THE THOMIST A SPECULATIVE QUARTERLY REVIEW OF THEOLOGY AND PHILOSOPHY EDITORS: THE DOMINICAN FATHERS OF THE PROVINCE OF ST. JOSEPH Publishers: The Thomist Press, Washington 17, D. C. VoL. XIV OCTOBER, 1951 No. 4 KIERKEGAARD AND CHRISTIAN PHILOSOPHY K IERKEGAARD gave a good deal of thought to the fate of his own lifework and reputation at the hands of posterity. He wanted to avoid scholarly embalmment and to discourage the growth of a Kierkegaardian cult, but on both counts his wishes were denied him. Minute scliolars and enthusiasts have found him a fair subject for their attentions, and there is certainly room for both scholarship and enthusiasm in any assessment of his mind and personality. But if these qualities are divorced from critical independence of outlook, they serve only to betray him and to give us a false impression. Kierkegaard could never tolerate personal adulation or an indiscriminate reception of his message. Like Bergson and Marx, he repudiated in advance any attempt to attach an " ism " to his name: Kierkegaardianism seemed as ridiculous to him as Socratism, since both thinkers located truth in the personal relation of man to man. Similarly, his conception of 441 442 JAMES COLLINS truth as demanding an individual, responsible decision about the meaning of one's life led him to warn against a merely disinterested analysis of his teaching. This does not rule out a legitimate study of his mind in accord with the canons of historical research. But Kierkegaard requested the historian of philosophy and religion to present his thoughts in such a way that they would offer a constant challenge in regard to their relevance for contemporary problems. In avoiding these two abuses, Kierkegaard nevertheless looked forward to the advent of both his poet and his critic. The former personage would be one possessing sufficient insight and sympathy to grasp the meaning of his life and convey to others something of its original venturesomeness. To a man whose own days were spent in the shadow of misunderstanding, this hope of an eventual transparency before men as well as God was a great support. He did not conceive his poet's function as one of vindicating all his moves but as one of securing an honest hearing for all the evidence and perspectives upon which he himself had acted. One consideration which conditioned all of Kierkegaard's actions· was the idea that, like Luther, he was called upon to be a corrective of the peculiar cultural and religious situation of his own day. Hence he consistently refused to regard his position as an ultimate standard, but only as the standard which was most needed during his lifetime. This does not mean that he denied permanent norms of thought and conduct or that he tried to disregard them. It is rather an acknowledgment of his own limitations, his proclivity towards the onesided and paradoxical, and the specially unbalanced condition of his own world. Thus he felt the need for more than a poet. He expected that there would be a critical sifting of his convictions and an integration of them with a norm, a normal outlook. It is unlikely that any single individual can successfully claim to be the poet or the critic hailed from afar by Kierkegaard. The work of understanding and evaluating him is a cooperative one, one which may be carried out in several different ways. KIERKEGAARD AND CHRISTIAN PHILOSOPHY 448 This is evident from a survey of his various critics. The great majority of them can be classified among either the existentialist philosophers or the crisis theologians. In their different ways, they have called attention to his general importance and to many particular points of interest. Their estimates of his mind, however, often stand in sharp mutual contrast, leaving open the question of his basic contribution to the human search after truth. A majority of the existentialists want a Kierkegaard from whom the sting of living one's life before God and eternity has been removed. But the atheistic, temporalistic interpretation is forced to discard or explain contrariwise all the convictions which he considered most valuable and unambiguous. For their part, the crisis theologians have retained most of his religious beliefs. But they have failed to deal with his own objection against taking his Lutheran stand as a rounded statement of faith. Consequently, they have remained helpless before most of the philosophical and theological difficulties which he raised but could not solve on the basis of his own premises. The upshot of this conflict between schools of Kierkegaardian interpretation is the widespread opinion that one must choose between his detached philosophico-psychological insights and his religious views. This is one either/ or which the master of such dilemmas might challenge. It seems more sensible to admit the coherence of these two areas of thought in his own This mind and to weigh the whole outlook in a critical involves an implicit criticism of the approaches of both atheistic existentialists and crisis theologians to Kierkegaard. Their method has been one of picking and choosing, and it is only to be expected that very little of the original subject remains after such arbitrary dissection. When one set or another of partial statements is advanced as the authentic Kierkegaard, the result for most readers can only be scepticism about ever making sense out of the man or reaching a settlement about his intrinsic worth. The surer course is to accept all that he has to offer and 444 JAMES COLLINS attempt replacement of his beliefs in a comprehensive setting where they can be both honored and supplemented. The claim that this or that body of doctrine is indeed capable of assimilating and evaluating the whole Kierkegaard can never be made in an apriori way. It is a matter of proceeding on the hypothesis that such is the case, and then of abiding by the actual results as sufficient' verification. This procedure can be followed in making comparison between Kierkegaard and the Christian wisdom of Augustine and Aquinas, who in their turn sought to rescue the best in Greek thought. No foolish claim is made that the Danish thinker falls within the category of an Augustinist or a Thomist philosophy. But the total view of life which these thinkers expounded does further the task of appreciating and weighing the many sides of Kierkegaard's genius. Direct comparisons are rendered difficult by the fact that he lacked first-hand acquaintance with many sources of Christian wisdom. Through Luther, however, Kierkegaard was led to read a good deal in Augustine. His thought displays significant .points of contact with the Augustinist tradition as it extends down into the modern world of Luther and Pascal. The connection with Aquinas is much more indirect, although no less real. It is to be found in their mutual respect for the common sense criticism of Socrates and the realism of Aristotle. Despite the wide differences in their intellectual milieus, Aquinas and Kierkegaard are united in this -appreciation of the apogee of Greek thought. St. Thomas, however, retains the interests of the professional theologian and philosopher, of wisdom in its formal, scientific character. Hence it is inevitable that, even on those questions where there is fundamental agreement, he, would be obliged to correct and extend the position of Kierkegaard. The latter always remained an informal religious thinker and poet, whose thought-processes shied away from complete scientific formulation and comprehensiveness. It is a definite test of Thomistic wisdom to evaluate such a resistant and elusive attitude without transmogrifying it into that Systematic caricature so dreaded and detested by Kierkegaard. KIERKEGAARD AND CHRISTIAN PHILOSOPHY 445 Five concrete instances are selected for brief illustration of this comparative problem. An open and enterprising perennial philosophy cannot ignore the questions raised by Kierkegaard; still less can it afford to slight the sound discoveries he has made. 1. THE STARTING POINT OF COGNITION Kierkegaard voices the general dissatisfaction felt during the eighteen-forties about Hegel's attempt to philosophize on the basis of a purely undetermined notion of being. The human mind is not so constructed that it can make a pres'uppositionless beginning. Although it may start a process of demonstration and exposition at some .definite point, this is a first step only in the methodological sense. Actually, this starting point has been prepared and determined by previous activity of an intellectual sort. Moreover, understanding always conies after the fact. " The fact " refers to the total matrix as it embraces both the knower and the surrounding world in their status as existents. Some transaction between these centers at the precognitive level is supposed before· knowledge becomes actual. Cognition is one form of motion or becoming. As such, it requires an initial movement of actualization which is not itself cognitive but which naturally leads to knowing. There is something irreducible and inexhaustible about that which we come to know through this process of attentive fecundation by the existent world. We draw upon its resources more than idealists and pragmatjsts are ready to admit. We are existentially affected by the thing as a condition for knowing it and for using or transforming it to suit our practical purposes. Kierkegaard's defense of the autonomous condition of knowledge is a reminder that religion is not forced to choose between the pantheistic God of idealism and the finite, developing God of pragmatism. The latter conception has been constructed as a curative against the popular image of a remote, vengeful deity as well as the more sophisticated Absolute Mind of the idealists. But neither of these notions of the infinite God has any standing in the main body of the Christian philosophical tradition: 446 JAMES COLLINS they are poles removed from the Augustinist and Thomistic doctrines on God and the world. Kierkegaard saw the need for a realistic basis of religious belief; he also recognized that a man can worship only a God Who retains infinite majesty and goodness of being. There was no conflict in Kierkegaard's mind between a realistic view of the individual and his cognition and an affirmation of the transcendence and perfect actuality of God. This suggests that the empiricist proponents of a finite deity have been proceeding on a false alternative. Kierkegaard sought to make return both to realism and to a worthy theistic view of God. That he did not complete the integral recovery of realism is evident even in regard to the present question. He makes only casual mention of whether knowledge should start with the world about us or with man. A sound instinct told him that there is no genuine disjunction here, even though his Augustinist leanings led him to give factual preference to man. Yet he does not begin with man in the manner of recent Cartesians: he would not concur with the choice of the abstract, fugitive pour soi of Sartre as the foundation for existential meditation. It is rather man the exister who serves as the priming point for Kierkegaard. What attracted him to this pole of existential act is the notable fact that in man existence and cognition are inextricably bound together. Man is an interesse, a synthesis of being and knowing. Or rather, he exists in such fashion that his highest act is one of knowing and modifying in a free way his own existent condition. In the human mode of being, Kierkegaard saw the most convincing proof and basis of realism. Thought and reality are not confused in man, and neither are they alienated from each other. Neither idealism nor phenomenalism translates the human situation in a faithful way. Thought bears a reference to reality because the thinker first exists and because it is characteristic of his cognitive acts themselves to belong to the realm of existence. Their function is to bring to the perfection of self-awareness and self-determination. This is man's calling and one basis of his claim to dignity. KIERKEGAARD AND CHRISTIAN PHILOSOPHY 447 Existentialists have gone a step beyond this by systematically excluding the non-human world as a basis for speculation. This has led them to develop a man-centered metaphysics, in which the modes of human being become the dominant modes of being generally and the constructive laws of each man's projection of his own world. Kierkegaard himself would not agree to this further inference. He was unable to explain how an existential knowledge of the world can be acquired, but at least he allowed that the essential determinations attained through the sciences do belong to the public realm of intersubjective knowledge and do describe the real universe. Furthermore, one of his major contentions against Hegel implied a wider scope to existential knowledge than he recognized. The only way to show that the self-movement of the dialectical Idea is logical rather than real movement is to appeal to sense perception of the physical world. Kierkegaard accepts the Aristotelian dictum that real change is first grasped through the senses; it is a given factor which cannot be generated by pure thought alone. He would agree with Feuerbach that the apprehension of real change as such is the accomplishment of the understanding in cooperation with the senses. Only the negative aspect of this thesis was exploited against Hegel. But it has as its posifunctioning in its tive side the admission that properly human mode along with sense perception, apprehends an existential process independent of man. With the aid of the senses, some knowledge can be gained about existential acts other than that of the reflective, moral subject. Kierkegaard's appeal to the senses admits of one further inference. Since thought by itself cannot grasp change and the existent, a certain primacy must be accorded to our sense acquaintance with the world of natural things. It is indispensable for every existential cognition, including that of the human self. Kierkegaard's inability to achieve a lasting synthesis between body and soul is due not only to psychological reasons but also to a failure to work out this implication. The empirical bias of Aristotle and Aquinas is a needed corrective of this deficiency. These philosophers recognize that self- 448 knowledge is conditioned by knowledge the physical world. Our knowing powers, are awakened in an existential direction through sensuous perception of natural things. There is no independent, exhaustive understanding of the soul, although we become aware of the fact of its existence cQncmnitantly with the exercise of our knowing powers in respect to material things. All of our subsequent reasoning must be br6ught back eventually to the criterion of sense perception, for it is here that the intellect first meets existence. We need not follow Hume in consigning all metaphysical inferences to the flames, but we should cast off all such reasonings as have no warrant whatever in the evidence provided by the sense .world. The quarrel of the theists with naturalistic empiricists is not over the indispensable character of sense experience but over its implications. 2. THE Mom1s OF BEING It is a commonplace among contemporary existentialists that " existence " is derived from " ex-sistere," to stand out from. They go on to explain that the existent is that which asserts itself in the face of the nought. Remarkably enough, this etymological prologue is often followed by a thoroughly idealistic dialectic of being and nothing. This transition could not. have been made so easily, had these existentialists really respected the mind of Kierkegaard, who does not contrast the existent primarily: with unqualified nothingness. This opposition does obtain, "''but it comes too close to Hegel's pairing of " being" and" non-being" to serve as the basic contrast. Much more pertinent is the fact that existential act stands out from both pure thought and possibility. The opposition between existence and pure Systematic thought enables Kierkegaard to distinguish existence from every moment in the Systematic dialectic, including the initial antithesis between " being " and "non-being." He sets the existential order off from the pure concept of " being " just as definitively as from the Speculative explanation of the nought. To exist is to exercise a mode of being totally distinct from the entire Speculative play upon KIERKEGAARD AND CHRISTIAN PHILOSOPHY 449 the concepts of in-itself and for-itself, en soi and pour soi (to employ Sartre's terms) . Even within the realm of real being, however, there is a contrast between existence and ·mere capacity for existence. Kierkegaard appropriates for himself the Aristotelian distinction between potential and actual being, with the added precision that the ultimate act of a concrete nature is the act of existing itself. Until it has received this ultimate and unique perfection, the thing is still comprised within its causes; it cannot be said to be in a plenary way until it 'exists in its own right and on its own foundation. In this sense, existence is a mark that the thing has passed from potential to actual being in a completed way as an individual entity. This involves a standing forth from one's causal principle as well as from the potential mode of being. For Kierkegaard, there is no contradiction between being an existent thing and a caused one. In fact, his analysis of the historicity of existence reveals that the only way in which any existent emerges is by means of a passage from potential to actual being. Such a transition can be made only under the active influence of a cause, which confers the act of existing upon the thing in process. One of the main objections levelled against monistic idealism is precisely its suppression of the efficient cause of change in favor of the ground-consequent relation between concepts. Sartre slips . back into this idealistic attitude when he construes the standing forth of the existent self as a form of self-interrogation within brute existence. An analysis of history revealed to Kierkegaard that the existent is that which has come to be by way of passing from potency to act through the operation of an efficient cause. Gilson's historical research has established that the close association between existing and having an origin from a cause was the characteristic Christian view of existence until the modern period. Augustine and Aquinas would have understood Kierkegaard's assertion that God does not exist, He is.1 Kirke1 Cf. St. Thomas' Commentary on the Liber De Causis, lect. 6. 450 JAMES COLLINS gaard liked to reflect upon the Biblical saying that in God there is no shadow of alteration, and hence he denied to God a mode of being which signifies change. To Augustine as well, the divine immutability is a distinctive attribute setting off the eternal way of being from that of temporal things. One way of expressing the divine transcendence is to deny to God a manner of being which involves change and causation. Aquinas respects this meaning of existence and occasionally refers to God as non-existens. On the other hand, he also observes that change and causation are only associated with existence because of the finite way in which it is present in creatures, not because of an intrinsic connection. In so far as they approach to perfection, created things approach to a more perfect act' of existing. Causation and change are not the a'.ct of existing itself hut only the means whereby finite, historical beings gain access to existential act. Although the created conditions and limitations of existence do not apply to God, He does realize in its full perfection the act of existing. He alone is a subsistent act of existing, unmixed with any shadow of change and causation. He is esse super omne ens, the supreme act of existing not subject to the conditions under which finite entities share in the perfection of the existential order. What Kierkegaard and Augustine call God's eternal being is metaphysically designated by Aquinas as His subsistent act of existing. In this way, some knowledge can be acquired about the purely actual being of God with the aid of that which exists by coming to be in a caused, historical way. This conception of existence also provides a solid theoretical basis for Kierkegaard's belief in the hierarchy of beings. He was not much concerned about determining all the aspects whereby man differs from other beings in the material world. All of his attention was concentrated upon the polar relation between God and man, eternity and history. The great divisions of real being are into potential and actual, existential and eternal. The presence of eternity to time illuminated all of his meditations and trials, for the distinction between man and God does not lead to God's banishment from the sphere of KIERKEGAARD AND CHRISTIAN PHILOSOPHY 451 time. God's immanence to creation, indeed, is secured only by His infinite perfection, since only a being of unlimited actuality and power can be effectively present to others without tending to displ;:ice or flatten them. The divine omnipresence is a generous, creative one and, in the case of man, it is the very condition of the use of created freedom. The fresh note sounded in Kierkegaard's doctrine on the human individual is the refusal to found individual integrity upon a rhetorical claim to self-sufficiency. Instead, man's freedom is proportioned to his acknowledgment of the majesty of God and his own ordination to a share in eternal life. The naturalistic assumption that a theory of grades of being is inevitably derogatory of man and sapping of his initiative has seldom been subjected to critical examination by the naturalists themselves. It was elevated into a truism in Kierkegaard's day by Feuerbach, and has continued to remain unquestioned in Marxian and Deweyan naturalism. But the recognition of higher forms of being need not entail a devaluation of lower forms. Man's place in the cosmos must first be determined on grounds of present fact, before we consider the consequences. Some sort of hierarchy is present in a universe which permits of wider sharings in value and more adequate embodiments of the traits of experience. Because he admitted that teinporal existence is ordained eternity, did not therefore counsel men to flee from their historical, mundane responsibilities. Rather, he asked them to face these problems with awareness of an added dimension provided by God's eternal power. If he did not develop this theme with strict consequence, the weakness lies not in his conviction about the hierarchy of beings but in his ethical and theological conception of man. The latter doctrines are not linked intrinsically with his view of existence and eternal being; quite the contrary: they tend to hamper the natural development of a doctrine of participated freedom, social as well as personal. 452 JAMES COLLINS 3. SPECULATIVE AND SYSTEMATIC KNOWLEDGE Kierkegaard's commitments concerning being and existence also in uneasy relation to his and antiSystematic campaign. The temptation arises to consign his own metaphysical notions to some non-philosophical limbo. He resembled Marx both in proclaiming the downfall of philosophy and in contributing a good deal toward its advancement. Neither thinker could bring an era of philosophical speculations to an end without helping to generate a new phase in its history. Kierkegaard's tragedy was that there was no philosophical movement on the horizon which could find a place for his deliverances. After a shrewd appraisal of contemporary tendencies, he concluded that at its worst philosophy degenerates into the Hegelian " pure thought " and at its best remains an analysis of essential forms. He saw no way of incorporating his existential insights into any of the systems of his day. This forced him to give them an exclusively religious connotation and to depreciate their metaphysical consequences, except for polemical purposes. Yet in his writings there is observable a definite strain of sustained, theoretical reasoning. His actual practice belies his words and compels us to distinguish between the historical forms of philosophy with which he was acquainted and other · possibilities for philosophy. Kierkegaard did not leave entirely unexplored the alternative routes to philosophical wisdom. For instance, he reproached Hegel for introducing the readers of his Philosophy of History straightway to particular trends of events instead of giving a careful explanation of historical process and knowledge as such. Why at once become concrete, why at once begin to experiment in concreto? Was it not possible to answer this question in the dispassionate brevity of the language of abstraction, which has no means of distraction or enchantment, this question of what it means that the Idea becomes concrete, what is the nature of becoming, what is one's relationship to that which has come into being, and so forth? 2 1 Pkiloso-pkicalFragments (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1986), 64, n. I. KIERKEGAARD AND CHRISTIAN PHILOSOPHY 458 Save for the name, this is asking why Hegel does not examine more exactly the speculative problems underlying philosophy of history. Most of the above-mentioned questions are treated in a quite formal and technical way by Kierkegaard himself. In turn, we can interrogate him as to whether his own stand on the modes of being has only an abstract, essentialist significance. An admission that it does convey some knowledge about the universe in its existential character paves the way for a philosophical approach which will avoid the morass of absolute idealism without remaining content with a phenomenological description of essential structures. A few philosophies have addressed themselves primarily to the problem of existence. One of these is that of Aquinas. It is orientated to the study of existence precisely because it is a philosophy. of being. As the science of being as such, metaphysics is directed primarily to the most radical principles of being: essence and existence. The beings of our experience are constituted not only by a determinate nature but also by an ultimate act whereby this concrete subject is enabled to be in the existential order. In virtue of the act of existing, the individual takes its place among the actual entities of the world. Since a thing is not a being in the full sense until it exercises this existential act, a philosophy of being must have special regard for the existential order. The intelligible structure of the entity is secured by its essence, whereas its fruitful sharing in the community of the actual universe requires a decisive posing of this essence through the existential act. There is no basis fol.i Sartre's charge that classical metaphysics favors essence over existence. It is not a question of favoring one over the other but of giving due recognition to the contribution of each to the concrete entity. This enables us to take account of experience both as intelligible and as urgently existential. Two features of the Thomistic " existential communication " are relevant here. In the first place, it is elaborated in a strictly theoretical and systematic fashion; secondly, it entails a sharp delimitation of the scope of speculative and systematic thinking 454 JAMES COLLINS in view of the existential nature of the real world. It avoids Kierkegaard's justifiable strictures against the Hegelian conception of philosophical science, without surrendering the rights of a scientific treatment of being as existent. Allowance is made for a more practical and homiletic discussion of existence, although the latter is not given exclusive competence. This is the proper function of a metaphysical norm when confronted with the Hegel-Kierkegaard debate. The meaning attached by Hegel to speculation is peculiar to his standpoint of absolute idealism. His method and his doctrine stand in circular relation to one another, so that if the one is undermined, the other collapses. Apart from his conception of Absolute Mind, there is no reason for regarding the speculative process as a self-enclosed, autonomous method. Unless one is already convinced that philosophizing is an expression of the dialectical growth of Absolute Mind itself, there is no ground for robbing the finite individual of its proper significance, inalienable freedom and responsibility. By attacking Kierkegaard was preparing the way this absolutist unwittingly for a renaissance of that kllid of speculation which displays a truly humane character. The goods of human life are not jeopardized by a speculative activity operating within a realistic and theistic context. Here the speculative method is not a:gtagonistic to subjective interests or practical understanding; rather, it underlies these other aspects of the human spirit as a reliable foundation and guide. To speculate means to engage in a quest for the truth for its own sake, but without any implication that the relation of the knowing subject to the truth is unimportant or that our work as men is completed once we gain a knowledge of what things are. Speculative truths are self-justified in the sense that a knowledge of them satisfies a desire of our intelligence simply to know the nature and existential act of things. But these truths also have a paramount bearing upon our practical outlook and upon praxis itself. Metaphysics tends to be a wisdom not only as contemplation of the widest truths about the traits of being but also as regulation of the whole order of 1 KIERKEGAARD AND CHRISTIAN PHILOSOPHY 455 goods and actions. The aim of the wise man is to realize the most intimate synthesis between practical and theoretical understanding and to order action in the light of this unified insight. Speculative wisdom is at the service of the whole man. A similar case is presented by the ideal of systematic construction. There is a minimal and neutral sense in which every thinker of any calibre must be systematic. He must try to furnish an explanation on the basis of reliable principles, consistent inferences and ever more inclusive evaluations of experience. It is supposed that the object of inquiry is to some degree intelligible to us and patient of being expressed in a unified body of knowledge or a system. But absolute idealism adds considerably to this minimum. It interprets the systemic enterprise in terms of an organismic theory of reality and the mind's relations to things. Being is said to be not only intelligible in itself but, in principle, completely available to the philosopher. The proportion between mind and thing is founded on a view that the existent world is an " estranged " product of Mind and is destined for complete return to the conceptual state. The mind can totally comprehend nature because nature is the state of Mind-fa-estrangement from itself. Whatever resists assimilation to the philosophical concept is thereby shown to be caught in illusion and standing in need of " sublation" to a higher level. The philosophical system in its conceptual interconnections is an adequate transcription of the world as a dialectical organism. This was the common interpretation of absolute idealism which led Kierkegaard to rebel despairingly against systematic thinking. Most non-idealistic philosophers would agree with him in repudiating this latter idea of a system, but they would do so ·without prejudice to the more restrained statement. St. Thomas adds a metaphysical reason why the extreme view is untenable. In the speculative order, we cannot legislate about the human condition but must accept it as we :find it. The human mind is not divine and its concepts not creative. By means of our concepts and empirical investigation, we can attain to some understanding of the structure of being through its experienced 2 456 JAMES COLLINS traits. But .we are not equipped to gain an immediate and exhaustive insight into essences, such that they might be completely assimilated to a system. The perfection of human 1..'llowledgeis achieved in the judgment about existence, since this is the way in which the mind expresses to itself the perfect act of being. The existential judgment affirms that the thing exercises its own act of existing, that it stands forth from the realm of concepts and possibles. By implication, this judgment also. affirms that the being of the thing remains other than and inore than the judging act and its conceptual factors. The human intellect acknowledges but does not ingest the existing world. To understand the existent is to make a conquest w;hose gromid is a confession of humility before the given. Not only at the beginning of the philosophical enterprise but also at every subsequent phase, we are striving to grasp that which can never be transferred in its entirely into the order of concepts and judgments. The individual being remains other than philosophical thought in virtue of the act of existing. Hence it ·furnishes the philosopher with constant nourishment, mystery and incitell!ent to 'make further discoveries. Its otherness is not a self-deception on the part of an Absolute Mind but the integrity which every individual existent demands for itself. An existential philosophy must be an open rather than a closed, circular discipline, a system always in the making and always subject to revision and unexpected advance. In this way, it escapes the force of Kierkegaard's ironical comment that the System must already be completed in principle on pain of not being a System at all. 4. THE WHOLE MAN The Thomistic theory of man is a remarkable instance of the application of existential principles to a specific domain of being. In main part, Kierkegaard's ideas on man can be incorporated into this Christian anthropology without detriment to the general structure. Among Kierkegaard's major contentions are that man is finite, a body-soul complex whole, KIERKEGAARD AND CHRISTIAN PHILOSOPHY 457 and a passional creature. These three points can serve as a frame of reference in showing the relation between metaphysics and existential meditation. What makes a thing to be a. created, finite being? Aquinas departs from some earlier traditions by explaining finiteness in terms of essence and existence rather than matter and form. There might be entities which would be free from matter and yet be finite. What is distinctive about the finite mode of being is the presence of really distinct and radically constitutive principles of being: essence and existence. These factors compose with each other as a concrete subject and its ultimate actuation. The perfection of existence is proportioned to the determinate subject which is actuated, since this ·subject or nature imposes its own specifying restrictions upon the act of existing. The concrete essence is itself a limited capacity for receiving the existential act. The actual being constituted by the union of such an essence with its proportionate act in the existential order is a finite existent. Not only its essential nature and mode of existing but also its powers and mode of operating partake of this limitation. It is thoroughly and permanently a finite being, even though it can attain progressive contljol over its field of experience. Men are finite beings in this sense. It may be true, as Hegel states, that finitude as such is a category of the understanding, but this does not apply to the individual finite acts of being which are the real foundation for thecategory. They are not mere modes of reason which feign to be independent of mind and distinct from the Absolute. Finite beings are, Kierkegaard observes, other than the categories whereby they can be classified and analyzed. Similarly, they affirm by all that is real within them their decisive otherness from an infinite being, in which no real distinction can be drawn between essence and existence. The divine essence has no limits since it is nothing other than the very act of existing in its unrestricted perfection. Finite things are caused by the infinitely actual being: they are not masked developments of this being. Each of them is a unique and rich act, an integral whole rather ·than a moment 458 JAMES COLLINS in a dialectical process. This is most evident in the case of human persons. The person is aware of himself as an inalienable center of existence and freedom. He cannot be assumed into any higher state of being; that which could be so assumed would never have been a person. The individual is terminated in itself, and the human individual seals this termination with an affirmation of his own selfhood and self-mastery. He is not only made to exist: he deliberately asserts himself as an existent and a moral character which cannot be attributed to another entity, In describing the nature of the human person, Kierkegaard makes a deliberate return to the threefold division of bodysoul-spirit so dear to the Fathers of the Church and other spiritual writers. Not only as a weapon against Hegel but also as a means for describing the interior struggle that accompanies the birth of a mature personality, he found this conception of man a useful one. It is a division also recognized by Aquinas, who usually tries to find a place for the empirical data and spiritual tools of the Fathers. Hence he notes that what is ordinarily referred to as the rational, human soul is at once a soul and a spirit. 