power by right, the
men who rule must derive that power legitimately from
whatever is its natural source. Its natural source is the
community itself, which according to its very nature
has authority over its individual members. The mode
of derivation is by means of a constitution, written or
unwritten, which defines the offices of rule, determines
the scope of the powers and duties belonging to such
offices, and, above all, sets up the political status of
citizenship, defining the powers and duties of the ruled.
The second principle of justice, is therefore, the constitutionality of government, and this principle applies
equally to the status of ruler and of ruled, for it defines
the authority of men who exercise governing powers in
terms of the offices they occupy, and it defines the

THE THEORY OF

419

authority of men who are governed m terms of the
fundamental status of citizenship.
(a) This second principle of justice turns on the distinction between authority and force in government.
It involves the notion of " popular sovereignty " in
the strict sense that the natural locus of political
authority is in the political community itself, and
not in any of its members. Individual men become
vested with such authority only through becoming
representatives of the community as a whole in
relation to its members, and this can be effected
only by means of a constitution which creates and
defines governmental offices, so that men rule others
only as office-holders, rather than simply as men
superior by force or guile or other accidents, such as
virtue. Thus, constitutional government is government by law rather than by men, for under constitutional government, men govern only through
holding offices appointed by constitutional law,
whether that be written or customary.
(b) This second principle of justice is separable from
the first. Political power can be either de facto or
de jure. As merely de facto (not legitimately constituted), the power according to the first criterion,
can be exercised either justly or unjustly by those
who possess it. And legitimately constituted power
(power conjoined with authority by virtue of the
offices in which such power is constitutionally
vested-the offices representing the natural sovereignty of the community itself) can be exercised
either justly or unjustly, according to the first
criterion. Hence, a just exercise of power can be
separated from a just constitution of power: on
the one hand, power, whether de facto or de jure,
can be justly or unjustly exercised; on the other
hand, in addition to power's being justly exercised,
it can be justly constituted. So we see that the two
factors are separable and cumulative, and hence
that the form of government in which both factors
are present is more just than the form of government in which only the first factor is present.
The
third is discovered by answering the question, What
(3)
men shall be admitted to the fundamental status of

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M. J. ADLER AND WALTER FARRELL

citizenship, as that status is defined under constitutional
government? The significance of the question can be
increased by asking whether any of the familiar badges
of political privilege (wealth, nobility of birth, race,
color, sex, or even acquired virtue) are just conditions
of enfranchisement or of disfranchisement? The negative answer follows from the very nature of distributive
justice, as awarding equal shares to equals. Since all
men are by nature political animals, and since this is the
source of their equality as members of the political
community, the third principle of justice is that all men
(except those who must be committed to asylums as
charges upon the care of the community) should be
enfranchised as citizens.
(a) This principle of justice does not apply in the same
way to the distribution of offices, as it does to
the status of citizenship. In the latter case, distributive justice consists in giving equal shares to
equals; whereas in the former case, it consists in
treating unequals unequally, for according as men
are unequal in merit and virtue, they should be
assigned to different functions and positions in the
community. The equality of all men as citizens, due
to their specific humanity, is not inconsistent with
functional inequalities due to their individual differences. On the contrary, this principle of distributive justice, applied to the selection of men for
various offices, requires that such selection be determined by the fitness of the man to the office,
whether that fitness be a matter of nature or virtue.
In order for this mode of selection to become operative, it is necessary that there be no unjust obstacles
in the way of those who are fitted by nature or
virtue; or, in other words, the conditions of officeholding must not involve any false criteria of political privilege (such as wealth, the accidents of
birth, sex, race, etc.) . Only when any man, who
is a citizen, is also entitled to hold office, will it be
.true that the best-fitted, by nature or virtue, can be
selected from the citizenry. Only thus can a natural
aristocracy take the place of the false and artificial
aristocracies in which governmental office is reclasses. Hence, this
stricted to certain

THE THEORY OF DEMOCRACY

421

third criterion-which is the principle of distributive
justice--must be formulated by two clauses: (1)
all men shall have the status of citizenship; and
(2) all citizens shall be entitled to hold office. There
are, of course, further determinations of this principle (with respect to just exclusions from citizenship
and with respect to just requirements for the holding of certain offices), but we need not discuss these
here; nor need we here discuss the various ways in
which, under a constitutional government with universal suffrage, men shall be selected to fill political
offices. The latter problem is a question of efficiency,
rather than of justice.
(b) This third principle of justice is separable from the
first two. If the government is non-constitutional,
there is, of course, no question about distributive
justice, with respect either to the status of citizenship, or to conditions of office-holding, for strictly
under non-constitutional government there are
neither citizens nor offices. But constitutional governments may be of two sorts according to the
justice or injustice of the constitution itself. An
unjust constitution is one in which some men are
unjustly excluded from citizenship or unjustly
barred from office. A just constitution is one which
applies the principle of distributive justice perfectly,
with respect both to office-holding and suffrage (i.e.,
the status of a citizenship, subsequently to be defined) . (It should be added that all unjust constitutions are not equally unjust, for the perfection of
distributive justice may be more or less approximated according as more men are admitted to
citizenship or according as one or another unjust
criterion of political privilege is abolished. This
explains the greater justice in what are traditionally
called the mixed regimes, even though these mixed
regimes, as traditionally conceived, are far from
being perfectly just.) Thus, we see that a government maybe just because political power is justly
exercised; it may in addition be more just because
that power is justly possessed by legitimate constitution; or it may, furthermore, be most just because
that constitution is itself perfectly just in the sense

M. J. ADLER AND WALTER FARRELL

that political power and authority are. justly
distributed.
g. In the light of these elements of justice, the three good forms
of government can be distinguished, ordered, and named.
(I) Using the symbols A, B, and C, for the three elements
of political justice as enumerated, and using the Roman
numbers I, II, and III to designate the three forms of
government hierarchically ordered in grade of goodness,
we have:
I: A (B, C). The parentheses here signify privation.
II: AB (C)
III: ABC
We can name these three good forms by appropriating
certain traditional words, and giving them a rigidly
precise, as well as new, significance. Thus:
I: Royal government (which is non-constitutional
government; as we shall see, this can also be called
" benevolent despotism.")
II: Republican government (which is constitutional
government with restricted suffrage, and privileged
classes, etc.)
III: Democratic government (which is constitutional
government with universal suffrage, and no privileged classes.)
(3) All good government is either royal or constitutional,
and if constitutional either republican or democratic.
(4) Democracy can be precisely defined as constitutional
government, in which legitimate power is exercised for
the community's well-being, in which all men can actively participate as citizens, and any Llan is entitled to
hold office, and in which the political activity of all
(both officers and citizens) is directed to the ultimate
political ideal and human happiness. The last clause
of this definition goes beyond what is peculiar to the
. definition of democracy as a specific form of government,
in that it mentions the generic criterion common to all
good forms of government.

Thesis Three: In addition to the three specific forms of good
government, there are accidental modes of each.
a. These subordinate accidental distinctions are made in terms
of various administrative devices, the ways in which men

THE THEORY OF DEMOCRACY

423

come to power or are selected to hold office, the way in
which political power is unified in the hands of one man or
divided among many, whether the many be the deputies of
the one, or office holders, etc.
b. The traditional names for" kinds" of government (such as,
monarchy, aristocracy, polity, tyranny, oligarchy, and democracy) do not name specific forms of government, but
accidental modes of government, falling under one or another
of these specific forms.
(I) Thus, for example, monarchy does not name a form of
government, for monarchy may be either constitutional
or non-constitutional. Monarchy merely names a mode
of administration, one way in which political power can
be organized, either by force or constitutionally. If the
government is Royal, monarchy is that mode of administration in which all the power is concentrated in
the hands of one man, to be distributed to others only
as his personal deputies; if the government is Republican
or Democratic, monarchy simply means that there is one
man at the head of the government, and that other
offices are held by men, according to constitutional
conditions, and not simply as personal deputies of the
presiding man. Royal and Republican government need
not be monarchical, as the various Roman triumvirates
plainly show. And the monarchical mode has many
constitutional varieties, as we see in such cases as the
hereditary king and selected prime minister, or the
elected president and the selected premier, responsible
in both cases to an elected parliament; or the elected
president and the appointed cabinet, etc.
(2) Such names as " oligarchy " and " democracy " are
sometimes used to name modalities of good government,
in which case they usually signify modes of constitutional government, different according to the extension
of suffrage and privilege to the rich or to the poor. In
neither case, however, is the government Democratic,
for in ancient " democracies " i. e., government by the
poor, "the poor" were freemen of small property, not
slaves, or artisans, etc. When" oligarchy" and" democracy " are so used, as by Aristotle, then " polity " names
a mixed form of government, combining the other two;
it is, therefore, a relatively more just mode of Republican
constitution than the two simple modes, because there

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M. J. ADLER AND WALTER F.ABRELL

is more extensive suffrage, and wider distribution of
political privileges.
(3) In Roman and mediaeval, as opposed to Aristotelian,
usage, such names as "monarchy," "aristocracy," and
" polity " signify modes of constitutional government,
Republican not Democratic in form, the modes being
distinguished either according to the distribution of
political power to the royal one, the patrician few, or
the plebeian many; or according to the partial good
which appears to be stressed by the particular mode
(unity, virtue, freedom and equality). In this context,
a mixed regime is one which combines these several
modal aspects under a Republican form of government
which, while constitutional, is far from being justly
constituted, so far as suffrage and political privilege are
concerned.
(4) In modern times, the phrase "representative government " is sometimes used to signify the Democratic
form, but that wrongly identifies the Democratic form
with one of its modes, in which there is legislation by a
parliament of elected representatives of the citizens.
Democratic government usually assumes the representative mode under modern conditions in which political
communities are extremely large in population, etc., but
representative, legislative parliaments are not involved
in the essence of the Democratic form.
(5) Some of the traditional names signify modes of bad
government, but one name, " tyranny " has become
identified with bad government in general, because it
has been used to signify the violation of the generic
trait of all good government. In ·any case, as we shall
show, " tyranny," " oligarchy " and " democracy " do
not name bad forms of government, but either what is
common to all bad governments, or certain modes of
one or another bad form.
c. We shall use the words " Royal," " Republican " and " Democratic "-with capitalized initial letters-to name the three
good forms of government. All other names, with small
letters ("democracy" included) will signify modalities of
good or bad forms.
d. The question, Whether one mode of government is better
than another? can be answered in two ways:

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425

(I) Either prudentially, as when, in certain circumstances,
one mode of a given form of government is judged to
be more efficient than another in realizing the goodness
intrinsic to that form;
(2) Or morally, as when one mode of Republican government (i.e., the mixed regime) is judged to be more just
than other modes (i.e., the pure modes) because it
involves a greater approximation to the principle of
distributive justice under constitutional government.

Thesis Four: The single criterion by which all good forms of
government are generically distinguished from all bad forms is
causally related to the several (separable and cumulative)
criteria by which the genus of good government is further
specified, and its three species are hierarchically ordered.
a. Unless a form of government is generically good, it cannot
possess any of the specific properties of good government.
All political corruption begins with the violation of the
generic principle, and although one or another of the specific
properties may appear to survive for a time, what survives
is only a travesty or counterfeit of the good principle. Thus,
the corrupt Roman emperors, for a time, continued to
conform outwardly to constitutional requirements.
b. Each specific form of good government is necessarily only a
stage in the progressive development of political institutions,
because, by reason of its generic goodness, its ultimate aim
is not simply to preserve itself, but to transcend itself, or
to fulfill itself by passing from a partial to a complete realization of its intrinsic goodness. Thus, Royal government
cannot be good unless it aims to supersede itself by Republican government; and Republican government, in turn, cannot be good unless it aims to supersede itself by Democratic
government; and this must aim to realize itself to the fullness
of its potentialities.
c. The specific differentiation of three good forms of government, ordered in. a moral hierarchy, is indispensable to the
significance of the generic principle that good government
involves political activity which aims at the ideal common
good as the terminus of political progress, and through
aiming at this ideal common good seeks to create the political
conditions adequate for the realization of happiness or the
life of virtue.

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M. J. ADLER AND WALTER FARRELL

d. All the bad forms of government can be classified as corruptions in a twofold manner: first, with respect to the
generic criterion of political goodness, the violation of which
is the primary cause of all corruptions in the political order;
and second, with respect to the various specific factors, which
can be corrupted separately and cumulatively, in a retrogressive series which goes from bad to worse.
e. The dynamism of political change-revolutions which are
either progressive or retrogressive in character-must be
explained in terms of the specific elements of good government: for these are either in privation, and hence in potentiality, in inferior forms; or when they have been actually
attained, they are susceptible to corruption. The worst form
of government is, therefore, not the direct opposite of the
best, but the one which is furthest removed from the best:
it is not the corruption of Royal government, but the corruption of Democracy which, by a series of retrogressive
steps, reverses the work of progress and ultimately reaches
the negation of every principle of political justice. The corruption of Royal government, in contrast, is the negation of
only a single principle of political justice. Thus, the transition from a benevolent despotism to a despotic tyranny is
much less of a political change, in the way of corruption,
than the transition from a Democracy-even when only
partially realized-to the tyranny of totalitarianism.

4. The conclusion (that Democracy is, on moral grounds,
the best form of government) can now be seen as an integral
part of a whole political theory. Unless the four theses, which
we have just outlined, can be defended, we doubt that the conclusion in question is tenable. Our conviction that the conclusion is tenable, reflects our judgment that the theory which has
just been summarized is true-that all difficulties can be resolved, and all objections answered. Before we proceed to
enumerate these difficulties and objections, it might be well
briefly to mention those points in traditional doctrine which,
in the light of this theory, must be judged either as ambiguous
or incorrect. 16 We shall do this by stating positions and proposi16 It is unnecessary to repeat here the points on which this theory agrees with
traditional doctrine, or the way in which this theory supplements the inadequacy
of traditional analysis. That has already been sufficiently indicated in Section

THE THEORY OF DEMOCRACY

4fl7

tions without referring them to their historical sources, in order
to concentrate attention on doctrine itself and to avoid all arguments about the interpretation of texts, or appeals to authority.
The theory which has just been outlined can be true only if
the following propositions are false: (I) that some men are by
nature slaves and are, therefore, not unjustly treated if they are
used entirely as a means for the good of other men; (fl) that
the only distinction among good forms of government is in
terms of whether the rule is by the one, or the few, or the many,
and that, as so distinguished, one good form is better than
another only in terms of efficiency; (3) that the only distinction
among good forms of government is in terms of the aspect of
the common good (unity, virtue, liberty) which ea<2h tends to
realize, and that, as so distinguished, the best form of government is the mixed regime which tends to realize all three
aspects; (4) that there is only one common good in the
temporal order, and that this common good is at once both the
good of a political community and the good of its members;
(5) that the only moral distinction among forms of government
must be in terms of an end beyond themselves which they serve,
and cannot be in terms of their own intrinsic goodness as intermediate ends, which is equivalent to saying that there cannot
be any specific moral distinction among good forms of government, but only a generic distinction between good and bad;
(6) that the only good which is higher than the political common good is a good not of the temporal order, for it is the
divine good, participation in which constitutes the eternal happiness of the blessed; and this is equivalent to saying that the
well-being of the state is the highest good in the temporal
order, a good which men also enjoy only by participation.
Underlying or related to these false propositions are certain
statements which are fundamentally ambiguous. The theory
we have just outlined can be made intelligible only if these
ambiguities are clarified: (1) that the common good is the end
of the state; (2) that the common good consists in the life of
virtue; (8) that unity, virtue, and liberty, are aspects of the
common good, and in such wise that one of these aspects can

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M. J . .ADLER AND WALTER FARRELL

be realized in the total absence of the other two (as by the
so-called pure forms of government) or can be realized in combination (as by the so-called mixed regime); (4) that the
common good is a means to happiness; (5) that happiness is
the ultimate perfection of human nature. All of these statements either say too much or too little. Their ambiguity resides
in the failure to distinguish the multiple meanings of such
fundamental words as" state,"" government," "common good,"
"happiness," "life of virtue"; even more deeply, perhaps, in
failure to use such words as " end " and " means " with sufficient
discrimination. In addition to these cited ambiguities' is the
long, and therefore unmentionable, list of ambiguous statements
which discuss "kinds of government" and talk of better and
worse, without distinguishing between forms of government and
modalities of these forms, without explicitly considering whether
the judgment of better or worse is prudential or moral, and
without even facing the possibility that, in addition to the
generic distinction between all good and all bad forms of
government, there are specific moral distinctions among good
forms. Most statements using the traditional six names for
" kinds of government " are ambiguous for one or another of
these reasons. In fact, these names-monarchy, aristocracy,
polity, tyranny, oligarchy, and democracy-have been so variously used by different writers, and have accumulated such
conflicting overtones of meaning from their employment in
diverse historical contexts, that it is almost impossible to purify
them of ambiguity and confusion in order to use them as technical terms in precise, analytical discourse.
Now, to give a reasoned exposition of the theory of democracy-one which will provide an adequate demonstration of
its ultimate conclusion-it is necessary to do three things: first,
to show the compatibility and independence of the generic and
specific criteria, which is to show the possibility of distinguishing between all good and all bad forms of government,
prior to making specific distinctions among the good forms;
second, to show that the three specific criteria are separable and
cumulative, so that a hierarchy of the good forms is seen to be

THE THEORY OF DEMOCRACY

429

possible; and third, to show that each of these specific criteria
is morally intrinsic to the goodness of government, by validating
each, in the light of human nature and the nature of the state,
as indispensable to the fulfillment of the ideal common good.
This third step can also be described as a process of showing
that each of the three criteria is truly a principle of political
justice and that only by the summation of all three can the
perfection which is possible in the political order he fully
realized.
But in order to accomplish these three steps, it is also necessary to give an acceptable account of the order of goods, both
temporal and eternal, and especially of the order of goods which
are temporal ends, whether ultimate or intermediate, for unless
the various types of temporal common good can be discriminated and related, unless the political common good can be
distinguished from the common good which is happiness, unless
the analogical modes of the political common good can be
separated, it will be impossible to do what is required. The
test of truth in any practical theory is the validity of its account
of means and ends. The truth of the theory of democracy must
be made evident in these terms. Yet it is precisely in these
terms that two fundamental objections have been raised to
the theory. The first has been formulated in the thesis that
there is only one political common good, and hence only one
end in the political order, from which it follows that a moral
specification of three good forms of government, hierarchically
ordered, is impossible. 17 The second is generated by that analysis of temporal goods, which makes the political common good,
or the well-being of the state, supreme in the temporal order,
and which frees man from total subservience to the state only
by .reason of his ordination to a higher, non-temporal good,
the Divine good.'-8
17 Vd. Professor Charles O'Neil, in a review of the Fifteenth Proceedings of the
American Catholic Philosophical Association, The New Scholasticism, January, 1941,
XV, 1, 75-80; and the reply by Mort;mer Adler, " The Demonstrability of
Democracy," in The New Scholasticism, March, 1941, XV, 2, 162-68.
18 Vd. Father John F. McCormick, "The Individual and the State," in the Proceedings of the Ammcan Catholic Philosophical Association, XV, 10-il.

3

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M. J. ADLER AND WALTER FARRELL

In addition to these two objections, which concern the diversity of goods and their ordering as means and ends, there are
two other objections, which raise difficulties concerning the
distinction between Royal and Republican government, on the
one hand, and the distinction between Republican and Democratic government, on the other. Whereas the first two objections go to the metaphysical roots of the theory of democracy
by requiring a reconsideration of such fundamental notions as
the common good and happiness, the two objections, now to be
mentioned, raise questions which are more narrowly political.
One of these questions the proposition that non-constitutional
government can be good or just in any true sense. Unless this
challenge is met, the distinction between Royal and Republican
government, as both good forms, though infe:dor and superior,
cannot be sustained. The other of these questions the proposition that universal suffrage is required by distributive justice,
and demands to know why the status of citizenship must be
given every man. Unless these questions are answered, the
distinction between Republican and Democratic government
cannot be sustained. Failure on both these points would result
in the conclusion that there is only one good form of government, so far as moral criteria are concerned; hence, though
democracy may be one mode of such good government, it is not
a specific form superior to other forms in moral excellence. To
succeed on both these points would entail giving an adequate
account of the meaning of constitutionality and a precise definition of the status of citizenship (in contrast to slavery and
subjection) . Although they do not lead us into the deep
metaphysical inquiries entailed by the first two objections,
these difficulties do, like the first two, call for a re-examination
of the nature of man and of the state as the source of every
political truth.
It should be apparent at once that the four objections or
difficulties touch the very matters which would be central to a
reasoned exposition of the theory of Democracy and to the
demonstration .of its chief conclusion. For that reason we have
deemed it both possible and advantageous to develop such an

THE THEORY OF DEMOCRACY

4tH

exposition by treating successively of the matters which these
objections call to our attention. In each of the four subsequent
parts of this work, we shall answer one of the four objections,
in the order named, and at the same time undertake a positive
and constructive analysis of the point under consideration.
When these four parts are completed, we shall be prepared to
give, in a final part, a summary statement of the proof that
Democracy is, on moral grounds, the best form of government.
In addition, we shall deal, in that concluding part, with the
general problem of political dynamism, with the exemplifications of our theory in actual political history, considering both
the slow stages of political progress and the manifold occurrences of retrogression or corruption. Finally, we shall ask
whether Democracy is anywhere yet realized, or to what degree
it is realized in existing governments; and we shall try to state
the conditions for the future attainment of Democracy's
perfection.
We can now present the reader with a brief outline of the
whole work:
Part I:
Part II:
Part ill:
Part IV:
Part V:

Introductory (the present essay)
The End of Political Activity: The Common Good
The End of the State: Happiness
The Elements of Political Justice: Constitutionality
The Elements of Political Justice: Citizenship and
Suffrage
Part VI: Conclusion: The Demonstration of Democracy, with
reflections on the motions of political history and
the future of Democracy.
5. Completely to discharge the task of this introductory
part, we must briefly consider several points which are preliminary to all the subsequent analyses. The first of these concerns
the Aristotelian distinction between a normative judgment
made absolutely and one made relatively. Awareness of this
distinction is indispensable to a sound understanding of any discussion of the best state. The remaining points deal with

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M. J. ADLER AND WALTER FARRELL

certain perplexities of verbal usage which must be clarifiedespecially the meanings of such words as "ideal," "government," and "state." We proceed at once to these matters in
the order named.
(1) The absolute and the relative. Aristotle separates two
questions: (a) what is the best government absolutely? and
(b) what government is best relative to the contingent cirThe use
cumstances of a people at a given time and place?
of the word "best" in both these questions implies that there
can be several forms of government which, while good either
absolutely or relatively, are less good by comparison with one
which is best, either absolutely or relatively. The distinction
itself implies that a given form of government can be the best
absolutely, and yet less than best relative to a particular set of
historic conditions; or that, conversely, a form of government
which is best for a given people living under certain physical
and cultural circumstances may not be the best form absolutely.
This distinction must not be confused with the distinction
between a moral and a prudential ordering of governmental
forms. Such confusion is likely to. result from the fact· that
prudential judgments about political alternatives are usually
19 Vd. Politics, IV, I. "Government
is the subject of a single science which has
to consider, what government is best and of what sort it must be, to be most in
accordance with our aspirations, if there were no external impediment, and also
what kind of government is adapted to particular communities. For the best is often
unattainable, and therefore the true legislator and statesman ought to be acquainted,
not only with (I) that which is best in the abstract, but also with (2) that which
is best relatively to the circumstances .... He ought, moreover, to know (4) the
form of government which is best suited to communities in general. We should
consider, not only what form of government is best, but also what is possible and
what is easily attainable by all" (128Sb 21-37). The secorld and fourth questions
are aspects of the same problem-what form of government is best Telative to
contingent circumstances, either (2) considered in this case, or (4) considered
geneTally, i.e., for the most part? Cf. John Stuart Mill: "To inquire into
the best form of government in the abstract (as it is called) is not a chimerical,
but a highly practical employment of scientific intellect; and to introduce into any
country the best institutions which, in the existing state of that country, are capable
of, in any tolerable degree, fulfilling the conditions, is one of the most rational
objects to which practical effort can address itself." Essay on Representative

Government, Ch. I.

