THE THOMIST
A SPECULATIVE QUARTERLY REVIEW
OF THEOLOGY AND PHILOSOPHY

EDITORs: THE DoMINICANFATHERS OF THE PRoviNCEoF ST. JosEPH
Publishers: The Thomist Press, Washington 17, D. C.

VoL. lX

OCTOBER, 1946

No.4

SACRAMENTAL INCORPORATION INTO THE
MYSTICAL BODY

W

ITNESSED by the recent Encyclical Letter of Pope
Pius XII, Mystici Corporis/ and by the numerous
treatises of theological and devotional writers, the
widespread and intensive interest among Catholics in the truth
of the Mystical Body of Christ evidences a doctrinal survival
against naturalism and a spiritual revival in the face of indifferentism. Throughout the ages of the Church the faithful
have stood in awe of this sublime doctrine of the transcendent
union of the members of Christ with their Head. Ever since St.
Paul employed the metaphor " the Body of Christ " 2 to express
the ineffable mystery of divine grace, which it is not given to
man to speak, ever since that unique age when God spoke to
1 Pius XII, Encyc. "Mystici Corporis," AAS, XXXV (1948), pp. 198-!l48.
• E. g., I Corinthians, vi, 15; xii, !t7; Ephesians, i, 22.

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and through men, Catholics have conceived of themselves as
members of a divine organism.
For St. Paul this daring conception uniting the grossness
of sense perception with the unspeakable reality of divine life
became the characteristic mode of describing the great fundamental truth of the Christian life. To him was given the
privilege of uttering this word of wisdom which has made for
all the followers of Christ an almost tactile experience of the
divine union among the members of Christ.
From St. Paul the Fathers and Doctors of the Church received
this sublime teaching and doubled the talents of its richness
by their contemplation, preaching, and writing. St. Cyprian,
St. John Chrysostom, St. Cyril of Alexandria, and especially
St. Augustine were the great expounders of this profound and
yet universally appealing doctrine of Catholic truth. St.
Thomas, enamoured of this truth so well attes:t;ed by Scripture
and so beautifully delineated in Tradition, looked upon it as
a treasure hidden in a field and worthy of all the powers of his
theological exposition. So thoroughly has St. Thomas treated
this matter that many modern writers find in the doctrine of
the Mystical Body of Christ the master-idea of the Summa
Theologica. 3
If the Mystical Body can be conceived of as the master-idea
to an understanding of the most profound work of St. Thomas,
certainly the Sacrament of the Holy Eucharist may be considered as the master-key to the doctrine of the Mystical Body.
The Mystical Body flowed from the side of Christ hanging on
the Cross, for by the power of His Passion His Mystical Body
was constituted, moulded, founded, and blessed. To apply the
power of His Passion, Christ instituted the Seven Sacraments.
For men they are the means of becoming a member of Christ,
of being joined to the Head. Their common effect is the con3 Cf. Anger, The Doctrine of the Mystical Body of Christ (New York: 1931),
(translated from the French by J. J. Burke), pp. xvi ff.

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struction of the Mystical Body. To the two principal Sacraments as their proper effect belongs the forming of the union
of the members with Christ. Baptism and the Holy Eucharist
are the Sacraments of incorporation into the Mystical Body
of Christ.
The precise purpose of this study is to clarify the relationship
of the Sacraments of Baptism and the Holy Eucharist with
the Mystical Body and to show that the unity of the Mystical
Body is the direct, proper effect of the Sacrament of the true
Body and Blood of Christ.
First, the doctrine of the Mystical Body summarized as
" incorporation through grace in the Incarnate Word " 4 will
be treated. Men are members of that Body of which Christ
is the Head. All supernatural life descends to men through
Christ after the manner in which natural life and movement
flow from the head of the human body to its members. How
this notion is borne out in the Mystical Body of Christ will be
the matter of the preliminary section of this study.

I. THE MYSTICAL BoDY oF JESus CHRIST
"I am the way, the truth, and the life," 5 is Christ's solemn
proclamation of His mysterious union with His Church which
has staggered the intellects of men through the centuries of the
Christian era. Forewarned by divine prophecies, men were not
unprepared to receive a Messias who would be "the way";
" the truth " too as a concept applied to the Son of God was not
" a hard Doctrine " for men who had sought wisdom at its
fonts. But "the life "-that He Who "dwelt among us"
should be an inner source of being and activity-is an idea and
a reality astonishing even to those who " receive with meekness
the ingrafted word." 6
• E. Mersch, Morality and the Mystical Body (New York: 1989), (translated
from the French by D. F. Ryan), p. vii.
5 John, xiv, 6.
• I James, i, 21.

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Doctrine of faith, dogma so intimately associated with the
universal belief of Christians/ " the mystery of God in us " 8
is beyond the full comprehension of any human mind. Yet at
the same time it is " a study which delights and nourishes
Christian piety " 9 and is " calculated by its sublime dignity
to draw all spiritual-minded men." 10 The presence of Christ
in the visible society He has redeemed is expressed by St. Paul
as the unique supernatural entity of Christ and His Mystical
Body, the Church. In fact, according to Pope. Pius XII, " if
we would define and describe the true Church of Jesus Christ,
which is the One, Holy, Catholic, Apostolic, Roman Church, we
shall find no expression more noble, more sublime, or more
divine than the phrase which calls it ' the Mystical Body of
Christ.' " 11
For St. Paul the doctrine of the Mystical Body was far more
than a rhetorical device or even merely one among many doctrines he was to preach. It was the synthesis of the doctrinal
and moral teaching that had been committed to him. 12 All of
the Pauline Epistles, according to St. Thomas, may be grouped
about this fundamental idea-the Grace of Christ as it is m
7 Cf. Anger, op. cit., pp. 851 fl.
"Without doubt, it (the doctrine of the Mystical Body) would have been defined
by the Church if the Council of the Vatican had had the freedom to continue its
work. A passage in the first chapter of the Schema, or Draft, of the dogmatic
constitution of the Church, offered for the consideration of the Fathers of the
Council, reads as follows: ' The only Son of God, Who enlighteneth every man
coming into this world, and Who at no time has failed to aid the unfortunate
children of Adam, did, in that fullness of time fixed by eternal decree, make Himself like unto us, and visibly showed Himself under the form of our body which
He assumed in order that the sons of earth, worldly and carnal: might clothe
themselves with the new man created by God in justice and true holiness and form
one Mystical Body of which He Himself would be the Head.' "
8 Colossians, i, 27.
• Mystici Corporis, p. 196; (All quotations are taken from the National Catholic
Welfare Council translation, Washington: 1948).
10 Ibid., p. 198.
11 Ibid., p. 199.
10 Cf. E. Sauras, " El Constitutive
del Cuerpo Mistico de Jesuchristo," Cientia
Tomista, LXCI (1944), p. 258, and references cited.

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the Head Himself, in the principal members of the Mystical
Body, and in the Mystical Body itsel£.18
As for St. Paul, so for the Fathers and Doctors of the Church,
the doctrine of the Mystical Body had a great appeal. For
St. Cyprian, St. Cyril of Alexandria, St. John Chrysostom,
particularly for St. Augustine, 14 and finally for St. Thomas 15
it was " a central idea," " a unifying viewpoint," and " a
common voice " in the building: of a theological structure. For
some theological writers 16 " the fact that, in the eyes of St.
Thomas, the doctrine of the Mystical Body sums up and unifies
the theology of St. Paul, evidences more than a presumption in
favor of our assertion that the doctrine of the Mystical Body
of Christ dominates and unifies everything in the work of the
Angelic Doctor." 17 However far " more than a presumption "
18 Cf. St. Thomas, In Omnes S. Pauli Apostoli Epistolas (8rd ed.) (Turin: 1902),
Prologue.
The following outline is based upon St. Thomas' Prologue:

In the Head Hinlself, namely Christ-Hebrews

In the principal members
The
Grace
of
Christ

{ Epistles to
Prelates

{

IT=othy

IT Timothy
Titus
Philemon

Of itself-Romans

In the Mystical
Body itself-

Epistles
to the
Gentiles
on the
Grace of
Christ

In ilie
Sacraments

According
to the
effect of
Unity which
it places
in the
Church

{

ICor.
II Cor.
Galatians

Philipians
Colossians
IThess.
IIThess.

" Cf. E. Mersch, Le Corps Mystique du Christ (Paris: 1986), passim.
Cf. T. Kappeli, Zur Lehre des hl. Thomas vom Corpus Christi Mysticum
(Paderborn: 1981), pp. 2, 48.
17 Ibid., p. xvii.
16 E. g. Anger, loc. cit.
15

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JOHN T. DITTOE

may fall short of incontestable certitude, it is beyond question
that St. Thomas, as a true disciple of St. Paul, was intensely
interested in explaining the working of grace in what the sacred
author has called " the body of Christ." 18
Since God assists each sacred writer to express "aptly and
with infallible truth" what He wants expressed and that only/ 9
St. Paul's phrase "the body of Christ" 20 is most certainly a
fitting metaphor. As a metaphor it must be understood and
interpreted. For theologians to find more than an accommodative interpretation in an allegorical paralleling of the diverse
parts of the human anatomical structure and the various functions and states of the Church would be to submit sacred truth
to ridicule. Rather they should accept St. Paul's dictum as a
parable and " piously and sedulously " 21 use their reason to
discover the sublime aptness of the phrase.
By careful consideration of the created perfections that lie
at the basis of this proportionate application of human concepts
to divine truths, theologians may find a persuasive confionation
of the faith and a weapon for attacking error. 22 "Hence,"
solemnly affirms the Holy Father, " we do not censure those
who in various ways and with divine reasoning strain every
effort to understand and to clarify the mystery of this our
marvelous union with Christ." 23 Such efforts naturally lead to
a careful examination of the nature of moral incorporation
among individuals as well as to the fundamental notion
involved in the vital unity of a living organism.
A living body may be defined as an organic whole, made up
of heterogeneous parts that are called members, all subordinated to the principal part, the head, both head and members
being informed by a single vital principle, the soul, that moves
Cf. supra, note I.
Leo XIII, Encyc. Providentissimu.s Deu.s, Nov. 18, 1898, Denzinger, Enckiridion Biblicum, n. 110.
•• Cf. supra, note I.
11 Cf. Council of the Vatican, sess. 8, chapter 4, Denzinger, Enckiridion Symbolorum, n. 1796.
•• Mystici Corporis, p. 281.
•• Cf. II Cont. Gent., 2, 8.
18
19

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them to the common end of the whole, which is the preservation
and ultimate perfection of the organism. 24 In the Mystical
Body of Christ there are members, the faithful, all subordinated
to the Head, ·Christ, both being informed by the soul, the Holy
Ghost, which moves them to the common end, the perfection
and completion of the Body of Christ. From an analysis of the
Mystical Body it is evident that the elements that go to make
up the Mystical Body are the constituents of a living body.
Although the Body of Christ is a living body, it is not a
natural body and the differences between it and a natural body
are varied. In a natural body the heterogeneous parts, the
members, are not complete in themselves; they do not exist
as numerically distinct; they do not exist antecedent to the
being of the whole. The prinCiple of unity so unites the parts
that each is wanting in its own individual subsistence. 25 In the
Mystical Body, a "supernatural" living body, the members
are living beings, complete in themselves, numerically distinct,
already having their own existence antecedent to their incorporation in Christ.
Although the members of the Mystical Body are subsistent
beings, they have a new corporate unity in a vital social principle, the soul of the Mystical Body. Because it is a Divine
Person, Who is His own subsistence, Who is wholly self-sufficient, and Who contracts no .substantial union with the divine
organism which is animated by His life, the soul of the
Mystical Body cannot be joined by a substantial union with the
Body. 28 In the natural order the soul is joined with the body
by a substantial union, for in itself each is an incomplete
substance and ordered to constitute a complete substantial
essence. The Mystical Body of Christ, therefore, is a living
Body, but it is a Body that transcends nature and is of the
supernatural order, and hence it is termed by theologians the
" Mystical Body of Christ." 27
•• Cf. E. Mura, Le Corps Mystique du Christ (Paris: 1986-1987), I, 115.
•• Cf. Mystici Corporis, p. 221.
27 Cf. Mystici Corporis, loc. cit.
•• Cf. Mura, op. cit., I, 108.

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JOHN T. DITTOE

The term " Mystical " Body of Christ is used to signify that
it is neither the physical body of Christ nor any other body
in the physical or moral order. It is not the physical body but
another body-" a social unit, a spiritual corporation of regenerate souls." 28 Neither is it merely a moral body maintained
by the will of the members only with a common effort for a
common end. The Mystical Body is not merely an organization
bound to Christ by certain external bonds; it is an organism
bound to the Head by the internal bonds of faith, hope, and
charity. It is so united to Christ that His life is its life.
Further, " Mystical " is not opposed to " real," for there exist
other realities besides those apprehended by human senses or
comprehended by the human intellect. The Mystical Body is
a supernatural reality. No mere abstraction, it is "a veritable
reality, the subject of attribution, properties, and rights." 29
" Mystical," therefore, expresses the transcendent unity of the
Head and members which is effected by the internal bond of
charity flowing into the souls of the members through the
efficiency of the Holy Ghost, who abides in the members as
the efficient principle of the spiritual life, performing for the
Body as efficient cause a function analogous to that of the
formal vital principle in the human body, the spiritual soul.
Because of this indwelling of the Holy Ghost as the cause of the
same spiritual life coursing through each of the members, the
Mystical Body is a kind of organism-a supernatural living
Body. The created foundation for this intimate union with
Divinity is sanctifying grace, the radical and formal inner
principle of life in the supernatural order. All the living parts
of this Body thus share in common two spiritual principles of
supernatural life, the Holy Ghost and sanctifying grace. 30 Sharing in the Life of the Head-" of His fullness we have all
F. Sheen, The Mystical Body of Christ (New York: 1935), p. 34.
F. Prat, The Theology of St. Paul (London: 1939, translated from the French
by J. L. Stoddard), II, 360.
3 ° Cf. D. A. O'Connell, The Union between Head and Members in the Mystical
Body (Washington: 1941), p. 5 ff. and the references cited.
28
29

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received " 31-the members form with Christ one complete
whole. The whole Christ is head and body. However, in no
way do they add to the measure of the supreme fullness and
perfection of the supernatural gifts of Christ, for the personal
grace in the soul of Christ is really and essentially the same
as His grace as Head of the Mystical Body. 32
The Mystical Body of Christ, therefore, is neither a physical
body whose members lack their own personality, nor is it a
moral body whose union is based on a common end and common effort to attain that end. It is a body with its members
numerically distinct, and with its own unity and life, unequaled
by any other known body. It is a Mystical Body, hidden and
supernatural. 38
A summary statement of the entire traditional teaching of
theologians may be found in the apposite words of Pope Pius

XII:
There are several reasons why it (the name "Mystical Body")
should be used; for by it we may distinguish the Body of the
Church, which is a society whose Head and Ruler is Christ, from
His physical Body; ... and ... this name enables us to distinguish
it from any other body, whether in the physical or the moral order.
In a natural body the principle of unity unites the parts in such a
manner that each lacks its own individual subsistence; on the contrary, in the Mystical Body the mutual union, though intrinsic,
links the members by a bond which leaves to each the complete
enjoyment of his own personality .... If we compare a mystical
body with a moral body, it is to be noted that the difference
between is not slight; rather it is very considerable and very important. In the moral body the principle of union is nothing else than
the common end, and the common cooperation of all under the
authority of society for the attainment of that end; whereas in the
Mystical Body of which we are speaking, this collaboration is
supplemented by another internal principle, which exists effectively
in the whole and in each of its parts, and whose excellence is such
that of itself it is vastly superior to whatever bonds of union may
be found in a physical or moral body. 34
John, i, 16.
Cf. Summa Theol., III, q. 8, a. 5 corp.; ad 3um.
33 Cf. Sauras,
op. cit., p. 241.
•• Mystici Corporis, loc. cit., p. 222.
31

32

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JOHN T. DITTOE

The metaphorical equivalency of the organic unity of the
human body and the supernatural union between Christ and
His members leaves much to be desired towards a full explanation of the integrating constituents of the Mystical Body.
Since, to approximate scientific knowledge of anything, it is
necessary that its causes be known, the supernatural entity of
the Mystical Body should be examined according to the four
causes. 35
According to St. Thomas, 36 the parts of a thing may be taken
as its material cause. In the case of the Mystical Body, the
Head, Christ as man, and the members, men united to Christ
by grace, constitute this multiple underlying principle. Here
it must be noted that Christ can be enumerated among the parts
of the Mystical Body according to His human nature, but not
according to His Divine Nature. "He can be termed a member
according to His human nature," says St. Thomas, " in so far
as He is the Head of the Church by reason of His Divinity." 87
In common with the other members Christ shares human
nature, yet He receives no influx from any member. In Him as
principle is found virtually everything which exists in those
things of which He is the source. Considered in this manner,
Christ cannot be said to be a member of His Mystical Body.
Only inasmuch as He shares the same nature with the members
can Christ be said to be a member of His Mystical Body.
With Christ, thus taken, then are enumerated all those who
are the receptors of His grace to form a unified organism of
grace.
The formal cause, actuating the parts of the Mystical Body
in the unity of the " Whole Christ," 38 may be considered as
either internal or external. The exemplary, external formal
cause of the Mystical Body is Christ Himself. Conjoining in
His Person the divine and human natures in the most marvel•• Cf. Mura, op. cit., I, 118 ff.; Summa Theol., 11-11, q. 27, a. S.
36 Cf. Summa Theol, I, q. 7, a. S, ad Sum; q. 45, a. 2; III, q. 90, a. 1.
37 III Sent., d. IS, q. 2, a. 1, ad 6um.
•• Cf. St. Augustine, Enarr. in Ps. XVII, 51; XC, II, I: Migne, P. L., XXXVI,
154, and XXXCII, 1159.

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ous and intimate of unions, 39 Christ is the model of all such
unions of grace, since that which is most perfect is the exemplar
of whatever is less perfect. 40
The internal formal cause of the living organism of the
Mystical Body may be considered as it is found both in its
principle and in its term. In its principle the formal cause of
the Mystical Body is the Holy Ghost. At least the Holy Ghost
is an analogous equivalent to a substantial formal cause, which,
strictly speaking, is not found in the Mystical Body, for this
union is not in the order of predicamental substances.
To this Spirit of Christ, too, as to an invisible principle, is to be
ascribed the fact that all the parts of the Body are joined with one
another and with their exalted Head; for He is entire in the Head,
entire in the Body and entire in each of the members. 41
The Church, then, is one living body, not only because a single
soul dwells therein and makes a temple of it, but also because a
single soul, namely, the theological virtues, which are divine life
immanent in men, quickens its members inwardly. 42
Terminatively considered, the formal cause of the Mystical
Body is subject to further distinction. The essential element
of this formal cause in the supernatural life of this union is
sanctifying grace. Distinct from sanctifying grace and yet
related as an element of the same substance, charity, as well
as the other theological virtues, flows from sanctifying grace
as an essential property. From a coordination of St. Thomas'
doctrine of essential, as distinct from accidental, properties 43
with his expressed statement that " the light of grace which is
39 Cf. Summa Theol., III, q. 2, a. 9.
•• Cf. ibid., q. 56, a. I, ad 3um.
41 Mystici Corporis, p. 219 ff.
42 M. J. Congar, "The Idea of the Church in St. Thomas Aquinas," The Thomist,
I (1939), 335.
•• Si vero accipiatur accidens secundum quod ponitur unum quinque universalium,
sic aliquid est medium inter substantiam et accidens. Quia ad substantiam pertinet
quidquid est essentiale rei: non autem quidquid est extra essentiam, potest sic dici
accidens sed solum id quod non causatur ex principiis essentialibus speciei. Proprium
enim non est de essentia rei, sed ex principiis essentialibus speciei causatur; uncle
medium est inter essentiam et accidens. (Summa Theol., I, q. 77, a. 1, ad 5um).

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a participation of the Divine Nature is something besides the
infused virtues which are derived from and ordained to this
light," 44 it is evident that within the substance of the Mystical
Body these two principles are present. Moreover,
although many excellences are common to grace and charity because
of their connection, they do not belong in them in the same way,
since they are proper to grace as to their primary root, and to
charity as its fruit. And again there is another excellence of grace
which does not belong to charity, namely, to be the first formal principle of the supernatural order. It is also false that to divide between the sons of the kingdom and the sons of perdition belongs
formally in an equal measure to both: for grace makes a son of
God formally, charity, however, operatively. The former is the
principle of being in the divine nature as participated, the latter
is the principle of operating according to the divine nature as
participated. And, likewise, in different ways each is the form of
the virtues and joins (man) to the ultimate end, since charity is as
the proximate principle of operating, the other is as the first
principle! 5
In the line of efficiency there is a twofold division into the
principal cause and the instrumental cause. The principal cause
of the Mystical Body is the Blessed Trinity, for "all caused
things are the common work of the whole Godhead," 46 and by
appropriation the Holy Ghost, to Whom is attributed the
sanctification of men. 47 It is "the operation of the Holy Ghost,
Who unites together and communicates the goods of one member to another." 48
This divine principle of life and power given by Christ, in so far
as it constitutes the very source of every gift and created grace, ...
is nothing else than the Holy Spirit, the Paraclete, who proceeds
from the Father and the Son, and who is called in a special way the
" Spirit of Christ." 49
•• Ibid., I-II, q. 110, a. 3.
' 5 Cajetan,
Commentarium in Summam Theologicam (Rome: 1903), in I-II, q.
110, a. 3.
•• Summa Theol., I, q. 45, a. 6, Sed Contra.
07 Cf. ibid., ad 2um.
•• Mystici Corporis, p. 218 ff.
•• Ibid., III, q. 68, a. 9, ad 2um.

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The instrumental cause is the Sacred Humanity of Christ, the
conjoined living instrument of the Divinity for the conferring
of grace. Allied to this "Great Sacrament" as separated
instruments which, in various ways, bring to men the " life of
the Spirit " are the Sacraments of the Church instituted by
Christ.
Lastly, the final cause of the Mystical Body is" the continuous sanctifying of the members of the Body for the glory of
God and the Lamb that was slain." 50
Having enumerated the causes of the Mystical Body, it is
now necessary to proceed to a consideration of the unity
existing in Christ's Mystical Body.
The Mystical Body of Christ represents an objective union
in which the Head and members are organically united to one
another by means of grace. 51 Sublime, mysterious, and divine, 52
marvelous for its intimacy, this union with Christ begets a new
life in His members. Christ, the principle of this new life, lives
and works in His members by becoming their life, the true
supernatural life of those who belong to Him through Christian
faith. The members in turn live in Christ and constantly
absorb His supernatural strength, being united by a mysterious
bond of the most intimate, ontological, and vital fellowship. 53
Christ Himself has emphasized this unity of His Mystical Body
by comparing it to His inexpressible oneness with the Father, 54
and He has indicated the vital dependence of His members
by the parable of the vine and the branch. 55
"To this Mystical Body," writes St. Thomas in his commentary upon the Epistle of St. Paul to the Romans, " belongs
a spiritual unity, through which by faith and the affection of
charity we are united together to God. And because the spirit
•• Ibid., p. 226.
01 Summa Tkeol., III, q. 62, a. 1.
•• Mystici Corporis, loc. cit.
63 Cf. F. Jurgensmeier, The Mystical
of Christ (Milwaukee: 1944, translated from the German by H. G. Curtis), p. 30.
•• Cf. John, xvii, 21 ff.
55 Cf. John, xv, 1 ff.

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of unity from Christ is derived in us, . . . through His spirit,
which He gives to us, He unites us to one another and to God." 56
According to St. Thomas, therefore, a twofold unity is found
in the Mystical Body. St. Thomas first names this double unity
and then proceeds to give the reasons for the unity. 57 First
there is the union of the members with Christ. This union is
the unity of " incorporation, by which we are transformed into
Christ." The other unity is a unity of the members among
themselves in and through Christ. This unity of the members
is a unity of " life and sense " which is received from Christ the
Head. By this unity of " life and sense " St. Thomas means
the unity among the members established and maintained by
grace and the virtues. 58 In giving the reasons for this unity
with Christ and this unity among the members St. Thomas
states: "We are one with Christ ... by a union of faith, hope,
and charity, and we many are one body through the subministration of the works of charity." 59
Up to this point the existence of the twofold unity in the
Mystical Body of Christ and the reasons for it enumerated by
St. Thomas have been given in briefest form. Further treatment will be accorded it in a later section when the transformation of the members into Christ and the unity of the members
of the Mystical Body in and through charity are treated as the
reality (res) of the true Body of Christ received.

II. THE RELATIONSHIP OF THE SACRAMENTS TO THE
MYSTICAL BonY

According to the divine economy of salvation, to establish and
secure the spiritual union of the Head and the members in His
Mystical Body, Christ has instituted seven channels of grace,
the Sacraments of the Church. Properly speaking, a Sacrament
is defined as the " sign of a holy thing so far as it makes men
•• St. Thomas, op. cit., Vol. I, Romans, xii, 5.
" 7 Cf. ibid., I Cor., x, 14 ff.
08 Cf. ibid., vol. II, Ephesians, i, 28; Summa Tkeol., III, q. 69, a. 4.
•• St. Thomas, I Cor., loc. cit.

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holy." 60 It is ordained to signify our sanctification, whose
cause is Christ's Passion; whose form is grace and the virtues;
whose ultimate end is eternal life. 61 From its very nature it
belongs to a Sacrament to effect what it signifies. The seven
Sacraments, therefore, bring men into contact with Christ's
sanctifying power.
Because ... the death of Christ is a universal cause of human
salvation, and because a universal cause must be applied to each
effect, it was necessary to give men some remedies whereby the
benefits of Christ's death might be united to them. These are the
Sacraments of the Church. 62
That they are the causes of grace St. Thomas proves with these
words:
We must needs say that in some way the Sacraments must be
the causes of grace. For it is evident that through the Sacraments
of the New Law man is incorporated with Christ .... And man
is made a member of Christ through grace alone.63
Lastly the Sacraments accomplish the ultimate end of sanctification, which is eternal glory, because they apply to men the
power of Christ's Passion, which is the sufficient cause of glory
and eternallife. 64
In the mind of St. Thomas, therefore, the doctrine of the
Mystical Body is inextricably linked with the Sacraments.
These latter incorporate man in Christ by conferring on him
sanctifying grace. They act as separated instrumental efficient
causes of the Mystical Body of Christ. They are the physical
instruments divinely chosen to bring to men sanctifying grace,
accompanied by the virtues and gifts which are the bonds of
union between Christ and His members.
These wonderful instruments of grace are . . . means which the
Divine Goodness employs to establish and strengthen evermore,
•• Summa Theol., III, q. 60, a. !i!.
81 Cf. ibid., a. 8.
.., JV Cont. Gent., 56.

•• Summa Theol., III, q. 6!i!, a. I.
•• Cf. ibid., q. 79, a. !i!, ad lum .

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between Jesus and our souls, the organic bonds and that spiritual
union which puts us under the beneficent action of our Mystic
Head. 65
Besides this note of conferring sanctifying grace and the
virtues and gifts common to all the Sacraments, there is a
special effect bestowed by each Sacrament. " The sacraments
are ordained to certain special effects which are necessary in the
Christian life." 66 This effect is " a certain Divine assistance
in obtaining the end of the Sacrament." 67 It is called sacramental grace. Sacramental grace, being something in addition
to the grace of the virtues and gifts, adds some mode or some
intrinsic perfection modally distinct from habitual grace itself. 68
"Therefore, where there is a special effect of grace, there we
find a special sacrament ordained for the purpose." 69 Fitting
confirmation of this teaching is found in the words of Pope
Pius XII:
Now we see how the human body is given its own means to
provide for its own life, health and growth and for the same of
all its members. Similarly the Saviour of mankind out of His
infinite goodness has provided in a marvelous way for His Mystical
Body, endowing it with the sacraments; so that by so many consecutive, graduated graces, as it were, its members should be
supported from the cradle to life's last breath, and that the social
needs of the Church might also be generously provided for.70
Men, therefore, are united to Christ their Head, says St.
Thomas, by faith and the Sacraments of faith: 71 " by faith
first, because the rebirth is of soul, a personality, and is rebirth
through a spiritual force in the being by which we are to be
65 Garrigou-Lagrange,
"Le Christ, Chef Mystique de L'Eglise," La Vie Spirituelle, XLI (1934), 118.
66 Summa Theol., III, q. 62, a. 2.
67 Ibid.
68 Cf. E. Hugon, De Sacramentis in Communi et in Speciali ac de Novissimus

(6th ed., Paris: 1931), III, 91.
69 Ibid., q. 72, a. 1.
70 l1fystici Corporis, p. 201.
71 Cf. Q. D. de Ver., q. 27, a. 4; q. 29, a. 7, ad Sum.

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bound in a spiritual touch." 72 The Sacraments, in various
ways, bring to men this life-giving power of Christ the Head.
For this purpose the various Sacraments were instituted. Each
Sacrament was instituted to play its special role in the edification or preservation and development of the Mystical Body.
Consequently, the Sacraments are classified as consecrative
and curative. 73
Through the consecrative Sacraments the recipient is permanently initiated into the organism of the Mystical Body.
Through the waters of Baptism he is born to this new life and
admitted to membership in Christ. 74 Confirmation perfects the
member by giving him an increase of strength to protect and
defend the Mystical Body. 75 The Sacrament of Holy Orders
creates a unique union with Christ and endows the priest with
the power " to offer in sacrifice the Eucharistic Victim, to feed
the flock of the faithful with the Bread of Angels and the food
of doctrine, to guide them in the way of God's commandments
and counsels, to strengthen them with all the other supernatural helps." 76 " .1\fatrimony represents the mystery of the
union of Christ and the Church," 77 and the fruit of this union
is the "external and properly regulated increase of Christian
society and the correct religious education of the offspring." 78
"The curative sacraments of Penance and Extreme Unction
do not establish a new supernatural relationship with Christ,
but they restore the member to spiritual health or reestablish
his union with the Head." 79
Finally among the Sacraments, there is one which contains
in itself and gives purpose and significance to all the othersthe Sacrament of the Holy Eucharist, the Sacrament of the
true Body and Blood of Christ wherein is contained substantiCongar, op. cit., p. 353, and the references cited.
Cf. Jurgensmeier, op. cit., p. 99, and the references cited.
"'Cf. Summa Theol., III, q. 68, a. I.
75 Cf. ibid., q. 72, a. 1, a. 2.
76 Mystici Corporis, p. 202.
77 Summa Theol., Supp. q. 36, a. 3, ad 2um; cf. III, q. 65, a. 3.
79 Jurgensmeier,
78 Mystici Corporis, loc. cit.
op. cit., p. 99 ff.
72

73

2

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ally, says St. Thomas, the common spiritual good of the whole
Church. 8 ° For St. Thomas, all things derive from this most
august of Sacraments. " The Eucharist is, as it were, the consummation of the spiritual life, and the end of all Sacraments." 81
" In the Holy Eucharist the faithful are nourished and grow
strong at the same table, and in a divine, ineffable way are
brought into union with one another and with the divine Head
of the whole Body." 82 This unity of the Mystical Body is the
reality (res) of the Sacrament. 83
At this point brief mention should be made of the secondary
effect of three of the Sacraments, namely, sacramental character. Since Baptism, Confirmation, and Holy Orders, 84 each
received but once, 85 impress upon the souls of the recipients
" a kind of seal so that they may receive or bestow on others
things pertaining to Divine Worship," 86 the question naturally
arises concerning their nature and their role in the edification
and construction of the Mystical Body.
A character may be defined as a spiritual power impressed
upon the soul which gives men a share in a greater or less
degree in the priesthood of Christ. 87 Sharing in the priesthood
of Christ by the specifically distinct entities of the various
sacramental characters, the members of the Mystical Body
fulfill their distinctive roles in the one spiritual organization.
While the principal concern in this treatment of the Mystical
Body is the life-giving union with Christ accomplished by the
infusion of sanctifying grace-the Mystical Body precisely as
a kind of organism, not as an organization-at least brief
consideration should be given to how the sacramental characters perform their function in relationship to the Mystical
Body as it is an organization.
8

° Cf. Summa Theol., III, q. 66, a. 3, ad lum.

