THE T OMIST
A SPECULATIVE QUARTERLY REVIEW
OF THEOLOGY AND PHILOSOPHY

THE DoMINICAN FATHERS oF THE PRoVINCE OF ST. JosEPH

EmToRs:

Publishers: The Thomist Press, Washington 17, D. C.

VoL. XIII

JANUARY, 1950

No. l

ST. THOMAS AND CHRISTIAN PERFECTION
OR some time, much controversy has raged over a question which is certainly of no small importance in the
spiritual life. According to some authors, the whole of
the spiritual life, throughout aU its different grades, is essentially
a unity, while others bring forward grave reasons to prove that
what has come to be known as the " ascetical way " is completely distinct from the so-called " mystical ways." 1 There
is no need for us to undertake here an investigation into the
reasons for these two opinions; it will be sufficient to point out
the gradual separation of the sciences of asceticism and mysticism, not merely from each other, but also in many cases from
dogmatic theology. Thus, asceticism has come to be regarded
as an a priori science, while mysticism derives its main
ciples a posteriori, depending as it does on experiences rather
than on speculation. However strong the motives for this
separation may have been, the direct consequences have not
1

See, for example, the Conclusions of the Carmelite Congress, Madrid, 1928.

1

DAVID L. GREENSTOCK

been altogether happy, because one direct result of it has been
that the true dogmatic aspect of Christian perfection has been
widely ignored. The very word " perfection " has come to be
applied almost exclusively to the higher mystical states, while
some authors have even gone to the extent of denying the
application of it to the essential elements of the spiritual life,
such as sanctifying grace, and its accompanying virtues and
Gifts of the Holy Ghost. 2
It has long been the opinion of the present writer that such
an attitude is by no means the traditional one in the Church,
and that this famous controversy may find an amicable solution,
which will be conciliatory to both opinions, in the traditional
doctrine as presented by St. Thomas Aquinas. A study of
Aquinas' teaching confirms this view. In the first place, his
description and analysis of perfection show quite clearly that
the possession of sanctifying grace, with its accompanying
virtues and gifts, implies not merely a perfection, but the
essential perfection of the Christian life. Also, the controversy
which we have mentioned takes on a new aspect when it is
viewed in the light of two distinctions which occur frequently
in the writings of the Angelic Doctor. The spiritual life can be
considered in two ways, i. e., either as it is in itself, or as it
exists in the individual. H we consider that life as it is in itself,
or in the abstract as it were, then it is undoubtedly a unity,
since it is not subject to the laws of divine. providence or
predestination, but merely to the ontological laws of its own
essence. In this sense we can not speak of two or more distinct
" ways " of· perfection, one ordinary and the other extraordinary, since every single development or manifestation of
grace is contained in the ontological essence of that great gift,
just as a tree is contained in its seed.
However, when we come to consider this spiritual life of
grace not as· it is in itself or in the abstract, but :rather as it
is found in the concrete and in the individual soul possessing it,
2 C{. A. Farges,
The 0Tdinary Ways of the Spiritual Life, pp. 44-45 (London:
Burns and Oates, 1927).

STo THOMAS

AND CHRISTIAN

PERFECTION

then a very different picture presents itself to our view, and
we have now to apply another distinction used by Aquinas,
namely, that between what is essential to that life, and that
which is accidental to ito On applying this distinction we find
in all individual souls one element which is common to all who
possess this life of grace, and also another element which is
undoubtedly particular to the individual in questiono On considering this particular element, we find that in this sense the
spiritual life is in no sense a unity, since there are many ways
by which God leads individual souls to their own particular
degree of perfection according to His divine wisdom and His
providenceo
As will be clear from this brief summary, the solution to
the problem which is proposed in this article rests on two
things: (a) the notion of perfection as proposed by Aquinas,
and (b) the two distinctions mentioned above between the
spiritual life considered in itself and in the individual, and also
between what is essential and what is accidental in that life,
both of which distinctions are also part of Sto Thomas' teachingo
We shall examine the two foundations of this solution very
brieflyo
Three basic elements go to form the complete notion of perfection, according to the Angelic Doctor. Directly and primarily a thing is said to be perfect if its essence or nature is
complete and well-formed. 3 Thus, e. go, anyone who possesses
the nature of man is in this sense a "perfect mano" However,
the concept of perfection is applied not merely to the essence
but also to the operation or operations by means of which the
end or purpose of the essence is attainedo 4 Consequently the
second element in the notion of perfection is that of the specific
operation, and the third is that of the end or purpose for
which that essence or nature is destinedo 5 Thus a thing is said
to be perfect if it attains or, at least, is capable of attaining the
end for which it was madeo
Cf. In IV Metaphy. 16, and In V Metaphy. 18.
III Cont. Gent., 64; Summa Theol., I, q. 73, a. I.
"Cf. ibid., II-II, q. 55, a. l; I, q. 103, a. l; III, q. 27, a. 5, ad 2um.

3

4 Cf.

4

DAVID L. GREENSTOCK

Now it will be obvious at one glance that there is a very
intimate relationship between these three elements of the basic
notion of perfection; and also that, of the three, the most
important is the notion of the end or purpose for which a thing
is made. That is why St. Thomas insists so often that " the
perfection of a thing is to be judged principally from its end," 6
because both the operation and the nature receive their specification from the end or purpose for which they were created.
Needless to say, God is the only Being who has absolute
perfection, while the perfection of creatures is relative, being a
degree of participation in that absolute perfection of God. Thus
it is that God, in the production of His creatures, can have only
one end in view, namely the manifestation of His own infinite
perfection. It also follows that, from all eternity, God decreed
the exact limits of each individual creature's perfection to fit
in with the plan of divine wisdom/ and that He then gave to
each of these creatures a nature and operation capable of attaining that end. This is true both in the natural order and in
the supernatural order. From the beginning God raised his
intellectual creatures to the supernatural order, thus giving
them a new supernatural end or purpose, the Beatific Vision,
which it was impossible for their purely natural powers to attain.
Consequently, He also gave them a new supernatural nature,
with supernatural powers, so that, by means of this nature
and its operations through the infused virtues and the Gifts of
the Holy Ghost, the rational creature can attain to its final
end, the Beatific Vision. This new supernatural nature we call
sanctifying grace, and its powers are the infused virtues together with the Gifts of the Holy Spirit.
It would take us far too long to discuss in full the many
effects of sanctifying grace, but one or two observations are
necessary for the complete development of the solution which
we have proposed. In the first place, sanctifying grace, being
8 Ibid., II-II, q. 55, a. 1; cf., J. M. Ramirez, 0. P. De Hominis Beatitudine, Vol.
I., p. 158-159 (Salamanca, 1946).
• Cf. In I Perik., 14; Ill Cont. Gent., 1.

ST. THOMAS

AND CHRISTIAN

PERFECTION

5

a participation of the divine nature, elevates the whole of man
to the divine order of things. 8 It is ,as it were, a consecration
of the whole of man's being to God, with the consequent effects
of adopted sonship and a new presence of the Blessed Trinity
in the soul which is rightly called the Presence of Inhabitation.
This new presence is, as St. Thomas tells us, a possession of
the Blessed Trinity "as the object known in the knower and
the beloved in the lover (sicut cognitum in cognoscente, et
amatum in amante) ," 9 which means that God becomes in a
very special way the object of our knowledge and love, and that
in this way our ultimate end in heaven is possessed in some
fashion even in this life. Indeed, Pope Leo XIII writes: " This
wonderful union, which is properly called indwelling, differs
only in degree or state from that with which
beatifies the
saints in heaven." 10
Now, it should be noted that this complete orientation of
the whole of man's being towards God, his supernatural end, is
the direct effect of sanctifying grace, even if possessed in its
minimum degree. Consequently it is not surprising
St.
Thomas should state that " the grace of one individual soul is
worth more than the natural good of the whole universe." 11
Thus grace is truly described by the same Angelic Doctor as
the " seed of glory " already sown in our souls in this life.12
Thus it is easy to appreciate the truly great perfection of a soul
in a state of grace, and this doctrine which we have just
explained should prepare us for the distinction which St.
Thomas makes between what is essential to man's spiritual
life on this earth and what is accidentaL
However, before we can go on to develop that distinction
one further point has to be noted, a point which we have
already mentioned, namely, that ttll these wonderful effects are
"11 Sent., d. XXVI, q. l. a. 3; Ill Cont. Gent., 150; Summa Theol., q. no, a.£,
ad lum.

"Ibid., I. q. 43, a. 3.
Divinum illud munus, May, 1897.
Summa Theol., q. lUI, a. 9, ad flum.
12 In Joann., iii. 36; vi, 40-47.
10

11

6

DAVID L. GREENSTOCK

produced by sanctifying grace even in its minimum degree. St.
Thomas is very definite on this point. 13 The reason is clear to
see and is at the same time very profound. It is because the
least degree of sanctifying grace is sufficient to direct man
entirely towards his supernatural end in heaven and to merit
that
Here we have a clear example of an application of St. Thomas' general doctrine concerning the intimate
relationship between the end in view and the means to that end,
a doctrine which we have already explained. For this reason
alone, if for no other, it should be quite obvious that, if we
consider this spiritual life of grace in the abstract, then any
development of that grace, no matter how wonderful or extraordinary from our point of view, is still only a development of
this " seed of glory " planted in us. In this sense the spiritual
life is and always will be a unity, because, as St. Thomas puts
it, "the first effect of habitual grace is the remission of sins:
but it has other effects, since it is sufficient of itself to promote
man through all the grades of grace even to eternal life itself." 14
That is exactly what is meant by the essential unity of the
spiritual life; yet, as we shall see, it has to be understood of
grace considered in the abstract, i. e., as it is in its nature and
under the ontological aspect, as it were, and not of grace as it
is in the individual.
In order to make this quite clear, we must devote some
space to a very brief discussion of the distinction between
essential and accidental perfection, as taught by Aquinas. In
general, we may say that St. Thomas divides Christian perfection under three main headings, insofar as he says that there
are three classes of things which pertain to man's spiritual life
on this earth. Some of these things pertain to that life in such
a way that without them there can be no life at all, nor can
man reach the Beatific Vision without them. Consequently,
they are, in the true sense of the word, essential, pertaining as
they do to the very essence of all perfection. This is nothing
18
14

C£. Summa Theol., ill, q.
a. 6.
lbid., I-II, q. 112, a. 4; III, q. 72, a. 7, ad lum.

ST. THOMAS AND CHRISTIAN

PERFECTION

7

more than a direct application of the first element in the
general notion of perfection as we have already explained it.
There are other things, however, which do not constitute the
essence of perfection, since they are added to it once it is there
in the soul, and consequently they are truly called " accidental "
to perfection: Lastly, there are certain other elements of the
spiritual life which, although added to that life once it is possessed, are not merely accidental. They are more than that
because they constitute definite and proven means by which
the soul can acquire an increase in its accidental perfection,
and so they are rightly called by St. Thomas "instrumental
perfection." 15
The Angelic Doctor himself outlines for us the various
elements which go to make up the essential perfection of the
spiritual
Of these elements sanctifying grace is the foundon which the whole of that perfection is built, this sanctifying grace which, since it is not itself immediately operative,
needs the infused virtues and the Gifts of the Holy Spirit as
proximate principles of those supernatural operations which
can alone earn heaven for man by way of merit. The formal
element in this essential perfection is the virtue of charity, both
in habit and in act, since it alone directs all the other virtues
to their supernatural end. This infused virtue of charity unites
us with God, our final end, even in this life, since it leaps over
all the bounds imposed by the obscurity of faith and attains to
God as He is in Himsel£.16 Thus it is that the formal perfection
of our spiritual life depends principally on charity and secoqdarily on the other infused virtues, inasmuch as they are the
means by which we can remove the impediments which stand
between us and God/ 7 and thus increase our love for Him.
Once more it must be stressed that this perfect union between
the soul and God its Creator and final end is achieved by the
minimum degree of grace and charity. We are all bound under
1 " Cf. Ibid., IT-IT, q. 184, a. 2; a. 8, ad Sum; q. 186, a. 2; III Cont. Gent., 130;
In Phil., iii, 1.
10 Summa Theol., I-IT, q. 66, a. 6; q. 27, a. 2, ad 2um.
11 De Charitate, a. XI, ad 5um.

8

DAVID L. GREENSTOCK

strict precept to love God above all things, and this perfection
of love is possible to. all who are in a ·state of grace. Thus
charity is, in very truth, the " bond of perfection." 18 In this
sense, as was pointed out at the beginning of this article, there
is in all individual souls who are in a state of grace a common
element which is rightly called essential perfection, since it is
absolutely necessary in ordel\ to attain our final end, and since
it and it alone directs the whole of man, even in this life,
towards that end. This it does perfectly, insofar as all who
possess it necessarily love God above all things, and thus fulfil
perfectly the precept of perfection. Without it the attaining of
the Beatific Vision is impossible, as is our earthly union with
that end which we call the Presence of Inhabitation. This essential perfection alone is absolutely necessary for salvation, and
it is for that reason that St. Thomas calls it " essential."
When we come to consider what St. Thomas calls accidental
perfection, the position is very different. His. description of
this element of perfection can be summed up 1n one passage
from his writings. He says: "We can adhere to God in this
fold. way. One is necessary to salvation, to which
life in a
all are bound, namely that man should not set his heart on anyall his life
thing contrary to God, but should habitually
to him. This way is expressed in those words of St. Matthew,
' thou shalt love the Lord thy God etc. . . .' The other is of
supererogation, when someone .adheres to God over and above
the common state, which is done by removing the affections
from temporal things, that thus the heart may approach closer
to heaven, because, as earthly desires decrease so charity
increases.'' 19
By accidental perfection, then,· we understand the numerous
grades of grace and charity possible to the individual soul; and,
although St. Thomas admits that these grades are many, he,
like other theologians, divides them into three main classes,
that of the beginners in the spiritual life, that of the proficient
and, lastly, that of the perfect. 20 Since the Angelic Doctor's
18

19

In Ooloas., iii, 14.
In 11 Philipp., iii, 1.

•• Summa Theol., II-II, q. 24, a. 9; q. 188, a. 4.

ST. THOMAS AND CHRISTIAN

PERFECTION

9

teaching on the nature and the causes of this accidental perfection is necessary for a correct understanding of the solution
we have proposed, it is worth while developing it here.
He begins by saying that the real reason for the difference
in the grades of grace and charity lies in an analogy between
the natural and the supernatural orders. Just as, in the natural
order, there is a multitude of different forms and grades of
perfection according to the different degrees of participation in
the perfection of God the Creator, so in the supernatural order
of grace there are many degrees and grades of perfection " in
order that, from these different grades the beauty and perfection of the Church may shine forth." 21 The analogy in this
doctrine is clear enough. He then sets forth the .same doctrine
under a different aspect, in the form of a principle which Fr.
Garrigou-Lagrange has aptly called the principle of predilection: " it is therefore 'necessary that a thing should possess
being or indeed any good, insofar as it is willed by God." 22
And in another passage from his works he states the same thing
in a slightly different form: "since the love of God is the cause
of goodness in creatures, one would not be better than another
were it not for the fact that God wills greater good for one
than for another." 28 As a direct consequence of these principles
we find his teaching with regard to divine providence, in the
course of which he proves that everything, great or small, falls
under the care of that providC:mce.24 He follows this up by his
doctrine on predestination, which for him includes all the
different elements and circumstances of man's life, whether
natural or supernatural. 25
All these great doctrines form, as it were, the background
to St. Thomas' teaching about the nature and causes of the
different grades of accidental perfection. It is when he comes
01 Ibid., I-ll, q. IU, a. 4 ..
•• Ibid., I, q. !!0, a. !!.
•• Ibid., q. !!0, a. 8.
•• Ibid., q. !!!!, aa. 1-4; De Verit., q. 5, a. 8.
""Cf., Garrigou-Lagrange, 0. P. De Deo Uno (p. 580), for a complete scheme of
this idea of predestination.

10

DAVID L. GREENSTOCK

to apply this general doctrine to the question of the fullness of
grace given to Christ, the Blessed Virgin, and the other Saints
that he reveals quite clearly his mind on this subject of
accidental perfection. Here he repeats time and time again that
the grade of grace and of charity depends in the first instance,
and above all, on the divine will.26 He speaks of the "limits
fixed by God," of the "divine ordination to a higher or lower
state of life"; then he concludes: "the first cause of this
diversity [of graces] is to be found on the part of God, who dispenses his gifts of grace in a different way to each, in order
that, from these different grades, the beauty and the perfection
of the Church may shine forth." 27 Nor does St. Thomas leave
it at that, because he goes on to give us the true metaphysical
basis for this efficacy of the divine causality, 28 and also to
show how it depends too on the merits and the grace of Christ,
who is the Head of the Mystical Body. Thus he says: " There
is not one of us who is not made a partaker of the divine graces
. . . but this grace is not given to all in a uniform way nor
equally, but according to the measure of Christ's gift, i.e., insofar as Christ is the giver and has measured it out to each
individual . . . this difference is not from chance or blind fate
nor from our own merits, but from the gift of Christ, i. e.,
according as Christ has measured it out to us." 29
It will be very obvious that this conclusion is no more than
a particular application of Aquinas' general doctrine with
regard to the divine causality. God's intention in the whole
of creation is to manifest His own glory and infinite perfection
by means of creatures. This means that, since the infinite
perfection of God can not be adequately manifested in one or
a few individuals, He attains that end by the diversity of
perfection of those creatures both in the natural and the supernatural orders. 00
cr., Summa Theol., m, q. 7, a. 10.
Ibid., I-II, q. 112, a. 4.
•• Ibid., ill, q. 7, a. 12.
•• In Ephes., iv, 4; cf. In Rom., xxi.
•• C£. St. :Francis of Sales, The Love of God, Bk. 10. Ch. 6.

BO

21

STo THOMAS AND CHRISTIAN

PERFECTION

11

This perfection of the divine causality in no way implies a
loss of man's freedom, and so, under the guiding hand of God,
he must play his part to the full in the increase of his own
accidental perlectiono He must learn to cooperate with those
graces which he receives from God, thus removing obstacles to
the future workings of that grace. Above all, he must be fully
prepared to make any sacrifice which God may ask of him in
order to reach the full heights of grace and charity if that
should be the divine will for himo
Thus, in this distinction between essential and accidental
perfection we can find a solution which will bring the two
conflicting opinions with regard to the unity or diversity of the
spiritual life into harmonious concord. If we consider the power
of grace in the abstract, in its nature, so to speak, and apart
from the circumstances in which it is found in individuals, then
that spiritual life is essentially a unity, because the least degree
of grace not only unites us perfectly even in this life with God,
our supernatural end, but is also capable of developing through
all the different grades of the spiritual life from the lowest up
to the highest, even to the beatific vision itselt
If, however, we think of that grace as it is in the individual
soul then once more we must distinguish between the element
which is common to all namely grace with its accompanying
infused virtues and gifts, and the accidental grade of that grace
and charity, which is particular to each and every individual.
This grade of grace will depend on the will of God with regard
to the individual, and in this sense we can not speak of the
spiritual life with truth as a unity, first of all, because, by means
of its very diversity in the individuals who possess it, the
infinity of the divine perfection is manifested in a splendid
manner and, secondly, because the will of God is the true
factor which determines both the manner of grace and its grade
where the individual is concerned. Hence we can truly say that
there are as many grades as there are individuals, and that, so
far as the " way of perfection " is concerned, God leads some
by one path and some by others according to His wilL

l!t

DAVID L. GREENSTOCK

This solution which we have outlined here has many direct
applications in the spiritual life, and here it might be as well
to mention some of them. First of all, there is the famous
question about the universal call to perfection. Usually authors
deal with this question as if it referred merely to accidental
perfection, whereas once more there is need of the distinctions
we have proposed, because our solution to this question will
vary accordingly as we consider essential or accidental perfection.
If we are considering the call to essential perfection, we have
to keep in mind the doctrine of the Church with regard to the
will of God that all should be saved (with St. Thomas' famous
distinction between the antecedent and the consequent will) ,
as well as the doctrine of divine providence and predestination.
This is quite clearly St. Thomas' position with regard to this
question.
When we come to consider the question in the light of
accidental perfection-and in particular when we consider the
question of the call to infused contemplation-then the solution
proposed in this article has direct application. Thus, in the
abstract, since all are called to sanctifying grace, which is the
means necessary for the Beatific Vision, all are similarly called
to infused contemplation remotely and in the abstract, since
grace contains in itself the power to carry man through all
the grades of the spiritual life up to that very vision itself. In
the concrete, however, since we are now dealing with that grace
as it is in the individual soul and, moreover, with the accidental
grades of it, the call of any individual soul to infused contemplation will.depend on the will of God. He calls to that state
those whom it pleases Him to call, and how and when He
pleases. To propose any other solution to this problem is to
go contrary to the mind and the letter of Aquinas, as we have
seen.
It will be obvious too that the solution we have proposed
also helps to explain what is usually called the " precept of
perfection," 31 because it will be clear that all those who possess
"1

Cf. Matt., vi, 48.

ST. THOMAS AND CHRISTIAN

PERFECTION

18

essential perfection as we have described it in the course of this
article can and do love God above all things, with their whole
hearts, souls, minds, and strength; consequently, they observe
the essence of the precept perfectly.
Nor does this mean that we can neglect or in any way despise
accidental perfection. Such is very far from St. Thomas'
thought. On the contrary, since the precept of the love of God
above all things deals directly with our final end, we should
desire always to fulfil that precept in an ever higher degree,
even though some of those higher degrees are not under our
own immediate control, but are God's gift in accordance with
the dispositions of His divine will. It is for this reason that
St. Thomas insists that, unlike the moral virtues, there is no
" mean " in the action of the theological virtues, because they
have for their direct object God, the Infinite Good. 3 z
we
can never love God as much as He deserves to be loved, no
matter what our grade of grace, charity, and sanctity may be.
For this reason, too, he insists on what we may call the " law of
acceleration " in the spiritual
when he says: " those who
are in a state of grace should increase in that grace ever more
and more according as they approach their final end," and this
increase should proceed at an ever growing .pace, much as a
stone, flung into the air, increases its speed as it nears the
earth which is attracting it by the force of gravity. That is
our obligation, and God's grace will always be with us to enable
us to fulfill it.
The very delicate and debated question of passive purgation
after death also finds an answer in this solution. Some authors
maintain that those souls who have not reached the heights
of accidental perfection in this life, but who have died in the
state of beginners will be obliged to pass through purgatory in
order to acquire the passive purgation and the accidental perfection proper to souls who have passed through that purgation
in this life and have thus reached the stage of those we have
called the perfect.
•• Cf. Summa Theol., II-II, q. 184, a. 3, ad 2um.

14

DAVID L. GREENSTOCK

It is dear that there are really two questions involved here,
one of fact and the other of possibility, and we can attempt
to answer them both in the light of the principles we have
already explained. With regard to the question of fact, i. e.,
whether de facto such souls have to pass through purgatory
simply to acquire that passive purgation which is proper to the
states of the proficient and the perfect, we can answer at once
that at least all such souls do not have to pass through purgatory, since baptised children who die before coming to the use
of reason, and also martyrs for the faith, enter at once into the
Beatific Vision. Also there is no valid reason for stating this
fact of passive purgation after death merely for the purpose we
have mentioned, provided that we are not all bound to reach
the stage of the perfect in this life. As we have seen, these
higher states are a gift from God, and their graces are dispensed
according to His good pleasure. Indeed, the whole doctrine of
purgatory as it is taught by the Church seems to imply that
those who die without sin or the debt of punishment due to sin
on their souls need no further purification before entering
heaven. So much for the question of facL Now, with regard to
the possibility of entering heaven immediately after death, we
have to keep in mind the fact that there are many ways and
means open to us in this life by which sin and the punishment
due to sin may be removed from the souL Once we admit that
this active purification is possible here below, then we are
forced to admit at the same time at least the possibility of
entering heaven immediately after death. This is especially
true in the light of the principles we have already explained in
the course of this article, because, if the grade of accidental
perfection in the individual depends on the will of God, He will
not demand from us a perfection greater than that which He
has willed for us. Thus it would seem that, provided we do
what we can to cooperate faithfully with the graces we receive
from God in this life, and also do what we can to atone for ou:r
sins in this life, using the abundant means He has placed at our
disposal through His Church, it should be possible so to live

STo THOMAS AND CHRISTIAN

15

PERFECTION

that we may enter heaven immediately after death. The contrary teaching seems to demand from us more than' we can
give, which is contrary to God's normal method of acting in
the souls of His creatures.
Our aim in this life, then, should be to live faithfully in
loving service of God, each according to his state and degree
of grace, prepared always to leave all things to follow Christ
if such should be His divine will, desiring to love Him ever
more and more. Thus, star may differ from star in brightness
in heaven, but that very difference will only redound to the
greater glory of God Whose divine will we have fulfilled.
DAVID
C olegio de I ng!eses,
Valladolid, Spain.

L.

T. 0. Po

IDEALISM: THE PRIMACY OF THE GOOD

W

HEN Kant concludes that the nature of mind is
necessarily dialectical in regard to its highest objects, and that therefore it can never make any
assertion about these objects without at the same time being
aware that it may with equal validity make the contradictory
assertion, we may take issue with him for having done what he
says could not be done, viz, for having made a conclusion about
the noumenon. If, however, he would restrict his statement to
saying that the history of mind reveals it taking dialectically
opposed positions, we could go along with him. For, as a matter
of fact, the history of the mind's odyssey does reveal that it
has set out to search identical objectives, but has beached upon
the most diverse shores, confident that there it has found its
goal. In this paper we are interested in attempting to understand why one of the traditional courses pursued by the mind
is what has come to be called " Idealism," and in attempting to
come to some conclusion about the validity of such a course.
In general, all in the tradition agree that the function of
mind is specifically thought. But it is inaccurate merely to say
that thought is the function of mind, for thought presupposes
a factor other than mind. Thought, it is true, is the function of
the mind, but being thought is the function of the object as
intelligible; and since there is never a thinking without a being
thought upon, thought, consisting of these two elements, supposes a thinking subject and ·an object that is thought about.
Thought, therefore, is a bipolar phenomenon, a relation. Like
all relations, the continuance in being of thought depends upo:Q.
the stability or transitoriness of the terms constituting the
relation. But since the kind and act of existence in thought
is formally conditioned by mind, which like all formal principles

16

IDEALISM:

THE PRIMACY OF THE GOOD

17

comes to be fully only by determining an act of existence, an
unstable relation means that the mind does not fully realize
itself, while a stable relation gives the mind the possibility of
existing fully. But if it is the mind that accounts for the formal
perfection of this relation of thought, and if in the existence of
thought mind finds its perfection, we cannot account for the
instability of this relation by attributing it to mind. For that
would mean that the same formal principle was responsible for
both the perfection and lack of perfection of thought. Therefore, limitation in the perfection of thought must be from the
part of the object thought about, since it is the only other
conditioning principle in the existence of thought.
From this we can further deduce that since the mind's
coming to be in thought is
dependent upon something
extrinsic to mind and to the mind's act of existence----viz., the
object-the mind will be related to the object as to a contrary,
as knower to known. There are, however, two possible ways in
which contraries can act upon each other: " (a) the extinction
of one of two contraries by the other, or (b) the maintenance
of what is potential by the agency of what is actual and already
like what is acted upon, with such likeness as is compatible with
one's being actual and the other potentiaL" 1 Now, since we
have already seen that the mind's functioning, which is its
actuality, includes as essential aspects 1itself and the object,
obviously the kind of interaction exercised by the object upon
the mind, as that of one contrary on another, will fall under
type (b).
Therefore, as an essential condition for the mind's full existence, we can posit that an agent-patient relationship must exist
between mind and object, and the object must be actually
what the mind becomes materially, or contentually, in an act
of knowledge. This seems to demand that the object be as
intelligible material prior to its actually being known by the
mind, i. e., before it comes to exist as fully known by the same
act of existence whereby the mind comes to exist as fully know1

Aristotle, De Anima, 417b, 8-5.

2

18

W. A. GERHARD

ing. Moreover, we can further postulate on what we have laid
down before, that the agency of the object of knowledge will
determine the durability of the existence of the relation constituting knowledge, for the less the intelligibility of the object,
the less able is it to serve as an intrinsic element of an enduring
relationship in which the mind reaches its own proper existence,
knowing.
These premisses that we have so far established are agreed
upon in general by what we call Idealists, as well as by other
theorists of knowledge. Divergences, however, begin to arise
when the nature of the agent-patient relation arises. This
relation occurs in what generally is called experience. Again,
none deny that experience is a sine qua non condition for knowledge. But at what level of experience does this relation have
the necessary residuum of intelligibility in the object so that
the relation may truly be said to· be a cognitional experience?
Let us see what the Idealist thinks of experience at the level
of sense. Obviously, the most immediate example of an apparently cognitional experience occurs at the level of the sense.
There we undoubtedly have an agent-patient relationship
existing between the object and the sense, and this relationship
is necessarily bipolar; moreover, the visible or audible object
is actually so when the sense of sight or of hearing is activated.
But, is this a cognitional experience? Remembering what was
said above about the actual existence of a knowing power being
dependent upon the continuance in existence of the relation
between it< and its object, and remembering that we then
that the duration and validity of this relation was
primarily the effect of the object's existence as intelligible, we
must conclude that the relation in the case of sense knowledge
is questionable in its ability to serve as a term for a truly
cognitional relation.
In the first place, the object of sense knowledge is a unique,
contingent, here-and-now being; its intelligibility as a sense
object does not constitute its preter-sensible quiddity. This
means that what it is sensibly in no way. enables us to know
how it is determined in its substantial-existence, for the prin-

IDEALISM:

THE PRIMACY OF THE GOOD

19

ciple of determination of existence at that level-the essenceis necessary, universal, eternal, whereas what we know in the
sense experience has all the marks of time and place, the
matrices of constant change. Hence, the Idealist concludes, the
original cognitional experience can not be said to occur at the
level of the senses, for there the object is found to be affected
by all the predicates of being that are contrary to the kind of
existence proper to and demanded by the mind.
In the second place, the Idealist feels, the infinite dependence
of this relation between sensible object and sense power on
contingent physical factors, and the utter lack of any criterion
of a cognitional nature whereby to judge the conditions requisite for a proper relation between sense and object, must cause
us completely to discard experience at the sense level as the
original cognitional experience. Consequently, the only validity
that can be given to sensation is a practical one. Sense knowledge is, therefore, explained and validated in terms of pleasure
and pain. That is to say, sensation is the means used by a
physical, finite being to orientate itself to a given context
composed of other physical, finite beings. For the sensing subject this context has no significance other than as it tends to
preserve or destroy his physical being, and, therefore, he is
aware of it in terms of pleasure or pain, aversion or desire. The
means of awareness is sensation which serves merely as an
instrument for the arousal of an affective attitude. Hence,
sensation is validated in terms of appetite; cognitionally considered, i.e., in terms of the mind's life, it is worthless. 2
• It is worth noting here that this appeal to an extrinsic factor, usually one to
be classed under some aspect of Good, to validate the cognitional experience,
recurs in Idealism even at the level of the mind.
Descartes gives good expression to the utilitarian concept of sensation: " Principle III: That the perceptions of the senses do not teach us whp,t is really in
things, but merely that whereby· they are useful or hurtful to man's composite
nature. It will be sufficient for us to observe that the perceptions of the senses
are related simply to the intimate union which exists between body and mind,
and that while by their means we are made aware of what in external bodies can
profit or hurt this union, they do not present them to us as they are in themselves unless occasionally and accidentally. For after this observation we shall
without difficulty set aside all the prejudices of the senses and in this regard

flO

W. A. GERHARD

Since the Idealist's analysis has brought him to the point
where he can no longer count sensible being as capable of giVing
rise to a cognitional experience, he can draw further conclusions
about the intelligibility or scientific worth of the totality of
sensible being. This means, in effect, that he will be delivering
ontic judgments on Nature.
Sensible being has traditionally been considered to consist
of the quantitative, qualitative, and relational existence enjoyed
by composite finite being. This means that it is a form of
existence necessarily accruing to composite being because of its
nature. But although the categories in which sensible being
expresses itself are fixed and the same for all-Viz., quantity,
quality, and relation-yet the modes in which any sensible
being will express itself in these categories, are completely
indeterminate. This means that although it is true that all
material things must have extension, the quantity of that
extension is· completely contingent; and the same holds true of
the modes of expression in the other categories.
It follows, therefore, that the composite things actually
existing in Nature, complete with their modal determinations
of the categories of quantity, quality, and relation do not afford
us scientific material. For these modal determinations are
accidents in the fullest sense of the word, by which is meant
that they are accidents in the primary sense of that word:
"'Accident' means (1) that which attaches to something and
can be truly asserted, but neither of necessity nor usually, e. g.
if some one in digging a hole for a plant has found treasure.
This-the finding of treasure-is for the man who dug the hole
an accident; for neither does the one come of necessity from the
other or after the other, nor, if a man plants, does he usually
find treasure." 8 Concurring completely with Aristotle in his
analysis of one possible meaning of " accident," the Idealist
rely upon our understanding alone, by reflecting carefully on the ideas implanted
therein by nature." Descartes, The Principles of Philosophy, Pt. II, Prine. ill,
translated by E. S. Haldane & G. R. T. Ross (Cambridge, at the University Press,
1981), Vol. I, p. !W5.
8 Aristotle, Metaphysics, 1025a, 18-16.