3 It is a soul in so far as it commi.micates life to matter, and this function it shares with all other life principles in the material world. But what elevates it above the others is its own spiritual character. The human soul not only informs matter but has its own subsistent mode of being, which is not intrinsically dependent upon matter. It can receive and exercise the act of existing in its own right, so that it does not perish in the extreme case when the body is dissolved. This is the metaphysical aspect of its spirituality. Nevertheless, this same spiritual principle is also the enlivening soul ofmatter. The existential act is not only received by the human soul but is naturally communicated by it to its proper matter in the formation of the body. The soul is a part of human nature and has its complete natural perfection only as united with its body. Soul and matter are joint principles specifying the structure of human nature: were they 8 Summa Tkeologiae, I, q. 97, a. S, c. KIERKEGAARD .AND CHRISTIAN PHILOSOPHY 459 not both present, we could not be the kind of beings we indeed are. The genuine human individual, the person in the proper sense, is the individual composite whole of soul and matter. In their union is found the mode of being distinctive of man. This is our only safeguard against assimilation to the angels on the one side and mere things on the other. From the former we are set off by the material factor in our being, and from the latter by the immaterial nature of our soul or Jormal principle. Metaphysically regarded, the human spirit is not a third something superadded to soul and body: it is the soul itself regarded in its distinctively human status as an immaterial act of being. Kierkegaard gave sho.rt shrift to theological speculations about the " rectitude or state of integrity " of the human soul before the Fall. Yet he might have profited by a reading of the pages devoted by St. Thomas to this topic. 4 St. Thomas inquires whether a perfect subjection of the body to the soul and its government belongs to our natural equipment. He replies in the negative and adds that, since the Fall, the soul's task of securing order and unity in the person has been made mo!e difficult. lts aim OtJght not to be the suppression of the bodily side of man but its proper ordering, so that the entire man may share in material and spiritual goods in due proportion. The primacy of the spiritual principle in man is to be established, not its exclusive rights. It is a question of subordination and synthesis, not of suppression and elimination. Here is where the problem of man ceases to belong solely to the speculative sciences. There are moral and religious difficulties standing in the way of a harmonious development of personal life. Kierkegaard's interpretation of spirit can be inserted at this place in a discussion of humanism. For it concerns the manner in which personal. existence is orientated to good or evil in accord with a dominant ideal. Both man's finite nature and his composite character as a soul-body complexus have a bearing upon the problem of the "passions." This term is taken here in the Kierkegaardian sense of stressing the real distinction between the cognitive •Summa Theol., I, q. 94, c.; q. 95, a. I, c. 460 J·AMES COLLINS and the conative aspects of human nature. Hegel did not require Kierkegaard's tutelage to instruct him about the power of the passions in determinillg human affairs. One of the leitmotifs in the Hegelian philosophy of history is the passional aspect of man, his all-consuming concern for his proper, subjective interests. But Hegel regarded this moment of passion as trick played upon eventually upon itself-by Absolute Mind, as a ruse of providence for attaining its own ends despite our egoism. Not the existence and importance of the passions but their non-cognitive and non-absolutist character is the point at issue.. Kierkegaard found no evidence which would warrant reducing the passions to aspects of knowledge and the march. of the Absolute Spirit through time. In a realist philosophy of creaturely, participated being, it is impossible to confuse the two orders. To know a thing does not forthwith place us in full possession of it. The knowledge must be followed through· with desire, decision and effort, if the relation is to be made more intimate; This is due to something more than a defect in our knowledge. It cannot be said that if we did have sufficient knowledge about the object, nothing more would be wanting in the order of aesire. That something over and above the cognitive possession of the thing is demanded, foltows from our :finiteness. We still yearn for a fuller grasp, because of the limits of our nature and its exigency for other goods. Man is related to things not only as objects to knoWn but als9 as goods or ends to be pursued. He would be deluding himself to hope to maintain a purely theoretical attitude in the face of the world of experienced goods, for he needs to go out to them and obtain them .in their own actuality. No,,- can knowledge pass through the human mind in a purely impersonal and disinterested fashion, as it does through a complex calculating machine. In us, knowing is a personal act which must be appropriated in a personal way and ordained to the good of the individual man under the rule of prudence. Since man is not pure mind and will, he also experiences bodily desires or passions in the ordinary sense. Kierkegaard's esthetic individual is entangled in the net of the passions and a KIERKEGAARD AND CHRISTIAN PHILOSOPHY 461 yet is not sufficiently passionate to assume mastery over his own life. The paradox is resolved by recalling that the will is regarded by Kierkegaard as a major natural passfon. To be lacking in passion is to fail to achieve the synthesis of psychophysical powers under the guiding discipline of interested reason and will. But little is said about the bodily passions in reference to· moral and religious life. Kierkegaard is so preoccupied with a description of such spiritual passional states as dread, despair and faith that he often loses sight of the total person and the problem of integrating all the passional drives. Neglect of this kind is dangerous, since it leaves the individual exposed to sudden waves of bodily passion which cannot be correlated with the spiritual aims of the person. Conflict and disorder are the consequences, instead of a progressive unification of appetites. Methodologically, the Thomistic approach to man stands that of Kierkegaard and that of contemporary midway naturalists. It has in common with the latter a program of studying man along with the other beings in the material universe for their common features. He is a changing, material, striving existent to whom applies all that can be gathered about the general traits of process, purpose, vital function and value. · Kierkegaard would include all the evidence gathered by this method under the headings of objective or essentialist truth, but it would also have existential significance, if it be seen that the theoretical judgments about existence are possible. Kierkegaard is justified; however, in insisting that man represents a distinctive embodiment of the notes of existence and that this requires a causal as well as a descriptive explanation. He helps one to strike a balance between ·interest in widest generality of explanation and respect for the differences between modes of existence and the causal implications of these differences. Man exists in a distinctively personal way as a reflective and free agent. His culture and moral personality are the work of freedom and-Kierkegaard would add-of divine government. Man's way of existing rests on a recognition of his placement in the existing world and his vocation to participate in the source of existence. 462 JAMES COLLINS 5. FAITH AND REASON Being a hundred years removed from Kierkegaard, we sometimes make inferences from his stated position which he himself would not admit. Because he preached the scandalous crucifixion of reason on the tree of faith, .we are ready to conclude that he is anti-intellectual or, more subtly still, that he is engaged in discrediting religious faith indirectly in the eyes of intelligent men. His actual intent is much less forbiddng and devious than is sometimes supposed. He was confronted with a peculiar sort of rationalism, not one which oulawed faith as nonsense but one which clasped it so vigorously to itself that faith was suffocated in the embrace. Consequently, there was no more effective temporary strategy than to proclaim the utter irreconcilability between religious truth and an absolutist brand of reason. Kierkegaard hesitated to say anything in human tongue about Christian faith under these circumstances. He had his pseudonym, Johannes Climacus, advance a distinction between a doctrine or philosophical exposition of faith and an existential communication after the manner of a subjective truth. 5 It seemed to him that the ordinary doctrinal treatment fails. to arouse individual response and that ordinary apologetical methods betray a lack of confidence in faith. St. Thomas kept his sermons and his theological treatises separate, but he held that theology is the one science which is doctrine should not be both speculative and practical. treated .in a purely speculative way, since it is formally concerned not only with God but also with the direction of human actions to the vision of God. Hence it fulfills in the highest degree the requirements of wisdom, which judges and orders all matters in the light of man's final end. On the other hand, Aquinas made the fullest use of reason in examining the content of faith. This he did without any implication that it is due to the weakness of his belief or to a compromise between natural and supernatural orders of assent. The theological use • Concluding Unscientific Postscript (Princeton: 1941)' p. 889. Princeton University Press, KIERKEGAARD AND CHRISTIAN PHILOSOPHY 468 of ordinary human reason, unhampered by the pretensions of absolute idealism, does not rest on such motives but on a realistic appraisal of man. Just as we cannot decree man into becoming a phase of ·Absolute Mind, so we cannot decree th::i.t faith and reason will have no commerce in him. Man is a being who knows in part and believes in part, but both believing and knowing help to perfect his one personal outlook. has a native tendency to unify the truths to which he assents, bringing the deliverances of faith to bear upon the life of reason and, conversely, exploring the groundwork of faith with the aid of reason. Augustine and Anselm set the pattern for this view of the normal intercourse between faith and reason when they formulated the guiding axiom of Christian wisdom: I believe so that I niay understand, and I understand so that I may believe. The purpose of a Christian wisdom is not to erase the distinction between understanding and believing but to keep open the lines of communication and mutual aid. 6 St. Augustine compares this polar activity to the moral dialectic of coming into possession of finite goods so that one may desire the supreme good all the more intensely. Truth is ultimately one not only in its primary source, God, but also in the final tendencies of believing and understanding. Reason is strengthened in its operation by the direction it receives from faith. The latter, in turn, draws upon the resources of reason in order to make intelligible that which has been revealed. If faith seeks after direct insight into the grounds of supernatural truth, it specifies as its goal not philosophical cognition but the sheer vision of God face to face. St. Thomas customarily distinguishes between two sorts of truth in the content of revelation. Some truths are of a strictly supernatural sort, which could in no way be discovered by unaided reason. Other truths do not surpass the natural capacity of reason, but nevertheless have been revealed because of their importance for our salvation and the weakness of our mind in its actual condition. In this way, the mysteries of the •Cf. the illuminating remarks in E. Gilson: L'Etre et l'ewsence (Paris: Vrin, 1948)' pp. 240-242. 464 COLLINS Trinity and the Incarnation are set off from revealed assurances about immortality and providence. Because he did not make this distinction, Kierkegaa:rd took needless scandal at any philosophical treatment of questions like immortality and divine providence. It seemed to him that these matters could not be handled philosophically without reducing the entire content of faith to the level of natural reason and philosophical fact that both faith and reason can criteria. But from deal with these truths it only follows that there are som,e revealed truth which can be believed at one time and known at another, or believed by one individual and known by another. In regard to the mysteries of faith which are above our natural power of proof, however, Kierkegaard is justified in protesting against efforts to provide philosophical demonstration. Revelation is not, as Fichte dreamed, a sort of V olksausgabe or vulgar version of what reason will later establish philosophically. Neither is our saving adherence to revealed truth an exclusively intellectual act, isolated from the affective side of man's life. Kierkegaard's analysis tells also against the rationalistic theologians who had forgotten the influence of will upon intellect in the free and supernatural act of believing. There is a close resemblance between the dialectic which Augustine found between love and understanding in the growth of faith and Kirkegaard's appeal for renewed cooperation between passion, will and interested reason. Both these Christian thinkers are only recalling in their own generation the Biblical conception of fides caritate f ormata, faith quickened and warmed by love of God above all. Crisis theologians like Emil Brunner have followed Kierkegaard in locating faith formally in the subjective act of believiµg and personal encounter with Christ. 7 It is a welcome reSee E. Brunner: Revelation and Reason (Philadelphia: Westminster Press, 1946), pp. 86, 156; chapter !l5 is a remarkable plea (against Barth) for a Reformed Christian philosophy along Kierkegaardian lines. For a critical disciission of the attitude of neo-orthodoxy toward faith and reason, cf. L. H. DeWolf: The Religious Revolt Against Reason (New York: Harper, 1949). The be5t account of the theological aspects of existentialism is Dante Morando's Saggi au l'esistensialismo teologico (Brescia: Morcelliana, 1949); chapter 8 is on Barth. KIERKEGAARD AND CHRISTIAN PHILOSOPHY 465 minder that all the roads of Christian existence lead to the person of the Word of God made flesh. But it was difficult for Kierkegaard to avoid correlating what older theologians called the act of believing-fides qua creditur-with the truths and the personal Truth revealed· for our assent and adhesionfides quae creditur. Taken, by itself, a theological science which concentrates upon the latter is bound to issue in dead formalism and insensitivity to the need for devotion to, and personal sacrifice for the sake of, revealed truth. But the believing act, if cultivated in isolation, leads to sentimentality and undisciplined enthusiasm, consequences which were equally repugnant to Kierkegaard. Both aspects of faith belong to the foundation of Christian life, since they .both lead men to the person of Christ. The difficulty of maintaining intimate contact and balance between dogma and devotion, creed and cult, suggests that the problem of faith cannot be resolved merely from the standpoint of the individual believer and an invisible company of believers. It is also a matter of joint concern to a Church or visible body of believers. Faith incorporates one into the wider religious community in its incarnate form as a Church. It makes the demand that we ·acknowledge God not only in the privacy of our hearts but also in a public and corporate way along with our fellow believers. The movement of existence impels the man of faith toward visible and soeial confession of that faith and a corresponding communal act of worship. Kierkegaard hesitated to make this inference, however, lest it commit him once again to the Hegelian organic whole. Having criticized the latter as being destructive of the individual, he remained forever wary of visible expressions of the social aspect of religion. This is a final instance in which it would ,be fatal for us to lend unconditional normative value to· his criticisms. JAMES COLLINS Saint Louis Unive;rsity, Saint Louis, Mo. THE PLATONIC THEORY OF INSPIRATION T HIS essay makes no attempt to locate, describe or evaluate an aesthetic along Platonic lines. Many qualified men have done this adequately-in fact, exceedingly well, considering that they have generally read an integrated and extensive aesthetic where there were, at most, but indications from Plato himself. The contributions made by Plato towards an aesthetic are three-fold. He suggestively treated (1) the character or make-up of art, (fl) its moral consequences and (3) the inspiration of art. It is well known that for Plato artistic production is but an imitation of an imitation, a product thriceremoved from reality. From this it is easy to see how and why the censorship of Homer and all other poets came about in the tenth book of the Republic. The core of this development, the premise underlying the logic of Plato's dicta, is to be found in the theory of inspiration. This essay reports what Plato said about this last element of a complete aesthetic: the nature of inspiration. Of the three main topics of aesthetic importance in Plato, it has remained the least commented upon. There are two probable reasons for past neglect of the theory 'Of inspiration. In the first place, the theory had not been accorded a sufficient importance; and secondly, there is very little available material from Plato himself with which to work. The basic issues in this study are not what attitudes were adopted by Plato, but why; not what are the superficial reasons given for his attitudes, but what valid and more satisfactory explanations may be found and what more pertinent connections may be made with the more acceptable aspects of Platonic philosophy. The answers lie in the theory of inspiration. My approach to the subject is from the primary sources, 466 THE PLATONIC THEORY OF INSPIRATION 467 with some research in the Greek language to trace the literal and metaphorical usages of certain key words. All the textual references are to the Random House edition,1 following the Stephanus pagination. 1. FUNCTION OF INSPIRATION The function of a thing is the criterion of its usefulness. The function of the theory of inspiration should, in some adequate way, explain Plato's statements about it. Prima facie, of course, this theory serves to explain how artistic creation is possible. If all human endeavor were philosophic, then there could be no such question. If all human endeavor followed the logic of the Sophist or the systematic process of inquiry illustrated in the Theaetetus and the then there would be no artistic creation possible, nor any problem concerning its method. But Plato fully realized that such was not the case; that productions which did not follow the long and careful and difficult path of intellectual inquiry and dialectic did come into being. It became a matter of some importance for him to account for their existence. It would be the easy thing simply to say that Plato refutes the validity of artistic creations: that one could successfully document Sully's thesis: In spite of his lofty theory of the origin and nature of beauty, Plato seems to have imperfectly appreciated the worth of art as an independent end in human life and culture. He found the end of art in imitation ... , but estimated the creative activity of art as a clever knack, a little higher in intellectual value than the tricks of a juggler. He tended to regard the effects of art as devoid of all serious value, and as promoting indolence and the supremacy of the sensual elements of human nature. 2 In the sections that are to follow, Plato's own words on the subject of inspiration are brought together. They are few and 1 The Dialogues of Plato. Tr. Benjamin Jowett, 2 vols. (New York: Random House, 1987.) •James Sully. "Aesthetics," in the Encyclopaedia Brittanica. 9th ed. (Chicago: R. S. Peale Co., 1892.) 468 ARTHUR E. VASSILION not too specific; but they are very suggestive of things which do not quite enter into the strict survey of the area of inspira·tion. It may be profitable, nevertheless, to correlate these suggestions into the evaluation of the theory of inspiration. Baldly speaking, the function of inspiration is to explain how a particular individual is motivated to create in an artistic medium, and why his product is what it is. It will become obvious that Plato actually did not appreciate the process at all, except in the most superficial and conventional sense. It will also become obvious that his attitude toward some of the products of artistic creation is a careful one. Nowhere in Plato can a denial of the effectiveness of the artistic media be found. On the contra1y, one of the principal charges that has been brought against Plato has been that of full awareness of, _and respect for, the efficacy of artistic productions on the nature of man. What Plato questions is the responsibility of the function of inspiration. One of the aims of this study is to demonstrate a more valid correlation between the theory of inspiration and the essential and ultimate suppositions involved in Plato's theory of knowledge. It is in this area that the of responsibility may be clarified. 2. INSPIRATION versus ART The theory of inspiration, which is to be traced in detail in the following pages, supposedly includes all the creative arts. In reality, although painting and music (that is, music distinguished by notes, not music in the more. comprehensive usage of the Greeks) are occasionally mentioned and slightly discussed, poetry is the major creative medium which Plato uses in his discussion of inspiration, imitation and censorship. Poetry of necessity is one of the major arts since, from antiquity, it has been known as the language of religion. The value· of the elements which go into what is here called the theory of inspiration is not affected by the singular emphasis upon poetry, rather than by a more equitable emphasis upon all the creative media. Indeed, it is a most natural result since, THE PLATONIC THEORY OF INSPIRATION 469 for the early Greeks, only poetry was considered as that most comprehensive art. In the Ion we have the first indications of these elements of inspiration. Ion, the rhi:tpsode, is troubled by Socrates who good-naturedly berates his so-called special ability to interpret Homer over and above all other men, while he is deficient fu the interpretation of any other poet. 8 There is only one major point in the whole dialogue: that the rhapsode possesses no learned, conscious, rational interpretation of a poet, but is a means, an instrument, through which the poetic inspiration is transmitted. Socrates tries to explain to Ion what the reason for his deficiency is: " The gift which you possess of speaking excellently about Homer is not an art, but, as I was just saying, an inspiration; ... " 4 Here we have not only the first direct reference to inspiration, but also the differentiation which Plato made between art. and inspiration. The Greek words for the various forms of the verb to inspire throw a good deal of light on this matter and will continue to do so for the rest of this essay. Further, the original meanings of these words dispel any illusions concerning a possible " scientific " definition of inspiration and also do away with much that has been read into Platonic aesthetics. 'Eµ1TvE<»,5 literally means to be filled with breath; e'1Tl,'1Tvoia, means breathing upon or breathed upon and is the direct form from which we derive the word " inspiration " borrowed from the Latin. One who is inspired, or more literally, filled with God, or possessed, is .one who is evOeot;. It is from this last word that we derive our word " enthusiasm." This word will come up again later in a discussion of related influences upon Plato and will help to determine the differences between literal and metaphorical usages. In addition to the above key words, there are several others "Ion 581 C. 'Ion 538 D. •All derivations are based upon the Classic Greek Dictionary. (New York:, Hinds, Noble & Eldredge, 1901.) 470 ARTHUR E. VASSILION which are interesting to trace in the original and which come up in the quotations to follow. The word for "art," the inferior element as Socrates uses it, is TEXV'YJ. This has a variety of meanings: a skill, a craft, a manner of doing something. That which is artistic is TEXV£K6v. Two other words occur several times: Oe'iov and 8aiµ6viov, both of which refer to the "god-head"; and it is from them that we derive the word Plato used so often in his classifications, a "divine (r) ." This brief but illuminating tracing to the original language shows us several things: that we cannot hope to find in Plato a· definition of inspiration which is specific and concrete; that the words for inspiration, inspired, divine and diviner rely for their definitions upon a whole set of theological and mythological suppositions accepted by Plato at face value. With such evidence there is no argument. Plato uses words which cannot be taken out of their context, and their context is such that there is no ultimate, concrete explanation given. In other words, those who may like a point by point, step by step description of the ritual, or process, which an " inspired " poet may have to go through, should not look to Plato. It seems obvious that the literal meaning of the words given previously is the one most closely held in mind by Plato. Few, I suppose, would deny the explicit accuracy of the classical Greek language, a language which devised scores of forms to specify each shade of difference in the meaning of particular verbs. There was little ambiguity in the Greek language because of this and there is little reason, if any, to read into the Platonic use of these words the complex ambiguities of later developed aesthetics. A man who is evOeoi; is a man full of God. A man full of God is expressed metaphorically by one breathed upon and filled with God. Further than that we cannot accurately go. With these meanings we can certainly determine the rest of the material upon inspiration which we find in Plato. The ramifications of these words, in a literary sense, will be discussed in the conclusions to this essay. THE PLATONIC THEORY OF INSPIRATION 471 To return to the Ion again, Socrates, by his example of the magnetic rings, continues his explanation to the rhapsode that he is possessed by inspiration, not art, when he speaks of Homer: . . . there is a divinity moving you, like that contained in the stone which Euripedes calls a magnet, but which is commonly known as the stone of Heraclea. This stone not only attracts iron rings, but also imparts to them a similar power of attracting other rings; and sometimes you may see a number of pieces-of iron and rings suspended from one another so as to form quite a long chain: and all of them derive their power of suspension from the original stone. In like manner, the Muse first of all inspires men herself; and from these inspired persons. a chain of other persons is suspended, who take the inspiration. For all good poets, epic as well as lyric, compose their beautiful poems not by art, but because they are inspired and possessed. 6 Plato, by this example, has established the perspective which he will in future employ in his consideration of the imitative arts. At the same time, he has come as close to " defining " the process of inspiration as he ever will. The chain of succession is a passive one, after the original impulse is generated by the Muse. From then on we have a descending process: GodPoet-Rhapsode. One can see in this illustration the clear, yet embryonic, theory of Forms or Ideas. God, who has thought of the ideal poetry (which resided in the Muse of poetry for the Greek mind) : the poet who most closely participated or shared in the ideal Form of Poem: the rhapsode who, by favor of divine influence, most closely approached the meaning and intent of the poet. It may be clearly seen from such a perspective that reason is the greatest stumbling block to true poetic ,creation. The point is intended to prove, as I see it, that poetry (and, by inference, all the arts) is not actuin a divine ally a human creation but a human creation. In such clever ways does Plato set the stage first for the acceptance of poetry as divine, then for the rejection of the unthinking human: the poet. 0 Ion 588D. 3 472 ARTHUR E. VASSILION The discussion continues between Socrates and Ion, and we now have one of Plato's most sympathetic descriptions of the artist and his inspiration: For the poet iS a light and winged and holy thing, and there is no invention in him until he has been inspired and is out of his senses, and the mind is no longer in him: .· when he has not· attained to this state, he is powerless and unable to utter his oracles. Many are the noble words in which the poets speak concerning the actions of men; but like yourself when speaking about Homer, they do not speak of' them by any rules of art: they are simply inspired to utter that to which the Muse impels them, and that only: ... 1 The poet cannot be rational while engaged in the poetic process: when ' God fills him with breath, there is no room for human reason. At the same time, Plato acknowledges the special attributes of the creative artist in his words "a light and winged and holy thing " and affirms. the lifelong attitude he kept toward the arts, even though he had to tum away from their traditional products in his capacity as the philosopher-king of the Republic. 8 A little further down in the discussion, .Plato makes explicit this direct, divine manipulation of the inspired creative artist: , . . for not by art does the poet sing, but by power divine. Had he learned by rules of art, he would have known how to speak not of one theme only, but of all; and therefore God takes away the minds of poets, and uses them as his ministers, as he also uses diviners and holy prophets, in order that we who hear them may know them to be speaking not of themselves who utter these priceless words .in a state of unconsciousness, but that God himself is the speaker, and that through them he is conversing with us.9 Now the artist speaks in a "state of unconsciousness," a state which must imply a metaphorical use to describe that absence of conscious effort. Socrates ends the discussion of the inspiration of poets and of their magnetic influence upon their interp).'eters, the rhapsodes, by telling Ion that if Ion insists that he functions by art, he is being dishonest by his display of inadequacy; but 'Ion 534BC. 8 Rep. X 607 A. "Ion 534 C. THE PLATONIC THEORY OF INSPIRATION 478 that if he is willing to admit of inspiration by divineinfluence, then he may be considered in a more noble light. 