Ibid., q. 73, a. 3. Cf. q. 63, a. 6.
Mystici Corporis, loc. cit.
83 Cf. Summa Theol., loc. cit.
84 Cf. Denzinger, Enchiridion Syrnbolorum, n. 695; Summa Theol., III, q. 63, a. 6.
85 Cf. Denzinger, op. cit., n. 852; Summa Theol., III, q. 62 ff.
87 Cf. ibid., a. 2; a. 3; a. 5.
•• Summa Theol., III, q. 63, a. 4.
81

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Properly speaking, the purpose of the sacramental character
is to depute the faithful to receive, or to bestow on others,
things pertaining to the worship of God. 88 The sacerdotal
character of Holy Orders deputes the leaders of the Church
to confer the Sacraments on others; the Baptismal character
confers on men the power to receive the other Sacraments; the
character of Confirmation brings men to the fullness of the
perfect age in Christ. 89 The characters, therefore, are spiritual
insignia of those called through the Sacraments to be the sons
of God; yet their possession is no guarantee of membership in
the Mystical Body of Christ. The baptized who have departed
from the faith or who have been condemned to Hell have the
eternal seal of Christ upon their souls, but they no longer
possess membership in His Mystical Body .90 Baptism of desire
or of blood has united many souls to Christ who were never
marked by Baptism of water.
Consequently, while causing an official union to exist between
Christ and the soul, the sacramental characters fail to establish
a personal union. Grace alone effects a personal union in
the Mystical Body. The sacramental characters, therefore,
although they are spiritual bonds between Christ and souls,
are not to be numbered among the elements which establish
life-giving union with the Head of the Mystical Body and
constitute one as His member. The characters erect the Church
as an organization; grace vivifies it with divine life and makes
it a kind of organism. The characters order the members; grace
gives them life.
All the Sacraments were instituted for the building-up of
the Mystical Body of Christ, for through them the vital
influence of the Head flows into the members. Two of the
Sacraments-Baptism and the Holy Eucharist-however, deal
with the Mystical Body in a preeminent way, and therefore
may properly be called the Sacraments of incorporation into
Cf. ibid., a. 3.
Cf. ibid., q. 63; q. 72, a. 1.
9 ° Cf. ibid., q. 63, a. 5 corp., ad 2um, ad 3um.

88

89

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JOHN T. DITTOE

Christ. To these two Sacraments it belongs to establish the
Mystical Body, to cause its growth, to bring it to its perfection
and completion. Baptism, the Sacrament of Faith, is ordained
to generate spiritual life in men; the Holy Eucharist, the Sacrament of Charity, is given to maintain and increase this life
even to its perfection and fullness. With these two Sacraments
the Mystical Body is constructed, maintained, and completed.
" The Church . . . is said to be built up with the Sacraments
which flowed from the side of Christ while hanging on the
Cross." 91 " From the side of Christ hanging on the Cross there
flowed water and blood, the former of which belongs to Baptism,
the latter to the Eucharist, which are the principal sacraments." 92 The role of these two Sacraments in the Mystical
Body, therefore, will comprise the matter of the sections that
are to follow. The first consideration will be of that Sacrament
which regenerates men into a new life in Christ-the Sacrament
of Baptism.

III. THE SAcRAMENT

oF BAPTISM

AND THE MYSTICAL

BoDY

"The door of the Sacraments," as St. Thomas calls it, 93
Baptism is by its very nature primary among the Sacraments
of the Church with regard to its reception. Baptism is "a
regeneration unto spiritual life "; 94 it is the Sacrament of birth
into the Mystical Body of Christ. Through Baptism man is
generated unto life in the Mystical Body, whereby be begins
to be and to live.
At corporal birth every man is dead in the eyes of God. From
Adam he has inherited corporal life but spiritual death. Original sin has been transmitted to his soul through corporal
generation, 95 and each child is born not in the integrity of
human nature but in the state of corrupt nature with a
complete absence of supernatural life. Born a child of sin, each
man exists in a state of opposition to God and his ultimate end
01 Ibid., q. 64, a. !l, ad Sum.
•• Ibid., q. 62, a. 5.
•• Cf. ibid., q. 68, a. 6.

•• Ibid., q. 66, a. S.
•• Cf. ibid., I-II, q. ss, a. I.

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of eternal beatitude. He is conformed to Adam the sinner.
"He has contracted sin from the sin of Adam and is under the
ban of death." 96
As a remedy against this absence of supernatural life the
Sacrament of· Baptism has been instituted. 97 This Sacrament
is ordained for the removal of original sin. 98 To effect birth
into the spiritual life, to conform men to Christ, to incorporate
them into Christ-for these purposes Baptism has been given
to men. 99 Baptism is the putting on of Christ, aptly described
by the name given it by men-Christening.
Without this
conformity to Christ 100 there can be no birth in the spiritual
life, and there can be no conformity to Christ without incorporation into Christ. Baptism, therefore, as the means of incorporation into Christ is necessary for the beginning of the
spiritual life and holds the first place in the order of reception
of the Sacraments.
In every Sacrament three things may be considered: namely,
that which is sacrament only (sacramentum tantum); that
which is reality and sacrament (res et sacramentum); that
which is reality only (res tantum). That which is sacrament
only is something visible and outward; the sign, namely, of
the inward effect; for such is the very nature of a Sacrament.
That which is reality and sacrament is the thing signified and
signifying. It is something real signified by the outward sign
and further signifying the inward effect. That which is reality
only is the reality signified and not signifying further. 101
In Baptism the sacrament only is both the water itself and
its use-the very application of the water to man, the use, of
course, implying the form of the Sacrament, the appropriate
words. 102 The reality and sacrament is the Baptismal character.
The reality only in this Sacrament is the inward justification
of which the Baptismal character is a sacramental sign.103
•• Ibid., Til, q. 68, a. 9.
•• Cf. ibid., q. 69, a. 9, ad I urn.
10 ° Cf. ibid., q. 49, a. S, ad Sum.
•• Cf. ibid., q. 65, a. 1.
101 Cf. ibid., q. 66, a. 1.
•• Cf. ibid., q. 66, a. S.
102 Cf. Council of Trent, sess. 7, canon 2; Denzinger, op. cit., n. 858.
108 Cf. Summa Tkeol., ill, q. 66, a. 1.

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The Sacrament of Baptism, then, is a Sacrament of washing,
" whereby to signify the inward washing away of sins." 104 In
its very nature is embodied the idea of a cleansing, for it signifies this, and every Sacrament effects what it signifies.105 Baptism
cleanses man of sin and confers on him a life of grace. In virtue
of this grace infused in Baptism the baptized dies to the old
Adam to rise to the New Adam, exemplifying a twofold mystery, the mystery of death and the mystery of life.
The first and immediate signification of Baptism and consequently its direct and principal effect is the inward cleansing
of the soul. 106 This inward cleansing of the soul is substantially
one act 107 with the twofold aspect of death to sin and life to
grace which is signified by the rite of Baptism-" the outward
washing of the body done together with the prescribed form of
words." 108 Baptism, then, is a participation in the death of
Christ, so that man might rise to life in Christ. "By Baptism
man is made conformable to Christ's Passion and Resurrection,
in so far as he dies to sin and begins to live anew unto righteousness." 109 As it was necessary for Christ to die that He might
rise to glory, so it is necessary for man to die to sin to rise to
life. Grace or life, then, may be considered as the formal
element in this act, while the remission of sin or death is the
material element. St. Thomas clarifies this question by showing
the interrelation of these causes:
As regards the order of the formal cause, positive effects are
naturally prior to privative effects, though according to the order
of the material cause, the reverse is the case: for a form does not
exclude privation save by informing the subject.U0
Again, this may be looked at in another maimer on the part
of the agent who, as St. Thomas asserts:
by the form preexisting in it, acts for the removal of the opposite
form. . . . And since the infusion of grace. and the remission of sin
Ibid., a. 7.
Cf. Council of Trent, sess. 7, canon 6; Denzinger, op. cit., n. 849.
108 Cf. Summa Theol., III, q. 88, a. 2, ad lum.
109 Ibid., a. S, ad Sum.
107 Cf. ibid., I-II, q. US, a. 6, ad 2um.
110 Ibid., q. 62, a. 6, ad Sum.
8
1° Ibid., III, q. 66, a. I.
10 '

105

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regard God Who justifies, hence in the order of nature the infusion
of grace is prior to the freeing from sin. But if we look at what is
on the part of man justified, it is the other way about, since in the
order of nature the being freed from sin is prior to the obtaining
of justifying grace. 111

Hence in the Sacrament of Baptism the primary effect
entertains a twofold significance-the severance of the bond
with sin and the consummation of the mystical union with
Christ. 112 This is the basic effect of the Sacrament, and from
this first effect all the other effects of Baptism naturally
result. 113
Since Baptism is called the " Sacrament of Faith," 114 it is
evident that there exists a special relationship between
and faith. Therefore a consideration of this relationship and the
relationship which exists between the Mystical Body and these
two realities linking the members with Christ is necessary.
While Baptism as a sign (sacramentum) is the instrumental
efficient cause of this new relationship with Christ, it is true
that incorporation into the Mystical Body is made through
faith also.115 In Baptism incorporation is made through the
use of external things; in faith incorporation is accomplished
through an internal act of the soul. St. Thomas states the
fact in these words:
The power of Christ's Passion is united to us by faith and the
sacraments, but in different ways; because the link that comes from
faith is produced by an act of the soul: whereas the link that comes
from the sacraments is produced by making use of exterior things. 116

For St. Thomas, then, faith is truly a contact with Christ, a
real psychological contact. "This contact by faith makes man
susceptible to the influences of Christ; ... it is the first grafting
of man on Christ." 117 " The first principle by which God is
in us is faith, therefore faith is called the principle of living." 118
114 Cf. ibid., III, q. 66, a. 1.
Ibid., I-II, q. US, a. 8, ad 1um.
115 Cf. ibid., q. 68, a. 1, ad 1um.
Cf. ibid., III, q. 69, a. 1.
116 Ibid., q. 6!2, a. 6.
113 Cf. ibid., a. 6, Sed Contra.
111 A. Vonier, .4 Key to the Doctrine of
Eucharist (London: 19!25), p. 4.
11s St. Thomas, op. cit., Vol. I, Galatians, iii, 1!2.
111
112

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JOHN T. DITTOE

Faith sets up a union with Christ. Therefore, it is certainly a
means of incorporation into Christ. Nevertheless, faith, as such
a means, has incorporated men into Christ in a different
manner.
Before Christ's coming, men were incorporated in Christ by faith
in His future coming: of which circumcision was the seal, . . .
whereas before circumcision was instituted, men were incorporated
in Christ by faith alone, together with the offering of sacrifices, by
means of which the Fathers of old made profession of their faith.
Again, since Christ's coming, men are incorporated by faith. . . .
But the faith in a thing already present is manifested by a sign
different from that by which it was manifested when that thing was
yet in the future. 119
This latter, then, has reference to the Sacrament of Baptism,
" without the desire of which they (men) could not have been
incorporated in Him even mentally " 120 through faith. For St.
Thomas this incorporation through faith joined with the desire
for Baptism differs from the incorporation which
place
through the conferring of the Sacrament itself:
Adults who already believe in Christ are incorporated in Him
mentally. But afterwards, when they are baptized, they are incorporated in Him corporally as it were, i. e., by the visible
Sacrament. 121
It is important, then, to note the relation existing between
faith and Baptism. In the present order both are necessary
in some manner for incorporation into Christ whether mentally
or corporally. In order for faith to effect incorporation into
Christ Baptism is necessary at least in desire. In some way
Baptism must be received either in reality or in desire, " which
desire is the outcome of faith that worketh by charity." 122 If
Baptism is lacking in both ways man is not incorporated into
Christ either sacramentally or mentally. That Baptism incorporate one into Christ faith is necessary, even in the case of
infants who, as St. Thomas says:
119

120

Summa Theol., III, q. 68, a. 1, ad 1urn.
Ibid., q. 69, a. 5, ad 1um.

121

1 ..

Ibid., q. 68, a. 1, ad 1urn.
Ibid., a. !l.

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believe through the Church's faith/ 23 and the faith of one, indeed
of the whole Church, profits the child through the operation of the
Holy Ghost, Who unites the Church together, and communicates
the goods of one member to another. 124
The combination of faith and Baptism, therefore, incorporates man into Christ as His member. Right faith disposes
one for his union with Christ, and the Sacrament of Baptism
acts as the instrumental cause effecting this union. Faith and
the" Sacrament of Faith" complement one another, as it were,
in bringing men under the life-giving influences of the Head of
the Mystical Body of Christ.
Since the essential effect of the Sacrament of Baptism is to
incorporate men into Christ as His members, 125 and incorporation into Christ is through grace alone, 126 it is evident that
Baptism gives " grace, which is the ultmate effect of the sacrament." 127 In distinction to the common effect of all the Sacraments, the building up of the unity of the Mystical Body, 128
the proper effect of Baptism is to make men members of the
Mystical Body of Christ by establishing the bond of union
between the Head and His members through the infusion of
sanctifying grace. This incorporation into Christ through first
grace is the proper effect of Baptism in the genus of efficient
cause.
In the genus of final cause, however, this incorporation into
Christ is the effect of the Eucharist. Although perfect in itself,' 29
this incorporation through Baptism in relation to the incorporation of men into Christ through perfect grace and especially
through glory-the proper effect of the Eucharist-may be
considered imperfecU 30 Baptism, then, may be said to generate
Ibid., a. 73, a. 3.
Ibid., q. 68, a. 9, ad 2um.
125 Cf. ibid., q. 69, a. 8.
126 Cf. ibid., q. 62, a. 1.
123

124

Ibid., q. 68, a. 8.
Cf. ibid., q. 39, a. 6, ad 4um.
129 Cf. ibid., q. 70, a. 2, ad 3um.
127

128

130 Respondetur
duplicem esse incorporationem hominis cum Christo, alteram
per gratiam perfectam et praecipue per gloriam, et haec est proprius effectus Eucharistiae, alteram vero imperfectam per gratiam primam et haec est proprius effectus
baptismi in genere causae efficientis est autem efiectus Eucharistiae in genere

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JOHN T. DITTOE

men in the spiritual life with Christ, but it belongs to the
Eucharist to bring them to its final perfection. 131
With the Eucharist as its consummation, Baptism has its
own proper and primary effect from which all the other effects
of this Sacrament naturally result. 132 In Baptism the old life
is ended; a new life begins. To the old life belongs every sin;
consequently, in Baptism men die to sin. 133 By Baptism the
power of Christ's Passion and death is applied to men as if
they had suffered and died with Christ, and by reason of this
every penalty for sin is cleansed from their souls.134
To incorporation into Christ St. Thomas also attributes the
bestowal of the grace of the Holy Ghost and the fullness of
virtues, " the habit of faith which enlightens the intellect and
the supernatural fruitfulness of all their actions." 135 All this
is the new life which courses through the soul of each member.
By Baptism man is born again unto the spiritual life, which is
proper to the faithful. Now life is only in those members that are
united to the head, from which they derive sense and movement.
And therefore it follows of necessity that by Baptism man is incorporated in Christ as one of His members.-Again, just as the
members derive sense and movement from the material head, so
from their spiritual Head, i. e., Christ, do His members derive
spiritual sense consisting in the knowledge of truth, and spiritual
movement which results from the instinct of grace. And it follows
from this that the baptized are enlightened by Christ as to the
knowledge of truth, and made fruitful by Him with the fruitfulness
of good works by the infusion of grace. 136

Lastly, the opening of the gates of heaven to the new-born
member of Christ is an effect of Baptism. This consists in the
causae finalis. Et hoc modo intelligitur D. Thomas. (D. Nugno, Comment. in
Tertiam q. 73, a. 3, Venice: 1612. Referred to by M. Grabmann, Die Lehre des
heiligen Thomas von Aquin von der Kirche als Gotteswerk, Regensburg: 1903,
p. 282).
131 Cf. Summa Theol., III, q. 65, a. 2.
132 Cf. ibid., q. 69, a. 6, Sed Contra.
133 Cf. ibid., a. 1.
••• Cf. ibid., a. 2.
, •• Anger, op. cit., p. 94. Cf. references cited.
136 Summa Theol., III, q. 69, a. 5.

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removal of the obstacle of guilt and penalty attached to sin
that prevents one from entering therein. 131 Every living member of Christ, therefore, is destined to live eternally with Him
in His heavenly kingdom.
Such are the effects of Baptism. On cursory inspection they
may appear varied and disparate, but under careful scrutiny
the order and harmony existing therein quickly comes to the
fore. With the incorporation into Christ as the core of the
doctrine of the Sacrament of Baptism it is apparent that the
remaining effects fit naturally into the scene. They all blend
into one harmonious unity. They are evidence of the fact that
the Sacrament of Baptism could be the effect only of Divine
Wisdom and Mercy.
Baptism, although first among the Sacraments in the order
of reception and generation, is not first in the order of perfection
and intention. 188 To the Eucharist belongs this prerogative.
The Eucharist is the term and efficient cause of all the other
Sacraments. 1'89 This august Sacrament is " the end and consummation of all the Sacraments." 140 It is "the sacramental
Bread in which all the other Sacraments are contained." 141
The Eucharist
contains Christ Himself substantially: whereas the other sacraments contain a certain instrumental power which is a share of
Christ's power. Now that which is essentially such is always of
more account than that which is such by participation. 142

The Sacrament of Baptism, therefore, as all the other Sacraments, has an intrinsic relationship and order to the Eucharist
as to its end. 148
Whatever Baptism does in the order of efficient cause is an
effect of the Eucharist in some way, that is, in the order of
final cause. Baptism is the Sacrament of regeneration, and by
Cf. ibid., a. 6.
Cf. ibid., q. 78, a. 5, ad 4um.
139 Cf. IV Sent., d. 8, q. 1, a. 1, ad 1um.
uo Summa Theol., Ill, q. 68, a. 6. Cf. ibid., q. 78, a. S.
1 • 1 lbid., 11-ll, q. 88, a. 9.
""Ibid., III, q. 65, a. 8.

137
188

"" Cf. ibid.

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this Sacrament the baptized is incorporated into Christ, yet
this incorporation into Christ is in view of the reception of the
Eucharist in desire. St. Thomas states:
This sacrament (the Eucharist) has of itself the power of bestowing grace; nor does anyone possess grace before receiving this
sacrament except from some desire thereof: from his own desire,
as in the case of an adult; or from the Church's desire in the case
of children. 144
The power of the Sacrament of Baptism, then, is derived from
the Holy Eucharist. St. Thomas again declares this when he
speaks of the signification of the blood and water which flowed
from the side of Christ hanging upon the Cross:
Blood belongs to the sacrament of the Eucharist, while water
belongs to the sacrament of Baptism. Yet this latter sacrament
derives its cleansing virtue from the powers of Christ's blood. 145
Baptism, being the fundamental Sacrament, incorporates men
into Christ, but it pertains to the Eucharist to consummate and
perfect this incorporation.
Christ would not be joined to us so perfectly if we had only
those sacraments in which Christ is joined to us through His
power participated in those sacraments; and thus it is necessary
that there be some sacrament in which Christ is contained not participatively, but through His Essence, that there be a perfect
joining of the Head to the members. 146
Whereas Baptism is the Sacrament of generation into the
spiritual life, the Eucharist is the Sacrament of nourishment.
Now,
the one generating is not joined to the generated according to
substance, but only according to power: but food is joined to the
one nourished according to substance. Whence, in the Sacrament
of Baptism, by which Christ regenerates to salvation, it is not
Christ Himself according to his substance, but only according to
Ibid., q. 79, a. 1, ad lum.
""Ibid., q. 66, a. 8, ad Sum.

1"

""IV Sent., d. 10, q. 1, a. 1.

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his power. But in the Sacrament of the Eucharist, which is spiritual
nourishment, Christ is according to His substance. 147

Further, it can be said that the Sacrament of Baptism is the
divinely appointed instrument for preparing men for the
reception of the Sacrament of the Eucharist. 148 One of its·
principal effects is the removal of obstacles to the reception of
this Sacrament. Driving death from the soul by the conferring
of the life of grace, Baptism enables man to approach to that
consummate union with Christ in the Sacrament of His true
Body and Blood. " By Baptism a man becomes a participator
in ecclesiastical unity, wherefore also he receives the right to
approach Our Lord's table." 149
Great as is its dignity in itself and in its effects, the Sacrament of Baptism remains subordinated to the Sacrament of
the Holy Eucharist. This Sacrament of the Body and Blood
of Christ by reason of its content overshadows the glory that is
due to Baptism. To regenerate men to life in Christ belongs
to Baptism; to bring this life to its perfection and completion
pertains to the Eucharist.
Baptism is the Sacrament of grace, establishing the bond of being
between Christ and His members; the Eucharist is the Sacrament
of charity, maintaining and increasing the bond of supernatural
operation in the Mystical Body. 150

How the Sacrament of the Eucharist accomplishes its preeminent role of supernatural action in the Mystical Body will
comprise the matter of the subsequent section. As for the present section, the following words summarize the principal ideas
herein contained: " By Baptism, man is ordained to the Holy
Eucharist." 151

St. Thomas, op. cit., Vol. I, I Corinthians, xi, !lS-24.
Cf. Suma Theol., III, q. 78, a. 8.
uo Ibid., q. 67, a. 2.
160 O'Connell, op. cit., p. 52.
151 Summa Theol., III, q. 78, a. 8.
107

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IV. THE HoLY EucHARIST AND THE MYsTICAL BoDY OF CHRIST
The Sacrament of the true Body and Blood of Christ-" the
end and consummation of all the Sacraments " 152-has for its
ultimate purpose and reality the unity of the Mystical Body
of Christ/ 53 To this Sacrament Christ entrusted the mission
of perfecting and completing His Mystical Body-the Church.
With the words-" He who eats My flesh and drinks My Blood
abides in Me and I in him " and " he shall live because of
Me." 154 -Christ identified the effects of this Sacrament of His
true Body and Blood with the relations of the members and the
Head of His Mystical Body. 155 The Sacrament of the Holy
Eucharist, therefore, can in a special way be called " the Sacrament of the unity of the Mystical Body of Christ." 156
The Holy Eucharist is the Sacrament of the Body and Blood
of Christ contained under the species of bread and wine. The
Eucharist is a true Sacrament, fulfilling the requisites for a
Sacrament since it is " a sign of holy thing so far as it makes
men holy," 157 and as a sign forecasts the sanctification of men
in a threefold manner. "A sacrament," says St. Thomas," is a
sign that is both a reminder of the past, i. e., the passion of
Christ; and an indication of that which is effected in us by
Christ's passion, i.e., grace; and a prognostic, i. e., a foretelling
of future glory." 158 He claims the same for the Eucharist:
" 0 Sacred Banquet, in which Christ is received, the memory
of His Passion is recalled, the soul is filled with grace, and a
pledge of future glory is given us." 159 Given as spiritual food
this Sacrament is ordained for spiritual refreshment. 160 Its
Ibid., q. 63, a. 6.
Cf. ibid., q. 73, a. 3, a. 4.
15 ' John, vi, 57-58.
155 Cf. Sauras, op. cit., p. 253, and the reference cited.
156 Cf. Summa Theol., III, q. 79.
157 Ibid., q. 60, a. 2.
158 Ibid., a. 3.
159 Dominican Breviary (Rome: 1930), I, 324. (Magnificat Antiphon at II Vespers
of the Office of Corpus Christi, composed by St. Thomas) .
••• Cf. Summa Theol., III, q. 73, a. 1, a. 2.
152
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reception is requisite for the consummation of the spiritual
life, 161 just as ordinary food is necessary for the perfection of
corporal life.162 Wherefore the effects of the Eucharist in the
spiritual life parallel the effects of food in corporal life. As
nourishment, the Eucharist conserves life and strengthens it; 163
it gives delight at the same time that it repairs that which is
lost daily by force of concupiscence. 164 The Eucharist is truly,
as St. Thomas insists/ 65 the Sacrament of the Mystical Body
of Christ.
In the Holy Eucharist three things may be considered:
namely, that which is sacrament only, and this is the consecrated species of bread and wine; that which is both reality
and sacrament, namely, the true Body and Blood of Christ;
and lastly, that which is the reality only, namely, the grace
bestowed or charity uniting the soul with Christ and with His
members. 166 The sacrament only considers the Sacrament outwardly, the sign itself which is accomplished in order to produce
or attain its spiritual effect-the real presence of Christ under
the species-the reality and sacmment, which in turn signifies
and attains the inward reality of grace, the reality only. " The
reality only," says St. Thomas, " is the unity of the Mystic
Body." 167 How this unity of the Mystical Body is the effect
of the Holy Eucharist is the burden of the following pages.
Since a Sacrament effects what it symbolizes, a clear understanding of the symbolism of the Holy Eucharist as a Sacrament will point out the precise and most proper effect-the
sacramental grace-of this Sacrament. The unity of the
Mystical Body of Christ is the special grace of this Sacrament.
How this unity is effected through the Holy Eucharist will be
illustrated through the workings of food and drink, which are
the symbol of this unity attained by the Eucharist. The symbolism of bread and wine prefigures the unity of the Mystical
Cf. ibid., a. 8.
Cf. ibid., a. 1, ad I urn.
168 Cf. ibid., a. 8.
164 Cf. ibid., q. 79, a. 1.

161

162

Cf. ibid.
Cf. ibid., a. 6.
167 Ibid., q. 78, a. 8.
165

166

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Body, the fruit of the Sacrament, for "just as bread is composed of many grains, and wine flows from many grapes ...
we being many are . . . one body." 168 The mingling of the
water with the wine is a symbol of the effect of the Sacrament.
"The people are signified by the water, but Christ's blood by
the wine. Therefore when water is mixed with the wine in the
chalice, the people are made one with Christ." 160 Truly, then,
the elements comprising the matter for this august Sacrament
are most appropriate and fitting to symbolize its transcendent
effect-the unity of Christ's Mystical Body.
The precise idea to be grasped here is the idea of sacramental
eating, the manner in which the Eucharist is consumed by
men. 170 "In this sacrament man receives Christ within himself
by way of spiritual nourishment." 171 The Eucharist " was
instituted ... for nourishing spiritually through union between
Christ and His members, as nourishment is united with the
person nourished." 172 The importance of the fact that this
Sacrament enbodies the idea of sacramental eating is fundamental. That in this Sacrament Christ is eaten after the manner
of food and drink is a fact primary and essential to the understanding of this Catholic doctrine. Upon this concept depends
the appreciation of the manner in which the Holy Eucharist
creates an incomparable, real union of the body with Christ,
accomplishing an inseparable, vital union of the soul with
Christ Himself.
Since the Eucharist is given as spiritual nourishment and
nourishment is given only to the living, this Sacrament is
reserved for the living members of the Mystical Body-those
who really are united to Christ, their Head. 173 "Wl}oever eats,
from this very thing signifies that he is united to Christ and
incorporated as His member." 174 The incorporation of men
into Christ has already been effected by Baptism. The EucharIbid., q. 74, a. 1.
Ibid., q. 73, a. 6.
17 ° Cf. ibid., q. 79, a. 1.
171 Ibid., a. 3, ad 2um.
168

169

Ibid., a. 5.
Cf. ibid., a. 3.
1 ,. Ibid.,,q. 80, a. 4.
172

178

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ist signifies complete union with the Head, the real and actual
possession of Christ. In the reception ·of the Eucharist there
is the substantial union of the member with the true and
whole Body of Christ as the highest and most complete realization of union with Him. "Christ Himself substantially" 175
incorporates men into His Mystical Body in Holy Communion.
Perfectly, He effects that men be one with Himself through
"the most perfect food of the Mystical Body," 176 destined to
bring them to "the consummation of the spiritual life." 177
Given as food and drink, the Sacrament of the Holy Eucharist may be partaken of in a twofold manner: the one
sacramental whereby is received only the consecrated species;
the other spiritual, whereby is received the effect of the
Sacrament. 178
As the perfect is divided against the imperfect, so sacramental
eating, whereby the sacrament only is received without the effect,
is divided against spiritual eating, by which one receives the effect
of this sacrament, whereby a man is spiritually united with Christ
through faith and charity. 179
However, this spiritual eating may in turn be subtFvided. The
Sacrament may be received sacramentally and spiritually.
That sacramental eating which is also a spiritual eating is not
divided in contrast with spiritual eating, but is included under it;
but that sacramental eating which does not secure the effect is
divided in contrast with spiritual eating. 180
Those eat sacramentally and spiritually who, namely, so take
this sacrament, that they even participate the reality of the
sacrament. 181
Or the Sacrament may be received spiritually by the desire to
receive the Body of Christ under the sacramental species. Or
the Sacrament may be received by union with Christ in glory,
but this would no longer be under the sacramental appearances.
178 Cf. ibid., q. 80, a. 1, ad Sum.
Cf. ibid., q. 65, a. 8.
179 Ibid., a. 1.
Ibid., q. 80, a. 1.
180 Ibid., ad !i!um.
177 Ibid., q. 78, a. 8.
181 St. Thomas, op. cit., Vol. I, I Corinthians, xi, 29.
175

176

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Sacramental reception, however, is not without avail because
"the actual receiving of the sacrament produces more fully the
effect of the sacrament than the desire thereof." 182
Since the nature of the Holy Eucharist and the manner in
which this Sacrament is taken have been established, the
proper effect of "eating Christ" can now be treated. First,
the unity arising from the union of the individual member with
Christ, then the unity of the members among themselves in
and through Christ-both as the proper effect of the Holy
Eucharist-will be studied in that order.
The proper effect-the reality-of the Sacrament of the Holy
Eucharist is the perfection of the most excellent virtue 183 charity-by which man adheres to Christ and to His members.
The infusion or the increase of charity may be considered in
two ways. Taken in a general manner, it may be considered
as it is conferred by the Sacraments inasmuch as they give
grace. The habit of charity of its very nature follows sanctifying grace and is commensurate to it in its grade of
In this way, habitual charity is the common effect of all the
Sacraments. Secondly, charity may be considered inasmuch as
it is the effect to which the Sacrament is ordained as to its
proper end. In this case the grace of the Sacrament is directed
to increase and perfect charity in itself. Hence the perfection of
charity is said to be the proper effect of the Holy Eucharist. 185
Since sacramental grace gives, over and above grace
commonly so-called, a special help to attain the end of the
Sacrament/ 56 the Holy Eucharist confers a special aid in
attaining its proper end. This aid given by the Eucharist is
twofold: a habitual help and an actual help. " The reality of
this sacrament is charity, not only as to its habit, out also to
its act, which is kindled in this sacrament." 187
Summa Theol., III, q. 80, a. 1, ad Sum.
Cf. ibid., II-II, q. 2S, a. 6; q. 24, a. 4, ad !i!um.
'"'Cf. ibid., q. 24, a. 6, ad Sum; I-II, q. 66, a. !i!, ad lum.
185 Cf. L. Billot, De Eccleaiae SaC1'amentis (Rome: 1906), I, 6!10.
••• Cf. Summa Theol., III, q. 6!i!, a. !i!.
181 Ibid., q. 79, a. 4..