THE THEORY OF DEMOCRACY

488

made with reference to the circumstances of a concrete situation
in which means are to be used. Hence it may be thought that
the normative judgment made relatively is prudential rather
than moral. But it should be remembered that the prudential
judgment can be made absolutely, by considering what political
means are universally most expedient in view of man's nature
and the generality of all contingent circumstances. And, furthermore, those who oppose the notion of a moral ordering of
good forms of government would be tacitly admitting such an
ordering, if they identified the relative with the prudential
judgment; for then it might readily be supposed that the
absolute judgment was a moral one. The distinction between
the absolute and the relative is, however, independent of the
distinction between the moral and the prudential. If one is able
to discriminate a best, or a superior from an inferior good, that
discrimination, whether it be made on moral or prudential
grounds, can be made either absolutely or relatively. In both
cases, the absolute judgment is based on a consideration of the
universally constant factors in human nature; but when the
absolute judgment is about political means as more or less
expedient (i. e., a prudential judgment concerning alternative
modes of a given form of government), it considers the generality of contingent circumstances, rather than a particular set
of historic conditions (which would have to be considered if
that prudential judgment were being made relatively rather
than absolutely) ; whereas when an absolute judgment is made
about political ends as more or less perfect (i. e., a moral judgment concerning diverse forms of government) , it determines
the best by reference to the perfection which it is possible for
the circumstances to attain, rather than by reference to the
actual conditions prevailing in a particular historic situation
(which would have to be considered if that moral judgment
were being made relatively rather than absolutely).
This last point is of great importance, because it establishes
a correlation between the relative and absolute modes of moral
judgment about political forms. That form of government
which is, on moral grounds, the best absolutely must also be

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M. J. ADLER AND W.ALTER FARRELL

the best relative to that set of circumstances which are perfect
conditions of social life. In so far as such conditions do not
exist, the absolutely best and the relatively best will be divergent; relative to less perfect conditions, a form of government
which is inferior absolutely will be best relatively because most
suitable to these concrete conditions. And to the extent that
there is, historically, improvement in the physical, economic,
and cultural conditions of human society, there is in political
history a progressive motion, though hardly in a straight line,
toward the limiting case in which the political form that is
best relative to existing conditions is also the best absolutely.
This distinction between the absolute and the relative modes of
judgment enables us to deal with the dynamics of political
change in terms of the potentialities to be fulfilled and the ideal
limits of that fulfillment. 20
In the light of this distinction, our conclusion about Democracy as the best form of government must be understood as an
absolute, not a relative, judgment. If there is a moral hierarchy
of good forms of government, it should be set up in absolute
terms, as· a series of gradations through which political history
can actually advance, as better forms of government can be
instituted in relation to improved conditions. If Democracy is
the best form of government absolutely, its absolute supremacy
should not be thought inconsistent with the obvious historic
facts that, in many known situations where inferior conditions
prevail, inferior forms of government are best relatively. The
worst misunderstanding of what we are trying to say would be
to suppose our judgment of Democracy to be that it is always
and everywhere the best form of government for a people to
adopt. Nothing could be further from the truth. Although we
think it is the form of government at which all political action
should progressively aim, we realize that the ideal-and Democ•• So far as we know only two writers throughout the history of political theory
have fully appreciated the significance of this distinction-Aristotle, in the Politics,
and John Stuart Mill in the Essay on Representative Government. And only Mill
had a sufficiently developed sense of political history, and of the conditions of
political progress, to use the distinction in explaining the dynamics of political
change. Vd. op. cit., Ch. IT-IV.

THE THEORY OF DEMOCRA.CY

485

racy is a practicable, not a utopian, ideal-cannot always be
put immediately into practice; in fact, it should be approached
through stages of improvement that are at every point adapted
to the existing conditions, conditions which limit the degree to
which the ideal can be realized. Far from supposing that
Democracy is the best form of government relative to every
sort of historic situation, we seriously doubt whether in the
world today there is any people whose physical, economic,
cultural and moral attainments are yet adequate for the full
practice of Democracy, though perhaps such conditions are
just now beginning to appear. The first inception of the Democratic form occurred during the last pundred years; it could
scarcely have happened at any earlier time in human history;
and the full realization of the perfection in political life, which
is possible under Democracy, will certainly take centuries, if
not millenia, of patient and persistent work for improved
conditions. 21
01 John Stuart Mill-not Rousseau, not Locke and Montesquieu, nor even Thomas
Jefl'erson-is the first philosopher of Democracy. His Essay on Repreae:ntative
Govemme:nt (1861} contains the first conception of Democracy in terms of principles of constitutionality and sU:fl'rage, and is the first argument for the conclusion
that Democracy is morally the best political form. Unlike his modern predecessors,
Hobbes, Spinoza, Locke, Rousseau, Montesquieu, all of whom were so predominantly
concerned with questions about the origin of the state, the nature and locus of
sovereignty, the relations of authority and force, that they passed over the problem
about the forms of government with hasty superficiality, John Stuart Mill, in true
Aristotelian fashion, devotes his major attention to this central problem. Thus,
his first four chapters are entitled: " To what extent forms of government are a
matter ·of choice "; " The criterion of a good form of government "; " That the
ideally best form of government is representative government"; and " Under what
social conditions representative government is inapplicable."
John Stuart Mill is not only Democracy's first philosopher, but he is also its
prophet. He did not suppose that this ideal polity could be fully realized without
drastic changes in society, morally and culturally, as well as economically; and he
foresaw, with amazing prescience, the course future developments would have to
take, even the n,eed for overcoming national barriers and for the formation of
federations. Always sensitive to the importance of the Aristotelian distinction between the best absolutely and the best relatively, Mill is at once a realist, recognizing· the justice of inferior forms of government relative to inferior conditions,
and an idealist, defining the goal of political progress. He is an opti!nist without
being utopian, though, perhaps, by comparison with Jacques Maritain, he under--

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M. J. ADLER AND W.ALTER FARRELL

(2) The meaning of .. ideal." The best form of government
absolutely is the ultimate ideal toward which all progress in
political affairs must tend. Forms of government which are
good, though less than best absolutely, are also ideal in the
sense that they may be best relative to particular circumstances.
In both these uses, the word " ideal " signifies a good which can
serve as the goal of political activity. In neither case is the
ideal utopian; it is never the Platonic absolute good-the city in
the skies-but the Aristotelian practicable good, whether the
best that is eventually attainable or the best that is here and
now possible. The significance of the foregoing points will, of
course, be different according as the discrimination of grades of
goodness is moral or prudential, but they will apply in both
cases because we can consider ideal means as well as ideal ends.
There is one further meaning to the word " ideal " which is of
the utmost importance for the clarity of theoretical discussions
about political problems. Every form of government, whether
good or bad, whether graded as a means or as an end, is an
ideal precisely because it is a form, and hence a communicable
universal, rather than a singular existential instance. Thus, let
us suppose that " fascism " and " democracy " name the only
two forms of government, one bad, the other good; let us suppose, furthermore, that the German Reich and the United
States are existential instances of these two forms, respectively.
But they are not the only existential embodiments of these
political forms. The form is ideal in the sense that it is capable
of an indefinite number of embodiments by actually existing
governments, no one of which will perfectly exemplify the
defined type. In this sense, the word " ideal " is opposed to the
real or existential; it is the universal as opposed to the particular; a formal essence, which can be conceived and defined,
as opposed to the materialization of it by particular instances
estimates the time which will be required for the attainment of the goal. It is
worth comparing Mill and Maritain, both of whom can be regarded as prophets of
the Democratic ideal, in order to see the radical difference between the optimism
of a naturalist and the hope of a Christian. Vd. Scholasticism and Politics, New
York, 1940: esp. Ch. ill, VIII, and IX.

THE THEORY OF DEMOCRACY

437

which can and do exist. In this sense, the ideal connotes no
moral value, and this sense must, therefore, ·be sharply distinguished from that other set of senses in which the ideal is the
good, whether practicable or utopian, whether the best absolutely or only relatively. 22
Unless the moral sense of" ideal" (in which it is opposed to
the bad or undesirable) is carefully distinguished from, shall we
say, the metaphysical sense (in which it is opposed to the particular or existential), political discussion cannot take account
of the fact that bad forms are not perfectly realized in existence,
any more than good forms are. 23 Actually existing governments
are never perfectly good or bad, for no singular materialization
can ever be a perfect realization of a formal (and in this sense,
ideal) type. This rule holds whether there is only one good and
one bad form, or many of each, graded morally or graded prudentially. Failure to keep this point in mind leads to a confusion of theoretical and casuistical problems. In political
theory, our task is not to judge the goodness or badness of any
historic or existing political organization. We are simply trying
to define the forms, the ideal types of good and bad, and we may
further try to convert our classification into one or another sort
or ordering or gradation. Only if we are able to accomplish
this task with scientific precision on the theoretic level, can we
•• In order to distinguish ethical theory from casuistry, we must recognize that
the virtues and vices we define and classify are formal types, not the approximations
thereto which consist of existing habits in existing individuals. In ethical theory,
we define courage and cowardice in order to be able to make the casuistical judgments that this man is courageous or that man is cowardly. The courage which
we define is a communicable form, capable of being commonly possessed in varying
degrees by many individual men. Hence courage and c"wardice as defined are,
metaphysically speaking, ideal, in contrast to the real, the existing, habits of particular men. But, morally speaking, courage is ideal, in the sense of desirable,
whereas cowardice is not ideal, but opposed to it. Political theory must be similarly
distinguished from political casuistry. In political theory, we undertake to define
and classify political forms, and whether good or bad these forms are, metaphysically speaking, ideal in contrast to their approximate embodiments in actually
existing communities. Only the good forms are ideal in the moral sense.
•• We must remember that, on the theoretical level of discussion, what is morally
ideal is always also metaphysically ideal, whereas the converse is not true: what
is metaphysically ideal may be either a good or a bad form.

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M. J. ADLER AND WALTER FABRELL

hope to make intelligent casuistical judgments, in which we
apply the theoretical principles to particular cases, whether for
the sake of identifying the approximate type of a particular
existing government, or for the sake of criticizing such historic
embodiments, or for the sake of devising particular and immediate means whereby to achieve a fuller realization of a
certain ideal type.
This distinction between the ideal and the real (political
forms and political existences) has a further bearing on our
discussion. The forms of government are integral and discrete.
Each is definable in terms of criteria which separate it by an
indivisible difference from inferior or superior forms; and in this
respect, the moral hierarchy of good forms of government
resembles the natural hierarchy of substantial species.24 Negatively, this means that one form of government cannot be
regarded as a degree of another form, differing from that
other only by more or less of the same essential criteria. But
the particular historic embodiments of each of these forms may
differ from one another by degree, for each actually existing
instance of a given form of government may more or less fully
realize the essential perfection of that form. These differences
in degree may be due to the employment of more or less efficient
means (i.e., the form of government must be existentially
embodied through one or another mode of administration and
organization, and one mode may be more successful than
another relative to these patricular conditions), but whatever
the causes, it remains true that if one surveys a large number of
historic and existing instances of the several forms of government, and tries to order them according to standards of better
and worse, they will present a picture of continuous variation
from one extreme to another. The best embodiment of a lower
form will appear to be contiguous with the least perfect embodiment of a higher form. The fact tl:lat the accidental types (the
various actual embodiments of distinct forms) appear to vary
•• For the details of this resemblance, vd. "The Demonstration of Democracy,"
loc. cit., note 87a. Cf. M. J. Adler, "Solution of the Problem of Species," in Tm:
TaoMIST, ill

THE THEORY OF DEMOCRACY

489

continuously and by degree is not inconsistent with the fact
that the forms themselves are hierarchically ordered, so long as
we remember that the continuity is only apparent, for it
remains the case that the best and the worst embodiments of
a given form are instances of that form and, therefore, are
separated by an integral difference from all the embodiments
of a superior or inferior form.
This last point brings us finally to the recognition of two
distinct motions in political dynamics-gradual as opposed to
revolutionary change. A political revolution occurs in the historic order when a people changes from one form of government
to another. In contrast, a people may for centuries achieve
only gradual improvement, as opposed to revolutionary transformation, by alterations in the accidental modes by which the
same political form is embodied. 25 Political progress toward the
ideal may, therefore, be accomplished in two ways, and will, in
fact, always proceed through gradual stages before the conditions have matured for a revolutionary change. 26
In the light of this clarification of " ideal," we must interpret
our conception of Democracy as, morally, the best form of
government to mean, first, that Democracy is supreme in the
hierarchy of political forms; and second, that, as a form, it is
metaphysically an ideal which can be more or less perfectly
embodied. By the first count, Democracy is the ideal goal of
all the revolutionary motions in political history. By the second
count, the more and more complete achievement of the essential
•• Political revolutions, or transformations, are analogous to substantial changes
in the natural order; gradual improvements in the modes of embodiments are
analogous to accidental changes.
•• What is here being said about progressive motions applies equally to the
retrogressive motions of decay and corruption. They, too, may be either gradual
or revolutionary; and gradual decline in the accidental modes of embodiment usually
precedes and occasions the radical transformation by which a people passes from
a higher to a lower form of government. What we have here called " revolutionary
change " consists in the motions of generation or corruption-transitions
from one
form of government to another, from worse to better, or from better to worse;
what we have called " gradual change " consists in those motions of alteration,
by which are effected advances or recessions in the degree to which a given form
is actually realized.

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M. J. ADLER AND WALTER FARRELL

perfection of Democracy is the goal of all the gradual motions
through which a people must pass, once Democracy is partially
and incompletely established. In one sense, therefore, the
Democratic form is the objective of all political activity working
for progress; but, in another sense, the fullest realization of
what is possible under that form is the ultimate objective of
such activity.
(3) The meanings of "government" and "state." Sometimes the two words ·are employed interchangeably, as when
men speak indifferently about " forms of government " or
" kinds of states." Sometimes " government " is used to signify
the institutions and offices of rulership, as well as to refer to
the personnel occupying these offices and exercising their
authority or power. In this latter usage, there can be changes
in mode of " government " without changes in the form of
" government " or in the kind of " state." 27 Our solution of
these ambiguities turns, first, upon our distinction of the forms
of government from the various accidental modes of each of
these forms; and second, upon our insight that the forms of
government are strictly correlative with the kinds of states.
There will be, in short, as many essentially distinct kinds of
sta,tes as there are different forms of government; and of any
given kind of state, there will be many accidental variants,
correlative with the modalities of the form of government which
defines that kind of state. But, although there is a correlation
between forms of government and essentially distinct kinds of
states, the words " state" and " government " cannot be used
interchangeably. Let us explain.
The four words "culture," "society," "state," and "govern27 Careless usage of these two words has grievous consequences.
Unfortunately
it is not merely popular discourse which fails to distinguish whether the two words
are being used synonymously or with a difference of meaning. The greatest political
writers are guilty of the same carelessness, which pervades the whole discussion of
political classifications. Thus, when Aristotle distinguishes between royal and
constitutional regimes, on the one hand, and between monarchy, aristocracy, and
polity, on the other, he does not use the words "government" and "state" in a
way that discriminates between the two distinct classifications.

THE THEORY OF DEMOCRACY

441

ment " express different considerations of the phenomena of
human association-not only different in the aspect apprehended, but also in the way the aspects are ordered to one
another. Thus, a culture .is constituted by the moral, intellectual, and spiritual attainments of men living together in society;
a culture cannot be identified with the cultivation of isolated
individuals; it represents rather that cultivation of human
powers which a society tries to sustain. Individual men are
cultivated or, it might be even more appropriate to say, civilized
by the society in which they live. Its type or degree· of civilization-measured by its cultural characteristics and level-is one
of the properties of a civil society. But not all societies are civil;
some are domestic communities; some are associations which
aim at the good of men in some special respect, rather than
simply, such as economic corporations or recreational clubs. In
the classification of associations, as natural or artificial according as they aim at the good of man simply or in a certain
respect, and of natural communities as imperfect or perfect
according as they accomplish the good of man (conceived
essentially) in part or whole, the state is said to be a natural,
perfect community. 28 But even so, the state, though co28 Cf. p. 417, supra. We must pbserve a twofold significance in the word "natural"
as applied to societies. On the one hand, the natural is opposed to the supernatural;
thus, the State is the perfect, natural community, and the Church is the perfect,
supernatural community. Here the opposition turns on the type of efficient cause
operating to form the community: States are humanly formed, whereas the Church
is divinely instituted. On the other hand, the natural is opposed to the artificial,
in the sense already indicated; thus, the State is a natural community, and an
economic corporation is an artificial one. We realize that the word "artificial" has
unfortunate connotations in this connection, but there does not seem to be any
other to signify the kind of associations which have as their end, not the good of
man simpliciter, but his good secundum quid. This second opposition turns on the
final, rather than the efficient, cause of association. The distinction between the
State and an economic corporation is like the distinction between the secondary, or
intellectual virtues, especially the arts, and the primary, or moral, virtues. Nor
can this distinction be made by saying that the State is a perfect community,
whereas an economic corporation is imperfect, in the sense already indicated; for
the family is an imperfect community which is also natural. It is true, of course,
that what we have called " artificial associations," i.e., associations for artistic
rather than moral or political ends, are always also imperfect, because none of
these provides the complete conditions of a good human life.

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M. J. ADLER AND WALTER FARRELL

terminous with a society which is natural and perfect in the
sense defined, is not always identified with it in the totality of
its aspects. The state is sometimes regarded as a civil society
in its political aspects, hut the political aspect, though basic
to the civilizing influences of a society, is merely part of the
culture or civilization which a civil society sustains and whereby
it cultivates its members. Hence, the state is one of many kinds
of association (the civil as opposed to the domestic, productive,
recreational, etc.) , and the political aspect is one of the many
cultural dimensions of a civil society. This suggests a broader
and narrower use of the word" state."
Now civil government can be considered in two ways: either
as the organization of men according to the various civil relationships of ruling and being ruled; or as the organization of
men who have civil authority and wield power over others in
the same society. In the first case, government is identical
with the state in its political aspect, for in its political aspect,
a state or civil society consists of the multitude of men as
politically organized and through such organization related as
rulers and ruled. In the second case, the government is obviously only a part of the state, for it is not coextensive in its
membership with the membership of the society which is
organized under some form of civil government.
We shall never use the word " government " to designate
the rulers, whether they be constitutional or absolute, whether
they be one or many. We shall use the word to signify more
than is intended by the word " governors." We conceive government as the whole political organization of a multitude, and
therefore as including the governed as well as their governors.
Thus conceived, the political aspect of a civil society is identical
with its government. But since the nature of a civil society is
not exhausted by its political aspect, the word " state " (here
synonymous with the phrase " civil society ") can be used to
signify something more than a government. Two states which
are the same in political aspect (so far as form of government
is concerned) may differ in their type of economic organization,
in their cultural attainments, in their spiritual character.

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448

According to our rules of usage, it makes no difference
whether we say that Democracy is the best form of government or that Democracy is the best kind of state. The problem
of the moral classification of forms of government (both generic
and specific) is the problem of the moral classification of kinds
of states. And even with regard to the subordinate modes of
governmental machinery (the arrangement of ruling offices·and
their manner of administration) , it makes no difference whether
we view these as accidental modes of the several forms of
government, or as accidental types of the several, essentially
distinct, kinds of states, so long as our view includes the condition and status of the ruled as well as the operations and positions of their rulers. It is only when we come to discuss the
means and ends of political activity that we must be careful to
observe a difference in the use of these two words. The wellbeing of the state is more than its political goodness, the goodness of its form and mode of government, precisely because the
state is more than the multitude as politically organized, even
though their political organization is the minimum condition of
their being regarded as a civil society. This point becomes
extremely important in our subsequent discussion of the politicommon good in relation to the human common good, and
especially with regard to the state both as a means and as an
end. A form of government (or, what is the same, a kind of
state, considered in its political aspect) may be the end or
objective of political activity, and the good which is thus aimed
at must· be conceived as a common good; but the form of
government may also be viewed as a means to the well-being
of the state when that is considered in its larger sense as connoting more than the political organization of the multitude.
Hence, the common good which is the state, in this larger
sense, is not identical with the common good in its narrower
political signification-and neither is identical with that ultimate common good, which is the good of individual men, and
distinct from the well-being of the community of which they are
members. These distinctions are indispensable if we are to give
any clear meaning to such statements as
common good is
the end of the state."

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M. J. ADLER .AND WALTER FARRELL

We need not go further here with these verbal clarifications.
It will be more profitable to go further when, at later stages of
the analysis, the argument itself requires us to increase the
precision of our vocabulary. We are somewhat embarrassed by
the posture of semanticism which anyone who makes such a
fuss about vocabulary and ambiguity appears to assume. But,
unlike the logical positivi13t, we do not indulge in semantic
criticism for the sake of discarding political philosophy as
verbiage and nonsense, but rather in order to discover theoretical truths which have been obscured by centuries of
equivocation. If there is any merit at all to precision in the
use of words, in sharply distinguishing univocal from analogical
and equivocal uses-and we insist that Aristotelians and
Thomists need not bow to contemporary exponents of logistic
method for discovering or approving such techniques-then
certainly political discourse can profit by semantic therapy of
the most drastic sort. In fact, it would be difficult to find any
other department of philosophy, theoretical or practical, which
is so befuddled by shoddy speech. Unless linguistic renovations
can be effectively established, it is impossible to defend against
positivists the right of political philosophy to regard itself as a
normative science; it is impossible to treat much of the controversy between opposing political theorists as if genuine communication existed, as if their quarrels were about thoughts,
not words. 29 Unfortunately, criticism is always easier than
•• As already pointed out, the greatest confusions and ambiguities arise from the
multiple usage of such words as " monarchy," " aristocracy," "polity," " oligarchy,"
and " democracy." Their signification is sometimes purely numerical (the one, the
few, and the many); sometimes it derives from the character of those to whom
political privileges are awarded (the poor, the rich, the virtuous); sometimes from
the value, or aspect of the common good, which is predominantly emphasized
(unity, virtue, freedom); sometimes these principles are used independently of one
possible
another, sometimes they are combined in various· ways, and it is
to tell which principles or combination of principles are being invoked when a
writer uses these words of classification. To complete the picture ·of multiple
equivocations, there are the various so-called mixed regimes, which are as ambiguous as the so-called pure types, because the principle of the mixture may be
any one or more of those already mentioned; thus, Aristotle's discussion of mixed
regimes is different from Cicero's, and his from St. Thomas'; nor it is even clear
that modern
on St. Thomas' theory of mixed regimes are using

THE THEORY OF DEMOCRACY

445

reform; and in matters of language especially, it is easier to
point out ambiguities than to institute a vocabulary which shall
be at once purified and also generally intelligible. But anyone
who is unwilling to take such pains-whether he be writer or
reader-might as well give up trying to clarify and solve the
central problem in political theory. Such semantic measures
can be taken without falling into the errors of positivism, and
without robbing philosophical speech of its proper flexibility,
its modes of metaphor, its richness of analogy. One should be
able to achieve a precision proportionate to the needs of a
given subject-matter, without exposing it to the dangers of
rigor mortis at the hands of logistical fanaticism. 80
his words in his sense. The muddle is still further increased by the use of qualifying
adjectives, such as " absolute" or " constitutional " and "limited " in the case of
"monarchy," " direct " and " representative " in the case of " democracy," for it
is never clear whether the qualification causes an essential or only an accidental
change in the form being classified, and if essential, whether the normative difference
is in the sphere of ends or means-is moral or prudential. In fact, the only fairly
uniform feature in this scheme of classification-the vocabulary of which has been
so ambiguously used by writers during the last !MOO years-is the division between
all good and all bad forms of government, and even here the principle of the
generic distinction has not been .separated from one of the criteria of political
justice which enters into the definition of the specific forms. The traditional
phrase--" rule for the common good "-is itself compact of ambiguities.
It would take pages to document the charges here made against political writers,
ancient, mediaeval and modern-applying equally to the most eminent analysts as
well as to followers and copyists. But anyone who has read the great works of
political theory must have observed some, if not all, of the ambiguities we have
mentioned; anyone can discover them if he will Jillace in juxtaposition the classification of political forms made by different writers, or even the accounts given by
the same writer in different parts of his own work. If we are right that the
I).Ormative classification of political forms is the central problem in political theory,
then political philosophy is hollow at the center. The confusions and ambiguities
merely confirm the suspicion-independently
generated by a study of traditional
doctrine--that this problem has never been solved.
80 We have in mind the cautionary
remark of M. Maritain. In his Foreword to
Problems for Thomists: The Problem of Spooies, he wrote: "Although carefully
avoiding the errors of logistic, Mortimer Adler desires to give the philosophical
vocabulary a fixity and a strict clarity of outline which will be as close as possible
to that of the mathematical vocabulary. I do not think, for my part, that these
requirements should be pushed too far." We agree with M. Maritain's insistence on
prudence; one would be pushing the desire for precision too far if one pushed it

4

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M. J. ADLER AND WALTER FARRELL

6. Finally, it is necessary to say a word about the polemical
situation itself, and the attitude we shall assume in undertaking
this demonstration of Democracy against objections of various
sorts. We shall not be concerned at all with the position of
those who, from a positivist's skepticism about all moral
matters, deny that demonstration is possible in the field of
political theory. 81 For them, all political judgments are expressions of opinion, rationalizations of prejudice, propaganda for
emotionally preferred courses of action. The highest praise they
can give Democracy is to promote it as an object of secular
" faith," thus placing it in brutal competition with other political religions. They not only eschew all normative principles in
politics, but also dishonor Democracy by refusing to submit its
merits to the judgment of reason. We prefer to restrict our
efforts to meeting the objections of those who acknowledge
political philosophy as a realm of practical truth and who agree
that, while it is essentially practical, in that its judgments
always aim to direct action, it nevertheless has a theoretical
level on which demonstration is possible. 82 Because it is pracbeyond the needs of the matter being discussed; but one would, it seems to us, be
equally imprudent if one did not push it far enough. We cannot agree with M.
Maritain, when he says that " in philosophy as in poetry verbal equivocations
occasionally guarantee the most fertile and truest intuitions " (op. cit., p. i:x) •
Rather it would seem that verbal equivocations function philosophically only as
an occasion for clarifications which increase the precision of analysis.
31 There are many varieties of realpolitik, as there are many varieties of positivism
today, but they all agree in admitting a science: of politics only in so far as it is
purely descriptive. If they are willing to consider practical recommendations at all,
it is only with respect to the relative efficiency of diverse means for achieving
political success. But they will not consider the problem of ends. They deny, in
short, any normative science of politics or what we shonld prefer to call political
philosophy-a practical wisdom about the ends of political action.
•• We reject the view of ethics and politics taken by Prof. R. P. McKeon which,
it seems to us, misinterprets the meaning of the Aristotelian dictum that in practical
sciences certitude and demonstration is impossible. The dictum holds only for the
practically-practical and the prudential levels of practical knowledge, and not for
the speculatively-practical level where there is a genuine wisdom-a knowledge of
Vd. McKeon,
universal and certain principles, self-evident or demonstrable.
"Aristotle's Conception of Moral and Political Philosophy," in Ethics, LI, S, 258290; cf. also his Introduction to The Basic Works C1f Aristotle (New i York: 1941),
pp. x:xvi-xxviii.

