THE THOMIST
A SPECULATIVE QUARTERLY REVIEW
OF THEOLOGY AND PHILOSOPHY

EDIToRs:

THE DoMINICAN FATHERS OF THE PRoVINCE OF ST. JoSEPH

Publishers:

VoL. XXI

The Thomist Press, Washington 17, D. C.

OCTOBER, 1958

No.4

SENSE CONSCIOUSNESS ACCORDING
TO ST. THOl\fAS

A

concept of consciousness would seem to be an Integral part of a theory of knowledge as well as a
crucial element in any theory of human nature. Our
capacity to know ourselves is necessarily bound up inextricably
with the question of our capacity to know in general, and in
turn underlies many such problems as those of self-realization
and the validity of self-criticism, the nature of psychological
personality, the foundation of ethics and morality, and other
related points.
Traditionally accepted as an evident object of psychological
study, both by philosophers and early empirical psychologists,
the notion of consciousness began to suffer a certain diminution
in the latter half of the nineteenth century, until in some
schools of thought its reality came to be wholly denied. At
the same time, through the influence of psychoanalysis, the

415

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MICHAEL STOCK

important role of the unconscious mind was made strikingly
manifest, and the question of the respective influence of conscious and unconscious motivation became a central issue in
psychology and ethics. At the present time, with the reality
of consciousness generally accepted again, and some of the
early over-statements of the force of the unconscious somewhat
modified, the time seems ripe for an extensive investigation
of the relationships obtaining between the conscious and unconscious spheres of men's minds. In this context, it seems useful
to state more fully the ideas on consciousness held by St.
Thomas, not only because his insights are hound to be of
value in discussing current problems, but also because such
doctrine should be explicitly understood if many of the implications of Thomistic psychology and moral theology are to be
fully appreciated. Certainly many aspects of the doctrine of
consciousness have been treated in one form or another, but,
so far as I know, there is no complete and exhaustive statement.
In working towards such a statement, it seems useful to sketch
first, as in general outline, a broader conspectus of the points
which will have to be raised and solved before an integral
statement can be offered. For the sake of analysis, the matter
may be divided under three main headings; the questions of
strictly sense consciousness, the questions of purely intellectual
consciousness, and the questions of intellectual reflection on the
senses. Our immediate purpose here is to raise and discuss
some of the problems involved in sense consciousness.
By way of preliminary notes, some of the ambiguity which
attaches itself to the notion of consciousness should be removed.
In common usage, consciousness often means nothing more
than knowledge, for instance, when we ask someone whether
or not he was conscious of some noise or sight. For St. Thomas,
however, consciousness always had a note of cognitive complexity about it; it was knowJedge as applied to something. 1
1 " Nomen enim conscientiae
significat applicationem scientiae ad aliquid; unde
conscire dicitur quasi simul scire." De Ve:rit., q. 17, a. l; cf. Summa Theol., I,
q. 79, a. 18; ll Sent., d.
q.
a. 4.

SENSE CONSCIOUSNESS

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417

In the moral order, it was knowledge applied to deliberate
actions as they measured up to or failed to measure up to rules
of reason and Faith; what is today called conscience. This
moral consciousness was necessarily founded on psychological
consciousness, which, in its strictest sense, was knowledge of
knowledge, or the awareness of an act of knowledge. It thus
involved two elements-an apprehension of some knowable
object and a separate cognitive realization that that object
was apprehended. By extension, however, the word " consciousness " could be used to signify the things of which one has
consciousness, that is, the things known which are known to
be known. 2 By extension, again, in another direction,
ness may signify the· act of being aware of other psychological
states or operations besides those which are cognitive, that
is, the actual awareness of emotions, feelings, performances and
the like. Under this aspect, the object of consciousness goes
on to include, and indeed as a most important and central
and in a sense essential element, the awareness of the knowing
self, for consciousness reaches its perfection when the knower
is revealed to himself in his act of knowledge and in his other
vital actions. 8
Consciousness, for St. Thomas, always indicates an operation, never a habit or power. States of consciousness are more
or less continuous series of acts of consciousness, and may vary
in duration, intensity, clarity, extension, distinctness and in
other qualities, ranging from total unconsciousness as in comas,
through various grades of partial consciousness, to alert attention. For consciousness is by no means a homogeneous state
of activity opposed simply to unconsciousness; men seem rather
to live in a state of more or less fluid balance between conscious
and unconscious motivations, thoughts, drives, emotions, judgments, moods and persuasions. A valid description, therefore,
• " Quandoque enim conscientia sumitur pro ipsa re conscita . • . Dlud quidem
secundum usum loquentium esse videtur ut conscientia quandoque pro re conscita
accipiatur, ut cum dicitur: Dicam tibi conscientiam meam; id est quod. est in
conscientia mea." De Verit., q. 17, a. I.
• Ibid., q. 1, a. 9.

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MICHAEL STOCK

of man's mind cannot confineitself exclusively to the conscious
nor to the unconscious. The problems of the mind must be
set in the context of degrees, limits and qualifications, and
mutual influences. In this light, the analysis of consciousness
ought to be prosecuted, beginning, as seems convenient, with
the lower senses in which, although the factor of actual consciousness is slight, the raw materials of all knowledge and of
eventual full consciousness are prepared .
.ANALYSis

OF CoNSCious

AcTIVITY

AT THE SENSE LEVEL

A. Coosciowrness of the objects and activities of the senses
1. How the external senses are involved in coosciousness

Since all human knowledge begins in the senses, a reflexive
examination of the functioning of human consciousness may be
reasonably initiated with the analysis of the role of the external
senses. External sense knowledge is not, of itself, conscious
knowledge, for it does not extend beyond a simple apprehension
of the sensible qualities in the environment (or within the
sensing subject considered as environment with respect to
the sense activity in question) . Thus it is purely awareness
of other things, outward looking and saying nothing of selfawareness, simple, without depth, without organization and, in
fact, not even perfectly possessed of objectivity. It is, therefore, an act of cognition but not of consciousness, entering into
the order of consciousness, when it enters at all, purely as an
object. For sense consciousness on the part of the external
senses would involve man in knowing, by means of these senses,
that he senses and what he senses-the fact and the nature of
the fact. And such is not the activity of the external senses,
for their own activity presents none of the factors which they
themselves are ordered to apprehend. Seeing, hearing, feeling,
etc., are not themselves c;olored or sounding or hard or soft
objects; they are thus hidden to the external senses.4 If man,
• "Sensus non sentiunt sine exterioribus sensibilibus," II de Anima, Iect. 10,
875.

§ 85•. Cf. lect. 12,

SENSE CONSCIOUSNESS

ACCORDING TO ST. THOMAS

419

therefore, had only his external senses, he could apprehend
well enough, but he could not know that he was apprehending. 5
2. The role of the common sense

We enter for the first time into the area of consciOusness
when we look to the function and activity of the common sense,
for here is a faculty which can know knowledge, which can
be aware of psychological activity. 6 This is evident from the
words of St. Thomas concerning the functions of the common
sense. " For the common sense is a certain power in which
terminate the transformations of all the senses." 7 It is the
power which is the root from which flow all the external senses
as from an energizing source. 8 Standing thus as the common
point of reference for the external senses, it knows the objects
they apprehend, and knows that they apprehend them-that
they are acting, and how. Therefore, it is the sense by which
man senses that he senses, giving him his first awareness of
his own sensitive activity, uniting and binding the various
activities of the senses by consciousne.ss in the one sentient
subject. 9
a". .. a (sensu communi) percipiantur intentiones sensuum; sicut cum aliquis
videt se videre. Hoc enim non potest fieri per sensum proprium, qui non cognoscit
nisi formam sensibilis a quo immutatur." Summa Theol., I, q. 78, a. 4, ad
• Since this is not the place for an " ex professo " treatment of St. Thomas'
psychology, we will not enter into the arguments for the number and nature and
functions of the various senses, unless it seems necessary for our purpose. The
evidence and justification of his basic psychological conceptions belong to a more
general treatise in psychology. Our purpose is satisfied when we outline the nature
of consciousness as it follows from the concept of the structure of the soul as St.
Thomas proposed it.
7 II de Anima, lect. 18, § 890.
8 " Attribuitur
autem ista discretio tactui non secundum quod tactus est sensus
proprius, sed secundum quod est fundamentum omnium sensuum, et propinquius
se habens ad fontalem radicem omnium sensuum, qui est sensus communis."
Ill de Anima, lect. 8, §
Cf. also Summa Theol., I, q. 78, a. 4, ad 1.
9 " Unde oportet ad sensum communem pertinere discretionis indicium ad quem
referantur; sicut ad co=unem terminum, omnes apprehensiones sensuum; a
quo etiam percipiantur intentiones sensuum, sicut cum aliquis videt se videre • . .
a sen'su communi, qui visionem percipit." Summa Theol., I, q. 78, a. 4, ad
" Sicut in ipso homine patet quod sensus communis, qui est superior quam se11sus

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MICHAEL

STOCK

Moreover, because it is the focal point of all the external
senses, it is able to discriminate among them and their objects,
discerning not only black from white, as the eye can do, or
sweet from bitter, as the tongue can do, but also sweet from
white and black from bitter, which neither tongue nor eye can
do, and any sensible quality whatsoever from any other. 10
Thus St. Thomas posits two functions in the common sense:
to perceive all the sensible qualities already separately apprehended by the several external senses, and to perceive them in a
certain unity, for it is itself one single power, and also-presupposing the first-to discriminate among the many sensible
qualities, comparing and judging them among themselves. We
have, therefore, in the activity of the common sense, a truly
conscious process. 11
Besides these functions of the common sense, by which it
formally enters into the process of consciousness, insofar as it
senses the operations of the external senses, there are two other
contributions it makes to consciousness, not by being an act
of consciousness, but by providing an element in the cognitive
structure which is essential to consciousness in one way or
another. Merely to provide material for other acts of knowledge, that is, to enter into the content of consciousness, is by
no means peculiar to the common sense. What is special about
its contribution in this order derives from its particular role
in regard to the external senses.
In the first place, the common sense is the only internal
power which is in direct and immediate contact with the external senses. It is, therefore, the one power which can provide
proprius, licet sit unica potentia, omnia cognoscit quae quinque sensibus exterioribus
cognoscuntur .... " Ibid., I, q. 57, a. 2.-Cf. Ill de Anima, lect. 8, § 612.
10 " Quia
discernimus aliqua virtute, non solum album a nigro, vel dulce ab
amaro, sed etiam album a dulci, et unumquodque sensibile discernimus ab unoquoque et sentimus quod hoc sit per sensum." Ill de Anima, lect. 8, § 601.
11 It is true consciousness, but not proper
According to St. Thomas,
consciousness is reflective activity, which is the knowing of knowledge, and this
can be twofold, proper or improper. It is proper if one power know itself or
its own act, improper if one power know the act or object of another power.
Cf. Ill Sent., d. 28, q. 1, a. 2, ad 8.

SENSE CONSCIOUSNESS

ACCORDING TO ST. •THOMAS

4!U

man with data which forms the basis for distinguishing external
sensations of reality from internal imaginings. This specialty
of function will be investigated later in more detail, 12 and is
only mentioned here to highlight its importance. For without
the common sense, man might be conscious, but his consciousness would be distorted, unable to mark off clearly what comes
to him from external reality and what rises from within himself
subjectively.
Again, the common sense refers external sensations to the
sensing subject. We do not mean that the common sense is
perfectly and formally aware of these acts as acts of the sensing
subject. What we mean is that, by uniting the several acts
of sensation arising in di.fierent organs in its own single perception, it provides an effective evidence that they are related
to each other as the several facets of the activity of one sensing
subject. This evidence points to the subject underlying the
several sensations, if there is another sense with the power to
perceive it. 13 It is probably because of this role which the
common sense plays in regard to revealing the unity of the
sensing subject that St. Thomas will say of its activity not
merely that we know we see or hear through the common sense,
but also that through its activity we know that we live, indicating not simply the effects of living but the interior fact
itsel£.14
Briefly, then, to summarize what has been said of the common sense: this power in man is one which sees, hears, feels,
.etc., all the sights, sounds, touches, etc., which are first sensed
by the external senses. It is, as it were, an internal eye and
ear and tongue and finger, possessing the sensitivity of all the
other senses. Being a single receptive center for all their
separate activities, it collects their several impressions into one
common matrix of sense activity, in which it can discern them
one from another and refer them all to the one sensing subject.
Being thus oriented towards the outside reality apprehended
18 See p. 484.
See p. 441.
.. "Sensu enim communi percipimus nos vivere." II de Anima, lect. 18, § 890.

12

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MICHAEL STOCK

by the external senses, it provides grounds for distinguishing
reality from imaginations.
3. The functions of the other internal senses

There is, however, more to sense life than this. We know
of images in our imagination, perceptions of the memory and of
instinct. How do these pertain to consciousness?
Primarily these powers give knowledge of the things we
know through the external senses, but under an elaboration
and an aspect proper to themselves. The imagination knows
sensible objects as reproduced within the sensing subject, removed from the context of time and place, freed from the
context in which they were first apprehended.
Memory perceives sense objects as things belonging to a
part of the past, definite or indefinite, but always as past. Its
proper object is the intention of pastness, referring sensed objects
to the context of things already experienced. 15
The cogitative power or particular reason, which corresponds
to the power of instinct or estimation in brute animals, also
apprehends an intention, the intention of singularity by which
a mass of sensible data is designated as a singular quiddity or
thing. 16
All of these activities belong to the content of consciousness,
perceptible to anyone who engages in introspection even superficially. The question which must be raised now, however, is
whether or not there is an element of subjective or active
consciousness in the operations of these powers. Do they know
knowledge? Before trying to answer this question it will be
useful to investigate more fully the function of the internal
senses.
a. Imagination
When man's senses apprehend some object in his enVIron16 For a discussion of St. Thomas' conception and use of " intentions," see H. D.
Simonin, 0. P., "La Notion d' 'intentio' dans I' oeuvre de Saint Thomas d'Aquin,"
Rev. de Sc. Phil. et Theol., XIX (1980).
16 Cf. Summa Theol., I, q. 78, a. 4.

SENSE CONSCIOUSNESS

ACCORDING

T(J ST. THOMAS

428

ment and are impressed with its sensible qualities, these qualities impress not only the particular senses in question but also,
and with a certain elaboration 17 the internal power of imagination/8 and in fact this may occur whether or not he is conscious
of the act of sensing. 19 Once impressed in the imagination, the
image is conserved as in a treasury, and can be evoked or
reproduced henceforward. Thus the imagination differs from
the external senses and the common sense, since these can act
only in the presence of the sensible quality, and cease to act
with its removal, while the imagination, once impressed with
thequality sensed, can recall it even when the object originally
possessing it has disappeared, thereby giving all sensible objects
a kind of second life, or capacity to live and re-live for the
benefit of the sensing subject. 20 Moreover, in the imagination,
the objects sensed are freed from the context in which they
were originally apprehended and are capable of being elaborated or of being combined among themselves in an almost
unlimited variety of new formations, 21 which might exist in a
reality never seen, or in no reality at all, or in a reality proposed
for future accomplishment. 22 This is the functioning of the
17 " ••• una vis imaginationis
se extendit ad omnia quae quinque vires sensuum
cognoscunt et ad plura." l Cont. Gent., c. 65, in the middle.
'"Imagination is a certain movement produced beyond the order of the external
senses by their own activity. It is a "movement made by the senses in act."
IV Metaphys., lect. 14, § 69S; Ill de Anima, lect. 6, § 655-659.
19 For a.n excellent description
of the elements which may enter the imaginative
content without having been first consciously perceived, see Le Subconscient, Iere
Serie, Iere cours: Nature et Action du Subconscient, P. Reginald Omez, 0. P., 1949.
(Unpublished).
•• " Vis enim imaginativa est apprehensiva similitudinum corporalium, etiam rebus
absentibus quarum sunt similitudines." Summa Theol., I-ll, q. 15, a. 1.
21 " Sicut
etiam in speculativis aliqui sunt bene inquirentes, propter hoc quod
ratio eorum prompta est ad discurrendum per diversa, quod videtur provenire
ex dispositione imaginativa.e virtutis, quae de facili potest formare diversa phantasmata." Ibid., II-II, q. 51, a. S.
22 " Vis imaginativa potest formare diversorum sensibilium formas; quod praecipue
apparet dum imaginamur ea quae numquam sensu percepimus." De V erit., q. 10,
a. 6, ad 5. " In imaginatione autem non solum sunt formae rerum sensibilium
secundum quod accipiuntur a sensu, sed transmutatur diversimode, vel propter
aliquam tra.nsmutationem corporalem, sicut accidit in dormientibus et furiosis;

MICHAEL STOCK

creative imagination, which belongs to the sense power in
question insofar as it operates under the direction of reason,
and it has extensive influence in all human activity. 23 For by
this disposition of images under the direction of reason, the
great creative works of fine and practical art are patterned
and executed, while in everyday life, speech, gesture and most
ordinary activity is formed imaginatively before being acted
out.
b. Sense Memory
The role of memory is to perceive the past. 24 Among the
wealth of images in the imagination, dissociated from time and
place, and seeming to live in an independent and freely evolving
existence, there is need to keep record of the order of images
as they were perceived, if experience is to be a useful part of
man's psychological equipment. To fashion experience into a
useful tool man must have such order in the elements of sense
knowledge that he can recall what come before and what come
after, what is associated with another in spatial association,
what image is of a thing seen before in a certain context of
time and place, and what is new.25 It is memory which fashions
vel etiam secundum imperium rationis disponuntur phantasmata in ordine ad id
quod est intelligendum." Summa Theol., 11-11, q. 178, a. !!.
••" Apprehensio autem imaginationis, cum sit particularis, regulatur ab apprehensione rationis, sicut virtus activa particularis a virtute activa universali." Ibid.,
1-11, q. 17, a. 7.
•• " Vis autem memorativa retinet, cuius est memorari rem non absolute, sed
prout est in praeterito apprehensa a sensu vel intellectu." De Memoria, lect. !!, § S!!l.
•• Although the sense memocy is generally treated after the discussion of the
imagination in psychological textbooks, and is so treated here, it would probably
be erroneous to think of its function as following upon that of imagination,- as
if it functions only after the imagination has functioned. Actually, the sense
memocy seems to be closer to the external senses than the imagination, since it
recalls perceptions in the order and context in which they originate, while imagination takes the images without this order and context. From the point of view of
object, then, memory seems more closely allied _to the external senses than
imagination. This observation seems confirmed from the point of view of psychological structure, for St. Thomas seems to make the memocy pertain to the common
sense in some way. "Unde concludit quod memoria sit intellectivae partis animae,
sed per accidens; per se autem primi sensitivi, scilicet sensus communis." Probably

SENSE CONSCIOUSNESS

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4&5

this order of images, for the function of memory is to recognize,
among the things we .apprehend, those which we perceived
before, and to evoke the record of things apprehended as they
were apprehended before.28
Thus there seems to be a certain complexity of act in the
memory's perception of the past. There seems to be a difference, for instance, between recollection, by which an incident
recalled from the past is cited by memory as being in a certain
context of time gone by, and recognition, by which an object
presently known is known as having been previously perceived.
In the first case, the excitation to act is internal, often from a
voluntary intention, and the reference of the act is as of an
act simply looking back to time past. In the second case, the
excitation is external, and the reference is of the thing presently
perceived to the same thing as perceived in the past. In the
first case, then, the term of the knowledge seems to be primarily the perceptions themselves-this perception is this perception as it was had in the past. In the second case, the term
of the knowledge seems to be primarily the things knownthis thing, presently perceived, is the one perceived in the past.
Here the note of" being perceived" seems to be secondary, in
the intentional order, to the thing perceived.
And yet it cannot be denied that in either case, the crucial
factors are the perceptions. The past perception is crucial
because the past, with which the present is connected and to
which it is referred in an act of memory, is a past which manifestly depends on having been perceived. There is no other
way in which a sensible object could become an object of
memory if it were not perceived at least once before.27 The
the original sense impressions move both imagination and memory immediately,
in order of time and nature, and with the images so supplied, each goes on its
separate way. These problems, however, will come to the fore in the discussions
on the interplay of the senses below.
•• Cf. de Memoria, lect. 5, §§ 868-869.
11 Non enim memoramur ea inquantum in praesenti eorum scientiam habemus,
sed per se memorari non contingit ante factum tempus, scilicet antequam inter-

MICHAEL STOCK

present perception is crucial because there is no way by which
the past perception can be presently observed except through
a present perception, for the act of memory exists in the present,
spanning past and present by making the past reappear in a
present act. This is done, of course, by an image, which is
conserved from the past and reformed in the present, when the
external sensible or perception of it is no longer present. Whence
St. Thomas remarks that memory depends on phantasms. 28
Therefore, in its act of recollection, memory involves a present
perception (of some object) referred to the past as having a
real identity with a perception of the past, and differing only
in time. Its act could be expressed in the sentence: This,
the present perception, is a perception already had in the past.
In its act of recognition, memory involves a perception of a
thing present, referred to the same thing perceived in the past,
and this could be expressed: This, the thing perceived, was
perceived in the past. Thus the power of memory falls on
perceptions and on things perceived.29
The object of memory is an image, similar to that of the
imagination 30 but endowed with its peculiar intention, which
is a relation to the past as has been described above, of the
thing perceived now, or of the present perception, to its perception in the past, or to the thing perceived in the past, as
of before and after in time, near or far from each other in place,
veniat tempus medium inter notitiam prius existentem et ipsam memoriam." Ibid.,
lect. 4, § 854.
•• "(Memoria) non autem est sine phantasmate. Sensibilia enim postquam
praetereunt, a sensu non percipiuntur, nisi sicut in phantasmate •••. Unde per se
memoria pertinet ad apparitionem phantasmatum." Ibid., .ect. !!, § 8!!0.
•• " Praeteritio potest ad duo referri: scilicet ad obiectum quod cognoscitur;
et ad cognitionis actum. Quae quidem duo simul coniunguntur in parte sensitiva,
quae est apprehensiva alicuius per hoc quod immutatur a praesenti sensiblli;
unde simul animal memoratur se prius sensisse in praeterito, et se sensisse quoddam
praeteritum sensibile." Summa Theol., I, q. 79, a. 6; ad !!.
•• The imagination, memory and cogitative powers receive and retain the same
or similar images, but under different formalities. " Si autem dicatur quod hie
homo non sortitur speciem ab ipsis phantasmatibus, sed a virtutibus in quibus
sunt phantasmata, scilicet, imaginativa, memorativa et cogitativa. . .. " 11 Cont.
Gent., c. 78, just before the middle.

SENSE CONSCIOUSNESS

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familiar, therefore, or new, etc. Memory is formed on the basis
of these intentions among the images of sensible reality, conserving them in an interconnected matrix of experience, or in a
connecting web of things and perceptions inex..,ricably bound
up with one another.
Moreover, in virtue of these interconnections, memory serves
man in the act of deliberate recollection or reminiscence, in
which a man begins with some part of his remembered experience as an initial point for inquiry of other parts of experience
which have been temporarily lost to evocation, but which he
plans to regain along the paths of association, as directed by
reason. 31
c. Cogitative power
The cogitative power, which is also called the particular
reason, and which corresponds to the estimative power in brute
animals, is a sense power which perceives and collects individual
intentions, that is, it perceives not simply the sensible quality
as apprehended by the external senses, but also the concrete
individual so qualifi.ed.32 The sensible species or image formed
in the cogitative is made, like that in the imagination and
memory, of the sensible qualities as apprehended by the external senses, but over and above its sensible content, it contains
a reference or relationship to the individual possessing the
qualities sensed, and to that individual as such. It is the
peculiar function of the cogitative to grasp or perceive this
relationship, which is called a singular or individual or particular intention, and is not apprehended by any other sense 33
Cf. de Memoria, c. lil.
•• "Si vero apprehendatur (aliquid) in singulari, utputa cum video coloratum,
percipio hunc hominem vel hoc animal, huiusmodi quidem apprehensio in homine
fit per vim cogitativam quae dicitur etiam ratio particularis, eo quod est collativa
intentionum individualium." II de Anima, lect. 13, § 396. "Et ideo quae in aliis
animalibus dicitur aestimativa naturalis, in homine dicitur cogitativa, quae per
collationem quandam huiusmodi intentiones adinvenit." Summa Theol., I, q. 78, a. 4.
•• "Necessarium est ergo animali quod percipiat huiusmodi intentiones, quas non
percipit sensus exterior." Summa Theol., I, q. 78; a. 4. "Licet intellectus operatio
oriatur a sensu, tamen in re apprehensa per sensum intellectus multa cognoscit quae
81

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MICHAEL STOCK

Hence the intention is called an unsensed intention. The object,
therefore, of. the cogitative is· the " thing "-this or that individual thing, which first impressed the sensing subject with
its sensible qualities through the external senses and is subsequently perceived by the cogitative, through and under the
sensible qualities, as their concrete possessor. Naturally, the
thing as known by the cogitative does not have the force and
precision of " thing " as known by the intellect, for the cogitative is not an abstracting power. Nevertheless, there is a
quasi-abstraction in the function of the cogitative, for it is
precisely the irtdividual intention on which its power falls and
for this reason-,its object can be
as the quiddity of a
particular thing-the quiddity of the particular thing as particular.84
The significance of what this grasping of individual intentions
entails has no small importance in regard to an understanding
of the workings of sentient life. All animals act for two purposes: to stay alive and to reproduce. So all their knowledge
is ordered to finding food to eat and water to drink, to avoiding
dangers and enemies and to. securing mates and protecting
offspring. But the knowledge which is limited to sensible
qualities is entirely insufficient to accomplish these purposes;
sensible qualities themselves do not feed or. hurt or help in
reproducing. It is the thing which has these qualities which
helps or hinders the animal. Hence the animal must have some
cognitive power which· enables him to discern the thing under
the qualities, and this is the estimative power. So the estimative in animals is ordered to perceiving those things which
are terms or principles of action and passion in it according to
sensus percipere non potest. Et similiter aestimativa, licet inferiori modo." Idtnn,
ad 4.
•• " Sensus autem exteriores ipsa sensibilia accidentia, communia scilicet et propria,
habent pro suis per se obiectis. Quidditas autem rei particularis in partiCulari
non ·spectat ut per se obiectum ad illos sensus exteriores, cum quidditas ipsa
sit et non accidens; nee ad intellectum pertinet ut per se obiectum eius
propter suam materialitatem. Ideo quidditas rei materialis in ipsa sua particularitate
est obiectum rationis particularis, cuius est conferre de intentionibus particularibus."
De Prine. Irulividuationia.

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its species, and so also the estimative is the cognitive principle
of its appetites. 35 Hence, for the brute animals, the individual
intentions of the estimative always involve aspects of concrete
utility or harm, or of gratification or repugnance, amicability
or hostility, in reference to the species and organic conditions
of the sensing subject, for on such factors depend such utilities
and hostilities, etc. 36
But man's life has its animal purposes and more. His sensing
powers are ordained not only to self-preservation and the
preservation of the race, but also to apprehending and preparing the materials on which his intellect and reason can
work. So the cogitative in man is not limited to perceiving the
useful or harmful individuals in his environment, but any and
aU individual things. 37
More light is thrown on the nature of these individual intentions from the remarks St. Thomas makes about the power
of the cogitative to perceive the sensible "per accidens." 38
He says that when we see a colored thing, and perceive it as a
singular object, the perception of the singular is per accidens
•• " Aestimativa autem non apprehendit aliquod individuum, secundum quod
est sub natura communi, sed solum secundum quod est terminus aut principium
alicuius actionis vel passionis; sicut ovis cognoscit hunc agnum, non inquantum
est hie agnus, sed inquantum est ab ea lactabilis; et hanc herbam, inquantum
est eius cibus. . . . Naturalis enim aestimativa datur animalibus, ut per earn
ordinentur in actiones proprias vel passiones, prosequendas, vel fugiendas." ll de
Anima, lect. 18, § 898.
36 Cf. Summa Theol., I, q. 78, a. 4.
•• It is interesting, in this light, to recall that brute animals apparently cannot
discern an individual as such in their environment unless it moves. This is a
fact which bullfighters and hunters stalking animals take into account. Man,
however, can discern things whether moving or at rest.
•• St. Thomas distinguishes the per se proper sensible of a sense, which is apprehended only by one particular sense, such as color by sight, and the per se common
sensible, which is apprehended by more than one sense, such as motion by sight
and touch, and the per accidens sensible, which is not apprehended at all by the
sense to which it is per accidens, but is apprehended by some other power at the
time when the sense in question apprehends its per se sensible, as when we see
a man moving and say that we see a living man. The powers which concur with
one sense in cases of per accidens sensation are another sense or the cogitative
or the estimative or the intellect. Cf. II de Anima. lect. 18, §§ 884-886, 895.

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to the seeing, and the power concurring with sight in this
perception is the cogitative power .39 The cogitative, therefore,
falls directly upon the singularity or thingness of an object
that is seen or heard or otherwise perceived in its sensible
qualities by the external senses, e., on the particular quiddity
as such.
To continue, however, in the development of the nature and
function of the cogitative, we find that it not only apprehends
individual intentions, but it also composes and divides them,
making a kind of collation, that is, a collection of intentions
assorted according to their kinds. 40 In other words, the cogitative is a power capable of making judgments, not indeed in the
full and formal sense in which the intellect makes judgments,
but in a virtual sense and .within the limits of concrete and
sensible data. That is to say, the cogitative actually composes
two or more individuals into a kind of unity based on their
similarity, and adds subsequent similar individuals to the aggregation, so that the cogitative eventually grasps not only this
singular individual, but also this kind of individual, in the
•• "Viso igitur quomodo dicantur per se sensibilia, et. communis et propria,
restat videndum, qua ratione dicatur aliquid sensibile per accidens. • . . Quod ergo
sensu proprio non cognoscitur, si sit aliquid universale, apprehenditur intellectu;
non tamen omne quod intellectu apprehendi potest in re sensibili, potest did
sensibile per accidens, sed statim quod ad occursum rei sensatae apprehenditur
intellectu. . . . Si vero apprehendatur in singnlari, utputa cum video coloratum,
percipio hunc hominem vel hoc animal, huiusmodi quidem apprehensio in homine
fit per vim cogitativam." Ibid., §§ ?95-896. ·
•• " Et sic singnlaribus se immiscet mediante ratione particulari, quae est potentia
quaedam sensitivae partis componens et dividens intentiones individuales quae
alio nomine dicitur. cogitativa .... " De V erit., q. 10, a. 6. (This text, as given,
is an emendation of the Marietti edition, according to text presently approved by
the Leonine Commission, Santa Sabina, Rome. Cf. footnote, p. 9ii!, " Experimentum
and some related problems according to St. Thomas," Fergol O'Connor, 0. P.
Angelicum Dissertations, Rome, 1956). "Quia cum virtus cogitativa habeat operationes solum circa particularia, quorum intentiones dividit et componit. . . ."
II Oont. Gent., c. 78. " Sensus autem indicium de quibusdam est naturale, sicut
de propriis. sensibilibus; de quibusdam autem quasi per quamdam collationem,
quam facit in homine vis cogitativa, quae est potentia selisitivae partis, loco cuius in
aliis animalibus est existimatio naturalis; et sic iudicat vis sensitiva de sensibilibus
communibus et de sensibilibus per accidens." De Verit., q. 1, a. 11.

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sense of a general group attained under one sensible species.
And, consequently, it attains also to the distinctions among
individual types, since it separates individuals into their different groups, and knows them as different. The result is experience-knowledge caused by many apprehensions of one thing
on the part of the cogitative, retained in the storehouse of the
cogitative, which is memory .41
This power of collation belongs to the cogitative insofar as
it serves under the power of universal reason: in brute animals
the judgment of singulars is accomplished by natural instinct.
In man, indeed, there is something of this natural estimation
too, but for the most part, the cogitative seems to lack the
determination of the estimative, and consequently its limitation, and to be universalized, by participation of universal
.reason, and at the same time, dependent on such reason for
the full acquisition of value determinations. 42 So a sheep knows
that grass is its food by a natural estimation; man learns what
is food for himself partly by natural estimation and partly
by experience informed by reason. In other words, man is not
sufficiently equipped on the sense level to make an adequate
judgment of what is good or bad for him by natural instinct.
He has certain more o:r less vague perceptions which need to
be perfected and completed by a collation of incidents leading
to experience, and especially by intellectual knowledge generated from this experience. 43 Hence man's cogitative power
41 " Supra memoriam autern in hominibus ... est e:x;perimentum, quod quaedam
animalia non participant nisi parum. Experimentum enim est ex collatione plurium
singularium in memoria receptorum. Huiusmodi autem collatio est homini propria,
et pertinet ad vim cogitativam, quae ratio particularis dicitur: quae est collativa
intentionum individualium .... Modus autem causandi (experimentum) est iste:
quia ex multis memoriis unius rei accipit homo experimentum de aliquo, quo
experimento potens est ad facile et recte operandum." I Metaphys., Iect. l, §§ 15
and 17. "Ad apprehendendum autem intentiones quae per sensum non accipiuntur,
ordinatur vis aestimativa.-Ad conservandum autem eas, vis memorativa, quae
est thesaurus quidam huiusmodi intentionum." Summa Theol., I, q. 78, a. 4.
•• " Sed quantum ad intentiones praedictas (sci!. singulares) differentia est; nam
alia animalia percipiunt huiusmodi intentiones solum naturali quodam instinctu,
homo etiam per quandam collationem." Summa Theol., loc. cit.
•• This is not to say that brute animals do not also acquire some perfection

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can be said to lack a perfection which the estimative has, but
it is more than compensated for this lack by being free to
participate in the perfections of a higher order.
The final points to be made about the cogitative also concern
its relationship with this higher order of reason. Since man's
mind is not endowed with innate ideas, but depends on what
he knows from the senses, the functioning of sense knowledge
in man must be considered as ordered principally to providing
the matter for intellectual knowledge, and not simply to providing the cognitive elements of his animal life, for whenever
a lower order is ordained to the service of a higher order, its
service to the higher order is more important, in the order of
finality, than the accomplishment of its proper role. So the
sumni.it of the sensitive order is the point at which it immediately serves the intellectual order, and this point in man is the
function of the cogitative, preparing phantasms .to be instruments of the active intelligence." These phantasms present
to the intellect an adequate picture of the external, sensible .
world, containing all that the several external senses have perceived, bound together in the proper objects, in the context
of space and time, and with the complexity and variety of
detail which numerous similar perceptions conserved in memory
can provide, in other words, the complete, sensitive synthesis
implied in the word " experience." From this matter, the intellect draws its ideas. 45 But, since the intellect depends on
of knowledge by experience. However, their capacity for such. added perfections
is slight, and always limited within the bounds of the end set for instinct. " Et,
quia ex multis sensibus et memoria animalia ad aliquid consuescunt prosequendum
vel vitandum, inde est quod aliquid experimenti, licet parum, participare videntur.
Homines autem supra experimentum, quod pertinent ad rationem particularem,
habent rationein universalem, per quam vivunt, sicut per id quod est principale
in eis." I Metaphya., lect. 1, § 15.
•• " Virtus cogitativa non habet ordinem ad intellectum possibilem, quo intelligit
homo, nisi per suum aetum quo praeparantur phantasmata ut per intellectum
agentem fiant intelligibilia actu, et perficientia intellectum possibilem." II Cont.
Gent., c. 78.
68 Nam sicut ex multis memoriis fit una experimentalis scientia, ita ex multis
experimentis apprehensis fit universalis acceptio de omnibus similibus: Unde plus

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phantasms not only in the acquisition of ideas but also in any
subsequent use, the cogitative enters necessarily into all intellectual considerations, and hence must be subject to direction
from the intellect, so that its own activity will be conformed
to the purposes of the higher power, and not vice versa. Hence
St. Thomas says that the cogitative by its very nature is moved
and directed by universal reason. 411 . And, beyond this, if the
cogitative is a sine qua non of any intellectual operation, it
is essentially necessary in any intellectual operation which is
carried through to a singular conclusion, for the intellect by
itself knows the universal, and by itself is out of contact with
the world of concrete things and actions. Hence, whenever
science is to be applied to particular facts, and whenever the
practical reason operates in either a prudential judgment or a
work of art, the function of the cogitative must enter in, to
join the universal order to the singular. 47 This can all be
summed up in the phrase " knowing the individual as existing
under the conimon nature." For the cogitative which perceives
the singular subject of sensible qualities as its proper object,
also moves the power of reason, whose proper object is the
universal, to grasp the universal concept entailed in the singular
subject. In turn, the cogitative is moved by the power of
reason when reason refers its concept back to the singular
subject through the image in the· cogitative. In this sense the
cogitative knows, for example, " this man " or " these men " as
the concrete realities represented in the universal concept
"man "-the individuals under the common nature. 48
habet hoc ars quam experimentum; quia experimentum tantum circa singularia
versatur, ars autem circa universalia." I Metaphys., lect. 1, § 18.
•• " Ipsa autem ratio particularis nata est moveri et dirigi in homine secundum
rationem universalem, unde in syllogisticis ex universalibus propositionibus concluduntur conclusiones singulares." Summa Theol., I, q. 81, a. 8.
•• Ibid. " Universalem vero sententiam quam mens habet de operabilibus, non
est possibile applicari ad particularem actum nisi per aliquam potentiam mediam
apprehendentem singulare, ut sic fiat quidam syllogismus, cuius major sit universalis, quae est sententia mentis; minor autem singularis, quae est apprehensio
particularis rationis; conclusio vero electio singularis operis." De Verit., q. 10, a. 5.
••" Nam cogitativa apprehendit individuum, ut existens sub natura communi;

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And finally, it can be noted that in syllogisms composed
entirely of singulars, the whole formality of the act belongs
to the cogitative, although virtually the intellect is acting, for
the terms are all singulars, which are known only to the cogitative but the activity of formally composing and dividing must
be derived from the higher power. So it is, in any temerarious
judgment, such as: John likes Mary, Tom likes Mary, John
likes Tom. And if it seems remarkable that any such act can
belong to the sensitive power, the reason must be sought in the
functional unity it attains with the intellect, by which it participates something of intellectual power, and rises markedly
above the limitations of strict sensitive activity. 49
Hence the role of the cogitative, or particular reason, is of
critical importance in understanding human knowledge and
human consciousness, both because it is the peak of sense
activity and because it forms the nexus between the orders
of sense and intellect. Man's .dual nature, and its functioning,
must remain a mystery unless we understand the pivotal
functions in which the higher and spiritual part enters into
intimate and dynamic union with the activities of the lower
and animal part. These pivotal functions are precisely those
of the cogitative.
4. The dynamism of the internal senses

The functioning of the internal senses cannot be rightly
understood by the static and disconnected analysis given above,
until the interactions and interplay of the several faculties are
considered. The fact of the matter is that the four internal
senses act together in so close a harmony that it is more difficult, in a sense, to see their distinctions than it is to see them
quod contingit ei, inquantum unitur intellectivae in eodem subiecto; unde cognoscit
hunc hominem prout est hie homo, et hoc lignum prout est hoc lignum." II de
Anima, lect. Ul, § 398.
•• " Nihilominus tamen haec vis est in parte sensitiva; quia vis sensitiva in sui
supremo participat aliquid de vi intellectiva in homine, in quo sensus intellectui
coniungitur." Ibid., § 397.

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as a kind of unity. 50 Nor is it strange that there is a high
degree of complexity and subtlety when we remember that
these senses do not accomplish their purpose until they complete the picture of external reality in all its ramifications and
in all its unities, whether, as in the case of brute animals, to
serve as the sum total of cognitive activity by which their
whole life is directed, 51 or, as in man's case, to serve as apt
material for inspection and meaningful interpretation by intellect and ·reason.52 And yet the faculties which accomplish this
complete picture are limited to contributing each one only a
particular element to the final composite .. Therefore, the totality
of their action must entail a highly elaborated interplay of
function, with mutual assistance one to the other, and a kind
of mutual intercourse of sensible. knowledge; all as smooth and
natural as if it were the simple action of a simple power. Of
all this interplay, man has a kind of general awareness at the
level of internal sensation and perception, and for all this an
accounting should be given.

a. The process of elaboration in regard to the external
object
The account of the interfunctioning of the internal sense
faculties can be viewed from several different aspects, and
sho.uld be so viewed, for the matter is so complicated that it
demands some kind of division. Several different principles
might be used as the basis for division; the one that seems
•• " Posset aut alicui videri quod ex his quae dicuntur, quod phantasia et memoria
non sunt potentiae distinctae a sensu communi, sed sint quaedam passiones ipsius.
Sed Avicenna rationabiliter ostendit esse diversas potentias." De Memoria, lect. i,
§ S!ll.
01 Vita animalium regitur imaginatione et memoria: imaginatione quidem, quantum
ad animalia imperfecta; memoria vero quantum ad animalia perfecta. . . . Accipitur
autem vivere pro actione vitae, sicut et conversationem hominum vitam dicere
solemus. In hoc vero, quod cognitionem animalium determinat .per comparationem
ad regimen vitae, datur intelligi quod cognitio inest ipsis animalibus non propter
ipsum cognoscere, sed propter necessitatem actionis." I Metaphys., lect. 1, § 14.
•• " Vires apprehensivae interius praeparant intellectui possibili proprium obiectum."
Bumma Theol., I-II, q. 50, a. 4, ad S. Cf. II Cont. Gent., c. 73.