10 There is a brief but contributive passage in the Apology which illuminates the growing unrest Plato felt with what he considered the ineffectuality and decadence of the poetic art,. Socrates has been informed by the oracle that there is no wiser man in all the world, and he sets out to prove the oracle wrong by interrogating all kinds of people considered wise.. Socrates is now telling of one of his labours: After the politicians, I went to the poets, tragic, dithyrambic, and all sorts. And there, I said to myself, you will be instantly de.tected; now you will find out that you are more ignorant than they are. ·Accordingly, ·I took them some of the most elaborate passages. iri their own writings, and asked what was the meaning of them-thinking that they would teach me something. Will you believe me? I am almost ashamed to confess the truth, but I must say that there is hardly a person present who would not have talked better about their poetry than they did themselves. Then I knew that not by wisdom do poets write poetry, but by a sort of genius and inspiration; they are like diviners or soothsayers who also say many fine things, but not understand the meaning of them. The poets appeared to me to be much in the same case; and I further observed that upon the strength of their poetry they believed themselves ·to be the wisest of men. in other things in which they were not wise.11 Here we have explicit the Platonic animus against the irrational, non-cognitive products of the creative media. It does not matter that these poets, diviners and soothsayers occasionally reveal an insight into truth: from the intellectual point of view their revel!J.tions are incidental. There is an interesting correlation between Plato's description of the poet's productions and his attitude -towards them and the trend of early Greek philosophy. Over many generations the movement was from chaos to order; from the ambiguous multiplicity of basic substances to the more integrated conception of a Mind or Nous. With Plato we find an integration which resolved the primeval chaos of both nature and 10 Ion 542. 11 Apol. HA. 474 ARTHUR E. VASSILION man's mind to a universe of order and logic: a gigantic discipline-machine along Socratic lines with proper cause and effect relationships. With such a development of logic in philosophy, it becomes understandable that the Socratic view, as expressed by Plato, would not admit of irrationality and irresponsibility. But these are the earmarks of artistic productions, at least on the surface; and even though inspiration is admitted as the explanation of the process of artistic development, and occasional insight into truth granted to the devotees of the Muse, the whole problem becomes repugnant to minds such as those of Socrates and Plato. We will be able to see more of this duel between the rational and the irrational in the Phaedrus, but for the moment there are one or two statements in the Meno and the Laws which should be brought in to make this compilation of references to inspiration as complete as possible. In the Meno Plato inquires into the source of the knowledge of virtue. Can it be acquired through sense experience or by the manipulation of thoughts in the mind? Plato's conclusion is that it is a gift of God; 12 but in arriving at this conclusion he makes another reference to inspiration. In fact, inspiration diviners, soothsayers, is the common denominator of prophets and statesmen: But if not by knowledge, the only alternative which remains is that statesmen must have guided states by right opinion, which is in politics what divination is in religion; for diviners and also prophets say ma,ny things truly, but they know not what they say. . . . And may we not, Meno, truly call these men "divine" who, having no understanding, yet succeed in many a grand deed and word? . . . Then we shall also be right in calling divine those whom we were just now speaking of as diviners and prophets, including the whole tribe of poets. Yes, and statesmen· above all may be said to be divine and illuminj!d, being inspired and possessed of God, in which condition they may say many grand things, not knowing what they say. 13 This last quotation gives us another confirmation of the point of irresponsibility which was brought up earlier. The oppo19 Memo 99 D-100. 1• Meno 99 BC. THE PLATONIC THEORY OF INSPIRATION 475 sition between philosophic knowledge and artistic inspiration now seems very strong and clear. Yet we must keep this in mind, that, as in the case of virtue, there are other things than inspiration that depend upon the " gift of God " or " divine illumination " rather than upon logical inference. In the Laws the Athenian stranger (Plato) speaking of Homer says: For indeed, in these verses, and in what he said of the Cyclopes, he speaks the words of God and nature; for poets are a divine race and often in their strains, by aid of the Muses and the Graces, they attain truth. 14 The Athenian goes on to defend the poet's position, which must be taken for a defense of all the creative media, although Plato brushed over music and painting: That the poet, according to the tradition which has ever prevailed among us, and is accepted of all men, when he sits down on the tripod of the muse, is not in his right mind; like a fountain, he allows to flow out freely whatever comes in, and his art being imitative, he is often compelled to represent men of opposite dispositions, and thus to contradict himself; neither can he tell whether there is more truth in one thing that he has said than in another. 15 In this last quotation we have a metaphorical, but remarkably pertinent, account of the creative process. The poet's inspiration is likened to the free-flowing water of a fountain, a fountain without controls of its own. Whatever enters a poet's being, while his mind is taken over by the Muse, or God, must come out again unimpaired. The embarrassing problem may be posed: if all that a creative artist produces is directly Godgiven, then how does Plato account for his objections? If the poet is " compelled " to do and say certain things while gv(}Eo';, and if " God is perfectly simple and true both in word and deed; . . . he deceives not, either by sign or word, by dream or waking vision,'' 16 then how can Plato so bluntly contradict himself and reject the artistic production? I propose that, in consideration of this point, Plato has little right to turn against u LawB, Bk. ill 682 A. 10 Laws, Bk. IV 719 C. 1• Rep., Bk. II 882 D. 476 ARTHUR E. VASSILION what he calls the imitative arts. Further, if this point is valid, Plato must be deficient in his understanding of that part of aesthetics which has to do with direct creative production. Finally, remembering the theological and mythological assumptions that Plato did make, it seems evident that the best that can be said about Plato's attitude on this problem is that he was far more concerned with establishing order and security in the world than he was with keeping free from aesthetic contradictions. In the Phaedrus we find three concluding contributions to the question of inspiration. Towards the beginning, as Socrates and Phaedrus are walking in the country, Socrates tells his young friend that he is becoming affected by the surroundings: " ... for surely the place is holy; so that you must not wonder if, as I proceed, I appear to be in a divine fury, for already I am getting into dithyrambics." 17 When Socrates prepares to recant his first speech and admit that love is a madness of a nobler sort, he throws some additional light on this "madness" which possesses certain men: "It might be so if madness were simply an evil; but there is also a madness which is a divine gift, and the source of the chiefest blessings granted to men." 18 Now we have this madnes.s of divine origin postulated as the "source of the chiefest blessings granted to men," a far cry from his previous contentions. But he goes on to explain: . . . and in proportion as prophecy ... is more perfect and august than augury, both in name and fact, in the same proportion, as the ancients testify, is madness superior to a sane mind ... , for the one is only of human, but the other of divine origin.19 and a little further on: The third kind is the madness of those who are possessed by the Muses; which taking hold of a delicate and virgin soul, and there inspiring frenzy, awakens lyrical and all other numbers; with these adorning the myriad actions of ancient heroes for the instruction 17 Phaed. 288 D. 18 Phaed. 244 A. 1• Phaed. 244 D. THE PLATONIC THEORY OF INSPIRATION 477 of posterity. But he who, having no touch of the Muses' madness in his soul, comes to the door and thinks that he will get into the temple by the help of art-he, I say, and his poetry are not admitted; the sane man disappears and is nowhere when he enters into rivalry with the madman.20 There are no points in the which have not been touched upon, at least, in the preceding, or which will not assume a greater clarity in the following section. 8. THE- RATIONAL-IRRATIONAL PROBLEM Throughout the whole discussion, up to this point, one factor contributing heavily to any attempt to determine the theory of inspiration has come up again and again. This factor is involved in Plato's attack on the creative media, in fact it proves his most formidable weapon. For the sake of convenience in this discussion this factor may be termed the rational-irrational problem. Throughout most of the references cited we find such key phrases recurring many times: inspired hy divine impulse; attaining some truth but having no knowledge of the degree or exactness of it; compelled to; not of sane mind but_ freely allowing that which comes in, by divine inspfration, to go out, unchanged. These and many others contribute to the feeling that Plato is putting a great emphasis upon the passive, noncognitive aspects which he considers to be paramount in the arts. The underlying motive for this emphasis upon such negative qualities may be found in the discussion of the soul in the Phaedrus. In the great figure of the soul as composed of a charioteer and two horses, Plato states his basic reasons for classifying the creative media as imitative, as arts of the passions, arts of distractive illusions. Soul, whether divine or human, is characterized by the figure of a charioteer driving his chariot across the skies, continually keeping his horses in rein. The difference between the divine 90 Phaed,. 245 A. 478 ARTHUR E. VASSILION and human characterizations is that the souls of the gods are balanced, the control by the intellect of the charioteer and the upward pull of the will or noble desires over the downward pull of the passions or ignoble desires, is stable and eternally maintained. The human soul, on the other hand, is in a constant state of turbulence: the downward pull of the ignoble steed is continually threatening to ground the flight. There is no ambiguity in the use which Plato made of this metaphor. The intellect, in the form of the charioteer, and with the help of the will, the noble desires, must be the ultimate and supreme governing factor of the human soul and thus of human life. All the attributes of the imitative arts, and principally poetry, belong to the realm of the ignoble steed; he of the passions, the sensual dependencies. Socrates goes on to explain in what the two steeds differ and what makes them good or bad: . . . but I have not yet explained in what the goodness or badness of either consists, and to that I will proceed. The right-hand horse is upright and cleanly made; he has a lofty neck and an aquiline nose; his colour is white, and his eyes dark; he is a lover of honour and modesty and temperance, and the follower of true glory; he needs no touch of the whip, but is guided by word and admonition only. The other is a crooked lumbering animal, put together anyhow; he has a short thick neck; he is flat-faced and of a dark colour, with grey eyes and blood-red complexion; the mate of insolence and pride, shag-eared and deaf' hardly yielding to whip and spur. 21 This is a most significant passage since it displays the most intimate attitudes of Plato. We can easily recognize the expression of the puristic elements in Plato. 22 . The noble steed is white with dark eyes, color opposites of a determinate nature. The ignoble steed is dark with grey eyes and a revolting complexion. In using such descriptive elements Plato is subscribing to the theory that a beautiful soul is best, and most often, Phaed. 258 D. •• Plato chose the pure white light, the clear full note, the simple elements in each case as being those which most closely approximated perfection. 21 THE PLATONIC THEORY OF INSPIRATION 479 expressed by a beautiful body; a wicked or repulsive soul is expressed by a repulsive form. Further, the noble steed is, actually, part of a working team with the charioteer. The ignoble steed represents the rebellious elements of the soul. The will loves honor, temperance, order and duty; the passions love excess, disorder, insolence and pride. We may now begin to draw the comparisons which are offered between this figure of the soul and the bearing it has upon the theory of inspiration. The ignoble steed is deaf, pays no attention to the guidance of the charioteer, plunges after the immediate sensual enjoyment of every object which attracts it. Out of this we certainly derive the impression of irrational behavior. This type of conduct, in the human being, results in irresponsibility which is no part of the pattern of the philosophic mind. Plato, attributing to the artists passivity, non-cognition and irresponsibility, based his views of a decadent, effeminate art upon these elements. In no way does he allow what we should actually call" creative" activity to the artists. They are base and passion-motivated instruments. Yet it is in just this that Plato contradicts himself, as previously illustrated. Where is the poet who is a " light and winged and holy thing " in this picture of disorder, arrogance and blindness? And how can he justify the fact that at one time the artist, through inspiration, is merely the instrument of God speaking, and at another time he is evidently the conscious seeker after sensual enjoyment, degrading expression and false ideas? Plato forgets a great deal when he so cleanly divides the areas between the philosopher and the artist. He says explicitly: But of the heaven which is above the heavens, what earthly poet ever did or ever will sing worthily? It is such as I describe; for I must dare to speak the truth, when truth is my theme. There abides the very being with which true knowledge is concerned; the colorless, formless, intangible essence, visible only to mind, the pilot of the soul. 23 Here is the answer from Plato's point of view: the artist is '" Phaed,. !M7 B. 480 ARTHUR E. VASSILION concerned with the appearance of reality, the structure of surface beauty; while the philosopher is concerned with reality, the structure of truth. Put differently, the philosopher, the supreme artist in Plato's opinion, 24 deals with the world of light and eternal ideas, not with the world of half-shadows which must, by Plato's view of things, be the lot of the imitative artist. Surely then, it cannot be too exaggerated a thing to say, if we· remember the previous references, that Plato's God must not be as reliable, pure, and undeceiving as Plato presents him to us. If the philosopher attains that vision of the essence given to mind only by the process of human thought, and this is the supreme pinnacle of the thinking man, then how do we eliminate the inspired, the divinely influenced man who is not speaking of and for himself, but is acting as the instrument of the voice of God, or, indirectly, the Muse? There must have been an overpowering drive in Plato to cancel out any such manifestation and clear .the way for the long, arduous task of hard thinking and human logic which would, eventually, lead to the innermost secrets of the world. The very figure of the charioteer and the two horses, in all its minute details, leads to the question: how can we account for the presence of so much metaphorical artjstry in Plato, here and elsewhere in his dialogues? The answer, as I understand the Platonic position, lies in rational, responsible, cognitive consciousness. The poet would have stumbled upon such a poetic figure through irrational inspiration, as Plato defines it, and would have used it for what it was worth in its combination of sensuous qualities to the eye, the ear. The impact of truth in the metaphor would have been incidental, regardless of how true it may have been. The conscious thinker, the trained person, the philosopher, Plato, in short, both leads to and draws from this figure of the soul as a rational illustration of part of his structure of truth. Here is no babbling sitter upon a fount of daemonic inspiration with an irrational, even though useful, poetic figure, but a thinker fully cognizant of the intellectual ••Laws, Bk. VIl 817 A. THE PLATONIC THEORY OF INSPIRATION 481 validity of its use. To such a thinker, the beauty of the poetic figure becomes infinitely more valuable since it is perceived by the " eye of the mind, the pilot of the soul." Again, we can return to Plato's own words to substantiate this qualification of responsible, rational knowledge of truth. The last pertinent statement to this theme in the Phaedrus reveals the ultimate Platonic challenge to the imitative arts; one which is to be repeated several more times, ending with the last work, the Laws. Socrates is saying: . . . to Homer and other writers of poems, whether set to music or not; ... to all of them we are to say that if their compositions are based on knowledge of the truth, and they can defend or prove them, when they are put to the test, by spoken arguments, which leave their writings poor in comparison of them, then they are to be called, not only poets, ... but are worthy of a higher name, befitting the serious pursuit of their life.25 This higher name is, of course, philosophers; for in that union of poetic language and conscious knowledge of truth we have Plato's supreme artist, the philosopher, the philosopher-king of the Republic, the legislator of the Laws. 4. CONCLUSION We have now examined every major reference to inspiration in Plato's own writings, and nearly all the minor references except those short phrases here and there which have nothing different to say. It is my aim in this concluding section to offer both a resume of the essential points involved in the theory of inspiration and an evaluative integration of what seems to be related and suggestive. I think it may be legitimately concluded that we need to approach Plato's position on inspiration by imaginative ways. Specific words were found in the description of the theory; but these words, when traced in the original Greek, proved to have meanings that simply confirm the imaginative approach. Plato evidently could not find, and did not want to find, what we •• Phaed. 278 B 489l ARTHUR E. VASSILION would now consider more " scientific " words to describe the process of inspiration. Consequently, he accepted at face value words which were used in the Homeric period. When we find in use words which have for a literal meaning expressions such as: breathed upon, filled with God, and the like, we are dealing with a theological and mythological context. This explanation is not given critically. As far as I am concerned, that is as it should be. Until we can measure the total processes of the human mind, and evaluate them without any question, there certainly are no other words to describe the creative process. The explanation is given merely to clarify, if possible, my understanding of the use of these words by Plato. In addition, since these words, now that they are established beyond question, both from their literal meanings, and their metaphorical usages, enter so prominently into the discussion of the theory of inspiration, a position has to be taken concerning them. There is still another way that these words are valuable to this problem, now that they have been specified in all their unspecificity: I believe that they make even more apparent the evidence of contradiction and uncertainty in Plato's attitude toward the artistic media. The function of the theory of inspiration is to explain how artistic production comes about and why. The how of artistic production has been fairly well explained in Platonic terms: sensitive souls are entered into by God, indirectly by the Muse, and are compelled to release what is given them without conscious knowledge on their part. The human mind is displaced for the period of inspiration, and the divine influences are in full control. Naturally, Plato would not concern himself with the why of creation. He held it in low esteem as compared with his view of philosophical knowledge. Lindsay characterizes Plato's attitude in this way: Plato denounced art because he so intensely felt its power. He was himself both poet and philosopher, and the quarrel between poetry and philosophy was waged in his own breast .... he could not regard it as a necessary stage on the way to that full enlighten- THE PLATONIC THEORY OF INSPIRATION 488 ment which is philosophy. He knew that the claims of art were too imperious for it to submit to be consigned to a position of decent respectability. He felt that it claimed all or nothing. He would not give it all: for he could not be unfaithful to philosophy: so he must needs fiercely give it nothing. 26 Nowhere in Plato can I find anything specific to explain why he thought artistic creation went on. I do not doubt that he must have thought of the question; in fact, I do not doubt that he must have had an answer. When you have an answer, however, that embarrasses, or puts in questionable light, the rest of your doctrine, you may very well ignore it. Irwin Edman has something to say on this subject: The philosopher, like the artist, is at once selective and constructive. Out of all the manifold data of human experience, he selects · certain salient and crucial facts, and, out of all the principles by which facts may be classified, he selects certain principles, and, by virtue of these, contrives a system of metaphysics, an ultimate code of morals, a fundamental vision of nature, life and destiny. 27 The contention supported in this quotation confirms the contention that I brought into my study and that dominates the whole of this concluding section: that Plato failed, consciously, for reasons to be given later, to view all the possible aspects of artistic creation. The surface reasons usually given for Plato's attitudes towards art are those such as: his objection to the licentiousness of the artists; the decadence and effeminacy to which art contributes; and the emphasis upon the base and sensual which corrupted the youth. Of course, all these have an element of truth in them. No one explanation is possible for a complex such as an aesthetic attitude represents. Needless to say, the contention supported in my argument cannot be the whole explanation for the same reasons. The fact remains, however, that if we are to reach any degree of truth we should incor••Five Dialogues of Plato Bearing vn Poetic Inspiration. Intro. by A. D. Lindsay. (London: J. M. Dent & Sons, 1913.) "Irwin Edman. Arts and the Man. (New York: New American Library, 1949)' p. 141. 484 ARTHUR E. VASSILION porate all the possible explanations of a problem. Therefore, I contend that those elements which I am supporting are so obvious in Plato's own writings, that only a high degree of wilful intellectual bias could 'continue the exclusion of this aspect which relates the theory of inspiration with elements of Plato's theory of knowledge .. Of the problem which has faced every interpreter of Plato: why did Plato consider the arts decadent, effeminate, licentious, corruptive, two statements may be brought to bear at this point. Edman says: But the quarrel is something more, and something different from that between flesh and spirit. Why, at the close of the Republic, does Socrates, who had previously merely censored, now exclude, albeit reluctantly, the artist from the Perfect State? Plato does not so much think the artist incites flesh as that he diverts and distracts the ·mind, keeps the attention exquisitely enamored by the sensuous simulacra of things, which are, for their part, the imperfect shadows of ideas.28 In the same vein Lindsay picks up the same point: Plato quarrels with art because in his view it emphasizes and attaches importance to just that sensible side of things, which thought must transcend, and so hinders the mind's progress from sensible to intelligible reality, and also because the processes by which it reaches immediacy are not trustworthy and are as far as possible removed from those logical processes by which truth is attained. 29 We are now approaching the point where valid correlations may be made. Both Lindsay and Edman, to choose just these two among a host of others, approach the element of connection which I will make; but both neatly stop around the point, never quite getting to it. The quarrel Plato has with art is something more than that between and spirit. The points presented which explain Plato's attitude toward the distractive and obstructive capacities of art are certainly valid and satisfactory to a point. Of the two writers, Lindsay closer ap••Edman, op. cit., pp. 115-116. ••Lindsay, op. cit., p. xv. THE PLATONIC THEORY OF INSPIRATION 485 proaches the added explanation I wish to present. When Lindsay says, " because the processes by which it reaches immediacy are not trustworthy," he is stating the core of my argument. Exactly, this correlation is that Plato had the same basic premise for his theory of inspiration as he had for his theory of knowledge. That premise is to be found in the doctrines of immediacy and of reminiscence. Let me bring my two witnesses to bear me out, as much as they can. Edman, in discussing the to the theories of truth used by various philosophers, has this to say: But the " fact " by which truth is supposed to be verified, with which truth· is supposed to correspond, or of which it is said to be a description, is curiously recalcitrant to all formulations of it. The fact remains elusive of all descriptions. It is unique, immediate, absolute.80 and :finally: Ultimately, when. the argument has simmered down in a philosophy, it, or what it simmers down to, is an integral act of insight, an intuition. 31 This is no coincidence from the pen of a well-known writer on philosophy and the arts, but an attitude common to most thinking men when they come to set down their viewpoints on philosophy. That Plato not only agreed but went even further than this is well known and will be more fully illustrated in the quotations to follow from Lindsay. Lindsay discusses the possible aspects which may enter into any consideration of Plato's attitude towards art, specifically, inspiration, and he develops the point by the following quotations. The only difference between Lindsay's views and mine is that of distance. I am going to try to go a little further than he did. Specifically, Lindsay has this to say about Plato's considerations of art and knowledge: ••Edman, op. cit., p. 180. 81 Ibid., p. 148. 486 .ARTHUR E. VASSILION The truth is that if Plato is poetic, it is not because he ever subordinates philosophy to poetry, but because he takes what may be called a poetic view of knowledge. He emphasizes and asserts the importance in knowledge and in logic of the element of the immediate and the intuitive. While always insisting on exact argument and careful logical reasoning, he makes all reasoning depend finally on intellectual insight and vision which is immediate. 82 It is Plato's position in the Meno that the soul has learned all things in its many rebirths and that therefore man only recollects. Truth is part of the soul, as are all other virtues. 88 The process of realizing, or recollecting, knowledge is that of contemplation-along logical lines, of course. The way is hard, for some, overpowering; but that is the only legitimate way of attaining truth in Plato's estimation. After contemplating beautiflil objects gradually and in order, "on a sudden he beholds a beauty wonderful in its nature." u Lindsay concludes his presentation by a very apt statement within which he gives a quotation from Plato, which should leave no question of Plato's views on this subject: Though the apprehension is immediate and its own evidence, it is reached in a definite way, which Plato is prepared to describe .... Perhaps the clearest account of the matter is given in a passage in the seventh letter. Plato is explaining . . . why his philosophy cannot be properly stated in words. He shows the defects of all our ways of representing reality ... we must test and examine all our thought by dialectic. If we do that, he says, after a long and difficult process of " rubbing our conceptions and perceptions together," suddenly insight and reason flash out, and we know reality as it is. The reality cannot be described, simply because our apprehension of it is immediate, but we can explain the necessary means toward that apprehension. 85 The testimony is now complete, I believe. Plato has testified in his own words and ideas, and Lindsay and Edman have given witness, in their own interpretations, to the poetic character of Plato's logical process. Or rather, more accurately, the poetic character of the result ,of Plato's logical process. .. Lindsay, op. cit., p. ix. 88 Meno, 81 CD. 8' 35 Lindsay, op. cit., p. xi . Ibid., pp. xiv-xv. THE PLATONIC THEORY OF INSPIRATION 487 It now seems reasonable to state my major point: that, ultimately, Plato equated both his theory of knowledge and his theory of inspiration to the same elements of immediacy, insight, intuition or True, in his fervent desire to establish and perpetuate reason, order, consciousness and mental stability both to the world and to the mind of man thinking, Plato did establish the logical process of dialectic. The point here being argued is not that the process which Plato emphasized is not legitimate, or that it may not be the best one to follow, in the long run; but that in doing so Plato consciously disregarded the fact that he based both theories upon the same elements. If, at the end :of a long, arduous and highly complex process of reasoning in an endeavor to find truth, we ultimately resort to intuition for the final answer, we are certainly assuming the same elements with which the creative artist is credited. Plato did just that, as far as I can see. The difference is in the process. The important point, as far as the purpose of this essay is concerned, is that Plato faced an embarrassing problem. Not being able to deny that the inspired person did reach heights of truth and beauty by means of divine influence and control, and not resting his view of knowledge on anything else but reminiscence, which is derived from that part of us that is the divine element of soul, Plato saw the dangers which were inherent in this situation. If he had discredited the divine influence of the creative artist, the inspiration from God, then Plato would have arranged things very conveniently for his dialectical process. He did not do this, though, since he, too, had been so strongly influenced by the poetic element. On the .other hand, had he arrived at any other apex in his process of dialectic than the one of immediacy and intuition: had Plato, in other words, been able to say this is the process, this the result, completely dependent upon the' elements·of the process, he would not have had the problem. The result is that Plato could not allow the creative arts, the inspired media, the dignity of their function. To do so 4 488 ARTHUR E. VASSILION would be to belie his large effort to promote the thinking man, since the creative artist does not consd.ously think. Plato holds that the creative person does not think at all. Yet, I would suggest, had Plato more honestly investigated the reasons for inspiration, had he more intensively tried to understand that the same processes of "rubbing our conceptions and perceptions together" apply to all persons-not just the philosopher, he might have realized what has now become more widely accepted: that the creative mind may be poetic, or philosophic, or scientific, or all of these. Plato, like Bergson, exaggerated the differences between reason and intuition to the point of almost• complete compartmentalization. Bergson insisted that, for the immediacy of intuition to function, one must separate himself, as far as possible, from any logical analysis. This onesidedness was the result of Bergson's effort to support his thesis that reality is never gained from intellectual concepts. Only the perception of the flow of direct awareness, by intuition, gives this reality; and any part of this. flow that is communicable must be expressed in fluid concepts or metaphors. 