182

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The habitual help, although it cannot be explained determinately with all certitude, can conveniently be said to be " a
common disposition, curative of that egoism by which man
inordinately adheres to himself alone, and limits his affections
to himself alone." 188 Since the Sacraments have been instituted
as a remedy against the defects caused by sin/ 89 each Sacrament binds that wound of fallen nature contrary to the proper
end of the particular Sacrament. Consequently it seems that
the Eucharist has been instituted as the medical ligature of
that wound of corrupt nature from which each one is prone to
refer all things to himself as an end, since nothing is more
impeditive of love of God and of neighbor than love of self.190
The actual help flowing from " the eating of Christ " is the
fervor of charity which this Sacrament in its very application
is ordained to excite. " The actual effect is the fervor of
charity." 191 Fervor is here taken metaphorically, the analogy
being drawn from liquid which fills a vase to overflowing and
flows outside the container: inasmuch as then charity is said
to be fervent, when through its proper act one goes forth outside himself, as it were, in referring all his affections to God
loved above all things. 192 "Consequently, through this sacrament, as far as its power is concerned, not only is the habit of
grace and of virtue bestowed, but it is furthermore aroused to
act." 193 " Habitual grace is conferred; . . . the actual fervor
of devotion is excited." 194
The proper effect of the Eucharist is the perfecting of charity
and the effect of charity or love is union, 195 for love is a unitive
force,196 and unity is the principle of union. 191 Therefore it is
188
18

10

Billot, loc. cit.

° Cf. Summa Theol., lll, q. 65, a. I.

°Cf. Billot, Zoe. cit.

Summa Theol., lll, q. 79, a. 8, ad 2um.
Cf. Billot, op. cit., Vol. I, p. 541.
108 Summa Theol., Ill, q. 79, a. 1, ad 2um.
1 "' IV Sent., d. 12, q. 2, a. 1, ad 2um.
100 Cf. St. Thomas, In Evangelium S. Joannis Commentaria (Srd ed.)
(Turin:
1919), Ill, vi, 55.
108 Cf. Summa Theol., 11-II, q. 25, a. 4.
n• Cf. ibid., q. 26, a. 6.
191

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JOHN T. DITTOE

evident that the Eucharist properly makes the person receiving
it one with Christ. Through charity or love man is transformed
into Christ as the lover is transformed into the beloved. To the
perfection of love belongs a mutual adhesion by which the
lover remains in the beloved, and the beloved is in the lover
through a certain complacency or contentment, which is to say
the transformation of the lover into the beloved. " Love is
nothing other than a certain transformation of the affection
into the thing loved." 198 " It denotes a certain union of
affections between the lover and the beloved, inasmuch as the
lover deems the beloved as somewhat united to him, and so
tends towards him." 199 The lover, thus, considers or evaluates
the will and the good of his friend as his own. He can be said
to be in the beloved as pursuing that which is most intimate
to the beloved. On the other hand, the beloved can be said to
be in him, for he wishes and acts for his friend as for himself,
regarding his friend to be the same as himself. Thus the beloved is in the lover as impressed on his affections through a
certain complacency. Such is the effect of charity, and such is
the effect of the Eucharist in the one communicating, " who
from his own form in some manner recedes so that he may be
transformed into Christ beloved, as being loosed from that by
which he is contained within himself." 200
This transformation of man by the Holy Eucharist is made
not only through habitual love, but also through the act of
charity, for this Sacrament not only effects an increase of the
habit of charity but even excites the one partaking Christ to
act-second act or the actual operation of charity.
The perfection of the Christian life is twofold: habitual and
actual. Habitual perfection consists essentially in sanctifying
grace alone, but consequently in charity and the other infused
virtues. Specially and principally this perfection consists in
charity. This habitual perfection can be said to consist in an
habitual disposition through which man is so disposed that
198
109

Ill Sent., d. 27, q. 1, a. l.
Summa Theol., II-II, q. 27, a. 2.

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through operation he unites himself perfectly to God. Actual
perfection consists in actual operation through which man is
united to God and subjected to Him, because his perfection
which is from the principle and to the principle, consists in
being joined to his principle and end, because of which he was
made and is.201
Since" operation is the second perfection of a thing" 202 and
" formally charity is the life of the soul," 203 the ultimate perfection of the spiritual life or the perfect union with Christ
consists in the act of charity. Thus the perfection of the unity
of the members of the Mystical Body with Christ consists in
the greater actuality of the bond constituting this mystical
union, for " charity increases only by its subject partaking
more and more, that is, by being more reduced to its act and
more subject thereto." 204 The bond being charity, the more
charity is in act, the stronger is the bond, the greater is the
unity existing between Christ and His members. Now this
more fervent act, which alone causes charity to be increased
and thus to have a greater hold on the soul/ 05 is the direct and
actual effect of the Sacrament of the Holy Eucharist. For this
reason, that it has as its actual effect the
of charity over
and above the habitual effect of the habit of charity, the
Eucharist is said to cause the perfection of the Mystical Body
rather than the Sacrament of Baptism which is spiritual generation, through which is acquired as its proper effect only the first
perfection, a habit or form. 206
The conclusion that this spiritual transformation of men into
Christ is made through charity which is the reality (res) of
the Eucharist is substantiated by the theological reason that
the effect proper to each of the Sacraments ought to be taken
from the similitude of the corporal effect to which its matter
is naturally ordained; for a Sacrament signifies symbolically,
that is, after the manner of some analogy, by reason of the
Cf. P. M. Passerini, De Hominum Statibus et Officiis (Luca. 1782), I, 19 ff.
Summa Theol., III, q. 78, a. 1, ad 2um.
203 Ibid., II-II, q. 28, a. 2, ad 2um.
20 " Cf. ibid., q. 24, a. 5, ad Sum.
204 Ibid., q. 25, a. 5.
206 Cf. ibid., III, q. 79, a. 8, ad 2um.
201
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JOHN T. DITTOE

matter and its use. The Eucharist transforms men into Christ
after the manner of corporal food and drink. Food is ordained
to the refection of the body through a physical conversion of
the taken food into the substance of the one partaking it. The
sacramental effect of the Eucharist, therefore, proportionally
consists in the refection of the soul of the communicant through
some spiritual conversion or transformation. Nevertheless,
there is this transcendent difference to be noted: The transformation effected by the Eucharist is not made through a conversion of the spiritual food into the one communicating, but
vice versa; the one communicating is converted into Christ,
Who is the spiritual food, for when two things are joined the
weaker is always changed into the stronger. 207
This sublime thought has been summarized thus:
The whole of the bread and wine Christ has changed into His
substance, so that being made our food He might transform into
Himself the entire heart of man, his whole mind and all the
affections of his soul. The transsubstantiation of the elements is
the miracle of the Eucharist; the transformation of souls is the end
and fruit of the most divine Eucharist. " I am the food of the
strong," God told Augustine, " nor do you change Me into yourself
as the food of your flesh; but you are changed into Me." We change
carnal foods into our substance; but the divine food of the Eucharist
changes those who eat it into Itself, since without a doubt natural
heat digests corporal food and by its action impresses (upon it)
the characteristics of the animal whose instrument it is. But
Christ, the bread of Angels, is really received by the mouth, nevertheless He is digested only by the fire of love: love moreover transforms the one loving into the things loved: hence if Christ is eaten
as He should be, the one eating is entirely changed into Christ. 208

Further, from the analogy of the effects of the Eucharist to
the effects of food and drink, it can be said that the reality
(res) of the Eucharist related to the habit of charity has the
effect of habitually refreshing the one taking it. Besides this
habitual effect resulting from the partaking of food there Is
Cf. St. Thomas, op. cit., John vi, 55; Billot, op. cit., I, 533 fl'.
••• V. Contenson, T:heologia Mentis et Cordis (Paris: 1875), IV, 83.

" 07

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also an actual refreshment which anyone in good health experiences in the very act of eating. In the Eucharist this actual
effect is the actual refreshment of spiritual sweetness, that is,
the act of charity and its consequent delight experienced by
anyone who approaches this Sacrament free from the distraction of venial sins, in robust spiritual health. 209 This is the
spiritual delectation which Christ Himself experienced when He
partook of this Sacrament. 210
Continuing the analogy of spiritual refection with corporal
refection, the reality (res) of the Eucharist can be said to
refresh the soul in four respects. " The grace of this sacrament,"
says St. Thomas, " refreshes the soul in all respects: by sustaining, giving increase, restoring, and giving delight." 211
The reality (res) of the Eucharist sustains the habitual union
of charity by giving an increase of tl!is virtue, and partly even
from the more fervent act of charity to which man in communicating is excited. By directly strengthening the bond of
union between the one communicating and Christ, it preserves
him from sin and lessens the inclination to sin as a consequence.212
This Sacrament, containing Christ Himself and representing
His Passion, the cause of grace, increases grace and perfects
the spiritual life "so that man may stand perfect in himself
by union with God." 213
The reality (res) of the Eucharist, further, repairs that which
is " lost daily of our spirituality from the heat of concupiscence
through venial sins which lessen the fervor of charity." 214
This is effected not through the increase of the habit but
through the more fervent act to which venial sin is opposed. 215
The delight resulting from the reception of this Sacrament
••• Cf. Summa Theol., III, q. 70, a. 8.
° Cf. ibid., q. 81, a. 1, ad Sum.
211 Ibid., q. 7S, a. 6; q. 79, a. 1.
212 Cf. ibid., q. 79, a. 6, corp.; ad Sum.
"'"Ibid., a. 1, ad 1um.
2 " Ibid., a. 4.
015 Cf. ibid., ad 1um> I-II, q. 89, a. 2, ad Sum.
21

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proceeds from the fervent acts of love to which one communicating is excited. Delight or joy is caused by actual love both
because of the presence of the good loved, and even because
the lover's own good is present to this good loved and conserved
by it. 216 However, that charity which is excited in the one
communicating is the love of Christ Whose good is immutable,
since He is His goodness; and the object of that love is present
to the one loving Him as possessed by him. 217 "Hence it is that
the soul is . . . through the power of this sacrament . . .
spiritually gladdened, and as it were inebriated with the sweetness of Divine goodness." 218
To this point, the doctrine of the transformation of man into
Christ through charity-the effect of the Holy Eucharist-has
been established. It has been shown that the Eucharist exercises its proximate and immediate function as the spiritual
nourishment and growth to perfection of the union existing
between the individual soul and Christ. This is the first of the
twofold unity present in the Mystical Body. The first unity is
a prerequisite, as it were, for attaining the second unity of its
members among themselves, for the whole Mystical Body can
achieve its corporate perfection and completion only through
the integrity and perfection of the individual members. 219 This
second unity, the union of the members among themselves, is
the perfection and completion of the Mystical Body which is
the ultimate purpose and reality of the Holy Eucharist, for it
is the same reason of union with Christ, and with His members.
Wherefore, since the reality (res) of the Eucharist is the perfect
union of the one communicating to Christ through love, in this
very thing is the perfect union among the members, that is to
say, the unity of the Mystical Body. 220
The sign of spiritual nutrition of the soul through union
with Christ, the Eucharist is at the same time the sign of the
Cf. Billot, op. cit., I, 536 ff.
Cf. Summa Theol., II-II, q. 28, a. 1.
218 Ibid., III, q. 79, a. 1, ad 2um.
219 Cf. St. Thomas, op. cit., Ephesians, iv, 16.
22 ° Cf. Billot, op. cit., p. 540.

216

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joining (coagmentatio) of the whole Mystical Body of which
Christ is the Head. Continuing the analogy to the workings
of corporal food which the Eucharist effects in the spiritual
order, it can be said that
just as natural food, diffusing its power through the whole body,
,nourishes each member taken not only solitarily but even according
to the proportion which each member has to the other members
whose cohesion and mutual love it conserves and fosters, so also
the Eucharist, by signifying the nourishment of souls through
perfect incorporation into Christ, in this very thing signifies the
grace by which each soul not only lives in itself, thence as if it
were alone in this world, but is even conjoined to other souls incorporated in Christ, and adheres to them by this linking of charity.
Wherdore, the reality (res) of the Eucharist is grace or charity joining (coagmentans) each one with Christ and with His members.221
Charity, the reality of the Eucharist, can effect this twofold
unity in this manner because charity is a single virtue. 222 The
love of God and the love of one's neighbor are not two different
virtues but are one and the same, " for God is the principal
object of charity while our neighbor is loved out of charity
for God's sake." 223 Thus" the aspect under which our neighbor
is to be loved is God, since what we ought to love in our
neighbor is that he may be in God. Hence ... it is specifically
the same act whereby we love God, and whereby we love our
neighbor." 224
The Eucharist, therefore, is the one same source of uniting
each individual member with the Head and of establishing the
most ideal and perfect union among the members of Christ's
Mystical Body. Through this Sacrament men communicate
with and are united to one another 225 and thus are made the
one Body of Christ, for it is" the food of unity, by which those
who are refreshed are made of one soul 226 through the adhesion
221

Ibid., p.

••• cr. Summa Theol., ll-II, q.
••• Ibid., q.
••• Ibid., q.

a. 5, ad I urn.
a. 1.

a. 5; q.
a. 1.
••• cr. ibid., III, q. 78, a. 4.
••• St. Thomas, op. cit., John, vi, 58.

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JOHN T. DITTOE

and fervor of charity, 227 which in itself is the fellowship of the
spiritual life." 228
St. Thomas summarizes the foregoing through the similitude
which it has to the natural body of man and goes on to demonstrate how the Mystical Body of Christ is one. A natural body
is made one from many members in three modes: 1) through a
joining together; 2) through a bond joining the members into
a unit; 8) through mutual operation and asistance--all of which
are from the corporal head. The Mystical Body of Christ, then,
is made one in the same three modes. As flowing from Christ
the Head: I) the joining together of the Mystical Body is
through faith; 2) the bond or connection is through faith and
charity, which connect and join the members for the mutual
Christian ministry, because of the necessity that things united
be joined by some bond; 8) the mutual operation and assistance
are through the Christian ministering of the works of charity,
for which reason the virtue of actually operating flows spiritually. Then St. Thomas adds:
Not only from our Head Christ is the joining together through
faith of the members of the Church, not only a connection or
binding through mutual subministration through charity; but certainly from Him is the actual operation of the members, or the
motion to the work according to the measure and competence of
each member. Whence ... He makes the increase of the body
according to the operation and measure of each member duly
measured; because not only through faith is the Mystical Body
joined together, not only through the connecting ministration of
charity is the body increased, but through the actual composition
proceeding forth from each member, according to the measure of
the grace given to him, which God makes in us. For what does
God increase each member? That the body be built. 229

This power of Christ the Head is exercised over the members
of His Mystical Body through the seven Sacraments. This
unity, therefore, is brought about by the Sacraments, for their
291 lbid., xv, 9.
••• Summa Theol., ll-11, q. 25, a. !!, ad 211m.
••• St.. Thomas, op. cit., Ephuiana, iv, 16.

SACRAMENTAL

INCORPORATION

INTO THE MYSTICAL BODY

511

common effect is the building up of the Mystical Body. 230 Yet
these three modes of unity flow from Christ to His members
especially through the Holy Eucharist, which contains Christ
power of Christ's
Himself, for the Eucharist applies the
281
Properly, however, the union
Passion to His members.
through faith pertains to Baptism, the Sacrament of Faith; the
union through charity properly pertains to the Holy Eucharist,
the Sacrament of Charity. Above all, the ministering to one
another of the members through their actual operation by
which " we being many are one body " 232 is properly the effect
of the Holy Eucharist. Through the Eucharist the very motion
to operate through charity is given, for the reality of this Sacrament is the operation or the second act of charity which is love.
The Eucharist, therefore, through its reality (res) effects a
certain union of affections among the members of the Mystical
Body inasmuch as each member deems the other members
somewhat united to him, or belonging to him, and so tends
towards them not only habitually but even actually. 233 Each
member, therefore, lives in Christ, as a member of His Mystical
Body -and through Christ lives in fellowship and unity with the
other members. In the likeness of Christ, he ever operates
through charity towards his fellow-members, seeking the perfect
good-the good of the whole-rather than his individual, partial good which is the cause of division in Christ's Mystical
Body. 234 The Eucharist, then,
ought to revive in the soul of the faithful the feeling of their divine
solidarity in Christ, a deep sentiment of union to all their brothers
in the faith, a feeling of strong love, tender love, devoted and
efficacious, which disposes them to intend and procure, each for
his own part, the divine good of the whole Mystical Body. 235
18

°Cf. Summa Theol., ill, q. 39, a. 6, ad 4um.

Cf. ibid., q. 79, a. 1; St. Thomas, op. cit., John, vi, 5!Z.
St. Thomas, op. cit., I Corinthians, x, 17.
••• Cf. Summa Theol., ll-II, q. 27, a. !Z.
••• Cf. St. Thomas, op. cit., I Corinthians, i, 10.
•as Mura, op. cit., I, 186.
"" 1

' 81

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JOHN T. DITTOE

In this way alone can the members obtain the individual effects
of the Eucharist, for
to obtain the individual effects of the Sacrament the one communicating must communicate to the group, that is, to the whole Christ,
by communicating to Christ as He is, universal man, first-born of
many brothers, by accepting the love, and by responding to love
such as is in the intention of the Creator-Love. 236
As an effect of the Holy Eucharist, each member actually
tends towards the other members out of charity as the principal motive in spirit and in deed. Their inward acts as well
as their outward acts whereby they live in communion with
one another 237 emanate from their communion with Christ
clothed with charity and ordained by charity to their last
end. 238 "From charity all proceed as from a principle, and in
charity all are ordained as to an end." 239 To act as an efficient
cause in commanding the acts of the other virtues by which
each member helps and gives assistance to the other members
pertains to charity. Thus, the Holy Eucharist through its
reality (res) effects an increase of good works towards one
another on the part of the members of Christ's Mystical Body,
and when man increases in good works and in grace proportionate to this, the unity of the Mystical Body increases and
grows strong, 240 for this is the collaboration of the works of
charity through which " we being many are one body." 241
Through charity, therefore the reality (res) of the Sacrament of the Holy Eucharist perfects and completes the
Mystical Body of Christ. Charity perfects the Mystical Body
by knitting the members into the closest possible union with
the Head and with one another. Charity completes the
Mystical Body by bringing the ever-increasing members par236

Sertillanges, "L'Eucharistie

et l'Eglise," La Vie Spirituelle, XL (1934), 120-

121.
Cf. Summa Theol., 1-11, q. 100, a. 2.
Cf. ibid., 11-11, q. £3, a. 8.
239 St. Thomas, op. cit., John, xv, 12.
240 St. Thomas, op. cit., Ephesians, ii, 21.
241 Cf. St. Thomas, op. cit., I Corinthians, x, 17.
231
238

SACRAMENTAL

INCORPORATION

INTO THE MYSTICAL

BODY

513

taking of the Eucharist to the numerical completion of the predestined. The vital processes toward this perfection and completion are the mysterious workings of Eucharistic grace,
bringing to its plenitude the operation of the Mystical Body. 242
The Eucharist, then, is by Divine dispensation the true source
of charity uniting the Head and the members of the Mystical
Body " unto the measure of the age of the fullness of Christ." 248

V.

CONCLUSION

In these pages the roles of the Sacraments of Baptism and
the Holy Eucharist in constituting the unity of the Mystical
Body of Christ have been considered in the light of the principles of St. Thomas. Since both Sacraments are said to be the
Sacraments of Incorporation into the Mystical Body, the intriguing and theologically fruitful question arises of wherein
their differences lie and how each effects this incorporation.
Evidence has been advanced within the limited proportions
of this study to prove that the Sacrament of Baptism is the
Sacrament of birth into Christ's Mystical Body through the
bestowal of first grace, the basis for this union between Christ
and His members. Baptism infuses the fundament for perfect
incorporation into Christ by giving the habit or form. The
Holy Eucharist perfects and consummates this incorporation
through the conferring of an increase of grace and the virtues
and by further exciting the communicant to more fervent acts
of charity. Baptism inaugurates the union; the Holy Eucharist
completes it.
The dominant effect of the Holy Eucharist as the source,
the end, the beginning, and the consummation of the unity
existing in the Mystical Body of Christ forms the basis of these
brief theological considerations, as it does of all those living
in God through Christ Jesus. The whole Christian life is centered about the Eucharist. Symbolic of the Passion of Christ,
the Eucharist continues to show forth the greatest manifes••• Cf. St. Thomas, op. cit., Ephesians, i, 23.
••• Ephesians, iv, 13.

514

JOHN T. DITTOE

tation of Christ's love for men in applying its effects to men.
Containing the Source of grace, the Eucharist necessarily carries to men the merits of Christ accomplished through His
Passion and Death upon the Cross. Conferring the fullness of
grace, the Eucharist places in men-to the highest degree
attainable in this life-friendship with God and fellowship
among men. At the same time it is a pledge of the fruition of
eternal happiness and consummate union of the blessed in
heaven. This is the proper end of the Sacrament of the true
Body and Blood of Christ.
Likewise, this is the end of the Mystical Body of Christeternal glory. When the last man has received the fulfillment
of the pledge of that which " eye has not seen nor ear heard," 244
then, and only then, will Christ be complete. In that day the
Mystical Body of Christ will have received its goal of actual
union with Christ through the continual operation of the
intellect and will of the elect in thought and love for all eternity.
At the moment eternity
the Eucharist will have achieved
its end; the Mystical Body will have reached its consummation.
God's plan will be completed," according to the eternal purpose
which He accomplished in Christ Jesus our Lord."
JoHNT. DITTOE,

Dominican House of Studiu,
Waahington, D. C.

•••1 Corinthiana, ii, 9.
"" Ephuiana, iii, 11.

O.P.

ON DARKNESS, SILENCE, AND THE NOUGHT

T

HE vocabulary of many languages lists a noun: " the "
Nought, das Nichts, le neant. Thus it seems that, in
some sense, that which is nothing must be something
after all, else one could not give it a name. This apparent contradiction is one reason why the question of the Nought has
recurred frequently in philosophical speculation. There are
other reasons too. One is connected with the problem of a
finite universe: if the universe has boundaries, and comprises
by definition all that is, then it must be, one is forced to suppose, "surrounded" by the Nought. Here again, the Nought
seems to become something. Within Christian philosophy the
doctrine was and is that God created the world " out of nothing." It is easy to conceive of the Nought, in this sentence, as
a kind of material God used to make the world. In fact, such
ideas were considered by earlier thinkers. There is, furthermore,
the problem of evil. At least since St. Augustine, it has been a
common doctrine that evil as such has no existence; it is purely
negative, the privatio boni. What exists has goodness, and evil
is the absence of a higher goodness which ought to exist here
and there. But this absence of the desired or necessary good is
intensely felt; it becomes the content of a positive experience,
although it is" nothing."
In recent times the problem of the Nought has come to the
fore in the philosophy of "existentialism," particularly in the
views of Martin Heidegger. Apart from the peculiar place the
idea.of the Nought holds within the system of this thinker, it is
the phenomenological analysis of dread, as given by him, which
has made the Nought a topic of renewed discussion. Heidegger
claims, herein obviously dependent on Kierkegaard, that in
dread man has an experience of the Nought.
It seems worth while to reconsider the problem. In so doing
515

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RUDOLF ALLERS

a promising approach may be furnished through a description
of experiences the reports on which contain the word " nothing." I shall try to clarify the meaning of some of such
statements.
In the field of sensory awareness only the two "higher"
senses, sight and hearing, furnish experiences described by the
term "nothing." In darkness and in silence we apparently
become aware of" nothing." The precise meaning of this.statement, at first sight self-contradictory, will be investigated later.
But there is no such experience in the fields of the other senses.
We may disregard the senses of smell and taste, as well as that
of temperature, because the " something " of which they render
us cognizant hardly deserves to be called a" thing." The data
provided by these senses (and one may add the sense of pain as
well as somaesthesia) refer only to properties, not to things in
the strict sense of the name. We know of course that some
fragrance originates in a thing, which therefore we expect; but
to become aware of the thing and not only of its fragrance
we have to look. Taste tells us about things only in virtue of
its data being referred to or associated with previous nongustatory experiences, again mostly of sight. The same is true
of the sense of thermaesthesia.
When we do not sense any temperature, or taste anything,
or smell anything, we usually do not say that we are aware of
"nothing." We may say so, eventually, when something is
brought into contact with our tongue and proves to have no
taste; but what we really mean is not that we are aware of
the non-taste, but that we are not conscious of any gustatory
experience. The statement does not refer to the objective, but
only to the subjective side of our experience. We assert the
absence of any experience belonging to the class of taste. The
same applies to smell. With tactual and kinaesthetic data the
same conditions prevail. There is no experience of the absence
of weight, for instance, or of the fact that nothing touches us,
or that we do not touch anything. If we lift a thing which has
" no weight " we report not on an experience whose object

ON DARKNESS,

SILENCE,

AND THE NOUGHT

517

would be the zero-weight, but state that we have no experience
belonging to the class of those we know to originate when a
weight is lifted.
However, when we "see nothing," that is, find ourselves
immersed in complete darkness, we have a very positive experience. The same is true of the experience of silence. Thus,
one is led to the conclusion that there exists some kind of
experience, in the fields of vision and hearing, the object of
which is "nothing." The meaning of this must be discovered.

I
There are two ways of "seeing nothing." We see nothing
back of our head (or outside the boundaries of the " visual
field ") ; but this absence of visual impression is not correctly
described by the words " seeing nothing " ; rather it is covered
by the formula" not seeing at all." The other way is indeed a
manner of seeing, namely the peculiar visual experience we have
when looking into perfect darkness or seeing absolute black. 1
If the experience we describe as " seeing darkness " (this
term as well as that of black will be taken here to mean
" perfect " darkness or blackness, that is, the absolute absence
of any trace of light) is truly what it is supposed to be, namely,
the awareness of perfect black, it cannot be described. It is
as simple and escapes analysis as much as does the awareness
of any color or of white light. We can never describe redness;
we can only point it out. Only those color impressions which
appear as composites allow for further characterization. Thus,
orange may be described as a mixture of red and yellow. But
this is not a true description; it is a statement on the place this
particular hue holds in the order of colors, or perhaps, a statement on the genesis of it. 2
1 This question
is of interest to various disciplines: to the physiology and
psychology of vision, to speculative psychology, and to metaphysics. The strictly
physiological facts will be considered here only insofar as they may contribute to
om understanding of the experience itself.
deserves to be noted that we use to " describe" colors terms taken from other

4

518

RUDOLF ALLERS

The first question which arises is one merely of fact. Do we
ever become aware of perfect darkness? It has been claimed
that any such statement is, in truth, the result of erroneous
judgment: we do not see perfect black but only a very dark
grey. It is, of course, possible to produce conditions in which
no light whatsoever reaches our eyes. We can place an observer
in a room from which all light is absolutely excluded, the walls
of which are covered with black velvet, and in which all objects
are painted a dull black. Nonetheless, some declare, we do not
see true black.
There are, first; certain subjective light phenomena, photismata. In regard to them one observes great individual differences. With some people they are very marked and luminous,
often brilliantly colored. But they never fill the whole visual
field; they appear as floating before a black background. Also,
they are easily and unerringly distinguished from the surrounding " objective " black. These phenomena, therefore, can be
disregarded.
But it is claimed that even when such photismata are
absent and the observer believes he sees an uninterrupted and
complete black, he actually does not see black but the " subjective grey." This phenomenon is explained as the effect of
an " endogenous excitation " of the cortical regions where the
nervous pathways of vision end (in the occipital part of the
brain) .3
This theory is open to two objections. First, it seems to me,
and it seemed the same way to several other observers, that
we indeed " see " perfect black; not always, indeed, and often
sensory fields; thus we may say that one color is " warm " and another " cold."
There are further notes, in certain color experiences, which pertain not to the color
as such but to its mode of appearance, as for instance the same red which is
presented one time as a " surface color " and another time as a colored medium
(when we look into it, e. g., a colored solution). Some aspects of these phenomena
will be touched upon later, since they have a definite bearing on the problems to
be discussed.
8 David Katz, The World of Colour, London, 1935, Trans. R. B. MacLeod and
C. W. Fox, p. 58 ff. Katz refers to an older study by G. E. Miiller, "Zur Psychophysik der Gesichtsempfindungen," Zschr. f. Psychol, 1897, XIV, 40.

ON DARKNESS,

SILENCE,

AND THE NOUGHT

519

not as an uninterrupted mass of darkness, but often enough
and consistently enough to warrant the statement that black
and not grey is "seen" under such conditions. Secondly, even
if these observations were deceptive, and what is actually seen
is a very dark grey, there would still remain the problem: how
do we realize that something is " not perfect black " if this
datum is never experienced? It would seem that such a statement is based on some knowledge concerning perfect black. If
no such knowledge exists, there is no possibility of recognizing
the difference between the subjective grey and true black.
This objection is not countered by saying that we do not realize
the difference between the grey we experience and the black
which is beyond possible experience, but the " admixture of
white light." Admixture to what? We are thrown back into
the same dilemma.
It may be noted also that we do not gauge darkness by the
minimum of light it still contains. A very dark grey, which
one commonly would call black, is not defined, and does not
appear, as a white of a minimum degree; rather the white component, if it is observed at all, appears as a kind of" impurity,"
clearly as an admixture to the black. This simple datum of
experience seems to point to a knowledge of perfect black.
It is, however, generally admitted that perfect black may be
seen, subjectively, by way of simultaneous contrast. The most
perfect impression of black may be attained by contrast. If
these were the only conditions under which perfect black is
seen, the situation for the physiologist might become easier.
He would no longer be faced with the difficulty of explaining a
positive impression dependent on the absence of stimulation, or
any similar organic process. But the situation remains unchanged for the psychologist. Whether by contrast or in virtue
of "objectively existing" blackness, there is the experience of
black, still demanding interpretation. 4
• If simultaneous contrast were to be explained, as in the theory of Helmholtz,
by non-physiological, i.e., purely mental, factors, the physiologist would not need
to concern himself with the problem at all.