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MICHAEL STOCK

most useful is the one based on the division of consciousness
into three degrees, according to the manner in which it approaches the limit of simple cognition on one hand and the
limit of perfect self-consciousness on the other. Closest to
the lower limit of simple apprehension of an object are the
activities of the internal senses which bear directly on an
object known, in such a way as to complete the direct knowledge of the object in all the dimensions possible to the sense
order. The second and middle degree of consciousness is that
in which the object is known in the context of other internal
sense knowledge. If the first degree can be called, with all due
reservations, purely objective consciousness, the second can be
called objective-subjective consciousness. The third and highest
degree of sense consciousness, which may be called purely
subjective, is that in which the content is· wholly a matter
of internal sensations. In this third degree, the intention of
the sentient subject is turned directly to his internal sense operations, without explicit reference to the object; in the first degree
it is turned to the object, without explicit reference to the
operations, in the middle degree, it is turned to the object in
the context of internal operations.
Approaching the problem of the interfunctioning of the internal senses from the first point of view, we can take a simple
object of knowledge and see how the total sensible character
of it is placed together and gradually given depth by the combined operations of the senses. This procedure should throw
into relief several psychological dynamisms. In the first place,
there is the " direct " line of development of the knowledge
we have of the object, wherein each sense faculty performs its
proper operations in regard to the object, and in so doing,
shows its dependence on the acts of the other facufties. In
such a line of development, the act of one presupposes and
rises from the act of another, and, consequently, reflects on
the act of the other.
When we say that it reflects on the act of another, we mean
that it knows, under its own proper light, the object which

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was first known by the other, and knows it in the perfection
in which it was known by the other. But, since the sense in act
is the sensible in act, it can be said to know the act of the
other. In another sense, o£ course, it does not know the act of
.the other, that is, it does not know the act of the other as an
immanent movement proceeding from within a power by which
it has the form of another as of the other--.,.such a subtlety could
not be grasped by a sense power. We are limited, therefore,
at this stage of the analysis, to saying that the one power knows
the act of the other just insofar as its object in act is its act.
From what is implied in this direct line of development we
should be able to see one of the lines of sense consciousness,
and consequently the primary parts of the content of sense
consciousness and the powers which are actively responsible
for them.
As has been seen above, the sense knowledge which has
been apprehended by the five external senses as so many fragments of sensation is received in the common sense, where it
attains to a certain objective and subjective unity, that is, the
several qualities apprehended by different senses are referred
to each other as associated in one originating source, so that,
for instance, we know that the red apple is smooth and sweet,
while the seeing, touching, tasting, etc., are associated· as of
one subject. For the knowledge that the sweet apple is red
implies the fact that the seer tastes. Moreover, since these
qualities do not exist as simple, vague and indefinite, but are
rather defined and limited as the qualities of bodies of a certain
size and shape, size and shape are known along with them,
and also the other common sensibles, motion and rest and
number, for when we know a thing precisely, we know it in
its limits, and hence know its limiting factors. We also know
the immediate consequences of these factors, and thus time is
known from motion/ 8 and also space, place and position from
sizes and shapes. 54 Then all these elements, of which we are
•• Cf. De Memoria, lect. !!, § 819.
•• We do not wish to digress into an analysis of the development of perception,

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aware at the level of common sense, reverberate into the imagination, in a manner less vivid but more permanent, whence they
are subject to recall again and again. 55 However, simultaneous
in time with the operation of the common sense described
above is the perception of the cogitative, bearing upon the
individual as such involved in the complex of quality apprehensions, for the cogitative perceives as a recognizable whole
the individual thing hitherto apprehended in a more . or less
compact association of qualities. And, with the operation of
the cogitative, the object, now grasped in its essential sensible
completeness although not in total completeness, and in its
context of time and place becomes memorable, for the memory
stores the intentions perceived by the cogitative at the time
the cogitative acts, and recalls them for its proper act of
memory at some later time.
To sum up, therefore, the line of consciousness involved in
this particular psychological. dynamism: there is the common
sense conscious of the objects and acts of the external senses,
the cogitative moved to its act by and in the act of the common sense, the imagination similarly moved by the common
sense, and the memory moved by the act of the cogitative ..
Nevertheless, the import of this dynamism from the point of
view of consciousness formally taken, or self-consciousness, is
not great, for in all the operations mentioned, the focus or
intention of the act is on the object precisely as object, and
since it pertains more to the knowledge of the content of consciousness than to
the precise factor of the activity of consciousness. Our purpose is served by a
general summary of the principal elements of which we are sensibly conscious,
in reference to the sense power which makes this possible. Questions of third
dimensional perception, of motion and rest, of the localization of the object, of
causality, etc., are interesting but somewhat aside from the point. Even mere
Interesting although further from the point would be an analysis of the respective
claims of the associationists and the Gestaltists. It would seem, for instance, highly
rewarding to inquire whether or not the truth that lies in the associationist position
is that which the
present as the apprehensions of the exterior senses and
the common sense, while the truth of the Gestalt analysis is embraced in the
scholastic doctrine on the perceptions of the cogitative. But this, as we say, would
lead us far afield.
66 cr. p.
above.

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not on the acts, even when one act depends on the other. It
is, indeed, necessary to see this dynamism as it is, for it is
the primary element in human knowledge, and the direct
sensitive operation which must be posited as a preamble to
reflex sensitive knowledge, and indeed it contains, as has been
seen, the germ of reflexive knowledge, but to find this reflexive
character more fully developed, we must look further.

b. 1'he concatenation of present apprehensions and
internal perceptions
The nature of sense knowledge is not such that man takes
up an object and inspects it until he has exhausted its sensible
content and then lays it aside and takes up another. Along
with the work of inspecting the object, which was described
immediately above, there is a concomitant play of internal
sensation, provided by past experience, in which cogitative and
memory have the major part, and general appreciation, which
is the work of imagination. If the process of inspecting the
object can be said to answer the question: What is this object,
these secondary processes can be taken as answering the question: What does this object mean to me in the light of what
I already know? Manifestly, this is a more subjective question,
and for this reason, the secondary process under investigation
here has been designated as subjective-objective.
Under this heading the relation of the internal senses to the
external senses must be reconsidered, and seen, not simply as
the internal senses are moved by the object as externally
apprehended and then operate to perfect the perception of
the object, but also as they enlarge and enrich the direct perception on the basis of the past accumulation of sense knowledge, and how, indeed, they might color or distort its perception.
Then, after considering how present perceptions are linked with
the accumulated perceptions from the past, the question arises
as to how these elements can be kept distinct and unconfused,
that is to say, how man is conscious of the distinction between
present external reality and present internal imaginings. In

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investigating this question, we are manifestly in the midst of
the problem of self-consciousness in the sense order.
To work with an example, a man can, for instance, walk
into the ruins of an historic place, and, if he is sufficiently
instructed, can begin to reconstruct it in his imagination, restoring it to an earlier splendor, peopling it with characters
from the past, seeing and hearing the flow of imaginary action.
Seeing especially well preserved details in the present ruin would
reinforce the strength of the imaginary scene and give new
impetus to the imagined reconstruction, but discordant notes
could destroy the whole illusion. Such imaginary processes
provoked and sustained by present apprehensions, or again,
disturbed and distracted, are not uncommon.
In such a situation, it is clear that the present apprehension
moving the imagination starts it off on a series of images
according to its own laws of association, and that subsequent
apprehensions can reinforce or distract this flow of imagery.
It should be noted, however, that in his more complete accounts
of imagination-external sense interplay, St. Thomas includes
the intermediate operations of the common sense, for nothing
reaches the internal senses unless it has passed through the
common sense. So, it is more strictly correct to say that the
imagination is moved by the complex of external sense-common
sense activity, from which the imagination receives its impulse
to move as from one single power. 55 For this reason also the
imagination is called a "passion" of the common sense, and
common sense is called its "root." Whenever, then, we speak
of the internal senses as being moved by either the external
senses or by the common sense, we mean that, in either case,
they are moved by both together. 5 7 Hence the activity involved
•• We say "as from one single power" because the activities of external sense
and common sense are not simply coordinated but are subordinated, the former to
the latter.
67 " Phantasia
autem, secundum quod apparet per huius immutationem secundariam, est passio sensus communis: sequitur enim totam immutationem sensus,
quae incipit a sensibilibus propriis, et terminatur ad sensum communem." De
Memoria, lect: !t, § 819. "Similiter autem sensus communis est radix phantasiae

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is this: the external sensible quality actuates and is received
in and apprehended by the external sense. When the external
sense acts, becoming the form sensed, it activates the common
sense, which receives and perceives the quality and the fact
of external sense activity. Finally, the act of the common sense
activates the imagination, which in turn receives and perceives
the quality sensed, and holds it subsequently as in a· treasury
from which it can be reproduced. The normal course of activity,
then, is from sensible to external sense to common sense to
imagination; one single sensible form existing in all these powers
according to their different modes, having been passed from
one to the other without losing its original character, but rather
new modes of existence in the different cognitive
faculties. 58
Given this as normal sense activity, two questions arise: how
are species in these different powers distinguished one from
the other, so that man knows what is real and what is imaginary? And, is this process of reverberation of sense image
reversible?
Man normally has no difficulty in distinguishing what belongs to external reality and what belongs to his internal sense
activity, especially imagination; in maintaining his connection
with reality and so avoiding illusions or hallucinations. He does
not suffer alienation from his senses except in sleep or when
violence is done, for example, in the development of mental
disorders. 59 For St. Thomas, the key to this power of distinguishing reality from subjective imagination is in the operaet memoriae quae praesupponunt actum sensus communis." Ibid., §
Cf.
Summa Theol., I, q. 78, a. 4, ad S.
.
•• Species quae est in imaginatione, est eiusdem generis cum specie quae est in
sensu, quia utraque. est individualis et materialis. . . . Et ideo . . . species sensibilis
imprimit speciem imaginariam." De S1Jirit. Oreat., a. 10, ad 17. " ... una potentia
.ab alia movetur, sicut imaginatio a sensu. Et hoc quidem possibilis est, quia
formae imaginationis et sensus sunt . eiusdem generis; utraeque enim sunt individuales. Et ideo formae quae sunt in sensu, possunt imprimere formas quae sunt
in imaginationem, quasi sibi similes." Q. D. de Anima, a. 4, ad 1.
•• Cf. Summa Theol., 11-11, q. 178, a. S.

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MICHAEL STOCK

tion of the common sense.60 Thus in analysing the different
states of consciousness occurring in sleep, he states that it is
the imagination which functions when we dream in sleep, and
it functions more or less vividly and coherently depending
on the depth of the sleep. But the depth of sleep is measured
according to the degree to which the common sense is bound,
since the binding of the common sense is the cause of sleep.
However, in the lightest phases of sleep, the common sense
partly returns to operation, so that man can make some kind
of a judgment distinguishing realities which he senses from his
dream images, although not perfectly. It follows then that the
full operation of common sense allows man to distinguish
clearly and adequately between dream states and reality .61 It
is not necessary to conclude that the common sense itself
performs this act of distinguishing, but only that its operation
is vital to the right performance of the action. 62 The act of
discerning belongs rather to a higher sense power, which is
conscious of the workings of the common sense and of the
imagination, and distinguishes them one from the other, as
long as both are working. There are certainly many clues
given to distinguish the two: the sensations of externals are
more vivid, more coherent, they fill the scope of vision more
completely, are not so much subject to flux and, finally, are
susceptible to proof through touch, which seems to be the
sense hardest to. deceive. And that is why people pinch them•• See p. 4!U above; where this point is first mentioned.
81 "Si antem
(in somno) motus vaporum fuerit modicus, non solum imaginatio
remanet libera, sed etiam ipse sensus communis ex parte solvitur; ita quod homo
iudicat interdum · in dormiendo ea quae videt somnia esse, quasi diiudicans 'inter
res et rerum similitudines. Sed tamen ex aliqua parte remanet sensus communis
ligatus; et ideo licet aliquas similitudines discemat a rebus, tamen semper in
aliquibus decipitur." Swmma Theol., I, q. 84, a. 8, ad
•• In the text cited above, one could make " Btm8U8 communis " the subject of
the verbs " cliacernat" and " decipitur," and interpret the words to mean that
this sense is the judging power. On the other hand, "homo"
be the subject
of these verbs, as he is of the verb " iudicat," so that it is " homo " who discerns
and in some things is deceived, and this seems a preferable ii:tterpretation, since
in no place is the common sense assigned awareness of the content of imagination.
which it must have if it is to distinguish imaginings from sense realities.

SENSE CONSCIOUSNESS

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selves when something amazing is happening, to prove that
they are not dreaming. This higher sense is probably the
cogitative. 68
The second question asked above, namely, whether or not
the process of reverberation is reversible, so that the images
produced in the imagination normally excite the common sense,
and so reproduce themselves in the power through which they
originally reached the imagination, has already been answered
implicitly. Normally this would not happen, for it is contrary
both to the nature and to the purpose of sensation. It is contrary to the nature of sensation because the senses have their
own proper active principle, which is the external object outside
the psychic order towards which their passivity is naturally
ordered, 64 and as the external senses are made to be moved
by external objects, so the common sense is made to be moved
by the external senses, and not by the imagination. It is
against the purpose of sensation for, unless the common sense
normally operates directly and immediately and without interference upon the evidences of the external senses, the orientation
towards reality, which is the whole purpose of knowledge, is
necessarily distorted.
Normally, then, the imagination does not reverberate back
into the common sense. Whether, when violence has been done
to the sentient being, the sensitive organs can be so disturbed
as to allow a reversion of the normal development of sense
knowledge, remains a question. Amputees, for instance, report
feelings of pain from missing limbs. This may be interpreted
as meaning that something in the imagination is being reported
as if it were perceived by the common sense at a time when it
•• Cf. p. 456 below.
•• " Sed iste modus receptionis non facit vere sentire. Quia omnis potentia
passiva secundum suae speciei rationem determinatur ad aliquid activum speciale:
quia potentia, inquantum huiusmodi habet ordinem ad illud respectu cuius dicitur.
Unde, cum proprium activmn in sensu exteriori sit res existens extra animam,
et non intentio eius existens in imaginatione vel ratione; si organum sentiendi non
moveatur a rebus extra, sed ex imaginatione vel aliis superioribus viribus, non
erit vere sentiendi." Summa Theol., Suppl., q. 82, a. 8.

444

MICHAEL STOCK

could not originate in external sensation, and when the common
sense is itself in all other respects operating normally, that
is, is not bound by sleep, drugs, etc. On the other hand, the
source of the deception could be in the severed nerve which
normally reported sensations from the external sense to the
common sense, and, in this light, the deception would not be
proceeding from an interference on the part of the imagination.
This second explanation seems to accord better with the ideas
of St. Thomas. In discussing the manner in which imaginary
visions are caused by physical disturbances, he sees the cognitive
processes initiated by physical commotions in the external sense
organs, even though they are not apprehending their proper
objects, insofar as traces left in the external senses from previous
sense activity are excited by these commotions and passed on
to the internal organs where sensible images are aroused, as
if the common sense were moved as it is ordinarily moved
by a normal external sense apprehension. Some dreams are
caused in this way, and some hallucinations. 65
Again, the violence may be seated immediately in the internal
sensing organs, as in cases of mental disorders,. and here again
hallucinations are produced. Such a hallucination might come
from an intrusion of imaginary species into the common sense,
where they pass themselves off as realities after the mode of
apprehension proper to the common sense, or they may come
from an impeding of the operation of the common sense coupled
with a vehement and intense motion of the imagination, in such
a way that the cogitative power is deceived into taking fantasy
65 "Manifestum
est au tern quod apparitiones imaginariae causantur interdum in
nobis ex locali mutatione corporalium spirituum et humorum. Unde Aristoteles,
in libro De Somno, assignans causam apparitionis somniorum, dicit quod, ' cum
animal dormit, descendente plurimo sanguine ad principium sensitivum, simul
descendunt motus ' idest impressiones relictae ex sensibilium motionibus, quae
in spiritibus sensualibus conservantur, et ' movent principium sensitivum,' ita quod
fit quaedam apparitio, ac si tunc principium sensitivum a rebus ipsis exterioribus
mutaretur. Et tanta potest esse commotio spirituum et humorum, quod huiusmodi
apparitiones etiam vigilantibus fiunt: sicut patet in phreneticis, et in aliis huiusmodi."
Ibid., I, q. 111, a. 8.

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445

for fact. St. Thomas observes the fact that men can take
imaginations for realities and does not think it impossible that
this can come about through an actual invasion of the external
sense organs by phantasms. 66
It seems, therefore, that the normal process of sensation
develops in one direction only, from the external senses up to
the imagination. In abnormal cases, however, the process may
be reversed because of violence done to the sense organs.
So much then, for the present, for the concatenation of
present sensations and internal imagery-how the one affects
the other and how man keeps them distinguished. We must
also consider a similar concatenation of the other internal senses
with external apprehensions. For if we . change slightly the
example given above of a man walking into a scene concerning
which he has strong imaginative connections, and have him
instead walking into a scene from some earlier time in his own
life, for example, revisiting the place where his youth was
spent, we find an interaction of apprehension and memory
similar to that which obtains between apprehension and imagination. For some details will provoke and incite strong currents
of memory; others might distract him from the memorative
process. The question then which must be raised is this: how
does the memory interact with external sensations.
It was stated above that when the cogitative power has
apprehended an individual from and in the sensible data associated by the common sense, the individual becomes memorable,
that is, having been once apprehended, it can be recalled by
the memory as having been apprehended in the past. This is
in line with the statements which have been made about the
memory as the storehouse of the intentions apprehended by
66 " Deceptio· autem in nobis proprie fit secundum phantasiam,
per quam interdum
similitudinibus rerum inhaeremus sicut rebus ipsis, ut patet in dormientibus et
amentibus." Ibid., I, q. 54, a. 5, in contr. " ... si organum sentiendi non moveatur
a rebus extra, sed ex imaginatione vel aliis superioribus viribus, non erit vere
sentire .. Uncle non dicimus quod phrenetici et alii mente capti, in quibus propter
victoriam imaginativae virtutis fit huiusmodi defluxus specierum ad organa sentiendi,
vere sentiant, sed quia videtur eis quod sentiant." Ibid., Suppl., q.
a. 8.

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MICHAEL STOCK

the cogitative. 67 When, therefore, St. Thomas says that the
memory is rooted in the common sense,68 it seems that this
should be understood as the remote root of the memorative
act, while the proximate root is the act of the cogitative. Thus
the succession of apprehensions which is the basis for the apprehension of time is remotely the succession of common sense
apprehensions and proximately the succession of cogitative
perceptions. Therefore we do not say " I tasted sweet after I
tasted acid and before I tasted bitter," but " I ate my cereal
after I drank my grapefruit juice and before my coffee."
When, therefore, as in the example given above, a man walks
into places where he has been in the past, and his memory is
stirred by the things he presently apprehends, the psychological
dynamism at work is a movement from the external senses and
common sense through the cogitative to the memory. And
the difference between this activity and the activity which
is provoked when a man walks into unfamiliar surroundings is
that, while unfamiliar things striking the memory become memorable, familiar things striking it are recognized, that is, they
provoke an intentioned image, and the intention of the image
is as of an image already seen in the past. Again, comparing
the relation of memory to the external senses with the relation
of imagination to external senses, in the latter case the sensible
image apprehended externally itself actuates or moves the
imagination, while in the former case, the intention perceived
by the cogitative in the external sensations moves and informs
the memory.
The basic difference between these two effects of the externally apprehended sensations, namely, that they move the imagination to produce a simple sensible image while they move the
memory to an intentioned image lies in the two ways in which
an image can be taken. For example, an animal painted on a
canvas is both a painted animal and an image of a real animal;
•• Cf. p. 449.
•• " Similiter autem sensus communis est radix phantasiae et memoriae quae
praesupponunt actum sensus communis. De Memoria, § 89!9!.

SENSE CONSCIOUSNESS

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447

one thing, that is, which can be viewed from two aspects. So
an image in the senses can be taken simply in itself or as the
image of some real thing. In the first way, the image is a
product of the imagination, in the second way, it is considered
as something we have previously seen or heard or learned,
and this is the way in which it informs the memory .69
The question, therefore, which was raised concerning the
imagination and the external senses, namely, how man distinguishes the operations of the one from those of the other,
is not so acute in the case of the memory and the external
sensations, for in the first case the objects were essentially
the same, namely, simple sensible images, but in the second
case there is a fundamental difference in the objects, that is,
the difference between simple images and intentioned images.
This explanation, however, does not so much finally settle
the problems of the relation of the memory with the other
faculties as open the doors to new problems. For instance, as
St. Thomas points out, a man can forget something which in
fact happened to him, or can consider something that never
happened as if it happened to him, if he looks at images that
should refer him to the past as if they
simple images,
or on simple images as if they were affected by the intention
of pastness. 70 The investigation of this problem, however, must
wait, for, at this point, it is only the structure of consciousness
itself which is under question; the question of the nature of
its defects follows later. Another question which will be taken
up later in its proper place is the question of the direct interaction between memory and imagination, when a man remembers that he imagined. 71 A third problem, however, which might
be raised can be investigated at this point, and that is the
question of whether or not the memory depends in its proper
act on the proper act of the imagination. In the analysis above,
the operation of the imagination was not considered necessary
•• See de Memoria, lect. 8, §§ 840-841.
•• Cf. ibid., §§ 844-847.
01 Seep. 449.

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MICHAEL STOCK

for the formation of a memorable apprehension, nor for its
recollection. However, St. Thomas, in discussing the various
levels of animal sensitivity, says that the memory follows the
imagination, so that animals which have no imagination cannot
have memory either .72 The solution of this problem seems to
lie in the distinction which must be placed on the word " imagination." St. Thomas uses this word in two senses; in one sense
it means the power of imagination itself, as it is a separate
internal sense power, while in another sense it means the power
to form images, and so considered, is a power pertaining to
the three internal sense powers-imagination, memory and
cogitative. This distinction can be seen in places where St.
Thomas compares the memory with the imagination, when he
speaks of the soul remembering after the mode of images, but
not of simple images which are apprehended by the imaginative
power, but of images as of another thing previously known,
which is the object of memory/ 8 and is more explicitly evident
in places where he distinguishes the several internal senses.74'
In summary, then, it seems that the principal element in
the working of sense consciousness which has been isolated
in this investigation of subjective-objective consciousness is
the role of the cogitative in distinguishing the operations of
external sense and imagination; the other inter-sense dynamisms
mentioned do not seem to contribute much to self-consciousness
although they are important to know for a complete understanding of sense operations.
c. The interplay of the internal senses
The third and final point of view to be taken in this consideration of sense consciousness is that of the interplay of the
three higher sense power.s among themselves. This, as has been
said, can be called the subjective consideration, for in these
•• " Memoria enim sequitur phantasiam, quae est motus factus a sensu secundum
actum. . . . In quibusdam animalibus ex sensu non fit phantasia et sic in eis non
potest esse memoria." I Metaphys., lect. !!, § 10.
•• Cf. de Memoria, lect. 8, § 841.
•• Cf. ibid., lect. !!, § 8!!1.

SENSE CONSCIOUSNESS

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449

interactions the relation of the internal senses to the common
sense, through which they reach to external reality, is not being
considered, but rather their relations among themselves, and
especially as these relations contribute to self-consciousness in
the sense order. It is here also that we can approach the
question of total sense consciousness, that is, the question of
the power or powers to which can be attributed the knowing
of all sense activity in a unity.
Here, then, are questions not so much of the objects of
sense activity as of the acts themselves, that is, of the acts
taken as objects. For the memory stores not only the intentions
perceived and combined by the cogitative power in regard to
external objects, but also the fact of the cogitative's activity;
since we can remember how often and when we perceived such
and such an individual. In the same way, we can remember
that we imagined, and so the operation of imagination is an
object for the memory, and finally, and most curious of all,
when we consider the limitations of a sense power, we can
remember that we remembered.
Likewise the cogitative can operate upon the acts of the
memory and of the imagination, for it is a part of our experiential knowledge, upon which we rely in practical actions, that
we imagine and remember, and, indeed, that we cogitate. Going
back and forth, therefore, among the activities of the internal
senses, we find them immensely ramified among themselves and
reflecting on the activity of one another, and while we must
admit that all this is a matter of consciousness, it is not so
easy to determine how much each of the different powers
contributes to the totality of the general sense awareness of
sensitive activity.
To take up these several points, one by one, beginning with
the interrelationship of the imagination and the memory, it
is evident that we can remember that we have imagined as
well as we can remember that we have seen or heard this or
that external object. We must therefore admit that a connection exists between the memory and the imagination similar

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MICHAEL STOCK

to that between the memory and the common sense, so that
the operations of the former are as much subject to recollection
and assignation to time past as those of the latter. Thus the
activity of the imagination must be subject to being perceived
by the cogitative as an individual activity, and, once so perceived, the memory can store and recall the imaginative operation. Hence there is a manifestly self-conscious activity on the
part of the cogitative 'and the memory upon the acts of the
imagination.
Besides this connection of consciousness, there seems to be
also a connection between imagination and cogitative and
memory similar to that between common sense and themselves,
namely, that an act in one is capable of provoking an act in
another. This does not involve consciousness, strictly speaking,
for the act of the one need not be known as such by the
other-nothing more seems to be involved than simple excitation of one power to act by the act of another power. Such
an interaction indicates a certain affinity between the three
higher internal powers, which, on consideration, seems to follow
from that one characteristic they have in common, which is
the use of the expressed species or image as terms of their
acts. While the external senses cannot act except in the presence
of their object, and the common sense cannot act except upon
the actual sensations of the external senses, the three higher
internal senses necessarily act without contact with the external
object, terminating their cognitive operation in an image which
they themselves produce. This image, of course, is the expressed
species, in which and through which the object is grasped.
These internal senses, therefore, are freed from one of the
limitations imposed upon the external senses and the common
sense, and, in virtue of their freedom, can be actuated it seems,
not only from external sensible reality but also by internal
and subjective stimulations from each other.
Thus a series of day-dreaming imagery can be aroused from
a recollection, and an item in a day-dream can lead to a recollection, or cogitations can be the cause or effect of imaginings,

SENSE CONSCIOUSNESS

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451

The three internal powers seem able to pass an image around
once it is evoked in one of them, with each of them performing
its proper function in regard to it. 75
Thus the cogitative and the memory are related to the
imagination, both as being conscious of its acts and as being
influenced by its acts. They are, however, even more closely
related to each other. As St. Thomas says: "But in men that
which comes close upon memory, as will be said below, is
experience .... Experience is from the collection of many singulars received in memory. This kind of collection, however, is
proper to man, and pertains to the cogitative power, which
is called particular :reason; which is collative of individual intentions as universal reason is of universal intentions." 76 The
dynamism involved here is the one which has been mentioned
several times before, namely, that the cogitative supplies the
memory with the material for its operations, for the memory
is like a storehouse of individual intentions. But, besides this
contribution of the cogitative to the memory, there must be
involved a reverse contribution of the memory to the cogitative,
for there could be no collecting of individual intentions and no
experience if earlier intentions conserved in the memory were
not turned back to the cogitative to be aggregated with the
75 Cf. de Verit., q. 13, a. 3, ad 4. Here St. Thomas, speaking about the manner
in which purely spiritual visions can be remembered in the sense memory, explains
that the intelligible species in which the vision is formed can assume to themselves
sensible species, that is, particular forms and intentions, either in the memory
or in the imagination, and by their instrumentality, be conserved in the sensible
memory. There is involved, then, a simple interdependence of memory and imagination, apart from their mutual dependence on the external senses. In another
context, he states even more explicitly that an image can proceed from the
memory to the imagination: "Visio vero corporalis non procedit tan tum a specie
exterioris corporis, sed simul cum hoc a sensu videntis; et similiter visio imaginaria
non solum procedit a specie quae in memoria conservatur, sed etiam a virtute
imaginativa."
Here the species conserved in the memory has the same effect
in causing a sensation that the appearance of an external body has on the external
senses. " Similiter etiam in visione imaginaria invenitur primo species in memoria
reservata; secundo ipsa imaginaria visio, quae provenit ex hoc quod acies animae,
idest ipsa vis imaginaria, informatur secundum praedictam speciem." Summa
Theol., I, q. 98, a. 6, ad 4.
70 1 Metaphys., Iect. l, § 15.

MICHAEL STOCK

new perceptions. For the building up of experience is not a
simple accretion of perceptions, but an operation on the part
of the cogitative by which it perceives a kind of unity among
many instances, and for such an act, the whole of the past
must be joined with the experiences of the present, in a present
operation.
Similarly, the process of reminiscence depends on the mutual
interaction of the cogitative and memory, 77 for reminiscence
is an operation which begins with something remembered and
proceeds by way of inquiry from this as a principle to some
other point which was temporarily forgotten. So reminiscence
arises from memory and terminates in memory, and, proceeding
by particular reasoning, can pinpoint its path by intermediate
memories. Hence in reminiscence there is a continual interplay
of the memory and the cogitative. 78
Hence the functioning of the memory as the storehouse for
the cogitative differs from the functioning of the imagination as
the storehouse for common sense, for in the former case the
objects stored are returned to the faculty storing them, but in
the latter case this is not so. And in this difference, it would
seem, we can find the solution to the problem of how these
sense powers know their own acts.
The precise problem at issue is to explain how a sense power
knows its own act, since, in the psychology of St. Thomas, a
sense power cannot reflect on its own act. Taking up the
case of how man can remember that he remembers, we could
first offer the solution that a remembrance of remembering is
accomplished in the intellect, which, as will be seen, reflects
upon all the activities of the senses. And this is indeed true,
for a part of what anyone might mean when he says that he
remembers that he remembers would generally stem from an
intellectual awareness of sense activity. But if this were all
77 " Anima in corpore non potest . . . reminisci nisi per virtutem
cogitativam et
memorativam, per quam phantasma praeparantur."
II Cont. Gent., c. 81, a
little after the middle .
.. Cf. de Memoria, lect. 4, §§ 856-857, 860-862, 864.

SENSE CONSCIOUSNESS

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that were meant, the act of remembering would not be taken
in its strict and proper sense, for such a sense pertains to the
act of the sensitive memory .79 And this does not seem to be
exactly what is meant when a man says that he remembers
that he remembered, for those words seem to signify an act
which is strictly in the sense order. If you are asked: Did you
remember to speak to X, the affirmative answer would seem
to refer to a sensible action of recollection. Further evidence
of the fact that this act of recollection is formally in the sense
order seems offered from animal behavior, for in learning a
process involving a series of choices, an animal must reject
and select alternatives which it learned previously to reject and
select. This seems to involve remembering that it remembered
before.
To place the problem now more accurately: how can we
explain that the memory remembers its own act, since it cannot
be stimulated by its own act of remembering when it has the
act. The solution seems to lie in the peculiar relationship
mentioned above existing between the memory and the cogitative power, whereby the acts of one another are referred back
and forth. In this mutual reflection, the memory first receives
and stores the intentions perceived by the cogitative, and later
delivers them up, as part of experience, to a new cogitative act,
in which the items remembered are combined with new present
perceptions. Now when this new act of combination is completed and relegated to the memory, the object remembered
would be a complex of past perceptions and newly completed
perceptions, all in a unity, but with the note that the past
perceptions were delivered up to the cogitative to be combined
with the newer ones. That is to say, in the complex now
referred to memory, some of the elements are known as having
been recently perceived, some as more remotely perceived. For
it is evident that we can discern in any area of experience, the
different times at which the different elements were apprehended. But thus the memory is perceiving certain perceptions
•• Cf. de Verit., q. 10, a. 2: "Whether there is memory in the mind."

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MICHAEL STOCK

as having been of the past, and, since its own act is to know
a past apprehension as past, it is perceiving its own act, or
remembering that it remembered. In a similar way, the cogitative power can perceive its own acts of perceivin3 individual
intentions, not by means of the acts themselves, but insofar as
its previous acts stored in the memory are proferred as such,
namely, as so many acts of perceiving singular intentions. So
it seems that the senses can attain, by mutual cooperation, to
a somewhat complete consciousness in their own order, similar,
salvatis salvandis, to the consciousness the intellect can accomplish by itself.
d. Conclusion
Thus the psychology of St. Thomas concludes to a kind of
reverbation of sensible images from the external senses to the
sense memory and cogitative power, and a somewhat complex
interaction of the same images among the powers.

i. Summary of sense interplay
Briefly summing up the several kinds of interactions, we
find:
The external senses move the common sense by simple reverberation 80 and in consequence of this, the co:mmon sense
knows the acts and objects of the external senses, since its
whole cognitive value is focused upon them. So we say that
the common sense has cognitive reflection on the external
senses. At the same time, the common sense, as moved to act
by the external senses, in turn moves the imagination, by a
reverberation which is described as a storing of images. The
imagination, then, reflects on the external senses by what may
be called an operative .reflection, that is, the imagination depends for its act on the act of the external senses, and knows
•• We do not wish to leave this term entirely vague, so that it is more obscuring
than clarifying. As used here, it means the causality exercised by a sensible image
in one power in regard to exciting another power to act. The act of the other
power is similar to the act of the first power, following the principle that every
agent works for its own similitude, but
from it in accordance with the
principle that whatever is received is received according to the mode of the receiver.

SENSE CONSCIOUSNESS

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455

the objects that they know, but does not know them precisely
as they are objects of the external senses, nor does it know
the act of the external senses. Finally, there normally is no
reverberation of image from imagination to common sense. This
could be expressed in graphic form thus. 81

EXTERNAL
SENSES

COG!iA'I'IIIE

--At the same time the external-common sense combination
reverberates to the cogitative, and so the cogitative has an
operatively reflexive act on these senses, and the imagination
also reverberates to the cogitative, so that we have another
operative :reflection from cogitative to imagination. Then, since
the reverberations from imagination differ in mode from those
from the common sense combine, the cogitative can distinguish
the objects and acts of the one from those of the other, that
is to say, it has cognitive reflection in their .regard, thus:

COGITAT!IIE

01

ME MOllY

indicates reverberation;

c====>

indicates cognitive reflection;

;-------.!->

indicates operative reflection.

456

MICHAEL STOCK

Finally, the cogitative reverberates into the memory, where
its perceptions are stored, and gives rise to operative reflection
of memory on cogitative. Since, however, the memory returns
its contents to the cogitative, there is a reverse process of
reverberation and operative reflection. On the strength, moreover, of this reciprocity, the cogitative is enabled to know the
memory's acts as such, because they come to it under their
own peculiar modality, and the memory the operations of
the cogitative, so that their is mutual cognitive reflection.
Finally, as a consequence of this cognitive reflection, these
two sense powers achieve an indirect cognitive reflection upon
their own acts and objects, as was explained above. Thus:

EXTERNAL
SENSES
IMAGINATION

The fact which emerges prominently from this conclusion
is the pre-eminence of the cogitative in man's sensitive life
in general, and in his sensitive consciousness in particular. It
is the only sense power which has cognitive reflection on all
of the other powers directly, and on its own act indirectly;
the only power, then, which can effectively serve as the center
and source of the general awareness of sensation in all its
manifestations, and provide, at the same time, the unitive
factor which evidently obtains in sense life. When we consider,
then, the operations of the cogitative, along the several somewhat complicated lines detailed above, we can begin to see how
the total and all-embracing awareness of sensation is built up,
even though the several elements that enter into the total are
apprehended or perceived initially by distinct sense powers, each
operating in its own separate organ and focused on its own
proper object. External reality, our own apprehensions thereof,
perceptions of the past, experiential appreciations, concomitant
imaginings are all coordinated and integrated into a complete

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457

representation of the sense world as it is and as it is sensibly
known under the master influence of the cogitative. 82 It remains
now to consider the mode of this consciousness.
ii. The mode of causality in the interplay of the
senses
Given, then, the fact of a general sense awareness of sensitive
activity among the internal senses, the question arises as to
the nature of the causality which underlies these interactions.
There seem to be two possibilities. The first is that in which
the activity and the object of one sense should serve as the
object of another sense, just as the sensible qualities of external
reality serve as the objects of the external senses. The other
is that the activity of one power provokes or stimulates the
activity of the other power, after the manner in which any
agent educes an effect in a patient. A third explanation, namely,
that a sense power could be aware of its own activity has been
excluded by St. Thomas, when he says that " it is impossible
that any power using a corporeal organ should reflect on its
own act, because it is necessary that the instrument by which
it knows itself should fall as medium between the power itself
and the instrument by which it knew properly." 83 That is to
say, if a power is to know its own act, it cannot be informed by
its own act after the manner in which matter is informed by a
form, for there is no medium in such a union. To know its
own act, a power must be informed by the act, and united
to the act, in such a way that its own act informs it immaterially, as an object of cognition, and such an information
is only possible if the power is entitatively immaterial.
82
There are, of course, other elements in sense activity to account for. and
principally the awareness of the self or the sensing subject, and the awareness of
affective activity. Of these, something will be said later.
•• Ill Sent., d. !i!3, q. 1, a. !i!, ad 8. Again, as he points out in regard to the
impossibility of a proper sense knowing its own act, " it is not possible that any
material thing should transmute itself; but one is transmuted by another." "Non
est autem possible quod aliquid materiale immutet seipsum; sed unum immutatur
ab alio." Summa Theol., I, q. 87, a. 3, ad 3.

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MICHAEL STOCK

Neither does St. Thomas hold that the internal sense powers
know the activity of the external senses, and their own activities, as external objective realities proferred for their inspection. He reserves this type. of cognition for the activities of
the external senses on their objects and of the intellect on the
object presented by the internal senses-wherever, that is,
there is a bridge over distinct orders, namely, the orders of
external reality and sensation and the orders of sensation and
intellection, between which there is need of a " light," either
physical light or the light of the active intellect, to immaterialize
the object up to the grade of immateriality of the cognitive
power. But within the order of sensation itself, he does not
hold for this type of contact. 84 What he holds for is rather
a kind of interaction in which one power, by virtue of its own
activity, stimulates or moves another power to its proper
activity, and so, by a series of reverberations, the objects
sensed by the external senses are grasped in all their complexity
by the mutually interactiong play of all the internal senses.
Thus he says: " One power using a corporeal organ can know
the act of another power insofar as the impression of the lower
power redounds into the higher, as we know that sight sees
by the common sense." 85 So, as a match can light a piece
of wood and the wood can light a piece of paper, and each one
burning burns in accordance with. its own nature, so the initial
sense impression stimulates a succession of impressions in the
•• " Intellectus autem possibilis recipit species alterius generis quam sint in
imaginatione; cum intellectus possibilis recipiat species universales, et imaginatio
non contineat nisi particulares. Et ideo in intelligibilibus indigemus intellectu
agente, non autem in sensibilibus alia potentia activa." Q. D. de Anima, a. 4,
ad 5. Whenever St. Thomas speaks positively of thiS kind of cognitive reflection,
he mentions only those two cases. " Nulla potentia potest, aliquid cognoscere
non convertendo se ad obiectum suum ut visus nihil cognoscit nisi convertendo
se ad colorem. Unde, cum phantasma se habeant hoc modo ad intellectum possibilem, sicut sensibilia ad seusum ... numquam (intellectus) actu aliquid considerat
... nisi convertendo se ad phantasmata." De Verit., q. 10, a. 2, ad 7. Cf. II Cont.
Gent., c. 67: "Phantasmata movent intellectum possibilem sicut sensibilia sensum."
Also in Boet. de Trin., q. 6, a. 2.
•• Ill Sent., d. 28, q. 1, a. 2, ad 8.

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459

diff<!rent organs of the internal senses, and each knows the
object according to its own manner, although the cogitative,
as holding the last and highest position, knows the object in
all the formalities of the other senses as well.
This activity of stimulation of sense power by sense act is
not evident to introspection. All that we know from introspection is the effect of the activity, for example, that we do
remember what we have seen or heard, and can imagine on the
bases of what was sensed externally, and so on. If we seek
any deeper understanding of the facts, in the order of finality,
we can see plainly enough that the perfection of sense knowledge demands the intercooperation of many different powers,
given the limitations of each single power, and that, with the
intention of an adequate sense apparatus in mind, nature and
nature's Author so constructed the sentient being that its various powers harmoJ;liously contribute to the total activity. The
evidence of this construction can be observed in an animal body,
wherein the radication of all the sense powers in the one soul
informing the body and giving it its nature is reflected in
the corporeal order by an organic continuity. All the sense
organs, even those in extreme parts of the body, are interconnected with a network of nerves which permits not only
cooperation of the parts one with the other but unified subordination of all to some one principle.
The nature of the stimulation among sense organs is still not
fully known, beyond the fact that it involves chemical or
physical or electrical changes, or a combination of them, in the
physiological (nervous) order. Whatever is its precise nature,
it certainly Involves a material change, but a material· change
which arises on the occasion of a psychic activity and leads to
another psychic activity. Beyond this, it seems necessary to
say also that there is a different kind of stimulation for each
of the different interconnections. The fact that the memory
in recognition is comparing a present sensation to a past sensation, but in recollection is comparing a present image with
a past sensation, and that we can distinguish these two activi-

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MICHAEL STOCK

ties of recognition and recollection, indicates that the memory
is aware of the distinction of what comes from imagination and
what comes from sensation, and this can only be true if there
are differences in the stimulations which come from imagination
and sensation. And so in general, a diversity of kinds of stimulation must be posited to account for the recognition on the
part of one sensing power of the differences in its objects as
they come from one or another of the other powers whose
activity it knows, for a different effect is proportioned to a
difference in act and agent.

B. Consciousness of sensible affective activity
Before investigating the nature of sensitive consciousness of
the sensing subject, it seems useful to examine the nature of
the consciousness of affective activity, for such activity, being
a matter of subjective states, contributes something to the
consciousness of the sensing subject.
1. The nature of the appetites

Appetite, according to St. Thomas, is an " inclination of a
thing, and an order to some thing suitable to itself." 86 It is
found at three levels: natural appetite which is the intrinsic
inclination of anything to be what it is; elicited -sensitive
appetite which is the inclination towards a sensible good as
it is perceived; elicited intellectual appetite, or will, which is
the inclination towards a good perceived by reason. 87 Everything that is has an appetite following it, whether ·it exists
in the real order or the intentional order, insofar as it is good,
for an appetite is the response to the good.88 The question
being raised here involves the elicited sense appetites, or the
appetites aroused by the perception of a sensible good, which
appetite is also called passion, in the strictest sense of that
and also sensuality/ 0 although often the name of
•• Ibid.
•• De V erit., q. !M, a. 1.
8 ° Cf. ibid., 1-11, q. !!!!, a. 1.
•• Cf. Summa Tkeol., I, q. SO, a. 1.
•• "Sensualitas nihil aliud esse videtur quam vis appetitiva sensitivae partis."
De Verit., q. !M, a. 1.

SENSE CONSCIOUSNESS

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sensuality is reserved for the sense appetite insofar as it is
unresponsive to rational control, while the responsive activity
of the sense appetite is said to belong to the concupiscible and
irascible parts. 91 This distinction of concupiscible and irascible
is the first distinction St. Thomas places in the sense appetites.
The concupiscible is the power by which the soul inclines simply
and directly towards what is suitable and away froni what is
harmful, according to the apprehension of the senses. The
irascible is the power by which the soul inclines towards what
is both suitable and dangerous or difficult, and away from what
is both harmful and difficult. 92 These two sets of powers work
together, for the irascible rises from and terminates in the
concupiscible, and operates to defend the sensing subject in
its seeking for what is suitable and avoiding what is harmful. 98
The root passion of all the passions is love, which is a movement
of the concupiscible power, a simple complacency in a suitable
object, regardless of whether it is present or not, or a proneness
of the soul to seek and hold such an object when the chance
arises, like a stored up mass of psychic energy in favor of the
object. So man can be said to love food, for he has a consistent
complacency in food as something good for him. Desire arises
from love when the object loved is presented as here and now
attainable. Pleasure or joy follow when the object desired is
attained. So these three passions act together as the principle
of movement, the movement itself and the term of movement in
respect to an pbject apprehended simply as good. Their contraries are hate, aversion and sorrow. Hate falls on the things
which are opposed to those which are loved. Aversion is aroused
from hate, when the object hated is presented as here and now
imminent. Sorrow follows when that to which man is averse
actually happens to him. 94 In every case, the passion, or
appetitive movement, is aroused by knowledge and is a natural
81 Cf. ibid., a. 4.
•• Summa Theol., I, q. 81, a. 2.
18 Ibid.; also de V erit., q.
a. 2.
•• Cf. Summa Theol., I-ll, q. 21, a. 2.