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447

tical science, ultimately deriving from universal principles
(comprising its theoretical level, which directs action only from
afar) those singular judgments immediately proximate to
action, the mode of demonstration is not the same as proof in
the domains of purely speculative knowledge. Theoretic and
practical logic agree, however, in one basic requirement for all
demonstration: the ultimate grounds of any proof must be selfevident principles. But the propositions per se nota of political
reasoning must include some practical judgments of the same
formal type as the first principles of all practical reasoningthe axiomatic prescriptions of the naturallaw. 33 And, furthermore, even on what Maritian calls the speculatively-practical
level of moral philosophy (which includes as much of political
theory as there is wisdom about political matters) ; the mode
of argument must conform to the requirements of practical, as
opposed to theoretic, reasoning-requirements which are different because of the profound difference between the nature of
practical and theoretic truth. 84
Nor shall we concern ourselves with those whose arguments
consist entirely of appeals, covert or open, to the authority of
Aristotle and St. Thomas as bearing witness to the manifest
errors of the theory we are proposing and will defend. If the
theory is specious, for whatever cause, then it must give way
· •• Not all of the indemonstrable premises of political reasoning are practical (i.e.,
practical in mode of conceptualization, type of judgment, and criteria of truth) ,
for some, those constituting the minor premises of the practical syllogism, must be
theoretic judgments. In the practical syllogism at the prudential level the minor
premises consist of perceptual knowledge of matters of fact (observation about the
singular circumstances of an action to be done); at the speculatively-practical level,
where we deal only 'with universals, the theoretical content of the minor premises
is furnished by the speculative sciences (metaphysics, the philosophy of nature, the
philosophy of man) . The conclusions of political theory must, therefore, rest on
self-evident practical principles and on speculative truths, either self-evident or
demonstrated.
•• Only if all these points about the nature of practical knowledge are understood,
will our effort to demonstrate the thesis about Democracy escape the charge that it
embodies one of the most unhappy of modern blunders-the geometrizing of ethics
and
mistake which combines a right desire for demonstrative knowledge
about things good and bad, with the misapplication of a method whose inappropriate rigor brought about the most dismal frustrations.

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M. J. ADLER AND WALTER FARRELL

before, not the weight of contrary authority, but the authority
of reasons which presume to correct its errors. Now, those who
cite contrary dicta from ancient and mediaeval texts, or point
to the absence of supporting pronouncements, either know such
reasons or they do not. If so, they will find their reasons among
the critical objections already enumerated, or should this list
be incomplete, they will be able to supply us with further
points of criticism with which we are unacquainted. If not,
then, so far as strictly logical relevance is concerned, their
comments have no weight.
What lacks logical bearing may have, however, another kind
of relevance. It may have bearing on the history of political
theory, for if the present theory is true, then there is inadequacy
and error in the great historic doctrines, and it becomes important, as a work of historical research, to locate and explain
these failures. The relation between the history of political
thought and the history of political institutions is certainly
worth investigating in connection with the problem of Democracy; no less worthy would be a careful commentary on the
leading texts in political theory in relation to that problem.
But our main interest is in the theory of Democracy itself-to
test whether it is sound or unsound. Since we do not believe
that significant discoveries can be made in any field of thought
apart from an abiding tradition of well-established truths, we
shall not ignore historical and textual considerations. In rendering objections intelligible, as well as in answering them adequately, a due regard for the authority of Aristotle and St.
Thomas, a docile study of their works, must prevail. But we
wish, nevertheless, to repeat that we are undertaking a philosophical, not a scholarly, work. The argument's the thing. It
should be examined in its own terms first; thereafter, and only
then, should the discussion be amplified to include historical
considerations. Even then, however, they have but a tangential
bearing on the truth or falsity of a theoretic position. Here, as
always, it is unfortunate if the reader confuse the intention of
philosophy with that of scholarship. A detailed commentary on
the political writings of Aristotle and St. Thomas, in the light

THE THEORY OF DEMOCRACY

449

of the theoretic points raised in this discussion, should be undertaken as a distinct work.
We hope that we do not seem to overestimate the importance
of the theoretic issues involved in an attempt to demonstrate
the perfection of Democracy. Though no one alive today is
likely to approach with indifference the questions of truth and
falsity about the relation of Democracy to other forms of
government, many seem to think that these problems are solved
more efficiently by demolition than by demonstration. And
others are content to accept-or to reject-the conclusion
without sufficient attention to all that is presupposed. But no
conclusion, however fraught with practical consequences, is as
important theoretically as the grounds which support it.
Though the conclusion itself hovers, in the days of our years,
like a brooding omnipresence over battlefield and council chamber, the issues concerning its foundation are of larger, and more
timeless, significance.
WALTER FARRELL,

O.P.

Dominican House of Studies,
Washington, D. C.

MoRTIMER

J. ADLER

University of Chicago,
Chicago, IUinois

MEDITATION AND THE SEARCH FOR GOD

T IKE a neglected attic full of half-forgotten treasures, our
L minds are stored with many familiar, but scarcely
realized truths. They lie scattered about, a burden on
our conscience, whispering reproaches at unexpected moments.
They have not been laid aside because we are loathe to admit
their uselessness and throw them out, but because we are too
preoccupied with the novelties of the moment to pay them any
attention. We plan to take a day off sometime and put the
storeroom in order. Some things we shall discard; others we
shall bring downstairs again and put to active use. Yet for one
reason or another we never have a day free, and so the cluttered contents of our minds remain to haunt us. Now and
again unexpected circumstances force us to hunt out something
we need at the moment; the difficulty of finding it sharpens our
resolve-also for the moment.
One such truth, too often overlooked in the rush of activity,
is the pervading importance of God in human life. The fact of
God's existence is the background of western civilization and
the heart of the Christian religion. The obligation of men to
search for God and the assurance of the possibility of finding
Him are the two most impressive realities of human living.
Two of the most critical questions a man can ask are, Who made
me? Why was I made? The two most significant answers are,
God made me-to know and love Him, to serve Him here and
to be happy with Him hereafter. These are the only answers
that make sense; with them in mind all others sound hollow.
Wealth or poverty, fame or obscurity, power or weakness,
health or sickness, pleasure or pain, all these become accidental
manifestations of the fundamental reality of a human life
turned God-wards; they are meaningful only as helps or
hindrances in the search for God.
450

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AND THE SEARCH FOR GOD

451

If these be the true answers (and we must assume that they
are in this paper) we must then admit that the attic or storeroom is no place for them; they are not heirlooms to be displayed only when we expect a visit from our maiden aunt.
Without them our house is only a front, less real than a movieset. A polite acceptation of these truths or a reluctant admission of them to our living-rooms is not sufficient; indeed, it
is an insult, for such truths as these cannot be merely tolerated;
they are imperious, demanding, leaving us little time to pay
attention to others. If then we have hidden them in our attic,
or grudgingly given them a corner of our living-room, we have
as yet not recognized their import.

I
A man searching for God-what does it mean? Does it
make any more sense than the picture of a man looking for the
needle in the hay-stack, or that of a child grasping for the
mercury from a broken thermometer? God is pure spirit,
infinitely transcendent,
supernaturally
perfect. Can the
bungling efforts of a creature ever get on the track of God,
much less actually find Him? Where should he look? How can
he tell that he is on the right track? How will he know that he
has found God? What does it mean to find God? This is the
key question; when we know the answer to it, we shall know
how to look for God.
It is true that God is a perfect being infinitely superior to
any of His creatures. He is the only one Who is completely
self-sufficient, perfectly happy in the possession of His own
goodness; in fact, He can never be unhappy, for He can never
lose possession of Himself. If He willed, He could keep that
goodness to Himself, or He can give a share of it to others
besides Himself; He can even give Himself, His undivided goodness to others. This He has promised to men, that He will give
them, not His gifts alone, however great, but Himself. On the
assurance of God then we believe that we can come into the
possession of God. If we can possess Him we can find Him.

JAMES M. EGAN

God's perfect possession of Himself is the reason for His unfathomable happiness. Now if God had no intellect and will, if
He were not a spiritual being He could not possess Himself. In
other words, the only way He can enjoy even His own infinite
goodness is by knowing and loving Himself. In fact, that is the
only way any spiritual being can be possessed, by knowledge
and love. If others can also possess God, they must be creatures
of intellect and will, men or angels, for to possess God is to
know and love Him, which is also to find Him. The search for
God must then be of the same order as the finding and possessing, a matter of knowing and loving God.
In one sense, we find God only in heaven beyond the gates of
death. There, when our intellects are immediately united to
the divine essence and our wills are inflammed by love, we
come into our heritage, the complete and perfect possession of
God. Then our quest is finally halted and we rest at the end of
the road. The dust and the stains and the bruises of the journey
are washed away, the intellect is charged with the bright light
of glory, and we look on the face of God. No one need be at our
elbow to whisper the truth that we now have found God; we see
Him, and that is enough. In another sense (and this is the
sense we are interested in here) we find God and possess Him
almost as soon as we start to search for Him. If to search for
God is to seek knowledge and love of Him, then each step on
the way is a new discovery of God, a new insight into the
treasures of His being, a new bond uniting us to Him in love.
It is the nature of this search and this finding that we wish to
examine here. According to Christian tradition the activity of
man in search for God is called meditation or contemplation. 1
When we have considered the fundamental nature of meditation, we shall discuss the following points in connection with it:
the relation of the speculative and practical in meditation; the
object and method of meditation; the bearing of meditation on
1 In this paper
we are not directly interested in infused contemplation, which
depends on the special help of God. We are speaking only of acquired contemplation, which, as we shall see, is a normal development of the habit of meditation.

MEDITATION

AND THE SEARCH FOR GOD

453

the prayer of petition, and on devotion. From these points we
shall be able to conclude to the importance, the necessity, even,
of meditation for a vital Catholic life.

n
A woman, keeping her eyes on two young people she has
often seen together to discover whether anything serious is
developing, is curious, not meditative. A research student,
spending hours in his laboratory, watching his test-tubes, is
searching for truth, but not meditating. An art lover, standing
before a Titian or a Murillo, gazing at its thrilling beauty, satisfied with the mere looking, not desiring to possess the picture
itself, is not meditating. The young man who, realizing at last
that he is in love with the girl, spends all his waking hours
thinking about her and all his free hours in her company,
eagerly adding details to the portrait of her that he carries in
his mind, is meditating, for his desire for knowledge springs
from love and in turn feeds the love that prompted it.
Meditation is thinking about an object, not out of curiosity,
not for the sake of the truth to be obtained, not even for the
delight that comes from knowing, but for the love of the
object itself; not merely for the truth and beauty of the object,
but for its goodness. 2 If we could reproduce within our imagination Murillo's" Immaculate Conception," with all its details of
line and coloring, we should not bother to look at the painting
itself. But who would be satisfied with only an image of the
one he loved? The intellect and imagination are satisfied with
knowing, the will and the passions demand possession.
Love in the will is enkindled only by the goodness of an existing object. There is, however, no way for the will to become
aware of existing goodness except through the intellect. In that
sense, the process of love starts from the mental presentation of
2 This does not mean that meditation excludes any of these mental states, except,
of course, mere curiosity. The object of meditation is such as to arouse wonder,
give delight by its beauty, enthrall by its truth; but above all, it draws us by its
goodness.

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JAMES M. EGAN

an existing good; nevertheless, the impulse of the will is not
toward the object as known by the mind, but as existing in
reality. At the same time the will sets the intellect the task of
discovering as much as possible about the object loved. The
lover is, as it were, trying to bring the beloved within himself,
to rebuild within his mind a mosaic of the beloved's goodness
that will serve as a guide to love when the beloved is present,
and as a memento when she is absent. In men this process is
not an affair of intellect and will alone; these higher faculties
are aided by the activity of the imagination and the emotions.
In the pursuit of goodness all the energies of a man are employed, all his powers of sense and spirit are concentrated on
the quarry; so the likeness of the object in the intellect is
heightened by a wealth of imaginative details; the energy of
the will is increased by the force of emotion.
Thus far we have been describing the activity of a man in
search of created good; can the same activity be directed toward
the uncreated Good? If the only relation existing between God
and us were that of Creator and creature, of uncreated First
Cause and created effect, our answer would be a simple affirmative. Human nature is capable of knowing and loving God as
the infinitely perfect Being who has given us existence. Such
knowledge and love, however, would be incapable of bringing
us into intimate contact with God, who would appear to us as
a rather pale abstraction; we should never know Him as He
rP-ally is, we should never directly possess Him, never have an
intimate share in His life. Our relation to God would be similar
to that which exists between us and the head of our nation; we
should know a few of the external features of His life, love Him
because of His beneficence towards us, respect Him as the great
ruler of the world; we should never call Him friend.
The fact is that God has not held us at a distance: indeed, He
has invited us to become His friends. He has promised that the
same goodness that makes Him perfectly happy will be ours to
possess eternally-His divine essence. The natural powers of
intellect and will are helpless here; they are incapable of even

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starting the quest for intimacy with God. Is the divine invitation, then, an empty gesture? God has given man supernatural
powers with which to pursue the greatest good that exists. Into
the intellect God infuses the habit of faith, into the will, the
habit of charity; with these two man can now start on the
search for God. In the heat of the pursuit the human will is
braced by a supernatural hope in ultimate success; hope is
necessary to sustain the heart of man throughout the search,
but the quest itself belongs to faith and charity. In faith and
charity, then, we shall find the secret of the search for God.
Each of these virtues has a special characteristic that unites the
the soul to ·God. Faith begins the union, for without it charity
would be totally blind; yet faith is too imperfect for the
demands of love, which eventually outstrips faith and in this
life is the real bond of union between the soul and God.
Faith is a supernatural virtue, infused into our intellects by
God, which inclines us to give our assent to truths that we
cannot understand. This is a rather bare, technical definition,
but its precise terms hide a wealth of meaning. To display some
of that wealth let us say that faith is the virtue that makes us
hang upon the words of God, and treasure with loving reverence
every syllable He utters; it is the virtue that gives us entrance
unto the secrets of the heart of God Himself, that lets us see,
not with our own eyes and according to our own narrow judgments, but with the eyes of God; it is, finally, the virtue that
colors our whole outlook on life, our judgments, our ideals, our
emotions a.nd our sentiments.
The unifying character of faith lies in its supernatural power
of penetrating through the formulas of
to the reality
behind them. 8 When someone tells me that it is raining, I
assent, not to a group of words, but to the reality of a rainy
day. So too when God tells me that the historical figure we
know as Christ is a God-Man, I assent through faith, not to the
formula, but to the fact itself. The same statement made to
8

Actus autem c:redentis non terminatur ad enuntiabile, sed ad rem (Summa

Theol., ll-ll, q. 1, ad !t, c. et ad 2um).

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JAMES M. EGAN

an unbeliever is actually meaningless; he can no more penetrate
the reality expressed therein than a dog can formally understand the meaning of .words addressed to him. With faith the
statements of revelation become the means whereby our intellects are united to the supernatural reality of the divine life of
God. This union, though vital, is very imperfect, for the media
of union, the formulae of faith, hide the full reality of God; they
are a veil that reveals many of the contours, but hides the
complete profile of God. The purification of faith, involving the
removal of many of its imperfections, is a sign of progress in the
search for God. Until faith passes and the beatific vision takes
its place, the union between the intellect and the divine reality
will ever be imperfect. Nevertheless, here below, faith is the
essential means of union with God. 4
The. imperfections of faith are a constant source of irritation
to charity, which feels keenly its limitations, for love is free of
any intrinsic imperfection such as we find in faith; that is why
love will remain when faith passes away. Love's impulse is to
the object loved as it exists in reality. The limitation of the
human mind causes God to hide the splendor of His reality
beneath the veils of faith; the infinite goodness of God, however,
does not escape the striving of love. Love will not permit the
reality of its object to remain shrouded from it; love goes out to
embrace the object in all its perfection and completeness. This
is why St. Thomas teaches that on earth the will is more perfect,
capable of a more intimate union with God than the intellect,
that in this life it is better to love God than to know Him. 5
• Fides est habitus mentis quo inchoatur vita aeterna in nobis, faciens intellectum
assentire non apparentibus (Summa Theol., II-II, q. 4, a. 1).
• Operatio intellectus completur secundum quod intellectum est in intelligente; et
ideo nobilitas operationis intellectualis attenditur secundum mensuram intellectus.
Operatio autem voluntatis et cujuslibet virtutis appetitivae perficitur in inclinatione
appetentis ad rem sicut ad terminum; et ideo dignitas operationis appetitivae attenditur secundum rem quae est objectum operationis. Ea autem quae sunt infra
animam, nobiliori modo sunt in anima quam in seipsis, quia unumquodque est in
aliquo per modum ejus in quo est. . . . Quae vero sunt supra animam, nobiliori
modo sunt in seipsis quam sint in anima. Et ideo eorum quae sunt infra nos, nobilior
est cognitio quam dilectio; . . . Sed eorum quae sunt supra nos, et praecipue Dei,

MEDITATION

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The human intellect, enlightened by faith, the will, inflamed with charity, are, then, the principles of our search for
God. As revealed to us, the goodness of God attracts the will,
whose impulse is the spring of all our activity. As we have said,
it starts the intellect searching for a more perfect knowing of
God. At first the activity of the intellect is multiple, jumping
from one consideration to another. With practice, it becomes
more uniform, gathering together the data of revelation in a
reasonable manner and focusing them on the more important
aspects of the divine life.
When this reasoning about the data of revelation is carried
on with scientific accuracy and for the purpose of explaining,
drawing out, or defending the revealed truths, it is called
theology; the product is theological science. When this reasoning, either scientifically precise or in accordance with the
natural capacities of each believer, is carried out with the purpose of inflamming the will to love of God, it is traditionally
called meditation.
In a sense every act of faith and charity has a meditative
character and brings us closer to God. More strictly, we employ
the word to signify a concentrated effort enduring for a certain
period of time. Moreover, any religious exercise, such as assisting at Mass, reciting the divine office, saying the Rosary, can
be a period of meditative activity. A set period of time devoted
to meditation is necessary only in a world that gives little
thought to God. Such an exercise would be unintelligible to a
St. Francis or a St. Dominic whose whole life was spent in
meditative activity; it would have little meaning to even an
ordinary Catholic of the Middle Ages. It is only when other
forms of human activity tend to absorb our attention that we
must put aside a definite period each day and " meditate."
This however should never prevent us from realizing that the
activity proper to other forms of religious exercises is also
meditative.
dilectio cognitioni praefertur. Et ideo charitas est excellentior fide (Summa Theol.,
II-II, q. 28, a. 6, ad lum).

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JAMES M. EGAN

III
Readers of certain modern works on meditation may be
wondering whether the present writer is not talking about something entirely different from what they think meditation to be.
They have been told that meditation is a very practical exercise
for acquiring virtue. In it we consider the virtues of Christ, His
Blessed Mother, or the saints, see wherein we are lacking, and
always end with a firm resolution to practice some virtue
during the ensuing period. Yet from the description of meditation given above it would seem that it is more speculative, or
contemplative, paying little attention to practical results, satisfied with an increase of the knowledge and love of God. Are
these two distinct forms of mental prayer, confusedly designated by the same name, or is there only one essential form of
meditation that fulfills more than one function? The latter is,
I believe, the more traditional view of meditation. Certainly
the older spiritual writers, including St. Theresa and St. John
of the Cross, emphasize the speculative character of meditation,
seeing in it the preparatory steps for contemplation.
The solution to this apparent difficulty is suggested by St.
Thomas. It is his opinion that the infused virtue of faith is
both speculative and practical; essentially and primarily speculative, practical by extension. " Faith," he says, "primarily and
principally consists in speculation, for it clings to the first truth.
Yet, since the first truth is also the ultimate end for which we
act, faith is extended to action." 6 The revelations of faith are
not merely for our information, but also for our reformation.
Somewhat similar is the operation of charity; first and foremost
it is concerned with the infinite goodness of God, the object
presented to it by faith; by extension it embraces the goodness
of God wherever it finds it in creatures, but especially in
rational creatures.
The activity of faith and charity which we have called
meditation, is principally concerned with God. However, the
8

Ibid.,. q. 9, a. 8.

MEDITATION

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459

progress of faith and love demands certain conditions that
involve other activities of man. As St. Thomas points out,
meditation, and especially contemplation, are impeded by the
passions of man within and the tumult of affairs without. 7
These impediments are removed by the moral virtues; hence
faith and charity must utilize the knowledge and love of God
they already possess, and the urge they experience for a more
intimate union with Him, to motivate the acquisition of the
moral virtues, and to direct the action of prudence in picking
the best means for this purpose. From another side charity,
whether or not the soul is absorbed in contemplation will want
to expend itself in doing good to others, especially through the
corporal and spiritual works of mercy. Here again faith will
plunge into the domain of practical activity, for, as St. Paul
says, it is " faith that worketh through charity." 8
It is clear then that meditation, though essentially speculative, must also have a practical turn. Especially in the
beginning when the acquisition of the moral virtues is necessary
for further progress, meditation will be very practical. Later
on, when the speculative element will predominate, meditation
will, from time to time, look towards the practical needs of
fraternal charity. If, however, its fundamental nature is misunderstood, if the emphasis does not rest primarily on the
search for God, even the practical effect of meditation will be
weakened. Activity may easily become meaningless if the
soul does not retire frequently and rededicate itself to the pursuit of God. Union with God is the source of all the soul's
efficiency; if th&t is weakened, the activity may continue, but
it becomes more and more naturalistic. There are souls who
find food for faith and love in the objects of their activity, but
they are the souls who in long hours of silence have developed
the habit of meditation. They are still meditating even in the
midst of an active life; their thoughts are always climbing the
mountain of prayer, never really looking away from the God
they love.
7

Ibid., q. 180, a. !!.

8

Galatians, v, 6.

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JAMES M. EGAN

IV
When a man starts out to acquire the habit of meditative
prayer, there are two questions that he is likely to ask himself:
What shall I meditate about? and, How shall I meditate? Since
meditation is a human activity, it must have an object, and
there must be a method of arriving at the goal of that activity.
From what we have already said about the nature of meditation we can easily find the answer to these questions. The
principal object of meditation is, quite properly, the divine
Being as revealed to us by faith. Nothing is more suited to
arouse our love than deep meditation on the attributes of God
and on the inner life of the Trinity. In such meditation lies the
foretaste of heaven; it is not only a search for God, but a kind
of possession too. It brings to us the vivid realization, the
experience even, of the truth that the Triune God dwells within
us as in a temple.
It is, however, difficult at first to concentrate the mind on
these lofty truths and to experience their reality. Where shall
we find an object around which our imagination can play, which
will bring home to us more strikingly the loveableness of God,
and arouse our affections more easily? Jesus Christ is such an
object, one that lends support to our faith and our hope and
our love. In Him dwells the fulness of divinity; He is a witness
and example of the infinite love and mercy of God. No matter
how far we advance on the road to perfection, we shall never
exhaust the riches of divine truth contained in the mysteries
of the life, death, and resurrection of Our Savior. At first, we
shall be intrigued by His gracious human qualities; however,
we must always remember that He is not merely an historical
figure whom we admire and strive to imitate; He is the Vine
of which we are the branches, He is the Head of whom we are
the members. Meditation on Christ must make us realize more
perfectly our union with Christ through grace. Union with
Him is essential if we wish to arrive at union with God in the
mysteries of His inner life.
There are other objects capable of leading us to a greater

MEDITATION

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461

knowledge and love of God. The saints, and most of all the
Virgin Mother of God, are rich in divine benefits, living
examples of what God does for those that love Him. Finally,
all created reality, the universe above and around us, the birds
of the air and the :flowers of the field, can be springboards for
our consideration of God's glory. Our Lord has pointed the
way for this type of meditation in the beautiful. parables He
taught the Jews. Those who wish to find objects for meditation
should read and reread the pages of Sacred Scripture, especially
the Gospels. Any other work of Meditation or spiritual reading
is merely a commentary on the book given us by the Holy
Ghost. One who meditates on its pages can be assured of the
special inspiration of the heavenly Master.