36 In the same way, but at the other extreme, Plato felt bound to emphasize the differences between reason and intuition. Plato accepted the logical process with the ultimate immediacy of intuition and rejected the. intuitive-rational association which at times subordinates first the one and then the other, but which, at all times, employs reason and intuition as supplementary, not antagonistic, to each other. The artist does not create in a vacuum. He, too, rubs his conceptions and perceptions together until a truth, or an aspect of beauty, appears fully alive. Plato knew all this. That is why he used metaphor and simile; why he reverted to myth and allegory so extensively; why he used beautiful and indestructible poetic figures to objectify his concepts. Plato's failure, from my point of view, and with the material with ••Henri Bergson. Introduction to Metophysics. York: The Liberal Arts Press, 1949.) Transl. T. E. Hulme. (New THE PLATONIC THEORY OF INSPIRATION 489 which I have tried to substantiate it, has been one of a human being trying to do good. He chose the process which he consid,ered superior and forgot that the rejected child was spawned from the same womb. Perhaps with Nietzsche, in his Birth of Tragedy, we can project a supposed dramatization of what some of Socrates' thoughts might have been, near the hour of his death, as he once again listened to his inner voice telling him to practice music. Nietzsche wrote: It was something akin to the daemonic warning voice which urged him to these practices; it was due to his Apollonian insight that, like a barbaric king, he did not understand the noble image of a God and was in danger of sinning against a deity-through his lack of understanding. The voice of the Socratic dream-vision is the only sign of doubt as to the limits of logic. " Perhaps "-thus he must have asked himself-" what is not intelligible to me is not therefore unintelligible? Perhaps there is a realm of wisdom from which the logician iS shut out? Perhaps art is even a necessary correlative of, and supplement to, science? " 87 ARTHUR E. vASSILION Syracuse, N. Y. 87 Friedrich Nietzsche. Random House.) TheJ Philosophy of Nietzsche, p. 1026. (New York: NATURAL NECESSITATION OF THE HUMAN WILL (Conclusion) III. O THE NATURE OF THE NATURAL APPETITE OF THE HUMAN WILL UR examination of the natural willing of life, knowledge, virtue, etc. has revealed that cognition, indeed actual consideration of their necessary connection with happiness, is pre-requisite for the necessitation of the human will by these objects. Knowledge must also obviously precede the natural willing of God, clearly seen in the Beatific Vision. Does the same thing hold true for all natural necessitation? Is it a general° principle that all natural appetite on the part of the human will presupposes cognition on the part of the human intellect? THE OPINIONS OF THE COMMENTATORS The commentators whom we have been Sylvester, arid John of St. Thomas--clearly teach that natural appetite in the will presupposes cognition in the intellect, as far as actual willing is concerned. Along with this, however, they teach the existence of a natural appetite which does not presuppose cognition on the part of the hunian intellect (although it does on the part of God) and which precedes actual willing. This kind of natural appetite, in the case of the will, is not really distinct from the will itself, but is the will considered as it is ordered or transcendentally related to its proper object by its Maker. This division into a twofold natural appetite is apparent in the following passages from Cajetan: 490 NATURAL NECESSITATION OF THE HUMAN WILL 491 Natural appetite is wont to be taken in two ways: In the first way, for an inclination implanted by nature. And in this way it is not any elicited act, but is as first act, having a natural relationship to such a thing. And such appetite is found in all powers, both active and passive, as is said in the text. In the second way, it is taken for a second act, whereby one tends towards something foreknown in such a way that one cannot tend towards its opposite. And this is an operation of animal appetite, whether intellectual or sensitive.1 Since natural appetite taken in the second way is an act of animal appetite, i. e. of the will or of the concupiscible or of the irascible appetite, Cajetan sometimes prefers to refer to it as animal appetite and reserve the name natural appetite for the first or potential natural appetite, if we may so term it. Since potential natural appetite is common to all. powers, and not proper to the will, he can thus distinguish it 2 from the elicited or actual natural appetite of the will. Again taking natural appetite to mean potential or innate natural appetite as opposed to the elicited or actual variety, he distinguishes it from animal appetite as the latter ·includes not only elicited natural appetite, but also free, elicited acts of appetite: For the evidence of these things, there must first of all be noted the difference between natural appetite and animal appetite, as the latter is divided into rational and sensitive, etc. For they differ first of all, because animal appetite is a special genus of powers of the soul ... but natural appetite is common to all powers. Secondly, because natural appetite follows the formal notion of a 1 Cajetan, Comment., I, q. 78, a. I, n. 5. Cf. ibid., 1-Il, q. 18, a. 2, n. 2: "Any power is found to be determined to its object in two ways; first, according to itself; secondly, according to its exercised act. And the ,determination of the power as to itself, indeed, is noted according to the relation of the power to its adequate formal object; for every power is thus determined to some object. But the determination as to the exercised act is noted according to the relation of the act, as placed in reality, to its object." •Cf. ibid., I, q. 80, a. I, n. 5: " .•. natural appetite, which is nothing other than the natural potency itself of anything towards its perfection; and animal appetite, which is not brought to bear except upon a known act. And therefore we desire to see, to hear, and even to desire, in two ways: naturally, according to a part, i.e. according to that power whose perfection it is; and animally, when we desire and strive to conserve the apprehended good of vision or of volition." 492 ROBERT P. SULLIVAN thing absolutely; but animal appetite follows the nature inasmuch as it apprehends. Thirdly, because natural appetite is in act from the nature alone; but animal appetite cannot go into act except from apprehension. Fourthly, because to desire naturally is not an elicited act, but is the very inclination of this thing to this object; but to desire animally is an operation, which is second act. Fifthly, because natural appetite is towards one thing; but animal appetite is towards many things, according to the multitude of apprehended goods. Sixthly, because natural appetite is towards a thing because it is suitable to this particular power which desires it; but animal appetite is towards a thing because it is suitable to the whole or supposit. Seventhly, because natural appetite is in act in a thing from Someone else; but animal appetite from oneself, because good moves inasmuch as it is apprehended by the desirer himself, and not by someone else.3 But Cajetan takes natural appetite in a broad enough sense to include both kinds when he distinguishes it from free appetite 4 (not that the potential natural appetite is a really distinct thing from free will, for both are identified with the will itself, but they are two distinct modes of causality of the selfsame will) ; 5 but natural appetite and free will are compatible: When it is said that natural necessity does not take away freedom, this can be understood rightly and wrongly. Wrongly, indeed, if it be understood to mean that necessity which is natural both objectively and elicitively is consistent with the freedom of that act; for this is not intelligible. But rightly, by understanding that the natural necessity of an act as to specification, or objectively, does not take away its freedom; because it is consistent that it be freely elicited.• There is mention in this passage of a natural necessity which is natural both objectively and elicitively, for Cajetan holds 8 4 Ibid., q. 19, a. 1, n. 5. Note mention of act; i.e. first act. Cf. ibid., q. 88, a. 2, n. 4: "Nature is here taken as it is distinguished against free; so that we call natural what is determined to one thing; the opposite of this belongs to the free . . . not all congenital things are natural, but one thing is natural and another is free; because something is determined to one thing; something else is indifferent to this and its opposite. And thus naturalness is repugnant to free will." •Cf. ibid., 1-Il, q. 10, a. 1, n. 5. "Ibid., I, q. 82, a. 1, n. 17. NATURAL NECESSITATION OF THE HUMAN WILL 498 that in the case of God clearly seen the will is necessitated both as to specification and exercise.7 Sylvester teaches the same thing. 8 But our teaching that natural appetite necessitates only as to specification is not· thereby overthroWn., for both Cajetan and Sylvester can be interpreted in the light of the following passage from John of St. Thomas: Although there can be given an object about which the will is necessitated as to exercise, as in the clear vision of God, yet this necessity does not come formally from the object itself as it is an object, but from the very disposition of the subject about such an object. . . . The reason is that formally the object is only the principle of specifying, and so from it as such does not come formally the necessity of exercise, but the exercise or eliciting comes formally from the operating subject, and its necessity from the very disposition and state of the subject. For the will is of such a nature that if it be brought to bear with all its weight upon an object, it is brought to bear necessarily, because nothing remains which can detain and suspend the eliciting. But it is then brought to bear with all its weight, when the object is totally adequated to its universality, and with full advertence; for since the will by reason of its nature and formal notion is determined to the good as such, when there is proposed something in every way and totally good, in all its universality and goodness, there is then no indifference in the will, but total determination to such a good. 9 T Cf. ibid., n. 7: "To desire naturally happens in two ways: In one way, as to the specification of the act; in the other way, as to its exercise. For since nature is determined to one thing, to desire has only as much of naturalness as it has of determination to one thing. Hence if the act of some power is determined to one object so that it cannot be towards the opposite, it is natural as to the specification of the act; because it is necessarily specified_by such an object, from which it cannot tend towards the opposite, as is clear about desiring with respect of the good. But if the very power is determined to elicit such an act, so that it is not in its power to suspend it, that act is natural as to the exercise of the act; because it is necessarily exercised. . . . But if we speak of the will of one seeing the divine essence, then the act of love and fruition with respect of the divine essence is natural in both ways." •Cf. Sylvester, Comment., ni, cap. 51, n. IV, 2: "Natural appetite can be taken in two ways: in one way, for the appetite following a natural form; in the other way, for an elicited act of the will which follows upon some apprehension necessarily, either as to the exercise of the act, or only as to the specification of the act." •John of St. Thomas, op. cit., Ill, 400bl7-40lal8. 494 ROBERT P. SULLIVAN As John of St. Thomas continues his explanation, he, too, makes use of the twofold division of natural appetite. Like Cajetan, he implies that the name natural belongs primarily to the innate or potential appetite: Nevertheless when we say the will is naturally and necessarily brought to bear upon such an object, it is not brought to bear after the manner of an innate appetite, but of an elicited one, although necessarily; and so that appetite is called natural because it is necessary, not because it is innate; for it proceeds from knowledge, indeed from full advertence, and hence it is especially voluntary, because it is from a special and full knowledge, namely from the vision of God, and from an internal principle, namely from the very weight of the will.10 Sylvester makes use of the same division of natural appetite in passages in which he omits any necessitation as to exercise: Natural appetite ... can be taken in two ways: in one way, as it is distinguished from the appetite following knowledge; in the other way, as it is distinguished from free appetite. The first way designates only the order of a nature towards something, and implies nothing else than the fo:rm of a thing with a natural relationship towards something, just as the appetite of, a heavy body for a downward place is nothing else than the form of heaviness with a relationship to a downward place; and it is as first act. In this way every power naturally desires what is suitable to it .... In the second way, it designates an elicited act following knowledge, but determined to one of opposites in such a way that it cannot be bent towards the other, just as all naturally desire beati10 Ibid., 40la4-15. Cf. ibid., II, 78a 11-80: "We must presuppose the customary distinction between innate and elicited appetite. The former is the appetite arising from the nature itself without the mediation of any knowledge, just as the gravitation in a stone for the middle of the earth. Elicited appetite is that which proceeds from the mediation of some knowledge, as when an animal· desires food or drink. And if this appetite arises from intellective knowledge, it is called the rational appetite or will; and if furthermore it follows upon a knowledge proposing the object with indifference not binding or limiting it to one thing alone, it will be free appetite. Hence innate appetite, which is without knowledge and which is opposed to elicited appetite, is one thing; natural or necessary appetite, which is opposed to free appetite and can be elicited, is something else." ·Cf. also ibid., 78bl8-!il!il: "Natural appetite need not be any act or active impetus, but only a relationship and order to what is suitable to something." NATURAL NECESSITATION OF THE HUMAN WILL 495 tude by an act elicited by the will following the apprehension of beatitude. 11 But St. Thomas understands by natural desire, not the inclination of nature opposed to the indination which follows knowledge, but an act, elicited by the will, which is natural and determined as to the specification of the act, but not as to the exercise." 12 Our commentators, therefore, are united in teaching the existence of a twofold natural appetite of the will. One is the power of the will, considered as having, prior to human cognition and to its elicited act, a natural order or transcendental relationship to its proper object. The other is an elicited act of the will, free as to exercise but naturally determined to one thing as to specification, and following upon human cognition. Since the willing of God, clearly seen, and of life, knowledge, etc. always follows upon knowledge, and since the proper object of the will is only the end, the good, and beatitude,1 8 we can expect to find the innate or potential kind of natural appetite only in the cases of the last end, beatitude, and good in general; yet this does not prevent these same objects from also being willed by elicited or actual natural appetite, following upon knowledge. 2. THE OPINION OF FATHER O'CONNOR As we have noted in our introductory remarks, this position of the commentators has recently been attacked by Father O'Connor, who is unwilling to admit a potential natural appetite prior to cognition, in either the will or the sense appetites. His opinion is set forth in two books and an article in a philosophical quarterly. 14 We are not here concerned with Father O'Connor's main Sylvester, Comment., I, cap. 4, n. II. Ibid., cap. 5, n. V, 3. 13 Cf. In IV Sent., d. 49, q. 1, a. 3, sol. 1, ad 2: "Beatitude, as such, implies per se the object of the will." "William R. O'Connor, The Eternal Quest (New York: Longmans, Green, and Company, 1947); The Natural Desire for God (Milwaukee: Marquette University Press, 1948); "The Natural Desire for Happiness," The Modern Schoolman, 11 10 XXVI (January, 1949), 91-120. 496 ROBERT P. SULLIVAN problem, the nature of the natural desire for the vision of the divine essence. We are deeply concerned, however, with his teaching on the nature of natural appetite in general, and particularly that of the human will. Since we shall have occasion in the next part of this section to enter into a somewhat detailed analysis of Father O'Connor's teaching on these points, it will not be necessary to cite chapter and verse in the brief summary of ,his position which we shall now give here. · However much the commentators may differ on what a natural desire for the vision of God may be, they agree, as we have seen, on what natural desire in general is, and on its twofold division. 15 Father O'Connor parts company with them. He denies that the act of natural appetite can ever be freely elicited; it comes forth from the will with a necessity which differs from that of coercion only in that it is from an intrinsic principle. It cannot truly be said to be exercised, for exercise refers only to a free act. The twofold division of the commentators is rejected. The possibility of an innate or potential natural appetite, prior to human cognition and consisting merely in the order or transcendental relation of the will to its proper object, is eliminated by Father O'Connor. He sees in such a doctrine only the pollution of the pure stream of Thomism by the muddy currents of Scotistic teaching. There is, for St. Thomas, no natural appetite of the· will which does not follow the cognition of the object by the human willer him'self. In place of the teaching of the commentators, F-ather O'Connor finds in St. Thomas not two kinds of natural appetite in the human will, but only one. It always follows human cogni16 Besides Cajetan, Sylvester, and John of St. Thomas, Father O'Connor cites the opinions of Dominic Soto and Bafiez. We have not examined the teachings of the latter two, but from the passages cited by Father O'Connor it is clear both hold for a potential natural appetite. Soto admits no elicited natural appetite for the vision of God, but seems to hold it in other cases, according to Bafiez's explanation of Soto's view, given by Father O'Connor (The Eternal Quest, p. 59). Whether Bafiez himself does so is not clear, as his general teaching is not given by Father O'Connor. NATURAL NECESSITATION OF THE HUMAN WILL 497 tion, for the will of its very nature depends upon and follows the human intellect. This natural appetite is always actual, too; it is not the mere power of the will considered as related to its object. But it is actual only in an imperfect sense, and thus it is not to be confused with a freely elicited act of the will. For the natural appetite of the human will, Father O'Connor insists, is nothing else than that imperfect act, partly in potency and partly in act, which is movement in the proper sense of the word movement. This latter teaching is fundamental and oft-repeated in Father O'Connor's treatment of the questio:n in The Eternal Quest. S. REJECTION OF FATHER O'CoNNon's Vrnw At the outset of our evaluation of Father O'Connor's theory of natural appetite, it is well to note that he is to be commended for his staunch defense of a natural desire in the human which follows the cognition of the human intellect. This, however, is something in which the commentators heartily concur; the important question is whether this is the only kind of natural appetite in the human will? Highly commendable, too, is the yeoman service Father O'Connor has done in the collection of relevant texts. His interpretation of them, however, is debatable. To treat adequately the wealth of passages from St. Thomas which he adduces would require far greater space than is at our disposal; yet we believe that a valid analysis and evaluation of his teaching can be made in the light of a relatively few key texts. We can begin, then, with an examination of his own theory that the natural appetite of the human will is movement in the proper sense of that word. 15 " In defense of it, he cites few 1 •• O'Connor, The Eternal Quest, p. 113: "Natural appetite is never the complete and perfect act, which is the operation or activity that is exercised by a power. It is always the incomplete and imperfect act of motus; a movement that the agent suffers rather than activity causes. . . . Not every motus is the imperfect act of movement, which alone is the proper sense of the term motus. In a wide sense (large) any which is a complete or perfect act, may be called 498 ROBERT P. SULLIVAN texts from St. Thomas, and those that he does have an unfortunate tendency to backfire to the detriment of Father O'Connor's theory. Thus he cites the remark of St. Thomas that " appetitus est quasi quidam motus ad rem." 16 To this it may be briefly replied that St. Thomas doubtless inserted the qualifying quasi precisely because it is not movement in the proper sense. Moreover, appetitus either refers to the power, and then Father O'Connor is wrong in distinguishing natural appetite from the power itself, as he does; or else it refers to the act of the power, and then it refers equally to all acts of the will, even free ones, for Father O'Connor admits that the text refers to appetite in general. Again, Father O'Connor says that St. Thomas expressly denies that natural appetite is an action or operation. 17 The text he quotes in proof of it is this: " The appetite for form is not any action of the matter, but a certain relationship of the matter to the form, according as it is in potency to it." 18 This natural appetite of prime matter for substantial form is hardly pertinent to a discussion of the natural appetite of the will. The same text equally denies that natural appetite is motus, for motus is an act, even if an imperfect one, and matter has no act prior to its substantial form. Thus he relies on the one case where natural appetite is clearly not any act, perfect or imperfect, but potency related to its proper act. Since movement is partly in potency and partly in act, the fact that natural appetite is really movement explains for Father O'Connor why St. Thomas can speak of natural appetite in terms of both potency and act: Looking forward to the complete or perfect act, which in the case of the powers of the soul is the operation they perform, appemotua. Natural desire, however, is motus not in the wide but in the proper sense, since it is a tendency; or inclination towards an operation, but not the operation itself." 16 Ibid., p. 114. The quotation is from Summa Theol., I, q. 5, a. 4, ad 1. 17 Ibid,., p. !l50, note 85. 18 De Pot., q. 4, a. I, ad !l in contrarium. NATURAL NECESSITATION OF THE HUMAN WILL 499 titus bears to it the relation of potentia. Looking back upon the form or nature from which this tendency proceeds, it is act. 19 This is far from proving that natural appetite is more than the bare power, for we could substitute the word power for appetitus and tendency in this passage of Father O'Connor's and express the exact truth. The same doctrine of natural appetite as motus, however, affords him a convenient way of getting around such passages of St. Thomas as these: Even in the damned the natural inclination remains whereby man naturally wills good. This inclination does not imply any act, but only the order of nature to an act. 20 Even in the damned there remains the natural inclination towards virtue, otherwise there would not be remorse of conscience in them; but that it is not reduced to act happens because, according to divine justice, grace is lacking; just as also there remains in a blind man, in the very root of his nature, the aptitude for seeing, inasmuch as he is an animal naturally having sight; but it is not reduced to act, because there is lacking the cause which could reduce it to act, by forming the organ which is required for seeing.21 It is difficult indeed to understand how an aptitude in the very root of his nature can be considered as a movement in the proper sense. Shall we say a man has a movement towards seeing, when he even lacks ·eyes? In spite of the statement that this inclination does not denote any act, Father O'Connor comments: "Obviously, the natural inclination whereby man naturally wills or desires the good is the imperfect act of movement towards the good as the end of the will." 22 Distinguishing this inclination from the elicited act of choosing the means to the end, which choice is, for Father O'Connor, perfect act or operation (although no reason is given why choice should be more perfect or actual than the willing of the end which is its source) , he continues and explains that this text of St. Thomas O'Connor, o-p. cit., p. 114. ••In II Sent., d. 89, q. 8, a. 1, ad 5. 19 91 99 Summa Theol., I-II, q. 85, a. O'Connor, op. cit., p. 115. ad 8, 500 ROBERT P. SULLIVAN does not deny that this inclination " is an act in the imperfect sense of motus." 23 It is noteworthy that if Father O'Connor's explanation is wrong, we have in these passages the clear teaching of St. Thomas that there is a natural appetite identified with the will as a power. We shall soon see how these passages boomerang for Father O'Connor when it is proved that natural appetite is not movement in the proper sense. Before doing so, however, let us consider a further argument of his. He finds confirmation for his view of natural appetite as imperfect act or movement in the statement by the Angelic Doctor that " the term appetite implies imperfection." 24 Of course it does. Desire is always of an absent good. The statement of St. Thomas applies to elicited desires, too; indeed, to any act of appetite, for appetite always goes out to an object never possessed by the appetite itself. On this fact St. Thomas bases his famous argument that beatitude is an act of the intellect, because the will never obtains its object. Father O'Connor relies, too, on the fact that St. Thomas usually gives only understanding or sensing as examples of perfect act or operation which is motus only in the broad sense.25 But the reason for this is precisely that cognition brings the object known into the knowing power, whereas the object of the will is always outside the will, in any of its acts. Hence neither does St. Thomas cite the freely elicited act of choice as an example of perfect act. But Father O'Connor sees only in the imperfection of appetite a confirmation of the theory that natural appetite is motus in the proper sense: We now see what this imperfection is. As a tendency appetitus must have the imperfection of motus, which partakes of both potency and act. While it is true that the term motus is commonly used to designate operation (a use that St. Thomas himself resorts to often enough), yet in the proper sense motus does· not mean •• Ibid., loc. cit. ••De Ver., q. 22, a. 2, ad 4. ••Cf. O'Connor, op. cit., p. 250, note 85 and p. 252, note 44. NA.TUBAL NECESSITATION OF THE HUMAN WILL 501 operation but a preceding inclination to it. This is where natural appetite belongs.26 But St. Thomas is speaking of appetite in general (and primarily of the power) and not just of natural appetite when he attributes this imperfection to appetite. Hence freely elicited choice is just as much a motus as natural appetite is, and the case against the freely elicited natural appetite of the commentators collapses. Nor is it clear why choice should be regarded as perfect act or operation. How, too, is natural appetite in the will an inclination towards the operation of choice? It is inclination towards the end, not towards choice. Father O'Connor speaks of it, however, in both ways. 27 Another of the belief that natural appetite is motus is found in the fact that" its act is tendere and its nature is inclinari." 28 St. Thomas, however, uses the term inclination. not only of natural appetite, but also the will 2 9 and its act. 80 Father O'Connor is aware that the will itself is called an inclination by St. Thomas, but attributes this to the fact that the term appetitus is somewhat ambiguous, since it can refer to an act of a power or to the power. 31 True enough; and we shall see later how this fact justifies the commentators' use of the term elicited appetite, to which Father O'Connor objects. For the present, it suffices to remark that the fact remains that it is the will as a power that St. Thomas calls an inclination and an appetite in the passages just cited, as their contexts show; especially the passage from the Summa, wherein the Angelic Doctor is proving that there is such a power as the will in angels. The next passage from the Summa we have quoted an •• Ibid., p. 116. ••Ibid., pp. 118, 115, 116. •• Ibid., p. 116. ••Cf. Summa Theol., I, q. 59, a. I: "This incliriation is called will." Cf. De Ver., q. 22, a. 5: "But since the will itself is a certain inclination, because it is a certain appetite." . ••Cf. Compendium Theologiae, I, cap. 129: "The act of the will is a certain inclination . . . and is compared to natural inclinations." Cf. Summa Theol., I, q. 106, a. 2: "For the operation is a certain inclination of the one who wills." 81 Cf. O'Connor,. op. cit., p. 255, note 54. ROBERT P. SULLIVAN clearly calls the operation of the will an inclination. Hence tendere and inclinari are not proper to natural appetite nor to motus. Having stated that natural appetite is not an operation but is rather a movement to be placed on the side of nature of potency, Father O'Connor next asks whether it is necessary to identify it with the particular nature in which it is found. 32 Of course, the elicited natural appetite is distinct from the power which elicits it, but he recognizes no such elicited natural appetite; what he means is: must this motus or inclination of nature be identified with the nature? No, he answers; for St. Thomas expressly distinguishes them in this passage: And therefore, just as in natural things the nature itself is something else from the inclination of the nature, and its movement and operation, so, too, in the order of grace, grace is something else from charity and from the other virtues. 33 Father O'Connor finds here a real distinction of nature from the inclination of nature, in the way that grace is really distinct from charity. But what are the two things distinguished, we may ask? For St. Thomas, sanctifying grace holds in the supernatural order a role similar to that of the substantial nature in the order of nature, for the nature is the subject of its accidents, and is really distinct from them. That is the distinction we have here. Whether natural appetite be an act of will or the power itself which is the will, it is really distinct from the substantial nature. Since the passage also distinguishes this nature from its motus, the implication is that he is taking the inclination of nature to mean the power as distinct from motus; motus is not taken here in the broad sense of operation, as the adversative vel is used rather than seu; only if the latter were used would it be implied that motus and operation are synonyms. Father O'Connor then cites this passage: From every form follows an inclination, and from the inclination an operation; just as from the natural form of fire there follows an ••Cf. ibid., p. 116. ••De Ver., q. NATURAL NECESSITATION OF THE HUMAN WILL 508 inclination towards an upward place, according as fire is said to be light; and from this inclination an operation follows, namely movement which .is upwards. There follows upon. a sensible form as well as upon an intelligible form, therefore, a certain inclination which is called sensible or intellectual appetite; just as the inclination following the natural form is called natural appetite. But from the appetite follows the operation, which is local movement.34 Here we have St. Thomas not only again calling the appetite an inclination, but calling local movement an operation. Now if there is ever movement in the proper sense, local movement is it. And this local movement is distinct from the appetite or inclination! Moreover, the nature referred to is again the substantial nature, as is clear from the example given;· the appetite is the power, distinct from the natural or substantial form in the case of natural forms, and distinct, in the case of the sensible and intellectual appetites, from the cognitive forms, as the latter are in the cognitive powers. The substantial nature and form are also meant in the other two texts cited by Father O'Connor. 35 What shall we say, then, about this concept of natural appetite as motus in the proper sense of motus? We might embark upon a disquisition proving that motus in the proper sense is physical motus, and that this concept contradicts what Father O'Connor has said earlier. 86 But we believe the arguments he •• De Anima, lib. 2, lect. 5, n. 286. ••Of. op. cit., p. 254, note 49. The texts are: De Ver., q. 27, a. 2: "In natural things, three things are pre-requisite for the obtaining of some end; namely, a nature proportioned to that end, and an inclination to that end, which is the natural appetite of that end, and movement 'towards the end; just as it is clear that in earth there is a certain nature whereby it belongs to it to be in a central place, and an inclination towards a central place follows this nature, according as it naturally desires such a place when it is detained outside it by violence, and therefore, when nothing hinders it, it always moves downward. But man, according to his nature, is proportioned to a certain end for which he has natural appetite, and by his natural powers he can work to obtain that end." De Malo, q. 6: "In natural things are found the form, which is the principle of action, and an inclination following the form, which is called natural appetite; action follows from these." •• lbUl., op. cit., p. 106: "Neither Aristotle no:r St. Thomas eve:r :regarded the tendency called natural appetite as anything less than a real and positive movement. . . . This movement is :real and not metaphorical, but in its own order, 5 504 ROBERT P. SULLIVAN invokes in favor of this theory have been sufficiently exploded by now. We shall let St. Thomas deliver the coup de grace in a passage which Father O'Connor himself cites in explaining the two senses of motus: To be moved is said in two ways. In one way properly, as the Philosopher defines movement in the Third Book of Physics, saying that movement is the act of a being existing in potency, according as it is such. . . . In another way, any operation is broadly called movement, as to understand or to sense; and taking movement in this sense the Philosopher says in 3 De Anima that, movement is the act of a perfect being; because each thing operates according as it is in act. 8 1 Thus far quotes Father O'Connor. Had he read just a few lines farther, he would have foun,d St. Thomas saying; "Now rational minds are said to be mobile not in the first sense of movement, because such movement belongs only to bodies, but in the second sense." 88 Has Father O'Connor since come to realize the inadequacy of the theory that natural appetite is movement in the proper sense of the word? Probably not; but it is singularly absent from his article in The Modem Schoolman, with the possible exception of a passage in which he rejects the elicited appetite of the commentators because " it is not the tendency which flows from the natural form, but an act which is elicited by the will or the sensitive appetite in the wake of prior cognition." 39 He does not, however, say that he has retracted this theory. If he has done so, he should further modify his opinion to accommodate the fact that every reference in St. Thomas to the effect that the movement of the natural appetite of the will follows the cognition of the intellect is a reference to actual or elicited natural appetite only. which is the metaphysical order. It is not ... to be measured and judged by the standards that are applied to physical motion." ••De Ver., q. 24, a. 1, ad 14. 