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STOCK

prelude to action, like a tension in a spring which is caused
by pressure and causes and is released by the action of
uncoiling. 95
The irascible appetites are aroused by the apprehension of
some good which is difficult to obtain, or some evil which is
difficult to avoid, for, as can be observed, difficulty in the path
of appetite does not quiet it, but rather provokes a new activity,
and, indeed, activity of a different and higher order. A good
that is hard to obtain is seen as a kind of challenge; the passion
of hope responds to the challenge. An evil that is hard to
avoid induces fear even before it is inflicted. A good that is
impossible to obtain is not relinquished simply with sorrow,
but with the added pain of despair; an evil which is impossible
to avoid may be met with audacity; an evil presently inflicted
may cause, not sorrow but anger. So the irascible appetites
act, not as simple reactions to sensible good and evil, but as
complex reactions that overturn the course of sensible reaction
that might ordinarily be expected.()£ These eleven kinds of sense
appetite (which are eleven generic classes of appetite, each
divided into several species) complete St. Thomas' appraisal
of affective sense activity. The question here to be raised and
answered is: are we aware of these, as part of the content of
consciousness, and, if so, how.
2. How man is aware of affective movements

The fact that man has passions is a fact which " anyone
can experience in himself " 91 by arousing or soothing his feelings
at wilL The many treatises written on the subject of passion,
emotion, feeling, etc., are evidence enough that they a:re common matters of experience, and would seem to afford a basis for
believing that the manner in which we are conscious of them
is equally evident. This, however, does not seem to be the case.
Evident they are, but how they are evident is not so clear. It
•• Cf. de Verit., q. 9!6, a. 8.
•• Cf. Summa Theol., I-II, q. 9!8, a. L
'·01 Ibid., I, q. 81, a. 8.

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would seem, for instance, that the passions which are aroused
by perceptions on the part of the internal senses should themselves be perceived somehow by the internal senses, but there
is nothing in the writings of St. Thomas to lead one to believe
that he held this opinion.

a. The generation of the appetites
i. The cogitative is the crux of the cognitive

preamble to appetite
To investigate the problem from the beginning, it is necessary
to turn aside for a moment to a consideration of the mode of
generation of the passions or appetites. The general teaching
of St. Thomas is that the elicited appetites cannot act except
upon an object which is first apprehended or perceived by some
cognitive power. The critical cognitive power in the case of
the sense appetites is the cogitative or estimative power, for
without its intervention, no sense appetite moves. He says:
Sensible apprehension causes no movement at all unless it is apprehended under the aspect of suitable or unsuitable .... Moreover,
the power apprehending such aspects of suitable and unsuitable
seems to be the estimative power, through which the lamb flees
the wolf and follows its mother; which (power) has the same
relation to the appetite of the sensible part as has the practical
intellect to the appetite of will; whence properly speaking sensuality
begins at the confines of the estimative and the appetite following
it, so that sensuality has thus the same relation to the sensitive
part as the will and free judgment to the intellective part. This
suitable thing which moves the sensuality, or the aspect of its
suitability, is either apprehended by sense as are the delightful
things for each of the senses, which animals pursue, or is not apprehended by the senses, as the sheep perceives the hostility of the
wolf neither by sight nor by hearing, but only by an estimation.
And therefore the movement of sensuality tends towards two
things: towards those things which are delightful for the external
senses, and this is expressed by saying that the movement which
bears upon the senses of body is from sensuality, or towards those
•• ll Sent., d. 'i!4, q. 'i!, a. l.

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STOCK

things which are known as harmful or suitable to the body only
by estimation, and thus the appetite for things pertaining to the
body is said to be from sensuality. 98
It is evident that, in writing this, St. Thomas would not
allow for an appetite to be motivated as a simple and spontaneous response to a simple apprehension, but demanded in all
cases a quasi-judgment of the sort which could be proferred,
on the sense level, only by the estimative or cogitative powers.
For the act of the estimative is to produce quasi-conclusions
such as: this thing is good, this thing is bad. 99 This quasijudgment is the proper act of knowledge which precedes an
appetitive movement, and reasonably so, for the goodness or
badness of an object is not part of the object of simple apprehension, but rather like a predicate to be attached by the
knowing power to the thing apprehended. So St. Thomas adds,
in the same context, to clarify the inter-relationship of the
several cognitive powers whose activity precedes appetitive
movement, that the simple imagination and the preceding
powers, that is, the external senses, have more remote roles in
the cognitive preamble to appetition, similar to the role of the
speculative intellect in moving the will, while the estimative
power is a proximate mover, like practical reason in regard to
free judgment. 100
Therefore every appetitive movement in the internal sensitive order waits for the act of the cogitative to give it its proper
and proximate object. Nevertheless, this object is sometimes
proferred as originating in the act of the estimative itself and
sometimes as originating in the external senses, that is to say,
sometimes an object is estimated to be good or bad on the
basis of evidence not perceived by the external senses, and
sometimes on the precise basis of external sense evidence. Now
•• These are called quasi-conclusions since they are not effected by a rational
process but by a sensitive act. They lack therefore the strict sense of a conclusion
drawn from principles, but are similar to conclusions in that they involve, in a
sense, a composition or division of snb;ect and predicate.
100 Ibid., ad !i!.

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this external sense evidence is nothing other than pleasure and
pain, which are the primary responses of a sentient being to the
suitability or unsuitability of an external object. To analyze,
then, more deeply the generation of appetites, we must first
investigate St. Thomas' notion of pain and pleasure, what they
are in themselves and how they cooperate in the genesis of
appetitive movements.
u. The nature of pleasure and patn, and their
apprehension by touch
Pain involves two things: an injury and an experimental
sense of the injury. 101 By analogy, pleasure involves two things:
a sensible well-being and an experimental perception of that
well-being. 102 The injury or well-being is principally in the
body, but the experimental perception pertains only to the
sense of touch. 103 Therefore pain and pleasure are listed among
the objects of the sense of touch, along with hardness and softness, heat and cold, etc. Yet there is a radical difference which
should not be overlooked between pain and pleasure on the one
hand and the other objects mentioned on the other, in that
pain and pleasure are affects of the sensing subject itself while
the other objects are qualities of other bodies. For knowledge
is the having of the form of another as of the other-it is an
apprehension of the qualities of an object. Thus when we feel
hardness or heat, it is the hardness and heat as the qualities
of something external to ourselves, or objective to the knowing
power. But pain and pleasure are not qualities of an object,
but rather states of a subject in reaction to the sensible good
101
" Sunt enim duo in dolore: scilicet laesio et laesionis experimentalis perceptio."
De Verit., q. 26, a. 9. Note also that St. Thomas uses the expression "experimental perception " to indicate knowledge of an object which is had more by
immediate contact with the object than by contact through an image. Cf. Summa
Theol., I, q. 54, a. 5, in cont; de Malo, q. 16, a. 1, ad 2. Pain is something with
which we have immediate contact.
102 Summa Theol., I-II, q. 35, a. 1.
108
" Laesio
quidem principaliter est in corpore. . . . Experimentalis autem
perceptio laesionis ad solum sensus tactus pertinet." De Verit., q.
a. 9; also 5.

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MICHAEL STOCK

or bad. When we feel pain, it is our own pain we feel. And
if it should be objected that we can, for example, feel the heat
of our own bodies, it can be answered that we feel it as an
objective quality of our body, while, when we feel pain, we
do not gain knowledge of an objective quality but of a subjective condition or state. Anyone else, for instance, can feel the
heat of our body, but no one else can feel our pain. So when
man feels pain and pleasure, he learns about his own affective
reactions to objects, and indirectly he learns something of the
objects themselves.
Pain and pleasure, then, are apprehended by touch, but they
also follow upon touch. 104 At first glance, it would seem that
pain and pleasure are therefore elicited affects, following upon
the knowledge of touch apprehensions. This, however, does
not seem to be St. Thomas' mind, for elsewhere he says explicitly that pleasure arises upon contact with the sensible good,
in the sense of real contact Qf thing on thing, without the intervention of a cognitive act. 105 It would seem to follow, then, that
pain and pleasure follow upon touch in the sense that, by
contact with the pleasurable or painful thing, it is also apprehended in its tangible qualities, but not in the sense that the
touch apprehension is a cognitive prerequisite for the generation of pain or pleasure. The pain and pleasure arise from the
contact insofar as the object has a mixture of qualities agreeably
proportioned to the sensing subject or not; any excessive degree
of a quality causing injury and hence pain. 106
So pain and pleasure, in the ordinary acceptation of the
104 " Laetitia
enim et tristitia magis videntur sequi apprehensionem interiorem.
Sed delectatio et dolor consequuntur apprehensionem sensus, et praecipue sensus
tactus." 11 de Anima, lect. 5, § 289.
106 " ••• nam delectatio sensibilis habet ex parte corporis coniunctionem
con·
venientis, ex parte vero animae sensum illius convenientiae . . . et sic delectatio
utrobique incipit a coniunctione reali, et perficitur in eius apprehensione. Gaudium
vero incipit in apprehensione et terminatur in affectu; . . ." De Verit., q. 26,
a. 4, ad 5.
108 " Et ideo excellentiae sensibilium, et maxime tangibilium, dolorem sensibilem
inferunt; .contemperationes autem eorum delectant propter convenientiam ad
sensum." Q. D. de Anima, a. 21.

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terms, are reactions to sensible good and evil which begin in
bodily injury or well-being and terminate in the apprehension
of the sense of touch. In this sense, pain and pleasure are
called bodily passions. 107
iii. The origin of passions from pleasure and pain
There is another sense of the words pleasure and pain, however, in which they are taken not as bodily passions but as
passions of the soul,108 and in this sense they are usually,
although not always, called sorrow and joy. This sorrow and
joy is consequent, not on simple exterior contacts with sensible
goods and evils, but on perceptions of the internal senses of
something convenient to or contrary to a sense desire, such as
the natural desires of self-preservation and generation. 109 They
are similar, therefore, to bodily passions in that they begin with
external sensibles, but differ in that they arise upon internal
sense perceptions of these sensibles, and terminate not in touch
but in some higher and inner reaction. 110
St. Thomas investigates in more detail the relationships
between the bodily passions of pain and pleasure, and the
internal reactions of sorrow and joy, saying that "when the
sense senses something pleasant or sorrowful, as if affirming
and denying that which is perceived by the senses to be pleasant
or sorrowful, then it follows through with an appetite, that is,
it desires or turns away." 111 He seems here to be speaking of
10 • " Sed dolor est secundum passionem corporalem.
Unde Augustinus dicit . . .
quod dolor usutatius in corporibus dicitur; et ideo incipit a laesione corporis, et
terminatur in apprehensione sensus tactus, propter quod dolor sensus est in sensu
tactus ut in apprehendente." De Verit., q. 26, a. 8, ad 9.
108 Here passion of the soul means not simply of the rational part but also, and
more properly, of the internal sensitive part.
100 " Sed secunda passio non infert poenam secundum dolorem sensibilem, sed
secundum tristitiam quae oritur in homine vel in animali ex hoc quod aliquid
interiori aliqua vi apprehenditur ut repugnans voluntati, vel cuicumque appetitui.
Unde ea quae sunt contraria voluntati et appetitui affiigunt, et magis interdum
quam ea quae sunt dolorosa secundum sensum .... " Q. D. de Anima, a. 21.
11 ° Cf. Summa Theol., ,I-II, q. 85, a. 2.
111 Ill de Anima, lect. 12, § 767.

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MICHAEL STOCK

sense in a global fashion, not distinguishing the external from
the internal senses. For instance, in using the words" delectari
et tristari," he indicates that he is speaking of the passions of
the soul, which follow on the perceptions of the internal senses,
for, while "dolor" and "delectatio" are words used for either
internal or external affections, " tristitia " is not used for the
external or bodily passion. 112 However, he immediately adds,
by way of explanation, that this joy and sorrow is consequent
on the act of the common sense, that is, that the perception
of the common sense is involved in the generation of this sorrow
and joy. But since the common sense knows only the acts
and operations of the external senses, this whole process under
discussion must be one which has its origin externally. 118
The total complex of operations, therefore, which begins
with the apprehension of the external senses and ends with
the movement of the internal sense appetite, seems to proceed
thus: the object is apprehended in its sensible qualities, and
the sense of touch, which apprehends the qualities most useful
to the animal, apprehends also the senses of pain and pleasure
allied to contact with the suitable or injurious. The common
sense perceives all of these operations of the external senses,
whether cognitive or appetitive. Then (and whether or not
there are mediating acts on the part of the other internal senses
he does not state here) arise the movements of joy and sorrow
in the animal part of the soul and from these follow desire or
aversion. " It is apparent therefore that the sensible movement
in the sense proceeds on a threefold level. For first it appre112 C£. Summa Theol., I-II, q. 85, a. !i!; also s and ad s.
Cf. II de Anima,
lect. 5, § 289.
111 " Et ut sciatur
quid sit delectari et tristari, subiungit quod delectari et
tristari, est agere sensitiva medietate, idest actio quaedam sensitivae virtutis,
quae dicitur medietas, inquantum sensus communis comparatur ad sensus proprios
ut quoddam medium. . . . Non autem omnis actio sensitivae partis est delectari
et tristari, sed quae est respectu boni et mali inquantum huiusmodi. Nam bonum
sensus, scilicet, quod est ei conveniens, causat delectationem; malum autem quod
est repugnans et nocivum, causat tristitiam. Et ex hoc quod est tristari vel
delectari, sequuntur fuga et appetitus, id est, desiderium, quae sunt secundum
actum." III de Anima, lect. U, § 768.

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hends the sensible itself as suitable or harmful." 114 In saying
that it apprehends the " sensible itself as suitable or harmful,"
and not simply " the sensible good or evil," he indicates that
this apprehension is already both cognitive and affective, that
is, of the qualities themselves and of their effect on the sensing
body. He then concludes: "Secondly, delight
sorrow
follow from this. Thirdly, however, follow desire or aversion." 115
The same fact, namely, that the interior passions arise from
pain and_ pleasure apprehended by the sense of touch is also
stated by St. Thomas, by way of example, when he says that
the·" object ... of the sensible appetites is ' this thing' insofar
as it is suitable or pleasant: as water insofar as it is suitable
to taste." 116 And so whenever a desire is aroused internally by
contact with a sensible good, it would seem that this order of
genesis is to be observed: external apprehension, exterior
pleasure or pain, internal perception by the common sense,
internal delight and then desire. 117
... Ibid., § 769.
m Ibid.
116 " Unde datur intelligi quod obiectum . . . appetitus sensibilis est haec res
in quantum est conveniens vel delectabilis: sicut aqua, in quantum est conveniens
gustui." De Verit., q. 25, a. 1. Nor should it be judged that St. Thomas is
bringing in another sense power, namely, taste, to account for the primary affective
movement in the external senses, for he holds that touch and· taste are so close in
nature and function as to overlap in certain acts. Cf. II de Anima, lect. 5, §§ 290-91;
lect. 21, § 502. Evidently, in this case, where he uses water as an example, he
is thinking of taste as touch, for water has no taste strictly speaking, and the
desire for water involves its wetness and coolness, whicll aspects pertain precisely
to touch.
111 It was stated in the section preceding this one that there are no appetites
aroused without the intervention of the cogitative: it seems, however, that in
these texts and in otllers (cf. Summa Theol., I, q. 78, a. 4; II de Anima, lect. 5,
§ 289), St. Thomas describes a basic structure of appetite generation, constituting
in itself a complete psycllological dynamism, without that intervention. The
apparent contradiction is not too difficult to solve. St. Thomas posits in lower
animals, in whicll the psychological processes develop in their most primitive
forms, an indeterminate imagination, which does not operate to reproduce
in the absence of the extemal sensible, and in that sense is not an imagination
at all, and yet mediates between external sensations and actions, being an interior
principle receiving apprehensions and arousing the appetites which cause action.
Its presence is manifested, if we may be permitted to speak backwards, by tile

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STOCK

The m·iginative distinction in appetites: the
concupiscible and irascible

There are -therefore two orders of generation for internal
appetites in man: the one originates in the external senses on
the foundation of bodily pain and pleasure and reverberates at
higher, internal levels, not, however, without the intervention
of the cogitative, at least in conscious reactions, while the other
arises precisely from the perceptions of the internal senses, that
is, of the cogitative, as from its proper cognitive principle. For
" as sense in act moves the appetite at the presence of the
sensible thing, so the imagination in the absence of the
sensible thing. And on account of this ... animals perform
many acts by imaginations." 118
These two originatively distinct processes of apprehension
provide the distinction in the cognitive order which founds the
distinction of concupiscible and irascible in the appetitive order.
In the activity of self-preservation which is the focal point and
end of all animal operations, and hence of all sense appetites
since sense appetite is nothing more than a principle of operation, there are two complementary aspects, namely, to seek
what is good and to destroy what is harmful. 119 On the one
absence or primitive development of a nervous system. Hence, in lower animals
there both is and is not a cogitative power operating in the generation of appetites.
If we can apply the general psychological principle that the higher forms of
life contain all that the lower forms have, we can say that man, in reflexive
and quasi reflexive actions, which psychologically seem to operate without higher
sense perceptions and physiologically seem to operate without the higher parts
of the central nervous system, has responses which operate by an indeterminate
imagination which supplies the effect of the cogitative without involving it
formally.
118 Ill de Anima, lect. 6, § 669. The question always arises in citing texts concerning the " phantasia " and "phantasm a " as to whether St. Thomas is referring
to the faculty of imagination precisely as such or to the three higher interval
faculties taken together. In this case, however, it makes no difference, since our
purpose is satisfied by showing that the external senses are not the only sources
from which appetitive movements originate.
no St. Thomas sees this distinction even on the level of natural appetites, for
even inanimate things have a natural motion towards that which conserves them
in being and a natural :activity against destructive agents. Cf. de Verit., q. 25 . a. 2.

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hand, there is that which the animal immediately senses as
good or bad on the basis of sensible pleasure and pain. Concerning such things the estimative power makes a simple
"judgment," concluding that this pleasing thing is good, and
precisely because it is pleasing, and on the basis of this perception, which is of a more simple nature (and in fact no
more than an internal reiteration of the " judgment " of the
external senses), the simple and direct appetites are aroused,
that is, love, desire, joy, hate, aversion and sorrow, which all
belong to the concupiscible power. On the other hand, there
are objects which the animal perceives as good or bad for itself
according to its nature, and regardless of the pleasant or painful
effects they have on the senses. This involves a more complex
"judgment," for the animal must discern the good in the painful and the harm in the pleasurable, as when an animal abandons
food to flee or fight an enemy even if it suffer injury. So the
appetites which follow this more complex " judgment " are
more complex, such as boldness which drives an animal towards
a dangerous enemy for the sake of overcoming it, or despair,
which makes an animal shrink away from what is desirable
because it is difficult. And so with the rest of the irascible
appetites.' 20 St. Thomas, then, sees something more simple and
120 " Similiter
etiam ex parte appetitus, quod animal appetat ea quae sunt
convenientia sensui, delectationem facientia, secundum naturam sensitivae est et
pertinet ad vim concupiscibilem; sed quod tendat in aliquod bonum quod non
facit delectationem in sensu, sed magis natum est facere tristitiam ratione suae
difficultatis, sicut quod animal appetat pugnam cum alio animali, vel aggredi
quamcumque aliam difficultatem, hoc est in appetitu sensitivae secundum quod
natura sensitiva attingit intellectivam; et hoc pertinet ad irascibilem.
Et ideo sicu t aestimatio est alia vis quam imaginatio, ita irascibilis est alia
vis quam concupiscibilis. Objectum enim concupiscibilis est bonum quod natum
est facere delectationem in sensu; irascibilis autem bonum quod difficultatem habet.
Et quia quod est difficile, non est appetibile inquantum huiusmodi, sed vel in
ordine ad a!iud delectabile, vel ratione bonitatis quae difficultati admisceturconferre autem unum ad aliud et discernere intentionem difficultatis .et bonitatis
in uno et eodem, est rationis;-ideo proprie istud bonum appetere est rationalis
appetitus, sed convenit sensitivae, secundum quod attingit per quamdam imperfectam participationem ad rationalem, non quidem conferendo vel discernendo,
sed natura!i instinctu movetur in illud, sicut dictum est de aestimatione." Ill
Sent., d. 24, q. 1, a. 2. Cf. Summa Theol., I, q. 78, a. 4; I, q. 81, a. 2, ad 2.

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direct, and more in the order of passivity and receptivity in
the concupiscible order, and something more complex and active
in the irascible order, and these diverse characteristics he finds
detectable in the differences of both the cognitive and appetitive
aspects involved in the total consideration of sensitivity.
v. The role of imagination
So much, then, for the two kinds of appetite, the concupiscible
which originates in the external senses and is activated by the
estimative or cogitative, and the irascible, which originates
immediately upon the proper act of the estimative alone. A
question still remains, namely, what kind of role does the
imagination have in the generation of appetites.
The imagination, taken in the strict sense of the word, does
not move the sense appetite to a passion. 121 The reason given
for this is that an image in the imagination is like a picture
which, even if it portray something terrible or wonderful, does
not move us to fright or awe, because it is not clothed in the
sense of reality-it is known as nothing more than a representation.122 That is to say, we are not moved by simply
apprehending a thing, but by apprehending it under the aspect
of good or evil, or suitable or harmful, and such an apprehension
requires a judgment or quasi-judgment, which the imagination
cannot produce. For the imagination is limited to the mode
of simple apprehension. 123
On the other hand, St. Thomas will also say that animals
121 This does not contradict
St. Thomas' dictum that an appetite follows upon
every form. When we say that no appetite follows upon imagination, we wish to
exclude elicited appetites, but not the natural appetite which belongs to the
imagination as it has a nature.
122 "Sed ad phantasiam
non sequitur passio in appetitu; quia dum aliquid apparet
nobis secundum phantasiam, similiter nos habemus, ac si consideremus in pictura
aliqua terribilia vel sperabilia." Ill de Anima, lect. 4, § 684.
128 "Huius
autem differentiae ·rationis est quia appetitus non patitur nee
movetur ad simplicem apprehensionem rei, qualem proponit phantasia. Sed oportet
quod apprehendatur sub ratione boni vel mali, convenientis vel nocivi. Et hoc
facit opinio in hominibus, componendo vel dividendo. . . . Phantasia autem non
componit neque dividit." Ibid., § 635.

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perform many operations according to imaginations, and if
they act, they first desire or fear or love or are moved by some
one of the passions, for the passions are the principles of movements. Brute animals always act under imagination
they lack an intellect, and man acts by imagination whenever
his mind is impeded by passion, insanity, sleep, or the like. 124
Again, he says: " the sensitive appetite by its nature is moved
not only by " the estimative in other animals, and by the
cogitative in man, which universal reason directs, but also by
the imaginative and by sense." 125
However, it is not necessary to see opposition between these
texts. The imagination indeed moves the appetites, but not by
itself. It is not a sufficient cause of the movement, just as the
external senses, taken by themselves are not sufficient causes of
appetitive movements. As the external senses move man to
passion only when a quasi-judgment has been proferred by
the cogitative power, so also the ·imagination. Hence St.
Thomas says: " The imagination of a form does not move the
sensitive appetite without the estimation of suitability or
harmfulness." 126 Thus the images of the imagination like the
sensibles apprehended by the external senses, can be considered
as matter by which the appetites can be moved, but as not
actually capable of moving until they have been informed by
the estimative effect of the cogitative.
Perhaps an analogy can be drawn between the way an image
becomes apt matter for an appetite, and the way it becomes
'"' " Unde sicut sensus secundum actum movet appetitum ad praesentiam sensibilia, ita et phantasia in absentia sensibilis. Et propter hoc dicit quod animalia
multa operantur secundum phautasias. Sed hoc contingit propter defectum intellectus ... quia omuino non habent intellectum, sicut bestiae, (vel) quia habet
intellectum velatum, sicut homines." Ibid., lect. 6, §§ 669-670. Here again the
question arises as. to whether St. Thomas is speaking of the imagination in the
strict sense, or of the three higher internal senses faculties which all use a phantasm.
It would seem that he means the imagination strictly speaking, for in this lesson
he is working on its definition, as " motua factus a sensu secund·um actum " and
mentions its "creative " function. Cf. § 665.
'""Summa Theol., I, q. 8, a. 8,
126 Ibid., 1-11, q. 9, a. 1, ad

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. MICHAEL STOCK

apt matter for the memory. An image can be taken in two
ways: in itself as it is a sensible form, or in its reference to
something else as it represents a reality. In itself it is something which man imaginatively inspects in the absence of
the sensible reality, something upon which he can work
creatively if he wishes, and in no way a cause of passion, for
it is like the picture of a thing and known as such. In reference
to something else, however, an image becomes a principle of
appetite or of memory, insofar as it takes the place of something real, or as if real, in the case of an appetite, for appetites
tend to things as they are in themselves, or, in the case of
memory, insofar as it is referred to something as sensed before.
It is a question of intentions, for the soul regards an image
this way or that depending on its intention. 121
b. Sensible consciousness of the appetites
So much, then, for the generation of appetites and the cognitive principles thereof. With this material as basis, the proper
question under consideration can be opened to investigation,
namely, how is man sensibly conscious of the appetitive movements.
To begin with, as has already been noted, bodily pleasure and
pain, which are responses of the affective order, are directly
and consequently by the
apprehended by the sense of
common sense and other internal senses. But the internal
sense appetites do n:ot seem directly apprehended by any sense
power. The common sense would not apprehend them because
its perception is focused on the operations of the external senses,
while these passions arise from an apprehension of the internal
cogitative power. The three higher internal sense powersimaginative, memorative and cogitative-act upon images or
phantasms or intentions of. images. But no one is. conscious of
an image within himself of a passion, for the passions are not
sensible qualities but conditions or states of the sentient being.
127

Cf. de Memoria, lect .. 8, §§ 840-848. Also Ill de Anima, lect. U, § 778.

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It would seem, therefore, that the appetitive movements or
emotions are not apprehended directly by any sense.
Yet man is manifestly conscious of his affective states. The
question, then, comes to this: what are the objects in the
content of consciousness which indirectly provide man with
his knowledge of appetitive movement.
If a thing cannot be known in itself, it can often be known
with greater or lesser clarity in its causes or in its effects, as
a man, seeing smoke in the distance, knows that there is a
fire, and if a fire, also heat. What is sought here, then, are the
sensible causes or effects of passion, so connected and known
to be connected with passion that they manifest its presence
and nature. Now the effect of aU passions, and an essential
constituent of sense passion, is bodily change, 128 and bodily
changes are perceptible particularly to the sense of touch. It
would seem, then, that the search for the clues which reveal
the nature and presence of the passions would be a search into
the nature of the physical changes involved in the passions.
The bodily changes with which we are concerned are changes
in the state or condition of internal organs. In this regard, a
certain distinction must be made between the internal organic
changes which are essentially involved in an appetite, such
as the more rapid beating of the heart in anger, and the internal
organic changes which are not so much a part of appetite as
a cause of appetite, such as dryness of throat giving rise to
thirst. The distinction between organs which are physically
internal and those which are physiologically internal seems to
be useful here, for the latter are those which are more closely
connected with appetite in its essence, while the former, in their
changes of state, rather give rise to
The sense
of touch in the physically internal organs is similar to that
Cf. Summa Theol., I-II, q. 22, aa. 1 and 8.
A physiologically internal organ is an organ which cannot be reached from
without except by passing through the cutaneous or mucous membranes. A
physically internal organ, although it normally has no surface exposed, can be
reached by passing through a natural bodily orifice; so, for example, the lungs,
stomach, intestines, etc., are physically but not physiologically internal.
128

129

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MICHAEL STOCK

in the external parts of the body, in that it operates with
regard to external objects, or their lack; it differs from the
external sense in its mode of operation insofar as it serves to
register not so much the objects themselves as the organic
changes which take place on account of the presence or absence
of these objects. 180 So, there is a sense of hunger which arises
in the stomach when it is deprived of food for a while, caused
by the contractions of stomach muscles, but no analogous
sensation arises in a finger deprived of contact for a while.
Perhaps we can speak of a threefold function involved in the
operation of the sense of touch: a purely objective function
belonging to touch as it is located in the exterior surfaces of
the body, and apprehends exterior objects in contact with the
body, a subjective-objective function belonging to touch in the
interior surfaces of the body apprehending the conditions of
physically internal organs in relation to the objects dealt with
or produced, and finally, a purely subjective function belonging
to the sense of touch in the physiologically internal organs
apprehending their changes of condition insofar as they are .
affected by emotion. Since we will find St. Thomas speaking
of all of these kinds of bodily contact and change, and of the
appetites connected with them, it will be necessary to bear in
mind these distinctions, for in this investigation of the structure
of consciousness we presently seek only those bodily changes
caused by passion and the manner in which they are known.
St. Thomas recognized the extent of the sense of touch,
functioning in all parts of the body, surface and interior, 181
but concentrated more in some parts than in others. 182 He
held also that the heart is the principle of the sense of touch,
that is, the source of its energies and the main beneficient of
its functions, since the heart is the principle of all animal life
and movement, and animal life is formally sentient life, and
See II de Anima, lect. 5, § 291.
Cf. III de Anima, lect. 8, § 611.
182 Around the heart, in the tips of the fingers and generative organs, etc. Cf
den Sensu, lect. 5, § 75; Summa Theol., Suppl., q. 32, a. 6; 11-11, q. 141, a. 4.
180

181

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sentient life is basically touch. 133 Hence the heart is the organ
first and principally affected by the incidents of sentient life,
by apprehensions and affections, and through the heart the
effects of sensing are derived to other organs of the body. 134
Thus there are various organic changes involved essentially in
emotional changes, since the appetites are not activities of
the soul alone, but of the soul as it informs the body. 135 ·whence
the fact of an emotion can be perceived if the bodily change
can be perceived. Moreover, something of the nature of the
emotion can be known from the bodily change, since in all
cases of material information, the matter informed is proportioned to the form informing, so that a different disposition is
effected by a different form. Insofar then as the differences in
bodily changes can be apprehended, the differences in the appetites can be known. 136 Since, then, the sense of touch is diffused
through the whole body, a tangible bodily change can be apprehended anywhere. But many of the effects of the emotions on
the body are tangible, being in the order of heat or cold, pressure, contraction, relaxation, tensions, etc. So from the sense
of touch, the facts and natures of appetites can be known.
Moreover, since the effects of appetites which are aroused by
good and pleasing objects are effects which cause, for the most
Cf. de Motu Cordis, § 460; II de Anima, lect. 3, § 259; I, lect. 3, § 32.
De Motu Cordis, § 462; de Sensu, lect. 5, § 75-76. We will not digress here
or hereafter to discuss the physiological questions involved. St. Thomas largely
accepted and depended on the cruder physiology of his times. Since however
physiology is so intimately connected with psychology, an imperfect physiology
will lead to imperfect conclusions in psychology. This is not necessarily embarrassing
to anyone developing a psychological theme on the basis of St. Thomas' work,
since the imperfections are generally in the order of detail and remote conclusion
while the principles and major lines of argument remain firm and illuminating.
In the physiological field, therefore, we shall feel free to omit what has been
superseded, adapt what is adaptable and accept what still stands as acceptable,
without detailed analyses in the particular cases, confident that this is in the
spirit of St. Thomas, who frequently observed that knowledge of the soul could
never be perfect until the man knew perfectly the corporeal conditions of the
body informed by the soul, and that this latter knowledge was mbject to practtcally endless investigations and improvement.
185 Summa Theol., I-II, q. 22, a. 3; de Verit., q.
a. 3.
186 De Verit., q. 25, a.
Summ.a Theol., I-II, q. 44, a. 1.
183

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MICHAEL STOCK

part, pleasant reactions, while the effects of appetites aroused
by evil objects cause unpleasant reactions, the sense of pain
and pleasure aroused by the bodily change gives an immediate
impression of the nature of the appetite causing it. Thus
delight causes a relaxation and expansiveness in the organs
which is itself delightful, while fear causes a contraction and
coldness which is itself unpleasant.
In more detail, reviewing more or less briefly the bodily
changes effected by, or more exactly, concomitant with, an
appetitive movement, we find St. Thomas enumerating four
effects of love: a feeling called melting and a feeling of delight
which are perceived when the one loved is present; a feeling of
languor or pain and a feeling of tension or fervor, which can
even lead to sickness, when the one loved is absent. 137 Moreover, an excessive love can cause injury, and hence pain, after
the manner in which any sense power is injured by a too excessive act/ 38 Delight causes a feeling of dilation or expansiveness,139 sorrow causes a feeling of heaviness, 140 fear has a certain
bodily contraction connected with it, or an effect of tightening, 141
and also a coldness and a sinking feeling, 142 while anger gives
a feeling of heat and of pressure rising from within. 143 According
to the physiology of the day, it was the flux and flow of bodily
humors-blood, bile, phlegm, choler, etc.-which give rise to
the sensations accompanying the movement of passion; 144
according to modern physiology it is the muscular, nervous,
and glandular response which excites the sensations. The fact,
however, which is unchanged from that day to this is that the
187
Although the principal interpretations of these four effects of love involve the
passion with respect to its object, that is to say, in its formal aspect, he is explicit
about assigning these feelings to the organ too, insofar as it is changed by the
passion. "Et isti quidem sunt effectus amoris formaliter accepti secundum habitudinam appetitivae virtutis ad obiectum. Sed in passione amoris consequuntur aliqui
effectus his proportionati secundum immutationem organi." Summa Theol., I-II,
q. fl8, a. 5, in cont.
188 Ibid. in corp.
" 1 Ibid., q. 44, a. 1
180 Ibid., q. S8, a. 1.
, .. Ibid., ad 1.
""Ibid., q. 87, a. 2.
us Ibid., q. 48, a. 1.
,.. Ibid., q. 87, a. 4; q. 40, a. 6; q. 44, a. 1, ad 1.

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passions are accompanied by bodily changes which can be
apprehended, and when apprehended, give notice of the passion
itself.
For the sake of completeness, certain secondary effects of
the bodily change should be noted, since they also give some
indication of emotional states. So, for example, there is flushing
and blushing with the consequent sense of heat, paling and
coldness, sweating and dryness of mouth, trembling, rapid
breathing, and the like, which can all be felt by the one '.vho is
moved by passion, and can give him an inkling of the nature
of the passion moving him. These sensations, although they
contribute to man's knowledge of his own appetites, do not
contribute as directly as the sensations arising internally in
the organs directly affected by the appetites.
Another source of sensitive knowledge of the sense appetites
seems to lie in the knowledge of bodily activity, and its principles and modes. The line of the argument would run thus:
man is sensibly conscious of his appetites, as has been said
above. He is also sensibly conscious of his physical activity,
from touch and from the other senses, from the kinesthetic
sense, from his experience of past actions successfully completed, and so on. In fact, the appetites are principles of
physical activity, although the abstract notion of causal dependence cannot be sensed. Nevertheless, the sequences of
action and appetite can be sensed and associated: that desire
is followed by an urge to grasp or obtain, that obtaining is
followed by pleasure, that anger is followed by an urge to
destroy and that destruction is followed by a sensible satisfaction. Now, if these impulses to action and their cessation
when action is consummated can also be sensed, a sensible
knowledge is indirectly obtained of the appetite itself. And
it seems that the impulses can be sensed, as tensions of muscles
and tendons, and consequent relaxations, as feelings of impatience and restlessness when action is delayed, and so on.
Hence it seems possible to conclude that man is sensibly although indirectly aware of appetitive movement in actions

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poised or in actions consummated or in actions impeded. All
of these effects of passion St. Thomas cites in considerable
detail, and, although he does not expressly relate them to the
question of consciousness, it does not seem invalid to draw the
conclusion as given. 145
c. Conclusion
The conclusion, therefore, by way of summary, would take
into account first of all the crucial role of the sense of touch
in man's sensible consciousness of his appetites. It is touch,
in its quasi-reflective function, whereby it apprehends the
affective consequences of contact with various objects, which
gives man the awareness of primary affective factors in his
psychological activity, that is, awareness of pleasure and pain.
It is touch also, operating in the internal· organs affected by
emotional change which gives him, although indirectly, whatever consciousness he has of the e}!.istence and nature of his
internal appetites. It is also touch which gives him his principal
awareness of bodily activity in relation to appetitive movement.
And this also gives us some inkling of why man's consciousness is more obscure and confused in regard to emotional content than it is in regard to cognitive content, both because
the knowledge of the emotions is attained, for the most part,
by indirection, and because it is principally attained by touch,
whose perceptions, even when they are vivid, are not clearcut or well defined. For the perceptions of touch do not attain
as simply and completely as the sense of sight, for instance,
to such factors as motion, shape, size, and number, and do not
attain at all to color or sound. When we consider, then, that
intellect and reason work principally on just these sensible data,
and that, even in the sen.se order, these data are often of greater
significance in grasping the characters and uses of things, we
begin to see that, on account of being confined within the scope
of touch, the perceptions of appetites tend to be undefined and
... Cf. Ibid., I-II, q. 87, aa. 1, 2, and 3; q. 40, a. 8; q. 45, a. 4; q. 48, aa. 3 and 4;
q. 33, a. 8.

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vague. And this will be a matter of considerable importance
when the investigation of unconsciousness must be made.
C. Sense consciousness of the sensing subject
Another problem in the order of sensitive consciousness is
the problem of consciousness of the sensing subject by the
sensing subject-whether strict self-consciousness is possible in
the sense order, and, if so, to what extent and through what
powers, acts and objects. It has been shown above that it is
possible to have a complex and varied consciousness in the sense
order, but the content of this consciousness as it has been
examined so far, has been limited to the objects of the senses,
and, to the degree that the objects implicate the actions and
powers, these also have been subject to conscious awareness.
However, the question at issue now is the question of strict
self-consciousness (if con,sciousness of psychological content
and activity can be distinguished as self-consciousness in a wide
sense on the grounds that it bears on what man has and not on
what he is, or, more precisely, that he is). The question now
is whether or not there is any awareness in the sense order of
the fact that the sensing subject exists, and perhaps, of what
it is.
·
In passing, it may be noted that, in the intellectual order,
there can be perfect self-consciousness, both of the intellectual
principles of action and the intellectual subject, and of the
sensitive subject which serves it, and of their unity in one whole
living being, sentient and intellectual. Indeed, it is only in this
order that self-consciousness becomes or can become fully
evolved. But this consciousness of the sensing subject is functionally intellectual. Therefore, setting the intellectual order
aside for the moment, the problem narrows down to an investigation of whatever perfection of consciousness can be assigned
to the sense order in its own right.
It should be noted that the consciousness of the sensing
subject which is considered here is consciousness of the subject
taken in the strict sense, that is, as the possessor of activity

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STOCK

and known expressly as such. For it is evident that animals
know their own bodies by touch, sight, etc., and that they know
their physical conditions such as pain, pleasure, well-being, etc.,
and so, in a way, the sensing subject knows itself. But this
is a kind of extrinsic knowledge which does not lead to the
apprehension of the subject precisely as such, in contradistinction to its activities or operations. The question at issue now
is the possibility of sense consciousness of the subject in that
precise sense.
Perhaps it would be best to establish first the obstacles or
limits in the sense order which seem to bar it off from strict
self-consciousness, and afterward to expose the factors which
seem to argue to some perfection of self-consciousness, and then
to estimate how much these secondary factors modify the limits
previously uncovered.
The arguments against strict self-consciousness in the sense
order :flow from two orders of causality-the order of finality
and the order of formality.
In the order of finality, it would seem that the purposes of
sense knowledge are accomplished adequately without strict
self-consciousness, that is, without consciousness of the sensing
subject as such. Since, therefore, nature does not act in vain,
providing means which have no use in relation to ends, it
follows that there is no strict self-consciousness in the sense
order. For self-consciousness is required in beings which have
the obligation of orienting themselves towards their final ends
as such. Now in order to orient the self towards an end, a
knower must know himself as an individual related to an end,
and related precisely by the actions over which he has dominion.
Thus man, who alone has free choice in his actions, has the
need to know himself, !so as to order his actions to the ends
which are conformed to his nature. Only man has to consider
himself as an agent to whom are imputed, for praise or blame,
the actions he performs, and therefore he alone has to make
the distinction between himself and his acts. A brute animal
is ordered to its end, of self-preservation and reproductio:n, 'by

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the mind of the Creator, and its actions proceed necessarily
towards these ends; it has no need to reflect on its actions, in
relation to itself and its end, as to whether they are good or
bad; by their nature they are determined to being good. An
animal cannot and need not decide for itself whether to act
or not, or to act this way or that way. Hence it need not
reflect on the nature of its acts, nor discern them precisely
as acts distinct from and referable to a subject which is responsible for them, and eventually reaches or does not reach its
true destiny on the strength of them. An animal naturally and
unwaveringly moves towards its "destiny."
Moreover, within the psychological structme of man, there
is no need for self-awareness precisely in the sense order, for
the acts by which he measures himself and by which he is
ultimately judged by his Creator, are not the acts of the sensible
order as such, but the acts of the intellectual order, and of
the sense order only insofar as they are subject to the rational
order. For the sense life of man is ordered to the service of the
rational life. Hence there is no need for a " reference to a
subject " precisely in the sense order-the reference required
and sufficing is made in the intellectual order.
The same conclusion is reached in the order of formalityself-consciousness is impossible in the sense order. Self-consciousness is possible only to an abstracting power. What is required
for self-consciousness is knowledge of the distinction between
the acting subject and its action. Now the union between the
acting subject and its action is the union between the substance
and a proper accident, which union is that of
matter
and accidental form. Although this union of matter and accidental form is the union of two elements which are really
distinct, they are not distinct as substance from substance nor
as sensible quality from sensible quality, but as informing
principle from principle informed-a union, therefore, which is
not an accidental aggregate of two or more into one, but a
union per se, as of perfectible and perfection. To distinguish
the elements which constitute such a union seems impossible

484

MICHAEL

STOCK

to a sense power, for, whatever the sensible aspects of the
composite, neither principle has a sensible aspect by itselfneither indeed exists by itself. An abstracting power can conceive the one separate from the other, for it deals with being
as such, and the two elements in the composite can be conceived in the order of being, i. e., as conferring being or as
receiving it. Neither, however, can be grasped as in the order
of sensible being, for the sensibility of the quality follows upon
the information of the matter by the quality. Hence no sense
power can grasp the presence of the sensing subject of sensible
acts.
Whatever, then, are the arguments which can be brought
forth to show that in the sensible order there is sufficient evidence for making the distinction between the subject and the
activities of the subject, it must always be answered that,
although the evidence is present, the power capable of interpreting it is not and cannot be a power of the sense order. The
best the senses can do, and this much indeed they do accomplish, is to provide the data which points inescapably to the
distinction between subject and act, and leads in the direction
of knowledge of the sensing subjecL
This evidence in the sense order that there is one single
sensing subject distinct from its manifold operations is abundant and convincing. There is the operation of the common
sense, which, by gathering and associating the diverse representations apprehended in the first instance by the external
senses, indicates that these several senses are ordered not to
several diverse ends but to one end, and hence are of the one
subject, which possesses that common sense and that one end.
So deep is this indication that St. Thomas says that we know
we live by the perception of the common sense. 146 There is
also the action of the cogitative, which orients man towards
objects precisely as objects, and is followed naturally and immediately by appetites, which tend tow·ards objects precisely
as objects, for an appetite tends to things as they are in them146

Cf. p. 4!ll above.