*

*

*

Much has been written about various methods of meditation. We do not wish to make comparisons, or even to suggest
one method in preference to others. It is sufficiently clear that
there must be a method; mere rumination, or day-dreaming, is
no.t meditation. We have seen that meditation is a form of
human activity with an end in view.
Whatever method we adopt should, however, have certain
definite characteristics. It should be simple, yet sufficiently
complex to include all the elements required for a good meditation. It should conform to the psychology of human beings,
yet allow for individual differences. Above all, it should be as
adjustable as a curtain stretcher to allow for normal progress.
In fact, anyone who understands what meditation is, should
have no difficulty in meditating methodically. Having chosen
a subject on which to meditate, he will, if possible, present it
to himself imaginatively. Moreover, his reason will seek to
penetrate the meaning of the event, character, or mystery before his mind; if, at the moment, his intention is practical, he
will seek to derive from the meditation motives for virtuous
action. In some persons, imagination will predominate; others
5

462

JAMES M. EGAN

will find greater ease in reasoning. Many will find it necessary
to use a meditation book to arouse images and thoughts.
Even when urging imagination and reason to operate, we
must always remember that their operations are merely stepping-stones to a more perfect mode of understanding, a more
simplified mode of knowledge that results naturally from the
habit of meditating. All the energy of the previous imaginative
and rational activity is finally focussed on a few fundamental
truths. It may take a long period of effort to bring our minds
to a fuller realization of what really takes place at the consecration of the Mass; at last, however, all our efforts bear fruit in
the simple thought of the consecration that holds our minds
enthralled. A man who has been married twenty-five years
need not ply his imagination or reason to find motives for loving
his wife. All he has to do is to look at her or think of her,
and that simple action, bearing in itself the fruit of years of
looking and thinking, makes his heart burn with love again.
The same process should result from continued efforts to meditate on the mysteries of faith. On the intellectual side, then,
simplification is a sign of progress.
Returning again to the beginning of the process and recalling
that the activity of imagination and reason has as its purpose
the arousing of the emotions and the will, we can trace a like
simplification of the activity of these faculties. In the course of
this paper we have spoken mostly about love. It is not the only
affective activity possible in meditation, though it should be
the source and end of all other activity. Sorrow, joy, thanksgiving, adoration, fear, hope, humility, all these and countless
others may be aroused during the course of our mental prayer.
In practice, whenever an image or a thought arouses an affective reaction in us, we should allow the affection to hold sway,
not passing on to another image or consideration until the
affection dies down. That is why 'we meditate--to arouse the
affections. Beginners, unless they are very sensitive, find difficulty in stimulating these responses; when they do succeed, the
affection passes quickly. Here too, then, we find multiplicity

MEDITATION

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468

and diversity. However, as the meaning of the divine truths
penetrates more deeply into the mind, the affections are more
easily aroused and sustained. They tend to dominate the whole
period of meditation, which then consists in a simple view of
the object that kindles a powerful and steady affective response.
Thus a glance at a crucifix plunges the soul into a bitter sorrow
for its own sins and the sins of others. Attendance at MasS' on
Easter or Christmas is a single burst of joy and happiness that
floods the soul and makes an hour seem like a few minutes.
This state of soul is properly called, not meditation, but acquired contemplation, which is the ultimate perfection of the
meditative habit and the immediate preparation for infused
contemplation. 9

v
The end of our meditation is union with God through
knowledge and love, the possession and enjoyment of God as an
intimate Friend. Yet, no matter how familiar we become with
God, He always remains the divine Being, the source of all our
perfections, the only One Who can lead us back to Him through
Hjs grace.
Since then there is ever the question of our relation with God,
of a creature with the Creator, two other acts must always
accompany meditation. Since God is so far beyond us, we need
His assistance for every step of the road, and there is only one
way to assure this assistance--to ask for it. Prayer of petition
must frequently be on our lips; we must continually open up to
God the desire of our hearts. We may desire, and hence ask
for, whatever is legitimate; but the principal object of our
petitions should always be an increase of the knowledge and
love of God, which will be finally fulfilled in the beatific vision
of eternal life.
• We are speaking here not of an emotional experience aroused by external circumstances, but of an affective experience aroused by a deeper penetration of the
divine mysteries. It is during such-periods as these that the Holy Ghost begins to
communicate infused contemplation to the soul. Of. St. John of the Cross, Ascent
uf Mount Carmel, Book, IT, c. XIV.

464

JAMES M. EGAN

St. Thomas expresses clearly the relation between the prayer
of petition and meditation: "There are two ways for man to
arrive at the knowledge of truth; first, by what he receives from
another; and for what man receives from God prayer is. required, according to the text of Wisdom: m 'I called upon God
and the spirit of wisdom came upon me .... ' Secondly,
personal study must be used; and for this meditation is
necessary." 11 As frequently happens, there is a mutual influence between prayer and meditation; the more perfectly we
know and love God, the more perfect our petitions will be; in
order to increase our knowledge and love of God, we must
petition the Father for illumination and inspiration.
In the introduction we recalled that our purpose here in life
is to serve God as well as to know and to love Him. The relation of friendship between God and the soul does not eliminate
the relationships of Creator and creature, Master and servant.
We owe to God the complete subjection of all our activities.
This subjection belongs to the virtue of religion, whose principal
act is devotion. " Devotion," says St. Thomas, " comes from
the idea of dedication. . . . Therefore devotion is simply the
promptitude of will in those things that concern the worship of
God." 12
The interior cause of devotion is according to St. Thomas,
meditation or contemplation. Devotion is an act of the will
dedicating man to the service of God and as such it presupposes an act of the intellect presenting the idea of service as
a good. Hence meditation causes devotion because it convinces
man of the necessity and fitness of such service. Moreover,
meditation causes love, which is a powerful motive of service.
There is another important point that can be made here.
For a Catholic, the sacraments are the ordinary channels of
grace. Each sacrament of itself gives grace to the soul that is
rightly disposed; for to receive any grace at all a minimum
vii, 7.
Summa Theol., II-II, q. 180, a. 3, ad 4um.
12 Ibid., q. 82, a. l, c.

CLO

11

MEDITATION

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465

disposition is demanded-sorrow for sin in the case of the
sacraments of the dead, freedom from ·conscious mortal sin in
the case of the sacraments of the living. However, the amount
of grace depends to a great extent on the devotion of the one
receiving the sacrament. While the sacrament alone is the
active cause of grace, devotion is a necessary disposition for
the sacrament to work effectively; the soil is not the cause of
the flower's growth, yet in unfavorable soil no flower can bloom.
Accordingly, meditation as the source of devotion also enters
into the whole sacramental life of man.

VI
Spiritual writers and theologians will not go so far as to say
that the practice of meditation is necessary for eternal salvation; nevertheless, all admit its necessity for any progress in
religious life. From what we have said, this is clear enough.
We need not, indeed should not, worship an" Unknown God."
The materials for knowing and loving God are abundantly at
our hand, waiting to be assimilated. The route from New York
to San Francisco is not difficult to follow; one must, however,
study the road map and follow its directions, if one is to avoid
wandering. Likewise the way to God is easy, if we make the
effort to study it and follow its directions. The anemic condition of much of our religious life is due principally to a lack of
meditation. The spiritual life is not an unconscious or spontaneous process; it demands activity, especially the activity of
faith and charity, which, as we have shown, is meditation.
If we were to read through the stacks of books being written
today about the causes of the present world crisis, if we were
to analyse all the factors that led to the rise of Communnaziism
and the fall of the democracies, if we were to plunge into the
stream of historical circumstances and dissect the actions of
history's characters, we should be forced to echo the cry wrung
from the lips of Jeremias at the sight of his beloved father-land
in ruins: " With desolation is the land made desolate, because
there is none that considereth in the heart." 18
18

]e;remias,-xii, 11.

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JAMES M. EGAN

The vice of the modern world is activism. Even in the
natural sphere, in economics, politics, education, sociology,
there is a lack of thought, a lack of penetration below the surfaces. There is a terrible blindness falling on the leaders of the
world; they do not know where they are going, for the contemplative, or speculative, element in life is scoffed at or, at
least, ignored. Activism can also infect the religious life of men,
even of Catholics. Without the inspiration of a deep knowledge
and love of God, religious activities can easily fall to the level
of a quasi-naturalism; conventionality dims the freshness of
love. The relations between the soul and God become perfunctory, the ceremonies of religious worship become insipid,
even meaningless.
The situation is, of course, not irremediable. As long as there
is faith and hope and charity in the mind and heart of man, the
road back to God is easy. It requires mereJ.y that love hearken
to the call of the Lover and start out on the search for God. As
long as charity is in the soul of man, he has the means of seeking
for and possessing God. All the vitality of eternal life is present
within him, though only in seed. " For this is eternal life, that
they may know Thee, the one true God, and Jesus Christ, whom
Thou hast sent." 14
JAMES

Dominican HCYUSe of Studies,
Washington, D. C.

u John, xvii, 8.

M. EGAN, O.P.

THE POSITION OF MATHEMATICS IN THE
HIERARCHY OF SPECULATIVE SCIENCE
I. INTRODUCTION
I.

STATEMENT OF THE PROBLEM

Thomistic interest in the problem of the classification of
mathematics is not prompted by any desire to minimize the
legitimate progress of modern mathematics. Increasing indications of such an interest are, in great measure, due to a belated
recognition of the true character of that progress. Faced with
overwhelming evidences of major advances in mathematics
and the mathematical sciences since the time of St. Thomas,
Thomists have been literally forced to a re-examination of the
hitherto unchallenged foundations of classical mathematics. It
is this renewed study which has served to eliminate many of
the apparent conflicts between traditional and modem concepts
of the science and to focus attention on the central issue-the
position of mathematics among the speculative sciences.
From the Thomistic viewpoint of a hierarchy of speculative
sciences, all the progress made within the field of pure mathematics is real progress, consonant with the principles of St.
Thomas. It is in the extension of mathematics to other fields
that difficulties arise. The genuine utility of mathematics in
interpreting the data of natural science has led to abuses. Not
content with a regulative . role of its own in the physicomathematical sciences, mathematics has refused to concede .a
similar role to metaphysics in the philosophy of nature. It has
come to deny any higher order of knowledge than its own, to
consider itself self-sufficient, independent of all other sciences
and capable of interpreting them fully by its superior principles.
The conflict here is unequivocal. The traditional conception
of a hierarchy of science, while permitting a limited regulative
role to mathematics in interpreting data of the lower sciences,

467

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JOHN F. WHITTAKER

demands a certain dependence of mathematics upon metaphysics, the supreme regulator of all science. Any attempt to
determine the precise limits of these regulated and regulative
functions of mathematics must clearly indicate the mutual relations between mathematics and the other speculative sciences;
it must fix the position of mathematics in an adequate division
of speculative science.
The difficulties inherent in such an endeavor are manifest.
Yet, most Thomists agree that the solution to the problem is
radically contained in St. Thomas' commentary, In Librum
Boetii de Trinitate. An analysis of the pertinent sections in
this commentary, supplemented by parallel passages from other
works of St. Thomas, has been made the basis for a division of
speculative sciences which is proposed as applicable to modern
developments in mathematics and compatible with Thomistic
principles. The whole project has been animated by the spirit
suggested by Maritain:
Particularly in relation to the foundations of mathematics much
more preliminary work is still required, in my opinion, before
Thomist philosophy can propound a systematic interpretation in
which all the critical problems offered by modern developments in
the mathematical sciences find a solution.1
Admittedly deficient in many respects, the present work is
offered as a preliminary step toward the ultimate goal of
systematic interpretation set by Maritain.
II. TEXTUAL KEY TO THE PROBLEM

The key texts of St. Thomas on the division of speculative
science are found in the fifth and sixth questions of his opusculum, In Librum Boetii de Trinitate. Each question consists
of four articles, distributed as follows:
Question V: The Division of Speculative Science.
Art. 1: Whether speculative science is conveniently divided into
natural, mathematical, and divine science.
1

J. Maritain, The Degrees of Knowledge (New York: 1988), p. xiii.

MATHEMATICS

IN SPECULATIVE

SCIENCE

469

Art. II: Whether natural philosophy is of those things which
are in motion and matter.
Art. ill: Whether mathematical
consideration
IS
without
motion and matter.
Art. IV: Whether divine science Is of those things which are
without matter and motion.
Question VI: The Modes which he attributes to Speculaltive Science.

Art. I: Whether it is necessary to proceed in natural science
rationabiliter, in mathematics disciplinabiliter, and in divine
science intelligibiliter?
Art. II: Whether imagination is absolutely relinquished in divine
science.
Art. III: Whether our intellect can consider the divine form
itself.
Art. IV: Whether this can be by way of some speculative
science.

This order of procedure has its origin in the text of Boetius.
In his prologue to the fifth question, St. Thomas makes it clear
that the division of science under consideration is that which
Boetius has placed in his text and that the modes are those
which the latter attributes to speculative science. The point
is not without significance. St. Thomas, commenting on the
teXt of Boetius, reveals his own doctrine on the division of
• Science, in the philosophical sense of the term, is certain and evident knowledge
acquired through demonstration. In relation to the teacher, this knowledge is
called doctrine; in relation to the student, it is called discipline. Metaphysics,
mathematics, and natural science may therefore be rightfully termed disciplines.
But St. Thomas maintains that mathematics is most properly said to proceed
disciplinabiliter since mathematical principles and conclusions are most readily
grasped by the student and mathematical demonstrations generate the greatest
certitude in the student's mind. For the rigid demonstrations of mathematics
proceed solely from the standpoint of formal causality.
Similarly, evidence is presented in support of the view that the reasoning process
is particularly characteristic of the demonstrations of natural science and that
understanding is the characteristic feature of metaphysical demonstrations. For in
natural science we reason from extrinsic causes, from one thing to another, but in
metaphysics we understand the very principles of being itself and, understanding
them, we are able not only to gain new knowledge but to deepen our understanding
of conclusions attained in the other sciences.

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JOHN F. WHITTAKER

speculative science but the order of presentation and method of
development are necessarily conditioned by the original text.
The real clue to St. Thomas' own approach to the problem
seems to be given in the first article of the fifth question.
Citing the authority of Aristotle and Ptolemy in support of
the threefold diyision into natural, mathematical, and divine
science proposed by Boetius, St. Thomas proceeds immediately
with a reasoned defense of that division. Two preliminary steps
in his exposition offer little difficulty. Consideration of the
practical sciences is first eliminated by the familiar distinction
between the respective ends of the speculative and practical
intellect. 3 As a basis for further distinction between the various
speculative sciences, St. Thomas advances the equally familiar
doctrine of the specification of habits and potencies by their
objects. 4 There can be as many specifically distinct speculative
sciences as there are formally different objects of the speculative
intellect.
It is in the application of this principle of specification that
St. Thomas indicates the direction in which his own division
of speculative science would proceed. He points out a twofold
aspect, of immateriality and immobility, under which all things
qualify as objects of the speculative intellect (speculabilia).
The immaterial character of the intellectual potency demands a
corresponding immateriality in its object. 5 This is consonant
with St. Thomas' consistent teaching that immateriality is the
root of knowledge. In postulating immobility in the object of
the speculative intellect, he argues from the nature of the habit
of science by which the intellectual potency is perfected. Science
is concerned only with necessaries and the necessary is immobile.6 Insisting on this dual specifying element in the object
• Speculativus intellectus, in hoc proprie ab operativo, sive practico distinguitur,
quod speculativus habet pro fine veritatem quam considerat, practicus autem veritatem consideratam ordinat in operationem tanquam in finem (In lib. Boet. de
Trin., q. 5, a. 1).
• Sciendum tamen, quod quando habitus, vel potentiae penes objecta distinguuntur, non distinguuntur penes quaslibet differentias objectorum, sed penes illas quae
sunt per se objectorum in quantum sunt objecta (ibid.) .
• Summa Theol., I, q. 85, a. 1.
• Omne autem necessarium in quantum hujusmodi, est immobile: quia omne quod

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of speculative science, St. Thomas holds that material things,
by their very nature, are adapted to separation from matter and
motion (per se competit separatio eta materia eta motu) and
that the speculative sciences are distinguished according to the
order of this remotion from matter and motion (secundum
ordinem remotionis et a materia et a motu) .
The article concludes with a description, in terms of dependence on matter, of the distinctive objects (speculabilia) which
are embraced in the three basic genera of speculative science:
(I) Natural Science: includes those things which are utterly
dependent upon matter; things which can exist only in
matter; things which cannot be understood without
matter. Definitions in this order necessarily include
sensible matter, as for example, flesh and bones are
included in the physical definition of man.
(2) Mathematics: includes those things which have a mixed
or partial dependence upon matter; things which exist
in matter but can be understood without matter; things
which may be defined without reference to matter, as
lines and numbers.
(3) Metaphysics: includes those things which are independent
of matter; things which riot only can be understood and
defined without matter but can exist without matter.
A schematic representation reveals the adequate character of
this fundamental division:
{
d epen ding upon matter <
Things<

for their existence }
Natural Science
and intelligibility

for existence ...........
not depending upon matter ..........................

Mathematics
Metaphysics

St. Thomas rejects the possibility of a fourth genus concerned
with things depending upon matter for their intelligibility but
movetur in quantum hujusmodi, possibile est esse et non esse vel simpliciter, vel
1ecundum quid (In lib. Boet. de Trin., lac. cit.).

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JOHN F. WHITTAKER

not for their existence. 7 The immateriality of the intellect is
incompatible with such a hypothesis.
The key to St. Thomas' own division of speculative science is
found in this first article in the phrase, "the speculative sciences
are distinguished according to the order of remotion from
matter and motion." 8 He visualizes the object of speculative
science as controlled by two factors: the natural power of the
intellect dematerializing its object and the acquired habit of
science perfecting this natural knowledge by immobilizing it, by
passing judgment on it in terms of . necessity. · He seems to
view the repeated acts of judgment, according to certain necessary and immobile principles, as generating a habit of science
which is conditioned by those principles and which, in turn,
judges its object in terms of those selfsame necessary and immobile principles. Obviously, any adequate division of speculative science purporting to be Thomistic must take full
cognizance of St. Thomas' teaching regarding this remotion
from matter by the intellectual potency and. from motion by
the habit of science.
Preliminary to such a division, two steps were deemed
necessary:
(I) A brief restatement of some fundamental notions of
abstraction, the doctrinal key to St. Thomas' division of speculative science;
(2) A complete recasting of the doctrine of St. Thomas' In
Librum Boetii de Trinitate, supplemented by his other works,
in an effort to determine the respective roles played by the
intellect and by the habit of science in: conditioning the objects
of the various speculative sciences.
1 Non est autem possibile, quod sint aliquae res quae secundum intellectum
dependeant a materia, et non secundum esse, quia intellectus, quantum est de se,
immaterialis est: et ideo non est quartum genus philosophiae praeter praedicta
(ibid.).
• Secundum ordinem remotionis et a materia, et a motu scientiae speculativae
distinguuntur (ibid.).

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DOCTRINAL KEY TO THE PROBLEM

The doctrine of abstraction is commonly accepted as the key
to the Thomistic division of science.9 But apart from the innate
subtlety of the doctrine, misconceptions are frequently occasioned by new terms and new divisions introduced by later
writers in an effort to clarify the position of St. Thomas. 10
Certainly the sense in which he uses the term, abstraction, is
not always too clear and that fact offers a real, though not
insurmpuntable, obstacle. It is hoped that a brief summary of
the basic notions of abstraction, pertinent to the problem at
hand, will facilitate the understanding of applications made
by St. Thomas in elaborating his doctrine on speculative
science and will permit the retention of his terminology in our
own analysis of that doctrine.
The human intellect understands material things by abstraction from phantasms. 11 St. Thomas bases this conclusion on
the principle that the object of knowledge is proportionate to
the power of knowing. In the cognitive order, man's intellect
stands midway between the sensitive powers, which are acts
of corporeal organs, and the angelic intellect, which is in no
way connected with corporeal matter. It is not the act of an
organ nor is it completely independent of matter. It is a power
of the immaterial soul which is the form of the human body
and the object proportionate to such a power is a form existing
individually in matter but not as existing in this individual
matter. Only by separating the form from the individual
matter which is represented in the phantasm, is the intellect
able to know what is in individual matter, though not as
existing in such matter. Some such separation of the form
from matter or remotion of matter from the form is necessarily
entailed in the intellect's attainment of its proper object. St.
Thomas terms this process, abstraction, and places it as a necessary condition of human knowledge: "we must needs say that
• J. T. Casey, The P'l'imacy of Metaphysics (Catholic Univ.: 1936), p. 76.
1

°F. A. Blanche," L'abstraction,"

11

Summa Theol., I, q. 85, a. I.

Bibliotheque Thomiste, ill (1923), 237 ff.

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JOHN F. WHITTAKER

our intellect understands material things by abstracting from
the phantasms." 12
Further insight into his conception of the nature of this
abstractive process is afforded when he points out, in response
to an objection, that abstraction may occur in two ways:
First, by way of composition and division; thus we may understand
that one thing does not exist in another, or that it is separate
therefrom. Secondly, by way of simple and absolute consideration;
thus we understand one thing without considering the other. Thus
for the intellect to abstract one from another things which are not
really abstract one from another, does, in the first mode of abstraction, imply falsehood. But, in the second mode of abstraction, for
the intellect to abstract things which are not really abstract from
one another, does not involve falsehood, as clearly appears in the
case of the senses. For if we understood or said that color is not in
a colored body, or that it is separate from it, there would be error in
this opinion or assertion. But if we consider color and its properties,
without reference to the apple which is colored; or if we express in
a word what we thus understand, there is no error in such an
opinion or assertion, because an apple is not essential to color, and
therefore color can be understood independently of the apple. 13
St. Thomas evidently attributes these two modes of abstraction to the corresponding acts of judgment and simple apprehension. Logical truth, found only in the judgment/4, is attained
through abstraction by way of composition and division; ontological truth, characteristic of the simple apprehension/ 5 is
attained through abstraction by way of simple and absolute
consideration. A critical analysis of the objective basis for these
two modes of abstraction and for the truth attained through
them is made by St. Thomas in his determination of the objects
of the various speculative sciences. The details of that analysis
and the conclusions drawn from it, are only intelligible in relation to this primary distinction between the modes of abstraction. Failure to grasp its full significance is fatal to any adequate
Ibid.
Ibid., ad lum.
u J. Gredt, Elementa Philosophiae (Friburg: 1937)", ll, 47 Ji.
10 Ibid.
12

18

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SCIENCE

comprehension of the respective roles St. Thomas assigns to
the intellect and to the habit of science in conditioning the
objects of the speculative sciences.

II.

CoNDITIONING

OF THE OBJECT IN SPECULATIVE

SciENcE

THE ROLE PL4YED BY THE INTELLECT

I.

1. Immateriality

as the basis of intellectual knowledge. In
his defense of Boetius' primary division of speculative science,
St. Thomas does not rest his case with a demonstration of the
mere fitness or convenience of that division. He goes a step
further and proposes physics, mathematics, and metaphysics
as three basic genera of speculative science. Boetius made no
such claim. This view of the three primary divisions of speculative science as basic genera is St. Thomas' own doctrine.
Basing his conclusion on the dependence of things upon matter,
he excludes all possibility of a fourth genus/ 6
It is not surprising to find St. Thomas' defense of Boetius'
division thus resolved in terms of the dependence of things
upon matter. Immateriality has traditionally been accepted by
Thomists as the basis of all intellectual knowledge and a· strict
proportion between the intelligibility of a thing and its separability from matter has always been recognized. 17 The entire
doctrine of St. Thomas on the speculative sciences is, in fact,
an application and a refinement of his fundamental thesis that
immateriality is the root of knowledge. The close kinship
between his general theory of knowledge and his conception of
speculative science is unmistakable. Evidence of that relationship is particularly striking in his analysis of the role played
by the intellect in conditioning the objects of the various
speculative sciences.
The Thomistic theory of knowledge starts with the fact that
we know things. St. Thomas' explanation of that fact may be
Cf. footnote 7, B'II!JTTa.
Sicut res sunt separabiles a materia, sic circa intellectum sunt (Summa
loc. cit., sed contra) .
16

u

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JOHN F. WIDTTAKER

summarily stated: our intellect, by the process of abstraction,
can possess the forms of material things in an immaterial
way. 18 In enumerating three types of things in terms of their
separability from matter, St. Thomas is making a more precise
determination of the basic fact upon which the whole ·theory of
knowledge depends; he is distinguishing three generic classes
among the things that are presented to man's intellect as
objects of speculation. His explanation of the way in which the
intellect attains these objects may be similarly summarized:
the intellect, according to three characteristic types of abstraction, can possess the forms of material things in three degrees
of immateriality. The sections which follow are devoted to the
clarification and justification of this tentative summation.

Immateriality in the physical order. The objective basis
for abstraction in this order is founded on the composition of
the whole with its parts. 19 St. Thomas points out that the
whole cannot be abstracted from its formal or specific parts but
only from its material parts. The specific parts constitute the
very essence of the whole and without them the whole cannot
be understood. Our understanding of the nature man, for
example, necessarily includes its specific parts, rational soul and
corporeal body. But the material parts are accidental to the
essence of the whole and are not necessary to our understanding
of it. The fingers, hands, feet, etc., are not specific parts of man;
they are material parts, parts of the individual man from which
the intellect can completely abstract and consider only the
universal nature, man.
It must not be thought that the intellect in thus abstracting
from the material parts completely strips the thing of all matter
and attains only the substantial form. St. Thomas explains that
if this were true:
matter would not be included in the definition of material things.
Therefore it must be said otherwise, that matter is twofold, com18
10

Summa Theol., I, q. 85, a. 1.
In lib. Boet. de Trin., q. 5, a. S.