IDEALISM:

THE PRIMACY

OF THE GOOD

goes on to say that since Nature as given to us in experience is
nothing but a totality of composite beings apprehensible immediately by us only in terms of modal determinations of the
universal categories, and that since these modal determinations
are not due to necessary :relations between that which caused
the modal determinations and the
determinations considered as effects of the cause, and that since for scientific
knowledge a necessary causal relation is required of Nature,
considered as a whole of sensible accidents, there can be no
science"
What then happens to the natural sciences which are par
excellence the sciences of Nature considered as sensible or
phenomenal? They cannot entirely be disavowed because the
fact of the matter is that men do occupy themselves about
natural phenomena and attempt to reduce them to some sort
of orderly body of knowledge. But the task considered as. a
task of knowledge is essentially fruitless because it is selfcontradictory" To what stable principle of causality could this
endless flux of modal determinations be reduced? There is
one principle that is stable but it is, as we have seen before,
a non-cognitional criterion" We can validate natural, or empirical, science in terms of human usefulness" This means that
we will validate the life of the mind as knowing sense-phenomena in terms of the Good, and thus will malre meaningful
a study of sense-phenomena. The study of Nature,• therefore,
will become a process whereby we hope that man can come to
control the unpredictability of Nature, the non-human protagonist eternally present in the human drama. By growing
more in the power to predict N atu:re, man will thus render
himself free of the peril to his existence from unforeseen sallies
on Nature's part. What will enable us to control Nature will
constitute natural science, whose truth then becomes completely contingent; for its truth consists in a working hypothesis
enabling us in any given situation to escape the threat of
Nature whose power we will be able to use for our own ends.
It follows, therefore, that truth qua knowledge is not obtainable
nor ultimate in the order of natural science, but it is always

W. A. GERHARD

subordinated to, the ultimate goal of usefulness, which is the
only criterion recognized in judging of the validity of natural
science propositions. 4
Having discarded the possibility of a self-validating science
of Nature considered phenomenally, or sensibly, which is constituted by the modal determinations of the categories of
quantity, quality and relation, the Idealist does not abandon
Nature as a complete cognitional zero. Rather he approaches
it from the angle of the three categories enumerated above.
And here he finds a guarantee in Aristotle that this approach
will net him scientific knowledge. For although quantity,
quality, and relation are accidents, yet they are so in an other
sense than that noted above: " ' Accident' has also (2) another meaning, i.e. all that attaches to each thing in virtue
of itself but is not in its essence, as having its angles equal to
two right angles attaches to the triangle. And accidents of this
sort may be eternal, but no accident of the other sort is." 5
But here the Idealist must effect a reduction. The only
accident that, though not constituting the essence of Nature,
yet is everywhere found with it is quantity-for, after all,
Nature is the totality of bodies. Hence, the science of Nature
will essentially be a science of quantity, the determining principle of body as such. Qualitative aspects will enter into it only
to the extent needed to differentiate one species of quantity
from another. The category of relation will obviously function
as an expression of the relation of one quantity to another.
Nature thus known becomes a science of quantity or extension,
i. e., th.e science of mathematics. In the existence the mind
has in mathematical knowledge it finds for the first time its sure
and firm possibilities for life. For the mind, as a being that can
become, that is not per se complete actuality, finds when dealing with mathematics that it is dealing with the pure conditions
of becoming. }'?or the mathematical object expresses not that
• It is interesting and hopeful to note that this position expressed here in
radical terms, seems to be much less prevalent among contemporary natural
scientists than it was some fifteen or twenty years ago.
5 Aristotle,
Metaphysics,
30-33.

IDEALISM:

THE PRIMACY OF THE GOOD

28

which becomes, but the possibility or condition of becoming
for the mind, because the mathematical object as such can exist
only as known and hence most formally its existence is to be
as a condition of the mind in its becoming as knowing.
In GeometrY, our object is the formality of simultaneity,
whereas in arithmetic our object is the formality of priority and
posteriority. Both of these attributes are requisite as conditions
for the existence of quantity. Hence, if we can not explain both
simultaneity, and priority, and posteriority, we cannot give a
scientific explanation of
Quantity demands this
double explanation because of the specifically different modes
in which it can be: continuous or discrete. Yet these two
modes of quantity have a necessary relationship to each other.
For since quantity to be such must be able to exist under both
modes, each must furnish the conditions for existence of the
other. Therefore, insofar as we consider quantity as continuous
we must explain the conditions and nature of simultaneity, and
that is the function of the geometer. For continuous quantity
is after all the simultaneous existence of designatable quantative parts, any one of which may, by being actuallyodesignated,
become in its turn an actually existing continuous quantity.
Hence, there can be no limitation put upon the possibility of
ever more simultaneously existing continuous quantities.
But the problem of the condition of the designation of parts
is not the function of the geometer, for in designating a part
we are concerned not. with the possibility of simultaneity but
rath_er with the problem of exclusion. Hence, this problem of
designation of parts is handled by the arithmetician who, in
expressing the formality of designation, causes the possibility
of simultaneity to be. For how could simultaneity be if there
were no possibility for a manifold to be? Therefore, while the
geometer expresses the conditions admitting of simultaneity,
simultaneity could not be actual until the
had
designated for us the manifold. Thus the arithmetician's designation of parts which are related to each other as before and
after, by the use of a number series, brings into actuality a
simultaneously existing manifold.

W. A. GERHARD

Since, then, the mind is a becoming knowing power, and
since the objects of mathematics, although themselves not able
to become, yet exist as such only when determining as conditions this becoming knowing power, this union of the mind
and mathematical objects affords full existence for the mind.
For it is a knowledge that combines a power capable of endless
becoming with eternally stable conditions of becoming. HErnce,
given the unvarying and limitless conditions or
of
becoming (the mathematical objects) the mind can endlessly
come to know within these conditions. For if the mathematical
objects as such exist only as the conditions of the mind's coming
to be in their regard, for them to put an intrinsic barrier to
the mind's knowing with them as its objects, would mean that
these objects, whose existence as such comes only from being
known, would limit their own existence, thus serving by reason
of their nature as the principle of their own existence and nonexistence. But this is obviously absurd. Moreover, we can
not find in this relationship anything that will militate against
the mind's coming to know with absolute certainty, i ..e., against
the mind coming to exist fully within this conditioned context.
For here we have only two. factors involved: the stable conditions or possibilities of the mind's becoming, and1 the mind
itself which becomes in knowing these conditions. But in
becoming the mind is merely becoming itself, i. e., becoming
knowing actually, and its becoming is conditioned only by
objects which, as we have seen, are as such only when serving
as conditions of the mind's existence, which means they are as
such only when the mind is in knowing. Therefore, the becoming of this relation between mind and mathematical objects
necessarily is a coming of the mind into its full existence.
Hence, in mathematics the Idealist finds an existence that is
most proper to the mind and, consequently, it can properly be
called knowledge.
We have seen that Idealism splits Nature into two distinct cognitional departments. One of these it assigns to the
natural sciences, the empirical disciplines, and validates these
" sciences " by reason of a criterion of usefulness. This depart-

IDEALISM:

THE PRIMACY OF THE GOOD

25

ment is concerned with the qualitative aspect of Nature, and
about it the Idealist reasons thus. If, they say, there are
qualitative distinctions between bodies, it is highly problematic
whether such exist formally in the bodies, or whether they are
not merely there in subjectively imposed form. And even if
they are there, since they do not per ae appear from an analysis
of body, they can not, therefore, help us to know anything
about Nature which consists of bodies. However, these qualitative aspects of Nature will enable us to handle Nature better
if we have some knowledge of them, and, therefore, such knowledge is valid insofar as it enables us to be able to predict about
Nature with ever greater possibilities of. certainty as to the
outcome of any given situation. ·
The other cognitional department into which. Nature falls
is afforded by that which is a property of body, viz., quantity.
And this is truly the science of Nature for the Idealist. For here
we can know with certainty how Nature is-insofar· as it is
quantitative. For quantity as such to be, nothing more is
needed than to have through a ·consideration of the nature of
quantity a knowledge of the conditions and possibilities for the
existence of quantity. Knowing these possibilities, the mind
can then set to work to give them being as being known, and in
this giving being to them, it simultaneously comes to be in the
same act of existence. The conditions ·of quantity are eternal
and immutable, their existence as such occurs only together
with that of the mind as knowing, hence, there is no possibility
for the mind failing to exist fulJy when such a being is its object.
However, although the Idealist has thus split Nature into
two irreconcilable parts, he has at least in this phase of investigation encountered a true cognitional experience. For in encountering quantity he has met with the necessary conditions
for the mind's existence as a knowing power. Here in Nature
considered as mathematical there is no need to validate the
mind's function in terms of anything other than this very
function. Yet this original cognitional experience has occurred
not at the level of Nature considered as the realm of the

W. A. GERHARD

sensible or movable, but rather at the level of Nature considered
as mathematical, i. e., considered as a form of existence that
does not admit of any change nor of any existence as such,
except insofar as it· exists in knowledge. Moreover, since
quantity, as we have noted before, is an accident of Nature in
the sense of a property, there is still the question of that of
which it is a property. That of which quantity is a property
serves as the foundation of change, and as the foundation of
Nature as it exists independently of the mind, and this foundation is matter.
Matter is the object of faith for the Idealist, for he can not
comprehend as a scientific object an object whose whole being
consists in becoming. Hence, to handle this substratum of
Nature he will have recourse to various extra-natural principles
to validate its existence. Thus Plato considers it as a principle
of non-being which, together with a principle of being serves to
constitute objects proper to opinion. Since it is a principle of
non-being its cognoscibility must consist in something other
than its tendency to be, for it cannot become in the sense of
becoming being, since it is non-being. Hence, its becoming will
be in terms of some principle other than being, and that principle will be the Good. But as a principle of becoming it can
never fully become good, for that would mean that it would
cease to be. Hence, the Platonic principle of matter is eternally
relegated to the sphere of endless becoming in regard to the
Good, and thus, since it never can become good, it can never
be, and thus can never be knowable. It is then the constant
principle of unintelligibility, the enemy or contradictory of
Form. 6
For Descartes matter is extension, and thus he evades the
problem of what is the substratum of extended being/ For
Kant matter " is nothing but a mere form, or a certain mode
of representing an unknown object by that intuition which we
call the external sense. There may, therefore, well be something
8

T

Cf. Plato, Republic, V, passim.
Descartes, Principles, Bk. II, Prine. I.

IDEALISM:

THE PRIMACY

OF THE GOOD

27

outside l.lS to which the phenomenon which we call matter
corresponds; though in its quality of phenomenon it cannot be
cmtside us, but merely as a thought within us, although that
thought represents it through the external sense as existing
outside us. Matter, therefore, does not signify a class of substances totally heterogeneous and different from the object of
. the internal sense (the soul) ' but only the different nature of
the phenomenal appearance of objects (in themselves unknown
to us), the representations of which we call external, as compared with those which we assign to the internal sense,
although, like other thoughts, those external representations
also belong to the thinking subject only." 8 Hence, this original
cognitional experience in which the Idealist finds the necessary
cognitional residuum for the mind's existence to come to be
fully, is found not in Nature considered as the realm of the
movable, but in Nature considered as quantitative or mathematical, a Nature in which the principle of becoming is not a
perfection of its being, but rather is a phantom intruder, an
imperfection to be done away with by a process of mathematical abstraction.
But although mathematical knowledge is the original cognitional experience of the mind, the Idealist is aware that it is
original only in point of time or generation of knowledge, and
that it is not original in point of ultimate validation. For let
us grant that in mathematical knowledge there is nothing but
the pure work of the mind, and that the mathematical object as
such is only when the mind knows it, which certainly seems to
remove all possibility of error, for how could error come to be
unless the mind brought it to be. But this is contradictory,
for it would mean that the mind in coming to be had ordained
must
its own non-being. Yet that is the very problem
be faced. For the mind is not at rest in mathematical knowledge. Since, although the mind can be certain that the mathematical being as such is when it is known because its existence
8 Kant,
Critique of Pure Reason, translated
p.
MacMillan and Co.,

by Max Muller

(New York,

W. A. GERHARD

as such depends upon being known, and therefore the mind and
the mathematical being are by the same act of existence in
knowledge, yet how can the mind validate its own existence in
knowing? For it has not as yet validated its own existence as
such in knowing; It can not appeal to mathematical knowledge
as the ultimate validation of its ability to be as knowing
because mathematical objects are, after all, dependent in their
being upon being known; hence, their act of existence is identical with that of mind. The mind must, then, find some criterion
that conditions and insures its own existence, that does not
depend upon it for its existence, and that does not come to be
to be.
only when the mind's existence
Recognizing this need, Plato put mathematical knowledge in
the first category, in the realm of mind, that designated as
understanding. For he said that men with this knowledge
operated on postulates for which they could not give the
reasons, .and insofar as they could not give reasons for the
original postulates from which they drew their conclusions,
they were not really knowing. They differed from men of
opinion whose first principles could never be validated because
their first principles were becoming, non-being; but insofar as
the mathematicians shared with them in not having validated
their first principles-although these admitted of it-they were
still not to be called men of knowledge. For the mind could not
account for its existence as such when its only existence was
that of mathematical knowledge. Hence, over and beyond the
realm of understanding, came the realm of intellection or
reason, which was reached when the mind apprehended the
hegemony of the idea of the Good. To apprehend the Good was
to know it as the principle accounting for the perfection of all
things, the primary perfection being the existence of the thing.
Hence, when the mind apprehended the Good as being of this
nature and as being the supreme principle of all, it could be
certain that its own existence as knowing was not illusory but
was its most proper existence.
This means in effect that because all things are subordinated

IDEALISM:

THE PRIMACY

OF THE GOOD

29

to the principle of the Good, the mind could be certain that it
knew. For the principle of the Good, in ruling all that is,
ordains that each thing should come to be what it is. And
since the mind is when it knows, the principle of the Good
assures the mind of knowing. Insofar as the mind knows it
can not be sure that it enjoys the existence proper to it, but it
can be certain of this only insofar as it knows that there is an
extra-cognitional principle, the Good, ordering all. Hence, the
ultimate validation for the existence of the mind-for knowlnot to be found within either the object of knowledge
nor in the knower, but in a principle extrinsic to both, in a
principle determining that it is better for a thing to be than not
to be. 9 Thus existence becomes subordinate to Good for things
are not good because they exist, but they exist because it is
good for them. Hence, the existence of the mind as knowing is
validated ultimately in terms of Good, and for it to know why
it exists, which is to know why it knows, which is to know the
cause of its knowledge-and this is scientific knowledge-is to
know that it is good fo:r it to be. And thus for Plato the final
answer to the mind's existence is enveloped within the universal
criterion that it is better for a thing to be than not to be. Not
the object, not the nature of the mind, but the goodness of the
existence of the mind, which results in the relation between
object and mind, must serve as the final conclusion on why the
mind knows. 10
For Descartes, on the other hand, the ultimate validation of
knowledge was God's goodness. In the Discourse Descartes
gives a genetic explanation of how he arrived at the idea of God
as the ultimate validation of the mind's being. He states that
the first clear and distinct idea of which he was aware was
himself as being in the mind's act of doubt. But since he was
aware of himself (whom he now identified with mind) as
being only in an imperfect way, for he. was not as knowing
simply, but as knowing insofar as he doubted, he was faced with
9

Cf. Plato, Timaeus, 29 E-30 B.

1

° Ct Plato, Republic, Bk. VII, passim.

30

W. A. GERHARD

a problem. Insofar as he had a clear and distinct idea of himself
as knowing himself in an act of doubt, he had knowledge, i. e.,
he existed fully as mind. But insofar as the object of the clear
and distinct knowledge was the same as the subject, and insofar
as this object was not per se a knowing but a doubting being,
he had to account for its possibility of passing from an imperfect
existence. Now since he found no COJ}tradiction in conceiving
of a being who would be aware of itself not as a doubting but
as a knowing being, he could then posit a being that was knowing as such, and not merely knowing as doubting. But he could
not account for his knowledge of such a. being by reference to
his own thought, which manifested of itself the imperfection of
doubt. Hence, any idea of a being who always knew itself as
knowing and never as, doubting, must be the result of a being
disti:nct from himself (Descartes) . Therefore, since Descartes
had the idea of such a being, this being must exist independently of Descartes' thought. 11
But although he had thus proved the existence of such a
being, and had thus accounted for his idea of this being, yet
how could he be certain that this being was not deceiving him?
And this question he answers definitively:
For, first of all, I recognise it to be impossible that He should
ever deceive me; for in all fraud and deception some imperfection
is to be found, and although it may appear that the power of
deception is a mark of subtility or power, yet the desire to deceive
without doubt testifies to malice or feebleness, and accordingly can
not be found in God. In the next place I experience in myself a
certain capacity for judging which I have doubtless received from
God, like all the other things that I possess; and as He could not
desire to deceive me, it is clear that He has not given me a faculty
that will lead me to err if I use it aright. 12
In other words, we are back to the principle of Good to explain
the validity of knowledge. Because God has all perfection and,
therefore, is infinitely Good, it would be an imperfection in
Him if there existed as a result of his causality a knowing power
11
12

Descartes, Discourse on Method, Pt. IV.
Descartes, Meditations, IV\ Vol. I, p.

IDEALISM:

THE PRIMACY OF THE GOOD

31

that could never come to be as it should be, viz., as knowing.
Therefore, becau_se God is infinitely good, it is certain that the
mind (which is the same as man) can know/ 8
For Kant the validation of knowledge or of the mind's
existence follows a somewhat different course than that of
either Plato or Descartes. For both of them the existence of the
mind in knowledge was validated by a principle extrinsic to
either the mind or the object, by a principle of Good. Kant,
however, is somewhat different-but I think it is only a surface
difference.
Kant's original cognitional experience is the result of the
reduction to intelligibility by means of the categories of the
understanding of the manifold as given in the farms of space
and time. But the termination of categorical cognitions does
not leave us with anything but a manifold of conceptions and
judgments derived from experience, the possibility of which is
constituted by the forms of sensibility plus the categories of
the understanding. 14 To reduce this manifold of concepts and
judgments of the understanding to the unity necessary for
knowledge, and at the same time to give the opportunity for
synthesis among concepts-which occurs in reasoning, represented formally by the syllogism-we require a set of principles.
For what has been given in the categorical knowledge is always
the conditioned, since it is a determined object, i. e., determined
by the forms of space and time and by the categories of understanding. Insofar as it is thus determined, it is conditioned, and
therefore is not an ultimate in the cognitional order. If we are
to synthesize these cognitions of the conditioned it must be in
terms of something that is not conditioned, and, consequently,
of something that can not be given in experience. If we can not
synthesize these categorical cognitions, science is impossible
for us. But since we can not find the principle of synthesis in
experience-for there we find only the conditioned-the principle must come from beyond experience, still it must come
u Cf. Descartes, Principles, Pt. I. Prine. 13-14.
u Cf. Kant, op. cit., Transcendental Aesthetic, passim.

W. A. GERHARD

from some, cognitional context. Hence, we must be able to find
in the pure reason Ideas that serve to aid the reason in reducing
the categorical cognitions to the form of intelligibility in a
fashio_n analogous to that whereby the categories of the understanding reduce the manifold of intuition to intelligibility.
Thus Kant concludes that:
The transcendental concept of reason is, therefore, nothing but
the concept of the totality of the conditions of anything given as
conditioned. As, therefore, the unconditioned alone renders a
totality of conditions possible, and as, conversely, the totality of
conditions must always be unconditioned, it follows that a pure
concept of reason in general may be explained as a concept of the
unconditioned, so far as it contains a basis for the synthesis of the
conditioned. . . . It is then the absolute totality in the synthesis of
conditions at which the transcendental concept of reason aims, nor
does it rest satisfied 'til it has reached that which is unconditioned
absolutely and in every respect. Pure reason leaves everything to
the understanding, which has primarily to do with the objects of
intuition, or rather their synthesis in imagination. It is only the
absolute totality in the use of the concepts of the understanding,
which reason reserves for itself, while trying to carry the synthetical
unity, which is realised in the category to the absolutely unconditioned. We might, therefore, call the latter the unity of the
phenomena in reason, the former, which is expressed by the category, the unity in the understanding. Hence reason is only concerned with the use of the understanding, not so far as it contains
the basis of possible experience (for the absolute totality of conditions is not a concept that can be used in experience, because no
experience is unconditioned), but in order to impart to it a direction
towards a certain unity of which the understanding knows nothing,
and which is meant to comprehend all acts of the understanding,
with regard to any object, into· an absolute whole. On this account
the objective use of the pure concepts of reason must always be
transcendent: while that of the pure concepts of the understanding
must always be immanent, being by its very nature restricted to
possible experience. By idea I understand the necessary concept
of reason, to which the senses can supply no corresponding object.
The concepts of reason, therefore, of which we have been speaking
are transcendental ideas. They are concepts of pure reason, so far
as they regard all empirical knowledge as determined by an absolute
totality of conditions. They are not mere fancies, but supplied to us
by the very nature of reason, and referring by necessity to the

IDEALISM:

THE PRIMACY OF THE GOOD

33

whole use of the understanding. They are, lastly, transcendent as
overstepping the limits of all experience which can never supply an
object adequate to the transcendental idea .. If we speak of an idea,
we say a great deal with respect to the object (as the object of the
pure understanding) but every little with respect to the subject,
that is, with respect to its reality under empirical conditions, because an idea, being the concept of a maximum, can never be
adequately given in concreto. . . . Although we must say that all
transcendental concepts of reason are ideas only, they are not therefore to be considered as superfluous and useless. For although we
can not by them determine any object, they may nevertheless, even
unobserved, supply the understanding with a canon or rule of its
extended and consistent use, by which, though no object can be
better known than it is according to its concepts, yet the understanding may be better guided onwards in its know.ledge.... 15
Now it is possible to reduce all possibilities of conditions to
three unconditioned synthetical unities: (1) the unity of the
thinking subject, (2) the unity of the series of conditions of
phenomena? (3) the unity of all objects of thought in general.
And we may designate these three ideas of pure reason as the
soul, the world, and God. All phenomena are related to these
three absolutes, and therefore in its reduction of the cognitions
of the categories to unity the reason will always be operating
under the hegemony of these three ideas. Now, do these three
ideas that
requisite for the synthesis by the reason of our
categorical knowledge, i.e., for our growth in knowledge,.have
any cognitional content themselves? That is to say, are they
properly objects of knowledge, are they constitutive principles
of reality, or are they only regulative principles, representing
the unobtainable maximum of knowledge. And Kant concludes:
It makes a great difference whether something is represented to
our reason as an object absolutely, or merely as an object in the
idea. In the former case my concepts are meant to determine the
object, in the latter there is only a schema to which no object, not
even a hypothetical one, corresponds directly, but which only
serves to represent to ourselves indirectly other objects through
their relation to that idea, and according to their systematical
15

Kant, op. cit., Transcendental Dialectic, pp.

3

passim.

34

W. A. GERHARD

unity. Thus I say that the concept of a highest intelligence is a
mere idea, that is, that its objective reality is not to consist in its
referring directly to any object (for in that sense we should not be
able to justify its objective validity) ; but that it is only a schema,
arranged according to the conditions of the highest unity of reason,
of the concept of a thing in general, serving only to obtain the
greatest systematical unity in the empirical use of our reason, by
helping us, as it were, to deduce the object of experience from the
imagined object of that idea as its ground or cause. Thus we are
led to say, for instance, that the things of the world must be
considered as if they owed their existence to some supreme intelligence; and the idea is thus a heuristic only, not an ostensive
concept, showing us not how an object is really constituted, but
how we, under the guidance of that concept, should look for the
constitution and connection of the objects of experience in general.
If, then, it can be shown that the three transcendental ideas (the
psychological, cosmological, and theological), although they can
not be used directly to determine any object corresponding to them,
yet as rules of the empirical use of reason will lead, under the presupposition of such an object in the idea, to a systematical unity,
and to an extension of our empirical knowledge, without ever
running counter to this knowledge, it becomes a necessary maxim
of reason to act in accordance with such ideas. And this is really
the transcendental deduction of all ideas of speculative reason,
considered not as constitutive p'"inciples for extending our knowledge to more objects than can be given by experience, but ·as
regulative principles for the systematical unity of the manifold of
empirical knowledge in general, which knowledge, wit'hin its own
limits, can thus be better arranged and improved than it would be
possible without such ideas, and by the mere use of ·the principles
of the understanding. . . . They should not therefore be admitted
as real in themselves, but their reality should only be considered as
the reality of a schema of a regulative principle for the systematical
unity of all natural knowledge. Hence they
to be admitted as
analoga only of real things, and not as real things in themselves.
We remove from the object of an idea the conditions which limit
the concepts of our understanding, and which ·alone enable us to
have a definite concept of anything; and then we represent to
ourselves a something of which we know not in the least what it is
by itself, but which, nevertheless, we represent to ourselves in a
relation to the whole of phenomena, analogous to that relation
which phenomena have among themselves. If therefore we admit
such ideal beings, we do not really enlarge our knowledge beyond

IDEALISM:

THE PRIMACY

OF THE GOOD

35

the objects of possible experience, but only the empirical unity of
those objects, by means of that systematical unity of which the
idea furnishes us the schema, and which therefore cannot claim to
be a constitutive, but only a regulative principle. For if we admit
a something, or a real being, corresponding to the idea, we do not
intend thereby to enlarge our knowledge of things by means of
transcendental concepts, for such a being is admitted in the idea
only, and not by itself, and onlY. in order to express that systematical unity which is to guide the empirical use of our reason, without stating anything as to what is the ground of that unity or
the internal nature .of such a being on which, as its cause, that
unity depends.16
We have now seen three exponents of what we have called
Idealism .. They all agree insofar as they posit the first cognitional experience at a supra-sensible level: Plato and Descartes
holding that Nature considered as quantitative, and thus giving
rise to Mathematics, is the first proper object that enables the
mind to come to be as knowing, while Kant because of his
transfer of the .principle of cognoscibility to the structure of
the mind itself, encounters the first cognitional experience at
the level of the understanding, where the mind comes to be by
endowing the manifold of intuition with intelligibility, and thus
constituting Nature. 17 In other words, all three reach the
primary cognitional experience when the mind finds objects
which cannot be per se, but can be only as the condition or
possibility of the mind coming to be. For Plato's and Descartes'
mathematical reality do not exist, nor does Kant's Nature
exist, except insofar as the mind comes to be with them as the
conditions for its own coming to be. In other words, they
exist as the pure possibility of the mind coming to be through
an act of knowledge, and their essence is to be by the same act
of existence as that whereby the mind is in knowing. They all
agree also in feeling the need of finding some validation for the
mind's existence as such, for at the level of quantity and
Nature, they have merely posited the conditions for the mind's
first act of existence in point of generation.
16
17

Kant, op. cit., Transcendental Dialectic, pp. 588-548, passim.
Kant, op. cit., Transcendental Analytic, p. 94.

36

W. A. GERHARD

Consequently, they are forced to go beyond this original
level to search for principles to validate the possibilities of the
mind's existence in knowing as such. Although Plato and
Descartes seem to differ from Kant in that the latter validates
the mind's achievement of knowledge in terms of three ultimate
principles called by him Ideas, whereas the other two appeal to
a formal principle of Good, yet Kant's Ideas, as being merely
regulative of the mind and not constitutive of an object, are
reducible to the same function in knowledge as Plato's Good
and Descartes goodness of God. Plato and Descartes validate
the existence of the mind in knowing as such, by a principle of
Good rather than by a principle of knowledge. For they assert
that we can be sure the mind exists as knowing because all is
ruled by a supreme principle of Good that has ordained it is
better for a thing to be than not to be, and the being of the
mind is achieved through knowing. Kant, on the other hand,
has posited as the ultimate validation of the mind's existence
what he calls the Ideas of Pure Reason, which are also of a
non-cognoscible nature because they can
no way be determined by the mind, but are required by it for reaching its
fullness of being in knowing. The Ideas of Self, the World, and
God are not capable of being known, but can serve only in a
:regulative capacity. Yet without this regulation the mind
can not come to be as knowing. Hence, here again we find the
existence of mind validated by an extra-cognitional principle
or principles.
Consequently, we may conclude that it is of the nature of
Idealism that it must make two hypotheses: (1) cognitional
experience can never occur in regard to a formal principle of
such a nature that its being and intelligibility depend upon its
being joined with a pure principle of becoming; and (Q) the
province of knowledge can not be validated in terms of itself,
but must always seek ultimate validation in a non-cognoscible
principle.
Translating this into
terminology, it means that
there can be no formal principles whose being and intelligibility
depend upon an essential relationship to a material, or be-

IDEALISM:

T.HE PRIMACY

OF THE GOOD

87

coming, principle, for, according to Idealism, the formal principle must be related to the material principle as one contradictory-not contrary-to another. And so we are faced with
the fact that since the formal principle is the principle of
determination and definition, it can in no way have any
attribute that is proper to the material principle. This means
that to say a formal principle is of such a nature that it must
be the determining principle of a being that can become, is to
speak a contradiction. Form, the Idealist argues, or the principle of determination, can not be said to be so, that it can
achieve its being and intelligibility only as the determining
principle of a being essentially movable, which is the case if
we maintain that there are principles of intelligibility or determination whose being consists in their being conjoined with a
principle of becoming in the act of existence of a composite
being. For, he says, to state this of form is to reduce it from its
specificity and make it of the same nature as matter. Hence,
for the Idealist the concept of a principle of intelligibility-a
form-whose being and intelligibility consist in a relationship
to a material principle, is contradictory. For this would mean
that the formal principle is only when it is determining the
principle of becoming, and together with it is constituting a
being whose nature has as a necessary and proper attribute the
ability to become, a being which would not be raised from an
inferior to a superior status in regard to itself, if freed of a
principle of becoming, but a being which would cease to be if
it were deprived of the attribute of becoming, of being
and movable. For this is what Aristotle means when he says
that one branch of speculative science is constituted by beings
whose form is of such a nature that it can neither be nor be
understood without reference to matter, i.e., the being of
natural beings can not be nor be understood without including
in their essence and definition a necessary possibility of becoming, a property accruing to them because their specifying
principle-their form-is only when determinwg the principle
of becoming, matter.