SENSE CONSCIOUSNESS

ACCORDING •ro ST. THOMAS

485

selves, and in this insistence on objectivity, necessarily indicates
the object-subject distinction, and so leads to the knowledge
of the subject. 147 There is also the work of the memory, which
contains a life-long record of apprehensions of the senses, gradually built up upon many objects, and contains them as the
repeated apprehensions of what can only be one single sensing
subject, for if there were no one subject perduring under the
accumulating flux and flow of psychological activity, and
possessing it all, there would be nothing in which the record
would be gathered and contained. Either there is a subject, or
there could be no series of retained apprehensions. Again there
is the effect of attention, and of the limitation in the quantities
of psychic energy available at any one time to a sentient
being, which point to a single subject of all psychological
activity from which the energy available is apportioned among
the different activities, and is especially apparent in the sense
order. For if there were not one subject supplying energy,
there would be no interference of one power's activity when
attention is directed to that of another.
These are strong evidences pointing to the existence of the
sensing subject, but, as has been said, the power capable of
reading the meaning in them is not a sense power. To accomplish the necessary abstraction, an intellectual power in needed,
reflecting upon the sense order and grasping what is there at
the same time made manifest and ignored. A brute animal,
therefore, is actually a sensing subject distinct from its sense
activity, and knows objects which are distinct from itself, and
acts in regard to these distinct objects in ways in which it
would never act if it did not know the distinct objects, but it
never knows these distinctions as such. Just as an animal acts
for ends which it knows without knowing them under the
formality of ends, so it acts for objects without knowing them
'" "Ostendit quae ratio sit movens. . . . Ratio autem particularis dicit quod
hoc quidem est tale, et ego talis, puta quod ego :filius, et hunc honorem debeo
·
mine exhibere parenti." III de Anima, lect. 16, § 845.

486

MICHAEL

STOCK

formally as objects, and without knowing the object-subject
distinction as such.w
Therefore there is no perfect self-consciousness in the sense
order. It is only in the intellectual order that powers are found
capable of making a complete return upon themselves and upon
the subject possessing them, and of so attaining to strict
self-consciousness .149
MICHAEL STOCK,

o. P.

Dominican House of Philosophy
Dover, Mass.

us Cf. Summa Theol., I-H, q. 1, a. S.
"" " Cuiuslibet potentiae animae virtus est determinata ad obiectum suum;
unde et eius actio primo et principaJiter in obiectum tendit. In ea vero quibus
in obiectum tendit, non potest nisi per quamdam reditionem .... Sed ista reditio
incomplete quidem est in sensu, complete autem in intellectu, qui reditione completa
redit ad cognoscendum essentiam suam." De Verit., q. 10, a. 9. "Ilia quae sunt perfectissima in entibus, ut substantiae intellectuales, redeunt ad essentiam suam
reditione completa. . . . Sed reditus iste completur secundum quod cognoscunt
essentias proprias: unde dicitur in libro de Causis, quod omnis sciens essentiam
suam, est rediens ad essentiam suam reditione completa. Sensus autem, qui inter
ceteros est propinquior intellectuali substantiae, redire quidem incipit ad essentiam
suam, quia non solum cognoscit sensibile, sed etiam cognoscit se sentire; non tamen
completur eius reditio, quia sensus non cognoscit essentiam suam." De Verit.,
q. 1, a. 9.

THE PHILOSOPHY OF HISTORY AND
HISTORICAL LEARNING

I

N a previous article in this Journal I treated problems of
the stability, decline and fall of' civilizations in the light
of the philosophy of history. Following Toynbee's morphology of civilizations I showed the characteristic way in which
these higher societies have declined (in the form of cycles) .
Higher cultures have broken down and begun to decline because
the goodness of the supra-national civilization has been lost
sight of by its member states. The typical course of civilizations' histories shows a serial of goods and ideals which have
been pursued, and suggests that a philosophy of culture should
take into account all the true goods and ideals. The philosophy
of history, therefore, in some way ought to posit the simultaneous presence of all the perfections that are proper to
civilizations and which have occurred in the course of their
histories. At the same time, virtues and vices have a cultural
significance which ought to be elaborated in the philosophy
of history. Hence the philosophy is a cultural ethics and, in
my view, a Christian philosophy/
1 " The Philosophy of History and the Stability
of Civilizations" (THE THOMIST,
XX, April 1957, 158-190). The philosophy of history, I think, is the fourth part
of a quadrumvirate of ethical disciplines: li!fonastica (or personal ethics),
Oeconomica (or domestic ethics), Politica (or political ethics) and Ilistorica
(or cultural ethics). I use civilization and culture as synonymous, meaning not
only culture in the ordinary sense of the word but especially a supra-national
society and its values; viz., a higher civilization such as the Egyptian or Western
Civilization. As to ethics, let me give an example of a cultural vice. The eighteenth
century Western Civilization was notably an age of irony, an era of literary levity,
dissatisfaction and satire. Involved here is the vice called t<pwvela, irony, or selfdepreciation, by Aristotle. The eighteenth century irony not only depreciated the
nobler feelings of Western Culture but also attacked the nobler ideals. To the
extent that the attitude was a sophistry opposed to the true values of the Western

487

488

DAVID B. RICHARDSON

In the present article I should like to consider the other side
of the science; namely, the way in which it illuminates our
historical knowledge. That is to say, how does the philosophy
of history underlie the historical learning of historians? Such
a procedure will enable us to understand better the philosophy.
Oblivion, so to speak, is the child of time. History is the child
of eternity.

I.

THE SUBJECT-MATTER

OF THE PHILOSOPHY OF HISTORY

A. The Subject Matter of Historical Learning.

The philosophy of history nowadays is understood to have
much to do with the historian's study of the past. Philosophers
who write on the subject are particularly concerned to know
just what the subject-matter of historical science is and how
that material is to be approached, assimilated and presented
by the historian. 2 Yet the primary concern of the philosophy
of history, it seems to me, is ethical and cultural. To be sure,
I cannot very well take the name of " philosophy of history "
for my view about historical learning, unless I do justice to
all that the name signifies above. For I, too, take the philosophy
of history to be the philosophy by which the historian is best
able to distinguish his own genre of knowing from all others.
That is, the philosophy of history encompasses certain presuppositions and philosophical attitudes of the historian in the
same way that the philosophy of nature includes the philosophical assumptions of the biologist or chemist. I shall attempt
Culture, we may call it cultural irony. This is not to deny that the eighteenth
century witnessed good satire and irony. Neither is it. to deny the emergence of
great and fine public intentions in that century.
• I mention a few of the articles: "What is Philosophy of History?," (a
symposium, Dec. 1951). Annual Meeting of the American Philosophical Associa817-862. C. Brinton, "The 'new
tion. Journal of Philosophy, XLX
history' and 'past everything'," American Scholar VIII (1989), 144-157. A. C.
Danto, "On Historical Questioning," Journal of Philosophy, L1 (1954), 89-99.
A. 0. Lovejoy, "Present Standpoints and Past History," Journal of Philosophy
XXXVI (1989), 477-89. B. J. Muller-Thym, "Of History as a Calculus Whose
Term is Science," The Modem Schoolman, XIX, # 4, 41-47, # 5, 78-76.

PHILOSOPHY

OF HISTORY AND HISTORICAL

LE ..\.RNING

489

to show that this aspect of the philosophy of history is perfectly consistent with the ethical; indeed, that each aspect
presupposes the other.
For example, the subject-matter of the historian, I think, is
immediately or ultimately determined both by ethical values,
as well as by the course of history as it really happened. (Thus,
the historian selects his material partly for moral reasons, and
we shall see why presently.) And what I call cultural ethicsphilosophy of history-in turn, is determined by the subjectmatter of the historian. (Thus, a cultural ethics presupposes
the interest of some historian in social facts.) But all human
knowledge originates in historical experience. Consequently,
in the last analysis, " historical " knowledge, even if it be any
individual's awareness of what happened a moment ago, occurs
first, and ethical knowledge occurs second. If we are not
talking about historians, this may be true. For the historian
as such, an ethics or a moral attitude is first absolutely speaking, and determines in part the subject-matter of historical
science. This is so because his specialty is not merely knowing
historically (for we all do that) but knowing, by a principle
of selection, what may be termed " historical facts." 3 Far from
recording everything that happens, he does not even record
every authentic word out of the newspapers. Historical facts
are distinguished by a powerful principle of selection at work
in historical writing. The outlook or moral philosophy that
8 Cf. W. Fales, "Historical
Facts," Journal of Philosophy XLVill (19tH), 84-94.
Let me bring to bear on the subject a clear light from a mediaeval mind,
encountered subsequent to my formulation. According to Ibn Khaldun (vivebat
A. D. 1882-1406), philosophy of history (the science of culture) and historical
learning are related in three ways. "(1st) In the sequence through which the mind
achieves knowledge, the science of culture comes after history: it reflects on, and
explains the external events ascertained by history. (2nd) The historian cannot,
however, ascertain external events without a minimal acquaintance with their
nature and causes. In the art of the historian, history and the science of culture
should be combined. (Srd) Finally, in the order of being, the object of the science
of cultur!l comes before the object of history. Historical events are the product
of the nature and causes underlying them." M. Mahdi, 11m Khaldun'a Philosophy
of History, a study in the philosophic foundation of the science of culture (London,
1957)' p. 171.

490

DAVID B. RICHARDSOK

guides the selection of the historian is not often explicit or
clearly understood or even understood at all; for the true historian has a full time job of his own, without taking on the
task of being a philosopher too. He knows what good historical
writing is, he has a subject in the historical past that interests
him, and he writes the history. Nevertheless, his reasons for
doing it, and for writing it in the way that he does it, are not
historical; ultimately they are philosophical. This is why I
believe that the subject-matter of historians, generally speaking,
is distinctively what it is for philosophical reasons. And since
it is history that I am talking about, then I say that the
philosophy of history-remote as it may be from conscious
i.11terest of the historian-determines the distinctive nature of
his subject-matter. And this is so, whether he is translating
archaeological findings into the history of an ancient Sumerian
city or is distilling from documents the history of American
banking. If we want to understand clearly the distinctive
subject-matter of history we should consider it philosophically.
It follows from this that we can find the philosophy of history
implicit in historical learning.

B. The Subject-Matter of the Philosophy of History
1. In General
The Historian says that the subject-matter of his work may
be summed up in the term," historical facts." These, however,
are not ordinary facts, but facts which have been noted for
cultural reasons; they are cultural facts. And this is so when
the historian or even an amateur writes the biography of some
significant person. For example, Boswell's Life of Johnson
evokes the interest of generations of readers in the cultures of
James Boswell and Samuel Johnson and the societies in which
they lived. And I think the interest in the story, by virtue of
the special circumstances of all the participants including Edmund Burke and George III, those in England, those in Scotland, and those in Europe, is also an interest in human nature
insofar as it is cultural. That is to say the story's fascination

PHILOSOPHY

OF HISTORY AND HISTORICAL

LEARNING

491

has, finally, a philosophical cause. It is interesting, not merely
because one likes to consider the private and personal ethical
behavior of individuals, nor because one likes to find out the
political conduct of man, but also because one wants to observe
the cultural activity of human beings. There is then, unconscious though it undoubtedly is, in the reader of Boswell's
work, a philosophy of history which, in the reader, gives him
a poignant interest in the account. And I say this philosophy
of history is ultimately the reason why Boswell wrote the
biography. In technical terms it is a philosophy of history
whose subject-matter is: man acting voluntarily for a cultural
end with the cooperation of Providence. I mention the latter,
for in the less serious writing as in the most recondite Providential occurrences share with human initiative in the making
of history; and this may be seen in that light but sincere
chronicle of Boswell in which much of the conversation of
.Johnson is recorded. 4
The philosophy of history lies implicit in historical learning
and is accultly its raison d'etre. A philosophy governs the historian, I think, in the general subject-matter of his own account.
To be sure, the historian never defines the subject of his work
the " historical facts " philosophically. He thinks of them in
an historical way. He wants to consider certain human beings,
certain causes and effects, miracles, other Providential events,
parts, structures and processes of societies, customs, ideals and
laws. But the ultimate principle of his selection of historical
material, in fact of his very decision to be an historian is philosophical as I have described above. He (or the reader for
whom he writes), if we analyze far enough, is interested in a
moral problem: the establishment or destruction of cultures
or civilizations, and this helps him to hit upon with accuracy
the subject-matter of his work. True enough, his obvious
subject is the history of man; that is, the
history
that he has decided to study. But remotely, his subject is the
• The impact of Samuel Johnson's conservation on his own age is a matter of
history. There is no question of the historical significance of Boswell's subject.

492

DAVID B. RICHARDSON

same as is that of the philosophy of history. Since the historian wants to understand the history of mankind in some
way or other, it is a cultural problem that interests him, that
of the cultural nature of man and of the way in which man
historically expresses it. In philosophical terms we may say
that the historian, insofar as he is philosophical, studies the
true nature of man insofar as man is cultural. And the historian
is philosophical finally, in spite of himself, at least obscurely
and unconsciously.
The culture or the civilization, subject-matter of the philosophy of history, 5 is a complex society, formed of more or
less autonomous political societies, and present through its
various traditions and institutions to its political and regional
parts. The culture is a nobler and less tangible society than
a political commonwealth; for it includes orders and hierarchies
of: religion, philosophy, the arts, customs, economics, as well
as politics. For example, we may speak of the Hellenic Civilization or Culture (referring to both the Greeks and the Romans
as Professor Toynbee does) as constituting a single general
society with its distinctive outlook. The difference between
the culture and the political state is borne out in the history
of the Roman Empire after the Principate of Augustus. The
success of the Romans in subordinating not only the political
states of the world, but also the Hellenic Civiliza;tion,to Roman
Politics is more than balanced by the weakening of the Civilization once it and even its religiousness had been wrenched into
a totalitarian devotion·to the Roman political state.
I say the subject of the philosophy of history is man or men
• The aubject.matter also refers to the pwrpose of the philosophy of history;
cf. below. This is clear if we consider the aubject.matter of the philosophy of

history and morals in general: " man acting for the true good." In the philosophy
of history, thus understood, and consequently in historical science, we cannot
comprehend the· aubject.matter without referring to the goal. It follows that the
more surely an historian has a philosophy of history (goal-oriented), other conditions being equal, the more unerringly will he perceive the subject-matter of
his history. I do not say the philosophy of history substitutes for the historian's
subject-matter, but that it. sharpens the insight about the subjeCt-matter.

PHILOSOPHY

OF HISTORY AND HISTORICAL

LEARNING

493

achieving or perfecting a distinctive society, which may be
called a culture or a civilization. Part of this subject are the
dispositions or habits that incline or disincline men to live
amicably in such a society. These are the cultural virtues or
vices which are included under the theological virtues and the
cardinal virtues of temperance, fortitude, justice, prudence and
charity. For example, St. Augustine opens his work, De Civitate
Dei, by referring to a species of intemperance in the citizens of
the Roman Empire, vainglory or pride-what I
a cultural
pride: " ' God resists the proud, but gives grace to the humble.'
(Prov. 3: 34) This prerogative belongs to God but the soul
which is puffed up with pride also claims-it as his own and loves
to hear among his praises that ' he spares the conquered and
breaks the proud in war ' " (Vergil) .6 Thus, just as a man might
have an arrogance, an inordinate love of his own perfection as
opposed to his own good (monastioa), or opposed to the good
of his family (oeconomica), or opposed to the good of his national
state (politica), in a like manner he might love excessively his
own glory and that of his nation (particularly the military
glory) as opposed to the good of the other
the civilization to which he belongs (historica).

call

2. An Historical Possibility Exemplifying the Nature of Civili-

zation.
There is no question that a higher civilization is a distinct
type of society; thus we can speak of the Western Civilization
or the Hellenic or the Andean or the Hindu and so on, each
of them an entity greater and nobler than the participating
parochial states. The type of civilization I mention above, as
a type, is the highest natural society of which human beings
are capable. But it is a possibility that some day several
higher civilizations might exist at the same time, as in the
Middle Ages, when there existed the Mexic, the Andean, the
• Vergil, Aeneid, VI, 858, quoted in De Oivitate Dei, translated by R. H. Barrow
in his work, Introduction to St. Augustine, The City of God (London, 1960),
p. !!8.

494

DAVID B. RICHARDSON

Far Eastern, the Hindu, the (Magian) Arabian, the (Magian)
Orthodox Christian and the (Western-Faustian) Medieval Christian Civilizations. What is more, if several civilizations should
exist in the same era, they all might be competitively aware
of the existence of each other. For example, the Hellenic and
Persian (Syriac) civilizations existed competitively side by
side for several centuries preceding the conquest of Alexander
the Great. If such an historical situation were to occur, what
would be the natural attitude of the historian or philosopher?
For him, the historical facts of the day would take on an extra
dimension. The cultural meaning of historical facts would
modify the ordinary idea of civilization or culture, because the
philosopher or historian would look, whether deliberately or
not, for a cultural rapproachment in which several integral
civilizations might exist peaceably together. Such an historical
state of affairs is, I think, a hypothesis, not a reality at the
present day; for, of all the higher civilizations that have existed
in the past, only the Western Civilization retains its identity
as a still vigorous higher civilization, distinguished especially
by its industrial know-how. 7
3. A Second HistO'rical Possibility.

Suppose, however, that all the nations and societies of the
earth should find themselves belonging to a single civilization,
a civilization differing in physical extent, but not in essence,
from the type realized in the higher civilizations of the past.
The historian or philosopher of such an unified world-and an
all-encompassing culture-would be face to face with the
geographical achievement of the ultimate ideal of the philosophy of history. For him, would the historical facts of the
day derive their cultural significance .from the single society,
• Cf. A. Toynbee, A Study of History, Abridgement of Vol. I-VI by D. C.
Somervell (Oxford, 1947), Table V, p. 565; A Study of Histiny (Oxford, 1953,
vol. vii-x) Vol. VJI, Table I, p. 769. However, I follow Spengler in distinguishing
the Magian Culture, common to the Orthodox Christians and to the Muslims so
far as Religion allowed. Cf. The Decline of West, trans. C. F. Atkinson (N.Y.,
1939, 2 vol.), Vol. II, pp.
fl'.

PHILOSOPHY

OF HISTORY AND HISTORICAL

LEARNING

495

embracing the entire world in its culture? Not necessarily, I
think; for a civilization, enveloping all the earth's peoples,
might be worthy or unworthy, capable or incapable, of continuing in existence. An historian of the future might behold
an era comparable to that of St. Augustine, in which a universal
civilization, in the last stage of its decline was about to disintegrate under pressure. In this desperate circumstance-and
certainly not an impossible one-the historical facts of the day
would take on an extra dimension. The historian or philosopher
(if he did not seek to bring to life a former vigorous era of the
same civilization) would look, at least instinctively, for a
fresh cultural ideal around which the materials of the old civilization might be gathered and reinvigorated. However, at the
present time, an historical situation in which one culture might
include the entire world is manifestly an hypothesis, not an
actuality. For, though the Western Civilization is the only
higher civilization of the past which remains intact today, many
primitive societies and numerous great remains from fallen
higher civilizations exist independently.
4. A Third Historical Possibility.

I mention these historical hypotheses because they are alternatives, and the philosophy of history has to cope with them.
Nevertheless, to consider the civilization of which one's own
country is only a part is the simplest and most important view
of the philosophy of history. Here, I say, one needs cultural
virtues in respect to the higher society of which he is a member.
But the historical possibilities I outlined above are situations
where a civilization might best be replaced by another, as when
a disintegrating culture is hopelessly dying. I would add another hypothesis which is very real: the case where a remaining
people, a social or cultural fragment of a fallen and lifeless
civilization, might choose either to keep the cultural ideals of
the past or, on the contrary, to graft itself upon a living civilization. The Japanese, for example, have taken the second way,
have rejected their own Far Eastern Culture, in the degenerate

496

DAVID B. RICHARDSON

and partial form that survived, as morally inferior to that of
Western Civilization. 8 In this, as in the other exceptional situations, I think the cultural ethics, the philosophy of history,
would guide the individual in his choice between one civilization
or another. I speak, here, of" culture" in the sense that I have
been using the term-as a special kind of supra-national society
and its appurtances-to indicate the Western, Hindu and the
other civilizations. But, of course, in a different sense, any
cultural component of any society can be called" culture." In
this sense, the beautiful Japanese culture, to be seen in architecture, the arts, in manners, in dress, in landscape and so on,
continues to assert itself .. Again, the Seventeenth century Old
World culture of Quebec continues to assert itself in Canada.
Nevertheless, both Quebec and Japan belong to the Western
Civilization.

II.

THE METHOD OF THE PHILOSOPHY OF HISTORY

A. Culture and the Method of Historical Learning.

I said that, though he be unaware of it, the historian has a
philosophy of history in the recesses of his mind, even the
amateur in history, the biographer who chronicles his contemporaries and their time. And I think the philosophy of history
that underlies his historical study is the one that I have been
describing. But what of those historians whose writings and
whose purpose have gone clean contrary to the cultural ideal
of an integral civilization? Or, again, how may I reconcile my
views about the philosophy of history with another attitude of
certain historians? Some not only assume-as a good historian
should-that no subjective interference or moral didacticism 9
• Cf. an address delivered Feb. 11, 1946, by Shigaru Nambara, President of
Tokyo Imperial University, "Creation of New Japanese Civilization" Ethic&
(1945-46), p.
• If an historian should depict the past in order to illustrate moral maxims,
then his work would not be an history at all, but a species of morals-probably
not a very good moral treatise. Though an historian's motive is ultimately moral,
he is not a moralist; and a moralist is not an historian. The historian's method

PHILOSOPHY

OF HISTORY AND HISTORICAL

LEARNING

497

has distorted their histories, but also declare, as Herbert Fisher
does, in his History of Europe, that they cannot "discern in
history a plot, a rhythm, a predetermined pattern. These harmonies are concealed from them. They can see only one emergency following upon another as wave follows upon wave; only
one great fact with respect to which, since it is unique, there
can be no generalizations .... " 10 As for the historians who,
like Fisher, deny that they find a pattern in human history and
assert " the play of the contingent and the unforeseen," 11 the
title of their works belie their words. The tei.'m, Europe, indicated an intellectual pattern of facts in the mind of the author.
Indeed, the word, history, manifests a universal concept according to which the historian makes a very limited and definite
choice of the phenomena at his disposal to record. The term,
historical facts, reveals some kind or other social idea or ideal
at work in the process of human history.
Many historians write on a subject far more limited than the
history of Europe and some suppose, or presuppose, a social
ideal or good which contradicts that of a supra-natural civilization. A prejudice against the idea of a civilization or any society
that is nobler than its member national polities may affect the
writings of historians of any kind of history, great or small,
reportative or explanatory, factual or ideational.
My answer is, that, like history, historical learning has an
element of freedom; it is contingent, not only on account of
Providential or unforeseen occurrences, but also because of the
historian's freedom to esteem whatever ideals may please him.
The historian, if he is worthy of his title, is not free to invent
is too speculative (though very concrete), his attitude is too disinterested, to
permit a didacticism. This follows from the nature of human history. There is
too much of the unknown and the Providential in history to allow the historian
to make systematic moral judgments on the historical process. Of course this
does not prevent an historian from " calling a spade a spade." Those historians
who do this frequently are called "moral historians." Nor does it prevent the
collecting of both historical and didactic writings into one book, as in Holy Scriptures.
10 H. A. L. Fisher, A History of Europe (London, S vols.), I, vii.
11

Ibid.

498

DAVID B. RICHARDSON

the history, but he is free to record one historical truth instead
of another, in lines with his scholarly purpose. If the philosophy
of history that I have been describing, or an outlook similar
to it, does not suit him, he may adapt a broader or more limited
opposed view .' 2 Nevertheless, I think there is a logic present
in history that follows upon the nature of man, a natural law,
in addition to the inscrutable logic of divine Providence. History shows that by nature human beings seek to dwell in integrated civilized societies and that besides seeking a political
ordering of their affairs, men seek a cultural order. Man-inhistory, by his very nature, seeks to live in culture or civilization. Then the historian, who is also a man-in-history, has a
comiatural tendency to view history culturally because it is of
his human nature to bring cultural questions to the facts that
he records. I say this is his tendency by .nature; but he is
perfectly free to approach history in another way, according to
any theory or philosophy that may convince his reason. If
an historian is convinced that the political state forming but a
part of civilization is the noblest community and society that
man may have, then his historical writing will be affected
thereby-perhaps to the extent of dividing history into the
history of nations but not into the history of civilizations. For
example, I heard an eminent historian of France attack the
foreign policy of thirteenth century King Louis IX (St. Louis)
as very inimical to the future well-being of the French, which
is true. King Louis gave large territorities away to other
powers. But the historian might have added, if he had seen
fit, that the French King's generosity with his territory occurred
within a larger mental framework than the political or national,
namely, the framework of the whole medieval civilization.
Upon this view Louis' foreign policy can be defended, even
though the object of his policy, the peace and unity of his own
civilization, did not succeed, and has not yet, succeeded.
'" I am discussing the problem on the philosophical level, but we may look to
a greater society than terrestrial civilization, without our high purpose contradicting
an historical goal. There is no essential contradiction between the City of God
and the city of man.

PlliLOSOPIIY

OF lliSTORY

AND HISTORICAL

499

It is, I think, at the extremes of historiography, at the levels
of the most general and the most particular histories that the
naturalness of the philosophy of history is most apparent. At
one extreme, for example, lies the New Science 13 of Vico, which
is intended as a philosophy of history to support the philosophical generalizations. Vico emphasizes the naturalness of his
approacp. in a profound theory of the naturallaw. 14 He posits
the reality of civilizations or cultures because he finds that the
builders "of cultures, for the most part unconsciously, have
articulated civilizations according to the natural law of man's
own humanity. 15 The naturalness of the philosophy of history
pervades the thought of Vico; reference to natural, as well as
to positive, law occurs frequently.
At the other extreme of historiography lies the history of the
individual person, and especially the biography written by the
amateur in history. His written record will be particular in
its conception or naive, instead of general in outlook or sophisticated. This very naivity and particularity, at the farthest
remove from the question of the history's meaning- or whether
there is a meaning-frees the biographer to record the subject's
life naturally. The biographer's interest, or that of his readers
if he is writing with a view to satisfying their curiosity and
wonder, is natural in the sense of manifesting human nature and
the social outlooks which have been adopted by society. Boswell, in his Life of Johnson, anticipates the interest of the
reader in so highly cultural a matter as the eighteenth century
10 G. Vico, The New Science of Giambattista Vico, translated
from the third
edition (1744) by T. G. Bergin and M. H. Fisch (Cornell University, 1948).
" Ibid., p. 852, n. 1096.
16 Vico, however, did not speak of "cultures"
and "civilizations "-the use of
these words to stand for general societies did not occur until a hundred years
later. He wrote, rather, of "the nations." His term refers approximately to
civilizations. Past civilizations are often named by the nation that imposed a
universal state on them. Sometimes Vico discusses "Europe," which was Western
Civilization in his day. He did not intend his New Science to be a mere political
treatise, but a philosophy of history in the full sense of the term, paying full heed
to the providential, as well as the human; and the planned, as well as the unplanned,
aspects of history. Cf. op. cit.

500

DAVID D. RICHARDSON

Western Civilization. The fascination of the history, of course,
is not merely that of a world-famous man, nor merely the wit
and wisdom of Johnson, nor the literary genius of the author.
The interest of the narrative also depends on the significance
of the civilization in which Johnson lived. This is why I say
a rudimentary philosophy of history underlies even so limited
a chronicle as a biography. The philosophy of history at the
least is a cultural attitude informing the outlook of the amateur
historian. One might object that the Life of Johnson is a poor
illustration of historical writing because it is exceptional. But
this is the very reason we can say that Johnson" made history."
If a custom or an event or a life is so important as to have
historical significance, then the historical record of it (making
allowances for amateur historians) is a proper example of
historical writing.

B. The Ethical Method of the Philosophy of History.
The method of the philosophy of history, as I understand it,
is experiential insofar as the philosopher depends on the study
of history as it really happened. Before considering the cultural
needs of man in this world, the philosopher ought to study the
cultural goals that men in history have set themselves. Before
analyzing the cultural virtues and vices, the moralist should
observe them at work in the fabric of history. This method also
is reflective, in the sense that the moral philosopher needs to
reflect on the philosophical aspect of the realities and actions he
has empirically studied.
Besides being experiential, the method of the philosophy of
history is rational; that is, it is logical. The ethician looks for
significant consistencies and also significant inconsistencies, in
the virtues, vices, actions and goals of man. If we consider, for
example, the ultimate goal of the philosophy of history, to guide
the building and maintenance of a civilization, it is necessary
to consider inconsistencies that might appear in an historical
culture. For example, there is a difficulty of the twentieth
century which indeed is a universal problem of culture. The

PHILOSOPHY

OF HISTORY AND HISTORICAL

LEARNING

JOl

trouble is that the demand for security, social justice and a
higher standard of living will necessitate increased regimentation by the state. Such a difficulty raises the question of what
an ideal culture is, or whether one is historically possible. It
also brings forward the problem of reconciling the virtue of
(social) justice with regimentation; for regimentation and
bureaucratic processes may conflict with such forms of justice
as piety (patriotism) and observance (due honor to high-ranked
On the general level, as in these examples, the philosophy of history is analytic and scientific. ·As general ethics,
some parts of it are absolutely certain (i. e., the cardinal
virtues); and the moralist, using the rational method of logic,
can organize the subject-matter in terms of the more and the
less universal, or the general and the concrete. He may follow
out in reason the implications of the cultural virtues, vices and
the cultural goals and difficulties.
Like the other branches of morality, the philosophy of history
is not only a general ethics but also is concerned with human
actions in the concrete. And perfect precision is therefore lacking in this science because of the changeability and novelty
of human actions; for there is no science of the unforeseeable
until after the event. The dependence of the philosopher of
history upon experiential study, as a matter of fact, indicates
the limitation of human reason and logic; unlike the angels,
man cannot visualize all the possible natural situations that
may occur in history; he cannot even know in advance one
possible individual who may someday come into the world.
And yet a moral philosophy exists for the purpose of dealing
with nothing other than the changing historical situation of
human beings. Mere ethical generalities .are of no immediate
use. This is why the philosophy of history, when it is concerned directly with human actions in the concrete, becomes
imprecise and makes use of probabilities. Then it is no longer
philosophy, but casuistry. This ethics is speculative in its
method and scientifically certain-as when it considers the
nature of the virtues and vices and, to some degree, when it

502

DAVID

n. RICIL\RDSOX

analyzes the general requirements of culture and civilization.
For example, mankind accepts as the natural law the right
(jus) of people to the common use of earthly goods, and this
can be accepted with absolute certainty by the philosopher of
history. The institution, the right (jus), of private property
is accepted as a positive law, although it seems to oppose the
right of man to the common use. 16 When the philosophy of
history refers to the right of private property, an element of
probability, or at least of contingency, is thereby added to the
philosophy; for, like all positive law, the right of private
property is not understood absolutely universally but in respect
to the civil societies that man-in-history thus far has developed
and will develop in the foreseeable future. 11
Again, in actual historical fact, virtues often resemble the
vices. If one attempts to distinguish a certain difference say,
in a written report upon some unresolved current event, or if
some person should have the power of decision, and has to
distinguish the difference when he makes his prudential judgment; in these cases some imprecision or uncertainty might
exist. Suppose, for example, a theologian or a philosopher or a
casuist wanted to discern the difference between the vice of
cultural irony (self-depreciation) and the virtue of cultural
humility. At the general, speculative, level there is no difficulty; irony is opposed to truthfulness, humility is opposed to
pride. But the irony or humility of some unique person, or
of a certain contemplated action, might be difficult to distinguish. This example could lead us afield. To conclude, the
method of the philosophy of history is scientific; it has understandable conclusions with universality of scope.

Cf. St. Thomas Aquinas, Summa Theologiae, II-II, q. 66, a. 2.
That is, men are not capable of dwelling in civil societies without the institution of private property, and the positive law stabilizes by positing the institution.
16

11

PHILOSOPHY

III.

OF HISTOHY AND HISTOHICAL

THE PunPosE

oF THE PHILOSOPHY

LEAHNING

508

OF HISTORY.

To be sure, it is a purpose of the philosophy of history to
illuminate the learning of historians, to clarify the certitude of
historical knowledge, to distinguish historical learning from
learning that is not called "history," to analyze the subjectmatter of the historian. These
philosophical problems, and
the philosopher of history is the best fitted to discuss them.
From the point of view of the histmian, all these tasks might
sum up the philosophy of history. But to be at the service of
the historian is only one of the purposes of the philosophy of
history. Its main purpose is that of the philosopher as well
as the historian; its unity derives from a philosophical aim.
This aim is not completely covered by the fact that historians
have a dossier of philosophical problems which pertain to their
science. To define the philosophy of history only as the group
of philosophical problems and answers which the historian
encounters in his work obscures the complete nature of the
philosophy. This notion would not serve the historian as excellently as might a philosophy of history defined with respect
to moral action as well as with regard to historical learning.
I mean that by a moral philosophy of history we can learn the
most deeply about the nature of historical learning.
But I do not want to minimize the theoretical purpose of
the philosophy or over-emphasize its practical purpose. It is
quite true that the philosophy of history has two purposes, even
though the theoretical purpose is ultimately practical. Therefore, the philosophy of history does not have a perfect unity.
Ultimately, the end to which it owes its unity as a science is
a single practical good. But I am referring now to immediate
purposes. This philosophy (and, in less degree, the other
branches of moral philosophy) is Janus-like. Like the month
of January, named from Janus, this science is between the past
and the future. One face of it, so to speak, eyes the past, and
the other face makes resolutions for the future.
The answer is that we are dealing with a mixed science; and

504

D.AVID B. RICHARDSON

this is true of all the practical disciplines; for the final end of
every practical science is not science, but practical action or
production. For example, the end of medical science is not
knowledge, but healing. The end of political science is not to
know, but to act. In the science of culture there is a mixture
of three elements: the theoretical, the artistic or productive,
and the moral. But practical action is the end that unifies the
philosophy. 18
·
It is an immediate purpose of the philosophy of historyilluminating historical learning-to know and to understand
human nature culturally. But, strictly speaking, we must add:
" in order to guide man in his cultural life." Since the philosophy of history is an ethics-a moral philosophy-then its
primary purpose is to increase human virtues according to a
cultural outlook. Or to sum up, its whole purpose is to know the
true nature of man insofar as he is cultural, in order to bring
about the realization of that nature through the cultural virtues.
Before going on to consider a more ultimate goal of the
philosophy of history, let us note that, since a moral outlook
is concrete instead of perfectly abstract, its purpose will be that
of a concrete judgment. I say morals is concrete, because it
does not count, it does not fulfill its purpose, until an individual
makes use of it in a prudential judgment about some practical
action to be done. And the individual man (more precisely,
say, a Christian) in the moral life he should follow, is not like
philosophy which can be understood in abstraction from theology. No, morally he should be a unique individual incapable
of being dissected. A Christian, therefore, is motivated by
theology and philosophy at once. His philosophy in fact is at
the service of his theology, helping the person to put into service
'"Ibn Khaldun (M. Mahdi), op. cit., p.
My approaches to the philosophy
of history have been from the viewpoints: ethics and historiography. Ibn Khaldun,
however, restricted "the science of culture" to be only a guiding science for
historiography. He did not envisage the full ethical nature of the philosophy.
He knew that the ultimate end of historical learning is practical action. Therefore
he noted in passing merely that the ultimate end of the philosophy of history is
practical action.

PHILOSOPHY

OF HISTORY AND HISTORICAL

LEARNING

505

the teachings of faith. Moral philosophy, because of this, and
for the reason that it does refer concretely to the action of
individual living persons, is at the service of theology.
Since the purpose, the end, of a Christian person is religious
as well as ethical, then the ultimate purpose of ethics is religious. Nat ural morality is distinct, but it does not exist separately, in my view, as a fully true science of conduct. It needs
to be completed within a moral theology whose principles are
known by divine revelation. I mean a relation of the lower to
the higher learning in which the philosophy broadens its basis
of certitude and reaches to the firmament under which human
beings act, by accepting some conclusions of theology,
I think few philosophers have demonstrated the naturalness
o.f their notions as much as Vico did. He had· a legal mind,
looking for manifestations of the natural law in the development
of customs, letters and positive law. But he was a Christian
philosopher also, and he referred to the higher wisdom of
Sacred Doctrine when he needed to. Providence, for example,
appeared to him as a principle of scientific explanation. "In its
weakest form, it is an hypothesis, which (as he remarked in
one place) is converted into certitude by the normative power
of sacred history, and, implicitly, of revelation. In its strongest
form, it is a first principle, in a classic sense, that is, as a principle beyond which it is irrational to demand another." 19
CoNCLUDING

SuMMARY

The subject-matter of the philosophy of history can be learned
from that of historical learning, because the philosophy of
history lies, more or less secretly and more or less true to itself,
in the presentation of the historian. Indeed, the most universal
historians, those who have sought by natural means to find
the significance of history, have looked beyond the mere state
to the culture or higher civilization for a meaning. The " his10 R. Caponigri,
Time and Idea, the Theory of History in GiambattiJ!ta Vico
(London, 1953), p. 105.

506

I)AVID B. RICIIAUDSON

torical facts " of the historian are no ordinary facts, but cultural
facts, both Providential and " caused "--deeds, events, things
and ideals, which have moral and cultural meanings. The
subject-matter of historical learning is historical facts: the past
history of man in cooperation with Providence. The historian's
subject-matter is determined by the subject-matter of the philosophy of history, which is: man acting voluntarily for a
cultural end, with the cooperation of Providence.
Such an ethical description of the philosophy of history
presupposes an ethical method whereby it is obtained. For,
admitting the freedom (in divers ways often practiced) of
historians to take any attitude whtttsoever towards history, we
find that historians by nature (instinctively at least) , have a
moral view. This morality (of man seeking civilization with
the aid of Providence) distinguishes historical writing from the
natural sciences. Sometimes historians are not aware that their
study of human nature is at all moral.
The philosophy of history to begin with, is experiential like
the rest of ethics. The cultural moralist studies the cultural
virtues and vices and the nature of civilization experientially;
he reflects philosophically on his findings. As a further step, the
method is rational and logical, because the moralist observes
the logic of the virtues and vices and of the civilization, notes
conclusions and consequences, consistencies and inconsistencies.
At the general level, the philosophy of history is a scientific,
an exact, and a certain ethics. In addition, inasmuch as it is
ethical, it needs to inform the morality that exists at a less
abstract and more particular level, dealing with contingent
human affairs. When moral guidance (casuistry) becomes
particular it makes use of probabilities as well as the certainties.20 It is part of the theoretical purpose of the philosophy of
•• I would add, there is a very weighty fact that powerfully aids the moral
philosopher in restricting his analysis to the limits of a speculative science which
is only remotely practical. And this limiting factor is simply the pages that the
unwieldly moral philosophy requires for expression when it becomes the least bit
particular. Pages-these do not merely keep the moral philosopher within his
proper boundaries but tend to restrict him too inuch. St. Thomas is the exception

PHILOSOPHY

OF HISTORY AND HISTORICAL

LEARNING

507

history to give a philosophical understanding of the learning
of historians. Its whole purpose is to know the true nature of
man insofar as he is cultural in order to expedite, with the
cultural and theological virtues, man's efforts to attain the
perfection of his nature.
DAVID

B. RICHARDSON

University of Detroit
Detroit, Michigan

from this tendency to contract. In the hundreds of pages of the Summa that
contain his treatise on the virtues, Thomas Aquinas is neither too particular nor
too abstract. But this satisfactory amplitude is exceptional. There seems to be
no danger that a modern text on the philosophy of history (understood to be
a branch of moral science) could become too particular by filling the ordinary
dimensions of a book. The problem, therefore, is to avoid making the expression
too abstract.