88 Ibid., loc. cit. Italics mine. ••O'Connor, "The Natural Desire for Happiness," The Modern Schoolman, XX:VI (January, 1949), p. 117. NATURAL NECESSITATION OF THE HUMAN WILL 505 The chief contention of this article is that the natural appetite of the will follows knowledge in the intellect. On this point Father O'Connor does nobly. There is indeed a natural appetite in the will following human cognition. 40 The commentators agree with him here. But he goes farther and claims that natural appetite in the will always follows cognition in the human intellect. There is no such thing as an innate natural appetite prior to this cognition and consisting in a transcendental relation of the will itself to its proper object. In support of his thesis, Father O'Connor lays down three general principles concerning St. Thomas's doctrine. We may at once admit the truth of the third one: The third general consideration is this: because natural appetite as such flows from the natural form, and animal appetite from the cognitional form, St. Thomas very often speaks of natural appetite solely as it exists below the level of sense, where obviously it is always sine cognitione in its subject. Because natural appetite on these lower levels is without cognition, it does not follow that it is also without cognition on the two higher levels of the sensitive appetite and the will.41 Father O'Connor ably demonstrates this conclusion with appropriate texts from St. which show that he often confines natural appetite to natures or powers lacking cognition. This is usually done, however, when St. Thomas is contrasting natural appetite with animal appetite following cognition, and its purpose is probably to give a sharper contrast. 42 Father O'Connor's first general principle is that "when St. •• Cf. Cont. Gent., II, cap. 55: " For natural appetite is in some beings as a result of apprehension, just as the wolf naturally desires the killing of the animals on which it feeds, and man naturally desires happiness." Cf. In IV Se:nt., d. 88, q. 1, a. 2, a. 1, ad 9: "A natural inclination in the appetitive power follows natural conception in cognition." Cf. In II Sent., d. 89, q. 2, a. 2, ad 2: "That which is the end of man is naturally known in the reason to be good and to be sought, and will following that knowledge is called will as nature." • 1 O'Connor, op. cit., p. 100. 49 Cf. Quod., I, q. 4, a. 8: "For natural inclinations can especially be known in those things which are done naturally without the deliberation of reason, for thus each thing acts in nature in such a way as it is naturally apt to be done." Italics mine. 0 506 ROBERT P. SULLIVAN Thomas discusses the origin of the will, he roots it by nature in the intellect or intelligence." 48 This is also true, but it must be understood rightly in order to see its consequences for natural appetite. When St. Thomas says that the will proceeds " from the essence of the soul, presupposing intelligence," 44 he does not mean to deny that will is a property of intelligent creatures and hence is always in them, or to imply that we have no will before our intellect begiri.s to function. Nor do we suppose that Father O'Connor believes this to be his meaning; we want only to pave the way for· showing that St. Thomas's words refer to a priority of nature, not of time. The intellect is prior to the will in the sense that it presents . the will with its object. This object and its presentation are by way of final causality, so that the understood good is prior to the act of the will as a final cause is to its effect. It is not prior as a conditio sine qua non, which always implies a temporal priority or at least simultaneity. Moreover, the purpose of having the will itself is so that men can desire the objects presented by the intellect, so that it would be idle, therefore, for God to put a will in a creature who lacked an intellect. Thus the intellect is, as it were, a cause and principle of the will and is prior to it by nature. Hence the will naturally tends towards the understood good as to an end. Doubtless this end must be understood before there can be any actual tendency towards it, especially by those actions whereby man directs himself to the end. But the good need not be understood with a temporal priority or simultaneity before the will, considered as a power, can have an order to it. For a power to tend towards an object is for it to be inclined towards something distant and future, as it were, to it. Otherwise we are back in the position of not possessing a will until our intellect has begun to function. Hence it no more follows that good in general must be understood by the intellect of man before his will can have an order to it, than it does that food must exist before the digestive powers can have an order to it. No doubt •• O'Connor, op. cit., p. ··95. •• De Ver., q. 22, a. 11, ad 6. NATURAL NECESSITATION OF THE HUMAN WILL 507 the objects of the powers are prior to the powers insofar as these objects are, through intention, the final causes of the powers, but the intention of the Author of Nature suffices for this" Intellectual cognition certainly precedes any actual tendency, natural or free, in the human wilL To prove this is so, however, is not to eliminate an innate natural appetite identified with the will itself as a power" It would be fruitless to consider in detail all the texts adduced by Father O'Connor to show that natural appetite in the will follows knowledge in the intellect (although the relevancy of some of them is not clear) , for it can simply be answered that they refer to the actual natural appetite" Lest their cumulative effect might seem to preclude any natural appetite of the will which does not follow actual knowledge in the human intellect, however, it is well to note that some of them refer to the movement of the will, and that movement is, as we have seen, movement in the broad sense, so that every reference to movement of the will as following apprehension is not to be taken as meaning the appetite does follow knowledge" Other texts brought forward to imply that the will, even as a power, is rooted in the intellect make use of the teaching of St. Thomas that the win is in the reason; a teaching which St" Thomas himself explains, in the very texts cited by Father O'Connor, 45 as employing the word reason to denote not the faculty of intellect, but the spiritual part of the soul which is the subject of both intellect and wilL46 In brief, there is none of these texts which cannot be taken as referring to actual natural appetite" Moreover, these texts 1 45 Cf. O'Connor, op. cit., p. 96. De Ver., q. 22, a. 10, ad 2: "But if the will be considered as to that in which it is rooted, then, since the .will does not have a corporeal organ, just as the intel46 lect does not, will and intellect will be reduced to tb'e same part of the soul. And thus sometimes intellect or reason is taken as including both in itself; and thus it is said that the will is in the reason." In Ill Sent., d. 27, q. 2, a. 3, ad 1: "The essentially rational part is not said to be merely reason itself, but also the appetite annexed to the reason, namely the will, hence the Philosopher says in 3 De Anima that the will is in the reason." 508 ROBERT P. SULLIVAN for the most part consider will according to what is proper to it. But to be an appetite is not proper to the will.47 Much less is it proper to the will to have a natural Thus we should not look for the natural appetite of the will to conform to what is proper to the will, but for the will to conform to what is proper to nature, as St. Thomas pointed out in his proof for the· existence of natural appetite in the will.48 Yet Father O'Connor adopts the view that the natural appetite of the will must conform to what is proper to the will. First of all he lays down his second general consideration: St. Thomas has not a univocal notion of natural appetite, but views it according to the analogy of being and of nature. Where cognition does not enter as a factor in a nature, natural appetite will be completely independent of cognition in the subject. Where, however, cognition is a factor in the nature of a power, as it is in the case of the sensitive appetite and the will, natural desire will not be independent of knowledge. 49 Father O'Connor then goes on to prove the analogy of natural appetite. One text he uses seems to indicate that natural appetite is predicated univocally of the will rather than analogically, 50 just as animal is predicated univocally of man and is, moreover, prior to the rationality which is proper to man. This raises the question whether natural appetite is really analogical as applied to various powers. Certainly there is 47 Cf. Cont. Gent., III, cap. 26: " The will as an appetite is not proper to an intellectual nature, but only as it depends upon the intellect." 48 Cf. De Ver., q. 22, a. 5: "In ordered things the mode of the first thing must be included in the second, and there must be found in the second not only what belongs to it according to its own proper notion, but also what belongs to it according to the notion of the first mode. . . . Now nature and the will are ordered in this way, that the will itself is a certain nature, ... and therefore one must find in the will not only what is of the will, but also what. is of nature, ... and therefore one must find in the will not only what is of the will, but also what is of nature." 49 O'Connor, op. cit., p. 97. ••De Ver., q. 22, a. 5, ad 6 in contrarium: "Will is divided against that which is natural only, just as man is divided against that which is animal only; but it is not divided against natural appetite absolutely, but includes it, just as man includes animal." NATURAL NECESSITATION OF THE HUMAN WILL 509 analogy of natural desire, inasmuch as St. Thomas teaches that natural love or natural appetite " is not only in the powers of the vegetative soul, but in all the powers of the soul, and even in all the parts of the body, and universally in all things." 51 Hence natural appetite, as now in the body, now in the soul, now a substantial nature, now an accidental one, will be analogical, as being itself is in these cases. But is it analogical as applied to various powers? The different powers of the soul agree in the genera of quality and power, which are predicated univocally of them, and hence it does not seem that natural appetite in the will must conform to what is proper to the will, namely to follow cognition, any more than it follows cognition in the case of the natural appetite of the intellect itself for its object, the understood essence or truth; to say the latter desire followed cognition would be to invoke an infinite regress. At any St. Thomas makes the natural appetite conform to the mode of the substantial nature, and not to the mode of the will, in the important text we are now about to consider. Father O'Connor mistranslates it in The ·Eternal Quest,52 although not in this article, to read as if the natural inclination of the will followed the mode of the will rather than that of the substantial nature. The text of the passage, however, clearly refers to the mode of the substantial nature. The passage reads: But it is common to every nature to have some inclination, which is natural appetite or love. This inclination, how.ever, is found differently in different natures, in each according to its mode. Hence in an intellectual nature there is found natural inclination according to will, and in a sensi.tive nature according to sensitive appetite, but in a nature lacking cognition, according to the mere order of the nature to something. 53 In the words that immediately precede this passage, St. Thomas again stresses the fact that nature is first in anything: 61 Summa Theol., I-II, q. 26, a. 1, ad 8. ""Pages 129, 209. ••Summa Theol., I, q. 60, a.]. 510 ROBERT P. SULLIVAN I It must be considered that the prior is always preserved in the posterior. But nature is prior to the intellect, because the nature of anything is its essence. Hence that which is of nature must be preserved also in those beings having an intellect. 54 In the light of these words it is difficult to see how it can be maintained that the natural appetite of the will must always conform to what is proper to the will as will, namely, that it follow the cognition of the intellect. That seems similar to defining animal as a living being which is rational, because man is rational. Man is subsequent to animal as regards what is proper to him, namely rationality. So, too, both will and intellect are subsequent to the substantial nature. What, then, is the mode of a substantial nature in the realm of intelligent beings? At least two other interpretations of this passage suggest themselves; they seem more conformable .to the premise St. Thomas laid down, since they proceed from the part of the substantial nature, not from what is proper to the will. First, it is proper to an intellectual nature to have a will and to a sentient nature to have a sense appetite. Hence St. Thomas may be merely assigning the subject of the natural appetite. According to this interpretation, the words secundu,m voluntatem and secundum appetitum sensitivum can be translated as merely as to the will and as to the sensitive appetite. Of course it is proper to the intellectual nature to have an intellect, too, but St. Thomas mentions only the will because the conclusion he wants to reach in this article is that " since the angel is an intellectual nature, there must be natural love in its will." 55 The second interpretation proceeds from the fact that it is proper to an intellectual nature precisely as intellectual to know universals or to generalize. Hence it interprets this passage to mean that, while nature is determined to one thing, in an intellectual nature the natural appetite of the will is determined to a general or common unity. We have already seen that this is what St. Thomas teaches. Similarly, it is •• Ibid., loc. cit. 55 Ibid., loc. cit. The replies to the second and third objections of this article are noteworthy as implying that this natural love is not always actual, NATURAL NECESSITATION OF THE HUMAN WILL 1511 proper to a sentient nature to know, by its senses, particular classes of goods, and hence the natural appetite of its sense appetites will be determined to a particular class of goods, namely things suitable to the senses. In the light of all that has been said, therefore, it does not seem that in proving there is analogy of natural appetite, and that there is an actual natural appetite following cognition, Father O'Connor has succeeded in eliminating an innate natural appetite which is identified with the will as a power. Since he seems to want to eliminate it in order to substitute for it his own theory that natural appetite is motus in the proper sense of the word-a theory we believe we have shown to be untensince, in attempting to prove that the natural appetite of the will is one only and always follows cognition in the human intellect, he must attribute inconsistency to St. Thomas in the latter's doctrine on natural appetite, 56 we do not see any necessity for discarding the traditional teaching of the commentators. 4. VINDICATION OF THE COMMENTATORS The questions which must be settled in order fully to vindicate the teaching of the commentators are: whether the actual natural appetite is freely elicited and can be called elicited 56 Cf. O'Connor, op. cit., pp. ll8, 115, 116. The one consistency he attributes (p. 119) to St. Thomas, namely that for him natural appetite is always the inclination that flows from the natural form and that in this respect it differs from sense appetite arid will, which are inclinations flowing from apprehended forms, does not fit in well with Father O'Connor's theory. For if the natural appetite of the will always follows human cognition, it follows an apprehended form. Father O'Connor anticipates this objection in The Eternal Quest (p. and replies that the natural appetite follows apprehension only as a conditio sine qua non; it follows the natural form as its cause. But the same thing holds true for free choice: it is the good that is final cause of the act of choice; its apprehension is only a necessary condition for it to exercise its final causality. And if the natural form is efficient cause of the act of appetite, so does it also efficiently cause the act of choice. Hence natural appetite and free choice do not differ in this respect. They differ in that it is the freely elicited act which follows cognition as a conditio sine qua non, whereas innate, potential natural appetite does not. They also differ on the point of necessity of specification. 512 ROBERT P. SULLIVAN app_etite, and whether there is a doctrine of innate, potential natural appetite in St. Thomas. The term elicited appetite need not detain us long. It is true, as Father O'Connor points out, 57 that St. Thomas does not use this terminology. John of St. Thomas calls it a customary expression: "We must presuppose the customary distinction between innate and elicited appetite." 58 To use the term elicited appetite of the power may be a little inaccurate; appetitus elicitivus is more accurate. But the term is used of the act as well as of the power. Thus John of St. Thomas says: " Elicited appetite is founded on cognition, and is called elicited because it is had by the eliciting of an act and the production of an operation." 59 There is foundation in St. Thomas for the latter usage, since he admits that the word appetite can be used both of the power and of the act, 00 In the case we are discussing, the commentators make it plain that their elicited natural appetite is appetite in the sense of act. 61 Is this elicited act of natural appetite freely elicited? Neither does this question need to detain us long, in view of all we have •• Tke Eternal Quest, p. 112. ••John of St. Thomas, op. cit., II, 78all. 69 Ibid., Ou'f/ms Tkeologicus, q. 12, disp. 12, a. 8. 6 ° Cf. In 11 Sent., d. 24, q. 2, a. 1, ad 5: "Appetite is the name of a power and the name of an act; hence it is not unfitting that from the appetite of power there proceed the appetite of act." Cf. also Summa Tkeol., I, q. 81, a. 1: "Now the sensual movement is an appetite following sensible apprehension. For the act of an apprehensive power is not so properly called a movement as is the action of an appetite. For the operation of an apprehensive power is perfected in the very fact that the things apprehended are in the one who apprehends; whereas the operation of an appetitive power is perfected in this, that the desirer is borne towards the desirable thing. And hence the operation of an apprehensive power is likened to rest, but the operation of an appetitive power is rather likened to movement; therefore, by sensual movement is understood the operation of an appetitive power." Italics mine; note incidentally the bearing of this passage on Father O'Connor's motus theory. For a similar twofold use of the word will, cf. Summa Tkeol., I-II, q. 8, a. 1, ad 2; and a. 2. Also De Ver., q. 28, a. 8. The word understanding is.used of power, act and habit; cf. In 11 Sent., d. 24, q. 1, a. 1, solutio; and a. 8, ad 1. 61 Cf. Sylvester, Comment., I, cap. 4. Cf. also Cajetan, Oommt.mt., I, q. 78, a. 1, n. 5. NATURAL NECESSITATION OF THE HUMAN WILL 513 said above, when. discussing the sphere of necessitation of the will. It cannot be emphasized too much that by free will we are masters of our own acts, as St. Thomas so constantly teaches. We do not directly choose objects, but our own acts; these are the things that are in our power or possible to us.62 Each of our own acts is a particular good, and hence is freely eligible, since we are necessitated only to the good in general. If these acts, including that of willing good or beatitude, are freely chosen, then they are freely elicited or exercised. Father O'Connor objects to the use of the latter word, as it is applied to the act of natural appetite of the will. But to exercise is to use, 63 and by its reflex activity the will uses itself in every act of choice.64 Thus we find St. Thomas clearly teaching that the actual natural appetite for "beatitude is freely exercised, because this act is a particular good.65 We cannot choose the last end, but we can choose whether or not we shall exercise this act about the last end. The act is not choice, but it can be chosen. If it is exercised, it will, of course, be necessary as to specification. Father O'Connor has difficulty in understanding what such an act can mean. Having given Sylvester's position, he speaks as if Sylvester had said the act of natural desire to see God were necessarily elicited, and asks why it is not necessary as to exercise, too, since we are not free to withhold it. 66 Sylvester, of course, never said it is necessarily elicited and freely exercised. That would be a contradiction in terms, both Cf. Summa Theol., I-II, q. 18, aa. 4, 5. Cf. Summa Theol., I-II, q. 9, a. 1. "'Cf. ibid., q. 16, a. 4, ad 8; and Cajetan's commentary thereon, n. 3. Cf. also In II Sent., d. 24, q. 1, a. 8, ad 5. 65 Cf. De Malo, q. 6: "Man of necessity wills beatitude. . . . Now I say of necessity as to the determination of the act, because he cannot will the opposite, but not as to the exercise of the act, because one is able then not to will to think of beatitude, because even the very acts of the will and intellect are particular .... Thus, therefore, as to some things the will is necessarily moved on the part of the object, but not to all things; but on the part of the exercise of the act it is not moved of necessity." 68 Cf. O'Connor, The Eternal Quest, pp. 161, 162. 69 68 514 ROBERT P. SULLIVAN exercise and eliciting refer to the efficient bringing forth of the act. What Sylvester says is that this act is freely exercised or elicited, but necessary as to specification. We are free to withhold this act for two fundamental reasons: first, because such exercise or eliciting is by way of efficient causality and no object efficiently moves the will, but only finally; secondly, because even as a :fin·al cause such an act is a particular good, and so is its exercise, and hence we need not choose to exercise it. 67 Father O'Connor's confusion here probably arises from the fact that he himself regards the act of natural desire as necessarily elicited; the only freedom it enjoys is freedom from external violence.68 We have just seen that St. Thomas teaches the opposite. That this act is freely elicited also seems to be implied in St. Thomas's teaching on the conjunction of appetites: Good, which is the object of the will, is in things . . . and hence the movement of the will must terminate at a thing existing outside the mind. Now although a thing, as it is in the mind, can be considered according to a common notion, omitting its particular notion, nevertheless the thing cannot exist outside the mind according to the common notion without the addition of its proper notion; and hence it is necessary that whenever the will be brought to bear upon good, it be brought to bear upon some determined good; and similarly, that whenever it be brought to bear upon the highest good, it be brought to bear upon a highest good of this or that sort. Now although the will has it from natural inclination that it be brought to bear upon beatitude according to the common notion, yet that it be brought to bear upon such or such a beatitude is not from the inclination of nature, but from the judgment of reason, which discovers that the highest good of man consists in this or that thing; and hence whenever one desires beatitude, natural appetite and rational appetite are actually joined there; and on the 67 Cf. De Ver., q. 22, a. 6: "Secondly, the will is undetermined with respect of act, because it can use or not use its own act about a determined object as it shall have pleased; for it is able to go or not to go into the act of willing with respect of anything whatsoever." Italics mine. 68 Cf. O'Connor, op. cit., pp. 124, 125. On p. 122 he is reduced by his theory to saying that we can choose happiness, although he has just admitted with St. Thomas that we cannot choose the end. NATURAL NECESSITATION OF THE HUMAN WILL 515 part of the natural appetite there is always rectitude there, but on the part of the rational appetite there is sometimes rectitude, when happiness is sought there where it truly is, but sometimes perversity, when it is sought where it truly is not. 69 In the light of this passage, how can Father O'Connor say that "when a person freely elicits a desire to be happy, without associating or identifying this general state of happiness with any particular object," 70 there is actual conjunction of the natural appetite and the rational appetite? St. Thomas makes it clear here that it is precisely when we do identify beatitude with some definite object that we have such conjunction. By such conjunction the rational appetite tends towards the object according to its particular notion, and tends with freedom of specification because this object is a particular good. The natural appetite tends towards the same object according to its common notion, i. e. according to its aspect of goodness, and it tends with necessity of specification because it can will only goodness and can will this particular object only insofar as it is a real or apparent good. Thus in willing a steak dinner a man can freely choose the steak insofar as it is steak, but necessarily wills it under the aspect of good, for his natural appetite tends necessarily towards good insofar as it is the reason for the desirability of the steak. 71 In view of St. Thomas teaching that appetite always goes out to something particular and really existing, it seems prob69 In IV Sent., d. 49, q. 1, a. 8, sol. 8. ••O'Connor, op. cit., p. 178. 11 Father O'Connor, op. cit., p. 212, errs, we believe, in saying that natural appetite as such has nothing to do with the ratio appetibilitatis, even in the case of the natural appetite of the will. The natural appetite St. Thomas is discussing in the passage he cites is only that of non-cognoscitive beings, as the context shows. The actual natural appetite of the will tends directly towards the ratio appetibilitatis as the passage shows: " :flut the higher appetite, which is the will, tends directly towards the· reason of desirability absolutely; just as the will desires good·ness itself primarily and principally, or utility, or something of this sort." De Ver., q. 22, a. 5). If, however, Father O'Connor's interpretation is the correct one, it shows that the natural appl)tite of the will for good does not follow the apprehension of goodness, as he maintains it does! The passage must then refer to potential natural appetite. 516 ROBERT P. SULLIVAN able that we never have an act of will merely towards goodness or happiness in general, but always with conjunction of the rational appetite towards some particular good. In view of the fi!ame statement, and of the way St. Thomas speaks elsewhere,72 it seems that this conjunction is in a numerically one act or movement, for if there are two acts of will involved, one of which only tends towards goodness in general, that act does not terminate at a really existing thing. If there is only one act, it is clearly a freely elicited one, since it tends towards a freely eligible, particular good. It is not certain, however, that only one act of will is mvolved. 78 If there are two acts, we must discard the foregoing proof from conjunction of appetites; we can afford to do so, since we have already seen that St. Thomas expressly teaches that the act of natural appetite is freely elicited. Finally, we must answer the question whether, as the commentators hold, there is in the teaching of St. Thomas an innate natural appetite, identified with the will as a power transcendentally related to its proper object. Father O'Connor regards this doctrine as characteristically Scotistic, and believes the commentators borrowed it from Scotus. But Cajetan, at least, explicitly rejects the Scotistic position.a If, however, this doctrine is Scotistic, then Scotus is in agreement here with St. Thomas, for we can find the notion of an innate natural appetite in the teachings of the latter. It is true that we have no passage in which St. Thomas 'r2 Cf. De Ver., q. 22, a. 4, ad 2; and q. 28, a. 7. Cf. also Summa Tkeol., I, q. 80, a. 2, ad 2; and 1-11, q. 5, a. 8, ad 2. Cf. also In II Sent., d. 88,.q. I, a. 4, ad I. '"Cf. Summa Tkeol., 1-11, q. 8, a. 8. If St. Thomas is there speaking about the last end in general, it can be willed by itself, apart from conjunction of appetites; yet even then not abstractly, but in such a way, it seems, that the will goes out to that particular thing, as yet unknown in its paricularity, in which the notion of last end shall be found to be fully realized. But if, as is less probable, he is speaking about a particular last end, it is only of a particular last end that he ewplicitly declares that " it is one and the same movement of the will whereby it is brought to bear upon the end . . . and those things which are towards the end." And this would not preclude willing the end separately, without conjunction of appetites. " Cf. Cajetan, Comment., 1-11, q. 10, a. I, n. 5. NATURAL NECESSITATION OF THE HUMAN WILL 517 explicitly distinguishes the two kinds of natural appetite of the human will. But in addition to the freely elicited natural appetite following cognition, we find him de facto teaching and using an innate natural appetite which is prior to human cognition and is identified with the power itself which is the will. The existence of this potential and innate natural appetite is implied in the very fact of the actual natural appetite which we have been discussing. For if the act of natural appetite is freely elicited, this can only be insofar as that act is a particular good or a means to the end. This implies that the will is already determined as to the end and good in general by potential natural appetite. Here is where imperfect or first act comes in. Actions belong to supposits. In relation to the supposit or its substantial nature, the power itself, as an accident thereof, is as act. But it is still in potency as regards its own act and its object. Thus we can say that by the very fact a man has the power which is the will, determined of its very ·nature to the end in general, he is in motion (using the term in the broad sense) to the end, and can thus freely elicit the act of natural appetite as a means or particular good. This potential natural appetite. does not follow human cognition. In general, there is no necessary connection: between natural desire or love and created cognition: For appetite does not necessarily regard esse spirituale, as cognition does. Hence there can be natural appetite, but not cognition. Nor is this prevented by the fact that in all things appetite follows cognition; because in natural things it does follow apprehension or cognition, but not that of the desirers, but of Him Who orders them to the end.75 . This holds true even for the potential natural appetite of the will. There are passages from the Angelic Doctor plainly teaching an innate natural appetite in the will independent of human knowledge: ••De Ver., q. 22, a. 1, ad 2. Cf. In III Sent., d. 27, q. I, a. 4, ad 18: "Love, properly speaking, is only in those beings in whom there is knowledge, but the name love is transferred to those things to which the name knowledge cannot be extended, because love is said according as the lover is ordered to some other thing, but a thing can be ordered to another even by an external orderer." 518 ROBERT P. SULLIVAN Natural appetite is the inclination of anything whatsoever, of its nature, towards something; hence by natural appetite any power whatsoever desires what is suitable to it; but animal appetite follows an apprehended form. 76 It belongs to each and every power of the soul to desire its proper good by natural appetite, which does not follow apprehension; but to desire good by animal appetite, which follows apprehension, belongs only to the appetitive power. 77 Just as natural appetite follows a natural form, so, too, sensitive or rational or intellective appetite follows an apprehended form. 78 Each power of the soul is a form or nature, and has a natural inclination to something. Hence each power desires by natural appetite that object which is suitable to itself. Above this natural appetite is the animal appetite, which follows apprehension, and by which something is desired not as suitable to the act of this or that 76 Summa Theol., I, q. 78, a. I, ad 8. Italics mine. Cf. ibid., I-II, q. 85, a. 1: " For the inclination of natural appetite does not follow the apprehension of the desirer himself, but of Another." 77 Ibid., I-II, q. 80, a. 1, ad 8. Cf. ibid., q. 6, a. 4: "The act of the will is nothing else than a certain inclination proceeding from an interior knowing principle, just as natural appetite is a certain inclination proceeding from an interior principle, and without knowledge." All italics mine. 78 De Malo, q. 16, a. 2. Cf. Summa Theol., I-II, q. 41, a. 8: "A movement is called natural because nature inclines towards ·it. But this happens in two ways: In one way, because it is wholly perfected by nature, without any operation of the apprehensive power, just as to be moved upwards is the natural movement of fire, and to grow is a natural movement of plants and animals. In another way, a movement towards which nature inclines is called although it is not perfected except through apprehension . . . and in this latter way even the very acts of an apprehensive power, as to understand, to sense, and to remember, and even the movements of the animal appetite are sometimes called natural. . . . But according to the first acceptation of natural, it must be known that certain of the passions of the soul are sometimes called natural, as love, desire, and. hope; but the others cannot be called natural, and this because love and hate, desire and flight imply a certain inclination to pursue good and flee evil, which inclination, indeed, pertains to natural appetite, and hence there is a· certain natural love; and desire and hope can in a way be said to be even in things lacking cognition. But the other passions of the soul imply certain movements for which the natural inclination in no way suffices." Here, contrary to Father O'Connor, is the natural desire of the sensitive appetite (even actual) wholly perfected without sense apprehension! Apply the above principles to the will, we have both kinds of natural appetite: the actuOl movement perfected only through apprehension, and the inclination preceding it. Italics mine. NATURAL NECESSITATION OF THE HUMAN WILL · 519 power, such as a sight for seeing or a sound for hearing, but as suitable absolutely to the animal.79 Since natural appetite is derived from some apprehension, although not conjoined, the case seems to be the same concerning the inclination of natural appetite and animal appetite, which follows conjoined apprehension. . . . Now in natural appetite this is manifestly apparent, that just as every thing has a natural consonance of aptitude tow.ards that which is suitable to it, which is natural love, so too it has a natural dissonance, which is natural hatred, towards that which is repugnant and corruptive.. So too then, in the animal or intellective appetite, love is a certain consonance of the appetite towards that which is apprehended as suitable. 