38

W. A. GERHARD

Hence, the Idealist rules out as a possibility of affording a
proper object for a cognitional experience, a qualified body,
insofar as it is held that the quality of the body is due to a
principle of intelligibility whose being is to qualify a body. For,
if that were the case, he says, it would mean that already on
the level of sensation we have reached a formal-though intellectually potential-cognitional
experience. But at the level
of sense, he argues, we find only the individual, the changing,
the limited by space and time-aU of which are attributes
contrary to those demanded by an object of knowledge, which
must be eternal, necessary, universaL Moreover, he says, if
sensation were knowledge, then knowledge would no longer be
a univocal term, for how can what the sense "knows " of the
unique and changing be the same generically as that which
mind knows of the universal and unchanging. Nature, thus,
for Plato and Descartes becomes cognitionally valid when
considered under the formality of quantity, for Kant when
considered as an orderly whole whose laws are the result of
the mind. But for none of the three is Nature a composite of a
qualitative principle capable of expressing itself only through
a conjoined becoming and quantitative principle. Hence, for
the Idealist the formality of Nature ceases to be distinguished
internally from the formality of either Mathematics or Metaphysics, for its formality, like that of both of the other two
disciplines, can both be and be understood as such only as
separated from a principle of becoming, from a material
principle.
Thus Nature becomes merely a condition for the mind's
coming to be originally; but since Nature, considered as these
three men consider it, is not until the mind comes to be in
knowing it, and hence both it and the mind come to be simultaneously, they can not find in this object of the mind a
criterion to validate the mind's coming to be as knowing simply.
For since mathematical objects can not be as such unless their
act of existence is given to them by the mind, and since Kant's
Nature has no laws except those that come from the under-

IDEALISM:

THE PRIMACY OF THE GOOD

89

standing's knowing, how can we be sure that, as Descartes says,
the mind is not under the power of some infinite deceiver who
forever deludes us about the existence of the mind as knowing.
In other words, until we arrive at an object that does not come
to be only when the mind comes to be, we can never find a
criterion of verification for the existence of the mind as knowing
being proper to the mind.
Thus in each case they must validate the mind's existence by
a supreme principle whose primary predicate is not " to be."
For the only experience the mind has of the being of an object
that is not itself, is in the act of knowledge, where the object
known exists by the same act of existence as does the mind. It
is true that the object is known as a formal determining principle of something that is non-mind, but the mind can not
experience this form as actually detenp.ining existence in a nonmind context; it can experience it only as an element existing
in its own act of existence. Hence, how can mind be certain
that this formal principle has any existence other than as
known? So also the case would run in regard to a supreme
principle of validation whose primary attribute was " to be."
How could the mind be certain that this principle actually had
an existence apart from that of being known, that it was not
merely an illusory existence concocted by the mind for its own
assuagement? Thus the primary validating principle of the
mind's existence as knowing must be a principle whose most
proper attribute is not "to be," but to order to
ends.
Thus Plato and Descartes have enshrined the Good as the
ultimate validation Qf the mind's existence as knowing; and
Kant has supplied us with. the three regulative Ideas of Pure
Reason, which can never be known, because not knowable; but
which map out the topology of the difficult course to be
followed by the reason in coming to be empirically. These
extra-cognitional Ideas of Kant are not objects of knowledge,
but they serve to direct the reason in its operations of knowing,
and to assure it of coming ·to exist with the existence proper
to it.

40

W. A. GERHA.IID

Thus Idealism which began by rejecting the humble, shifting, malleable reality of the sense world, since it could not find
in this milieu the necessary conditions for the mind's coming
to be as knowing, and which felt the need for a greater certainty
in explaining the possibilities of the existence of the mind,
completes its critique by appealing to a supra-cognitional principle for validation of the mind's existence. But let us generalize, and ask the question: What is the result of an appeal to
an extrinsic principle to validate the being of any order of
reality? Insofar as an extrinsic principle is required, the order
to which it is related extrinsically, must be related to the
principle in some causal fashion. Now causal relation is fourfold, for we can reduce the causes accounting for being to two
internal causes, viz., the formal and material (which has as an
analog on the metaphysical level, potency), and two external
causes, viz., efficient and finaL Insofar as we consider the
internal causal principles, the formal and material (or potential), they are primarily ordered in their causal activities
towards determining how that of which they are the internal
causal principles, will exist. This means that their causal
priority to that of which they are the internal causal principles
is only of an analytic nature,· i. e.; they are prior not as that
which is simply, but as principles according to which that
which is simply, is. Therefore, their causal priority occurs in
the order of essence which is analytically, but not existentially
prior to the existing substance. Hence, when considering composite being, an analysis of the formal and material causes will
give us scientific knowledge of why the object of which they are
internal causes is as it is, but this knowledge always presupposes the existence of these objects, in terms of which
existence the formal and material cause as constituting the
essence have significance. But if this existing substance is of
such a nature-and as being compound it necessarily will bethat it does not exist per se, but has been brought to be, we
will not be able to account for its being simply, by a consideration of the material and formal principles of its essence, since

IDEALISM:

THE PRIMACY OF THE GOOD

41

they merely tell us how it is, once we have posited the possibility or actuality of it existing.
If we are to account for the possibility or actuality of the
existence of the object as such, we must have recourse to one
of the two extrinsic causes, either the efficient or final. These
do not presuppose the existence of the object as such for their
own existence as such, although obviously to be considered as
causes in reference to the object, they imply the existence of
the object as an effect to account for their existence as causes.
Thus the existence of the efficient and final cause, considered
apart from their causality aspect, is in no way necessarily of
the same formality as that of the effect, although it may be.
For there are two ways in which finality of what we call the
final cause may operate: (1) as constitutive of the being of
that for which it is the final cause; and (2) as regulative, but
/not constitutive, of the being of something, thus not constituting the good of the being formally and immediately, but
only analogically and mediately through the agency of its
direction of the thing to its proper status of
(1) As Constitutive: when the final cause is the expression
of the full achievement or perfection of the existence whose
principle is expressed by the formal cause, we then say that
the final cause is constitutive of the being of that of which it is
the final cause. For in this case the final cause realizes its full
and perfect existence in that of the caused being since the final
cause in this sense is the perfection of the caused nature.
Hence, in this case the final cause presupposes the existence of
the caused nature, at least the simple existence of the caused
nature which can have no finalities until it is simply. Th1,1s the
of a
final cause is the expression of the perfection ·of
nature which comes to be originally in astate of unachieved perfection. Obviously, then, in this case the final cause must be
considered as constitutive of the being of which it is the final
cause, for the achieved existence of the being is identical with
that of the existence of the final cause.
the final cause
whose existence is identical with that of the achieved nature can

42

W. A. GERHARD

not be understood to stand outside of the order of being for
which it serves as the finality, thus making the validity and
possibility of this finality dependent upon the validity and possibility of the nature achieving itself. In this case, therefore, the
order of validity and possibility depends primarily upon the
nature whose formality is expressed in the formal cause, for the
validity and possibility of the final cause-the achieved nature
-is derivative from the formal cause. If we recognize this
mode of finality as valid there is no need to seek a principle
extrinsic to the nature for the validity of the existence of this
finality, for its existence is the achieved existence of the nature,
and insofar as this nature is not contradictory its existence is
valid.
(2) As Regulative: this mode of finality of the final cause
differs from the first mode distinguished by us, in that here the
finality is not constitutive of the being of the achieved nature
but expresses itself as a finality in assuring the proper coming
to be of that which it regulates. In this case, therefore, the
achievement of the nature is in no way identical with the
existence of the regulative principle which is presupposed as
formally and existentially distinct from that which is being
regulated. As a regulative principle the formality of its existence must primarily express being proper to being as regulative,
and this is what is conveyed by the denomination of being good.
Now finality can not be absolutely regulative if it must presuppose that which it is to regulate, for if this is the case it
would have to be presupposed that this regulative principle
operated within an order of finalities and agents pursuing these
finalities which the regulative principle had not brought to be.
Hence, it would be a secondary principle of order, causing order
to be in the operation of being that had been constituted as
such by another principle. If, therefore, the regulative principle
of good is distinct from the principle that brings to be agents
oriented to, but not yet possessing, their finalities, we can not
be certain that the order of operation, ruled by the regulative
principle of good, is compatible with the original being of the
agents.

IDEALISM:

THE PRIMACY OF THE GOOD

48

Thus we can not limit the designation of good to only the
principle regulative of the nature coming to be in an achieved
or perfected status, but must extend this designation to that
causality which brings the nature to be simply, for thus we can
be assured that the principle of order will regulate the entire
existential order. In other words, the order of being is valid
because the cause of being is the Good, the transcendental
principle of order.
It was necessary to carry on this analysis of cause, as considered by the Idealist, so that we may better understand his
tenets in regard to the mind. For since the mind is a power of
knowing that does not exist of itself some causal account of
it must be given to account for its coming to be fully. Insofar
as we consider the order of being constituted by knowing, we
find that, presupposing the existence of this order of being, we
can account for the formality of it by reference to the mind.
For since existence is determined must properly by the formal
principle, the formality of the act of existence in knowledge
must be caused by the nature of the mind. Therefore, since to
exist in knowledge is caused by a determination of the mind,
the existence of the object in an act of knowledge accrues to
it by
of the fact that it is joined with mind as the formal
determining agent of this particular type of existence. That the
existence of an object in knowledge is due to the formality of
the mind becomes more apparent when we consider that the
object known by the mind is, most formally, an existential
determinant of something that is non-mind. Hence, the object,
though requisite for an act of knowledge, is never identified
with. the determining principle of the act of existence as it
occurs in knowledge for that would be to collapse the determining formality of mind and non-mind into an identity. Thus
by a consideration of the mind and the object known we have
been able to relate them analogously to the two internal causal
principles of material being, the formal and material causes.
Let us now consider the two extrinsic causal principles. If
to know were the finality of the mind in the sense of finality

44

W. A. GERHARD

explained in the first meaning of finality as set forth in our
prior discussion of the meaning of final cause, the problem of
the Idealist would not exist. For in that case when the mind
would come to be as knowing, it would come to be in and
according to its full and proper formality, and the existence
of knowledge would be identical with the existence of the
mind as achieved and perfected in its nature. And since,
as we said, in this mode of finality there is no need to seek a
principle of validation extrinsic to the achieved being, insofar
its existence as such .would
as the mind would be as
be valid in se. But because the Idealist does not recognize this
mode of finality in regard to the mind, but feels that only
finality in the second sense distinguished by us is valid when
referring to the mind, his peculiar problem arises. He feels
that to say knowledge is valid because it is the nature of the
mind to know, begs the question. Consequently, if· we are to
validate the mind's existence as knowing, we must validate it
not in terms of knowledge but in terms of order or regulation.
Hence, the ultimate principle of validation for the existence
of the mind as knowing, for the existence of knowledge, is not
the nature of the mind, but rather an extra-cognitional factor
of order. Thus the principle validating the being of the· mind
as knowing is formally and existentially distinct from the order
of knowing, for it is a principle of regulation, the good, by
reason of which we can validate knowledge as the full existence
of the mind, because knowledge is the proper existence of the
mind, the good of the mind. Thus knowledge, qr the existence
of the mind as knowing, becomes valid because it is a mode of
the regulatory action whose radical principle is the "Good.
Hence we see that the final validation of the mind's full
achievement of its nature in knowledge is given by the Idealist
in terms of a principle of good, of order, rather than of knowledge, for knowledge is valid only as a mode of order or of good.
Having established that the mind's achievement is due to
principle of Good, we must now consider. what is the nature of
the principle accounting for the coming to be of mind as know-

IDEALISM:

THE PRIMACY OF THE GOOD

45

ing. Obviously,· the Idealist does not accept the validity of
the mind's being qua being, but only qua good. Hence, he feels
that to deny that the principle of efficiency in the order of mind
is a principle of good, is to remove all possibilities of ever
validating the mind's existence as knowing. Therefore, considering the existential causal factors in the ord-er of mind, he
must posit a principle of good to validate both the coming to be
of the mind as knowing, and its achievement of its nature as
knowing. Above we have related the mind and the object to
each other in the act of knowledge as the formal and material
principle, both of which principles, as we saw before in our
discussion of the formal and material causes, presuppose the
act of existence; they do not bestow, but determine the bestowed
act of existence. Therefore, the S:ct of existence received by the
mind and object in knowledge will be the result of some factor
extrinsic to either of them. But, as we saw above, there is no
need for the efficient principle of any order of being to be of the
same nature as the being of that order. Thus, if the act of existence in knowing is given by
factor extrinsic to the mind
and the object, and related to them as the efficient cause, this
cause will be of a non-cognoscible nature, and, therefore, will
be of such a nature that no account can be given of it. For if
we could give all account of this principle. because it has as an
attribute cognoscibility
is primarily to be apprehended
under that modality, it would return us to the problem of
validating the existence of knowledge. Hence, in terms of
knowledge this efficient cause of knowledge can not be adequately grasped. Thus the Idealist must have recourse to the
transcendental concept of a principle of the Good, and attribute
efficient causality in the order of mind to this principle. Forif,
as the Idealist holds, the order of mind or of knowledge, is ever
suspect and ever requires validation, supreme efficient causality
operating under supreme knowledge would not per se be valid,
and hence all existential results of this supreme efficient
causality would be questionable. Supreme efficient causality
can achieve unquestionable existential results only when operating under the absolute existential attribute of Good, i. e.,

46

W. A. GERHARD

under an attribute that can achieve effects in all orders of existence and not merely in the order of mind, which thus is finally
validated because it has been brought to be as an effect of the
efficient causality of the principle of the Good. So, for the
Idealist the ultimate explanation of the being of the mind in
knowing is that it results not from the object nor from the
mind, but from the efficient cause of this order of being, as of
all orders of being, the Good, which as superseding this order
must be called the Unknown Unknowing but causing knowledge.
What in effect has the Idealist done to the order of mind?
Our consideration of the causal factors involved in knowledge
as the Idealist sees it will answer this question. Formally he
has left the order of mind undisturbed, for he recognizes mind
as the proper formal cause of knowledge, as the formal determinant of any and all existence in the order of being known.
He has likewise recognized the material role played by the
object that is known. And so the act of knowledge for him
consists in an act in which a knower and known exist simultaneously, thus sharing a single act of existence, but sharing it
according to contrary modes. Hence, in the order of essence,
in saying what constitutes the act of knowledge, he has worked
no change. It is ill the order of the existence of knowledge that
the Idealist has introduced radical changes. He recognizes the
role of mind, as was said above, only as that of a formal cause,
attributing to it no existential activity whatsoever; the existence of knowledge, though formally determined by mind, is not
existentially caused by mind. If the act of knowledge would be
existentially caused by mind it would mean that knowledge
would be a final cause of mind in the first sense defined in
our discussion of final cause; and being a final cause in this
sense it would be ipso facto the achievement of the nature
of mind, and since the nature of mind does not involve a
contradiction, the achievement of its full existence would not
be contradictory and 'would, therefore, be valid. Thus there
would be no need of any principle extrinsic to mind to validate
its existence as knowing-but this is the original negation that
gives rise to the Idealist's problem.

IDEALISM:

THE PRIMACY

OF THE G90D

47

Since, then, the Idealist does not recognize the mind as a
power of existence, as a determinant not only of the formality
of essence but also of existence, he postulates as existential
determinants factors of a supra-cognitional nature, factors not
concerned with knowledge but with regulation, with order.
Thus the determinants of the existence of knowledge can not
be found within the order of knowledge, for this is an order that
depends for its validity upon being brought to be and upon
being according to a principle of Good. Therefore it is in terms
of the Good that the existence of the act of knowledge is
validated by the Idealist. For the mind comes to be under the
hegemony of an efficient principle of Good and reaches its fullness of being in knowing by reason of the regulative finality of
this same principle of Good. Thus the entire order of existence
of mind-in its coming to be and in its achievement of its
nature-is dependent upon the supra-cognitional principle of
the Good. Hence, for all questions of existence in the order of
mind we must go outside of this order of mind. And thus mind
becomes an attribute proper only to caused beings, for its
existence is not valid in itself but only in terms of a principle of
efficiency designated as the Good. This :reduction of mind, insofar as it is mind, to the order of caused being both in its coming
to be and in its achieved existence, removes from it the most
proper attribute of a living thing, the power of self-actuation.
For, as we have seen, the existential factors of mind for the
Idealist necessarily lie outside of mind. Mind, therefore, as
necessarily a caused mode of being can not be attributed to that
which is uncaused. Hence, the supreme principle of Good cannot be said to be mind, for since mind is necessarily a caused
and, therefore, a limited perfection, to attribute such a perfection to the unlimited principle of Good would be to limit its
perfection. Moreover, the horizon of mind will necessarily be
limited to knowing only other caused beings, for it is contradictory that any being could come to exist in the act of existence
proper to knowledge unless it were of such a nature that it
could and must have a caused existence. Hence, we can no

48

W. A. GERHARD

longer define the mihd as the " form of forms " but only as the
form of caused forms; the realm of mind's operation is no longer
that which is, but only that which is as caused. Thus the unlimited principle of perfection, the Good, must forever be
unknown and unknowable to mind, for that it should be known
by mind would require that it should come to be in the necessarily limited way in which mind is. But this is obviously a
contradiction. Hence, we must admit that anything we know
of the ultimate cause, of the Good, is necessarily fallacious for
it is beyond all possibilities of knowledge.
Thus the Idealist has limited mind to the order of caused
beings, and beyond this order it can never go. Although mind
may ask and answer the why of other caused things, yet when
it approaches the one question to which it is ever drawn-the
knowledge of the possibility and validity of its own existenceit must destroy itself by an act of faith in a supreme noncognoscible Good. For in having to rely for its knowledge of the
uncaused on an act of faith, it de facto admits that its most
prized possession, the science of being qua being, is an impossibility, a contradiction for it. Such a science demands that
mind be able to grasp the uncaused as well as the caused. But
a mind whose efficiency and finality depend upon causal factors
formally distinct, can never achieve such a science. Yet even
such a mind· must validate its existence, and it does so by an
act of faith in a supreme principle of order. This is a perversion
for it is· a utilization of faith to validate and explain
of
not the super-nature but the nature of something. Hence, such
a .validation of the mind is really a destruction of the mind. It
requires the mind to interpose between itself and an object
proper to it, a principle of authority-in the form of the Goodto insure the propriety of what should be a natural relationship.
Hence, in every act of knowledge the mind must make this act
of faith in the regulatory action of the Good before it can make
any statement about its natural object, and this is destruction
for the mind. I say destruction because this act of faith does
not result in the mind moving on after making it to live in a

IDEALISM:

THE PRIMACY OF THE GOOD

49

supernatural fashion, but rather serves as the condition for
the mind to return to its own natural status which, because
lacking self-sustaining principles, is one of eternal fear. An act
. of faith should terminate in an excelling of the natural status,
a rest from natural disquietude, but the termination of the
Idealist's act of faith brings not rest, but only the possibility
of renewed perturbation. This, in short, assures for the mind
the Promethean fate, par excellence.
w. A. GERHARD
Department of Philosophy,
Brooklyn CoUege, New York.

4

ARISTOTELIAN AND 1\iATHEMATICAL. LOGIC

"l X
VV

T is the difference between the traditional Arislogic and the newer, so-.called mathematical
logic? 1 To such a question Jhe mathematical
logicians have a ready answer: the older logic is but a part of
the new, and a part so small as to be really only a" fragment," 2
and a fragment so paltry as to be "entirely insignificant." a
And what then is the value of Aristotelian logic? Really none
at all, unless it be of a certain pedagogical value as a means of
introducing the student to mathematical logic,4 or unless it be
valued purely for its historical interest as a somewhat extraordinary and very long-enduring cultural monument. As such,
it might merit mention, and perhaps even treatment, in a contemporary text-book; 5 but, of course, it should not any longer
be taken very seriously.
And what do
Aristotelian logicians say to all this?
Naturally, they don't like it; and yet the unfortunate thing is
that they have not said much by way of rebuttal. Why not?
Is it because in the nature of the case no rebuttal can be given?
1 This tenn " mathematical logic " is doubtless none too fortunate, simply because,
many other names, signifying exactly the same body of material, have gained
currency along with the name " mathematical logic." Indeed, this body of
material, as Prof. Lewis has remarked (Lewis and Langford, Symbolic Logic, New
York, 1982, p. S), "has not yet acquired any single and well-understood name. It is
called ' mathematical logic ' as often as ' symbolic logic,' and the designations
'exact logic,' 'formal logic,' and logistic are also used. None of these is completely
satisfactory; all of them attempt to convey a certain difference of this subject from
the logic which comes down to us from Aristotle and. was given its traditional fonn
by the medieval scholastics."
• Alfred Tarski, Introduction to Logic. New York, 1946, p. 19.
• Ibid.
• Eaton in his General Logic gives this justification for his treatment of traditional
logic.
• Quine, W. V., Short Course in Logic, Cambridge, 1946, p. 87.

50

ARISTOTELIAN

AND MATHEMATICAL

LOGIC

51

This is what the mathematical logicians all confidently assume,
and they seem pretty well to have convinced others of the fact
as welL And yet it is still at least a possibility that the reason
no rebuttal has been given is because as yet no champions
have come forth from the camp of the Aristotelians to give it.
But why have champions not been forthcoming? One reason
might be that the presentations of Aristotelian logic that have
been given in modern text-books have in no wise done justice
to the subject. Thus, stressing formal logic-and even this in
a very watered-down fashion-to the almost complete exclusion
of material logic, they have quite generally failed to make clear
what the nature of logic is, what its significance is, what the
peculiar subject matter is with which logic should concern
itself. As a result, the mathematical logicians have had little
trouble brushing the whole discipline aside as if of no moment,
and the Aristotelians for their part have found themselves unhappily embarrased for want of really ready ammunition. 6
Nevertheless, for all this, the Aristotelian tradition is quite
dear and unambiguous
capable of presenting a
account of the scope and nature of logic. Moreover, once this
account is honestly considered and is set over against the notso-clear and rather ambiguous account of the general character
of logic that is given in mathematical logic, it may become
apparent that the one discipline certainly is not subsumable
under the other as a mere insignificant part of the whole. On
the contrary, the very nature and purpose of logic as conceived
by the one discipline may turn out to be so radically different
from what it is as conceived by the other, that to call both of
6 These strictures
may seem extreme, and the author recognizes that he speaks
subject to correction. And yet he ventures to suggest that no really full-fledged
treatment of Aristotelian logic has been brought out since John of St. Thomas.
Indeed, of the more modern discussions the two that would really seem to be of
superior merit are, each in its own way, seriously inadequate. Thus Maritain has
so far only brought out a Formal Logic. And as for Gredt, his treatment is
highly condensed and at the same time makes no effort to take cognizance of the
modern challenge to Aristotelian logic that has come from the mathematical logicians. Regarding the other professedly Aristotelian treatises-Joseph, Joyce, et al.-,
it would be an interesting study to determine how far and in what ways they have
consciously or unconsciously departed from the main Aristotelian tradition.

HENRY VEATCH

them " logic " would be simply to render the word hopelessly
equivocal. Besides, a comparative view of the two contrasting
accounts of logic may actually reveal some serious and yet
hitherto unsuspected confusions and deficiences, particularly in
mathematical logic.
Accordingly, let us proceed at once to a summary statement
and description of what logic is according to these two traditions. This done, we can then go on to single out certain specific
topics as a basis for more detailed comparison and contrast.
First, then, as to Aristotelian logic. This is what might be
called a radically " intentional " or realistic logic. But just
what does this mean? In answer we might say that the Aristotelian logician recognizes at the outset a thoroughly realistic
first principle, viz., that things can be and are known by human
beings and that they can be known as they are really and in
themselves. Nevertheless, in order that such real things be
known, they must be brought before the mind as objects; in
other words, we must tend toward them intellectually, or
" intend " them, as the technical word has it.
Thus, for example, no matter what it is that we are seeking
to understand or know, whether it be manganese or,parallelograms or rainfall in the tropics, we cannot possibly gain any
knowledge or understanding of these things without getting
some sort of ideas or concepts of them, or without formulating
propositions about them, or perhaps too without giving
evidence for the propositions in the form of arguments. In
short, the manganese or the parallelogram or the rainfall, which
are perfectly capable of real existence in rerum natura, must
nevertheless, in order to be known, be brought before the mind
in concepts and in propositions and in arguments. And, in
turn, these co_ncepts and propositions and arguments by their
very natures signify or mean or intend the things they are
about. For what is it to be a concept but to be a concept of
something, or a proposition but to be about something, or an
argument but to be in proof or demonstration of something?

.ARISTOTELIAN

AND MATHEMATICAL

LOGIC

58

In other words, these concepts and propositions and arguments
are said to be simply meanings or " intentions." 7
But just where does logic fit into this picture? Well, clearly
from what we have just said, the tools and instruments of all
science must be in the nature of intentions like concepts, propositions, and arguments. These, in other words, are what we
must use in order to signify or intend the real things of the
world which we are seeking to know. But, suppose now we
should seek to know and understand these very concepts,
propositions, and arguments by which we know reality. We
should then be seeking to know not the real order of nature,
but rather the tools or instruments by which we come to know
this real order, We should be using concepts, propositions, and
arguments in order to understand. the functions of concepts,
propositions, and arguments. Or if we designate these things
by the technical term of intentions, we may say that we are
employing intentions in order to understand how intentions
intend reality. And this is logic.
Moreover, since our intentions of reality come ,first, and
afterwards our intentions of these intentions-that is to say,
since we first understand things and only later understand how
we understand things-since, in other words, there is an order
of prior and posterior in our intentions, it is said that in all
sciences other than logic what are involved are so-called first
intentions of the mind, whereas in logic what are involved are
second intentions.
Besides, just as the peculiar subject matter of logic may be
understood in terms of the different orders of intellectual intention of which our minds are capable, so also this same peculiar
subject matter can be understood in terms of the two different
states under which the objects of our intentions are capable
of existing. Thus for example, consider a possible object of
knowledge such as the chemical element silver. As actually
existing or as capable of existing in rerum natura, silver has its
own real nature and properties. It is an element; it has an
• This word will be used hereafter in this technical sense.

HENRY VEATCH

atomic weight o£ 107.880; it melts at 960.5° C, etc. And yet
note that this very same thing we call silver is also capable of
existing under a quite different state or condition. For when we
say "silver is an element," silver is the subject o£ a proposition.
Likewise silver can also function as a universal, predicable of
many particulars, or as a species o£ a genus, or as a middle term
in a syllogism. And yet all o£ these last are certainly not among
the real properties of silver. No chemist ever discovered these
to be in silver as it exists in rerum natura.
Accordingly, it is necessary to recognize that the nature or
essence of anything, whether of silver or o£ the number 2 or of
the color green or what-not, is capable of existing under two
different states or conditions, viz., as a thing in rerum natura
or as an object of knowledge or intention held before the mind.
Moreover, in so far as any such nature or essence is brought
before the mind and comes to exist as an object of human
knowledge or intention, to that same extent it takes on those
peculiar logic;tl or objective 8 or conceptual characteristics
which we have noted, viz., such things as predicability, extension and comprehension, being a middle term, being a species,
etc.
Thus logic, involving as it does intellectual acts of second
intention rather than first intention, is concerned to know the
natures of things, not as they are in themselves or in reality,
but precisely as they are as objects of knowledge, i.e., as
subjects or predicates or universals or genera etc. In other
words, once again, we see how logic is concerned with knowing,
not real things, but rather the intention by which real things
are known.
This suggests still another way of characterizing the subject
8 As is well known, the meaning of this word has undergone
a curious transformation. In current usage it is ordinarily contrasted with " subjective " and
means that which pertains to things as they are in themselves and independently
of the mind. However, in its original and literal sense the word "objective" means
almost the opposite: it means that which pertains to things precisely in so far as
they are objects before the mind. It is in this latter sense only that we shall use
the term in this paper.

ARISTOTELIAN

AND MATHEMATICAL

55

LOGIC

matter of logic and contrasting it with that of other sciences.
For the intentions of things are not real in the same way in
which the things themselves are reaL Or, to put the same point
in another way, things qua known or
objects of intention
are not real in the same sense as they are qua existing in rerum
natura. Thus the metal, gold, for instance, as an object before
the mind, i.e., as subject or predicate or middle term, is not real
in the sense in which the actually existing gold is real.
again,
the universal concept of gold or a proposition about gold are
not real in the same way in which the gold itself is real.
Similarly, an inductive argument demonstrating the solubility
of gold in aqua regia is hardly real in the same sense in which
that property of solubility itself may be said to be a real
property of gold. For these reasons, therefore, it is customary
to say that logic, unlike all other sciences, is concerned not with
real beings (ens); but rather with beings of reason (ens
rationis).
So much, then, for our account of the Aristotelian view of
logic as being at once intentional and realistic-intentional,
because it is concerned with the intellectual intentions or formal
signs of things; and realistic, because even though the inten. tions themselves are mere beings of reason, they are nevertheless intentions of real beings, i.e., the means or intruments of
knowing the real. But now what of mathematical logic? From
the point of view of this tradition, what in general is logic
considered to be and to be about? Unhappily, the answer to
this question, as developed by the mathematical logicians,
would not seem to be either very dear or very thoroughly
worked out or even generally agreed upon. Thus Prof. Lewis
flatly asserts that the subject matter of logic is "the principles
which govern the validity of inference." 9 On the other hand,
Prof. Quine suggests that characterizations of the subject
matter of logic such as " ' the science of necessary inference,'
' the science of forms,' etc. are scarcely informative enough to
be taken as answers." 10 And, as for Cohen and Nagel, they

qoo

Or

• Cf. op. cit., Lewis and Langford, p. 3.
10 Quine, W. V., Mathematical Logic, Cambridge 1947, p. 1. It is interesting to

56

HENRY VEATCH

seem to suggest that the consideration of inference really
tains more to psychology than to logic.11
As a matter of fact, the more one reads contemporary
treatises on mathematicallogic, 12 the more one gets the impression that these logicians are not so much interested in careful
definition of thei:r subject matter, as they are in a detailed
exposition of that subject matter, without bothering to state
exactly what sort of thing it is that is being dealt with.
Thus Prof. Quine, after noting that it has been customary
to describe logic, vaguely, as the science of necessary inference,
immediately pushes on to what he calls " a somewhat less vague
characterization of the field." " Certain basic locutions," he
says, "to begin with, including 'if,' 'then,' 'and,' 'or,' 'not,'
'unless,' 'some,' 'all,' 'every,' 'any/ 'it,' etc. may be called
logical. They appear in statements on any and every subject.
The pattern according to which the other more special ingredients of a statement are knit together by these basic
locutions may be called the logical structure of the statemenL" 13
This much done, the reader is then rather astonished to find
that that is just about all that is done in the way of what
Prof. Quine himself calls "a characterization of the field." 14
Indeed, all the :rest of the book is concerned simply with the
exhibiting of these " basic logical locutions " and of the " logical
structures " that can be fashioned out of them. But as to
precisely what kinds of things these locutions and structures
are, nothing more is said,
note that in his Elementary Logic (Boston, 1941), Prof. Quine (p. l) seems to
accept this characterization of logic as " the science of necessary inference "; but
he still protests that this is " vague."
11 Cohen, M. R., and Nagel, E., "An
Introduction to Logic and Scientific
Method," New York 1934, pp. 7 and 18-19.
12 The present writer by no means pretends to have covered the extensive literature in this field. He hopes, though, that in what follows he has not been guilty
of any serious misrepresentation of the nature of ma.thematical logic.
13 Elementary Logic, p. l.
10 It perhaps should be noted that in his Mathematical Logic Prof. Quine does
go into more detail in respect to this " characterization of the field." Still, the
detail is not such as to warrant any revision of our general conclusions.