THE ROLE OF THE RECIPIENT AND SACRAMENTAL SIGNIFICATION
II

B

WoRsHIP

AND SAcRAMENTAL

SIGNIFICATION

y his intention of receiving a sacrament the subject completes the sacramental sign-action or opus operatum and
in this way makes the final application of the active
power of the sacrament to himself. When the sacrament is one of
those that impart a character this effect is produced by the very
fact that the sacrament is validly received, without any virtuous
act on the part of the subject being necessary. 1 The primary
effect of the sacrament, however, justification or increase of
grace, requires more of the subject than the simple intention of
reception. What exactly is required varies according to the
particular sacrament and the state of consciousness of the
subject. St. Thomas, in general terms, speaks of faith being
necessary for justification and quotes St. Augustine as saying
that Christ brings the sinner to grace " working in him, but not
without him." 2 What is called for in the subject is discussed
very thoroughly by theologians under the rubric of ' dispositions ' or " conditions " on the part of the subject for receiving
grace. Here again in this formulation of the problem a preoccupation with the efficient causality of the sacrament to the
virtual exclusion of the sacramental mode of that causality
reveals itself. The description of the subject's acts as dispositions for grace is accurate; but it does not exhaust their
1 Cf. Summa Theol., III, q. 68, a. 8. Faith is not required of the subject for the
reception of the baptismal character: "Non enim sacramentum perficitur per iustitiam hominis dantis vel suscipientis baptismum, sed per vlrtutem Dei."
• Ibid., " Hoc modo recta fides ex necessitate requiritllr ' ad .baptismum: quia,
sicut dicitur Rom. 8, ' iustitia Dei est per fidem Iesu Christi '"; q. 69, a. 6, obj. !i!:
"Super illud Ioann. 14, 'Maiora horum faciet,' dicit Augustinus quod ut ex impio
iustus fiat, ' in illo, sed non sine illo Christus operatur.' "

508

'l'IIE RECIPIENT

AND SACRAMENTAL

SIGNIFICATIO:,-

509

theological significance. St. Thomas' notion of the sacraments
as signs of faith points the way to a more adequate appreciation
of their reception as acts of worship, elicited by the subject; and
also, no less, of their administration as acts of worship of the
minister.
The purpose of the present inquiry is to examine the interior
acts of the subject in this light. For this it will not be necessary
to determine in detail the· dispositions required for the individual sacraments. This would involve specialized and debated
problems, particularly concerning penance and Communion, the
solutions to which do not materially affect the present discussion since they are concerned with the sacraments purely as
causes. What is here proposed is an attempt to determine the
relation of the subject's acts of virtue (or dispositions) to the
sacrament (sacramentum tantum) considered as a sign, or,
more accurately, to the opus operatum. This involves a study,
first, of reception of a sacrament as an act of worship, and
second, of the participation of the faithful in the Mass. .
Dispositions for reception of a sacrament
St. Thomas devotes no special question to the discussion of
the dispositions required in the subject for receiving grace in
the sacraments. His whole sacramental tract has to be placed
in the context of his moral theology, and in particular, of his
teaching on justification and the increase of charity. In the
Tertia Pars he does no more than make particular applications
of the general principles established elsewhere.
Dispositions for justification are distinguished by St. Thomas:
remote and proximate, according as they precede, or accompany, the infusion of grace. 3 In his treatment of justification
his principal interest lies with the proximate disposition in
adults which consists in a movement of free will on which the
8 Ibid., I-ll, q. lift, a. 2, ad 1:
" ... quaedam est simul cum ipsa infusione
gratiae. . . . Est autem alia praeparatio gratiae imperfecta, quae aliquando praecedit donum gratiae gratum facientis, quae tamen est a Deo movente "; ibid., ad
2; q. 118, a. 5, ad 8; a. 7, ad 1; de Verit., q. 28, a. 8, ad 10; ad 19; a. 4, ad 8; q. 28.
a. 8; IV Sent., d. 17, q. 1, a. 1, sol. 2 (p. 829, n. 81); a. 2, sol. 1, ad 1 (p. 884 n.
60); a. S, sol. 8, ad 2 (p. 824, n. 105); a. 4, sol. 2 (p. 846, n. 182).

510

COLMAN o'NEILL

infusion of grace infallibly follows 4 and which is so closely
bound up with the infusion of grace that it belongs to the
substance of justification." It involves, on the part of the intellect, faith, 6 on the part of the will, an act of desire for God 7
which is a true act of charity and contrition. 8 It is an important element of St. Thomas' teaching, as understood by
the majority of Thomists, that this act is dependent, as on an
efficient cause, on the grace for which it is the disposition, or
material cause. 9 It is by this act of free will, proceeding wholly
under the movement of God, that an adult is formally justified
as a person/ 0 Such a disposition is not called for in a child or
one who is unconscious, because of the very fact that these do
not enjoy the use of reason and are justified by God according
to their condition. 11
Analogous with the movement of free will required for justification is the proximate disposition that is necessary for the
• Summa Theol., I-II, q. 1H!, a. 3.
5 Ibid., q. 113, a. 7, ad 1; IV Sent., d. 17, a. 1, a. 4, sol. 2 (p. 846, n. 132).
1 Summa Theol., I-II, q. 113, a. 5; a. 6.
6 Summa Theol., I-II, q. 113, a. 4; de Verit., q. 28, a. 4.
8 Ibid., a. 4, ad 1; III, a. 85, a. 5; de Verit., q. 28, a. 8.
• Summa Theol., I-II, q. 112, a. 2, ad 1: "Talis operatio est quidem meritoria;
sed non gratiae, quae iam habetur sed gloriae, quae nondum habetur "; q. 113, a. 8,
ad 2: " Dispositio subiecti praecedit susceptionem formae ordine naturae, sequitur
tamen actionem agentis per quam etiam ipsum subiectum disponitur. Et ideo motus
liberi arbitrii naturae ordine praecedit consecutionem gratiae, sequitur autem gratiae
infusionem "; de Verit., q. 28, a. 8, ad 3 in contrarium. This interpretation is
favoured by Cajetan, Dom. Soto, the Salmanticenses, Vasquez, Billot, against
Durandus, Scotus, Suarez, De Lugo, John of St. Thomas, etc.; cf. commentaries in
I-II, q. 113.
10 Summa Theol., I-II, q. 114, a. 5, ad 1; "Per fidem igitur iustificatur homo non
quasi credendo mereutur iustificationem, sed quia dum iustificatur, credit, eo quod
motus fidei requiritur ad iustificationem impii "; ibid., q. 113, a. 3; de Verit., q. 28,
a. 3: "In adultis requiritur immutatio actus voluntatis ad iustificationem "; ibid.,
ad 17: "Deus virtutes in nobis operatur sine nobis virtutes causantibus, non tamen
sine nobis consentientibus "; ibid., ad 20. Dr. Schillebeeckx, De sacramentele
heilseconomie, Antwerp, 1952, pp. 561, f., restates with emphasis and clarity St.
Thomas' teaching on the necessity of an act of charity--and therefore of contritionfor justification of an adult. He calls this the "subjectieve toeeigening" of grace,
and " immanentie van de verlossingsgenade in de persoon als persoon." (p. 57!!)
His account of the attrition-contrition
controversy in relation to penance iR
especially valuable. (pp. 579 f.)
11 Cf. de V erit., q. 28, a. 3; ad 5.

THE RECIPIENT

AND SACRAMENTAL

SIGNIFICATION

511

increase of charity. Though every act of charity disposes
remotely for such an increase, it is only one that attains a
higher degree of intensity that actually procures it/ 2 The
intensity of this act is the human index to the divinely-wrought
increase of charity. 13
It is one of the principal merits of Dr. Schillebeeckx's work,
to have shown that the teaching on the relation between grace
and free will established by St. Thomas by means of his finelyfashioned notion of proximate disposition applies equally to
sacramental and extra-sacramental justification and increase of
charity. 14 This is to say that the infusion of sacramental grace
produces in an adult subject the proximate dispositions just
reviewed. The dispositions, however, that are required for
approaching a sacrament are distinct from those that are
required at the moment of reception of grace and belong to
the second member of St. Thomas' distinction, namely, that of
remote dispositions.
Whereas proximate dispositions are essential if man's nature
is to be respected, remote dispositions are not always required;
though it is normal that man should be prepared gradually for
closer union with God. 15 St. Thomas compares this process in
the sinner with the moving of an object to bring it into the
light-or, more suggestively, with the movement of the light
to shine on the object-and with the alteration that precedes
generation. 16 After faith, the first movement in the sinner on
12 Su-mma Theol., II-II,
q. 24, a. 6: "Non quolibet actu caritatis caritas actu
augetur; sed quilibet actus caritatis disponit ad caritatis augmentum, inquantum ex
uno actu caritatis homo redditur promptior iterum ad agendum secundum caritatem;
et, habilitate crescente, homo prorumpit in actum ferventiorem dilectionis, quo
conetur in actu "; ibid., ad 2; a. 4, ad 8; I-II, q. 114, a. 8, ad 8.
13 CJ'. Schillebeeckx, op. cit., p. 628.
><Ibid., pp. 579 f. and 628 f.
16 Su-m-rna Theol., I-IT, q. 118, a. 10:
"Est enim ista communis et consuetus
cursus iustificationis ut Deo movente interius animam, homo convertatur ad Deum,
primo quidem conversione imperfecta, et postmodum ad perfectam deveniat ";
ibid., q. lHl, a. 2, ad l; ad 2; de Verit., q. 28, a. 8, ad 19; IV Sent., d. 17, q. I, a. 2,
sol. 1, ad 1 (p. 834, n. 60).
'"Sum-ma Theol., I-II, q. 113, a. 1; ct I, q. 58, a. 3.

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this path towards justification is fear, provoked by the threat
of punishment for sin. 11 This is followed by a movement of
hope according to which, so as to win pardon, one forms a
resolution of amendment. 18 In "servile" fear and hope is
included a movement of repentance, though not as yet inspired
by charity/ 9 In III, q. 85, a. 5, St. Thomas, without making
any explicit reference to the transition, goes on from this to
enumerate the proximate dispositions imperated by charity. 20
The Council of Trent, however, dealing solely with preparation
for baptism and therefore not immediately concerned with the
metaphysics of grace, speaks of " beginning to love God as the
source of all justice," in other words, of initial, and not true,
charity. 21 This movement towards God may be understood as
an act of love " of concupiscence " as distinct from love " of
benevolence." 22 As such it is included in the movement of
11 De Verit., q.
a. 4, ad 3; IV Sent., d. 14, q. l, a. 2, sol. 1, ad !'l (p. 596, n.
108); II-II, q. 19, a. !'l; a. 4. Teaching of the Church: Leo X, Bull, Exsurge Domine,
15 June l5!'l0, prop. 6 (Denz. 746); Council of Trent, sess. 6, Decret. de iustificatione,
cap. 6 (Denz. 798); can. 8 (Denz. 818). Scripture: Prov. 1: 7; 8: 13, 9: 10; 15: 33;
19: 23; Ecclus. 1: 16; 1: 25; 1: 27; 21: 7; 32:18.
18 Summa Theol., Ili, q. 85, a. 5; II-II, q. 19, a. 1, ad 2. Teaching of Church:
Council of Trent, loc. cit. (Denz. 798); can. 3 (Denz. SIS) . Scripture: Ps. 32: 18;
36:40; 90:14; Prov. 28:25; Ecclus. 2:9; Matt. 9:2; Rom. 8:24; I Jn. 3:8.
19 IV Sent., d. 14, q. 1, a. 2 (p. 596, n. 106).
20 Summa Theol., III, q. 85, a. 5:
" ... motum fidei ... motus timoris servilis
. . motus spei . . . motus caritatis, quo alieni peccatum displicet secundum seipsum,
et non iam propter supplicia. . .. motus timoris filialis.... "
21 Council
of Trent, sess. 6, Decret. de iustificatione, cap. 6 (Denz. 798):
" (Deum) tamquam omnis iustitiae fontem diligere incipiunt." That this refers, not
to perfect, but to initial, charity is clear from the history of the Council; cf. Acta
(Ed. Goerresiana, t. 5); 1st redaction of Decree, p. 384, n. 160 (not "sine dilectione
aliqua ") (cf. p. 387, l. 4:1:; p. 388, I. 9); !l:nd redaction, p. 422, l. 48, p. 423, l. 1
(" diligere incipimus "); discussion, p. 489, l. 16, p. 491, I. 16; Srd redaction, p. 686
(" dilectio" emitted); discussion, p. 645, I. 48 (calling for insertion of "per aliquam
dilectionem "), p. 655, II. 39 f. {calling for insertion of "actus dilectionis "), p. 661,
11. 35 f., p. 681; 4th redaction, p. 695, I. 31 (" Deum omnis justitiae fontem diligere
incipiunt ") (cf. p. 698, 1. 84). It is to be noted also that ch. 7 of the Decree begins:
"Hanc dispositionem seu praeparationem iustificatio ipsa consequitur." (Denz. 799)
It follows that ch. 6 is concerned with remote dispositions.
22 The interpretation
of the Council is a matter of dispute. The description of
God as "source of justice " appears to imply love "of concupiscence "; and so the
majority of theologians understand it.

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hope noted by St. Thomas in III, q. 85, a. 5 since the person
from whom one hopes for help is the object of love.23
These remote dispositions for justification represent what
is required of the subject if he is to approach the sacraments
of the dead as a responsible person and worthily. Such too is
the state of one who is restored to grace by a sacrament of
the living, received in good faith. Concerning one of the dispositions for baptism, namely, faith, the Church has issued
certain specific directions which require explicit belief in the
principal mysteries of religion.24 It is clear, therefore, that when
applied to conscious adults a positive interpretation is to be
placed on texts in which St. Thomas says that the part of the
subject's interior dispositions in relation to the efficacy of
baptism is that of removing obstacles, removens prohibens. 25
These apparently negative texts are balanced by others in which
the enumeration of acts demanded of the subject for worthy
reception corresponds to the remote dispositions for justification.26
Worthy reception of a sacrament of the living involves, on
sa Summa

Theol., I-II, q. 40, a. 7; II-II, q. 62, a. 4; q. 17, a. 8; de Spe, a. 8.
Cf. replies of the Holy Office, 25 Jan. 1708 (Denz. 1849a), 10 May 1708 (Denz.
1849b), SO March 1898 (Denz. 1966a).
'" Cf., e. g., IV Sent., d. 2, q. 2, a. 4, sol. un. (p. 101, n. 128); d. 4, q. 8, a. 1, sol.
8, ad 2 (p. 184, n. !U5); d. 4, q. 8, a. 2, sol. 1 (p. 187, n. !l25); ibid., ad 8 (p. 187, n.
229); d. 6, q. 1, a. 2, sol. 2 (p. !l88, n. 68); ibid., sol. 8 (p. 288, n. 71); De forma
abaolutioni8 (679); De articuli, fidei (614).
so Cf. IV Sent., d, 4, q. 8, a. !l, sol. 2 (p. 188, n. 280: " ... oportet quod se habet
in debita dispositione ad causam agentem et ad effectum percipiendum." The acts
required are specified: faith, devotion, contrition, observance of the Church's ritual,
absence of contempt (ibid., n. 280 f.); d. 6, q. 1, a. 2, sol. 8 (p. 288, n. 72):
"contritio sive devotio "; ibid., a. 8, sol. 1, ad 1 (p. 241, n. 90): faith; d. 4, q. S,
a. 1, sol. 8, ad 1 (p. 184, n. 214): movement of free will. Cf. also the texts referring
to fictio: ibid., d. 4, q. 8, a. 2, sol. 2, ad 1 (p. 188, n. 284); d. 6, q. 1, a. 8, sol. 1
(p. 241, n. 88). Charity is not required; therefore attrition, not necessarily contrition, is sufficient for Teceiving baptism; ibid., ad 5 (p. 242, n. 94) ; ad Rom., c. 11,
lect. 4 (927). The necessity for devotion in receiving the sacraments and the
effectiveness of the ceremonies for arousing it are constantly recurring themes in
the Tertia PaTs: m, q. 61, a. 1; a. 2; q. 68, a. 4; q. 64, a. 2, ad 1; q. 66, a. 10; q. 68,
a. 8; a. 4; a. 8; a. 12; q. 69, a. 6; a. 8; ad 2; q. 69, a. 9; q. 71, a. 2; a. 8; etc.
Confirmation and the Eucharist can justify a sinner who has not contrition but
who, while he has neither knowledge of, nor affection for, his sin, receives the
sacrament devoutly and reverently: Ill, q. 72, a. 7, ad 2; q. 79, a. 8.
2'

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the part of an adult, at least a remiss movement of charity
which is either actual or virtual. Since, however, there can be
no increase of grace without a more fervent act of charity the
sacrament itself must produce this disposition in the subject. 27
In the Sentences, St. Thomas says that "actual devotion" is
required for receiving extreme unction. 28 He says the same
there of Holy Communion; 29 though in the Summa he teaches
that even if the subject is distracted by venial sin, and thus
momentarily incapable of an act of charity,S 0 he does not forfeit
an increase of habitual grace or charity. 81 Cajetan reconciles
these two texts, saying that St. Thomas does not teach in
the Summa
that the communicant wins an increase of grace even if he has no
actual devotion; but that he does so even if he does not actually
enjoy spiritual delectation, through the fault of his venial sin (for
it cannot be through the fault of the sacrament). Such a communicant, distracted in this way, if he approaches the sacrament
devoutly as regards his other acts, places no impediment in the way
of habitual increase of grace.82
There is clearly room here for certain clarifications to be
sought in the field of religious psychology so as to determine
in particular the influence of the " state of grace " on reception
of the sacrament in various deficient states of recollection and
advertence. These problems are, however, marginal so far as
the theology of the sacraments goes. What is normal and
therefore to be urged on the faithful is that the sacraments
should be received with recollection and devotion; and when
•• Ct. Schillebeeckx, op. cit., pp. 628 f., who stresses the necessity for an act of
charity in approaching the sacraments of the living. He writes: " Door het
sacrament wordt dan een onfeilbaar verband gelegd tussen deze caritasdaad, ' actus
remissus caritatis,' en de vermeerdering van de heiligmakende genade met de daarmee
gepaard gaande ' actus ferven"tior caritatis,' die tot het wezen zelf can de
genadevermeerdering behoort bij bewuste adulten." (p. 624) He makes the
necessary modifications in the case of unconscious subjects.
•• IV Sent., d. 28, q. 2, a. 2, sol. 4.
29 Ibid., d. U, q. 2, a. I, sol. 8 (p. 526, n. I77).
•• Cf. Summa Theol., 1-11, q. 89, a. I.
81 Ibid., III, q. 79, a. 8.
•• Cajetan in III, q. 79, a. I (n. 5).

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this is done the subject of the sacraments of the living makes
an act of charity, however remiss.

Worship in reception of the sacraments
When a sacrament is worthily received by a conscious subject
his act of practical intellect together with the bodily actions
which put into effect his intention constitute an external act of
religion. For the sacraments of the living this act is imperated
by charity, elicited by the virtue of religion; for the sacraments
of the dead it is imperated by faith and hope. 33 Thus the
subject is involved according to his whole supernatural psychology in receiving a sacrament and his act of submission to
the minister is a true act of worship, differing in this respect in
no way from other external acts of worship. Though his
baptismal character gives this act sacramental validity, it does
not affect its moral features. The subject completes (in the
sense already explained) the sacramental sign-action, the opus
operatum, in virtue of his intention operating according to his
character; and as a consequence his interior dispositions which
elicited or imperated his intention are expressed outwardly by
the opus operatum in so far as this is dependent on him. The
opus operatum is the common symbolic action of minister and
subject, one giving, the other receiving the material elements
of the sacrament. In so far as it signifies the active power of
God and of Christ infusing grace into the soul it does not
express the subject's devotion in the manner of an external act
of religion. It is the act of reception which makes the sacrament
to be signified as received that is the subject's act of worship.
This is all acted out on the level of signification, before
(prioritate naturae) the sacrament is formally causing grace
efficiently. Combining this new aspect of the sacraments with
what has already been said about the function of the faith of
the Church in relating the sacramental sign to the salvifi.cdecree
of God a complete notion may be formed of the sacraments as
signs of faith. A worthily received sacrament is a sign of faith,
first of all of the Church, secondly, of the subject (and likewise
•• Cf. Cajetan, in II-IT, q. 81, a. 4, ad 2.

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of the minister if he administers the sacrament worthily).
Every valid sacrament is a common act of worship of the whole
Church, performed through an official minister. A sacrament
cannot be fruitful unless it be in some degree a personal act of
worship of the subject.
This is the fuller sense of St. Thomas' saying that the
sacraments belong to divine worship. 34 He indicates the vital
union between the external action and the interior dispositions
in several places. Grace is needed if the cultual actions to which
the characters are ordained are to be performed as they should. 35
The baptized gain a new, external extension to their primary
incorporation into Christ which is by faith. 86 Baptism is the
sacrament or external profession of faith. 87 The whole concept
of fictio is that of a false profession, of performing an action
which is ordained to worship without having the proper dispositions.88
Special cases

Children and those who, being unconscious or mentally unbalanced, receive such sacraments as they are capable, of in
the fashion of children, are unable to perform an act of worship.
The sacrament is applied to them by the faith of the Church
which the minister's intention serves. Children can contribute
"'Summa Theol., ill, q. 61, a. 4; q. 68, a. 2; IV Cont. Gent., c. 57; etc. ill, q. 68,
a. 6 refers to the effect of the sacraments, not to the sacramental action itself
(i.e., to the sign-action preceding essentially causality), when it says: "Non omnia
sacramenta ordinantur ad divinum cultum "; cf. q. 68, Introd.
85 Ibid., III, q. 68, a. 4, ad 1: "Character directe quidem et propinque disponit
animam ad ea quae sunt divini cultus exequenda: et quia haec ido;nee non fiunt sine
auxilio gratiae ... ex consequenti divina largitas recipientibus characterem gratiam
largitur, per quam digne impleant ea ad quae deputantur "; q. 68, a. 4: "Ex hoc
autem quod aliquis lavandum se praebet per baptismum, significatur quod se
disponat ad interiorem ablutionem "; q. 80, a. 4: "Quicumque (Eucharistiam)
sumit ex hoc ipso significat se esse Christo unittim et membris eius incorporatum."
•• Ibid., q. 68, a. 2: Those who have not baptism even in desire "nee sacramentaliter nee mentaliter Christo incorporantur "; q. 69, a. 5, ad 1: " ... mentaliter
. . • corporaliter. . . ."
.. Ibid., q. 78, a. 8, ad 6: "Baptismus dicitur sacramentum fidei quia est
quaedam fidei protestatio "; q. 70, a. 1; a. 2; q. 71, a. 1; Quodl. VI, q. 8, a. 1; ad 1.
88 Ibid., III, q. 69, a. 9; texts from Sentences, see above, n. 26.

THE RECIPIENT

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517'

nothing to this official act of community worship; hence the
sacraments of which they are subjects produce their effect
solely by reason of the faith of the Church and through
operation of the Holy Spirit who prompts those responsible for
the child to offer it to the Church to be baptized (or confirmed) and who in baptism communicates the merit of Christ
to one who through no personal fault is in a state of sin.89
In the case of an unconscious adult who previously had the
use of reason, however, the sacramental sign-action of the
Church will not be completely "true" if the subject is in any
way lacking in dispositions. The part of the intention required
for validity has already been discussed. In relation to moral
dispositions the sacramental action signifies that the subject
is a member of the Church who has at least habitual attrition,
or, in the case of the Eucharist, who previously showed signs
of devotion for the sacrament. 40 If the' state of the subject is
not in conformity with this, the Church's community action,
the opus operatum, by which she offers worship for a helpless
member, is in part false and the full effect of the sacrament
cannot follow, at least until the subject is properly disposed.41
•• Ibid., III, q. 68, a. 9, ad 2: "Fides autem unius, immo totius Ecclesiae, parvulo
prodest per operationem Spiritus sancti qui unit Ecclesiam et bona unius alteri
communicat " (Cf. ill, q. 86, a. 2, ad 1); q. 84, a. S; q. 68, a. 10, ad S; q. 69,
a. 6, ad 8. Cajetan in III, q. ·68, a. 9: "In resp. ad 2 non sic intelligas Ecclesiae
fidem prodesse infanti qui baptizatur, quasi meritum ·fidei existens in Ecclesia,
salvet infantem, quoniam infans non per fidem, sed per fidei sacramentum, regulariter
salvatur; sed intellige Ecclesiae merita prodesse infanti et iuxta articulum communionis sanctorum, et particulariter, tum orando pro infante, tum applicando
eundem sacramento, ex corde puro et caritate plena." The faith of the Church
involved is that required for the existence of any sacrament. Dr. Schillebeeckx's
explanation of infant baptism according to which the habit of faith given to the
child is " actuated " by the sacramental ceremony is unnecessarily complicated.
(Op. cit., 614: 'Het geloof van het kind dat wordt gedoopt, is dus geactueerd in
de doopseldaad zelf, als geloofsdaad van de Kerk '; S.'s italics). St. Thomas speaks
only of the Church professing faith in the person of the child to whom grace is
given by the sacrament; cf. III, q. 71, a. 1, ad S; q. 68, a. 9, ad S; de Verit., q. iS,
a. 8, ad 14. S.'s teaching is, besides, dependent on his general ideas on worship in
the sacraments; see below.
•• Cf. ill, q. 68, a. 12, ad 1; q. 80, a. 9; ad I.
41 In contrast to the child there is a certain sense in which it may be said of
the unconscious adult that his habitual faith, attrition or contrition are " actuated "

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The pri1wiple of this ·worship (opus operans)
A question remains to be discussed concerning the worship
offered by the subject, which has been raised by Dr. Schillebeeckx. Does the sacramental action, the opus operatum,
express the remote or the proximate dispositions of the subject?
Dr. Schillebeeckx answers: the proximate dispositions. This
conclusion he advances as a corollary of his teaching that the
proximate disposition is the subjective "assimilation" (toeeigening) of the gift of grace, that is to say, the act of free will
by which grace is accepted by the subject as a person. He
expresses this notion in his own version of the opus-operatum
terminology. He takes opus operatum to mean primarily the
action of the Christ-mystery in the Church's ceremonial.42 He
then formulates his conclusion: the opus operatum of a fruitful
sacrament is not only the expression of the love of Christ and
his Church, but also the external act of the subject, expressing
the charity by which he makes his own the grace given him in
the sacrament.1!;3. Using opus operantis of these proximate
dispositions of the subject, he goes on to formulate the same
conclusion in an intentionally startling fashion: in a fruitful
sacrament " the opus operatum is the opus operantis "; that is
to say, the sacramental sign of the Church's faith is, when fruitful, the personal external act of the subject's devotion, just as
the response of the subject to grace is identified with the action
of Christ on the soul.44
by the sacramental action of the Church since he receives as a member of the
Church who at some time has made acts of these virtues; and such acts will have
been directed either explicitly or implicitly towards Extreme Unction and Viaticum,
at least.
•• Schillebeekx, op. cit., pp. 645, 646.
•• Ibid., p. 656: " Door deze voltooide liefdeinzet wordt de sacramentele genade
toegeeigend en wordt het sacrament meteen de uiterlijke vertekening van deze ·
liefdebeleving, die door het sacrament zelf in Ieven werd geroepen. . . . De
vruchtbare sacramenten zijn aldus niet alleen de. uitdrukking van het liefdeleven
van Christus en Zijn Kerk, maar tevens ' sacramenta-signa caritatis ' van het
onvangend subject."
44 Ibid., p. 659: The subject must enter the sacramental action through faith,
hope and love: " Gebeurt dit wei, dan is het opus operatum het opus operantis:
d.w.z. het sacrament als symbooldaad van het kerkelijk geloof is, bij vruchtbaarheid,
meteen de persoonlijke tekena'!tiviteit van de innerlijke

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Two observations seem called for. Neither of them disputes
Dr. Schillebeeckx's teaching on the nature of the proximate
dispositions for receiving sacramental grace.
First, the opus operatum as such-whether the term be
understood to signify formally a "visible mystery-act of
Christ " or merely the ceremony performed (which is used by
Christ) -is not the expression of the subject's dispositions. It
is the act of reception that serves in this capacity; and this
action is no more than an integral part of the sacramental signaction which is the opus operatum.
Second, the essential participation of the subject in the
sacramental action is procured by means of his intention and
his character. In a fruitful sacrament his participation is an
external act of religion in so far as this intention is elicited by
the virtue of religion and imperated by the theological virtues.
Thjs participation is required for the very existence of the
sacrament as applied to the subject and thus enjoys a priority
of nature over the causality of the sacrament, in such a way
that the character may be said to make of the subject a
material instrumental cause of grace. The proximate dispositions for grace in the subject are in their turn produced
efficiently by the causality of the sacrament. It is evident,
therefore, that these proximate dispositions cannot elicit the
intention which is essential to his reception of the sacrament,
for this would imply that they were the effect of the sacrament
and at the same time a presupposition to its efficient causality;
and this is impossible.
It is to be observed that the sacrament produces its effect
instantaneously .45 Thus it is in the same instant that the
subject's intention, elicited by the remote dispositions, is given
sacramental validity, and that the sacrament produces its effect
together with the proximate dispositions for it in the subject.
Though the preparatory and supplementary ceremonies are all
intended to be acts of religion, the formal sacramental worship
is confined to this instant in which the character functions as
a passive power. Therefore the act in which, according to Dr.
•• De V erit., q.

a. 9: " Utrum justificatio impii fiat in instanti."

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COLMAN o'NEILL

Schillebeeckx, the proximate dispositions consist, cannot elicit
the act of reception as its external act. At the moment of
sacramental reception both grace and the proximate dispositions
for it are signified precisely as the effect of the sacrament. The
act of reception is elicited only by the remote dispositions which
remain, at least virtually, at the critical instant.
It seems necessary, therefore, to disagree with Dr. Schillebeeckx on two points. Firstly: it is only that part of the opus
operatum for which the subject is directly responsible, namely,
reception of the sacrament, that is the subject's act of worship.
Secondly: it is his remote, and not his proximate, dispositions
that form, together with his intention, the opus operans that is
expressed by the sacramental sign-action in so far as it depends
on the subject. It is because the sacraments of the Church are
causes as well as acts of worship that they signify the proximate
dispositions of the subject. There can be no question of .an
elicited external act so far as these dispositions are concerned.
The worshipful use of the sacraments is confined to their precausal reality as signs.
Taken literally-thQugh obviously Dr. Schillebeeckx's whole
teaching excludes this interpretation of his words-to say that
the opus operatum is the opus operans (or the opus operantis)
is to deny any efficacy to the sacraments other than that due
to the merit of the subject, since the effect of the sacrament is
produced ex opere operato. Such a phrase appears to concede
the Protestant concept of the sacraments.
According to St. Thomas' theology the sacraments are wholly
integrated into the moral life of the faithful. Reception of the
sacraments is an act of worship to be carried out with all the
attention and devotion that should be given to any act of piety.
By reason of the baptismal character this act of worship enters
the new dimension of the sacramental order where it serves to
bring the saving merits and power of Christ into contact with
the subject so that he gains far richer graces than his own
activity could merit. By participating in the worship of Christ,
the Priest, through the sacraments the faithful are :6lled with
the fruits of his worship. In one of the sacraments they par-

THE RECIPIE:KT

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ticipate in his worship in a special way. This must now be
considered.

*

*

*

*

*

*

Before attempting to define the manner in which the faithful
participate in the Mass some general ideas on the Eucharistic
sacrifice itself must be noted.

The sacrifice of the Mass
St. Thomas, for all his emphasis on the Eucharist as Communion, points out in a number of places that " this sacrament
is also a sacrifice." 46 In contrast to this he echoes the Epistle
to the Hebrews in saying that Christ " was offered once " and
that " by one oblation he hath perfected for ever them that are
sanctified," a fact which excludes the necessity, and even the
possibility, of repetition of the sacrifice.47 The notion that he
uses to reconcile these apparently contradictory assertions,
namely, that of the J\IIass as a "memorial" of the Passion, is
one that is apt to appear insufficient to modern theologians.
Yet it is repeated so often in the Tertia Pars of the Eucharist
either as sacrifice or as sacrament that it must be accepted as a
key-notion for St. Thomas. Its psychological, humanistic overtones at once place the Mass in the context of signs of faith. 48
In one place St. Thomas goes so far as to say that Christ can
be said to have been immolated in the figurative sacrifices of the
Old Law in the same way as he is in the Mass considered simply
as a memorial of the Passion. 49
•• Summa Theol., ill, q. 68, a. 6; q. 78, a. 4; q. 79, a. 5; q. 79, a. 7; q. 82, a. 4;
a. 10; q. 88, a. 1, ad 1.
41 Heb. 9:28; 10:14; cf. St. Thomas, ad Heb., c.IO, lect.1 (499).
•• Cf. ill, q. 66, a. 9, ad 5: repraesentativum Dominicae mortis et passionis; q. 78,
a. 4: commemorativum Dominicae passionis; q. 78, a. 5: aliquod repraesentativum
Dominicae passionis; q. 74, a. 1: memoriale Dominicae passionis; q. 79, a. 7:
" lnquantum enim in hoc sacramento repraesentatur passio Christi, qua Christus
' obtulit se hostiam Deo,' ut dicitur Ephes., 5, habet rationem sacrificii "; q. 80,
a. 10, ad 2: memoriale passionis Christi; q. 80, a. 12, ad 8: repraesentatio Dominicae
passionis; q. 76, a. 2, ad I; ad 2; q. 77, a. 7: sacramentum Dominicae passionis;
q. -78, a. 8, ad 2; q. 79, a. I; a. 2; q. 88, a. 1, ad 1: exemplum (from Ambrose);
IV Sent., d. 18, q. 1, a. 1, sol. 2 (p. 548, n. 29); etc.
•• Ibid., III, q. 88, a. 1: "Celebratio huius sacramenti ... imago est quaedam

COLMAN o'NEILL

That the Mass is something more than the sacrifice of the
Temple St. Thomas attributes to the Real Presence; 110 and this
at once leads him beyond the realm of sacrifice on which recent
liturgists have concentrated their attention into that of Communion. This significant ambivalence that the Eucharist has for
St. Thomas, taking into account, as it does, what is contained in
the sacrament both by concomitance and vi sacramenti, 61 and
envisaging the Mass not merely as a sacrifice but as a sacrifice
of which the victim is a sacrament of grace, is expressed by him
proleptically:
In this sacrament memory is made of the Passion of Christ, as
bringing its effect to the faithful. 52

There is a similarity between phrases like this and those used
later by the Council of Trent}' 3
repraesentativa passionis Christi, quae est vera immolatio. . . . Quantum ad
(istum) modum poterat Christus dici immolari etiam in figuris veteris Testamenti."
•• Ibid., q. 78, a. 5, ad !l: 'Eucharistia est sacramentum perfectum Dominicae
passionis, tamquam continens ipsum Christum passum.'
51 Ibid., q. 76, a. 1.
52 Ibid., q. 88, a. 2, ad 1; q. 79, a. 1: "Ell'ectus huius sacramenti debet considerari
primo quidem et principaliter ex eo quod in hoc sacramento continetur, quod est
Christus. • . . Secundo consideratur ex eo quod per hoc sacramentum repraesentatur,
quod est passio Christi "; IV Sent., d. 18, q. 1, a. 2, sol. 8, ad 1 (p. 555, n. 75):
" Passio Christi prout in capite contingit, semel tantum in anno repraesentatur in
Ecclesia; sed prout in .nos ejus effectus provenit quotidie debet repraesentari.'' The
most important formulation of this idea is to be found in those texts where the
Mass is said to be a sacrifice undeT the fcmn of a meal; e. g., ill, q. 66, a. 9, ad 5:
" In sacramento Eucharistiae commemoratur mors Christi inquantum ipse Christus
passus nobis exhibetur quasi paschale convivium; secundum illud I Cor. 5: 'Pascha
nostrum immolatus est Christus; itaque epulemur "; see below. St. Thomas' insistence on the Real Presence and relegation of the sacrifice to a secondary place
agrees with Pius XII in his address to those taking part in the International
Congress of Pastoral Liturgy (Assisi), 22 September 1956 (cf. L'Osservatore
Romano, 28 Sept. 1956) , correcting a tendency of modern liturgists: " On se
contente du sacrifice de l'autel, et l'on diminue !'importance de Celui qui l'accomplit.
Or, Ia personne du Seigneur doit occuper le centre du culte, car c'est elle qui
unifie les relations de l'autel et du tabernacle et leur donne leur sens."
•• Council of Trent, sess. 22, cap. 1 (Denz. 988) : " Deus et Dominus noster ...
in coena novissima, qua nocte tradebatur, ut dilectae sponsae suae Ecclesiae visibili
(sicut hominum natura exigit) relinqueret sacri:ficium, quo cruentum illud semel in
cruce peragendum repraesentaretur eiusque memoria in :finem usque saeculi permaneret, atque illius salutaris virtus in remissionem eorum, quae a nobis quotidie

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Because of his emphasis on the fruits of the Mass and on
Communion, St. Thomas offers no ready-made " theory " of
the sacrafice; but Abbot Vonier's sacrament-sacrifice theory,
according to which the double consecration symbolizes and
effects sacramentally the Passion of Christ, appears to interpret
faithfully his theology. 54 Of themselves, however, the separately
consecrated species constitute formally only a very perfect sign
of Calvary. They represent the historical, natural sacrifice; but
this is insufficient to make the Mass a true and proper sacrifice.
For that is required an active offering of the victim; and, according to Thomists, it is Christ himself who actually, not merely
virtually, makes this offering. Theologians, even Thomists,
differ as to whether the cross and the Mass are numerically
identical or not. 55 The question remains unresolved; but it is
committuntur, peccatorum applicaretur, etc. . . ." Pius XII, in the Encyclical
Letter, Mediator Dei, possibly to exclude a Caselian interpretation of "repraesentaretur," speaks of "memorialis demonstratio." (cf. AAS 89 (1947) p. 548)
•• A. Vonier, 0. S. B., A Key to the Doctrine of the Eucharist, !!nd imp., London,
1981. A more recent and clear account of this theory is to be found in B. Durst,
0. S. B., Daa W esen der Eucharistiefeier und des christlicken Priestertuma, Studia
Anselmiana, no. S2, Rome, 195S. Concerning the relation between the sacrifice of
the cross and the Mass, the Council of Trent confines itself to saying (sess. 22,
cap. 2. Denz. 940): "Una enim eademque est hostia, idem nunc offerens
sacerdotum ministerio, qui se ipsum tunc in cruce obtulit, sola offerendi ratione
diversa." Pius XII, in Mediator Dei, more clearly, speaks of the double consecration
as the symbol of the Passion. (Cf. AAS S9 (1947) p. 548) Cf. Summa Theol.,
III, q. 74, a. I; q. 80, a. I2, ad S: "Repraesentatio Dominicae passionis agitur in
ipsa consecratine huius sacramenti, in qua non debet corpus sine sanguine
consecrari "; In Matt., c. 26, n. 4 (2191): " ••• rememorativum Dominicae
passiouis. Et non potuit melius significare quam sic, ut significetur sanguis ul
effusus et separatus a corpore."
•• Among recent writers, Durst, op. cit., pp. 59, 60, asserts that Christ elicits a
new act of offering for each Mass; cf. ibid., p. 76, n. IS. This appears to be the
opinion of the Salmanticenses, tr.
disp. IS, dub. S nn. 49, 50. Cajetan, on the
contrary, says, De sacrijicio Missae adversus LtttheranoB (Opuac. omnia, Lyons,
1567, tome 8, tr. IO, pp. 285 f.), 6: "Non posse affirmari proprie loquendo dua
sacrificia, aut duas hostias, aut duas oblationes in Novo Testamento .." Identity,
in some form or other, is taught in recent years by A. Vonier, op. cit., pasrim;
R. Garrigou-Lagrange, 0. P., An Christus non Bolum virtualiter sed actualiter of!erat
Missas, Ang. 19 (1942) pp. I05-118; Ch. Heris, 0. P., The Mystery of Christ (Le
myatere du Christ, tr. by D. Fahey, C. S. Sp.), Cork, 1950, pp. 204-206; E. Masure,
The Christian Sacrifice (Le sacrifice du Chef, Eng. tr.), London, 1944, Bk. 8,
paarim; P. Ruppreh, 0. S. B., Sacrificium Mediatoris. Die OpferanBChauungendu

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COLMAN o'NEILL

hard to see how the unique character of Christ's sacrifice on
Calvary is to be preserved if the Mass differs from it in any way
except in the mode of offering.56
It is the office of the celebrant to perform this sacramental
representation of Calvary. This he does by his power of transubstantiation, a power held by none but the priest. 57 In this
sense the priest offers the sacrifice of Christ instrumentally,
taking the place of Christ sacramentally. 58
The Mass therefore gives a temporal, sacramental extension
to Calvary so that .the charity of Christ that was expressed
outwardly in sacrificial form by the crucifixion is now actually
signified by the species of bread and wine that contain the
Body and Blood of Christ. It is this relation of signification,
proper to an external act of religion, that gives value to the
Mass, just as it gave it to the crucifixion.59 What is to be noted
is that, though the Mass as the sacrifice of Christ gives infinite
Aquinaten (6 parts), Divus Th., Frib., 11 (1988) p. 888. Cf. Summa Theol., III,
q. 88, a. l, ad 1: "Sicut Ambrosius dicit ... hoc autem sacrificium exemplum est
illius. Sicut enim quod ubique offertur unum est corpus et non multa corpora, ita
et unum sacrificium."
56 Various proposals have been made to explain how there can be identity between
cross and Mass. W. Barden, 0. P., What happens at M0$8 (Dublin, 1950), pp.
88-96, distinguishes between the external act of oblation in Christ's practical
intellect and his primary, interior, acts of devotion and prayer, and suggests that
the former is maintained unchanged by one, aeviternal act, governed by Christ's
angelic knowledge. It is by this act that Christ offers each and every Christian
sacrifice, either naturally (on Calvary) or sacramentally (at the Last Supper and
at Mass). M. Matthijs, 0. P., "Mysteriengegenwart' secundum sanctum Thomam,"
A.ngelicum 84 (1947), pp. 898-899, proposes that Christ, at the Last Supper, offered
a sacramental sacrifice, at the same time commanding his Apostles to offer in
priesthood reaches
memory of him. This act of institution of the Eucharist and
all places and times by Christ's divine power, producing its effect instrumentally
through priests. The latter theory is the simpler and ensures greater unity between
Mass, Supper and Calvary; but it depends on the proposition that God can apply
instrumentally now an action that took place in the past. M. solves this difficulty
by quoting III, q. 56, a. I, ad 8 and I Cor., c. 15, lect. S (915). Fr. Barden's theory
involves no such questionable principle.
•• Summa Theol., m, q. 82, a. 10, ad 1, ad 2.
•• Ibid., a. 1: "Hoc sacramentum est tantae dignitatis quod non conficitur nisi in
persona Christi"; a. 2, ad 2; a. 8; a. 5; a. 7, ad S; q. 88, a. l, ad 8: "Sacerdos
gerit imaginem Christi in cuius persona et virtute verba pronuntiat ad consecrandum .
. . . Et ita quodammodo idem est sacerdos et hostia "; q. 78, a. 1.
•• Ibid., q. 48, a. 2; a. 8: "Hoc ipsum opus quod voluntarie passionem sustinuit

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honor to God and is of infinite value in itself to men, this is
precisely the honor and value of Oalvarg.60 The sacramental
representation adds nothing to this. It might be said, if it is
understood properly, that as far as the personal worship of
Christ as Head goes, the Mass is an irrelevance. The purpose
of the sacramental sacrifice is that it should be the sacrifice of
the Church, and this not simply as an empty ceremonial, however holy in itself, but as a sign of the charity of men.61 Christ's
sacrifice cannot be repeated, but the personal sacrifice of the
Church can, and must, be repeated continually; and, since there
is only one definitive, absolute sacrifice in the New Law, namely,
the historic sacrifice of Calvary, the Church must make each
of her sacrifices an offering of that sacrifice; and this she does
by offering the sacrament of the sacrifice. The problem to be
solved is: how is the charity of the Church, therefore of the
individual faithful, expressed by the sacrifice of the Mass?
The worship of the faithful in the Mass
. Although the commentators of St. Thomas devote several
pages to their replies to the questions: -who offers the Mass?
-and, for whom is the Mass offered?-they place their discussion in a canonical, rather than a liturgical or sacramental,
context. 62 They are concerned with the theological implications
fuit Deo maxime acceptum, utpote ex caritate proveniens "; ibid., ad 8; cf. ll-ll,
q. 85, a. I.