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RUDOLF ALLERS

Black and darkness are experienced as "something." They
are phenomena in the strict sense of the word,-" something
appearing " or presented. Black is as much " outside " and
" there " as any color is. Although we say, when surrounded by
complete darkness, " I see nothing," it is more correct to say,
" I see black."
The phrase "I see nothing" is ambiguous. It refers to situations very different in nature. These words are used mostly
to express that we do not see some definite thing we expected
to see or the presence of which is claimed by another: The
physician examining a person complaining of a sore throat may
say that he sees nothing, that is, no abnormality. In fact he
sees many things. So does one on the lookout for a. ship who,
sweeping the horizon, says he sees nothing, namely, no ship.
We use the same expression in darkness because we want to
see certain things and are unable to do so. But actually we
see the darkness.
Although darkness, surrounding us, shares certain properties
with other instances of both "space-filling" and "expanded"
colors, it differs from these in other regards. The first fact to be
noted is that darkness is, at the same time, an expanded color
(one may safely use this term, since the impression is, for the
apprehending mind, the same as in the case of true colors) and
a space-filling one. Expanded color is observed when we look,
for instance at the clear sky above us, seeing nothing but it,
or when we look through the closed eyelids at a light and see
nothing but a homogeneous red. One can easily create corresponding conditions for other colors, when one has an observer
look at a wholly uniformly colored surface large enough to fill
the visual field.
In the last-named case and also, to a degree, when we look
at the sky, there is a remnant of the characteristics of surface
colors; the sky appears somehow like a vault; the look going
out at the uniform color somehow " hits " a resistance. Furthermore, there is in both these instances localization in space; sky
and wall appear at a certain distance. Even the red seen

ON DARKNESS,

SILENCE,

AND THE NOUGHT

521

through the lids is somewhere in space, although the impression
of distance is very vague and somewhat reminiscent of that
attached to memory images.
Darkness utterly lacks this note of distance. It begins, so to
speak, immediately before our eyes. It is expanded, since it
fills, without any differentiation, the whole of our visual field.
But it also has, curiously, depth; the look "penetrates" into
it. There is nothing of " hardness " in it; darkness rather has
a note of softness.
Darkness has in common with the expanded colors the absence of structure; it is homogeneous. It shares with the
space-filling colors their characteristic property in a rather
paradoxical manner, since it reveals somehow space without
permitting this space to become actually visible. In all other
instances of such colors the look actually penetrates into space;
even when a fog is so dense that no thing can be seen, it allows
the awareness of some distance. If one looks straight ahead
when swimming under water one looks into a greenish spacefilling matter; there is no definite distance, since there is no
object by which to gauge it, but there is indubitably depth.
Not so with darkness; since we may" peer" into darkness but
never really penetrate it, this note of spatiality is rather paradoxical, but nonetheless quite definite. 5
Even the most dense fog does not abolish visibility; we may
at least see our own hand if we raise it to our eyes. Darkness
too may be described as " dense "; but it would seem inappropriate to speak of a fog as " deep," whereas such a qualification fits well into the impression we get from darkness.
Darkness thus unites, in its phenomenal givenness, two apparently contradictory features: it is impenetrable and, at the
same time, experienced as space-filling.
5 The spatial character of darkness becomes particularly obvious when one hears
a sound " coming out of darkness." One gets the impression of this sound being
"behind" or in the darkness. These facts have been studied experimentally by W.
Metzger, "Optische Untersuchungenam Ganzfeld," Psychol. Forsch., 19!i!9, XIII,
15. Cf. also Katz, l. c. p. 59. Similar impressions are to be obtained by a very small
light suddenly appearing in complete darkness; it is somehow distant from the
observer, although there is no means for appraising the distance.

522

RUDOLF ALLERS

The sense-datum of black presents another unique peculiarity. All other data of vision can be excluded from perceptive
consciousness by the simple procedure of closing the eyes, or
covering them so that no light enters even through the closed
lids. Not so with black; there is no means to get rid of darkness. Whatever we do, we remain surrounded by black.
One may, perhaps, imagine things so vividly that they replace the black partially; all kinds of shapes may appear " in "
the dark. But I think it hardly possible that any imagination
should be vivid enough to create the impression that the darkness has disappeared. Generally, the imagined shapes will
appear as in the darkness or placed before it.
The fact just mentioned might be used as an argument for
the " purely subjective nature " of the sensum black. The
absence of light, then, would appear as only an indispensable
external condition for this subjective phenomenon to emerge.
One might consider either that this subjective process is continuous and overlaid by those processes excited by light, so that
it becomes totally unnoticeable, or that it is discontinuous,
arising only in darkness, because it is inhibited by the light
stimulus.
Both hypothetical explanations, however, are rather unsatisfactory. To prove the first, one would have to show that
brightness, as perceived, diminishes more quickly than its
physical counterpart. The continuous "black-process" would
become more and more effective in sensory awareness the less
energy impinges on the sense organ. Therefore, a weak light
would overlie this process less effectively and appear as less
bright than it objectively is.
The other hypothesis is not even accessible to objective
testing. The first might be tested, although the results would
be, probably, difficult to evaluate. So far as we know, there
are no facts in favor of this hypothesis. 6
• Thus, a consequence to be expected would be that the just-perceptible differences in brightness, measured in stimulus-magnitudes, would be larger with very
weak lights. There is nothing pointing in this direction.

ON DARKNESS,

SILENCE,

AND THE NOUGHT

523

The most remarkable fact, of course, is that black or darkness is seen. This is, indeed, a simple fact which does not lend
itself to any further analysis. When there is nothing to be
seen, we do not see nothing, but see black. This fact is so
evident that it has never been denied. For all its obviousness
it is exceedingly difficult to explain. Insofar as it is seen, black
is an " object " of sight or a part of the " universe of visibles."
Our awareness of black has nothing to do with any consciousness we might have of a performance executed by our sense of
sight. In fact, the " universe of visibles " is not to be defined
as the totality of all objects of which we become aware by
means of our eyes; rather the eye qught to be defined as that
organ which renders us aware of the visibles. 7 I have pointed
out elsewhere that we have no immediate knowledge of our
eyes being" active" or affected in ordinary visual experience. 8
We become aware of our eyes participating in the process of
visual awareness only in certain extraordinary situations, when
exposed to strong glare or when making an effort to see better
an indistinguishable object. Then, there is an "organ sensation " the like of which is absent under average conditions.
Our certainty, however, about "seeing with the eyes" seems
more the effect of experiences, such as observing the disappearance of things when we close our eyes.
This statement is confirmed by observations like that made
on a girl who had been operated upon after having been blind.
She did not realize that the new impressions came to her
through the eyes, became aware of this only when she covered
her eyes with her hands. The case was observed in the United
States and is reported by M. v. Senden, Raum- und Gestaltauffassung der Blinden, Leipzig, 1929, p. 114.
7 This is true in spite of the fact that the term " visible " seems to connote
" visual performance." This connotation may be more the result of habit than of
any immediate givenness. In this regard, it seems significant that in many languages
the roots of the respective terms are widely different: eye--to see--to look-to
gaze; oculus---videre; Auge--sehen-schauen.
8 " Remarks on some Problems Concerning Sensation," The Modern Schoolman,
1945, XXII, 66; esp. p. 82 f.

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RUDOLF ALLERS

Black appears to us definitely as an " object " of sight, a
visible something. The experience presents to us a res extra
in the same manner as any visual datum is presented; black
pertains to the visible universe. \Ve are aware, when there
is-objectively or subjectively-complete
blackness, that " it
could not be any blacker," that is, we realize that this impression is the maximum of its kind. There are similar experiences
in the field of sight and also of other senses. But the experience
of black has certain features which make it unique.
Any impression of " medium intensity " carries with it the
evident note that it might decrease as well as increase. A
medium brightness is seen as possibly more or less bright. A
weight may be more or less heavy than it is, a sound more
or less loud and also higher or lower. This note refers not so
much to a potentiality inherent in the object, the awareness of
which is difficult to explain, as to an immediate knowledge concerning the place the impression holds within the order of its
kind. In virtue of this note we realize that a certain weak
sensation is " just noticeable." This is the subjective side of
the " threshold " which usually is defined in terms of stimulusmagnitude. We need no extended series of experiments to know
immediately that a certain impression cannot become weaker;
any diminution would not be one of the sensation, since it would
make the latter disappear. We express such experiences with
the words: I can hardly see it, hardly hear it, I can" just feel"
it, etc. These statements are not based on nor do they refer
to the magnitude of the stimulus; they describe a characteristic
of the subjective experience.
There is no asymptotic approach to a zero-value in sensory
experience. A sensory impression either exists or is non-existent.
The transition is not gradual, but one of sudden abruptness;
out of the absence of sensation a positive datum suddenly
emerges. In fact, the commonly used expression that something
disappears gradually is incorrect; it becomes gradually less,
but it disappears instantly.
An analogical consideration applies to the maximum of im-

ON DARKNESS,

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pression. We need no further evidence to realize that a weight
we lift is nearly " intolerable," in the literal sense of the term.
The same may be said of any other sense impressions. The
maximum is not only the sensation we can "just tolerate," it
is an absolute maximum beyond. which there is " nothing." A
weight we cannot lift does not exist as a weight for us; it ceases
to have weight and turns into an object conditioning a very
different experience, namely that of insuperable resistance.
The" hardly tolerable" is that which cannot increase but only
become less. Increase, at this point, loses its meaning. Above
a certain limit there is no increase but either sudden disappearance or persistence of the same impression.
All sensations of a kind arrange themselves in an order
terminated by the just noticeable on one end and the just
tolerable on the other. The place any intermediary degree of
sensation holds between the two poles determines the particular
"intensity." Very intense means close to the upper, very feeble
means close to the lower, pole. Describing a sense impression
by reference to this "scale" would probably do more justice
to the facts than referring to an" intensive magnitude." However, we have also an impression of magnitude.
It is characteristic of every magnitude that is capable of
either increase or decrease or of both. What lacks this note is,
therefore, not a magnitude or an intensity in the correct usage
of the term. But this is precisely the case with black. It can
become neither blacker, nor less black, because it then ceases
to exist. Our experience of black is one of a pure quality lacking any trace of intensity. 9
• Black has been characterized as " a color produced by zero-stimulation, correlated with a non-light sensation which gives no degree of intensity."
(G. M.
Michaels, "Black: a Non-Light Sensation," Psychol. Rev., 1925, XXXII, 248.) In
this statement, only the last part is of interest here. The rather curious notions
of " zero-stimulation " and of "non-light sensation " need not be examined.One might argue, however, that black by "becoming less" does not actually disappear, as was claimed above, but stays on and only is mixed with white, remaining as an "element" of grey.
However, by such an assumption the state of the question is not altered. Black,
to persist as an " element " must remain unchanged; grey is, from this angle, not

526

RUDOLF ALLERS

If" intensity" is considered an essential feature of all sensation, then black cannot be listed among the sensations; if, on
the other hand, black is taken as a true sensation, then there
is at least one sensation which lacks intensity. 10
Why do all people speak of " seeing nothing " when surrounded by darkness, although in fact . they see something,
namely, the dark? It seems easy to say that one does not mean
" nothing " but " no thing." 11 But one does not employ the
same expression in regard to the appearance of the uniformly
blue sky or any other expanded color. Here too, one does not
" see a thing " ; nonetheless this experience is not described as
"seeing nothing." Rather, one says that one sees "nothing
but " Qlue or red, implying thus that one sees and sees " something," even though the visual datum does not deserve the
name of a" thing." It is not even potentially a thing. But it
is potentially something nevertheless; it is a potential " background," against which a thing may appear. 12 Black, on the
contrary, is hardly a potential background; it must give place
to a totally different kind of sense impression for anything to
appear at all.
There is, so far as I can see, only one situation in which
black-in the sense in which the term is understood hereinterpreted as a "lesser" black but as the same black whose pure impression is
vitiated by the admixture of light; or, as it has been put, a " meeting" of black
and light. (G. H. Rich, "Black and Grey in Visual Theory," A mer. J. Psychol.,
1926, XXXVII, 12S.)
10 The peculiarities of intensity or its absence in the case of black create a serious
difficulty to those psychologists who maintain that intensity is a primary and
necessary feature of sensation. They are forced to invent rather fanciful explanations. Thus G. E. Miiller suggested that black has intensity but one which is not
recognized because it never varies. However, we may look at white light and never
notice any change and nonetheless realize perfectly the degree of brightness. G. E.
Miiller, "Zur Psychophysik der Gesichtsempfindungen," Zeitschr. Psychol., 1896,
X, SO; 1897, XIV, 40, 60.
11 This interpretation
is countenanced, of course, by lingnistic habits. Nothing,
ne-rien (i.e. non rem), niente are all built the same way.
•• The relation of " fignre and background" which contemporary psychology
ct>nsiders very important cannot be analyzed here. The fact referred to above indicates that this relation is of a wider significance than even the confignrationist
school realizes.

ON DARKNESS,

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527

becomes somewhat of a background. This happens when we
see a light in
so weak or so far away and small that
it does not dispel the darkness but is surrounded by it. As soon
as the brightness becomes a little stronger or the light a little
bigger, it will irradiate and suppress darkness. But one may
doubt whether this experience represents a true analogy to the
usual relation of "figure and background." A small quasipunctiform light cannot be said to form a "figure," or to have
any definite shape. Under average conditions, at least, black
does not become a background nor does it impress us as potentially such one. This is, perhaps, very natural, since a situation
in which we "see nothing" is not suggestive of another in
which what hitherto was "nothing" would become a background of something and therewith itself also "something."
Every sensum, with the exception of black, holds a definite
place in the order of its kind. Therefore, it is indicative of some
possible change; a blue can always become darker or paler,
take on a more reddish or a more greenish shade, and still
impress us as blue. Not so with black. It is the only representative of its order, and by that fact is distinguished from all other
visual impressions. The reference which every other sensum of
sight has to some other member of the order of visibles in
and of its particular narrower order, is absent in black.
Black not only lacks intensity; it also lacks this reference to
other visibles.
Before drawing any conclusions from or formulating any
questions on the basis of the peculiarities of black described
above, another fact must be mentioned which seems to bring
the mind into an even more direct contact with the Noughtparadoxical though such phrases are, they are unavoidablealso in the field of sight.

II
We pay, ordinarily, little attention to the fact that our visual
field is limited. Or rather, we are not even conscious of this fact
under average conditions. We know, of course, that to see what

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RUDOLF ALLERS

is back of us we must turn around; we know that to follow a
moving object we must, eventually, turn not only our eyes
but our head and body too. This knowledge, however, is not
" given " together with our visual experience as such. When we
look straight ahead into the world, we see indeed but a certain
part of all that is around us; this fact we know, but not as a
datum of sight. In naive behavior there is no consciousness of
the limits of the visual field.
What is outside of the visual field does not exist within the
universe of visibles. If the eyes are focussed on one point,
things emerge "out of nothing" when they enter the field,
and leaving it disappear into nothingness. We may believe
that they go on existing in an invisible world; but as long as
our experience is restricted to the world visible under these
conditions, we have no proof for this existence; "outside" of
the field of vision there is strictly nothing, not only no thing,
but nothing since we cannot have any certainty that there
exists any thing or that there is even the mere possibility of
existence. Thus, the visual field borders on the Nought; it is
indeed a Nought, so to speak, secundum quid; but it is truly
nothing insofar as the universe of visibles and our knowledge
of it are concerned.
This "surrounding Nought," however, is not given in any
way to our consciousness. Even though the Nought swallowing
up all things which pass beyond the limits of the visual field
forms the boundary of this field, we p.ever realize, in immediate
experience, that this is so. How could sight render us aware
of what by principle can never become an object of sight? 18
13 One might argue that the phenomenon under discussion is simply the effect
of the rapid decrease of visual acuity towards the periphery of the retina. The
farther away from the center of the retina the image is projected, the less clear
it becomes. In the most peripheral regions no clarity can be attained on shape,
size, or color. One knows that something is there, one. cannot distinguish what it is.
This objection can be dealt with by referring to the fact that " being there " is
still equivalent to "visual existence" and fundamentally different from nonexistence. Here too there is no gradual transition. But another interesting observation can be appealed to as a weighty argument against the objection. In cases
of hemianopsia the visual field is cut in two, one half of it becoming totally ex-

ON DARKNESS,

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529

It would seem that the limitation of the visual field 1s an
essential feature of the visible world. But limited though this
world is, we have no immediate visual awareness of the fact.
We are, so to speak, in touch with the Nought, and do not
know about it. It is somehow a factor determining the visual
world, and nevertheless does not enter into it. 14
Visual experience, then, never makes us face the Nought.
Black is definitely not nothing. It only conceals things so
effectively that they disappear. We see, as was remarked
before, not nothing, but indeed. no thing. It is for this reason
that darkness frightens. The frightening quality lies not in the
black itself but in the things which, unexpectedly, may come
out of darkness. There may be danger lurking " behind " the
dark, and this danger is unknown. The response to the apprehension of an unknown danger is dread. This state is so
intolerable that any known danger is preferable. The imagination of the fearful wanderer populates the dark with all kinds
of shapes, robbers and ghosts. They are indeed products of
tinguished. The border of the visual field, then, falls on retinal regions which are
capable of distinct object-perception. The behavior of things is nonetheless the
same. They are there, and suddenly disappear, without the border of the visual
field becoming a conscious datum. Particular problems are raised by those defects
of the visual field which do not comprise border regions but create " holes " in
the middle of the field. These defects are known as " scotomata "; notwithstanding
this name, derived from the Greek word for darkness, they need not appear as
black spots. They may even pass unnoticed. The study of these defects is of
great interest to the general psychology of vision, although they have not, apparently, attracted enough attention, for no detailed descriptive study seems to exist
of the manner in which they are experienced. However, a discussion of these things,
though in a way pertinent to the present problems, would lead too far afield and
therefore must be omitted here. Cf. E. Tschermak, "Licht- und Farbensinn,"
Betke's Hbd. d. Physiol, vol. XII, I. Berlin, 1929, p. 298.
" For the sake of completeness, mention ought to be made of the " blind spot,"
that is, the part of the background in the eye where there are no retinal elements
and where the nervous fibres, forming the optic nerve, break through the wall of
the eyeball. Usually we are not aware of the corresponding defect of the visual
field. It is a physiological scotoma. The pertinent facts and theories cannot be
discussed here, for the same reasons as given before. Cf. E. Tschermak, "Uber
Merklichkeit und Unmerklichkeit des blinden Fleckes," Ergebn. d. Physiol., 1925,
XXIV, 880, and J. Brons, The Blind Spot of Mariotte, Its Ordinary lmperceptibility and Filling in and Its Facultative Visibility, London, 1989.

530

RUDOLF ALLERS

fear and tend to increase uneasiness. But they are also the
creations of a sort of defense-mechanism, because they have the
appearance of concrete things and so diminish the intolerable
sentiment of dread arising from the vague, but powerful, impression of an unknown danger.
The dread which people experience in complete darkness,
like any other form of dread, is not the effect of the Nought,
as Heidegger claims. The annihilation which threatens man in
the clutches of dread is not envisioned as " coming from " the
Nought. The latter is much more the. terminus ad quem than
the one a quo of the "movement" towards the Nought. 15
Darkness is the veil behind which hides the terror; darkness
itself is no thing, but it is not nothing either.
The black we see is a being. It owes this characteristic not
only to our knowledge of black as a surface color. The latter
mode of appearance is very different from the space-filling
quality of darkness. Surface colors have no depth; our look
does not penetrate into them. It seems paradoxical to express
it this way, but is .not incorrect to say that the black of surrounding darkness is more substantial than that of black as a
surface color; the latter belongs to the object of which it is the
color; the former exists in itself, independently of all object.
However, this quasi-substantiality does not endow darkness
with the note of thingness. Darkness, therefore, lacks an essential feature of reality as we know it, and at the same time is
indubitably as real as any other " object " of sensory awareness. It appears as pertaining, simultaneously, to being and
non-being. But, then, how can such an impression arise? Pertaining to two kinds, being an intermediary between them,
seems to presuppose that both are possible contents' of experience. But the Nought cannot be experienced.
The experience, then, which we are inclined to consider as
one placing us in face of the Nought is not such as actually to
10 H. Heidegger, Sein und Zeit, Halle a. S., 1927, passim, esp. p. 184 fl.; Was ist
Metaphyaik? Bonn 1929. Cf. my article "The Cognitive Aspect of Emotions,"
The Thomist, 1942, IV, 582.

ON DARKNESS,

SILENCE,

AND THE NOUGHT

581

achieve what we believe it to do. On the other hand, the one
point within visual experience where the Nought emerges, if
one may say so, at the border of our experience remains unknown and unremarked. When we believe we approximate the
Nought we stay within the boundaries of positive givenness;
where we approach the Nought in virtue of objective conditions, we remain ignorant of it. Whether or not these facts
have any further relevance for the metaphysical question concerning the Nought remains to be seen.

III
It may be, as has been pointed out by L. Wood, that our
ideas on sensory experience suffer from our habitually starting
with sight and taking this sense as representative for all the
other senses.16 But sight has certain peculiarities of its own
which are not found or to which no analogy is found in the
other fields of sensory experience. The " sensation " of black,
for instance, seems to have no counterpart in the data furnished
by the other senses, unless one may look at silence as an experience akin somehow to that of darkness.
Silence is defined as the absence of every auditory impression.
It is more easily realized than complete blackness. Subjective
auditory phenomena are absent in more persons than is the
case with subjective photismata. There is no such difficulty as
having to determine whether one has to do with true and
perfect black or a minimum of albedo, a very dark grey. But
silence seems to be of different kinds. Even though its objective
counterpart is the absence of any stimulation, from within or
from without, silence takes on a different character or significance according to the total setting. But not only the significance varies; it would seem as if the very nature of silence were
not the same under all conditions.
Complete silence which lasts a long time, surrounding us as
16 L. Wood, The Analysis of Knowledge, Princeton, 194.1. Cf. also my article on
sensation, quoted above, note 8.

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RUDOLF ALLERS

it were from all sides, creates different impressions than silence
which sets in suddenly. The momentary interruption of a continuous sound or noise which presumably will start again is
different from a sudden silence interrupting a noise and not
" pointing " at continuation. Thus the pause in a musical score
is a " significant " pause, whereas the sudden ceasing of noise
in an industrial plant, as caused, for example, by unexpected
shutting off of the current, is not significant (unless it be made
so by previous understanding, as when it indicates the end of
the working period) . A pause is significant by its "prospective"
character; it refers to something to follow. It is not the task of
this study to list the varieties of silence or to describe their
characteristic differences. But it seems necessary that the existence of such varieties be mentioned. The further discussion will
be concerned exclusively with lasting " deep " silence, as we
may experience it in the " dead of the night," or also, in the
laboratory, when being placed in a "soundproof" cell.
Only one trait of the suddenly beginning silence needs to be
considered. When a loud noise suddenly stops, silence may
" hit " one as if it were a positive impression. There is a note
strongly reminiscent of " impact " although there is no actual
or conceivable force impinging on us. Under such conditions
one also becomes clearly aware that silence is a datum of our
sense of hearing; one might use the same paradoxical name for
it which some have employed when speaking of the "sensation" of black, namely, that silence is a "zero-sensation" in
the auditory field. It also shares with the experience of black
the absence and even impossibility of degree or intensity. The
moment even the slightest noise is heard, there is no longer any
silence. Silence is or is not, but it is never more or less. If such
expressions are sometimes used, they belong to the many incorrect phrases common in popular language.
It seems to me that this " being hit " by silence and also the
way silence impresses us when it is " deep " and lasting has
something of the positive nature inherent in the awareness of
darkness. Perfect and uninterrupted silence has a definitely
disquieting power. This is felt even in full daylight, but much

ON DARKNESS,

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588

more when silence is combined with <;larkness. Lasting and
complete silence seems painful and a portent of dreadful events,
just as darkness does. Here too, it is not silence as such which
gives rise to a state of dread, but that which may, unexpectedly
and unpredictably, suddenly emerge out of the silence.
Subjective auditory phenomena (acoasmata) , if there are
such, do not truly interrupt or eliminate silence; they are heard
" against a background " of silence, much as the subjective
photismata are seen against a background of darkness.
Notwithstanding these similarities, it is probably correct that
we " see " black in another sense or a truer sense than we
"hear" silence.17 But there are other relations between the
11 The phenomenon of silence seems to have attracted
little attention on the
part of the psychologists. There are but few references to the problem in the
literature of the last twenty years. But the problem deserves investigaticn, were
it only because of the existence of " significant" silence. Neifeld in " Theory of the
Black Sensation," Psychol. Rev. 19fl4, XXXI, 498 (also: C. Ladd-Franklin, Color
and Color Theories, 2d ed., New York, 1929, p. 241), says that "the fact that
black is correlated with a non-stimulated condition of the retina can be almost
paralleled by the case of silence in hearing. Silence is not yet a definite sensation,
but if consciousness found it necessary . . . such a sensation would undoubtedly
develop." Were the relations of sound to space as important as those of visual
data, " we might well have developed a ' silence sensation ' to take the place of
nothingness." Although such speculation seems rather idle, it is noteworthy that
this author recognizes the quasi-sensational character of silence and refers to such
expressions as "silence is felt." The same expression is, however, used by E. B.
Titchener as an argument against the idea that silence is an auditory analogy to
black. While this author defends the character of sensation for black against Ward,
he says that silence is not " heard " but " felt." He does not explain what he
means by this term. The experience of silence may, indeed, condition some
feeling-state, but it cannot be apprehended by such a state. (E. B. Titchener, "A
Note on the Sensation of Black," Jour. Phil., Psychol. a. Sc. Meth., 1915, XIII,
118.) Recently, H. Werner, Grundfragen der lntensitiitspsychologie, Leipzig, 1922
(Erg. Bd. X, Zschr. f. Psychol.), p. 5, has stressed the "positive character of
silence." Cf. also E. Strauss, Yom Sinn der Sinne, Berlin 198fl, p. 118.
The auditory character of silence can be demonstrated by a very simple experiment. An observer is placed in a perfectly silent room. To his left is an arrangement allowing the production of a just audible, in any case a very weak, continuous noise. This noise is heard as coming from the left. At the same time, he
has the definite impression that right of him there is silence, even that from there
silence "comes to his ear," or that it "reaches" him. The realization of a difference in the impressions received by the two ears is marked. It could not be if
silence did not belong in the class of " audibles."

5

584

RUDOLF ALLERS

two. They reinforce one another. Silence is more impressive
and dreadful in darkness, darkness more so when combined
with silence. (" Whistling in the dark.") Therefore, the terror
of darkness is lifted by the sound of a human voice, and silence
becomes less dreadful when one is able to distinguish some
things.
Darkness and silence are more tolerable in company than in
solitude. But there is also a " contagiousness " of dread, and
people may tremble in darkness and silence when they sit close
together, holding one another's hands. Silence may be so deep
that not even human voices are able to " drown " it; quite to
the contrary, it is as if the silence would swallow up the voices,
so that man finally ceases to talk and surrenders to the engulfing power of silence.
"Silence before the storm"; this phrase does not describe,
perhaps, a common occurrence. But it exists; and it appears as
meaningful, one would like to think, in virtue of a vague knowledge that out of silence, as of dark, all kinds of unknown terrors
might emerge. If such a silence is, by some sigris, recognized as
preceding the storm, it is particularly impressive because it
accentuates a note always felt to be present in silence; this
accentuation results from the foreknowledge of the storm. 18

IV
There is a general agreement that black is an experience of
a definite sensory character. There is less agreement concerning silence, although I believe that the reasons for listing silence
among the phenomena of the " audible universe " are strong
enough to warrant calling silence, too, a sensation or a " quasi
sensation." But in both cases the use of the term appears curiously inappropriate and the underlying conception rather selfcontradictory.
How, indeed, can we sense or perceive anything where there
18 Concerning the positive nature of darkness and silence one may also refer to
the fact that these phenomena act as signals in the behavior of animals which
leave their lairs only when all is quiet or dark.

ON DARKNESS,

SILENCE,

AND THE NOUGHT

585

is nothing? It is of little use to speak of black as a " zerosensation " or in any similar manner. The very name of a
zero-sensation is self-contradictory.
Sensory awareness arises when a stimulus impinges on the
sense organ, when there is some sort of affection of the organ,
or when-to speak the language of the School-the sense is
actualized in a process which, or the effect of which, is generally known as the species sensibilia impressa. This conception
is fundamental in the Scholastic theory of sensory awareness
and, therefore, not in need either of any further explanation or
of numerous references. One quotation will suffice: " The actual
sensible is the sense in act . . . neither is sight actually seeing,
nor is the visible actually seen unless when sight becomes informed by a visible species, so that out of sight and the visible
is formed a unity." 19 The species sensibilia may be interpreted
as the totality of all inner changes, bodily and mental, which
arise as consequences of an adequate stimulation of the sense
organ. 20
It seems evident that in our " seeing " black the sense is
in actu; if this is true there must be not only a sensibile in actUrthe black we see--but also a species actualizing the sense. How
such a species can be assumed in the case of black appears to
be a very difficult question. 20 "
10 Contra Gentilu, I, c. 51: ... sensibile in actu est sensus in actu ... neque
visus est videns in actu, neque visible videtur actu, nisi cum visus informatur
visibili specie, ut sic ex visu et visibili fiat unum. Cf. Q. D. de Ver. q. I, a. 4, c.
Cf. also John of St. Thomas, Cur/J'IUI Philosophicm, ed. B. Reiser, Turin, 1987,
vol. ill, p. 170ft. (Phil. nat. IV, q. 6, 1.)
•• Q. D. de Ver., q. !t, a. !t, c.: ... colores actu visibiles per lumen solis. An
interesting elaboration and an attempt to correlate this theory with the data of
physics known in his time may be found in Suarez, De Anima, ill, c. 16, no. 4.
Cf. also T. Ledvina, A Philosophy and Psychology of Sensation, Washington, D.C.,

1941.

••• It should be recognized that the phenomenon of black creates serious difficulties for most .theories of sensory awareness. It is not only Scholasticism which
here encounters definite problems. Every philosophy assuming any influence coming
from " without " finds itself in a similar situation. Kantian
considers some
kiRd of " affection " resulting from an unknown and unknowable relation between the mind (or the sense) and the "thing in itself"; the "chaos of sensa-

536

RUDOLF ALLERS

Black, however, though definitely sensed as extra, lacks many
of the properties other data of sight possess. It is not a res
extra. It has no intensity. It entails no reference to other data
of its kind. It suggests no possibility of another visible, hardly
even in the sense of becoming a possible background. It is,
so to speak, the minimum of visual datum which exists and, one
would like to add, can exist.
It has been reported above that many students of sense
physiology and psychology, anxious to find some bodily process
underlying the awareness of black, have referred to a hypothetical endogenous cortical process. The nervous cells located
in the visual area of the brain are believed to be in a continuous state of activity, the result of which is the " subjective
grey." In the light of this hypothesis black appears as a purely
subjective phenomenon, in fact at first sight not different from
a hallucination. In virtue of a peculiarity of our organization
we believe we see, while in truth there is no activity on the part
of the sense organ. It has to be admitted that this hypothesis
is quite plausible particularly since there are no means to put
it to any kind of test; it cannot be " verified." 21
tion," shaped into perception by the " forms of intuition," is the primary origin
of our sensory awareness. It is difficult to see how any such chaotic datum may
originate in absence of any power, unless one were to credit the absolute Nought
with such an ability (an idea which hardly finds place within the system of Kant,
although it may be fitted into the philosophy of Heidegger). A philosophy which
refuses to recognize the fundamental dichotomy of subject and object and looks at
both as inseparable elements of a " total situation " encounters the same difficulties,
since it would seem that in complete darkness no such situation exists; one term
of the relation has disappeared. One might go on analyzing other philosophies and
the result would, obviously, be much the same. It appeared necessary to point this
out, if only in passing, so as to render ineffective the easy argument that the whole
problem arises only within Scholasticism and is one of the many allegedly superfluous "subtleties" in which this particular philosophy becomes involved.
21 Not even the recording of electrical changes in the brain
(electroencephalography) can supply such a verification. Suppose one were able to discover such
waves, to attribute them with reasonable certainty to the visual cortex, to make
all imaginable determinations, how can one ever prove that these electric phenomena are the correlate of our seeing black? Whether the cortical process goes
on and is only overlaid by electric changes dependent on stimulation of the eye,
or whether it is stopped under these conditions, it is never possible to establish any

ON DARKNESS,

SILENCE,

AND THE NOUGHT

537

A question which is perhaps not a wise one to ask, but which
involuntarily imposes itself is: what could be the possible biological significance of this sensation of black? So far as I can
discover, there is none at all. Not seeing at all would have
exactly the same result in the organism. This is plainly evidenced by the experiences in other sensory fields. In ·the
tactual-kinaesthetic field we have no datum corresponding to
that of black. We have definite experiences, for instance, of
holding and handling an object; but, if our hand is inactive and
does not receive any impression at all, we hl:!-ve no experience of
" nothingness." As has been said above, such experiences are,
apparently, the prerogative of the two" higher" senses.
Since there can be no question of a species sensibilis impressa
where there is no energy inpinging on the sense, we are apparently thrown back on the hypothesis of a cortical origin of the
awareness of black. One cannot fail to see that this explanation,
if accepted, still leaves many questions unanswered and is by
no means free of quite serious difficulties.
First, there is the question why such a cortical process should
exist only in the case of the sense of sight, or if it does exist in
other cortical areas too, why it conditions a " physiological
hallucination" only in this one instance. 22 The awareness of
strict relation. If such a cortical process exists, it may well be nothing more than
the manifestation of the continuous readiness of the centers to function; after all,
such continuous waves are observed in the brain also without any reference to a
particular experience or behavior.
•• In truth, the use of the term " hallucination " ought to be avoided in regard
to the awareness of black. It is true that hallucination is usually " explained "
as the effect of an abnormal activity of certain cortical areas. But this idea rests
on the assumption that hallucinations are, in their appearance, like percepts and
therefore taken by the patient as realities. However, it is very questionable whether
this assumption is correct. Hallucinations occur only when mental processes are
seriously impaired. Either there is a state of mental confusion and an obscuration
of consciousness, as in delirium, or a general weakening of mental power, as in
chronic alcoholic hallucinosis, or a very profound alteration of the whole personality, as in schizophrenia. Furthermore, there is ample evidence showing that the
hallucination is indeed taken by the mentally diseased person as reality, but does
not appear as a true " copy " of real things. What the patient actually " sees "
is frequently a mere fragment, or some datum which he interprets as reality.