80 Natural appetite does not follow from an apprehension, as do the animal and the intellective appetites. But the reason commands as an apprehensive power. Therefore, those acts which proceed from the animal or intellective appetite can be commanded by the reason, but not those acts which proceed from natural appetite; but the acts of the vegetable soul are of this soTt.81 The natural inclination of the will is not only towards the last end, but also towards that good which is shown to it by the reason. 82 ••Summa Theol., I, q. 80, a. I, ad 8. Cf. De Ver., q. 15, a. 8: "There is in the lower appetite a certain natural inclination whereby the appetite is in a way naturally forced to tend towards the object. But the higher appetite is not determined to either of opposites, because the higher appetite is free, but not the lower. And hence it is that the movement of the lower appetite is not found to be attributed to an apprehensive power, because the cause of that movement is not from apprehension but from the inclination of the appetite; but the movement of the higher appetite is attributed to its apprehensive power, namely to th_e reason, because the inclination of the higher appetite to this or to that good is caused from the judgment of reason." 80 Ibid., I-II, q. 29, a. I. Italics mine. 81 Ibid., q. 17, a. 8. Italics mine, because Father O'Connor, evidently following ·the Parma edition, translates this clause " for acts of this sort belong to the vegetable soul." This is false, as this clause is the minor premise leading to the desired conclusion that tlie acts of the vegetable soul are not subject to the command of reason, and is hence introduced by but. Again,· this reading would eliminate natural appetite from everything below the vegetable powers. The Leonine edition reveals that this reading is found only in the Parma edition. Hence there is no implication that it is only the natural appetite of the vegetable soul that does not follow cognition. 89 De Vir. in Com., a. 5, ad 2. Note that this reply implies that the last end 6 520 ROBERT P. SULLIVAN The appetite for food is twofold. One, indeed, is natural appetite, according as the appetitive, retentive, digestive, and expulsive powers serve the nutritive power, which is a power of. the vegetable soul; and such ·an appetite is hunger, which does not follow any apprehensive power, but follows natural need. . . . The other appetite is the sensitive appetite following apprehension, in which are the passions of the soul.83 Each and every power desires its object by natural appetite .... And because· natural appetite is determined to one thing, whereas animal appetite follows apprehensiOn, hence it is that the individual powers desire a determined good, but the appetitive power desires whatsoever good is apprehended. 84 Since every inclination results from a form, natural appetite results from a form existing in the nature of things, while the sensitive appetite, as also the intellectual or rational appetite called the will, results from an apprehended form. 85 Passages such as the above are so clear that Father O'Connor does not attempt tO deny the import of some of. them. His answer to them consists first in the claim that the good causes such n,atural appetite, and hence, presumably, the good must have been understood in order to do so. But this is true only of the movement of actual natural appetite, as the text he himself cites plainly states. 86 Then he admits that there are two accounts of natural appetite in St. Thomas. Of course there are, for he believes in two kinds of natural appetite. Father O'Connor begs the question by assuming that there can be only one kind of natural appetite in the will. The twofold is· not 'due to self-contradiction on the part of St. is not proposed to the will by the intellect, especially when it is read in conjunc- tion with the objection which it. answers. 88 De Malo, q. 14, a. 1, ad 4. We italicize the word appetitive because Father O'Connor claims that hunger belongs only to the powers of the vegetable soul. No doubt actual hunger follows an apprehension. ••De Ver., q. 22, a. 8, ad 5. Italics mine. ••Summa Theol., I-II, q. 8, a. 1. ••Cf. Ibid., q. 2s; a. 4: "In the movements of the appetitive part, however, the good has a sort of attractive power. . . . The good, therefore, first causes in the appetitive power a certain inclination, or aptitude, or connaturality to the good, and this pertains to the passion of love." Italics mine. NATURAL NECESSITATION OF THE HUMAN WILL Thomas; ilor is it only when he forgets to consider the analogy of natural appetite that the Angelic Doctor attributes noncognitional natural appetite to the human will. Since the whole basis of his distinction between natural and animal appetite is that the latter follows apprehension whereas the former does not, it would be stupidly short-sighted of St. Thomas to forget the fact that the natural appetite of the will and sensitive appetites follows cognition, if that were the case. Moreover, let us consider one place where he makes this distinction on the basis of preceding cognition. It is immediately objected that if natural love does not follow apprehension, then it seems to pertain only to the powers of the vegetable soul, as Dionysius implies. St. Thomas answers: Natural love is not only in the powers of the vegetative soul, but in all the powers of the soul, and even in all the parts of the body, and universally in all things ... since each thing has a connaturalness for what is suitable to it according to its nature. 87 This reply occurs right after St. Thomas has just asserted in the body of the article that " There is a certain appetite following the apprehension, not of the one desiring, but of Another, and an appetite of this sort is called natural." There, too; he has described this appetite as if it were the power itself, since it is the principle of act or movement: But in natural appetite the principle of this movement is the connaturality of the appetite for that towards which it tends, which can be called natural love; just as the very connaturalness of a heavy body for the central place is through gravity, and can be called natural love; and in a similar way the aptitude of the sensitive appetite or of the will for some good, i. e. the very complacency in the good, is called sensitive love, or intellective or rational love.88 Here, on Father O'Connor's assumption, we have St. Thomas considering and not .considering the analogy of natural appetite in the very same article. Unfortunately, we lack St. Thomas's own explanation of this analogy; but we have seen that Father O'Connor's interpretation is contrary to St. Thomas's oft-re87 Ibid., q. ·a. I, ad S. 88 Ibid., COrpu8. 522 ROBERT P. SULLIVAN peated principle that nature is prior to what is proper to the will as will.89 But we have the Angelic Doctor's own explanation of the analogy of appetite in general. Presumably, it fits natural appetite, too, since the latter falls under the genus of appetite. This explanation confirms our supposition that this analogy designates the subjects of the appetites: The act of the will is nothing but a certain inclination following an understood form, just as natural appetite is an inclination following the natural form. Now the inclination of any thing is in that thing after its own fashion. Hence natural inclination is in the natural thing naturally, and the inclination which is sensible appetite is in the sentient being sensibly, and likewise the intelligible inclination which is the act of the will is intelligibly in the intelligent being as in its principle and proper subject. . . . Now when something is intelligibly in some intelligent being, the consequence is that it is understood by the intellect, both inasmuch as one perceives himself to will, and inasmuch as one knows the nature of this act, and consequently the nature of its principle, which is the habit or the power. 00 St. Thomas here explains the analogy of appetite in terms of intelligibility as well as of subject. Although this explanation speaks of the act of the will, and of appetite in general, we seem justified in applying its principles to natural appetite, too. If so, we can find confirmation in many passages of St. Thomas of the fact that natural appetite seems to precede cognition, rather than the reverse: For the good is a certain truth, insofar as it is apprehended by the intellect; inasmuch, namely, as the intellect understands the will to will good.91 For the object of sense appetite is the good apprehended by sense; but the object of the intellective appetite or will is good under the universal notion of good, insofar as it is apprehensible by the intellect. 9 2 Cf. ibid., q. 10, a. 1, ad 1. Ibid., I, q. 87, a. 4. Italics mine. 91 De Vir. in Com., a. 6 ad 5. Whenever, in the body of this article, St. Thomas mentions natural appetite and natural cognition, he puts the former first. 92 Summa Theol., 11-11, q. !'l4, a. 1. Italics mine. 89 90 NATURAL NECESSITATION OF THE HUM.AN WILL 528 For man naturally desires happiness, and what is naturally desired by man is naturally known by him. 98 Now it pertains to natural knowledge that the soul know it was created for beatitude, and that beatitude consists in the attainment of the perfect good.94 · It is not disputed that natural appetite is an impression or inclination from God. 95 If so, why should human knowledge have to precede it? 96 We believe that the passages we have adduced show that there is a natural appetite in the human will prior to human cognition. Is this non-cognitional natural appetite of the will the same thing as the will itself, .considered as a power? If it precedes human knowledge, it would seem that it is. The only other possibility is that it could be an act, not following human cognition, and elicited from the wili by the impulsion of. God. Yet even such an act would presuppose the order of the power to its object, for " all the .actions which proceed from a power are caused by it according .to the notion of its object; but the object of the will is the end, and good." 97 Moreover, such an ·es Ibid., I, q 2, a. 1, ad 1. ••De Mal.o, q. 5, a. 8. This text refers directly to the natural knowledge of a separated soul, but experience and the preceding quotation show that it holds true for this life, too. ••Of. In IV Sent., d. 49, q. 1, 8, sol. 2, ad I: "The will cannot extend to the opposite of that to which it is determined by the divine ·impression, namely, towards the opposite of the last end." Of. also Quod. I, q. 4, a. 8: "For natural love is a certain· natural inclination implanted in a nature by God." Cf. also Summa Theol., I, q. 108, a. 1, ad 8: "The natural necessity inherent in things which are determined to one is a certain impression of God directing to the end, just as the necessity whereby an arrow is moved so as to tend towards a certain target is an impression of the archer and not of the arrow." Of. also ibid., I-II, q. 9, a. 6, ad 8: "God, as the universal mover, moves man's will to the universal object of the will, which is the good." ••Of. Summa Theol., I-II, q. I, a. 2, ad I: "When man acts by himself for an end, he knows the end; but when he is actuated or led by another, e.g. when he acts at the command of another, 01 is moved by the impulsion of another, he need not know the end." Italics mine. Of. also ibid., q. 27, a. 2, ad 8: "Even natural love, which is in al.l things, is caused by some cognition, not indeed existing in the natural things themselves, but in Him Who instituted the nature." Italics mine. 87 Ibid., q. I, a. 1. 524 ROBERT P. SULLIVAN act would always be actual in the will, whereas natural appetite is not. 98 Again, St. Thomas identifies the natural appetite of the will with the will itself: God changes the will in two ways, however; in one way, only by moving it, namely when He moves the will to will something, without impressing any form on the will. . . . In the other way, however, by impressing some form on the will itself, just as from the very nature which God gave to the will, the will is inclined to will something. 99 Many of the words which St. Thomas uses to describe the natural appetite of the will imply that it is the will itself. Thus he calls it an aptitude and a connaturalness. 100 If at times he uses these words of an act, 101 this is not his usual custom. 102 Other words he uses do not imply act; for instance he calls natural appetite a relation,1°3 and an order,1°4 and a propor••Cf. De Ver., q. 22, a. 6, ad 11. •• Ibid., a. 8. Italics mine. 10 ° Cf. De Vir. in Com., a. 8, ad 8: "Virtue is said to be partly from nature ... namely, according to power and aptitude." Cf. also Summa Theol., I-II, q. 26, a. 1, ad S: "Each thing has a connaturalness for what is suitable for it according to its nature." 101 Cf. Summa Theol., I-II, q. 28, a. 4. 10 • Cf. ibid., I, q. 98, a; 4: "Hence the image of God in man can be considered in three ways: in one way, indeed, according as man has a natural aptitude to understand and love God, and this aptitude consists in the very nature of the mind, which is common to all men." Cf. also ibid., I-II, q. 86, a. 2 ad 8; and In II Sent., d. 89, q. 8, a. 1, ad 6. 108 Cf. Summa Theol., I, q. 19, a. 8: "Even as we will our own happiness necessarily, and as any other power has a necessary relation to its proper and prinCipal object, for instance the sight to color, since it is of its nature to tend to it." Cf. also De Ver., q. 26, a. 1: "But the will has necessity with respect of goodness or utility; for man necessarily wills good, but he does not have necessity with regard to this or that thing, howsoever it may be apprehended as good or useful; this is because each and every power has a necessary relationship to its proper object." 10 • Cf. Summa Theol., I, (.' 80, a. 2: " For the appetitive power is a passive power which is naturally apt to be moved by the apprehended object . . . and the passive power itself has its own nature from the order to its active principle." Cf. De Ver., q. 28, a. 4: "The principal willed, object, indeed, is that upon which the will is brought to bear according to its nature, because the will itself is a certain nature and has a natural order to something but this is what the will naturally Wms, just as the human will naturally desires happiness." Cf. In III Sent., d. 27, q. I, a. 2, responsio: "But everything which is from ·.God receives NATURAL NECESSITATION OF THE HUMAN WILL 525 tion. 105 These words denote a transcendental relation, not an act. After all, natural appetite is no more analogical than potency is. In the case of prime matter, the natural appetite for form is merely a transcendental relation. Il the word potency can be applied to both prime matter and the power which is the will, with the difference that in the latter case the object of this relation is different, and the power is as an act in relation 'to its substantial subject, so can the term natural appetite be applied to both prime Jllatter and the will, retaining the same aspect of transcendental relation, and differing only insofar as the objects of these natural appetites differ, and insofar as one of them is as first act in relation to its substantial subject. This transcendental relation of the will to its proper object is, of course, real. This does not mean, however, that it is a predicamerital relation, a really distinct accident added to the nature of man; The transcendental relation is real precisely because it is identified with the will, and the will itself is something real. If at times St. Thomas speaks of a power having rather than being a' ii'atural inclination,1°6 we must remember that he also speaks of the will having freedom, and yet explains that free will is not really distinct from the will itself. 107 Moreover, we have his clear identification of the natural appetite some nature whereby it is ordered to its ultimate end. Hence it is necessary that in all creatures having an 'end there'be found natural appetite, even in the will itself with the :reSpect of the last end." · 10 • Cf. Summa Tkeol., I-II, q. 18, a. 14: "The will has a twofold relation to the thing willed: one, indeed, according as it is somehow in the willer through a certain proportion or order to the thing willed." Father O'Connor says that this text may imply that knowledge preceded natural appetite, since the thing willed is in the willer through its representation in the intellect; St. Thomas, however, plainly says it is in him through an order and proportion. 10 • Cf. ibid., I, q. 80, a. 1, ad 8. m Cf. De Ver., q. 24, a. 4, ad 11: " The facility which is through the inclination of a habit adds over and above . the power something which is of another nature, namely the habit, but the facility which is through the removal of coercion adds a determined nature to the power, which nevertheless pertains to the very nature of the power, just as the difference which is added to a genus pertaius to the nature of the species." 526 ROBERT P. SULLIVAN The very nature of each thing is a certain with the nature: inclination.,im.planted in it by the First Mover and ordering it to due end." 108 it is a natural appetite that St. Thomas uses as an example transcendental relation: But those things which are said relatively signify, according to their proper nature, only a reference to another. This relation, indeed, is sometimes in the very nature of things, for instance when some things. are ordered to one another by their very nature and have an inclination to one another; and relations of this sort are necessarily 'real; just as in a heavy body there· is an inclination and order towards ·the central place: hence there is a certain relationship in the heavy Jl9dy itself towards the central place. And the same applies to other things of this sort. 109 That· each power has such· a transcendental relation to· its proper· object is apparent from. the fact that the power is defined in terms of its object: ." Each power is defined from that which is essentially and formapy its object. Now since the object of the will is the good, for· this reason it is principally described from the ep.d." 110 We cannot define the will without bringing in its natural inclination and the object thereof, any more than we can define sight except in terins of seeing and the -colored.111 From what has been said, therefore, it should be clear that St. Thomas teaches the· existence of an innate ,or potential natural appetite, not following human cognition. So do the commentators. We can even see why they tend to give the . name natural chiefly to this innate inclination of the will, since elicited natural appetite, as following human knowledge and as freely elicited, is an act ol. animal appetite in all respects save its necessary specification. Since St. Thomas teaches that there is such an elicited natural appetite, too, we In Metaphya., lib. Xp:, lect. 2, n. 2684. Italics mine. Summa Theol., I, q. ,28, a. I. 110 In 11 Sent., d. 24, q. l, a. S, ad 8. 111 Of. Richard R. Baker, The Thomistic Theory of the Passions and their Influence upon the Will (Notre Daine University: 1941), pp. IS, 14. 1 •• 10 • NATURAL NECESSITATION OF THE HUMAN WILL 527 find the twofold division of natural appetite given by the commentators to be fully vindicated in the doctrine of their master. CONCLUSION We hope that we have succeeded in fulfilling the aims set forth in our introductory remarks. We have, indeed, assembled many passages from the teachings of the Angelic Doctor, and have striven to co-ordinate them, rebuilding, as it were, the concept of natural appetite which he had in his own mind. We have seen that St. Thomas roots natural necessitation in the fact that each thing exists for its own operation, so that a being is not a static thing, but dynamic, insofar as it is a principle of operation. Hence any being can be called a nature or intrinsic principle of operation, and has the immobility and determination to one thing characteristic of nature. We have examined the objects which necessitate the will, whether by way of natural desire or by way of natural love, and have found them to be happiness or the last end, good, God clearly seen in the Beatific Vision, and goods of the class of life, knowledge, and virtue. It has been noted that these objects necessitate the will only insofar as they are considered in general. The natural appetite of the human will has been found to ' be twofold, according to the commentators. We have examined the praiseworthy attempt of a modern scholar to throw light on a doctrine which is obscure, to the extent that it is not explicit in St. Thomas; yet we have found his solution-that there is only one natural appetite in the human will, and it is a movement, in the proper sense of the world, which follows human knowledge-to be erroneous. We believe that we have shown his basic errors, and have vindicated the teachings of the commentators by showing that their doctrine may definitely, even if not explicitly, be found in the works of St. Thomas. With regard to determinism and free will, our study has shown that the will is determined to few objects, and these 528 ROBERT P. SULLIVAN general ones, so that free choice of particular goods is not hindered; indeed, there could be no free choice of means unless there were first a determination as to the end, in general. This same fact that the object of the will is a general one would seem to eliminate any proof for the existence of God based on the natural appetite of the human will, other than as a particular exemplification of the proof from design and order in the universe. For the will could conceivably have been given its general object in order to will a succession of particular goods, and in such a case its natural desire would not be in vain. 112 Finally, the same fact that the natural appetite of the human will is for a general object would seem to eliminate any explicit desire for the vision of God, as a particular object; 113 so that the desire for the vision of God must be regarded as an implicit one, insofar as such a desire is contained in the desire for knowledge in general, or else insofar as it is contained in the desire for beatitude and good, since He is, de facto, the object in which these notions are perfectly realized. ROBERT P. SULLIVAN, o. P. Providence College, Providence, R. l. 112 Cf. Summa Theol., III, q. 11, a. 5, ad 2: "But the will has itself indeterminately towards an infinitude of things. Nevertheless, this is not in vain, even if it does not tend actually to all things, provided it tend actually to what is suitable to the time and place." 113 Cf. ln l Sent., d. 3, q. 4, a. 5, solutio: "The soul always understands itself and God indeterminately, and a certain undetermined love follows." BOOK REVIEWS Soviet Politics - The Dilemma of Power. Cambridge: $6.00. By BARRINGTON MooRE, JR. Harvard University Press, · 1950. Pp. 523 with index. This book by Dr. Barrington Moore, Jr. is a good book. It is marked by extensive research, penetrating scholarship and objective construction. It comes as a refreshing work in contrast to so much superficial literature flooding the country today on the subject of Soviet Russia and MarxismLeninism. 'Harvard University is to be commended for the part it played in making this book available. The author is interested ·primarily in "the interaction between Communist ideology and certain Soviet political practices." (p. I) His secondary interest relates to tlie opportunity which this study provides " to test prevailing general theories concerning the role of ideas in organized human behavior." (p. 2) Therefore, the two central questions which his book seeks to answer are: " Which of the pre-revolutionary Bolshevik ideas have been put into effect in the Soviet Union, which ones set aside, and why? Secondly, what can we 1earn from this historical experience about the role of ideas in general?" (p. 9) The author's consideration of the complex problem involved and his suggested answers to these two central questions may be very briefly summarized as follows. The emergence of Marxist-Leninist ideology in Russia is related on one hand to the weakness of the middle class which hindered necessary reforms that were in progress and on the other to the catastrophe of World War I. This allows one to take the middle position '' that there were considerable, though not necessarily insurmountable, obstacles in the way of Russian development along western democratic lines." (p. 21) However, "the journey was begun late and its course deflected. Sufficient social tensions had accumulated so that, when released by the disintegration of the war, the moderates would be swept from power after a few months. These social tensions Lenin and his followers would turn to their own account. In revolutions, as Miliukvo observed, the appetite for change comes with the eating. Each concession by those in power suggests to those out of power the possibility of greater gains. This inherent dynamic of revolution often creates a tremendous ·advantage· for the extremist movement." (p. 27) This did happen in Russia. The extremist group which did receive this advantage and made effective use of it, was the Marxist one, organized as the Russian Social Democratic Labor Party in 1898, with its left wing, 530 BOOK REVIEWS the Bolsheviks being formed in 1908. Its success caused surprise even within the Party, which was not adequately prepared for it. In the early development of this Party, fragments of democratic, individualistic thought existed along with dictatorial thought. The Party in general " desired first a ' bourgeois ' parliamentary republic to be followed at a later stage of history by a socialist society." (p. The "democratic republic " was the immediate goal in the conspiratorial overthrowing of the Tsarist government and was to serve as an instrument (which would become obsolete) in the spread of Communism throughout Russia, from which it would proceed to Europe. When the revolution of 1917 occurred, Lenin decided to skip ·the " bourgeois republic" stage aJ\D.OUncing " the definite conclusion that the demand for a parliamentary regime should be scrapped, and that the soviets were the ' only possible form of revolutionary government'." (p. 87) This led to the dictatorship of the proletariat. Hence, Communist ideology in Russia emerged and was tempered in the Marxist theoretical fires, the practicalities of the Revolution of 1917 and the authoritarianism of the dictatorship in whose vise-like grip it remains. With this as background Lenin proposed this plan. " The immediate objective was to establish a republic of soviets based on the proletariat and the poor sections of the peasantry, and to abolish the police, the army, and the bureaucracy. In the economic field, Leninist doctrine demanded the replacement of the existing managerial groups with a centralized system of control by the industrial workers, together with a sharp reduction of inequalities in pay and the eventual introduction of full equality. In agriculture, Lenin proposed the introduction of cooperative farming only on the large landed estates, while the disposal of the rest of the land was left up to the local population. At the same time he wanted to avoid, if possible, the. transformation of Russia into a land of small peasant proprietors. In the international field, he expected that a successful revolution in Russia would set afire the socialist revolution in Europe, with the result that the western proletariat would come to the aid of the hard-pressed workers of Russia. Nearly every one of these hopes and expectations was disappointed." (pp. 57-58) This disappointment is largely attributable to the nature of the five main problems which the successful revolution of November 7, 1917 brought to the Communist leaders: These problems were (1) how should industry be organized in this new proletariat nation? What was to be the status and organizational form of the industrial workers in this new nation? (8) How could the peasants be managed and induced to furnish sufficient food for the urban workers? (4) What systematic basis and expression of authority, discipline and status within the now ruling Communist Party and within the nation could be provided? and (5) What ought to be the correct relationship between this new proletarian nation and the hostile BOOK REVIEWS 581 non-proletarian world? These were the major interrelated problems which created dilemmas for Soviet Russia and with which it was preoccupied for the. next fifteen years. In the beginning of this period " War Communism " was introduced with the nationalization of June 28, 1919 as a "temporary measure,; (p .. 90) to insure survival against both foreign and domestic enemies. This was followed by a sharp change in plans which brought in the New Economic Policy (NEP) in 1921 reswting in "granting to the peasantry of the right to trade in the open market in whatever produce they hild left, after a certain specified amount had been turned over to the government. This decision meant the return of the profit motive and exchange relationships to an important sector of the economy. In the field of industry the government retreated to the ' commanding heights ' of control over banking, transportation, and certain large industries, permitting private enterprise to take the rest. In one of his speeches Lenin candidly described the NEP as a partial return to capitalism." (p. 98) , In the light of the above the twenties was a period of problem solving for Soviet Russia. In spite of these problems and the vigorous differences which arose because of them the Communist Party " overtly united upon two fundamental objectives. In the first place there was complete unity on the goal of retaining power in Communist hands. Also, there was broad agreement on the desirability of achieving at some future date a socialist transformation of Russian society." (p. 97) Within this united framework there was room for disagreements which did occur giving birth to three differing solutions for the problems besetting the new proletarian nation. These three solutions were (1) Trotsky's which advocated pressing " forward on both the domestic and the international fronts toward a socialist revolution"'; (p. 98) (2) Bukharin's which institutional framework left by Lenin and the NEP "; (p. 98) and (3) Stalin's who first made. use of " Bukharin's genera lapproach, and in the process was able to discredit and eliminate Trotsky as a political opponent. Then since Bukharin's solution appeared to be leading into a blind alley, he took over many but not all, of the essential features of Trotsky's program and eliminated Bukharin from power." (p. 98) Stalin's selection and merger of the preferred and useful elements in the Bukharin and Trotsky solutions plus the addition of his own ideas resUlted in five specific suggestions "(I) rapid industrialization; (2) planning; (S) collectivization in agriculture; (4) socialism in one country; and (5) a more intransigent and leftist policy for the Communist International." (p. 108) With these suggestions the problems of the twenties were confronted but never fully solved. Leaving the twenties, we find new problems arose before the old were resolved. " In the thirties came the crisis of forced-draft industrialization and the campaigns for the collectivization of agriculture. This state of 582 BOOK REVIEWS chronic political and economic tension favored the development of a campaign psychology and the further elaboration of the authoritarian aspects of the Marxist-Leninist tradition." (p. 117) Political competitors over a period of time were ruthlessly eliminated. The kulaks were -physically suppressed. Freedom everywhere was curtailed as the Communist Party commenced to consolidate its dominant position through "the systematic application of terror" (p. 124) facilitated by. the "crisis-strewn history of the Bolshevik regime." (p. 139) Power to make important decisions became concentrated in the hands of the ruling few. "With this there took place a corresponding diminution in the infh1ence of the rank and file on matters of major import." (p. 146) ("The taming of the rank and file was very largely completed by the end of 1925.)" (p. 151) From this concentration of power in the hands of the members of the Central Committee and within the Politburo there emerged the" Monolithic Party." (p. 152) Democratic centralism had become narrow centralism without democracy. By 1931 the Right Wing was completely defeated and the Left remained in undisputed control. Class struggle, allegedly, was resolved, equality of rewards was as being " incompatible with the major goal of industrialization." (p. 188) Revolutionary tactical procedure was subsequently subordinated to international power politics which had been previously rejected. One nation was pitted against another for the benefit of Soviet Russia. All its foreign revolutionary objectives had failed to be realized; hence leaders of Soviet Russia felt " compelled to split the capitalist front, or to take advantage of splits in this front, in order to preserve and enhance their own power and security." (p. 215) By 1930 Stalin's political victory over his opponents was secure. This gave time and opportunity for domestic changes. " From about 1934 onward a very definite stabilization of political and economic relations in the Soviet Union may be perceived." (p. 221) This was a basic reorientation. " One outstanding characteristic of this era has been· the endeavour to reconcile the older Leninist doctrine that the masses are the masters of the country and of their fate with the fact of the concentration of power at the top levels of the Party." (p. 222) The attempt is made to justify the use of force, elimination of competitors, suppression of liberty, reduction of the role of the individual, and the absence of free elections. The attempt is not successful and the weakness of it is made ever more apparent by "the glorification of a single leader" (p. 229) which was begun about 1929 and has developed steadily since then. With this and other related developments, bureaucracy has increased over the years instead of decreasing as Lenin predicted in 1917. " Since that time the Soviet regime has become what may be fairly described as the bureaucratic state par excellence of modern times." (p. 277) In theory BOOK REVIEWS 538 the masses are to participate in everything and are to own and control all, making the basic decisions. This does not work out well in practice. Even in such important decisions as planning production, distribution and consumption needs, only the small, select few at top decide. They decide the economic fate of millions, yet in the industrial order of things, far removed from the ideal though it may be, " the Soviets have come closer to achieving their original goals" (p. 316) than in other spheres of endeavor. By way of summary the author's conclusions and implications can be stated thusly: l. " The idea that inequalities of authority are necessary in human society, that is, that some must command and others must obey received very little recognition in the prerevolutionary Bolshevik ideology of ends." (p. 402) 2. " On the other hand, the Bolshevik ideology of means laid heavy stress upon the need for authority and discipline. Lenin wanted the Party, which was to be the instrument of the liberation of Russia and eventually of the human race, to be a strictly centralized, highly disciplined organization, responding to the orders of its leaders like a well-trained orchestra to a wave of the conductor's baton." (p. 402) 3. "With the assumption of political responsibility in l!H 7, the Bolshevik ideology of means played a greater role in the determining of behaviors than the ideology of ends." (p. 403) 4. " In this process the original anti-authoritarian ideas, and the practices which flow from them, have um;lergone a sea-change, with the result that they now serve as justifications and additional supports for an authoritarian regime; The safeguards of democratic centralism and self-criticism have been modified in such a way that they do not act as a check upon the power of the top leaders. Instead they serve as devices to strengthen this power ... " (p. 403) 5. "In foreign policy the Communists in Russia came to power with their own revolutionary interpretation of foreign policy. This they have abandoned for the present resorting to the more traditional balance-of-power techniques." (p. 405) 6. "The Bolshevik experience, it is suggested, reveals the need for inequalities of power in industrial society. At the same time it reveals the need for a functional· division of labor and for inequality of rewards. All these requirements add up to the necessity of a system of organized social inequality." (p. 406) 7. It can be said only very tentatively " ... that through the device of the bureaucratic and authoritarian state men may be able to diminish 584 BOOK REVIEWS the inequalities of opportunity characteristic of other societies and ages." (p. 407) 8. " It may also be inferred, on the basis of the Soviet experience, that some variety of competitive stimulus is a necessary ingredient in a modern industrial society." (p. 408) 9. "Likewise, the Soviets have not been able to do away with certain other conceptions of the dismal science of economics, such as that the costs of production have to be met out of receipts, that capital investment means the postponement of present satisfactions, and that there are efficient and inefficient ways of combining labor and capital to turn out the finished products." (p. 408) 10. " In the international sphere, the record of Soviet relations with the rest of the world indicates that the Russians have been compelled to adapt themselves to the pattern of world politics prevailing in the twentieth century many of whose features have existed in other times and places." (p. 408) In essence it is power politics. 