•• Theologians put it that it is of infinite value in actu primo and sufficiently,
not efficaciously; cf. Salmanticenses, tr. 28, disp. 18, dub. 6.
81 Cf. ill, q. 82, a. 7, ad 1: ·commenting on texts of (pseudo-) Augustine
(" Extra Ecclesiam catholicam non est locus veri sacrificii ") and Leo (" Aliter [sc.
quam in Ecclesia quae est corpus Christi] nee rata sunt sacerdotia nee vera
sacrificia ") , St. Thomas says: " Extra Ecclesiam non potest esse spirituale sacrificium quod est verum veritate fructus, licet sit verum veritate sacramenti "; q. 68,
a. 6: " ... Ecclesiae sacrificium." Cf. Cajetan, De celBbratione Missae
omnia, Lyons, 1567, tome 2, tr. 8, pp. 146f.), 2: · "Loquendo de eflectu huius
sacrificii ex solo opere operata secundum se, patet nullum habere particularem
eflectum in quocumque homine."
•• Cf. Cajetan, John of St. Thomas, Gonet, Salmanticenses, Billuart, in their
commentaries on ill, q. 82: De ministro Eucharistiae; and q. 88: De sacrificio
Missae; and q. 75, a. 5: De efiectu sacrificii; Dom. Soto, In IV Sent., d. 18, q. i;
Cajetan, De celebrationB Missae, and De Missae sacrijicio.

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of the Church law on stipends, on offering Mass for those not
in communion with the Church, and so on. The question of
participation in the Mass as stated by modern theologians,
namely, the question of how exactly the faithful join in the
offering of the Body and the Blood, they pass over with one or
other variation on a formula found in its typical form in Dom.
Soto: the whole Christian people offer " in a very general
fashion and mediately, that is, through the priest ..• through
the hands of the priest "; those present at Mass offer " in a
more particular, but still general, fashion." 68
Any attempt to evaluate the liturgical significance of these
token formulas must begin by restoring them to their place in
the sacramental theology of St. Thomas. He himself nowhere
gives a reasoned statement on lay participation, because for
him, no less than for his commentators, the question was not an
actual one. It is only in recent years that theologians, with the
encouragement and guidance of the Church, have attempted
to give explicit and systematic form to a belief that has always
been acknowledged by the Christian conscience. Nevertheless,
the elements of a solution to the problem are, it appears, to be
found in St. Thomas' general teaching on the sacraments and in
particular on the Eucharist and the baptismal character. What
follows is an attempt to formulate this solution. A brief review
of the explicit teaching of St. Thomas, of the more precise
ideas put forward in recent papal pronouncements, and finally
of the approaches to the problem made by some theologians,
introduces this suggested solution.

St. Thomas' explicit teaching
St. Thomas' ideas on priesthood and on . the offering of
sacrifice are based on the Epistle to the Hebrews, and thus
primarily on the concept of the Old Testament priesthood. as a
figure of
Consequently, he speaks of the priest as
•• Dom. Soto, loc. cit., a. 1; cp. Salmanticenses, tr. !!8, d. 18, dub. 8, n. 5!!;
Gonet, De sacramentis, disp. 11, a. 8, distinguishing the part taken in the
ea:ternal ritual by the deacons, the acolytes, the choir, and so on.
•• Summa Theol., I-II, q. 102; III, q. !!!l, a. 1, Sed c.; q. 41, a. 1; ad 8; q. 59, a. !l;
q. !!!l, a. 4, ad 1. Heb., 5: 1 (" Omnis namque pimtifex ex hominibus assumptus pro

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"offering" the Mass "for" the people. "For" (pro) in this
context has two senses for St. Thomas. It can mean " for the
benefit of," to indicate the disposal of the fruits of the l\1ass.65
It can also mean" on behalf of" or" in the person of." 66 The
people are said to offer their gifts at the offertory-a reference
to the offertory procession. 67 There are besides a few texts
where " o:fferers " are spoken of; and it is not clear in what sense
this is to be understood; possibly of the person who offers a
It is clearly stated that the offering made by the
priest is an external sacrifice, not depending on his interior
dispositions, even though these ought to correspond to his
actions. 69 It is also clear that, though the external offering made
by the priest has an intrinsic value/ 0 the people are called on to
participate by devotion and prayer. 71 Texts of this nature are
hominibus constituitur in iis quae sunt ad Deum, ut offerat dona et sacrificia pro
peccatis ") is quoted in I-II, q. 101, a. 4, ad 5; q. 105, a. 1, obj. 4; II-II, q. 86,
a. S; III, q. 22, a. 1; a. f<!; q. 64, a. 7, Sed c.; q. 88, a. 4, ad 6; Suppl., q. 19, a. 8,
Sed c. 2; IV Cont. Gent., cap. 74.
66 Cf. III, q. 79, a. 7:
" ... pro omnibus sumentibus offertur ... Aliis, qui non
sumunt, prodest per modum sacrificii in quantum pro salute eorum offertur ";
q. 83, a. 4: "Co=emorat ... illos pro quibus hoc sacrificium offertur, scilicet,
pro universali Ecclesia "; q. 83, a. 4, ad 6 (quoting Heb., 5: l); possibly q. 83, a. 4,
ad 5 (quoted below, n. 71).
•• C£. III, q. 80, a. 12, ad 3: " Sacerdos in persona omnium sanguinem offert et
wmit "; q. 82, a. 3: " ... ad (sacerdotem) pertinet dona populi Deo o:lierre ":
I-U, q. 102, a. 4, ad 6 (of the Temple sacrifices): "In atrio extra tabernaculum
continebatur altare holocaustorum, in quo offerebantur Deo sacrificia de his quae
erant a populo possessa. Et ideo in atrio poterat esse populus, qui huiusmodi Deo
o!l'erebat per manus sacerdotum. Sed ad altare interius, in quo ipsa devotio et
sanctitas populi Deo offerebatur, non poterat accedere nisi sacerdotes quorum erat
Deo offerre populum."
61 Cf. III, q. 83, a. 4; Suppl., q. 37, a. 4, ad 3.
•• Cf. HI, q. 83, a. 4: "Sacerdos secreto commemorat ... specialiter quosdam
' qui offerunt .. .'"-a quotation from the Canon of the Mass, to the interpretation of which St. Thomas does not commit himself; q. 88, a. 1, ad 1: "'Una est
hosti:1,' quam scilicet Christus obtulit et nos offerimus "; q. 79, a. 5.
•• Ibid., q. 82, a. 4: "Exterius sacrificium quod offert, signum est interioris
sacrificii .. .''; q. 82, a. 5; a. 6; a. 7; a. 8 (all of these concerning Mass offered by
sinners, heretics, etc.) .
70 Ibid., I-II,
q. 102, a. 4, ad 3: "Ipsum sacrificium Ecclesiae spirituale est"
(see context).
71 Ibid., III, q. 79, a. 5:
"Quamvis haec oblatio ex sui quantitate sufficiat ad
satisfaciendum pro omni poena, tamen fit satisfactoria illis pro quibus offertur, vel

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comparatively rare because of St. Thomas' interest in the fruit
of the sacrifice of Christ rather than in the sacrifice of the
people. According to one of St. Thomas' most significant texts
for this matter-he is speaking explicitly of the priest, but
his principle is of general application-participation
in the
fruits of the Mass by sacramental Communion is a public profession that one has made the interior oblation of oneself that
is signified by the exterior sacrifice.72
Papal teaching

The teaching of the Church on the matter, up to the time
of Pius XI, offers no moJ;e definite ideas than those of St.
Thomas. 73 The Council of Trent urges that all the faithful
should attend Mass with faith, reverence and contrition, but
is content to say impersonally of the Mass: offertur; and finally
it recommends that the faithful should take part " not only
by interior desire, but also by sacramental reception of the
Eucharist." 74
Pius XI, in his Encyclical Letter, Miserentissimus Redemptor,75 introduces a remarkable development in the expression
of the doctrine. The spiritual sacrifice of the faithful, he
declares, is to be associated with the sacrifice of the Mass in
order to fill up what is wanting to the sufferings of Christ. The
faithful, he goes on, called a "royal priesthood" by St. Peter,
etiam offerentibus, secundum quantitatem suae devotionis, et non pro tota poena ";
q. 88, a. 4; ad 5: "In hoc sacramento requiritur devotio totius populi, pro quo
sacrificium offertur .. , "; q. 82, a. 1, ad 2; IV Sent., d. 18, q. 1, a. 1, sol. l, ad 1
(p. 548, n. £5) : " Omnis bonus homo dicitur sacerdos mystice; quia scilicet
mysticum sacrificium [al. sacerdotium] Deo offert seipsum."
•• Summa Theol., III, q. 82, a. 4: "Exterius sacrificium quod offert, signum est
interioris sacrificii quo quis seipsum offert Deo: ut Augustinus dicit, X de Civ. Dei,
Unde per hoc quod participat sacrificio, ostendit ad se sacrificium interius pertinere."
73 Cf. condemnations
of anti-clerical heresies, insisting on the prerogatives of the
ordained priesthood: Innocent HI, Profession of faith prescribed for the Waldenses
(Denz. 424); IV Lateran Council, c. 1, against the Albigenses (Denz. 480). A more
positive theme: the water added to the wine at Mass signifies the union of th€'
faithful with Christ: Council of Florence, Deer. for the Armenians (Denz. 698);
Council of Trent, sess. 22, c. 7 (Denz. 945).
76 Council of Trent, sess. 22, c. 2 (Denz. 940); c. 6 (Denz. 944).
•• 8 May 1928; cf. AAS 20 (1928) pp. 165 f.

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must offer for their own and other's sins, "in a manner hardly
differing from that in which every priest offers." 76
Pius XU's Encyclical Letter, Mystici corporis/ 7 in a brief
reference to the Mass, says that the faithful, united with the
priest by their intentions and prayers, offer to the eternal
Father, for the needs of the whole Church, the most pleasing
Victim which has been made present by the voice of the priest
alone. 78 In a series of later pronouncements, Pius XII insists
again on _the incommunicable nature of the priesthood of orders
and on the divine source of its liturgical mediation. 79 The priest
acts in the name of the people " precisely and solely because he
represents the person of our Lord Jesus Christ, considered as
Head of all the members." 80 Only the priest, by pronouncing
the words of consecration, can bring about the unbloody offering by which Christ is rendered present on the altar in the state
of victim. 81 Nevertheless, goes on Pius XII, the faithful should
play an active part in the sacrifice; 82 and they possess a certain
priesthood related to spiritual sacrifices in the sense of I
76 Loc. cit., pp. 171, 172:
'Neque enim arcani huius sacerdotii et satisfaciendi
sacrificandique muneris participatione ii soli fruuntur quibus Pontifex noster Christus
Jesus administris utitur ad oblationem mundam ... offerendam, sed etiam christianorum gens universa ab Apostolorum Principe "genus electum, regale sacerdotium " iure appellata, debet cum pro se, tum pro toto humano genere ofl'erre pro
peccatis, haud aliter propemodum quam sacerdos omnis ac pontifex ' ex hominibus
assumptus ... .' "
71 29 June 1943; cf. AAS 35 (1943) pp. 193 f.
78 Loc. cit., 232, !il33: "Itemque in eo christifideles ipsimet immaculatum Agnum,
unius sacerdotis voce in altari praesentem constitutum, communibus votis precibusque consociati, per eiusdem sacerdotis manus Aeterno Patri porrigunt."
•• Cf. Encycl. Letter, Mediator Dei, 20 Nov. 1947 (cf. AAS 39 (1947) pp. 521 f.);
Address to Sacred College and Bishops, 8 Nov. 1954 (cf. AAS 46 (1954) pp. 666
f.); Address to those taking part in the Internat. Congress of Pastoral Liturgy
(Assisi), 22 Sept. 1956 (cf. L'Osservatore Romano, 23 Sept. 1956).
•• Mediator Dei (AAS t>ol. cit., p. 553).
81 Mediator Dei (loc. cit., p. 555):
" Incruenta enim ilia oblatio, qua consecrationis verbis prolatis Christus in statu victimae super altare praesens redditur, ab
ipso solo sacrerdote perficitur, prout Christi personam sustinet, non vero prout
Christifidelium personam gerit." Address of 2 Nov. 1954 (loc. cit., p. 667): "Ubi
nulla sit proprie vereque dicenda potestas sacrificandi nee inveniatur proprie vereque
appellandum sacerdotium."
•• Cf. Address of 2 Nov. 1954 (lac. cit., p. 668): "In sacrificio activas quasdam
partes habere possint et habeant."

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Peter 2: 9, though it is essentially different from that of the
celebrant. 83 He makes it clear by the whole emphasis of
Mediator Dei that the principal activity of the faithful in the
liturgy is that of the moral and theological virtues. Again and
again he insists that the chief element in the liturgy is interiorly
conceived worship, that there is no opposition between " objective " and " personal " devotion, that the faithful take part
in the Eucharistic sacrifice " with such active devotion as to
be in the closest union with the High Priest," that the faithful
offer themselves as victims. 84 In all of this he echoes the traditional teaching handed down by the Council of Trent.
Yet there is some even more intimate way in which the
faithful are involved. As is clear from statements of popes and
theologians, argues Pius XII, the faithful actually offer the
Divine Victim, though in a manner different from that in which
the priest offers.85 They hold this privilege by reason of their
baptism which makes them members of Christ the Priest and
imprints on them a " character " by which they are appointed
to the worship of God and share in the priesthood of Christ. 86
Given that the priest, acting in the person of Christ, has placed
the Divine Victim on the altar and is offering it to the Father,
the faithful may in their own way share in this offering and for
two reasons; first, because they offer the sacrifice through the
priest, and secondly, because they offer it with him. 87
They offer through the priest (per sacerdotis manus) because
88 Cf. ibid. (loc. cit., p. 669):
"Negari vel in dubium vocari non debet fideles
quoddam habere sacerdotium, neque hoc parvi aestimare · vel deprimere licet. . . .
At quaecumque est huius honorifici tituli et rei vera plenaque significatio, firmiter
tenendum est, commune hoc omnium christifidelium, altum utique et arcanum,
sacerdotium non gradu tantum sed etiam essentia differre a sacerdotio proprie
vereque dicto .... "
•• Cf. Mediator Dei (loc. cit., pp. 580-537, 55!l, 557).
•• Cf. ibid., p. 554: 'Christifideles etiam divinam offerre hostiam diversa tamen
ratione dicendi sunt '; quoting Innocent Til, De sacro altaris mysterio, ill, 6, and
St. Robert Bellarmine, De Missa, I, cap. 27.
•• Cf. ibid., p. 555: "Baptismatis lavacro generali titulo christiani in Mystico
Corpore membra efficiuntur Christi sacerdotis, et ' charactere ' qui eorum in
animo quasi insculpitur ad cultum divinum deputantur; atque ideo ipsius Christi
sacerdotium pro sua conditione participant."
•• Cf. ibid., p. 556.

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the priest acts in the name of Christ considered as Head and
as offering in the name of all the members. They also offer with
the priest (una cum ipso sacerdote). In explaining this, Pius
XII is concerned principally with the content of the offering,
or what it signifies on the part of the offerers. The faithful,
uniting "their sentiments of praise, entreaty, expiation and
thanksgiving with the sentiments or intention of the priest,
indeed with those of the High Priest himself," make a spiritual
offering of themselves which is caught up into the very oblation
of the victim. The self-offering of Christ and that of the faithful
are united, says Pius XII, by the priest's external rite and so
presented to God the Father. 88 He goes on to develop the
function of the external rite in unifying the spiritual offering of
Christ and that of the faithful.
The external rite of worship must of its very nature be a sign of
interior worship; and what is signified by the sacrifice of the New
Law is that supreme homage by which Christ, the principal offerer,
and with him and through him all his mystical members, pay due
honour and veneration to God. 83

The broad outlines of a solution are marked out in these
papal documents. The most significant elements, in the light
of St. Thomas' teaching on sacramental worship, are the attribution of an undefined function to the baptismal character in
the offering of the faithful, and the recognition of the central,
unifying position of the visible species which signify the
sacrifice.

Some recent solutions
Theologians, for the most part, have been content to repeat
without very much comment the phrases found by the popes
for expressing the faithful's part in the Mass. They have
insisted on the priest's mediation and, though they have paid
their respects to Pius XII's reference to the baptismal character,
the majority of them thinks of it as nothing more than a moral
•• Cf. ibid., Zoe. cit.: ". . . ut eadem in ipsa victimae oblatione externo quoque
sacerdotis ritu, Deo Patri exhibeantur."
•• Cf. ibid., loc. cit.

532

COLMAN o'NEILL

power, a right to take part in the sacrifice of the Church. The
faithful "associate" themselves with the offering by faith. 90
This solution denies the problem. To offer the sacrifice of
Christ by faith it is not necessary to have the Mass. It is
something in itself non-sacramental, implicit in every act of
virtue. The offering by the faithful at Mass must be specifically
connected with the sacramental1·epresentation of Calvary.
For theologians who hold that Christ, using the minister as
his physical instrument, actually offers the Mass the problem
must be to associate the faithful's intention of taking part in the
sacrifice with the offering of Christ himself in such wise that
the external sign of his worship (that is, the sacramentally
immolated Body and Blood) may be also the sign of the
faithful's worship. However, almost without exception, contemporary theologians of this school are content to state the
matter in these terms and to add that it is in virtue of the
baptismal character that such an association is possible.91 This
9 ° Cf. S. Tromp, S. J., "Quo sensu in sacrificio Missae offert Ecclesia, offerunt
(the priest offers, but "in persona Christi
fideles," Periodica 80 (1941) pp.
et fidelium "); G. de Broglie, S. J ., " Du role de l'Eglise dans le sacrifice eucharistique,"
Nouv. rev. th., 70 (11148) pp. 449-460 (that Christ should worship in the Mass is
' un non-sens '; the priest's offering is the faithful's offering); id., "La Messe, oblation
de Ia communaute chretienne," Greg. SO (1949) pp. 534-561; F. Palmer,
S. J., "The Lay Priesthood: real or metaphorical?," Theol. Studies, 8 (1947) pp.
579 f.; id., "Lay Priesthood: towards a terminology," ibid., 10 (1949) pp.
850 (liturgically, the faithful offer only through the ministry of the priest: a
mediate offering); J. Rea, The Common Priesthood of the Members of the
Mystical Body, Washington, 1947, pp.
G. Bauer," Das heilige Messopfer,"
Divus Th., Freib., 28 (1950) pp. 25-28; J. McCarthy, "Notes," Irish Eccl. Rec.,
88 (1955) p. 208; W. A. Kavanagh, I...ay Participation in Christ's Priesthood,
Washington, 1935 (Cf. RSPT 25 (1986) pp. 757, 758). An account of various
unorthodox solutions is to be found in J. Brinktrine, "Das Amtspriestertum und
das allgemeine Priestertum der Glaubigen," Div. Th., Freib., 22 (1944) p. 808,
also in La teologia e i laici, L'Osserv. Romano, 15 Sept. 1954.
•• Cf. e.g., A. Kolping, "Der aktive Anteilung der Gliiubigen an der Darbringung
des eucharistischen Opfers." Div. Th., Freib., 27 (1949) pp. 869-880; Y. Congar,
0. P., Jalons pour une theologie du laicat (Coli. "Unam sanctam," n. 20), Paris.
B. Durst, Das W esen ... ,
1958, pp. 246 f., esp. p. 292 (cf., however, p.
pp. 61 f., develops the matter considerably, suggesting that the faithful participate
in the Mass in two ways: making the offering of the Body and Blood the sign of
their interior self-oblation, and also offering "ministerially," by reason of their
baptismal characters, the worship of Christ on the cross. This appears a false

THE RECIPIENT·

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533

amounts to a restatement in explicitly Thomistic terms of the
essential words of Mediator Dei. 92
A solution

The solution is to be sought in the relation between the
Eucharist and the baptismal character. In these terms the
problem is to be formulated: how does his baptismal character
enable the individual Christian to designate the double consecration as the sacrificial sign of his charity?
It is to be observed first of all that sacramental offering of
the Body and Blood by the celebrant already signifies in a certain sense the worship of the faithful in so far as it signifies the
mediatorial worship of Christ, the Head of the Mystical Body,
since his worship virtually, as the source of all merit, includes
the worship of all Christians. In exactly the same way the
worship of all Christians was expressed outwardly on Calvary;
and this universality attaches to the Mass in so far as it is
identical with Calvary. The Mass adds nothing to the merit
of Calvary. What it does add, precisely as the sacrifice of the
Church, offered by men, is the actual signification of the charity
of those who participate, which was signified on Calvary only
as included in Christ's charity, and which has now been derived
from Head to members in such a way that it is formally theirs.
It is at this point that a certain clarification can be achieved
using St. Thomas' principles. The Mass is not a natural sacrifice;
it is sacramental, the sacrament of a natural sacrifice. Although,
therefore, all those who believe in Christ may " offer " by faith
and charity the sacrifice of Calvary, only those who have
received the sacrament of baptism may offer the Mass in the
sense of designating the double consecration as the sacrificial
sign of their charity, since baptism is the "gate-way to the
sacraments." The sacramental Body and Blood, under the
species of bread and wine, can actually signify the charity only
of the baptized.
dichotomy (see below). Moreover, the interpretation of the instrumentality to be
attributed to the baptismal character does not correspond to the teaching of St.
Thomas as set out above.
•• Cf. above, n. 88.

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COLMAN o'NEILL

This is made clearer when the sacramental form of this
sacrifice is considered. In conformity with the circumstances of
its institution it takes the form of a meal. This is a central idea
with St. Thomas, taken from the Scriptures, referred to explicitly a number of times, and implicit in the essential concept
of the Eucharist as food. 93 Participation in the sacrifice is
confined to those who may receive food from the table; that is
to say, to the baptized; 94 and it is the character that formally
gives the power of receiving. 95 It is because the sacramental
signs of the sacrifice of the Mass take the form of food that they
can serve as the sacrificial sign of the charity of the baptized
and, formally, only of the baptized. The species of bread and
wine contain the Body and Blood of Christ as the Food of the
soul and hence they signify the effect of that Food, namely, the
unity of the Church in charity. This is an Augustinian theme
that St. Thomas never tires of repeating. 96 It is only a short
•a Cf. Summa Theol., III, q. 66, a. 9, ad 5: "In sacramento Eucharistiae
commemoratur mors Christi inquantum ·ipse Christus passus exhibetur nobis quasi
paschale convivium, secundum illud I Cor. 5: 'Pascha nostrum immolatus est
Christus; itaque epulemur ' "; q. 80, a. 10, ad 2: "In hoc sacramento traditur
nobis memoriale passionis Christi per modum cibi "; q. 78, a. 6: Utrum agnus
paschalis fuerit praecipua figura huius sacramenti; q. 80, a. 6: "mensa Dominica";
I Cor., c. 11, lect. 4, 5 passim, e. g., lect. 5 (654): "Offertur specialiter hoc
sacramentum sub specie panis et vini. Primo quidem, quia pane et vino communius
utuntur homines ad suam refectionem .... " Eucharist is food: cf. III, q. 78, a. 1;
a. 2; a. 8, ad 1; ad 2; q. 75, a. 5; q. 76, a. 1, ad 2; a. S, ad 1; q. 78, a. S, ad 1;
q. 79, a. 1; a. 4, ad
a. 5; q. 80, a. 6; a. 10, ad 1; q. 81, a. 8, ad 1; etc.
•• Cf. III, q. 80, a. 6: "Cum enim quilibet Christianus ex hoc ipso quod est
baptizatus, sit admissus ad mensam Dominicam ... "; q. 65, a. 8: "Sacramentum
baptismi ordinatur ad Eucharistiae receptionem "; q. 67', a. 2; In Matt., c. 6, n. S
(592): " Ex quo quis baptizatus est, ius· habet in isto pane"; ibid., c. 26, n. S
(2178): " .•• Nulli non baptizato debet dari huiusmodi sacramentum ... immo
infideles non debet admitti ad videndum istud sacramentum; unde in primitiva
Ecclesia, quando multi erant catechumeni, recipiebantur in Ecclesia usque ad
Evangelium, et tunc expellebantur."
•• Cf. ill, q. 82, a. 1: " Sicut autem baptizato conceditur a Christo potestas
sumendi hoc sacramentum, ita sacerdoti, cum ordinatur, confertur potestas hoc
sacramentum consecrandi "; In Matt., c. 26, n. S (2178): "Sicut non conficeret
sacerdos nisi consecratus, sic non debet alicui illud ministrari nisi baptizato ";
ill,q.68.
•• Cf. ibid., q. 67, a. 2: sacramentum ecclesiasticae unionis; q. 78, a. !l, Sed c.;
a. 8,
ad S: sacramentum caritatis; q. 78, a. 4; q. 74, a. 1, ad 1; q. 78, a. S,
ad 6;
caritatis quasi figurativum et affectivum; y. 79, a. I; a. 2;

THE RECIPIEN1'

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SIGNIFICATION

585

step from this idea of signification of charity as an effect of
the sacrament to that of signification of the charity of the
faithful as directed towards, or animating, the sacramentsacrifice. It is a step which St. Thomas would have had no
difficulty in taking, as witness such texts as those in which he
says that water is added to the wine ·at Mass so as to signify
the union of the faithful with Christ; though, in fact, he understands this again of the effect of the sacrament. 91
St. Thomas summarizes his teaching on the sacrament of
the Eucharist:
This is the sacrament of the body of Christ; but the body of Christ
is the Church, which is raised up into the unity of a body from
many faithful; hence this is the sacrament of the unity of the
Church. 98

The application of this concept of the Eucharist to the sacrifice
of the Mass is in the full tradition of St. Paul, I Cor. 10:16-21,
and of St. Augustine in De civitate Dei, Bk. 10, ch. 6:
This is the sacrifice of Christians: "many who are one body in
Christ." This the Church clearly and frequently repeats to the
faithful in the sacrament of the altar, where it is shown that in
that which she offers she is herself offered.99

That is to say, what is offered is the Body of Christ which
(since it is the Food of the soul) symbolizes the charity that
unites all members of the Church. Consequently, the offering
that the Church makes symbolizes in the ma11ner proper to an
external act of religion the offering of herself, that is, of all
the faithful.
q. 80, a. 4; ad 1; a. 5, ad
q.
a.
ad S; q. 88, a. 4; ad S; a. 5; I Cor., c. 11,
lect. 5 (654); De art. fidei
IV Sent., d. 45, q. a. S, sol. 1.
Cf. ill, q. 74, a. 6: " ... ad significandum effectum huius sacramenti, qui est
unio populi christiani ad Christum "; q. 74, a. 7; a. 8, ad
q.
a. S, ad 1:
.n. 4
"Sangnini admiscetur aqua, quae significat populum "; In Matt., c.
I Cor., c. 11, lect. 6 (684).
08 In Joann., c. 6, n. 6 (960). On the typically Augustinian reasoning of this text,
with its direct transition from .,acramentum to res, omitting or referring ambiguously
to the res et aacramentum, cf. P.-Th. Camelot, "Rea.Iisme et symbolisme dans Ia
doctrine eucharistique de S. Augustin," Rev. sc. phil. theol., Sl (1947) pp. 894-410.
•• De eivitate Dei, lib. 10, c. 6 (CCL 47 !!79).

536

COLMAN

o'NEILL

Only the baptized may thus participate in the Mass since the
Eucharist can cause grace only in those who bear the baptismal
character, and consequently can signify formally the charity
only of such. The Mass is the sacrifice of those who have the
power to receive the Eucharist.
There is evidently a difference between the function of the
baptismal character at Mass and the one that it has in reception
of the sacraments. In the latter case it is required on the part
of the subject for the perfection of the sacramental sign, the
opus operatum. The Mass, however, is in no sense dependent
on the faithful so far as the sacramental rite goes. The sacrament is perfected at the moment of consecration and this is
solely the act of the celebrant. The sacramental power of the
faithful is posterior to this (posterioritate naturae) . It enables
them to make the sacrament-sacrifice the sign of their own
charity. The baptismal character intervenes here in so far as
the sacrament is of its nature suitable for signifying the charity
only of those who may receive the Eucharist. Hence the character intervenes simply as a physical entity, as something implied on the part of the faithful by the sign. It gives validity
to the individual's intention of participating in the Mass, as
it does to his intention of receiving the sacraments; but in a
different way. In the Mass there is no question of instrumental
material causality. It is because the character is a permanent
quality incorporating a person into Christ sacramentally-as
one qualified to use the sacraments-that it enables its subject
to use the Mass as the expression of his own charity.
It is here that is to be noted the prime difference between
the powers of the priestly and those of the baptismal characters
in the Mass. Whereas the priestly character is effective independently of the moral disposition of the celebrant, the intention of participation that gains validity from the baptismal
character is essentially an elicited act of religion. The celebrant
offers the Body and Blood as the sign of Christ's redemptive
charity. The baptized Christian offers them as the sign of his
own worship. In this way the Church literally fills up what is
lacking in the sufferings of Christ since the charity of her

THE RECIPIENT

AND SACRAMENTAL

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537

members is now explicitly signified by the identical sacrifice,
sacramentally renewed, which on Calvary signified the charity
of the Church only as included in Christ's.
Though the Mass is in this way the sacrifice of all the
baptized, it is in a special way the sacrifice of those who are
present at its celebration. Indeed, since it is a sacrament, a sign,
it is only those who are pl'esent who participate in the full
sense sacramentally. The congregation, grouped together into
one body, acknowledging the sole competence of the celebrant
to perform the ritual which is to clothe their devotion, form
around the altar a sign of the Mystical Body, subordinated to
the priestly mediation of its Head. Personal assistance alone
satisfies fully the demands of this sacranientalism. The faithful
who are not present assist sacramentally by reason of their
baptism and, further, by their public adherence to the Catholic
Church. There are clearly varying degrees of participation to
be distinguished here, and even heretics in good faith can be
truly said to offer the Mass. Finally, there is a broad sense in
which even the non-baptized, if they believe in Christ, may
be said to offer. This, at least, appears to be a conclusion in
harmony with St. Thomas' understanding of the influence of
the Eucharist as extending as far as that of Christ himself.100
What St. Thomas says of receiving the Holy Eucharist spiritually and not sacramentally may be applied here.101 All those
who believe in Christ may " offer " by faith and charity the
sacrifice of Calvary. It follows that, since the Mass is identified
with Calvary, those who believe in Christ, yet are not baptized,
may also " offer " the Mass by faith and charity; but they can
do this precisely in the measure that the Mass is identified with
Calvary and is the sacrifice offered by Christ; not, therefore,
formally as a sacramental sacrifice offered by the Church, since
the sacramental signs do not belong to them. The sacrifice
Summa Theol., III, q. 78, a. 8.
Ibid., q. 80, a. 1, ad 8: "Aliqui manducant spiritualiter hoc sacramentum
antequam sacramentaliter sumant. Sed hoc contingit dupliciter. Uno modo, propter
desiderium sumendi ipsum sacramentum; et hoc modo dicuntur baptizari et mandu·
care spiritualiter et non sacramentaliter illi qui desiderant sumere haec sacramenta
iam instituta. Alio modo propter figuram. . . ."
100

101

538

COLMAN

o'NEILL

that they immediately " offer " by faith is the natural sacrifice
of Calvary; only indirectly, therefore, can they "offer" the
Mass. Such an " offering," by definition, can have no effect
ex opere operato.
Because the baptized faithful can offer sacramentally the
sacrifice of Christ himself their worship takes on new and
wonderful qualities. It procures the proper effects of sacrifice:
in particular, it makes satisfaction for sin/ 02 and it placates
God; 103 it honours him and procures the salvation of the living
and the dead. 104 The effect or fruit of this offering can be
measured only by God. What is certain is that it corresponds
to the charity of Christ in proportion to the degree of charity
of the individual members of the faithfuU 05 This second
element is determined by many factors: actual presence at
Mass, offering of a stipend, the quality of the intention of participating (actual, virtual, habitual), the fervour of the act of
charity. Insofar as the fruit exceeds the strict merits of the
individual it is ex opere operato, produced, that is, through the
due performance of the prescribed ritual by the priest.
To celebrate Mass, to procure the sacramental sacrifice of
Christ, an ordained priest is sufficient. Much more is required
-and is always supplied-if the Mass is to be truly the sacrifice
of the Church. For that there is demanded o£ the faithfulpriests as well as laity-moral effort, a life of virtue, spiritual
sacrifices-all that the Fathers insisted on when they spoke of
the " royal priesthood " of the faithful. This immolation, writes
Pius XII,
103 Ibid., a. 3; a. 6, ad 3; q. 49, a. 4.
Ibid., q. 48, a. !l; ad l.
Cf. IV Sent., d. 18, q. 1, a.
sol. 1 (p. 554, n. 66).
105 Cf. IV Sent., d. 13, q. 1, a. 2, sol. 3, ad 3 (p. 556, n. 78):
"Omnis nostra

10 •

10 •

nostra actio per Christum perfici debt. Et ideo . . . oportet quod . . . Missa
in Ecclesia celebretur "; III, q. 79, a. 5: "Quamvis haec oblatio ex sui quantitate
[cf. ill, q. 48, a. 2] sufficiat ad satisfaciendum pro omni poena, tamen fit satisfactoria illis pro quibus ofiertur, vel etiam ofl'erentibus, secundum quantitatem suae
devotionis, et non pro tota poena"; q. 49, a. 3, ad 2; " ... multo minor sufficit
(poenalitas) quam esset condigna peccato, cooperante satisfactione Christi "; Cf.
III, q. 49, a. 1, ad 4; a. 8, ad 1; Cajetan, De celebratione Missae, works out in
mathematical proportions the fruit for the offerers and for those for whom they offer.
taking into account the devotion of each.

THE RECIPIENT

AND SACRAMENTAL

SIGNIFICA'l'ION

539

is not restricted to the liturgical sacrifice.... But, inevitably, it
is when the faithful are taking part in the liturgical action with
such faith and devotion that it may be truly said that their " faith
and devotion are known to Thee," that their faith will more eagerly
work by charity and their devotion grow more fervent. 106

The Mass ' means ' union with Christ: it presupposes such
union, at least in an initial degree; and it promotes union.
Today's Mass is consummated in the offering of tomorrow's
Mass. 107 The daily sacrifice draws the whole life of the Church
into the sacrifice of Christ, announcing the death of the Lord
until he come.
Conclusions

I. Reception of the sacraments is an act of worship.
The inner dispositions with which the subject approaches a
sacrament are expressed outwardly by the opus operatum, not
in its entirely (as such it is a common action of minister and
subject and not, therefore, elicited by the subject alone), but
by that part of it which is produced by the subject; in other
words, by the reception of the sacrament. It is question here
of the sacrament as sign, prior to its causality; and the intervention of the baptismal character, procuring valid reception,
is presupposed.
II. It is by reason of the faith of the Church alone that
sacraments administered to m:1eonscious subjects are acts of
worship. In the case of those who previously had the use of
reason habitual dispositions on the part of the subject are
implied in this act of worship.
III. The act of reception is elicited by the remote dispositions for sacramental grace, which remain, at least virtually,
at the moment when the sacrament acts. Both grace and the
proximate dispositions for it are signified at this moment, not
as eliciting the act of reception, but as the effect of the sacrament.
101 Mediator Dei, loc. cit., pp. 557, 668.
1.o• Summa Th6()l., ill, q. S!i!, a. 7: " .• fructum sacrificii ... quod est
sacrificium spirituale."

540

COLMAN o'NEILL

IV. The full opus operans of the subject consists in his
remote dispositions and in his intention of receiving the sacrament.
V. The sacrifice of Christ is sacramentally represented in
the Mass under the form of a meal. Because the Body and
Blood of Christ are thus present as food they signify not only
the redemptive charity of Christ but also the charity of all
those who have the power of eating Christ sacramentally. It
is the baptismal character that gives this power; and hence it
is it too that makes the faithful's intention of participating in
the Mass valid. The offering of the Mass by the faithful
consists, therefore, essentially in acts of charity. The character,
as a permanent, sacramental incorporation into the Mystical
Body of Christ enables its subject to designate the sacramental
Body and Blood as the sacrificial sign of his charity. In the
Mass the opus operatum is produced by the priest alone. It
serves as the sign of the opus operans of the faithful. At Mass,
consequently, the sacrifice of Christ signifies actually charity
which on Calvary was signified only as included in Christ's, and
which has now been derived to the members of Christ.
VI. Personal assistance alone satisfies fully the sacramentalism of the Mass, but all the baptized can offer sacramentally
by reason of their characters. In a broad sense, even the nonbaptized may 'offer' the Mass by faith and charity, in so far
as it is the sacrifice of Christ, identified with Calvary.
COLMAN O'NEILL,

Dominican Houae of Studiu,
Tallaght, Dublin, Eire

0. P.

NOTES ON OUR CONTRIBUTORS
MICHAEL STocK, 0. P., S. T. LR., PH. D., a graduate of the Pontifical
Athenaeum Angelicum, is a Professor of Psychology at the Dominican
House of Studies, Dover, Massachusetts.
DAVID B. RicHARDSON, PH. D., a member of the Department of Philosophy
at the University of Detroit, is engaged in teaching and in the
preparation of a work on the philosophy of history.
CoLMAN O'NEILL, 0. P., S. T. LR., S. T. L., formerly a professor at the
Dominican House of Studies outside of Dublin, has taken up the
post of Professor of Dogmatic Theology at the Institute Jesus
Magister in Rome.
EDWARD D. SIMMONS, PH. D. is an Assistant Professor of Philosophy at
Marquette University.
GERMAIN G. GRISEZ, M.A., PH. L. is an Assistant Professor of Philosophy
at Georgetown University.

541

BOOK REVIEWS
Man's Knowledge of Reality. By FREDERICK WILHELMSEN. Englewood
with indices. $4.00.
Cliffs, N.J.: Prentice-Hall, 1956. Pp.

It is probably true as far as textbooks are concerned that even a good
one is at best only a mixed blessing. Nevertheless, considering the average
size of the contemporary class, we must be alert to the appearance of any
worthwhile textbook which may assist us in our teaching. Teachers of
scholastic philosophy have for years watched for the appearance of an
adequate textbook in epistemology. Their watch has, for the most part,
been unrewarded. Because there is little agreement on the exact nature of
epistemology and because any investigation into the mystery of knowledge
is exceedingly difficult, only few attempts have been made to satisfy the
need for a textbook in epistemology. Of these few perhaps the most significant {at least in English) has been Frederick Wilhelmsen's Man's Knowledge of Reality, published in
by Prentice-Hall. In the two years
since its publication this book has found favor with many, and in that
time no other textbook in epistemology written by a scholastic has appeared
to challenge it. Because of this it seems highly reasonable to predict not
only continued but even increased use of this book in the philosophy
curricula of our Catholic colleges. This is the situation which prompts this
present critical review of the book.
Man's Knowledge of Reality (subtitled An Introduction to Thomistic
Epistemology) is proposed by the author not strictly as a textbook but
more simply as an essay towards a Thomistic epistemology. Wilhelmsen
requests that his work be evaluated first of all by the way it measures up
to reality and secondly by the extent of its faithfulness to the philosophy of
St. Thomas. There is no question but that he feels that if it measures up
to the one it will measure up to the other. As for his brand of Thomism,
Wilhelmsen declares himself outside of the school of the classical Commentators. That this is true is clearly seen in his own text and in his
choice of the majority of his secondary references. Clearly Wilhelmsen owes
most, as far as secondary sources are concerned, to philosophers who have
repudiated the Thomistic authenticity of the teaching of Cajetan and
John of St. Thomas.
Wilhelmsen opens his book with the admission that there is no science
which is uniquely epistemology. However, he insists that there is a philosophical investigation properly epistemological in nature, though the investi-

542

BOOK REVIEWS

543

gation is not limited to any one philosophical discipline. In fact, an evaluation of the several possible meanings of " epistemology " reveals for Wilhelmsen three valid meanings for the term. Histo.Jically, "epistemology"
refers to the way men confront the critical problem. This is the first
valid meaning. Secondly, "epistemology" can refer to an investigation
linking the metaphysics of knowledge (itself not epistemology) with the
psychology of knowledge (itself not epistemology). Finally," epistemology"
(and here there are as many distinct epistemologies as there are distinct
knowledges) can refer to the investigation of the conditions proper to the
many different kinds of human knowledge. Wilhelmsen proceeds to order
his book according to these three meanings of "epistemology." In Part I
("Metaphysical Realism") he confronts, and disposes of, the "critical
problem." In Part II ("Judgment and Truth ") he moves from a general
consideration of the metaphysics and psychology of human knowledge to
a searching analysis of judgment, and thence to a consideration of truth
and certitude. Finally, in Part III ("An Introduction to Epistemology
of Speculative Science ") he considers generally the nature of speculative
science and the classification of the speculative sciences. The result is, for
the most part, a well ordered textbook maturely composed and proportioned to upper division students with a solid formation in the philosophy
of man and metaphysics.
Since the time of Descartes the " critical problem " has proven to be a
stumbling block to philosophers, if not to philosophy itself. The compulsion to attempt philosophically to establish the right to philosophize has
invariably driven the critical philosopher into a blind alley, leading him
nowhere save further and further into his criticism. The history of philosophy since the seventeenth century yields example after example of
the folly invested in asking and attempting to answer the question of
how we move from our knowledge of things to the actual existence of
things, of how we get out of our knowledge to the things we know. The
fact is, of course, that there is no solution to the " critical problem." But,
fortunately, neither is there a " critical problem ,; to begin with. Our
primary cognitive experiences are not directly of cognition itself, but rather
of things. What is directly given in our primary cognitive experience (i. e.,
the sensory-intellectual grasp of the actually present sensible existent) is
not the mind, nor the thing existing in the mind, but the thing existing
extramentally and other than the mind. The problem facing the epistemologist is, fortunately, not to prove the things that are known are but
to show how things that are are known. Wilhelmsen is well aware of this
and proceeds accordingly. However, while rejecting the "critical problem"
as a false start philosophically he takes great pains to give an account of
his rejection thereof. Chapters 2, 3, 4, and 5 are particularly forceful in
exposing the false sophistication and futility of the critical position and in

544

BOOK REVIEWS

establishing the fact of the evidence of being on which the non-critical
approach to epistemology is based. Wilhelmsen points out that the critical
approach which begins with thought itself is based upon the Platonic notion
of man which splits man up into two entities, soul and body, each with its
own operations essentially divorced from those of the other. The soul, in
such an accidental composite can know essences, but not as concretized
in concrete sensible existents. The body can know sensible existents, but
only as sensible and not as existing. Being, in its true formality as that
which exercises the act of existing, simply cannot be directly known by
the Platonic man. Such a man could try to establish the fact of being,
but he would be compelled to start without it. Such is the plight of any
critical philosopher. The Thomistic notion of man, borrowed, of course,
from Aristotle, allows for a direct knowledge of being. Man is one entity,
composed of part-principles, body and soul; his cognitive acts are neither
of body alone nor soul alone; they are his. By his senses he contacts the
actually existing sensible thing and by his intellect in this one sensoryintellectual experience he contacts the existence of the existing thing. In
this way he is directly cognizant of the first principle of both knowledge
and reality, namely, being itself. Accordingly he begins to philosophize
with the evidence of being. He knows, to begin with, that being is; and
he need not try the impossible ta.Sk of establishing this on the basis of
something prior to it. This non-critical position, which for Wilhelmsen is the
only reasonable position and the position he ascribes to St. Thomas, is
called " metaphysical realism." It is a position offering no answer to the
" critical problem " precisely because it denies that there is a " critical
problem." And this denial is based on the incontrovertible evidence of
experience. What I know when I know things are these things existing
apart from and other than my knowing of them. The fact that when I
know them I know that I know them does not detract from the fact that
the primary data directly revealed in my knowledge of existing things are
these existing things. One may deny that this is his experience and assume
a sophisticated position which involves the critical approach. But one
need not; as a Thomist one cannot; in fact, as a philosopher destined sometime to penetrate the mysteries of being, one cannot; for originally to cut
oneself off from the evidence of bemg is to preclude the possibility, no
matter how ingenious the critique attempted, ever of reaching being in
its true formality as that which is. Wilhelmsen completes Part I of the
book with two interesting but, as far as their conclusions are concerned,
rather ordinary chapters. In the first of these he establishes the fact that
" being " signifies either as a verb or a participle and not as a noun; in
the second he establishes the point that neither the subject nor the
predicate, but rather the verb " to be," expresses the existence attained in
judgment.