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477

mon, and signate or individual; common such as flesh and bone;
and individual, as this flesh and these bones. The intellect therefore abstracts the species of a natural thing from the individual
sensible matter, but not from the common sensible matter; for
example, it abstracts the species of man from this flesh and these
bones, which do not belong to species as such but to the individual,
and need not be considered in the species: whereas the species of
man cannot be abstracted by the intellect from flesh and bones.2il
Abstraction of this type is termed by St. Thomas, abstraction
of. the universal from the particular .21
Universality is, of course, a necessary condition of all intellectual knowledge since the singular, as such, is not directly
attained by the intellect. 22 But in the physical order, St.
Thomas attaches a special significance to this abstraction of the
universal from the particular. Admitting that the intellect always abstracts from individual sensible matter, he points out
that, in the physical order, the abstractive process goes no
farther in its remotion from matter .23 Stripped solely of its
individual sensible matter, the material thing attains only the
lowest grade of immateriality; it is intelligible only in terms of
common sensible matter. U;nlike the mathematical and metaphysical orders, the physical order does not exclude common
sensible matter from its consideration, for it is concerned only
with qualitative being (ens mobile), being invested with all the
diverse qualities proper to the sensible world; 24 it deals with
qualitative changes which are not only manifested through the
senses but are also understood only in terms of that common
sensible matter in which all sensible qualities reside and have
their being.
•o Summa Theol., loc. cit., ad 2um.
In lib. Boet. de Trin., loc. cit.
•• Summa Theol., I, q. 86, a. I.
•• Secundum hoc est sciendum, quod materia signata est individuationis principium,
a quo abstrahit omnis intellectus, secundum quod dicitur abstrahere ab hie et
nunc. Intellectus autem naturalis non abstrahit a materia sensibili non signata:
. . . sed a materia sensibili totaliter abstrahit intellectus mathematicus, non autem
a materia intelligibili non signata ( Q. D. de V er., q. 2, a. 6, ad 1um) .
•• J. Maritain, A Preface to Metaphysics (London: 1939), p. 81.
01

6

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JOHN F. WHITTAKER

3. Immateriality in the mathematical order. Abstraction of
the universal from the particular, characteristic of the physical
order, has an objective basis in the composition of the whole
with parts. 25 The universal can be abstracted only from the
material parts of the thing and not from the specific parts which
constitute its very essence. Abstraction in the physical order
is thus limited to a remotion from the individual se:psible matter
upon which the essence of the thing does not depend. Similiarly,
any abstraction based on the composition of matter and form
can only be from that matter on which the form does not
depend. Accidents, however, are compared to substance as
form to matter and it is this composition of accident with substance which St. Thomas proposes as the objective basis for
abstraction in the mathematical order .26
Since accidents, by their very nature, are dependent upon
substance, it is impossible to abstract an accidental form from
the substance in which it resides and without which it cannot
be understood. But the accidents occur in substance according
to a certain order, first quantity, then qualities, and finally
passions and motion. 27 Quantity can therefore be understood
prior to any consideration of sensible qualities. It can be understood solely in relation to the substance on which it depends. 28
In the mathematical order, St. Thomas maintains that the
intellect strips the thing of all sensible matter, the subject of
sensible qualities, leaving only intelligible matter which is
nothing more than substance as subject to quantity.
Mathematical species . . . can be abstracted by the intellect from
sensible matter, not only from individual but also from common
matter; not from common intelligible matter, but only from indiIn lib. Boet. de Trin., loc. cit.
Ibid.; cf. In II Phys., lect. 3.
07 Similiter
autem inter accidentia omnia quae . adveniunt substantiae, primo
advenit ei quantitas, et deinde qualitates sensibiles et actiones et passiones et motus
consequentes sensibiles qualitates (In II Phys., loc. cit.).
28 Uncle cum
omnia accidentia comparentur ad substantiam sicut forma ad
materiam, et cujuslibet accidentis ratio dependeat a substantia, impossibile est
aliquam talem formam a substantia separari (In lib. Boet. de Trin., loc. cit.).
25

26

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479

vidual (intelligible) matter. For sensible matter is corporeal matter
as subject to sensible qualities ... while intelligible matter is substance as· subject to quantity. Now it is manifest that quantity is
in substance before other sensible qualities are. Hence quantities,
such as number, dimension, and figures, which are the terminations
of quantity, can be considered apart from sensible qualities; and
this is to abstract them from sensible matter; but they cannot be
considered without understanding the substance which is subject to
quantity; for that would be to abstract them from common intelligible matter. Yet they can be considered apart from this or that
substance; for this is to abstract them from individual intelligible
matter. 29
Abstraction of form from matter is thus seen to have a special
significance in the mathematical order. It is not to be understood as an abstraction of the substantial form, since the substantial form and the matter corresponding to it are mutually
dependent so that one cannot be understood without the
other .30 Nor is it to be understood as abstraction of the accidental form of any sensible quality, since sensible qualities
cannot be understood without quantity .31 It is the abstraction
of the accidental form of quantity from sensible matter, individual and common, and from individual intelligible matter.
The mathematical order is concerned only with quantitative
being (ens quantum), being divested of all its sensible qualities
and manifesting itself to us only through its quantitative
determinations. 82
4. Immateriality in the metaphysical order. The intellect
does not achieve complete remotion from matter in either the
physical or mathematical orders. In the physical order, abstrac•• Summa Tkeol., I, q. 85, a. 1, ad
80 Similiter autem cum dicimus formam abstrahi
a materia, non intelligitur de
forma substantiali: quia forma substiiJltialis et materia sibi correspondens, dependent
ad invicem, ut unum sine alio non possit intelligi, eo quod proprius actus in propria
materia sit (In lib. Boet. de Trin., lac. cit.).
81 Cum qualitates
sensibiles non possint intelligi non praeintellecta quantitate,
sicut patet in superficie et colore (ibid.).
•• R. E. BrenniiJl, "The Mansions of Thomistic Philosophy," THE Ta:oMIST,
I (1989), 65.

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JOHN F. WHITTAKER

tion is limited to a partial remotion from sensible matter. The
intellect strips the thing solely of its individual sensible matter,
leaving untouched the common sensible matter which is the
subject of qualitative determinations. In the mathematical
order, remotion from sensible matter is complete. Mathematics
leaves behind the world of sensible qualities and is concerned
only with quantity. Yet abstraction in the mathematical order
involves but a partial remotion from intelligible matter. For
while mathematics abstracts from individual intelligible matter,
it cannot abstract from common intelligible matter, from
substance as subject to quantity. Remotion from common
intelligible matter is proper to metaphysics.
The limitations placed on remotion from matter in the
physical and mathematical orders have an objective basis in
the two-fold composition in things: of the whole with its parts
and of accidents with substance. In the physical order there
can be no abstraction from the specific parts upon which the
whole is dependent; in the mathematical order, there can be no
abstraction from substance upon which quantity is dependent.
Since the intellect can never abstract from that matter upon
which the essence of the thing depends, St. Thomas insists that
common sensible matter is essential to our understanding of
things in the physical order and not common intelligible matter
is essential in the mathematical order .83
In the metaphysical order, however, there is no such dependence of things upon matter. Metaphysics is concerned
with those things which are completely independent of matter,
things which can exist and can be understood without matter
(i.e. the maxime intelligibilia) .34 St. Thomas points out two
distinct classes of things which realize this complete independence from matter ;35 Separata are those things, like God
and intellectual substances, whose very nature is incompatible
with existence in matter. Separabilia are those things, like being
and substance, whose nature is not incompatible with existence
88 In lib. Boet. de Trin., q. 5, a. 8.
•• In I Metaph., proem. i.
•• Ibid.; cf. in lib. Boet. de Trin., q. 5, a. 4.

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481

in matter even though they can exist without matter; they are
said to be separated from matter and motion, " not for this
reason that it is of their very nature to be without matter and
motion, as it is the nature of a donkey to be without reason,
but for this reason that it is not of their very nature to be in
matter." 36 Separata can never exist in matter; separabilia can
exist in matter. Things in either class can exist and can be
understood without matter. Yet these things, even though they
are in themselves most intelligible (maxime intelligibilia), are
made known to us only through their effects. 37
All our knowledge begins with the senses, and the proper
object of our intellect is the essence (quidditas) of the material
thing abstracted from its phantasm. 38 Since there are no phantasms of immaterial things, our intellect can only gain an
imperfect knowledge of them by stripping the phantasms of
material things of all matter, even that common intelligible
matter which is found in the mathematical order. 39 Thus it is
only by way of privation or negation that these completely
immaterial beings, transcending yet permeating the sensible
world in which we are immersed, are made known to our intelEvidence of this negative abstraction is afforded in the
very terminology employed in metaphysics. Negation is either
implied in the term itself, as immaterial, individual, etc., or it
is expressed in its definition, as when a point is defined as " that
which has no parts." 41 But this negative aspect of abstraction
m the metaphysical order should not blind us to the positive
88 Ens et substantia
dicuntur esse separata a materia et motu non propter hoc,
quod de ratione eorum sit esse sine materia et motu, sicut de ratione asini est sine
ratione esse, sed propter hoc quia de ratione eorum non est in materia et motu
esse (In lib. Boet. de Trin., q. 5, a. 4, ad 5um).
87 Per lumen naturalis
rationis pervenire non possumus in ea nisi secundum quod
in ea per efl'ectus ducimur (In lib. Boet. de Trin., q. 5, a. 4).
88 Summa Theol., I, q. 88, a. S.
89 Ibid., a. !1!.
•• Omnia quae transcendunt haec sensibilia nota nobis per negationem: sicut de
substantiis separatis cognoscimus, quod sunt immateriales et incorporeae, et alia
huiusmodi (In Ill Anima, lect. 11).
"Summa Theol., I, q. 8. 5, a. 8.

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JOHN F. WHITTAKER

intuition of being which is characteristic of that order .42 For
the proper object of the intellect in the metaphysical order is
not a particular kind of being, not qualitative being (ens
mobile) or quantitative being (ens quantum), but being itself
(ens), in all its transcendant perfection. 43
5. Summary. St. Thomas points out a two-fold aspect, of
immateriality and immobility, under which things qualify as
objects or speculative science.44 The task of dematerializing its
object, rendering it intelligible, is assigned by him to the natural
powers of the intellect. 45 Starting with a de facto division into
three basic genera of speculative science in terms of dependence
on matter, he makes an exhaustive analysis of the objective
basis for abstraction in the physical, mathematical, and metaphysical orders. 46 To each order he assigns a distinctive mode
of abstraction, a characteristic remotion from matter, which
raises the thing understood to a certain level of intelligibility
and places it in a certain grade of being. 47
Since the raw material (terminus a quo) of all human
knowledge is the sensible material thing, there is a tendency to
unduly emphasize the actual process of dematerialization and
to neglect the finished product (terminus ad quem), the intelligible object which the intellect attains by a simple apprehension. But it is a mistake to consider the abstractive process
solely in its negative aspect, as a gradual denudation of matter
from form. Maritain observes that:
•• J. Maritain, A Preface to Metaphysics (London: 1939), p. 86.
•• Nulla scientia particularis considerat ens universale inquantum hujusmodi, sed
solum aliquam partem entis divisam ab aliis; circa quam speculatur per se accidens,
sicut scientiae mathematicae aliquod ens speculantur, scilicet ens quantum. Scientia
autem communis considerat universale ens secundum quod est ens: ergo non est
eadem alicui scientiarum particularium (In IV Metaph., n.
.
.. Sic igitur speculabilia quod est objectum speculativae scientiae, per se competit
separatio et a materia, et a motu (In lib. Boet. de Trin., q. 5, a. 1).
•• Speculabilia . . . aliquid competit ex parte potentiae intellectivae, et aliquid
ex parte habitus scientiae quo intellectus perficitur. Ex parte quippe intellectus
competit ei quod sit immateriale, quia et ipse intellectus est immaterialis (ibid.) .
•• Ibid.
•• Prima quidem operatio respicit ipsam naturam rei, secundum quam aliqua
re>' intellecta aliquem gradum in entibus obtinet (In lib. Boet. de Trin., q. 5, a. 3).

MATHEMATICS

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488

The essence of the process of abstraction, the eidetic visualization, is
not to remove baser minerals in which the precious metal is embedded but to find the metal. The essence of metaphysical visualization is not to remove first the individualising notes, then
sensible qualities and finally the quantity, it is that of which all
this is but the indispensable condition, namely, the positive
perception, the intuition of being as such. 48
The positive term (terminus ad quem) attained by the intellect in the three degrees of immateriality attributed to the three
basic genera of speculative science is not neglected by St.
Thomas. The intellect, at the corresponding levels of intelligibility, understands the physical, mathematical, or metaphysical essence without reference to the thing in which it
previously existed and from which it has been abstracted.
Admitting a distinctive type of abstraction in each of these
orders, St. Thomas nevertheless considers them all as subdivisions of abstraction by way of simple and absolute consideration.49 This mode of abstraction, proper to the simple
apprehension, is called by him the understanding of indivisibles
(intelligentia indivisibilium) 00 and in enumerating its objects
he indicates three indivisibles, three unities which terminate
the abstractive process at the three levels of intelligibility. 51
•• J. Maritain, A Preface to Metaphysics (London: 1989), p. 87.
•• Since things proper to the metaphysical order can exist and can be understood
without matter, St. Thomas notes that they are more properly said to be 'separated '
than abstracted. But the simple apprehension of ens in the metaphysical order,
should not be confused with the separation of the principles of being preliminary
to the act of judgment (cf. In lib. Boet. de Trin., loc. cit.). Observe that being
presents two aspects. One of these is its aspect as essence which corresponds
particularly to the first operation of the mind. . . . The other is the aspect existence,
the esse in the strict sense. . . . It is in the second operation of the mind, in the
judgment, by composition and division, that the intellect grasps being, not only from
the standpoint of essence but from that of existence itself, actual or possible (J.
Maritain, op. cit., 19 fl'.).
50 In lib. Boet. de Trin., q. 5, a. 8.
61 De ea, quae est intelligentia
indivisibilium . . . secundum quod indivisibile
dicitur tripliciter, quot videlicet modis dicitur et unum, cujus ratio ex indivisione est.
Dicitur enim uno modo aliquid unum continuitate . . . dicitur alio modo unum,
quando habet speciem unam . . . prosequitur de indivisibili tertio modo dicto.
Videtur enim unum esse quod est penitus indivisibile (In Ill Anima, lect. 11) •

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JOHN F. WHITTAKER

The unity attained by abstraction in the physical order is
an indivisible according to species (indivisibile secundum
speciem) ; in abstracting the universal from the particular, the
intellect understands the species itself which unifies the specific
parts of the whole. 52 Even though these parts may be actually
divided in the thing, the intellect does not apprehend them
according to this accidental division but only as they are unified
in the universal by the species! 3 In the physical order, a man,
a horse, or an army is understood in its universal nature as a
specific unity! 4 It is in this sense of a specific unity, an indivisibile secundum spooiem, that qualitative being (ens mobile)
is to be understood as the proper object of the intellect in the
physical order and not as a complex aggregate of being and
mobility. 55
In the mathematical order the process of dematerialization
terminates at an indivisible according to quantity (indivisibile
secundum quantitatem) ; the intellect understands the species
of quantity (ipsa species quantitatis) which unifies the quantitative parts! 6 Unlike the specific parts in the physical order,
these quantitative parts are actually undivided in the thing
even though they are potentially divisible. 57 A triangle or a
•• Et licet illud quod est indivisibile specie, habet aliquam divisionem in partibus,
tamen ilia divisa intelligit per accidens, non inquantum sunt divisibilia et ex parte
ejus quod intelligitur, et ex parte temporis, sed inquantum sunt indivisibilia: quia
in partibus divisis etiam in actu, est aliquid indivisibile, scilicet ipsa species quam
intellectus indivisibiliter intelligit . . . in hoc modo est aliquid indivisibile, scilicet
species, quae facit omnes partes totius esse unum (ibid.).
•• Ibid.
•• Ibid.
•• A. M. Pirotta, Summa Philosophiae (Turin: 1936), II, 2.
•• Potest ergo intellectus intelligere magnitudinis dupliciter. Uno modo, secundum
quod est divisibilis in potentia, et sic intelligit lineam numerando partem post
partem . . . alio modo secundum quod est indivisibilis in actu, et sic intelligit earn
ut unum quid constans ex multis partibus, et sic intelligit earn simul. Et ideo
subjungit, quod similiter tempus et longitudo dividitur vel non dividitur intelligendo
(In III Anima, lect. 11).
" 7 Uncle et illud, quod est continuum,
indivisibile dicitur, inquantum non est
divisum actu, licet sit divisibile in potentia. Hoc est ergo quod dicit, quod cum
divisibile dupliciter, scilicet actu et potentia, nihil prohibet intellectum intelligere
indivisibile cum intelligit aliquid continuum, scilicet longitudinem, quae est indivisi-

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circle is actually a quantitative unity and in the simple apprehension of these things, the intellect understands them as
such without considering them as potentially divisible into
parts. It is in this sense of a quantitative unity (an indivisibile
secundum quantitatem) that quantitative being (ens quantum)
is to be understood as constituting the proper object of the
intellect in the mathematical order.
The complete dematerialization realized in the metaphysical
order presents to· the intellect objects which are absolutely indivisible (penitus indivisibile) .58 The transcendentals proper
to metaphysics are both actually and potentially indivisible;
they are known to us only by a negation of the actual division
found in the physical order and the potential division found in
the mathematical order. St. Thomas gives the example of a
point, which is a sign of division between the parts of a line but
is itself indivisible and made known to us only through the
privation or negation of division. 59 These are the ultimate indivisibles, indivisibles rooted not in the unity of physical or
mathematical being but in the unity of being itself. In the
metaphysical order the human intellect comes in contact with
the immaterial, immutable essences of all reality; in that order
is achieved the loftiest and most precious intuition of our
intellect, that of being as such. 60
II.

THE ROLE PLAYED BY THE HABIT OF SCIENCE

1. Immobility

as the basis of scientific knowledge. St.
Thomas postulates a twofold aspect, of immateriality and of
immobility, under which things qualify as objects of speculative
bilis actu, licet sit divisibilis potentia. Et propter hoc intelligit earn cum indivisibili
tempore, quia intelligit earn, ut indivisibile (ibid.).
58 Videtur enim unum esse quod est penitus indivisibile, ut punctus et unitas:
et
de hoc ostendit nunc, quomodo intelligitur: dicens, quod punctum, quod est quoddam signum divisionis inter partes lineae, et omne quod est divisio inter partes
continui, sicut instans inter partes temporis, et sic de aliis, et omne quod est sic
indivisibile in potentia et actu, ut punctus, "monstratur," idest manifestatur
intellectui "sicut privatio," idest per privationem continui et divisibilis (ibid.).

•• Ibid.
60 J. Maritain, A Preface to Metaphysics (London: 1989), p. 86.

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JOHN F. WHITTAKER

science. The task of dematerializing things, rendering them
intelligible, is assigned by him to the natural powers of the
intellect. The habit of science, perfecting the intellect, further
refines this immaterial, intelligible object by immobilizing it,
by passing judgment on :it in terms of its necessary and immobile principles. For all science is of necessaries and the
necessary is immobile. 61
There are, of course, sciences like physics and chemistry which
treat of contingent things, things whose behavior is conditioned
by the matter which they contain. Considered in themselves,
these things are contingent and as such they are known directly
by the senses. 62 The senses report the contingent fact; they
supply the observational data which is the raw material for
all science. The first refinement of that material is effected
through remotion from matter by the natural abstractive power
of the intellect. The thing thus stripped of its matter, the source
of contingency and motion, is apprehended by the intellect as a
necessary and immobile essence. It is upon these necessary
and immobile essences or forms abstracted by the intellect that
all science is founded; it is through them that knowledge of
even contingent and material things is made possible to man's
intellect. 63 All science, therefore, is said to be necessary because
of its ultimate basis in the necessary essences abstracted from
things, even though the things themselves may be either
contingent or necessary .64
In its first apprehension, the intellect is concerned only with
essences; it simply understands the immaterial essence in itself
without any reference to its previous mode of existence. But
St. Thomas points out that this essence or form may be compared to the thing from which it was abstracted. 65 By a certain
Cf. supra, note 5.
Summa Theol., I, q. 86, a. 8.
68 Per
rationes· immobiles, et sine materia particulari consideratas,
habetur cognitio in scientia naturali de rebus mobilibus et materialibus (In lib.
Boet. de Trin., q. 5, a. S.
•• Summa Theol., loc. cit.
•• Scientia est de aliquo dupliciter. Uno modo primo et principaliter, et sic
61

62

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487

power of reflection, the intellect can use the abstract form as a
medium of further knowledge (ut medio sciendi) .66 The very
forms abstracted by the first act of the mind thus become the
principles through which this initial knowledge of essences is
perfected; through them scientific knowledge is obtained of all
things, even those material and changing things which pertain
to natural science.67
2. Immobility in the three basic generra of science. Corresponding to the three degrees of immateriality at which the
intellect apprehends its object, Thomists have traditionally
recognized three orders of knowledge, three levels of intelligibility. According to the quiddity or nature apprehended by the
intellect in its first operation, the thing understood attains a
certain grade in being.68 In the physical order the nature
understood is qualitative being (ens mobile); in the mathematical order, quantitative being (ens quantum); and in the
metaphysical order, being itself (ens). These three orders, each
with its proper object, are considered by St. Thomas as constituting three basic genera of speculative science, but they
are not specific sciences. In its first operation, our intellect
does not gain scientific knowledge; it simply apprehends the
nature or essence of a thing. This initial understanding of
essences is perfected by the habit of science, passing judgment
on things as they actually exist.
John of St. Thomas holds that the first operation of the
intellect constitutes a thing in the intelligible order (in esse
intelligibili); it presents an immaterial essence which the intellect understands in itself without reference to the thing from
which the essence has been abstracted. 69 He considers the thing
scientia est de universalibus rationibus super quas fundatur. Alio modo est de
aliquibus secundario, et quasi per reflexionem quandam, et sic de rebus illis est
quarum sunt illae rationes, in quantum rationes illas applicat ad res particulares,
quarum sunt adminiculo inferiorum virium. Ratione enim universali utitur sciens
et ut re scita, et ut medio sciendi (In lib. Boet. de Trin., q. 5,
ad 4um).
•• Ibid.
•• Cf. 8Upra, note 62.
•• Cf. 8Upra, note 46.
•• Supponit enim D. Thomas pro fundamentali prihcipio, quod unaquaeque res in
tantum est intelligibilis, in quantum est a materia separabilis, eo quod intelligibile

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JOHN F. WHITTAKER

thus existing-existing, that is, as an object of the intellectual
potency (in esse intelligibili) -to be the proximate foundation
of scientific knowledge .. " Esse scibile adds over and above the
esse intelligibile such a mode of knowing, namely, that something is known not simply but illatively, proceeding from causes
or premises to conclusions." 70 Since the root of intelligibility is
immateriality and we distinguish differences in intelligibility
(intelligibilitas) according to corresponding differences in immateriality, he reasons that we should similarly distinguish
differences in knowability (scibilitas) according to differences
in immateriality, not considered absolutely in itself but as proceeding from principles to conclusions. Correlating his terminology with that of St. Thomas, his view seems to be that the
degree of immateriality realized in the essence of the thing constitutes it in the intelligible order (in esse intelligibili) and that
the corresponding degree of immobility realized in the principles of that essence constitutes the thing in the scientific
order (in esse scibili).
This interpretation appears to be consistent with the fundamental principle of St. Thomas that the specification of the
object in speculative science is controlled by two factors: immateriality, demanded by the nature of the intellect; and
immobility, demanded by the habit of science. For St. Thomas
maintains that" as each science considers a certain genus, it is
idem est quod spirituale et immateriale, principium autem spiritualitatis est
denudatio a materia. Et. sic cum materia obumbret et impediat intelligibilitatem,
illuminatur et apparet objectum, secundum quod a materia secernitur diversimode.
Cui fundamento addendum est, quod esse scibile addit supra esse intelligibile talem
modum cognoscendi, scilicet quod aliquid intelligatur non simplici modo, sed modo
illativo, ex causis seu praemissis procedendo ad conclusiones; scire enim est cognoscere causam, obquam res est, etc. Ex quo manifeste deducitur, quod si radix
intelligibilitatis est immaterialitas, et consequenter diversae intelligibilitatis diversa
immaterialitas, ita similiter radix et principium diversae scibilitatis erit diversa
immaterialitatis seu abstractio, non absolute et simplici modo considerata, sed prout
ex praemissis descendit ad conclusiones. Praemissae autem seu media probativa in
scientiis sunt ipsa prima principia seu de:finitiones, per quas proprie passiones de
subjecto demonstrantur (Joannis a Sancto Thoma, Cursua Philoaophicus Thomisticus, Log. II, q.
a. 1).

•• Ibid.

MATHEMATICS

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489

necessary that it consider the principles of that genus, since
science is not perfected except through knowledge of first principles." 71 These first principles are concomitant with the different orders of knowledge; 72 they are naturally grasped in our
first apprehension of the physical, mathematical, or metaphysical nature of a thing. 73 The difficulty lies in determining just
what degree of immobility or necessity it to be attributed to
the first principles proper to each of these three orders. For
while the three degrees of immateriality are quite clearly
indicated in the writings of St. Thomas, a comparable determination of the degrees of immobility is lacking. Yet sufficient
basis for the following sections is afforded.
a) Immobility in the physical order: In this order, the object
presented to the intellect (in esse intelligibili) is qualitative
being (ens mobile). The immateriality achieved at this lowest
level of intelligibility is not absolute; common sensible matter
constitutes a specific part of every qualitative being and cannot
be eliminated in our intellectual apprehension of it. The physical order is concerned with those things which can neither
exist nor be understood without common sensible matter; things
which contain within themselves the principles of motion. 74 It
is through these principles of motion that knowledge is had in
the natural sciences. 75 The intellect, however, in using these
principles of motion as the means for demonstrating conclusions, is no longer considering qualitatiye being (ens mobile) as
71 Sciendum igitur quod quaecumque scientia considerat aliquod genus subjectum,
oportet quod consideret principia illius generis, cum scientia non perficiatur nisi
per cognitionem principiorum primorum (In lib. Boet. de Trin., q. 5, a. 4).
•• Patet ergo quod ad diversificandum scientias sufli.cit diversitas principiorum,
quam comitatur diversitas generis scibilis (In Anal. Post., lib. 1, lect. 41).
•• In intellectu nostro sint quaedam quae intellectus noster naturaliter cognoscit,
scilicet prima principia, quamvis etiam ipsa cognitio in nobis non determinetur nisi
per acceptionem a sensibus (Q. D. de VeT., q. 8, a.15).
•• Scientia naturalis est circa ea quae habent in seipsis principium motus (In
XI Metaph., lect. 7).
·•• Quia tamen corpus mathematicum cognoscitur per principia quantitatis, corpus
autem naturale per principia motus, non est eadem scientia geometria et naturalis
(In Anal. Post., lib. 1, lect. 41).