ARISTOTELIAN

AND MATHEMATICAL

LOGIC

57

Likewise, with Prof. Tarski's book, the pattern would seem
to be the same. Indeed, so far from stating what logic is, the
book opens with a discussion of the use of variables. And then
in the next chapter, turning to constants, Prof. Tarski suggests
that these are of two kinds. On the one hand, there are those
that are" specific for a given theory." And" on the other hand,
there· are terms of a much more general character " occuring in
most of the statements of arithmetic, terms which are met
constantly both in considerations of everyday life and in every
possible field of science, and which represent an indispensable
means for conveying human thoughts and for carrying out
inferences in any field whatsoever; such words as • not,' ' and;
'or; 'is; 'every,' • .<Jome' and
others belong here. There
is a special discipline, namely Logic, considered the basis for all
the other sciences, whose concern it is to establish the precise
meaning of such terms and to lay .down the most general laws
in which these terms are involved." 15
Now illuminating as this statement is, it is unfortunately
just about all that there is. There is no so:rt of suggestion as to
what kind of beings these" not's" and" and's" and" is's" and
"every's" are. Are they beings of reason or are they real
beings? Do they represent mere intentions by which things are
known, or is their intentional or significatory character wholly
irrelevant to their investigation by logic? Are they in any way
to be regarded as instrumental to science and knowledge, and if
so, how? Unhappily, these and all questions like them are
almost completely ignored by the mathematical logicians. As
a result, when compared with· the Aristotelian tradition, the
word of the mathematical logicians would seem to betray a
decided philosophical nai:vete. But perhaps this is a virtue
rather than a vice. After all, if a painstaking philosophical
regard for the precise nature of the entities investigated in logic
is either fruitless or dispensable, then the sooner logic is quit
of it the better.
Nevertheless, it will be the thesis of this paper that it is
15

Tarski, A., An Introduction tv Logic

edition, New York, 1946), p. 18.

58

HENRY VEATCH

preciseJy this philosophical indifference or naivete on the part
of the mathematical logicians that has been responsible for
numberless confusions, inadequacies, and even inconsistencies
in their accounts of logic. Thus they have seriously confused
the real with the ideal and the ideal with the real. They have
failed to recognize the peculiar character of proof or demonstration as a means of making evident that which is either unknown
or unclear. Moreover, even after seriously misconstruing the
nature of inference or proof, they have then turned around and
either surreptitiously or unconsCiously introduced into their
own treatments of the subject the very notions of inference and
proof which they had formerly most blatantly discarded.
However, these are charges which can not just be asserted;
they must be substantiated. To this end, we propose in this
paper to examine the special topic of propositions. And more
specifically, we want to examine the ways in which propositions
may be combined and compounded together. Our method will
be first to present the account of propositional composition as
it has been given by the mathematical logicians, then to develop the Aristotelian account of the same topic, and finally to
make a critical comparison between the two accounts with a
view to seeing whether our thesis is in fact substantiated or not.

I.

PROPOSITIONAL
TRADITION

CoMPOSITION

AccoRDING

OF MATHEMATICAL

To THE

LoGic

Now, so far as propositional combination is concerned, there
would seem to be in the tradition of mathematical logic quite
general agreement that there are three fundamental ways in
which two or more propositions may be compounded together
to give a single, compound proposition. Those ways are conjunction, disjunction, and implication. Moreover, in addition
there is the notion of negation. To be sure, this latter does not
involve a combination of two or more propositions in order to
form a single one, .and yet it does, in Quine's words, constitute

ARISTOTELIAN

AND MATHEMATICAL

LOGIC

59

" a method merely of elaborating a single statement to form a
new statement." 1·6
Further these modes of propositional elaboration and composition may be conveniently symbolized· thus:
,-..J p-negation
p :J q-implication
p · q-conjunction
p V q-disjunction

According]y, considering these as the basic types of propositional composition, and employing some such symbolism to
represent them, it is possible to develop a whole propositional
calculus, in which all the many and varied ramifications of
such propositional composition · may be traced out and demonstrated.17 Thus, for instance, the calculus may be seen
to yield such typical theorems as these:
p :J ,_,q·:J ·q :J .-.p
q :J r· :J : p :J q · :J · p :J r
p· :J ·q :J r: :J : q · :J · p :J r
p·V·q Vr::J :pVq·V·r
p·q::J :q·p
Nevertheless, our concern here is not with the detailed exfoliation of theorems, but rather with the interpretation and
understanding of the calculus as a whole. And to this end, it
will be well to take note of three points concerning the general
nature of such a calculus which, most mathematical logicians
would seem to be agreed, are fundamental to a proper comprehension of it.
Thus in the first place, it is pointed out that the theorems of
the calculus, like any mathematical theorems, are made up
of constants and variables. As for the constants, these are
18 Mathematical Logic, p. 18. Quine actually classifies negation or denial as a
mode of "statement composition," denominating it as "singulary" in character, in
contrast to such other modes of composition as are "binary," "tertiary," etc.
17 The actual process of development, of course, may be either according to the
matrix method or according to the logistic method.

60

HENRY VEATCH

simply the basic notions of conjunction, negation, implication,
etc. which it is the business of the calculus to explain the
meaning and trace out the ramifications o£. On the other hand,
the variables, i.e. the p's, the q's, the r's, etc. in the various
·theorems, stand for any propositions indifferently. That is to
say, given a theorem in the calculus, one could substitute any
proposition whatever for any of the p's or q's, etc., appearing
in the theorem. In short, just as in the algebraic formula
x + y = y + x, the x and the y stand for any numbers whatever,
so also in the formula p :::> q · Zl •,_, q :::> ,_, p, p and q stand for
any propositions. 18
And now. for the second point, in regard to the calculus. We
find it frequently said that any and all the theorems appearing
in the calculus are what may be called tautologies. What this
means is that such theorems are necessarily true and always
true. 19 And to say that they are necessarily true and always
true means that no matter what propositions be substituted for
the variables p, q, etc., and no matter whether the propositions
that are substituted be true or false, the proposition as a whole,
i. e. the theorem, will still be true.
Nor is it difficult to see how these theorems in actual fact
do have this tautologous character. Thus consider a simple
theorem such as this:
p ::J q. ::J .,_, q ::J ,_, p.

Clearly, if p does imply q, then it does not make any difference
what propositions p and q stand for, the denial of q will necessarily entail the denial of p. For instance, it would make no
difference what sort of conditional proposition we were considering-whether it were " I£ two things are equal to the same
thing, theY, are equal to each other," or" I£ Hamlet was afraid
of murder, his will was weak "-in either case, to say that two
given quantities were not equal to each other would imply
18 For a most lucid account of this first point, cf. Tarski, op. cit., pp. S-14, 18-19,
87-38.
19 This term " tautology " has been subject
to many different interpretations.
However, we are following Quine's usage ltere, cf. his Mathematical' Logic, p. 55.

ARISTOTELIAN

AND MATHEMATICAL

LOGIC

61

that they were not equal to .the same thing, or to deny that
Hamlet was weak of will would imply that he was not afraid
And likewise, it would make. no difference whether
of
p was true or false or whether q was, or even whether p actually
did imply q or not, it would still be true that if p did imply q,
then the denial of q would imply the denial of p.
And now we come to the third general point in connection
with the interpretation of the calculus, which would seem to
deserve mention here. That point is that all propositional
are
compounds in the calculus (including negation, of
to be understood as being truth-functional in character. 20 What
does this mean? In answer, we may note first that any proposition is said to have a certain truth-value, its tmth-valtie being
determined by whether· the proposition be true or false.'21
Accordingly, any compound proposition (i. e. a proposition
compounded out of·other propositions as its ingredients) may
be " said to be truth-functional if the truth value of the compound is determined by the truth values of the components." 22
Thus, for instance, consider the conjunction of two propositions
so as to form one single compound proposition: "Jones is ill
and Smith is away." 28 What determines whether this whole
.compound proposition is true or false? The answer is that this
is determined by whether the components .are true. For if it be
true that Jones is ill and also true that Smith is away, then
certainly the conjunction as a whole is true. On the other hand,
if either or both of these propositions be false, then one cannot
truthfully say "'Jones is ill and Smith is away."
Likewise, the negation of a proposition may be regarded
as truth-functional. Thus if we ask what determines the truth
or falsity of ,-..; p, the only possible answer would be the truth
•• As is well known, Professor C. I. Lewis (cf. Lewis and Langford op. cit.) is
notable in the exception which he takes to his fellow mathematical logicians for
their insistence that all propositional composition, including implication, can be
adequately dealt with from the truth-functional standpoint. Howeyer, the discussion
of Prof. Lewis's views must be reserved for a subsequent paper.
21 Cf. Quine, Elementary Logic, p. 5.
29 Quine, Mathematical Logic, p. 11.
•• This illustration is Prof. Quine's; cf. Elementary Logic, p. 7.

HENRY VEATCH

or falsity of p; for if p were false, then by that very fact ,..._, p
would be true, and if p were true, then ,....._ p would false.
And yet, however plausible may be the insistence upon the
truth-functional character of conjunction. and negation, it is
nothing like so plausible when we come to implication and disjunction. And yet most of the mathematical logicians are just
as insistent that these types of propositional compound too are
to be treated truth-functionally. Thus Prof. Tarski describes
implication, for example, in the following way: " By asserting
an implication one asserts that it does not occur that the antecedent is true and the consequent false. An implication is thus
true in any one of the following three cases: (1) both antecedent and consequent are true, (2) the antecedent is false and
the consequent is true, (3) both antecedent and consequent
are false: and only in the fourth possible case, when the antecedent is true and the consequent false, the whole implication
is false." 24
Now from such an account we should begin to see what is
the thrust
this so-called truth-functional interpretation
propositions. For it means that so far as compound propositions are concerned, it makes no difference what the component
propositions say or what they mean or what they are about; 25
all that matters for the determination of the truth or falsity
of the compound is whether or not these components be true or
false.
For instance, suppose we consider the proposition " If 2
2 =4, then New York is a large city." Commonsensically, this
might
to be an absurd proposition, but from the point of
view of the truth-functional interpretation of propositions, it
is a perfectly legitimate proposition and is true. Thus, referring
back to Prof. Tarski's account of conditional propositions which

+

Tarski, op. cit., p. 23. For a like treatment of disjunction, cf. ibid. pp. 22-23.
Cf. Tarski's remark respecting disjunction (op. cit., p. 23): "The creators of
contemporary logic . . . decided to consider the disjunction of any two sentences
as a meaningful whole, even should no· connection between their contents or forms
exist; and they also decided to make the truth of a disjunction-like that of II!
only upon the truth of its members."
negation or conjunction-dependent
24

25

ARISTOTELIAN

AND MATHEMATICAL

LOGIC

68

we cited above, we find that any implication is true if both its
antecedent and its consequent are true. Now it is true that
2
2 = 4, and it is also true that New York is a large city.
Hence, accordingly it must follow that the whole compound is
true, i.e. that the one proposition implies the other.
Or again, even if we had said" If 2 2 = 5, then New York
is a large city," that too would have been a true proposition.
For according to Prof. Tarski' s characterization it suffices for
the truth of a conditional proposition that its antecedent be
false and its consequent true. Indeed; on the truth-functional
interpretation of propositions, any true proposition, no matter
what it is, may be said to imply any other true proposition, and
any false proposition may be regarded as implying any proposition, no matter what it is, and regardless of whether it be true
or false. In other words, the truth or falsity of compound
propositions is in no wise tied up with what those propositions
mean or say, hut rather is wholly dependent upon whether the
component propositions be true or false.
Now on the face of it, this is an admittedly strange and
implausible account of the nature of propositional composition.26 Why, then, are mathematical logicians so determined to
stand by it? Perhaps if we follow Prof. Tarski's explanation
closely, we can gain some inkling of the reason. Thus he points
out how " in common language, two sentences are joined by the
word ' or ' only when they are in some way connected in form or
content. The nature of this connection is not quite clear." 27

+

+

""Even the mathematical logicians themselves recognize as much. Thus Prof.
Tarski is quite frank to say that this interpretation of implication and disjunction
is altogether at variance with common sense usage and with common sense understanding of such propositional combination. Still he justifies it on the ground of
its greater simplicity and clarity. (Cf. op. cit., Ch. II, §§ 7-8.)
As for Prof. Quine, he says not only that the truth-functional interpretation of
conditional propositions is contrary to usage, but that in the case of subjunctive
conditionals, these simply are not truth-functional.
statement connectives
such as "because" are not truth-functional. Nevertheless Quine feels that in each
such case " the purposes served by the given non-truth functional statement compound could have been served just as well by means of truth-functional statement
compounds plus further devices " etc. In other words, Quine hopes that all nontruth-functional compounds can be simply eliminated. Cf. Elementary Logic, § 7-9.
27 Op. cit., p.

64

HENRY VEATCH

And the reason it is not clear is because it depends, so Prof.
Tarski seems to think, on " psychological factors," especially
on " the presence or absence of knowledge." 28 As for these
psychological factors, they would seem to be of this character:
" In ordinary language, we tend to join two sentences by the
words ' if ... then ' only when there is some connection between
their forms and contents. This connection is hard to characterize in a general way, and only sometimes its nature is
relatively clear. We often associate with this connection the
conviction that the consequent follows necessarily from the
antecedent, that is to say, that if we assume the antecedent
to be true we are compelled· to assume the consequent too to
be true (and that possibly we can even deduce the consequent
from the antecedent on the basis of some general laws which we
might not always be able to quote explicitly) . Here again, an
additional psychological factor manifests. itself. . . ." 29
This is unfortunately pretty vague. In fact, one is tempted
to suspect that common sense itself is nothing like so vague
about these so-called " psychological factors " as Prof. Tarski
himself is. But, be that as it may, we venture to suggest that
what Prof. Tarski is really trying to get rid of, when he wants
to banish these " psychological factors " from logic, is nothing
other than what the Aristotelian logician would call "intentions." In other words, he wants to treat of propositions in
such a way that it will not be necessary to consider their meaning or significance. And, by thus abstracting from the intentional character of the propositions with which it deals, logic
can presumably gain both in clarity and simplicity.
Nevertheless, since this elimination of all intentions from the
logic of propositions marks a really radical departure from the
Aristotelian tradition, it might be well for us to scrutinize it
still farther and make clear to ourselves just how this elimination of meaning is effected and at what level, so to speak. For
in one sense, an Aristotelian logician would be perfectly willing
.to recognize that the special concrete content of propositions
•• Ibid., p. 28.

•• Ibid., p. !M.

ARISTOTELIAN

AND MATHEMATICAL

LOGIC

65

must sometimes be abstracted from for purposes of a scientific
treatment of propositions in general and their possible modes
of combination. As a matter of fact, save for certain restrictions
that we need not take account of just now,S0 an Aristotelian
might well accede to the first two of the three points which we
made in characterizing the propositional calculus of the
matical logicians. Thus for one thing, we remarked on how a
propositional calculus treats of propositions in general, and not
of propositions of any certain specific kind or meaning. This
explains, of course, the use of variables in the theorems.
wise, we remarked on how the theorems of the calculus were
supposed to be true independently of what the component
propositions might mean, and regardless of whether they were
true or false.
With this much the Aristotelians might go along. And yet
the point is that even though both of these things might be true
of the theorems in the calculus, that still does not mean that the
types of propositional composition which the theorems treat of
are themselves · no wise determined by the meanings
propositions that are thus combined. Thus in order to know
that if p implies q, then .--o q implies ,.._, p, we
not
to
know what proposition ' p ' says or what ' q ' says. And yet in
order to know that a given proposition' p' does imply another,
'q,' we do have to know what' p' and' q' say. In other words,
the implication of one proposition by another would seem to be
entirely dependent upon the meanings of the propositions concerned.
Or we might put it this way. Assuming that some one proposition implies or is implied by another, we do not have to know
anything about the content of these respective propositions in
order to know certain further properties that attach to such a
relation of implication in general. On the other hand, in order
to know in the first place that some one proposition does imply
or is implied by another, we certainly should have to know
something about the content of these two propositions. 31
30

31

These reservations we intend to take account of in a subsequent paper.
These same remarks would apply, of course, mutatis
to disjunction.

5

66

HENRY VEATCH

But, now on the truth-functional interpretation of propositions, this latter requisite is simply ruled out. For in order
to know that any given proposition implies another, it is not
necessary to know what these propositions are about-i. e.
what their content is or what they mean; instead, it suffices to
know merely their truth value-i. e. whether they are true or
false. As a consequence, there arise those patent absurdities,
on this interpretation of the propositional calculus, according
to which any true proposition is implied by any and every
proposition whatever, or every true proposition implies every
other true proposition, etc.
Thus by way of illustration, let us take our old example of
p :::) q ·:::)
q :::) ,.._, p. Clearly, for this to be true, it doesn't
make any difference what proposition ' p ' stands for or what
'q' stands for. And yet, even though in such a formula we do
abstract from the specific meanings of ' p ' and of ' q,' we nonethe-less recognize that there must be something in the meaning
of such propositions that provides the foundation for the
relation
.implication. between
Consequently,
the
propositional function, p :::) q, we do not mean just any proporather any proposition whose meaning is such
sition ' p,'
that it implies another proposition. Similarly, 'q' does not
stand for any proposition, but rather any proposition of such a
nature as to be implied by another.
But now on the truth-functional interpretation of propositions, even this restriction in terms of what the propositions
mean or say is removed; and instead, abstracting entirely from
the meaning or intention of the propositions, the only thing
that the calculus is supposed to be concerned with in the p's
and the q's is their truth or falsity.
Of course, it might be a question as to whether a consideration of propositions in utter disregard of their intentional
character is any longer a consideration of propositions at all.
However, all such questions of appraisal and criticism we must
reserve for our final section. For the present, we must turn our
attention to the account of propositional composition which is
given in the Aristotelian tradition.

ARISTOTELIAN

II.

PROPOSITIONAL

AND MATHEMATICAL
CoMBINATION

ARISTOTELIAN

LOGIC

67

AccoRDING To THE

TRADITION

Now as is well known, in the Aristotelian 8'2 tradition the
basic division of propositions is into categorical propositions, on
the one hand, and hypothetical propositions on the other. And
according to the usual mode of treatment, the categoricals are
to the hypotheticals as the simple to the complex. Thus a
catagorical proposition is one having the simple subject-predicate structure, whereas a hypothetical proposition involves a
combination of two or more such subject-predicate propositions
into a single compound proposition, the mode of composition
being either that of conjoining the categoric&.ls,·or that of
disjoining them, or that of making one such categorical conditional upon the other. 33 In other words, whereas in the
categorical proposition the elements that are combined to make
up the whole proposition are te1·ms, in the hypothetical proposition the elements are themselves propositions. And thus it is
that the copula in a hypothetical proposition is said to be some
such conjunction as " and," " or," " if-then," etc., rather than
some form of the verb " to be," as with categoricals.
Still, this is not the whole story. For, not only are categoricals distinguished from hypotheticals as the simple is distingished from the complex; in addition, the hypothetical
proposition must be regarded as being literally hypothetical in
character, whereas the categorical is not. Now what does this
mean?
In explanation, it might be remarked, first of all and just in
passing, that it pertains to the nature of any proposition to be
assertable and to be susceptible of truth or falsity. Indeed it
is in this respect that a proposition differs from a mere term or
•• The authorities upon which the discussions of the present section are based are
John of St. Thomas, Gredt, and Maritain. However, the author will not plague
the reader with numerous citations in support of individual assertions. Instead,
notice will be taken only of those items in which the author's exposition differs
from the standard ones.
•• Of course, even hypothetical propositions might themselves in turn become the
elements of still further conditionals, disjunctions, and conjunctions.

68

HENRY VEATCH

concept. For no term is ever asserted; nor can it be said to be
either true or false.
Accordingly, passing to hypothetical propositions of either
the conditional or the disjunctive types, we may well ask what
it is that is asserted in such propositions. For instance, suppose
one were to declare, " Scientists are not truly scientists, if they
have not a firm grasp of logic." In asserting such a proposition
does one assert categorically either that some scientists are not
truly scientists, or that some scientists do not have a firm grasp
of logic? Clearly not. Indeed, it might well be that aU scientists
had a firm grasp of logic, and that all of them were truly
scientists; or again, the opposite might be true-in either case,
the proposition as a whole could still be
In fact, the truth
of a conditional proposition in no wise entails the truth of .
either of the component propositions of which it is made up.
Or to take another example, suppose a gangster were to assert
" Either we've got to rub him out, or we must frame him."
Clearly in making such a declaration, he is not asserting that
it actually is going to be necessary to " rub the fellow out."
N o:r is he asserting that it will be necessary to « frame him."
Instead,
he is saying is that if not the one, then the other.
Indeed, the point about all such hypothetical propositions
would seem to be that the component propositions are never
asserted categorically, but only hypothetically; likewise, such
components are never considered as being more than merely
hypothetically true. Hence the name " hypothetical
tion." On the other hand, what is asserted unconditionally in
such hypothetical propositions-and there is an unconditional
asse:rtation in all hypotheticals 34-is the connection between the
two component propositions, that is to say, the sequence 35 of
the one upon the other, or the dependence of the one on the
othero
•• Joseph (Introduction to Logic, p. 183) makes this point very effectively.
Unfortunately, however in almost all other respects he would seem to have
thoroughly misconstrued the true nature of conditional propositions.
35 This is Maritain's
term. Cf. his Introduction to Logic, p. 104.

ARISTOTELIAN

AND MATHEMATICAL

69

LOGIC

Thus, even though it be not asserted that the gangster's
victim is actually going to be " rubbed out," still it is asserted
that such will be his fate, if he is not framed. In other words,
what is asserted as being true in such a proposition is that
there is some sort of connection between the victim's being
".rubbed out" and his being "framed"; the one is held to be
somehow consequent upon the other.
Accordingly, if there be no such sequence or connection as
is asserted, then the proposition will be false. Thus, for example,
a proposition like the one we considered earlier," If 2 2 = 4,
then New York i.s a large city "-such a proposition would,
have to be false, on the present analysis, simply because there is
admittedly no connection or sequence between the two component propositions. Clearly, then, this way of looking at
propositional compounds is markedly different from the truthfunctional mode of interpretation.
But then the next question that presents itself is this:
granted that certain compound propositions are thus hypothetiin the sense explained, is it also the case
every compound proposition is necessarily hypothetical, and that as a
consequence being compound and being hypothetical are really
the same thing? The answer that would ordinarily be given in
the Aristotelian tradition would doubtless be " Yes." And yet
for purposes of exposition and in order to point up certain
contrasts with mathematical logic, we propose to answer" No."
As a matter of fact, the exposition which we have already
given of the distinction between categorical and hypothetical
propositions would certainly seem to suggest that more is
volved here than the mere distinction between simple and
compound. )\!Joreover, an obvious example of propositions
which are certainly compound, and which yet would not seem
to be hypothetical in the sense defined, would be ordinary
conjunctive propositions. Thus "Jones is ill and Smith is
away "-dearly in this case the assertion of the conjunction as
being true does entail both the assertion that Jones is ill also
the assertion that Smith is away. Hence such a conjunction
would scarcely seem to be hypothetical in character.

+

70

HENRY VEATCH .

But there are even more interesting examples of this than
conjunction. Thus consider propositions containing such copulas
as " since," " because," " consequently," "therefore," or likewise propositions with copulas like " although," " still," " nevertheless." The former we may term causal propositions, 86 the
latter concessive propositions. Clearly, both of these types of
propositions are compound, and yet for all that they are not
hypothetical.
For example, suppose one were to declare " Although I can
accomplish nothing, I am resolved to fight on." Here again the
assertion of the compound does entail the categorical and unconditional assertion of each of the components. Or again, if a
causal proposition be true-e. g. " Since I can accomplish
nothing, I am resolved not to fight on," then it is true that the
person can accomplish nothing and also true that he is resolved
not to fight on. On the other hand, were this proposition
expressed in conditional form-" If I can accomplish nothing, I
am resolved not to fight on "-or in disjunctive form-" Either
I must be able to accomplish something, or I am resolved not
to fight on "-the truth of the whole compound would not
entail the truth of the components. On the contrary, the
components would be true only hypothetically but not categorically.
Consequently, we would seem to be forced by the evidence
to recognize that besides hypotheticals, there are other types of
compound propositions, notably conjunctive propositions, concessive propositions, etc. Moreover, if the one type of propo•• This marks an even more striking departure from the tradition than our
earlier suggestion that conjunctions should not be classified as hypotheticals. As a
matter of fact, to those versed in the Aristotelian tradition, it is well known that
so-called causal propositions are not single compound propOsitions at all, but rather
syllogisms.
Nevertheless, it should be apparent from the sequel that our present handling
of causal propositions differs not in principle, but only in mode of presentation,
from the tradition. Moreover, the justification for such a different mode of presentation is that the mathematical logicians (e. g., Quine) consider that causal propositions are regular propositional compounds. Hence by granting them this much, we
shall be able the more easily to expose the inadequacies of their further treatment
of these compounds.

ARISTOTELIAN

AND MATHEMATICAL

LOGIC

71

sitional compound, viz., conditionals and disjunctives, be called
hypothetical compounds, we might properly classify the other
varieties under the heading of categorical compounds.
Nevertheless, this division into hypothetical compounds and
categorical compounds is not the only way in which compound
propositions may be classified, if we are to do justice to all of
the Aristotelian insights into the nature of such compounds.
For there would also seem to be a division of compound propositions into what we might call conjunctive compounds and
implicative compounds.
Indeed, this latter classification is one that cuts right across
the previous division of compound propositions into hypothetical and categorical compounds. And in order to understand what is meant by this new division into implications and
conjunctions, we might call to mind what was suggested earlier
in regard to hypothetical propositions. For we pointed out that
invariably in such conditional and disjunctive compounds there
is a relation of sequence or dependence between the components
within the compound. Thus, consider one of our earlier examples, " If Hamlet was afraid of murder, his will was weak."
Here obviously, any recognition on our part of a weakness of
will in Hamlet is asserted to be dependent or consequent upon
a recognition of his fear of murder. For this reason, the whole
proposition may quite justifiably be called an implicative compound, the one element in the compound being in a relation of
implication with respect to the other. 37
On the other hand, in a conjunctive compound there is
literally nothing more than a mere conjunction of
components; and any sort of implication of the one by the other is
simply absent. For instance," Jones is ill and Smith is away."
Here neither proposition is dependent upon the other: neither
follows from the other; neither is implied by the other. Instead,
both are asserted to be simultaneously true merely as a matter
of fact.
87 Disjunctive propositions being reducible ,to conditionals, it is obvious that they
too are in the nature of implicative compounds.

72

HENRY VEATCH

Moreover, be it noted that this division of compound propositions into implicative compounds and conjunctive compounds
is not the same as the division into hypothetical and categorical
compounds. True, hypothetical compounds, i e., conditional
and disjunctive propositions, are always implicative in character. On the other hand, not aU categorical compounds are
conjunctive. It is for this reason that we made our previous
assertion that the division into implicative and conjunctive
compounds cuts across the division into hypothetical and categorical compounds. Thus, while conjunctive propositions are
obvious instances of conjunctive compounds, causal propositions are most certainly to be classified as implicative.
But what now of concessive propositions? That they are
categorical compounds we have already seen. But are they also
implicative, or are they conjunctive? Apparently, to answer
this question it will be necessary to give a somewhat more
subtle analysis than was :required in the case of causal and
conjunctive propositions. Thus for one thing, a concessive
proposition
certainly seem to be bound up with and
to presuppose an implicative or illative relationship between
propositions. Thus one could hardly declare," Although I can
accomplish nothing, I am resolved to fight on," without in some
sense presupposing an implicative relationship of this sort, " If
a person can accomplish nothing, he will surely not fight on."
At the same time, even though such an implicative relationship
be presupposed, the thrust of the concessive proposition is
precisely that of denying this implicative relationship. For
what a concessive proposition does is, on the one hand, to affirm
the antecedent of such a presupposed implication, and, on the
other hand, to deny the consequent. And thus it is that any
concessive proposition must be understood as denying the implicative compound which it itself presupposes.
But then if a concessive proposition has the effect of denying
an implicative compound, it could not itself be such a compound. On the contrary, it is itself merely conjunctive. 38 And
38 At the same time, one could hardly
go as fa:r as Prof. Quine (Elementary
Logic p. 18) and assert that " when one chooses ' bnt ' or 'although ' in f11.vor of

ARISTOTELIAN

AND MATHEMATICAL

LOGIC

73

as evidence of this, one needs but consider how, in the example
which we have given of such a concessive proposition, what was
asserted was, first, that the person in question could accomplish
nothing and, secondly, that, conjoint with
and merely as a
matter of fact, and contrary to what might be expected, the
person was none-the-less going to fight on.
Very well, then, supposing one recognizes at least for purposes of argument, the legitimacy of our divisions into hypothetical and categorical compounds on the one hand and into
implicative and conjunctive compounds on the other, it remains
for us now to investigate somewhat further the true nature of
these so-called implicative compounds. For, as we shall see
later, it is these that have been most thoroughly misunderstood
and misconstrued by the mathematical logicians.
To begin with, then, let us ask what it is in reality or in
rerum natura that is signified by such an implicative compound. Mter all, in the Aristotelian tradition it is insisted that
all logical entities-e. g. terms, propositions, and argumentsare signs or intentions. That is to say, they signify or represent
something other than themselves to a knower. Accordingly,
what is it that is signified by a so-called implicative propositional compound? Immediately, the answer that suggests itself
is that such an implicative compound signifies a particular
causal connection between certain realities in rerum natura.
Thus consider. propositions like this: "Since virtue is knowledge, it can be taught " or " This chemical change is being
accelerated, because a catalyst is operative." Clearly, what
these propositions are significant of are supposedly real causal
connections in the world.
Indeed, this analysis is confirmed, if, by way of contrast, we
consider what is signified by a conjunctive compound. For in
this case it is not a causal connection between realities that is
signified, but rather a mere accidental togetherness or coexistence of realities. After all, in Aristotle's natural philosophy it
' and,' it is only for rhetorical purposes." After all, a concessive proposition signifies
the denial of a presumed conditional, whereas the ordinary conjunction does not
necessarily convey any such significance at all.