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545

Since simple apprehension bears only on essence while judgment bears
as well on the act of existing, and since reasoning is only for the sake of
judgment, Wilhelmsen insists upon the primacy of judgment in an adequate
epistemology. Accordingly, in Part II of his book, where he attempts to
link the metaphysics of knowledge with the psychology of knowledge, the
concentration is heavily upon that instance of knowledge which is the
judgment. However, before getting into the question of the judgment there
are two chapters devoted to ·knowledge considered generally, the one to
its metaphysics, the other to its psychology. In what he refers to as an
introduction to the metaphysics of knowledge Wilhelmsen begins by exthe " copy theory " of knowledge, which would explain knowledge
in terms of some picture in the mind of the knower of the thing known.
Pointing out the impossibility ever of knowing being if such a theory
concerning knowledge is the fact, he warns against any misrepresentation or
misunderstanding of the Thomistic theory as though it were but a variation of the "copy theory." This leads quite naturally into the highly
metaphysical consideration of intentional being. In turn Wilhelmsen points
out that knowledge is an extension of the knower; that the principle of
knowability is immateriality; that the union between knower and known
is a non-physical union; that in knowledge the known is re-presented to
the knower (but not that knowledge is a representative of the known)
in such fashion that it not only is (esse) in the first existence it has as a
thing independent of knowledge but that it is present to (esse-ad) the
knower in a second existence as an object of knowledge; and finally that
knowledge is a pure sign, a formal sign, signifying the known to the knower
without itself enjoying the status of being any thing. Wilhelmsen treats
the psychology of knowledge as a review, briefly sketching the moments
of ideogenesis through the operations of external and internal senses, agent
intellect, and possible intellect. Stress is placed upon the fact that the
species which informs the possible intellect after being abstracted from the
phantasm through the light of the agent intellect comes ultimately from
the thing in the real and is a " formal and existential ' prolongation ' of the
form and being of the thing." The phantasm, which is to play a highly
significant role in Wilhelmsen's explanation of judgment, is described as
a " highly refined sensorial image which is the expression of the whole
sensorial-perceptive process."
Chapters 10, 11, 12, and 13 are the crucial chapters of the book. Here
Wilhelmsen gets to the heart of epistemology, the theory of judgment. In
turn he discusses the structure and meaning of judgment, the process of
judgment, truth, and finally assent to truth and the verbum. Wilhelmsen
does not speak of judgment simply as the second operation of the intellect,
for he views it rather as a complex act involving both sense and intellect.
Existence is found only in concrete singular existents; hence any knowledge

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cut off from concrete singular things cannot bear on existence; but judgment
bears on existence and so also on concrete singular things. The human
intellect
by itself contact the concrete singular thing, since the
matter which makes it singular also makes it unintelligible; the intellect
by itself can know only universal essences or the natures of individual
things cut away from the individuation which is the condition for actual
existence. A man judges by reflecting to the individual thing as represented in the phantasm produced through the action of thing upon the
senses. He judges by thinking a nature (known in simple apprehension) as
be-ing the nature of a subject presented in a phantasm. Wilhelmsen admits
the traditional subject-predicate composition of the proposition. But he
denies the classical explanation of this composition which explains subject
and predicate as distinct objects of apprehension (i.e., two as meanings)
known as identical in subject (i.e., one in existence). He argues both
from his own experience in judging and from reason that the only intelligibility the subject can have in the propo!!ition is the meaning which is the
predicate. Arguing (with seeming support from the texts of St. Thomas)
that the intellect can be informed by but one species at a time and that
the predicate is form of the subject, Wilhelmsen concludes to the impossibility of any meaning for the subject beyond the meaning given it by the
predicate in any given proposition; and this, he says, is verified by his own
experience. The subject is but " the finger of the intellect " pointing to
something about which the predicate, " the voice of the intellect," says
something. He admits, of course, that the man who judges may know
more about the subject than expressed in the predicate. But he denies
that this knowledge can be consciously articulated at the moment of
judgment. He places it on the level of the Freudian prC-conscious, ascribing
to the phantasm the task not only of presenting to the intellect the form
which specifies the predicate in a given proposition but the mysterious task
of symbolically representing the whole latent field of meanings which have
been and might in future propositions be said of the thing which is the
subject. In judging, then, one thinks a subject presented in a phantasm,
which symbolizes a host of pre-conscious meanings belonging to that subject,
to exist as formed by a predicate expressing a determinate mode of being,
itself originally grasped by abstraction from this phantasm. But this is
not the complete explanation of judgment. When we judge we not only
know the existential information of subject by predicate, but we know
that we know this. If the proposition which expresses this existential
information measures up to reaiity then it is true. The final step in
judging comes in the active commitment of the mind. upon sufficient
evidence to the truth of the proposition it forms: ·This is the judgment most
strictly considered: the act of assent precisely to the truth of the proposition formed. In the act of assent the mind says the truth, and this interior

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and spiritual expression of the truth is the word of the mind or the
verbum; this is the truth consciously expressed. The complete act of
judging, then, involves apprehension of an essence or mode of being abstracted from existing individuals; reflection back to the phantasm and
thence to an existing subject; the composition is a proposition of this essence
as a form of this existing subject; insight into the conformity of this
proposition with reality; finally, commitment to the truth of this proposition
in an interior act of assent to it.
These chapters on the epistemology of judgment, which in the opinion
of the author are the very heart of this work, take up better than a third
of the length of the book. They are followed by a final chapter in Part II
of the book. This chapter is an uncommonly clear exposition of what for
the most part is the common scholastic doctrine on certitude and its types,
as well as opinion and error. The most significant contribution of the
chapter is the effort made to explain the causality of error. A judgment
is explained as true because it terminates in something which is not only
a term of a relation but a subject of existence, while a judgment is explained
as false when it terminates in something which is only the term of a
relation.
Part HI of Man's Knowledge of Reality includes but one chapter, "An
Introduction to Epistemology of Speculative Science." Although the author
excuses himself in the Preface for the brevity of the third part of his book
it remains nevertheless a severe disappointment. Agree or disagree with
Wilhelmsen in the first two parts of his work, nevertheless it is impossible
not to admire the intensity with which he goes about his task of disposing
of the " critical problem " and of probing the depths of the judgment. But
in this final part there is a minimum of philosophical penetration and the
obscurity which invariably follows upon excessive brevity. Some information is given, but the value of this is lessened by a questionable ordering
of these points of information. The reviewer is tempted to suspect that
somehow editorial surgery helped shape this part of the book into the form
in which it was published. It bears unmistakable signs of a " cut and
paste " operation of rather major proportions when compared with its
much more imposing and penetrating predecessors. The points made in
the final chapter, in the order in which they are made, are simply these:
that knowledges are many; that they are distinguished into the practical
and the speculative by way of a distinction in ends; that they can be
distinguished according to diverse material objects; that they can be
distinguished by way of diverse formal objects; that differences in method
can distinguish them one from another; that as habits of the intellect they
are distinguished by the mind of man; that " science " has acquired a new
meaning in the modern world; that " science " in the traditional sense is
knowledge through causes; that sciences differ according as their relations

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to matter differ; that on the basis of a distinction in scientific objects in
relation to matter there are three distinct types of intellectual acts corresponding to three different types of science, namely the abstraction of a
whole which is proper to the sciences of nature, the abstraction of a form
proper to mathematics, and separation or negative judgment proper to
metaphysics. It is interesting to note that Wilhelmsen takes pains to
reject the traditional teaching of the three degrees of formal abstraction
as differentiating the speculative sciences after allowing almost anything
else as a legitimate principle of scientific differentiation.
Man's Knowledge of Reality represents a serious effort to satisfy the need
for an adequate textbook in epistemology for English-speaking students.
Its basic plan is sound. While denying that there is a " critical problem "
one cannot in the face of the history of modern philosophy simply ignore
the question. Recognizing this Wilhelmsen wisely begins his book by explaining the " critical problem " and by substantiating his rejection of it.
After having taken care of this Wilhelmsen is prepared to enter into the
epistemological investigation of knowledge. Here, as always, the proper
order is from the more general to the more particular; and Wilhelmsen
observes this order by treating first of knowledge in general and then of
the division of knowledge into its types. His explanation and rejection
of the " critical problem " is one of the strong points in the book. Granted
he owes much to Gilson for the ideas expressed in the first part of the
book, nevertheless, the expression of these ideas is his own; and, for the
most part, it constitutes an effective exposition well calculated to get the
thoughtful student safely past the Cartesian obstacle to fruitful philosophy.
Another strong point in the book is Wilhelmsen's treatment of the "copy
theory " of knowledge. Not only does he describe the position of the
" copyists " well, effectively illustrating its futility and showing how unnecessary it is as an attempt to explain knowledge, but he very cleverly indicates
the manner in which an unsuspecting common-sense realist might rather
easily be reduced to an idealistic position by a dialectically skilled idealist.
It has been the experience of this reviewer that many students are to a
greater or lesser extent in fact victims of an intellectual seduction which
turns them from a native realism to a sophisticated idealism. Wilhelmsen
has done a service in indicating how easily the unwary can be trapped by
the tempting thesis of the idealists, for here, as elsewhere, to be forewarned
is to be forearmed. The decision to center the epistemology of knowledge
in general around the judgment is a happy one. There is no doubt but
that judgment has a primacy over both apprehension and reasoning. The
stress on the importance of the phantasm in knowledge and especially in
judgment is also to be commended. To divorce the operation of the intellect
from the phantasm and the operations of the senses producing the phantasm
is to introduce a split in man not warranted by the criterion of our experi-

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.549

ence. In stressing the intimate connection between the sensory and the
intellectual in man Wilhelmsen has carefully avoided the psychological
absurdity of speaking of faculties as though they themselves were agents
acting. We all know, but unfortunately frequently speak and even teach
as though we did not know, that the sense does not sense nor does the
knows by way of sense and intellect.
intellect understand but
There are a number of difficulties which arise throughout the text, and
which, to this reviewer at least, considerably lessen the value of the book.
I shall discuss but three. The first of these is found in Part I of the book,
and this one, though somewhat disturbing, is hardly sufficient to vitiate
an otherwise excellent treatment of the "critical problem." Wilhelmsen
proposes that for a Platonist the evidence of being would be lacking. What
he means, it seems to me, is that if we were as Plato says we are we would
not have the experience of being we do have. It is not because we are
Thomists that we have the experience of being which grounds our epistemology, but rather it is because we are as Thomists say we are that this
is true. It is the primary experience of being achieved in our sensoryintellectual experience of sensible existents which grounds us epistemologically-not our philosophical explanation for this experience. If this latter
were true we would be reduced to a critical position, and one which, as
for all critical positions, we could never defend. On what would I ground
my philosophy of man if my philosophy of man were necessary as founding
the integrity of my knowledge? Wilhelmsen has not intended to make
the philosophy of man the starting point, but there is some danger that
the student will mistake his point because of the manner in which he
introduces the question of Platonic psychology.
The second difficulty is far more serious and cannot be explained away
on the basis of any factors simply semantic. Wilhelmsen's theory of the
judgment, which is the central thesis of his book, involves as an indispensable part of it the teaching that only the predicate of a proposition
is directly a bearer of meaning. The subject, though presented in a phantasm
which may symbolically signify a great number of latent meanings hidden in
the pre-conscious, has no conscious meaning in a proposition save that of the
predicate said to inform it. Wilhelmsen argues to this from his own experience in judging and from the texts of St. Thomas where St. Thomas says
that only one species at a time can inform the intellect and where he
makes the point that the predicate is related to the subject as form to
matter. It might seem that one cannot take issue with Wilhelmsen's own
experience. However, Wilhelmsen himself would certainly be willing to
admit that if this is not the experience of others as well as himself the
argument from experience does not hold. To this reviewer it seems clear
through experience and reason that whenever we are involved with a per se
nota proposition the meaning of both subject and predicate must be con-

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sciously articulated. How else can we see that the predicate is within the
definition of the subject or the subject within the definition of the predicate
than by knowing the intelligibility of both subject and predicate? Granted
that this is not an example of the primary instance of judgment for Wilhelmsen, yet it is a legitimate instance of judgment and a legitimate proposition; and there is no indication in Wilhelmsen that his thesis on the
strictly symbolic intelligibility of the subject does not apply to all judgments and all propositions. As for the texts of St. Thomas, there is no
necessity to interpret them as Wilhelmsen does. Granted that only one
species at a time can actually inform the intellect, yet there can be a
composition within the unity of the species itself. Things two as objects of
thought can be represented as united in subject in but one species. St.
Thomas (Summa Theol., I, q. 85, a. 5, ad 3) tells us that the man is white
means that " the man is something having whiteness" or, in other words,
" man is identical in subject with the being having whiteness." Neither of
these explanations of the meaning of the proposition would be the equivalent of the meaning Wilhelmsen would be forced to give the proposition,
namely, that this thing (only pre-consciously grasped as man) exists as
white. Granted too that the predicate is form of the subject, there is no
need to push the analogy of matter and form too far. Prime matter receives
the whole of its determination from substantial form, but second matter
is determinate in the order of substance while determinable in the order
of accidents. So also the subject can admit of a determination of its own
while allowing for further determination from its predicate. If Wilhelmsen's
doctrine on the proposition were authentically Thomistic we would be
struck with a Thomistic epistemology itself destructive of Thomistic logic.
Suppose that no subject of a proposition had a meaning save the meaning of
its predicate. What would happen to syllogistic procedure? The first
principle of categorical syllogism, namely, the principle of "triple identity,"
would be meaningless in the face of a syllogism built of propositions whose
subjects had no meaning of their own. A third figure syllogism would not
only involve only two terms, but the missing term would be the very middle
itself. There is no room for a middle term which is but a " finger of the
intellect " in the traditional logic to which St. Thomas subscribes unequivocally. If syllogism itself is impossible, a fortiori there can be no demonstration. But suppose it were argued that I have not established the
impossibility of syllogism in Wilhelmsen's scheme of tfiings. Then surely
I could establish the impossibility of demonstration as St. Thomas explains
it. According to St. Thomas the major preniise of a strict propter quid
demonstration is in the fourth mode of perseity, the minor in the first,
and the conclusion in the second. To demonstrate involves a reflexive
appreciation of these modes of perseity, and no one of them can be known
save that both subject and predicate be recognized for the meaning each

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551

in its own right is. The evidence seems clear: If Wilhelmsen . is right in
his theory of judgment, St. Thomas is in error in his theory of syllogism
and demonstration.
The third difficulty I would like to point out occurs in the third part
of the book. I have already indicated dissatisfaction with this section of
the book. Here I would like to indicate one of my reasons for questioning
its worth. Having determined to speak only of speculative science Wilhelmsen proceeds to discuss its division into types. His first division by
way of material object is highly questionable. This is at best an accidental
principle of division, a point not made by Wilhelmsen who leaves open the
possibility that this division has as much significance as that by way of
formal object. The divisions which follow are presented in hap-hazard
order. No attempt is made to indicate that division by way of formal
object, by way of relation to matter, and by way of scientific distinction
are ultimately reduced to the same thing. In fact these are separated from.
one another by divisions quite unrelated to them. All in all the treatment
is exceedingly confused and calculated to mislead the student. It is clear
that this section of the book should either have been omitted entirely or
reordered and expanded before publication.
After he has suggested multiple principles of division for speculative
science and announced that the " ways in which the cake of intelligibility
can be cut are potentially infinite " it is disconcerting to find Wilhelmsen
reject the traditional doctrine of three degrees of formal abstraction as
inadequate to the task of dividing speculative science. His reasons are
four in number: (1) "St. Thomas never speaks of three degrees of formal
abstraction." (2) "For St. Thomas the abstraction of a form is proper to
mathematical science." (8) "St. Thomas' triplex distinctio ... is not an
adequate principle for distinguishing one specific. science from another if
these sciences exist on the same level of scientific necessity." (4) "The
traditional ' three degrees of abstraction ' are utterly unable to place St.
Thomas' philosophy of man within the hierarchy of science." None of
these reasons is sufficient to demand the rejection of the traditional doctrine
of the degrees of formal abstraction. As for the :first, St. Thomas does
speak· of three degrees of abstraction or remotion from matter as constituting the formal objects proper to the three genera of. speculative science
(In Boeth. de Trin., V, I, c., In De Sensu et Sensato, 1, n. 1; In VI Met.,
1, nn. 1155-1165; In I Post. Anal., 41, nn. 861- 871; Sum'rna Theol., I, q. 85,
a. 1, ad 2; In I Phys., 1, nn. I & 2; In Met., prooem.). As for the second,
it is clear from the explanation of Cajetan's abstractio formalis and abstractio totalis that these are not the equivalent at all of St. Thomas'
abstractio formae and abstractio totius. Hence there is no reason for scandal
because St. Thomas limits his abstractio formae to mathematics while
Cajetan would refer to physical, mathematical, and metaphysical abstrac-

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tion each as instances of abstractio formalia. Wilhelmsen points out that
the "sciences of nature use the abstraction of a total essence (that is a
complete essence: matter and form) ., but seems unaware that this complete
nature can itself be considered as a form (In II Pkys., 5, n. 179: "Natura
igitur speciei constituta ex forma et materia communi, se habet ut formalis
respectu individui quod participat totam naturam ") so that what is an
abstractio totius from one point of view is itself an abstractio formae from
another. To say, as Wilhelmsen does at this juncture, that separatio is
an abstraction only metaphorically is gratuitous and cannot be established.
St. Thomas speaks of it as an abstraction in the very article Wilhelmsen
would suggest in defense of his point (In Boetk. de Trin., V, 8, c.; cf. also
Summa Tkeol., I, q. 85, a. 1, ad
The difference between abstractio
(as said even of separatio) and abstractio proprie (which is not said of
separatio) is the difference between the general and the particular, not the
metaphorical and the proper. The third criticism, which seems (curiously,
for Wilhelmsen) to link Cajetan's " three degrees of abstraction " with St.
Thomas' " three intellectual distinctions," is based upon the fact that
neither can explain the specific diversity of sciences within a given genus.
This may perhaps be so, though this is not as settled an issue as Wilhelmsen
seems to indicate, but even so this does not rule out the three degrees of
abstraction as a legitimate principle of generic differentiation for the speculative sciences. Wilhelmsen's final reason for rejecting the three degrees
of abstraction supposes an essential unity for St. Thomas' philosophy of
man. To my knowledge no such unity has yet been established, and hence,
the objection stands as questionable. With none of his reasons adequate
to the rejection of the doctrine of the three degrees of abstraction one is
tempted to suggest that such a rejection is highly questionable.
An evaluation of Man's Knowledge of Reality apart from its content,
strictly taken, suggests a list of commendations on one side and a list
of criticisms on the other. The typography is excellent. There is a detailed
table of contents, plus an excellent marginal outline. Each chapter includes
suggeste_d readings in St. Thomas and a brief bibliography of secondary
sources in addition to a generous scattering of helpful footnotes. The author
has added a general bibliography, an index of names, and an index of
subjects at the end of the book. The book is extremely well written. The
author has literary abilities .far beyond those of most philosopher-writers.
Even in this difficult region of epistemology Wilhelmsen is, with rare
exceptions, uncommonly clear and, with no exceptions, exceedingly interesting. From this point of view, certainly, the book is a welcome treat.
Though the bibliographical suggestions are helpful it seems to this reviewer that those from St. Thomas are frequently insufficient to the task
of substantiating the argument of the chapter and that the secondary
references are extremely one-sided, representing for the most part what

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might loosely be referred to as the •• Toronto school." The documentation,
though impressive at first glance, is extremely sloppy. There is no set
pattern for bibliographical references, and, what is worse, these are not
always accurate. For example, Father Gerard Smith, S. J. is sometimes
referred to as Gerald Smith, sometimes as Gerald Smith, S. J., sometimes
as Gerard Smith, J. S., and sometimes, apparently per accidens, as Gerard
Smith, S. J. In one bibliography (pp. 208 & 204) an article by Father
Geiger is indicated as being in the wrong volume of the wrong year on the
wrong pages of a journal not accurately named; an article by Father LeRoy
is given an inaccurate title and situated erroneously as far as page numbers
are concerned; neither Father Geiger nor Father LeRoy is listed as a
Dominican, while Father Henle and Father Klubertanz are listed as Jesuits
and Father Regis as a Dominican (Fathers Maurer, Owens, and Robert
suffer the same privation as Fathers Geiger and LeRoy as far as religious
designation is concerned) ; for all journals cited save one the volume number
is given, with this one designated rather by month; finally for some of the
authors full names and middle initials are given, for others no middle
initials, for others only initials (while elsewhere in the book several of
these same authors are designated differently than in this bibliography).
All in all the documentation is disappointingly sloppy, and, while this
may not seriously bother the ordinary undergraduate, it is sure to prove
a stumbling block to the advanced student who will approach the book
as an effort in scholarship.
While there are parts of the book which are commendable and other
parts which are questionable I would like to suggest, as a final point, that
one might question not only some of what Wilhelmsen has included in
the book but also what has been left out. True enough, he has promised
in his Preface no more than an essay towards a Thomistic epistemology.
Yet the book is presented by the publisher as a textbook for a course
in epistemology. As such it seems to lack context-wise much of what
ought to go into even a one-semester course in epistemology. No one teacher
of epistemology would dare impose his syllabus on another. Yet it seems
reasonable to expect that a course in epistemology will cover knowledge m
general as well as the division of knowledge into its most significant types,
with a reflexive investigation into the nature of these types and the
methodologies proper to them and finally into the interrelationships between
them. A course so conceived and executed would serve not only the end
of epistemology itself as the speculative science of knowledge but would
serve the well-being of all the sciences and, for the advanced college student,
would serve as a true principle of integration shedding light and meaning
upon the totality of his college program. For such a course Man's Knowledge of Reality by itself is hardly an adequate textbook.
EDWARD

Univernty,
Milwaukee,

D. SIMMONS

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Insight: A Study of Human Understanding. By BERNARD J. F. LoNERGAN,
S. J. New York: Philosophical Library, 1957. Pp. 815. $10.00.
Leo XIII found scholastic philosophy in a sorry state. He called for a
reconstruction in which the best of old scholasticism would be restored and
completed by new thought. His motto for reconstruction implies that he
recognized philosophy as a dynamic process; Leo did not confuse the love
of wisdom with its attainment.
The Leonine reconstruction has not proceeded rapidly and smoothly.
Still, scholastic philosophy has neither stood still nor regressed. Historical
studies have helped us to understand Aquinas and other scholastic doctors.
For the interpretation of the medievals, we now demand textual studies
made according to precise methods; we have thrown off the burden of the
commentaries and the ad mentem summaries.
Moreover, some excellent analytic studies concerned with particular
points of doctrine have been made. Many of these. studies, it is true, have
been ambivalent with respect to philosophic verification, sometimes using
authority and slipping unconsciously into a traditionalism on philosophic
issues. Still the monographic studies have made us aware of philosophic
problems and we have developed some sophistication in thinking about
them.
There are some who see no need for any work besides the historical and
analytical studies to carry on the Leonine reconstruction. Yet to others it
seems we must still advance in two ways. First, we mu&t face the philosophic issues as they are now· presented. We must talk about what our
non-scholastic colleagues are talking about and we must make ourselves
intelligible to them. Second, we must present philosophic syntheses which
can stand independently of any allusions to medieval texts or citations
of authorities.
This preface leads to my general evaluation of Insight. This book is
genuinely and competently philosophic. It stands independently of any
historical positions. It depends only on the readers' own experience and
intelligence to validate its conclusions. Its appeal is not to a parochial
audience. It is not written in scholastic jargon. It raises issues which are
now interesting to non-scholastic philosophers and deals with these issues
in a way which should be illuminating to them.
I realize this judgment of the importance of the book is strong. But
Lonergan's book is unusual. Insight deserves to be read and studied, discussed and criticized. This book:, I believe, is the first perfected philosophic
product of the Leonine reconstruction. Insight might initiate a new era
in scholastic philosophy.
Using the act of the intellect as a point of departure, Fr. Lonergan has
built a complete philosophic synthesis. We can indicate the content and

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the order of the work by using the old titles for the systematic courses,
although these labels are not appropriate to this book. Beginning with
epistemology, Fr. Lonergan develops the main positions of a scholastic
cosmology, ontology, rational psychology, ethics, and natural theology.
In epistemology, Lonergan treats the types and sources of knowledge and
error, certitude and degrees of certitude, and the grounding of first principles. He refutes scepticism, relativism, empiricism, and idealism. In
cosmology, he treats change and its types and conditions, time and place,
matter and form, causality in nature, contingency, and evolution. In
ontology, he treats metaphysical composition, substance and accident,
essence and existence, the transcendentals, the causes, analogy, distinctions,
relations, and individuation. In rational psychology, he treats the cognitive
and appetitive processes with special emphasis on the distinction between
sense and intellect, the substantial unity of man, the spirituality and immortality of the soul, and freedom of choice. In ethics, he treats the main
principles with respect to the end, the moral act, virtue, and law. He
also makes interesting points concerning the common gnod and society.
In natural theology, he treats the existence and attributes of God, divine
knowledge and love, and creation. He also shows the possibility of miracles,
revelation, a supernatural order, and the church. The scholastic will detect
treatment of all these topics and will be comforted by the regul :ty and
ease with which the right answers come. From this point of view, the
book constitutes a well-integrated course in scholastic philosophy, including
the philosophical portions of apologetics.
Yet Insight is not a text-book, and the account I have given of its
content according to topics hardly suggests the significance of the book.
Indeed, it is difficult to convey briefly what Fr. Lonergan has done, since
Insight is written in a dialectical pattern similar to that of a Platonic
dialogue. Thus, while the ostensible subject of the book is insight, the act
of the intellect, he manages to treat all the topics mentioned above by
making his treatment of insight relevant to an ever-broadening context.
Insight thus serves not as the subject of a monograph but as the referencepoint for building a philosophy.
The structure of the book may be indicated as follows. By a long and
careful development, the author prepares the reader to understand and
affirm a group of absolute principles. The implications of these principles
are then drawn leading to the range of conclusions mentioned above. The
process of drawing implications, however, is not logical but dialectical.
"What must be granted if the principles are granted in order to maintain
the principles solidly, consistently, and unambiguously?" is the question
which guides the construction.
The book has two parts. In chapters I-X, the reader is brought to understand understanding as distinct from experience. In chapters XI-XX, the

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BOOK REVIEWS

reader is brought first to affirm his own existence as an intelligent knower
and then to accept the developed position as an implication of his selfaffirmation.
The first part can be divided into four parts. In chapters I-V, the author
works from illustrative instances of understanding in mathematics and
natural science to develop an understanding of the nature of understanding,
different modes of understanding, and the conditions which are required
for the occurrence of understanding. In chapters VI-VII, he analyzes the
non-explanatory function of intelligence in common-sense knowledge, clarifying the limitations and imperfections of such knowledge. In chapter VIII,
he considers substance and substantial unity, basing his treatise on the
character of explanatory as distinct from common-sense knowledge. Finally,
in chapters IX-X, he clarifies the notion of judgment as distinct from and
added to mere apprehension.
The second part of the book also can be divided into four parts. In
chapters XI-XIII the author elicits from the reader an act of self-affirmation
as an intelligent knower, and then explicates this act as a knowledge of
being objectively real. In chapters XIV-XVII, using the notions of being
and objectivity and the structure discovered in the knowledge process,
the author builds an ontology of the structure of beings and of the concrete
universe. He also presents a defense against any alternative metaphysics
by showing how his position can interpret and place any other position.
In chapter XVIII he develops the principles of ethics by extending the
metaphysical structure to cover the reality of moral obligation as well as
of actual existence. Finally, in chapters XIX-XX, working from the ideas
of being and cause and ar.y affirmation of existence, he proves the existence
of God and treats the problem of evil.
This summary indicates the general structure and content of the work.
I will now indicate the method of Insight by pointing out Fr. Lonergan's
functioning principles. The principles he uses in developing the argument,
not the ones he talks about, are three; the desire to know, the isomorphism
of the structure of knowledge with the structure of what is known, and
reflexivity.
Man's desire to know is taken to be unconditioned and unrestricted. The
satisfaction of this desire is considered to be an absolute value. Thus
the desire to k;now serves as a term to which all knowledge is related and
thereby unified. This desire also serves as a norm for judging acts of
knowledge motivated by other desires. The desire to know is the means of
transcending experience. Further, using this principle the author can blend
speculative and practical considerations throughout the book. This blending
is not confusing the two but uniting them by their joint origin in intellectual
appetite. Beginning in chapters six and seven on common-sense knowledge,
the author leads the reader to view rationality as a practical norm. Fr.

BOOK REVIEWS

557

Lonergan can then treat error as malicious interference with the dominion
of reason al'd cultural decline as the result of such viciousness. The
starting point of apologetics is then the need for something to 1:ounteract
the kingdom of darkness. The desire to know is the ultimate value-source
of the adverse judgments which the author makes concerning other positions.
The second principle, the isomorphism of the structure of knowledge
with the structure of what is known, permits him to infer a metaphysics
from one's self-affirmation, once that act has been explained so that it
involves the acceptance of his theory of knowledge and objectivity. For
example, the distinctions between experience, understanding, and affirmation ground the distinctions between matter, form, and existence. Using
this principle, Fr. Lonergan begins from instances of insight, proceeds to
an articulation of the process of knowledge, and then infers the general
structure of whatever can be known, that is, of being. The content of the
instances becomes insignificant in this procedure, and the metaphysical
structure which is bierred can be posited independently of any special
scientific theories. For metaphysics works from the structure immanent
in knowledge as a process, using the processes of direct knowledge as data.
Special sciences base themselves on empirical data and so must operate
within metaphysical structure, although they are not determined by that
structure within their own domains. The result is that all sciences are
incorporated into a single systematic world-view, the multiplicity of ways
of knowing with all their richness being maintained within the general
framework.
Reflexivity, the third principle used by the author, is difficult to explain.
An example of the use of this principle in a classical text is Aristotle's
defense of the principle of contradiction. That defense depends on the
impossibility of communicating and therefore the impossibility of denying
the principle if it is not accepted. Fr. Lonergan proceeds in a similar way,
not with respect to the principle of contradiction but with respect to the
structure of cognitive process as he has elucidated it. He maintains that
his account is not subject to revision since any attempt to revise it would
have to proceed according to the same process. Just as in Aristotle dynamic
contrariety lies behind the principle of contradiction, so in Lonergan
dynamic cognitive process lies behind the known structure of cognitive
process.
Reflexivity not only functions negatively, as a means of pointing out that
the adversary is refuting himself out of his own mouth, but it also functions
positively as a norm for construction. What one says in building his own
position must be in accord with what one holds it possible to say on that
position. On the other hand, to beg the question is a fallacy. Fr. Lonergan
tries to be careful to meet the demands of reflexivity himself. He maintains
that his conclusions are independent from the instances he uses, but not

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BOOK REVIEWS

from all instances. He also maintains that his conclusions can be reached
without following his method, but not as clearly, completely, and effectively.
Criticisms of Insight can be made from the point of view of rhetoric.
The book would benefit from less explicitness and repetition and from
many more self-references. Some of the sentences could be broken down.
Occasionally the terminology is unnecessarily obscure, a glossary )night be
helpful. The index seems accurate but I did not find it helpful. Of course,
the usefulness of an index varies with different readers. All in all, as
philosophical writing goes, Insight is a well-written book. Had Kant written
as well, he would be more popular and better understood than he is.
In Insight interpretations of many other philosophical writings are offered:
The book is not intended to be a history. Historical allusions are used
to clarify the position presented and to furnish grist for the dialectical
mill, not to bolster the argument itself. Fr. Lonergan's use of history is
like Aristotle's treatment of his predecessors. Many questions might be
raised concerning the historical accuracy and adequacy of the author's
statements concerning other philosophical positions. We restrict our questions here to the single problem of whether the philosophy presented in
Insight is in agreement with the philosophy of Aquinas.
Lonergan thinks his philosophy agrees with that of Aquinas. He recognizes that he has augmented the old with something new, developing a novel
method, but he does not admit that he diverges substantially. In raising
questions about this problem I do not presume that I solve it. To decide
whether Insight conflicts with Aquinas' philosophy is a task for a very
careful historical investigation.
Two things should be kept in mind. First, Fr. Lonergan may not agree
with Aquinas. Second, if he doesn't he could be philosophically adequate
anyway.
The author has published two series of articles in Theological Stu(lies,
the last of which appeared in 1949. These articles were professed interpretations of Aquinas' writings. Fr. Lonergan wished to keep his history and
his philosophy distinct. A fair method of attacking him on historical
grounds, then, would be to attack the interpretation presented in the
articles, using the development in Insight to clarify the intended interpretation.
In this type of criticism, the following questions might fairly be asked
of him. Is it not the case that a philosophy is constituted of method and
arguments, not merely of conclusions? Do not conclusions have their
meaning from the philosophic means used reach them? Is not the use
of insight as a reference-point for unifying what is understood and the use
of the desire to know as a universal reference-point a method diverse from
that which Aquinas employed? Can isomorphism be reconciled with
Aquinas' principle that the mode of understanding is not the mode of

BOOK REVIEWS

559

being? Aquinas constantly used this principle against Plato. Does the
relatim1ship which Fr. Lonergan posits between possibility, probability, and
actuality accord with Aquinas' doctrine of being? Does Fr. Lonergan's
doctrine of abstraction as an addition to the data accord with Aquinas'
distinction between the potentially and the actually intelligible? H not,
the doctrine of conception, definition, categories, form, and essence is also
diverse. Does Fr. Lonergan's doctrine of judgment as the reflective grasp
of the fulfillment of the conditions sufficient for fact accord with Aquinas'
distinction between categorical and hypothetical propositions? If not, the
doctrine of reflection, verification, modes of predication and analogy, and
existence and action is also diverse. Does Fr. Lonergan's doctrine of
science as the understanding and affirmation of correlations of data accord
with Aquinas' distinction between understanding and reason? If not, the
doctrine of inquiry and proof, the nature and division of sciences, intellectual principles and methods, and causal determination and order is also
diverse. Do not the priority of intelligence to existence, the priority of
self-affirmation to knowledge of the other, and the priority of dialectic
to demonstration which Fr. Lonergan posits constitute a complete reversal
of Aquinas' philosophy?
Apart from the historical accuracy of the author's identification of his
philosophy with Aquinas', one can examine and criticize Insight as an
expressed philosophy. I think Fr. Lonergan should face the following
questions and I believe he would have serious difficulties with some of them.
How can necessary conclusions follow from contingent principles? Or,
are cognitive facts necessary or metaphysical conclusions contingent? If
the desire to know is somehow unconditioned, is not desiring to know a
mere fact? Does the use of the desire to know as a principle require an
equivocation on " unconditioned," i.e., on "necessary? "
How can the principle of the isomorphism of the structure of knowledge
with the structure of being be defended from a starting-point within knowledge as distinct from being? H every assertion requires that the fulfillment
of the conditions of the fact be grasped, does not the assertion of the
principle of isomorphism suppose the grasp of the fulfillment of conditions
which is given only outside knowledge, i.e., which is unknowable? To put
the question in another way, if it is necessary to go from the structure
of knowledge to the structure of being, how can one justify the transit
without begging the question? If one accepts the evaluative theory of
judgment and the isomorphic principle, is it possible either to distinguish
knowledge and being without opening an unbridgeable gap between them
or to relate them without identifying them?
How can knowledge be known as to its necessary characteristics independently of knowing the necessity of something which is not knowledge?
Fr. Lonergan distinguishes between direct and introspective modes of cogni-

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BOOK BEVIEWS

tiYe process. Does this distinction presuppose that cognitive process is
knowable independently of anything being known? If so, there must be
u third mode based on the first two, and so on indefinitely. When levels
are distinguished in this way they are not of themselves related but must
be referred by an extrinsic act. But if there is no infinite regress, must
there not be only one mode of cognitive process to which self-awareness
is immanent but which is primarily intentional of the r>.on-cognitive? If
is only one mode of cognitional process, is it not impossible without
question-begging or paradoxes based on reflexivity to ground a metaphysics
on the structure of knowledge?
If things are what they are by being referred to insight, and if the whole
philosophy is definite by being referred to the precognitive desire to know,
how are relations what they are? If relations are not any " what " in themselves, what is their status? Relations are not things absolutely and they
are not insights. If one distinguishes levels of the real to place relations,
what about the relations between those levels? If relata determine relations and relations determine relata, what does it mean to say that insight
determines both when insight too can be related? If insight is not related,
then are we talking about human knowledge or about God? H we can't
keep these distinct, can we keep anything distinct?
This series of philosophic questions might be extended indefinitely, and
it would be easy to find many small points to argue, but all the questions
I have raised are really concerned with one issue. What that issue is may
be suggested by the questions or it may be suggested by a historical
allusion. It seems to me that the philosophy which Fr. Lonergan has
constructed is closely akin to the position of Plato. Aristotle criticized Plato
for separating the forms, and I mean to suggest by my questions the possibility of criticizing Fr. Lonergan in an analogous way. My questions are
merely a reformulation of the old criticisms to meet the new formulation
of dialectical philosophy.
If Insight arouses counter-formulations as ingenious and competent as
it is itself, Fr. Lonergan will have done us a considerable service. I believe
that happy result may occur. And consequently I attribute that importance
to the work which I stressed in the beginning of this review.
GERMAIN

Georgetown University,
Washington, D. C.

G. GRISEZ

BRIEF NOTICES
The Doctrine of the Trinity. By CYRIL C.
Abingdon Press, 1958. Pp. 159. $3.00.

RICHARDSON.