11. Of all the ends which the Russian Communist started out with, the only one which has to a real extent been reached is the " transfer of the means of production to the society as a whole " (p. 408) and some might consider this to be a means rather than an end. There are limitations to the book. Some of the more obvious are as follows: 1. The author does not seem to give sufficient consideration to the possible Messianic content of Marxist-Leninist ideas. Marxism to some has become a vision, the nature of which ought not to be underestimated in evaluating the role and strength of ideas in the social order. If it be true that Marxism as a vision is the corruption of the best, the. inverting and polluting of religious drives, then, an analysis of the ideological skeleton only leaves something more to be desired. As F. J. Sheed has stated in his fine book "Communism and Man" (Sheed and Ward, New York) when a man has given himself sincerely to Communism, he is possessed. " He has seen a vision; the vision of inequality conquered and the poor inheriting the earth-and if we underrate the power of his vision, it may very well destroy us." (p. 98) - The author is not as clear as he could be in discussing adaptations which Marxism-Leninism has been forced to make with the stubborn facts of actual social conditions and those which have facilitated or resulted in the revision, alteration, mutilation and perversion of Marxism-Leninism as originally conceived. The adaptation of an ideal to actual living conditions does not necessarily mean that the content and purity of this ideal must be lost as is the case with Communism. BOOK REVIEWS 585 3. The author does not seem to answer systematically the two questions he set out to answer. It will be recalled he sought to determine which prerevolutionary Communist ideas have been put into effect in Russia, which ones have not been put into effect and the reasons in each case. The conclusions he does draw are not exactly conclusive (which is no criticism as such except in relation to the two questions he was going to answer) nor are they systematically related to each other as would seem to be desirable and necessary in order to demonstrate philosophically the validity of hi.s suggested answers. (This will be apparent, perhaps, in reading his last chapters on " Conclusions.") 4. The author is not altogether dear in his discussion of- the role of ideas per se and the role of ideas as woven into a complete philosophy of life such as Communism actually is. Communism (e.g. Marxism-Leninism) is not merely a political utopia, an economic panacea OJ:' a social doctrine. It is much more than this. It is the most complete and far-reaching philosophy of atheism ever devised and as such it purports to answer conclusively the great questions of life for every single person in the universe: "What can I know?" "How should I conduct myself?" "For what can I hope; what is my destiny?" In purporting to answer these questions, Communism gives many of it adherents a burning consciousness of their role and purpose in life. Likewise it tells them in terms of a comprehensive world view, a Weltanschauung, where they stand today, where they can stand tomorrow, what the ends are plus furnishing them means for reaching the ends. In discussing. ideas in his book, the author is not dear in evaluating the force or lack thereof behind specific and sometimes relatively isolated ideas and the force or lack thereof behind the complete philosophy or total ideology. 5. The reader on occasions receives the impression that the author is of the opinion that the adaptation of Marxism-Leninism to changing social conditions is almost tantamount to deviation from the essence of Marxism. Leninism. If this is his belief, it is debatable. This is so because Russian Communist leaders have radically adapted .Marxism-Leninism to differing physical circumstances without there being any real proof that by so doing they have lost sight of their goals. Even postponement of their revolutionary goals (which the author mentions frequently) is not the abandonment of these goals. The flexibility of the principles of Marxism-Leninism and the pragmatic content of the tactics which flow from them can reasonably account for a large variety of zig-zags, retreats, shifts, reversals, postponements etc. without causing the leaders to lose sight of the goals. In fact this procedure, considered over a period of time, may move them closer toward their goals-and, in fact, in some instances has done this. 6. The style is too frequently murky, jumbled and rambling. The or- 586 BOOK REVIEWS ganization of the book gives the impression that the author took a huge amount of research material and rather too quickly compressed it into the form of a book. On the other hand, .the method he used in approaching the subject made the organization difficult. And the subject matter itself, irrespective of how organized, would not be easy to handle. Despite such defects, however, this is an outstanding book. !VAN LANOMEN Washington, D. 0. Man's Freedom. By PAUL W:E1ss. New Haven: Yale University Press, 1950. Pp. 334 with index $5.00. Paul Weiss, Professor of Philosophy at Yale University and founder and _editor of the Review of Metaphysi.cs, is also the author of Rea/,ity and Nature and Man. The present work builds on the foundations of Nature a,nd Man, but can be read independently of it. "Its primary objective is to make evident how man through a series of free efforts can become more complete and thereby more human." (p. v) Together with the earlier book it attempts " to a single study of a world which has-room both for the simplest of meaningless acts and for the radical transformative decisions of a creative will, for the rights of things and animals as well as of man, private, political, and social." (ibid.) In the :first of three parts Professor Weiss treats " Society and the Freedom of Preference." Here he explains his philosophy of the individual and society. For a Thomist, perhaps the most intriguing doctrines in this section are that man is not essentially social (pp. 37 ff.) and that "human freedom, though different in scope and quality, is continuous with that of all other beings." (p. 87) In Part II, Weiss considers "Absolute Morality, Choice, and Law." Here· he extends · his realism to morality and argues in defense of the objectivity of the natural law. In Part· ill, "The Creative Will," Professor Weiss holds that the summum bonum is the universe perfected; that the primary ethical principle is " It is absolutely wrong to reduce values "; that evil and guilt are inevitable in everything man does, but· should be reduced to a minimum by sacrifice, love, and creativity. A six-page "Recapitulation;, summarizes his teachings in ninety-nine propositions. Few readers will fail to be impressed by the earnestness and effort this book reveals. It is obviously the product of long study and' extensive .reading, though regrettably there is no bibliography and only one complete reference (p. 139). It is evident also that Professor Weiss's critical eclecticism has helped him to see through and spurn many of the more popular ethical errors. But the reviewer must hasten'to add that on the whole it BOOK REVIEWS is a sad, depressing book. The only good things here are Professor Weiss's negations. His rejection of various features of pragmatism, Freudianism, existentialism, relativism, nihilism, and scepticism is certainly to his credit. Especially noteworthy is his consistent opposition to idealism. It is easy to agree with many of Professor Weiss's denials. But when he affirms, even when he affirms such ethical fundamentals as freedom of the will, natural law, the objectivity of morality, the reader will do well to hesitate. For he does not always mean by these expressions what one might think. "No one ... is reasonable all the time. All allow their imaginations to run away with them to some degree, and all have a superstition or two." So says Professor Weiss (p. 85) . He, at least, is no exception to test his rule. There are so many here that it is very hard to single out his dominant superstitions. Basically, perhaps, they are the evolutionism that warps his psychology and the' agnosticism that undermines his ethics. But the most explicit superstition is an all-embracing " anthropomorphism," an " anthropomorphism in reverse" which attributes human characteristics not to God but to the sub-human world. Many of Professor Weiss's philosophical aberrations, including the one just mentioned, are partially traceable to fundamental errors in logic. More specifically, his use of words introduces into these pages a kind of dialectical nightmare. Consequently, it will repay us, before investigating his doctrines further, to study Professor Weiss's way with language, fm; what he says frequently seems to control what he thinks. Moreover, the tyranny of words dominates his concept of what others think, as is apparent in his references to Christian. teaching and Aristotelian philosophy. So we shall treat first, his use of words; secondly, his doctrines; and finally, his version of Christianity and scholasticism. Professor Weiss uses words like accordions, stretching and narrowing them at will. The resultant semantic discord produces a series of intellectual shocks. " Freedom," for example, the one word above all which he should use with care, he expands to the utmost, equating it with "ability," that is, potentiality, all potentiality, active or passive, "an that a being could possibly do or become." (p. . Thus freedom must be predicated of all things, even of plants and animals as well as men. "Evil" too is inflated, for it becomes synonymous with all imperfection and limitation. Professor Weiss holds that evil is the negation of good, not a privation. No wonder then, since all creation is shot through with imperfection and limitation, that he says, "Every being and act, though good because it is ... is also bad. It has defects . . . Whatever exists is at once good and bad ... " (p. In other words, bonum et malum et ens convertuntur! At other times, he contracts the meaning of his words. " Love," for 588 BOOK REVIEWS instance, is so defined that he can conclude, " We cannot love ourselves " (p. 807) . And only a few pages before he had insisted that in using a word with religious origins, " sacrifice," in a secularized sense, he only followed "common speech and common sense" (p. !!71). Is "self-love," of all the expressions in any language, a departure from common usage? Surely it ought to have occurred to Professor Weiss that in such a bizarre conclusion a re-examination of his concept of love is indicated. The reader who perseveres will find that a chapter titled " Some Basic Definitions " begins on page 217. It would not have been helpful any earlier, however, because; to put it bluntly, Professor Weiss does not know how to define. How else can we interpret his complaint that the definition of man as a rational animal is unsatisfactory because it " makes no provision for any difference between males and females, leaders and followers, adults and children, and has application therefore oiily to abstract and not to concrete human beings " (p. 88) . It is only because he could not take the objection seriously that ·he could continue to write and think at all, and attempt, at least occasionally, to define a universal in universal terms. It is hardly necessary to add that an ignorance of analogy is manifest throughout the book. The consequence is that predication is univocal at best, and often ludicrously equivocal. In fact we find an unconscious mastery of equivocation seldom found off the stage. A large percentage of his arguments die of amphibology. Here is an example, in which the word "injury" is given two different meanings in the same sentence: "We do and should punish men for what they have dope. The retributive theory sees this . . . It rightly insists that an injury to the offender be appropriate to the injury he brought about . . . " (p. 160) . Is it necessary to point out that "injury" is used first in the physical sense (unless just penalties are really a violation of human rights), and used again in the moral sense. It is his failure to see this that leads the author to concli,ide at once that the theory of retribution " claims that by some miracle two wrongs can produce a right" (ibid.). In brief, Professor Weiss's thought suffers from a downright disregard of the rules of definition and division. Not that he does not attempt to define and distinguish. He does both. The distinctions, however, like the definitions, are generally useless. He distinguishes, for example, unnecessarily and in defiance of popular speech, between end and goal, between freedom of choice and freedom of preference, between sin, evil spirit, and wickedness. But a necessary distinction like the difference between freedom of specification, which seemingly is the only form of human liberty he recognizes, and freedom of exercise is missing entirely, Perhaps his most damaging failure in this regard is his total neglect of the difference between the physical and moral orders. On his principles, of course, the distinction is not required. But this is a sample of what results: " Each being, animate or BOOK REVIEWS inanimate, has some value, some degree of excellence To destroy it is to do some wrong. But to do wrong is to breach a right. It is because each being has a natural right to be the kind of thing it is and not some other that it is wrong to destroy it . . . These rights all ought to respect, or risk the guilt of destroying an irreplaceable value. If we refuse to acknowledge that other beings have rights, we will have to deny them to ourselves for the same reason or we will have to separate ourselves off from the rest of nature as beings who are made of radically different stuff " (p. 30). It is clear in this passage that Professor Weiss is faithful in his fashion to the principle he has wedded. But unless he really feels guilty, when he breathes, of violating the rights of air, or when he eats, of infringing the rights of food, he should sue for divorce. The grounds are invalidity and incompatibility. The human mind was not created for an espousal to nonsense. In his doctrines, the author of this book, as must be apparent by now, is the intellectual victim of his own verbalism. One result of his failure to define and to distinguish properly is a species of Monism. For example, freedom is equivalent to potentiality, and potentiality is synonymous with imperfection, and imperfection is identical with evil; thus freedom is evil, because it is potential and imperfect. Everything, it seems, is everything else. The same failure to differentiate, to note what is proper in things as well as what is common, leads to some fanta>itic conclusions. Take this one, based on the "rights" of animals: "No matter how desirable the destruction, mutilation, or modification of others may be, the loss of value which they involve is always wrong. Those who hunt for need have an accounting to make, just as those who hunt for pleasure. The latter merely have more to answer for " (p. 30) . The marvel to the reader is that Professor Weiss can say things like this with no trace of a smile: "Because men must use and destroy other beings does not mean that the use and destruction are not wrong. Eating is no mere indifferent activity . . . Eating, however, can never be an act unqualifiedly right, for it always involves a loss of the value of the eaten. Vegetarians avoid one evil to concentrate on ;mother. They are appreciative of the value of animals but overlook the value which vegetables embody ... We can mitigate and relatively justify, we cannot avoid, all the wrong which the act of eating necessarily involves " (p. !i!58) . All this, and much more of the same, with a straight face! Here again it is obvious that the author is unaware of the distinction between moral and physical evil. But that is because he is unaware of the essential difference between man and lower creation. If the basic distinction between man and lower creatures is eliminated by the denial of his 540 BOOK REVIEWS spiritual soul, man is different from subhuman life in degree only, like cow and calf, not in kind, like cow and coal. Because he subscribes to the complete evolutionary theory, that is Professor Weiss's position. Two possible consequences arise: either the things that have always been regarded as specifically human - intelligence, freedom, rights, duties, morality, and so on - will be denied, ignored, or entirely eliminated; or they will be recognized but extended also to the lower creation with .which man is entirely continuous. Professor Weiss has consciously chosen the latter alternative, ridiculous as it is. But he has not gone all the way. He attributes " rights " to things below man, animate and inanimate, but not " obligations "; " freedom" but not" morality." Perhaps a later volume will take care of these omissions. The logic of his position demands it. Professor Weiss will not give up freedom for man, but on his premises he is compelled to extend it to all animate and even inanimate things. [n other words, if you begin to treat men as animals, you must end by treating animals, and even inanimate creation, like men. It seems a shame to take this kind of thinking seriously, but Professor Weiss is very serious about it. His defense of the " rights " of animals and inanimate things in the name of ethics is consistent thl'Oughout the book. He laments the way human law is inhumanly biased against animals: " Though mankind in practice and in conscience has repeatedly recognized the rights of nonhuman beings (sic!), its theories of ethics, politics, and morals have been all too human, denying in principle what was acknowledged in fact. How inhumanly human it is to say that a man has no rights at all. But how humanly human it is to say that man has an unrestricted right against all the rest of nature - and how wrong" (pp. 31-32). We might ask, in passing, the difference between " ethics " and " morals." This wholesale nonsense leads the author to extend the Golden Rule to our dealings with lower creatures as well as to "any divinity there may be" (p. 152). As we have already mentioned, Professor Weiss is anthropomorphic but in reverse. he apotheosis of nature demands something of the sort. [n a sense his book is more about equality and fraternity than about liberty, for he identifies man with nature in such a way as to blunt all differences. The ethical product is a kind of democracy of dust, leading to exhortations like this: " Let us stop then following the traditional ethicists in the shameful neglect of the truths all men know. There is something amiss when one animal kills another, even though the killer is thereby pleased or even when the act promotes the good of the species or the good of man . . . A daffodil improves the world, just by being itself, and it is wrong to destroy it out of hand. Even a disease germ, playing havoc on all about, has value in it8elf. To exterminate it is relatively right, but inseparable from an absolute wrong " (p. 257) . There is a levelling process implicit in materialism which inevitably leads BOOK REVIEWS 541 to the democratization of all being. This tendency is found in Professor Weiss's philosophy. It is especially evident in a long chapter on" in which he argues for the need of sacrifice but insists that it can only be for the benefit of things which are in some way inferior to the one who sacrifices. Thus sacrifice is for the purpose of equalization. So also God, if acknowledged at all, is lowered, and subhuman creatures are elevated. Human imperfections are attributed to the doubtful Creator, and human perfections to plants and animals. No neect arises for analogy in predication because all being is univocal. Here, in- short, is the inbuilt reductio ad absurdam of" liberty, equality, fraternity" as interpreted by materialism. It may be that Professor Weiss would disown matenalism, but there can be no doubt that he is infected by it. Hence his antipathy for God and sympathy for beasts. Professor Weiss's treatment of Christianity and scholasticism is very trying on one's patience. We invariably find misrepresentation. Whether the travesty is deliberate or not, it is- inexcusable in a scholar. For example, he attributes to "'classical theology," represented by St. Augustine and St. Thomas Aquinas, the doctrine that " evil is a derivative fact, the outcome of the desirable exercise of good powers on the part of angels and men . . . Had angels or men not abused their absolutely good will, nothing, classical theologians think, but good would be. Their position, however, cannot be maintained " (p. 242) . The " classical theologians " knew enough to differentiate between moral evil and its punishments, on the one hand, and natural evil, on the other, when they stated their position. But Professor Weiss, ignoring their distinction, accuses them of overlooking natural evil entirely and proceeds to demolish a straw man: "Natural evils ... do not depend for their being on the goodness or badness of men. Indeed, they exist and are evil where and when men do not exist" (ibid.). It is not so difficult to find lines like these, however, in St. Thomas: "He (God) in no way wills the evil of sin, which is the privation of right order towards the divine good. The evil of natural defect, or of punishment, He does will, by willing the good to which such evils are attached. Thus, in willing justice He wills punishment; and in willing the preservation of the order of nature, He wills some things to be naturally corrupted" (Summa Theol., I, q. 19, a. 9, corp.) . In this same connection the author sets up a false opposition between theology and theodicy. " A better answer can be found by turning from the writers of theologies to the .writers of theodicies, from an Augustine to a Leibniz, from an Aquinas to a Hegel. They at least have a place for evils which are independent of vice " (p. 242) . Then he attempts a synthesis of the two positions; his efforts, of course, are wasted. Another instance of his misreading of Christian thought is found in this explanation of Christian charity: "Love your neighbor, men are told, BOOK REVIEWS because they also are creatures, because they too owe their origin to God, the source of all value. Such reasons are based on the belief that nothing in this world has value of its own' . . . But each thing has a nature of its own and is so far a locus of limited, self-sealed value " (p. 806) . Again a straw man to crush, as if no one had ever written: " It is absolutely true that there is something first which is essentially being and essentially good, which we call God . . . Hence from the first being, essentially being and good, everything can be called good and a being inasmuch as it participates in the first being by way of a certain likeness. Everything therefore is called good from the divine goodness, as from the first exemplary, effective, and final principle of all goodness. Neverfheless, everythi1i(Jis called good by reason of the likeness of the divine goodness belonging to it, which is formally its own goodness, whereby it is denominated good. And so of all things there is one goodness, and yet 'Tifany goodnesses" (Summa Tkeol., I, q. 6, a. 4, corp.). Professor Weiss is no Christopher Columbus, discovering a New World of values in nature for ignorant Christians; he is more an Amerigo Vespucci. Surely Christian teaching in 'its entirety is not so secret after nineteen hundred years that a man with pretensions to learning cannot find and reproduce an ungarbled version of it. Perhaps, the real trouble with Professor Weiss in this regard (and with many others like him whose name is legion) is thft they have no real respect for Christian thought, and no slight suspicion it might contain anything of intellectual value for them. So any misstatement will .be of small consequence; they have prejudged it anyway, and mention Christianity only because it is an academic fashion to do so. Professor Weiss makes it clear that he does not have a high regard for the God of Revelation. He holds that " men ought not to look to a God until they have reached the limit of human capacity. God is an ethical vanishing point • . . He may prove to be, for ethics, an unnecessary hypothesis, since we have no need of Him except at the point where all 'numan power, present and future, fails. But then we cannot rightly invoke Him, in an ethics, until all other forces have been expended. 'God' is for the ethical man not the name of a being who does work; He is the name that residue which might be left over after all other agencies of that have been employed. The orthodox religions have work for God to do because, having antecedently limited man's powers and agencies, there is left to them but the denial of man's obligations or the insistence that God actually does help man fulfill those obligations. Unfortunately for their position, man's limits are not evident, and God's existence, nature, and operation not clearly known. We have no right to say that God functions as an ethical agent, that He perfects anything" (p. 261). The God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, according to Professor Weiss, BOOK REVIEWS 548 was sometimes unreasonable in His commands, as in the case of the. sacrifice of Isaac, and Abraham should have disobeyed. " And this would have been eminently reasonabie, for true obedience to the divine entails a refusal to make the innocent suffer. By being more reasonable and yet without ceasing to be religious, Abraham could have avoided terrorizing Isaac. Isaac undoubtedly had nightmares throughout his later life, all because Abraham listened so uncritically and obeyed so unreasonably." (p. 82} No comment is necessary. There are several brief references to Aristotle. In the first, he pits Aristotle the psychologist against Aristotle the moralist. The Philosopher, accordmg to Professor Weiss, "offered' different accounts of man in different places . . . In the Aristotelian biology and psychology a man is defined to be a rational animal . . . In the ethics and politics a man is defined to be a political or social animal . . . The two were not and cannot be brought together ... " (pp. 37-38). This passage speaks for itself. Much more might be said about this book, which the jacket describes as " a profound and original contribution to ethical thought . . . a brilliant probing, and fresh, arresting inquiry full of revelations, of views." But perhaps we have already given it more attention than it deserves. One can only hope that Professor Weiss stands alone in his untenable, upside-down position. Since the author prefers " theodicies " to " theologies," it is better to refer him to Aristotle rather than St. Thomas for his philosophical rescue. As an avowed realist, he is not beyond hope. But he cannot start with the realism of the Metaphysics, or Ethics. He must begin at the beginning, with the first book of the Orga:non. Otherwise he will continue to inflict bewildering nonsense like this volume on a world whose thinking is muddled enough already. Except as a sad case history of what can happen to a good mind in modern universities and as a glaring confirmation of the dictum of St. Thomas, error in principio est pessimus, this book is worthless. D. A. O'CONNELL, O.P. Providence College, Providence, R. I. Religious Sisters. A Symposium. Oxford: Blackfriars, 1950. Pp. 325. 