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RUDOLF ALLERS

darkness retains, even when viewed in such a manner, its
umqueness.
Secondly, the mere phenomenal appearance of this subjective datum presents several puzzling features. It is the same
with all people. It is reality in one sense and its opposite,
namely nothing, in another. It is the appearance of a datum
the like of which visual experience does not contain. Even if
there were no perfect black, the difficulties referred to above
would still exist. Why should such a cortical process condition
the impression of black? Why not of light? One might understand if the latter were the case; the repeated stimulation of the
visual apparatus might start a process which goes on, even if
there is no renewal of stimulation. But the datum of darkness
corresponds to the absence of all stimulation.
H we abandon for the present the problem of our "seeing
black " and turn to the phenomenon of silence, the situation
becomes somewhat less complicated.
In the experience of silence we become aware of a sensum
which possesses less of reality, so to speak, than black has.
However much of a true sense experience silence may be, it is
less a " sense-object " than black. The mere fact that the naive
mind, without any misgivings, lists black among the " colors,"
but does not view silence in a corresponding manner, is evidence
of this difference. Nonetheless, silence too retains some of the
characteristics of auditory impressions. It is " there " outside
of us, something of which we become aware, it may even " come
from " a certain side (see above note 17) . Even more than
black it can be described as a " minimum sensation."
Whether because of its peculiar " intangibility " or because
of another characteristic, silence seems to possess less of stability
than darkness. The eye looking into the dark sees no thing,
but nevertheless "something"; the ear listening to silence
hears nothing. In fact, it seems correct to describe this" hearing of silence" as a" hearing into silence." We strain our ears
more to catch, if possible, the slightest sound than we exert
our eyes to discover a light in darkness. The latter represents
in some way a "fulfillment," however unsatisfactory, of our

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desire to see. Silence leaves the desire to hear utterly unsatisfied.
If one considers this fact (which, I think, is easily ascertained) , one is reminded of a particular notion in Scholastic
psychology, or even philosophy. Everything is ordained towards
its end, as a representative of its species or as an individual.
It has a "natural longing" for this end. 23 Every process is
directed towards a goal to which it is correlated and which is
appropriate to the process. This is particularly true of all forces
manifesting themselves on a supra-material level. It can easily
be shown that the notion under discussion becomes more meaningful the higher we mount in the " hierarchy of being." It
would lead us too far afield to follow this line of thought
further. But it is very obvious that such a natural longing not
only exists but also becomes conscious in the human mind
concerning the exercise of its powers. 24
There is no doubt that the proper exercise of any power
brings about a particular kind of enjoyment. Not only" exercise" in the usual restricted sense, but all adequate performance, is accompanied by a note of satisfaction, independently
even of the achievement. What psychology calls the " pleasure
function " exists not only in the playing child, or in the
healthy man who enjoys a brisk walk, or in a person who
feels gratified in doing something he knows how to do well.
There is such a pleasure in all adequate functioning. A person
who has been confined in darkness because of an eye trouble
rejoices not only because his health or his working capacity has
been restored; he feels a definite gladness in being allowed to
see again, simply to make an appropriate use of his eyes again.
The illustrations might be multiplied, but I do not think that
there is a particular need for doing so.
•• One may admit that this notion of amor naturalis has sometimes been misused
or misinterpreted. One may reject the idea that the behavior of falling bodies is
determined by their possessing such a natural desire for the locus naturalis but
nonetheless recognize the significance of the notion.
•• For the present discussion it is irrelevant whether or not the existence of
powers or " faculties " be recognized. Even the greatest enemy of this notion
admits that the " function " of seeing is different from that of hearing or that of
reasoning. Cf. my article "Functions, Factors, and Faculties," The Thomist, 1944,
VII, 323.

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RUDOLF ALLERS

It is not only the desire to retain or renew contact with reality
nor only the wish to overcome the uncanniness of silence which
makes man " strain his ears " so as not to miss the slightest
sound which might eventuate. It is the natural desire of the
power for its proper operation. It seems to me that silence is
not so much a correlate of a specific auditive performance as
it would have to be were it a sensory datum in the strict meaning of the term; rather it seems that silence is the experience of
"nonfulfillment" of this natural desire. 25
This admittedly tentative explanation seems to enable us to
understand somehow the nature and the peculiarities of silence.
It does not, however, bring us much closer to a solution of the
problem of black.
Black too is, as remarked above, in a certain sense a " minimum sensation." It lacks many of the properties the other
sensa of sight possess. Particularly, it possesses even less of
" thingness " than the other space-filling and expanded colors.
And it has no intensity, since-to say this once more-something existing in only one degree of intensity and forbidding
even the mere idea of an increase or decrease does not have
any intensity. Whatever the operation of sight be in the case
of black, it must be an exceedingly simple one, reduced to the
least possible minimum of sense function.
But one can apparently hardly conceive of the mere nonfulfillment of the natural desire giving birth to an experience
25 Under ordinary conditions we are not aware of this desire, though frequently
of the pleasure caused by its being fulfilled. Desires as such become manifest and
experienced contents of consciousness only when their fulfillment or satisfaction
encounters an obstacle. It is also only under such conditions, as Heidegger has
shrewdly observed, that we realize the " at-handedness " of the things we customarily use without much thinking of them. This at-handedness of the "implement"
(which seems the best translation of Heidegger's term Zeug: Schreibzeug, an
implement for writing, W erkzeug, an implement for working, etc.) obtrudes, as
Heidegger says, in the "mode of deficiency." It might be noted, in passing, that
the presence of this natural inclination is the factual basis of the, for the rest
utterly fantastic, idea of Freudian psychoanalysis, which credits the objects of all
faculties with being "loaded" with a definite amount of "libidinous" energy.
T. Grenier, Le Choix,. Paris 1941, seems to come close to our notion where he writes
"le m\ant est le signe d'une exigence de Ia nature humaine."

ON DARKNESS,

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so much like an " impression " as happens when we " see "
black. We do " peer " into darkness, but not to fulfill the desire
of the power; we are, in a way, satisfied that we actually" see."
Our desire to discern more, to recogri.ize some definite thing,
however vaguely, arises on a higher level; it is not immediately
correlated to mere functioning, but to the need of an object.
Black is, indeed, " objective," according to our immediate consciousness, but it is not an " object," since it lacks any trace of
" thingness." Because we see no thing, we are anxious to get
hold of such one. Darkness is not an abolition of visual sensing,
as silence is in regard to hearing, but of visual cognition.
It is, perhaps, to the point that one reconsider the similarities
and dissimilarities between darkness and silence. To do so, it
may be best to start with a brief comparison of the various
" universes " presented to us by the senses of sight, hearing and
tactual-kinaesthetic experience. It may be true that the ultimate foundation of our knowledge about " thingness " is to be
sought in the realm of kinaesthesia. By handling an object (by
"comprehending" or begreifen) we realize its boundaries, its
self-enclosedness, so to speak. But kinaesthesia is a rather inadequate means for grasping the relations of one thing with
others; this sense rather makes us acquainted with individual
things in isolation. The relations obtaining among things are
much more efficiently envisioned by one look than by the
succession of kinaesthetic impressions more or less laboriously
synthesized into a pattern of things. The universe of visibles is
an articulated, patterned, arranged universe of which the order
is apparent and directly given. The universe of audibles forms
a strange contrast; it is primarily devoid of all thingness. It
resembles in that respect the complex of data furnished by the
" lower " senses, in that by hearing we become cognizant not
of things but of some of their effects or properties. This universe is mostly, at least in its chief aspect, one of "meanings"
much more than one of things. 26
26 It would be an interesting
problem to study how far the characteristics of
these universes influence human life, and in what manner various features of

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RUDOLF ALLERS

Because of these characteristics (the description is, I realize,
very incomplete and sketchy, but may suffice here) there exists
"significant" silence, as in the pause (in speech or music), but
there is no similarly significant darkness. Suppose that our
visible surrounding should suddenly disappear for a short time
in darkness; we would feel this as an unpleasant, fortuitous, and
utterly meaningless interruption. If however, per impossible,
the visible universe should disappear for a brief moment altogether, we would not even notice this as an interruption because the absolute nothingness is no object of experience.
We cannot become aware, by means of the sense of sight, of
the invisible or the Nought as negation of the visible; this has
been evidenced by our incapacity to realize directly the existence of the boundaries of the visual field. The absence of visibles must, to be noticeable at all, be itself a datum of visibility.
One might, perhaps, claim that by this reasoning it becomes
clear why there is (one feels tempted to say there must be)·
black or darkness, but we still do not understand how it can be.
The riddle of a sensory awareness without a stimulus, or an
impressed species, remains unsolved. 21
experience depend on such fundamental differences of the universe. For instance,
there is the fact that the " frame " is meaningful only in the universe of visibles;
there is no analogy to it in the audible world and hardly one in the realm of
kinaesthesia. Television, therefore, will never attain, however perfected, the same
power to replace reality as broadcasting or recording; the impression one receives
of a symphony heard over the radio may be exactly the same as he would have
when listening to the actual performance without looking at the orchestra. But
even the best motion picture has somehow less reality than the voices of the
actors or the music. What we see remains a " picture," so to speak a second-rate
reality, whereas the sounds are "real." There are more of such facts which
deserve a closer examination than has been accorded to ·them. One cannot but
feel that our capacity to make use of things and forces has developed more than
our acquaintance with them.
•• One cannot well appeal to the speciea insensata of the later Schoolmen, by
which they thought to explain the apprehension qf the goodness and badness of
things by means of the faculty called via aeatimativa in animals, via cogitativa
in man. First, nothing is explained by introducing the term speciea inaensata;
secondly, the influence of these hypothetical species insensatae is bound to the
presence and effectiveness of speciea sensatae, that is impressae. The former,
whatever they be, must be "founded " on the latter.

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To return once more to the notion of a continuous cortical
process which would produce noticeable effects only when it is
not overlaid or suppressed by the effects of external stimuli: if
one were to accept this hypothesis, one would have to make
further hypothetical assumptions. Since black is apparently
not conditioned by any affection of the sense by an external
agent/ 8 it is hard to understand how such a " sensation " of
so utterly different a character develops. One might suppose
that the cortical process is actualized by the first stimulation
of the sense. Then, one would have to assume that a person
born blind, but with an intact visual cortex, would not see black
but not at all (i. e. see, a witty man once remarked, as we do
back of our head) . Whether he does or not seems to be
unknown. 29
One question remains unanswered by even the most ingenious hypothesis: why is it only the sense of sight in which we
encounter the phenomenon of this so-called "zero-sensation"?
If the hypothesis of the cortical process were based on solid
evidence, one might submit that something like a species impressa might also come " from within," if some actualization
ss A remarkable observation seems to indicate that black may act as a true
stimulus. If an absolute black hole is presented in a white field for two or three
seconds, one gets a white after-image even when the black field extends to 85" 50',
which corresponds to a retinal image of about one inch in diameter. Under these
conditions, since the after-image appears within 12 seconds, there is no possibility
of a retinal process excited by the white field having spread to the center. Thus
it would seem that the black image on the retina releases some process of which
the after effects then become visible. (R. S. Creed, with a mathematical appendix
by J. H. C. Thompson, "The after-image of black," Joum. Physiol., 1981, 78,
If we do not observe this after-effect when passing from darkness to light, the
reason is that the image, being white, cannot be seen in light.
•• So far as I could find out, there is no evidence available on this point. The
examinations, in cases of persons born blind and operated on in later years, are
highly incomplete and unsatisfactory. Nobody seems to have thought of asking
such a person whether in his previous life he had any experience resembling any
of those he has now, after having acquired vision. There are many other questions,
of great interest too, which ought to have been asked and never were. In view of
this defectiveness of such testimonies one really wonders at the far-reaching conclusions, e. g., concerning visual space perception, that psychologists feel entitled
to draw from such poor evidence.

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RUDOLF ALLERS

" from without " had taken place. But it seems hopeless to
build any further interpretations on a foundation of so little
solidity.
Before continuing the attempts at finding a solution, a further aspect of the experience of black must be mentioned which,
at first sight, not only increases the difficulties but adds a new
one pertaining to a quite different context. Colors, including
black, are accidents. They have no existence independently of
the things of which they are the color. This something need
not in all instances become itself perceptible. In the case of the
space-filling colors, it is the medium which is colored, though it
is not always directly perceptible. Looking into water, where
there is no bottom or any other solid boundary to be seen, we
see only space-filling green, but in fact we see the color of water.
The same holds of expanded colors. The red we see through the
closed lids is not seen as belonging to anything; but it is actually the color of the blood, or of the tissues forming the lid in
which the blood circulates. 30 But black? Of what thing could
black be the color, of what substance an accident?
If the empty space were something, one might try to claim
that black is the color of this empty space or of the void.
Then, one might go on to say that the species impressa, in this
particular case, is not an alteration residing in the retinal cells
or those parts of the visual apparatus which are affected by
light, but in those whose functioning is related to the awareness
of space. It is known that in this awareness factors enter which
are not optical, for instance, the data furnished. by the inner
and outer muscles of the eye. It would, perhaps, not matter
that these factors as such seem to have no relation to " color "
perception; distance is, after all, a simple visual datum, not
allowing for further analysis, and nonetheless dependent on a
sum of heterogeneous physiological .and psychological factors.
But space is no thing of reality; it is viewed as an ens rationis
•• It is not so easy to explain the blue of the sky. It is indeed the color of the
air with its inevitable impurities seen against the darkness of the cosmic space
beyond. Here one is confronted by the same difficulty concerning black: that which
is not determines the color of that which is.

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545

cum fundamento in re; it is not easy to understand even how
the definite note of spatiality observable in darkness can creep
in, since there is nothing to supply the fundamentum. So, we
apparently encounter in black the only instance of an accident
having, so to speak, achieved independence. This, however, is
a metaphysical impossibility.
This difficulty cannot be met by reference to the " hallucinatory" character of the impression of darkness. No hallucination or any other subjective process can endow an accident with
substantiality or render it able to appear independently of a
substance in which it exists.
In the face of all these difficulties one is seriously tempted to
doubt the absolute reliability of the statements that science,
even in its most primitive stages, makes in regard to darkness.
Perhaps it is not true that in darkness there is a total absence
of all stimulation. May there not be forces acting on the organism of which the methods of scientific observation cannot take
account? The argument that our seeing light and colors depends on the impact of light-energy on the eye is not quite convincing, because black holds such an exceptional position in
the "universe of visibles" that it also might have a totally
different origin. This is admittedly a highly hypothetical suggestion, and one which should not be taken up before all other
ways to arrive at an understanding of the phenomenon under
discussion have been tried.
One feature found in the experience of darkness seems to
allow for an interpretation on the same lines as that submitted
above for silence. This is the curious " spatiality " and " penetrability" darkness possesses (if it did not have this property,
one could not "peer into" it). It is space which has no real
depth, it is a medium into which our look penetrates without
getting anywhere. It is the mere consciousness of the need
sight has of seeing; and seeing means primarily seeing things
in space.
If the cortical process which has been mentioned repeatedly
before actually existed, there would be no need for a species

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RUDOLF ALLERS

sensibilis in each single instance of an awareness of black. The
origin of the sensible quality corresponding in our experience
to this process, however, remains as mysterious as ever. The
difficulties related to this fact have been enumerated above.
The subjective phenomenon consists not only in our seeing
black as a visual datum, but also in seeing it detached from any
substratum. One might argue against this objection that in
truth there is such a substratum (not as one really existent, but
as apparent in the phenomenon as given). Darkness may, it
would seem, be considered as" space-filling"; the mind cannot
apprehend the void; whenever there is space given to the mind,
it is space filled by something, even though this filling " material " is not always immediately apprehensible by the senses.
The distance which separates us, under ordinary conditions,
from an object is not empty; it is filled by a medium which we
usually ignore, or perhaps cannot see at all, but of the presence
of which we are nevertheless perfectly sure. The less transparent such a medium is, the more it becomes visible. Darkness
is the absolute minimum of transparence; its presence, therefore, is indicative of a medium. (Hence, perhaps, the expression " dense " darkness and similar terms referring to space
filling.) This interpretation appears sufficiently plausible to
eliminate the difficulty arising from the nature of an accident
without substratum, since some kind of substratum seems to
be actually apprehended.
The theory of Ladd-Franklin and every similar hypothesis
assuming a continuous cortical process has been severely criticized by G. E. Miiller. His arguments deserve fullest consideration, and they seem hard to refute. First of all, he points out
that it is impossible to conceive of this process coexisting with
even the weakest sensation of white, as would have to be the
case in the awareness of any grey. Secondly, black behaves in
regard to contrast and after-image exactly as do colored lights
or white. 31
31 G. E. Muller, "Uber
die von Ladd-Franklin augestellte Theorie der Farbenempfindungen," Zeitsckr. f. Sinnespkysiol., 1929, LX, 71; see also the older study

ON DARKNESS,

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The. observation, furthermore, reported in note fl8 gives rise
to another serious objection to the theory of " subjective grey "
or of any continuous cortical process corresponding to the
awareness of black. According to these experiments black acts
as a true positive stimulus, producing a negative after-image
which appears as white or light against a neutral background.
The cortical process, therefore, is interrupted or overlain by
another without any positive agent bringing about this change.
Still more difficult to explain is the fact that such a light-colored
after-image appears also in darkness when the eyes are closed.
Under these conditions there is not even the possibility of
claiming an influence of the new stimulus stemming from the
neutral background. Thus it seems that the whole hypothesis
assuming such a continuous cortical process rests on a very
weak foundation. 32
The hypothesis which makes out of the awareness of black
a purely subjective phenomenon encounters, as was seen, such
great difficulties that it is better abandoned altogether. It
does not accord either with the principles of physiology or the
observed facts of visual perception. But then we are thrown
back into all the puzzles from which this hypothesis was supposed to deliver us.
The positive quality of black as well as other facts, like those
o{ contrast and after-images, seem to force us to assume that
black is a stimulus. But, on the other hand, it cannot be one
since darkness consists, from the viewpoint of physics, in the
absence of all light. A hypothesis offering a chance of satisfactory interpretation must, therefore, find ways and means to
attribute a stimulus property to the physical circumstances
obtaining when we see black. Obviously, this stimulus cannot
which G. Revesz carried out under MUller's direction: "Uber die Abhangigkeit
der Farbenschwellen von der achromatischen Erregung," ibid. 1907, XLI, 1.
•• It should be noted that the theory discussed above was proposed, in principle,
in 1884 by W. v. Volkmann: "Black is a sensation and not the mere negation of
sensation; it is ... that sensation which corresponds to the state of the nervous
fibre when undisturbed by external stimuli." W. Volkmann v. Volkmar, Lehrbuch
der Psychologie, Cothen, 1884, vol. I, p. 334.

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RUDOLF ALLERS

be one of light. But it might still be one of "light energy,"
namely in a form which does not condition the awareness of
any spectral color or white or grey.
I suggest that the human eye behaves, in darkness, like a
photographic film sensitive to infra-red rays. The eye is not
sensitive enough to respond to the differences in intensity of
this radiation, but has the capacity of responding by a vague
and indetermined stimulation the conscious correlate of which
is the awareness of black.
With this assumption all the difficulties would fall away.
There would be a stimulus, therefore a definite process going
on in the eye, with all the possibilities of bringing about the
phenomena of contrast and of after-image. There would be
also, consequently, a species impressa.
As it is stated here this hypothesis is, of course, much in
need of additional elaboration. The questions of the awareness
of grey, of the relation of the response to infra-red in the
presence of luminous rays, and others must be answered. I submit that for the present these details are of minor importance
and that a discussion thereof would be too long and necessitate
entering into too many little facts of sense-physiology. It
seems to me, however, that all these questions may be answered
in a satisfactory manner.
The greatest objection to the hypothesis suggested here is
based on the black allegedly seen by persons who have lost the
sense of sight because of destructive processes in the retina of
the eye, or the nervous pathways of the optic nerve and its
cerebral continuations, or the cortical centers where the excitations of the retinal cell finally end. In regard to the last-named
cases it may be mentioned that not all patients afflicted with
cortical blindness realize this fact; there are curious observations on people, blind because of cortical defects, who are unaware of their blindness. It is hardly possible to decide, since
appropriate studies are missing, whether this unawareness of
blindness depends on an impairment of mental capacity or on
the peculiar nature of the lesion. If, on the other hand, a person

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after having lost his sense of sight by a lesion of the brain
cortex still" sees" black, an explanation seems to be at hand,
if one were permitted to assume that the stimulation by the
infra-red rays did not reach exactly the same parts of the
cortex. But, for the present, this is admittedly a highly hypothetical notion.
All the questions concerning an explanation of these phenomena can be answered only when one knows exactly what
the " sight " of the blind actually is. I have remarked above
that we have no reliable information of what the blind person
" sees." The phrase " perpetual night " may be not more than
a phrase, or it may apply only to a certain kind of blindness.
As long as the necessary data are not available, any explanation is purely hypothetical.
There is another point on which some remarks may be made,
that which refers to the substratum of the black seen in darkness. As long as black is viewed as one " color " among others,
it seems as if one would see, in darkness, an accident without
anything to support it. If we assume, however, that the seen
black corresponds to an undifferentiated response on the part
of the sense organ to infra-red, this problem, too, finds its
solution.
The infra-red rays are sent out by the objects which are
invisible in darkness. This emission of rays is different in the
different objects, but these differences pass unnoticed, because
in the hypothesis submitted it is assumed that the eye responds
to the infra-red with one experience only, without any degree
of articulation. Even when we stand in an open space where
there are no objects in our immediate neighborhood, the infrared rays come from somewhere. They are reflected from the
soil, they are emitted by things far away, the clouds of an overcast sky may be their source. Thus, this difficulty too seems to
meet its answer.
Of course, there are still questions. We need not worry about
the fact that there is no similarity between infra-red radiation
and black. Neither is there between light waves and colors.
6

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RUDOLF ALLERS

But the features described before, the " depth " and " spatiality " of darkness, the " peering into it," are not so easily
explained. However, we may recall that darkness holds no
unique position in this regard. Any space-filling color presents
similar properties. I have referred before to the impression
one receives when looking into water when there is no object
or bottom to be seen. Here too we see nothing but space filled
.by a certain color. The nature of the medium itself is not
apprehended. If one places a thick square container before an
evenly illuminated surface, e. g., of opaque glass, and fills the
container with a colored fluid, one also sees not a colored
medium but a colored space, into which one may peer without
seeing any thing.
It may be that the hypothesis submitted here encounters
objections of which I am not aware. But the mere fact that
such a hypothesis may be constructed and takes account of the
problems mentioned before, shows that it is possible to reconcile the phenomenal data of sensory awareness with the principles of Scholastic psychology and, generally speaking, with
the theory of our awareness of the outer world.

v
The experiences of darkness and silence are the only ones in
which the mind gets close, by way of experience, as it were, to
the Nought. If we still "see" black, it is so minute a datum
that it approximates nothing; this is even more pronounced
in the case of silence. Both these experiences have, therefore,
been used at all times as metaphorical references to the Nought.
It is a quite remarkable fact that the human mind apparently
feels the need to talk about the Nought. The absolute nothing,
it would seem, is in no way a suitable subject for predication.
The argument that all the speculations on the Nought are
nothing but the result of a grammatical fallacy seems not very
convincing. It has been said that the problem of the Nought
(and, incidentally, also that of Being) is nothing else than the
confusion of the copula as denoting existence with the same

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syntactical element denoting attribution; the " is '' as such has
no meaning. Either it relates a thing with the experience of our
encountering it, or with another property. A thing is real, or
green; it nevel'l simply " is." The mere fact that one can connect nouns and predicates by means of the copula does not
endow the latter with any proper meaning. It is, therefore,
grammatically correct to say that" the Nought is, e. g., devoid
of all properties," but it does not make sense.
It is, on the other hand, not easy to conceive of so many
clever minds having been deceived in such a manner. One
should not be so sure of one's own superiority, or of the enormous progress mankind has made, which has recently reached a
hitherto unattained height, as to forget about the greatness
of the past and cease to harbor respect and admiration for the
ideas of bygone ages. It is true that mankind proceeds by
"trial and error"; but the trial is a worthy endeavor, and the
error a fruitful achievement. Particularly in regard to the
fundamental questions of human existence such a respect for
the past is well indicated. Here, science, the main carrier of
" progress," fails us; surely science is concerned only with that
which is (and this only in one respect), but never with that
which is not. If the problem of the nihil has been of concern to
several of our predecessors, it is probably one worthy of consideration. 33
Among the authors who discussed the question of theN ought,
St. Anselm deserves notice. His remarks in the M onologium
are quoted approvingly by St. Thomas. 84 The most explicit
•• The fallacy of " reification " may have been the mistake of Fredegisius, but
hardly of any other writer. Fredegisius, indeed, Littera de nihilo et de tenebria,
P. L., V, 750 fl'., argues that the nihil must be something, else one could not talk
about it. He identifies darkness with the Nought, and quotes the Scriptures to
prove that the latter is something; e. g. Ps. CIV: misit tenebras-" si non sunt
quomodo mittuntur? " (Ibid., 745); Matt. VI: ipsae tenebrae quantae erunt .. ,
"quantitas de subjecto praedicatur ... colligitur tenebras non solum esse sed
etiam corporales esse."
•• Q. d. de Pot. 2, 8, a. 1, ad 7um: cum dicitur aliquid fieri ex nihilo, duplex est
sensus, ut patet per Anselmum in suo Monologio. The reference is to c. 5 and 8.
For a more detailed discussion of Anselm's philosophy, see R. Allers, Anselm von

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RUDOLF ALLERS

statement, however, is not found in this work but in a letter in
which St. Anselm answers certain questions of " his beloved
brother and son Mauritius." The topic is that of evil, whether
or not it be something. Anselm starts with the notion that
nihil is a name and therefore means something, whereas the
Nought is nothing. There is no difference of meaning in the
two terms "nought" (nihil) and "not anything" (non aliquid) ; the latter term excludes every being from thought and
cannot, when uttered, posit any thing. But exclusion cannot be
signified otherwise than by means of naming the thing to be
excluded. Therefore, the word " not anything " must signify
something by the very fact that it destroys everything. It
signifies in the mode of destruction. The word accordingly
does not signify the Nought in the way of positing it; it is
only quasi-significative. 85
There is a remarkable similarity between the argumentation
of St. Anselm and the views proposed by Henri Bergson, although the latter, probably, had no knowledge of his predecessor. Bergson's reasoning, however, culminates in a denial of
the meaningfulness ·of the problem. 36 The question why there
should be anything at all rather than nothing appears to the
French philosopher as a pseudo-problem of a purely verbal
origin. When we think of anything as non-existent, he says,
we start by thinking of it as existent, and then proceed to
think of another reality incompatible with the first. It is,
Canturbury, Leben, Lehre, 'Wurke, Vienna, 1986. On Aquinas' views cf. M. C.
O'Brien, The Antecedents of Being, Washington, D. C., 1989.
•• Epist. II, 8; P. L. CLVIII, 1155. I have summarized this little-known
treatise--the letter indeed is more an opusculum than an ordinary letter-not only
because of its intrinsic interest, but also because of the striking resemblance to
Anselm's and Bergson's arguments. But the former does not conclude that the
whole question is not more than a " pseudo-problem." This passage in Anselm's
works, and several others besides, also show how thoroughly mistaken Heidegger
is in his interpretation of medieval metaphysics and the notions concerning the
Nought (Was ist Metaphysik?, Bonn, 19!l9, p. 25). I have commented on this
mistake (loc. cit., p. 611). Since then, I have discovered that much the same
criticism of Heidegger has been voiced by A. Faust, Dur Moglichkeitsgedanke, Vol.
II, Christliche Philosophie, Heidelberg, 198!l, p. 156 f., footnote.
86 H. Bergson, "L'idee du neant," Rev. Philos., 1906, LXII, 449.

ON DARKNESS,

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however, not necessary that this second reality be thought of
explicitly; it is sufficient that it expels the first. 37 The similarity
of this view with the " thought in mode of destruction " of St.
Anselm is apparent.
By a series of affirmations we arrive, Bergson goes on, at the
idea of the totality of being. It seems that we likewise, by a
series of negations, arrive at the idea of the Nought. But
Bergson denies that such a parallelism can be asserted. Affirmation is, according to him, " a complete act," capable of resulting in the establishment of an idea; but negation is only one
half of an act the second half of which is implied or postponed. 38
We cannot think the Nought, Bergson claims, because we
cannot delete ourselves, who are realities. While the latter fact
is indubitably true, the reasoning seems fallacious. It is a matter of course that we cannot eliminate ourselves as those who
think. But the question is whether this fact is relevant to the
question. It is not. To be capable of thinking of the Nought
it is not necessary that every being be actually destroyed
Obviously there can be no thought when there is no thinker.
Neither can we "think" in the full sense of the word the
totality of being; to do so we would have to comprise actually
within our mind all that is and thus have an infinite intellect.
Both, the totality of being and the Nought, can be thought
apparently only by way of " prolongation " or " extrapolation."
One cannot help suspecting that in Bergson's reasoning there
is a certain confusion of "thinking" and "imagining." We
cannot, indeed, imagine our non-existence. Nonetheless, this
thought is free from any self-contradictoriness. We know ourselves to be contingent beings, whose existence is in no way
•• Loc. cit., p. 456: "Penser I' objet A inexistant, c'est penser l'objet d'abord et
par consequent le penser existant; s'est ensuite penser qu'une autre realite, avec
laquelle il est incompatible, le supplante. Seulement, il est inutil que nous nous
representions explicitement cette demiere realite ... il nous suffit de savoir qu'elle
chasse !'objet A."
88 Loc. cit., p. 457: " ... si !'affirmation est un acte complet de I' esprit qui peut
aboutir a constituer une idee, la negation n'est jamais que la moitie d'un acte
intellectuel dont on sous-entend ou plutot dont on remet a un avenir indetermine
tautre moitie.