74

HENRY VEATCH

is explained how, as a result of the limitless capacity of matter
for form, it is perfectly possible for there to be any number of
chance coincidences of realities without there being any causal
connection between them whatsoever. In consequence, we can
truthfully and meaningfully assert such propositions as: " This
man is an architect and is bald "; " The horse was plowing in
the field and stumbled and broke his leg"; "2
2 = 4, and
New York is a large city." In other words, the logical distinction between such beings of reason as implicative cornpounds and conjunctive compounds finds its basis and foundation in the real distinction between those realities which are
causally connected and those which coexist only accidentally
and by chance.
But now, granted that an implicative compound is expressive
of, or significant of, a causally ordered set of realities in rerum
natura, we still have to inquire what implication, as a purely
logical or objective relationship, actually consists in. Thus a
causal complex of beings or realities is something real, whereas
an implicative compound is only a being of reason. Hence even
though the latter may mean or signify the former, the implication itself must consist of logical entities, not of real beings
at all.
Or perhaps the point may be :made clearer in some such
fashion as this. Suppose we take a simple fact in nature, one
with which we are all familiar, viz., that towels dry our hands,
or, more specifically, that towelling material is absorbent. Now
obviously, there is a cause of this absorbency of towels, and
that cause is their capillary structure. In other words, here we
have a simple, but clear example of a causal ordering of certain
real entities in nature. For towelling material is real, and also
its property of absorbency, Likewise, the capillary structure of
such material is real, and as such constitutes a real cause of
the absorbent quality of the towels.
But now this real causal complex in nature is signified to us
through certain logical entities or beings of reason, viz., through
the concepts of towelling, absorbency, and capillary action, as

+

ARISTOTELIAN

AND MATHEMATICAL

LOGIC

75

well as through such propositions as " Towelling is absorbent,"
"Towelling has a capillary structure" etc. Accordingly, just
as we asked what was the cause of the fact of the absorbency
of towels, so also we may ask what is the evidence for the
proposition " Towels are absorbent." And the evidence, we
find, takes the form of premises in a familiar syllogistic type of
argument: " Anything with a capillary structure is absorbent;
Towels are things with a capillary structure; Therefore, towels
are absorbent."
Presumably, therefore, if we human beings are to understand
anything through its causes, we have to do so by means of
syllogistic arguments. And in such arguments the fact which
is to be explained is signified by a proposition in which two
concepts are identified (e. g. towelling and absorbency); and
the cause which is to explain the fact is expressed as a middle
term (e. g. capillary structure), which has the function of
mediating between the two concepts of the conclusion.
But now in the light of this analysis we should be able to
gain an insight into the peculiar nature and structure of our
so-called implicative compounds. Indeed, it will be found that
the structure of such compounds in most cases 39 is none other
than syllogistic. Thus to take the example of the absorbency
of towels which we have just been discussing, clearly this could
be expressed as a causal proposition: "Since towels have a
capillary structure, they are absorbent." Or to take the ex•• There is a very good reason for this qualification. Thus we sometimes come
across propositions of this ·sort: " Since every physical body is subject to gravitational forces, nothing that is not subject to such forces can be a physical body."
Clearly this is a causal proposition, and as such is an implicative compound. Still,
it is not an implicative compound that is syllogistic in structure, being instead in
the nature of what is sometimes called an immediate inference. Likewise, it is
possible to find instances of implicative compounds that are in the nature of
inductive arguments, e. g. " Since iron and copper and silver etc. are all conductors
of electricity, we may conclude that every metal is a conductor of electricity."
Nevertheless, these important exceptions to the rule that every implicative compound is syllogistic need not concern us in this paper. In a subsequent paper,
however, we shall want to examine, more carefully those implicative compounds
that are expressive of immediate inferences. We shall find that most of the theorems
of the propositional calculus are of this variety.

76

HENRY VEATCH

amples of causal propositions which we have already cited,
these we find upon examination tum out to be nothing but
enthymemes or abbreviated syllogisms. For instance, "Since
virtue is knowledge, it can be taught!' This readily becomes:
" Whatever is knowledge can be taught; Virtue is knowledge;
Virtue can be taught." Or again, " This chemical change is
being accelerated because of the operation of a catalyst." This
becomes: " Any chemical change in which a catalyst is operative is accelerated; This is a chemical change in which a catalyst
is operative; This chemical change is accelerated."
Moreover, what is true of the structure of causal propositions
will also be true, mutatis mutandis, of those other types of
implicative compounds, viz., hypothetical propositions. For
instance, in the ordinary conditional proposition there is an
antecedent and a consequent; and, as we have seen, in the
assertion of the proposition as a whole, what we assert is that
the consequent is literally " consequent " upon the antecedent.
But the only way 40 in which such a consequence is possible,
is through the agency of a middle termo Indeed, we venture to
suggest that when the ordinary conditional proposition is
analyzed, its antecedent will be found to contain such a middle
term, either explicitly or implicitly.
For instance, let us analyze a comparatively easy example
first and then go on to a more difficult oneo And for our easy
example let us take still another variant of the Socratic proposition from the Protagoras, .. If virtue is knowledge, it can be
taught.'' Now what is it that here enables us to consider the
teachability of virtue as a consequence of such an antecedent?
Clearly, it is an implied major premise to this effect: "Whatever
a matter of knowledge is a thing that can be taught;
Hence, if virtue is a matter of knowledge, it can be taught."
In short, the middle term here is the notion of knowledge, and
it is through its mediatory function that the so-called consequent is a genuine consequence of the antecedent. Moreover,
•• Again, this must be qualified along the lines suggested in the preceding
footnote.

ARISTOTELIAN

AND MATHEMATICAL

LOGIC

77

it is in the antecedent that this mediating term is expressed.
Nevertheless, it must not 1be supposed that a conditional
proposition is always just
simple enthymeme, requiring
nothing but the explicit assertion of either a major or a minor
premise to yield a complete syllogism. On the contrary, the
conditional proposition may be an abbreviation for a whole
sorites or series of syllogisms. And on account of this, it sometimes requires no little ingenuity to elaborate such a conditional
proposition so as to make explicit all of the syllogisms and all
of the middle terms that are implicit in it.
For instance, here is an example which Joseph 41 gives: "il
the value of gold is determined by the amount of labor necessary to produce it, then improvements in mining machinery will
tend to increase prices." Expanded into its complete form, this
conditional proposition may be seen to involve two syllogistie
arguments, the one being an argument in support of the minor
premise of the other. "Whatever tends to lower the value
of gold tends to increase prices; Improvements in mining
machinery tend to lower the v.alue of gold; Improvements in
mining machinery tend to increase prices; Whatever tends
to lessen the amount of labor that is necessary for the
production of gold tends to lower the value of gold; Improvements in mining machinery tend to lessen the amount of such
labor; Improvements in mining machinery tend to lower the
value of gold."
Nevertheless, there is obviously something amiss with such
a rendering of hypothetical propositions. Indeed, if our account
of implicative propositional compounds is :really to be made
adequate, we must take cognizance of certain important differences between such of these compounds as are hypothetical
and such as are merely categoricaL For while both types of
implicative compound really involve syllogistic arguments, still
the expansion of hypothetical propositions into syllogisms must
needs be somewhat different from the expansion of causal
propositions.

a

41

Op. cit., p, 840,

78

HENRY VEATCH

Thus if we consider our two earlier examples, the one a
causal proposition and the other a conditional, we can perhaps
see in the concrete what is the nature of this difference. " Since
virtue is knowledge, it can be taught; If virtue is knowledge,
it can be taught." Now both of these propositions, as we have
seen, are implicative compounds. Also, as we have seen, the
implicative character of the compounds means that both of
them involve a syllogistic argument: " Whatever is a matter
of knowledge can be taught; Virtue is a matter of knowledge;
Virtue can be taught."
Nevertheless, the conditional proposition may be seen to
involve this syllogism in a different way from the causal proposition. For the causal proposition simply is the syllogism in
abbreViated form. On the other hand, the conditional proposition, even though it may be said to involve such a syllogistic
argument, still can not be said to be that argument as such.
And the reason is that in the syllogism the minor premise is
asserted categorically, whereas in the conditional proposition
it is asserted only hypothetically.
In other words, so long as one is not certain of the truth of
either the major or the minor premise of a given syllogism, then
such a syllogism can only be asserted in the form of a hypothetical proposition. And the significance of such a hypothetical
proposition is that it presents in its antecedent the middle
term that would·mediate between the subject and predicate of
the conclusion, provided it be connected both with that subject
and with that predicate. Thus in the example given, the
concept of knowledge is one that would mediate between the
notions of Virtue and of teachability, if virtue really were
knowledge.
Correspondingly, no sooner is the hypothetical character of
the antecedent clause of a conditional proposition removed,
than the conditional proposition itself is displaced by a regular
categorical syllogism. This is illustrated in the familiar cases
of modus ponens and modus tollens. Thus to take an example:
" If virtue is knowledge, it can be taught; Virtue is knowledge;

ARISTOTELIAN

AND MATHEMATICAL

LOGIC

79

Virtue can be taught." Frequently, such an argument is spoken
of as being a hypothetical syllogism. But strictly speaking,
there is really nothing hypothetical about it at all. For the
minute one asserts categorically " Virtue is knowledge," then
the hypothetical character of that proposition as it originally
appeared in the conditional, is removed. And in consequence,
the conditional proposition itself is no longer really conditional.
Instead, what one now has is a straight categorical syllogism:
" Whatever is a matter of knowledge can be taught; Virtue is
a matter of knowledge; Virtue can be taught." 42
So much, then, for our account of the nature of these socalled implicative compounds. Whether, in the light of such
an account, mathematical logicians like Prof. Tarski would
still be inclined to feel that these compounds even when so
construed are, nonetheless, afflicted with such vagueness and
complexity as to warrant the type of clarification and simplification that the truth-functional account is supposed to giveall this is of no matter. Suffice it to say that in their rejection
of the traditional way of viewing such compounds, the mathematical logicians would seem not to have had the slightest
knowledge or ,understanding of how these compounds were
really to be construed, viz., as syllogistic. 48 Had they had such
42 It is interesting to note how befuddled on this point have been so many of the
more recent professedly Aristotelian logicians. Recognizing that on A1·istotelian
principles the categorical syllogism could be the only form of deductive argument,
they have then been puzzled to know what to do with the so-called hypothetical
syllogism. Their usual procedure has been to try to reduce the so-called hypothetical
major premise to categorical form. This, however, is alike futile and unnecessary.
It is futile because a hypothetical proposition simply is not a categorical one and
can not be transformed into one. It is unnecessary, because as we have just shown,
even though a hypothetical proposition is not reducible to a categorical proposition,
a so-called hypothetical syllogism is really a categorical syllogism.
For illustrations of how this pseudo-difficulty has been a veritable torture to
modern logicians, cf. Eaton, General Logic, pp.
Joseph, Introduction to
Logic, pp. 339-344.
43 So far from achieving anything like a proper understanding
of the nature of
conditional propositions, most modern logicians have so got the cart before the
horse that they would interpret all universal categorical propositions as being in
effect conditionals. This particular error, however, we must wait to deal with in
a subsequent paper.

80

HENRY VEATCH

knowledge, it would scarcely have been possible for them to
CIPTY through their rejection in quite so summary and highhanded a fashion.
But, be all that as it may, it now remains for us to confront
these two accounts of propositional composition-the mathematical and the Aristotelian-with each other, and thereby
attempt a critical appraisal of both of them.

III.

CRITICISMS

AND CoNcLUSIONS

In proceeding to a comparison and contrast between the
respective accounts of propositional composition that have
been given by the mathematical logicians, on the one hand, and
by the Aristotelians, on the other, we may note, to begin with,
a few points of superficial agreement. Both traditions would
seem agreed as to the basic varieties of propositional compounds. Thus conjunctions, disjunctions, implications, and for
that matter even causal and concessive propositions,44 would
seem to be recognized by both traditions alike. But beyond
this, the agreement does not extend. For when it comes to
explaining what these varieties of propositional composition
actually involve, the two traditions may be seen to be radically
opposed.
Moreover, if we try to :fu!: the focal point of this opposition,
we may say that for the mathematical logician propositional
composition is to be understood truth-functionally, whereas
for the Aristotelian it is to be understood intentionally. 45 In
other words, on the- one view, what the .propositions mean or
64 It should be noted, perhaps, that of the mathematical logicians only Quine, so
far as the present writer· knows, has discussed causal and concessive propositions.
As for the Aristotelians, they are not in the habit of discussing causal propositions,
simply because, as we have seen, they consider them to be syllogisms. Nor is there
any explicit treatment of concessives. However, the ·author is convinced that the
treatment given above of these so-called concessive propositions is quite in accord
. with the Aristotelian tradition.
45 In our subsequent paper we shall try to show that the opposition is really much
more far-reaching than this. However, in the present study we shall confine our
attention to this one point of opposition alone.

ARISTOTELIAN

AND MATHEMATICAL

LOGIC

81

intend has nothing to do with their disjunction, conjunction,
implication, or what not, whereas, on the other view, it has
everything to do with it. Thus it is that for the Aristotelians
a proposition such as" H + = 4, then New York is a large
city " is false and does not- involve any implication at all,
whereas for the mathematical logiCians it is a perfectly good
implication and is true.
Moreover, this difference between regarding propositional
compounds truth-functionally and regarding them intentionally
is at the root of another profound difference between the two
traditions. And that difference is that for the mathematical
logicians the distinction between hypothetical and categorical
compounds, as well as the distinction between causal and
conjunctive compounds, 46 are distinctions that simply can not
be made. And the reason they can not be made is that all such
distinctions are set up on the basis of possible relations in
meaning or intention between the propositions concerned. Thus
in the case of hypothetical compounds, as we have seen, the
combining of the propositions is based on quite other considerations than the mere truth or falsity of the propositions combined. Instead, with such compounds the one proposition is
mediated by the other through the agency of a so-called middle
term, and this mediation is quite independent of whether the
propositions thus compounded be true or false.
And as for implicative compounds, while it is true that some
of these, viz., the causal propositions, are such as to entail the
truth of both of the propositions that are combined, still the
combination does not depend merely oil the fact that both of
them are true, but rather on the fact that the one is mediated
by the other in the manner explained. In other words, the
conjoint truth of two propositions might be called a necessary
condition, but certainly not a sufficient condition, of their .being
compounded together in an implicative compound of t!J.e causal
type. Indeed, as Prof. Quine himself has happily put it, " truth
•• Of course, in one sense Prof. Quine might admit that such distinctions could be
made; and yet at the same time he would hold that they were eliminable. Cf.
supra, p. 19, note I.

6

82

HENRY VEATCH

of a ' because ' compound requires not only truth of the components but also some sort of causal connection between the
matters which the two components describe." 47
But now, if in the tradition of mathematical logic no hypothetical or implicative compounds can be recognized, does that
mean that on such a view all compounds must be regarded as no
more than mere conjunctions? Certainly, there would seem to
be considerable plausibility to this interpretation. Thus, as we
have seen, from the Aristotelian point of view any implicative
compound, whether of the hypothetical or of the categorical
type necessarily involves an intentional connection between
the propositions thus compounded. On the other hand, a conjunctive compound involves no such intentional connection.
Moreover, if such a conjunction involves no connection in
meaning between the propositions conjoined, then it would
seem to be precisely the sort of propositional composition that
the mathematical logicians insist is the only sort. Indeed, an
Aristotelian logician might well admit that conjunction could
perhaps be given a truth-functional interpretation. Moreover,
that this is the thrust of the truth-functional interpretation of
propositional compounds would appear to be borne out by the
mathematical logicians themselves. For frequently in the various propositional calculi, we find that an implicative compound is simply defined in terms of conjunction. Thus as a
definition of implication we often find this:
p :::> q - ,_, (p ......., q)
or as a definition of disjunction, we find this:
p vq

= ,_, (,._, p .____, q)

Indeed, Prof. Quine constructs his whole calculus simply in
terms of conjunction and denial, and as a consequence he
regards all other modes of propositional combination besides
conjunction-i.e. "or," " although," "if-then," " because,"
etc.-as "theoretically superflous." 48 Here is his seemingly
41

Elementary Logic, p. 26.

48

Elementary Logic, p. 17.

ARISTOTELIAN

AND MATHEMATICAL

LOGIC

88

unequivocal statement of the point: " The truth-functional
modes of statement composition thus far considered have been
seen to admit of being paraphrased in terms exclusively of
conjunction and deniaL The same is in fact true of all possible
truth-functional modes of statement composition. So long as
a statement is built up of component statements in truthfunctional fashion-so long, in other words, as the replacement
of any component by another statement of like truth value does
not affect the truth value of the compound-we can translate
the whole into an equivalent statement which is built up of the
components in question by means solely of conjunction and
deniaL We
therefore look upon conjunction and denial as
the sole basic truth-functional devices .... " 49
But now if this is the real import of the truth-functional
interpretation of propositional compounds-viz., that it regards
all such compounds as being no more than conjunctions-then
the implications of such an interpretation for the general nature
of logic are simply incredible. For it should already be obvious,
both to common sense and also.
the light of our foregoing
analyses, that conjunction is not an illative or inferential compound at all. That is to say, in a mere conjunction of propositions, the one proposition can in no wise be regarded as
inferable from, or consequent upon, the other. However, if
there be no other way of combining propositions save conjunction-or, what comes to the same thing, if all other ways of
compounding propositions are reducible to mere conjunctionthen, on the truth-functional view it would have to be recognized that there simply is no way whereby one proposition
may be inferred from another or whereby one may be said to
imply another. Of course, as a possible alternative one might
say that, in their insistence upon the truth-functional interpretation of propositional compounds, the mathematical logicians
do not mean to imply that there are no such things as implicative or illative compounds; all they mean is that such compounds are of no concern to logic.
49

Ele1nentary Logic pp. \!8-29.

84

HENRY VEATCH

Nevertheless, on ·either alternative there would necessarily
be set up a train of consequences which would appear to reduce
to the absurd the whole enterprise of trying to interpret propositional compounds truth-functionally. Thus on the one hand,
if it be said that there are no implicative compounds at all,
all of them being reducible to mere conjunctions, then any such
thing as proof or demonstration becomes simply impossible.
For what is proof or demonstration but the making evident of
a given proposition through the medium of still other propositions, from which the first is seen to follow as a consequence?
But for one proposition to follow from other propositions as a
consequence means that it is bound up with these others in an
implicative or illative compound. Consequently, if there be
no implicative compounds, there can be no demonstrable (sc.
scientific) knowledge at all.
On the other hand, if it be admitted that there may be such
things as implicative or illative compounds, but that it is not
the concern of logic to treat of them, then it would follow that
what has always been held to be the proper and principal
concern of logic must now be considered as not pertinent to
logic at all. Indeed, if the subject matter of logic be regarded
as being comprised of the tools or instruments of knowledge, 50
then, since knowledge for us human beings is for the most part
not immediate but mediate, being inferred or proved or demonstrated from previously known truth, it will follow that logic
must be principally concerned with determining the precise
nature of such instruments of inference or demonstration. But
if we are told that the investigation of implicative compounds
pertains not to logic at all, but rather to some other discipline,
then the word " logic "· itself becomes thereby hopelessly
equivocal.
Besides, the obvious question that obtrudes itself here and
that would seem particularly embarrassing is this: must not the
mathematical logicians in the very development of their logical
•• This, of course, is the Aristotelian view of logic. However, as we have seen,
the mathematical logicians are nothing like so clear and precise ori this point.

ARISTOTELIAN

AND MATHEMATICAL

LOGIC

85

calculi presuppose the existence of just such implicative compounds as they consistently disregard in their stated accounts
of propositional compounds? In other words, are not the
theorems of any such calculus supposed to be proved; are they
not held to be in some way or other inferred from prior theorems
and postulates? But if so, then mathematical logic would not
really be a science of logic or necessary inference at all, but
rather would be like any other science in that it would presuppose logic and use logic, without itself being a science about
logic.
Now the answer to this question is complicated by several
factors. In the first place, the force of the question might seem
to be more or less contingent upon whether the mathematical
logicians consider that the development of a logical calculus
should be in accordance with the matrix method or with the
logistic method. If the former, then it would seem that all of
the various theorems of such a calculus are not so much proved
as tested. 51 In consequence they can not be regarded as being
inferred from prior principles at all; 52 and the whole exfoliation
of the calculus would appear to be possible without any reliance
upon implicative relations between propositions at all.
On the other hand, if the logistic method of development
be used, then the theorems of the calculus are regarded as being
proved and inferred from prior principles. And the logisticians
are quite explicit as to what the rules are according to which
these proofs are effected. They are two in number: the rule of
substitution and the modus ponen.'J rule. 53
However, the interesting thing about these niles is that upon
examination they appear to involve a recognition of just such
an implicative or illative relation between propositions as the
mathematical logicians have most consistently tried to disregard. Thus, first, as to the rule of substitution, we find Prof.
Tarski describing it thus: "If a sentence of a universal charCf. Quine, Mathematical Logic, pp. 5-6, 86-87.
•• Cf. Lewis and Langford, op. cit., p. 226: "The matrix method never uses the
operation of inference."
53 Cf. Tarski, op. cit., p. 47, and Lewis and Langford, op. cit., pp. 125-126.
51

86

HENRY VEATCH

acter, that has already been accepted as true, contains sentential variables, and if these variables are replaced by other
sentential variables or by sentential functions or by sentencesalways substituting equal expressions for equlil variables
throughout-then the sentence obtained in this way may also
be recognized as true." And as an illustration of this, Prof.
Tarski cites the following example. 54 As a universal sentence he
uses: " From: if p, then q, it follows that: if not q, then not p."
Then making the necessary substitutions, he derives from this
the sentence (sc. proposition) : "From: if x is a positive.
number, then 2x is a positive number, it follows that: if 2x is
not a positive number, then xis not a positive number."
Now superficially and yet none-the-less strikingly, this rule
of substitution would seem to resemble the dictum de omni.
But if so, then such a proof by substitution would certainly
involve an implicative relation between the proposition to be
proved and the proposition by means of which it was proved.
Moreover, this implicative relation would have precisely that
character which we have already pointed out is usual in such
relations, viz., that of mediation through a middle term.
And likewise, with respect to the modus ponens rule, we have
already· described how any so-called hypothetical syllogism is
really a categorical. syllogism in disguise. Hence if proofs of
theorems in a logical calculus sometimes proceed according to a
modus ponens rule, it will follow that all such proofs presuppose an implicative relation between premises and conclusions
of the syllogistic type.
Accordingly, the conclusion would seem inescapable that any
logistic development of a propositional calculus must necessarily presuppose the recognition of implicative compounds of
the very sort that a truth-functional interpretation of propo. sitional compounds must perforce disregard. Nevertheless, we
would rather not press this conclusion in the present paper, for
there are a number of complications that need to be cleared up
. before the point can be considered adequately established. Thus,
•• Op. cit., pp. 45-46.

ARISTOTELIAN

AND MATHEMATICAL

LOGIC

87

for one thing, many of the instances of substitution that appear
in the calculus would really seem to be cases, not of syllogistic
inference, but rather of what the Scholastics would call inductive descent. And for another thing, even in instances of a
procedure according to modus ponens, it would so often seem
that in mathematical logic the hypothetical propositions that
serve as first premises for the inferential operations in modus
ponens are really hypotheticals that involve a relation of immediate inference, between antecedent and consequent, rather
than hypotheticals that involve a relation of syllogistic or
mediate inference. However, all of these difficulties we hope to
clear up in a subsequent paper.
For the present, let us return to a consideration of calculi
developed by the matrix method. For it would seem that if
the mathematical logicians could rely exclusively upon this
method, they might then avoid all presupposition of implicative
or syllogistic compounds. In fact, for purposes of argument let
us suppose that such a matrix method could suffice as a means
for testing all possible logical propositions. And let us suppose
also that by thus freeing themselves from any dependence on
inference and proof, the mathematical logicians could develop
their science without being obliged surreptitiously to introduce
a type of propositional composition which by their own account
is supposed not to exist. Even so, are the mathematical logicians really able to get around having to recognize some sort of
implicative compound? The answer is " No," and this for two
reasons.
In the first place, even though the logical theorems themselves may have been established without being inferred or
proved, still these theorems, once they are set up, are regarded
as being the principles or patterns of inference for all scientific
reasoning whatever. 55 Moreover, when they are thus applied
in the construction of so-called deductive systems, the deductions which they thus make possible are none other than
55 Cf. Tarski, op. cit., p. 44: "Almost all reasonings in any scientific domain are
based explicitly or implicitly upon laws of sentential calculus."

88

HENRY VEATCH

deductions through implicative or illative propositional combinations. In other words, though not inferred or proved themselves, these theorems are supposed to become principles of
inference when applied. 56 And as principles of inference these
logical theorems may be seen to be nothing more nor less than
expressions of implicative combinations of propositions.
But there is a second reason, as we said, why mathematical
logic, even when it does not undertake to prove or infer its
own theorems, must none-the-less take cognizance of so-called
implicative or illative compounds. Thus by way of example let
us take one of these very theorems, which, without having to
be demonstrated, can simply be tested by the matrix method.
Moreover, let us take as our example a theorem that we have
already had occasion to cite and become familiar with, and let
us examine it carefully.
p :J q. :J .,_, q :J ,_, p

Supposing the matrix method to have been used, this theorem
may be presumed to have been established without any resort
to implicative compounds. Also supposing the theorem itself to
be interpreted truth-functionally, it does not itself have to be
regarded as an implicative compound; instead, it would be a
mere denial of a conjunction.
,_, (p :J q .,_, (,_, q :J ,_, p))
And yet this denial of the conjunction of p :J q and ,_, (,_, q
:J ,_, p) is not to be interpreted as meaning that two propositions which might be conjoinc:;d actually happen not to be
conjoined in a given instance. On the contrary, the mathematical logicians themselves would be the very first to point
out that the above theorems holds for all possible values of
•• Tarski's recognition of this very point is interesting. Thus even while arguing
in favor of the truth-functional interpretation of conditional propositions, he
admits that " there are situations-though not in logic itself, but in a field closely
related to it, namely the methodology of deductive sciences-in which we talk about
sentences and the relation of consequence between them, and in which we use such
, terms as ' implies ' and ' foUowa ' in a different meaning more closely akin to the
ordinary one." Op. cit., p. 81.

ARISTOTELIAN

AND MATHEMATICAL

LOGIC

89

p and q. 57 In other words, the conjunction of p ::J q and ,.......,
(,......., q ::J ,......., p) is in effect asserted to be impossible. And on
what grounds must it be regarded as impossible? The only
answer that can be given is that a combination of a proposition
of the form p ::J q with a proposition of the form ,......., q ::J '-' p is
not a mere conjunctive proposition, but rather an implicative
one.
Indeed, these considerations reflect back upon the very
attempt, which we mentioned earlier, on the part of certain
mathematical logicians to reduce all forms of propositional
composition simply to conjunction and denial, and to regard all
compounds other than conjunctive ones as merely superflous.
For now it should be obvious that the sort of propositional
conjunction that is here made basic, while it may look like
conjunction superficially, is actually nothirig but implication.
Thus to say that p ::J q may be understood simply as ,.......,
(p .,......., q) is in a sense misleading. For the denial of the conjunction of p and '-' q is in this case a denial for all possible
values of p and q. But a denial for all possible values of the
variables means that the conjunction is simply impossible.
However, that the conjunction of p and ,_. q should be impossible presupposes, as its only possible ground, that q should
be implicatively connected with p.
Or, to express the thing in terms of the intentional reference
of the propositions in question, we might say that when p and q
signify realities that are causally connected with each other, it
is impossible that the realities signified by p and ,...._, q should
ever be found to be accidentally coincident in rerum natura.
But what, then, of the truth-functional interpretation of a
theorem such as,
p ::J q·::J •,-..Jq ::J ,...._,p
After all, as we have seen, whenever hypothetical propositions
are interpreted truth-functionally, there would seem to be no
alternative but to regard them as mere conjunctive compounds.
17

Cf. Tarski, op. cit., pp. 87-88, 42.

90

HENRY VEATCH

Accordingly, having seen that a theorem such as the above
can not be regarded as a mere conjunction, we may also go on
to ask whether it may be interpreted truth-functionally. Moreover, to say that it is interpretable truth-functionally is to say
that the connection between the component propositions is in
no wise dependent upon what those propositions mean or say.
But now is this the case with a proposition such as: p ::J q
• ::J
q ::J p? Is it true that the consequence of q ::J p
upon p ::J q is in no wise dependent upon the meaning of p ::J q?
After all, p ::J q signifies implication. And surely, one would not
go so far as to say that the nature of this thing called implication has nothing to do with determining the consequent in
this proposition. On the contrary, it is simply because of the
nature of implication and what it involves that the conclusion
q implying
p.
can be drawn about
Or put it this way, if p ::J q signified not implication, but,
let us say, refrigeration or defoliation in cotton, we could not
necessarily conclude
q ::J --- p. In other words, it is entirely
in virtue of what the antecedent means and signifies that we
are able to posit this particular consequent and not some other.
Indeed, one wonders if this whole doctrine of the truthfunctional interpretation of propositions may not have arisen
as a result of a confusion of some such sort as this. 58 ·Thus
q ::J
p, the connecin a proposition of the sort p ::J q · ::J
tion between the two component propositions in the compound
is in no wise bound up with or dependent upon the meaning of
p or q. The proposition p can signify anything whatever, and
so can q; it will still hold that p ::J q · ::J
q ::J
p.
And yet be it noted that in this proposition, it is not p and q
that are the proximate component elements of the whole proposition. Instead, the proximate components are p ::J q and .--J q
::J
p. For it is these which as such are combined into the
total and final conditional proposition. But now while it does
not make any difference to the formation of this whole con•,-...J

,-...J

,-...J

,-...J

,-...J

,-...J

,-...J

•,-...J

,-...J

·,-...J

,-...J

,-...J

68 The discussion of the next few pages might profitably be regarded as supplementing our earlier analysis of the apparent motive behind the effort to treat all
propositions truth-functionally. Cf. supra.

ARISTOTELIAN

AND MATHEMATICAL

LOGIC

91

ditional proposition, what p and q mean, it does make all the
difference in the world what p ::J q means and what,..._,q .::J ,..._, p
means.
In short, the point is this. In a proposition such as p ::J q
• ::J .,_, q ::J ,...._, p, what are involved are so-called second intentions. That is to say, what are to be thought of as being
signified or intended in such a proposition are not real things
in rerum natura at alL On the contrary, these would be objects
of first intention, and not mere logical entities like implication,
disjunction, conjunction, etc., which as such are objects of
second intention. In fact, in the proposition that we have been
currently using as our example, viz., p ::J q · ::J .,..._, q ::J ,_., p, the
particular logical entity that is being considered in second intention is none other than implication. And implication is
definitely only a being of reason and not a real being, since it
is by nature a mere logical relation, holding between conceptual
or objective beings like propositions, and in no wise a real
relation holding between things in rerum natura.
On the other hand, the p's and the q's in
same
may be presumed to stand for propositions in first intention,
i.e., propositions signifying facts in reality. Nevertheless, for
the truth of a proposition like p ::J q · ::J • q ::J ,._., p, which is
concerned with objects of second intention, it does not make
any difference what it is that is signified in first intention by
p or by q. However, merely because in such a proposition we
can disregard first intentions altogether, that certainly does not
mean that all intentions can be disregarded. On the contrary,
the condition that is expressed in the proposition is entirely
dependent upon the second intentional meanings of the proximate component propositions.
Now could it be that the mathematical logicians, aware that
the first intentions of the propositions appearing in their
theorems, were of no relevance in the construction of those
theorems, proceeded to conclude from this that meanings and
intentions as such were irrelevant to the composition of propositions in logic, or, for that matter of any propositions? But

HENRY VEATCH

whatever the source of the confusion, confusion it certainly is.
And the sooner the illusion is dispelled that all propositional
composition may be understood truth-functionally and in complete indifference to what the component propositions mean
or say, the better for logic.
So much, then, for some of the confusions and inconsistencies
that are necessarily attendant upon the mathematical logicians' efforts to treat all propositional compoUn.ds truth-functionally. And yet confusion and inconsistency are not the only
faults that are attendant upon this attempt at disregarding
completely all intentionality in logic. For there is a certain
sense in which one might say that as soon as one abstracts
from intentionality in logic, one has abstracted from logic
itself. Thus it would seem that there could be little argument
but that what the Aristotelians have called objects of second
intention are perfectly legitimate and .extremely important objects of scientific investigation. 59
Not only that, but this way of characterizing these objects,
viz., as objects of second intention, would certainly seem adequately to discriminate such objects from those of any other
science. Now, of course, whether one uses the word "logic"
as a name for this particular science or not, is really of little
moment. And yet the word having come to have this meaning
through several centuries of usage, why change it?'
At any rate, whatever one may decide to do with the word,
the important thing is to keep in mind that whenever in one's
science one does not profess to be dealing with meanings or
intentions, then one is, ipso facto, not dealing with that body
of material which has traditionally been called "logic." Consequently, when the mathematical logicians say that they are
•• Thus as may be seen from the earlier quotation from Tarski, the mathematical
logicians do seem to recognize objects of this kind. In fact, Tarski's very language
is significant when he speaks of those " terms ... which represent an indispensable
means for conveying human thoughts and carrying out inferences in any field
whatever; such words as 'not,' 'and,' 'or,' 'is,' 'every,' 'some' .... "
But unfortunately, not having bothered to analyze such entities philosophically,
the mathematical logicians do not seem to have appreciated the peculiar significance
of their role as objects of second intention.