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JOHN F. WHITTAKER

an object of the intellectual potency (in esse intelligibili); it is
considering ens mobile ut mobile, as an object of the habit of
science (in esse scibili) . For natural science considers sensible
substances only as they are in act and in motion. 76
b) Immobility in the mathematical ordetr: In this order, the
object presented to the intellect (in esse intelligibili) is quantitative being (ens quantum) .77 The essences with which this
order is concerned are abstracted from all sensible matter but
not from intelligibile matter. 78 Thus the immateriality attained
at the mathematical level of intelligibility transcends the
consideration of sensible matter but necessarily involves the
consideration of intelligibile matter without which quantitative
being is unintelligible. At this level of intelligibility the intellect, by reflecting upon the essence apprehended in its first
operation, is able to distinguish principles of quantity which
can be used in demonstrating conclusions in the science of
mathematics. 79
If these principles of quantity are expressed in terms of
immobility, the difference between them and the principles of
motion proper to the physical order becomes clearly apparent.
The physical order, concerned with essences which actually
contain within themselves the principles of motion, considers
its object in esse scibili as moving (ut mobile); the mathematical order, concerned with essences which are only potentially capable of change, considers its proper object in esse
scibili as capable of change (ut mutabile). For the mathematical order considers quantitative being, in esse intelligibili,
as a unity which is actually undivided (indivisibilis in actu) but
the science of mathematics considers it, in esse, scibili, as
potentially divisible (divisibilis in potentia) ."'0 The child who
76 Naturalis scientia considerat solum de substantiis sensibilibus inquantum sunt in
actu et in motu (In XII Metaph., lect. 2).
" 7 Cf. note 4£, supra.
78 In VIII Metaph., lect. 5.
79 In Anal. Post., loc. cit.
80 Summa Theol., I, q. 85, a. 8; cf. footnotes 55 and 56, supra.

MATHEMATICS

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491

apprehends a line, a circle, and a triangle as distinct unities,
understands them at the mathematical level. But scientific
knowledge is not attained until he learns to distinguish the
quantitative parts and to use them in demonstrating characteristic properties of the different mathematical figures.
c) Immobility in the metaphysical order: The object which
the intellectual potency attains in this order is being (ens) .
Since the metaphysical order is concerned with those things
which can exist and can be understood without matter, the
immateriality realized at this level of intelligibility is absolute.
Consequently the absolute immateriality of the object in esse
intelligibili is paralleled by an absolute immutability in the
principles which constitute the object in esse scibili. For the
intellect, reflecting on the essence of being, can distinguish no
other principles than the immutable principles of being itself.
It is for this reason that the proper object of the science of
metaphysics is commonly said to be being as such (ens ut sic)
or being considered as being (ens ut ens). But the proper
object, in esse scibili, of the science of metaphysics is expressed
in terms of its immobility as ens ut immutabile. For ens, in
the metaphysical order, is indivisible in potency and act, and
cannot be considered as mobile or mutable. 81
8. Summary. Immobility is posited by St. Thomas as the
second requisite for an object of speculative science. The
material ·thing must be stripped not only of matter but of
motion before it is fully constituted as an object of science.
The natural abstractive power of the intellect dematerializes
things and permits their apprehension, in esse intelligibili, at
three levels of intelligibility, in three degrees of immateriality.
Reflecting upon the objects presented in esse intelligibili, the
intellect can distinguish three corresponding degrees of immobility in their principles and the objects are constituted in
esse scibili according to these degrees of immobility. But since
judgment, the second act of the mind, uses these principles in
81

Ibid.

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JOHN F. WHITTAKER

establishing the conclusions of science, it is imperative that we
consider the thing to which these principles are applied, the
terminus ad quem o£ judgment. For the principles of the
higher orders are applicable also to objects in the lower orders. 82
The principles of being, proper to the metaphysical order,
can be applied not only to things in that order but to those in
the two lower orders. From his supreme vantage point at the
highest level of intelligibility, the metaphysician is in a position
to judge all things in terms of their immutable principles. He
can consider being as immutable (ens ut immutabile) in the
science of metaphysics; quantitative being as immutable (ens
quantum ut immutabile) in the philosophy of mathematics;
and qualitative being as immutable (ens mobile ut immutabile)
in the philosophy of nature. At the second level of intelligibility,
the mathematician is in a position to judge of things in his own
and in the physical order in terms of their mutability. He can
consider quantitative being as mutable (ens quantum ut mutabile) in the science of mathematics and qualitative being as
mutable (ens mobile ut mutabile) in the physico-mathematical
sciences. But at the lowest level of intelligibility, the principles
of motion proper to the physical order can be applied only to
things in that order; the consideration of qualitative being as
mobile or changing (ens mobile ut mobile) is the solitary orbit
of natural science.
A division of speculative science based on this two-fold
specification of object in terms of immateriality and immobility
can now be proposed.

III.

DIVISION

oF SPECULATIVE

SciENCE

The division of speculative sciences can be most graphically
represented by a diagram (see p. 495). Before examining this
diagram, however it will be well to recall the main points of the
discussion. In our introductory section, the solution of the prob82 Quanta scientia aliqua abstractiora
et simpliciora considerat, tanto ejus principia
sunt magis applicibilia aliis scientiis (In lib. Boet. de Trin., q. 5, a. 3, ad 6um).

MATHEMATICS

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lems raised by modern mathematics was reduced to the determination of the position occupied by mathematics in an adequate
division of speculative science, the adequacy of such a division
to be judged by: (A) its compatibility with Thomistic doctrine;
(B) its applicability to
developments in mathematics.
It is under these two aspects that the merits and advantages of
our proposed divisions are discussed.
I.

CORRELATION

OF DIVISION

WITH THOMISTIC

DOCTRINE

In seeking a Thomistic approach to an adequate division of
speculative science, St.lhomas' commentary, In Librum Boetii
de Trinitate, was utilized as the key text and his theory of
abstraction, as the key doctrine. Radical justification for the
division proposed, is found in the analysis of that text and that
doctrine made in the preceding section. But additional evidence of its compatibility with St. Thomas' doctrine on the
speculative sciences and with his theory of abstraction is
indicated in the following sections.
1. Relation to key texts of St. Thomas. The speculative
sciences are necessarily divided according to differences in the
t4ings which are presented to the intellect as objects of science.
In St. Thomas' view, these differences in the objects of science
(speculabilia) are controlled by two factors: immateriality,
demanded by the intellectual faculty and immobility, by the
habit of science. Our analysis of those two factors, leading to
the distinction, not only of three degrees of immateriality, but
of three corresponding degrees of immobility seems sufficiently
justified in the preceding section. But the interrelation of the
degrees of immateriality and immobility in specifying the
object of science was merely indicated in the statement that
"the principles of the higher orders are applicable also to the
lower orders." 83
a) In Librum Boetii de TrinitatB: St. Thomas points out
that the principles of mathematics are applicable to things in
•• Oportet scientias speculativas dividi per differentias speculabilium, in quantum
sunt speculabilia (In lib. Boet. de Trin., q. 5, a. I).

't

494

JOHN F. WHITTAKER

the physical order and that an intermediary science (scientia
media) between purely mathematical and purely natural science
is constituted by such application. 84 This intermediary science
is considered by him to constitute a specific science, distinct
from mathematics and natural science. Pure natural science
considers the properties of natural things as such and pure
mathematics considers quantity in itself.s 5 'But the intermediary
science (scientia media) is formally mathematical and materially physical; its conclusions about things in the physical
order are demonstrated through principles of the mathematical
order. 86 Astrology and music are cited by St. Thomas as sciences
in which such an application of mathematical principles to
physical things is made. 87
Following the terminology of Maritain, 88 this type of science
is indicated in our diagram of the sciences as physico-mathematical. In terms of that diagram, it is the science of qualitative
being as mutable (ens mobile ut mutabile) as distinguished
from mathematics, quantitative being as mutable (ens quantum
ut mutabile) and from natural science, qualitative being as
changing (ens mobile ut mobile). Since the principles of the
lower order cannot be applied to a higher order, there can be
no science of quantitative being as changing (ens quantum ut
mobile), no science which is formally physical and materially
mathematical. There are only three basic sciences possible to
the intellect which has not risen above the mathematical order
for the principles used in its demonstrations. The other three
basic sciences, metaphysics, the philosophy of mathematics,
8 ' Et inde est, quod de rebus naturalibus
et mathematicis ordines scientiarum
tres inveniuntur. Quaedam enim sunt pure naturales, quae considerant proprietates
rerum naturalium in quantum huiusmodi, sicut physica, et agricultura, et huiusmodi.
Quaedam vero sunt pure mathematicae, quae determinant de quantitatibus absolute,
ut geometria de magnitudine, arithmetica de numero. Quaedam vero sunt mediae,
quae principia mathematica ad res naturales applicant, ut musica et astrologia, quae
tamen magis sunt aflines mathematicis, quia in eorum consideratione id quod est
physici est quasi naturale: quod autem mathematici, quasi formale (In lib.
de Trin., q. 5, a. 8, ad 6um).
86
88

Ibid.
J. Maritain,

87 Ibid.
•• Ibid.
Degrees of Knowledge (New York: 1988), p. 52.

MATHEMATICS

IN SPECULATIVE

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495

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496

JOHN F. WHITTAKER

and the philosophy of nature are all formally metaphysical,
proceeding from the immutable principles of being.
This is indicated in our diagram by their position in the same
vertical plane in esse scibili, just as their material diversity is
indicated by their different horizontal positions in esse intelligibili. The immutable principles of being are applied to being
itself in the science of metaphysics but to quantitative being
in the philosophy of mathematics and to qualitative being in
the philosophy of nature. The science of metaphysics alone is
the pure science of being, formally and materially metaphysical
both in its principles and in the term of its judgments. It is the
science of ens ut immutabile. But the philosophy of mathematics is formally metaphysical and materially mathematical;
it judges the quantified beings of the mathematical order in the
light of the immutable principles of the higher metaphysiMl
order. Similarly, the philosophy of nature, in using those same
immutable principles to judge the changing things of the physical order, is formally metaphysical but materially physical.
For the philosophy of mathematics is the science of quantitative
being as immutable (ens quantum ut immutabile) and the
philosophy of nature is the science of qualitative being as
immutable (ens mobile ut immutabile).
Of the six sciences included in our division of speculative
science, three are pure sciences and three are intermediary
sciences (scientiae mediae). Metaphysics, mathematics, and
natural science are pure sciences, considering things in the
metaphysical, mathematical, and physical orders in the light of
the principles proper to each of those orders. Physico-mathematical science is the intermediary science (scientia media)
between the mathematical and physical orders; the philosophy
of mathematics and the philosophy of nature are intermediary
sciences (scientiae mediae) between the metaphysical and,
respectively, the mathematical and physical orders. Thus the
six sciences included in our diagram are considered as six basic
classes into which all speculative science naturally falls. Further
evidence in support of this view is afforded in the following
sections.

MATHEMATICS

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497

b) In his Expositio in Libros Posteriorum Analyticorum:
St. Thomas states that the unity of a science is determined by
the unity of its subject, the thing about which judgment is
made. 89 He distinguishes three generic subjects of science according to the three degrees of immateriality, giving ens,
corpus mathematicum, and corpus naturale or mobile as examples.90 But to each genus he attributes first principles which
are concomitant with it and he maintains that application of
the first principles proper to a given order constitutes pure
science in that order. 91 Similarly, he gives examples of intermediary sciences (scientiae mediae) in which the principles of
a higher order are applied to things in a lower order .92 For he
maintains that the sciences are distinguished according to the
diversity of their principles. 93
Evidently the unity of subject which St. Thomas attributes
to a science is only a material unity; unity of principles constitutes a formal unity .'9 4 According to our diagram, such a
material unity would be attributed to natural science, physicomathematical science, and the philosophy of nature, since
•• Dicit ergo primo quod scientia dicitur una, ex hoc quod est unius generis subjecti. Cuius ratio est, quia processus scientiae cuiuslibet est quasi quidam motus
rationis. Cuiuslibet autem motus unitas ex termino principaliter consideratur . . .
et oportet quod unitas scientiae consideretur ex fine sive ab termino scientiae. Est
autem cuiuslibet scientiae finis sive terminus, genus circa quod est scientia: quia in
speculativis scientiis nihil aliud quaeritur quam cognitio generis subjecti (In Anal.
Post., lib. 1, lect. 41) .
oo Ibid.

Patet ergo quod ad diversificandum scientias sufficit diversitas principiorum,
quam comitatur diversitas generis scibilis. Ad hoc autem quod sit una scientia simpliciter utrumque requiritur et unitas subjecti et unitas principiorum (ibid.).
•• Unde patet quod quando ea, quae sunt lineae simpliciter, applicantur ad
lineam visualem, fit quodammodo descensus in aliud genus . . . quod est unius
scientiae non habet probare alia scientia, nisi forte una scientia sit sub altera, sicut
se habet perspectiva ad geometriam, et consonantia vel harmonia, idest musica,
ad arithmeticam (ibid., lect. 15) .
•• Cf. note 90, supra.
•• Cum ergo scibile sit proprium objectum scientiae, non diversificabuntur
scientiae secundum diversitatem materialem scibilium, sed secundum diversitatem
eorum formalem. Sicut autem formalis ratio visibilis sumitur ex lumine, per quod
quibus
color videtur, ita formalis ratio scibilis accipitur secundum principia,
aliquid scitur (In Anal. Post., lib. 1, lect. 41).
91

498

JOHN F. WHITTAKER

qualitative being (ens mobile) is' their common subject-matter.
Formally they are distinct sciences, each demonstrating its
conclusions through principles proper to different orders. This
diversity of principles is indicated diagrammatically in the
different positions which each of these sciences occupies in esse
scibili.
2. Relation to doctrine of abstraction. In our introductory
section, abstraction was proposed as the doctrinal key to the
Thomistic division on speculative science. We signified our
intention of following the terminology of St. Thomas, and
described his distinction between the modes of abstraction
characteristic of the simple. apprehension and the judgment as
vital to a proper understanding of his doctrine on the division
of speculative science. In our analysis of the part played by the
intellect and by the habit of science in conditioning the object
of science, three sub-divisions of each of these primary modes
of abstraction were indicated. The intellect was found to
apprehend things in three degrees of immateriality; the habit
of science was found to judge things according to principles
expressed in three degrees of immobility.
Throughout this analysis, the terminology of St. Thomas was
preserved in the interests of accuracy of interpretation and uniformity of expression. It was only in determining the interrelation of these two factors of immateriality and immobility
in controlling the object of science, that John of St. Thomas'
distinction between esse intelligibile and esse scibile was introduced as adaptable for a summation of St. Thomas' doctrine.
In our diagram, esse intelligibile thus expresses the degree of
immateriality found in the object abstracted by the first
operation of the intellect. It indicates the level of intelligibility
achieved in the simple apprehension: Esse scibile, indicating
the degree of immobility found in the principles used in judgment, completes the expression of the object of science in terms
of its immateriality and immobility.
This manner of indicating the distinctions between the various speculative sciences seems perfectly satisfactory and in

MATHEMATICS

IN SPECULATIVE

SCIENCE

499

harmony with St. Thomas' notion of abstraction as explained in
the preceding chapter. But since Thomists, following Cajetan,
have traditionally used the terms total and formal abstraction,
a possible application of those terms to our division is suggested
parenthetically. The four-fold difference which Cajetan notes 95
between these two modes of abstraction, seems to warrant the
view that total abstraction can be attributed to the intellect in
its simple apprehension and formal abstraction to the habit of
science in its judgments. Cajetan maintains that it is within
the different modes of formal abstraction that the speculative
sciences are distinguished; total abstraction is common to all
science.96 It must not be thought that he identifies formal
abstraction with the intellectual apprehension of quantitative
being, nor total abstraction with intellectual apprehension at
the physical level.
II.

THE POSITION

OF MATHEMATICS

IN SPECULATIVE

SCIENCE

The central issue raised by modern progress in mathematics
concerns the position of mathematics with respect to the other
speculative sciences. Admitting legitimate progress within the
pure science of mathematics and tremendous developments in
the physico-mathematical sciences, Thomists have refused to
concur in the tacit denial of metaphysics and the substitution
of mathematics as the supreme regulator of science.97 They
have been unwilling to abandon the traditional concept of a
hierarchy of science which permits a limited regulative role to
mathematics in interpretating the data of physical science, yet
demands a certain dependence of mathematics on metaphysics.
Our diagram of the speculative sciences is offered as affording
a more precise indication of these regulated and regulative
functions of mathematics, through fixing its position in the
hierarchy of speculative science.
•• Cajetan, Comm. in de Ente et Essentia, -q.l.
•• Quia penes diversos modos abstractionis formalis scientiae speculativae diversificantur .... Abstractio autem totalis communis est omni scientiae (ibid.). Cf.
supra (9).
•• J. Maritain, op. cit., p. 245.

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JOHN F. WHITTAKER

l. Regulated functions of mathematics.

a) Pure Mathematics: Mathematics, as indicated in our
diagram, is not directly :regulated by metaphysics. It is pure
science at the mathematical level of intelligibility, capable of
its own intrinsic development. 98 As the science of quantitative
being as mutable (ens quantum ut mutabile), it considers
quantitative being as quantified, as potentially divisible into
quantitative parts which can be numbered or measured. 99
fleeting on the quantitative being attained by. simple
hension at the mathematical level, the mathematician can
distinguish its quantitative parts and use them as principles of
demonstration. These quantitative principles are not borrowed
from metaphysics. They are principles proper to the mathematical order, concomitant with the mathematical being
apprehended in that order.
It is in this sense that mathematics is recognized by Thomists
as autonomous within its own field/ 00 but that very autonomy
is guaranteed and defended by metaphysics. Metaphysics rules
mathematics negatively by restricting it to its own proper
sphere; by limiting its conclusions to the field of mathematics
without dictating those conclusion. 101 Metaphysics, from its
position at the summit of human science, restricts mathematics
to the lower mathematical order of quantitative being and
limits its conclusions to the principles of mutability proper to
that order. Reserving to itself the consideration of being as immutable (ens ut immutabile), it concedes to mathematics the
consideration of quantitative being as mutable (ens quantum
ut mutabile). But if the mathematician seeks a deeper insight
into the quantified beings which he studies, if he wishes to
•• Ibid., p. 60.
Ponit species qua.ntitatis; inter quas primae sunt duae; scilicet multitudo sive
pluralitas, et magnitudo sive mensura. Utrumque autem eorum habet rationem
quanti, inquantum multitudo numerabilis est et magnitudo est mensurabilis ....
Multitudo est, quod est divisibile secundum potentiam in partes non continuas.
Magnitudo autem quod est divisibile in partes continuas (In V Metaph., lect. 15).
100 M. J. Adler, What Man Has Made Of Man (New York: 1937), p. 27.
101 Ibid.
99

MATHEMATICS

IN SPECULATIVE

SCIENCE

501

defend and explain the principles which he uses in his own
field, he must look to metaphysics. 102 The ultimate explanation
of the axioms and assumptions of all science is rooted in the
immutable principles of being itsel£.1°3
b) The Philosophy of Mathematics: This science, as indicated in our diagram, is directly regulated by mathematics. It
is the intermediary science (scientia media) between mathematics and metaphysics: materially mathematical in its subject-matter, quantitative being (ens quantum), and formally
metaphysical in its immutable principles. It is the science of
quantitative being as immutable (ens quantum ut immutabile),
a distinct science which uses the immutable principles of metaphysics to gain a deeper knowledge of mathematical being.
Only in such a philosophy of mathematics, using the immutable
principles of being itself, will the axioms and assumptions of
mathematics receive adequate defense and explanation. For
while the pure science of mathematics is not directly dependent
upon metaphysics for the attainment and use of its first
principles, it is utterly incapable of explaining and defending
them. 104
But metaphysics, from the very fact that it has being as its object,
also covers somehow all the inferior sciences which treat of particular beings or particular aspects of beings, and may judge them,
defend these sciences and use them. . . . Reflecting on mathematics, metaphysics becomes philosophy of mathematics, which
is only materially mathematical, even though the data used be
formally mathematical. 105

2. Regulative functions of mathematics.
a) Physico-mathematical Science: The regulative role of
mathematics in interpreting the data of physical science is
indicated, in our diagram, by the position of mathematics
J. Gredt, op. cit., I, 185.
J. Maritain, op. cit., p. 62.
104 Ibid., p. 60.
105 C. D. De Koninck, "Thomism and Scientific Indeterminism," Proc. Am. Cath.
Phil. Assoc., Xll (1936), 75.
102

103

JOHN F. WHITTAKER

immediately over physico-mathematical
science. The later
science is the intermediary science between the mathematical
and physical orders, judging the changing things of the inferior
order by the principles of the higher, mathematical order. For
although the consideration of motion does not pertain to pure
mathematics, St. Thomas cites instances in which the mathematical principles of measure and number are legitimately and
effectively employed in studying motion and change in physical
things. 106 Maritain, therefore, aptly describes .this type of
science as
a scientia media, of which the typical examples to the ancients were
geometrical optics and astronomy: an intermediary science, halfway between mathematics and empirical natural science, of which
the physically real forms the subject-matter in regard to the
measurements which it allows us to draw from it, but whose formal
object and conceptual procedure remain mathematical: a science
which we may call materially physical and formally mathematical. 1 1
{)>

In exercising this regulative function, mathematics is perfectly within its rights. As a superior science, it can exert a
directive and interpretative influence in physico-mathematical
science, comparable to that of metaphysics in the philosophy of
mathematics and in the philosophy of nature. But it is imperative that such a comparison take full cognizance of the
wide divergence in the principles which mathematics and metaphysics bring to bear on the sciences inferior to them. It must
be remembered that physico-mathematical science producing
" both scientific knowledge and a marvelous technical power
over nature," is proceeding, " from the point of view of quantity, not that of being." 108 In the terms used in our division
of science, it is the science of qualitative being as mutable (ens
mobile ut mutabile). As such it constitutes a specific science,
distinct not only from mathematics but also from natural
science and the philosophy of nature. Its relations to matheIn lib. Boet. de Trin., q. 5, a. 8, ad 5um et 6um.
J. Maritain, op. cit., p. 5ft.
108 Ibid., p. 56.
108

107

MATHEMATICS

IN SPECULATIVE

SCIENCE

503

matics, upon which it is formally dependent for its principles,
has already been described. The limitations of its field, in relation to the other two basic sciences in the physical order, are
indicated in the final section.
b) Inter-relation of basiv svienves in the physival order:
The material identity and formal diversity of natural science,
physico-mathematical science, and the philosophy of nature is
evident from their relative positions in our diagram of speculative science. Qualitative being (ens mobile) is their common
subject-matter; their judgments all terminate in the physical
order, but the principles each employs are formally distinct,
originating in different orders. It is this formal difference in
principles which constit:utes them specific sciences: natural
science, using
proper to the physical order; physicomathematical science, principles proper to the mathematical
order; and the philosophy of nature, principles .of the metaphysical order. Natural science is pure science in the physical
order; physico-mathematical science is the intermediary science
between the physical and mathematical orders; the philosophy
of nature is the intermediary science between the physical and
metaphysical orders.
Natural science, pure science at the physical level, considers
changing things as changing; it considers qualitative being as
mobile (ens mobile ut mobile). As indicated by its position, it
is not directly dependent upon either mathematics or metaphysics; it is perfectly autonomous within its own field. Yet its very
position at the opposite extreme to metaphysics, at the lowest
point in esse, intelligibili and in esse svibili, marks the narrow
limits of that field. The degree of immateriality realized in its
object is the bare minimum sufficient to place it in the intelligible order and the immobility attributed to its principles is the
minimum required to constitute it in esse svibili. Natural science
must, in fact, consider the changing thing as changing (ut
mobile). It is only by restricting its consideration to a certain
type of change, by controlling and correlating all the variant
factors, and by multiplying its observations that natural science

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JOHN F. WHITTAKER

achieves a degree of immobility in its principles and a measure
of necessity in its conclusions. For natural science seeks only
" to discover the interconnexion of the phenomena of change,
the correlation of the accidental variables which, in their
covariancy, present to us the uniform face of a changing
world." 109
But the mind of man has never rested content with this
superficial knowledge gained in natural science. Consciously
or not, men have always sought a more radical explanation for
the manifold changes of this changing world. The natural attraction of the intellect toward the higher orders has constantly
led to the interpretation of the data of natural science in the
light of mathematical and metaphysical principles. Evidence
of that attraction is discernible at every period in the history
of human thought. Its direction and intensity alone have
varied. Predominantly mathematical in its trend today, natural
science in the past looked almost exclusively to metaphysics
for an explanation of problems suggested, but unanswered, in
its own restricted field. Failure to recognize these tendencies
and their influence on the findings of what is loosely called
" natural science," in the generic sense of science at the physical level, has been an endless source of misunderstanding for
all concerned.
Adler observes:
The composite character of ancient physical writings-partly philogreat care in
sophical in method and partly scientific-requires
the modern reader, who must distinguish philosophical principles
from scientific knowledge of particular matters of fact. In the latter
sphere it is to be expected that the ancients would make many
errors; but these errors do not affect the validity of their principle.U 0

Following his own suggestion, he classes the Physies of Aristotle as "purely philosophical" and the De Coelo and the
De Generatione et Corruptione as "in some part also," philosophical.111 St. Thomas, in fact, seems to indicate that these
109

M. J. Adler, ap. cit., note 9, p. 147.

110

Ibid., p. 21.

m

Ibid., 19 ff.