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necessary arid therefore may cease or return into non-existence.
Thus, we may-in abstract reasoning-quite well include our
own being within the totality of being which is thought of as
abolished.
Bergson might have submitted another argument which, at
first
might appear more convincing. If negation of being
consists in expulsion of the reality of which one thinks first
by another reality, then the Nought cannot be thought of,
since there cannot possibly be another reality expelling the one
which per definitionem includes all being. But, whereas it is
unquestionably true that in thinking by way of negation we
start with an affirmation or position, it is questionable whether
the further procedure consists in fact in the mind's turning
towards " another reality incompatible with the first."
The void is not the Nought; but neither must it be conceived
as being" filled" by something (e. g., the ether). When Democritus stated that " there is nothing but the atoms and the
void," he did not conceive of the latter as filled by anything,
since the alternjltive does not allow for any such " filling."
The notion of the void is not absurd, nor in itself contradictory.
But what " other reality " can there be in the void to " expel "
the reality, e. g., of the atoms? When we imagine the void, we
probably think of some space between real things, some dark
and silent space; the image is not of the void but of the bodies
between which it extends. The image, however, is inadequate
to the concept we have in mind.
Observation does not confirm the description Bergson gives
of the mental process of negation. There is often no trace even
of an "implicit" other reality, least of all of any such "incompatible" with the first. This description refers, apparently,
mainly to the negation of properties where such incompatibility
indeed may be encountered. Or it refers to the process of logical
negation, on the basis of the principle of contradiction. It may
also be that the conditions obtaining in regard to the denial
either of particular properties to a particular thing (or a multitude of such things) or of the truth of a particular proposition

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are not the same as those which obtain in the case of either
affirmation or negation of the totality of being.
Any negation of something particular leaves the possibility
of removing to somewhere. Either the subject moves away, to
some other place, standpoint, or whatever it be, or the denied
fact, property, state of affairs, is removed because denying it
in one regard amounts to the possibility of affirming it in
another. When I say that this thing is not red, the statement
implies that another thing is or might be. When I say that a
thing is not here, I imply that it is elsewhere (it cannot " have
vanished into thin air," and even then there would be "thin
air"). To speak of the Nought, provided such propositions are
meaningful, is indeed a negation, but one in some way different
from all others which remain within the realm of being.
A proposition dealing with the Nought is a (negative) judgment of existence. It does not deny the existence of this or that
particular thing, but it states that there is no thing at all.
Therefore, there is no possibility of turning from one thing to
another or one truth to another. All truths are ultimately about
something; but the truth of a proposition having as its subject
the Nought is not about anything.
The answer given by St. Anselm is ingenious; but it leaves
open the question of the nature of the " mode of destruction."
Because of this and other obscurities some thinkers have conceived of the Nought as a" limit notion" (Grenzbegriff). This
idea implies that its meaning cannot be fully conceived but
only, as it were, approached. But this notion, too, is anything
but simple. 39
•• The notion of " limit" as employed advantageously in mathematics falls
outside of the considerations of this article, which is concerned with reality and
its opposite. There are allegedly relations between the logical or mathematical
problem and that of ontology. Witness thereof are, e. g., the remarks of W.
Moog (" Einheit und Zahl," Kant Stud., 1919, XXIII, 802) who is led by his
speculations on mathematical concepts to a statement reading (loc. cit. p. 809):
" . . . das Nichts ist die absolute Grenze des Etwas, die Grenze, die als solche zum
Etwas gehort und zu seiner Bestimmung notig ist, dann aber auch von dem Etwas
als ein Anderes unterschieden werden muss, weil es sonst nicht Grenze sein
konnte."

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In ordinary experience, a limit is a boundary, that is, its idea
springs from two distinct things contiguous to one another,
present simultaneously in a sensory field and mutually determining their outlines. The two things must be presented to
one sense, since to speak of a color bordering on a softness is
meaningless. Furthermore, it should be noted that the experience of limitation or bordering pertains primarily to the senses
of vision and touch (that is, kinaesthesia combined with tactual
impressions). If one can use the expression at all in regard to
audible data, it is only by way of metaphorical analogy; however, the analogy is so faint that it is hardly ever employed.
One does not, usually, speak of a noise bordering on silence.
There is, however, a corresponding phenomenon in the field
of hearing, namely " transition " and " end." As another thing
begins at the boundary of a first, so a voice takes up where
another ends; as there is a " passing " from red to green when
we look first at the rose and then at the leaves, so we "pass"
from C to G major, or to silence from noise. Both these phenomena, bordering on limitation on one hand, and transition or
ending on the other, have something in common, so that it is
possible to say, poetically, for instance, that life is surrounded
by death (media in vita in nwrte sumus). But in all these
instances there are two beings, two realities. It seems nonsense
to state that something borders on nothing or the Nought.
In fact, the notion of a limit applies in first line not to the
Nought but to the "unattainable" which to reveal this property must first be somehow known. There are two kinds of
unattainables: one can be "approximated," even if it is never
reached and remains" infinite task"; here one may speak, using
a term borrowed from geometry, of an" asymptotic" approach.
The other is eternally beyond, envisioned somehow, never to
be approximated.
Kant refers to this difference in a well-known passage where
he distinguishes between" barriers" (Schranken) and" boundaries" (or limits, Grenzen) .40 "In mathematics," he writes,
' 0 Prolegomena, etc., No. 57, "Beschluss
von den Grenzbestimmungen der reinen
Vernunft," Works, ed. E. Cassirer, Berlin, 1922, vol. IV, p. 104 ff.

ON DARKNESS,

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"and science, human reason recognizes indeed barriers but no
boundaries, that is, it recognizes that there is something outside itself whereto it never can attain, but not that it will
somehow reach an end in its own inner progress. The widening
of knowledge in mathematics ... progresses into infinitude
. . . Nonetheless one cannot fail to recognize barriers here,
since mathematics deals only with phenomena, and everything
which never can become an object of sensory intuition, as
the notions of metaphysics and ethics, lies outside of its (mathematics') sphere ... But metaphysics leads to boundaries." 41
A few pages later, Kant speaks of the notion of "boundary"
as a " symbol." 42
The discovery of the " boundaries " determining the field of
mathematics and science, however, is not the achievement of
these disciplines themselves. As long as mathematics is just
that and does not pass beyond its legitimate field, it may encounter " barriers " but it cannot know about " boundaries."
The latter become apparent only when the attempt is made to
apply the methods of mathematics to non-mathematical problems. In other words, the boundaries of mathematics are
discovered by metaphysics. (Therefore, it is never the task nor
the right of the scientist to make any statement on the universal applicability of his methods; the judgment on this
matter must come from an "outsider," one who views mathematics or science from another viewpoint than that proper to
these disciplines. The presumption that scientific methods are
applicable everywhere presupposes, in fact, that first the right
of metaphysics be denied. Scientism does not arrive at but
starts from a rejection of metaphysics.)
In regard, however, to its own boundaries metaphysics, or
reason, is the only judge. It not only decides on the incompatibility of some special procedures with other than their proper
objects, it also reaches the point where it comes to make a stateLoc. cit., pp. 106-108.
•• Ibid., p. 115.

01

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RUDOLF ALLERS

ment on its own boundaries. But how can reason pronounce on
things " beyond reason "? 48
Kant's followers, particularly the Neo-Kantians, were preoccupied more with determining the boundaries of reason than
with the problem of what constitutes these boundaries. Their
predominant interest was chiefly epistemological; but the question of the significance of the notion " beyond reason " pertains
to metaphysics. It is, therefore, only in recent times, in consequence of a revival of truly metaphysical interest, that the
problem of the boundaries, and therewith also of the Nought,
came to the fore. This happened on one hand with the so-called
" philosophy of existence," mainly with that of M. Heidegger 44
and with the renewal of ontology in the works of N. Hartmann. 45
Hartmann neither dismisses propositions of metaphysical
intent as " meaningless," after the manner of the positivists,
nor denies to the mind the right to inquire into and expect
answers about the " object of knowledge " and of reality. He
admits that there is, beyond the intelligible, the realm of the
"transintelligible" which, however, must possess a" minimum
of intelligibility." If it did not, it could not even be discovered
in the mode of a boundary.
Thus, the notion of boundary or limit appears as that of a
legitimate boundary, namely, of a line, so to speak, dividing
two realms, though one of them can be just envisioned, never
entered, grasped only as the beyond, never made an object of
knowledge. The transintelligible is, on one hand, that which is
simply given and cannot be justified in its existence and essence
•• The " suprarational " truths of Revelation are not to be considered in this
context. They are indeed " beyond" reason, but they are l)Ot discovered by
reason. Only the boundaries of which reason somehow becomes aware in its own
performances and in face of its own problems are the subject to be treated .
.. See above note 84.
•• Hartmann's works of interest in this context are first, his Metaphysik der
Erkenntnis, !ld ed. Leipzig-Berlin, 1925, and, second, the two volumes Zur Grundlegung der Ontologie, Berlin, 1988, and Miiglichkeit und Wirklichkeit, Berlin, 1988.
Unfortunately, these works have not been translated. For an interesting evaluation
of Hartmann's ideas see J. Collins, "Nco-scholastic critique of Nicolai Hartmann,"
Phil. a. Phenomen. Res., 1945, VI, 109.

ON DARKNESS,

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by reason. It is, on the other hand, the intimate nature of
being, the an sich, of which we may or may not have an adequate knowledge; in any case we have no means of ascertaining
the final and complete adequacy of our knowledge. But the
totality of being seems to "border" also on the Nought. And
the Nought can hardly be viewed as possessing a " minimum of
intelligibility." It lacks any property whatsoever, therefore
also that of intelligibility.
When the mind tries to "deal with" the Nought-if such
an expression be permissible-it finds itself in a peculiar situation. The particular is unattainable to reason; it is given to
the senses. However incapable the intellect may be of " handling" the particular, there is at least the knowledge of presence.
When the intellect tries to penetrate into the innermost nature
of being, it meets boundaries not to be passed, but the an sich
is there, present, though veiled· and mysterious. But the
Nought is never there, never present; it is only anticipated. It
never faces us-indeed it cannot, being nothing-but something in our experience suggests that it might face us. The
peculiar manner in which the Nought is encountered is that of
the "not yet." Or, one may look at this situation from the
other side, so to speak, and describe it as the awareness of the
fact that what is " still " is. Which is tantamount to saying
that there is an element of insecurity and uncertainty in our
very knowledge of the things that are, including our own being.
We never encounter the Nought, but only its "eventuality."
This is true also of the experience in which we " come closest "
to the Nought, the experience of dread. 46 The living experience
of the "imminent Nought" must not be confused with the
attempt to conceive of the Nought. On the other hand, an
emotional state cannot arise unless there be some kind of
cognition preceding the emotion. In emotion itself we know
•• Perhaps it would be correct to say that the Nought is "encountered" in the
state of dread as imminent, but that it is not realized and becomes a problem only
afterwards in the reflection on the state of dread and its significance. On this
question cf. my article on "The Cognitive Aspect of Emotions," The Thomist,
1942, IV, 582.

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RUDOLF .ALLERS

only of the particular modification of our own being as conditioned by the situation and its " value-aspect." That which
releases the emotional response is not known by means of the
emotion. 41
If the Nought is apprehended as "imminent " it is not apprehended as present. Some other object must be apprehended
to release the state of dread. Or one might say that there must
be given something" in which" the imminent Nought can be
apprehended, whatever this apprehension or its significance
may be. It is known that M. Heidegger believes in a direct
apprehension of the Nought in dread, and this Nought is conceived by him as an active power. "It is the Nought which
annihilates." I have pointed out elsewhere 48 that this idea
rests on an incomplete and faulty analysis of the state of dread
and of the situation in which a person experiencing dread finds
himself. The annihilating power is not the Nought but some
•• The idea that anything, whether in its aspect of reality or of value, is apprehended by means of " emotional acts " seems to me untenable and contrary to
facts. I can, therefore, neither accept the arguments proposed by W. M. Urban,
(Valuation, New York, 1909) nor the theory of M. Scheler that we apprehend
values by a peculiar act of Er/iihlen (Der Formalismus in .der Ethik und die
materiale W ertethik, Halle a. S., 1914), nor that of A. v. Meinong who believes
that emotions " present " to the mind values (" Uber emotionale Praesentation,"
Sitz. Ber. Wie>n. Akad. d. Wiss., 1917), nor finally N. Hartmann's claim that it is
by emotional experiences that we become coguizant of certain sides of reality
(Zur Grundlegung der Ontologie, Berlin-Leipzig, 1985, p. 177 ff.: "Emotional
transzendente Akte ") . A cognition of reality and its value aspect must be given
in order for an emotion to develop. Emotions tell us only about ourselves. Therein
may be sought also the reason why the word " to feel " is used for emotions and
for bodily states (I feel cold, I feel sad) . The modifications of the self, in tum,
are apprehended as determined by the total situation in which the person finds
himself and become therefore a source of knowledge in subsequent reflection.
The relation, as stated above, of cognition and emotion is not only observable;
it is also a necessary consequence of the Scholastic theory concerning the passiones
animae. The latter are said to be correlated to and manifestations of the movements of the sensory appetites. These are moved by some kind of knowledge about
objects. The principle nil volitum quin praecognitum applies in fact to all ·forms
of appetition, not only to those of the rational appetite.
•• In an essay on the metaphysics of dread, published in the volumes Krankheit
und Seelenlebe>n,edited by the Katholische Akademikerverband, in 1981, and lately
in the article quoted
note 44.

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very real, although unknown and unknowable, overwhelming
force, in comparison with which the person's very being appears
to be so close to nothingness, prope nihil, that his very existence becomes highly questionable. It would be perfectly true
if one were to say that in dread the last foundations of individual being or existence are undermined and ready to crumble.
It would seem that here definite analogies become visible
between the experience just named and those of darkness and
silence. In fact, the latter two have always been related to the
Nought. There is no need for any pertinent quotation, since
there are a great number of them at hand, in poetry, in common
language, and also in the writings of the mystics. Darkness and
silence have been called above "minimum sensations." They
are not minima in the sense that a" just perceptible" sensum,
a light or a sound (on the " threshold ") may be called a
minimum. The object in such a case is a minimum; but the
act of sensing is as complete as when we see a. bright light or
hear a loud sound. Darkness, however, and silence allow the
sensory faculty only a minimum of" operation; in the case of
silence not even that, since-as I tried to explain-this experience corresponds to the non-fulfillment of the natural inclination of the faculty for its proper operation.
It is possible tp imagine a state of affairs in which we would
not even " hear " silence or " see " black; where we would truly
see nothing and hear nothing, not even be able to try to see
(by "peering" into the dark) or to hear (by "straining our
ears ") . Such conditions exist indeed; they exist for sight
beyond the boundaries of the visual field, they exist for the
other senses whenever there is no concrete sensum presented
to them. But the boundaries of the visual field are" invisible";
and the absence of sensations, e. g., of touch or kinaesthesia, is
simply no datum at all. H we had no impression of nothingness,
like black and silence, we would have no empirical knowledge
that there might" be" the Nought.
Mention has been made above incidentally of the fact of the
" just perceptible," the experience which corresponds to the

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RUDOLF ALLERS

" threshold " on the side of stimulus magnitude. This experience is described as one which connotes that it can only grow
but not become less, because else it would cease to exist. Here
too, there is something akin to an "approximation to the
Nought." This experience entails a reference to non-existence.
It is an immediate and concrete indication of the fundamental
fact " that things may be or also not be," therefore of their
essential contingency. A thing which disappears, because it is
destroyed, or vanishes from our sight, does not become nothing.
The vanishing thing is supposed to go on existing outside of
the field of our awareness; the thing destroyed either leaves
tangible remnants or at least changes into something different.
Even before chemistry or any other scientific investigation furnished the proof thereof, man was convinced of the " indestructibility of matter." When matter is said to be destroyed in
modern physics it does not turn into nothing but is transformed into energy. But the inner experience of the vanishing
sensation is the one by which we actually become acquainted
with total disappearance, with existence turning into non-existence. But here too we know only of the" imminence" of such
a change; we apprehend the future non-existence, but never
the Nought itself. Here too the mode of givenness is that of the
" not yet "; a minimum intensity of sensation, the just perceptible is that which is no longer a "not yet"; it is prope
nihil.
Thus, the Nought becomes, in a sense, more than a mere
" limit-notion," it is a " limit experience." To the conceptual
Nought, the negation of all being, corresponds analogically
the series of experiences in sensory awareness described earlier.
One may go one step farther and claim that some iinplication
of the Nought is found in any form of" passing." Although no
thing passes actually out of existence, it may undergo change,
take on different properties and lose others, and be subjected
to substantial change and become another. The inconstancy of
things has often, in the history of human thought, been the
reason for denying their true " beingness." From the school of

ON DARKNESS,

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Elea onwards, this idea has been in the foreground of sceptical
and of idealistic speculation, and also of those philosophies
which made change or movement the very nature of being;
the whole Heraclitian trend in metaphysics from the times of
the old Ephesian up to Hegel stands under the impression that
nothing is what it is or seems to be. In the definition that
change is the transition from non-being to being account is
taken of this reference to the Nought in the phenomenon of
change.
There is, it seems permissible to say, a reference to or an
indication of the Nought in various experiences which seem to
let us "envision" the Nought somehow in their "prolongation." It sounds paradoxical, but nevertheless corresponds
rather to the actual experience, to describe it by the words:
If this particular process or change goes on, I shall encounter
the Nought. However, this encounter never takes place.
Such a " prolongation " or " extrapolatjon " apparently justifies the introduction of the notion of a " limit." But it is very
necessary to realize that notions which are legitimate in one
field cannot be transferred into another without careful examination of the right to do so. Expressions like those of prolongation and extrapolation are taken from immediate experience and from mathematics; the notion of limit has its definite
significance and place, particularly in mathematics, where the
idea of a concept defining an " operation " also applies, without
any inconvenience; even if the particular operation cannot be
carried out in practice. The Nought (or zero) in mathematics
is not the same idea as when the term refers to reality. And so
also, the notions of " approximation," " prolongation," " extrapolation," and perhaps others of similar meaning cannot be
transposed into reality unless the legitimacy of such a procedure be previously ascertained.
The limit in the mathematical sense has a definite meaning
and can, therefore, be used in divers operations. But the limit
referring to reality, be it the unknowable and transintelligible,
be it the actual infinite, or be it the Nought, stands to the

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RUDOLF ALLERS

things or events within reality, those inside, so to speak, of the
limit, in a relation different from that obtaining between the
mathematical magnitudes and limits. One does not leave the
field of mathematics when " passing over " to the limit; but
one steps into a different kind of reality, or even passes beyond
the boundaries of reality, when using the limit-notions in
reference to it. The mathematical limit is, however unattainable, still magnitude; it may only be approximated, it may be
indicative of an operation never to be carried out perfectly, it
may be surpassing any power of imagination; 'but it does not
cease to belong to the world of mathematics and to obey somehow its laws. But the transintelligible lacks the essential
feature of being as it is accessible to the mind; it is, per definitionem, no longer intelligible. Nor is the Nou$ht in the same
sense a limit, as zero is one in mathematics (or, for that matter,
the point, etc. in geometry. 49 There is no operation of the mind,
occupied with reality and being, which would lead by simple
extrapolation or prolongation to the Nought. Once the Nought
is mentioned, the realm of being is left behind altogether.
Because of these circumstances it appears rather questionable
whether one is entitled to apply the notion of " limit " to our
awareness of reality, and accordingly also, whether the introduction of this notion may prove helpful in regard to the
problem of the Nought.
It might, however, be argued that the Nought is not to be
sought in the " prolongation " of being and as its " limit,"
but rather in the prolongation of non-being as it is encountered
within average experience. We meet non-being in the shape
of the not here and of the not so. All the things w:hich do not
occupy the place held by one definite thing, all the events not
happening at the moment when another event happens are
not here, and to this extent the one thing present or the one
event occurring is indeed the " negation " of all these others
which, in turn, are the negation of the former. A thing is not
•• One of Schelling's followers, I think it was Steffens, spoke of the sphere as
"the Nought expanded into every direction" (das allseits ausgedehnte Nichts).

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so in regard to all the properties it does not possess; and those
it has negate the others and vice versa. Therefore: omnis
determinatio est negatio, omnis negatio determinatio. 50
Neither the not-here nor the not-so is a nihil absolutum; but
they seem to be indicative of it. If this thing is not here,
and another also is not, and so forth, one apparently arrives
at the idea of no thing being here or anywhere. If a thing lacks
such and such properties and another thing lacks those the
first has, one arrives at the notion of the absence of all properties. But the absence of all things and of all properties is what
we mean by the term of the Nought.
But to look at the Nought as the totality of all negation is
just what Bergson thinks to be the fundamental mistake. However, his argument does not appear to be valid; why it is not,
I have tried to show above. The question is rather this: admittedly we never attain the Nought, as a thinkable object,
50 The relation between affirmation and negation
referred to above is an ontothe psychological processes
logical proposition. It does not state anything
involved when we affirm or deny. The remark of C. H. Griffith ("Affirmation
and Negation," Amer. Jour. Psychol., 1922, XXXIII, 84) is therefore not to the
point. He claims that the statement is not true," from the standpoint of psychological and neurological processes involved." He reaches this conclusion by experiments which show that it is easier to cancel groups of letters containing certain
letters. than others not containing them, and that the reaction time to positive
instructions is shorter than that to negative instructions; also, correctness in multiplication is more quickly ascertained than faultiness. The observations reported
are surely correct. But logical identity or ontological reference and the psychology
of corresponding operations are two different things. As A. W. Wolters has pointed
out, the two judgments: "S is not P" and "It is false that S is P" are equivalent,
but rest on different mental operations ("The Process of Negation," Brit. Jour.
Psychol., 1916, VIII, 183). If one looks at negation as a "mode of destruction," in
the sense of St. Anselm, or defines it, with G. E. Spaulding (The New Rationalism,
New York, 1918, p. 138) as the "positive fact of exclusion," or considers it, as
Husser! does (ldeen zu einer reinen Phaenomenologie und phaenomenologischen
Philosophie, Halle, a. S., 1913, p. 218), a "modification of some position," one has
always to do with a more complex process than that of simple awareness and
affirmation. Similar views on negation may be found in many authors. Cf. e. g.,
R. Demos, "A Discussion of a Certain Type of Negative Propositions," Mind,
1917, XXVI, 188; R. M. Eaton, Symbolism and Truth, Cambridge, 1925, p. 203;
G. Bonaldini, Saggio di una metafisica dell'esperienza (Pub!. Univ. Cattol. Sc.
Fil. XXVII), Milan, 1939, p. 209.

7

566

RUDOLF .ALLERS

because we are unable to conceive of it; but we approximate it;
we may take away more and more things, negate more and
more properties, and conceive of this process going on indefinitely; finally it would have to end, theoretically, by attaining the Nought. It does not attain it, it only envisions it
somehow as the " limit " of the whole series. But what meaning
can " envisioning " have in this connection? 51
Obviously," envisioning" cannot be taken here as indicative
of an act of imagination. Whenever we perceive or imagine,
there must be some thing towards which the mental act tums. 52
"Nothing, the pure Nought; it is simple equality, perfect
emptiness, lack of determination and content; undifferentiated
in itself. In so far as intuition or thought can be mentioned
here, it is considered a difference whether something or nothing
is intuited or thought. To intuit or to think nothing is, therefore, a meaningful proposition; the two are distinguished, and
thus the Nought is (exists) in our intuition or thought itself;
and the same empty intuiting or thinking as the pure Being.
Nought is, therefore, the same determination, or rather indetermination, and thus the same thing that pure Being is." 53
51 Argument
taken from observations on abnormal mental states is always
questionable. No doubt many have gone too far in using this material. Also, it is
not so easy to make sure of the real significance of the statements made by mentally
abnormal persons. However, one might refer to the troubles described by French
psychiatrists under the name of delire de negation, and also to what is called
" depersonalization." If we could rely on the descriptions furnished by the patients,
we would have to assume that they have a direct experience of non-being; but the
case histories usually do not impress the reader as giving a full and penetrating
phenomenological analysis. Therefore, I prefer to discard these arguments.
•s" There are negative objects. The absence, the gap, the void, the lack of
color, of beau!y ... we never see such objects, nor can imagination' grasp them."
H. Ritzel, "Uber analytische Urteile," Jahrb. f. Philos., 1916, III,
These
" negative objects " are objects only of judgments, not of sensory awareness. But
they are, at least those mentioned by Ritzel, still far from the Nought. The gap
is between things, the absence is noticeable within a certain set of things or a
situation, and so forth. All this falls under the heading of nihil privativum.
•• G. F. W. Hegel, Logik, Ges. Werke, Berlin, 1888, vol. III, p. 78. "Nickta,
das reine Nickta; es ist einfache Gleichheit mit sich selbst, vollkommene Leerheit,
Bestimmungs- und Inhaltslosigkeit; Ununterschiedenheit in ihm selbst. Insofeme
Anschauen oder Denken bier erwii.hnt werden kann, so gilt es als Unterschied, ob

ON DARKNESS,

SILENCE,

AND THE NOUGHT

567

To realize the meaning of this passage one has to consider
that " Being " does not mean, in this context, either the esse
existentiae or the esse essentiae; it means an esse simpliciter,
undifferentiated, as it were, the mere " empty " copula. This
copula is interpreted as indicative of the mere possibility or
capacity of intuition or reason to operate on an object should
such one be presented to the Inind. To this extent, indeed, it
seems justified to say that Being and Nought are the same,
since both terms refer to the mere capacity, the one, so to
speak, in anticipation of an object presented, the other in anticipation of non-fulfillment. I think that one renders correctly
Hegel's thought-though not in terms he Inight have chosenif one says " thinking nothing " is equivalent to a readiness
to think something, which thinking, however, "envisions"
failure. 54
This is, I think, what Hegel means by his statement that the
Nought exists in empty intuiting or thinking. One Inight go
one step farther and claim that the Nought not only exists
but consists in this same emptiness of the mind. It is not an
" object," which obviously it cannot be, but it is the preparedness for an object, destined, however, to be disappointed.
In this interpretation is implied a further consequence. In
etwas oder Nichts angeschaut oder gedacht wird. Nichts anschauen oder denken
hat also Bedeutung; beide werden unterschieden, so iat (existirt) Nichts in unserem
Anschauen und Denken selbst; und dasselbe leere Anschauen oder Denken, als das
reine Seyn. Nichts ist somit dieselbe Bestimmung oder vielmehr Bestimmungslosigkeit und dadurch iiberhaupt dasselbe was das reine Seyn ist."
•• It would be unjust to discuss ideas on the Nought without mentioning, at
least in passing, one author who not only has devoted some effort to the clarification of the problem, but to some extent may be considered a precursor of
Hegelian " dialectics." This is Charles de Bouelles, Carolus Bovillus, who in his
Dialogi tres de animae immortalitate, de reaurrectione, de mundi excidio et illiua
inatauratione, Lugduni, 1552, speaks of the nihil being caligo et negatio, and his
treatise De nihilo, Paris, 1510 (the work is in the Public Library in New York)
refers to the Nought as the "least fruitful in being, but the most fruitful in
thinking," explaining that thought progresses by negation. There is not much
literature on Bovillus. The most detailed study I know is that by Jos. Dippel,
V erauch einer ayatematiachen DarateUung der Philoaophie des Carolus Bovill?U,
Wiirzburg, 1865.

568

RUDOLF ALLERS

the " emptiness " of intuition or reason there is an indication
of man's mental powers being not self-sufficient; they depend
for fulfillment on an objective world not their own or of their
own creation. It is not necessary here to inquire whether or
not such a consequence would fit into the system of Hegelian
metaphysics. We may use his analysis without committing ourselves to the acceptance of his further doctrines. But if the
interpretation suggested above appears acceptable, it furnishes
a possibility of relating the experiences of darkness and silence
on one hand and the Nought on the other.
I have tried to show that silence, or the experience of it,
corresponds to the pure, or, if one prefers, to the empty, longing
of the auditory power for adequate performance. It seems
understandable that this kind of auditory experience comes
closer to the meaning of Nought than does the corresponding
experience of darkness on the part of the visual power, the
reason being, one might suggest, that it is the ear which primarily is the conveyor of meaning and thus becomes subservient in a particular manner to the rational powers. Without
hearing the spoken word no man indeed ever develops the
potency of speech nor attains any degree of intellectual capacity. Although the word is a physical phenomenon and a
reality apart from its meaning, we usually do not even notice
the physical properties of the spoken word. Only when the
word is mispronounced and thus spontaneously attracts our
attention do we begin to notice it as vox and no longer as
verbum or sermo. It exists for us mainly, even exclusively, as
the medium by which meaning passes from one person to
another. 55 The visible thing, on the other hand, is
object to
the mind independently of any " symbolic " function it may
have besides and above its physical appearance. The sense of
sight, therefore, stands " below " that of hearing as transmitter
•• See Ch. Blonde!, La conscience morbide, Paris, 1914, p.
f. " ... a nos
yeux les mots se depouillent de leur caracteres sensibles pour s' identifier aux
idees ... nous franchissons les paroles d'autrui pour courir sus aux etats d'8.me que
nous savons etre derriere."

ON DARKNESS,

SILENCE,

AND THE NOUGHT

569

of meaning, although it is superior to the other in what concerns the immediate knowledge of reality.
The "experience of the Nought" in the emotional state of
dread, then, is not an experience of the Nought itself, which
cannot be an "object" in any sense whatsoever. It is the
experience of non-fulfillment, of a mere and unsuccessful effort
on the part of the mind to encounter an object. 56
If the problem of the Nought is viewed from this angle, the
notion becomes untenable that the Nought is an " extrapolation " or is found in the " prolongation " of an unending series
of negations. In this we have to agree with Bergson.
Nought
is not the result of a progressive destruction of the world without; it is rather the correlate of the "Nought within," that is,
of the fact that the mind is " something " or may grasp itself
in reflection only when and insofar as it is concerned with an
object not itself.
Only in this sense, too, we may speak of the Nought as a
" limit-notion"; it is not a limit of pbjective existence, but a
limit of mental performance; it is the effect of the mind's reaching out for an object and, at the same time, being afraid of
encountering no such object, because there is an intimate knowledge of the dependence of the contingent mind on things which
exist independently of this mind. The mere desire to know
carries with itself no guarantee of fulfillment. And it does not
because it is a contingent and finite mind.
I shall not try to discuss in detail how this interpretation
conforms to the analysis of dread I have given in a previous
essay. 57 But if it was said there that dread reveals to man his
"ontic status," his finiteness and contingency, it is easy to see
how the two views, on the significance of dread and on the
nature of the Nought, accord with one another.
Perhaps one remark is in place to guard against a possible
but mistaken identification. One recalls the famous word of
•• However careful one has to be in the use of examples taken from psychopathology, one may refer to the statement of certain patients who definitely speak
of a "sentiment of void " within themselves.
•• Cf. note 45.