ARISTOTELIAN

AND MATHEMATICAL

LOGIC

93

disregarding the intentions of propositions and are considering
possible relations between propositions quite apart from their
meanings, one may well ask whether they are any longer talking
about propositions. In fact, must they not be dealing with
objects of first intention and not with objects of second intention at all?
And as one reflects upon it, the more one is struck by the
fact that perhaps it might be possible to interpret the calculi
of the mathematical logicians in some such fashion as the
following. Thus as we have seen, when one tries to interpret
such a calculus as a calculus for propositions, the thing just
won't work. And yet in a sense the calculi as such still stand.
There they are as fully elaborated mathematical systems. But
systems of what and about what? Perhaps instead of considering the p's and q's as standing for propositions, we might let
them stand for something else-say, for certain real entities, or
in any case for entities that are objects of first intention rather
than of second intention.
Now that such other-than-logical
can be
given to these calculi is what we should like to suggest. But
more than a suggestion it cannot be, it being neither appropriate in this already overly-long paper, nor generally within
our competence, to develop such a suggestion at any length.
Nevertheless, this much should be obvious: if these calculi are
not about propositions or logical entities at all, then they must
perforce be about objects of first intention. But such objects
of first intention can be either of two basic kinds--either
fictional beings or real beings.
Suppose then, we first consider fictional beings. If it is
these that our calculi are about, then the calculi must be
:regarded as being concerned simply with the stuff that games
are made of, i.e. things like clubs or spades in bridge, or pawns
or bishops or castles in chess. Moreover, just as in any game
elaborate descriptions may be worked out of the elements in the
game and their relations to one another, as well as complicated
rules governing the moves or plays that these elements are

94

HENRY VEATCH

susceptible of, also in our present example, the p's and q's and
r's might be the elements of the game; the :>'s and the V's
and the ·'s could then be their possible interrelations; and
finally what is describable under the heading of the matrix
method or the logistic method would be the rules according to
which the elements could be manipulated.
As a matter of fact, this possible interpretation has already
been anticipated by some of the mathematical logicians themselves, although it never seems to have occurred to them that
this would make their calculi quite irrelevant to logic. Thus
Prof. Lewis has suggested: " Whatever more it may be, the
matrix method at least is a kind of game which we play with
recognizable marks according to certain rules. If in any game
which deals with any kind of things, p's and q's, there is an
operation or move, plq, which according to the rules can be
taken, when p has the property A, only if q also has the
property A, then ipso facto if p has A and plq is allowable, then
q has A:'' " Thus it does not matter whether p = 1, represents
' p is true ' or ' p is a curly wolf,' nor whether plq represents ' p
implies q' or 'p bites q '; if the rules of the matrix game are
such that when p = 1, plq holds only if q = 1, then in the
nature of the case, any q such that, for some p which always
has the value 1, plq holds, will be such that q always has the
value 1." 60
But now for the second alternative as to what the so-called
propositional calculi might be about, supposing them not to
be about those peculiar second-intentional entities that are the
proper concern of logic. The first alternative was that they
might be about mere fictional beings; the second is that they
might be about not beings of reason at all, but real beings that
either do exist or could exist in rerum natura. Thus the p's and
the q's lllight stand for quantities of a certain sort, let us say,
or perhaps substantial chemical elements, or possibly qualities,
etc. Likewise, the symbols :J, V, · could stand for the various
kinds of real relations that the entities in question might stand
60

Op. cit., p.

ARISTOTELIAN

AND MATHEMATICAL

LOGIC

95

in with respect to one another. Thus quantities as we know,
are related to one another as greater or less or equal etc.;
qualities are related as· similar or dissimilar etc. Accordingly,
some such interpretation as this might be found for the relations
between the elements of the system, just as it was found for the
elements themselves. And finally, just as quantities are subject
to addition or division, or transposition, etc., and just as
chemical compounds are subject to analysis and synthesis, etc.,
so also the elements of this system, standing in certain recognized relations to each other, may be manipulated so as to give
rise to various new combinations and arrangements. Moreover, the nature and character of these manipulations would be
such as are described under the headings of the matrix method
and the logistic method, it being understood that on this
present interpretation both of these methods would be completely dissociated from any purely logical connotations such as
inference or proof.
Of course, it is not suggested that any such interpretation
of these calculi has been found, or even will be found in the
future. And yet the thing is at least conceivable. And in any
case, the examination of this very type of question is peculiarly
necessary at the present time, particularly because the mathematical logicians, whether through indifference to or ignorance
of first philosophy, have quite neglected all questions as to the
being of the things they are talking about. In fact, the point
is of peculiar relevance to the whole question of the relation
between logic and mathematics. For as is well known, the
mathematical logicians have quite cavalierly lumped the two
disciplines together as being fundamentally the same kind of
thing. And yet, in so doing, they may have unconsciously distorted the nature of logic altogether, treating its objects as if
they were, like mathematical entities, objects of first intention,61 and forgetting completely that it is with second inten61 Of course, in a way this merely begs the whole question, for the fundamental
question simply is one as to whether mathematical entities are objects of first or
of second intention. However, if present-day philosophers of mathematics would

96

HENRY VEATCH

tions and with these alone that the logician has to deaL
Likewise, to suppose that merely because one has described
certain highly abstract entities and has worked out the
theorems pertinent to them, one has actually developed a
science of logic, is wholly unwarranted" Rather it would seem
to be a case only of using the science of logic in order to
develop another and very different science, viz", mathematics,
just as one has to use logic in the development of any science
whatever.
HENRY VEATCH

Indiana University,
Bloomington, Indiana.

only recognize that this is the fundamental question with which they have to deal,
it would certainly make for clarity when it comes to discussing the relations between
logic and mathematics.

BOOK REVIEWS
Art and Faith. An Exchange of letters between Jacques Maritain and
Jean Cocteau. New York: Philosophical Library, 1948. Pp. 138.
$2.'15.

This small book contains an exchange of letters between M. Jacques
Maritain and M. Jeail Cocteau, between a philosopher and a poet, concerning the conversion or :return of Cocteau to the faith and certain matters
pertaining to a philosophy of art. The two letters were written over twenty
years ago, but they have been published in English translation only this
year. The quite difficult translation seems well done by Mr. John Coleman. The letters, in rather large measure, are peculiarly French and
peculiarly limited to the post-war period in France, a double difficulty the
American reader has to overcome to appreciate fully many of the implications in the correspondence.
The real merit of the book is in the almost delicate account it gives of
the conversion of a soul to God. It is eloquent testimony to the marvelous
workings of grace, to the influence of human instrumental causality, and to
the genuine catholicity of the Catholic Faith. The latter point is evident
by the fact that poetic as the manner is in which the conversion is
presented, involving nuances and symbolism in full dress, the actual working of grace is nevertheless as unmistakably dear as in the conversion of
a banker. The book is thus one more valuable instance how the faith can
and does reach all manner of men in an infinite variety of ways and how,
at the same time, it draws from an almost incredible diversity the literal
adherence to the one Church and the one Faith and the one Baptism.
The working of grace, the human instrumental causality of which Maritain, despite his modest disavowal, is a chief instance, is delicately revealed
throughout the book.
" I lost my seven best friends," writes Cocteau. " This is as much as to
say that God, seven times, bestowed graces on me without my noticing.
He would send me a friendship, take if from me, send me another, and so
on. I would let go of the bait and fall stupidly back in again. Don't go
and think He was sacrificing youth; He was dressing up angels. An illness
or war serves them with a pretext to undress " (p. Ql) .
And at the critical moment, Cocteau writes, describing the providential
disposition of a Father Charles and Maritain himself: "Lightning is disconcerting. Sometimes it can be a
light red baH which comes into a
room, moves about, and leaves without harming anyone." " Jacques, was

97

98

BOOK REVIEWS

this your trap? Were you awaiting this minute? A heart entered the
room; a red heart surmounted by a red cross in the middle of a white form
that glided about, bowed, spoke, shook hands. This heart hypnotized me,
distracted me from the face, beheaded the Arab's robe. It was the real
face of the white form, and (Fr.) Charles seemed to hold his head against
his breast like a martyr. . . . It was then, Maritain, that you pushed me.
Pushed me in the back by a blow from your soul, which is an athlete;
pushed head first. All saw that I was losing my balance. Nobody came to
my rescue, for they knew that to help me would have been to lose me.
Thus I learned of the spirit of this family, which Faith brings to us instantaneously, and which is not one of the least of the graces of God "
(pp. 37-39).
To this Maritain replies: "It was then you met Father Charles. If
there was conspiracy, it was the angels. A telegram warned me of his
arrival the very day you were to dine at Meudon. When he entered we
knew at once, by a great eddy of silence in our souls-and which lasted
until the end-that he came only for you. This heart that you draw at
the bottom of your letters, he was wearing over his chest, but with the
cross planted in it. Solitude was sending you a contemplative; contemplatives and poets understand each other: a man accustomed to the ways
of Heaven was at ease with your invisible. And then Charles' simplicity,
his inner freedom, his self-effacement in love, that was the style you likedin a work done by God " (p. 83) .
With all the poetic allusions and ingenious employment of verbal images
and even poetic puns (which the translator notes, once in desperation),
the underlying reality is still not lost sight of; fundamentally, it is very
simple and is thus forcefully expressed at occasional and necessary times
as when, in the original, Cocteau writes: "Je demandai grace. II etait si
simple de demander Ia Grace."
When we turn, however, to those parts of the brief book which deal with
a philosophy of poetry the result, in general, is not so successful. Perhaps
the major reason for this is the carrying over of the poetic mode of discourse into the sphere of what should be philosophical analysis. It would
be a mistake to be unsympathetic or insensitive to such a manner of approach. Indeed, the approach in terms of the creative artist in fine art is
a necessary element, and we should seek to understand all that he has to
tell us. We should, further, not lose sight of the fact that Maritain is
writing to a specific poet in a rather individual manner. Yet, with due
allowance for all this, and insofar as the book intends to offer points on a
philosophy of art, the rather exclusive poetic mode of discourse hinders
rather than becomes an instrument of philosophical penetration. The poetic
symbolic mode and the philosophical literal mode do not usually mix well
at the same time and on the same point. Even wllen the symbolic mode

BOOK REVIEWS

99

is used successfully, as in the case of Plato, the consequences on the part of
the reader are more likely to be disastrous, as is evident from the usual sort
of interpretation made of Plato. No doubt Maritain, in a desire to communicate fully with the poet, overlooked the inherent danger and ambiguity
involved in a primarily poetic description of a philosophy of art.
By way of indicating such a difficulty briefly, a point or two on poetics
can be considered summarily. One point is the nature of poetry and its
relation to philosophy and the supernatural order. It would seem to be
especially necessary to avoid confusing these three, particularly since the
poetically inclined, almost by a temperament, tend to exalt poetry beyond
its proper end and to insinuate something of an identification with philosophical truth or even supernatural truth. Maritain himself seems rightly
concerned to avoid such a confusion when he states: " Between the world
of poetry and that of sainthood there exists an analogical relation-! use
this word with all the force metaphysicians give it, with all that it implies
for them of kinship and distance. All errors come from the fact that
people misread this analogy: some swell the similarity, mixing poetry and
mysticism; others weaken it, making poetry out to be a craft, a mechanical
art " (p. 88) .
But in the very next paragraph he adds: "Yet poetry is from on highnot like grace, which is essentially supernatural, and which makes us participants in what belongs to God only, but like the highest natural resemblance to God's activity." And in explaining "highest natural" he adds
in a footnote: "I say 'natural' in opposition to the essential supernaturalness of Christ's grace. This does not alter the fact that in another sense,
just as first philosophy is called metaphysics, poetry can be said to be
super-natural, insofar as it transcends not the whole order of created and
creatable nature, but of sense-perceivable nature and of all the laws of the
and as its values are of a transcendental order " (pp.
material
88-89).

We are concerned here with the nature or status of poetry. We cannot
say in any literal sense-and it is precisely at such points as this that we
must speak analytically and
poetry is " super-natural."
Rather, it is quite the opposite that is true: poetry, and all the fine arts,
remain peculiarly human and properly natural in that they conform so
adequately with human nature and its proper operation. We can, of
course, speak of a truly creative poet as a supel,'ior man and we can even
speak very analogically of his poetic gift as " divine," but all this remains
within the scope of proper human causality. Sometimes, in fact, we refer
to philosophy (specifically, metaphysics, as Aristotle did) as more divine
than human, and in this case we have a literal basis for the assertion insofar as the knowledge to be gained is more beyond man than proper to man.
But this is precisely not the case with poetry or any of the fine arts; we

100

BOOK REVIEWS

refer here both to the kind of knowledge poetry has and to its peculiarly
human· attainment. The fine arts, in fact, are the most proper natural
human perfections.
This is evident in two ways. Positively, it is indicated by the fact
that aH men take at least some delight in the works of fine art and can be
reached, however little at times, through some one of the fi11e arts. Negatively, we have the historical evidence of the persistent endeavor on the
part of man to reduce philosophy to the more human level of art (even,
vulgarly, to something like a "story" of philosophy at times).
Further, there seems to be a misconception of the nature of poetry to
regard it as transcending the order of sense-perceivable nature. It is true,
as Aristotle points out in the Poetics, that poetry attains something universal in which respect it is superior to history, for example, in terms of
knowledge. In this sense we can speak of it as exceeding the limit of the
factual order of sensation. But in another sense, it precisely does not
transcend sense-perceivable nature to the exact extent that the universal
attained in poetry can be known only as it is realized sensibly-as a character of a certain kind is realized and known only in this portrait of these
colors and lines. It is, rather, in philosophy that we transcend senseperceivable nature insofar as we abstract the universal from the sense
singulars and know it apart from the sense singulars. In this way we see
that poetic knowledge is a kind of mean between the fully universal
knowledge obtained in philosophy and the pure perception of singulars
obtained in sensation. The very mode proper to poetic knowledge requires the realization of the universal in the sense singular. And this is
why art is so peculiarly human; it joins so intimately the powers of intellect and sensation in man. It is also why art is enjoyed by man in a way
that philosophy, being too intellectual, is not. It is· necessary to stress
this literal. distinction between philosophy and art because it seems nowhere
explicit in the book, its absence therefore being an occasion for misconstruing the relation and distinction between the two, as Maritain himself
appears to do when he speaks of poetic inspiration as a " special inspiration which is above the deliberation of reason" (p. 89).
Again, through a lack of sufficient literal distinction, it almost seems as
if Maritain were even compromising the difference he himself insists upon
between poetry and the supernatural order. There is more serious danger
in a confusion here than between poetic knowledge and philosophical
knowledge, precisely because of the plausibility of seeing too much relation
between the symbolic mode of the poet and that of the mystical theologian
or saint. This has led some to the error of regarding the works of St.
John of the Cross, for example, as poetical in character. The difference,
however, between the poetic order and the mystical order is as vast as
possible in knowledge obtained by man, the latter essentially and wholly

BOOK REVIEWS

101

supernatural and the former properly human and (in the order of knowledge as such) the lowest. Mystical knowledge uses the symbolic mode to
make somewhat intelligible for us that which is too intelligible for us.
Poetic knowledge uses the symbolic mode to make more intelligible for us
that which is less intelligible by nature. Only after the establishment of
such literal distinctions can we draw analogies or likenesses. Without them,
such passages as the following in Maritain, are certainly open to misunderstanding: "Poetry, in its pure spiritual essence, transcends all technique,
transcends art itself. . . . Poetry is an image of divine grace. . . . In one
sense poetry is not of this world, it is in its way a sign of contradiction:
its kingdom is also in our midst, within us ... " etc., (pp. 90-91).
Another fundamental point, touched upon in this book, is the relation
of art to prudence, i.e., to the moral order. Maritain writes: " The point
is that art stands in a line that is not the line of man's good. From this
comes its strength: it is free of the human, it is not constrained like prudence
to regulate with regard to an end fixed in advance, in the mess of the contingent, the indetermination of free will; art has for its end only the
object it has chosen; it despotically dominates its matter " (p. 92) . And
also: "Moreover, wisdom and art are two independent absolutes. All
sciences are subordinated to wisdom by the very reason of their objects.
This is not the case with art: it comes into the midst of our hierarchies like
a moon prince whom
has not foreseen, and who embarrasses aU
the masters of ceremonies. Taken in itself, and in its pure formal line,
it has with human and divine values neither subordination nor co-ordination, it depends by: its object neither on wisdom nor on prudence; all its
dependence on them is on the side of the human subject who practices art,
ex parte subjecti. It can be mad and remain art; it is man who will pay
the cost" (pp. 116-117).
Maritain here attaches an absolute independence to art that is impossible
to maintain. On this matter, we shall confine ourselves to the. specific
question of the relation of art to the moral order. It is clear, at the outset,
that art and prudence (as the cardinal virtue in the moral order) are
distinct as virtues, as practical habits of the intellect; the classic texts on
this are familiar to alL But the precise signification of this distinction and
the context in which it has arisen seems not always to have been
grasped. In the appropriate Aristotelian and Thomistic texts, art is taken,
when this distinction is made, generically and without any specific consideration of fine art. What we now call the " fine " arts were not a
special problem nor even a special classification in medieval times. The
instances adduced by St. Thomas when distinguishing between art and
prudence show that if he is referring to any kind of art explicitly, it is to
servile art.
Now in servile art it is true that art precises from any moral considera-

102

BOOK REVIEWS

tion; for example, the "essence" of the knife is to cut simply, and nothing
more. But the works with which fine art are concerned, the things which fine
art makes, cannot precise altogether from the moral order. This is because
the object of imitation in fine art differs from that of servile art. All fine
arts have as their proper object imitation of human action, suffering, or
thought, as is evident inductively and analytically. But human action,
suffering, and thought, precisely as human, fall within the moral order and
therefore under the ordering of prudence. That is to say, every human act
as human is a moral act and since the proper object of imitation in fine art
is some human act, and since no human act in the concrete is indifferent
morally, then all fine arts are concerned with an object of imitation which
necessarily involves also a moral principle.
A sign that this is the case is indicated by the diversity of taste in art.
All men would agree that the end of fine art is to make something pleasing
to man-to make something artistically beautiful which, in being known,
brings about the appropriate delectation. But while all men would agree
in that, they often differ on what pleases, which is to say they often disagree in their taste and judgment of what is beautiful. · Why does this
happen? In part, it is because what pleases man depends upon his moral
formation, and as a man is formed morally so will his taste in art be formed.
(This does not mean, of course, that moral formation is the sole criterion of
what is beautiful.) Thus a man is pleased when a work of fine art conforms to his moral nature, displeased when it does not. A chaste man will
be pained by representations of excessive sensuality; an unchaste man will
be pleased by such representations. It is evident also that the creative
artist will make an object that is in conformity with his moral nature,
and in this way we see that this conformity with a moral principle is in
the object itself and not only in the way the beholder views the object. In
this connection it should be noted that in the Poetics, where Aristotle is
considering a fine art formally, he employs moral principles as well as
artistic principles, e. g., in the analysis of the tragic hero, the unity of the
plot, and so on.
In varying degrees, the object of imitation in all the fine arts becomes
specified through moral as well as artistic principles-even in music, whose
object of imitation is the least intelligible. Music imitates the movement
of the human emotions through the instrumentality of the voice. Since the
movement of the emotions in man is either ordered by reason or not, even
in music a moral principle enters into the object of imitation in some way.
Thus we see that fine art not only cannot actually precise from moral
considerations, but must actually employ moral principles in determining
the beautiful in fine art. In other words, prudence, as the cardinal virtue
of the moral order, enters in as constitutive of the object of imitation in
fine art.

BOOK REVIEWS

103

It would, of course, be erroneous to conclude from this that because the
object of imitation in fine art falls within the ordering of prudence that
the morally virtuous precisely as virtuous is the proper principle of fine art.
It is true that the most perfect imitation in fine art will be imitations of
good men in their action, character, or thought, yet this is not precisely because of the virtuous as such, but rather that the virtuous is that which is
best ordered, and it is the best ordered that is the most beautifuL Consequently, the beautiful (not as a transcendental, if it is, but the beautiful
as realized in art) is the proper principle of art, and it is this which justifies
the original distinction between art and prudence which Maritain is rightly
concerned to maintain. However, the allied point is that the beautiful is
realized in fine art only through the ordering of virtue in human action,
the object of imitation. Or to state it in another way: it is the order in
an object that makes it pleasing to contemplate and virtue has this proper
function to make human acts well ordered; it is precisely such good order
that is imitated to make the artistic object beautifuL In this way, the
object of fine art is specified by the moral principle without denying the
legitimate distinction between art and prudence.
Failure to acknowledge the relation between art and prudence has led to
many misconceptions producing a kind of divorce or, rather, a real opposition between art and prudence that is certainly foreign to the intention of
Plato, Aristotle, and St. Thomas. This seems to have happened either
because_ of a failure to distinguish between a generic conception of art as
it is treated in the classic texts from a specific treatment of fine art, or from
an undue fear of moralizing art which, of course, is an error in the opposite
direction.
Despite these criticisms, it should be emphasized, finally, that the end
achieved by this brief book is not seriously diminished in its practical
effect, which is a testimony to the working of grace. Maritain has an
admirable sensitivity for the practical needs of his friends and colleagues.
He sees the solution for the real problem in the contemporary world, a
problem that is not only intellectual but radically spiritual as well. As
he is concluding his letter to Cocteau, he writes: " A terrible pity rends me
at the thought of the generation that is twenty years old today. The best
among them go to the worst. Whose fault is it? That of the abominable
world of which they are victims. And especially ours, we Catholics. For
we are responsible for everything, having the redeeming light in our wicked
hearts of men. Insofar as we stop it and diminish it, we increase the weight
or darkness. . . . Many of those who believe themselves to be our enemies
are in reality closer to us than they think, or than we think. They. desire
. with that remarkable impetuosity this same God that we love, that we do
not love enough. If we had loved Him more, would they not know Rim? "
JoHN

College of St. Thomas,
St. Paul, Minneaota

A. OEsTERLE, T. 0. P.

104

BOOK REVIEWS

L'Etre et l'Essence. By ETIENNE GILSoN, Paris: J. Vrin, 1948. Pp. 328.
500 fr.
What is required of a good historian of philosophy? If he is to report
past ideas, like a telescope describing the stars, it would seem that he must
leave his own philosophy aside in order to achieve objectivity, and the ideal
would be that he have no philosophy at all so that each of the passing
philosophers could be drawn to an impartial scale. The result is a series
of thumbnail sketches which a beginner in philosophy might be required
to read and be tempted to memorize. The more initiated would prefer
to get their facts more completely from a first-hand study of sources since
the historian yields them no original ideas; he only saves their time.
Moreover, such pure photography of the past makes for dry reading.
It does not relate by-gone thinkers very profoundly to each other, except to
bury them in the same cemetery; it fails to detect those larger themes that
make the whole history of philosophy something meaningful for the
present, prompting the living to digest the truths of their predecessors and
to profit from their failures. In philosophy, even error should not die in
vain.
Another way of writing the history of thought is to have a philosophy
in one's own right, fastening one's mind on the ultimate peak of reality and
describing the struggles of other systems to ascend it. Such an historian,
being a philosopher, can make sense out of past systems as different approaches to a single subject, that which is. As a philosopher, he will detect
those general relations which make philosophy itself what it is, apprehending, so to speak, the unity or " essence " of philosophy which a pure historicism of thought cannot pierce. As a realist in philosophy, and only a
realist can make sense here as elsewhere, he will make the past fruitful
for the present by showing its trials and its triumphs, its rewards and its
punishments. Such a philosophical historian of philosophy will attend not
only to what a man meant to say but to what he said really ineant. He
will thus probe the principles of other thinkers while he is searching the
principles of reality for a yardstick. The comparison between the two will
not only make the past a meaningful network of what other men have
thought; it will help the present to know what it too should think, as it
scans experience for the ultimates.
Etienne Gilson writes the history of philosophy in this second and more
philosophical fashion. He has long recognized, to recall the title of an
earlier work, that there is a unity in philosophical experience. In the
present book, which may well rank as his greatest contribution, he defines
more fully what that unity is. From Parmenides to Kierkegaard, the history
of philosophy is here unrolled out as a series of approaches to being, that
which is. Carrying out the implications of each philosopher who has had a

:BOOK REVIEWS

105

seminal influence, this modern de Ente et Essentia reaches two goals: it
presents a panorama of the whole of western philosophy with the simplicity
that only greatness can bring to this task, and it likewise develops the
doctrine on being, essence, and existence not only as an historical
but as a metahistorical answer.
Gilson believes that the greatest danger in philosophy is the temptation
to conceptualize. Unfortunately, he does not develop very deeply what he
means by the term " concept," but it would seem that he has in mind the
Pythagorean mistake of turning a transcendental into a category. Parmenides, the originator of ontology in the literal sense of the word, identified
being with thought. His mistake was continued in a more subtle way when
Plato hypostasized Ideas. Even Aristotle, though he recognized the reality
the existing, never
of substance and to that extent asserted the primacy
quite struggled away from the Platonic doctrine of essences as the intelligible components of things; as Ross points out, r[ wn in Aristotle and
ro·B£ never quite got together. Greek philosophy thus sums up as an
essentialism, even though the greatest of the Greeks had a vague and
intermittent glimpse of a region beyond concepts and beyond essences.
The problem of essence and existence, implicit in the texts of Aristotle,
came to a boiling point in the middle ages, especially in Avicenna and
Averroes. For the first, finite existence was taken as a kind of accident in
the hierarchy of
while Averroism developed into a full-blown
denial that essence and existence were distinct. Both of these Arabian
streams were faithful to the interest in substance, so apparent in the
Aristotle whom they believed to interpret. The extremism of each was a
kind of felix culpa which enabled St. Thomas Aquinas to think out the true
metaphysics of creaturehood and to set essence and existence into a realistic
framework as distinct but not separated a parte rei and as intimately related
to each other in spite of their diversity. Gilson believes that if essence is
intelligible it is because of existence and that, though there is nothing
beyond being, there is a stratum of being beyond essence where a metaphysical realism must install itself and which it must never allow itself to
forget. Essence, Gilson is willing to agree, is that which makes a thing what
it is, but it cannot be understood fully without reference to existence, the
supreme act. Finally, the human mind mounts to Existence itself which
is the final reason for being as well as for intelligibility. It is the existential
ontology, the study of being in general,
reference of being that explains
and theodicy, the study of the Cause of being, can both be metaphysics
and not give rise to sciences specifically diverse.
Gilson does not hold that existence is beyond the intelligible but only
that it cannot be conceptualized. He holds that man knows it but through
judgments rather than through concept, citing St. Thomas to support the
conclusion that both the being and the truth of things are attained in the

106

BOOK REVIEWS

second operation of the intellect. Gilson thus holds that existence is not
beyond being but beneath it. Being i& that which is. It is real and
intelligible, essential and existential, since it is not simply " that which "
but that which is. It is being and not simply essence that is the object of the
metaphysics which St. Thomas conceived.
But the solution which Aquinas brought to the central problem of metaphysics lingered only briefly on the stage of philosophy, so much so that
even some of his disciples, soi-disant, later came to doubt whether he even
held the real distinction between essence and existence. Scotus returned for
his inspiration to the Avicennian doctrine of the three modes by which a
universal can exist and concluded that essence in each mode is never
Neither including nor
without the existence proportioned to it (p.
excluding existence, essence, according to Scotism (p.
is a kind of
pure possibility, and without that reference to existence which it has of its
nature, essence is here reinstated as the chief interest of metaphysics which
thereupon loses its existential character and becomes once anew an essentialism. Suarez, concentrating on being in its substantival sense (ens ut
nomen), came to view actuality as a particular form of possibility, and when
Descartes studied philosophy at La Fleche the essentialism of Suarez was
what he learned as Scholasticism.
But it was Wolfi, an intellectual grandson of Descartes through Leibniz,
who applied the word ontology to designate the study of being in its abstract or essential character and who set a style that leading Scholastic
manuals have been inclined to follow ever since. Besides this misfortune
which later Scholastics inherited directly from Wolff, there is the further
fact that the Wolffian rationalism was a formative influence upon Kant.
Taught at the University of Konigsberg by F. Schultz, one of Kant's
masters, the Wolffian doctrine that ontology is the study of the possible
was the focus for Kant's knowledge of Scholasticism, and from it, the
critical idealism of Kant which Gilson describes as " a neutralization of
existence" issued forth as a protest; it was Wolff that lulled Kant into
his "dogmatic slumber." Hegel's subsequent attempt to deduce existence
and Kierkegaard's protest to assert it as an ultimate conclude the historical
developments which Gilson traces.
All of this philosophy of the history of philosophy is extremely valuable.
The reader not only learns facts; he learns lessons. It is not only that
the subject matter is important. Gilson's method of presenting doctrine
through historical techniques is worthy of consideration by itself. He leads
the past all the way up until it rejoins the present in!ellectual struggles of
man, ever searching after truth but inclined to release the precarious hold
he can gain on it because it· is more comforting to conceptualize. It is
excusable that there is no chapter in this book devoted to Bergson since he
could not be fitted in without a longer study of the post-Kantian era in

BOOK REVIEWS

107

philosophy which Bergson wished to reform. In Maritain's case, there is a
feeling that an insistence on the existential character of Thomistic metaphysics may be owed in part, and then only psychologically, to Bergson.
With Gilson too, even though Bergson had perhaps only a vague and
indirect influence on his formation, there is a feeling that the philosophy of
the concrete, which Bergson sensed to be necessary and which he constructed in a faulty form, here receives its fulfillment.
It is the temptation to put a Bergsonian irrationale at the roots of the
real which might bother the reader of Gilson's book, and lest ano.ther
metaphysical mysticism rise up, the danger should be singled out. Gilson
vaguely warns us against it in his chapter on Kierkegaard, and though he
has a chapter on our knowledge of existence, there may be more to say on
the subject. It may be repeated that Gilson rightly insists on being as
intelligible and on existence as the ground of its intelligibility. Re simply
repudiates the philosophies which attempt to conceptualize being, without
regard to the existential character which can not be conceptualized. One
can not ask what existence is and seek the answer through concept. Existence does not have an essence and is not the proper subject for the question
what?
Allied to this whole question is Maritain's doctrine on the intuition of
being and especially the problems raised by the new reading of In Trinitate
Boethii. Here, as Geiger has singled out, St. Thomas seems to describe the
knowledge of being in terms of a separatio which appears to mean that
such knowledge is completed in the negative judgment. Gilson does not
employ the term intuition nor does he develop any principle that could be
confronted directly with the Maritain view. Though he deals at length with
the problem of our knowledge of the' non-being, he does not do so in the
framework which Geiger's research might suggest. Is Gilson's reference to
existence as intelligible but not conceptualizable what Maritain means by
intuition?
Despite the hopes of the reader that Gilson might have been more explicit
in regard to certain modern controversies regarding our knowledge of beingperhaps it is only a case of asking him to explicate what cannot be conceptualized-the chapter on our knowledge of existence remains one of
the original contributions which this book makes to the philosophia
perennis. The core of the chapter is that judgments of existence cannot be
reduced to judgments of attribution. Gilson will not accept the proposition
A is as simply meaning A is A. With an insight that does justice to both
common sense and scientific principle, Gilson shows that in affirming or,
denying existence, as in the judgment, Peter is (or exists), the verb is not
simply the logical copula but has a meaning by itself. Existence is not an
accident qualifying an essence in the real world, and in the existential
judgment, it is not a predicate modifying a subject. The problem is com-

108

BOOK REVIEWS

plicated by the ambiguous character .of the word " is " which can inhabit
either the logical or ontological universe of discourse. But unlike contemporary purists, Gilson does not repudiate common sense because it is
sometimes vague and even ambiguous. He wishes to probe it for its latent
metaphysics, purifying it when necessary and accepting it when it is true.
Gilson's final chapter is entitled" Existence and Philosophy." Here, while
appealing to philosophy to recognize the rights of existence, he also asks it to
stop at the ultiiDate and, in spite of the torment to conceptualize, to refrain
from the attempt to deduce the ultimate from something even more ultimate
which is beyond being. There are also admonitions against the so-called
" copy " theory of truth which turns the mind into a mirror rather than
accepts it as a vital agent in the cognitive process.
This book, when its full meaning is thought through and when it has been
read and reread with the attention it invites, may well be judged as a
high-water mark in the twentieth century rise of Scholasticism. Like every
great book, if thinkers are only attentive to it, it will have its coriunentators and even its commentaries. When a heavy hammer strikes the
anvil, there are sparks in many directions. For instance, the historical
arrows in the book should be followed down to contemporary conceptualism
and the emphasis on logic. The whole problem of mechanism could be.
treated in the light of what Gilson has said on essentialism. The problem
of our knowledge of existence should be clarified even if not conceptualized.
Gilson's thesis should be applied to the conflict of voluntarism versus intellectualism in the history of thought· and on the contemporary scene. The
problem of the intelligibility of creatures in affording knowledge of God
can be further probed. The problem of the analogy of being can be pointed
up in Gilson's framework and applied to the history of thought as Gilsonhas applied the doctrine on existence.
This book should be of interest to all philosophers. It is " must " reading
for the Scholastic. For Gilson is not only a good chronicler of the past;
his genius is also as a teacher for the present.
VINCENT Enw ARD SMITH.
Loretto Heighu OoUege,
DenveT, Colorado.