MATHEMATICS

IN SPECULATIVE

SCIENCE

505

three books of Aristotle's works on "natural science" might
well be considered in our classification as, respectively, philosophy of nature, physico-mathematical, and natural science. 112
Certainly St. Thomas was. not unaware of the essential diversity
of these three basic sciences. His insistence upon astronomy as
an intermediary science between pure science in the physical
and mathematical orders is proof of that. 118
It is equally important that we recognize the place these
three sciences hold in current scientific works. Modern physics,
physical chemistry, and to a great extent the whole field of
chemistry, are physico-mathematical
sciences. Proceeding
formally from mathematical principles, they are the modern
counterpart of the more ancient intermediary sciences such _as
astronomy and are included in our diagram under the physicomathematical sciences. Sciences of the biological type, less
amenable to mathematization, continue to consider " sensible
and observable being in the very degree to which it is sensible
and observable." 114 It is for this reason that they are classed as
natural science in our division. However these pure sciences
112 Praecedunt
autem hunc librum, secundum ordinem, in scientia naturali tres
libri. Unde tria facit. Primo ponit de quo sit actum in libro Physicorum. In quo
quidem, quantum ad duos primos libros ejus, agitur de causis naturae, ... ut
intelligantur primae causae naturae prima principia, quae sunt materia, forma,
et privatio, et etiam quattuor genera causarum, scilicet, materia, forma, agens, et
finis. In sequentibus autem libris Physicorum agitur de motu in generali . . .
Secundus scientiae naturalis liber est liber de Coelo et Mundo, ... Tertius liber
scientiae naturalis est liber de Generatione: in quo determinat de permutatione
elementorum in invicem, in secundo libro, et de generatione et corruptione in
communi in primo libro (In I MeteOTlogicorum, lect.l).
Et ideo rationabiliter videtur sententia Alexandri, quod subjectum huius libri sit
ipsum universum, quod dicitur coelum vel mundus; et quod de simplicibus corporibus determinatur in hoc libro, secundum quod sunt partes universi. Constituitur
autem universum corporeum ex suis partibus secundum ordinem situs: et ideo de
illis solum partibus universi determinatur in hoc libro, quae primo et per se habent
situm in universo, scilicet de corporibus simplicibus. Et ideo de quattuor elementis
non determinatur in hoc libro secundum quod sunt calida vel frigida, vel aliquid
huiusmodi: sed solum secundum gravitatem et levitatem, ex quibus determinatur
eis situm in universo. . . . Et hoc consonat ei quod consuevit apud Latinos dici,
quod in hoc libro agitur de corpore mobili ad situm, sive secundum locum: qui
quidem motus communis est omnibus partibus universi (De Coelo et Mundo, lib. I,
proemium).
1 " J. Maritain, op. cit., p. 81.
118 Cf. footnote 88, supTa.

506

JOHN F. WHITTAKER

at the physical level, lacking the reassurance which mathematical principles impart to physico-mathematical
science,
must look beyond mathematics to metaphysical principles for
the support and defense of their own principles and conclusions.
The philosophy of nature, the science of qualitative being as
immutable (ens nwbile ut immutabile), can alone reveal the
ultimate ontological principles underlying motion and change.
Physico-mathematical science,·" having abandoned the direct
search for real causes in order to devote itself to the translation
of the measurements of things in a coherent system of equations," 115 reveals only the quantitative connection with qualitative change. But the ultimate explicative value of the
philosophy of nature arises from its position at the highest
point, in esse scibili, of all the sciences in the physical order.
For even in the physical order, at the lowest level on intelligibility, metaphysics reigns supreme through its transcendent,
immutable principles.
In the determination of the nature and true value of physicomathematical science, the place, the part, and the bearing of its
explications, metaphysics not only maintains order in the system
of our forms of knowledge, but renders to physico-mathematics the
essential service of protecting it against otherWise almost inevitable
deformations, above all, against the pernicious illusion that it is
itself called on to be a philosophy of nature and the belief that
things only begin to exist when submitted to the measurement of
our instruments. 116
It is in its clear indication of the inter-relation and respective
limits of the basic fields of science, that the principal merit of
our diagram is seen. For it is only by a precise determination of
the position of mathematics in the hierarchy of speculative
science that its regulated and regulative functions can be
properly evaluated. The diagram is proposed simply as a
preliminary step in that direction, a step toward Maritain's
ultimate goal of "systematic interpretation."
Dominican House of Studies,
Washington, D. C.
115

Ibid., p. 56.

JoHN F. WHITTAKER,

116

Ibid., p. 80.

O.P.

BOOK REVIEWS
Man on His Nature. The Gifford Lectures, Edinburgh 1937-38. By Srn
CHARLES SHERRINGTON,New York: The Macmillan Co., 1941. Pp. 413.
This is a remarkable book, written by a remarkable man. It is a book
brimful of information, a sincere book, a book which wrestles with great
problems and endeavors to find a way towards their solution. Much of its
contents may be accepted, partly as factual statement, partly as possible
and interesting outlook. Much, however, seems unacceptable, because the
author, although he evidently has given much thought to his problems,
overlooks aspects of them or envisions them from an angle which allows
only an incomplete and a distorted view. Sir Charles is among the most
outstanding physiologists of the day. His book The Integrative Action of
the Nervous System, of 1906, marks the beginning of a new era in neurophysiology. Hardly any other scholar has contributed as much to our
knowledge of nervous function and none has shown so much critique and
objectivity in forming his conclusions. Many of the facts mentioned in this
book were discovered by the author; but the name of Sherrington is found
nowhere. The man disappears behind his work.
The Gifford Lectures are on Nat ural Theology. The founder wished
Natural Theology, as Sir Charles tells us, "to be considered just as
Astronomy or Chemistry." The approach evidently has to be empirical.
It .seems, however, that Sir Charles has a conception of Natural Theology
other than the U:sual one, and perhaps even the one Lord Gifford had in
mind. To the author Natural Theology does not mean speculation on God
and allied subjects on the basis of natural experience and with the means
of reason. He seems to consider rather a Theology of Nature, as if the
task were to replace the Divine by Nature. There are other features which
denote a somewhat peculiar attitude towards things theological. Sir Charles
tries sincerely to be just to the minds of past ages and to their ways, in
regard to the interpretation of human nature and of the world in general.
His excursions into the realm of the history of science are not the least
interesting parts of his book. Sir Charles knows Aristotle and Kant; he is
unusually widely read in fields rather far from his own work, but this
reviewer cannot help feeling that the eminent author did not quite grasp
the meaning of things to which he sometimes refers. Instead of quoting
certain passages, it might be as well to comment on Sir Charles' interpretation of two prints taken from old books. One is the title-page of Fanti's
Triompho di Fortuna (Venice 1527). On this woodcut one sees Time as a
giant, carrying on his shoulders the Earth whose axis is provided with
handles, the one in the hands of an angel, the other grasped by a devil.

507

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BOOK REVIEWS

On the sphere sits the figure of a pope; on his right is a female figure,
pointing to the sky, at his left another woman, pointing downwards. The
first, sitting on the side where the angel holds the axis, is dressed like a nun;
the other seems attired in a worldly manner and sits on the devil's side.
The allegory is simple. But Sir Charles writes: "A seated figure .of Religion
wearing the triple tiara, attended by two angels. . . ." Furthermore, he
refers the inscription on a scroll above the pope's figure: Virtus and Voluptas to the axis-turning figures, whereas these names belong, as is indicated
in the cut, to the two attending allegorical figures. Now, anyone acquainted
with the mentality of the Middle Ages or the times soon afterwards would
understand the allegory and know the figures. The other print reproduces
an illustration in the Rosario della gloriosa Vergine Maria (Venice 1561),
and depicts three male figures with naked backs being scourged by a henchman of three judges standing in the background. An inscription above
reads: Gli Apostoli furono battuti, and refers evidently to Acts, V, 40.
Over the head of each of the three Apostles there is a :flame-again a wellknown symbol. Sir Charles has this to say: "It (the soul) could enter
and leave the body, could assume for itself visible shape. The craftsmen
of old times would depict it as a flame, an aura." Such misinterpretations
may seem insignificant; they are not. They reveal a certain farness, a lack
of comprehension, in spite. of the best will, a fact not uncommon with
scientists when they approach matters of history or of speculation. The
scientific mentality creates, it seems, a peculiar disposition which bars the
way to a real understanding of history and everything not of pure science.
This is not to reproach the author with prejudice, in any sense. He does
not accuse the faitliful of superstition, nor does he explicitly deny the
existence of the supernatural; he only sees no way of arguing to it merely
from the data of experience. The farther knowledge progresses, the less
sure we become of the arguments in Natural Theology which appeared ve-ry
satisfactory to our ancestors. Indeed, the book begins by describing the
ideas of a once famous French physician of the XVIth century. Jean
Fernel, to whose opinions the author refers repeatedly in later chapters,
published in 1542 a work from which " the modern text-book of physiology
starts." Fernel's ideas were those of a shrewd observer, an inquisitive
student of nature, health, and disease, and of a post-medieval Aristotelian.
His philosophy is what Sir Charles understands least. Also, when comparing
Fernel's remarks with corresponding passages in Aristotle, the author forgets
the existence of the whole medieval Aristotelianism. He is ignorant of the
fact that the sixteenth century, notwithstanding humanism, still read
Aristotle mostly in the spirit of the commentaries of Aquinas and his
followers. Fernel was a scientist; he criticized superstitious beliefs, rejected astrology, and thus may in fact be considered as a" modern mind."
But to him and his contemporaries, man still was the center of the world-

BOOK REVIEWS

509

"Nature's chief object and her special care." Gradually things changed;
the microscope, the methods of chemistry, experimental research, wrought
havoc with the old ideas. A new conception of life, and of man's place in
nature developed. Sil' Charles manages to condense into some few chapters
an enormous amount of facts and theories and to state them in a generally
intelligible manner. There can be hardly any better introduction to the
science of life, as it exists today. It is fascinating reading. These parts,
however, do not lend themselves to an abbreviated rendering. Also, the
fundamental ideas are more important than the evidence adduced to substantiate them.
One of these ideas is the fum belief in evolution. According to Sir Charles,
there is a thorough continuity, from lifeless matter through the lowest and
lower organisms to the higher and highest, to man himself. The other idea,
however, is not so common with scientists and biologists. Sir Charles
conceives of mind as essentially different from energy. He believes, or
would like to believe, that mind is coextensive with matter. He sees mind
appearing gradually; in the higher animals there is definitely more of mind
than in the lower. Since continuity is a basic principle with the author, it
is logical that he speaks of an " unrecognizable mind " in lower organisms
or even in dead matter. But he is fully aware that this is a hypothesis;
when he makes any concrete statement on mind, he refers always to
" recognizable " mind. Here too he sometimes is led astray as when he
speaks of conceptualization observable in the rat, because this animal may
"learn" to recognize shapes, triangles or squares. This, however, is not an
achievement which necessitates any truly intellectual operation. The fact
that in the human mind there appears a new function-intellect-which
is
not observable in brutes is disregarded. This is probably less the error of
the author than of the authorities on which he relies; to-day's psychology
is very careless ,in the use of terms and not willing at all to recognize the
essential difference between a concept and an image, or between the mere
sensory awareness of likeness and the abstraction of an universal nature.
Mind, then, evolved but it did not evolve out of matter; it cannot be
reduced to matter and material changes. We may be truly grateful to Sir
Charles for making this statement and for corroborating it by his extensive
knowledge of facts. If a Sherrington can take seriously, and even declare
unavoidable, the notion of a non-material factor mind, we need not worry
much about the declamations of so many dii minorum gentium.
Not to leave any doubt on his conception of mind, Sir Charles carefully
avoids speaking of the brain as the organ of mind, or in a similar way,
as do most of the physiologists and not few of the psychologists. To Sir
Charles the brain is an " organ of liaison," the place where, so to speak, the
immaterial mind-factor gets hold of the energy-system of the organism.

8

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BOOK REVIEWS

Though strictly maintaining the notion of continuity and of evolution
in regard to mind, Sir Charles is not at all blind to the enormous differences
obtaining between animal and human mind. This too is something for
which to be grateful. One may also admire the pathos of the author's
creed, his trust in man, and his hopes for the future development of mankind. One may share with him the feeling that there is, in man, a " sacred
curiosity," but his Natural Religion is no religion at all. It claims to be
(and in this it is set over against all religions in the usual sense) free from
all " anthropomorphism." It does not speak of a personal God; it does not
speak of any God. " It sublimes personal Deity to Deity wholly impersonal.
In a manner the <Bl€6s- of Aristotle is that which it re-approaches." Perhaps
this is so, but the Aristotelian " God " lacks, as is evident, all the essential
features of what man ever conceived by this name, let alone what revelation taught. This Natural Religion, Sir Charles claims, is not devoid of
emotion. It lives by the passion for truth, but it is a limited truth it
recognizes. It also is alien to the emotions aroused by beauty; understanding of Nature "is no premise in the argument of Nature's beauty." Even
if we disregard for a moment the true notion of religion and consider only
Sir Charles' position, is it only Nature which allows man to discover truth?
There is, e. g., the whole field of pure mathematics; there is history; there
are many things which can scarcely be included under the general name of
Nature.
Sherrington's man, looking at his nature, has a somewhat narrow field of
vision, but within this field he sees many things, well worth knowing. We
cannot consider as satisfactory Sir Charles' treatment of Natural Theology
nor the way he deals with problems of religion and philosophy in general.
The book, however, should not be left unread. The splendid objectivity
with which the author approaches his subject allows his statements to be
used in a way he perhaps may not like. It seldom happens that an author
distinguishes so accurately between the facts and the interpretations, or
that he states as clearly what his principles are. This· book is, in spite of
all its objectionability, a great book.
RUDOLF ALLERS

Catholic University of America,
Washington, D. 0.

From the Stone Age to Christianity: Monotheism and the Historical
Process. By WILLIAM F. ALBRIGHT. Baltimore, The Johns Hopkins
Press: 1940. Pp. xi-363.
This enormously informative book has something grandiose about it.
Indeed, in the sweep of its plan, From the Stone Age to Christianity is a
staggering undertaking: " to show how man's idea of God developed from

BOOK REVIEWS

511

prehistoric antiquity to the time of Christ, and to place this development in
its historical context." To write such a book one would have to be an
archaeologist, linguist, historian, philosopher, and to some extent, a theologian. Mr. Albright is all of these things to a greater or lesser degree,
although his fame rests most securely upon his work in archaeology, lingu·
istics and biblical history. The book is a bold project before which a less
courageous man would have drawn back.
In the execution of his project the author proceeds by assembling the
facts upon· which his argumentation will rest. The initial chapter ably
presents the reader with the fruits of the archeological researches of the
past hundred years. When we remember how rapidly one sensational discovery displaced another in this field within recent years, we cannot but be
grateful for this brief resume, in which some of the almost esoteric knowl·
edge of the diggers is made public, as, e. g., Sir Flinders Petrie's discovery
of the use of potsherds to establish dates. But excavations are one thing;
interpretation is another. An interpreter must familiarize himself with the
historical interpretation of the data; this Mr. Albright has not failed to do.
He has many excellent remarks about the oral (and written) transmission
.
of history (pp. 37 ff.,
He approaches the philosophical side of his problem in orderly fashion.
Tentative formulations of a satisfactory philosophy of history from Hegel
down through Toynbee and Sorokin to the present are passed in review,
criticized, and found generally wanting. Logically it was then incumbent
upon the author to proffer his solution. This he does. What follows in the
remaining four chapters is an application of his theory to human history,
from the age of primitive religion through Moses and the Prophets to
Jesus Christ.
Thus it is clear that we have here a book which is much more important
than a mere assembling of facts; it is a method, based upon a reasoning
which permeates the whole book. One might write from now until doomsday discussing, agreeing, and disagreeing with the author over a score or
more of details, inferences, and conclusions; but the real question is more
fundamental. We must examine the author's philosophy, which is the leaven
giving life to the whole mass of assembled details.

I
.One of the most alluring traits of modern philosophies of history is
their apparent conclusiveness, their tangibility. The neat precision of
Hegel's famous triad has cast its charm over many scholars, and yet life
laughs at the clerkish mind. The simplicity of the system of evolution too
has left its mark,1 though one of its fundamental assumptions is open to
1 " It is no longer possible to construct a philosophy of history without assuming
some kind of evolution .... " (P. 49).

BOOK REVIEWS

serious question or even downright denial, namely, that progress follows a
line from the most elementary and then evolved into more complex forms.
Much more comprehensive is the scholastic philosophy that history is a
record of man's march toward his goal under the beneficient, efficacious,
guidance of divine providence. A more specific formulation is almost certain
to overlook some of the facts; and is in fact impossible because the philosopher of history must deal with man endowed with freedom, undetermined in his actions. It is therefore practically unsafe to predict his
manner of action, except of course in generalities.
Dr. Albright characterizes his system as one of "rational empiricism."
Judging from his use of such terms as "pattern, organism, etc.," he appears
to look favorably upon Holism and the Gestalt psychology. Both are an
improvement over former systems of excessive analysis and minute observation of phenomena which degenerated into uncoordinated and unsynthesized laboratory work, but at the same time neither system can escape the
fatal touch of the mechanistic outlook upon life, and Holism is based upon
the absurdity that the greater comes from the less, that the superior is
subject to the inferior, and is an extension of the biological concept to the
inorganic world.
One may thoroughly disagree with Mr. Albright when he states that
" there is no basic epistemological difference between comparable fields of
history and science " (p. 77) . In this he makes a wholly unnecessary
concession to the positivists. History is knowledge of particular events or
things which not only existed in the past but underwent a series of changes
in the course of time, whereas science is not concerned with the past
as such and treats of matters that can happen at any time or place. The
historian deals with the pattern of human events, and that is a pattern
which is constantly changing; but science wants to find out how things
happen for the most part or in every case--it seeks generalizations, or laws
of things that do not change. It matters little if the author cautiously
appends the warning that as variations in man's activity become increasingly
numerous, " our laws become progressively less general and less binding or
more uncertain " (p. 78) ; the hunt is on for an immutable law or pattern
which will be a key to unlock the riddle of history. Immutable law there
is none when it is a question of the properly human development of man.
One may not therefore say that " the difference between science and history
is primarily one of variability, not of logical method" (p. 78).
At length (p. 82 ff.) the autho1 rears his own philosophical reconstruction
of history. The pattern of history falls into three broad categories: undifferentiated, differentiated, and integrated culture. It is his conviction that
"the Graeco-Roman civilization of the time of Christ represented the
closest approach to a rational, unified culture that the world has yet seen,
and may justly be taken as the culmination of a long period of relatively

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513

steady evolution " (p. 88) . Such a statement is sweepingly impressive, but
not altogether convincing. If we limit ourselves for the moment to a purely
rational point of view, there is a great deal of truth in what Mr. Albright
says; but on the other hand, from a Christian point of view, what he says
is an overstatement. It closes its eyes to the splendid flowering-forth of
culture and religion which occurred in the Middle Ages, when thought,
architecture, and politics made gigantic strides fully comparable to those of
the Greeks and Romans. It is true that from a purely rational point of view
nothing can be favorably compared to the achievements in art and thought
in the ancient world, but we must recognize that it was a sad world without
a soul, and without a just appreciation of man himself. At any rate, looking
back into history during the period that has captivated and won the
admiration of many excellent scholars, we find that the then current attitude
towards women and religion was not exactly what we should expect from
" the closest approach to a rational, unified culture."
Another broad classification of human history is made on the ba,sis of
man's mental achievements. Mr. Albright speaks with assurance of a
primitive type of man whose thought was corporative and prelogical. With
the Greeks of the fifth century B. C. there began an era of logical thinking,
in which the individual began to receive tardy recognition; and personalism
replaced corporatism. Statements such as these leave one gaping in astonishment. It is neither correct nor accurate to speak seriously of prelogical
and passim. It is gravely maintained
thought, as is done on pp. 84,
that primitive men were capable of abstraction, 2 but only after the manner
in which a day-laborer might be capable of discoursing learnedly on ballistics-a possibility unrealized and apparently unrealizable. So at least it
is stated: "logical and philosophical abstraction were foreign to them"
(p.
Now for a follower of St. Thomas and Aristotle, logic deals with
ideas and their orderly exposition. By its very nature thought cannot be
anything but logical. Whatsoever kind of primitive man, therefore, that
we may conceivably postulate, his most elemental thought must have been
logical, i.e., ordered. In justice to the author, however, it should be pointed
out that the context seems to make prelogical synonymous with non-empiric
and non-systematized thought-this is not clearly stated until p.
Either term would have been preferable to that adopted from Levy-Bruhl.
The theory that corporatism was eventually replaced by individualism or
personalism (again the terminology of Levy-Bruhl), is as electrifying as a
short-circuit. Such a statement would have annoyed St. Thomas exceedingly, for Aquinas had the greatest respect for man whom he analyzed so
painstakingly. Taking man as man living with his fellow humans, it can
• In fact, through it they came to the idea of the " divine " from " divine
being (s) " by 3000 B. C. (p. 130) .

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never be truthfully held that he ever so far forgot himself that he thought
that the end of the group was more important than his own personal goal.
He was always conscious that his rights as an individual did not depend
upon the society in which he lived. Before a man is a member of any
society or union, he is a person, a thinking individual; a statement which
the Wolf Children of India or the Mexican Boy have not succeeded in
disproving. Without man the society or corporation could not exist; in fact,
it exists only for man: and it is incredible that he ever ceased automatically
to be a man when he became a member of society, i.e., that he relinquished
his inherent faculty of personal reasoning. Evolutionists may find no
difficulty in accepting this theory, but at bottom it is lacking in those
elements of truth which give firmness to a system.
Following this, the author states his conviction that " an inductive
organismic philosophy is the only proper way in which to approach the
problem of the relation of historical contexts to one another" (p. 84). When
one culture succeeds another, he says, it is almost always done abruptly;
Mosaism was such a break, and is representative of evolutionary mutation
(p. 86). He does not believe in any causal-functional linking together of
the elements which make up a pattern of culture; each case must be judged
by itself. In so saying he frees himself from the stigma of being called an
historical determinist, but the repeated references to evolution give rise to
the suspicion that he is. History and Nature are one, as he says (p. 87),
but this is true only in the sense that both are workings out of the divine
plan; not in the sense that both are determined in their modes of operation.

II
Chapters three and four, entitled Praeparatio and When Israel was a
Child, open the treatment of religion, and there we meet the assumption
that the peoples of antiquity were cast in the same mould. Since, therefore,
other Semites developed and radically changed their ideas regarding a
Supreme Being, the ancestors of the Hebrews are believed to have done
likewise (p. 184, 186). Fr. Schmidt's thesis of primitive monotheism.
briefly summarized on p. 125, would bear a more careful consideration on
this point. However, Mr. Albright sagely remarks that henotheism (or the
adoration of one principal deity together with that of lesser deities) need
not necessarily be supposed at any time during the history of the Hebrews
(p. 220). There is no question that from the time of Moses the Hebrews
were unique in matters of religion.
Mr. Albright's position upon these matters is as follows: Yahweh was
" he who causes to be," and he was one and aniconic. Before Moses the
principal Hebrew deity was a mountain god (p. 186) ; and the story of
Moses' dealings with God upon Sinai may prove, not that he was a moon

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515

god (p. 201), but that the story as we have it was infected with folk
memories of neighboring volcanic eruptions (p. 200). Sacrifice was a means
of " bringing the deity into dynamistic relationship to his worshippers "
(p. 208). The apodictic laws of the Hebrews (as opposed to casuistic laws
which were similar to those of Hammurabi 8 and to the Hittite and Assyrian
Laws), trace back to Moses (p. 204-5). The concept of a single god,
creator of all things and universal in the exercise of his power, may betray
Egyptian influences (p. Q06) . Adding up, Moses was a monotheist, but not
as Paul, Augustine, Thomas Aquinas and Calvin were monotheists.
The above remarks, if they prove anything, show only that the author
is in some respects more restrained and sensible in his conclusions than
many other writers in the same field, but they show also that his philosophy
of pattern, of historical determinism (evolution) , is hard at work. That
the Hebrews evolved their God much as Canaanites and others evolved
their gods is in no way conclusively proved.
The fifth chapter, Charisma and Catharsis, deals specifically with the
ages of the Judges and of the Prophets. The author speaks of the process
of Canaanization of sacrificial ritual and practice, which is a clever and
amusing way of saying that the Hebrews adapted some of the pagan
religious ritual. Nothing militates directly against adopting this view; the
early Christians likewise borrowed and christianized pagan names and
practices in religion. But at the same time it must always be borne in mind
that such similarities are not always due to borrowing, but may at times
be accounted for satisfactorily by the fact that the field of religion is automatically limited by man himself. That is, postulating a relationship
between rational beings and God, it stands to reason that man's manifestation of his subjection to this Superior Being will find expression in
a manner adapted to or befitting his own nature. It is then utterly obvious
that there will be similarities in sacrifice, sanctuary, etc., but these material
similarities do not compel one to conclude that there was a formal connection between different sets of religious acts, or, more especially, religious
ideas. But there was always the danger that the people might be misled by
such practices, and this very real danger was met by the prophetic
movement.
Prophetism, for the author, takes its root in group-ecstaticism in a purely
physical way. Many so-called prophetic phenomena are pathological, somehow akin to Dionysiac frenzy (p. 281, 288). During the prophetic period
the very nature of spiritual communion between the prophet and his God
led to the spiritualization of His relationship to man in general, but there
"Of chronological importance is the fixing of the dates 1) of Ha=urabi's reign
at 179ft-1750 B. C. (p. 819, n. 16). This lowering of the date does away with a
hitherto inexplicable gap of several centuries; ft) of the Exodus as most probably
cir. 1ft90 (p. 195).