New York:

The intention of the author of this Protestant study of the doctrine of
the Trinity, stated in his Preface, is to give "the leading doctrines of the
Trinity as they have developed in the Church's thought, and to raise
some basic questions about their validity." The book is an effort to demontrate that although we must make distinctions in the Godhead, they do
not fall into a neat three-fold pattern, and that the traditional symbols
of Father, Son and Spirit are ambiguous and even troublesome. The
author's contention, which is stated explicitly in the Preface, is that
Trinitarian doctrines have confused the real issues by admitting arbitrary
distinctions in God, while at the same time attempting to reconcile the
necessary contradictions by concealed ones.
In the initial chapter, which explicitly gives the "point of view" of
the author, the value of the " threeness " of the Trinity is questioned on
the basis that there is an artificiality about it which breeds confusion.
That the author's position is Unitarian is expressly denied, however; for it
is not the paradoxical character of the traditional doctrine to which he
objects, but rather the threefoldness. He regards it as undeniable, moreover, that God revealed Himself in terms of a "human person" i.e. Jesus
of Nazareth. The doctrine is not found specifically in the New Testament;
rather, it is a creation of the fourth century Church. If the reader should
be inclined to defend the existence of the teaching in the New Testament,
it would matter little, for it is claimed that the background of thought
from which the New Testament symbols were derived left something to be
desired, and that we should seek more satisfactory ways of expressing the
"message."
In the second chapter the author claims that it is generally assumed
that the major problem is " the way in which God can be one person
and yet three." He does not clarify by whom this is generally assumed.
In lVIr. Richardson's view, however, the fundamental issue is the difference
between the Father and the Son, the essence of which distinction is between
God's beyondness (Father) and relatedness (Son). The nature of the
symbolism clouds this distinction, however. Whereas "Father" gradually
came to denote God in His absolute, transcendent glory, yet the title never
could be emptied of its original content; the heavenly Father must be
related to his children. The name "Father" poses an additional difficulty,

561

562

BRIEF NOTICES

in that it implies begetting, or derivation of one mode of being (God liB
related) from another mode of being (God as absolute). Why assume
any priority? the author asks. Many other problems are said to evolve
from this symbolism; e. g., the Father is thought of as Creator, but this
seems more fittingly applicable to the Son, who is God in His activity.
That the New Testament presents us with the dominant symbols of
Father, Son, and Spirit is aBserted in the third chapter. From what has
been said it is obvious that this does not mean that there is a Trinitarian
doctrine in Scripture, although the existence of these symbols gave rise
to the creation of the doctrine which came later. The blending of Jewish
and Greek thinking in the New Testament is seen liB a source of difficulty,
for, the writer claims, there is a fundamental discrepancy between the
Hebrew notion of the Father and the idea of an abstract God who operates
by His reason or Logos. Another troublesome idea traceable to Greek
thinking is " the fecundity of the absolute " which leads, in Richardson's
opinion, to the idea of priority in the Godhead. After the treatment of
the New Testament doctrine of the Father, the idea of the Son is considered. Briefly, the thesis offered is that there is an evolution of the
notion of the sonship of Jesus in the New Testament. Whereas, Richardson
claims, in the Synoptics it means dependence of the man upon his heavenly
Father, in St. John's Gospel a truly divine status is given to Jesus Christ.
Since the word "Son" WIIB retained, however, it came to refer to a distinction in the Godhead itself, and the term haB remained " to plague
Trinitarian thinking." The symbolism of the Spirit is said to pose special
difficulties, for although the distinction between the Logos and Spirit is
admittedly retained throughout the New Testament, they are, Richardson
maintains, logically identical.
The " Trinity of mediation," which makes the basic distinction between
the Father and the Son one of mediation, is discussed in the fourth chapter.
Attributed to Tertullian, this doctrine views the Father as the God of the
philosophers, the Son as the One Who is encountered. The trouble with
this doctrine, as Richardson sees it, is that the first term of the Trinity
seems to be more really God than the second. It aBsumes that the Absolute
can beget the mediator, but this, the author thinks, seems to imply inferiority in the One begotten. The aBsumption that there is derivation
in the Trinity is seen as an. unwarranted and vain attempt to compose
an essential paradox. As for the Spirit: the role of the " third term " seems
ambiguous and irrelevant in the " Trinity of mediation."
More oriented to the Scriptures in the author's opinion is the doctrine
of the " Trinity of love," which is discussed in chapter five. Almost
identified as the Roman Catholic Trinitarian doctrine, this is expressed
somewhat liB follows: Because God is love, He must have an object of
love, and because He is self-sufficient He must have an object of love

BRIEF NOTICES

563

different from creatures. Hence the distinction between Father and Son.
But, Richardson argues, the " modes of being in the Godhead " (his term
for the distinctions in God) are such that they cannot love each other.
The place of the Spirit in the Trinity is taken up in the sixth chapter.
By such early writers as Athenagoras, the Spirit was often considered as
a uniting bond between Father and Son, and this Richardson views as an
attempt to compose the original paradox. St. Augustine is said to have
developed this notion of Spirit as bond of union, and the modem Protestant
student of Augustinianism, Karl Barth, quite decisively distinguishes the
Son and the Spirit. The contrast Barth makes between these seems to be
rooted in a distinction between God's revelation as objectively presented
to us and as apprehended by us. Richardson argues, however, that the
object-subject distinction stressed by Barth does not necessitate another
distinction in the Godhead. His conclusion, anticipated in his earlier treatment of the Father and the Son, is that the Logos and the Spirit are really
identical.
That the practical man of faith has always tended to think of God as
one Person manifesting Himself in a diversity of ways is contended in the
next chapter, which deals with the "Trinity of revelation." Indeed, the
Apostle's Creed was so formulated that one could view the matter in this
uncomplicated way and still recite it sincerely. But whether such popular
piety opened the way to Sabellianism or not, Richardson maintains that
Sabellius failed to make an adequate distinction in the Godhead, and to
understand the necessity for paradox in God. Even the recent attempts
of the theologian Friedrich Schleiermacher to " rehabilitate " Sabellius seem
to the author to miss the essential problem, which is not concerned with
the manner in which God is revealed, but with the paradoxical fact that
along with God's revealed (related) nature, there is His beyondness. The
recent attempt of Claude Welch in the survey, In His Name, to reconstruct
a Trinity on the basis of revelation is also rejected here, for the same
reason.
The last pattern of trinitarian theology discussed, which is treated of
in chapter eight, is the "Trinity of God's activity." This is based, not
upon the different modes of revelation, but upon the different elements in
each of God's activities. This notion is attributed to Gregory of Nyssa,
and is claimed to have been recently revived by Dorothy Sayers, in The
Mind of the Maker. Besides his not unexpected objection that this treatment leaves out of account the absoluteness and beyondness of the Godhead,
Richardson's argument is that such a Trinity is arbitrary, since we could, if
we wished, detect innumerable aspects of God's activity. Why stop at three?
The final chapter of the book deals with the meaning of the symbols
!Father, Son, and Spirit. By this time it is abundantly, perhaps redundantly,
clear that the author does not find the major Trinitarian patterns satis-

564

BRIEF NOTICES

factory. Posing the question of whether any satisfactory Trinitarian doctrine can be reconstructed, he answers in the negative. What then is the
value of the Biblical symbols Father, Son, and Spirit? It is replied that
although they each express something which it is important for us to
affirm, they overlap. They point beyond themselves to antinomies which
demand other modes of expression. "Father," it is maintained, points to
the transcendence of God, whereas "Son" indicates a relation between
the heavenly Father and Jesus of Nazareth, within the terms of the
Incarnation, and should not be forced back into the Godhead itself. Spirit
refers to God's dynamic action. The three terms, which according to
Richardson do not denote precise persons in the Trinity, are "ways of
thinking about God from different points of view." They point to the
necessity of making distinctions, the most basic of which is that between
the absolute and the related character of God. Others follow: He is joy
and suffering, rest and motion, solitary and yet in some sense of society,
our ground of being and yet a person to be confronted. One thing definitely
emerges: there is no necessary threeness in God.
It would be absurdly redundant to belabor the point that the central
theses of this book are opposed to the teaching of the Church. It would
be a mistake, however, to dismiss this book as having no value for the
Catholic reader. It has, of course, the value of exemplifying modern
Protestant theological procedure. It gives, moreover, an interesting analysis
of the Trinitarian views of such thinkers as Barth, Schleiermacher, Hodgson,
and Sayers. Its greatest interest, perhaps, is its attempt to equate the
inevitable paradox in the theologian's-or the philosopher's-statements
about God with the mystery of the Trinity, which is not of man's making.
That the author confuses the objective data of revelation with the
subjective difficulties involved in contemplating the infinite is evidenced
in the closing chapter in which it is claimed that the three " terms " are
ways of thinking about God from different points of view. Revelation
rloes not seem to be thought of as something given by God to man. Rather,
one gets the impression that the doctrine is the result of a sort of reciprocal
action, which " reveals " also-perhaps primarily-the mind's frustration
in its groping for God.
Certain difficulties present themselves to the reader. In the first chapter,
for example, the author speaks of the "orthodox" view of Jesus of
Nazareth, who is described as a "human person." One wonders what is
meant by "orthodox." Again, in the second chapter, he states that the
major Trinitarian problem is "generally assumed" to be how God can
be one Person, yet three. By whom is this generally assumed?
One of the most puzzling aspects of the book is the position of its
author in regard to Biblical inspiration. In the fourth chapter he complains
that the Church inherited the symbols, Father, Son, and Spirit, from

BRIEF NOTICES

565

Scripture, and that because of its " rigid view " of Biblical inspiration it ,
was forced to work out its doctrine within their context. That the author's
view is decidedly less rigid is indicated in the first chapter, where he claims
that the measure of the New Testament writers' inspiration was greater
than that of later theologians. It seems that there is only a difference of
degree. The Biblical writers, moreover, have only a dubious advantage, for
it is claimed that we profit by an advantage denied them, i. e. two thousand
years of Christian reflection and experience. Therefore, we are told, we
should indeed read them with humility, but we should try to express in
more satisfactory ways the message they recorded. In other words, it
would seem that although our inspiration is dimmer, we must be brighter.
Our two thousand years of Christian experience apparently enable us to
do great things, for we should "weigh the value of the New Testament
symbolism and assess its adequacy."
It is significant that the author does not make much of the scholastic
distinction between person and nature. Despite his disavowal of Sabellius,
there is a type of 1\fodalism here. The basic problem for Richardson is
rooted in the fact that all thought about God involves paradox, which
implies duality in the Godhead. The third mode or term seems superfluous
-an undercover attempt at establishing a link between the contradictory
modes, at resolving the unresolvable.
The reader might with good reason be suspicious that the real issue
with which Richardson is primarily concerned is a problem distinct from,
although of course related to, the theology of the Trinity. For him, what
the Trinity tries-and fails-to express is the paradox in our knowledge
of God; it becomes in fact a sort of three-fold hypostasization of this.
Reduced to a human attempt to express the apparent mysterious contradiction at the heart of all man's efiorts to know God, the doctrine takes
on the aspect of a psychological device. The book seems to overlook the
possibility that the Trinity could be more than this, that is, a revelation
of God Himself.
MARY F. DALY

Archbishop Cushing OoUege,
Brookline, M(l$sachusetta

Occult Phenomena (In the Light of Theology). By A.Lo1s WIESINGER,
0. C. S. 0. Westminster: The Newman Press, 1957. Pp. 294 with
index. $5.00.
This scholarly work which is well written and excellently translated is
divided into two parts. The first part deals with the theology and philosophy
of the author's theory of occult phenomena and the second part applies

566

BRIEF NOTICES

this theory to the phenomena themselves. This reviewer does not consider
himself sufficiently skilled in either theology or philosophy to write a
critical review of the first part. I shall content myself, therefore, with a
description of the theory in terms as nearly those of the author as possible.
It is the author's contention that occult phenomena, such as telepathy,
second sight, the production of sounds (raps), and the movement of bodies
otherwise than through muscular action, are due to the activity of a part
or element of the human soul which he calls spirit-soul, and that insofar
as this element is active, the soul is simply behaving after the manner of
a pure spirit and showing a pure spirit's characteristics. It is the author's
ultimate contention that this mode of action is a vestigial remnant of the
preternatural powers with which our first parents were endowed before the
Fall. There are, however, according to the author, abnormal states in
which the life of the senses has been diminished, or cut out altogether, in
which the life of the spiritual part of the soul is greatly intensified. In
these it acts increasingly after the manner of a pure spirit, according to
the author, and can receive communications from other spirits, such, for
instance, as the angels. The fact that, while in this state the soul may
still make a limited use of concepts built up on sense perceptions does not
alter the fact, again according to the author, that its mode of behavior
is radically different from that which it practices in its normal state, and
that in this abnormal state it acts wholly after the manner of a pure spirit.
All this makes it desirable, according to the author, that he should
examine how actually the human soul is organized, and what is the exact
relationship of this purely spiritual element with the other elements within
it. Here the author states that he follows Catholic teaching, according to
which the soul is a unity with the body and is its form; nevertheless, the
soul is not wholly submerged in the body (non totaliter comprehensa) but
reaches out beyond it. In other words, there is a part of the soul that is,
so to speak, not actually wedded to the body. Modern writers, he states,
have tended to relegate this part of the soul (if one may thus employas of necessity one must-a purely spatial terminology) to the subconscious.
So far we have seen, he then continues, that there are certain powers
within the human personality which must be accounted as abnormal, and
from time immemorial the duality of our psychic functions has been
recognized, so much so that two separate terms,
and r.vEvp,a, have
been invented to designate these two different aspects of our psychic
activity. We are, however, not concerned here, he states, with two separate
things but with a single entity, though this entity acts differently according
to whether we find ourselves in our normal state or in one of the different
kinds of natural and artificial sleep. To some extent the two merge in the
subconscious, which both serves to store our sense perceptions and also

BRIEF NOTiCES

567

records and gives effect to those acts of knowledge and of will which
take place otherwise than through the bodily mechanism.
The author then proceeds to prove his theory by stating that, whereas
today the spiritual element in the soul can only function fully when the
rest of the human personality is put out of action, this was not always so.
In our first parents the preternatural endowment was fully present and
active without the rest of the personality suffering any impairment. This
was true both in regard to (A) the preternatural modes of knowledge
and (B) the firmness of the preternatural will.
In the Fall man, the author continues, lost his preternatural gifts (as
well as the supernatural) but not his natural powers. Something, however,
must obviously remain when these natural powers are destroyed by death
or dimmed by sleep, since the spiritual part of the soul still survives, and
that something consists of the vestigial remains of the spiritual powers
originally enjoyed.
The reviewer feels more competent to evaluate the second part of the
book dealing with the practical application of the theory. This second
part is a potpourri of naivete, contradictions, outmoded theories especially
in psychiatry, interesting case reports, many dating back over 50 years or
more, which are so intimately interwoven that any criticism, except that
it be sentence by sentence, is almost impossible. This reviewer has no
problems in accepting as factual most of the phenomena which are described.
Telepathy, clairvoyance, hypnosis and diabolical possession, the phenomena
of spiritualism and divination, are recognized as possible by those interested
in the field of the occult. This second section makes very interesting
reading but is replete with non-sequitur statements and contradictions
"Most witches' dreams can be similarly interpreted
e. g., on pages
-those for instance which led the dreamers to declare that they had
attended a witches' Sabbath and presumably experienced all the sensual
delights that this implied. Such dreams were the remnants and the results
of vivid day-time fancies, reinforced by the witches' salve. This last was
composed of belladonna and opium and was well calculated to produce
hallucinations. Today things are rather different; today our anxious
Christendom dreams up visions of the mother of God. Since 1931 no
fewer than thirty-one cases involving some three hundred alleged appearances of Mary have been the subject of ecclesiastical examination ·and the
great majority have been completely rejected. From the eastern states
there have come since 1945 some two thousand reports of miraculous
happenings, prophecies and other forms of solace for displaced persons who
have been driven from their homes. People find comfort in these things
as they do in the eidetic phenomena described above. (Italics mine.) It
would therefore appear that Christian morality is today on a somewhat
higher level, although the belief in witches is still said to persist in such

568

BRIEF NOTICES

places as the Luneburger Heide." Actually I see little resemblance between
the witches' sabbath and visions of the Mother of God.
On page 132, speaking of such conditions as cleptomania, pyromania, etc.,
he states: "The patients are really in a state similar to that of sleep;
the actions of the soul are uncontrolled and uncontrollable." Below on the
same page he states: "This last (bodily defects) is admittedly more
difficult in the case of such notorious forms of neurosis as neurasthenia,
psychasthenia, in which the actual nerves are in a diseased condition." These
statements in which the italics are mine are not true.
On page 146 he states, with apparent acceptance, the following about
fortune tellers: "Let us, however, here note the fact that the cases of
which we hear so often where a person is made aware of the death of
another, are not to be accounted as telepathy, but as clairvoyance. \Ve
may say the same thing of the utterances of fortune-tellers and of persons
who predict the future from cards. Such people have much experience in
putting themselves into a trance."
On page 235 he states regarding hypnosis: "In this condition (of being
hypnotized) it can also establish direct contact with the soul of another,
receive that other's thoughts and combine them with the experiences that
lie dormant in the subconscious. Proceeding from there, it can excite the
actions of the body and influence it to an extraordinary degree. The body
then performs involuntary motions, and experiences irresistible likes and
dislikes, even in its vegetative life, which normally does not stand under
the direction of the will. (Italics mine)
"In hypnosis all this is intensified, the sensorium disappears completely,
the mental cmmection with the hypnotist becomes perfect. Insane persons
resist such connection, but nervous and hysterical people enter quite
readily into it; in the main all persons are capable of being hypnotized,
though they generally display some resistance to the first attempt; once
they have been hypnotized, however, they lose this power of resistance.
On this many moralists base their condemnation of hypnotism, insofar as
by reason of it men lose their freedom of the will forever. This is so
great a good that men have no right to part with it, particularly since,
once lost, it can never be wholly recovered." The italicized statements
are exaggerated half-truths which are not held· by· present-day experts. In
fact, on page 240 the author corrects himself to a large extent by stating:
" It would appear that even under hypnosis a residue of free will and
morality remains, or, to put the matter psychologically, the influence of law
and morality, together wtih the awareness of the will of God, are stronger
for the soul, even in its state of extreme suggestibility, than the suggestion
of a hypnotist."
On page 241 he speaks of " cures " under hypnosis, a phenomena not
recognized by medical specialists. Relief of symptoms is possible, but

569

BRIEF NOTICES

this often leads to greater difficulties. On this same page he continues:
" Under hypnosis sick people can see inside their own bodies, can declare
the position of a foreign body, which can then be removed; also the nature
of the necessary medicines can be discerned. One is strongly reminded of
those people among the ancients who could diagnose and find the cure
for illnesses in dreams. Thus, within certain narrow limits, " medical
occultism," if the term is rightly understood, must be recognized as having
certain validity. There are indeed great possibilities here for mankind, if
the hypnosis can be made deep enough for correct impressions to be
obtained under it."
Most of this is too fantastic to comment upon. The above would serve
as examples of what I would like to convey. The statements are documented, but it is the uncritical acceptance of the cases of others that this
reviewer feels is the great fault of the book. The best section in the second
part of the book is that on demoniacal possession.
As interesting reading for the uncritical the book is recommended. For
the more critical it is likely to prove quite frustrating and non-informative
except, perhaps, in the bibliographical references which are abundant. Only
four or five of these are in English publications.
JoHN

R. CAVANAGH, :M.D.

Catholic Uni-versity of America,
Washington, D. C.

On the Philosophy of History. By JACQUES MARITAIN. New York: Charles
Scribner's Sons, 1957. Pp. 180 with index. $3.50.
There have been few historians who, at one time or another in their study
of the record left by man on earth, have not wondered, as did Henri
Marrou, " Does the pilgrimage of mankind, triumphant and heart-rending
by turns, through the duration of history, have a value, a fecundity, a
meaning? " Yet historians, as a class, have almost unanimously rejected
a philosophy of history. The closest most of them ever come to a philosophy
is the adoption of an hypothesis to explain the trends of history such, for
example, as the frontier theory of American history, or the theory that wax
has been the great factor in human progress.
But an all-embracing philosophy of history, which would answer the
question proposed by Henri J\farrou, the generality of historians (including
Marrou himself) deny. The charges leveled by Marrou against those who
have attempted to evolve a philosophy of history would be subscribed to
by most historians. And after reading some of the modern efforts to
formulate such a philosophy, viz., the efforts of Hegel, Wells and Toynbee,
who shall say that the charges are false? Marrou accuses the philosopher

570

BRIEF NOTICES

of history of violating four canons of sound historical criticism: an oversimplified, arbitrary and uncritical use of the material; a determination to
obtain an a priori explanation of the course of history; an ambition to
develop an all-inclusive explanation of the meaning of history; a desire to
make history conform to laws conceived by the philosopher. In brief, the
historian accuses the philosopher of trying to make history; not to study
it. And this, of course, is the greatest sin against his art that the historian
can commit.
It is not yet a proven fact that there can be such a discipline as a
philosophy of history. That is to say, if one uses the term philosophy in
the strict sense--" the study of things in their ultimate causes.'' And the
present work does nothing to establish such a proof-if it does anything it
strengthens the contrary opinion. The philosopher cannot work on history
as he does on the cosmos, the nature of man, the nature and operation of
the soul or God as He is known through nature. In the study of all these
subjects the philosopher can prescind from Revelation and consider his
subject in the light of reason alone. But how is it possible to consider
history, which is the record in the world of Divine Providence, by the light
of reason alone? Jesus of Nazareth, the central point of all human history,
was not simply an historical figure such as Josephus tries to portray him
by his passing mention. Had Jesus been but an historical figure He never
could have loomed so large in the history of mankind. He would have been
of no more importance than Judas the Galilean or Barabbas. But He was
not just an historical figure. He was Jesus who is called the Christ, the
only Son of the Eternal Father.
No philosophy of history could be true which does not rest upon this
revealed truth. And so it would seem that any " philosophy " of history
must needs be a branch of theology. Even for the non-Christian a philosophy of history would seem well nigh impossible. For Hegel, the modern
reviver of philosophy of history, was (witness his unholy trinity of thesis,
antithesis and synthesis) more of mystical theologian than a philosopher,
as were his followers Marx and Engels. The greatest philosopher of
history of all time was St. Augustine, whose De Civitate Dei is the classic
work on the subject. And where does philosophy leave off and theology
begin in that great work? " In the mind of St. Augustine," says Maritain,
"both wisdoms, the philosophical and theological, worked together.'' Would
it not be more to the point to say they were inseparable, since all the
philosophizing has a theological basis in the De Civitate Dei?
This distinction of philosophy and theology as applied to history Mr.
Maritain never quite makes clear. He does spend a great deal of spact"
tilting with windmills, viz., " How can a philosophy of history be possible
since History is not a science? " He has a fine critique of the " great
irrationalist " Hegel. And once again he establishes the fact that Hegel
was a mystical theologian rather than a philosopher-a theologian who

BRIEF NOTICES

571

based his philosophy upon private revelation or intuition. But a cogent and
convincing argument as to why there can be such a science as a philosophy
of history: this is lacking.
As in De Civitate Dei it is impossible to separate the philosophy in this
book from the theology. To argue that a philosophy of history is possible
because the light of reason alone is used to arrive at certain conclusions
does not prove the right to independent existence of a philosophy of history
as a separate discipline, for even in theology philosophy is used in an
ancillary manner. But theology is not philosophy, for its conclusions are
based ultimately upon Divine Revelation. And it would seem that no
matter to what extent philosophy is used in the evaluation of the history
of mankind, its conclusions must ·ultimately be drawn to theology and
revelation.
But if by the term " philosophy of history " one is not using the word
philosophy in the strict sense, there certainly can be, indeed there must be,
a philosophy of history. If the word philosophy is used (as it definitely
is used by the moderns) to express a particular outlook on life, a frame of
reference which includes both theology and religious belief, then a philosophy of history is inevitable and can only be avoided by the historian if
he be content to be only a keeper of chronicles. This seems to be the sense
in which Mr. Maritain uses the term, although he does, as I have stated,
avoid, for the most part, a clear-cut definition of his approach. In the only
instance where he attempts to distinguish the philosopher of history from
the theologian, the distinction, to my mind, is invalid. Speaking of the
great heresies, Mr. Maritain points out the difference (he claims) of the
approach that would be taken to them as historical facts by the theologian
and the philosopher:
" The theologian of history will observe that in the course of time, and
despite the -permanent impulse of such communities toward separation, a
greater and greater number of those who are brought up in the religious
communities involved are made, by reason of their good faith exempt from
the sin of schism or heresy, so that these religious communities should not
be called " heretical " or " schismatic," but simply " dissident."
" The philosopher of history will be mainly concerned with the effects
and repercussions of the spiritual events in question on the history of the
world and civilization."
It seems to me that this distinction would have a more valid application
to the difference of concern between the speculative and practical theologian
rather than between the philosopher and theologian.
Mr. Maritain divides his work into four parts under the following titles:
I. The Philosophy of History in General; IT. Axiomatic Formulas or Functional Laws; liT. Typological Formulas or Vectorial Laws; IV. God and the
Mystery of the World. Under the heading of Axiomatic Formulas, which
deal with the " functional relation between certain intelligible characteristics,

572

BRIEF NOTICES

certain universal objects of thought-a functional relation which exists
and which can be verified in one way or another at each step of the
development of human history,'' Maritain lays down six laws: 1) "The
law of twofold contrasting progress." This law has its clearest expression in
the Gospel parable of the wheat and the cockle. It concerns the existence
of both good and evil in history and, indeed, the contribution made by the
Devil under the divine government to human progress.
2) "The ambivalence of history, which is a· consequence of the first law,"
and by which " at each moment human history offers us two faces. One
face gives grounds to the pessimist, who would like to condemn this period
of history. And the other gives grounds to the optimist, who would like to
see the same period as merely glorious [but] no period of human history
can be absolutely condemned or absolutely approved." According to
Maritain, St. Gregory gave clear expression to this law when he wrote,
" Men should know that the will of Satan is always unrighteous but his
power is never unjust." However, the same claim cannot be made for the
text from Habacuc (which is cited by the wrong chapter and verse), viz.,
"et egredietur diabolua ante pedes ejua." According to the best modern
scholarship St. Jerome mistranslated " devil " for " lightning." But even
in Jerome's interpretation this text would not confirm Maritain's law of
ambivalence.
8) "The law of historical fructification of good and evil deals with the
relation between ethics and politics." The gist of this law was expressed
by the poet who wrote, " The mills of God grind· slowly but they grind
exceedingly fine." Or as Maritain expresses it:
" The good in which the justice of human societies bears fruit, and the
misfortune in which the injustice of human societies bears fruit have
nothing to do with the immediate and visible results; historic duration must
be taken into account. . . . The achievements of the great Machiavellianists
seem durable to us, because our scale of duration-measurements is an
exceedingly small one, with regard to the time proper to nations and human
communities. We do not understand the fair play of God, Who gives those
who have freely chosen injustice the time to exhaust the benefits of it
and the fullness of its energies."
4) " The law of world significance and history-making events " is still
in the process of gestation in the mind of the philosopher. As Mr. Maritain expresses it: "I am still searching for the proper expression of a
truth which I think I perceive but which seems to me to be rather
difficult to formulate. My main difficulty has to do with the notion of
the ' unity of the world ' or the ' unity of mankind ' and its true meaning."
Mr. Maritain suddenly decides that he is a philosopher of history and not
a theologian and that since " there is in the world nothing akin to the
spiritual unity of the Church . . . we must take care not to think of these
things in terms of theological concepts like that of the· " commllhion of

BRIEF NOTICES

573

saints. " Although it seems entirely too simple a solution to the great
problem that occupies Mr. Maritain's mind, I suggest that the expression
for which he is searching (and which is not a theological concept) is "the
brotherhood of man under the fatherhood of God."
5) " The law of prise de conscience " is the growth in awareness as the
sign of human progress and as involving at the same time inherent dangers.
6) "The law of hierarchy of means" which consists of two laws: a)
" the superority of humble temporal means over rich temporal means with
respect to spiritual ends"; and b) . "the law of superiority of spiritual
means of temporal activity and welfare over carnal means of temporal
activity and welfare."
Of Vectorial laws there are four: 1) "The law of the passage from the
' magical ' to the ' rational ' regime or state in the history of human
culture." It concerns the passage of mankind from symbol or magical sign,
which speaks primarily to the imagination, and ·logical sign, which speaks
primarily to the intellect.
£!) " The law of the progress of moral conscience," Maritain considers
to be "a most important law in the philosophy of history. In its essence
and even in its value the rectitude and purity of moral conscience are
independent of the explicit knowledge of all particular moral laws." As
stated, this law appears to be identical with synderesis, the first principle of
morality but such is not the case, for further on the author states, " As
a matter of fact, the precise knowledge of these natural moral laws-with
the exception of the self-evident primary principle, good is to be done and
evil avoided-is acquired slowly and with more or less difficulty. I would
my that the, equipment necessary to know the particular precepts of the
natural law exists within
is made up of the essential tendencies and
inclinations of our nature. But a very long experience is required to have
the corresponding knowledge through connaturality take actual form. In
other words our knowledge of moral laws is progressive in nature . . . and
certain of these norms, like the law of monogamy, were known rather late
in the history of mankind so far as it is accessible to our investigation."
This statement is contrary to the teaching of Christ, for in the Gospel of
St. Matthew 19:7-8, we read: "They said to him, 'Why then did Moses
command to give a written notice of dismissal and to put her away? ' He
said to them, ' Because Moses, by reason of the hardness of your heart,
permitted you to put away your wives; but in the beginning it was not
so.'" And what does Mr. Maritain mean by monogamy being known
rather late in the history of mankind " so far as it is accessible to our
investigation.'' Whose investigation? The anthropological authorities whom
I follow, such as Schmidt and Cooper, do not agree with these findings.
What authorities does Mr. Maritain follow? I am certain by that "our
investigation " he is not implying that he is to be considered an authority
on anthropology also.

574

BRIEF NOTICES

Another error Mr. Maritain makes in his exposition of this " law " occurs
on page 106 where he states: " We may cite a few of the other examples
of this progress in moral conscience. One is the notion of the treatment
to be given to prisoners of war. For many centuries, and even Christian
centuries, it was considered quite normal to kill prisoners of war." I would
ask him to specify the Christian century in which a Christian nation considered it " quite normal " to kill prisoners of war. Of the numerous footnotes he has in his book a great many are unnecessary. Where a footnote
is demanded by the nature of the statement it is never to be found.
Here, as in the statement above concerning monogamy, footnoting is a
necessity.
Another statement that cries for, at least, a footnote is one made on
page 107: " The notion that human labor is impossible without the whip
of destitution-a notion quite wide-spread in the nineteenth centuryseemed at that moment to be in accordance with the natural law. Even
religion and a misreading of Adam's punishment in Genesis was made to
contribute to this punishment." My question to Mr. Maritain: What
religion? Whose interpretation?
3) "The law of the passage from 'sacral' to 'secular' or 'lay' civilization. The distinction between ' sacral ' and ' secular ' civilization has a
universal bearing. Yet-by reason of the very distinction between th0
things that are Caesar's and the things that are God's-it is with
Christianity that this distinction has taken its full historical importance."
4) " The law of the political and social coming of age of the people.
This law ... deals with the progressive passage of the people in the course
of modern history, from the state of subjection to a state of self-government
in political and social matters."
The last chapter of the book is concerned with God and the problem of
evil. And here again Mr. Maritain seems to find it impossible to keep
to a strict philosophy of history. For more than half the chapter is devoted
to the Church as the Kinglom of God on earth. In this chapter, too, he
makes one of those startling statements which no honest reviewer can
pass without challenge. In a footnote on page 139 we are told that the
novel " Grey Eminence " by Aldous Huxley which concerns the life of
Father Joseph, the Franciscan adviser of Richelieu, is a " tragically true
picture of a man who was a real contemplative in the spiritual order and a
real Machiavellian in the temporal order." (italics mine) And that combination, I submit, is quite as impossible as a square circle.
REGINALD

Dominican House of Studies
Washington, D. C.

M. CoFFEY, 0. P.

BOOKS RECEIVED
Adler, Mortimer J. The Idea of Freedom. (A Dialectical Examination of
the Conceptions of Freedom). Garden City: Doubleday, 1958. Pp.
716 with index. $7.50.
Augustine, Saint. (D. W. Robertson, Jr., Ed.). On Christian Doctrine.
(The Library of the Liberal Arts, no. 80). New York: Liberal Arts
Press,_ 1958. Pp. 191. $.95.
Barrett, William. Irrational Man-A Study in Existential Philosophy. New
York: Doubleday, 1958. Pp. 278 with index. $5.00.
Brehier, Emile. (Thomas Joseph, Tr.). · The Philosophy of PlotinUB. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1958. Pp. 204 with index. $4.50.
Brezzi, Paolo. The Papacy. Its Origins and Historical Evolution. Westminster: Newman Press, 1958. Pp. 281 with appendices. $8.50.
Bugbee, Jr., Henry. The Inward Morning. State College, Penna.: Bald
Eagle Press, 1958. Pp. 282. $5.00.
Chroust, Anton-Hermann. Socrates, Man and Myth. Notre Dame: University of Notre Dame Press, 1958. Pp. 850 with index. $6.75.
Cooney, Timothy. Ultimate Desires. New York: Philosophical Library,
1958. Pp. 100. $2.75.
Drake, Henry L. The People's Plato. New York: Philosophical Library,
1958. Pp. 655 with index. $7.50.
Else, Gerald F. Aristotle's Poetics: The Argument. Cambridge: Harvard
University Press, 1958. Pp. 670 with index. $11.00.
Fernandez, Maria Angela. Un Lapso in la Historia del Pensamiento y de
la Cultura Argentinas {1820-1880). Buenos Aires: Talleres Graficos
D'Ambra, 1958. Pp. 128.
Ford, S. J., John C. and Kelly, S. J., Gerald. Contemporary Moral Theology.
(Volume One-Questions in Fundamental Moral Theology}. Westminster: Newman, 1958. Pp. 875 with index. $4.50.
Fox, Ruth Mary. Dante Lights the Way. Milwaukee: Bruce, 1958. Pp.
889 with index. $4.95.
Gilby, Thomas. The Political Thought of Thomas Aquinas. Chicago:
University of Chicago Press, 1958. Pp. 888 with index. $5.00.
Gorman, R. S.C. J., Mother Margaret. The Educational Implications of
the Theory of Meaning and Symbolism of General Semantics. Washington: Catholic University Press, 1958. Pp. 195.
Haley, C. S.C., Joseph E. (Ed.). Proceedings of the 1957 Sisters' Institute
of Spirituality. Notre Dame: University of Notre Dame Press, 1958.
Pp. 898.

575

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BOOKS RECEIVED

Higgins, S. J ., Thomas J. Man as Man: the Science and Art of Ethics
(Revised Edition) . Milwaukee: Bruce, 1958. Pp. 598 with index.
$4.50.
Lepp, Ignace. From Karl Marx to Je8Wl Christ. New York: Sheed and
Ward, 1958. Pp. 224. $8.75.
Murphy, 0. P., William B.; Donlan, 0. P., Thomas C.; Reidy, 0. P., John
S.; Cunningham, 0. P., Francis L. B. God and Hia Creation (Volume
One of a College Theology Series). Dubuque: Priory Press, 1958. Pp.
516 with index. $4.95.
McLelland, Joseph C. The Visible Words of God: An Exposition of the
Sacramental Theology of Peter Martyr. Grand Rapids: Eerdmans
Publishing Co., 1958. Pp. 291 with index. $4.00.
McNamara, O.P., Marie Aquinas. Friendship in St. Augustine. Fribourg:
Fribourg University Press, 1958. Pp. 251 with index. Fr. 16.60/DM
16.-.
Pieper, Josef. Happiness and Contemplation. New York: Pantheon, 1958.
Pp. 124. $2.75.
Reith, C. S.C., Herman. The Metaphysics of St. Thomas Aquinas. Milwaukee: Bruce, 1958. Pp. 420 with index. $5.50.
Samuel, Otto. Die Ontologie der Logik and der Psyckologie-Eine Meontologiacke Untersuckung. Koln: Kolner Universitii.ts-Verlag, 1957. Pp.
886. 22. DM.
Spinoza, Baruch. The Book of God. New York: Philosophical Library,
1958. Pp. 121. $8.00.
Vogel, Arthur Anton. Reality, Reason and Religion. New York: Morehouse-Gorham, 1958. Pp. 219 with index. $8.00.

THE GENERAL INDEX TO THE THOMIST
VoL. XXI (1958)
INDEX OF AUTHORS
PAGE

ALLERs, R. Review of The Character of Man by E. Monnier. .
BEACH, J.D. Aristotle's Notion of Being. .
--. Review of St. Tlwmas and the Future of Metaphysics by
J. Owens. .
BEcKLEY, Q. F. Review of The Catholic Church, U.S.A. by L. J.
Putz
CHROUST, A.-H. Review of Order and History, Vol. II: The World
of the Polis by E. Voegelin. .
CoLLINS, T. A. Review of He That Cometh by S. Mowinckel. .
CuMMINGS,J. Review of The Christ of Faith by Karl Adam. .
DE LETTER, P. Theology of Satisfaction. .
DEWART, L. Review of Thought and Truth by M. Maisels. .
GRISEZ, G. G. Kant and Aquinas: Ethical Theory. .. .
-·--. Review of Insight: A Study of Human u,:W,erstanding by
B. F. J. Lonergan.
KANE, D. C. Review of Elements of Logic by V. E. Smith.
KING-FARLOW, J. Value and "Essentialist" Fallacies. .
LANGAN, T. D. Is Heidegger a Nihilist? .
O'BRIEN, J. F. Gravity and Love as Unifying Principles.
O'CoNNELL, D. A. Review of The Freedom to Read by R. McKeon
and others. .
O'CoNNOR,W. R. Review of Lay People in the Church by Y. Congar.
O'NEILL, C. The Role of the Recipient and Sacramental Signification.
257,
OEsTERLE, J. A. Theoretical and Practical Knowledge. .
--. Review of Language: An Enquiry into its Meaning by R.N.

98

215
105
881
84
80
1

44
554

210
162
184
195

508

146
866

ANSHEN.

RICHARDSON, D. B. The Philosophy of History and Historical Learning. .
487
RoVER, D. Review of Aristotle on Art and Nature by M. J. Charlesworth. .
. . 877
RYAN, L.A. Review of The Transformation ofMan by L. Mumford. 891
SIKORA, J. J. "Integrated" Knowledge of Nature.
171

577

578

INDICES OF VOLUME XXI

(1958)
PAGE

SIMMONS, E. D. Review of Man's Knowledge of Reality by F. Wilhelmsen.
SLATTERY, M. P. Genus and Difference. .
STocK, M. Sense Consciousness According to St. Thomas.
---. Thomistic Psychology and Freud's Psychoanalysis.
WALKER, L. Review of The Coming World Civilization by W. E.
Hocking.
WASsMER, T. A. Freedom, Responsibility and Desire in Kantian
Ethics. .

542
848
415

102
820

INDEX OF ARTICLES
Aquinas, Kant and--: Ethical Theory. G. G. GRISEZ.
Aristotle's Notion of Being. J. D. BEAcH.
Being, Aristotle's Notion of--. J.D. BEAcH. .
Consciousness, Sense -- According to St. Thomas. · M. STOCK.
Desire, Freedom, Responsibility and -- in Kantian Ethics. T. A.
WASSMER. .
Difference, Genus and --. M. P. SLATTERY. .
"Essentialist," Value and -- Fallacies. J. KING-FARLOW.
Ethical, Kant and Aquinas: --Theory. G. G. GrusEZ. .
Ethics, Freedom, Responsibility and Desire in Kantian --. T. A.
WASSMER. .
Fallacies, Value· and "Essentialist" --. J. KING-FARLOW.
Freedom, Responsibility and Desire in Kantian Ethics. T. A.
WASSMER. .
Freud's, Thomistic Psychology and -- Psychoanalysis. M. SrocK. .
Genus and Difference. M.P. SLATTERY. .
Gravity and Love as Unifying Principles. J. F. O'BRIEN. .
Heidegger, Is-- a Nihilist? T. D. LANGAN. .
Historical, The Philosophy of History and -- Learning. D. B.
RICHARDSON.
History, The Philosophy of -- and Historical Learning. D. B.
RICHARDSON.
"Integrated" Knowledge of Nature. J. J. SIKORA.
Kant and Aquinas: Ethical Theory. G. G. GRISEZ.
Kantian, Freedom, Responsibility and Desire in -- Ethics. T. A.
WASSMER. .
Knowledge," Integrated"-- of Nature. J. J. SIKORA.
---,
and Practical--. J. A. OESTERLE.

44
!il9
!il9
415
8!il0
848
162
44
8!il0
162
820
125
848
184
80!il
487
487
171
44
820
171
146

INDICES OF VOLUME XXI

(1958)

579
PAGE

Learning, The Philosophy of History and Historical --. D. B. RICH487
ARDSON..
184
Gravity and-- as Unifying Principles. J. F. O'BRIEN.
171
Nature," Integrated" Knowledge of--. J. J. SIKORA.
302
Nihilist, Is Heidegger a --P T. D. LANGAN•.
29
Notion, Aristotle's -- of Being. J. D. BEACH. .
Philosophy, The -- of History and Historical Learning. D. B.
487
RICHARDSON.
146
Practical, Theoretical and-- Knowledge. J. A. OESTERLE..
184
Principles, Gravity and Love as Unifying--. J. F. O'BRIEN.
Psychoanalysis, Thomistic Psychology and Ft·eud's --. M. STOCK. 125
Psychology, Thomistic-- and Freud's Psychoanalysis. M. STocK. 125
Recipient, The Role of the -- and Sacramental Signification. C.
O'NEILL.
257' 508
Responsibility, Freedom, -- and Desire in Kantian Ethics. T. A.
320
WASSMER..
Role, The -- of the Recipient and Sacramental Signification. C.
O'NEILL.
257, 508
Sacramental, The Role of the Recipient and -- Signification. C.
O'NEILL.
257, 508
1
Satisfaction, Theology of--. P. DE LETTER. .
415
Sense Consciousness According to St. Thomas. M. STOCK. .
Signification, The Role of the Recipient and Sacramental --. C.
O'NEILL.
257, 508
1
Theology of Satisfaction. P. DE LETTER. .
Theoretical and Practical Knowledge. J. A. OEsTERLE.
146
Theory, Kant and Aquinas: Ethical. G. G. GRISEZ.
44
Thomas, Sense Consciousness According to St. --. M. STocK.
415
Thomistic Psychology and Freud's Psychoanalysis. M. STOCK.
125
184
Unifying, Gravity and Love as-- Principles. J. F. O'BRIEN.
Value and "Essentialist" Fallacies. J. KINn-FARLOw..
162

INDEX OF BOOK REVIEWS
ADAMS, K., The Christ of Faith. (J. Cummings)
80
ANSHEN, R. N., Language: An Enquiry into its Meaning. (J. A.
Oesterle)
366
CHARLESWORTH,M. J., Aristotle on Art and Nature. (D. Rover)
377
CoNGAR, Y., Lay People in the Churtlh. (W. R. O'Connor)
229
HocKING, W. E., The Coming World Civilization. (L. Walker)
102

580

INDICES OF VOLUJ.VIE XXI

(1958)
PAGE

B. F. J., Insight: A Study of Human Understanding.
(G. G. Grisez)
McKEoN, R. (and others), The Freedom to Read. (D. A. O'Connell)
MAISELS, M., Thought and Truth.
(L. Dewart)
MouNIER, E., The Character of Man.
(R. Allers)
MowiNCKEL, S., He That Cometh. (T. A. Collins) .
MUMFORD, L., The Transformation of Man.
(L. A. Ryan)
OWENS, J., St. Thomas and the Future of Metaphysics. (J.D. Beach)
PuTZ, L. J., The Catholic Church, U.S. A. (Q. F. Beckley)
SMITH, V. E., Elements of Logic. (D. C. Kane)
VoEGELIN, E., Order and History, Vol. II: The World of the Polis.
(A.-H. Chroust) .
WILHELMSEN, F., Man's Knowledge of Reality.
(E. D. Simmons)
LoNERGAN,

554

195
220
98
84
391
215
105
210

381
542