Religious Trends in English Poetry. Volume ffi: 1780-1830: Romantic
Faith. By HoxiE NEALE FAIRCHILD. New York: Columbia University
Press, 1949. Pp. 559; with index. $6.75.
Professor Fairchild leaves us in no doubt about his attitude toward
romanticism. He sees that at its best and in spite of its early contributions
to man's happiness, it is self-worship; at its worst it is a selfish pride and
a iust f()r power, "the same force which actuates the foes of democracy."

BOOK REVIEWS

109

This third volume of Religioua Trends in English,PoetT'JI,then, is
than
a careful piece of scholarship about the religious beliefs of the great nineteenth century poets; it has a value which comes from Professor Fairchild's
knowledge of the possibility of an exaggeration at the present moment of
the romantic philosophy of life, a philosophy which the Romantic Movement in literature represents at the cuhnination of one point of its
development.
This work belongs to a series of five volumes which proposes to trace
" the trends of religious thought and feeling through English poetry from
the beginning of the eighteenth century to the present." In the preface
the author points out that the scope and method of the present volume
differ markedly from the plan of the two. earlier books, for instead of
examining the work of a great number of second and third (or lower) rate
writers, here he limits himself to a detailed investigation of seven distinguished poets of the Romantic period: Burns, Blake, Wordsworth,
Coleridge, Shelley, Byron, and Keats. This change will, no doubt, ease
many of Professor Fairchild's readers who have found that volumes I and
II required weary plodding through much dull and uninteresting verse.
By means of a religious frame of reference, the author analyzes romanticism as exhibited in its most well-known exponents. He justifies his position
by numerous definitions of romanticism, all of which emphasize faith in
human energy and in human ability as opposed to whatever may tend in
the environment and ideology of the age to check or limit it. To escape
from a society dominated by industrial, economic, and scientific interests,
the Romantic writers formulate a divinity of some sort-Nature, Love, or
Beauty-and give it certain supernatural attributes. Professor Fairchild
frankly states that such a romantic God is far from being the Christian
God since to the romantic there is· no essential difference of kind between
himself and his ideal, rather a distinction of degree. Professor Fairchild,
therefore, refuses to call such a religion "Christianity," reserving for it the
term " romantic religion." He has traced the earlier appearance and
development of this belief in his two previous volumes, and it is this thesis
of the continuity . of religious thought which unifies the series. He has
shown the line of advance to be a growth of self-trust encouraged by the
Protestant psychology, which developed as Protestantism decayed into a
sentimental deism that interfused God, man, and nature in a system of
universal benevolence. With the industrial and social changes of the nineteenth century a romantic deity was created that transcended humanitysince mechanism threatened to engulf human independence-but by no
means was the Christian God. Every Christian who takes his religion
seriously should be grateful to Professor Fairchild for his honest and firm
stand on the essential distinction between a belief which says, "No law
can be sacred to me but that of my own nature," and one which says, " Be

110

BOOK REVIEWS

it done unto me according to thy word." The kind of criticism which confuses these two attitudes so diametrically opposed is well-known to Professor Fairchild and it is against any such misconception that he takes his
position determinedly.
Professor Fairchild traces in the text the development of religious thought
of each of the seven poets through various stages of his career and uses his
writings as illustration and explanation. As the author proceeds he shows
how the romantic belief in man's essential goodness and in· his selfsufficiency is. responsible in large part for the best qualities in the work of
these poets; is responsible for their enthusiasm, their intensity of joy and
sorrow, for their ideals of love, brotherhood, and nature; 'how, for example,
Byron's romantic desire for complete personal freedom led to his advocacy
of general social and political liberty as expressed in Childe Harold and
The Prisoner of ChiUon-works which influenced the development of
political thought in E11rope. However, since this romantic faith was built
primarily on personal feeling; since it promised " the higher spiritual
values without paying the stiff price exacted by Christianity: discipline,
humility, self-surrender, awareness of sin, penitence and penance, the way
of the Cross," it lacked objectivity and firmness and so gradually weakened
and failed.' Professor Fairchild, moreover, does not fail to note that its
urge towards infinite expansiveness is responsible for much that is vague and
overstrained in the work of the romantics, and that their art suffers
because their belief forced upon them the position of teacher and prophet.
The detailed investigation presented in this volume sometimes makes
tedious reading and sometimes gives one a feeling of sadness and futility,
so invariably yet necessarily does the author note how each of the poets
of this period failed either to attain or to maintain full maturity of development. He leaves one with the thought of Wordsworth's and Coleridge's loss of vision, of Burns' judgment of himself, " I have been a fool
all my life,'' of Blake's self-deification-" Thine own humanity learn to
adore "-;-Of the self-centeredness of Shelley, Keats, and Byron. At their
best these men show deep spirituality and rich inspiration, but Professor
Fairchild remorselessly lays bare their subjectivity and self-interest which
made them worshippers of their .very weaknesses.
A final footnote (page 553) referring to "the larger branch of the
Catholic Church " as failing to distinguish " between the order which oppresses and the order which liberates " struck a jarring note and did not
seem necessary in defining Professor Fairchild's position. This is the only
adverse comment, for the work is a serious study, carefully presented, and
stimulating to the reader interested in the religious background of thought
from which romanticism devell'lped.
SISTER M. MARTIN,

Dominican College,
San Rafael, Califomia.

0. P.

BOOK REVIEWS

111

You Can Change the World. By JAMEs KELLER. New York: Longmans,
Green, 1948. Pp. 387. $3.00.

Catholic Social Action. By JoHN F.,CRONIN, Ph. D. Milwaukee:

Bruce,

1948. Pp. £65 with index. $3.50.
The very title of Fr. Keller's book has a :ringing sound, an optimistic
note, and a vigorous challenge. In content, the book has all the enthusiasm
of a great crusade. The author is the founder of the Christopher Movement
and this volume constitutes the definitive handbook for his followers. Although the purpose of the Christophers is the Christianization of society,
the movement cannot be considered as Catholic. This fact is evidently in
the book. The Maryknoll priest omits any mention of the central Catholic
doctrine of the Trinity and of the role of Mary in Christian life. This he
obviously does in order not to lose any non-Catholics who might find
Catholic teaching too much to swallow in one gulp, but who are, nevertheless,
for a high natural code of ethics in society.
It is Fr. Keller's contention that only one percent of the American people
are working to undermine our national security. Not all are Communists,
he is quick to add. Against this militant minority, Fr. Keller thinks that
only one percent of the decent element in our country is needed to safeguard our way of life. The author offers no new organization. He completely places his confidence in personal initiative. Thus against an
organized force of the wicked minded·, Fr. Keller pits an unorganized and
sporadic crusade of good people. This would be most unrealistic except
for the fact that actually Fr. Keller is making an appeal for leaders. True,
the Christophers as such are not organized, but if from the enthusiasm that
this book and other works of the founder arouse they really hold their
ground and if they do not die out after the first burst of energy, then
some lasting results may accrue.
Fr. Keller states the purpose of his undertaking as follows: "It is the
Christopher thesis, therefore, that for the one percent bent on destruction,
it should not be too difficult to find another one percent who will strive
with even greater imagination and enterprise to show a devoted and continuing solicitude for our brothers of the one hundred million who are
reached by no faith." (p. Q7) The central theme of Fr. Keller's book is the
need for personal responsibility in all phases of life: domestic, social, even
global. Fourteen chapters are dedicated to the " how " of changing the
world in such fields as education, government, labor, and so through the
list. The best is the one on woman's duties in the chapter entitled "Influencing from the Home." By the use of numerous and interesting anecdotes the author gives a degree of credibility to the lofty objectives he has
in mind and at the same time stirs the reader to a desire for personal action.

11ft

BOOK REVIEWS

The general impression that remains after one has read Fr. Keller's book
is that the goals he envisages are not too difficult of attainment. At times
he 'drops hints and gives indication that genuine hard work and sacrifice
are needed. However, since he mentions all the victories and none of the
setbacks of individual Christophers, a veiy one-sided and rosy point of
view is given. Also the fact that the author has no concrete plans for
reform makes one wonder whether he is interested in changing the world
or simply of holding on to the one we have minus the more obnoxious
elements, especially the Communists. True, Fr. Keller speaks frequently of
bringing Christ into the market place, but he always proceeds on the
generalization that " most American people are decent-minded and decent
living." (p. 148) If the American people measure up to the high standards
that Fr. Keller implies they have, the United States will be a land of
saints and scholars by the turn of the century.
The author's constant repetition of the need for action is at least in
harmony with recent papal pronouncements. The Holy Father has insisted
that now is the time for action. However, it is not likely that mere
activity with no doctrinal content to support and direct this action is what
was intended. In the author's program for the Catholic's day (p. 814) he
allows eight minutes as sufficient time for self-indoctrination. He doesn't
rule out more extensive study, it is true, but being human, people will be
most satisfied with the minimum since it meets their leader's approval. We
would like to share Fr. Keller's optimistic outlook on the future if only one
percent of the good people get to work on changing the world. In fact we
should like to find the spot from which he views the national scene.
Perhaps the best place for this clarion call to action would be in hands
of high school graduates. Undoubtedly the author's words will fire them
with enthusiasm and the modern youth could well use the grand ideals
that this zealous priest proposes. The Christopher Movement is hut one of
many groups trying to rescue the world from its present chaotic state.
Even if it only is a short-lived affair it may do enough good and inspire
enough Americans to wake up and take some interest in their national
security. Certainly it would not do for the " holier than thou " school of
thought to sit in condemnatory judgment on this effort of Fr. Keller. He
c;:ould, with justice, merely point out that after they had passed .their
judgment, they were still sitting.
Fr. Cronin in his book Catholic Social Action lists the Christophers under
the heading of " Training for Leaders." He considers them as a Catholic
movement, but his book was written before Fr. Keller's. Those in the
Christopher Movement, that is, the Catholic element, who find the unorganized life of that group more of a handicap than a help, can turn to Fr.
Cronin's work with much profit. The author has compiled a list of just
about every Catholic organization in America working in the field of
·
social action.

BOOK REVIEWS

113

Catholic Social Action, says Fr. Cronin, "seeks to promote the common
good by consistent and coherent programs of general betterment in the
socioeconomic field." (p. 65) The author has very conveniently divided
his book into three parts that make for a quick and dear view of the whole
field that he covers. Part I is entitled " Education for Social Action." The
program here begins with the grammar school and extends to adult training.
Special consideration in this section, and in fact throughout the book, is
given to the role of the priest. Part H treats of social action with workers
and employers. It includes useful observations and remarks on labor
legislation as well as union activities. The last part is called " Social Action
and Community Groups." Under this heading are discussed the rural
question, the probfem of tolerance, Catholic Organizations, and finally
"Sources of Information." In a postscript, Fr. Cronin states the goal of
Catholic Action and explains what is meant by the Industry Council Plan.
There also are three appendices. The first contains an exhaustive and
extremely valuable as well as intelligently prepared reading list. The
second gives the names and addresses of those conducting Diocesan Social
Education projects. Finally, there is the forceful statement of Archbishop
John Ireland on the Negro's position in American life.
Catholic Social Action is not to be confused with Catholic Action. Fr.
Cronin does not develop their relationship to any extent, but he does
mention that Catholic Action is of interest ito the student of social action
since it can aid the latter in his own field. Because Fr. Cronin promises
another book, to be called Catholic Social Principles, we can let the
problem of the interrelation of these two movements wait for a future
treatment. To the Thomist, it must come as a surprise that Fr. Cronin
first should write a book on social action and project one on social principles for a later date. It is not merely a question of putting the cart before
the horse, it is leaving the cart altogether without the horse. However, the
inversion of order is justified from the fact that the present· book is more
of a survey on the present condition of Catholic social action in America
than any dogmatic statement on what it should be or how it ought to
operate.
Catholic Social Action can be recommended without hesitation. It is
written in a calm and pleasing style. Whereas Fr. Keller's book has a
dash of the popular orator, Fr. Cronin is the gentle professorial type conveying his information without passion or excitement. Fr. Keller's work
emphasizes the need of the individual doing something about improving
society. Dr. Cronin's main point is that the organizations we now have
must be properly motivated and directed to the common good. Both
priests accept society as they find it and propose to work upon it and not
to try to tear the whole structure down and begin building from the ground
up. Neither, of course, delays to defend this thesis since both are pre-

8

114

BOOK REVIEWS

eminently in the practical order and not concerned with theoretical problems. Each book might have put more emphasis on the need of personal
sanctification. Both writers mention the point, but Fr. Keller appears to
rest too much on the natural good in each person as sufficient to carry the
world to a better state of existence. Thus his book becomes but a partial
commentary on the statement attributed to
X: " I have a plan to
reform the world. Let each man reform himself." On the other hand, Dr.
Cronin gives so much importance to the role of organization that he seems
to put his trust for a better society in an- impersonal structure of giant
bureaus all-gracefully cooperating for the welfare of the common good.
Fortunately both authors do not consider their particular parts in the
reform of society as exclusive. Neither writer snipes at other groups working for the inculcation of Christian principles into modem life. Fr. Cronin
neatly puts his position: "Social action is but one phase of the master
plan of restoring all things in Christ. . . . It is a part of the effort to
approach the order _of things as conceived in the mind of God, and expressed
through reason and revelation," (p. f.!OO)
If some Catholics have become impatient with the Church's apparent
apathy, as seen in Her members, to the present wretched state of society
and should begin to wonder if She will ever do anything, it should be
-remembered that the Church is quietly and effectively working for a new
and better world. One is reminded of the Gospel incident of St. John
the Baptist. (Matthew 11, 1-6) The Precursor of Christ was in prison and
sent some of his disciples to ask Our Lord if He was the One to come
or should they look for another. No doubt, St. John expected a great
spiritual revolution, a spectacular return of the Jewish people to the love
of God once the Messias manifested Himself. Instead, John was in prison
and the expected victory was not in sight. Nevertheless Christ did lay the
foundations for a better world and within a few centuries the Roman
Empire .became a Christian Empire.
Today there is needed the same zeal that filled the souls of the first
apostles. The little victories of the social reformers, the ready guidance of
the theologians, together with the lives and prayers of the million who
faithfully fulfill their vocations to the best of their ability are making
possible a better world for the future. Although the urgency
XIII's
social message, in spite of its vigorous repetition and extension by the three
succeeding Piuses, has not been fully appreciated, one must remember that
social revolutions look dramatic only in retrospect. In themselves they
are slow, almost tedious processes, and attain their'- effectiveness more
from concerted effort than by sweeping victories.
Gradualiy the Church's doctrine on the social question is penetrating the
minds of all peoples. The root of delay in its complete application seems
to be that thus far the social movement has been characterized by the

115

.BOOK REVIEWS

unguided zeal of the reformer and the unfortunate failure ot the theologian
to bring his spculative principles into the market place. Even at this
late date, the full moral import of the just wage and the strike, for
example, are but hazy notions in the minds of both capital and labor.
The demands of both sides are concrete, but the meaning of the issues
are still vague. Until this gap is bridged, the social movement will suffer
setbacks. Perhaps Fr. Cronin's projected book on Social Action Principles
will have the answer. Neither of these books has.
RAYMOND

SMITH,

0. P.

Dominican House of Studies,
Washington, D. 0.

Personality in Nature, Society, and Culture. Edited by CLYDE KLucKHOHN
and HENRY MuRRAY. New York: Knopf, 1948. Pp. 5!32, with index.
$4.50.

This book is a collection of forty papers, most of them published previously in various periodicals and repinted here with some slight alterations
or abbreviations. Thus, the presentation of the subject matter differs from
that employed in larger works to which many authors contribute. In these
treatises, each contributor deals with a definite part or aspect of the whole
matter; however, no problem is discussed in its totality. Yet, many issues
are brought up; many particular problems are dealt with in a searching
manner; and, the relation of each of these with the whole is made clear
by the brief systematic exposition of the editors and by short introductions
preceding each of the sections of the book as well as each article. This
procedure has its definite didactic advantages. It places the reader in
the midst of the matter and lets him see to better advantage than in a
textbook, how the various studies concerned with the· problem of personality
approach their tasks. Though there is a basic agreement among the authors
as to the nature of the problems and the principles of methodology, there
is also a great variety of individual standpoints, so that-again otherwise
than in a textbook-the reader does not conceive of the matter as a rigid
and final mass of information. Rather, he realizes how many questions are
still unanswered, whether regarding facts or interpretation.
The early part of the book is a concise formulation of some fundamental
concepts by the two editors: Dr. Kluckhohn, a professor of anthropology,
and Dr. Murray, until recently head of the psychological clinic of Harvard
University. This section on the "Conception of Personality" furnishes,
together with the opening consideration of part two: " The Determinants
of Personality Formation," by the same authors, the conceptual framework
for the whole work.

116

BOOK REVIEWS

Personality is stated to be " an actual, concrete organization of the
processes with which the psychologist is concerned "; as such, it must be
located " within some field where there is a togetherness of all these processes _or of representations of all these processes." Personality refers to
the functioning of the individual as a whole; hence, it is to be located in the
"highest or regnant level of control," i.e., the brain. Personality, further;
is the " organization of all the integrative processes in the brain "; considered historically, it is the "entire sequence of organized governmental
processes in the brain from birth to death." Personality has several functions: ,tension reduction, self expression, reduction of
by scheduling
(following social conventions, schedules of organizations which together
with the disposition to conform, the program of a man's own prospective
actions systems, and many other factors, determine the actual order of
events), reduction of conflicts by social conformity and identification.
Generally speaking, personality " operates to reduce ' dissatisfaction·' and
extend 'satisfaction.'"
Questionmay be raised why all this has to be referred to brain processes,
the nature of which is so unknown as to make the reference of hardly any
explanatory value. Also, it appears difficult to conceive of" self-expression"
in terms of brain processes. Actually, this terminology is superfluous; all
the things which these two authors say and what the other contributors
report can be stated without any reference to the brain. This is important
to note; the further studies are independent of this particular terminology
and may, therefore, be considered in themselves.
·Not even the two editors make further use of their explanation. The
interesting analysis of the determinants of personality formation proceeds
without appealing· to the brain. " Every man is like all other men, like
some other men, like no other man." His personality is determined by constitutional factors or biological events like age, sex, and inborn characteristics. " The old problem of ' heredity or enviromD.ent ' is essentially
meaningless," since once environment has begun· to operate, it is no longer
possible to disentangle their influences. A second group of determinants
originates in group membership. It is possible that impersonal environment
(climate, terrain, etc.) exercises influence; but we know hardly anything
of these factors. Thirdly, there are "role determinants," the formative
power of the station and function allotted to the individual by his culture
and community. Fourthly, "situational determinants," accidental events,
chance contacts, and others. All these determinants are interdependent.
There are some other notions which may be considered as fundamental.
One of these is that of the various " levels " within the human being. The
human being is conceived as a unity ·of such levels; the differentiation in
mind and body is rejected, and therefore also the " psychosomatic " interpretation of many problems, like that of self-control, freedom of the will,

BOOK REVIEWS

117

autonomic illness. These are " problems of regnant-subregnant relations
. . . ; they depend on the sovereignity or adjustability of directive processes
at the highest integrative level."
·
Another approach, common to almost all the contributors, is that of
Freudian psychoanalysis. It is, however, noteworthy that this doctrine is
used partly with great reservations, partly after having been subjected to
far reaching modifications; some of the latter, indeed, leave little of the
original doctrine unchanged. It is, particularly, the fact that cultural
anthropologists have not been able to confirm Freud's views on the
generality of his "mechanisms," e. g., of the " Oedipus-situation," which has
made such modifications necessary. In many instances, the reader feels that
the use of the psychoanalytic terminology is more an expression of respect
for current ideas and for the achievement of Freud, than anything indispensable for the presentation of facts or the formulation of theories.
Corresponding with the frame of reference above indicated, the second
part is divided into sections dealing with: Constitutional determinants;
Interrelations between Constitutional and Group Membership Determinants;
Group Membership; Role; Situational Determinants; and, Interrelations
between the Determinants. The third part discusses some applications to
modern problems.
It is, obviously, impossible to summarize so large a number of contributions. A few remarks with respect to some particularly interesting details
must suffice. The student of sociology, and the educator as well, will learn
much from several studies on the influences determining the behavior of
children and adolescents. There are, furthermore, valuable statements on
the race problem in the United States. In this respect, an article in the
third part: "The Channelling of Negro Aggression by the Cultural Process," is deserving of attention. Related topics are discussed in " Age and
Sex in the Social Structure of the United States," by Parsons, and in
" Bureaucratic Structure and Personality," by R. K. Merton. The study by
Gordon Allport, J. S. Brunner, and E. M. Jandorf: "Personality under
Social Catastrophe: Ninety Life-Histories of the Nazi Revolution," is of
definite value; the observations made under ·these special conditions allow
for generalization and understanding of human behavior under great stress
of long duration.
Dr. A. M. Tozzer writes on "Biography and Biology." This essay is
not only well written and amusing, but is noteworthy in showing the weakness of the idea which attributes individual traits to others " running in
the family." From Dr. Tozzer's treatment it can be gathered how much
more individual experience fashions a person than does his ancestry.
On the whole, the evidence presented in these studies speaks strongly in
favor of environmental influences. With few exceptions, it would seem, the
inborn nature of an individual allows for highly different developments

118

BOOK REVIEWS

which depend mainly on the culture. in which the individual grows up
and on the way in which this cultural influence is brought to bear on the
individual.
Certain problems could have been treated to a far greater extent. Particularly, there is little on the role of ideational aspects in cultures. They
are, indeed, implied in the general concept of culture. They are also pointed
out more in detail in one or the other article, as in E. H. Erikson's" Hitler's
Imagery and German Youth." There are references to such questions
when some authors discuss the sentiment of guilt which may attach itself
to different forms of behavior in different cultures or. which may be absent
altogether. Nonetheless, there is not sufficient appreciation of the power
ideas may exercise.
A reader acquainted with the problems and the work of the cultural
anthropologists, psychologists, psychiatrists, and students of sociology will
find not too much that is new to him; understandably, since the articles
are reprinted. What is rather new is the systematic ordering of the vast
mass of evidence within a clear frame of reference. Whether the latter will
withstand criticism is, for the present, of secondary importance. The mere
fact that it allows a logical arrangement is a notable asset. The student
who approaches the set of problems for the first time will profit much by
careful reading; for anyone interested in human affairs the book will be
helpful. It must again be emphasized that the presentation gains by the
brief but instructive introductions prefacing each section, by which widely
different material is gathered into a coherent text.

RunoLF ALLERS.
Georgetown University,
Washington, D.O ..

The Life of Science. By GEORGE BARTON. New York: Henry Schuman,
1948. Pp. 186. $tWO.
Dr. Sarton's book is the keynote book in the" Life of Science Library"
being published at the present time by H. Schuman, Inc. In the words of
the publishers, since " science can be rightly called ' the domain of
reason,' a knowledge of its history is central to any effort to understand
our civilization." It is with this idea in mind that they are publishing a
series of books dealing with the historical aspects of the natural sciences,
written in non-technical language, and intended both for the general reader
and specialist.
With regard to the scope of the book, Dr. Sarton feels that far too little
emphasis has been placed on the history of science. One can not really
understand the nature of science unless he knows something about the
fundamental discoveries in the field and in related fields. The truly educated

BOOK REVIEWS

119

man must know something about the life of science, just as he knows the
life of art and the life of religion. As a goal, truth is sought, and even
more, justice and charity. The book comprises a series of essays published
at various times during the past thirty years by Dr. Sarton. They have
been collected and edited for the most part by Frances Davis Cohen and
I. Bernard Cohen. The essays are grouped under four headings: a) The
Spread of Understanding, b) Secret History, c) East and West, d) Casting
Bread Upon the Waters.
"The Spread of Understanding," a group of three essays, first explains
the difficulty of acceptance by peoples of even the most elementary of discoveries, e. g. numerals, decimal system, mainly because of inborn prejudices. The second essay, "Medicine versus Art," stresses the author's
idea of the necessity of art for the understanding of science. In Dr. Sarton's
words, "science is the reason, art the joy, religion the harmony, of life"
(p.
The third essay establishes Dr. Sarton's idea of the true purpose
of the history of science: " to establish the genesis and the development of
scientific facts and ideas, taking into account all intellectual exchanges and
all influences brought into play by the very progress of civilization. It is
indeed a history of human civilization, considered from its highest point
of view. The center of interest is the evolution of science, but general
history remains always in the background " (p. 33} . It is in this essay that
he treats of the departments of life most interesting to the historian of
science: histories of civilization, of technology, of religions, of fine arts and
crafts.
"Secret History" gains its title from the fact that intellectual history,
largely a history· of individuals, is comparatively unknown, whereas political
history has up to the present claimed the major attention of historians.
Four individuals have been singled out to prove the author's main point;
namely: peoples and nations are to be judged by their imperishable contributions to the whole of humanity, not by the power of wealth they
have attained (p. 64). Biographies included by the editors in this section
are those of Leonardo da Vinci, Galois, Renan, and Herbert Spencer.
" East and West in the History of Science " is a single essay dealing with
the mutual interdependence of eastern and western cultures.
"Casting Bread Upon the Waters" contains two essays, the first expressing Dr. Sarton's plea both for continuity in historical research and for
an institute established at a great university in order that the work may
be continued and indefinitely perfecte<;l. The second essay in this section,
with the same title as the section, expresses his heartfelt desire that more
and more people should appreciate what may be done' in this world
through better understanding gained through a knowledge of the life of
science.
With regard to an evaluation of the work: " The Life of Science " is

uo

BOOK REVIEWS

first of all intended both for the general reader and the specialist. If Dr.
Sarton's book is to be taken as the standard of the series for general
interest and ease of reading, then the other authors have a difficult task
ahead of them. All four sections are eminently enjoyable and carry out
the author's idea of grounding a person on the fundamentals of the history
of science. The biographies are most interesting from the biographical
viewpoint but it is regrettable that the· other men included are not of the
same caliber as da Vinci. Renan's life, for example, is interesting, but
whether his place is justified beside Leonardo da Vinci is certainly open.
to question.
Dr. Sarton's idea of philosophy restricts him to conclusions drawn from
sensible experience. With regard to the necessity of drawing conclusions
from sensible experience he is absolutely correct, but he fails to see that
through these conclusions he is able to rise to a higher degree of abstraction.
He of course asserts, and rightly so, that the triumphs of modem science
are due to the application of the experimental method (p. 160}. Yet we
know that experimental science as such can not uncover the absolutely
fundamental nature of things; a higher science is needed and that is the
reason why philosophy is defined as the " scientific knowledge of all things,
gained through consideration by the natural light of reason, of their fundamental reasons or causes." (Phillips, Modern Thomistic Philosophy, Vol.
I, p. 19)
With regard to truth, Dr. Sarton states that it is relative but becomes
less and less so, and more and more reliable in proportion as it is checked
oftener and in a greater variety of ways (pp. 161,
While he deprecates the many distinctions of the Scholastics (cf. p. 184} it would seem
that the Scholastic distinction of ontological truth (the truth of things}
and logical truth (truth proper to the mind} conforms to his ideas and
explain his meaning in a far more understandable way (cf. pp. 43, 161, 162}.
For Dr. Sarton, our real goal is more distant than truth, for truth and
justice are not sufficient; charity is needed (p. 183} . It is interesting in this
regard tO note that Dr. Sarton states that the true scientist is a lay priest,
consecrated to the quest of truth (p. 115} . Truth according to the
Thomist view is also sought for its own sake, it is an end or aim, but by
searching after truth we are able to gain an insight into the things of God.
Dr. Sarton, while stating that charity is our ultimate goal, would not go
this far; for him a religious scientist is one who takes life earnestly and
forgets himself (p. 115} . Yet, we too speak of scientists as being in a
sense priests of nature because true scientists have the particular task of
gaining what knowledge they can about material nature as such, as an
untouched work of God, and of offering that knowledge back to God. We
know that there is no such thing as a Catholic, Protestant, or Jewish science
but there are catholic scientists and there is a catholic setting for science;

BOOK REVIEWS

121

the idea expressed by Dr. Sarton is placed on a much higher level if we do
recall, the more often the better, that scientists are " priests of nature "
not only because they continually seek after truth but because they offer
their results back to God Who is the Author of all truth!
It should be noted that Dr. Sarton in quite a number of places makes
quite unfavorable statements concerning Scholastic philosophy (cf. pp. 14,
51, 55, 77, 79, 160, 184) and either explicitly or implicitly the role of the
Church in science (cf. pp. 8, 38, 69, 76, 80, no, 114, 164, 184). Yet in all
of these cases, it is the opinion of the reviewer that the statements are due,
not to deliberate disregard of facts, but rather to the conditions of liberal
tradition under which the essays were written. Dr. Sarton has only to apply
his own principles of studying truth which becomes more and more reliable
as it is checked oftener and in a greater variety of ways (p. 161) .
Despite the above objections, Dr. Sarton's thesis emphasizing the tremendous need for a knowledge of the history of science in order to
stand the nature of science is beautifully and persuasively developed.
L. v. NADEAU, 0. P.
St. Dominic's Priory,
Oak Park, Illinois.