570

RUDOLF ALLERS

Kant that " concepts without intuition are void." But it is not
this void or emptiness to which the foregoing discussion refers.
The Nought is no concept, not even one without founding
intuition; it is not an ens rationis. It is a mere name for a state.
This state is, ordinarily, not actually experienced. But it is a
possibility inherent to all our mental performances. 58

Concluding Remarks
Of the" Nought for us," namely the absence of any perceivable object, we have no experiential knowledge. The fact that
our field of vision is limited passes unnoticed. The fact that
there are " sounds," that is acoustical waves, which we do not
perceive, never becomes part of our experience. To the absence
of tactual or kinaesthetic perception corresponds no definite
datum of consciousness.
The notion of the Nought arises in situations in which the
natural inclinations of the mind remain unfulfilled. The phenomena of non-fulfillment range from the expectation of· receiving a certain impression and being disappointed to the
experience of emptiness and mere preparedness in the intellect.
To this extent there is a continuous line from the phenomenon
of "nothing is there" to "there is nothing." The first statement, however, is meaningful, because it asserts that some thing
is absent, whereas other things are not; this is what may be
generally called the experience of the " gap." The second
statement, on the contrary, has no true sense if "nothing"
(or "the Nought") is considered as a name referring to an
immediate or mediate experience of objective reference.
The non-fulfillment in the field of sensory awareness is
experienced as darkness and as silence. It is, accordingly,
understandable that these terms are used in reference to the
88 Under the precautions mentioned before one might point to certain abnormal
phenomena, ranging from the "estrangement of reality,'' to " depersonalization "
and the d&ire de negation. In the first-named state, the person has the impression
that things and events have lost somehow their " substantiality," they are "mere
appearances," have nQ longer the significance they used to have.

ON DARKNESS,

SILENCE,

AND THE NOUGHT

.571

absolute Nought. The experience of darkness may, perhaps, be
explained so as to conform with either the Scholastic or any
other theory of sensation. Its physical counterpart is the total
absence of any optical stimulus, but not of all stimulation. The
experience has indeed an undeniably positive character. I have
submitted a hypothetical interpretation of our" seeing black";
and I maintain that with the hypothetical assumption of " central grey " one does not get closer to a satisfactory solution,
because to recognize that a shade is not yet perfect black one
must have some image of what black really is like.59
One can conceive of darkness or silence as little as a " limit ''
of things visible or audible, as one can make use of this notion
to elucidate the nature of the Nought. The Nought is not a
limit in any sense comparable to that common in mathematics.
It has no "operational" definition. Nor has it any definite
value or place in the order of things. The attempt to establish
an analogy between the mathematical Nought (zero) andi the
Nought, which one may call either experiential or metaphysical,
is bound to fail. First, because in such an attempt is implied
a truly illegitimate transition from the field of logic into that
of being. Secondly, because the underlying conception entails
a confusion of " content " on one hand and " act " on the
other. 60 Since the Nought cannot be an object, neither can it
become a " content " corresponding to an act of the mind. The
Nought, like the gap, the missing element, the word not recalled, corresponds to an "empty" act (a Leerform des Bewusstseins, as some might say). In this sense it is correct to
name nihil both the absolutum and the privativum.
The experience of the Nought, if this expression is permissible, is not of something coming from without. It is, therefore,
•• In any case, things are much more complicated than some have believed. See,
e. g., Durandus a S. Porciano, In IV Libr. Sent., Venetiis, · 1568, I, d. 86, q. 1,
f. 97, r, a: " si visus et auditus semper essent in actu nunquam auditus cognosceret
silentium, nee visus tenebras."
60 It is hardly necessary to remark that the term " act " is used here not in
the same sense as in ontology, but as a certain school in psychology (also in
philosophy) has employed the term since Brentano and Husser!.

572

RUDOLF ALLERS

not the" Nought which annihilates" as Heidegger claims. The
experience is, to say .it once more, that of the" Nought within,"
of the contingency of the mind, its dependence on objects not
its own products or creations, its ·helplessness to provide fulfillment for its natural needs by itself.
One question ought at least to be mentioned, although it is
neither of the competence of psychology, or even of philosophy,
to answer it, nor can it be treated here at any length. This
question refers to the curious use the parlance of mysticism
makes of the term " Nought." One example may stand for
many. Angelus Silesius: "Gott ist ein lauter Nichts," God is
a pure Nought. What this writer (arid so many of his predecessors) has in mind is obviously not the same notion as that
of Hegel quoted above. Related to this mode of expression are
the many remarks which refer to God as silence or darkness, of
which it is said sometimes that it is the same as the " superessential light."
It may be doubtful whether this or any other similar expression refers to the impossibility of making any definite
statement on the nature of mystical experience and on what is
experienced therein, or whether such words have another significance besides being statements of " negative theology." This
is one of the points at which psychological analysis and philosophical speculation touch upon their boundaries. They become
aware of the problems, since these arise somehow within the
legitimate field of inquiry; they realize that
is more to
be sought than their methods allow; but they must refrain from
giving an answer. Human reason, indeed, is under the obligation to push on as far as its power will carry it; but once the
boundaries of reason are attained, nothing remains but-in
Goethe's words-to "venerate silently the incomprehensible"
(Das Unbegreifliche schweigend zu verehren).
RUDOLF ALLERS

Catholic University of America,
Washington, D. C.

THE EPISTEl\fOLOGY OF THOMAS HOBBES

I

N his work, De Corpore, Hobbes at last showed the fully
developed relationship, which had long lain dormant in
his mind, between his mechanistic concept of philosophy
and his theory of knowledge. Consequently, with this most
mature expression of his epistemology as our basic text, we
shall attempt to gain some idea of Hobbes' final status in regard
to his theory of knowledge.
To orientate ourselves better before beginning a consideration of this work it will be advisable to remark that this synthesis of his mechanistic principles, his methodology, and his
cognitive principles did not, as Athena, "spring full-fledged
from the head of Jove"; but rather they were presaged in many
of his earlier works. De Corpore was the result of a long process
of thought which had undergone modifications through reconsideration of many points. We shall, however, find that the
modifications did not affect the fundamental Hobbesian tenets,
but rather show themselves in different methods of approach
to problems.
The work De Corpore was published in its finished form in
1655, and was originally a Latin work. First of the antecedents
of the De Corpore was the small work which we know as the
Little Treatise, a book dealing with the first principles of a
natural philosophy. The date of publication of this latter mentioned work is uncertain, but from the available evidence we
can say with a fair amount of assurance that it was not written
later than 1635. It was not until 1644 that Hobbes again
devoted himself to the problem of natural philosophy, the
intervening time being occupied with writings of a political
nature; and then to the writing of the Tractatus Opticus, a work
in which he again dealt with the fundamental problems of the
first work, the act of sense and the universality of the principle
of motion. In the later work, however, he has advanced, for in
573

574

WILLIAM

A. GERHARD

the Little Treatise he engages in controversy with Scholastic
doctrines on the problems of natural philosophy. Now in the
Tractatus Opticus he feels that these problems are solved and he can go on to found his doctrines of mechanism and
motion. It is somewhat difficult to ascertain the date of the
original composition of the De Corpore, but it appears that
this work was in the process of preparation over a period of
some thirteen years. In the preface to Mersenne's Ballistica
we find a reference apparently to a work of Hobbes entitled
De Motu, Loco, et Tempore which is very probably the first
draft of the book published in 1655 under the title of De
Corpore.
Since, therefore, this work was being constantly amended
over so long a period of time, we can conclude that it will
represent certain changes of viewpoints, that it will evidence
vestiges of old and new ideas bound together in this final
synthesis of the doctrines of methodology and first principles
of philosophy.
Hobbes states on the first page of his work that since all men
are born with natural reason-philosophy-they are capable of
reasoning somewhat; but when questions calling for long and
intricate reasoning arise they fail for want of proper method;
hence he will attempt to lay out the first elements of philosophy, as seeds from which the full-blown product may derive
through a proper methodology.
Philosophy is such knowledge of effects or appearances, as we
acquire by true ratiocination from the knowledge we have first of
their causes or generations; and again of such causes or generations
as may be from knowing first their e:tiects.1

Thus does Hobbes define philosophy; and, indeed, it is a
noteworthy definition for it contains two important points:
(I) only that knowledge is scientific which deals with causal
relations; (2) this knowledge is scientific only when arrived at
by right reasoning. Of course, the question that immediately
1

Thomas Hobbes, De Corpore, ed. by Wrn. Molesworth (London, John Bolm,

1839)' p. 3.

THE EPISTEMOLOGY

OF THOMAS

HOBBES

575

arises is, "Why does Hobbes limit scientific or philosophical
knowledge to knowledge conditioned by these two factors? "
In our reply we shall first deal with the latter point, viz.,
knowledge is scientific only when gained by right reasoning.
Reasoning, there is the word we must fix upon as the key to
the solution of the question. But first we must consider the
hierarchy of knowledge instituted by Hobbes. There is a knowledge derived from sense and memory, and from experience
and prudence, ·but this is not to be classed as philosophical
knowledge. As Hobbes says:
For the better understanding of which definition, we must consider, first, that although Sense and Memory of things, which are
common to man and all living creatures, be knowledge, yet because
they are given us immediately by nature, and not gotten by
ratiocination, they are not philosophy.
Secondly, seeing Experience is nothing but memory; and Prudence, or prospect into the future time, nothing but expectation of
such things as we have already had experience of, Prudence also is
not to be esteemed Philosophy. 2
Sense, for Hobbes, is merely a means of proposing the phenomenon to the subject. And so there would be no question of
the difference in kind of philosophical and sense knowledge had
not Hobbes later written:
Of all the phenomena or appearances which are near us, the
most admirable is apparition itself; namely, that some natural
bodies have in themselves the patterns almost of all things, and
others of none at all. So that if the appearances be the principles
by which we know all other things, we must needs acknowledge
sense to be the principle by which we know those principles, and
that all the knowledge we have is derived from it. And as for the
causes of sense, we cannot begin our search of them from any other
phenomena than that of sense itself. But you will say, by what
sense shall we take notice of sense? I answer, by sense itself,
namely, by the memory which for some time remains in us of
things sensible, though they themselves pass away. For he that
perceives that he hath perceived, remembers. 3
• Ibid., p. 8.
"Ibid., p. 889.

576

WILLIAM

A. GERHARD

In this passage Hobbes seems to be saying that basically
there is no difference in kind between sense and philosophical
knowledge, that both of them are the result of principles of
sense. Now, quite logically, the question may be put, "Is
Hobbes a sensist or a rationalist? " But to answer this question we must first settle what Hobbes meant by empirical
knowledge; and, secondly, we must try to find out where and
how he drew the dividing line between empirical and philosophical knowledge. These questions, however, can be answered
only by tracing them through Hobbes' development.
Already in his work The Elements of Law we find him prodistinction of knowledge into two classes, one is a
posing
mere knowledge gained by sensation, and a remembrance of it,
while the other is a knowledge of the truth of propositions,
a knowledge arrived at by understanding. 4 Here we see that
Hobbes is attentive to the fact that there is a possibility of
deducing new truths from given propositions, that truth can
arise only from proposition and conclusions.
But now let us follow Hobbes in his description of empirical
knowledge. The senses give us our original knowledge by
observing the objects about us, and this knowledge is retained
in us through the imagination and memory when the objects
themselves have disappeared from our senses. To recall series
of events we have association of ideas; while the reason for the
coherence of ideas is the fact that thus objects were originally
presented to us. Now when one has seen certain antecedents
followed consistently by certain consequents he comes to expect
that when he sees that which formerly was an antecedent to be
present, the same consequent will follow it as previously; and
this is called expectation. Presumption of fact is the reverse of
the above mentioned process: having seen certain consequents
follow certain antecedents one can conjecture upon seeing the
• " ... There be two sorts of knowledge, whereof the one is nothing else but
sense, or knowledge original, and remembrance of the same; the other is called
science or knowledge of the truth of propositions, and how things are called, and
is derived from an understanding ... and of the former, the register we keep
in books, is Cl}lled history; but the registers of the latter are called the sciences."
The Elements of Law, VI. 1.

THE EPISTEMOLOGY

OF THOMAS HOBBES

577

same consequents, that they were preceded by the same antecedents that preceded them in the past. An experiment is the
remembrance of what was antecedent, what consequent, and
what concomitant. To have had a number of experiments is
called experience. And when one has so often seen an antecedent followed by a consequent, or vice versa, that upon
seeing one of them he concludes a:bout the other, we call one
the sign of the other.
Although many think that this ability to observe signs is the
distinguishing mark of wisdom, yet it is not true; for this conjecturing rightly from experience is merely prudence. For wisdom we must have principles that are of universal application,
while the conclusions from signs are endowed only with a high
degree of probability. 5
Hobbes' description of empirical knowledge with its reference to the rise of knowledge from sensation, to the association
of ideas, to memory and imagination, is not particularly revolutionary, although, of course, it is thoroughly mechanistic
since sensation is the result of motion rather than of the species
sensibilis. But now the question arises, "What is wisdom,
science?"
Experience, as Hobbes has shown, can but give us probability even in its most highly developed form; hence, he must
introduce another source for obtaining the quality of universality in knowledge- but he doesn't. Both scientific and
empirical knowledge he derives from experience. 6
But there must be some added factor which will enable
scientific knowledge to spring from empirical knowledge, or
rather there must be some other source whence scientific
knowledge is drawn. How, then, does Hobbes explain this
discrepancy?
In the fifth chapter of the Elements Hobbes states that the
• Op. cit., Chapter V.
• Ibid., VI. 1-4. Although I have spoken of the universality in knowledge in
regard to Hobbes, yet this term must not be understood in a sense synonymous
with that of the Scholastic universal, since for Hobbes universality means universal
applicability.

578

WILLIAM

A. GERHARD

succession of ideas in our mind is the result of objects having
been presented in this succession to our senses; and, moreover,
each idea has been preceded and followed by innumerable acts
of sense, with the result that we cannot at will make one idea
follow another. Men, however, have the power to control the
recall of these successions of ideas by their ability to establish
marks. A mark, according to Hobbes, "is a sensible object
which man erecteth voluntarily to himself, to the end to remember thereby somewhat past, when the same is objected to
his sense." 7 And it is this a:bility to set up the device of marks
that distinguishes man from brute.
A certain type of mark is the name, which is a sound of
man's voice arbitrarily imposed upon some object as a mark
whereby he may recall the object to mind. 8 We should note
here that heretofore the name has been used purely in a mnemonic sense, it has not been stated that it has any intrinsic
element of knowledge nor does it have any relationship to
knowledge other than a purely arbitrary and extrinsic one.
Suddenly, however, Hobbes says:
By the advantage of names it is that we are capable of science,
which beasts for want of them, are not; nor man, without the use
of them. 9

This is to give another nuance to the idea of the name, for
formerly it was only an aid to recollection, now it is something
that differentiates the pure sense knowledge of animals from
the scientific knowledge of men; and, moreover, it is because of
names that men have science. Hence there is now an intrinsic
relationship between the name and knowledge. Name is not
the result of scientific knowledge, but rather the cause of it.
Consequently it is the name which serves as the hasis of
dividing scientific from empirical knowledge.
Man can also connect names to form propositions, and these
again to form syllogisms, and from this connection arises truth
Ibid., V. 1.
See ibid., V, for full explanation of the idea of the name.
• Ibid., V. 2.
7

8

THE EPISTEMOLOGY

OF THOMAS HOBBES

579

or falsity according as we affirm or deny correctly or incorrectly a predicate of a subject. 10 It is interesting to note that
Hobbes states that truth and a true proposition are one and
the same thing, that falsity and a false proposition are one.
Apparently, from these words, Hobbes cannot conceive of truth
apart from its connection with a proposition, a doctrine that
smacks of utter nominalism, for according to Hobbes, the only
way that we can err is by applying a name wrongly or rightly.
Hence the application of the name is the only determining
factor in knowledge.
But why should truth appear when we merely join one name
to another by means of the copula is? Hobbes explains this by
stating that two factors are necessary for scientific knowledge:
(I) Truth, which is a statement that the subject is contained
in the predicate; (2) Evidence, which is a concomitant consciousness of what the names signify.n Hence it seems that
Hobbes is introducing another factor in distinguishing scientific from empirical knowledge, viz., the idea, the consciousness
of what the words mean. But this is an apparent contradiction
of what he had formerly postulated, that the names were the
cause of our differing in knowledge from the animals. Hobbes,
then, is not at all clear upon the ultimate basis for scientific
knowledge. This fact is first shown by his equivocal use of the
name as a mnemonic and logical entity, and then his deus ex
machina introduction of the doctrine of evidence. He will,
indeed, cling tenaciously to the distinction between empirical
and scientific knowledge, but the ratio sufficiens of this difference is not at all clear-cut in his mind.
What, then, is the relation of experience to science? In the
Elements, as later in De Corpore, Hobbes states that both
arise from experience: empirical knowledge is the experience
of the effect of things acting upon us from without, while
scientific knowledge is the experience we have of the right use
of names and propositions, but propositions, in turn, presuppose
ideas which are perceptions reproduced. 12
10

Ibid., V. 10 and 13.

11

Ibid., VI. 3.

1"

Ibid., vi:, 1 ff.

580

WILLIAM

A. GERHARD

Is Hobbes, then, a sensist or rationalist? Our answer is
simple: in so far as he attributes the ultimate source of ideas to
perceptions he is a sensist; but in so far as he postulates a realm
of certainty and of universal application he is a nominalistic
rationalist. Let us here in conclusion quote Hobbes' own statement in which he puts clearly his concept of the genesis of
scientific knowledge.
Knowledge, therefore, which we call science, I define to be the
evidence of truth, from some beginning or principle of sense. For
the truth of a proposition is never evident, until we conceive the
meaning of the words or terms whereof it consisteth, which are
always conceptions of the mind; nor can we remember those conceptions without the thing that produced the same by our senses.
The first principle of knowledge therefore is, that we have such and
such conceptions; the second that we have thus and thus named
the things whereof they are conceptions; the third is, that we have
joined those names in such a manner as they be concluding. And
by these four steps the conclusion is known and evident, and the
truth of the conclusion said to be known. And of these two kinds
of knowledge, whereof the former is experience of fact, and the
·latter evidence of truth: as the former, if it be great, is called prudence, so the latter, if it be much, hath usually been called, both
by ancient and modern writers, sapience or wisdom; and of this
latter, man only is capable; of the former, brute beasts also
participate. 13
We have now seen that part of Hobbes' epistemology which
is contained in the Elements, and from this view we further
saw why he thought it necessary to divide the realm of knowledge. Moreover this shows us why in the De Corpore Hobbes
thought fit to define his concept of philosophy with regard to
empirical knowledge, ·for between the two types of knowledge
he saw a close relationship as well as an antipodal difference.
Our next consideration must be directed to the development
of the name theory- that wobbly cornerstone of Hobbesian
epistemology-as it appears in the De Corpore. In this work
the name theory is still present and active, but modified. Yet
the theory is not entirely clear. Hobbes admits the possibility
u

Ibid., VI. 4.

THE EPISTEMOLOGY

OF THOMAS

HOBBES

581

of logical thinking without words (sine verbis) 14 and with this
admission the necessity for evidence in attaining to scientific
knowledge goes, for evidence is a concomitant consciousness of
the meaning of a word. This is a decided change in Hobbes'
view on the constituents of scientific knowledge. The reason
for the change lies, perhaps, in the controversy which he and
Descartes had following the publication of the M editationes
of Descartes. 15
Yet Hobbes is incorrigible, he will not be weaned from his
name theory-his is a nominalist doctrine. This appears most
clearly in his handling of the universal. He was thoroughly
traditional in denying a separate objective existence to the
universal, but, moreover, he even denied it a psychological
existence .
. . . They err that say the idea of anything is universal; as if
there could be in the mil).d an image of a man, which were not the
image of some one man, but a man simply, which is impossible;
for every idea is one, and of one thing; but they are deceived in
this, that they put the name of the thing for the idea thereof.16
Hence there is not a universal idea either objectively or subjectively. But Hobbes needs the concept of the universal to
bolster his division of knowledge into the absolute and the
contingent. What, then, is his explanation of the genesis of
such concepts? In the quotation just stated Hobbes says that
we know the universal by means of the name, and that the
fallacy of the existence of the universal, either objectively or
subjectively, arose from confusing the name with the idea,
i.e., we attributed universality to the idea rather than to the
name. Our ability to think in terms of universality- which,
for Hobbes, means to understand the extent of the applicability
of a name- rests upon our imagination by which we call up
in our mind several things answering to the name.
14 Thomas Hobbes, De Corpore, ed. by Wm. Molesworth
(London, John Bohn,
1839), vol. I, p. 3.
15 See F. Brandt,
Thomas Hobbes' Mechanical Conception of Nature (London,
Librairie Hachette, 1928), p. 230 for a sample of the type of letters passed between
Hobbes and Descartes.
16 Ibid., p. 60.

8

582

WILLIAM

A. GERHARD

Of names, some are common to many things, as a man, a
tree. . . And a common name, being the name of many things
severally taken, but not collectively of all together (as man is not
the name of all mankind, but of every one, as of Peter, John, and
the rest severally) is therefore called an universal name; and therefore this word universal is never the name of any thing existent in
nature, nor of any idea or phantasm formed in the mind, but
always the name of some word or name; so that when a living
creature, a stone, a spirit, or any other thing, is said to be universal, it is not to be understood, that any man, stone, etc., ever
was or can be universal, but only that these words, living creature,
stone, etc., are universal names, that is, names common to many
things; and the conceptions answering them in our mind, are the
images and phantasms of several living creatures, or other things.
And, therefore, for the understanding of the extent of an universal
name, we need no other faculty but that such names bring sometimes one thing, sometimes another, into our mind .... 17

But this explanation only entangles Hobbes the more in his
labyrinth of nominalism. The name is the element of universality in our knowledge- so he said originally, and so he
repeats again, but now he introduces a series of images to explain the psychological process of the universal. Each of these,
however, represents a separate and concrete idea, and they are
connected with each other only hy an arbitrary psychological
succession. The name, moreover, as Hobbes stated in his shift
from the opinion held in the Elements, is the expression of the
concrete idea. Hence we see that the very source of universality, the name, has been drained of this essential quality
by Hobbes himself.
We can see here that Hobbes has two definite convictions:
all ideas are concrete, and there is a possibility of "universal
knowledge," that is to say, a knowledge arising from universal
application of names. It is his desire to effect a rapprochement
between these two facts that leads him on first in one path,
then in another. Psychological observation furnishes his basis
for stating that our ideas are concrete; the name theory will
have to serve as basis for the proof of the universal knowledge.
Hence between the level of the concrete idea and that of universal knowledge Hobbes has established the level of the names,
17

Ibid., pp. 19-20.

THE EPISTEMOLOGY

OF THOMAS

HOBBES

583

the result of concrete ideas but potentially having a universal
element by being applicable to individuals in several instances.
What, then, are the names? They hang suspended between
universality and individuality with a tormenting indetennination. As a last attempt Hobbes illustrates his use of the name
theory in explaining the process of a syllogism.
The thoughts in the mind answering to a direct syllogism, proceed in this manner; first, there is conceived a phantasm of the
thing named, with that accident or quality thereof, for which it is
in the minor proposition called by that name which is the subject;
next, the mind has a phantasm of the same thing without accident,
or quality, for which it hath the name, that in the same proposition
is the predicate; thirdly, the thought returns of the same thing as
having that accident in it, for which it is called by the name, that
is the predicate of the major proposition; and lastly, remembering
that all those are the accidents of one and the same thing, it concludes that those three names are also names of one and the same
thing; that is to say, the conclusion is true. For example, when this
syllogism is made, man is a living creature, a living creature is a
body, therefore, man is a body, the mind conceives first an image
of a man speaking or discoursing, and remembers that that, which
so appears, is called man; then it has the image of the same man
moving, and remembers that that, which appears so, is called living
creature; thirdly, it conceives an image of the same man, as filling
some place or space, and remembers that what appears so is called
body; and lastly, when it remembers that that thing, which was
extended, and moved and spake, was one and the same thing, it
concludes that the three names, man, living creature, and body,
are names of the same thing, and that therefore man is a living
creature is a true proposition. From whence it is manifest, that
living creatures that have not the use of speech, have no conception
or thought in the mind, answering to a syllogism made of universal
propositions; seeing it is necessary to think not only of the thing,
but also by turns to remember the divers names, which for divers
considerations thereof are applied to the same. 18
Yet on the broken wings of nominalism Hobbes cannot rise
a:bove a purely concrete knowledge. He employs names, he
calls in memory, but all deal only with concrete fact. We must
conclude, therefore, that he has not solved the enigma of the
individual and the universal.
18

Ibid., pp. 49-50.

584

WILLIAM

A. GERHARD

Heretofore we have been dealing with Hobbes' second postulate for scientific knowledge: it must be the result of ratiocination. We now tum to his first postulate: scientific knowledge
must be a knowledge of causal relations. Now in our treatment
of this we must consider his methodology.
If we recall his definition of philosophy, we shall remember
that he stated that such knowledge consisted in knowing causeeffect relationships, which can be known only through a process
of deduction. Consequently we may conclude that philosophical knowledge must be deductive. Recall also that Hobbes had
established two realms of knowledge in the Elements, for this
is very important in understanding what he meant by saying
that philosophical knowledge is deductive, and concerned with
causal relations.
Empirical knowledge also is deductive and concerned with
causal relations, but it differs from scientific knowledge in that
the latter knows causal relations only through experience,
while the former knows causal relations by logical deductions.
Hobbes now begins the explanation of method, that means
whereby we come to know causes. As he says,
... Method, therefore, in the study of philosophy, is the shortest
way of finding out effects by their known causes, or of causes by
their known effects. But we are then said to know any effect, when
we know that there be causes of the same, and in what subject
those causes are, and in what subject they produce that effect, and
in what manner they work the same. And this is the science of
causes. . . . All other .science ... is either perception by sense, or
the imagination, or memory remaining after such perception.
The first beginnings, therefore, of knowledge, are the phantasms
of sense and imagination; and that there be such phantasms we
know well enough by nature; but to know why they be, or from
what causes they proceed, is the work of ratiocination; which consists ... in composition, and division or resolution. There is therefore no method, by which we find out the causes of things, but is
either compositive or resolutive, or partly compositive, and partly
resolutive. And the resolutive is commonly called analytical method,
as the compositive is called syntheticaJ.1 9
18

Ibid., p. 66.

THE EPISTEMOLOGY

OF THOMAS HOBBES

585

Hobbes now must explain whence to derive the premises
from which to deduce this scientific knowledge. He states again
that all knowledge begins from the sense and imagination.
But to know the causes of these perceptions we must have
recourse to reasoning; and the method used to find the ultimate
principles of perception will be either analytic or synthetic.
For true science we must know by the analytic method since
by this method we analyze each given body until we arrive at
the causes of those universal principles common not to this
body alone but rather to all matter. Then, since the singular
contains in its nature the universals, we must synthesize the
causes of the universals to know that of the singular.
Yet for the highest and most universal causes no method is
needed since they are self-evident, being made so by the fact
that they all have one universal cause, motion; and since
motion can have no cause except motion, there is no need for
any further analysis by which to find a more fundamental
cause. Here Hobbes is again straddling orders of being, for by
the introduction of motion he seeks to furnish an ultimate basis
for the explanation of physical and cognitive fact. Henceforward .to explain different phenomena we have but to refer
to the difference of motion of their composite parts. Thus by
the synthesis of these partial motions we come to a knowledge
of the causes of the singular. Moreover sciences are to be differentiated not on a basis of immateriality of formal object,
but upon the difference and complexity of motion which they
embrace. 20
This, then, is what Hobbes meant by his statement that
philosophical knowledge consists in a deductive knowledge of
causal relations. He would first analyze particulars until he
arrived at the fundamental premise of motion whence he would
deduce all other knowledge as from a first cause until.he had
constructed a doctrine pervaded by motion. This was, indeed,
a revolutionary doctrine since into the realm of formality it
introduced as the supreme factor a purely positive fact, motion.
But what conditioned Hobbes' view?
•• Ibid., pp. 66-78.

586

WILLIAM

A. GERHARD

Of two facts Hobbes was firmly convinced: that philosophical knowledge differed from empirical in that it was
demonstrative, the result of deduction; and that motion was
the cause of all reality and of all real processes. And, indeed,
it appeared that the all-pervasive role motion plays was not
too difficult to prove, since there was no gap to be bridged
between metaphysics and other less abstract sciences, for
metaphysics was non-existent. The only difficulty was the
transition from mathematics to mechanics and physics, for
mathematics deals with quantity only while the latter two deal
with mobile quantity. Hobbes, however, could not allow his
system to be marred by such a discrepancy, hence he introduced motion into his original premise. Motion would, therefore, fulfil a formal duty, it would give formal unity to the
entire system by serving as the ultimate explanation of all.
Still Hobbes' introduction of motion as the ultimate explanation of all reality is quite understandable, since for him it was
the core of all natural phenomena, the explanation of which
was his chief concern.
Yet it is quite possible that besides a desire to establish a
" metaphysics " for his system, he was also influenced by
a methodological consideration, viz., knowledge can be arrived
at only by construction, and construction is possible only when
we have searched out the ultimate causes of things. Having
seen the value of construction as a means of arriving at new
knowledge, he introduces the doctrine of motion as a principle
destined to be a potent factor in constructing new knowledge.
It is interesting to note that by introducing motion as the
basic cause in all philosophical knowledge, and by limiting this
type of knowledge to deduction from causal relations, Hobbes
ruled out political and historical sciences on the grounds that
they pertained only to empirical knowledge; and theology on
the ground that it was not deducible hy reason, since it was an
object of faith rather than of knowledge. 21
What, then, is the value of a study of Hobbesian epistemology? Primarily it contains an historical value; but more
21

Ibid., pp. 10-11.