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was " no modification of the dominant concept of Yahweh as a person."
The suddenly important spiritual aspect of Yahweh was not new-it was
latent from the beginning (p. 235) ; the prophets therefore were not innovators but reformers. The once overwhelmingly popular speculations of
Wellhausen are roundly criticized (p. 244), and the unique character of
Deuteronomic literature is appreciatively explained. Coming to the restoration period, Mr. Albright follows van Hoonacker in placing Nehemias
before Esdras (p. 248); but the foremost spiritual figure of Judaism during
the Exile was indisputably, he declares, (abnormal) Ezechiel, from whose
lips the idea of individual responsibility (explicit in the apodictic law from
the beginning of Yahwism) received its most powerful expression (p. 249)'.
Similarities between the biblical and Babylonian Job's are examined and
found to be superficial {p. 253-254), and the suffering Servant of Yehweb
is, for the author, a standing theme which is differently treated in different
poems (p. 255) •
The final chapter, In the Fulness of Time, points out that Greek culture
was felt in Palestine throughout the whole of the Iron Age! Inevitably,
then, Judaism was influenced by it. The fluctuating ideas of a future life,
tentatively explored by inquisitive minds from the sixth century B. C. on,
became increasingly concrete under indirect Iranian influence (p. 270).
During the Macchabean era the Hellenizing process touched its apogee;
the expected reaction on the part of the Pharisees who " made a fence for
the Torah " (p. 273) did not delay its coming; but the reaction itself was a
reflection of the Hellenistic spirit. The problem of evil, bete noire of all
religious systems, was finally given a plausible answer {p. 279), thanks
again to Iranian influences. The remaining twenty pages deal with angelology, eschatology, and the Logos of St. John; this last is traced back to a
dynamistic conception of the third millenium B. C. (p. 285).
Mr. Albright's attitude towards the Gospels is for the most part refreshing. He says that the historian has no right to deny what he cannot
prove, and then proceeds naively (p. 307) to allege as unprovable the
birth and resurrection of Jesus! His treatment of the religion of Jesus is
at once sympathetic and reverent-though incomplete-emphasizing
the
exquisite balance of His ethical teachings and His astonishing balance with
regard to religious and non-religious questions. 4 Jesus' solution to the
problem of evil (looking upon evil as a potent requisite for salvation as
well as the normal divine punishment of sin) far surpassed anything yet
offered (p. 302). Christ's other religious ideas are said to show by their
• We quote with approval the remark on p. 808: "Lofty as the ethical teachings
of Jesus are, they might not be considered quite so impossible to carry out in life
if would-be followers were not inclined to make their own eclectic selection and
e:tegesis of injunctions to be followed."

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sense of balance and proportion that He was profoundly influenced by
Hellenism. Then, veering far from the fantastic conclusions of many New
Testament investigators, Mr. Albright holds that "Jesus's messianic consciousness was the central fact of His life " (p. 305} . But while stating that
the Gospels record the belief that the Messias is both the created (p.
Son of Man and the created (p. 305} Son of God, Mr. Albright all too briefly
suggests only Christ's divinity as " the God of the agony at Gethsemane."
(p. 311}.
ill
Mr. Albright has succeeded admirably in presenting to the public a
prodigious collection of facts, engagingly set forth in impeccable English,
and bearing eloquent witness to patient, painstaking labor. No other book,
to our knowledge, can approach it in th,e wealth of matter assembled.
Mari, Ugarit (Ras Shamra}, Nuzi and other recent discoveries are given
the attention they deserve. The copious notes found at the end of the book
point to indefatigable research and reveal a mind which ranges far afield,
undaunted by the pitfalls surrounding many extremely delicate problems.
Has the author succeeded in his monumental task? We believe we may
answer in the negative. The book is an attempt to synthesize and cast into
a philosophic mould all pertinent archaeological and linguistic discoveries
which have a bearing on religious history. The author has marshalled these
facts, old and new, to the support of untenable philosophical principles,
viz., that an inductive organismic philosophy alone can give integration
to historical patterns; that history and science do not differ in method;
and finally, that evolution of one kind or another must be accepted as a
working principle even in .the field of religious ideas. We readily admit
that the idea of God became progressively clearer with successive revelations, but this is a far cry from an evolution which argues that the idea of
God developed from polytheism to monotheism. This has yet to be proved.
In spite of this, however, Mr. Albright's conclusions are sometimes excellent-better than his principles would lead us to expect-often differing
radically from those of the extremists; but they are not always of such
strength as to compel our unqualified adhesion. While then the author has
not succeeded in contributing any basically new or valid philosophy of
history, he has failed courageously, and to such a courageous seeker after
Truth one cannot but tender congratulations and the sincere tribute of
respectful praise. The merits of his book far outnumber its defects.
RICHARD

Dominican House of Studies,
Washington, D. C.

T. MURPHY, 0. P.

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Adversity's Noblemen. By CHARLES EnwARD TRINKAus, JR. New York:
The Columbia University Press, 1940. Pp.
with index.
It used to be generally held that the egoism, individualism and optimism
of modern man found their champions in the humanists of the Renaissance
period. This attitude, attributed to the work of Burckhardt, is challenged
by the author. By investigating the neglected treatises on moral philosophy
of the humarusts, he tests the theses of Burckhardt, (I) that the humanists'
that the" humanists
interest was individualistic and psychological, and
showed enthusiasm for the good things of this world." His study puts him
in the ranks of many historians who now view the Renaissance as something culturally linked with the Middle Ages.
The second chapter examines another " modern assumption that the
medieval teachings of Catholicism were characterized by a much lower
estimate of the happiness of human life on earth than certain modern
idealistic and materialistic philosophies." The author analyzes the doctrine
of St. Augustine on happiness and finds that Augustine (Petrarch's
imaginary guide) approached the problem from the psychological point of
view in accord with most of the humanists. He then contrasts this with the
Thomistic doctrine of happiness: " The humanists' revolt against Scholasticism may well have been determined by the manner in which the Thomists
approached the problem of happiness" (p. 31) . "Thomas presents the
greater contrast with the humanists because he possessed the feeling of
social integration which both they and Augustine lacked " (p. 37) .
The author next takes up the attitude of the humanists on happiness,
misery, and the highest good. The reason for their peculiar preoccupation
with the problems of happiness may be found, he suggests, partly in their
insecure position as individuals, and partly in the Greek literature which
they relished. There are many shades of difference among the humanists
on these points but most of the men the author analyzes place happiness,
theoretically at least, in the higher goods of virtue, nobility, and eternal
life. Many of the humanists attempt to justify their claim to true nobility
by reason of their devotion to a life of learning and virtue.
There follows an analysis of the humanists' theories about the constitution of the individual man and its influence on his happiness in this life.
The author groups these theories into three classes: those of Stoic tendencies, those of Platonic and Neo-Platonic tendencies; and those of Aristotelian tendencies. He then considers the attitude of the humanists toward
the physical world with its hardships and the inadequacies of society, as
evidenced in the lack of security and tranquility. Discussions concerning
" calamities " became more prominent among the humanists when patronage assuaged somewhat the insecurity of their own lives.
Lastly, in a chapter entitled "Some Afterthoughts" the author con-

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519

eludes- that " flat judgments " about the fifteenth century humanists are
difficult. All humanists are concerned with the problem of happiness as it
affects the individual, but there is no single outlook on life characteristic
of the whole group. Criticism and pessimism in regard to their own world
are much more common among the humanists than is usually admitted.
It is possible to be egoistic in the face of pessimism and the author
cautiously concludes that the humanists did not differ greatly from their
medieval predecessors on the problem of happiness. Idealism and selfishness,
nobility and sordidness go hand in hand; there is an inescapable conflict
between the ideal and the practical necessities of life. The author, however,
avoids formulating any unscientific generalizations.
A study of this kind calls for congratulations on several counts. It is an
honest attempt to deal objectively with a period that has too often been
interpreted .from the biased viewpoint of overly enthusiastic admirers.
It deserves praise for combating the false notion that all the Renaissance
humanists were revolutionaries alien to medieval culture and tradition.
His earnest effort to expound St. Augustine and St. Thomas from their
own writings is laudable. For those unscientific souls who still consider the
whole medieval era as the dark ages of superstition, as the time when the
Churcn (in all its sinister implications) frowned on the human body,
marrjage, and anything that savored of human pleasure and happiness,
this ought to be a beneficial antidote.
On the debit side may be mentioned briefly the following points: First
of all, the author betrays a lack of depth in explaining the position of St.
Thomas on happiness which possibly results from a superficial consideration
of the text divorced from the organic unity of the whole treatise on happiness, a misunderstanding of the technical method and style of St.
Thomas, and an insecure hold on the basic principles underlying his whole
philosophy and theology. These two quotations are typical: "Aquinas,
however, made no concessions to human feelings" (p. 32}. "It is obvious
that to define happiness as the knowledge of God is to deny to it a whole
series of other human activities " (p. 32} . Apparently the author is not
aware of the scholastic distinction between the state of happiness, which
is the aggregate of all goods, and the essence of happiness, which is its one
indispensable ingredient. Furthermore, St. Thomas carefully distinguishes
between happiness here on earth and the perfect bliss of the next life, when
circumstances will be greatly changed. To give the impression that St.
Thomas was an unemotional, frozen metaphysician in his doctrine on
happiness is to caricature his balanced intellectualism. The author says,
" Happiness does not seem to be an individual matter for St. Thomas ....
Rather it is something achieved by the co-operation of all human activities
making possible the vicarious contemplation of truth by the theologians
at the pinnacle of a hierarchy" (p. 35). This is unfair. A brief consider-

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ation of the dignity of the human person and the destiny of each person to .
contemplation and virtuous living as viewed by St. Thomas would have
prevented this lopsided interpretation of the functions of the various classes
of men in relation to the common good. When one considers the Thomistic
doctrine on the supernatural equipment of each soul, the infused virtues, the
gifts, and so forth, it ought to be obvious that the medieval theologians
cannot be justly accused of neglecting individual perfection at the expense
of the theological aristocrats.
Secondly, if the author had had a more secure grip on the Augustinian
and Thomistic systems he would not have set them in such contrast on
the problems of happiness. They are in fuller agreement than he suspects.
In fact he almost says as much without clarifying the implications of his
words. Finally the author neglects to make an important distinction
between the Christian humanists and the pagan humanists, who came in
conflict with the Church, and he thereby makes his task more difficult.
If he had consulted Pastor's History of the Popes, perhaps he would have
avoided many pitfalls and would have produced an immeasurably more
valuable work. The earlier Christian humanism was a direct outcome of
the medieval view of life and especially of the Thomistic synthesis, with
its harmonization of Aristotle and Christianity. The author seems to
suggest this in the following passage: "If anything, Thomas came closer to
affirming the importance and legitimacy of a wider range of human activities than Augustine and many humanists " (p. 37} . When the dynamic
balance of Christian humanism was lost and pagan philosophy supplanted
the Christian outlook, we find very important differences between the
medieval and humanist concept of happiness. The author should have
considered more seriously the repudiation of Christianity by many of the
later humanists. (Cf. Pastor, History of the Popes, IV, 36.} In this way we
may discover the general qualities which characterized these anti-Christian
humanists. They differed widely in their views according as they followed
Plato, the Stoics, the Epicureans, or Aristotle (interpreted in a materialistic
sense). Christianity countenances the pursuit of wordly goods and earthly
happiness, in a manner, however, conformable to man's final end. If one
looks for differentiating characteristics between the humanists and the
medieval thinkers on the pursuit of wordly goods and happiness, nothing
very definitive can be concluded, especially since many of the Christian
humanists agreed with the medieval theologians that earthly goods and
happiness were holy, provided that they never predominated over man's
spiritual life.
JosEPH C. DELLA PENTA, O.P.

Dominican House of Studies,
Washington, D. C.

BRIEF NOTICES
Preliminary notice of a new Latin edition of the Summa Theologica, edited
and published by the INSTITUTE OF MEDIEVAL STUDIES, OTTAWA,
CANADA.
Assuredly it cannot be said of our American continent that it is a place
where centers of religious teaching are least devoted to the doctrine o£
St. Thomas. A considerable number of our theological students are anxious
to have, at all costs, the works of the Angelic Doctor. Further, they have
consistently held their place among the good clients of the Leonine Commission of Rome. At present, due to the unfortunate conditions of the
times, we are entirely cut off from those European booksellers who formerly
supplied us with the precious volumes. The necessity for an edition of St.
Thomas in America is clearly becoming ever more urgent. Consequently,
the Institute of Medieval Studies, Ottawa, is preparing a new edition of
the Summa of St. Thomas, based on the "Piana."
Possibly this name " Piana " is unknown to some of our readers. This
word is an Italian adjective, derived from the proper name Pius (Pio) ,
and so, when we speak of the "Piana Edition," we are referring to the
edition made by St. Pius Fifth, Pope-reformer of the latter part of the
sixteenth century
. This Pontiff, who claims the distinction of
carrying out the reforms of the Council of Trent, felt, as did many of his
predecessors, that the way to ensure a sound theology for the Church was
to adopt that of St. Thomas. After having bestowed the title of "Angelic
Doctor " upon the thirteenth-century theologian-an unprecedented honorhe commanded a complete edition of his works to be made, the first ever
given to the Church.
Marriquez, a Dominican holding the Vatican post of Master of the Sacred
Palace, who was given the charge of preparing the text, was guaranteed the
assistance of his Order's top-ranking theologians. The work progressed
rapidly and in less than five years it was completed.
However, because of the condition of the medieval texts after three
centuries of manuscript transcriptions, the task was a delicate one. The
medieval writer, the master of the University of Paris, did not have professional publishers at his disposal, nor was it always possible even to have
his writings reread. When St. Thomas, for example, composed a work, he
would hand the manuscript-a mere scrawl-to a professional scribe, who
would transcribe it on separate sheets known as pecie. The copy would
then be deposited in an editing office. If someone wished to procure the
work in question, he could order a copy, provided he had sufficient funds
to do so. By means of a pledge, needy students would obtain a pecia, which

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BRIEF NOTICES

they would transcribe themselves. The sheets thus circulated would be
replaced by others, the text of which was necessarily still further removed
·
from the original.
When a master enjoyed a certain prestige, the manuscripts of his work
would perhaps number thousands, and would go beyond Paris to England,
Spain, Germany, and Italy, there to undergo further transcription, particularly in the local convents. This, evidently, was the case with the writings
of St. Thomas, for they were among the most widespread of the thirteenth
century. What peril for the text in this very multiplication! It would seem
that the Thomists were soon aware of this danger, for in the manuscripts
we discover a certain critical preoccupation, which is manifested by later
corrections added by other hands. The copies which come to us from the
convents of lower Italy are particularly important in this regard, for they
were frequently revised according to the autographs of St. Thomas. These
had been left at the convent of Naples by Reginald of Piperno, socius or
companion, of Master Thomas.
At the time of Pius V, a number of these specimens, "revised and
corrected," had already found their way to the Vatican Library. Moreover, the collaborators of Marriquez could peruse them for the purposes of
their edition. Nevertheless, due to the rapidity with which it was accomplished, the work of these latter was soon regarded with suspicion. In 1610,
a new edition appeared in Antwerp, professing to be a .correction of the
Piana. The " fashion" of " improving " the text of St. Thomas waslaunched, and the number of its devotees has increased with the years.
There is no denying that a certain progress was possible, but the methods
employed were hardly satisfactory. They resolved themselves, in the last
analysis, into doctrinal prejudice. Each one adopted the reading which
seemed best suited to his personal opinions, and thus p]l the editions which
the ensuing centuries produced may be considered as corruptions of tht>
Pi ana.
At the close of the nineteenth century, however, a new Thomist Pope
resolved to make a new edition of St. Thomas. Like Pius V, Leo XTII
had recourse to the Dominicans for this task. These_ latter, after several
years of labor in silence, obscurity, and even misunderstanding, succeeded
in perfecting a method of recovering the authentic. text of St. Thomas. It
consisted in determining the value of the different readings by tracing them
to their origin. The fragments of the original of St. Thomas' Contra
Gentiles, still preserved in the Vatican, have served as a gauge in appreciating the results obtained. Also, several competent authorities, such as
Msgr. Pelzer of the Vatican, and Pere de Ghellinck, S.J., of Louvain, have
written that the edition known as the Leonine is a masterpiece.
Unfortunately, the first volumes, containing the Prima Pars of the
Summa, were prepared at a time when the above-mentioned method was

BRIEF NOTICES

528

not yet fully established, and under pressure from outside, which circumstances hastened the publication of these volumes. For that reason they
are in need of revision. This circumstance explains why the Dominican
Order, the legal owner of the Leonine, has always been opposed to the
reprinting, in any form whatsoever, of those volumes of the edition which
contain the Summa. This policy will last as long as the first volumes are
not worthy of those which follow. The Institute of Medieval Studies of
Ottawa cannot, then, use the text of the Leonine as a basis for its edition
of St. Thomas. The work of its predecessors, nevertheless, has proved
useful to it.
The scholars of the Leonine, having worked on the Piana for sixty years,
know its value. Furthermore, they have technically compared the other
editions with the Piana, so that they are competent to point out which is
the best text to use for any future edition. Their opinions may be found
chiefly in the prefaces of the Leonine, but also in their scattered writings.
The author of these lines has often heard Pere Clement Suermondt, who
devoted twenty-one years to a serious, critical study of the Piana, state
the following conclusions:
I. The collaborators of Marriquez were not strangers to the critical
problem. They were attempting to get as close as possible to the text
of St. Thomas. They had a fairly abundant assortment of variants before
them, and among these they made a wise choice. Of course their technique
for estimating the value of the different manuscripts had not attained our
modern precision; nevertheless their text is very satisfactory, and considerably better than all the others which have followed.
2. Even though the Piana has many faults of its own, still it has far
less than the previous editions; above all, it has far less than the manuscripts.
These facts being true, the Canadian editors are perfectly justified in their
strict fidelity to the venerable text of St. Pius V. True, they do not pretend
to be producing a critical work, but the work which they have undertaken
has nevertheless assumed great proportions. They are confident of presenting a markedly scientific text, or, i:f I may use the word, a" criticized"
text. Readings of the Piana, which are recognized as defective are indicated
by the sign
which accompanies the faulty words or phrases; and the
verified reading of the Leonine is given in the notes, provided always that
the variation is of notable importance from a theological or philosophical
standpoint. Since the punctuation of the sixteenth century editors is quite
unsystematic, it has been carefully revised in accordance with reasonable
rules.
Painstaking research has been made for the references. The titles and
divisions of the works cited-for example, the books and chapters-are
inserted between parentheses in the text. The references to the editions-

< >,

BRIEF NOTICES

for example, the volumes and pages- are placed in a system of footnotes,
clearly distinguished from the one which contains the variants of the text.
Uniformity has been sought in the abbreviations, and in the system of
references as a whole. The signs used are few in number, and an explanation
of them will be found at the beginning of each volume. Although the
scientific apparatus has been simplified, still an endeavor has been made
to keep it clear so that the references may be truly an aid and not a puzzle.
Reference is made especially to the great collections: the Latin and Greek
Patrologies; Mansi; Richter-Friedberg; and for Aristotle to Didot and to
Bekker.
The parallel references, cited by both ancient and modern editions of
St. Thomas, have been checked individually. They are presented in the
order of the works from which they have been drawn, according to the present findings of medieval students. Thus a student of the
Angelic Doctor who looks up in order the references given for each article,
will get a clear idea of the development of the Master's thought.
The new edition will appear in the format of the Leonine's manual
edition of the Contra Gentiles. The text will be printed in two columns.
The number of the page will be indicated at the top of each column and
distinguished by the letters "a" and "b." The lines will be numbered.
There is a project under way to add a volume of completely new tables.
This would contain an alphabetical lexicon explaining all the philosophical
and theological terms. References will be given to the page and line of the
work.
Consequently, the edition of the Snmma, which the Institute of Medieval
Studies of Ottawa will place at the disposal of Canadian and American
students a few weeks hence, will be by no means inferior to all the other
current editions of the same work. In perfection it will yield only to the
monumental Leonine edition.
College Dominicain,
Ottawa, Canada

PIERRE TREMBLAY, O.P.
Membeir of the Leonine Commission

The Mystical Theology of St. Bernard. By ETIENNE GILSON. New York:
with indices. $3.50.
Sheed & Ward, 1940. Pp.
With his usual skill and deftness, M. Gilson picks up the leading thread
of St. Bernard's mystical theology and follows it through the works of the
Saint from beginning to end. Taking for his· starting point the question
that faced Bernard and his companions when they entered Citeaux and
the answer they found there, Gilson places the essence of Bernard's theology
in the restoration, through the ecstatic and pure love of God, of the
likeness of God destroyed by sin. The sources of this doctrine are indi-

BRIEF NOTICES

cated, especially the rule of St. Benedict, which in its last chapter opens the
way to unlimited progress in the spiritual life.
The wealth of M. Gilson's erudition flows over into appendices and notes
to the text, giving the reader flashes of insight into the historical background and environment of the great Doctor.

An Inquiry into Meaning and Truth. By BERTRAND RussELL. New York:
W. W. Norton and Co., Inc., 1940. Pp. 445.
Under this imposing title, Mr. Russell proposes to consider language in
relation to two questions, (I) "What is meant by empirical evidence for
the truth of a proposition? " and
" What can be inferred from the fact
that there sometimes is such evidence? " In the twenty-five chapters of
his work, he discusses' such matters as the nature of a word, sentences,
" object-language," logical words, proper names, language as expression,
truth and falsehood, truth and experience, the law of the excluded middle,
language and metaphysics. With regard to truth, Mr. Russell holds-that
it is a predicate "primarily, of beliefs, and derivatively of sentences." It is
a wider concept than verifiability and cannot be defined in terms of verifiability. He rejects the coherence, warranted assertibility and probability
theories of truth, and accepts that of correspondence "according to which
the truth of basic propositions depends upon their relation to somt'
occurrence, and the truth of other propositions depends upon their syntactical relations to basic propositions." Since no one wishes to admit that
truth must be confined solely to propositions asserting what he now perceives or remembers, l\'Ir. Russell concludes that "we are driven to the
logical theory of truth, involving the possibility of events that no one
experiences and of propositions that are true although there can never be
any evidence in their favor. Facts are wider (at least possibly) than
experiences. . . . Since an experience is a fact, verifiable propositions are
true; but there is no reason to suppose that all true propositions are
verifiable."
Mr. Russell brings his book to an end with the sober conclusion "that
complete metaphysical agnosticism is not compatible with the maintenance
of linguistic propositions. Some modern philosophers hold that we know
much about language, but nothing about anything else. This view forgets
that language is an empirical phenomenon like any other, and that a man
who is metaphysically agnostic must deny that he knows when he uses a
word. Fdr my part, I believe that, partly by means of the study of syntax,
we _can arrive at considerable knowledge concerning the structure of the
world."

BOOKS RECEIVED
Artz, Frederick B. A Guide to the Intellectual History of Europe from
St. Augustine to Marx. Boston: Ginn & Co., 1941. Pp. xix + 140, with
index. $1.75.
Bruehl, C. P. This Way Happiness. Milwaukee: Bruce Publishing Co.,
1941. Pp. xiv + 214, with index. $2.50.
Chute, Marchette. The Search for God. New York: Dutton & Co., 1941.
Pp. 820. $2.75.
Gilson, Etienne. God and Philosophy. New Haven: Yale University Press,
1941. Pp. xviii+ 147, with index. $2.00.
Gray, J. Glenn. Hegel's Hellenic Ideal. New York: King's Crown Press.
1941. Pp. 104, with index. $1.50.
Joad, C. E. M. Philosophy for Our 7'imes. London: Nelson, 1940. Pp. 267,
with index.
McGarry, William J., S.J. Unto the End. New York: America Press,
1941. Pp. 828. $8.00.
l\farcuse, Herbert. Reason and Revolution: Hegel and the Rise of Social
Theory. New York: Oxford University Press, 1941. Pp. 481, with
index. $8.75.
Morgan, George A., Jr. What Nietzsche Means. Cambridge: Harvard
University Press, 1941. Pp. xi
408, with index. $4.00.
Niebuhr, H. Richard. The Meaning of Revelation. New York: Macmillan,
1941. Pp. 196, with index. $2.00.
Parker, Dewitt H. Experience and Substance. Ann Arbor: University of
Michigan Press, 1941. Pp. 871, with index. $8.00.

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