BRIEF NOTICES
Basic Writing$ of Saint .Augustine. Edited by WHITNEY J. OATES. New
York: Random House, 1948. Vol. I, pp. 887; vol. II, pp. 898. Price
$10.00.

Volume I of this work contains the following treatises, each complete:
The Confessions, Soliloquies, On The Immortality Of The Soul, On The
Morals Of The Catholic Church, Concerning The Teacher, On The Profit
Of Believing, Concerning The Nature Of The Good, On The Spirit .And The
Letter, On Nature .And Grace, On The Grace of Christ .And On Original
Sin, The Enchiridion, On Grace .And Free Will, On The Predestination Of
The Saints. Volume II contains The City-of God (Books I, II 14,
:XI, XII, XIII, XIV, XV, XVI, XVII,
4, V, Vl5, VII 6, VIII, IX 15, X
XVIII, XIX, XX, XXI, XXII), and On The Trinity (Books I, II, IV, VI,
VIII, IX, XII, XV) .
In addition there is a " Preface " and a lengthy " Introduction " by the
editor. At the end of volume one, in the form of an appendix, is a fourteen
page analysis of On Free Will in lieu of the treatise itself, and an index to
The Confessions only. At the end of volume two are two subject indices:
one to The City of God and one to On The Trinity. The editor has also
prefaced each treatise by a brief introductory note. The translations found
here are all from a Select Library of the. Nicene and Post-Nicene Fathers
of the Christian Church (edited by Philip Schaff) except On The Immortality of The Soul, and Concerning The Teacher in which cases the
Leckie translations were used. The Nicene and Post-Nicene translations
" have been checked against the original Latin and have been modified in
certain respects either to make the version in question more accurate or to
the translations where this seemed to be desirable. The notes
which appear in Dr. Schaff's edition, which contain references to the Bible
and the Apocrypha, have been reproduced in their entirety. A selection has
been made from the remaining notes in order that the reader may have the
necessary information in order to understand any passage which might
otherwise be obscure. A small number of other notes has been added [by
the editor] with the same purpose in view" (vol. 1, p. V).
The established pattern for
works of this kind
is to quarrel first with the selections made, and second with the editor's
" Introduction." i am chagrined to find that I have no qu'arrel at allonly pure enthusiasm. These selections are as representative of the thought
of Augustine as anything short of his complete works can be. There are
two slight reservations in that last sentence: first, the omission of parts of

122

BRIEF NOTICES

any great work (The City of God and On The Trinity) is always painful,
no matter how compelling the practical reasons necessitating it; second, if
On Free Will is in certain passages too "prolix" (vol. l, p. 835) to be
included, I am not sure that any useful purpose is served by the chapter by
chapter analysis presented here (vol. l, pp.
But even if one does
not antecedently approve these exact selections, he may find Prof. Oates'
justification of them (vol. l, pp.
persuasive. As for
the " Introduction," it is admirably informed, and intellectually stimulating.
At the present moment, happily, two new series of translations of the
Fathers, including St. Augustine, are under way in America. More advanced
students will no doubt wish to have the most recent translations. But for
a very large number of formal and informal students these volumes
for years, be their Augustine. This great work is a fitting companion to the
same publishers The Dialogues of Plato (Jowett), The Stoic and Epicurean
Philosophers (Oates), The Basic Works of Aristotle (McKeon), and The
Basic Writings of St. Thomas Aquinas (Pegis).

An Introduction to Aesthetics. By E. F. CARRITT. London: Hutchinson's
University Library, 1949. Pp. 151. 7j6.
This elliptical approach to a discussion and a delimiting of esthetics is
remarkable for its humility (at times a mere habitual tentativeness) and
lack of stuffiness. Mr. Carritt is concerned with achieving a workable," nonesthetic" (and, it would appear, extra-philosophical) answer to why the
thing being seen should please. He would not consider the beauty of an
object as convertible with its being-prescinding from moral beauty, that
is, and speaking only of esthetic satisfaction. Although the author comes
to define esthetic experience as " the expression of an emotion in an individual mind" and again as "sympathetic contemplation," in Wordsworth's
tranquil sense of life's delights and tragedies, he does not deny (indeed he
is rather insistent upon) moral significance. Esthetic significance is to him
not a greater thing, but simply, and somewhat vaguely, other. One of the
most interesting aspects of this little handbook is its inclusion of two chapters entitled "self-criticism." In these the author asks and answers with
elaborate precisions such questions as the following: Why am I partially
blind to El Greco? Why do I prefer Arnold as poet to Tennyson or
Browning? Mr. Carritt has succeeded in arming his readers rather handsomely against the pretensions of the art pour l' art school and against
those who confuse the satisfactions of accepted propaganda with experience
truly esthetic. But he has scarcely come to grips with the fundamental
obligations of definition and rationale; satisfaction in these matters is a
reasonable expectation for a book designed to be introductory and directive.

U4

BRIEF NOTICES

The Great Books. A Christian Appraisal. Edited with an introduction by
HARoLD C. GARDINER, S. J. New York: The Devin-Adair Company,
1949. Pp. IU. $fl.OO.
, For three years more the Great Books Foundation will engage in discussions, the country over, of the "Great Books." To assist in the interpretation of the seventeen books, or fragments of books as they are in some
instances, chosen for this first year's program, the literary editor of
America has selected a like number of critical articles. The need for such
an appraisal is obvious enough, perhaps doubly so when one considers, in
the words of the editor, that a book " will have been great if it has changed
man's thinking, whether for good or evil." Perhaps the emphasis on the
channeling of thought accounts for the appearance of such " books " on
the first list as the Declaration of Independence and the Communist
Manifesto. For others "changed" is hardly the operative word; how, for
example, has Hamlet changed (rather than confirmed) man's thinking?
Actually, what the Foundation is about is an isolation of" great thoughts"
-an approach which apparently makes possible the taking of the first half
of St. Augustine's Confessions in the first year of study, and the second
in the fourth year.
Neither the editor nor his contributors can be held accountable, of
course, for the selection of books to be appraised; in fact, they find them•
selves somewhat embattled. As Father Walter Farrell, 0. P ., aware of the
absurdity of treating St. Thomas on law under this head, says: "It is not
a Great Book; it is a fragment smack out of a very great book." Another
contributor finds The Prince worth considering for " the greatness of its
error." Again, Locke's Two Treatises of Civil Government is "worth reading more as a test of one's knowledge of political philosophy than as a piece
of instruction." Of Rousseau, Louis J. A. Mercier writes: "He should
then be studied as a witness to the disintegration of Western thought in
his own age, and as a contributor to its even greater disintegration in ours."
Still, the study of the greater number of these works may be undertaken
for the reason St. Basil gives for the study of the ancients: for the supporting truths they contain and as preparation for the direct light of sacred and
mystical wisdom. Such is the spirit of the analysis in this first volume of
Great Book appraisals. Frank Sheed's characteristically vigorous and penetrating essay on St. Augustine and Deitrich von Hildebrand's short but
stimulating paper on the Ethics are not only cogent analyses, as almost
all of these essays are, but viable as independent pieces. Father Gardiner's
introduction strikes the right note in its careful discusison of the Index and
in calling for the reader's exercise of "intellectual humility" before books
which must be criticized severely, for "even the greatest achievements of
the human mind are always and invariably reminders of human frailty and

BRIEF NOTICES

125

inadequacy." This and the three volumes of appraisal to follow will be
indispensable for those who are taking the Great Books course and of
almost equal value to those who come upon the great vehicles of thought
through undirected study.

The Road To Reason. By LECOMTE DU Nofu. Translated and edited by
Mary Lecomte du Noliy. New York: Longmans, Green and Co., 1948.
Pp. 254. $3.50.
This book, translated a year after Dr. du Nouy's death, was written
seven years before his Human Destiny. It is prefaced by a glowing personal
tribute by Dr. Ralph W. G. Wyckoff. It is a courageous attempt on the
part of a prominent scientist to discuss certain philosophical and cultural
problems arising out of science, such as the objectives and methods of
science, the interpretation of scientific data, the epistemological value of
scientific knowledge, the necessity of extra-scientific knowledge, e. g., morals,
for the preservation of cultural values.
One must acknowledge reluctantly that Dr. du Noiiy is not philosophically equipped for his generously undertaken task. His philosophical vision
does not extend beyond Descartes, Pascal, Kant, and Bergson with a resultant blend of scientific erudition and philosophical naivete. For example,
the representation theory of knowledge, quietly embalmed by Aristotle, is
adopted very seriously (p. 25) ; and the view of the nature of the scientific
knowledge of phenomena is narrowly Kantian (p. 37; pp. 70-71; p. 94). The
principle of causality which "we have to admit blindly" (p. 41) turns out
to be merely Humian "precedence" (p. 72) . Kant's third antinomy is summarized as the perfect formulation of Dr. du Noiiy's view of causality (p.
73). In a positivistic spirit, possibility and impossibility are dismissed as
meaningless except in terms of maximal and minimal statistical probability
(p. H6). But perhaps philosophical simplicity reaches its climax with the
sentence: " From a philosophical point of view only two truths therefore
can classically exist: revealed, divine truth, which is by definition absolute
and unverifiable, and scientific truth, which is essentially human and
relative " (p. 39) .
Despite a few instances of trivialities not cited in this review, the book
has some valuable insights. There is a statistical analysis of the probabilities of any form of evaluation and the postulation, as an alternative, of
Eddington's " anti-chance " (pp. 120-156) . Again, " to lean on it (i.e., on
science) to create a negative metaphysics (denial of God, soul etc.) is
simply an error of reasoning " (p. 238) . And on the nature of man, " man
is a whole ... and his immense complexity results in the most fundamental
unity of nature. He is subject to the laws of a world that he dominates by
his thought" (p. 239). To preserve Western Civilization it is necessary" to

126

BRIEF NOTICES

consider man, in his complexity, as a single problem and to cease separating
instruction from moral education" (p. 240). The achievement of Dr. du
Noiiy's purpose would have required philosophical gifts of the same order
as hfs unquestioned scientific gifts.

The Dehumanization of Art and Notes on the Novel. By JosE ORTEGA y
GASSET. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1948. Pp. 108. $2.00.
This little book marks the first appearance in English translation of two
essays published in Spain in 1925. It says much for their author's prophetic
powers and insight that they should appear avant garde today. Senor
Ortega y Gasset holds that modern art is "by destiny" unpopular, that
between the "new Muses" and the masses there is (and, it is hinted,
should be) an
gulf. In its reversion from tradition, a motif
essentially Western, modern art subscribes to the Porphyrian command,
Omne corpus fugiendum est. Hence it depicts not man, but the " strangled
victim " of its aesthetic triumph over human material. In the second essay
the author celebrates the decline of the novel. Though its major vein has
been exhausted, this form may yet " yield illustrious fruits " through the
efforts of " minds of rare distinction." Characterizing the novel as a " sluggish form," Ortega sees in the " psychology of possible minds " the novel's
remaining scope. This book of course reflects the larger accents of the
author's thought and work and would be subject for its implications to a
critique of the author's general theory; in its explications the work is for the
student of artistic forms provocative and still timely.

The Great Tradition; .the Democratic Idea. By JEROME G. KERWIN. New
York: McMullen, 1948; Pp. 91. $1.50.
In these three lectures delivered in the annual Fenwick
at Holy
Cross College, Worcester, there is presented a masterly discussion of the
history and present position of the democratic idea. Necessarily confined
by the number of the lectures, and by their printed appearance in so small
a book as this, Kerwin has met all the challenges with outstanding success.
It is impossible to recall any ·earlier treatment of the theme which has
surmounted so many obstacles in such an effortless manner. Similarly, it
is impossible to conceive of many theorists who could match the conciseness
and accuracy of this approach, while maintaining-as does this authorcomplete freedom from pedantry.
The lectures were inaugurated by Holy Cross College as a special tribute
to the memory of Bishop Benedict Joseph Fenwick, and they have, as an
introductory note informs the reader, the purpose of presenting studies
of contemporary society, made by scholars imbued with the tradition of

BRIEF NOTICES

U7

Christian principles. Professor Kerwin's study fits this description so
admirably that the note might have been written with his work chiefly in
mind. If all such series of lectures were to be served so well as this one
has been in the present instance, surely generations of audiences, readers,
and reviewers would be made immeasurably happier.
The three lectures are titled " The Development of the Democratic
Idea," The Assault upon Democratic Dogma," and " The Practice of
Democracy." They are of almost equal length, and each presents, in a
style pleasantly well-informed, some historical analysis and some theoretical
exposition of the idea,s contained in each title. The first lecture traces the
first appearance of the principle of responsible government in the classical
pagan world to one of the latest expressions of this notion in the Pope's
Christmas message of 1944. In this segment of the work, the breathtakingly rapid survey of this development is matched b.y the completeness
and finish of the presentation. Few writers-or speakers-could hope to
match Kerwin's achievement here.
In the third section, the author points to the truth, generally placidly
ignored or violently repudiated by non-Catholics, that the Catholic is
particularly well equipped to assist in the establishment and maintenance
of a sound democratic system. Here Kerwin remarks that the priest's
function as a shepherd of souls includes his duty to know and to dispense
sound political information; extremes are admittedly bad, but by far the
greater error, numerically, is committed by priests who know nothing of
politics. Similar grievous defections from duties enjoined upon them by
their profession are to be observed in Catholic educators. If these two
powerful influences in American Catholic life were to become conscious of
the necessity of giving sound instruction in political science, they would put
" emphasis upon government as a great agent in the accomplishment of
social good," mid would thus " obliterate from young minds the idle ·and
mischievous images of government as a mysterious and overpowering evilan idea sedulously cultivated in American minds by people and groups who
wish to lead their own lawless lives." The logical conclusion from the
ideas mentioned in this lecture is simply stated by Kerwin: " Students
should be encouraged to get into active public life."
But before they can take an intelligent part in political life, they must
know something of the assaults which have been made upon democracy.
For a provocative survey of the course of these attacks since the fourteenth
century, and for an excellent guide to mature and extensive reading, few
works could surpass the second section of this little book. Its coverage is
remarkable, the soundness of its presentation is incontestable, the depth of
scholarship displayed is phenomenal. Choosing the best lecture of these
three would be a difficult task, since each has a different aim and approach,
but, from the viewpoint of the political theorist, the twenty-five pages of
the middle section are an invaluable review of newly juxtaposed materials.

128

BRIEF NOTICES

The Holy Cross Press is to be congratulated upon its fitting presentation
of these lectures; every aspect of the format is pleasing. An index would
have been helpful, but the size of the book perhaps precluded an effort to
make such a tool. The reader of Kerwin's book will be visually pleased,
intellectually stimulated, and thoughtfully considerate of the author's warning that we must not ignore our responsibilities as the exemplar of
Christian democracy.
Freedom of Information. By HERBERT BRuCKER. New York: The Macmillan Company, 1949. Pp. 307. $4.00.
What a prominent contemporary poet has called the Age of Anxiety is
also (and perhaps therefore) an age of lack of communication. The issue
of a free press, always vital, is today one of surpassing importance. Not
only is there mechanical " jamming " between the two halves of the world,
but the flow of ideas and the tradition of disinterested information are
hampered as well by propaganda-caused psychical jamming. It is tragic
that in that part of the world where the press is free, there should be so
little understanding and appreciation of objective reporting. The man in
the street, says Mr. Brucker, editor of an old and distinguished New
England daily, still believes in a free press, but no longer with fire in his eye.
The author faces very honestly the causes of public disenchantment with
the press. He sketches in, in a topical way, the history of American
journalism to correct the impression-so vehemently maintained by Mr.
Ickes, for one-that today's press is one-sided and venal in the matter of
political coverage. Along with many a serious student of the American press,
he finds that although the American people seem to have " defeated " the
press for the last five times at the presidential polls, the victory was actually
over the editorial page and not at the expense of the news columns. The
contention that the press is not free because it represents the interests of
a small, ultra-conservative group is considerably bruited about these days,
and for it Mr. Brucker reserves his heavy artillery. He shows pretty conclusively that the alternative to a press whose way is paid by advertising
is one which will be inevitably under the control of a specialized interest;
or, as journalism's semanticists would put it, the result will be an " organ "
(like the late PM, for example) and not a newspaper. The TVA "yardstick" concept, Mr. Brucker is convinced, cannot be applied to journalism;
a federally or even municipally subsidized newspaper simply cannot be
counted upon as a watch dog of the public interest.
In the integrity of the American press as a corrector of public political
morals Mr. Brucker has a sound case to argue, and he can not be blamed
for making the most of it. But the press is a conveyor of entertainment (to
use his term) as well as of information. Here the record of the American

BRIEF NOTICES

129

press has been anything but distinguished; it has been guilty of appalling
taste and, not infrequently, offense to public morals. Mr. Brucker seems
to feel that for the sake of untrammelled information we must accept
without much question whatever the press chooses to provide by way of
entertainment.
Of the informational press as an over-simplifying, "popularizing " agent too little is made in these pages. The author himself is at
times an example of the popular mind, particularly so in the use of such
cliches as " shackles of the Church " and " Anglo-Saxon liberalism." Freedom of Information is adequate and informative in its survey of the present
healthy though embattled condition of our press, but it lacks the precisions
necessary for viewing its subject in its essential relationships.

The American Political Tradition and the Men Who Made It. By RxcHARD
HoFSTADTER.
New York: Knopf, 1948. Pp. 407, with index and
bibliographical essay. $4.00.
Much serious discussion of the American ideal, and many glib references
to the American tradition might finally be reduced to open admission that
the ideal and the tradition are vague, elusive, perhaps non-existent. In an
effort to determine the outlines of this tradition-if it exists, and to fix its
sphere of operations in the political order, Richard Hofstadter has written
one of the clearest, most delightful combinations of history and political
theory to appear in American literature. No limitations of time are added,
and no apologies will be made for calling this literature; the work should
stand as a classic exposition, and as an intensive investigation of this
particular problem, without any fear of comparisons from any period. That
the promise of the title is developed through the use of twelve biographies
is a tribute to the author's insight, and a brilliant exemplification of his
theme, rather than one of the weaknesses of the book, as superficial consideration might suggest.
Hofstadter explains, in his introduction, that Americans have recently
become increasingly interested in history. This interest has thus far displayed itself particularly in the matter of appreciative accounts of the past,
rather than of critical analysis. The present volume, according to its
author's intention, is an attempt to assess the value of the historical contributions of our great men; the book is to be in no sense a hero-worshipping
one. In fact, it is not a series of eulogies, and it does more than evaluate
the contributions of many of our great men. The additional work is
accomplished so subtly, however, that it is only when the entire volume
has been read that one begins to appreciate its excellences.
The arrangement of the biographical portraits which comprise the book
is chronological, with the Founding Fathers coming first, followed by
Thomas Jefferson; then Jackson, Calhoun, Lincoln, Wendell Phillips, Cleve9

130

BRIEF NOTICES

land, ·Bryan, Wilson, Hoover, and both Roosevelts appear in their proper
order. Some objection might be made to the inclusion of so many presidents, if it were not for the manner in which Hofstadter has shown that
each of the men he includes had definite political theories, and either voiced
or applied them as frequently as occasions offered themselves. What is of
even greater interest in the choice of portrait-subjects is the inclusion of
the non-presidents: Calhoun, Phillips, and Bryan. The first is not a surprising choice, but the other two have been so thoroughly belittled in recent
years that only a courageous author would dare attempt rehabilitation in a
work such as this. The happiest feature of this attempt is that it has
resulted so well, and that a new estimate of all three of these non-executives
will have to be considered in new lights, and with new emphasis from
now on.
It would indeed be difficult to determine which one of these sketches is
most worthy of praise. The very choices of subtitles indicate considerable
penetration, as well as the same felicity of style which is the cachet of the
whole volume. To refer to Jefferson, the aristocrat, as democrat is not too
surprising, but to find Calhoun called the Marx of the master class, Bryan,
the democrat, as revivalist, and Franklin Roosevelt, the patrician, as
opportunist, is to be presented with some really thought-provoking
characterizations.
The promise of these epithets is amply fulfilled, and the temptation to
quote at length in illustration of this statement is almost irresistible. To say
that " Calhoun had a touching faith in his ability to catch life in logic .
. . . he had no culture himself, only a quick and muscular mode of thought,"
is one such example. Lincoln " had had his ambitions and fulfilled them, and
met heartache in his triumph," is another, while of Wendell Phillips the
writer observes that he had, for as long as anyone in his own lifetime could
remember, "been a thorn in the side of complacency." Chapters ended or
highlighted in this fashion do a tremendous service to
reader looking
for new and more profound evaluations of American leaders.
This profundity never becomes oppressive, however. Quotations in a
much lighter vein might be mentioned: Conkling "was voluptuously
abandoned to his own egotism"; Bryan's "heart was filled with simple
emotions, but his mind was stocked with simple ideas "; Theodore Roosevelt's success came from his variety and exuberance, but "it should be
remembered also that his talents as a comedian were by no means slight."
Possibly the best description in one sentence of any of these men is that
also applied by Hofstadter toT. R.: "The straddle was built like functional
furniture into his thinking."
Both these sets of quotations will serve to show much of the appeal of
the volume, but they must fail in exemplifying fully its merits. Complete
objectivity in an historical treatment is unattainable and undesirable, but

BRIEF NOTICES

131

so far as historical objectivity may be reached, this author has reached it.
Each of the sketches shows the defects and virtues of the subject, but in
each case there is sufficient understanding and compassion to make a truly
three-dimensional presentation. Judged solely as a book of biographical
portraits, this volume is a real contribution.
But as to living up to its title, many comments are more reserved. The
general opinion seems to be that this should more properly have been
labelled "Biographical Sketches," or something of the kind. Actually,
however, what Hofstadter has done very cleverly-and this seems to be his
most solid contribution as well-is to show that in every age since that of
the Constitutional Convention, the American ideal has been what some
leader said it was. Every one of the men chosen for discussion, and every
one was admittedly a leader, formulated the American ideal as he understood it and then presented it to the people. It is interesting to note, also,
that in each case the leader was careful to take half-formulated rags and
tags of popular thought. to assist him. This book, therefore, shows with
pitiless clarity that we have, in fact, no consistent political tradition, and
that what the men have made has been what suited their immediate purposes. If for no other reason than to appreciate this lack of a truly
American tradition and ideal, this book deserves to be read and discussed.
Its merits over and above this recommendation will cause it to remain in
circulation, but its greatest contribution must be made to those who can
appreciate at once the tragedy of a traditionless nation, and the necessity
of supplying a sound tradition.

A Chilmark Miscellany. By VANWYcK BROOKS. New York: E. P. Dutton
& Company, 1948. Pp. 815. $4.00.
The Times of Melville and Whitman. By VAN WYcKBRooKs. New York:
E. P. Dutton & Company, 1947. Pp. 489. $5.00.
The publication of A Chilmark Miscellany is formal notification that Van
Wyck Brooks has become an institution, even to VanWyck Brooks. In this
reverently hand-picked anthology-the title is significantly derived from the
name of the author's estate--we have some fifty pages of aphoristic paragraphs from Opinions of Oliver Allston, selections of sensitively conveyed
milieu from such books as the Pulitzer Prize winner The Flowering of New
England and longish excerpts from that volume and other books under the
headings "Characters" and "Sketches." ·Perhaps even more interesting
than what Mr. Brooks has done to American literature through introspection
in a metaphorical cork-lined room is the abundant and critically related
evidence of what our literature has done to Mr. Brooks.
Whitman's thesis that "the United States is the .greatest poem" has

132

BRIEF NOTICES

long served as backdrop for Mr. Brooks' critical theory. To clothe it, he
absorbed from Emerson the gnomic quality of writing lapidary sentences
(which often refuse to organize themselves into paragraphs); from Henry
James he seems to have acquired sensibility-the test of taste- and a
feeling Jor character; and Henry Adams proffered the fatal gifts of anecdotage and the response of ambivalence. From minute insights, preceptions
of landscape tumbling in profusion, and an appreciation of idiosyncrasy so
beguiling that he is unable to distinguish a major author from a minor one,
Mr. Brooks has, these many years, attempted a climate of criticism. Theory
he has none. His work has been a Hight from " abstract discussions," to
the point that he himself arrives at what he calls the Connecticut mind,
one incapable of generalizing and given over to crotchets.
The Times of Melville and Whitman, a volume in the complete literary
history Mr. Brooks has been pursuing for the past several years, displays
his method of sensibility and impressionism as it occurs in a large framework. A richly figured memory-book, this volume treats of the literary
generation of the period from 1850 to 1880. The only author of genuine
stature in addition to the two mentioned in the title is Mark Twain. Most
of the others are writers "we all remember as forgotten." Their recall in
a pattern motivated by the technique of association of ideas makes for a
tapestry of vivid squares and corners, yet one largely lacking in design.
It is as though George Apley had taken to recording literature; all good
fellows are remembered with affection, characterized by an anecdote which
often has nothing to do with their literary production, and then whisked
away. With writers of stature, the method is more successful, or rather it
is forgotten. Mr. Brooks has some good things to say about Mark Twain's
contribution of " ignorance " rather than innocence, and of Melville's stark
and gigantic amateurism. His treatment of Whitman· has been bitterly
assailed in· the quarterlies as timid and myopic. Whitman he will not
admit into the stream of his consciousness; he feels a something too determinedly protean.
Perhaps the most disturbing characteristic of Mr. Brooks' critical workto be crowned by a volume on the years 1885 to 1916-is his practice of
elusiveness. Oliver Allston, the fictitious literary friend whose literary
remains and opinions he presents in a lengthy and ambiguous book, is
merely the most palpable of his disguises. The indefinite pronoun " one " is
the chief offender: it is used now to indicate a contemporary of the author
being discussed, now Mr. Brooks, now the reader of his book. Symptomatic
of the basic flaws of impressionistic sensibility, this shying away from a look
at problems (rather than persons), is typical of those who represent what
Yvor Winters has called "the dissolving mind." For when an issue is
about to be joined, Mr. Brooks turns away to say, with Henry Adams,
"Sir, I am a tourist."

BOOKS RECEIVED
Anderson, J. F., The Bond of Being. St. Louis: Herder, 1949. Pp. 857
with index. $4.00.
,
Aquinas, St. Thomas, On Being and Essence. Toronto: Pontifical Institute of Medieval Studies, 1949. Pp. 68 with index.
Arnold, Dr. F. X., Untersuchungen zur Theologie der Seelsorge. Band 1:
Dienst am Glauben. Band II: Grundsatzliches und Geschichtliches zur
Theologie der Seelsorge. Freiburg im B.: Verlag Herder; I-1948; II1949. Pp.
with index.
Bender, R. N., A Philosophy of Life. New York: Philosophical Library,
with index. $8.75.
1949. Pp.
Bernanos, G., Under the Sun of Satan. New York: Pantheon, 1949. Pp.
$8.00.
Browne, H. J., Catholic Church and the Knights of Labor. Washington:
C. U. Press, 1949. Pp. 415 with index. $4.00 Paper; $4.50 Bound.
Carington, W., Matter, Mind, and Meaning. New Haven: Yale Univ.
with index. $8.75.
Press, 1949. Pp.
Jacquemet, G. (ed.), Catholicisme hier aujourd'hui demain. Paris: Letouzy
et Ane, 1948. Tom. I: A-Bethel, col.
Dewey, J.; Bentely, A., Knowing and the Known. Boston: Beacon Press,
1949. Pp. 841 with index. $4.00.
Einstein, A. (trans. by A. Harris), The World as I See it. New York:
Philosophical Library, 1949. Pp.
Esser, G., Theologia Naturalis. Techny: Society of the Divine Word, 1949.
Pp.
with index. $8.00.
Feys, Van Leer, Van Melsen, De Positivistische Geesteshouding. Utrecht;
with index.
Brussel, 1949. Pp.
Fleming, T. V., Foundations of Philosophy. Sidney, Australia: Shakewith footnotes. 15/- (Austr.).
speare Head Press, 1949. Pp.
Forster, K., St. Thomas; Petrarch, and the Renascence. Oxford: Blackfriars Publications, 1949. Pp. 15. 1j6.
Gassner, J., The Canon of the Mass. St. Louis: Herder, 1949. Pp. 414
with index. $5.00.
Grigassy, J., Devotions to the Lachrymose Virgin-Mother. Braddock, Pa.:
$1.50.
1949. Pp.
Hart, S. L., Treatise on Values. New York: Philosophical Library, 1949.
Pp. 165 with index. $8.75.
Hirschberger, J., Geschichte der Philosophie. Freiburg im Brei., Germany:
Herder, 1949. Tom. I: pp. 476.
Jessup, T. E. (ed.), The Works of George Berkeley. Edinburgh: Thomas
80j-.
Nelson & Son, Ltd., 1949. Vol. II: pp.

133

134

BOOKS RECEIVED

Kappler, E., Die V erkilndigungstheologie. Freiburg i. d. Schweiz: Paulusverlag, 1949. Pp. !l79 with index. s. fr. 11.70.
Kohn, H., The Twentieth Century. New York: Macmillan, 1949. Pp. !l84
with index. $!l.50.
Male, 1!:., Religious Art from the Twelfth to the Eighteenth Century. New
York: Pantheon, 1949. Pp. !lOS with index and plates. $4.50.
Manser, G. M., Das Wesen des Thomismus. Freiburg i. d. Schweiz: Paulusverlag, 1949. Thomistische Studien V: pp. 75!l with index.
Martinez, L. M., Secrets of the Interior Life. St. Louis: Herder, 1949. Pp.
!ll5 with index. $8.00.
.
McCrossen, V. A., The New Renaissance of the Spirit. New York: Philo, sophical Library, 1949. Pp. !l6!l. $8.00.
Nock, A. J., The Theory of Education in the United States. Chicago: H.
Regnery Co., 1949. Pp. 158. $!l.25.
Noss, J. B., Man's Religions. New York: Macmillan, 1949. Pp. 8!l8 with
index. $6.00.
Pap, A., Elements of Analytic Philosophy. New York: Macmillan, 1949.
Pp. 541 with index. $4.60.
Planck, M., Scientific Autobiography. New York: Philosophical Library,
1949. Pp. 19!l with index. $8.75.
Pratt, J. B., Reason in the Art of Living. New York: Macmillan, 1949.
Pp. 817 with index. $8.25.
Scarlett, W. (ed.), The Christian Demand for Social Justice. New York:
New American Library, ·1949. Ep. U6. $.25.
Schlesinger, Jr., A. M., The Vital Center. Boston: Houghton MifHin, 1949.
Pp. 285 with index. $8.00.
Schlick, M., Philosophy of Nature. New York: Philosophical Library, 1949.
Pp. 147 with index. $8.00.
Smith, M., And Madly Teach. Chicago: H. Regnery Co., 11l49. Pp. 117.
$2.00.

Straubinger, H., Religionsphilosophie mit Theodizee. Freiburg im B.,
Germany: Herder, 1949. Pp. 264 with index.
Vagaggini, J., The Riches of the Missal. St. Louis: Herder, 1949. Pp.
819 with index. $4.00.
Valentine, F., Whatsoever He Shall Say. Oxford: Blackfriars Publications.
Pp. 121 with index. 6j-.
Van Steenberghen, F. (trans. by M. Flynn), Epistemology. New York:
Wagner Inc., 1949. Pp. 824 with index .. Vol. II.
Vermeil, E.; Le Bras, G., Les Eglises en Allemagne. New York: Columbia
Univ. Press, 1949. Pp. 118. $1.25.
Villasenor, J. S., Ortega y Gasset, Existentialist. Chicago: H. Regnery Co.,
1949. Pp. 268 with index. $3.00.
Vogels, H. J., Novum Testamentum, graece et latine. Freiburg im B.:
Herder, 1949. Pars Prima: Evangelia et Actus Apostolorum: pp. 491