TilE EPISTE1\IOLOGY

OF TIIO::\IAS

HODD!<'S

587

than that it enables us to see the basic and systematized principles whence modern mechanistic philosophy has derived its
impetus. Hobbes wrote at a time when traditional philosophy
was breaking dO\vn beneath the blows of scientific fact for want
of able defenders. l\1ersenne, Galileo, and Descartes \vere
propagating new theories based on mathematical method and
experimental fact-theories which offered absolute certainty to
those who would accept.
Hobbes moved in this milieu dominated by these geniuses
of matter and motion, and upon himself he took the task of
setting out a consistent explanation of the new truths. Influenced by his earlier study of Scholasticism he sought to frame
a consistent doctrine by the introduction of a necessary and
universal principle which would be applied in every case with
infallible results. Hobbes was not a materialist, but rather a
motionalist. He sought in the concept of motion something
that would be akin to a metaphysical principle. He denied the
worth and validity of the traditional metaphysics; yet he was
driven to its emphasis on the formal aspect of knowledge in
order to mould a consistent and unified system. He adopted
motion as that which would serve his problem; and to this
physical entity he gave the viTtus of a metaphysical principle.
It is true that Hobbes must be admired for his attempt at
synthesis; but it is a shabby synthesis he achieves, and necessarily so, for he was playing fast and loose with different orders
of being and was, consequently, vitiating his entire edifice of
knowledge. Hobbes' epistemology could not be anything but
a web of contradictions for he \vished to deny the formality of
being and still to cling to the universality of knowledge, to
presuppose metaphysical principles, but in fact to deny their
validity, and to introduce physical fact to fulfil their duties.
The confusion of modern scientific philosophy is quite understandable when we consider the muddled seed \vhence it sprang.
WILLIAM

University College,
University of Chicago

A. GERHARD

A Philosophy of Poetry:
on Thomistic Principles. By Rev. JoHN
DuFFY, C. SS. R. The Catholic University Press. Washington, D. C.
1945. pp. 258 with bibliography and index.
Because the question what a poem is or why and how it is made is
prior to the question whether this poem at hand is a good one, the practice
of poetic criticism rests ultimately on some opinion as to the nature and
purpose of poetry. The philosophy of poetry, then, assumes the position
of a foundation for criticism and a standard for literary judgment. As one's
philosophy goes, so will follow criticism.
This is indicated clearly by contemporary confusion in literary matters.
The same poetry is variously evaluated by the Marxists, the liberals, the
sociologists, the classicists, the purists and the modernists. Only a divergence in philosophy can explain this variety of opinion. Catholic criticism,
though it clings to several general principles, is perplexed and at odds with
itself. The diversity of Catholic opinions of the work of Waugh, Eliot,
Joyce, Farrell, Kilmer, indeed the whole literary field, serves only to point
up the necessity for some examination into the foundations of literary
expression, its purpose, its nature, and its creation. This task is the one
undertaken by Father Duffy in this book.
There has been little done to help him. Aristotle, in the Poetics, has
stood as the master in the tradition for twenty-two centuries. When St.
Thomas wrote he conceded the question of poetics settled by Aristotle, at

least in its principles. Because there was little poetry in that time that
needed analysis the problem scarcely vexed him or his contemporaries.
\Vith the Renaissance, however, the humanities and the literary arts
flourished. But at that time theologians were too busy defending the faith
against the errors of the humanists to write philosophical tracts on the
nature of the humanist art. Cardinal Cajctan's debate with Pico della
Mirandola is an indication of the opposition that existed between the two
schools. Contemporary Thomism has produced little on the philosophy of
literature. The foundations of philosophy, the problem of knowledge, the
relations between reason and faith, and lately between science and philosophy, have successively taken the attention of philosophers. Poetry,
literature, and music have only recently been examined and studied.
Further Duffy's dissertation on poetry is the largest and most complete
treatment on the subject to be presented from a Thomistic viewpoint.
The book, then, is welcome. As a contribution of real speculative effort,
in an attempt to apply Thomistic principles to a painfully pressing modern

588

BOOK REVmW

589

problem, it merits a wide reception and discussion. To the writer and
the faculty that gui<lcd him Catholic theologians, philosophers and critics
are in debt.
Father Duffy's intention, as outlined early in his book, is to treat of
the nature of poetry, giving, in at least essential outline, the basic principles of the creation and experience of poetry. His approach is metaphysical and psychological. ·His methodology is to clarify a principle or
doctrine, to show its Thomistic origin and meaning; and then to apply it
to the matter at hand. This clarity of intention and execution is one of
the great virtues of the book.
Father Duffy chooses as the start of his book a nominal definition of
poetry: a beautiful verbal artefact. The argument of the . book is an
exposition of this definition, part by part, until finally the nature of
becomes clear. Toward the end he formulates a real definition gathered
from this analysis of his subject.
The book, then, is divided into three parts corresponding to the parts
of the definition. The first treats of beauty, and in it Fr. Duffy presents
the Thomistic doctrine on beauty, and makes explicit in it those elements
wl1ich apply especially to the fine arts and poetry. The second part is
concerned with art; here the writer treats of art in general, and of the
fine arts, and prepares the ground for the third section which treats ex
professo of the nature of poetry. In this third section, Fr. Duffy applies
those conclusions and opinions concerning beauty and art which he had
exposed in the first two sections. In the third section he treats also of
problems which are proper to poetry and poetic creation: inspiration, words,
images, rhyme, and other similar topics. A final section summarizes the
whole book and adds brief reflections on some contemporary questions:
pure poetry, the logic of the imagination, and poetic meaning.
In the first section, the treatment on beauty, Fr. Duffy delineates and
discusses three kinds of beauty: ontological beauty which is convertible
with being, relational beauty which springs from the ordered splendor of
the form and depends on clarity and proportion and integrity, and experienced beauty which depends in part on relational beauty in the thing, and
in part on habits of beauty formed in the one perceiving the beautiful
thing.
Giving ell.-periencedbeauty a special cl1apter, he analyses the definition:
id quod visum placet, and explains the role of the cognitive and appetitive
faculties in the experience of the beautiful. He shows the intimate and
essential relation between the sensitive and inteUectual factors of cognition
and the role of the will and the sense appetites in the appreciation of an
object as· beautiful. He demonstrates the necessity of a reflex cognition,
or the consciousness of a state of uncommon knowledge. He adds, finally,
a section dealing with intuition which he• analyses in relation to the
Thomistic theory of knowledge.

590

BOOK REVIEW

Fr. Duffy's second major section deals with art. He treats of art in
general as a habit, and giYcs the traditional definitions and divisions. He
defines fine art as concerned solely with the production of the beautiful.
Analysing artistic creation from the Yie.w of the four causes, Fr. Duffy
demonstrates the interplay and interdependence of each cause in the production of the artefact. In analysing the concept: Recta ratio factibiiium,
Fr. Duffy holds the subject of the recta ratio as the intellect formally, but
dispositively the vis cogitativa and the internal senses. This recta mtio
is joined with the will and the sense appetite to form the efficient cause
of the artefact. Here much of Fr. Duffy's analysis depends on the
intimate connection between the intellectual and sensitive faculties, and
reflection and continuation so fundamental to St. Thomas' theory of
knowledge. Treating of the material cause Fr. Duffy indicates its influence
on the form and, as in poetry, its dependence on the form. As the final
cause of fine art Fr. Duffy places the p"crfect expression of the exemplar
primarily, and secondarily the prineipling of delight in the artist and in the
one contemplating the artefact.
The arguments of the first two sections of the book are joined and related
according to the following plan: Beauty is convertible with bei!1g; thus a
thing, inasmuch as it is, is beautiful. But the being of an artefact is to be a
similitude or a representation of the exemplar in the artist's mind. Therefore to the degree that an artwork represents the exemplar it is beautiful.
But the perfect expression of the exemplar requires splendor, clarity and
integrity in the artefact. These factors are the foundation for relational
beauty in the artwork. Given habits of beauty in the one perceiving, all
the factors of beauty are present, and the experience of beauty follows.
Having established and explained the principles of his analysis, Fr.
Duffy proceeds to poetry itself. He begins his third major section with a
subject proper and peculiar to poetry as a preface to what follmvs by
treating of the degrees of poetic contemplation, the objects of poetic
contemplation, and inspiration. He adds a personal account of the
creation of a poem as illustrative of the principles he has analytically
described.
Beginning the work of the dissertation proper, Fr. Duffy treats of the
operative word, or the exemplar in poetic creation, as it is joined to the
will in creation. In its proper matter he shows the interrelation of all the
cognitive and appetitive faculties in the making of a poem. Brief sections
deal with psychological phenomena found in literary creation: association,
searching for the correct word and the like.
Fr. Duffy is concerned next with the form and matter of poetry. He
discusses the matter at considerable length, moving from words, the ex·
tcrnal matter, to the proper matter, verbal images. In this section he
reviews the philosophy of lm'iguage and semantics, establishing his con-

BOOK REVIEW

591

elusion by combining the foundatu:ms established by St. Thomas and the
reflections and opinions on the poetic process provided by modern writers
and philosophers. The form of a poem he accounts as an intentional
binding together of the parts of the poem for the sake of the signification.
Next, the experience of a poem, on the part of the poet and on the. part
of the reader, are analysed. The common and proper elements of each are
shown; and poetic experience and its psychological elements are exposed at
some length. The book closes with some brief remarks on modern problems
in poetry, and a summary of the whole dissertation.
Taken as a whole, the book is a valuable contribution of original speculative thought on a vexing modern problem. In the movement of the whole
argument single sections stand out for the clarity and penetration of their
thought. The most valuable sections are those which clarify the interplay
of all the faculties, sensitive and intellectual, cognitive and appetitive, in
the creation and the experience of a poem, or the creation and experience
of a beautiful thing in general. In the section in which he treats of the
matter of a poem, established to be verbril images, Fr. Duffy has thought
out perhaps the best treatment at hand in English. .In the psychological
sections of his dissertation, Fr. Duffy is uniforn1ly good. In a word, Fr.
Duffy has done splendid work on the efficient and material causes of poetry,
and in its creation and experience.
Dissenting criticism of Fr. Duffy's book begins at once at the end, and
at the beginning. At the end, because Fr. DuiTy's final paragraph is a
gracious paraphrase of St. Thomas' conclusion to his book on the divine
names, in which, having commended to God, the Giver of all lights, the
truth he has exposed, he invites enlightenment; at the beginning, because
it is at the very beginning of Fr. Duffy's work that his error has its root.
Extrinsic evidence that Fr. DuiTy's thesis, in parts at least, is not as
Thomistic as his title indicates, is given by his reaction to several texts.
l\Iost surprising is the discovery that, while he intended to write a book
on poetry from a .Thomist view, Fr. Duffy has not mentioned Aristotle
once, nor quoted, nor referred .to, nor depended on, the Poetics, and the
doctrine taught there. To attempt a Thomistic analysis of poetry and to
omit the traditional doctrine as set forth by Aristotle is temerarious at
best. In addition, and not unrelated to his neglect of Arisotle, Fr. Duffy
has evident and confessed difficulty in understanding what St. Thomas
means in three traditional texts on the nature of poetry, texts which show,
in addition, St. Thomas' fundamental agreement with Aristotle's position.
The texts are: . . . . (sunt) artes quae sunt ordinatae ad homim11n
delectationem. (I llleta.; I. I) on which Fr. Duffy comments: "perhaps
these are what we should call today fine arts," but he adds " . . . . there
is little or no help on this question of the Fine Arts as far as St. Thomas
is 1\:0ncerned." A second text is: ... .. poetica scientia est de his quae

592

BOOK HEVIEW

propter defectum veritatis non potest a ratione capi (I Sent., Prol., q. I, a. 5,
ad Sum) , a text repeated twice in the first part of the Summa and again
in the first of the second, of which Fr. Duffy confesses: "It is difficult to
know what St. Thomas means by a defect of truth on poetic knowledge."
On a third text: Nam poetae est inducere ad aliquod virtuosum per
aliquam praecedentern (decentcm) repraesentationem (I Post. Analy., lect.
I), Fr. Duffy seems to reject the obvious meaning of moral virtue and
explains the text by equating virtue to beauty as a bonum. honesturn.
Since each of these texts clarifies some point in the traditional doctrine on
the nature of poetry, the fact that Fr. Duffy has difficulty with their
obvious meanings indicates extrinsically that, in the points considered in
these texts at least, he had not understood St. Thomas' mind. An intrinsic
criticism may serve to clarify his divergence.
Certainly I?r. Duffy's thesis is Thomistic in the sense that the principles
of the metaphysical, and especially the psychological, analysis he makes are
undoubtedly those of St. Thomas. But it is possible, nevertheless, that
the structure in which Fr. Duffy has cast them is not. Thus, for example,
while his understanding of the psychological clements of poetic creation is
excellent, his understanding of the exact nature of poetry is not.
Fr. Duffy's divergence from the traditional teaching on poetry has its
logical spring in the definition which he chooses in the beginning of his
hook as the structure of his work: a poem is a verbal beautiful artefact.
This definition, in which" beautiful artefact" is the genus and "verbal"
the difference, labors under the difficulty that the genus "beautiful artefact " is too common and generic. In the course of his dissertation, moreover, Fr. Duffy does not sufliciently analyse these concepts, nor sufficiently
refine their meaning, to attain an understanding of the real genus: delightful imitation.
The poet's "primary concern is a disinterested concern with beauty,"
Fr. Dufiy writes in his book. This statement is indicative, perhaps, of the
chief fault in his analysis, for his whole argument on poetry is pivoted
around beauty, is explained by it, and resolved in terms of it. Fr. Duffy
states that the intention of a poet is primarily to create a beautiful thing.
l-Ie equates poetic delight with the delight that follows the contemplation
of a beautiful thing. In one place he has translated a text to include
beauty when there is little justification for it in the text itself, and he has
so reasoned that he defines the fine arts solely in terms of the beautiful.
In choosing the concept of beauty as the beginning and core of his book
on poetry, :Fr. Duffy has not penetrated the essence of poetry. And in
doing so he has fallen into an error characteristic of contemporary philosophers and critics. Since Kant and Lessing, lhe so-called Father of Modern
Criticism, philosophers have isolated beauty and have attempted to judge
all artistic value in its terms. One of the results of this work has been

BOOK REVIEW

593

to divert attention from the real problem and to slow up and prevent fruitful investigation. Beauty is related to the fine arts undoubtedly, but not
so primarily. To be beautiful is not of the essence of a work of fine art;
at least it is not
essential constituent. What is proper and essential
to fine art is that it be an imitation, as Aristotle states in the first chapter
of the Poetics; and it is proper to poetry that it be an imitation, accomplished through verbal images. On this last point Fr. Duffy has written
clearly and well. But by choosing beauty and the beautiful artefact as a
genus he has succeeded in confusing his thought, and reducing the analysis
of so significant and important a quantity as poetry to one part of a new,
and somewhat amorphous, science of aesthetics.
This misconception of the role of beauty in poetry has several fruits
which appear in Fr. Duffy's dissertation. It is in these conclusions that
we are able to see the error which is contained in his fundamental structure.
Specifically, Fr. Duffy is at variance with Aristotle and the traditional
doctrine in three places: the form of poetry, the source of poetic delight,
and the end of poetry.
Fr. Duffy states that the form of. a poem is the binding together of the
parts of the poem, an intentional shape analogous to the shape of a statue
which is its form, an intentional binding together for
sake of related
(contextual) signification. He holds further that the being of a poem
{which the form gives) is to be an image of what is in the poet's mind.
A poem is perfect as a poem, then, if it exactly re-presents the form which
the poet intends. The measure of its correspondence is the measure of its
being.
But this is an incomplete picture. Granted, indeed, that there must be
a correspondence between the poem and the exemplar-what is the exemplar? A poem is a reflection of the exemplar-but what is the exemplar's
relation to creation and reality? Fr. Duffy places the whole being of a
poem in the genus " beautiful artefact," and it is that; but that is common.
What is its genus peculiarly as poem? It is precisely here that Aristotle
and the traditional teaching of the Poetics should have found a place in
Fr. Duffy's analysis. For a poem properly is an imitation or an image
(ima.go) of a character, action, or passion of a man, effected through verbal
images, an imitation of a singular experience, not as singular however, but
as universal. And for that reason Aristotle says that poetry is more
and of graver import than history. Thus the form of a poem
is a verbal imitation, and bears a relation to an action of man as a unique
special reproduction.
There is a special indication that Fr. Duffy has confused the notion of
form in a poem, by choosing an entity which is material to the real form,
in the fact that he finds an analogy to the form of a poem in the shape of
a statue. But evidently the shape of a statue is not its form, nor the

504

BOOK REVIEW

order of colors in a painting nor of tones in a symphony. Each of these
material forms is potential to a further form, the universal cl1aracter,
movement of the passions or action expressed in this individual painting,
statue or poem. One does not know this cmpiric;1l stone Discus Thrower,
but tlze Discus Thrower. One's knowledge of a statue is not of this empirical shape, but of a universal contained in it and, indicated through it.
Similarly in poetry, the form is not merely the binding of the parts as
expressing the exemplar; it is an imitation, cast in a universal mode,
expressed through these singular verbal images, of an action or movement
of the passions of man.
The problem of universality and singularity in fine art and poetry is the
most fundamental difficulty in the philosophy of art. Because of the
ordination of his dissertation around beauty, Fr. Duffy does not touch it.
This artistic universality is fundamental. The poetic representation of a
fact and the empirical presentation differ in this very universality. And
thus there is a difference between a portrait and a photograph of the same
man. This universality, not the logical universal or nature which is
abstracted even from an empirical singular, is a universal which is expressed
in the artistic singular. In poetry it is the principle of the special character
of poetic cognition or science.
Singulars and contingents as such arc unknowable to a human intellect,
being immersed in matter. The mind, seeking to know singular objects in
a mode more connatural to it, achieves this in artistic knowledge; and
delights greatly in knowledge of this mode. The mind seeks, ultimately, a
mode of knowledge of a singular proper to an angel; and delights in the
approximation to it. Thus poetry supplies for the defect of truth or knowledge in a singular by giving it, through images, a universality and a greater
intelligibility. This is the meaning of the text: .... poetica sCientia est
de lzis quae propter defcctmn veritatis non potest a ratione capi;. unde
oportet quod quasi quibusdam similitudinibus ratio seducatur (I Sent. Prol.
q. I, a. 5, ad Sum), a text of St. Thomas
which Fr. Duffy had
difficulty.
The exact nature of this universal, how a poem is at once of a thing,
matter for pressing
singular and concrete, and of an idea, a universal,
study in the philosophy of poetry, especially in the case of the postRenaissance lyric. Aristotle has worked it out for the drama and the
epic poem; it remains for contemporary philosophers to use his principles
and St. Thomas' to bring the tradition to bear on modern difficulties.
In the light of this opinion that poetry is an imitation of an action or
passion of men, the text: ... : nmn poetae est inducere ad aliquod
virtuosmn per aliquam praecedcntem (decentem) repraesentationem (I
Post. Anal., I. I.), becomes clear. Poetry is not ordained to the conviction
of a speculative truth as logic, rhetoric, or even the sophistics, are. Its end

BOOK m,;VIEW

595

is delight in the imitation, and through delight, some moral rectification
through the exercise of au act of moral virtue. Father Duffy's encleaYor to
interpret this text in the terms of a love of beauty misses the profound
meaning St. Thomas intended it to have.
In this regard, Fr. Duffy remarks that leading to virtue "is not the
end of the major portion of modern poetry or poetry since the time of the
Renaissance." If he means: not the conscious end of the poets, he is
probably correct. For the traditional doctrine in poetry as well as in
philosophy and theology was little known in the post-Renaissance times.
l<'alse philosophy and heresy have ever engendered false poetic ends.
To the problem of poetic delight, Aristotle's solution places two sources:
first, the delight men take in seeing imitations, and second, the delight men
take in learning. The first is the source of the greater part of poetic
delectation. A poem or novel which re-creates our own experience is a
source of keen delight to us. Since poems are in some way universal, the
experience, passio:1, or action in poetry arc common to all men; and thus
there is imitative delight in every poem for every man. Under the second
delight which Aristotle mentions is included poetic knowledge, at once
singular and universal, of a thing and an idea. There is, hence, a special
delight in poetic knowledge because of the increased intelligibility in this
knowledge which mak,:s it a more connatural mode to a human intellect.
But because he built his analysis around beauty, Fr. Duffy has failed to
include each of these causes of delight.
Fr. Duffy hoids that poetic delight is the delight caused by the contemplation of a beautiful object. Thus beauty is the source. But the knowledge
of a beautiful thing is delightful because it is a sudden and complete
grasp of the sensibility and intelligibility of a thing, an exhaustive knowledge of a singular. Thus poetic delight, if is taken as delight in beauty,
is at base a delight in knowing, a special form of integral knowledge
analogous to au intuition. In this opinion, it is true, Fr. Duffy's position
impinges on that of Aristotle, for the delight arising out of the knowledge
of a beautiful object is contained under the second source of poetic knowledge mentioned by Aristotle: " one's pleasure ... will be due to the
execution or- colouring or some other cause" (Poetics 1448b 19). But
such a delight ·is common to the contemplation of many other entities
besides the fine arts and poetry, and hence it is not properly poetic
delight.
The poet has many ends. He has one as an artist: to express perfectly
the exemplar. But this is a logical end because artist as such docs not
exist. A man is either a useful artist, in which case the object he makes
is to be used for some further purpose, a chair, or a book, for example; or
he is a fine artist, and the artefact is made to be contemplated-an
imitation. Thus the first real end (as opposed to the logical end) of a

596

BOOK REVIEW

poet is to make an imitation. He makes an imitation, however, to arouse
delight. In addilion, one effect of the contemplation is a good or bad
action or passion in the artist, and in the one contemplating his work.
The finis ef]ectus of poetry, then, is the imitation. The finis causa is
delight, though it might be, in some poetry, the moral rrction or passion.
Thus the end of poetry, and of fine art in general, is delight, the delight
which follows the creation or contemplation of an imitation. This is
Aristotle's teaching; and St. Thomas' agreement with it is shown in the
texts: .... artes quae sunt ordinatae ad hominwn delcctationem (I
Meta., I. 1) and .... (ars quae est) ad voluptatem, quae in quadam
vitae quietc consistit (I Meta., I. 3). It is on these two texts that Fr.
Duffy confesses a certain diificulty understanding what such arts were,
adding that St. Thomas has given little help on the question of the
fine arts.
In his discussion of the end of the artist, Fr. Duffy mentions three ends,
the first of which he names primary: the perfect production of the artefact,
or the perfect expression of the exemplar. The others he naines secondary:
the delight caused in the artist by creation, and in the contemplator. He
states that the first is necessarily the primary end of every artist; and he
adds that it is safe to say (he is speaking from his experience) that the
secondary end of the n,verage artist is to cause pleasure, in himself first in
creating, and then in the one conlernplating, though there may be some
other secondary end in single cases.
But the first end: to represent perfectly the exemplar, is understandable
only in the light of the what the exemplar is. The artist is not intent on
reproducing the exemplar as such, but in produeii>g the imitation, or the
tool or chair. Thus an understanding of Aristotle's teaching would have
completed Fr. Duffy's opinion, and given it an aspect of reality. His
observation, furthermore, that the aYcrage artist operates with plensure as
an end is Aristotelian, and bears out the high consonance of the Poetics
with contemporary poetry. But the pleasure the poet aims at causing is
the pleasure caused by the creation and experience of an imitation, and
not of beauty or a beautiful artefact.
In a word, then, Fr. Duffy developed his dissertation by interpreting
the problem of poetry in terms of beauty; and because of this structure
he failed to penetrate the nature of poetry. As a result, also, he has
misconcciYed the form of poetry, its ends, and the cause of poetic delight.
Choosing "beautiful artefact" as the genus of his definition of poetry,
Fr. Duffy failed to attain the real genus: delightful imitation. And having
failed to teach the doctrine of imitation he necessarily departed from the
traditional teaching on the questions of the delight, and the effect and
purpose, of poetic knowledge. He lwei special difficulty, moreover, in
interpreting several texts of St. Thomas in the light of his own analysis,

597

BOOK RJ<WIK\V

texts which, when analysed against a background of the traditional teach-·
ing on the nature of poetry, have a profound meaning.
There is a danger, however, that the length and labor of this criticism
will give a distorted idc2. of the value of the book as a whole. It is only in
the question of the form, and hence also of the end, that Fr. Duffy, in my
opinion, falls away from what is the traditional, and Thomistic, opinion on
the nature of poetry. In his trc.?Jment of the psychological elements of
poetic creation and experience, in his section on the matter of poetry,
verbal images, in his criticism of contemporary errors in the philosophy of
poetry, and in many other important, though briefer, sections, he is
splendid. The book is a good dissertation. It is an important contribution,
and a valuable one, to the study in which he is practically a pioneer, the
philosophy of poetry. Fr. Duffy has succeeded in doing for the craft of
poets and the cause of truth the task he himself recently attributed to
the poet:
" l\{y words in vision
Run forth before his feet a little way."
MARK HEATII,

Dominican llouse of Studies,
Wc;shington, D. C.

9

0. P.

BOOKS RECEIVED
Bernanos, G. Joy. New York: Pantheon Books, 1946. Pp. 297. $'2.75.
Bruckmann, W. D. Keystones and Theories of Philosophy. New York:
Benziger Brothers, i946. Pp. 238 with Diagrammatic Chart.
Buckley, G. M. The Nature and Unity of Metaphysics. (The Catholic
University of America Philosophical Studies, Vol. XCV.) Washington,
D. C.: Catholic University Press, 1946. Pp. xv-261, with index. $3.00.
Carroll, T. A. The Venerable Bede: llis Spiritual Teachings. (The Catholic
University of America Studies in :Mediaeval History New Series Vol.
LX) Washington, D. C.: Catholic University Press, 1946. Pp. 279,
with index.
Cripps, S. Towards Christian Democracy. New York: Philosophical
Jjbrary, 19,i6. Pp. 101. $2.00.
Foley, L.A. A Critique of the Philosophy of Being of Alfred North Whitehead in the Light of Thomistic Philosophy. {The Catholic University
of America Philosophical Studies, Vol. XCIV.) Washington, D. C.:
Catholic University Press, 1946. Pp. 181. $2.00.
Gerber, W. The Domain of Reality. New York: King's Crown Press, 19·.1.6.
Pp. 92, with index. $1.50.
Grajewski, 1\f. J. The Formal Distinction of Duns Scotua. (The Catholic
University of America Philosophical Series, Vol. XC.) Washington,
D. C.: Catholic University Press, 1944. Pp. 2Q7, with index. $2.25.
Gustafson, G. J.
Theory of Natural if.ppetency in the Philosophy of St.
Thomas. (The Catholic University of America Philosophical Series,
Washington, D. C.: Catholic University Press,
Vol. LXXXIV.)
19·14. Pp. 137, with index.
Herbst, W. Be1·tha Baumann. St. Nazianz, Wisconsin: Salvatorian Press,
1946. Pp. 67.
Hering, H. M. De Justitia Legali. Friburg, Switzerland. Typis Consociationis S. Pauli, 1944. Pp. 68, with index.
Hering, H. M. Le Mythe de L'Etat. Friburg, Switzerland: Imprimerie
St. Paul, 1945. Pp. 85.
McCorry, V. P. Most Worthy of All Prai,se. New York: Declan X. McMullen, 1946. Pp. 192. $2.00.
Moore, T. H. The Darkness is Passed. New York: Declan X. McMullen,
19,iff. Pp. 183. $2.00.

598

BOOKS RECEIVED

599

Nagle, U. Uncle George and Uncle Malachy. Milwaukee: Bruce, 1946.
Pp. 183. $2.50.
Phelan, G. B. Some Illustrations of St. Thomaa' Development of the
Wisdom of St. Augustine. (The Mu Nu Sigma Lecture 1946, Mundelein College, Chicago.) Chicago: The Argus Press, 1946. Pp. 57,
with notes.
Renard, H. The Philosophy of Being. Milwaukee: Bruce, 1946. (Second
edition, revised and enlarged). Pp. 272, with index.

INDICES OF VOLUME IX (1946)
INDEX OF AUTHORS

PAGE

AGUILAR, J. M. DE. The Law of Nations and the Salamanca School
of Theology
186
ALLERS, R. On Darkness, Silence, and the Nought
515
---. Translation of " Ways to Know God," by Sister Theresia
tl19
Benedicta a Cruce, 0. C. D.
BIRD, 0. Review of A Catlwlic Looks at the World, by F. E.
McMahon .
333
DITTOE, J. T. Sacramental Incorporation Into the Mystical Body
469
EGAN, J. M. Translation of" The Gifts of the Holy Ghost," by John
of St. Thomas
. 66, 266, 421
---. Review of Basic
of St. Thomas Aquinas, edited by
A. C.
117
---. Review of Presence et Union: Les Missions des Personnes
de la Sainte-Trinite selon S. Thomas d'Aquin, by L. Chambat 461
337
FARRELL, W. Virtues of the Household
FoRSTER, C. P. Review of Metlwd for the Easy Comprehension of
120
History, by J. Bodin
GERHARD, W. A. The Epistemology of Thomas Hobbes
573
---. Public Opinion, Determinism, and Free Will
172
HEATH, M. Review of A Philosophy of Poetry Based on Thomistic
Principles, by J. Duffy
588
HuGHES, W. D. Translation of "The Gifts of the Holy Ghost," by
John of St. Thomas .
. 66, 266, 421
JoHN OF ST. THOMAS. The Gifts of the Holy Ghost (English Translation with Introduction, by J. M. EGAN and W. D. HuGHEs)
66,266,421
129

LACHANCE, L. Peace and the Family
MAILHIOT, M. B. The Place of Religious Sentiment in Saint Thomas

22,222

McGuiNEss, I. Review of Cursus Philosophiae, by H. Grenier
O'CoNNOR, M. A. Review of John Henry Newman: An Expository
and Critical Study of His Mind, Thought and Art, by C. F.
Harrold
THERESIA BENEDICTA A CRUCE, SisTER, 0. C. D. Ways to Know God
(English translation by R. ALLERS)
VANN, G. The Rebuilding of Man

600

465

327
379
1

INDICES OF VOLUME IX

(1946)

INDEX OF ARTICLES

601
PAGE

Darkness, On- Silence, and the Nought. R. ALLERs
515
172
Determinism, Public Opinion,-- and Free Will. W. A. GERHARD
578
Epistemology, The--of Thomas Hobbes. W. A. GERHARD .
Family, Peace and the--. L. LAcHANCE .
129
Free Will, Public Opinion, Determinism, and--. W. A. GERHARD 172
Gifts, The-- of the Holy Ghost. JoHN OF ST. THOMAS . 66, 266,421
Hobbes, The Epistemology of Thomas--. W. A. GERHARD . . 578
Holy Ghost, The Gifts of the--. JoHN OF ST. THOMAS . 66,266,421
877
Household, Virtues of the--. W. FARRELL .
Incorporation, Sacramental--Into the Mystical Body. J. T. DITTOE 469
Know God, Ways to--. SISTER THERESIA BENEDICTA A CRUCE,

nc.D.

.

8W

Law, The-- of Nations and the Salamanca School of Theology. J.
M. DE AQUILAR .
186
Man, The Rebuilding of--. G. VANN .
1
Mystical Body, Sacramental Incorporation Into the--. J. T.
DITTCE
469
Nations, The Law of--and the Salamanca School of Theology.
J. M. DE AGUILAR .
186
Nought, On Darkness, Silence and the--. R. ALLERS
515
Peace and tb.e Family. L. LACHANCE .
129
Place, The-- of Religious Sentiment in Saint Thomas. M. B.
MAn.ruoT .
Public Opinion, Deteml.inism, and Free Will. W. A. GERHARD .
Rebuilding, The--of Man. G. VANN .
Religious Sentiment, The Place of-- in Saint Thomas. M. B.
MAILIIIOT .
. 22, 222
Sacramental Incorporation Into the Mystical Body. J. T. DITTOE . 469
Salamanca, The Law of Nations and the--School of Theology.
J. M. DE AGUILAR
186
Sentiment, The Place of Religious-- in Saint Thomas. M. B.
MAILHIOT .
22,222
Silence, On Darkness,-- and the Nought. R. ALLERS .
515
Virtues of the Household. W. FARRELL .
887
Ways to Know God. SISTER THERESIA BENEDICTA A CRUCE, 0. C. D. 879

602

INDICES

OF VOLUME IX ( 1946)

INDEX OF BOOK REVIEWS
BoDIN, J. Method for the Easy Comprehension of History (C. P.
Forster)
CHAMBAT, L. Presence et Union: Les Missions des Personnes de la
Sainte-Trinite selon S. Thomas d'Aquin (J. M. Egan)
DUFFY, J. A Philosophy of Poetry: Based on Thomistic Principles
(M. Heath)
GRENIER, H. Cursus Philosophiae (I. McGuiness)
HARROLD, C. F. John Henry Newman: An Expository and Critical
Study of His Mind, Thought and Art (0. Bird)
McMAHON, F. E. A Catholic Looks at the World (0. Bird)
PEGIS, A. C. (editor). Basic Writings of St. Thomas Aquinas (J. M.
Egan) .

END oF VoLUME

IX

PAGE

120
461

588
465
333
333
117