15s. This work is basically an English version of two. French works written by a group of French Religious Priests and Prelates for the Sisters and Congregations of France. These works were Directoire des Superiettres and Les Adaptations de la Vie Religieuse. Certain sections of practical interest only in France have been omitted and in place of a section entitled Psychologie Utile a Toute Superieure a paper on Psychology itself written 544 BOOK BEVIEWS by an English medical doctor of wide experience in such matters has been substituted. The purpose of the book is to suggest to Religious Communities of women, and especially to Superiors, the solution of difficulties in· attracting and holding vocations at the present time. It is not, of course, a detailed plan of campaign to accomplish this object, but a setting forth of principles by the use of which it may be accomplished. It professes to be, and is, an analytical exposition of the very foundations of religious life, and it suggests various ways of adapting these foundations to present needs. The compilers themselves were conscious of the danger involved in rash adaptations which could easily become dangerous compromises of the very foundations themselves, and for the most part they have taken care to keep clear of such dangers. The work is divided-into five parts, each part being made up of two or more articles of varying lengths. The First Part treats of the " Theology of the Religious Life " and is composed of five tracts, namely " Christian Perfection in Religious Life" by M. J. Nicolas, 0. P., "The Vow of Poverty" by Stephane Pait, 0. F. M., "The Vow of Chastity" by Dom Massatki, 0. S. B., " The Vow of Obedience " by Pere Nicolas, 0. P. The Second Part on the " Office of the Superior " consists of the paper oii the " Superior and the Sanctification of Her Religious " by Paul Marie de la Croix, 0. C. D., and the "Superior, Servant of the Common Good" by Abbe Kothen. Part ill on the " Knowledge Required by a Superior " is longer consisting of four articles: "Faith and Theology" by A. Henry, 0. P., "Psychology" by R. E. Havard, M. D., "Elements of Canon Law" by P. Delchard, S. J., and "Government in Practice" by P. Bergh, S. J. The Fourth Part on " The Vocation and Training of Religious " is made up of a paper by P. Loret, C. SS. R. on the "Discernment of Vocations" and another by Reginald Omez, 0. P. on the "Training of Novices." The Final Part on " Adaptations in Modem Religious Life " consists of the following five articles: " The· Principle of Adaptation," and " Applications of the Principle of Adaptation," both by Victor de la Vierge, 0. C. D.; "The Adaptation of Poverty" by Msgr. Ancel, Auxiliary Bishop of Lyons; "The Adaptation of Religious Obedience" by Pere Omez, 0. P., and "Adaptations in Community Life and Fr.atemal Charity." Without hesitation the book may be declared praiseworthy, both in object and in execution. It· is a well-stocked arsenal of very valuable material, tightly compressed. For this very reason it is not an easy book to read; it requires close attention and careful study. Those who give such attention and engage in such study will be repaid, but the number who will benefit will very likely be reduced. Moreover, some general difficulties of a very practical order may further reduce its actual utility. For one thing, any article or collection of articles composed for as broad a subject as "Religious BOOK REVIEWS 545 Sisters " loses much of particular application, and in fact the title is more restrictive than the subject, for a not inconsiderable portion of some of the papers are applicable, or primarily applicable, to monasteries of nuns. Then, too, when simplification is attempted with the idea of compressing much matter into a small space, there is danger of over-simplification and erroneous statements result, a danger not always avoided in this work. It is apparent, therefore, that the articles are of uneven merit. Before proceeding to a more detailed comment on the particular papers, it should be noted that there is not more than an analogy and not always close at that, between conditions in this country and those in France, as set forth in the Preface by Pere Pie, 0. P. Perhaps that is because some of the proposed adaptations have already been of rather long-standing over here, or it may be that the difference in atmosphere has led to different reactions. Nevertheless, many of the recommendations, and not a few of the criticisms, are applicable to communities in this country too. Now as to the particular chapters: Pere Nicolas begins with an excellent paper on " Christian Perfection in Religious Life." It lays the firm cornerstone for the theology of Religious Life in solid Thomistic principles and develops the theological concept of the various juridic elements in a masterly manner, concluding with a consideration of Jesus Christ, the Model of Religious, thus exposing the Ideal as integrating but eminently exceeding the essential elements. Of particular interest to Religious Sisters is the development on pp. 20-21 of how the idea of " consecration " in religious profession is found also in simple profession. The chapter on the " Vow of Poverty " is excellent, both theologically and canonically. However, it omits entirely from consideration one of the gravest practical difficulties· in institutes of simple vows, namely, the reconciliation of the provisions of canon 580, par. I by which the professed of simple vows has the right of retaining and acquiring goods intuitu personae; of canon 588 in r by which the same religious is forbidden to abdicate dominion of his goods by gratuitous title; and of canon 594, par. I by which common life is imposed to be accurately observed by all, and by which peculium is ruled out. It is quite true that the patrimony of canon 569 furnishes the proper solution, but this is so generally unknown or disregarded that it certainly should have been brought out clearly in a practical treatise of this sort, and the more so inasmuch as this work is primarily intended for superiors. The chapter on the " Vow of Chastity " can be commended without qualification, but there must be one or two reservations to the commendation given to that on the " Vow of Obedience." It is to be regretted that, in dealing with the admittedly thorny question of the binding force of commands and constitutions which declare they do not bind under pain of sin, the author on p. 78 might seem to be attributing greater binding force to an 546 BOOK REVIEWS even possibly capr1c10us non-formal command of a superior than to' the fundamental, ecclesiastically approved basic law itself. While what he actually says there may be literally true as a general rule, the implication should have been purged. It should never be forgotten that while epikeia may, of course, more readily be invoked in the case even of a constitution than of a direct command, there is much more chance of the latter being capricious, invalid as an order, and even downright illicit as to substance. And closely connected with this question is the other one of submission of judgment or " blind obedience." After stating so unequivocally in the first chapter that " the intelligence is not a faculty that can be sacrificed" (p. 15 footnote), it is too bad that he did not here draw the logical conclusion and repudiate it altogether instead of trying to weakly support some thin vestiges of it. (pp. 79-81) In the chapter on " Observances, Prayer and the Liturgical Life," there are a few points calling for corrective notice. On p. 93 occurs this somewhat inaccurate and possibly misleading statement: " On the one hand, entire liberty-such as in fact defined by Canon Law--is to be left to the religious in the choice of a confessor as also for the confidential communications they make to him and to him alone." First of all, the liberty in the choice of confessors is very much restricted by the law itself and, further, the law neither prescribes nor grants privileges to any confidential communications outside the Sacred Tribunal itself. On page 96 is the categoric statement that " for the sake of convenience Communion may never be habitually separated from the Mass, or what comes to the same, be given before Mass." This seems another occasion of a liturgist privately legislating beyond the law. While the old and fortunately disappearing custom of receiving before Mass for no sufficient reason is to be discouraged and disapproved, it may very well happen too frequently in parochial convents that even habitually this situation must prevail for the sake of convenience, which is by no means light. Again, on p. 97 the strictures against. Masses of Exposition in se are not easily reconcilable with the provisions of canon l!t74, par. I for the Octave of Corpus Christi. This time it is not privately legislating beyond, but against the law. In the chapter on " The Superior and Sanctification of Her Religious " one general observation should be made, namely, that it seems here that we have definitely a case of too general a scope. When the author to apply some of his norms to major as well as local superiors the stretch becomes impractical. Only in a stable monastery of nuns, and properly with a life-time abbess, could a superior acquire the individual knowledge of each subject here prescribed. Certainly it is impossible in the case of Generals or Provincials ruling several hundred or even thousands of subjects for relatively short terms. And it is equally impossible for the BOOK REVIEWS 547 local superior of a constantly changing community whose own term is at most six years. Desirable as the situation prescribed may be, it is in far greater part impracticable. In the following chapter on "The Superior, Servant of the Common Good " there is apparent but one flaw in an otherwise excellent paper-and that flaw a minute one. On page 148 where it gives the qualifications for superiors from canon 504, which canon it cites, it does not state that these are requirements for major, not merely local superiors. We have an example in the fine paper on" Faith and Theology" of where, at least in spots, the cloistered nun seems to be primarily in mind. On p. 151 in detailing the richness of the liturgy as a source of sound doctrine bringing us " into touch with the Scriptures, with the homilies and sermons of the Fathers and with the lives of the saints " the reference is unmistakably to the major Divine Office and nothing else. Actually, this has little application, then, the mona.5teries of nuns; for few Religious Sisters recite the Divine Office. The very fine chapter on " Psychology " written especially for this translation by Dr. Havard is a high point, but the next chapter on the" Elements of Canon Law " is the most notable example of the dangers and errors involved in over-simplification: Generalizations without necessary distinctions, dogmatic statement of disputed questions, confusions and inaccuracies are the result. To be specific: (1) It is much disputed whether or not the · Local Ordinary has the right to command in virtue of the vow of obedience even in diocesan congregations unless the particular Constitutions give it to him. (p. 172) (2) "Exempt" in one place seems to be synonymous with " pontifical," but a few lines below another and vague meaning is given for the term "exempt." (p. 173) (8) The statement that "higher" superiors should be forty or at least thirty years of age (p. 174) is inaccurate. All higher superiors must be thirty and generals forty years of age is the accurate statement and there seems no reason for not making it. (4) The statement a few lines below that the superior of a school, hospital, etc. is limited to two three-year terms by common law (p. 175) is simply incorrect. The Religious Superior of the Community in charge of such institutions is so limited, but the director of school or hospital as such is not. (5) Finally, the wide distinction between the occasional confessor of canon 522 and the confessor of the sick in 528 is completely passed over in silence when treating of confessors. (p. 175) The following chapter on "Government in Practice" which .is again largely a digest of Canon Law escapes the d'efects noted in the preceding paper and furnishes a very good and very practical treatise on the subject. The chapter on " Discernment of Vocation," while very good in great part, presents a problem. It opens as though it were to be a guide for spiritual directors but then turns almost completely into one for superiors- 548 BOOK REVIEWS and the two viewpoints are far from identical. Though too particularized in one sense in stressing the Attraction and Inspiration theories, it is from another point of view too general, or rather makes too great a jump from generalities to particulars and thus has to lean over heavily on positive legislation. Even in this matter there is some inaccuracy. Since the Code, illegitimacy has not been an impediment to admission to religion under common law. It is the practice of the, Sacred Congregation to approve constitutions which have this impediment as their own, but not to force it into constitutions which do not have it. Therefore it is inaccurate, or at least misleading, to say that " the. Church does not encourage the reception of such children (illegitimate) into religious life" (p. 217). In the chapter on the" Training of Novices" we have a rich stock of developed principles and good, sound advice, based on years of experience. However, a word of warning might be called for in the application of some of those things recommended in the section on the " Formation of Conscience." (p. 235) In this matter Novice Mistresses and Superioresses must tread very lightly and circumspectly. The final chapters on " Adaptation " are very well done, contain some very wise observations and prudent recommendations. Especially to be noted favorably is the stress put on the distinction between the fundamental law itself and the accretions of "customs." In any adaptation these latter should first be screened very carefully and pruned very thoroughly-and probably not much further adaptation would be necessary in many cases. By no means all the adaptations (suggested here in particular) are necessary or desirable under conditions in this country. Others might call for something more decisive. For instance, the proposed adaptation of the Chapter of Faults proposed on p. 277 is not a desirable one here. Savoring as it does of Buchmanism or the "Legislatio "-a more desirable solution would be the abolition by Decree of the Holy See after the manner of the Quemadmodum of Dec. 17, 1890, under Pope Leo XIII. Again, in the final chapter in speaking of " Desirable Adaptations " in regard to "Religious Poverty," the writer says: " ... it implies the entire renunciation of every individual possession, the real and complete pooling of all material goods." (p. 508) But against this in the case of Sisters of simple vows stands the strict prohibition of canon 583, n. r' against renouncing their goods by gratuitous title during their life. From the above it can be seen that this is a valuable book; that it has a limited scope; that it cannot be read and digested easily or lightly; that it will repay close study; but that some of it can only be accepted with important reservations, amendments, and even corrections. M. T. SMITH, O.P. Dominican House of Studies, Washington, D. C. BOOK REVIEWS ErloBUng und Sunde im Neuen Testament. By ALFONS Freiburg: Herder, 1950. Pp. 336. D. M. 14. 549 KrncHGAssNER. To obtain the grade of DoctOT Theologiae at the University of Freiburg in Breisgau, Dr. Alfons Kirchgiissner has presented a study about "Redemption and Sin in the Theology of St. Paul." This study forms the first and, in our opinion, the most important part of this book. (pp. 1-137) In the introduction (pp. 8-20) the author treats of the history of the problem in Protestant exegesis. Luther and his orthodox followers considered it to be the teaching of St. Paul that the Christian is at the same time sinner and righteous (si1nul peccatOT et justus). The author shows how in later times various Protestant theologians and biblical scholars did not agree with this Lutheran interpretation of the ideas of the Apostle. In different ways they explain the fact that in the Epistles the Christian is described as necessarily righteous and without sin, while, at the same time, the Apostle exhorts him to avoid sin and to attend to the things of God. These different opmions of the main Protestant scholars about the ".relation of indicative and imperative in the teaching of St. Paul" are related in their historical and logical connection. · The second section (pp. 21-157), entitled "The Problem" and divided into various chapters, studies the question of sin in the Christian life. Dr. Kirchgassner is lead by the desire to prove that neither the opinion of Luther nor the opinions of later non-Catholic authors are justified by the sayings of St. Paul; he refers especially to the theory of Windisch, who considers the Pauline teaching of the Christian as being holy and without sin and the fact of the exhortations in the Epistles as a contradiction, which historically has to be explained. The first chapter (pp. 21-82) treats of the idea of sin in the writings of St. Paul. The author shows here also that the Apostle does not consider every involuntary desire or concupiscence a sin. In the second chapter (pp. 33-42) , St. Paul's testimony about himself is studied. If this testimony would rirove a continuous consciousness of being " simul peccator et justus," then this consciousness would have been proved essential to the Christian, because the Apostle considers himself a true Christian. Kirchgassner shows convincingly that this consciousness of sin and guilt is absent in the Epistles. The Apostle knows that he has sinned by his persecution of the Church, but there cannot be quoted any text which would justify the supposition ef this specific consciousness of sin and guilt. Romana 7: 7-11 is not the testimony of St. Paul's personal experience since his conversion, but expresses the situation of the Jew-under-the-Law in general. The third chapter, a study about "The Struggle against Sin in the Christian Communities " (pp. 4Q-56) , shows that, according to St. Paul, the possibility of sin is not excluded in the Christian although it is much 550 BOOK REVIEWS lessened, because the force of the " Pneuma " came in the place of the weakness of the unredeemed man. " The Christian without Sin " is the title of the fourth chapter (pp. 56-136); which has various divisions. The author wishes to prove that St. Paul's general idea of a Christian is that of a man who is normally without sin. This does not signify that for the Apostle every Christian is always without even incidental sins, but it means that sin is by no means included in the" idea" of a Christian. Texts such as Galatians 5:17, II Corinthians etc., which often are quoted as proofs for the thesis that the Christian is "simul peccator et just-us," are particularly treated, and it is proved that no text supports the opinion that for St. Paul the consciousness of continuous sinning is essential to the Christian. After studying briefly the teaching of the Apostle about the expiatory death of Christ, the author considers different elements of Pauline theology in their relation to the problem. The texts and teachings concerning baptism,. the union with Christ, and the possession of the " Pneuma " never speak of or imply an absolute impossibility of sinning (non posse peccare), but only the possibility of not sinning (posse non peccare). At the same time, these spiritual realities are for St. Paul the root of ethical obligations. In a special division are studied the " juridical categories " of remission, reconciliation, redemption, justification and salvation. The texts, which use these juridical concepts and terms, say that the Christian is rid of sin and punishment, but never exclude the possibility of sin in Christian life. As far as these concepts express not only the negative side of Christian life (to get rid of sin and punishment) but also its positive side (the justice of God), they are a source of moral obligation. Dr. Kirchgassner comes to the same conclusions in his study about the concepts of holiness and of the" New Eon" to which the Christian belongs. They exclude the Lutheran idea of the Christian being at the same time sinner and righteous, but they do not imply an absolute impossibility of sinning. As the last in this series of concepts of Pauline theology the author treats of conversion. He does not find expressed in the writings of the Apostle the necessity of continuous .conversion. St. Paul speaks mainly about the conversion fo the Christian religion and life, but the impossibility of conversion after receiving baptism is nowhere affirmed. After summarizing his conclusions about" the Christian without sin," Dr. Kirchgiissner speaks in the fifth chapter (pp. 136-147) of "the Christian who sins." Is the Christian who sins still a Christian? It is certain that he loses certain effects of the redemption, because sin is in itself opposed to salvation. But that does not mean that the Christian who sins does not belong any more to the Christian community. St. Paul never says so. We have to consider that, for the Apostle," sin" means primarily a lasting BOOK REVIEWS .551 attitude which dominates men, and that he does not speak about what theology called venial sins or the incidental and passing faults of Christians. Furthermore, losing certain effects of the redemption does not mean losing all its effects. The paranet.ic parts of the Epistles suppose that members of the Christian community may be sinners. The author proves in a solid argumentation that for St. Paul not every Christian who sins loses eo ipso all relations to Christ and to the goods of salvation. The sixth chapter (pp. 147-157) treats of the "Relation of Indicative and Imperative." According to the author there is no question of contradiction between the two. The imperative-the ethical obligation-is a consequence of the indicative-the real order of grace and salvation. This follows from St. Paul's doctrine about the cooperation of God and man in the process of salvation (synergismus), from his conception of supernatural life and of the dynamic character of being in Christ and the possession of the "Pneuma." The fact that the indicative indicates as an existing situation what, according to the imperative, has still to be realized, is explained by the theocentrism, the idealism and the eschatological doctrine of St. Paul and also by the experience of the Christian life in his communities. The author refers also to other reasons, but he does not pretend to give a complete " solution " of the problem, because the tension between indicative and imperative is essential to Christian life on earth. Incidentally, for understandable reasons, the Epistles to the Hebrews and the Pastoral Epistles are treated in two special sections. Dr. Kirchgiissner has given a solid and an interesting study. We do not thil).k that any text important for the problem has escaped his attention. We have to admire the extent of his reading: the numerous footnotes prove his knowledge of the relevant literature. The various opinions which exist about the idea of St. Paul have presented a difficult task for the author. On one side, he has to take a position against the Lutheran thesis of the Christian being "simul peccator et j1tstus," and he seeks to show that, according to the Apostle, a continous consciousness of guilt is not an element in the Christian psychology, and, on the other side, he aims at a right understanding and definition of what St. Paul means when he seems to say that the Christian is without sin. The fact that both these questions had to be treated in this study, obscures at times the unity of conception. The general thesis of the study states that, according to St. Paul, a Christian is normally not a sinner, but that the Apostle does not· exclude all sin or possibility of sinning from the Christian life. The author remarks that St. Paul never ex prof esso concentrates his attention on the speculative side of the question of sin in the Christian life, and he gives the probable reasons for this. The thesis of the study is proved in a careful and didactic way. The analyses are clear; the divisions and summaries help the reader to follow 8 552 BOOK REVIEWS the argumentation. The author does not draw conclusions which are not justified by the texts. He admits that in the writings of the Apostle who was not a speculative theologian may be found different lines of thought and manners of expression, without destroying or even damaging the fundamental unity of his teaching. The interpretation of some texts will always be subject to discussion. Not everybody will agree with the author's exegesis of Romans 8:5-9 {pp. 148 ss.) according to which this text, at least, implicitly admits that a Christian may possess the " Pneuma " while actually he works according to the flesh. The interpretation of Romans 6: I ss. {pp. 78 ss.) might have been more clear and succinct. But such remarks do not lessen the importance and value of this study of St. Paul's teaching. The other parts of the book treat of the same problem of redemption and sin in the other groups of writings of the New Testament: the Synoptic Gospels, the Acts, the Catholic Epistles and the writings of St. John. The Synoptic Gospels, which are studied from pages 177-207, do not offer the theological richness of St. P;ml's writings but, nonetheless, are necessary for completeness. After a study of the " Idea of Sin in the Synoptic Gospels," Kirchgiissner expounds what Jesus said about man and his sinfulness. He treats of the " ethical demands " and of the " remission of sin " in the Synoptic Gospels and finally draws his conclusions about the "Idea of the Disciple of Jesus and of the Christian Community": the normal Christian has broken with sin; he is able to avoid sin and to fulfill the high ethical demands of the Master. ·Although the disciple is not necessarily perfect, there is in the Synoptics no indication at all of the Lutheran idea of his being sinner and righteous at the same time. Dr. Kirchgiissner is convinced that the Synoptic Gospels do not exclude the possibility of sin in the Christian community, which does not consist only of members without sin. This conviction does not restrain him from criticizing the interpretatfon given to various parables (e.g. that of the fishing net, Mt. 13: 47 ss., cf. pp. s.) according to which these parables teach that the Church is composed of good and bad members, of righteous and sinners. In the opinion of the author this is not the point of these parables and they do not speak of this problem. In many points we agree with this view. Still it is our impression that the problem of sin in the Christian community according to the Synoptic Gospels requires a longer and more detailed study than the author could offer in this part of his book. The parts dedicated to the Acts of the Apostles (pp. 211-222) and to the Catholic Epistles, each of which is treated separately (pp. 225-249), are the smallest parts of the book. The author proves that neither in the Acts nor in any of the Catholic Epistles is found any indication of a teaching about the sinfulness of the redeemed different from that found in the other writings of the New Testament. Sometimes we can not agree with the BOOK REVIEWS 553 exegesis of a text; e.g., we do not think that fames 8: 2 means only faults of the tongue. As may be expected, the study of the writings of St. John is a more extensive one. The doctrine of the Gospel and. the Epistles is treated in the first section. (pp. 258-801) Four chapters speak successively about " The Idea of Sin," " The Struggle against Sin," " The Christian without Sin," and " The Christian Who Sins." It is the same division as that used in the exposition of the ideas of St. Paul. The most important chapter is that about the Christian without sin. Dr. Kirchgassner maintains that although the sin of the Christian is not excluded, for St. John, nevertheless, he is normally without sin, and that the incidental sin is not an element in the " idea " of the Christian that the· Apostle possesses. The author understands that I John 1:4-6 can be used as an argument against his interpretation of the teaching of St. John. He thinks that these verses are not said of the Christian in general but of the false teachers, and that the Apostle can use the "we "-form, because the Christians to whom he writes are in danger of being seduced. (pp. 270-277) In our opinion this interpretation is not very probable. We prefer to think that the verses in question oblige us to moderate the rather absolute affirmation of the sinlessness of the normal Christian. The words of John 20:28 seem to us another reason for that. Finally, Dr. Kirchgiissner speaks about the Apocalypse. (pp. 802-810) This book considers the sinlessness of the Christian as the normal and ideal case, but this does not mean that there is no hope for the sinner, nor that he does not belong any more to the Christian community. It seems to us that the study dedicated to the Epistles of St. Paul gives the reader more satisfaction that do the parts about the teaching of the other books of the New Testament. This may be due mainly to the fact that the problem itself is presented by the writings of St. Paul in .a way different from that of the other books of the New Testament. First of all, the Epistles of St. Paul offer more material than the other New Testament writings. Secondly, the problem has a more independent place in the teaching of St. Paul and, therefore, can be more easily isolated and treated in itseU while in the rest of the New Testament the question can be dealt with quite satisfactorily only when treated in connection with other questions (e.g. the character of the Church in the Synoptic Gospels, the dualism of St. John, etc.) . The different ways in which the problem presents itself may also have been one of the reasons why the author did not give a synthesis of the teachings of the New Testament. Nothwithstanding the observations that we felt oblig«d to make, we congratul&te Dr. Kirchgiissner on this solid monography concerning a subject of New Testament theology, which, as far as we know, had not been treated previously in a special study by any Catholic author. J. M. VISKER, 0. P. Catano, P.R. BRIEF NOTICES lrttroduction a l'Etude de Saint Thomas d'Aquin. By M.-D. CHENU, 0. P. Montreal: Institut d'Etudes Medievales, 1950. Pp. 805 with index. Many excellent. introductions are available that lead the student to the threshold of St. Thomas' great works and leave him there. After having read them, he has much information about the works of the great Doctor, factual details that can be helpful, and a few general principles of conduct applicable once he had entered the edifice. Fr. Chenu does not neglect such information, though he has reduced it to a minimum; he prefers to accompany the student across the threshold and show him around. "Il s'agissaient d'introduire, de ' faire entrer ' dans !'edifice majestueux et deconcertant de Foeuvre de saint Thomas, des etudiants dont cette oeuvre allait etre, pendant des annees, en philosophie et en theologie, un des textes de base." The author is presenting an" initiation," rather than an introduction· (p. 5) Agreeing with Carlyle, Fr. Chenu believes in the primacy and irreducibility of human genius, of which St. Thomas is an outstanding example; yet there are other considerations that must be taken into account for a complete picture even of genius. " ... mais nous savons aussi que la personne est, a la mesure meme de son genie, solidaire de la communaute, des communautes humaines dans lesquelles elle se plante." The aim of the work is very simply stated by the author: " Voir naitre et travailler un maitre theologien, dans un siecle ou theologiens et theologie n'etaient pas separes du monde, de ses conditions, de ses perspectives, de ses techniques, de sa culture, c'est un grand spectacle, et une legc;m pour qui voit desormais la theologie exilee et vainement jalouse de ses droits." (p. 6) The book is divided into two parts, entitled: " L'Oeuvre " and " Les Oeuvres." The second part is a rapid survey of the authentic works of St. Thomas, rich in observations and insights that are the fruit of Fr. Chenu's intimate acquaintance with them. If we pass over this part briefly, it is only because the first part is incalculably richer, as a glance at its contents will reveal. In five chapters tl:ie author considers: the social background of the period in which St. Thomas lived; the development of medieval literary categories in the field. of philosophy and theology; the latin language and vocabulary; the processes of documentation and scientific construction. Chenu prefaces his chapter on the social background with a brief biography of St. Thomas. All the important dates are summed up in less than two pages. The apparent uneventfulness of St. Thomas' life is 554 BRIEF NOTICES 555 deceptive, as the author points out: " ... les grands evenements euxmemes de cette existence silencieuse se developpent a l'interieur de l'universite; le drame ou se jouait, dans son esprit, dans sa vie religieuse, le sort de la pensee chretienne, trouve ses causes et produit ses efl'ets dans l'Universite; une universite, ii est vrai, ou se concentrent efl'ectivement tous les facteurs d'une civilization en plein essor, ou consciemment, autoritairement, la Chretiente a engage sa doctrine et son ame." (p. 13) There follows then a discussion of the various· factors that made their mark on the scholastic and social environment of the Angelic Doctor; sections on the revival of studies, especially in the century; the Order of Preachers and the renewal of the evangelical spirit in it and in the Order of St. Francis; the augustinian tradition in the schools of theology; the development of scholasticism. Most chapters of the book are followed by what the author is pleased to call " Notes de Travail." .They are extremely valuable; the designation chosen by t.he author is most apt. Tliey are notes, rarely filling more than two or three pages, but they indicate ''. work " to keep even the most serious student busy for quite a while. Taking. advantage of the work that has been done by himself and others, Fr. sketches the literary genesis of the "article" that is the most striking feature of St. Thomas' works. The first task of the medieval scholar was the reading (" lectio ") and elucidation of a text (Sacred Scripture, the Fathers, Peter Lombard, Aristotle, etc.). Gradually, on the occasion of difficulties presented by the text, the question was added. At first, it was discussed within the reading of the text, but it soon became separated, and formed the basis of the disputation. The masterly summary of the fruits of a disputation found expression in the article. The chapter on the Latin language and vocabulary gives many precious indications of work that has been done, but greater challenges to further research that must still be done. Likewise, the chapter on the processes of documentation, which centers around the question of the use of authority by the masters of the Middle Ages. Fr. Chenu succeeds in showing the delicate balance of reverence and independence that characterized St. Thomas' use of authority. "Aristotle et Augustin revivent vraiment en Thomas d'Aquin; mais c'est Thomas d'Aquin qui, a travers Aristote et Augustin, adhere a l'intemporelle verite." (p. 131) Chapter V, on the processes of Construction, that is, of dialectical and logical construction, is the heart of Fr. Chenu's "initiation" of the student into the work of St. Thomas. One cannot help but admire the great care with which, like a skilled anatomist, he traces the living proces8es of Thomistic thought without tearing them from their living contexts. At the conclusion of this chapter, where one would be led to expect "Notes de travail," one finds a simple footnote: "Si nous ne proposons pas ici notes de travail, c'est que tout ce chapitre-deja trop charge-est une invitation 556 BRIEF NOTICES a mener analyses et exercises, sur toutes les pistes ouvertes." (p. 170) It is in this chapter that the author has achieved his aim: " Suivre la vie d'un esprit en travail, des intuitions initiales aux ultimes constructions, c'est le moyen le plus assure connaitre les verites qu'il propose. En ce sens, il n'a pas de thomisme en dehors de la pensee de saint Thomas." (p. 182) While recognizing St. Thomas' genius as a philosopher, Fr. Chenu rightly insists that he is primarily a theologian. His words on this point are truly eloquent and worthy of long meditation by every disciple of St. Thomas. "C'est par i'exigence meme de sa foi, candide et audacieuse, que saint comme si, discernant dans le donne Thomas en poursuit revele une hierarchie interne et objective des verites et de leur raison d'etre, ii pouvait en quelque sort reconstruire en son esprit, sur son mode rationnel, la science que Dieu a de lui-meme et de son oeuvre. C'est sous la pression meme de l'auditus fidei (dont la theologie